#all of my friends have seen it. but it's not quite. the subtle grace

[britneyshakespeare]

this picture of sal vulcano really does have its own sorta je ne sais quoi that not only do i understand why from very early days it has been a staple on impractical jokers but it became a meme outside of that. it's not just like any sort of unflattering pic. it has its own kind of majesty

[ollypopwrites]

Gale x Druid!Tav 🌿 Bonding with Tara

Rating: T (very brief and subtle mention of sex)

Notes: this is v domestic and I love Tara

Tara only gets to meet Tav briefly in the city but she’s known Gale long enough to know that look in his eye

Shes got manners so she’s not rude necessarily but she is stand-offish with Tav because well… she’s protective as much as Gale considers her his most dear and oldest friend he is hers and his mother is hers and he means so much to her

And Mystra well… I have a feeling Tara has some strong opinions on her. so naturally she’s cautious where she thinks he won’t be because he’s earnest and romantic and loves with his whole damn soul

And I talked about it before but! Tav and Gale have only known each other a short time, and they are certainly forged in fire so to speak but from the outside this whole thing looks like fiery whirlwind of feelings and fears of dying or becoming illithid

And Tara has concerns about that: is it going to fizzle out as quickly as it started? Is her Mr. Dekarios going to be left alone again sequestered in his tower? Is this flame going to burn him and leave another scar on his body and soul?

So if Tav accepts gales proposal and goes to Waterdeep Tara is not sure about the whole thing

And tav is… just a bit rugged in the space of Gale’s tower which can get dusty sure, and trinkets and books and quills are always somehow littered everywhere but its not quite the same

Tav’s shoes seem to always be steeped in 6 inches of mud, there’s dirt under fingernails, flowers or leaves in their hair and if Tav isn’t wearing those damned muddy shoes then they’re BAREFOOT and for all intents and purposes Tara feels like Gale found a feral stray animal and decided to bring it into the house

But Gale really enjoys it? He’s ready to renovate the tower so Tav can have a big greenhouse, space for more animals and they’re going on more outings to explore the wildlife around the harbors and beaches and Gale is beginning to sport a lovely tan and Tara isn’t sure she’s ever seen him spend so much time out of the tower but he’s practically glowing and she’s hard pressed not to be pleased he found someone who will literally make him touch grass

And despite being a Druid Tav doesn’t care when Tara hunts little mice and errant birds (which she definitely made a show of dropping small animal carcasses on the windowsill to once Tav nursed some injured bird back to health) but Tav just shrugged cuz circle of life and all that just please none of my pets thank you ms. Tara

She also lingered in the bedroom many a night because she’s a little shit who knows Gale won’t even take off his shirt if she’s there but then they started locking themselves in the bathroom and she flies off to his mothers house the moment she hears bath water start sloshing through the door

She admires the fact that Tav is not put off by Tara’s incredibly forced indifference and tendency to sit between them in the study because well Tav understands nature and she knows sometimes creatures become attached or just simply don’t want you to fuss over them or even touch them and Tara is of course, not a cat but a tressym, but the point still stands and Tav is just not bothered by any of it they’re very happy to simply cohabitate with a disinterested Tara

It isn’t until Tav wildshapes into a cat to sleep in a rare patch of sunlight during the winter that Tara breaks down

She comes over, at first sitting next to Tav and looking at her oddly but Tav just rolls onto her side and continues napping

With the unpracticed grace of a tressym who despite all her higher knowledge and powers loves scratches behind the ears and the spot on the window to watch birds fly by, she flops down to lay with Tav and its… actually quite nice especially when TAV STARTS PURRING.

And it feels nice to cuddle with someone cat-shaped almost, it taps into some far gone memory of piling with family

Thus the winter of snuggles begins where they lay in the sun and play fight and do Cat Things and Tara always flys off if she hears Gale coming around the corner and Tav never tells him about it so she’s spared any teasing and Tav never brings it up ever so as not to embarrass her

Until one day Gale finds them deeeeeeeep in a midday nap but decides not to tell them he found them

And he definitely was not teary eyed about it either that was dust in his eye

[amaranthine-enihtnarama]

Les Petits Morts (Marquis de Gramont x Assassin! F! Reader)

(Cat and mouse, do-they-want-to-kill-each-other-or-fuck-each-other, enemies to lovers, two psychotic mfers flirt)

taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose

warnings: freaky behavior, blood k!nk, knife play, violence, what y’all came for (🤨), reader is lowkey a brat hehe, marquis doms ofc bless up, mentions and brief moments of violence, build-up, more story than necessary probably. Romance⁉️

Part Two is here!

Vincent de Gramont had made a grave miscalculation when it came to her. He knew the moment he’d laid eyes on her that he was in danger: her wide, brown eyes shining golden in the rising sun, her fragrant hair swooping over one shoulder, letting the skin of her neck catch the light, and, as she’d finally stepped before him, that haunting scent of jasmine and gardenias, the radiance and bohemian ease she exuded; he was immediately disarmed from the knowledge that she was a killer. She was a slippery figure, shrouded in mystery, in fear. No one knew where she came from, but everybody knew of the story of how she earned her freedom. A young girl, bloodthirsty, filled with fire, tearing open the throat of the Marquis to whom she had been promised, her bloody mouth pulled back to bare a glimmering smile in the face of her freedom. Still, she remained in her former line of work, even more dangerous with her years of being outside of The Table’s shadow.

La Belladonna is what they called her, and she gave no name. She smiled at him, gaze twinkling something wicked. He maintained composure, of course, but he couldn’t break away from that haunting, doe-eyed gaze of hers. He’d expected a woman, but not one like this. He’d imagined a savage before him based on the story that had always been told. Not someone so beautiful, so graceful…so enchanting.

“Bonjour, Marquis,” she greeted, “I do hope you didn’t mind the early morning.”

“I did.”

She laughed, turning away and taking a seat against the wall.

“Well, that’s just too bad.”

She checked her nails; a crimson manicure. Her eyes flitted from it to him. He was confused by the expectation in her gaze. He’d never once seen that look in anyone’s eyes before (except, perhaps, from one of The Table).

“Won’t you have a seat,” she questioned.

He cleared his throat, glancing over to one of his men then slowly moving over to the barrel next to her. She admired the horses with a small subdued smile, then turned to him with a sigh. He surveyed her, unsure what to make of this so-called dangerous killer. He was quite sure he’d met worse. He moved to speak, but she cut him off.

“So, Marquis, why exactly do you require my services?”

“They say you’re the best,” he responded cooly.

Her lips curved into a bemused smile. “They say we’re all the best. Why me specifically?”

He gave a slight smile. “You are able to go unnoticed. Become invisible. I want someone invisible.”

“And why is that? Don’t you have Caine? He’s the best.”

His smile fell. Her eyes widened slightly with the thrill of his upset.

“What? That’s practically public information.”

“In that case, I suppose you already know the answer to your own question.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” she corrected, tapping his nose with a slender cigarette holder and a bright smile, “I know you want John Wick dead, I know you want those aligned with him dead. But I know you not only have Caine, but the entirety of The Table’s resources at your disposal. You don’t need someone like me; you don’t require someone so subtle, it’s certainly not your style. You are fortunate enough to have to ability of using sheer force to achieve your goals.”

She took out a cigarette, placed it in the holder, then put in between her lips. Despite himself, he stole a glance at her mouth, taking in the slight purse of her lips as she lit her cigarette. He watched smoke puff from between them.

“So…what is it you want with me?”

He met her eyes, sitting back. “You’re very observant. Good job.”

Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance, creating a tiny crack in her mask. She gave a slight smile, blowing some of her cigarette smoke at his face.

“Hm.”

He stood, brushing his nose off. “You’re right. If we were looking at this in the short term, I don’t need someone like you. But I am not thinking of the short term.”

Her eyebrows rose in interest. “I’m not a kept puppy, Monsieur de Gramont. I’m sure you recall my exit from the Table. I wouldn’t recommend becoming my boss.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“For my price, I think you are.”

She held his gaze for a moment, finishing her cigarette. She tossed the butt onto the barrel, then gave a light chuckle, shaking her head in amusement.

“Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.”

She stood, raking her fingers through her hair.

“I apologize, but I’m afraid I’ve wasted our time. I suggest getting some extra sleep while you can.”

Vincent watched her turn away with unease, swallowing as she started to leave. He shot a look to the men at the door, then walked after her. He moved to place a hand on her shoulder but she turned swiftly, pressing her cigarette holder into his chest, pushing him backward.

“Do not grab me, Monsieur. I cannot be bought. Only hired. I do not make deals, especially not with men like you. There is not a price you can name that would change my mind.”

“I’m quite sure the prices I can name are beyond anything you’ve heard before.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re quite arrogant, Gramont. It’s endearing, but not enough to hold my attention. Goodbye.”

Vincent watched as she turned to leave, but soon slowed down, then halted to a stop. A pressure lifted on his chest. She tilted her head, twirling the cigarette holder between her fingers.

“Do you really want to offer up two perfectly fine men for the slaughter? Just for a silly little price?”

“I would prefer to avoid bloodshed altogether, mademoiselle.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Whoever told you I am a patient woman was misled you, Gramont.”

He smiled. “Whoever told you I am a relenting man did the same.”

***

Milan, Italy.

Belladonna sat back in her chair, taking a long drag from her cigarette in its holder, crossing her legs with a smile. After several months of hide-and-seek with that pesky Marquis, she’d finally shaken off some the men he had tracking her, and killed the rest. Now, she finally felt like she could just breathe, sit back, relax, enjoy her espressos and afternoons by the sea, and then, when she fancied, a night at the opera. As luck would have it, they were performing her favorite; Madama Butterfly.

She poured herself a glass of champagne as the lights dimmed, and as she took a sip her phone buzzed. Her eyebrows drew together in annoyance; she made it clear to her team not to contact her, lest they risk her being tracked again by one of the…

She frowned, reading the text. It was in french, from a sender with no number.

The Italian sun has treated you well, Mademoiselle.

Her shoulders tensed, but she kept her cool. How did he find her? And why the hell did he follow her here? She was quite sure she’d made herself clear with the last two men she got rid of: do not bother me again, or you’ll end up looking just an mangled as them.

Darkness swallowed the theater as the curtains rose, and Belladonna felt a pit form in her stomach. She’d never felt so troubled by anyone as much as she had by this man. He was bull-headed and inescapable—with all of the ability in the world to keep her in his sights. Discretely, she glanced around the balconies in her view, but only saw strangers. Where was he? Where was the son of a bitch this time?

She put out her cigarette harshly, trying to keep her composure. After finishing her glass of champagne, she sent a message in response.

You’re toying with your life, Gramont.

I could say the same for you.

She rose an unimpressed eyebrow, twirling her cigarette holder between her fingers. She set her phone down with a heavy sigh. He just had to ruin everything, didn’t he? Bothering her during her jobs, and now during her time off. Her phone buzzed again. With a clench of her fist, she ignored it.

As she paid more attention to the opera, her mind wandered. Her six-foot-four shadow quickly evaporated into a tiny shadow in the back of her thoughts, and she admired the gorgeous costumes of the singers, the swelling and rhythm of the orchestra, and rested her cheek on her fist in awe as the soprano playing Madama Butterfly began her aria Un Bel di Vedremo.

She could remember the first time she’d heard it; she’d gotten it as a gift from a lover in a period of innocent youth that had become alien to her. The lover she lost as a sacrifice of that innocence. Despite herself, her eyes grew misty from the memory. She watched the soprano’s wistful gaze, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and as she reached the peak of the aria and the orchestra swelled, Belladonna could’ve sworn she could see the singer’s eye’s glistening along with hers.

The music of the aria faded out, and she quickly wiped her eyes as the lights of the house rose. She rose to her feet, glancing around again. Her heart jumped at the sight of a tall, brown haired man in a three-piece suit leaving one of the booths. She hesitated to get worked up—every man she’d laid her eyes on had a three-piece suit on, it didn’t have to be him. Maybe she was just in denial. Although she’d never want to say it, the Marquis was successfully beginning to wear her down.

She dialed a number on her phone. The call was answered before it could ring.

“Yes?”

“The Marquis is here in Milan. There may be some of his men at the opera house. Kill them, would you? Be thorough with it. Wherever they may be crawling about. And leave me a change.”

“Of course, right away, ma’am.”

She hung up, scanning the audience again before leaving her booth. She slipped into a women’s restroom, entering an out-of-service handicapped stall and quickly removing her dress and opening the duffel bag tucked between the toilet and the wall. It was a pity she wouldn’t get the pleasure of enjoying it, it was a lovely piece. She admired it on the hanger with a sigh, tugging on a bulletproof jumpsuit and zipping it up, adding elbow and knee pads. She laced up her black military boots, then unzipped the duffel bag, placed the dress and heels inside, and pulled out the pair of pistols under the false bottom, placing the magazines in the sides of her boots. She slid a pair of blade into hidden pockets in the lower back of the jumpsuit, then tugged on a beanie and a black face mask.

She pushed the duffel bag back in its spot, then stepped onto the toilet, opened the air vent, and with a hop, grabbed onto the ceiling and pulled her way up inside. Her knee and foot made dull impacts with the metallic interior of the vents as she pulled the door up.

She pulled out her phone, going through her messages to find the blueprints one of her navigators had sent. She stalled on a message from that numberless contact, the one she’d ignored before.

You look beautiful in that dress, Bella.

A frown formed on her face at the message. It wasn’t the first of these messages she’d read in these days. Messages occasionally complimented her ways of eluding him, how a pair of earrings complimented her honey brown complexion, how bloody a mess she’d left behind. Still, none were as direct as this one.

Beautiful, she thought. It conjured up an odd feeling, imagining him saying such a compliment. Perhaps if he wasn’t such a foolish nuisance, it might’ve even excited her a touch. She quickly went to the blueprint of the vents and started to crawl towards her escape.

After a sweaty fifteen minute excursion through the vents, Belladonna finally jumped down from a window and landed on a cushy pile of discarded wood. She didn’t allow even a grunt as she got to her feet and rounded the corner, finding a grey-suited body lying in a pool of her own blood a few feet away from her bike. Her cushy hotel was no longer an option, so she had to relent for the secondary location she’d had set up. The only bother would be the chilly night ride.

///

Montemarciano

She’d made it the country house by dawn, and the sun was preparing to break through the horizon. Exhaustion pulled on her limbs, demanding she collapse directly into the earth as she made her way to the door. She let her shoulders slump as she rested a hand on the door. This place was quite literally in the middle of nowhere. She’d made sure it was no registry or map. Yanking her beanie and mask off and taking a deep inhale of fresh, crisp air, she went for her key behind the false brick when a creak sounded inside the house. Belladonna froze, gripping the brick in her hand.

It couldn’t have been the Marquis, but it could’ve been someone else even more dangerous. She stayed in a crouch, crawling towards the back door and seeing it ajar. Her eyes widened, and she pulled out a pistol. Gently, she pushed the door open and slid inside, crouching against the wall like a statue, eyes scanning the living room. There weren’t many places for an intruder to hide.

In the blue light against the curtains, she watched a large figure pass through the room and right by her. The figure entered the bedroom, and Belladonna placed the brick down silently, getting onto her feet.

She slid through the door, watching the figure in the darkness. They sat at her desk, staring out of the modestly sized window as more blue light filtered through the linen curtains of the dark room. She flicked on the lamp. The figure turned and she fired without hesitation, watching as they tumbled to the floor. She leapt over the bed, planting a foot by the stranger’s head and placing her weight into the knee that she dug into their shoulder. The figure had covered their face with their arm and swiped it blindly at her, but she easily knocked it to the ground and trapped their wrist under the heel of her boot.

Cooly, she held the gun to their face, pressing harder on their wrist. A familiar voice swore, letting out a grunt. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Gramont,” she remarked quietly, making out the face beneath her.

He was breathing heavily, eyes darting between the gun and her face. She turned off the safety.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now,” she said.

“Many will come after you. Worse than me,” he said breathlessly.

She smirked, shaking her head. “I said a good reason, Monsieur. Don’t waste your breath.”

He looked at the gun, then to her surprise, smiled a bit. He rose his eyebrows.

“Come now, Bella. Haven’t we had fun these past months?”

“I thought you’d be better at bargaining.”

“If you really intended to kill me, I would be dead by now.”

She paused and tilted her head.

He made a good point.

With a grin, she added. “I really intended to kill you, Monsieur, I would’ve killed you the morning we met.”

She moved the gun away from his face.

“You came here alone.”

“I came to deliver something to you.”

He tried to sit up, but she doubled down her weight onto him.

“Certainly you don’t think I intend to harm you?”

She studied his face, then chuckled. “Not alone, no.”

He let out a breath as she rose to her feet, stepping away from him. He sat up, watching as she trained her gun onto him as he stood. Vincent fixed his hair and his suit, gesturing to the door.

“It’s in the living room.”

“Mhm. Ladies first.”

With his trained on her gun, he passed through the door and she followed silently, pointing it at his head. She flicked the light switch on as they rounded the corner, and lamps lit up, revealing a spare but cozy living room. He chuckled, turning to her.

“Very cute, Bella.”

She didn’t answer, only held the gun to his face. He turned back around, going to the coffee table. There was a large black box, along with two other boxes. One appeared to be a shoebox, the other a mystery. Caught off guard, by gifts, Belladonna’s grip loosened on the gun. She squinted in confusion, almost wanting to laugh.

“What…”

“Your gown tonight was lovely, but it can’t be worn again after you left it in that filthy bathroom. I thought I would replace it for you.”

“…the fuck…”

He stepped towards her, and her gun returned to its leveled aim reflexively.

“…Is wrong with you?”

He smiled, pleased at her bewilderment, although she seemed a bit amused as well.

“What is wrong with a gift?”

“Oh, when it comes from you, several things.”

He chuckled, placing his hands in his pockets.

“We’ve been playing this game for a little while now, and I must admit that I see no end to it. So why don’t we talk it over dinner?”

“It took fourteen bodies to get to dinner, huh?”

He looked away almost bashfully, if his eyes could express such an emotion.

“I thought you’d be easier to kill, I’ll admit that too. And I believe tonight makes twenty.”

His callousness uneased her, but not as much as the glimmer that formed in his eyes when he fixed his gaze on her.

“Come now, is dinner so bad compared to these last few months?”

She narrowed her eyes. He smiled again.

“Think of it as a celebration if you want. Perhaps for your birthday? It’s this weekend, isn’t it?”

In an immediate shift, her eyes darkened, and without warning she flung a knife at his face that he barely evaded being mortally wounded by. Blood poured down his cheek as she lunged at him, knocking him against the wall, but this time he had his footing. He grabbed the fabric of her jumpsuit and whirled around to slam her into the wall with a grunt, but she quickly drove her knee into his stomach once, twice, then kicked him back with both legs, sending him crashing against the kitchen counter. The photos on the wall shook on impact. Before he could even recover she had him on the floor, and his mind quickly went back to the position she’d had him in before and he shot into action, overpowering her just enough to have her beneath him. Still, she was fast, and limber. It seemed like only a moment had passed when she’d locked her thighs around his neck and held his arm at a seemingly impossible angle. He gasped and coughed, feeling the blood pumping in his head.

“You haven’t really gotten your hands dirty like this before, have you Marquis?”

He felt around desperately, and found a saving grace sheathed in her boot.

“You’ve never had your heart race like this, feeling your life threatening to slip through your fingers.”

She twisted his arm further, and he snatched whatever he’d found out of her boot. Her laugh rung in his ears like a funeral bell.

“It’s unfortunate your first real fight turned out to be your last.”

He stabbed her in the upper thigh, and she growled lowly, her hold weakening. He moved in a flash, snatching the blade out of her leg and trying to force her onto the ground, but she began to shimmy backwards despite her injury. He grunted, grabbing at her until he’d finally pinned her down, when he saw her arm go out of his line of sight and something hard slammed into the side of his head. Despite his delirium he grabbed her arm as she hit him again, and forced it to the ground, getting frustrated grunt out of her as she struggled, but he had her.

He caught his breath, his muscles straining to keep her in place. Adrenaline was coursing through his body faster than blood as his sight cleared, and his eyes fixed onto her searing gaze. Slowly, he pressed the blade—a small one, to his surprise—against her neck, watching her swallow. Their eyes locked onto each other. Their blood rushed violently as their chests heaved. Vincent pressed his hand into her chest harder, keeping her firmly on the ground. Her eyes scanned his face with a curious glint.

“I’m not afraid to cut,” he said through puffs of labored breath.

She grinned. “I’m not afraid of cuts, rich boy.”

He dug in the blade, dragging it slowly through her skin. Her fists clenched but she gave no reaction this time. Her eyes only bored into his as the living room filled with warm sunlight. Crimson trickled from the cut, and he smeared it with his thumb as they fell still. He could feel her blood humming through her thundering pulse. Her skin was hot, alive. She watched him, then grabbed his arm, pulling him down with sheer strength. He tensed, preparing for an attack but she just held him by the lapel, a smile dancing on her lips as she leaned up slightly.

“Tell me,” she said quietly, “Has this become business, or pleasure, Vincent?”

His eyes seemed distant as his name left her lips. They drifted to her curved, full mouth, and then fixed onto her eyes. Wordlessly, he took his thumb from her neck and placed it against his tongue, watching for her reaction. She gave none. A challenge.

“Are you pleased?”

To his surprise, she giggled. Her body relaxed under his and Vincent’s head swam with confusing desires. What was this, now that he thought about it, what the hell had gotten into him to chase this girl for months? He looked at her face for answers, finding that same smile he’d seen the first time they’d met. What did it mean?

“Come here,” she encouraged, watching his eyes scan over her in a daze.

He looked at her. Her smile widened, and she beckoned him closer. But with what, he wondered, how could she command him so swiftly without words? Her eyes trailed down to his lips with what part him hoped was the same mysterious hunger that was bubbling up inside him. He leaned closer, breath fanning against her face.

“That’s right,” she said softly, reclining.

He leaned down over her, and for a moment there was stillness between them, a pull that seemed to magnetize them closer. Belladonna’s eyes widened a fraction as the feeling of it came over her, and she quickly head butted him with all the force she could muster. He groaned, clutching his head, leaving him completely vulnerable to her attacks. She managed to twist her way from beneath him, hopping to her feet and grabbing the knife that had lodged into the wall. She sniffed harshly, grabbing his hair and tilting his head up, pressing the point of the blade just below his chin. He stared up at her, eyes half blazing with unspoken fury, the rest uncertainty of what to expect next.

“You surprise me, Marquis.”

He tried to move but her grip tightened onto his scalp painfully. “Ah-ah-ah. I don’t think so. Unless you want me to drain your neck.”

With an even more furious stare, he relented. She grinned at his expression.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t expect you to put up such a good fight. The last one I dealt with wasn’t half as good a match as you. I’m impressed.”

A strange swell of pride bloomed in Vincent’s chest despite his indignation. She hummed thoughtfully.

“Dinner does sound nice, doesn’t it?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, struggled to swallow in her hold.

“I haven’t been on a date in a while,” she remarked, “Maybe you’ll show me a good time, eh, chéri?”

She let him go, stepping back. Before he could respond, her knee collided with his head. The world went dark.

He came to in the afternoon with the sun beaming down on his face. The back door was wide open, leaving only the sound of birds and the breeze flowing through the golden-yellow grass. He popped his jaw and sat up with a groan. She was gone. If it weren’t for the blood and the dents in the wall he’d have thought it were nothing more than a dream. But he could smell gardenias, he could still taste her on his tongue. He could still feel her racing pulse beneath his thumb, hear her voice. He inhaled deeply, unsure what to think of the feeling passing through him. He couldn’t come to a conclusion, but he recalled something that caused him to smile.

She’d called it a date.

***

Paris, France. Two days later.

She was reclined on a park bench, eyes shut, taking in the sun while her black dress sparkled. He watched her a couple yards away, finding himself rather daunted. She’d told him over the phone he’d know where to find her, and it had taken barely twenty minutes for her to be tracked down. Despite their fight, she looked radiant. Completely unscathed. It was inhuman.

His phone buzzed, and he frowned as he answered. It was her. He glanced up curiously, seeing she had disappeared. He held the phone to his ear.

“Dragging our feet? I’m not a patient lady.”

His searched around for her, but she’d vanished into thin air.

“Go ahead, you can ask…how the hell did I do that?”

He listened to her soft chuckle through the phone with surprising pleasure.

“Come to me, and I won’t make you wait any longer.”

“Awe, listen to that. You’ve been so good at finding me, this shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“You are impossible,” he sighed, turning to scan the park.

“Impossible? This just part of the fun.”

The call ended, and he stared at the phone with slightly furrowed eyebrows. He looked to the bench, noticing something fluttering and went over to examine it. It was a note. He unfolded it, reading sweeping cursive. It was in french, but he knew she’d written it.

Come and get me, chéri. I am a ghost with many faces.

Vincent smiled, eyes crinkling. He pulled out his phone, making a call that was quickly answered.

“Where is she now,” he questioned.

There was a pause. “Well…sir…”

“Mm?”

“It seems like she’s at a cafe.”

“Alright—“

“She’s also at the Notre Dame.”

He hesitated to answer, but kept his cool. “I…see.”

“And the Louvre.”

He moved the phone away, smiling to himself. “A ghost with many faces.”

“Go get her,” he instructed, “Each one.”

Belladonna’s game led him across the entire city. Well, his men, but still. They called him reporting of notes that read ‘warmer’, ‘colder’, or ‘come on, you can do better than that’. Each of her clones proved to be as slippery as the original, and it gave him a thrill and a more subtle concern. He was aware what she was telling him, their game aside. She was showcasing her manpower—how perfectly coordinated her operation was. She wasn’t just a mere assassin, she had built her own network. He’d suspected help, although not to this scale of control. It was clear to him, though, why she’s wouldn’t accept any price. Leaders can’t be bought. She’d left The Table and had somehow managed to build one of her own.

When the evening had rolled in, he simply relented trying to track her down. It was impossible, he’d accepted it. Standing outside the restaurant he’d reserved, he called her.

“Alright, you win. I give up. Where are you, I’ll send a car.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “No need. Just come in.”

“Have you been inside this entire time?”

“God, no. How boring would that be?”

She hung up. He shook his head, going inside. “Mon dieu.”

When he’d entered, she was there waiting, smoking with her legs crossed. Her lips were crimson red like her nails and her hair was curled to a dazzling perfection. Still, as he approached from behind, he could see the bruises on her back and shoulders. He stopped next to her, brushing her hair away from her neck, revealing the bandage over his cut. She turned her head, met his eyes. They glittered as she looked over his face.

“You know, if a date was all you wanted, a whole lot more of your men would be alive right now,” she said.

“Hello to you too, Bella.”

He brushed the bandage with his finger, earning a stare from her. She was smiling at him.

“Why are you here?”

She looked away as if to think, then locked her gaze onto him. “Why are you?”

He smiled in return. “I imagine we’re here for the same reason.”

His fingertips brushed down her neck and over her shoulder as he moved to take the seat across from her. Her eyes followed him, smoke passing through her rouge mouth.

“Well, then.”

She leaned onto the table, eyeing him.

“Do we really need to have dinner, or should we just get out of here and get straight to it?”

A wicked grin spread across her mouth as she surveyed him. He cleared his throat, but smiled.

“I went through so much trouble to get you that dress, I’d hate to ruin it so soon.”

She laughed. “Oh, you’ll ruin it, will you?”

He pressed his stare onto her. “I’ll rip it right off of your body and devour you.”

Belladonna took in his words, absorbing his stare in her deep brown eyes. Her teeth bared in a wide, shimmering smile.

“Not if I eat you first.”

Her cigarette burned out as they were served the first course.

She ignored the food, her eyes fixed onto him. Something about being under her stare made him feel stiff in his bones. The closer he brought her, the more it felt like reaching into a fire. Her gaze was always so predatory. It gave him a thrill of familiarity, and the chill of it, too.

“Eat,” he told her, gesturing to her plate.

She glided her finger over her wine glass, then shook her head slowly, eyes daring him.

“I don’t think I will.”

He paused in annoyance, but couldn’t help how pleased the resistance made him feel. It was plain on her face, she was playing with him.

“Don’t be difficult, now. We’re just starting to get along.”

Her teeth gleamed again. “Or what?”

The response made him pause. He set down his fork, processing what the woman who’d nearly killed him two days ago had just said to him. He leaned towards her slightly, a smile playing on his lips.

“Is that what you want, yeah? You want to be in trouble?”

A soft laugh made her shoulders bounce as she sat back. The toe of her heel nudged his leg underneath the table.

“That depends. What happens when I’m in trouble, Monsieur?”

“You don’t want to be in trouble with me, Bella.”

The warning only spurred her further. “Oh, but I love a little trouble.”

“All you American girls love trouble, don’t you?”

“It’s our middle name,” she teased, “So you’d better be as bad as you say.”

Her eyes flitted from her eyes to his face, zeroing in on his cheek. He was surprised by the warmth that seemed to emerge in her eyes as she leaned forward, tracing the cut in his cheek with her cigarette holder. A soft smile spread across her face. She almost seemed gentle.

“Such a pretty cut,” she muttered, “don’t you like it? A pretty cut for a pretty face.”

“You think my face is pretty?”

She chuckled softly at him, leaning further and caressing the slice with her thumb.

“Of course it’s pretty, chéri,” she murmured, “That’s why I made it mine.”

Wordlessly, Vincent took her hand. He could feel the slight callouses on her knuckles and the bases of her fingers that had been softened by manicures. He turned her hand, pressing his lips against her fingers and kissing her knuckles.

“Si tu me fais tienne, je te ferai tenir.” If you make me yours, I’ll make you mine.”

She turned her hand, brushing her fingertips against his lips, trailing a finger down to his chest. Her fingers wrapped around his tie, and she tugged it out of his vest, carefully pulling him over the table and leaning in for a kiss. His breath caught in his chest and his eyes fell shut from the feeling of her lips against his. With a rotation of her hand she tightened her grip and pulled him closer. He kissed her deeper, tasting a hint of champagne in her mouth and feeling her shuddering breath against his when she broke the kiss for air. She took in his intense green eyes and caught her lower lip in her teeth.

“Alors fais-moi tienne, Vincent.” Then make me yours, Vincent.

“Ah, I thought you were not kept puppy,” he said, a grin threatening to form on his face.

She yanked him, raising a brow. “I am not.”

He gingerly held onto the table with a laugh. “Then what are you doing here?”

Belladonna loosened her hold, dropping the tie and considering him for a moment.

“You may not be able to make me your puppy, but you’re in danger of making me your woman.”

His eyes flashed, and a grin spread across his face. “It’s dangerous, is it?”

“There would be many who would start ringing a funeral bell for you if they heard the news.”

His gaze lowered to her lips. Vincent took her chin in his hand.

“Is that the price to make you mine? My life?”

“It would certainly be one I’d consider.”

“Then it’s the one I’m offering.”

She laughed, looking away. He turned her face to make her hold his burning stare. For a moment, her eyes softened. She seemed to hesitate despite how far she’d escalated the entire situation. But, soon after, she closed her eyes and placed another kiss on his lips.

“Then I’ll tell you again,” she whispered, “Fais-moi tienne, chéri.”

He kissed her firmly, letting out a sigh. “Come with me, Bella—now.”

The minute he’d gotten her in the back of his limousine he tore the slit in her dress up to her torso and pinned her to the ground, undoing his tie and holding her wrists together firmly.

“You’re not getting away this time,” his voice rumbled lowly, “I won’t let you get away.”

He bound her wrists together tightly, watching her skin chafe against its luxurious material. Her breath was trembling. Her skin was already hot for him.

His cock was already hard against her inner thigh—the string of desire had been tugging at him the moment he’d read that note. She let out a heavy sigh, pushing her hips up against him and lifting her arms over her head to drape them over his neck and pull him down to her. Their lips crashed together while her hips ground against him, and a soft moan spilled from her mouth into his as her body started to wrap around him. He kissed harshly down her neck, digging his fingers into her hips and pressing it back down onto the floor.

“Stay still—stay fucking still.”

A laugh bubbled in her chest. “Oh, you’re going to have to work much harder to keep me still, baby.”

He quickly removed his jacket and grabbed his butterfly knife from his waistband. He grazed her leg with the cool blade, admiring the flames of desire that sparked in her eyes from the mere contact. Delicately, he dragged the point down her inner thigh, stopping to watch how her chest rose and fell erratically. He guided the blade lower and lower over her hips, grinning at how they slightly bucked.

“Ah, you want it?”

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she gently pulled him back up to her lips. She opened her mouth against his with a moan, running her foot up the back of his leg.

“Just take me,” she whispered.

“Fuck, stop ordering me around,” he said, lips trembling against her collarbone as he laughed, “I might start to like it from you.”

“Then make me beg.”

He nicked the cut he’d made in her upper thigh, shuddering at the gasp she let out into his mouth. Without wasting even a millisecond he dragged his mouth down over her stomach—and ghosted over her cunt—to run his tongue along the weeping slice. He grabbed onto her as he made his way from the cut to between her legs. His lips brushed her clit and her body seemed to jump a little at the feeling. Vincent couldn’t control himself. He placed a kiss close to her aching core and relished in how her body seemed to quiver at the slightest touch.

“Look at you, so wet…”

He hesitated to leave her cunt alone, but planted a kiss on her hip and then sank his teeth into her, earning a yelp and a soft, lighter moan when he didn’t let up.

“Vincent,” she whispered.

He was close to getting what he wanted, he could tell.

“Yes, chérie?”

His fingers teased through the fabric of her lace underwear—she let out a soft mewl, making his eyes widen.

“You wear these lace panties for me, chérie? You were going to give it up to me that easy, like I already owned your little cunt?”

“Vincent…”

“Est-ce que c'est ça qui te fait mouiller, mon coeur, quand tu es en dessous de moi comme ci ? Quand tu sais que je peux faire ce que je veux de toi ?” Is that what makes you wet, my darling, when you’re beneath me like this? When you know I can do whatever I want to you?

She sounded almost anguished. “S’il te plaît, Vincent.”

“Ah, now I can get a please and a thank you? Is this why you’re so fucking disrespectful to me, Bella? You want to be punished like a filthy whore, then?”

“Oh,” she managed through weak laugh, “I’m definitely disrespectful because I’m a pompous bitch. Why do you think I’m the one that can’t be bought?”

“Mm, but you can be fucked, huh?”

She smiled widely, eyes falling shut.

“Only if they’re as pompous a bitch as me, monsieur.”

He moved away from her hip and went back to her cut, sucking on it hard enough to make a hickey. Her body arched at the sting of it and Vincent could feel her getting slick in her underwear.

“Beg,” he said, taking off the heels he’d bought for her, “Beg for me.”

The words left her mouth in a whisper. “Please, please, just fuck me.”

“Je ne t’entends pas, chérie.”

He closed his teeth around her waistband, pulling it taut and slicing the underwear open.

“C’mon, baby, please?”

“Don’t ask,” he instructed, “Beg.”

In his fervency he nearly pressed his mouth onto her as he tore the rest of the fabric off and laid eyes on her pussy. His teeth sank into his lower lip—this woman was going to be the death of him.

No. No. He had to take his time.

There was nothing guaranteed with La Belladonna, it was what they all said. He couldn’t waste the moment she was wide open and willing for him. He returned to her sweet lips, kissing her slowly, inhaling her scent. He kissed down her neck hungrily.

“Fuck, I need you,” she whispered, “Please, just fuck me. Please, please, Monsieur.”

“Mon dieu, you know exactly how to beg, too. How can one woman manage to push every single one of my buttons?”

“I’m not the only one with a type here, honey,” she said, smiling, “I get what I want, too.”

His hand snaked down to rub her clit—slowly, to take in her expression, her voice. She moaned, grabbing his hair, pressing her forehead against his cheek.

“Oh, god, Vincent. Please…please…”

His fingers slid inside her eagerly, curling and pulling back then thrusting deeper.

“Mm…Vincent…”

“Yes, baby, say it like that.”

His voice was soft against her ear. She melted into the floor of the limousine, her body easing against his hand, just they way he’d imagined it would.

“I knew you’d be a good girl, Bella, I just needed to give you a nudge—“

She gasped loudly at his fingers pumping harshly back inside of her.

“—In the right direction. Don’t you think?”

Her smile even shone in the feeble light the managed to get through the limousine’s tinted windows. She turned her head and kissed him. He returned it sloppily, his head pulsing with blood as his cock ached painfully. Her lips found his cheek, then his jaw, then her tongue grazed his neck, making him shiver. She closed her teeth around his earlobe and tugged harshly. He moaned into her hair, shutting his eyes. He needed her. He couldn’t even keep his head on fucking straight enough to tease her. Months he had to wait—months of clinging onto remnants of her scent, her red-stained cigarette butts and rivers of blood that trailed behind her—months that drove him fucking mad.

“God, you fucking woman.”

He tore his belt open, undid his pants and pulled his dick out, wetting it with her slick. He rubbed the head against her pussy, breath shuddering, mouth drying; he wasn’t sure if he’d survive making love with her, feeling the way his heart thundered out of his chest.

“Take me,” she whispered, “fuck me, Vincent.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He slid inside her gently, but once he felt her, he couldn’t be gentle anymore. His hips drew back and crashed into hers, making her groan loudly and move her hands back over her head. His thrusts were harsh, intense, but his hands slid into her hair affectionately. He kissed her skin like it was the first thing he’d ever tasted, her sweat tasted like sugar to him.

“Fuck, you taste like vanilla.”

Her hands returned to him unbound, and they slid under his shirt. She held onto him and wrapped her legs around his hips as her breath caught with each thrust. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hang on for him, to have this moment last as long as it could. His body felt perfect against his, his warmth, his scent, his taste. She’d only said words earlier—of course no one kept La Belladonna for long— but he seemed to be the man that just may have the ability—

“Put your hand on my neck,” she whispered, voice shaking.

His hand caressed her neck delicately. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes. Yes, he just might be the one.

“Harder, please,” she whimpered.

“Anything, mon cœur.”

“Faster.”

Her voice was barely leaving her throat. Vincent’s hips moved quickly as he felt her tightening around him. He moaned again, sure his voice managed to reach outside of the windows.

“Fuck, you’re getting so tight, Bella, you’re going to kill me.”

Her nails dug into his back cruelly, pushing him even closer to the edge as the pain echoed throughout his entire back. He managed to reach down and rub her clit again, feeling how swollen it had gotten as her orgasm came closer.

“Come for me, Bella, come, baby,” he encouraged, his fingers working quickly.

She cried out, her voice breaking as she grabbed onto his shoulders. She was just at the edge, her mind was spinning wildly. Her words were unintelligible to him, he’d never caught onto Italian very well.

“Oh, mio caro, sì, sì, ah, cazzo, sì—“

Her legs tightened around him as he slammed his hips against her, watching how her mouth fell open, listening to her gasping breath.

“Sì—sì come questo, tesoro, oh…oh! Non fermarti, per favore, oh per favore—ngh—cazzo!”

He groaned as her pussy clenched around him and she let out a cry, her nails digging so hard into his skin they might’ve been drawing blood. He snapped his hips into her one last time and came—loudly—as he felt for her breasts and grabbed onto them, tried and failed to stay upright, then lowered, his body pressed up against hers.

They laid for an eternity, trying to catch their breath, trying to wait for their heads to clear. Vincent managed to move first and kissed her neck, inhaling the smell of her skin, feeling her pulse starting to slow down. She let out a heavy exhale, eyes opening.

“You are…”

She trailed off into silence for a moment.

“…Magnificent.”

Vincent chuckled, kissing her jaw softly, unable to speak just yet. She smiled.

“Ti terrò in giro per molto tempo, tesoro.”

“I don’t know Italian, Bella.”

She laughed. “I said I’m going to keep you around.”

They looked at each other, and he smiled.

“Oh, are you?”

“Oh yes, Monsieur…for a very long time.”

She lifted a finger, tapping his nose affectionately.

“You keep me, I keep you, Mademoiselle.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling softly. “That arrangement just might be acceptable.”

He smiled. “I’m glad we could finally settle on an agreement.”

Her laugh was weak, but her eyes shone with that sardonic humor that had charmed him so. He slowly pulled out of her, gently sitting her up.

“Come with me. I will take you home so you can rest. We’ll have dinner.”

[molarbeardoc]

I love cooking. Sorry if this isn’t as high quality as the rest! I forgot to save it earlier and it deleted like 7 paragraphs and dialogue so I had to rewrite some of it AND I was struggling to think of how I wanted to continue it. Also it gets kinda funky at the end so uhm yeah if you’ve got any questions about that part feel free to ask ily guys remember to be silly

Split would open her eyes, finding herself in an empty white void. This was definitely a dream, or a nightmare, she hasn’t figured it out yet. Hopefully it wasn’t the latter..

She sat up, looking around before trekking through the blank space, curiosity fuelling each step she took. Something about this place was… ominous. Like she shouldn’t be here.

If that didn’t make it better, she felt as if she were being watched. As if something were documenting her every move while she made her way deeper into the void.

`What if someone is..?`

The thought made her shudder. Someone, or something, was hiding in this blank canvas. Hiding out of sight despite there being no crooks or crevices, nor shelves or walls, to hide in or behind. Whatever this threat was, she did not plan on sticking around for a friendly meet and greet, picking up the pace as her ears lowered.

As she continued on his invisible path, she noticed something in n the far distance. She couldn’t entirely make it out but it seemed… Well she couldn’t really describe it. But seeing as there was nowhere else to go, she made her way towards it.

As the trekked closer she began noticing how the floor was fading from its pristine whiteness to an inky black. If that wasn’t enough, she also noticed how every pawstep she took left a small ripple effect on its surface, as if she were walking on water.

That’s not possible is it? The only times she’s heard of that happening is in religion and that one lizard. Maybe it was oobleck? She knew enough about it, well the basics at least. It was a liquid when there was no force applied and solid when there was.

If so why didn’t it stain her paws? She’s seen it stain people’s hands went dealt with, so why weren’t hers becoming black or at least grey?

She was yanked from her thoughts as she heard the subtle sound of movement behind her, whipping around to meet whoever her friend, or enemy, was. Unfortunately, it was no friend and a deep scowl graced the Fruit-Taur’s face.

"You?! What are you doing here?! How are you even here?! Out of everything, it’d had to be you! I don’t get why DrRETRO doesn’t just use a sledge hammer against you already! No one likes you!"

She snapped at the smiling rock beneath her a quiet yet guttural growl rumbling in her throat as her ears folded back.

"Silence dog creature."

She was taken aback, quite literally, when it spoke, blinking as she stared at it incredulously. Its voice horrifically deep and statical.

"You can talk? You’ve been able to talk this whole time?!"

"Always have been. Now leave."

"Huh-"

"Leave. You’re not supposed to be here. I don’t want you here, your thoughts are too loud and disturbing my work. So shoo shoo, I’m busy."

MR stared up at her, its smiling face unable to show up its obvious glare of disdain and condescending contempt for her.

"You’re still here?"

"You act as if I want to be here."

"Then leave."

"Tell me how!"

"Don’t raise your voice at me, I have divine authority you’d only see on your glass screens."

Split let out a mocking snort.

"You? Divine authority? The most you can do is magic tricks."

The rock, now infuriated, glared at her shoulder, a small flame appearing on her clothing as it did as she let out a yelp and immediately pat it out.

"Apologize and I’ll consider not breaking your limbs. At least not all of them."

"I’m not apologizing to an oversized geode! Especially not one who set me on fire!"

MR was about to set her ablaze entirely, turning her into a blackened banana before a moment of malicious remembrance crossed its mind as it hummed in response. Physical torment lasted long, yes. But anyone could recover from it. Even the most vicious wounds of attacks can be healed, even if they left scars, they still healed.

Emotional and mental torment however... Those were difficult to conquer. Even the strongest of men can crumble at the feet of a weak mind. The detrimental effects that it can leave behind are sickening. The way it can drive people mad and take drastic measures to make it stop. It was too perfect of an idea for the rock to let go. It had used it many times in the past on specific victims, especially its current one.

Besides, it'd be killing two birds with one stone...

"Your friend."

"I have a lot of friends."

"The hairy one."

"I have a lot hairy friends."

"The detective."

"Bive?"

"You two are close, no?"

"Duh! She’s-"

"You care and love her don’t you?"

"Love is such a… strong word? I adore her! But of course I care about her!"

"Interesting. How is it you tell her of your life and she never responds with similar information?"

"She’s probably just had a bad childhood? Wait a minute how do you kno-"

"How do you sympathize with a freak such as her?"

Split’s expression hardened, but before she could jump on the defence, it continued.

"You know she’s a a failure right?

"A mistake."

"She’s not even supposed to exist."

The fruit-taur snarled at it, a spark of fury slowly growing into a bonfire.

"Now listen here you-!"

"What is your goal?"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Is it to be her rock?"

"Is it to be her white knight in glistening armour?"

"To fix her?"

"You’re wasting precious energy on her.. You can’t fix a vase that’s been shattered in to millions of pieces. You can’t fix a broken record. You can’t fix her."

"This isn’t about fixing her! Shut up! You’re just trying to trick me!"

"Au contraire. I’m just trying to enlighten you of your situation. After all we’ve both had someone we care for."

"Well, you still have that someone…"

Despite her fury, a small twinge of confusion nagged her.

Perfect…

"I had someone. I cared for their every need. When they were hungry, I was the first to feed them. When they were thirsty, I always brought them enough water to last them throughout the day. The others? They saw them as an experiment. An analysis. Something to simply studied. Me? I treated them as if they were my own child."

Split felt the anger in her begin dying down as she listened on. For once, she felt… bad for the rock.

“I taught them to walk, to speak. Countless nights I would lay awake for them when they were ill. Whenever it stormed, they were afraid of the thunder, so I would stay by their side to help to rest. To bring them comfort.."

As cruel as the stone was, it sounded like an excellent paternal figure. She never knew it had such loyalty and affection in it. Perhaps something changed it?

"I did everything for them. I would’ve given my life for them. And you know what they did?"

"What?"

"They stabbed me in the back. They left me when I needed them most. I returned to find them gone and my life’s work with them. I loved them and they abandoned me as if I were garbage. Do you know, how painful it is, to care for someone as if they were your successor, your own blood… just to have them turn their back on you..? It’s worse than any physical wound imaginable…"

The fruit-taur couldn’t help but sympathize with it. Clearly it was hurt, hurt beyond imagination. It had gave and gave and gave, only for its affection to never be reciprocated. Whoever did this to MR had turned it into what it was now, a bitter and broken mess. Who could do such an awful thing?!

As if it could read her thoughts, it spoke up.

"You know them too."

"I do..?"

"Yes. You give them the same amount of love and attention as I once did. You treat them with respect and kindness while others turn their back on them, as they rightfully should."

Split stared at it for a moment, surely it didn’t mean..? No! That’s impossible… Right?

"You’re not talking about..?"

"Your little detective friend? Unfortunately, I am…"

She felt her heart drop. No. That couldn’t be true! It had to be lying! Yeah. That’s right! It’s lying. She would never do such a thing. Sure she wasn’t always the most morally correct person, but to do that?! That’s too far. Not even Gnarpy was that cruel, and xe threatened everyone! Even Fleshcousin! But there was still sense of doubt that whispered in her head, its voice quiet yet loud enough to be heard.

`What if it’s not lying..?`

"Hard to believe isn’t it? I assume you have no intent on locating her now do you?"

"What..?"

"She’s here you know?"

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"… Can I talk to her?"

"I guess so. Continue going forward in the direction you were originally going. You’ll find her eventually."

Spilt looked behind her, tilting her head slightly.

"That’s all? She’s th-"

She turned back towards the stone, a quiet ‘oh’ escaping her mouth as she realized it was gone. How does a rock move that fast? Does it have legs or something? That’s a funny idea- Wait no no! She needed to get answers. No distractions.

She sighed as she continued forward, the questions that whirled in her head made her feel ill.

Is she actually the reason MR was who it was now? Did she actually break its heart? Why didn’t she tell her this earlier? Was she trying to hide her true self? Was she even who she thought she was?

The more Split thought, the more distraught she became. She was starting to believe that everything she knew about Bive, everything she cared for, everything she adored about her was a flat out lie. How stupid could she be? How naive was she?! She thought she finally found someone she could connect with, to spend time with, to love even.

Then the truth came and proved it all to a sick and twisted fantasy.

Eventually, she came across the paranoid detective. She seemed distressed, like usual but it seemed much more intense. Like she was expecting something. Like she was in immense danger. She seemed more jittery than ever.

As Split got closer, Bive soon took notice of her, seeming to calm down a little, a small grin even appearing on her face. However as she saw the hardened expression on the fruit-taur’s face, she tensed up once more, her grin slowly disappearing as she got closer.

"Split..?"

She paused a few feet in front of her, staring down at the detective before sighing. Bive tilted her head as she tried to read her face, why’d she look so upset? Did something happen

"Why?”

"Why what?"

"Why’d you do that to it?"

"Do what to who?"

"You know what I’m talking about!"

"Well, to be honest I really don’t."

Split bit back a harsh retort, forcing herself to remain calm.

"Why’d you just… abandon MR?"

Bive was completely taken aback. Firstly, how’d she even find out about her history with the stone. Secondly, who told her she abandoned her?! She never abandoned anyone! If anything she was abandoned! Well not really but that’s not the point!

"Aha… What?"

"Bive please tell me it’s a lie."

"You don’t believe it right? You don’t actually believe that do you?!"

"The more I think about it, the more believable it sounds!"

"It’s all a lie, I promise! Who even told you this? It’s obvious they’re trying to distract you from the real threat such as the clowns and snow so-"

"ENOUGH WITH YOUR CONSPIRACY THEORIES! STOP TRYING TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT!"

Bive was taken aback. Never had she heard Split so upset, and especially never at her. It hurt. It hurt a lot actually. Did she even know the actual story? Who tricked her like this?!

She tried to stammer out a response before Split just responded with a frustrated growl.

"Please just tell me the truth. Did you leave? Yes or no?!"

"It’s a much more complicated answer than that! That’s not fair!"

"So you do know it?!"

"Well! I didn’t say that!"

"Then what are you saying?!"

"That our connections are more complicated than that!"

"That sounds like you’re trying to tiptoe around the fact that you know MR."

"I- Well-! Just please!"

She watched as the fruit-taur sighed, turning her head to the side as she used her hand to rub the temples above her forehead.

"I may know it just a bit but-"

"But..?"

"I didn’t abandon it! I just left!"

"That does not make it sound any better…"

"Well I just-"

"We just aren’t on the best of terms because of previous events!.."

"I wonder why.."

It was like every answer that came out of her mouth wasn’t the right one. At this point Bive was beginning to panic. Apart from Split she had virtually no one else. Scratch that, she HAD no one else. Everyone else didn’t listen to her, they found her insane, they thought her truths were lies. She couldn’t lose Split, the mere thought of it scared her more than anything else.

"Look I dunno what they told you but it’s not true please! I promise!"

"It’s getting harder to believe you…"

Bive watched as Split took a step back, her panic growing into pure terror as she noticed the stone that had materialized beside her. Of course. Why hadn’t she realize it sooner? That dumb rock was the reason Split didn’t trust her, it was the reason she didn’t believe her. It lied to her and got her on its side. She hated MR, it was lying, cheating, skank that fed off of suffering.

But so far, it seemed as if it was winning this battle..

"Split, please! You can possibly believe it can you?! You-You don’t actually… Right?… RIGHT?!"

Split only stared at her, too upset to think of a response. The agonizing 'reality' had set in that the detective she once loved was a two-faced traitor. It hurt her too much to even think of it as she fought back tears.

The stone looked towards her, despite the permanent smile that graced its face, it seemed express some sort of empathy towards the fruit-taur. As if it knew how she felt, as if it had once been in her place.

It let out a quiet hum, signalling for Split to go of which she did without hesitation. Her paws heavy as she left the two alone…

Bive could only watch as she left, her own feet stuck in place, her mouth too dry to let out a pleading ‘stay’. Before she knew it, she was gone. Where? She had no idea, but she had disappeared past the horizon and could no longer be seen. She turned to the stone, watching as it gave her its sickening and mocking grin. How could something be so cruel? How could something be so vile?! How could something be so… cruel?

A wave of pure hatred and grief washed over her, the stone knew it too. It felt it coursing through her body, and it relished it. It fed off of such negativity, and right now? She was a gold mine…

"You… You stupid-! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

The rock didn’t answer, just stared… Just stared as tears streamed down her face, just stared as she trembled with mental agony, just stared as she glowered at it with pure unfiltered hatred.

"WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?! WHY DO YOU FOLLOW ME?!"

Her breathing was heavy and irregular as the stone answered her with a command.

"Drown… Let your suffering be the waves that kill you…"

The ground beneath her seemed to liquify as she fell straight through it, letting out a yelp as she splashed into the inky 'sea' beneath her. She had tried to swim back to the surface, despite her poor abilities, but it was futile as some sort of thin layer of invisible 'glass' blocked her escape. She held what little breath she had as she pushed at it.

She could see MR staring down at her, staring at her as she tried to break through. It’s mocking grin still gracing its face. It knew it had won but it wouldn’t indulge in its victory until it saw the realization in the detective’s eyes. Until it saw her realize she had lost.

She kicked and punched and clawed and scraped at the layer, fighting to escape as her lungs pleaded for air. Her chest felt as if it were on fire as she continued, her movements becoming weaker

Split would awaken from her sleep before groggily looking around. She was back in reality, back in the maze, back with her… Split looked down at the sleeping detective, a wave of guilty disgust washing over her as she realized she was leaning against her.

Bive felt herself getting tired, her limbs began aching as her actions became weaker and weaker

The fruit-taur nudged her off, not enough to wake her up to prevent an awkward and painful conversation.

The detective’s movements became slower before eventually stopping. Her body tired and aching as her chest continued to burn…

Split let out a sigh, getting up as she gathered her own belongings, despite not being much, and began leaving.

She gave the stone a glance, the sudden realization of defeat hitting her as she began to slowly sink. The 'water' was cold yet oddly comforting in a way, it quelled the fire in her chest. Bive couldn’t help but feel relaxed in its waves..

She avoided thumbtacks and coffee cups as she made her way out of Bive’s corner of the maze. Meeting Fleshy by pure coincidence due to accidentally bumping into it.

Her vision began to blur and her mind began to cloud. Bubbles escaping her mouth as she continued to sink down into the dark abyss.

Fleshy escorted her out of the maze, babbling random nonsense as it usually did while remaining upbeat and optimistic, not picking up her solemn attitude.

For once she felt at peace, no more running, no more fearing, just peace.. It was a nice feeling. The light around her had began to dim as she sank deeper and deeper.

She waved a polite goodbye to the fleshcousin as she made her way back to the elevator, pressing its button as she waited patiently.

She eventually hit the bottom, the light dim as she laid on the sand-like ground. The aching in her body had stopped. The fire in the chest had been quelled. All that was left was for her to close her weary eyes…

She heard the familiar and welcome ding of the elevator, her floppy ears lifting as she stepped into it. Mark and Wallter were there but paid no attention to her as they argued over wood and concrete. She placed a coin in the elevator’s slot and selected Splitsville. She needed some time to herself for now…

WOWOWOWOWOWOW HOPE I DIDNT MAKE YOU CRINGE BECAUSE I CERTAINLY DID WHILE WRITING THIS

Anyway I hope you enjoyed the Four Part Spive Angst series! I did enjoy writing it for the most part and I’m glad you all like it

ALSO SILLY AXOSUN USERS

Plus my #1 Fan (They get their own section because of how COOL and AWESOME and NICE (evil) AND KIND (mean) THEY ARE!!!!!!

I WILL STILL BE WRITING MAYBE FLUFF MAYBE ANGST MAYBE HURT AND COMFORT IDK YET (A different server is demanding Spive fluff from me) SO KEEP ON THE LOOKOUT FOR THAT RAHHHHHHHH

(I was listening to this while writing someone of this fanfic as well you should too)

[onboardsorasora]

Enchanted AU: Part 28

Hey Lovlies Enchanted Mondays are a go!!! I love you all so so so much!🥰

Part 1 | Last Chapter

Part 28

Max’s heart clenched at Daniel’s cry for his mother when Grace entered the room. He’d never felt so wretched before. He turned from the hallway to see Michelle standing in his living room staring at him. She didn’t look upset at least, but that also remained to be seen.

“Sorry to barge in like this.” She smiled wryly, “sucks we’re officially meeting under these circumstances.”

Max snorted, that was true. He motioned for her to sit in the couch and all but threw himself in the loveseat. She took him up on the offer, putting her coat and bag on the cushion beside her. She took a deep breath.

“Ok. Let me have it. What’s going on? Daniel didn’t tell me anything.” She eyed him penetratively, as if she could see into his soul. He’d never truly asked Daniel if his whole family was magical, and currently he was beginning to think that while Daniel clearly had the most obvious power, it was highly likely that Michelle’s was more subtle. And powerful.

Max sighed and scratched his eyebrow, “I changed my family’s Christmas plans and lied to him about it. I didn’t want him to feel bad or think he was ruining our plans.”

Michelle huffed, “Why didn’t you just tell him?” Which, fair. Would have saved them all of this. Saved them from having to fly all the way across the world in a panic.

“I panicked.” He shrugged. “He was, of course, looking at me terrified that he’d sabotaged everyone’s holiday, y’know? I didn’t even think, I just texted my mom and sister to come here instead. It was a really easy switch, of course, it wasn’t like, y’know, we’d never holiday’d anywhere else for Christmas before. And everyone was excited.”

Michelle leaned back against the couch cushions and nodded, understanding immediately that Max was just as in love with Daniel as her brother was with him. He was whipped; one look at Daniel’s wide sad boy eyes were enough to rattle this man to his core. She couldn’t help it, she started giggling. Max jolted in surprise, blinking uncomprehendingly.

This was not quite the reaction he was expecting. 

Daniel was locked away in his room completely destroyed and not talking to Max and Michelle is laughing. Max had never had an older sister, and he knew that the dynamic was a bit different. But this seemed a bit cruel.

“You guys are so ridiculous.” She gasped before giggling again. And well, Max wished she’d get her bearings quickly because what the hell did she mean by that?

“You are so in love with him it's painful how oblivious you are. I bet your friends roll your eyes at you in italics all the time.” She snorted at her own joke, holding her stomach as it started cramping. She couldn’t wait to unleash that one onto Daniel, he’d get a kick out of it.

Wait, what?

Max watched her with a stupefied expression, even as his brain started going a mile a minute. He wasn’t in love with Daniel. Yes, he liked him and wanted him to stay. Max wanted to go out with him, he thought about their reservation that he hadn’t yet cancelled. 

Max got lost in his thoughts, thinking more and more about how happy he had been since he met Daniel. How Daniel’s presence made anything better, how his laugh made Max’s chest warm and seeing him swaying to his internal music or cuddling with the cats made him feel content. And seeing him with Luka and Lio had given him butterflies.

Well shit, he was in love with Daniel.

He knew his flabbergasted expression hadn't let up because Michelle was staring at him with the most smug, shit eating, I told you so grin he had ever seen on a person. Max was suddenly very happy to not have an older sister.

Sassy jumped onto the arm of the loveseat and chirped at him before licking her paw. She also looked very smug, for a cat.

“You too Sass?” Max groaned, feeling like he was being attacked on all sides. “Now that you point it out, it is of course, quite obvious.” He scratched his elbow before pointing his palm in the direction of the bedrooms, specifically the one with the locked door where Daniel was hating Max with all his might. “Yes, I love him, but how is that helpful when he is sad and upset because of me?”

“What?”

Max stumbled out of his chair in surprise, Daniel stood in the middle of the hallway– shell shocked. Grace patted Daniel’s shoulder and walked by him into the living room.

“Michelle, stop teasing him.” She scolded, but Michelle didn’t lose her grin. Grace turned to Max with a soft smile, “I think you two should talk, hmm?” She walked into the kitchen and Jimmy jumped up onto the countertop to watch her, she turned to him; “could you show me where the mugs are?”

Max blinked, barely able to draw his eyes away from how calmly and easily Grace set Jimmy to work, with all the confidence of a woman who was used to helpful animals underfoot. Distantly he once again regretted not asking Daniel if his whole family had magic. Speaking of Daniel, he still stood there in the hallway. He looked just as tired as he had this morning.

“Chelle, I need your help.” Grace called, clearly trying to distract her daughter from watching Max and Daniel like they were her new favourite soap opera. Michelle got up with a grumble which sprung Max into action. He walked quickly over to Daniel as if giving him time to think would send him scurrying back into his room. Fair.

Daniel watched Max; still stupefied, stunned, speechless. His mouth hung open in a small ‘o’.

“Can we talk?” Max asked hesitantly, Daniel closed and opened his mouth for a breath or two before just nodding. Exhaling gratefully, Max led him back down the hall to his sim room. He closed the door behind them and watched as Daniel sat in the couch and bit his cuticle nervously.

Daniel stared unseeingly at Max, he didn’t believe what he overheard. He must have heard incorrectly. Max didn’t love him. 

“I’m sorry.” Max said, he paced the length of the room from the door to the sim chair. It was maybe a few meters, just enough that any conversation in the hallway wouldn’t interrupt Max on the sim. Daniel watched him through his lashes.

“Of course, I didn’t mean for you to hear that–” Max muttered and Daniel valiantly fought his disappointment.

“Yeah, sure.” Daniel whispered, nodding his bowed head. It was exactly as he thought, it made sense.

“And I’m sorry for everything– I shouldn’t have. I panicked and–” Max continued, running his hand through his hair, wishing he had a cap to play with the brim of.

Daniel felt the acute stab of his dismay and choked down the suffocating feeling. Of course. Of course. Daniel clenched his eyes shut, he clenched his toes and his fingers. Anything to keep his anguish in. He felt like it was pouring off of him like heat waves, like smoke from a too hot pan. Max was still pacing and talking about how all of this was just a mistake and misunderstanding and Daniel bit his tongue.

He watched as Max came to a stop by his sim, he smiled softly and Daniel felt the crack in his heart.

“Yeah I– I understand? Same.” Daniel pressed his lips together in a tight smile, Max’s eyes widened before settling in a happy crinkle. Daniel’s ears buzzed with static. He needed to leave, he needed to get out of there. He stood quickly, ready to bolt and froze when Max’s arms enclosed around him. Daniel shivered and pressed his face into Max’s neck, this felt unnecessarily cruel. But it was also everything he wanted.

When Max pulled away, Daniel smiled that tight smile again and backed up until he got to the door. He gazed at Max one last time before quitting the room. He ignored his sister when she called out for him and instead made a beeline for his room. He walked right into the closet, sliding the door closed behind himself and folded himself in the furthest corner of the dark space. 

Next Chapter

[brainstreamjournal]

Kindness in the Chaos: Navigating Burnout and Stitching Back Together

Hey there, fellow traveller in this chaotic journey we call life. Burnout, you know, that uninvited guest that sneaks in and decides to camp out, draining every ounce of energy and joy we have? Yeah, it's become quite the regular companion in our fast-paced world. But amidst the whirlwind, there's a shining light—a beacon of hope called kindness. Let's chat about it, peel back the layers of burnout, and see how these simple, heartfelt acts of kindness can be the secret sauce to bouncing back.

So, my own burnout saga? Picture this: days blending into a haze of deadlines, responsibilities piling up until I felt like I was on the brink. And then, out of nowhere, these unexpected acts of kindness became my saving grace.

A classmate, sensing my silent struggle, dropped a calming tea blend on my desk without saying a word. Small, right? But it meant the world. A friend's heartfelt message on a particularly rough day? It was like a soothing balm for my frayed nerves. These acts, no strings attached, wove threads of connection that are helping me stitch my spirit back together.

And burnout itself? Oh, it's a silent storm, no doubt. Signs are subtle but pack a punch—constant fatigue, a growing cynicism towards work, and that overwhelming feeling that life's just too much. It's like an unwelcome companion on this crazy journey we're all on.

But here's the cool part—in the midst of burnout's turbulence, acts of kindness pop up like little beacons of light, guiding us towards recovery. A surprise lunch from a friend, a handwritten note of encouragement, or a supportive gesture from a colleague—these seemingly small things? Huge impact. They weave a tapestry of emotional support, creating a sense of community that's gold when navigating the stormy seas of burnout.

Now, empathy? That's the superhero power in responding to burnout. Friends, family, coworkers—just being there without judgment, offering a shoulder to lean on, or lending a hand. It's like creating a safety net that makes the falls during challenging times a bit softer.

And in the chaos? Self-compassion is the lifeline. Taking a moment for yourself, embracing self-care rituals, and admitting, "Hey, I've got limits too"—these are acts of kindness directed inward. Because let's face it, being kind to yourself is a powerful strategy in weathering the burnout storm.

As we all navigate our unique burnout battles, the ripple effect of kindness spreads beyond our own experiences. Sharing stories of resilience and kindness inspires others to create a supportive tapestry in their own communities. It's like fostering a culture where everyone feels seen, heard, and supported in their journey to recovery.

In the grand tapestry of burnout and recovery, kindness is that golden thread that binds us all together. So, let's reflect on the impact of shared stories, acts of kindness, and the power of empathy. Together, let's cultivate a kindness-driven approach to burnout. Each small act? It's a stitch in the quilt of resilience, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, kindness has the power to illuminate the path to healing. 🌟

[jedidryad]

So much of part 2 centres on Mara’s work to figure out whether becoming a Jedi is right for her (spoiler alert: it doesn’t seem to be at the moment). Her week at the academy gets off to a rough start...and middle... and end really -  although nowhere near as rough as that of some of Luke’s other students. One bright spot though is that she makes a couple of new friends, even if they don’t seem like it right away. Here is a snippet of her introduction to Corran Horn. Dialogue is from I, Jedi

 I found myself facing down a green eyed man whose blond hair didn’t quite seem right. In fact everything about him seemed a little off, and oddly familiar.

Luke had called him Kieran and had given him my name which left me feeling more vulnerable than I thought it would because I had the feeling he knew more about me now than I did him. 

I scrutinized him for a moment, trying to place him.  No, his name was not Kieran and he was no fresh faced youngling student. My scrutiny quickly turned into a rather rude stare as he held firm. Who was this? Did Luke know he was here under a false identity, or was he being played?

“Have we met before?” I offered the words as pretense for my prolonged silence, but I was fairly certain this guy knew better. This was why I hated Jedi.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Oh he knew.

“Odd. I don’t usually forget a face.”

He didn’t flinch.

“And I think I would remember you.”

I felt my right eyebrow lift of its own accord. Who the kriff was this?

He turned away as though the conversation was over and I fought back a rush of anger. Whoever this guy was, I wasn’t about to back down. This academy thing was clearly already taking a toll on Skywalker. The last thing he needed was some Force strong imposter working an agenda.

“Kieran” was holding forth about the variety of rooms and options for me as I tried to see if I could get a read on him. I didn’t get much before I met a very deliberate shield. It was effective, if not particularly subtle.

All I really got out of him was a pointless confession that he’d picked a room among the old rebel pilots’ quarters back when this was a rebel base. Still, knowing that provided me an opportunity to make it clear I didn’t trust him as I smiled and told him I’d choose a room there too, in order to keep an eye on him.

I emphasized my intentions as we walked over to the residential section in question. Our positioning looked casual but I doubted anyone on this moon would be tricked by that. We made pleasantries until my companion made his move and tricked me into saying something about the Empire so he could accuse me of Imperial loyalties. I supposed I should have seen that coming.

On the up side, that meant I didn’t have to play nice anymore. The carefully casual walk was at an end. 

“You said we’d not met,” I opened, settling comfortably into a combat stance,  “but you clearly have a problem with me. Shall we settle it now?”

The smile he graced me with then was the most Corellian thing I’d ever seen. It made his face remarkably punchable. For a moment, I relished the possibility, but I never got to find out what he was going to do. Abruptly, he blinked and shook his head a little as if to clear it. I then watched him take a deep breath that looked like it had come straight out of a Luke Skywalker training session.

He apologized with a thoroughness that was remarkable in my life at the time, especially coming from someone who had clearly been planning to pin all the evils of the Empire on me seconds before.

He offered a hand and introduced himself as Corran Horn. And that name fit him like a skinsuit. It also explained why he seemed familiar. This was Mirax’s husband:  the Rogue Squadron pilot who had turned down Luke’s training offer in order to stay with her and practice his Force skills in the bedroom. I bit back an inappropriate grin as I recalled her waxing poetic about her husband’s lightsaber and leaving no doubt whatsoever what she actually meant.

I missed her.

As I took Horn’s offered hand, I wondered if he knew his wife regaled her smuggler friends with stories about their marathon lovemaking sessions. Considering what I knew about Rogue Squadron, I doubted it would bother him in the least if he did. 

[thesquishyrogue]

Cryptober Day 15: The Not-Deer.

I was really excited to post this one as the halfway milestone, because this cryptid is actually quite new. It originated on Tumblr of all places, where many users joined together to share their experiences with this strange animal.

According to the many accounts given, this creature resembles that of a deer. However, something about it appears to be...off. The eyes are said to look blank and nothing like a deer's. The joints in its limbs look like they're pointing the wrong way, or perhaps it has too many joints. Or not enough. They move in an uncanny jerking motion, rather than the graceful trot you'd expect from an average deer. Some accounts even claim the to have seen it walking on its hind legs. Some claims of its oddities are more subtle than others, but in any case everyone can agree that there is SOMETHING peculiar about this creature. Something that leaves an uneasy feeling in your stomach and tells you to run. So what is this creature? Is it simply just a deer with a bizarre condition? Or is it something else entirely?

When I first read about the Not-Deer in its original post, I fell in love. I was fascinated and wanted more. And of course, Tumblr delivered. To this day you can still see people drawing their own interpretation, posting theories, and sharing experiences. It's beautiful to see. My interpretation of course has its unnaturally long, jointed limbs, and human eyes in case you couldn't tell. Because in my opinion, there is NOTHING freakier than human eyes on something that is not human. Perfect for our freaky forest friend here.

Btw, the Tumblr user who first introduced the Not-Deer is @will-o-the-witch. So of course I have to give them credit. 🦌

[comatosebunny09]

How Many Drinks? [ Pt. 2 ]

Summary: It’s no secret that you’ve had a thing for your bestie for quite some time. With a few shots loosening your tongue, will you finally have the courage to confess?

Genre: Romance, Humor, Drama, Modern AU

Warnings: Language, Mild Sexual Content, Alcohol, MDNI!

This didn’t come out nearly as good as it sounded in my head. 😭 Thank you so much for reading!

He’s never too far off.  

And for that, you are thankful.

Kyojuro stands in your peripheral, a watchful big brother swirling the contents of his glass, looking like a five-course meal. He exchanges laughter and stories with a couple of his co-workers who came out to partake in the dollar shots, too. He’s close enough to intervene in case someone gets too handsy with you, but he gives you enough space to do your own thing. The notion brings a sloppy cant to your lips. It’s nice to be doted on. Nice to pretend like he’s an overprotective boyfriend instead of just a hyper-vigilant homie.

You flag down the bartender for the fourth time tonight, feeling like you’re wading through molasses. Your words are slurred as you ask for “another long island, please,” casually drumming your nails against the empty, highball glass.

“Coming right up, gorgeous,” he shouts over the conglomerate of conversation and music, gracing you with a boyish beam. Your lips quirk. He’s cute. Dimples, brunet, nice teeth. You make out the strength of his body as he mixes drinks behind the counter. Someone you’d typically flirt with. You would’ve asked for his number a couple hours ago if not for a certain blond living rent-free in your muddled mind.

Speaking of him…

You watch Kyojuro chat up a pretty redhead. She’s short and curvaceous, breasts spilling from her blouse as she leans forward and purposely squishes them together. Touches his arm with her slimy paw; a fake, girlish giggle added for affect. You scoff, brow twitching with irritation. “Girl, he don’t want you. You’re trying too damn hard,” muttered under your breath.

You’ve only ever seen him in two serious relationships since you’ve been friends. His last girl was a prima donna, too focused on his pockets. You wanted to choke slam her after Kyojuro showed up to your apartment with red-rimmed eyes and a broken heart.

He’s a sweet, romantic baby not into one-night stands. Deserves someone who will appreciate all the cliché shit he loves. Flowers, midnight strolls on the beach, kissing under the stars. He deserves a slow, all-consuming love. Not some grabby-ass heifer who’s only interested in fucking.

The bartender returns, placing your drink down on the sticky counter. You raise the tumbler in a silent thank you. He responds with a sensual wink before moving to another patron.

“Come here often?” floats a saccharine voice from over your shoulder. You tremble, nearly spilling your drink. L’Homme and warmth consume you when Kyojuro reaches around to set his glass down. Presses a deft hand to the small of your back. Your eyes lock briefly, your breath corked in your throat. “Apologies,” he says, flashing you a disarming smile, gradually backing off. “I did not mean to startle you.”

You swivel in the barstool to face him fully, alcohol sloshing around in your gut. “Don’t be sneakin’ up on me like that. You know I’ll beat your ass.”

Kyojuro chuckles deeply in response, the sound singeing your innards. “Calm down, tigress.”

It should be criminal to be so damn fine.

You drink in the subtle tilt of his cerise lips through hooded lids. Amber irises descend into a dark ruby, glittering under the strobe lights as he gives your drunken form a once over. Emboldened and moving on autopilot, you sweep a wayward lock of crimson-tinged hair behind his ear. Fingertips graze the cool, gold metal of his cartilage piercing. The act feels too intimate. Freezes you both in time, the thunderous music briefly fading into distorted hums around you.

Friendly. That’s all it was. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when his eyes fasten to your quivering lips.

“Want another drink?” you ask, dispelling the tense air. You don a boozy grin despite the subtle fluttering of your heart.

“No thank you,” Kyojuro replies, slipping his hands into his pockets, gaze averted. He wears an easy smile of his own whilst he moves to stand beside you. “I think I have reached my quota for the evening.”

You huff, turning back to the bar. “You had like, one drink, bro. You’re no fun.” At that, you down what’s left of your watery long island.

“Do you want to make it home tonight?” Kyojuro playfully chides, poking your rib.

Depends on whose home we’re ending up at…

You fix your mouth to retort, but the song blaring from the speakers melds into one you’re well acquainted with.

“Aw, shit!” you holler, ready to shake your ass now that the liquor’s loosened your limbs and inhibitions. “This is my shit! Kyo!” You grab for him with childlike mirth paddling across your features. “Kyo, dance with me!”  

He casts you a humored look before offering a hand. Carefully plucks you from the stool, twining five thick fingers with yours. You ignore how tender they feel; how normal it is to have his digits scorching your skin. He cups your hand like a lover, guiding you through the sea of writhing, sweaty bodies toward an empty space near the DJ booth.

Once safely nestled between other clubgoers, you let the rhythm possess you. Throw your hands up in the air, jumping in time with the beat. Kyojuro bops in front of you, grooving from a safe distance. He’s told you multiple times before that he’s not much of a dancer. But he’s a far cry from the wallflower he was when you met way back when. You’re grateful that he never leaves you hanging, even if he’s out of his element.

You mouth the lyrics, swaying your body. Wind your generous hips, not missing the subtle darkening of Kyojuro’s eyes as he watches your sinful gyrations. Thinks you haven’t noticed, but you’re on to him. You slowly sashay towards him, a hawk closing in on its prey. Reach for his hands again until—

You exhale sharply, back colliding with a taut wall of muscle. You toss a look over your shoulder, vision doubled and distorted around the edges. You hardly make out the contours of his face through the fluttering lights, but you have an inkling of an idea who’s behind you. And dammit, he feels good.

Fuck it, you think, letting the bartender draw your hips into a sinuous sway against his groin. The liquor’s got you feeling weightless and numb, and you love this song. Maybe you’ll put on a show for Kyo. Get him hot and bothered and craving your touch, much like you pine for his.

You look up after brushing up on your new dance partner. Can’t help the slight grimace that descends onto your mouth.

The ginger from before has Kyojuro in her clutches, pushing up on him as if casting a spell. Grazes his exposed chest with idle fingers, dragging him into a slow wind. Kyojuro spares you a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure that you’re alright. She molds his hands to her waist, snatching his attention back to her.

For the umpteenth time tonight, you sigh.

“Yep, I’m done,” you admonish, dismissing yourself from the dancefloor. Heat floods your body as you simmer with a silent rage.  

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby?” the bartender whines, scrambling for your fingers. You swat his hands away, a childish pout worrying your lips. You stride across the tiled floor, dodging awkward limbs and other men trying to draw you in for a dance. You set course for the ladies’ room under the pretense of needing to freshen up.

Your name is called from behind. Distress lurks beneath the depths of that familiar tenure as it closes in.

“Gotta pee!” you shout, dipping into the bathroom.

Once enclosed in the safety of a stall, you melt against the toilet seat after dressing it with a generous amount of toilet paper.

“Get your shit together,” you chastise, feeling like you’re sinking into quicksand. Cradle your swimming head in your hands, trying to remember how to breathe.

What the fuck was that about? You’re upset because of what? Because Kyojuro is doing what a single man should? He’s not yours; never will be. You don’t deserve someone of his caliber, anyway.

A defeated groan wrenching itself from your chest, you swallow your resolve. Give yourself a couple beats to collect your thoughts before flushing the toilet and exiting the stall. The woman who looks back at you in the mirror is hardly recognizable. Hair slightly mussed, eyes dark and hollow.

Yeah. It’s time to go.

You pat your hands dry and fix your dress. Exhale loudly before dumping yourself back into the hallway in search of your DD. You want to apologize for leaving him to fend for himself on the dancefloor—

“There you are,” Kyojuro calls, catching up to you in three long strides. You watch his silhouette dance beneath the dim light of the hallway. Not sure if the alcohol’s got you hallucinating. But damn, he looks scrumptious like this.

Hair spilling from the half-ponytail he’d tied it in earlier, cheeks speckled with color. Lips pillowy, panning in close enough to kiss. He places his large, torrid hands on your naked shoulders, bending down to your level. Concern swirls beneath the molten pools of his eyes. He knows you too well; can tell that you’re out of sorts because the alcohol’s turned you into a brat, and he’s one of the few people you catch an attitude with.

Kyojuro asks if you’re “ready to go,” in a subdued, cautious tone. You nod lamely, still entranced by his beauty; still feeling the long islands warming your innards.  

“Yeah,” you say with a slight cant to your lips, curling your hand around his proffered arm. “Let’s get the hell up out of here, Kyo.”

Wordlessly, Kyojuro guides you through the crowd back into the inky, glacial night.

—

The analog clock of the stereo reads 2:00 AM.

In the stillness of his convertible, your stomach growls audibly.

“Hungry?” Kyojuro queries, reaching over the center console to squeeze your thigh. If not for your inebriated state, your tummy would be a jumbled mess of knots from the contact. Instead, you nod slowly, dragging your eyes across the side of his head.

“What would you like?”

You shift around on the heated leather of the passenger seat, his jacket sitting homely about your shoulders. “I’m not really picky.”

“Waffle House?”

Scowl. “I’d rather eat dumpster sludge.”

“Taco Bell it is, then,” he relents with the humblest of grins.

You perk up, pawing at Kyojuro’s arm like an overzealous kitten. “Oh my God, Kyo! I want all the tacos! Order me all the tacos!”

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[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!!

[cupids-chamber]

Love letters & Bouquets. Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

Reader: Gender Neutral

Warnings: None! Fluff! 

Word count: 1.1k+

Summary: A story in which a Pomefiore student (Y/n) confesses through love letters and bouquets.

A/N: Pretty new to the fandom and tumblr. So, sorry for any mistakes. This is my first post!

Riddle walked through the halls of Heartslabyul in a rush. He was a bit ticked off, so he decided to have some tea to calm his nerves. Soon enough he was in the tea garden sipping on his tea finally, calming his nerves when he noticed a bouquet. It was hiding in a fairly noticeable area. The person who put it there may have wanted it to be seen. 

He took a closer look at the bouquet. It was an assortment of lavender coloured roses. As he looked for any signs as to who it could belong to he noticed a tiny piece of paper. 

“To: Riddle Rosehearts. 

Lavender roses means many things but one definition stood out to me much like the thorns that adorn these beautiful flocks of petals. Enchantment. I’ve fallen for you as if I was under a blissful enchantment.

Sincerely,

Your admirer!”

Well that was quite a shock to say the least. The dorm leader was red in the face and unable to say anything. He stood there, in place for what seemed like hours. Soon enough though the dorm leader regained his posture. He was confused, who would send him this. It was especially strange as to why the flowers were here out of the many places they could have been hidden. 

Riddle was a bit curious as to who the sender of these flowers may be. But soon enough he was distracted once again. Only to find another gift waiting for him the very next day! This time it was white roses. Although the roses could be found in the gardens of the dorm he was quite pleasantly pleased upon finding it and the note that came with it.  

“To: Riddle Rosehearts,

White roses have a significant meaning to me and I feel like this particular flower describes you in an unspeakable way. The white roses mean loyalty which I strongly coordinate with your loyalty to all the Queen of hearts 810 rules.  

Sincerely,

Your admirer!” 

A small smile graced his face but was quickly replaced with a frown when he recognized Ace standing in front of him. Riddle quickly slid the note back into the folds of the bouquet wrapping that he found it in. 

“Whatcha got there?” Ace asked the shorter male. Before Riddle could make up an excuse Deuce had made his way there. 

Y/n was struggling to get their ideas and feelings through. They had asked their friend, another Pomefiore student who had suggested that they try and send love letters and small gifts that express their feelings for a short while to gain their crush's attention and then confess. So, that's exactly what they did. They weren’t exactly confident in facing their crush one on one. They’d have to someday. Especially since they already acted upon instinct and sent their first letter and gift.

They started regretting their decision but decided to continue…

A few weeks later y/n had sent a total of 26 letters. Yes it may seem obsessive but they swear they have a game plan! Y/n promised themselves that they’d confess on the 30th letter. As of current times they had already run out of rose types so, they had moved to different flowers. 

While y/n contemplated their last choice of flowers for the last few letters. Riddle was curiously picking at any subtle hints of the person who had delivered letters and flowery mornings to him without a miss. They wouldn’t miss a single day always leaving the gift and letter together in an area they knew the perfect would come around to. He had fallen straight into their rabbit hole. Looking through any hint they could have left however, at the end of the day he’d be met with nothing. It didn’t take the rest of Heartslaybul long till they realized what was going on. They even tried finding out who it was but they were met with the same conclusion. Riddle anticipated their reveal, he’d be thoroughly disappointed if they didn’t reveal themselves to him. 

As the days moved on they sent their second last letter with a bouquet of red and white carnations.

“To Riddle Rosehearts,

I feel as if the combination of these carnations can describe how I feel for you. Carnations mean many things other than just the love I feel for you. They also represent good luck. I’m wishing you luck for the exams today.

Sincerely,

Your admirer!” 

Riddle smiled as he read the letter though he was a bit alarmed by the fact that you had not listed the meaning of the flowers to him this time around. Well you did.. Just not in the way he had expected. He seemed to have been a bit deflated at the fact. You usually wrote him the definitions that spoke infinite of the love you had held for him. So, when you hadn’t it soured the mood of the usually flushed perfect. ( That is when he read your letters. ) 

He didn’t look into it so much and chose to leave it. Maybe he himself will find out the meaning of the flowers. They had to be in 1 book after all. If Riddle was being honest he learned a lot about flowers through these letters. He was quite a bit shocked at the abundance of flower knowledge the sender held but alas it was time to head to class. He decided to hide the new bouquet and letter in his dorm room, where he was sure no one would sneak into. Whilst Riddle headed to his class he didn’t notice the retreating figure quickly heading out of the dorm. 

“Hah..” they breathed out. ‘That was close!’ they thought to themselves. They had always managed to slip in and out of the dorms, to avoid being caught for the past few weeks. No one in the dorm ever caught them in time. Which was quite surprising to them, but considering how early they usually went it wasn’t unprobable. 

Just like that another day passed and y/n had to write their final letter, they wanted to avoid it but they knew better than anyone that if they missed today they would never get around to it. They had specifically picked out and created a bouquet of Edelweiss, blue salvia, and white chrysanthemum.

The final letter was writes: 

“To: Riddle Rosehearts

I hope you understand how deep my love runs for you. So, if you may, would you please replicate the same feelings even in the slightest of ways?

From,

Y/N L/N”

Riddle’s face flushed as deep red as his crimson hair, as he tightened the grip on the note decorated in stamps and stickers of hearts and other silly quotes. Failing or more or less ignoring the glances and questioning eyes of the other students near him at the time.    

[hakuoyuki]

Hello! Just wanted to say thank you for all the IkePri info you've given us :) I am super curious now about the localisation changes made for the ENG version. It seems like the MC was changed quite a bit from your tags :D. What other changes have you noticed compared to the JP version?

Hello Anon～ Apologies for the delayed reply.

You're welcome! By the way, another ask was also asking me about the localization changes so I shall be answering that here as well.

This is going to be quite extensive with spoilers from various parts (including spoilers from parts of all starter routes) for both ENG and JP versions so I shall share the examples under the cut

To start off, here are the general list of things which I had noticed a change for (as of Sep 16, 2021)

・Route Ending Titles

・MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech (This is one very major change I have noticed. First and foremost, unlike the previously released titles, in IkePri JP each of the suitor’s MC have subtle but very apparent differences to her. It’s a little hard to explain compared to experiencing it but the rough explanation would be as follow:

Leon's MC: Bright & Honest, Daring

Yves' MC: Open-minded & A Hard Worker

Licht's MC: Patient & Active

Jin's MC: Earnest & Lovely

Chevalier's MC: Intelligent & Refined, Thinks and Acts Maturely

Clavis' MC: Have Composure & Tsun (Mega Tsun pre-lovers)

Nokto's MC: Frank & Flexible

Luke's MC: Peaceful & Helpful

Sariel's MC: Elegant & Mischievous

Rio's MC: Pure & Cheerful

You get the picture. Basically, in addition to JP MC being “polite and graceful (to varying degrees depending on which Suitor’s MC)” her personality vary depending on the suitor and this is something that really impresses the JP fandom because it gave her character even more depth, and most importantly, it really shows why the specific suitor fell in love with her. Their chemistry together is just perfect.

However, ENG had changed her personality, reducing all of the above to be the “default ENG MC”. (Think IkeSen ENG’s “Sassy” MC, that’s pretty much what IkePri ENG MC was turned into).  (My JP friends who are fluent in English uses the term “impudent” to describe ENG MC after reading the ENG ver). A scene from Leon Chapter 4 avatar story had him describing MC in both versions and the difference between the two was very well highlighted there so I have included that as one of my examples. Additionally, there are way too many instances of this and I simply can not cover everything in full details but I have included selected examples under the cut.)

Nonetheless, sometimes the original personality is kept because of plot-related lines (as described in the next point below) and even for ENG only players, the sudden difference in her speech pattern / behavior is can be clearly seen which sometimes leads to “a little” confusion and inconsistency.

・Conversations / Narrative in Stories (The changes here varies from minor to Major changes in nuances, to sometimes the Whole Context of the line being completely changed into something else entirely, however this mostly only happen to minor details that (1) do not affect major plot points, (2) is not a "plot-moving" scene, (3) does not touch "crucial world building" information. Some examples can be seen under the cut.)

・Suitor’s Personality (During some scenes, which examples can also be seen under the cut, the way some suitor behave or speak have quite a distinguishable difference to their original JP counterparts. Some character had their lines in ENG "toned down” making them sound “tamer”, while some ended up acting a bit more “aggressively” than they did in JP. It is debatable whether to call this “out of character” or “a change in personality that makes JP Suitor and ENG Suitor different from each other (to a certain extent)”. It is however, not something new at all for ENG localization to be changing how ENG Suitors acts such that sometimes they feel like different people (Example: IkeSen Sasuke, IkeRev Dalim))

・Choice Selections within Routes

・Usage of Character Sprites in Routes (So far, there is evidence that in at least one of the starter’s route (Yves’), a scene where a character was shown to be in their full outfit in JP ver, instead had their dressed down sprite used in the ENG ver. Due to spoilers, I will be explaining this scene and which character it was under the cut. P.S. Nokto having his dressed down sprite shown in Leon’s route is Not A Change, the original was made that way.)

・Yves Dramatic (Passionate Love) End Last Premium Story (Parts of the story, especially toward the end of the story had been rewritten from the JP version. The ENG version for this specific story included some very explicit description which Did Not Exist in the JP version. As of now, I do not know if this kind of change was made to his other end’s last premium or other suitor’s “those kind of scenes” too but refers to my earlier point of changes regarding “Conversations / Narrative in Stories” because the same applies here. As an additional note, from what you’ll see in the examples later, these type of changes are not always “made more explicit” since the opposite, “toning down and made tamer” also applies too. *Note: due to the description in ENG being Very Explicit for this story, I will be omitting it from the selections of examples below as my prior explanation had already covered all the details of what was changed.)

・Birthday Story Promotional Image (I do not mean the CG image but the layout of the template used to promote the story sale. For the ENG version, they have removed the story name from image entirely and changed “1st” to “Year 1”. The quotes they chose to use was also changed. Example from Leon 1st Birthday is included below)

・Story Names (Confirmed changes: Both End Clear Story, Birthday Story. The starter routes’ premium and His POV story titles are a direct translation of the JP version. Comparison of the starters both end clear story title and Leon’s 1st Birthday story title can be found below)

・Card/CG Titles (Not all, but many were changed. Mostly to become more concise but some has changes made to the nuances too. The CGs in the “Photos” page kept the original JP names as translated but the same CG found in the “Cards” page has adjustments made to its name in the ENG ver.)

・Card Lines (Similar to the situation with “Card/CG Titles”)

・Login Bonus Line (Similar to the situation with “Card/CG Titles”)

・Suitors' Profiles (Not only were their “A X B” Character Traits changed into a phrase, some of the suitors had their descriptions tweaked a bit too.)

・And on a general note, the way IkePri JP and IkePri ENG handles their promotions on Twitter are also different

.

.

[The following bit showcasing the examples after going through side-by-side comparisons will be even more extensive with spoilers from various parts (including spoilers from parts of all starter routes) for both ENG and JP versions so please be forewarned before proceeding]

.

.

Exhibit of Examples

Note 1: I may not be sharing all the screenshots due to sharing policies but all comparisons are side-by-side comparisons. Even for routes, I actually sat down and went through both ENG and JP version at the same time for max accuracy.

Note 2: Since we’re focusing on the differences, I’ll be omitting bits that are more or less the same in both (no change in nuance nor context).

Note 3: These are “selected examples” so there certainly are even more changes than what I chose to include here.

ーーーー

[Route Ending Titles]

ENG: Romantic End, Dramatic End

JP: True Love End, Passionate Love End

The ENG localization of IkePri have changed the title names to be like IkeSen / IkeRev / IkeVamp despite their JP end titles being different. As such,

True Love End (JP) = Romantic End (ENG),

Passionate Love End (JP) = Dramatic End (ENG)

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 1 Scene 1 & 2] - (This segments most clearly highlights the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech”, “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”, and as a bonus: Rio fans you’ll want to check this out for his line that was lost due to localization.)

ENG

MC: “You wish! This is... actually, wow. This is AMAZING. I bet the whole bookstore could fit in here with room to spare!”

JP

MC: “It’s not “love nest” but it’s “my bedroom”. Uwaah... This is wonderful.”

ー

ENG

Rio: “MC... I’ll always be here for you, no matter what!”

His words had a teasing edge, but I knew he meant it, and as the last of my doubts vanished, I felt a sudden burst of excitement.

JP

Rio: “MC... As thanks how about a hug, or a kiss to my cheeks, orーー”

MC: “Fufu, Rio you’re full of jokes again.”

ー

ENG

Rio: “Sure thing! But if you get lost or you need me, just call my name and I’ll come running!”

JP

After tightly holding onto Rio’s hand, I left the room to explore the palace.

ー

ENG

I’d been so taken by the scenery that it took me a few moments to realize I wasn’t alone.

JP

Leon: “......”

ー

ENG

MC: “Oh! Umー”

JP

MC: “.....!”

ー

ENG

MC: “Do you blame me for looking dazed? This place is huge! I’m going to get lost just trying to find the bathroom! Oh, andー”

JP

MC: “This palace is huge so I was just taking a stroll to figure out where things are. ...More importantly!”

ー

ENG

MC: “Thank you so much for helping us. We’re indebted to you. Would you mind if I asked your name?”

JP

MC: “Thank you very much for helping us. And you are....?”

ー

ENG

MC: “Wellーthanks, Leon. Do you... know that guy? The one on the white horse?”

JP

MC: “Thanks, Leon. .....Is the royalty from earlier an acquaintance of yours?”

ー

ENG

MC: “Do you remember when we first met in town earlier? Why did you make it sound like you barely knew Chevalier?”

Leon: “Because it’s not that far from the truth. I wasn’t kidding when I said we don’t talk much.”

MC: “Okay, I guess I get that, butーI had no idea you were royalty, either. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you in the palace!”

Leon: “Sorry if it felt like I was keeping secrets from you. How about I do something to make up for it?”

JP

MC: “When we met in town, why did you make it sound like Prince Chevalier is just someone you came across before?”

Leon: “I don't really talk to Chevalier much so it's not really wrong to say he's just someone I come across”

MC: “I see.... wait, that's not the point here! I totally didn't think you're also a royalty so it surprised meーー”

Leon: “Sorry for surprising you. Won't you let me apologize for it?”

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 4 Attire Story] - This story included a description for MC as quoted by Leon. This part very clearly shows the personality change in MC of the two versions.

ENG: “Who's smart and sassy and also really sweet”

JP: “Who’s strong-willed, hard working, and serious”

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 5 Choice Selection] - The (+4 +4) choice in this chapter was changed from playful (JP) into serious (ENG). The conversation following the choice selection was also changed however since I’ll be focusing on the change in “Choice Selection” example here, I won’t be sharing the dialogue that followed.

ENG

・I frowned at him.

・I questioned his motives. (+4 +4)

・I sighed and looked away.

JP

・Pretend to be angry

・Tease him back (+4 +4)

・Turn away from him

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 7] - Nokto had one of his line changed in this chapter and this change in ENG, no offense but, it made him sound like he was turned into IkeVamp Arthur. This is an example for changes in “Suitor’s Personality” and “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”. Other than this one line, the rest of Nokto’s dialogue in this chapter was “plot-moving” and contained “crucial world building” information thus his original line was kept as is (which I am personally very glad that they did not changed the rest much because this was my favorite Nokto scene in Leon Route).

ENG

Nokto: “Aww, rejected already! I’m heartbroken.”

JP

Nokto: “Aww, too bad. I got rejected.”

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 9] - Toward the end of the chapter, Nokto had one of his line lost in localization similarly to what happened to Rio in Leon Chapter 1. The examples from this chapter highlights the changes in “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”.

ENG

Nokto: “Don't tell me you and Leon are already...”

MC: “Already what?”

Nokto: “You're a woman. He's a man. And what beast doesn't want to pounce when a pretty little rabbit appears before him?”

JP

Nokto: “Could it be you and Leon are already in that kind of relationship?”

MC: “What kind?”

Nokto: “You know? A guy and a girl together? That kind of relationship. For a rabbit to be in front of a beast like this... It's hard to resist their instinct.”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “This should make up for me not helping you out last night. I don't like owing people things.”

MC: “Nokto, I... okay, thanks!”

I still wasn't sure whether I could trust Nokto, but if he was going to give me this opportunity, I wasn't going to squander it.

(This isn't quite how I wanted it to play out, but I'll take any chance I can get to break the ice with Chevalier.)

JP

Nokto: “With this, I'm making it even for not being able to help you out last night. After all, I don't like being in debt.”

MC: “Nh, thank you, Nokto....!!”

I was so eager to follow along that I didn't caught it when the words....

*“Many things are better left unknown.” ....left from his mouthーー

ー

Note: The bolded sentence here is the bit that was entirely changed across localization. I wanted to highlight this out because (mild spoiler) the phrase “Many things are better left unknown.” is a phrase that later on comes into play again in Nokto’s route and it really emphasizes on the core of his character.

ー

ENG

Nokto: “How did you end up looking like that? I doubt blood just came raining down from the sky to drench you.”

JP

Nokto: “What's with all the blood? And don't joke that it rained blood on your way here.”

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 19] - This part once again highlights the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech”, changes in “Suitor’s Personality” and “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”. During this whole conversation here, the way it played out in ENG and JP pretty much gives off the same message but... both MC’s and Nokto’s personalities just ain’t it when you compare how the conversation turned out in both versions.

ENG

Nokto: “Do you have any idea how many guests are here tonight? I've been smiling and greeting them for so long my cheeks hurt. I deserve a break.”

MC: “Well, when you put it like that...”

Nokto: “You know, we used to hold balls like this all the time, before... recent events. But that means it's the same old same old and I'm bored.”

Nokto: “Oooh, I know.”

(I don't like that glint in your eyes...)

Nokto studied me in the semi-darkness, a mischievous smile playing across his lips, and then he reached out and caught hold of my hand.

Nokto: “Why don't you come back to the ball with me, MC?”

(You have GOT to be kidding me!)

MC: “You know there's people here from Obsidian, right?! I can't just go waltzing into the ballroom! Come on, Nokto, I know you're not stupid.”

Nokto: “I'm not. And that's why I know they're not going to guess who you are just by looking at you.”

Nokto: “Besides, I don't think I can stomach going back in there without something exciting to entertain me.”

Nokto: “But if you can't handle the challenge, I guess I'll have to just sneak off into town andーー”

MC: “You can't do that! This is an important event!”

Nokto: “Then you know what you have to do.”

MC: “All right, fine, but I'm not staying long!”

I scowled at Nokto, but his grin only widened as he twined his fingers firmly with mine and turned towards the doors leading inside.

JP

Nokto: “There's tons of guests tonight, I've been forever handling the reception ever since it started. .....That's why it's about time I take a break”

MC: “.....I see, you worked hard”

Nokto: “Before the king passed away, there's a lot of these kind of balls held at the castle, and there's no unusual face around today either so it's pretty boring”

Nokto: “.........I got an idea”

(.....?)

His thin lips turned into a smirk as if he's plotting something as he firmly grip onto my wrist

Nokto: “Won't you go back to the ball with me, MC?”

(Eh........wha? No, no, no!)

MC: “I can't do that! Tonight there's guests from Obsidian too aren't there!?”

Nokto: “Yeah, and it'll be huge trouble if they find out you're Belle. But, just something like seeing your face won't give you away”

Nokto: “And unless there's some sort of thrills, I can't get myself to head back to the ball”

Nokto: “If you won't accompany me then, I might as well ditch it and just like this, head off somewhereーー”

MC: “Nh, you can't do that!”

Nokto: “Right? Which means you have only 1 option left to take”

MC: “Wah.......!”

While holding onto my hand, Nokto walked off with a jaunty step

ー

ENG

Nokto: “You were pretty when your world was so tiny you'd only read about love in books. But now that actual love has left you heartbroken... You're stunning.”

Nokto: “So stunning I could definitely see myself enjoying a night with you in my arms.”

JP

Nokto: “More so than when all you knew were just the narrow world of love within books, you're much more sensual when you're suffering from love”

Nokto: “......To the point that makes me think I won't mind being your one night stand partner”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “And judging by that expression, I bet you've got a lot to learn in the bedroom.”

Nokto: “If you'd like a few lessons, come by my room one night. I'd be more than happy to show you all sorts of new ways to have fun.”

JP

Nokto: “As far as I can see from that unsophisticated reaction of yours, it seems I still can't expect much from you on the bed though?”

Nokto: “Well, if you want to be trained though feel free to drop by, to my bedroom. It's not like I won't slushily caress and dote on you”

ーーーー

[Chevalier Chapter 3] - This scene shows the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech”, and “Suitor’s Personality” that was slightly changed due to the nuance difference in the way the line was said between the two versions. As well as minor changes in “Conversations / Narrative in Stories” from how the dialogue between MC and Nokto turned out to be here.

ENG

MC: “Hey, learn the concept of personal space!”

JP

MC: “...Nh, too close, too close!”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “Your intentions are pure, I see. That's not really my thing, but maybe the other princes will like you for that attitude.”

MC: “Good thing I'm not here to impress you or anyone else.”

JP

Nokto: “Unsophisticated aren't you. This is unsatisfactory for me, but perhaps that kind of attitude might appeal to the other princes.”

MC: “That's not my goal!”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “Ah, yes. I was probably on a date back then.”

JP

Nokto: “Ah, I was busy with dates”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “When I'm finished, how about we have a little fun together?”

JP

Nokto: “When I'm finished, I’ll be your partner?”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “You'll spend time with king highness but not me? At this rate he's going to get ahead of me in terms of your favor.”

Nokto: “Hold on, don't tell me you got closer to him the moment I took my eyes off you?”

MC: “Not exactly, no.”

JP

Nokto: “You'll be King's partner but not mine? Could this be that he had already taken the initiative?”

Nokto: “To think that while I was looking away, you would become this close to King.”

MC: “We're not close though....”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “Lately, there have been rumors that military action is on the horizon.”

MC: “What kind of military action?”

Nokto: “Ooh, I've piqued your curiosity, huh?

.

Nokto: “Let's see.... How about this? If you join me in bed, I'll tell you all about it.

.

MC: “No thanks! I'll just ask someone else.”

I jerked my head away from his hand, and he chuckled.

JP

Nokto: “You see, recently there's some fishy rumors floating around.”

MC: “What fishy rumors?”

Nokto: “.....Ooh, you're interested after all?”

.

Nokto: “Let's see.... If you enjoy yourself together with me in bed then, I won't mind telling you though?”

.

MC: “Nh, never mind then. I can just ask someone else about it.”

I looked away from him, and he chuckled.

ー

ENG

MC: “Stop playing games with me.”

(I'm really curious about that rumor, but I'm also not buying at the price Nokto is asking!)

MC: “I'll be leaving now.”

JP

MC: “Don't play me.”

(I'm interested in what the rumors is about but, if I ask about it from Nokto that seems like a huge price to pay.)

MC: “I'll be going now alright.”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “He's probably in the library at this time of day.”

MC: “Really?”

Nokto: "And just like that, you owe me one. I realize now that wooing you is going to require real persistence and tactics.”

(I was about to thank you, but when you say that, I'm glad I didn't.)

Nokto: “If King Highness makes you cry, come to me and I'll comfort you.”

MC: “Uh, thanks for the offer, I think?”

JP

Nokto: “If it's around this time, I wonder if he's in the library.”

MC: “Eh?”

Nokto: “With this, you owe me one. Just now I realized the hard selling way seems to work better with you.”

(When you say that it makes me don't want to thank you)

Nokto: “Come to me if King makes you cry. I'll comfort you.”

MC: “T-thanks?”

ーーーー

[Chevalier Chapter 4 Attire Story] - The way the dialogue proceed in this story once again highlights the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech” that the localization has brought about.

ENG

MC: “Good morning, Prince Chevalier.”

All I could see was a large, silent, motionless lump under the sheets that didn’t respond to my greeting.

MC: “Umm, wakey wakey, eggs and bakey?”

Still no response.

MC: “Prince Chevalier!”

JP

MC: “Good morning, Prince Chevalier.”

Chevalier: “.....”

MC: “Um, it's time for breakfast but.....”

Chevalier: “.....”

MC: “Prince Chevalier!”

ーーーー

[Chevalier Chapter 5] - This scene also shows the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech”, and “Suitor’s Personality” that was slightly changed due to the nuance difference in the way the line was said between the two versions. All in all, Chevalier in JP really do feel more “sadistic” than in ENG and this scene is just one of the example of that. There is also a distinct difference in MC’s personality in ENG vs in the original JP ver which can also clearly be seen here from the way she reacts to Chevalier telling her to “move”.

ENG

Chevalier: “That was clumsy of you.”

(Ohー)

I found Chevalier standing next to me, looking down at me with those frigid eyes.

MC: “Well, this is awkward....”

Chevalier: “Indeed. And you need to move.”

(I'm fine, thanks for asking! Geez!)

JP

Chevalier: “How clumsy”

(Ah.....)

By the time I realized, Prince Chevalier was standing next to me staring down on me with a cold gaze

MC: “My apologies for the unsightly....”

Chevalier: “It absolutely is. And get out of my way”

(I didn't expect him to worry about me but..... He's unsparing.....)

ーーーー

[Yves Chapter 13] - This is another example for changes in “Suitor’s Personality” and “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”. The punching line ENG Yves here said earned a “What? I beg your pardon?” from me when I read that line because that was a little, if not too much, of a shift in Yves’ personality from the JP Yves I came to know making him uh... more aggressive? Or well, more “impudent” like how ENG MC had also generally became so.

ENG

Yves: “I'm so furious I'd love to go in and punch every single one of them in the face. But I'm hardly the punching type.”

Yves: “So when the banquet is over, meet me in the kitchen.”

MC: “The kitchen? Why?”

Yves: “To blow off steam, obviously, We're going to eat everything I make in the meantime. After all, you're the only one who knows my secret.”

MC: “I'd love to help! I promise I'll be there, and we'll eat everything in sight!”

JP

Yves: “So much that I want to go and raid the banquet right away. But it's not like I can do that, right?”

Yves: “That's why, then the banquet is safely over, let's gather in the kitchen”

MC: “Kitchen.....?”

Yves: “Come join me as I binge eat to release off my stress, MC. The only one who knows about this secret of mine is you so...”

MC: “Uh...of course! I'll join you and eat a lot too, I promise!”

ーーーー

[Yves Chapter 17] - The ENG version of Yves Chapter 17 includes Licht’s dressed down sprite that does on exist in this route in the JP version. In the JP version, it wasn’t until late October 2020 (almost 4 months after release) that Licht’s dressed down sprite was first revealed before his route release in November 2020. In the JP ver, other than the starters and Nokto whose route was slated for release 1.5 month after the release of IkePri JP, all other characters did not have their dressed down sprite shown in any of the starters’ routes at all. (Rio casual outfit from the prologue is another exception).

Note: Screenshot from the left is from a Yves Chapter 17 in JP ver at the beginning of July 2021 (there were no changes made to it from its release a year prior), Screenshot on the right is from Yves Chapter 17 in ENG ver on September 1, 2021.

ENG

Licht: “You don’t need to be so nervous. I don’t care much about you one way or the other.”

JP

Licht: “.....You don't have to be that cautious. It's not like I like you or hate you”

ーーーー

[Yves Chapter 19] - And again, another highlight on the changes in “Suitor’s Personality” and “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”. This time it’s Klein Twin’s interaction and how the way their conversation played out in ENG delivered the scene so differently from JP in terms of mood and tone and the emphasis made on what is being said.

ENG

Nokto: “Well, handing Evie over to Obsidian might actually be a good idea. Although on wrong move and he'll be dead.”

Licht: “....Nokto.”

Nokto: “Stop glaring at me like that. I'm just telling it like it is. It's not like they actually care about Evie.”

Nokto: “Besides, Evie's so naturally unlucky I wouldn't be surprised if God himself abandoned him. It's more likely he'llー”

Licht's chair hit the floor with a sudden crash as he rocketed to his feet and stormed over to Nokto, grabbing him by the collar.

Licht: “Can't you event tell the difference between what to say and what not to say?”

Nokto: “Not really.”

JP

Nokto: “Handing Yves-chan over to them might be a relatively good plan though? But just a single wrong step could end up getting him killed”

Licht: “.........Nokto?”

Nokto: “What's with that scary face. It's the truth isn't it? It's not like that side think of Yves-chan preciously either.”

Nokto: “More over, Yves-chan himself got such god forsaken level of unluckiness doesn't he. The chances of being saved isーー”

A loud thud resounded as Licht stood up. Closing the distance between them, he glared at Nokto.

Licht: “......Can't you distinguish between what's good and bad to say?”

Nokto: “Perhaps”

ー

Note: The bolded sentence here is the bit that completely changed the twin’s characterization between versions. There is such a major difference in nuance in what Nokto said as well. 

"Literally" translated, the line in JP would end up as

“More over, Yves-chan himself got such level of unluckiness that seems like even god had forsaken him doesn't he. The chances of being saved isーー”

The original JP line on the “god abandoning” was emphasized on his level of unluckiness

Whereas, in ENG they’ve instead emphasized on “god himself abandoned Yves”

As you can see here, these two means completely different things.

Additionally, the way Licht treated Nokto in ENG here is something Klein twins absolutely wouldn't do to each other had this been their original JP persona.

ーーーー

[Birthday Story Promotional Image]

As you can see from the pic below, the ENG version changed “1st” to “Year 1” and removed the story title from below the year indicator. This was what also gave me the feeling that perhaps they changed the story’s title too anddd... they did.

(Quote change)

ENG: “You move my heart so much it’s almost absurd.”

JP: “Being with you.... I feel alive”

.

(Story Title change)

ENG: Only You

JP: It's Fine if You're the Only One Who Knows

ーーーー

[Leon Both End Clear Story Title]

ENG: The Blue Sky

JP: The Farthest Corners of the the Blue Sky

ーーーー

[Chevalier Both End Clear Story Title]

ENG: Our Kingdom

JP: The Country Loved by my Beloved Woman.....

ーーーー

[Yves Both End Clear Story Title]

ENG: Happily Ever After

JP: The Tale of Endless Misfortunes and Happiness

ーーーー

[Leon 2nd Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): Lost in Skies of Blue

ENG (Photos): A Childish Wish Lost in Skies of Blue

JP: Young Wishes Dissolves into the Blue Sky

ーーーー

[Chevalier 2nd Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): The Flower in My Heart

ENG (Photos): The Flower in My Heart Blooms Again

JP: The Whereabouts of the Flower that Bloomed Again is.....

ーーーー

*[Chevalier Romantic End Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): The One Flower

ENG (Photos): The One Flower the King Loves

JP: The One Flower the King Loves

ーーーー

*[Chevalier Dramatic End Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): A Beloved Flower

ENG (Photos): A Beloved Flower in His Hands

JP: The Beloved Flower is in His Hands

ーーーー

*[Yves 2nd Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): Someone Else

ENG (Photos): Someone That’s Not Me

JP: Someone That’s Not Me

ーーーー

*[Yves Dramatic End Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): Curse

ENG (Photos): Lifting the Curse

JP: Lifting the Curse

ーーーー

[Card Titles]

Leon 5 Star - ENG: Just a Beast

Leon 5 Star - JP: I'm a Craving Beast Thirsting For You

ー

Yves 5 Star - ENG: Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

Yves 5 Star - JP: Maybe I’m Just Acting Like a Cat in Front of You?

ー

Licht 5 Star - ENG: Wolf’s Den

Licht 5 Star - JP: To Be Jumping Into a Wolf's Bosom

ー

Jin 5 Star - ENG: In Other Words

Jin 5 Star - JP: In Other Words, I'm Not Letting You Escape Got It?

ー

Rio 5 Star - ENG: Beast Right Here

Rio 5 Star - JP: There's Other Beast Here Too Aren't There〜. Yep, Right Here

ー

4 Stars - ENG: [.....] Prince

4 Stars - JP: Rhodolite’s [.....] Prince

ー

Nokto 4 Star - ENG: Ready?

Nokto 4 Star - JP: My Sword isn't Just for Show

ー

Rio 4 Star - ENG: I’ll Protect You 24/7

Rio 4 Star - JP: I’ll Be By Your Side Protecting You 24 Hours 365 Days

ー

3 Stars - ENG: [Name]’s Hobby

3 Stars - JP: His Hobby

ー

Nokto 3 Star - ENG: Younger Brother

Nokto 3 Star - JP: I’m Not Like the Younger Brother You Say?

ー

Licht 3 Star - ENG: Keep Your Distance

Licht 3 Star - JP: Don’t Involve Yourself with Me

ー

Rio 3 Star - ENG: Your Loyal Attendant

Rio 3 Star - JP: Loyal Dog Butler

ーーーー

[Card Lines]

Nokto 5 Star - Don’t Run Away

ENG Line 1: “You shouldn’t run away from me. It’s instinct to go after running prey. See? I caught you.

JP Line 1: “No running away~ You see, wanting to catch a prey that's trying to escape is the nature of a man and a beast..... Hey, I caught you.”

.

ENG Line 2: “Hmm? You’re going to resist? You really know how to turn a beast on. I won’t be able to play nice at this rate.”

JP Line 2: “Hmm? You're resisting? You really know how to agitate a beast don't you. At this rate, I won't be able to be gentle though?”

ー

Nokto 5 Star’s Evening Line

ENG: “Good work. If you're tired, you wanna lean against me and take a break? Ah, but if you do that, I might end up kissing you.”

JP: “Good job. If you're tired you can rest against my shoulder if you want? Ah... but if you act that spoiled I might end up ravishing you though~”

ー

Nokto 5 Star’s Night Line

ENG: “Good night. ....If you want something, say it. If you do, I’ll take you as mine.”

JP: “Good night. ....If you're expecting something then properly explain it to me in words. If you say it precisely then I'll eat you.”

ー

Nokto 5 Star’s Morning Line

ENG: “Morning. You know it’s really alluring to see people disheveled after sleeping. ...What was I trying to do? Exactly what you were imagining.”

JP: “Good morning. Seeing your disheveled figure upon waking up is such a turn on. ....What am I about to do? Exactly what you're thinking I'm going to.”

ー

Nokto 4 Star - Ready? (ENG) / My Sword isn't Just for Show (JP)

ENG: “I'm actually better at battling with wits, but there's nothing else I can do except to use a sword against those who can't understand simple words. Ready?”

JP: “I'm actually much better at a battle of wits. But against someone who words doesn't go through, there's no other option but to slash them down. You see, my sword isn't just for show.”

ー

Nokto 3 Star’s Night Line

ENG: “Isn't it about time you went to bed? Of course, if you're in the mood, I could join you there...”

JP: “Are you about to head back to your bedroom? Ah, if you feel like it... how about I pretend to escort you back only to have my way with you?”

ー

Clavis 3 Star’s Night Line

ENG: “Goodnight. Keep the bed warm for me, won't you? Haha, I'm just joking. This time, anyway.”

JP: “Goodnight. Beware of a sneak visit to make love. ......Hahahah, just kidding. For now”

ー

Nokto 2 Star’s Night Line

ENG: “Hmm? Are you trying to stifle a yawn there? Ahaha, you could just go to bed, you know.”

JP: “What's this~ you're stifling a yawn. Ahahah, you're all teary eyed, how cute~”

ーーーー

[Nokto’s Login Bonus Line]

ENG: “Got you. Let’s have some fun.”

JP: “Caught you. I was thinking how I want to play with you.”

ーーーー

[Suitors’ Profile]

Chevalier’s Profile Description

ENG: The prince who will use any means to achieve his goals, even if it stains his coat red with blood. Not many dare to approach this heartless beast, but will you? Can you turn this beast back into a human?

JP: Feared as the beast among the beasts, the ruthless and cruel 2nd Prince. For the sake of his goal he will use any means to achieve that and his blood drenched figure is frequently witnessed. He's an unapproachable existence but he holds an unexpected secret.....?

ー

Nokto’s Profile Description

ENG: Licht's younger twin brother and a complete flirt, but he's clever enough to outwit just about anybody. You notice that his flippant behavior just comes from trying to hide scars that run deep. Will you be the one to heal those scars?

JP: The 7th Prince, Licht's younger twin brother. He's quick witted and is proficient in socializing but his womanizing tendencies makes him an enemy of women. His skillful seductions made you stand on guard however, contrary to his frivolousness he holds a sublime past.....?

ー

Licht’s Profile Description

ENG: Nokto's twin older brother and is as cold as ice. He hates being with people and is most often by himself. But when you find that he's kind, you hear about his shocking past that forced this gentle prince to put up so many walls. Will you be able to break these walls down?

JP: The 6th Prince, Nokto's older twin brother. He hates interacting with other people, be it in the palace or on the battlefield, he often try to be left alone. Behind his cold demeanor is an event which caused the kind young boy to be changed into a lonesome beast.....?

ー

Leon’s Character Traits

ENG: The Charismatic Hero

JP: Fearless x Ore-sama

ー

Chevalier’s Character Traits

ENG: The Cold Beast

JP: Dangerous x Sadist

ー

Yves’ Character Traits

ENG: The Star-Crossed Prince

JP: Unlucky x Tough-Acting Tsundere

ー

Nokto’s Character Traits

ENG: The Suave Playboy

JP: Clown x Playboy

ー

Licht’s Character Traits

ENG: The Soft-Hearted Loner

JP: Hates Human x Kuudere

ー

Clavis’ Character Traits

ENG: The Unreadable Troublemaker

JP: Mysterious x Audacious

ー

Jin’s Character Traits

ENG: The Sexy Ladies' Man

JP: Incongruous Adult x Sinful Womanizer

ー

Luke’s Character Traits

ENG: The Indolent Charmer

JP: Lazy x Charlatan

ー

Sariel’s Character Traits

ENG: The Smiling Devil

JP: Fiend x Resourceful

ー

Rio’s Character Traits

ENG: The Devoted Butler

JP: Blind Love x Freedom

ーーーー

Last words: There’s certainly more than I’ve just shared above but it’s impossible to cover all the changes. Furthermore, I have no idea how much more or less they’ll be changing but... seeing how much they’ve changed thus far...... Yep, the JP ver is my home 😂.

I hope everyone enjoys the English localization version tho! Everyone have their preferences :D

[love-toxin]

cw: injuries, yandere tohma, gn! reader

"so...how long do I have to play along with this little game of yours?"

the question spills out of his mouth without warning, yet each word is methodical, careful, like he's practiced it a thousand times before. the teapot clutched in your hands nearly slips out and shatters over the table you've laid out for the two of you, but the warmth of the porcelain fortunately keeps you steady enough until you can set it down in the space between you two. Tohma was kind enough to bring you a gift after spending awhile away, tending to his duties--so it's only natural that you would take him out for some tea in exchange. it's courtesy. it's expected.

but his question certainly is not.

"I...I have no idea what you're talking about, Tohma."

"really?"

he's sat cross-legged for some time now, waiting as you ordered the tea and offering you some idle chit-chat befitting a pair that haven't seen the other in a while. Tohma has always been your friend even when you were young, but as is custom in a place like Inazuma, your relationship has evolved throughout the years. there are things you can't say anymore, things that would ruin your life if you were caught doing them...and now, you fear, the glint in Tohma's eyes may be an omen that he's about to commit one of those unholy acts.

"come on now, sweetheart, everybody can see the truth for what it is. there's no need to hide it any longer."

he's purposely tiptoeing around the question, waiting for the pieces to click in your mind. he need not say anything at all, however--the way he looks at you in this moment, and the purpose with which he stands from his place at the tea table is enough to set your jaw tight and your eyes to darken.

"you know that I was always meant to be your husband. to be there for you through thick and thin, to care for you when we're both old and gray-"

he takes a few quick steps around it to get to you, to kneel at your side and reach out his hands to pull yours into them, and it's all you can do not to flinch away and risk the image of impropriety. but you've endured this lecture before, and the only thing screaming inside your head is for you to resist--just resist, don't listen to a word he says, and bite your tongue of any insult until he finally gives up and gets the hint.

"Tohma, stop."

"-to treasure you like no one else will. I understand your point of view, I really do--we're still young, and the world outside of Inazuma seems so big and grand...but you have to realize that the time to settle down is coming for us."

he rubs his thumb over your hand and smiles in your direction, but you can't meet his eyes. and then it's slipping out of your grasp and raising up to your face, and you feel yourself stiffen all over as Tohma gently cups your cheek, his gaze lowering towards your mouth as if he has an idea of what he wants to do. but that would be grounds for you to shriek for a guard, and you're entirely certain that that's the only reason he bites his lip to stave off the desire.

"you were always meant to be mine. you believe in fate, and you've always put your trust in me...so why not let me help you?"

that last part comes as a whisper, the tearoom private but the walls still thin. one of the many secrets you've entrusted to Tohma over the years is your disagreement with Inazuma's strict laws, as well as the etiquette that comes with being a member of the higher class. you've always despised being noble, and Tohma has always understood you, at least you thought so....but ever since he's gotten this ludicrous idea in his head, you've known even less peace than usual.

"I've said it a dozen times, Tohma, and I won't say it again. I'm not marrying you."

you do your best to spit the words out with as much venom as you can muster, yet you still feel the twinge of anxiety at snapping at him so informally. it could spell the end for you quite easily, but when your eyes are drawn back to Tohma's expression, all you can see is bliss written all over his face.

"...even laced with contempt, my name sounds so sweet on your lips. you've so much wit, so much grace, and your beauty leaves me breathless...I know how little you think of me, but-"

fury shoots through every vein of your body, and you know it's the wrong move when you slap his hand away from your face, the smack like a thunderclap in the small space of the little tearoom.

"enough, Tohma! enough. do yourself a favour and stop speaking to me--in fact, I dearly hope you never say a word to me again."

each finger on his hand twitches, only to close in a tight fist and sink back down to his lap. you try to avoid his gaze in this moment, but even turning your head away you can still feel his eyes staring right into your soul.

"you know I can't make that promise. you know that I love you."

that word makes you stiffen, your grip lock on your noble dressings, your blood turn to ice in your veins. you've avoided that for so long but it follows you like a demon, and it's eyes glow a verdant green as Tohma's words melt into your skin and eat you alive from the inside out.

"this feeling of yours....it's not mutual, Tohma. just leave it, and leave me."

you say so, but you're the one that stands from the tea table in the end, and Tohma jumps to get to his feet to follow you. he trails on your heels as you step with purpose towards the door and slide it open, the cool chill of Inazuma city in the night prickling your exposed skin. the blond hurries to get in front of you, and the moment you spot a few other citizens on the path this late at night, you tilt your head down and pray to the gods that Tohma won't force you into impropriety.

"...I see. you won't budge on this, then...I will have to accept that. but may I at least escort you home? I can't in good faith allow you to wander alone in the dark. I still care for you."

he looks down on you with a softness to his features, and you hate how easily you buckle under any sort of pressure from him. you prided yourself on not giving in before, but when you're not alone it's not nearly as easy--you have to piece your words so carefully together, and by the time you think of an excuse it will already be too late for you to reject his offer. so with as subtle of a huff as you can manage, you speak softly under your breath that you suppose that's fine, and grit your teeth as you thank him for the offer. and Tohma is all too relieved to stand beside you as you walk down the hill and leave the prying ears of the city, the silence near unbearable between you as you meander through the path cut down the middle of the farmer's fields.

"seems there's no one around. not a surprise for this time of the night."

it's not a terribly long walk back to your family's estate, but Tohma still evidently feels the need to speak up as you reach the end of the gently sloping hill. Konda village lies within sight in the distance, and you feel the tension weigh heavy on your heart as you count the steps closer and closer to safety. relative safety that is.

you're so focused on paying him as little attention as possible that you don't even take notice to his hand drawing closer to yours and his eyes wandering up and down your figure, practically salivating as the flames in his chest burn hotter and hotter, until the moment he can't take any more and he grabs you by the shoulders to stop you and force you to look him straight in the eyes.

"now, you're going to listen very closely. I'm going to give you a little gift, because I love you so very much. you get a minute's head start."

the shock catches you off guard to the point that you bite your own tongue, fear and panic shooting through you like icicles that make you freeze in place. Tohma's expression is so intense he nearly appears feral, pearly teeth glimmering in the light from the moon as he grins down at you like a predator examining their prey.

"here's the deal, sweetheart--if you can run all the way past Konda village, you win. but if I catch you, I win, and you must uphold your promise and marry me in a month's time. and if you win, you'll get your wish--I'll never speak a word to you again."

terror grips you even harder than Tohma is, and at his proposal you whip your head towards the village in the distance and then back to him. if he's seriously not making some kind of sick joke, then there's absolutely no way you would ever make it. you're not a fighter, you don't even know how to hold a sword much less have a vision, and you've seen the kinds of things Tohma is capable of....he'll catch you before you make it anywhere close.

"Tohma-"

his gaze lingers on you for a moment, before he turns you in the direction of the village and pushes you forward, only hard enough for you to stumble a bit. you want to question him, to try and talk him down from such an insane idea, but once you hear him start counting down aloud your feet move on their own and you take off in a pitiful run down towards your target. the night air whips by your face as you try to sprint as best you can, yet your robes that give away your nobility get caught on your sandals and trip you up enough that it makes your heart jump into your throat. your heart pounds in a cage that feels too tight, the air heavy and raw in your lungs the longer you fumble your way forwards in the night. even your tears feel cold as they stream down your face, and if speaking wouldn't expend your precious energy then you would surely be wailing for Tohma to stop, please, he's scaring you. especially once you hear his footsteps take off, and it feels as though his warm breath is right on the back of your neck.

but even so, you look up within moments to find yourself in the middle of the quiet little village, the lanterns dim and only the glow of the moon casting light on the humble little buildings. the panic ceases but resurges just as quickly when you remember that you're not safe yet, that the entrance to the village is still a few hundred metres away--and you can hear Tohma panting now, at a distance close enough that he'll make a grab for you long before you'll ever get there. but there's something you know that he probably doesn't remember, and it might just be your saving grace as you duck into the shadows and skirt around the mayor's house just as he skids into the path of the village. you fear in the pit of your stomach that getting the top off the well that you used to play near as children would make a great deal of noise, but you hurry forward and find it open--and just as you swing a leg over to climb inside and pray that Tohma doesn't think to look for you here, your foot slips on the stone that's still damp from the rain and your world is overturned as you fall through the air. it's not far enough that you can scream or grab for purchase on something, but when you land you hear the sickening crack of something breaking and pain that shoots through your leg so quick that it almost makes you black out.

but something worse is yet to come, and it's Tohma's voice calling out your name, before you look up to the sky and your heart just sinks as you watch his face pop into view over the side of the well.

"oh, archons--baby, are you all right?! did you hurt yourself?"

he hops over the edge quite easily and falls steady on his feat, not even having broken a sweat from chasing you as he hurries to your side and props you up in the crook of his arm. and despite still feeling that twinge of discomfort and panic from him touching you, the agony sets in so deeply that you cling to him without realizing as tears pour down your face and you struggle to breathe.

"let me see...yeah, that's definitely broken. c'mere, I'll help you up.."

just brushing the pads of his fingers over the rapidly-swelling skin of your calf makes you flinch and cry out with pain, and it's obvious by the deep bruising how bad you've hurt it--you wouldn't be able to climb out of here if you tried. but Tohma finds so little trouble in heaving you up into his arms that it's laughable....it would be funny how sincerely you thought you could get away in the first place, if you weren't experiencing the consequences now. and only now is it starting to sink in that you lost, even though he isn't rubbing it in your face. yet.

"poor thing--that was scary, wasn't it? aren't you glad I was here?"

despite how despairing you look, he rubs his cheek against yours as he holds you tight. you realize now how much he's always wanted to do this, and how he's dragging this all out while he has the chance to do it without anyone watching....it's such a rare opportunity, but you don't feel nearly as lucky as he does.

"I'll always be here, sweetie....in sickness and in health, right?"

he murmurs into the shell of your ear, before pressing a kiss to it right afterwards as he reaches out to get a foothold so he can lift you out of here. all you can think about now is how your chance of escaping him has slipped away....and now, your status is a death sentence in the hands of the man who saved your life, and will ask for nothing in return but your gentle hand in marriage. how romantic.

[1kook]

card swiped (4)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.” GENRE romance (romcom?), eventual smut, teensy angst WARNING mentions of a hand job, talk of virginity OTHER college crushes, volleyball player!jk, student council president!oc, idiots to lovers, besties to lovers, childhood friends au RATING m (18+) bc brief sex ment WC 1.6k

NOTES (!) sorry for taking so long to update </3 school be kicking my ass. anyway here they are! an idiot couple. lmk what u think!!

[ masterlist ] 

In the past, whenever something had bothered you, the first person you ran to was Jungkook. Low grades, fights with your parents, boy drama— as your best friend and number one confidant, Jungkook was always your first choice. He was always willing to lend you a shoulder to cry on, even if that meant staining his white t-shirts with streaks of your mascara. He was always ready to go beat up a mean boy who had hurt your feelings during lunch, even if he’d miss his favorite special. And he was always down for some good old fashion i hate my parents ranting, even if he adored your parents. He was a great listener, an even better best friend, and had rightfully won you over from a very young age. 

That being said, how were you supposed to talk to Jungkook about something that bothered you when that something was him? 

You could easily tell any of your numerous girl friends, those of which would probably understand your predicament better than Jungkook or any man ever could. But after years of vehemently denying any notion of a romantic relationship between the two of you, you get the feeling your call for help will be met with more unimpressed glares than actual assistance. Besides, as much as you bring up Jungkook, none of them really know Jungkook to truly offer you any worthwhile advice. 

Your next option: Kim Taehyung. Now, Kim Taehyung held a similar background as Jungkook (translation: he also went to the same high school as you). He knows both you and Jungkook—frankly, more than you’d like him to—so he would be able to dissect the issue easily and offer trustworthy advice. The problem with Kim Taehyung, however, is that aside from knowing you at your embarrassingly dorky teenage prime, he doesn’t know how to keep a secret. Anything he knows, Jungkook knows. So if you were to, hypothetically, ask Taehyung for advice on Jungkook, well. Chances are, you’d probably get a rather confused text from Jungkook two minutes later. 

Which leaves you with one option— Park Jimin. There’s a reason Park Jimin isn’t your first option, and that reason presents itself now as you glare at him from across the empty room. For as long as you’ve been in university, Jimin has always lingered around the student council meetings, giving everyone he sees the prettiest, meanest stink-eye. You suspect it’s because he waits around for Min Yoongi, your Vice President (which isn’t an issue; Jungkook also frequents student council meetings while waiting for you), and doesn’t really care for anyone else. Your problem with Jimin doesn’t lie there but rather with the fact he’s adamant on taking up space and not lending so much as a finger to help. 

Today he is sitting with his feet on the table, dirty volleyball bag tossed on the floor. He’s watched you for the last fifteen minutes wrestle with the broken copy machine and hasn’t said a word since. He pretends he doesn’t see you struggling, because if he does, he’d be obligated to help you. 

To summarize, Park Jimin may be the fastest libero your university’s volleyball team has seen in years, but he’s a good-for-nothing bum everywhere else. 

And despite all that, he’s your best choice. There’s no one quite as blunt and honest as Park Jimin. There’s no one in this world who truly doesn’t care enough about anyone’s problems to gossip about them as Park Jimin. You plop down beside him, rumpled papers in hand. Without warning, you jump straight into it. “Jungkook is going to take my virginity,” you announce, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. If any of your fellow student council members heard you, you’re certain you’d shrivel up and die. 

Jimin hums. “That’s nice.” His eyes don’t leave his phone, thumb hovering over his screen. It’s a testament to how much he truly does not care. His extended silence plants a seed of doubt in you— was this the right person to tell? you begin to worry. But after a beat, Jimin’s thumb taps against his screen and he says, “Jungkook is a virgin.” 

You clench your jaw. “I know.” 

The thing about Jimin is, with the right wording, you can get him interested in something. Not interested enough to genuinely care, but interested enough to at least listen and offer his own piece of straightforward advice. His thumb comes to a standstill over his phone, eyes momentarily going blank. It’s a minute gesture, one that’s taken you four years of paying attention to catch. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “Really,” Jimin sighs, back to, you now realize, playing CandyCrush on his phone. “You’re gonna let a virgin take your virginity.”

Not a question, but you nod anyway. “Yup.” 

There’s sweat building on the back of your neck, nerves at an all time high, but you’re trying to play it off. Just a little bit more and you know you’ll have caught him. Beside you, Jimin’s jaw twitches. 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of trying to act calm, Jimin clicks his phone off and turns to you. He’s as intimidating as ever, ash blonde hair pushed back today to reveal his forehead and dark eyes. “You’ve known Jungkook was a virgin this whole time?” he asks, has this calculating look in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re being questioned by an officer of the law and not the shortest person on the volleyball team. 

With a practiced air of nonchalance, you shrug. “I have,” you confess, and it’s the truth. 

While you may have been initially fooled that night two years ago, you weren’t that oblivious. Oh, you knew clear as day that Jeon Jungkook was still a virgin, just as well as you knew that he religiously washed his sheets every weekend or that he had a specific color coded system for his underwear drawer. Jungkook was a fool to try and lie to you, not only because you had found out, but because you had found out that very next morning. 

It had been subtle. The night at the party, you had watched on with a throbbing heartache as some pretty girl led Jungkook up a set of stairs, had barely fought off a wave of emotion when he returned twenty minutes later, his hair a rumpled mess. “Did you… ?” you had mumbled, pressed closely against him by the back door. Your eyes had been glassy, from your emotions and from the drunken stupor you had gotten yourself into while he was away, wondering what he was doing. A sense of jealousy you would never admit to had curled around your heart. His hand had landed on your hip then. He smelled like flowers and vanilla, a smell unlike his own. Your heart clenched, hand mindlessly reaching up to cup his jaw, so drunk and heartbroken, you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing your fingers along his pretty cheekbones. 

Jungkook had graced you with a simple nod, and then, “do you wanna leave now?” 

You’d left, stumbling down Greek road on your way back to his dorm. Jungkook had held your hand the whole way, tucked you into his twin bed, and then promptly knocked out on the floor between his and Taehyung’s beds. The latter was nowhere to be found, wouldn’t appear until the next morning when he’d accidentally step on Jungkook’s ankle and wake both of you up. 

Jungkook had yelped, and your eyes had fluttered open. You remember debating rolling over, checking on him like you wanted to, but Taehyung was already there doing just that. So you had laid still instead, listened as the two boys clattered around the room. They chatted mindlessly, about the party and tomorrow’s practice. Taehyung had been bragging about some girl he’d slept with last night. “What about you?” he had asked, and your breath caught in your throat. “Did you and…”—a pause, the distinct ruffle of fabric—“finally?” 

“What— no,” Jungkook had said, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down on the edge beside you.

Taehyung pushed on with a snort. “Well, did you get lucky at all?”

Jungkook groaned, placed one warm hand on your back soothingly. You tried your best to level out your breathing, relaxed your facial expression as you clung to the sound of his voice. “Just a handjob. Some girl I didn’t even know. Does that count?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, felt it beneath your fingertips when you fisted the sheets. 

And that curt admission sat in the back of your mind everyday for two years. 

You turn to Jimin. “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”

Jimin lets out a low whistle. “You’re smarter than I thought,” he grins, this conniving little smile that is a genuine cause for concern. “So you’re letting him think you don’t know?” You nod. Jimin’s smile grows. “My, my. If I had known you were this evil, maybe we would’ve hung out more.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not evil,” you insist, flicking him on the nose. Jimin huffs indignantly. “I think what he’s doing is sweet…” you confess, feel your entire body heat up as you recall that wide-eyed look Jungkook had given you just yesterday afternoon, your kiss print fresh on his cheek. “And, well,” you look down at your shoes. “I used to dream about him being my first.” 

Jimin groans. “You two make me sick.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[apompkwrites]

love in their own way || albedo, childe, xiao, zhongli

masterlist characters: albedo, childe, xiao, zhongli genre: fluff summary: in which their s/o's aren't as forward about their emotions, but still manage to have their little tells that express their love. notes: i hope this meets the request! i had a lot of fun writing this! i just want the boys to be happy :)

albedo -

i like to think albedo is secretly clingy but doesn't allow himself to show it to anyone.

naturally, it's just because he's always holed up with his work.

when he consciously does it... it's because he's nervous.

remember the end of his quest when he's talking to himself at dragonspine?

that's why he's nervous.

anyway!!

he's not too bothered by the fact that you're more reserved.

he has a lot of work so he can't really dwell on the idea for too long.

just you being there when he's working is good enough for him :D

as we all know, this boy is very into experimentation and learning.

so trying to decipher your minuscule facial changes is actually really interesting to him!

he has a bunch of notes just on the little details he can find about you.

and since he's so observant, it doesn't take him long to realize that there are certain signs that only appear around him.

he'll notice them when he's painting you.

whenever he's waiting for results, he'll use the time to draw you <3

because he's done this, he practically has you memorized.

so imagine his surprise when he sees your expression change whenever he leaves your sight.

it takes him a while to actually be able to see this, but i'm sure it's because of timaeus and sucrose.

after all, they're around you a lot whenever albedo is busy.

they probably take a picture to show him something they did while he was gone and that's when he notices.

he doesn't even have to look at a different picture of you.

he can just tell you look different.

the little crinkle next to your eyes was gone.

your lips were more pursed than usual.

you now had a crease in between your brows you didn't have before.

the next time he sees you, he'll hold up the picture next to your face to confirm they're different.

he wants to ask why there's a "clear" difference in your appearance but he already knows why.

he'll ask you just to be sure, though--

your cheeks get a tiny tiny bit darker when you answer wholeheartedly.

it does make him chuckle when he hears that you're so smitten for him in your monotonous voice.

the picture sucrose and timaeus took isn't his favorite of you, so he ends up taking a new one when you two are both exploring dragonspine.

it's a reminder of how much you really love him <3

childe -

out of the four boys here, he's definitely (in my opinion) the most affectionate.

like, this boy will take whatever he can get to just hold you for a second.

especially if you're also from snezhnaya but came all the way to liyue to keep him company.

he's very family-oriented as we've seen, so he treasures these relationships.

now, with an unaffectionate s/o?

honestly, i don't think he'd be too upset about it.

like i said, he really treasures these familial relationships.

because of this, it's his top priority to make sure you feel comfortable in the relationship.

he won't necessarily keep his distance, but he won't be too clingy either.

he'll stand right beside you, enough to where you can almost feel his skin touching yours.

as for your expressionlessness...

it'll take him a bit to really understand how you're feeling.

it's a lot of communication because he doesn't want to mess anything up.

near the beginning of the relationship, he'd ask how you're feeling and if there's anything bothering you.

but once he finally notices the subtle differences in your face, such as a slight eyebrow raise or a tilt of the head, he'll be able to read you easier.

nothing too complex, but just enough for him to tell your emotions.

there is one subtle change that he always looks for, however.

he's realized, with the help of zhongli of course, that there is a specific characteristic that only happens when he's in your line of sight.

your lips are normally pressed in a fine line.

however, around him, the corners lift up ever-so-slightly.

the only reason he's able to see it is that he'll catch himself staring at your lips because he wants a kiss :)

once he sees that, he starts noticing your little quirks whenever you're around him.

you'll lean closer to him as you're walking through liyue harbor.

your eyes start to soften as he talks on and on about his day (and complains about scaramouche--).

he loves the idea that all of these little details about you only happen around him,

it makes him feel... important.

and loved.

even if he holds back from touching you, he'll settle for seeing your cold exterior melt around him.

xiao -

he's not too well versed in affection...

i mean, he's the vigilant yaksha that is known for being stoic just like you are.

you two are basically carbon copies of each other.

no affection and no clear expressions of love.

people (who know both you and xiao) often forget that you two are actually together.

like, they just think you two sit in silence when you're both tired of dealing with people.

they... aren't necessarily wrong.

the two of you are often found sitting at the balcony looking over liyue.

sometimes you bring him almond tofu to share :)

it's very rare for the two of you to actively show your love for each other, mainly because you both know your feelings.

although... xiao does have those moments.

it's not like he's completely oblivious to the whispers about you two.

and on the days where his karma acts up, he gets insecure.

he's... really scared that one day you'll leave just like the others.

it doesn't matter if you're a mortal or an adeptus, he's scared that one day he'll wake up and you'll be gone.

and if that ever comes, he's scared you'll pass on either doubting your feelings or his.

it doesn't help when he notices the difference in your attitude and appearance when he's around.

his first instinct is that he's doing something bad.

either you're angry or upset at his mere existence...

verr goldet's the one who has to explain why you seem different.

she's quite observant on her own, especially because you're the first person that xiao actively enjoys being around.

she'll be the one to tell him that it isn't because you're mad at him.

you have minuscule changes because that's how xiao makes you feel.

you're so soft around him and she can tell just from the small interactions she's seen of you.

for example, when you're talking to the chef downstairs, you have the same expression that xiao has when he's talking to people.

you're annoyed but you know how to handle it.

but when you're around xiao, it's like everything that bothers you disappears.

it's like you're in your own domain whenever he's around.

nothing else matters except for him.

and even if she's relying on small observations and pure intuition, she can tell that the changes are good.

your eyes that seem to look anywhere besides the person you are talking to are completely different from the ones that seem to only focus on xiao.

your normally stiff body relaxes every time you summon xiao at the balcony.

the tiny smile that graces your lips when you disappear to the top of the inn for hours on end.

verr goldet's explanation calms his heart.

his worries seem to disappear and the next time he sees you...

this is the one thing his karma can't take away. he'll be sure of it.

zhongli -

zhongli is also another person who isn't well versed in relationships.

although he isn't as inexperienced as xiao, it'll take some time for him to figure it out.

he's not someone who craves affection like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

he definitely would appreciate it but he completely understands that it isn't something you tend to give.

so instead, he'll show his love in the smaller things.

such as telling you stories, sharing tea, going out on walks, etc.

he's another person who is very observant, especially in people close to him.

his storytelling friends often ask him about your relationship with one another.

they try to bring it to his attention that you may not be as interested as he thinks you are.

of course, he'll simply laugh them off and tell them that they should listen to the person who knows you best.

he'll turn those questions into a big story and explain how they're mistaken about you.

he's never actively told anyone this, save for hu tao who tries to bug him into telling her, but he'll tell them about all of the tiny details that tell him your feelings.

when you're feeling upset, you puff out your cheeks a small bit.

when you're angry, your glare hardens at whatever is making you mad.

when you're happy, your lips part slightly.

when you're in love... well, that's a detail he'll keep for himself.

he's quick to say goodbye to his peers, practically rushing back to your shared home.

he's greeted by you as soon as he opens the door.

your stoic expressions... would be exactly the same to anyone else.

but to him, it's like you've lit up like a small puppy seeing their human parents come home after years.

you don't run up to him, but you turn to look at him and away from the book on the table.

he'll greet you with a quiet nod, pulling out the chair and sitting next to you.

he'll take the book from you, taking in your appearance for a moment.

your shoulders relax by a hair and you move your chair an inch closer to his.

you don't lean your head on his shoulder but you lean towards him as if you were about to.

it's these moments that make everything worth it to zhongli.

here, in your home and in your life, he's simply zhongli.

the man you fell in love with and allowed your reserved self to open up to.

and he would trade anything just to have these moments with you.

[ilyrafe]

𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst, a brief panic attack, forced kiss.

word count: 3,2k

taglist: @runawayolives​​ @kmuir1​​ @marytudorbrandon​​ @lharrietg​​ @shittingdicknipple​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​ @mis-lil-red​ @amberangel112​​ @ohmygoodie @itmejado​​ @radaofrivia​​ @scarlets-widow​​ @ragamuffin285​​​ @thereisa8ella​​​ @​​titty-teetee @dropletsofkaisoo​

a/n: shit goes down from now on just saying..........

redamancy masterlist | main masterlist

his guilt and conscience do not allow him to fall asleep and rest in his bed. if he wants to be civil and reciprocally, he needs to recognize when he is in the wrong and apologize. she didn’t do anything wrong, he shouldn’t have set such high expectations.

he puts on his robe and goes to the duchess’s chambers. strangely, he thinks it is a good thing that her room is far from his, just so he has time to think of the right words. it’s not the first time he’s been intimidated in her presence, and stuttering in front of her seems pathetic.

he takes a deep breath and knocks three times on the door. to his surprise, beatrice answers the door. 

“your grace.” she bows to the duke.

as he steps into her room, he smells roses and cinnamon, a different combination of scents, but just as pleasant. he can’t help but look into the duchess’s main environment, which is lit by candles in certain places. there are books everywhere and flowers from the garden that he recognizes. her dressing table has few items, just a small jewelry box, a brush, and a few hairpins, but her desk has lots of papers and a small leather-bound notebook that looks like a diary. being the curious creature he is, he’s already starting to wonder if she writes about him.

“charles?” y/n’s voice calls out to him, and she looks a little confused as to why he’s in her room in his nightwear.

she runs to put on her robe, even though charles saw her more exposed than usual. sensing her presence is no longer needed, beatrice excuses herself and leaves the duke and the duchess alone. charles mentally thanks the young woman as she leaves, because privacy is what he wants the most right now.

“i owe you an apology.” he starts. “i admit i should not have been rude to you at dinner, i hope you will forgive me. it will not happen again.”

once again, she can hear the sincerity in his voice. perhaps the image she has of charles is twisted. what if she is wrong about him?

“i owe you an apology, too.” she admits.

“what for?”

“for the way i have been treating, or mistreating you these past months.”

seeing her in a position of vulnerability is nearly shocking. it’s not even that much exposure from her, but charles sees her as a tough person, and hearing her words comforts him, because just like her, he feels sincerity and honesty in her apology. more than anyone else, he knows how hard it is to admit when you are in the wrong.

“oh, do not worry. you have your reasons and i understand.”

“even so, i shouldn’t have been such a monster to you.”

“it is all in the past.”

a small smile appears on her lips. apparently a white flag indicating a truce had been raised. charles says goodbye and goes back to his room, no longer feeling the pain in his back as he is always tense in the presence of y/n. his shoulders are relaxed as is his posture. with a smile on his face, charles goes back to his bed and for the first time since he got married, he sleeps peacefully.

(...)

a few weeks have passed, the eighteenth birthday of king henry’s new wife, katherine howard, approaches. the friendship between y/n and charles just blossoms, which makes the duke happier. conversations over dinner gradually linger, and making her laugh is almost a duty he gives to himself. it’s the most pleasant sound, and he finds it adorable when she covers her mouth when she laughs a little louder than usual.

they have a quite a lot in common. contrary to what she assumed, charles is far from arrogant. in fact, he doesn’t seem so fond of so many formalities. the way he talks about his parents, who are sadly deceased, is a little disheartening. he seems to need approval from others constantly, something she can relate to.

little by little, y/n manages to humanize in her own head the man behind the broad, strong body that charles has. there’s a sweetness in his blue eyes that she has been allowing herself to notice.

it’s difficult to get more information about her, though. y/n is very reserved and still prefers to spend most of her time by herself, which bothers him a little, and he still notices a little sadness in her eyes. he’s almost positive that something still disturbs her and he tries to make her feel comfortable enough to open up, but all of his attempts have failed.

give time to time, he keeps reminding himself.

(...)

the birthday party is grand, something the court and guests await. king henry always goes out of his way to show off to his subjects. the royal castle is a dream of gold, the most expensive flowers are everywhere, only the best food is being served, and the guests wear their most sophisticated attire. the king is ecstatic over his sixth wife, he will never spare any effort to make her happy.

the carriages keep arriving and more and more people enter the king’s castle. in one of them is charles and y/n, and both are as well dressed as the others in the royal court. y/n’s dress is stunning, and it’s completely different from the ones she’s ever worn in public. its rich emerald tone compliments her entirely, and the pearls in her hair soften her youthful appearance. charles is as well groomed as she is, but he opted for a monochromatic black attire, which makes him look even more imposing. regardless, they look complementary to each other.

“do not be surprised if male attention is focused on you.” he comments with a subtle laugh.

her puzzled expression cheers him a bit. he knows what is said about him and his wife, both the nasty comments and the most lustful ones.

he helps her down from the carriage and, with arms entwined, they enter the royal castle. as they are announced, all eyes turn to the couple. the king, upon seeing his longtime friend, goes to meet him with a proud smile on his face. the duchess’s distaste for the king is clear, but she knows how to hide it, for the sake of etiquette. after greeting each other briefly, charles and y/n follow to the main table, where the king is reunited with his wife.

“oh, you must be y/n!” the queen cheerfully says, properly ditching said etiquette. “your dress is marvelous!”

“thank you, your majesty.” y/n smiles.

the bubbly nature of the queen is pleasant; even charles thinks she’s quite funny with her antics. the age gap between her and the king is quite alarming, but she seems to be what holds him down a bit.

the music is loud, and the guests are all over the ballroom, either dancing or talking. for some reason, y/n feels unquiet. maybe it’s the heat, the loud noises or the constant glares she gets from other women. they don’t even try to hide when they’re obviously gossiping about her. she’s not entirely aware of her ‘fame’, but she knows she’s the subject of many conversations.

enthusiastically, the king taps his cup with silverware, drawing the attention of all the guests.

“first of all, i want to thank you all for coming to my beloved wife’s birthday, your majesty, the queen.” he says and hears applause for the sweet queen katherine. “happy birthday, my love. may the next few years of your life be as beautiful as you are.”

katherine blows her husband a kiss and he raises his wineglass to the guests. everyone raises their glasses and takes a sip, celebrating the queen’s life.

“i wonder how long this marriage is going to last…” charles comments under his breath, only y/n is able to hear, and she chuckles in response.

“i give it a year.”

they exchange a look, and when the music starts to play again, a few of the guests begin to dance in pairs.

“would you grant me a dance?” he asks.

as she looks around, she sees that her attention is focused on the king and queen. a dance won’t do any harm, she thinks.

“of course.”

he takes her to the center of the room by her hand, and soon they stand opposite each other to dance. if his memory serves him, he’s never been this close to her, and he takes this moment as an opportunity to really get a closer look, maybe he notices a new detail on her beautiful face? if he could, he’d spend hours memorizing every detail of y/n, because she’s so stunning, and with every observation she makes—of any subject—she becomes the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

y/n, however, is fighting all of her instincts. she doesn’t quite allow herself to look at charles. even though they are in a peaceful territory, he’s still the man who has been with her friends, he’s still the man who accepted her father’s offer to marry her in exchange for a mere position at the court. she’s certainly noticed his looks, and can’t deny that he isn’t as awful as she made herself to believe, and now she knows he’s an excellent dancer.

he guides her so masterfully and firmly, she feels safe, even though she isn’t very fond of dancing. regardless, he makes it feel pleasant. his eyes doesn’t leave hers for a second, but she looks around every now and then.

that’s when she sees a very familiar face, amidst all these people. one she would recognize anywhere, but the spin of the dance makes her lose sight of the person.

“is everything alright?” charles asks.

“yes…” she replies, toneless.

the dance continues, faster now. small heels mark the final part of the dance, and the noise of several shoes on the floor makes her uncomfortable. who is that person? the rhythm of the music picks up, people are talking loudly, the dance gets more energetic, and all she wants is to recognize that face. it can’t be.

she keeps searching for that face, but there are so many people in that ballroom, it’s pointless. the dance is making her feel a bit nauseous, she even contemplates leaving charles on the dance floor by himself, but when he bows down to her, she realizes the dance is finally over.

finally!

when they return to the main table, henry calls them to introduce them to the duchess of jämtland. even from afar, y/n can see how different the duchess is. pale complexion, light, straight and fine hair, bright blue eyes. she can’t help but compare herself to her. beside the duchess is her husband.

james.

the face she had seen. it’s him.

“charles and y/n, i would like to introduce you to my friends from sweden, your grace annika and her husband, james.” king henry says.

with each step she takes, y/n’s body freezes more and more, her heart beats faster and faster, and her breathing gets shorter and shorter. james is not at all shocked, more like afraid. only he knows the reason for the terror on y/n’s face at that moment, as much as she tries to hide it, he knows her better than anyone else in that room. she cannot move a single finger to greet the duchess and her husband.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace.” charles says to annika and kisses the back of her hand.

when he turns his attention to james, y/n feels like fainting. as if her two worlds are about to collide.

“this is my longtime friend, charles, the duke of suffolk and his wife, y/n, his duchess.” henry says.

“it is an honor to meet you, your grace.” james says, repeating the same gesture as charles, but now with the woman he once promised to love forever.

y/n is unable to move throughout the entire greeting process, and the situation only gets worse when she notices the annika’s subtle bump, which she doesn’t seem to hide that she is pregnant, as she takes her belly in with her hands.

“they are here to visit my kingdom and james is possibly going to war with us. sweden is our partner against france.” henry informs charles, completely unaware of the history between james and y/n.

“my apologies,” y/n speaks, trying to regain herself. “i’m not-”

“would your grace grant me a dance?” james interrupts.

he looks at charles with a silent request, and the duke looks at his wife.

“she doesn’t require my permission.” charles explains.

“ah, of course! a dance! charles, take annika to dance, james, you take y/n to dance. let’s all dance!” the king shouts, clearly a little inebriated.

everyone gathers in the center of the room and starts dancing.  y/n’s hands are shaky and a bit sweaty, and james tries to soothe her with his gaze. he tries to apologize, but knows she will never forgive him. after everything that happened between them… it’s almost impossible to believe it.

“i can explain.” he mumbles.

“don’t.” she simply says.

her odd behavior hasn’t gone unnoticed, though. charles has never seen her so pale before, almost as if she’d seen a ghost. he glances at them, and he knows she’s on the verge of tears. he isn’t dumb — it takes charles less than a few minutes to realize that james is the man y/n claimed to love, months ago. the way they’re looking at each other is more than enough proof.

“y/n, please.”

“she is with child.” y/n’s voice trembles with her own affirmation.

james is heartbroken, more than he was when they saw each other for the last time, over a year ago.

“we can still be together.”

his speech outrages her, and she is forced to withdraw. she runs as fast as she can to the large and vast garden of the castle, and hopes that no one will find her, but charles and james have gone after her, and a small commotion is caused in the hall, which is quickly contained. the poor swedish duchess is left confused.

she feels that the walls are getting tighter and tighter, or maybe it’s the dress that is too tight on her body that doesn’t let her breathe.

breathe.

breathe, y/n.

only when she manages to get out of the castle and into the huge garden is it possible to hear the silence and breathe fresh air, no matter how cold it is. it’s behind a big tree that she finally stops running. her chest is tight, beating faster than ever. it’s all so disappointing and confusing, she just wants it to be over.

she thought she had experienced pain before, but now it’s different. a mixture of hatred and disappointment washes over her like a wave, and she reduces herself to tears. the more she thinks about it, more tears roll down her face and her heart feels tighter.

she hears footsteps approaching, and to her surprise, james finds her. he looks just as haunted as she is, and he’s panting from running so fast to find her.

“my love-”

“no!” she protests. “you betrayed me, james! how could you?!”

“y/n, please��”

“how dare you?!” she inquires through her teeth, not even able to hide her anger. “how dare you come to me with a wife? with a pregnant wife?!”

“you must listen to me, y/n.” he says as he grabs her by her shoulders and forcing her to look at his eyes. “i could not get to you if i did not marry someone... important. i did this for you, my love.”

he pulls her against him and kisses her forcefully, but y/n manages to punch him in the chest and break free of his embrace. she pushes him away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand harshly.

“don’t you dare touch me.” she barks through gritted teeth, her voice is full of rage. “you went to bed with her for me? how fucking stupid do you think i am, james? don’t you know me at all?!”

unbeknownst to them, charles is near, watching the fight, prepared to attack him if need be, but from what he sees, y/n is able to fend for herself. there’s no doubt he is the man she told him about, and charles can’t deny his jealousy, not even to himself. he’s never seen y/n so heartbroken before, and all of his instincts are telling him to intervene.

“i still love you!” james claims desperately.

“i suggest you leave her alone.” charles says with the calmest tone to his voice.

y/n is only able to breathe when she sees the duke, because he brings her a sensation of security. she’s even able to breathe a little better.

“who do you think you are to talk to me with this tone?” james challenges. “i couldn’t care less if you are her husband, your grace,” he says with a mocking tone. “we all know this is an arrangement. she loves me.”

“i am trying to be peaceful for her sake, but if you insist on testing me, i’ll lose my composure and end you.” the duke threatens, and his tone is as cold as winter nights.

both men are now face to face, close to each other, and the possibility of the fight becoming physical makes her desperate, as the last thing she wants is a scandal.

“both of you, stop! now!” she exclaims as she pushes the two tall, strong men apart. she knows james, and he can certainly be scary. he’s a tall, built man with fighting skills, but it seems that charles is his elevated match. “i will not tolerate a scene.”

“he started it!” james barks.

“stop it!” y/n protests. she regains a bit of control over herself and wipes her tears with the back of her hands. “leave,” she pleads. “we have nothing else to talk about.”

“y/n-”

“james, please! i do not want to see you ever again.”

outraged, james does as she says and leaves, but not before pushing charles with his shoulder on his way out.

“did he hurt you?” charles asks as he cups her face in his hands. the scary look is no longer on his face, as he is now concerned. her teary eyes break him completely. she looks so broken and hopeless.

yes. deeply.

“please, i must go home.” she begs and sniffles, never before having felt so small. “please, i am begging you.”

“yes, absolutely.”

charles takes her in his arms and soothes her before they leave. for the first time, they’re in each other’s arms, and both of them feel complete somehow. in this very moment, charles represents the security she needs, and she is the equivalent of what is missing in his life. the comfort she finds in his embrace is something she didn’t even know could be real. not even in james’ arms she felt such care.

did james care for her at all?

the most heartbreaking thing is that she can feel her love for james turning into absolute hatred and it is terrifying.

“i am here for you, y/n.” charles whispers before placing a kiss on the top of her head.

---

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