#like I’m positive some of these people have never seen someone of colour before

[introverted-ghost]

The people in this fucking town have the biggest urge to be racist but the town is literally 99% white so they resort to being racist towards us, the white family with black hair

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jijidraws

Jiji Knight is a latina pinup illustrator. Her work is overall geared toward thick ladies and dedicated to fat positivity out of a purely selfish need to create art she wished she had seen growing up. She often features sexy and soft macabre themes on vibrant or sweet colours and takes great joy in making folx feel good about themselves with her work. She holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration and operates out of her very sunny hometown of Las Vegas.

Check out our interview with Jiji below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh my gosh… I have art blocks all the time. My favorite way of overcoming it is by making fanart. Funnily enough, that’s something I don’t do in my own work anymore. But there are still IPs I return to that still bring joy to my heart. I love returning to drawing Sailor Moon like when I was in first grade. Or I’ll even look up the last fashion week and start drawing the fashion week outfits from the Paris or New York show. Stuff like that is what gets my creative juices flowing.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Resin. Resin art is so stunning. People make the most amazing and beautiful sculptures using resin, and I don’t think I could ever bring myself to play with something so complicated. There are a lot of ways to cure it, and sometimes, it doesn’t cure properly…I already work with enough chaos as it is! I respect resin artists, but I don’t think I would ever touch it. I’ve admired it from a distance. There is an artist I follow who does these resin layer paintings. So they’ll paint a layer of resin, then cure it, and paint on top of the cured layer. They build up these amazing paintings using resin…I could never. Maybe one day!

What is one interaction you had with a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

I still remember…It was my first and only Flame Con in New York. I had a fan come up to my booth. They didn’t say hello or that it was nice to meet me. They started to cry! They cried, and the first words out of their mouth were, “I’ve never seen myself in artwork before.” So, of course, I started to cry! So we were just crying across the table at each other. It was just one of the sweetest interactions, and it really sticks with me still to this day.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

My latest collaboration with the artist Missupacey. We’ve been collaborating for two years now, and our last collaboration was for Midsummer Scream. It was two very cute clown girls, and I designed our T-shirt. It was one of the most fun projects we’ve done in a long time. We love doing collaborative work because it keeps working in the art industry fresh—being able to bounce ideas back and forth. So we do it where someone picks the color palette, and someone picks a theme. We’ll get references together, put them on a big board, and send each other sketches. It’s really nice to work with somebody else.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Honestly, it changed everything. I mean, I used to draw for myself a lot. And while I still do that, I now predominantly draw for my Patrons. For a while, I was drawing for the internet. So I was drawing stuff people wanted to see in terms of plus-sized versions of characters—a plus-sized Poison Ivy or a plus-sized Sailor Moon. My Patrons have allowed me to start drawing for myself again. But technology, for a while, essentially dominated what direction I was taking with my art, so I’m grateful to take some of that power back.

If there is one thing that you want art enthusiasts to remember you by, what would it be?

Body positivity. I would love for them to remember that there is an artist making work that is making people feel good about themselves and about the way they look at themselves.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Have a method of taking money, have a method of displaying your work, and have a way to take a break. I have a plastic picnic cover that costs like a dollar at any store. All I have to do is clip it to my display grates, and it covers up my entire display. I feel secure enough to take time for myself in a 10-hour workday to eat something, go to the restroom, or even take a moment to breathe and reorganize my inventory. So it’s so funny that this one-dollar piece of plastic is like the most life-saving item in my display of items.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@mayakern comes to mind. She is another body-positive artist who expanded into making body-positive clothing. She’s amazing, and just to see someone else out there promoting body positivity. Maya’s been doing it longer than I have, I believe. It feels good to know that I’m not alone. Her work is always stunning, and I love her body-positive DnD characters and the fact that she’s still plowing through the clothing industry. For example, she’s expanded from skirts to button-downs and even custom-wrap shirts. I love to see what she’s doing, and it inspires me to pursue different avenues with my own work.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Jiji! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jijidraws.

[wordslikesilver]

A positive experience I really wanna share with y’all about being trans that I think is so so important to think about. So I’m white, very much from a well off background, all that, also trans so I have experienced plenty of frequent bigotry in my life. I’m doing my damnedest to be aware of and understand the concept of intersectionality and how different layers of identity add different types of privilege or burdens in our society. But you know what else life has taught me so much about as a trans woman? Community.

I’m wrapping up a treatment I’ve just given to an elderly black woman. She looks terribly disparaged at her phone. Ask her what’s up, she tells me oh it’s just there’s so many bigots online. I sit and with a long sigh and small smile I tell her, “yeah. Yeah I know. All too well.” She looks back at me and takes a moment to think then smiles and says “yeah, I suppose you would know.” I feel seen like never before by another person.

I’m at my darling wife’s new year’s celebration at her relatives’ place. We’re playing scattergories. She’s mixed race, lots of black relatives, someone brings up police in passing about something and me and one of her cousins at the same time roll our eyes and both say ACAB and go wide eyed looking at each other, smiling and laughing together about it. It’s a moment of like omg hell yes you totally get me, we know that same anger!

In a women’s space having some girl talk. We talk about makeup and clothes and love. Beauty standards, our bodies, anger, men, love. Cis women asking me tips on eyeliner. Sharing my knowledge and experiences growing as a man and living as a woman. Laughing together about how good it feels being a lesbian, how freeing it feels, how hard it can be. I don’t have periods, but neither does the woman who’s gone through menopause. I’m laughing with them about hot flashes and how miserable they can be. We talk about traveling on the subway, being catcalled, being harassed feeling unsafe. We’ve all been there. They too, are sisters to me.

I’m at a kink party. I’ve brought a bible for some funny impact play. I’m an ex catholic and I love me some heresy in the name of the lord. Emulating the disciplining of another queer person in attempt to cleanse them of sin, deriving pleasure from the ironic madness of the situation. An ex Muslim guy brings out his Quran and angrily reads passages about finding salvation in Allah at the sub we’re having fun with, joining in on the religious heresy. Later in the night, we talk about our experiences and relationships with our religious backgrounds, he’s telling me if he ever went home he’d be killed for his bisexuality. He scorns the radical Muslim faith as strongly as I loathe the radical Christian faiths of the US. We see eye to eye with each other, how of course it’s not all bad, but that doesn’t erase the bad either. I understand in that moment what feelings I didn’t recognize we both have felt caused by our own ways of life we were raised in. The similarities in spite of the world of differences.

I know, I’m just a white girl with a lot to learn in her life about philosophy and privilege and power and a million other little things that separate my experiences from those who’ve lived very, very different lives to me. I will never understand the experience of transmisogynoir and being a trans woman of colour. But that doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with aspects of it. That I cannot build community with them just the same as the people just like me. As I live and learn, I slowly become more aware of the experiences of black peoples, black women, black trans women. I become a more emotionally intelligent person, stumbling into moments like where I, a white trans woman and another, a black cis man, both recognize each other as fellows who’ve known the same pain even if for different reasons. It’s genuinely a favourite experience of mine. The community, the symmetry, the unexpected feelings of “Oh. I didn’t realize we’ve both felt that before. The world feels less lonely than ever, suddenly.” Communities are distinct from each other for experiences unique to them, of course! It’s so beautiful, the rainbow of differences between us all. It is also beautiful, discovering the natural bridges that connecting each other, bringing us together in unity, making us feel so much less isolated in this technicolor world. It’s truly a thing of beauty to me.

From the bottom of my heart, I’d love and appreciate it if folks would reblog/reply with similar experiences they’ve had to this, I think more than ever it is important for us to recognize how close we truly are with the wide and wonderful spectrum of other people around us, nurturing the unity that makes us all shine brighter and stand taller together. Moments where despite how different you were from another person, you could bond with them over experiences you had both lived through and could understand the feelings of. Moments where you found community where you never expected it <3

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

When Javi met Dieter

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 3, 135

Summary: same story as this one but from a different point of view. Also read this story to get some background on Javi. Please read both before reading this one!

Warnings: lots of adorable fluffiness, people being cute and nerdy, talk of past medical procedures and post-partum issues. Reece is an original non-binary character created @cevans-is-classic by so please use they/them pronouns

Check out masterlist here

Javi was excited but also extremely nervous. Powerpuff was his first big production since his film that relaunched Nic Cage’s career. And this was his first big production with his own production company. All his small independent films had gotten critical acclaim but the bigger the production, the bigger the stakes.

The script, written by his partner Reece, was funny and heartwarming, the cast and crew were diverse and talented. Already there was outrage over some of the casting. Some made highly negative comments over casting a woman of colour to play Blossom. There were no complaints on casting a Japanese actress as Buttercup until they found out she would be dressed in baggy clothes being uncomfortable with her body and didn’t want to wear a skirt. They were the loudest complaints sadly, but he was shown the positive comments from children who were excited for the film and the film was for children and women of all ages. And he wanted his daughter to be proud of him. Ari was only two, so she was more impressed with Spiderman than her father. She was also more impressed with her godfather Nic Cage but that was understandable.

He was looking at the set now which felt like it came out of the animated show.

“Oh wow, it’s like Colour Out of Space!” he said to himself.

“It is,” he turned to the person who just said that. “Wait, you’ve seen that film?”

“Of course.”

You were shocked that you finally met someone who had seen the film. “And you liked it?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“I know some people thought it was too brightly coloured, but I think it added to the Eldritch horror.”

“It definitely added something new to the horror genre.”

“I love it when horror does something new!”

“My partner loves horror and has introduced me to some amazing films I never would have thought of watching.”

Filming was starting back up, so you had to go back to your duties. You gave your new friend your name before you left.

“I’m Javi,” he shook your hand. “Just Javi.”

*****

Reece was absolutely thankful their partner Javi agreed to set up an on-set daycare. Before their daughter Ari, they would be up all hours and living on very little sleep. With a toddler, they were still living on very little sleep, but they were now responsible for this little life, and they felt guilty leaving Ari with nannies all the time. This way made them feel less guilty as they could still see their child while working. The on-set daycare also opened up the opportunity to other workers in the film industry. One of them was Dieter Bravo as Professor Utonium. Javi was less enthused at the choice but agreed he was the best actor for the part.

As they made their way to the on-set daycare to drop off their daughter, Reece saw Dieter carrying his own little girl. Reece had yet to meet the actor in person, so they made their way over and introduced themselves.

Dieter shook their hand, “You’re the writer? I loved your script, my wife cried reading it so that means it was good.”

“Oh yeah, I heard the infamous Dieter Bravo had settled down and produced offspring, I just didn’t realise she was so stinking cute!”

“Hey!” a sleepy Ari mumbled.

“Don’t worry rascal, you’re still my favourite.”

After leaving their precious babies in the daycare, and after many kisses and cuddles, they both made their way to the sound stage.

“Hey,” said Dieter. “Do you know whose idea the on-set daycare was? I’d really like to thank them.”

“Uh, that was my idea.”

“It was? That’s awesome because my wife and I couldn’t work together much since the baby as one of us would always stay home to look after her. I really like being close to both of them. So thanks.”

“She’s working on the film?”

“Yeah, she’s doing the makeup for Mojo Jojo.”

“Oh yeah,” Reece tried not to smack their forehead. “I’m so glad she’s on board. She’s amazing.”

“Yeah she is.” He smiled warmly as they both reached the set. He saw you in the distance helping Jack Black put on his giant brain helmet.

“There she is,” Dieter proudly pointed you out. “My one true love.”

The lovestruck look on his face was one so familiar to Reece they couldn’t help but sigh at the adorableness of it all. They knew it was the loving gaze Javi gave to Nicolas Cage, but he now gave to them.

*****

The end of the first working day went well and Dieter was hoping Clara wasn’t missing them too much. As he walked in, he saw his little girl with two other little girls. You’d say they look like a little coven of witches, and he smiled at the thought.

Clara didn’t notice him as she was deep in conversation with the little girl with the same curly brown hair. But the other little girl with honey golden curls looked up and saw him.

“Papa?” she looked up at him with familiar eyes. “Tu barba?”

He ran a hand over his shaven face. “Lo siento patita. No soy tu papa.”

Reece came up next to him and looked at their daughter, “Hey rebel!”

Picking her up, Ari continued to look at Dieter with confusion. “Not papa?” she pointed at him.

“That’s right,” said Reece. “You remember Dieter from earlier.”

Clara finally realised her father was here and ran over to him, demanding to be picked up.

“Hey cupcake, did you make friends?” she nodded eagerly.

“Ari,” she pointed up then down, “Twin!”

“Twin?” Dieter asked. “So how do I know you’re really Clara?”

Both girls started to giggle. He looked down at Bianca. “Are you the real Clara?”

“I’m Bianca!”

She then saw her father approaching which solved the problem over who was which twin. Her father introduced himself before telling his daughter that her mother was waiting for them. Reece and Dieter both gave him an admirable look as he waved them goodbye.

“Hm,” mused Reece. “I wonder if he’s ever dressed as King T’challa?”

“That’s Marvel isn’t it?

Reece nodded, “Iron Man is my favourite and I’d hope this one would be the same but no. Who’s your favourite?”

“Spiderman!” exclaimed Ari.

“Oh,” mused Deiter. “No wonder you and Clara get along. She takes after her mum and likes spiders.”

*****

“Look Javi, all I’m saying is that if it didn’t have the same title, and if it wasn’t a remake, The Wicker Man 2006 would have been a passable film.”

“Passable?” Javi looked at his mug like a hurt puppy which would have worked on you if not for the fact that you dealt with that sort of eyes everyday with your husband and daughter.

“I’m just saying this as a fan of the original film.”

“The original is a masterpiece so nothing will ever hold a candle to it,” you nodded. “This was intended more as a dark comedy.”

“They should have made that more obvious.”

Javi sighed, “They should have. At least we get that memorable not-the-bees scene.”

“Um, they cut out that scene.”

“They what? Does Mr. Cage know?” He was momentarily stunned and changed the subject so he wouldn’t linger on it for too long. “I’m sorry, I never really got your answer before but, what is your favourite film?”

“The question really should be what is my favourite film at the moment?”

He hadn’t been asked such a profound question in a while, “Wow, no one has ever asked me that before.”

“I always thought just narrowing it down to just a handful makes it really hard to decide.”

“Exactly!”

You both paused in the nerdiness. After a small sigh, you asked. “I didn’t know you were the producer.”

Javi shrugged, “I don’t go around announcing myself.”

“I do. I have to because they always get my career wrong: I do special effects makeup, not just regular makeup. My husband always corrects people, he proudly shows me off.”

“He seems like a good man.”

“He is.”

*****

“Hey Reece, what is your favourite film at the moment?”

“Huh?”

“No one’s ever asked me that before. It’s always what are your favourite or top favourite and it’s always so hard to narrow it down.”

Reece just put their head on Javi’s shoulder, “Aw, I’m so glad you’ve made a friend who isn’t Nic Cage.”

*****

Javi had decided to pick up his daughter from the on-set daycare that day. He was too busy looking for Ari to notice another little girl ran up to him.

“Daddy?”

He looked down and saw a girl who almost looked like his daughter. “I’m sorry bonita,” he said kneeling down. “I’m not your father.”

“Papa!” He was welcomed his daughter with open arms while the other little girl gave him as big a death stare as a two-year-old could.

He saw you enter the daycare and you found Clara giving her biggest death glare. She managed to break her glaring when you picked her up. She pointed at the man, “Not daddy?”

“That’s right, it’s not daddy. He looks nothing like him.”

But Clara went back to her evil glaring. The man who looked like her father but was not her father could only result in one conclusion.

“Evil daddy.”

“Why do you think he’s evil? He’s a very nice man.”

“I’m sorry,” you said to him. “Usually her dad picks her up, so she thinks you’re her dad. But he had to shave his beard and she must be missing it and saw yours so...” you shrugged.

“Oh no, that’s fine,” he turned to the girl in his arms. “Is this your friend?”

She nodded, “Spider.”

He knew Ari had this funny way of remembering her new friends and called them by their favourite bugs. Bianca was named Bee.

You properly introduced your daughter, “This is Clara.”

*****

“I met Ari’s friend today,” Javi told Reece after their day of filming.

“Oh, she’s a cutie, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, although she kept calling me evil for some reason.”

“Were you doing your Nic Cage impression?”

“No,” he got a hard glare. “I wasn’t. Not even subconsciously.”

*****

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude your reading, but I couldn’t help but admire your book.”

Javi always loved books about films, he read them more than actual books. You lifted up the book to show the full cover: Golem, Caligari, Nosferatu; A Chronicle of German Film Fantasy.

“My husband got it for me because he knew I’d love it. And I do.”

“So you’ve seen The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari?” he asked.

“Oh yes. Old films just have a certain quality to them modern films can’t replicate.”

“I completely agree. Is it one of your favourite films at the moment?”

“It is but I really like Nosferatu, mainly because it’s an early depiction of vampires. Oh, do you know the film Shadow of the Vampire?”

“Of course, a masterpiece to honour its original film,” you nodded in agreement. “Nicolas Cage produced that film.”

“He did?”

“Yes, he grew up with all those silent films.”

“How did I not notice?”

*****

“We ended up having this amazing discussion about German silent films.”

“Wow, I’m so happy you found someone other than your boyfriend who’ seen Caligari.”

Javi either didn’t notice the quip or chose to ignore it. “She must be married to someone amazing.”

“Yeah, Dieter is a pretty nice guy.”

“Yes and, wait who?”

“Dieter Bravo,” said Reece.

“What do you mean Dieter Bravo?” he asked more sternly.

“I mean Dieter Bravo is her husband.”

“You’re telling me that smart sophisticated woman is married to that…” he couldn’t think of an appropriate word, “…man?”

Sometime in the middle of the night, Javi bolted upright in bed.

“Oh Dios Mio!” he exclaimed; startling Reece awake in the process.

“Javi,” they grumbled. “There had better be a fire or I’m setting you on fire.”

“Dieter Bravo has offspring!”

“Yes he has offspring. You’ve met the offspring.”

“I can’t believe that adorable little girl is the offspring of…” again he couldn’t find the appropriate word, “…him!”

“Were you expecting horns? Or a forked tongue?”

*****

Reece wandered into the on-set daycare as usual to pick up Ari and noticed you following after.

They held out their hand to you, “Hi, I’m Reece. I’ve made friends with your husband Dieter. Also, you’ve made friends with my partner Javi.”

“Oh hi!” You shook hands and introduced yourself. “Is it weird to say I loved your script?”

“No, not at all.”

“I teared up the way I would a Mike Flanagan series.”

“I still cry over Bly Manor.”

You would have had a fangirl moment with the screenwriter, but you were both interrupted by two little girls running up to you.

“Noma!” Ari did her usual upsie hands.

Juggling a boisterous toddler in their hands, Reece explained, “I’m non-binary so Noma is an alternative to mum or dad.”

“Oh, so you prefer they/them pronouns?” Reece raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Dieter’s assistant is the same.”

They were rather impressed at the casual acceptance, “Hey, do you want to go get a coffee?”

“No coffee!” came the cry from Ari.

“Oh, that’s right. I need to seriously cut back on the coffee. I was practically living off it, getting the script done.”

“Are you into tea? I know a place that does great chai,” you suggested. “And they make a really good chocolate milk.”

Both girls immediately perked up.

“Should have led with that.”

The café was cosy and quaint with comfortable benches. After ordering masala chai, chocolate milk and cookies for the girls, you both settled in.

“So how did you and Javi meet?”

“Oh, I was hired to do rewrites for What’s It About and that’s how we met.”

“I loved that film!”

“I’m proud of that one. How did you meet Dieter?”

“We met while doing Sap of Justice.”

“Wait, you did the makeup for it?” you nodded. “Oh, that part where his skin came off and the blood was like tree sap? I loved that!”

“Are people still talking about that?”

“Well, it was awesome!”

You both looked over at Clara and Ari having so much fun being in a new play area.

“I love that they’ve made friends,” you hummed in agreement. “They seem close in age. Ari’s birthday is the 21st of September, when is Clara’s?”

“Halloween.”

“Her birthday is Halloween?” you nodded. “Was that planned?”

“Oh no, Clara wasn’t planned at all. All we knew was that she’d be due mid-November, but I guess she loves Halloween as much as me so,” you flourished your hands in a shrug.

“Ari wasn’t planned either. But if we were planning, Javi would have tried to plan the conception, so she’d be born around Nic Cage’s birthday as close as possible.”

“Seriously?”

“You have no idea how much he loves the man.”

“So if you had another child would he try to do that?”

“Oh, I can’t have any more children.”

“I’m sorry.”

They put a reassuring hand on you, “Don’t worry about it hon, you didn’t know. Ari was an emergency c-section and that’s when doctors found a lump,” you gasped. “The option was either go through months of chemo and miss out on so much of my baby’s life or just have all the organs removed and only miss a little bit. So, I’m happy we had Ari when we did. Would you want more children?”

“I love Clara to bits, but I hated being pregnant,” Reece sighed in sympathy. “I was sick for most of it, and I didn’t cope well afterwards. Honestly if I was by myself, I wouldn’t have survived it. Dieter was one hundred percent there for me and he won’t admit it but he’s an amazing father and I’ve fallen more in love with him.”

You both just sat there in a comfortable silence until refreshments arrived. The girls were called back from their playing. Clara wanted to sit on your lap, so you moved her there and she kissed your cheek.

“She’s a cuddler, like her father,” you explained to Reece.

“Daddy huggy!”

“Yes he is!” you kissed her pudgy little cheek.

*****

“Oh, I met your new best friend today!” Reece informed Javi. “She’s adorable! I can see why Dieter loves her.” They gritted their teeth as that name was accidentally said out loud and Javi groaned in annoyance.

“The whole family is adorable,” Reece continued. “We should adopt them!’

“We are not adopting a family. Especially if that includes Dieter Bravo.”

“Javi, why the animosity? Did he say something rude to you on set?”

“No,” Javi shifted. “He’s never said anything to me. We’ve never talked.”

“What the hell? How can you say you know him when you’ve never talked to him?” Reece held Javi’s face, “The Dieter I know is a sweetheart; he’s mad about his wife and he adores his little girl. He’s a genuine good guy. He’s not going to play Mr. Nice Guy and then stab you in the back like-”

“That prick Jagar Aldritch.”

“Still hung up on that?”

“Wouldn’t you be? He ruined my film.”

“And he tried to flirt with me.”

“What? Why haven’t you told me this before?”

“It was just the once. I think my pronouns confused him,” they changed the subject. “Anyways, you should just talk to him. Who knows, it might be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

*****

Javi was happy to see you after the weekend. He promised Reece he’d make an effort with Dieter and would at least talk to him. If it came about naturally, he wasn’t going to walk up to him because it might seem too straightforward.

He hated to admit it, but he liked the actor’s work ethic; he’d always be on time and too the role seriously enough without going method. The scene where Jack Black was playing on a grand piano and Dieter was lying supine across it while singing the big musical number Sugar and Spice: A Bitter Taste was insanely hilarious and anyone else wouldn’t have pulled it off as well.

Javi praised the performance while you were once again deep in conversation. You saw Dieter approaching the two of you and finally Javi had to talk to the actor.

“Oh, hey Dieter. Have you met the producer?”

He held out his hand, Dieter reluctantly took it.

“Hi, I’m Javi Gutierrez.”

Dieter mumbled his name.

“So what’s your favourite Nic Cage film?” Dieter raised an eyebrow in question. “Well I keep having interesting conversations with your wife over several of Mr. Cage’s films so I assumed…”

“Oh, I don’t like Nic Cage.”

This was not going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @glshmbl @gswizzsstuff @cupcakehp @nicolethered @blueeyesatnight

[ohgodmyeyes]

thanks for answering my question! 🩷 i would never want to shame people for their kinks even if i don’t understand them (i myself have some strange kinks), and you explained it super well :)

when i say ‘morbid’ and ‘dark’, it’s mostly because all i’ve seen from it is (in the media) real life people having been groomed into it and then they’re stuck being such a heavy weight and it makes them miserable (and also, death feederism). SO i wanted to know if it’s not always like that, that it’s not to be associated with that side of it.

i’m happy to know it’s not always like that, especially as a slightly bigger person myself (and having always been insecure about it), it would break my heart if it’s just a fetishisation of hurting fat people.

so i really appreciated your explanation to know it is not! also, love your fics as well!! and i hope you have a great day 💕

oh wow, thank you for getting back to me! rest assured i didn't feel at all shamed by your question (and i'm thrilled you didn't take offence to my answer).

i actually think you and i largely agree on what constitutes dark & morbid ... because when a relationship based heavily on power dynamics turns abusive or suffers a communication breakdown, the consequences can be pretty catastrophic. no one should ever feel that they "have" to maintain a certain physical attribute to make a relationship work, and dominant partners who encourage real-world dependency have a serious responsibility to uphold. a dom/sub relationship is, functionally, a marriage — with (ideally) all of the obligations and protections that entails.

that being said, i strongly believe that anyone who outright abandons a dependant or disabled partner is a straight-up piece of shit, circumstances notwithstanding. i also think that it shouldn't be as difficult as it currently is for people with mobility issues and health problems to lead dignified lives. it shouldn't matter how or why someone needs that kind of help, just that they get it when they need it.

the most unique, enticing, interesting, damning thing about this kink is that by indulging it, a person has the potential to put themselves in a vulnerable, socially disadvantageous position. i wouldn't recommend anyone without strong financial security, good health insurance, and a strong & tolerant social network engage in feeder/feedee relationship... especially if they're open to it getting as intense as we all know it can get.

again, though, that's good advice for people getting into all kinds of relationships; the only thing that really differentiates feedees from other submissive partners is their high visibility... which kind of also raises the question of whether fat & feeding fetishes would be what they are in the first place outside the context of a fatphobic society. it's kind of like asking what heterosexual marriage would be like in the absence of misogyny: we just can't know; we've never been blessed with the opportunity.

which is, essentially, why i would mostly rather enjoy my feeding kink from a distance/with anakin/through a lens coloured by fantasy. i've joked before that i write these stories so my husband doesn't choke on cake batter, and while that does make me giggle, there's a deep, underlying truth to it: because like i said before, sex and relationships are inexorably connected for me — and loving someone means actually loving them... even if they change physically over time, whether that's by choice or by happenstance.

that means that if i love someone, i'm going to love them exactly the same whether they weigh 100lb or 600lb... thus taking some of the 'edge' off of the feedism stuff, i guess, and mostly relegating it to imaginationland.

i hate that you or me or anyone else has ever had cause to feel insecure about their size; it's a symptom of a really deep sickness that has no place in a functioning society. i can't help the kinds of bodies i'm viscerally attracted to, but that doesn't give me the right to put myself in a position of power over the people who occupy them, especially given the backwards nature of the world we live in. i'm old and i've been all kinds of sizes, and i can confirm that folks are fucking stupid about it — so i more than understand a degree of suspicion directed at anything perceived to be hurting a group of people who frankly don't need any more crap.

i kinda want to say some stuff about death feedism but this answer is already long enough, and that's kind of its own weird thing by itself, not that i haven't fantasized about anakin in that position

honestly, i can't thank you enough for giving me such ample opportunity to share my thoughts, and for being so kind/generous about sharing yours. because at the end of the day i get what you're saying, and it's kind of a relief to know that we seem to agree on what constitutes healthy human interaction.

sometimes i worry about people, but talking to you about this has been really nice — and really heartening, in a way i think i probably needed.

thank you again, stop by any time!! :))

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Named After Colors Masterlist

Amaranth (ao3) - softsocks

Summary: 'an imaginary flower that never fades; a purple colour'

Amber Over Aqua (ao3) - kawaiikanai

Summary: Dan meets a new friend while on family vacation and learns that true friendship can survive time, differences, and other forces that threaten to keep them apart.

baby blue and bubblegum pink (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan paints his nails. Phil wants to try it.

black and blue (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: dan and phil lie in bed and trade stories of the various injuries they’ve sustained throughout their lives

Black and White and Blue (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Everyone has a soulmate. When you meet your soulmate, your world switches from black and white to technicolor.

Dan's been having the worst day ever. Until he literally runs into fate on his way home.

Blood Red (ao3) - HeartsAndSpades

Summary: It’s a late November night in 2012 and Phil decides to go for walk. He gets attacked by a woman in a dark alley. Phil comes out with a lot more than he bargained for. His main concern is with his best friend, Dan, who may be a little more than a best friend in his mind. Will he be able to keep him and Dan safe from what he’s becoming?

Blue (ao3) - killingaesthetic

Summary: Dan hasn't been able to see the color blue for his entire life. Nobody can see the color of their soulmate's eyes until they and their soulmate touch. Dan has been longing to see the sky and the ocean, but he never really expects it to happen. But then he meets a boy who changes his entire world.

Blue (ao3) - MaeTaurus

Summary: The aftermath after one of Phil’s alters takes control and hurts Dan.

Blue (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: He needs to leave the table for a bit and calm himself down, this often happens on dates or crowded places. He excuses himself and goes to find the bathroom. He walks into the male toilets and is met with a sight that he hasn't seen before.

Someone bending over in purple lace panties.

Blue (ao3) - Phanallamallama

Summary: ‘You were red and you liked me because I was blue.’ Dan is an artist who sees people as colours and Phil needs money.

Blue and Black (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan Howell has finally found his soulmate after six years of searching for them. Over the course of roughly sixty years, Dan and his soul mate, Phil, live happily.

blush (ao3) - howelllesters

Summary: "It all seemed very neatly organised, but there was a man wearing bunny ears hovering around, and Dan was having to refrain from rolling his eyes."

Dan had agreed to join his best friend Cat and her niece on an Easter Egg Hunt, and that was it. He barely remembered agreeing to that. And yet here he was, face painted pink, holding a tiny chick that Mr Bunny Ears himself had passed to him.

brown (ao3) - taniavee28

Summary: dani has a roach problem. she calls fi for emotional support at two a.m. lowercase intended.

Burgundy Red (ao3) - transphil

Summary: Based on this prompt: "i was at work today serving a family of 4 and I could hear the mother and father making homophobic comments about me behind my back because of the way I look but the joke’s on them because when I opened up Grindr and their son popped up on it so now i’m talking to him and he wants to take me on a date"

Charcoal (ao3) - starboydjh

Summary: Dan gets lost in the art store, Cute Employee With Glasses (ie Phil) comes to his rescue.

Cream (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: A disgruntled Phil comes home after some work meetings and finds his naughty Neko boyfriend in a compromising position.

Crimson Red - thunderstorn

Summary: I looked back and forth between the clock and the teacher; attempting to listen to what he was saying, but getting easily distracted every ten seconds by the time. It is very hard to pay attention at school when you really do not want to be there, when you just want the bell to ring and officially say you are free from using your brain for the rest of the day.

gold (ao3) - bloodyscarab

Summary: i got bipolar confidence

wake up like 'shit,' then i feel like the shit

so i guess i'm the shit

gold by brockhampton

Green (ao3) - iihappydaysii

Summary: When a man hits on Dan at a party, Phil knows it doesn't really matter, but he still doesn't like it.

Green (ao3) - your_starless_eyes

Summary: Flowers. What an underappreciated gesture of kindness.

Grey (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: This black and white world with its black and white days is all Dan Howell has known. He resents it.

Soulmates AU

Grey - washedoutgay

Summary: Colour isn't really something that Dan understands, all he knows that from a young age he wanted to find his soulmate so he could see the world in the perfect light. But after meeting a boy with light grey eyes who doesn't feel the same and spending most of his life never apart from him, maybe his idea can change to match.

Orange (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Love isn't always perfect. Sometimes it is, but sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's messy, sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it's... orange.

--

“Let’s go color the world together.”

pink (ao3) - oqua

Summary: Drake the bodyguard takes Dan and Phil out to a diner somewhere in America and they all get milkshakes and discuss life.

Pink or Blue? (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan and Phil have a gender reveal party!

Pink + White (ao3) - 33lavender

Summary: 'Every time they went on holiday Dan couldn’t help but lament that they didn’t do it more. When they were away, he and Phil would create these grand plans, sometimes with their friends and sometimes with only the stars keeping them company, of all the places they’d like to visit just for the sole purpose of visiting them.'

Pink and White (ao3) - kay_okay

Summary: Tiny pink blossoms are scattered around him, over him in haphazard patterns from the light wind. One sits in the center of his forehead, two against the crest of his collarbone, a handful tossed onto his chest. A line of the flowers nestle in his brown curls, a half-circle crown that loses a bit of its shape when Dan stirs.

Purple - washedoutgay

Summary: Everyone's aura is black until the age of 18 when they get their own personal colour. No one's is ever the same. Except Dan's. Dan is 23 and has been waiting for 5 years to wake up with his own colour. But when he meets someone who's aura is so bright it nearly blinds him, he believes he might be the way to finding his real aura.

Purple, Black, and Blue (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Phil bites Dan’s neck again, his tongue on his skin immediately after to sooth and to dance with his words. “You love this. You’ve always loved this.” Of course he loves this. Of course Phil knows it.

A fic about hickeys and what gets shown.

Purple or Yellow (ao3) - americanphancakes

Summary: Dan wants to paint his nails for pride month. On one hand, the rainbow flag is represented. But on the other hand…

red (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: in which they meet on a beach in florida

Red (ao3) - starlike

Summary: He doesn't get many urges, anymore. Sure, it's always sitting in the back of his mind, waiting until he's vulnerable to speak up and say 'I'm here for you', but he's smarter now than he was when he was 17, he's not reliant on it, doesn't need it to survive like he used to. At least, that's what he thought.

Dan keeps getting triggered, and relapses.

Red - washedoutgay

Summary: Dan's hair colour is hardly ever affected by his every morning trip to Starbucks, but it's not until a boy with hair as pink as his cheeks starts to come regularly that Dan realises his emotions are stronger than he thinks.

Rose (ao3) - CruelBeauty

Summary: Phil absolutely knew Dan was teasing him.

The short crop tops. The low rise jeans. The way his shirt would conveniently ride up when he was laying across the couch. Not to mention the way Dan out of the blue changed his simple barbell for a fancy white piece with dangling gems, catching the sun every so often when he shifted.

Rose Gold (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Dan's never shown interest in Phil's aesthetic, until the swap. Now, he approaches Phil with yet another interesting request, one that Phil doesn't have it in him to deny his boyfriend.

silver and gold (ao3) - happy_endings15

Summary: At twelve years old, all Phil wants is someone who really gets him. That and a chance to go to Manchester without his mum and dad for once.

Little does he know, the best things in life are right around the corner. Phil just has to be patient.

Snow White (ao3) - ducki

Summary: Phan high school Snow White AU

yellow (ao3) - awrfdnp

Summary: “You’re my yellow, Phil.”

Yellow (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: A new boy moved in next to him, his ex-girlfriend broke up with him, and school was starting back after the holidays. What makes it worse, is that the new boy is kind of cute and Dan’s straight.

Yellow - washedoutgay

Summary: Please stop picking flowers from my garden au/ Dan really likes yellow and his cat really likes Phil

[bye-bye-firefly]

I’ve heard of Colleen Hoover books. I like listening to book reviews on youtube while doing other stuff (I’ll listen to reviews for books I haven’t read along with books I have read, sometimes I’ll find something that sounds good enough that I’d want to read it and then I’ll add it to my list. Though, most of the time the reviews are just entertaining) and I’ve heard reviews for Colleen Hoover books soooooo often. They’ve all sounded like such fever dreams. Like very huh?????? Vibes. Haven’t actually read any of them though.

Books are indeed very expensive. I’m very happy things like libraries and second hand bookstores exist. They are a wonderful magic. I would like to bake them all a cake and give them a cup of hot cocoa

I haven’t heard of Jungi Ito before or Meg Mason or Mark Danielewski. I shall google them after I’m done writing this! I have heard of Steven King, which probably isn’t surprising considering how popular some of his stuff is. In like 4th or 5th grade it was like I could not walk into a room at school without seeing It on someone’s desk. That book was everywhere.

Do you have a favorite genre to look for stuff in or a favorite method of finding books? Also, thoughts on flowery writing?

NEVER HEARD OF JUNJI ITO........You will learn

my favourite genre of all time ever since i was like really little has been horror. like when i was little i would read goosebumps and then when my dad heard that i could actually read well above my grade, she was like Oh fuck yes I am indoctrinating you so now i have read a lot of stephen king and i read stephen king books when she tells me to. there are things that i dont like about stephen king but for the most part? a lot of his books are worth reading. but yeah i always look in horror sometimes i pick up slice of life shit but only if its batshit okay like if i engage with ANYTHING slice of life it has to be the most batshit flavour and that means i am going to go for nichijous of the world OR drama. if its dramatic i always consider it. i dont like things to be boring or dragging on for too long it has to be a wild ride.

other than genres, finding books themselves...i mostly wander around bookstores or libraries and pick up whatever interests me OR i wait for someone online to talk about some obscure book and then i go Oh that sounds sick as fuck and then i go and read it and sometimes i like it sometimes i dont. i REFUSE to go to tiktok for books. i dont really use tiktok or like tiktok but those girlies are going fucking crazy over there for REAL!!! theyre the girlies who are making book tropes a thing that you can use in advertising and i hate it ive never seen so many new books lack a description in my whole fucking life THIS IS NOT A SUMMARY I DONT KNOW WHAT IM MEANT TO DERIVE FROM THIS LIST OF WORDS!!! like the whole point of tags on ao3 is yes to search but also to warn others of what is INSIDE the book and if you dont have a good summary or an interesting summary no one is going to read that fucking fic. like. look at nameless right. my summary is GREAT on there. THATS THE STORY. people who READ the fic know like THAT is the story. AND you get a taste of my writing. now, another fic i wrote, o green world. THAT'S NOTHING. THAT'S NOT A SUMMARY. i was OBSESSED with one to two-sentence summaries back when i was first starting out and it SHOWS you do not get SHIT from my summaries. no WONDER that hit count is so low god damn

and flowery writing..........i. i dont really like it that much. but most of the time it doesnt bother me until it gets to a point where im like this is a BREAKFAST TABLE. okay. i take flowery writing as a hint that i should be paying attention to everything the position of everything the colours i should be deriving some kind of meaning and i WILL take note of it because i am the kind of motherfucker that i will take notes on a book either in a journal or in the margins (BOOOOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO im so sorry i only do it with books i own) but like a lot of the books ive read where theres flowery writing used for specific scenes or in bursts like theres no REASON for them to be flowery in that moment theyre just BEING FLOWERY and i suppose theyre trying to make it more impactful but if you want an impactful moment i personally always stick with making impactful moments feel kind of FAST. like we dont dwell on it too long we have to keep moving i dont want to prove that it is impactful by being like And with a caress like a flower petal on the wind, Kokichi placed his warm hand against Shuichi's cold skin, breaking the frost and turning ice to water, water to vapour WE DONT NEED ALL THAT so sometimes yes it does annoy me but its like . there are times for it. you know? and a lot of old books use flowery language because that is the time that is the style there is probably a purpose for it. dorian gray has a lot of flowery language in it and it serves a PURPOSE. dorian gray is just a giant gay horror book like there is NO heterosexual explanation for the things that are said in that book for the things that are done like. the flowery language plays a huge part in a lot of it because a lot of the time oscar wilde is using it to put emphasis on something in a scene or describing a POWERFUL emotion. there are places for it but i have read a lot of books (AND fics) where its just. unnecessary. use your tools properly forever

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Save me once and I’ll save you forever”

Part #3 “A wolf has no mercy”

cw : nsfw // vaginal fingering // a teeny tiny bit of gore because our warlord talks about war

ao3 — https://archiveofourown.org/works/39277077/chapters/102225399#main

well it’s been a month eh. yet, i still haven’t gotten the chance to write down all of my ideas. i have some fluff, more drama and angst up my sleeve but they’re all still in my head. the problem with me is that i’m more of a daydreamer than an avid writer. so i have bags and bags of ideas yet no real work to post :3 and oh, i’m also open for suggestions btw so if u’d like to see a particular scene or whatever, feel free to shoot it my way! no idea when i’ll post next tho xD

ps — perhaps in another universe, i do think our dearest warlord would be a majestically adorable tibeten mastiff

(づ ๑˃̵　ᴗ　˂̵) づ @htmlbitxh

Cold. Calculating. Callous.

In her life as a warlord, Ambessa Medarda has been a host of many terms, from a ferocious beast to an unfeeling monster. Her mastery in war and thirst for blood on the battlefield bring about her reputation as a ruthless warlord, for her blade knows no bounds. Man, woman, or child, enemy or ally; it will strike anything and everything that she deems an obstacle in her way to victory.

The war as she knows it; there are no foes nor friends, only the hunter and the hunted. A predator’s natural instinct is to hunt its preys. It is hardwired in its very base instinct to devour the weak.

The warlord has seen many a sight and survived many a situation to be easily deceived by some foolish theatrics. Tears. Curses. They do not move her. Nor do they perturb her. Far from it in fact. She finds it amusing the way men can turn 180 degrees in the span of a split second. Desperation has always had that compelling effect on people: forcing out one's true colours. She has watched people grovel at her feet, and then when a few well-woven words do not manage to get their wishes easily fulfilled, their facades fall, switching instead to crude, unsavoury words. She has listened to them swearing, screaming bloody murder at her just seconds before her blade cuts through their throats.

Rumors have it that Ambessa Medarda does not have a heart, and in those rumors, she believes.

Compassion and sympathy, the likes of such trivial emotions are the roots of all downfalls. If excelling at her duty makes her a monster, then a monster she will willingly become.

Comfortably asleep and nestled snugly in the claws of such carnivorous predator is a small bundle of warmth, a delicious little morsel confined in the cage of strong, unyielding arms.

Adorable. Affectionate. Cute.

Never in her life have the idea of someone linking her name with such silly words crossed her mind, but she will most likely find it laughable, the warlord thinks, and perhaps heavily insulting if anyone dares compare her to something as absurd as a puppy.

“My lady is like a giant puppy.”

It is not entirely surprising however that she finds the comment endearing instead, when the warm, beautiful voice that has softly caressed her ears belong to her charming little rabbit.

A drop of sunshine in a frozen wasteland.

She has laughed from her position between your legs. Arms draped over your thighs and fingertips tracing lazy patterns on your calfs. The silky smoothness of your delicate flesh yields beneath her weight as she settles herself further into your arms.

“Oh?”

There is a halt in those digits dancing gracefully along the hard plane of her shoulder when the delightful little flutter on the side of your neck is sucked into her mouth.

“Are you implying that I am a dog, little shepherd?”

“Having discovered that you behave like a rather affectionate puppy at times, I am simply stating, my lady, that I find you adorable. It’s really cute.”

She feels your delicate fingers on her face next, cradling sharp jaws in the palms of gentle hands. The pair of lips that stamp a kiss onto her temple is warm, achingly soft.

Once your finger follows a wayward strand of hair into a jungle of healthy curls, you observe the calm sea of grey disappears behind peachy eyelids. Slipping through your digits like expensive silk is your lady’s magnificent mane, for not only is she blessed by thick strands, they are equally as luscious.

You revel in having your fingers buried in softness. You would imagine it is how it feels to dip your fingers into a sea of clouds. So incredibly fluffy. Likewise, if the way your lady rubs her cheek subtly against your jaw is any indication, she appears to be relishing the languid moment. It only proves your point further that not everything is as it seems.

The version of your lady that is built upon hearsay may not entirely be correct, but you believe most of it to be true because not only have you beheld the warlord draws her sword, you have also been at the receiving end of it. At the same time, you have also tasted the forbidden fruit that is your lady’s nurturing side, not once but may a time, to foolishly come to the conclusion that she is incapable of emotions.

You have experienced it first-hand after all that even the formidable warlord can be dizzyingly soft if she so chooses to. By indulging you and keeping you close to her, your lady has granted you a key to the more arcane parts of the beautiful enigma that is Ambessa Medarda, and you are all too intent on solving her.

As your fingers swim through her strands, those vermillion lips spill forth a content sound, soft, soothing, and somewhat akin to a purr.

A warm smile touches your lips.

“You are very cute, my lady.”

If it has been anyone else’s mouth that has allowed the escape of such words, the warlord thinks, no she knows that it certainly would have rubbed her up the wrong way, but when it has been uttered by the sweet, delicate buds that are your lips, she is inclined to lock them in hers.

And so, she has kissed them swollen, sucked them rosy.

What lingers on your body now are beautiful hues of red and blue, a mosaic of the warlord’s ravenous desire.

Displayed copiously on no other than your flesh is her mastery, a beautiful canvas made more vibrantly charming with her excellent art. She admires the remnants of herself on your naked frame, eyes tracing a constellation of hickeys to the next while fingertips glide from one lilac bloom to another.

A miscellany of raspberry reds and plum purples that are positively reminiscent of nebulous stars scattered across the night sky. Similar to how every constellation comes with a fable, behind each vibrant cluster of colours is an echo of her touch.

An arm across your chest and a hand cupping your sex, the warlord has suckled the skin of your neck, teeth nibbling flesh and tongue savouring salt, as her fingers breach into your tight walls.

Pretty pink dusts your cheeks.

You have shyly confessed to her then that never have you housed anything inside you save her tongue. She feels a warm, painful squeeze inside her chest, along with regret and relief. Regret for all but abandoning you eight years ago. Relief for knowing that at the very least, she has discovered you on time that fateful night.

She holds you a little bit tighter.

There has been no doubt in the warlord’s mind that she possesses a greater stature than an average civilian, not to mention dainty little you, who have always been smaller than her, and whose size has only dwindled during your captivity in that godforsaken palace.

One of your thighs does not even amount to one of her arms. If her tongue has filled you to capacity, compared to the thick muscle, her hands have been on an entirely different calibre.

Those digits, long and ample in size, dexterous and meticulous in their movements, have stretched you to the point of painful agony. You whimper as soon as they are nestled snugly inside your folds, lithe fingers digging into your lady’s arm while fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“Ah h-hurts my lady. It hurts.”

“Shh I’ve got you, darling. I’ve got you.”

Generously kind and unfailingly considerate, your lady has done her best to sway your attention by peppering sweet kisses along the length of your jaw. She noses your throat, sings sweet praises against your skin.

You are tight. So. Exquisitely. Tight.

It, however, does not deter her fingers from travelling deeper into the welcoming heat of your folds.

Wrapped up in the wonderfully silky heat, her mind very nearly goes numb, forehead falling onto your shoulder with a groan when you continue to smother her in a hot, dizzying embrace.

“You’re going to be the death of me girl.” Through gritted teeth, she coos breathlessly against your warm skin, kisses the soft baby hair coiling at the nape of your neck.

“Ngh- P-please.”

“I know, darling. I know. You must be overwhelmed. But I promise, it will feel so good.”

“I will make you feel so good.”

After a gentle suckle on your throat, there follows a delicate brush of lips against your sanguine cheek. Then, she pecks you on your dewy lips. Soft. Sugary.

“Do you trust me, sweet girl?”

You turn liquid butter beneath her silky smooth lips. Meanwhile, the gentle cadence of her voice makes flowers thrive in your ribcage and butterflies erupt in your tummy.

“Can you be a good girl for me, hmm?”

Although words fail you, your answer to your lady is plain as day, further evident in the way you rub your cheek against her like an eager little kitten.

Fingers buried between your folds, the warlord has simply kept you anchored in her strong arms, all the while painting your neck red with kisses and bites. She continues her gentle assault on your tender flesh, until accompanied by dewdrops trickling down your thighs, you are no longer struggling to take her.

Once you have adjusted to the intrusion and a need for stimulation demand that you move, you squeeze your thighs together in a poor attempt to bring some frictions. It is no surprise to find the hand between your legs preventing you from doing so.

Your pleasure essentially lies in your lady’s hand. The notion is so positively spine-tingling that little shivery sensations erupt inside your overcrowded cunt. Succulent walls pulsates delightfully around ample fingers.

In the end, with your endeavour proven futile, you have let out a frustrated little whine to which your lady’s only response has been a deep, alluring chuckle. It is rich, warm, and rolls straight down to the digits inside your core.

Helplessly, you gaze up at the warlord, juicy lips parted a crack and eyes shimmering with dew. It earns you a growl in return.

Those damn eyes.

Big, beautiful and brilliantly riveting.

It is quite a silly thought really but she wishes she can drown in them forever.

“If you keep looking at me like that my dearest little rabbit, my sanity might just slip,” Lips once again nuzzles the nook of your neck, their caresses surprisingly soft in contrast to the iron grip she has on your cunt. “and when it happens, I cannot promise you that I will be able to keep the beast within me at bay any longer.” You can almost feel her fingers twitching in harmony with the haywire throbs of your folds.

“Let it loose then.”

The little noise that fall from your lips has been no louder than a gentle breeze, but she has heard it all the same.

The warlord is capable of many things.

But, saying no to you? That, she cannot do.

“Let it loose, my lady.” So, when you reaffirm your statement along with a soft caress of your lips against her cheek, “I want all of you.” it is all she needs to start pumping into you with wild abandon, exploring you all over again with her fine fingers, tracing each bump and filling every crevice.

The initial thrust skyward has been so sudden, so brisk that it punches a breath out of your lungs. While dainty fingers scramble to find purchase around a generous wrist, those thick fingers that are buried deep inside you has rubbed against that sweet, delicious spot in a dizzying caress.

In and out and out and in, they go, seamless and relentless, setting an unforgiving pace into your moist, silky walls. Long gone is the painful agony, replaced entirely by sweet, toe-curling suffering that sends waves after waves of electricity crackling inside your veins.

Exquisite. Heavenly.

It renders you delirious.

The mirror that is conveniently located at the foot of the bed has offered the warlord the perfect view of your debauched state. Her fiery gaze, blown wide with desire, has hungrily raked over your frame before coming to seek your eyes in the mirror.

She looks wild, untamed, and the open hunger in her eyes drives you to clench around her. Head buzzing, chest heaving, a breathless little “uh” dribbles out of your lips when, accompanied by a ferocious growl, she buries herself knuckles deep into your core.

It is one thing to be aware of the differences between the two of you, but entirely another to be presented with the very vivid comparison. Your delicate frame is all but eclipsed by her massive stature. Your fingers does not even come close to closing around one of her wrist.

A flesh and bone rendition of a docile little rabbit caught beneath a mighty wolf’s claws.

You are so much smaller than her, this she is already aware. But, the fact that it requires considerable force just for her to be cradled within your soft, delicate folds, the warlord feels as if she is witnessing the union of two different species who are not meant to couple.

Body so lithe, skin so soft, heart so pure.

Silk and sand. Sun and moon. Light and dark.

“Do you feel me?” She does a particularly sharp thrust. “Hmm do you feel me inside you?”

Your back arches into her body with a gasp, and as your head falls back onto her chest, simultaneously baring your throat, her teeth close around the little fluttering pulse. Around her copious digits, your walls squeeze and spasm, which is already an acceptable answer to her question. Nonetheless, she is not satisfied because it is your voice that she craves.

Withdrawing her fingers until only the very tips are left buried between your swollen petals, “Answer me.” she whispers sharply into your ear before all but plunging deep into your core once more. It renders you breathless for only a moment before you manage a small squeak.

“Ngh- y-yes!”

“I can feel you inside me, Amby. S-so deep inside me.”

It has not been a lie. Not only is she nestled oh so deeply inside you, those long fingers are reaching into the entirely different part of your body. You can feel them at the entrance of your womb, kissing your cervix.

The warlord finds it absolutely adorable the way you hold her arm in your delicate little fingers as if your entire existence might just slip away if you dare let go. She will never let that happen. She promises you that.

And immediately, she keeps her words. Her steady arms have kept you glued to her body when your traitorous legs have all but crumpled beneath your trembling frame. Courtesy of her cruel ministrations, your limbs have been as steady as a leaf in the storm.

Her craving may have been fulfilled. She is yet to be satiated.

So, while her digits maintain their punishing pace inside you, the warlord has used your body to chase her own ecstasy, rubbing and grinding her powerful hips against yours. A litany of hot guttural groans and sweet praises are dropped directly into your ears, and you have eagerly greeted them with choked sobs and muffled whimpers.

Just the idea of the warlord using your body for her own pleasure has been enticing enough, but to have your fantasy actually become a reality, you feel as if your insides are being reduced to a gooey mess.

She feels so hot, so wet, so good.

“Lady Medarda- ngh so hot ah-”

Your scrumptious little mewl is rewarded with a sweet, sultry moan.

“Oh, my dear girl.”

It is soft, breathy, and the cause for your moist walls to clamp down hard onto her digits.

“Come with me.” When she whispers, her voice is thick, husky. “Come for me.”

Her fingers dance passionately inside your folds to the music that your lovely lips create as her palm grinds deliciously against that sweet bundle of nerves. Never one to deny your lady, you have gladly met her wishes. While juices copiously ooze out of your wreck of a hole, there is an explosion of silky heat on your hip, the warlord’s essence beginning as a gentle trickle, then running in rivulets down the side of your thigh.

Her nectar seeping into your skin.

You have been marked anew.

As thoroughly claimed as you are, exhaustion has left you to pass out in her arms shortly afterwards.

One arm twined around a dainty waist, you are now cradled close to her chest. Under her hand is the delicate, little hummingbird flutter of your heart, and the sweet swell of your breast.

Ambessa Medarda does not think she has a heart, but perhaps, the little rabbit who is currently cocooned in her embrace will one day fill in that hollow void.

And as she watches you sleepily turn in her arms, and tuck that adorable little face in the nook of her neck, something throbs painfully inside her chest.

“Mmm Amby.”

A gentle murmur. Soft lips press into her pulse. She feels pleasantly warm. The swift, staccato thumps against her ribcage remains consistent, becomes louder.

When a smile blooms on her lips, she drops it gently atop your head, whispers into your hair.

“You have already filled in that hollow void, haven’t you my darling little shepherd.”

[paperstorm]

Hello! I love following your stories and your posts. You always have such an interesting take on things!

I have a question that maybe controversial (that's why I'm on anon), so feel free to ignore this if you don't feel upto it.

I'm a cis, straight woman of relative economic privilege in a very traditional, conservative country. Which is to say, all of my interactions with and information about the LGBTQ+ community are from the internet. This sometimes is an issue because I end up learning the wrong things, where I think I'm being an ally but I'm just thinking things that are problematic in different ways.

I write a bit of fanfiction for other fandoms and I really enjoy watching 9-1-1LS. I have story ideas for Tarlos, but I'm not sure about the ethics of someone like me writing about a queer couple. Is it okay for me to do that? Or is it more respectful to just read and listen and learn? In case it's fine to write it, never having actually witnessed a queer couple's relationship, how do I write realistically without perpetuating problematic tropes that I've seen in Hollywood/TV/other fics?

(This might get long, I’m sorry followers, one day I’ll learn to shut up but not today and not about this)

I want to start by saying that ‘own voices’ started out as a good thing. It started with the purpose of allowing marginalized communities the space to tell their own stories, rather than prioritizing a white man pretending he knows what racism feels like when he doesn’t. It had really good intentions, and it’s still important to amplify the voices of people who are speaking from direct experience.

But because social media spaces are literally never capable of nuance, it pretty quickly turned into ‘you aren’t allowed to write or talk about things that you don’t have direct experience with’ and this is where it became a really harmful mentality. It has led to things like celebrities being forcibly outed (off the top of my head – Lee Pace, Kit Connor, Casey McQuiston, and Jameela Jamil, but I’m positive there are others) because the internet mob said ‘you can’t portray/write about queer characters if you aren’t queer! Publicly perform your sexuality for us or ELSE!’. On a much smaller scale, it led to me not including characters of colour in my stories for years, because tumblr and twitter told me I wasn’t allowed to.

These are not positive things. I saw a post once, years ago, that said something like ‘yes it’s important for POC to get to see characters who look like them as the hero of the story, but it’s equally important for people to see characters who don’t look like them as the hero of the story, because that’s how you learn empathy for people who are different than you’ and that has really stuck with me. It was not good that a teenager was forced to come out before he was ready a few months ago because twitter told him he was queerbaiting by just existing and living his life. It was not good that I went years excluding characters of colour from my stories. It was not good that I never tried to get into the headspace of someone like Sam Wilson or Nile Freeman or Yusuf al-Kaysani or Carlos Reyes or Marjan Marwani. We develop intense empathy for people who have vastly different experiences than us when we care about their lives and their stories and their struggles.

I showed this ask to my best friend who is also queer and he made a lot of good points in a series of very passionate texts but among them are these:

I would rather someone be open and wanting to explore a new community, perhaps occasionally stumbling over the wrong thing, but learning rather then sitting on the sideline like some kid outside of a candy store window.

I’m not interested in allies who are silent. Who haven’t put themselves in my shoes. Who don’t adore the parts of our community the way I do. I don’t give a FUCK about people who are just going to sit there and say “it’s not my place to speak/participate.” I want my allies in the thick of it. I want them saying I stand with you, vocally and I’ll only sit when you sit.

Quit making people treat marginalized groups like exclusive clubs. Everyone is welcome in my gay house

I know my family loves me because they are my family and I am of them. I need to know the rest of the world is going to let me in, too. I need to know that some successful author who has absolutely no stake in the game ALSO sees value in a queer voice in their story. I need to know I have a place in the world BEYOND the people who are accepting of me because they are like me.

So. All of this is a very long-winded way of saying please please PLEASE write and love and care about queer characters even if you, yourself are not queer. If you’re worried about getting something wrong or unintentionally writing something that is offensive, ask a queer person if they would be a sensitivity reader for your story before you post it. And be willing to accept the criticism if a person comes to you after and says ‘hey this was offensive’ (while also understanding that one queer person or one POC does not speak for the entire community, and that the concept of offense gets incredibly complicated sometimes). But write it. It is a wonderful, necessary thing when people care about communities that they are not a part of. In the immortal words of Mr. Bernie Sanders, when then question “Are you willing to fight for someone you don’t know?” is asked, the world gets infinitely better when the answer is yes.

[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!!

[kateis-cakeis]

Alivebur Has A Crush Analysis

Alivebur is a character who has been through the highs and lows of life. We have seen him lead, we have seen him fall, and we have seen him come back and try his best. What we have not previously seen, however, is Alivebur in love. In the last few streams from his POV, his interactions with Quackity have stepped into the realm of possibility that to Alivebur, this is more than a simple rivalry. Therefore, this analysis will explore Alivebur's possible crush on Quackity by going through the streams to show development, and looking in depth at expressions.

The Book

When Alivebur takes the Project Nevadas book from the chest, he regards it and Quackity's name softly, sounding emotional, almost like he's on the verge of tears - especially as he says 'my kinsman':

“Quackity… My, my old rival! My… my kinsman. We’ve been through a lot, we went through a lot together. And I- And I-” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 1:02:11, 5th May)

It's a very emotional line, and truly the first time during the 5th May stream that Alivebur seems genuinely comfortable, suggesting that this is the first time he realises that Quackity is the only one (from his perspective) who isn't afraid of who he was before he died.

Furthermore, it suggests this is where he first gets the hope that Quackity sees him as human.

He even reads the book with a gentle tone, suggesting that he thinks Quackity wrote it with a softness.

In the 31st May stream, Alivebur still has the book on him, and keeps the contents to himself, at first, stopping midsentence as he begins to read it to Tommy.

“Let me read you the book, let me read you the book. ‘My dearest friend, Wilbur’. Uh. And then there’s just some other stuff.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 14:53, 31st May)

Due to him having no idea he was going to be up against Quackity yet, it is likely he kept it to himself because it was too personal to share - only later showing it to Tommy as a plea to why he shouldn't join Quackity.

In between reading the first part and uttering 'uh', Alivebur opens his mouth to say more, but no words come out. As if he couldn't physically read it.

Then he goes on to 'read' Tommy the book, except he makes up the contents. What is interesting here, is how he seems to slip:

“It says: ‘My dearest friend, Wilbur. I’ve really missed seeing you. Come to Project Nevadas. Your best friend, Quackity.’ He’s not my best friend, Tommy, don’t worry, that would be you.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 16:28, 31st May)

Tommy has pushed him for what's inside the book, so Alivebur 'gives in' and starts to read it, coming up with what he's saying on the fly. The slip? 'Your best friend', we know in the 25th July stream that one of Alivebur's goals seems to be Quackity being his friend, making this line all the more obvious that this is something Alivebur wants, to be Quackity's friend, and to be on his side.

When he gets rejected from Las Nevadas, he opens up the book like he's trying to make sense of it:

Because Alivebur took it as a call, took it as an invitation to join Quackity and be on his side - something that Alivebur seems to want. Perhaps because it would be a place to belong, a side to stand with, someone to stand alongside who isn't afraid of him.

Hence why he was petty and challenged Quackity, because he was rejected by the only person who Alivebur thinks regards him as a human.

Alivebur keeps the book on him in the following stream, Healthy Competition. Where, in the middle of talking to Phil, while looking in his inventory, he gets distracted by the book, losing track of what he was saying as he looks at it:

This suggests that Alivebur is keeping the book on him because it's precious, and because he's yearning. It isn't something he's keeping safe in an Ender chest like he used to do with history books, but rather something he's keeping on him, almost like he's keeping it close to his heart.

It's personal, enough to distract him in the middle of a conversation in a way we haven't seen from Alivebur before.

When he's making plans, he doesn't get distracted easily, usually sticking to the point, but here, he trails off in the middle of a sentence, pulls the book into his hand, struggles to open it, and looks for just a second before putting it away.

It's definitely not something that Alivebur would do at all, and is certainly new. Which, in turn, heavily suggests a crush because it is something we've never seen before.

Later in the stream, as Alivebur tosses the named steaks over to Ranboo, Alivebur pulls the book into his hand again. His expression drops almost, he stops in a sense, eyes dipping down. There's a sadness this time:

Like a sad longing. Perhaps the book is a reminder too, of what he truly wants, to be alongside Quackity, to be his dearest friend like it says.

While Alivebur doesn't look at the book in the 3rd and 4th Aug streams, he does still have it on him, showing that he does indeed keep it on him at all times. Evidently, the book is very important to him.

Therefore, due to all this, it can be heavily suggested from the book alone that Alivebur has a crush. Keeping it on him at all times, regarding it softly, being unable to share the contents at first, looking at it with a longing or a sad yeaning, all show that the book is precious to him in a way that proves feelings.

The Crush Question

More under the cut

When Alivebur talks about how Quackity challenged him, calling the look in his eyes cool - before then admitting that he almost called it hot, Tommy proceeds to ask if Alivebur has a crush, to which Alivebur says:

“I have a complicated relationship with Big Q, but I don’t think it’s at that level yet.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 44:55, 31st May)

There is a lot to this line, for example, 'complicated relationship' suggests, within this context, that he's referring to their very colourful past, where they were political rivals, allies, perhaps friends, and also almost lovers.

Considering that Alivebur says he doesn't think it's at the level of a crush yet does indeed suggest that he is aware of his attraction and/or feelings for Quackity.

We know from Niki's birthday party that Alivebur had feelings for Quackity then:

“Sometimes, uh, you know, my, my, my feelings towards some people... in this room get the better of me.” - (Karl's Dream SMP with Niki: 1:46:37, 2nd Nov)

During that pause, that ellipsis, Alivebur looks straight at Quackity before continuing. It is clear that at this point he did have feelings, hence why he kissed Quackity, and why later in that stream he sang songs of love and hate to him. Complicated relationship indeed.

So, 'complicated relationship' possibly does refer to all their past, to everything they've been, or almost been. That paired with him thinking his feelings aren't at the level of a crush yet - at this point - does heavily suggest that this is something that is progressing.

Either he will later realise his feelings have gotten to the level of a crush, or that it's been a crush for a while, but the important part here, is the use of 'yet', he's expecting it.

In turn, Alivebur's answer to Tommy's question does suggest the existence of feelings already, as well as Alivebur acknowledging it can become a crush.

Crush Behaviour

In recent streams it has become increasingly evident that Alivebur is behaving like he has a crush already. Even in the first stream where this becomes evident - the 31st May one - he displays signs of a crush.

To begin, one of the most evident signs of a crush from the 31st May stream are the longing sighs:

It's the way he sighs with his whole chest. The way he's trying to speak but sighs instead, as if that's all he can say, as if it conveys everything he feels.

The lines the sighs coincide with are interesting to note too:

“He’s, he’s um, he’s, I guess my, my yang. He’s the yang.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 47:56, 31st May)

The first sigh takes place between 'he's um' and 'he's', and only then gets out what he wants to say, that Quackity's his yang. Which, from that, it can be suggested that the sigh comes from thinking about Quackity as his light, his other half, as something he can't exist without, something like a soulmate. Because that's what 'his yang' suggests on its own, but paired with the sigh, it shows how he's thinking about it, and from the tone, he's also longing for it.

And then there's the line for the second sigh:

“Because when you’ve got people like Quackity over there, who are just- You know, he said it best, I’m not gonna talk shit about him behind his back.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 1:10:00, 31st May)

Here the sigh takes place when Alivebur cuts himself off after the 'just'. It's more of a breathed sigh, and it has a 'aw' sound to it. There is a feeling of more attraction here than longing. He's thinking about Quackity again and then sighs like this, almost in a happy way. It's almost got an amazed feel to it, as if that's how he feels when thinking of Quackity here.

Then he goes on to say he's not gonna talk shit about him behind his back, which also indicates a crush type behaviour, because while he's setting himself up to be Quackity's rival, he stops himself from doing what most would when they're against someone.

The sighs aren't the only part of the 31st May stream that have a crush behaviour feeling to them. This is also clear when Tommy asks if Alivebur and Quackity were kissing.

He nervously laughs after Tommy asks, and stares at Quackity, with his hand over his mouth. The nervous laugh suggests that Alivebur does feel something towards this question, something positive but guarded, hence his hand over his mouth, and why he stares at Quackity.

And then he deflects. He doesn't answer Tommy's question, he just changes the subject. It's clear from this that he's hiding his true feelings here.

“No, I don’t think I wanna kiss him. It’s um…” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 50:29, 31st May)

This is backed up by him saying he doesn't think he wants to kiss Quackity. He clearly has some complicated feelings about it, hence the use of 'think' instead of just leaving it as no.

Evidentially, there is some guarded part of Alivebur that isn't sure what to feel about kissing Quackity, but judging by the use of 'think', and nervously laughing while staring at Quackity after being asked if they were kissing, it seems like he's thought about it.

The next blatant crush behaviour happens in the 25th July stream as Alivebur is talking about how he met up with Quackity:

The body language here, the way he seems to fiddle with his arms, it's a very nervous thing to do, and since he's talking to Phil here, it suggests he's nervously talking about his crush to his dad.

The full line shows this even more:

“Yeah! I met up with him, and I hadn’t seen him in ages. It was, I’m gonna say it, it was nice. It was a nice time. I- I- It felt good, it felt, uh, you know, he didn’t, he didn’t seem afraid of me, which is cool.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 7:38, 25th July)

He begins with that he hadn't seen him in ages, which is especially interesting because this is true of everyone, it's been 13 years for Alivebur, but the way he says it here makes it sound so casual, like it had just been a little while. Perhaps it suggests how human and alive he feels around Quackity.

He goes on to say it was nice, that it felt good, and how it's cool Quackity didn't seem afraid of him. Which suggests even more so of just how human and alive Quackity makes him feel, that he simply had a nice time. Especially with him saying it felt good, which shows how this isn't just an intense rivalry for Alivebur, it's something that makes him feel more positive emotions.

The most damning evidence for Alivebur's crush behaviour, however, comes from when he's waiting for Quackity on the 4th Aug stream.

“Wait here, look, I promise you, just you wait. Just you wait. Ready? Ready? Are you ready? Are- Are you- Are you ready? Um… Uh…” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 11:06, 4th Aug)

He expects Quackity to be there as soon as he is, but when he's not there, Alivebur begins to get nervous, um-ing and uh-ing. After two minutes of waiting around, Alivebur then proceeds to proclaim that he thinks he understands Quackity, and how his brain works, only for him to prove he doesn't give a shit:

“This guy. Ranboo, I swear to god, like I, I feel like I understand him, I feel like I know how his brain works, you know, how his- how the- how the cogs in his mind go. And then he just, and then he just goes and proves that he doesn’t give a shit.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 12:56, 4th Aug)

The reason this is evident crush behaviour is because Alivebur starts getting self-conscious about how Quackity feels about him after waiting two minutes. He assumes that as soon as he arrives on the border, Quackity will be there instantly.

It's very reminiscent of real life, where some people may get self-conscious if their crush doesn't text them back immediately. Except with Alivebur, instead of a text, he turns up on Las Nevadas's doorstep and expects Quackity to drop anything he's doing to tell him to fuck off.

However, the most blatant part of this piece of evidence is when Quackity asks if they've been waiting long, to which Alivebur replies with:

“Uh, I’ve just arrived, you know, I just arri- I, I haven’t been long for you. I, I wouldn’t- Quackity, you think, you think I’d wait for you?” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 14:35, 4th Aug)

He pretends he's just arrived, trying to act suave, that he wouldn't wait for Quackity, just like how Quackity didn't instantly greet him the minute he turned up. He's brushing it off here, but even he himself knows that he isn't acting as smooth as he would like:

He glances away as he drinks from the bottle, then closes his eyes, scrunching up his face. It's an embarrassed 'oh god did I really just say that?' type expression. It's the type of expression you would expect to see from someone who feels like they've just embarrassed themself in front of their crush.

That's what is evident here when everything from this scene is put together, that Alivebur is acting like he has a crush.

Finally, the last bit of evidence we have right now that indicates Alivebur is expressing crush behaviour is when he says he feels alive after interacting with Quackity:

“I feel alive, Ranboo, I feel alive. Someone’s looking at me and talking to me! I’m alive, I’m alive! This is great.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 27:22, 4th Aug)

You may notice here that the 'someone's looking at me' is similar to what cc!Wilbur said from Alivebur's perspective in the recent reddit comment about him (here), that 'no-one even looked at him' before he died. Alivebur is excited, even seeming to be happy, that someone is actually paying attention to him, looking at him, even if it's in a rivalry sense.

And it's only Quackity that makes him feel this way, despite Ranboo being there, talking to him. It suggests that what Alivebur is feeling with Quackity is unique, and makes him feel more than the friendship he has with Ranboo.

Most of all, the excited and stressed 'I feel alive' and 'I'm alive!' not only suggests that just talking to Quackity makes him feel alive, but that it could be making his heart beat faster every time he sees him and interacts with him.

This is implied through the line because to feel alive in this excited sense induces a reaction, and that probable reaction of feeling alive - being excited, suggests his heart is beating faster. This links back to Alivebur having a crush because when a person is around someone they have feelings for, their heart beats faster.

Lastly, in the latter half of the quote, when he says 'I'm alive!', he looks towards Las Nevadas, and sighs in what sounds like a happy tone. This shows that it is indeed Quackity that is making him feel this way.

All in all, everything from the sighs to the way Quackity makes him feel alive, does indeed suggest that Alivebur is displaying crush behaviour towards Quackity, and therefore, indicates that he has a crush.

Homoerotic Tension

Another factor that ties into the evidence that Alivebur has a crush, is the homoerotic tension he has towards and with Quackity.

The most obvious occurrence of this is when Alivebur bites his lip at the idea that Quackity won't like the burger van:

“So he didn’t like it? He didn’t like you setting up the cookie stand? … Okay. Okay. No, no, no, that’s good.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 21:33, 25th July)

As soon as Ranboo says Quackity didn't like it, Alivebur smiles, licks his lips, and then bites his lip.

In this context, there's no anxiousness here, so the only reason he could be biting his lip is because of his attraction to Quackity. A lip bite in this sense means that Alivebur is restraining himself, as well as experiencing desire.

It's a very clear attraction to Quackity, which further shows that he is attracted to him in all senses. This is also a foundation for where his feelings are coming from, and because we know Alivebur's type (he likes a challenge and thought the look in Quackity's eyes was hot when he challenged him), it becomes evident that the lip bite is a reaction to the idea of Quackity being angry at him.

And in the 4th Aug stream, this is explicitly said:

“When you smashed the window and blew up the wall? I’d be pissed, and I bet he is, dude.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 7:20, 4th Aug)

--

“Ohh boy! Ha ha ha ha, ha! Oh, this is good, this is- this is exactly what I want. Did you see how- Dude, dude, Ranboo, he was trying act like I didn’t get to him.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 26:47, 4th Aug)

Therefore, due to Alivebur expecting Quackity to be pissed, and him saying it's exactly what he wants after interacting with him, it's clear that him smiling and biting his lip after hearing that Quackity didn't like the cookie stand, comes from wanting Quackity to be angry with him, and so, links into his type, proving his attraction to him.

This links back to his possible crush because a lip bite like this definitely isn't an expression someone would make about a friend or just a rival. Which means it's explicitly attraction to Quackity, and further suggests that him having a crush on him is very possible.

Another notable moment that shows tension in this sense is when Alivebur says Quackity is a hard man to refuse.

“But I get it, I get it, you know, Quackity… He’s a, he’s a hard man to refuse.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 24:09, 4th Aug)

The reason this suggests homoerotic tension and attraction is because of what 'he's a hard man to refuse' suggests. It's as if Alivebur is saying to Quackity that he can't say no to him, which shows how he is drawn to him. It also suggests that if Quackity were to ask something of Alivebur, he would do it, as he can't refuse him easily/can't say no.

The most interesting part about this is how Alivebur has never been manipulated or persuaded by Quackity, and therefore, in Alivebur's case, this sentiment is coming from their history, and possibly refers to the rivalry they have always had. Alivebur didn't refuse Quackity from running against him during the election era, and he eagerly gunned for a rivalry once he was rejected from Las Nevadas.

All of this indicates that Alivebur saying Quackity is a hard man to refuse has romantic connotations to it and suggests attraction to him.

Overall, the homoerotic tension, and Alivebur's attraction shows how it's very likely a crush has built off this foundation, and suggests why Alivebur is so drawn to Quackity.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Alivebur has a crush due to the way he talks about and interacts with Quackity. It is clear in the way he holds the book close and regards it softly and with a longing, and how he doesn't think his feelings are at the level of a crush yet, as if he fully expects it to happen. Additionally, his yearning sighs, the way he nervously laughs as Tommy asks if they kissed, his body language when he talks to Phil about him, and how he attempts to act smooth in front of Quackity only to be embarrassed by what he said, all suggest he's behaving like he has a crush. Furthermore, biting his lip when thinking of Quackity and saying he's a hard man to refuse show his attraction, and therefore, his likely crush. Overall, Alivebur has a crush due to all these factors.

[cafemagie-magie]

Howdy! First I just wanna say you're a really great artist, one of the best I've ever seen, and I love every single one of your LWA fanarts! And if you don't mind, I just wanted to ask how you learned to draw? I've always wanted to learn, but I'm not sure how to learn the fundamentals and progressively get better until I'm as great as someone like you. If you know any books, videos online, exercises/habits, or any resource to look up and learn how to draw and slowly get better, that'd be great!

Hi! Thank you very much, I’m touched by your kind words ^^

I give you Diakko but theyre motivation coaches to wish you the best ! Have fun with drawing, it's one of the best thing on Earth!

It took some time to answer because I wanted to write a document with a lot of resources, so you and other fellows can use it :

To answer the first part of the question, I always loved doodling with a pencil and replicating manga panels like Dragon Ball, Naruto... also I love scientific illustration and fashion design! Never took art classes, but went to an art club in high school^^

I have a pencil and watercolour self taught art background, drew since 9 but with a lot of art breaks (the most recent one lasted 4 years because of pharmacy studies), digital art came very late when I hit 23 (January of this year, got an iPad!🥳🎂) and I learned it with the resources stated in this shared document :D

Now for the second part, let's say every artist have their own art planet, like the Little Prince 😊

You have your art home,  and realism is the house foundation to you build up other skills on it. The first skill associatied with foundation is observation : when you look at something...how does it work? Why is this moving like that? What are the simplified shapes of it? 

Near you home, you can plant your favourite artists seeds from other art planets in your own art garden to be inspired by them. They'll bloom into different flowers, scents and colors... they'll inspire your work as you progress :D it's like pretty things to admire and look up to! To keep you on the go and learn from them! (It works with the library metaphor too, like having a collection of your fav artists, subjects, reference...)

 Then you build up solid walls for your house, by learning/practicing technical things like figure drawing, life drawing, drapery... with these, you can already have a lot of fun!

Adding windows will bring you some fresh air as you'll explore colour theory, light and shadow... at this stage, traditionally or digitally, you'll be able to create really cool sketches/llustrations! You can always use references and observe them to understand the light source, a particular scenery, or some tricky anatomy position, etc...so you can incorporate it in your drawing.

Then you can make your house bigger by adding new rooms: learning how to draw specific things like detailed backrounds, animals, weapons, machinery, everything you'll be interested in...if you started with humans only for example.

Later on, you can decor your house with things like art style, aesthetics, that little somtheing that makes people recognize your works...these come naturally as you progress so dont worry too much about it!

Building a comfy house takes time but it's your home and even if there will be struggles/frustration... enjoying the process is key to a happy artist journey ^^

Hope this helped, and you can always dm for more specific things, if needed (or ask anonymously again, I’m shy so I’ll understand lol)

[littlemissnoname13]

hi could you please make a part two to feeling colors, i LOVED your writing in it. no rush :))

Hiii nonnie! 💕 I did end up writing a second part for the fic after all. I hope you like it as much as the first. X

Feeling Colours - Part Two

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Word count: 2500 give or take

Summary: Draco’s feelings for the reader start to grow

Warnings: fluff, excessive drinking, mentions of throwing up, kissing, nothing explicit, Draco being a softie (lmk if this needs more warnings)

Masterlist | Part One 

Your eyes fluttered open to find Draco Malfoy sitting on a chair next to you, breathing quietly like sleep was finally hitting him. Ruffled blond strands of hair fell over his weary eyes and he’d used his suit jacket as a makeshift blanket. 

Your first instinct was to silently lift up your covers and check if your clothes were still intact and thank Merlin they were. 

“Have a little faith Y/n.” Draco grumbled, startling you in the process as he struggled to lift himself into a more comfortable position. “I would never take advantage of a drunk girl.”

Fragments of the previous night came back to you when you heard him say that. 

The party, the burn of the booze, the dust-filled broom closet, the throwing up, the taste of soup and the strong and sturdy arms of the boy now looking at you with a sheepish grin on his face.

You eased at the sight of his smile. There came a certain type of comfort after someone had seen you throwing your guts up. 

“Thank you for last night Draco.”

“Like I said before Miss raging alcoholic, Don’t make a habit of it.” He let out a small yawn and started to smooth out his hair but much to his dismay, the strands refused to cooperate. 

You couldn't help but laugh at the displeased look on his face. “Here, let me—”

“NO. I absolutely refuse to let you touch my hair.” He protested, grabbing both your wrists before your fingers could make contact with his precious hair. 

“Come on Malfoy.” You pleaded, now fully out of bed and trying to break free from his hands. “I swear I can fix it for you.”

“Nope.” He said firmly as he tried his hardest to maintain a straight face. “Stop it—No please not the sides—no..”

“Please, just a bit more...ah okay….there we go.”

“Haven’t you done enough Hufflepuff?!”

“Oh. that rhymed.” You laughed, still touching his hair when the two of you accidently tumbled onto the chair he was originally sleeping on. 

Draco was agile in cushioning your fall with one of his hands balancing himself on the armrest and one hand wrapped around your waist.

It was only the second time he’d saved you from falling and you were already getting used to it. 

Something inside of you was immediately hoping that Draco would be there to break your fall for a third time too. 

It felt good with him.

It felt safe with him.

~~~

Alone at the school courtyard in the afternoon of the next day, Draco sat down in a far corner to rearrange his cluttered thoughts about you into tidy little compartments in his brain. 

It should have been easy for him. He was a natural occlumens after all.

But for some bizarre reason, he couldn't find a way to erase your name, the sound of your voice and your scent that was slowly dominating all four lobes of his brain and all four chambers of his heart. 

Even with the sun still in the sky, the occasional gust of wind made his hands turn cold so he instinctively shoved his hands into his blazer pocket to warm up. 

It was only then that he realised that he’d completely forgotten to give your locket back to you. 

~~~

A few days had now passed and Draco had gotten several opportunities to give your necklace back to you. 

First it was at the great hall.

He watched you intently from the Slytherin table, waiting for the perfect opportunity to talk to you while you nibbled on a cupcake.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he watched you lick the powdery pink frosting off your Peony lips.

He wasn’t all that fond of those cupcakes you were eating but he’d have done anything for a taste of the frosting from your lips. 

Before he could even manage to walk over to you, you stood up and walked away with your friends.

When you were close to the exit however, you paused and turned towards the Slytherin table to give him a tiny smile.

He quickly reached into his pocket to look at the locket, it was the exact pink shade of the frosting. 

~~~

The second time he tried to return it was at Potions class. 

Theo had so graciously agreed to switch partners with Draco and Snape did not seem to mind as long as the potions were brewed right. 

“Crush the petals as best you can before dropping them into the cauldron.” Snape instructed and you quickly grabbed a fistfull of rose petals. 

Draco watched in awe as you crushed rose petals in your hands, releasing the floral aroma into the atmosphere. The scent caught onto clothes and a flush crept onto his face.

“Well, are you going to help me, Malfoy?”

Draco silently copied your motion and stirred the cauldron till the potion was simmering and ready.

Returning your locket in the middle of Severus’s class did not seem like a smart idea so he decided to come up with a better one. 

“We are having another party in the dungeons on Friday. You should come and bring Abott if you’d like.”  Draco shrugged it off like it was the most casual thing ever. 

“Will there be elf made wine?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him and he let out a rather loud scoff earning the attention of the sulky potion’s master.

“Malfoy, Y/l/n.” Snape called out, looking as unimpressed as ever. “Detention.Saturday.”

“Incorrigible.” Draco muttered and you nudged him in the rib with your elbow. 

“Two Saturdays.” Snape said, before dismissing the entire class. 

On his way out, Draco discreetly sneaked a peak of the necklace in his pocket because he already knew what colour it was going to be. 

It was the exact same pink of the rose petals you were crushing. 

~~~

Two days had gone by since potions class and Draco was no longer fazed when the necklace emulated the same shades of pink from the bubblegum you were blowing or the fuschia ribbon in your hair. 

Draco also didn’t think it was necessary to make another attempt to return your necklace until Friday.

He already had a lot of things preoccupying his mind like actually planning the party. 

There had been no Slytherin Party planned for Friday before Draco invited you and now, He was getting his friends to help him arrange one. 

Crabbe and Goyle were tasked with getting more liquor,  Blaise and Theo were responsible for music and food while Draco was responsible with the overall logistics like silencing charms and getting the word of the party out. 

“All this for a girl.” Blaise mocked. Theo took this moment to whisper something to Crabbe who then whispered something to Goyle. 

“Care to say it out loud, Nott?” Draco seethed as he watched his friends clutch their stomachs and laugh out loud. 

“Theo called you a simp.” A teary eyed Goyle spluttered. 

“A what now?”

~~~

Friday’s party topped the previous one. 

More people, A wider selection of liquor, wine varietals, good food and music blasting so loud that the floors were vibrating. 

As per usual, Hannah had already disappeared into some dark little corner with her paramour leaving you all alone with a group of Slytherin girls. 

“I love your dress!” Exclaimed a tipsy looking Daphne Greengrass who herself was wearing a gorgeous turquoise number. 

“Thank you.” You replied, giving her your most polite and friendly smile. 

“Come now, let's go and dance already.” Pansy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at the interaction. Although it wasn’t super obvious, you sensed that Pansy wasn’t too pleased to have you there. 

Daphne intertwined her hands to yours and pulled you into the dancefloor with herself, Pansy Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode. 

Daphne’s surprisingly amiable nature took you by surprise but you decided to go with it. It was a party after all. 

When she placed her hands on your shoulders, you mirrored. When she swayed her hips, so did you. 

“He can't stop staring at you now, can he?” Daphne shouted into your ear over the music as you both continued to dance together. 

“I’m sorry who?” You shouted back. 

“Malfoy.” Daphne giggled. “ He’s been watching you all night actually. Why do you think he hosted this party in the first place?”

You stole a quick glance at Draco when no one was looking. He was sipping on a glass of whisky and watching you from a distance.

He had ditched his all black attire for a white button down shirt. The top two buttons were undone and his hair had a sort of laid back look to it

“See?” Daphne shouted again. “Hasn’t even taken his eyes off you once. It's driving Pansy nuts.”

Just to confirm if Daphne was in fact telling the truth, you tilted your head to the side to get a bitter view of him and the minute you did, your eyes met with his.

Heat spread all across your cheeks and he raised his glass to you as an acknowledgement before quickly turning away. 

After that, it was just an intense and tactical little gambit of who caught who staring. 

He covertly watched you sway your hips and you secretly noticed the way he tapped his fingertips on the glass he was holding.

Both of you refused to relent to whatever game this was up until the point where he grabbed a bottle of fire whisky and started to walk away. 

You didn't even need to think twice about where he was headed. 

“Go on.” Daphne nudged encouragingly.

~~~

Draco pulled the closet door open and stepped inside with a smile playing at his lips.

The last time he was there, he was introduced to you, your scent, your smile, your eyes. 

Before that night in the closet, he took colours at their face value. They were nothing more than visual representations of light—what amount, what hue, what saturation.

It was strange how things had changed for him. 

Not only did you make him see colours in a whole new light, you made him feel them, you made him hear them.

As Draco settled down with his drink, he saw the door creak open. 

It was still dark but he could already tell that it was you by the scent of your perfume. Oh, he could never ever forget that aroma even if he tried. 

Lumos. 

Draco held his wand in front of him and allowed himself to turn to his side to get a better view of you. 

Never had he ever seen someone glow the way you did under the lumos charm. The radiance in your eyes, the pearlescence of your skin and the curvature of your lips made him lightheaded.

“I feel like this closet is going to be a recurring thing for us huh?” You beamed at him and he found himself swooning. 

Salazar Slytherin. Nott was right. He was a simp.

“I guess so.” Draco quickly answered, Blaming this dizziness on the lack of ventilation while taking a big sip of his drink. 

“I don’t mind.” You said and twisted open the bottle of wine you’d brought with you. 

“Don’t tell me you brought another bottle of that god awful wine in here.”

 “It’s actually not that bad and it gets you drunk way quicker.” You shrugged. 

“Why do I feel like I might have to walk you to your dorm again?” 

He watched you take a long slow sip of wine and couldn’t help himself from noting that your lips were slowly getting stained red with the fruity nectar. 

“Might?” You shook your head. “Sorry to break it to you, but this wine is going to catch up with me soon.” 

Draco jokingly palmed his face, earning a laugh from you. It seemed like the perfect time to hand you your lost possession back. 

“Atleast, I’ll know when you are going to be sick though.” Draco said as he fished for the locket in his pocket. 

“How come?” 

“Because of this.” He explained, holding the necklace out. “I’m sorry I should have given it back sooner.” 

“That’s okay.” You murmured softly and pushed your hair away from your neck and he instantly took this as a cue to drape the necklace back to where it belonged. 

“Ah…there you go.” He whispered into your ear before shifting back to look at the gem. 

Draco expected it to be pink but to his astonishment, the gem had already turned a vibrant red. 

A new colour.

He could see red in the apples of your cheeks.

He could feel red pumping through his veins and hear red in the way his heart was rapidly beating. 

 “It’s red.” You commented and he slowly nodded. 

Even though he knew what red was for him, he needed to hear your interpretation before making his next move. 

“What does red mean to you y/n?” 

“To me, well…..red represents um..passion, something fiery, something that burns bright, leaves you breathless.” You whispered looking as if you were feeling almost as breathless as him. 

Draco swallowed hard when he noticed just how close your face was to his. 

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?” 

“If I kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?”

He noticed that your breathing was progressively getting shorter. You looked startled at his sudden question but held his gaze nonetheless. 

“I guess you’ll have to see for yourself, Draco.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hoarse chuckle before pressing his forehead to yours. “Is that an invitation hm?” 

You didn’t say a word but the deepening red color of your necklace gave everything away. 

Any remaining doubt in his mind went away when he felt you caress his cheeks with your cold hands. 

He gently let his fingers slip into your hair as he closed the distance between your lips. 

The kiss was reminiscent of the rush of first love. The innocence, the giggles. 

The kiss paid homage that perfumed night in the broom closet that had started it all. 

The kiss was bleeding, seeping, trickling In various shades of red and he was drinking every drop. 

Draco Malfoy could finally tell what the colour red tasted like. 

It tasted like your wine stained lips. 

He backed away and placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you gave him a shy smile in return. 

~~~

The two of you spent the remainder of the party inside the closet. 

Drinking, talking, laughing and more kissing.

So much kissing. 

“Alright y/n, let’s get you to your room now shall we?” Draco sighed when he noticed that you were getting more and more inebriated by the minute. “Come on.” 

You struggled to step out of the closet and almost tripped on your own two drunken feet.

Almost. 

“As if I’m going to let you fall face first.” He mumbled to himself before lifting you up in his arms. 

You let out a small laugh before looking up at him. 

“Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you said to not make a habit of this but unfortunately for you, I already have.” 

FIN. 

~~~

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(sorry if I missed anyone. Please look into your privacy settings if I was unable to tag you. x )

Join my tag list here .

Alternatively, you can message me if you’d like to be added or removed from my list.

Love,

vi

[nineteenninety-six]

A Little Bit of Sunshine

↳ Hector x Reader

↳ Word Count: 3.09k

↳ Requested by @shadechu​

A/N: I have never written for Castlevania before but I really enjoyed writing this, it flowed so easily. Hector is probably OOC but who cares lol. 

Anyway, enjoy :D

Hector had moved to a small town after everything had gone down with Lenore. After she died he realised how much damage she caused him, the lasting marks of her abuse and manipulation still scarred his body and mind and he could no longer stay in a place where they had lived and she had died.

The fact that he managed to escape the bond she had on him and that he was able to deceive her was only able to sustain him for a short while before everything fell apart and Hector was no longer able to act as if everything was okay, so he left and started anew.

The new town was on the smaller side but not small to the point where he would stand out. He easily blended into bustling crowds in the town centre and the residents treated him like any other local. For the first time in a long time, he felt normal, as working for Dracula was an experience that words couldn't explain.

He had his own little cabin in the woods where he could be at peace and the distance to the town centre was far but long enough for him to enjoy the sights as he walked past. All in all, he liked this new path of his life, it was almost completely different than it used to be and he expected to miss it but he enjoyed the calmness and serenity of this new path of his life.

On his usual weekly trip to town, someone called out to him, trying to catch his attention. it was a young woman, probably the same age as him and she was calling for his attention, waving him over to her stall.

"Sir! Sir!"

Hector looked up in surprise and as soon as the woman realised she had his attention a bright smile overtook over her face before she eagerly began to wave him over, swinging her arms back and forth over her head, gathering the attention of the other people around them.

Hector quickly shuffled over to them not wanting her to cause an even bigger scene and pull more attention their way.

"You're new aren't you?" Was the first thing out of her mouth.

Hector flinched in shock at her words, not expecting them. No one else knew he was new and that put him on edge.

"Oh don't look so surprised, I just know everyone that comes here."

Hector raises a brow at her words, " ... That's weird. You do realise that right?"

The woman shrugs, "Maybe but it makes for good business. People are more likely to buy something if I remember them from just previously meeting."

Hector realises that he's standing in front of a stall filled with baked goods, "You're a baker?"

"Family business," She clarifies, “I mostly do the selling due to my - "

"Charm?" Hector cuts in with a sarcastic tone.

"Actually, I was going to say my good looks but yes charm too." The woman grins.

Hector couldn't help but bark out a laugh, the woman never missed a beat.

"I'm (Y/N) in case you wanted to know" (Y/N) informed him with a wink.

Hector had to twist his lips so that the smile that so desperately wanted to escape, couldn't.

"Hector" He introduced himself.

"Well Hector, what can I get you? " (Y/N) asked, gesturing to the spread of baked goods in front of her.

Oh, she was smart. Catching his attention, making him come over to his stall and

converse with her in front of everyone and now he could surely not been seen walking away with nothing after taking up her time. While he didn't really care about the local’s opinions about him, he didn't want to be outcasted more than he already was.

"I'll have a loaf and a sweet pie please"

(Y/N) shoots him a bright smile and packs up his items, then collects his money.

"Thank you, Hector. I hope to see you again soon"

"I'll see you again" Hector responded

As he began to walk back home, Hector thought back on how easily (Y/N) made him feel at ease, how he brought a smile to his face and drew laughter from and he got scared.

This is how Lenore got her claws in him, she manipulated and lied to him before tricking him into servitude and he never wanted something like that to ever happen again.

He decided for the health of his mind, he would keep his distance from (Y/N). He couldn't find it in himself to completely ghost her and ignore her so he'll keep cordial. He'll be friendly but he couldn't let himself become close to her.

.•° ✿ °•.

His plan worked well, every time he went up to town he stopped by her stall and bought what ended up being his usual order of a loaf and a sweet pie, engaged in small talk with (Y/N) before leaving and it worked well for weeks until he had a dream about Lenore one night.

A mere dream had knocked him off-kilter. He had awoken a mess and fell out of his bed in his confused and frantic attempt to escape his blankets. He only managed to crawl a few paces before collapsing on the cold floor, his remaining energy only enough to let him roll onto his back. Hector blinked lazily up at the ceiling as everything he had locked away came rushing back. He relived the moment when he fell for her, the moment he realised that she had tricked him, the moment when she realised he betrayed her and then when she had died by her own will.

Everything that had occurred over the last few years played in front of his eyes and he hated every part of it. He could never forgive himself for being so naive and trusting yet he missed those traits of his.

When he 'awoke' again, the sun was moving low, signifying sunset wasn't far away. He pulled himself up and washed his face at the basin before he left his cabin, his feet taking him into town. The town centre was still busy despite the late hour and so was she, the woman who he came to see.

Despite the other stall owners who had either left or were in the process of doing so, her stall was still set up with what remaining items she had left. She was sitting on a stall with a book on her lap in a different world and Hector felt bad about disturbing her but he needed her.

He didn't even have to call her name, as soon as he was a few feet away, she looked up at him with a smile and closed her book shut, though when she got a proper look at him, her smile faltered.

"Hector?" She made her way over to him, brow furrowed in concern, "Is everything okay?"

He must look like a mess. He certainly felt it on the inside and he had been in a trance since he woke up, not paying any attention to his looks.

"I... um, I -" Hector stumbled over his words, his tongue suddenly heavy.

"Why don't you take a seat" (Y/N) guided Hector to her stall and offered him some water from the pouch at her side.

Seeing that he was in no position to talk about what happened, (Y/N) changed the topic slightly, "I thought you were not coming today. I got so used to seeing you, it would be a shame if I did not see you."

"But do not fret, I set aside your usual order for you," She said as she showed him a little wrapped up basket.

Hector nodded, the change in conversation took the pressure off his shoulders and he felt more at ease to speak.

"What do you do with the ones you do not sell? "He asked

"Today these are going to the homeless. I usually alternate between them, the orphanage and poor families"

"That is kind of you. Nobody did anything like that when I was young"

"I think the world is horrible enough with the wars and death and it costs nothing to do a little good within your own community" (Y/N) then looked up at the sky and noticed the changing colours, “Do you want to come with me as I give these out?”

Desperate for more of a distraction, Hector agrees and he helps her clear up her stan before they set off to a different part of town, him carrying the basket of baked goods for the homeless.

“Do you have any family, Hector?” (Y/N) asked.

Hector shook his head, his grey hair swishing around his chin as he did so, “Just me”

“Hm, well if you want any annoying younger siblings, I’ll eagerly give you all of mine”

“Surely they’re not that bad-”

(Y/N) lets out a laugh, “One day I’ll take you to meet them. You’ll regret your words!”

As they walked around, handing the food to the less fortunate, Hector noticed the strange way (Y/N) behaved. Her head constantly twitched one way to the other, as if someone was calling for her attention but she stopped herself before fully turning around to see and her eyes were flickering about like seeing things that weren’t there.

“(Y/N)? Is everything okay?” Hector asked

(Y/N) froze when he spoke, looking at him with wide eyes, she twisted her head around to make sure no one was nearby before she grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hidden alcove.

There was fear in her eyes as she gripped his hands tightly, “I am telling you this because I trust you but you cannot tell anyone or they will kill me.”

“(Y/N)...?”

(Y/N) casts one more precautionary look around her before speaking, “I can speak to animals”

Hector blinked in surprise, that was the last thing he expected.

“You...speak to animals?”

“Speak, understand, you know the whole thing”

“...The whole thing?” Hector repeated after her.

(Y/N)’s shoulder slumped in disappointment at his words, “You do not believe me. Of course, you don’t, I sound like a crazy woman.”

“No, no!” Hector was quick to reassure her, “I don’t think you’re crazy, of course not.”

(Y/N) gripped Hector’s hands tighter in relief and he suddenly realised that they had not stopped holding hands since she had dragged him. Her hands were soft but strong and steady and they fit perfectly in his, he never wanted to let go.

“I could do since I was a child and I told my parents but they thought I was a child with a large imagination so they ignored me,” (Y/N) began to elaborate on her talent, “And when I was ten there was a witch-burning in our old town, an older woman was accused of conjuring spirits and setting against the people of the village but in reality, she was just a sick old woman who needed help. After that, I knew I couldn’t let anyone know about you know what”

“Why did you tell me?” Hector asked.

“...I don’t know. There’s something about you, so understanding, empathetic, trustworthy. I know I can trust you.”

(Y/N) had revealed her deepest secret to him, made herself vulnerable yet he could not do the same to her, though the ability to communicate with animals was much different than being a forgemaster.

“You can trust me, I promise I will not tell anyone.”

(Y/N)’s shoulders relaxed and she gave him a brief smile, “Your belief in me means more than you know.”

“Now,” Hector lifted the basket up, “Should we finish what we started?”

It had progressively gotten darker, the sun only moments away from going down completely.

“Of course! We must finish before it gets too dark.” (Y/N) stepped out of the alcove and hurried down the street, dragging Hector behind her, still holding on to his hand.

-

It was dark by the time they began to walk home, Hector insisting on walking her home so that she wasn’t alone at night. She stopped in front of a little cabin, not unlike his, it also wasn’t that far away from his.

“You don’t live with your family?” Hector asked.

(Y/N) shook her head, “It is better for me this way. I love my family, truly but the chance of them finding out about me is something I can’t risk. I cannot truly say that they wouldn’t expose me… there are some things that are beyond even family ties.”

“Anyway,” (Y/N) spoke with a sigh, “It is late, I need to sleep. Thank you for today, Hector. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Hector waited until (Y/N) had reached her door and spoke again, “Can we...meet again soon?”

(Y/N) gave him a toothy smile, “Of course. In two days by the lake? I can bring a picnic for lunch.”

Hector nodded, “I’ll see you then.”

He waited until her door closed before he made his way home, his heart feeling happy. He had forgotten how he felt earlier that day and (Y/N) had completely turned his day around. He did feel guilt though, he went to for help, a distraction which she provided and then she revealed a deep secret of hers yet he couldn’t even tell her about his nor his past with Lenore or history with Dracula and being a forgemaster. The things he carried were heavy yet (Y/N) had already been so understanding and kink that he didn’t fear telling them to her, he knew she would understand.

In two days at the picnic, he would tell her.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) was already by the lake by the time he arrived, speaking out loud to someone he couldn’t see but when he heard the responding barks and yelps, he realised that she was talking to a dog. He hurried his pace to catch up to her, excited to see her communicate to animals in person.

“Is that a dog you’re speaking to?” He shouted as he jogged over to her.

(Y/N) spun around with a smile, “Yes! I’ll introduce you to him!”

She crouched down and took the dog into her arms before turning towards him after he finally reached her,

“Hector this is- Cezar”

“-Cezar”

Hector and (Y/N) spoke at the same time. Hector stared at the dog he had not seen since Carmilla had dragged him away after Dracula died and (Y/N) stared at Hector, surprised he knew the little mongrel dog.

Cezar eagerly barked at Hector, his tiny body wriggling in excitement as he tried to escape (Y/N)’s hold, so she let him down and watched as he raced over to Hector barking like mad and when Hector kneeled down, the door jumped into his arms and wiggled some more.

“...So I guess you know each other then?” (Y/N) asked.

“Cezar is my dog,” Hector explained, giving the small dog rubs and pats, “I got separated from him a while ago but how did you meet him?”

“We stumbled across each other last year and then we became close companions...but I’ve always been curious about something about him.”

“Is it that he looks like he should be dead?”

(Y/N) laughed, “Yes, Hector. Don’t get me wrong, I love the little dog but he looks a bit beyond his years.”

Hector put Cezar down and together they began walking towards the lake so they could set up their picnic.

He took a deep breath before he began to explain what he could do, “I’m a forgemaster.”

“Forgemaster? What’s that?”

Of course, she wouldn’t know what that was, her world was not the same as his.

“I can bring back animals and humans from the dead and call demons from hell.”

“Wow...that’s uh...wow”

“I’m sorry for dumping this on you, I know it’s quite heavy stuff.”

“I did not know that was possible”

“Many don’t. It’s beyond comprehension.”

“If I wasn’t looking at proof right now” (Y/N) pointed towards Cezar who was trotting ahead of them, “I wouldn’t believe it either.”

“Is that what caused you such distress the other day?” (Y/N) asked as they found a place to sit down.

“No, no, that was about Lenore.”

(Y/N) kept quiet allowing Hector to speak at his own pace.

“I was taken captive, stuck in a cell and Lenore gained my trust, pretending that she was someone that I could trust only to betray me and me her slave to her and her sisters. I was under their or more specifically her control for over a year until I managed to trick her and end the ‘bond’.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Dead. She was a vampire and decided it was her time to go.”

“Did you love her?” (Y/N) asked

“No, I don’t think I did. After I realised what she had done to me any feelings that I may have had disappeared, they were not formed authentically. I still feel incredibly stupid about the whole thing, I was foolish to believe someone who was involved in sisterhood with the person who captured me would genuinely care for me.”

“You were not foolish, you were human Hector '' (Y/N) comforted him, “You were vulnerable and she took advantage of that, you should not feel ashamed. You are strong that’s why you’re here with me right now and Lenore is no longer alive. You will never be proud of yourself if you keep on diminishing what you’ve achieved so far. You’ll never be happy and I want you to be happy”

Hector takes her hand in his, “I want to be happy.”

(Y/N) smiles at him, “You will be, I know you will.”

“I want to be happy with you”

“Oh-” (Y/N) smile changes into a softer one that tickles Hector’s heart, “I want to be happy with you too.”

“Imagine it,” Hector falls onto his back and tugs (Y/N) down with him, “You, me, Cezar in a cabin in the woods and all the animals you wish to speak to”

(Y/N) laughs, “You wouldn’t believe how chatting animals are, I’m fine with just being me you and Cezar for the moment.”

Cezar jumps up on Hector’s chest with a bark before settling down with a huff.

“Sounds like he agrees”

[spilledkauffie]

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.2k T/W: fluff A/N: Part 2 of Bingo — a few months later

I am SO SORRY this took me way longer to post than it should have!

Bucky Tag List: @anreeixcobra ❤︎ @tsnelf7 ❤︎ @fandom-princess-forevermore​

It was Friday night, which meant one thing: Game Night. Ever since Yori introduced you at Bingo, you made it a tradition in your relationship to play board games on Fridays. For the most part you kept it to fairly modern games, but tonight was going to be a surprise.

Tonight it was your place, 8 o’clock. Bucky showed up with a six pack of root-beer in glass bottles. You added a few to the fridge as he found his usual seat at your apartment table. He waited for you to round the small apartment’s bar and join him. Sliding the glass bottles across the table to Bucky, you smiled, biting in your bottom lip, as he slid your bottle back, now without its top.

Easily he popped the top off his own bottle with his left hand; it was as he was about to take a sip that he caught sight of your look, “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows, questionably. 

“So. . . tonight,” you tried not to giggle.

“What?” Bucky asked again, this time finding himself following your smile despite his will not to.

“Tonight is going to be special,” you clasped your hands together, “because I found some stuff that’s as old as you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Bucky said sarcastically, taking a sip, shaking his head, blinking softly as he saw you rush to convince him it would be fun. Sighing deeply, he gave in, “alright, what is it?”

“I’ll be right back,” you twirled on your heel and left the room.

Returning to shaking his head and the glass bottle, he paused after settling the bottle on the table. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about anything actually as old as him. He’d been pretty good at keeping up with the times, a lot of things he knew just got an upgrade, but the thought of something from his actual childhood felt a little heartwarming. 

“Okay,” you declared, reentering the room with a stack of vintage boxes in your arms that made Bucky lean back in his chair out of shock, “here we are.” 

His jaw dropped a little at what you had brought out as you set the stack on the table. Watching you take a deep breath and exhale with a smirk, he shook his head, this time silently asking “how?” You set your hands atop the stack, rapping your fingers across the top box as you smiled again. 

Smoothing your hands out across the box top, you cleared your throat, “no peeking,”  bringing Bucky’s attention entirely to you. 

“Option number one,” you held up the rectangular shape with severely faded letters across it, “Scrabble, released 1938.” The box very gently met the table, “option number two,” you looked at him attempting not to giggle as you saw him cross his arms over his chest, genuinely listening to you intently, “Sorry! released 1934, Battleship, original pen and paper game,” you clarified, he lifted his eyebrows, impressed, “and last but not least, Monopoly, released 1935.”

“Wow, you uh- you really did your research,” he commented, looking over the stack of authentically vintage boxes.

“Of course,” you shrugged with a smile, “my boyfriend’s 106, if I want to bring back some childhood nostalgia, that requires some research. . . and late hour ebay bidding in our case.”  

He nodded, a faint smile showing, before it faded with his next words, “I hope you didn’t do too much research on me,” he looked up, hand resting on Monopoly.

You calmly slid down into the seat across from him and stared with a kind smile still on your lips, reaching to touch his hand, you stroked your thumb against his knuckles, “I’m more of a first hand account, direct source, kind of girl when it comes to people,” the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. 

You knew, just not everything, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to have another living soul know it all quite yet. Luckily, you were someone who seemed to actually understand that.

“Or,” you announced, lifting a pointer finger, as if requesting a pause whilst you went to a nearby drawer, returning with a much smaller box, “we can get really really old school, even for you” the box met the table top, “standard 52 card deck, English edition, circa 1516. . .obviously not original.”

Bucky chuckled, looking to you, tonguing his cheek, before picking up the cards, “I hate to tell you, but that’s just a little before my time,” he squinted at you, teasingly.

Biting your lip, your shoulders shifted with the giggle that came after his comment, “so, come on,” you sat back down, this time with your elbows on the table and hands laced, to support your resting chin on top of them, “what should I beat your butt in?”

“Oh,” Bucky, attempting to appear insulted, began raising his eyebrows, “you think?”

“Yeah,” you laughed your words while looking at his serious face, “I think, better yet, I know.”

“Well, I don’t know where you get your confidence from. You know you are talking to a local senior Bingo night champion,” he shrugged with a head tilt, as if that was supposed to be a big deal.

“Woooow,” you drew out, smiling uncontrollably.

“But,” he sighed, “okay,” he shook his head once, accepting your challenge, “let’s go, you’re on! Monopoly,” he brought the box towards himself as you set the others on the floor next to your chair.

You watched as he picked up the little metal pieces, examining each one individually. There was an expression you’d never seen before, he was remembering something positive from his past. A memory that sparked a smile that you helped bring about. He surveyed the board, with all its bright colours and familiar street names.

“It’s been-” he paused, looking upward, doing the math in his head, “it’s been 85 years since I played this game,” setting each piece he stopped at the boat, laughing to himself, “you know, Steve used to always be the battleship.” 

A soft smile came across your lips, while you watched him remember exactly how to set it up. You picked the Scottie dog and he picked the vintage race car piece.

“Were you always the race car?” you ventured, wanting to know more about his childhood, you knew he didn’t talk about it often.

“Oh,” he glanced to the piece he had just naturally picked up without a thought, “yeah, well, I think,” he gave a quick, but somber smile, before clearing his throat, and actually looking up, “and my sister, whenever she’d actually manage to get mom and dad to let her stay up with us, she’d always be the thimble,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling, “whenever it was her turn to move she’d put it on her finger and hop it down the street names.” He leaned back to the table, “we never made her go to jail, even if she landed on it, Steve would make up some rule that let her skip it.” 

“That’s really sweet of you guys,” you said, looking softly at his smile.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “but don’t think you can skip jail,” he changed his tone, preferring not to dwell on the past even if it was positive. 

“Don’t think I’ll be visiting,” you smirk confidently, “better watch out for the money man yourself.” 

“Wow, who is this?” he dropped his jaw, “she’s so sarcastic, does Yori know this side of you? Do you sneak jellybeans under the table or something evil like that?”

Laughing, you took your root-beer, “just give me my $1,500 so the smack down can actually begin.”

Two hours later, after a long battle between Boardwalk, control over the railroads, and many, many visits to jail, you sat back, lips quirked, arms across your chest as your little Scottie sat in jail.

“And three thousand, six hundred, and five. . . I’m sorry, but that leaves you,” Bucky set his elbows on the table, wincing at you, “bankrupt.”

“Fine,” you huffed jokingly, giving your best pout,“you win.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Bucky reached out a hand to touch your forearm comfortingly, accompanied by a smile you couldn’t deny.

“You wanna go again?” You offered seriously, resting your hand on top of his tenderly, happy to see him so happy.

“It was really fun, but let’s play something else, this time you pick,” he offered.

Breaking into a smile, you gave a nod, and he asked what you had in mind. It took a moment, you wanted to make this good, and you wanted to see it be a little more of a struggle for him, if you were honest. 

“You know, I know it’s later than your. . .original timeline, but there’s this fantastic game called Twister,” you smirked, perking an eyebrow to ask if he was up for it. 

“Twister?” He repeated you, tilting his head like a confused puppy, “what’s Twister?”

“I’ll show you, but,” you glanced over to your small apartment living room, “we might need to arrange the furniture a little.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky stood, “I can handle that.” 

Smiling, you stand, “okay, just push it all to one side, I’ll get the game.” 

Ten minutes later, shoeless, you both stood looking over the polka dotted sheet on the floor. Nodding happily to yourself, Bucky shook his head almost in fear. 

“Make sense?” You asked, having just explained the very simple rules, you turned to face him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I asked,” he sighed, shouldering off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch along with his glove, “yeah, it makes sense,” he set his hands on his hips, pondering this new game intently. 

“Okay, you first,” you held up the spinning arrow, and began.

One hand and foot at a time, sometimes struggling to reach the spinner, but you both made it work pretty well. Having kept to one side of the sheet, it came time to get a smidge more twisted.

Bucky managed to keep balanced and spin a green dot with his left arm, conveniently it placed him right over you. As he began to reach for green, he carefully calculated how best to approach the green dot in order to keep his balance. It was a pretty far reach and he’d need to balance himself whilst reaching over you. 

“What’s the matter old man, can’t quite move like you used to?” you shamelessly giggled. 

Raising his eyebrows at your tone, “ohhh, wow,” Bucky said sincerely, finally placing his left arm over you and to a green dot, now above you he tilted his head sassily, “respect your elders.”

His last sentence only made your giggle turn into a genuine laugh. You closed your eyes and threw your head back a little. Admittedly, Bucky thought it was funny too, but he didn’t laugh, he just took in your smile and the sound of your laugh, enjoying every single moment of it.

When you brought your head back up, you were about to respond sassily, but instead you found his lips meeting yours. With a small squeak of surprise, you relaxed into the kiss, glad that he was finally confident enough with you to take a chance now and then. He tasted like vanilla root beer, which mixed wonderfully with the scent of his cologne you were finally close enough to smell. 

It was soft and slow at first, but slowly, with his right hand palming the arch of your back, you eased into his touch, lower back almost meeting the floor as you both sunk down a little. You completely forgot about the game, as you reached your arms around his neck gently. Keeping the kiss close, you felt him hesitate to deepen it, so you gave him a small sign of encouragement, by moving your hand to the side of his neck, naturally bringing him even closer. 

You had no idea how long you’d been there, on that polka dot sheet, but it was such bliss that you didn’t even care. Smiling into the kiss, you felt him smile back. 

Parting, he pressed his forehead to yours, “I win,” he whispered, lips in a smile. 

“What?” was all you could ask, still mesmerised by the kiss. 

Bucky motioned his head to his left arm which happened to have been keeping the two of you steady. . . all the while remaining on the green dot. You dropped your arms from around his neck, to the floor, elbows supporting you as you looked up at him, shaking your head. 

“That does not count, Bucky,” you tried not to smile as he kept his arm as still as possible.

“What? But my hand’s still on green,” he dramatically gestured to it, making you bite your lip to repress a giggle, trying to match his seriousness.

Shoving his chest directly above you, he feigned an ‘ow!’ before you softly pull him closer again.

“If I kiss you are you gonna hit me again?”

You smirk, “I might if you don’t.” 

Bucky smiled, lips almost touching yours, “alright, sorry,” he smiled, voice almost a whisper as his lips brushed against yours, “I’m still learning the rules to this game.”

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello!! Do you think you could do a part 2 of my request? An maybe a lil bit of angst with fluff where the reader comes to the mansion crying because someone hurt them?( Maybe techno or dream? Possibly jack manifold? 👀) Hopefully that's ok I just love the way you write it's so good plus it makes my day whever I read :D hopefully your day or evening is going good

<3

imhereforfan-fic : Omg can you do another yandere tubbo x reader x yandere ranboo romantic relationship please? Maybe where they get kidnapped by the dream team? Oh and adding on to my request can it also have some cuddling towards the end haha I’m touch starved and crap lol but can it a full length fic Okay okay okay. So. I'm so damn happy people loved this fic and I got two requests that I can easily add together. I hope neither of you minds too much having your requests mixed together ^^ I deadass wanna cry from how many positive reviews I've received from Too Sweet. ALSO. I'm a little wary of making romantic fics for characters Ranboo and Tubbo so I'm gonna play with the platonic marriage, just making it really fluffy and affectionate. PS: THIS ISNT AS FLUFFY AS I WANTED IT TO BE SOOOO OOOOPS. AAAAND. TOMMY ONLY TOOK ONE OF DREAM'S LIVES IN THE FINAL DISC WAR

LIKELY TO HAVE MANY ERRORS DUE TO BAD WIFI AND LACK OF SLEEP TW: Knives (+injuries that come from knives), kidnapping, taking of canon lives, Dream being power-hungry, minor panic attack, referenced strangulation.

Part One

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo Part 2

A few months had passed since you had moved into the mansion and some... How ended up involved in Ranboo and Tubbo's marriage, as well as being Michael's mother. At first, you were quite unsure about being a wife or a mother, but you saw how happy you had made the three boys and realized how happy they made you in return. In the beginning, neither of them wanted you leaving the mansion much without either of them, but then Ranboo started to notice small and minor declines in your physical and mental health. This caused him to panic and study your symptoms for a few days straight, to the point where you didn't see him once and you were genuinely scared he had lost his canon lives to the point where you kept checking your right wrist constantly for the message confirming Ranboo's death. But thankfully you never got it. When he had figured out what was causing your health to be less than absolutely perfect, he had spoken to Tubbo about letting you out of your room more often and getting you the sunlight you needed. It took a little bit to convince him, but once the goat hybrid learned that you could, or even would, become a lot sicker, he decided to allow you to go outside without them, as long as you stayed within Snowchester. You met a man the first few days you were out, who wore white glasses with blue and red lenses, and a headset with a mic, although he ran away from you the second you introduced yourself as Ranboo and Tubbo's (platonic) wife. Foolish had quickly become your friend around the same time though, which caused Tubbo and Ranboo to be a little unsure because of how he made you laugh and smile, but they noticed how you always kept him at arm's length with friendship and almost physically. Sure you didn't mind too much when he gave you a friendly side hug or pat on the head etc, but you were never really the one to initiate the contact unless you had to. Thankfully he didn't mind your awkwardness around strangers, trust issues, or lack of social exposure, so Ranboo and Tubbo didn't have to threaten a literal god. After saying goodbye to Michael for the day and putting him down for his nap, you got dressed into something more appropriate for travelling the snowy lands that Tubbo owned. Ranboo had to go to a Syndicate meeting, and Tubbo was working more on some buildings around Snowchester, saying something about prepping things to attack Dream who apparently escaped from prison? Not sure could've been rumoured or could be true? You had no clue honestly. You trusted Ranboo and Tubbo to protect you. The crackling of a few pine branches caused you to lift your eyes from the icy water below to turn your head. Walking out of the bushes were three men and one woman, pushing their way through the branches decorated with freshly fallen snow. One of the men was your crown-wearing platonic husband, although dressed up in an outfit you had never seen before, although not too far off from his normal get-up. Ranboo had a long black cape with golden edges and a high collar, held up together by a golden chain. His vest was now a deep royal purple with an eye of ender pin clasped on his tie, and his pants were half purple half black with golden designs sewn in. Beside him was a short female with shoulder-length pink hair and nicely done dark purple and black makeup. Her outfit consisted of a thick and warm lavender sweater with dark purple pants. On her hip was an enchanted netherite sword with a diamond-encrusted handle. You were quick to recognize her as Niki Nihachu, the baker who had lived in L'Manberg, but you hadn't heard much of her since the Pogtopia war. Off to the side, was a man you recognized easily as you had only seen him a few days ago when Ranboo invited him to see Michael, Philza Minecraft. His outfit wasn't too different from what he used to wear when he was a resident in the country, except for the black and gold cape and a black mask covering the bottom of his face. Then... The sight of the final male was the one to make you visibly react. A tall and buff male with a golden encrusted netherite

chest plate and a velvet red cape with gold accents as well. There was a rather majestic crown on top of his long braided pink hair and his dark eyes were narrowed behind a set of cracked glasses... His gaze pointing directly at you. Technoblade. Giving a shaky gasp, you stood up from your spot on the edge of the dock and turned to face the visitors. "Where's Tubbo," Techno growled softly, watching as you visibly trembled under his gaze. "Techno, mate. You're scarin' the hell outta her." Phil put his hand on his middle son's shoulder before stepping in front of him, blocking him from your gaze. "Hey, (Y/n), can you tell us where Tubbo is? We just have to ask him some things." "I'm here." An almost unfamiliar voice came from beside you before a hand was placed on your shoulder. When you looked over, you saw the goat hybrid with the coldest look you had seen him wear yet. "(Y/n), please, head into the mansion." Without another glance at the piglin hybrid, you quickly scurried towards the wooden mansion, faintly hearing the worried buzzing noises of your enderman husband in the distance before you slammed the large door shut. You almost ran towards your's or Michael's room in the basement, but then realized if any of them saw you heading down there, Michael's safety could be compromised. So, you quietly sat down in the living room and curled up on the couch, trying to keep your breathing stable as you fought to keep your mind off of the fact that the man who had almost killed you was standing a few feet outside the door of your home. You pinched your eyes shut and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying your best to simulate the hugs you would usually receive from your platonic husbands after a nightmare or a panic attack. ".../n)." "../n)!" "...(Y/n)!" With a terrified gasp, you flung your arms above your head to shield yourself from any oncoming attacker but only felt a gentle touch on your knee. It took a few seconds to muster up your courage, but you slowly brought your arms down and opened your eyes to come face to face with Tubbo, who immediately sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your shaking frame. After an hour or so with your face buried into Tubbo's shoulder, you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, causing you to look up and see Ranboo burying his face into your hair, "I'm so sorry... So sorry... I didn't think they would come to Snowchester..." You murmured a small, "it's okay," to him as you sat up a bit to return the hug for a few moments. Tubbo got up, murmuring something about going to get you a snack and a glass of water, knowing you must've been hungry or thirsty from panicking. After a few moments, Ranboo let go of you and briefly explained that Phil had given him some potions to help Michael adapt to the overworld, and he needed to give them to him. He rested his forehead against yours affectionately for a few seconds before turning towards the bookshelf and walking down the set of hidden stairs after opening the secret door. Once he shut it, you shuddered and rubbed your arms to get rid of the cold chill that had suddenly washed over you. Frowning slightly, you looked around for the source of the sudden cold, only to freeze as you saw the door cracked open, allowing the snow and cold wind to slip in. Ranboo wouldn't have left the door open... "Sorry kid." A deep and growly voice came from behind you, causing you to spin around and come face to face with Technoblade. The tall tusked male watched your expression go from confusion to horror in less than seconds, "It's nothing personal. Really. I just got a favour to pay off." A scream of terror escaped your lips before everything went black. "Hey, Michael!" Ranboo crouched down to greet the small zombie piglin child as he held a few potions of varying colours in his long arms, he set them and a thermos filled with a hot drink down on the table. "I got some new drinks for you to try today! Philza made them a little extra sweeter than last time." The small child squealed and made small tippy tap noises with his

hooves against the quartz flooring before he sat on the chair. He watched as his tall father sorted through the bottles carefully before uncorking one of the light red ones. Before he could pick up the small pipette, there was an almost unearthly shriek that came from the top of the stairs. "(Y/n)!" Ranboo screamed, unintentionally startling Michael, but that wasn't his main concern as he sprinted out the door then teleporting up the stairs and pushing the bookshelf door with his sword drawn and gleaming with enchantments. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tubbo dash out of the kitchen with his axe drawn and bloodlust in his eyes. Glancing around, the only thing the two men spotted was moonlight and snow spilling through the open door. Tubbo ran out without a second thought and screamed your name at the top of his lungs as he spun around, searching for any sort of sign that would give away your location. Ranboo decided to start looking around the mansion, even though part of him grasped that you wouldn't have screamed without reason. "She's gone..." Tubbo whispered, standing in the doorway, the moonlight creating a dark shadow over his wide eyes. "Footprints are leading to and away from the house, but they disappear on the docks..." Ranboo stayed still, a violent growling noise bubbling up in his throat before escaping past his lips as both his eyes turned purple. He threw his head back and took a breath to scream all his anger out, but froze upon hearing sad whimpering. He turned his head and saw Michael standing at the top of the hidden stairs, whimpering and shaking quite violently. There was part of Ranboo that refused to move, but his brain seemed to flick onto autopilot as he walked over to the child and picked him up. "Sorry... Michael... Something happened..." "Mama?" "...Mama... Won't be home for a while..." "Wake up!" A voice growled before something sharply came in contact with your cheek, shaking you awake. Your eyes shot open and came into contact with... A smiley face? "Aha... Sleeping Beauty graces us with her gaze. It's about damn time." A harsh grip landed on your jaw, making you realize there was a dull throbbing pain in your head. "Huh... Dre... Dream..?" You whispered, barely recognizing the white mask that helped destroy your home and turn it into nothing but a crater. "W-What?" His mask was lifted up enough to the point where you could see his mouth curved up into a sadistic smile. "You, my darling pawn, are just the piece I needed to make life easier for me... I just need to raise the stakes enough for them to be... Well... Stakes. I'm sure you understand." You went to move your hand to slap the gloved hand away from your face, only to give a small whine of pain as you felt a tight pinching on your wrists, making you realize that they were shackled together and likely chained to a wall. "What are you talking about you psychop- Ah!" He tightened his grip on your face to the point where you knew there would eventually be dark bruising. "I don't think you're in a position to be calling the king any names, pawn." Screams and shrieks of pain bounced off of the blank stone walls as the two people standing outside of the door put their heads down with their eyes closed. "You still sure he's doing the right thing, George? Are you still sure... He's the good guy in this story?" "You know better than to question him, Nick." "Don't call me that."

(Y/n) (L/n) was slain by Dream using Nightmare. Life: 2/3 (Y/n) (L/n) suffocated while trying to fend off Dream. Life: 1/3

"He just took two of an innocent woman's three lives. Just to use her as a hostage to make Tubbo hand over the nukes and to force Ranboo to follow his orders... He's a stranger, George. This isn't Dream anymore... Don't be stupid." Sapnap lowered his right arm that he read the messages off of and looked in the direction of his former best friend. The screams of agony were almost haunting as they echoed through Snowchester as silence fell down upon the entire Dream SMP. Shock slipped through the veins of everyone who read the message that appeared on their right wrists. - "I'm gonna kill him..." "I'm going to activate the nukes..." - "Techno... What did you do." "I owed him a favour. What he does after that is none of my business." - "...Isn't that Tubbo and Ranboo's wife?" "Yeah... She was my friend..." - "Tubbo's definitely not happy about this..." - "Ah... Atta girl..." Dream murmured in a mock soothing voice as he gently dragged his knife threateningly along your cheek. "Y'know... You would look better... With a smile." He leaned closer to you, the drawn-on eyes of his mask staring into your dull and tear-filled eyes as a stinging pain came from the corner of your lips. "Sh, sh, Relax... They're just shallow cuts, they won't even leave a scar. I'm not a monster." Time had passed quickly, but also excruciatingly slowly. You had no clue how long you had been down here, or how long you had been dead in between respawns. Dream just didn't seem to be leaving you alone. "Now..." He flipped the switchblade closed and threw it in his pocket before tremours shook the earth below and around you. "What the fUCK?!" He growled deeply before the door slammed open. "How did they even find this place!?" The door was blown off its hinges with a loud bang, causing Dream to duck out of the way of the flying piece of scrap. Light flooded into the room as you shut your eyes tightly, your ears ringing from the explosion. Once your eyes got a little bit adjusted, you opened them and saw five figures in the newly widened doorway. "Let's just say... It was an anonymous tip." "Sapnap?! You dare betray me?!" The black-haired male fell silent as he turned around and walked out, putting his hand on the shoulder of the tallest silhouette in the doorway as he walked by. Once you got completely used to the new light, you began to recognize the figures. Tommy, Tubbo, Foolish, and Ranboo. Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo immediately ran forward and started a barrage of attacks on the masked psychopath while Foolish ran over and began to work on the chains binding you to the chair. After getting them off of you, he silently picked you up as you turned your head to look at the blond, brunet and monochrome boys. Dream's mask got knocked off and was thrown across the room as he was pinned below a growling Ranboo, whose skin looked almost purely black from your angle. Tommy was off to the side, rummaging through Dream's equipment, he already got his revenge when Dream was put into prison, this was Ranboo and Tubbo's revenge now.

"̷̛̲̪͝Ỳ̵̧̖͒̉o̸̟̔̆û̶̩̟̍͊'̸̧̺̎̉ṟ̷̰͘ế̴͍̰̎ ̶̤͆̎̒g̶̭̋̇o̸͍̐͑i̸̼̟̾ņ̷͊̈́̈́ĝ̷̰̤̈́ ̵̘̉t̵͖͠ȯ̸͎ ̴͎̐̈́r̸̰͙̾̑͝e̸͚͌͑g̴̛̗̦͑ř̷̳̳̱e̵̲̿̕ṫ̶̨͓͗ ̷̢͊E̷̬̪͒͊͂V̷̟̒͝Ë̸̜R̷͐̄̏ͅ ̶̲̟̤͗͋t̴̝̎o̵̖̐ư̴̞̾̇c̶̡̙̐h̵̹̜̣̒͂̂į̴̙̤͠n̴̤̼̻̅̚ǧ̵̹̙̌͜ ̵̥̞̏m̶̱̳̦͗̌y̴̱̮͒̒̄ ̶̮̈͑͆f̸͉̽̄à̵̹͠m̵͕̓̅͋í̸͇̩͔̿l̷̰̫̳͗͑y̸̡͌̊́.̶͓̇͝"̸̡͆ ("You're going to regret EVER touching my family.") Ranboo hissed lowly before he and Tubbo began applying weight to the sword pressed against the speedrunner's chest. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before you felt a bottle press into your hands, causing you to re-open your eyes to see Foolish trying to hand you a healing potion. You eagerly took a small sip from it, feeling the small slices on your cheeks form back together and the pain from the bruises around your neck vanishing completely.

Dream was slain by Ranboo and Tubbo using Ranord

There was a clattering noise before two sets of footsteps running in your direction. Slowly tilting your head in their direction, you saw Tubbo with dark bags under his eyes and Ranboo with plenty more scars on his cheeks from tears. You were pulled from Foolish's arms and brought down to sitting on Tubbo's and Ranboo's laps, their arms completely wrapped around you. The goat hybrid was nuzzled under your chin while the enderman's face was buried in your hair. "We should have come sooner..." "We shouldn't have even left you alone in the mansion..." "I'm sorry... I should have never left the manor..."