#which would make him have less of a reserve of patience to continue bottling up his frustrations and brushing it off

[toytulini]

oh. i was gonna reblog the one defending toshiro too from a cultural perspective but the reblogs are off. rip

[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!!

[starlingflight]

Welcome to the Family.

A/N: This started as a joke on discord and now, apparently, it’s a one-shot. I hope you all enjoy learning Charlie Weasley’s deepest, darkest secret. 

Charlie couldn’t sleep. It was always the same his first night back in The Burrow. The house was loud and, seemingly impossibly, more cramped than usual. Mum and Dad were on the sofa, having given up their room to the Delacours. Hagrid had been forced to sleep in a tent in the neighbour’s field and in a strange way, Charlie thought he might have felt more at home if he’d joined him. 

The Burrow was full of noise but it was all the wrong ones. The wind that whipped through the trees which lined the reserve in Romania was missing as was the distant rumble and roar of the dragons. Instead, he could hear Bill’s soft snores beside him and a suspicious pattern of banging coming from the twin's room on the floor above. 

It was no use. The clock had rolled all the way past midnight and Charlie was no closer to sleep than he had been two hours ago. Knowing that he was risking his life if his mother caught him, Charlie sighed heavily and rolled out of bed. 

What he needed was some relaxation. A way to unwind after the long hours spent travelling and the responsibility of socialising with so many people in one day. With that in mind, Charlie headed for the bathroom, passing carefully over the second step on his way up to the third floor, which he knew from many years of experience creaked loudly if you were foolish enough to step on it in the middle of the night. 

He was only mildly surprised to find a faint trace of light coming from the gap beneath the bathroom door. With this many people in the house, it was near impossible to find the bathroom empty, even in the small hours of the morning. Charlie leant back against the faded floral wallpaper of the landing, the hallway illuminated by the glow emanating from the tip of his wand and waited. 

The minutes crept by slowly. Charlie checked his watch. Five minutes passed, then ten. After fifteen long minutes, Charlie frowned at the bathroom door, unsure who could possibly be taking so long in there at this hour. 

After twenty minutes his patience had completely eroded and Charlie knocked softly on the door. 

A moment passed and nothing happened. Charlie reached out and placed his hand on the cool metal of the door handle just as a shadow flickered across the gap below the door. It opened and Charlie found himself face to face with Fleur. Her usually immaculate silver hair was piled messily atop her head and her sapphire blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, casting her eyes to the tiled floor beneath them. “I didn’t realise anyone was awake.” 

Charlie, thoroughly unprepared to deal with a crying woman he hardly knew at almost one in the morning, froze for a moment. Fleur began to shuffle awkwardly around him in the doorway. She was almost past him when Charlie finally came to his senses and gently placed a hand on her arm. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned. 

Fleur nodded wordlessly but even as she did so, more tears began to slide down her cheeks. “It’s very stupid,” she said, swiping at her face with the back of her hand. “Please don’t worry about it.” 

Charlie had always proclaimed that he was better with dragons than people but even he knew that if you found a woman crying in the bathroom just hours before her wedding you should probably be at least slightly alarmed. 

Without considering how strange it might look to anyone who happened to pass by, Charlie tightened his grip on Fleur’s arm just slightly and gently guided her back inside the bathroom, placing a silencing charm on the door as he closed it behind them. 

Fleur immediately perched herself on the edge of the bathtub and covered her face with her hands. “It’s just terrible timing!” She exclaimed. 

Charlie frowned down at her. “What is? The wedding? I know it’s not perfect but Dad told me about all the security measures and -” 

Fleur finally looked up from her hands, the sharp expression on her face was enough to silence Charlie instantly. “Not the wedding! This!” She pointed at her cheek. For a moment, Charlie was utterly perplexed at what he was supposed to be looking at. He crouched down and squinted and finally saw a small, red blemish upon Fleur’s otherwise flawless face. 

“A spot,” he said. 

“Yes!” Fleur said, her voice so loud she may have woken the whole house if not for the silencing charm Charlie had thought to cast. “I have never seen anything so hideous! It must be from the stress!” 

Charlie didn’t bother to clarify if she meant the stress of the war or the stress of the wedding, he had a feeling he already knew the answer to that. 

“I have tried everything!” Fleur continued. “Maman’s potions, Fred and George’s Wonderwitch products, even some Muggle remedies!” 

Fleur looked frantic. Her eyes were wide and wild with panic and a hot, red flush had begun to creep up her neck and across her face. 

Charlie hesitated for a moment, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. He barely knew the girl sat in front of him. He’d seen her compete in the tournament years ago and he’d been impressed with how she’d handled the Welsh Green. He’d witnessed less elegant handling on the reserve by wizards who’d worked with dragons for years. 

And he’d agreed to be Bill’s best man. Charlie supposed a good best man would do everything in his power to help the bride if he stumbled upon her crying the night before the wedding. 

“If I tell you something, do you swear to keep it a secret?” 

His question seemed to catch Fleur off guard. She stared at him for a moment and then slowly nodded her head. “I promise.” 

Charlie sighed loudly, still not sure if this was a good idea. He waved his wand in front of him and a second later a glass bottle appeared out of nowhere, landing securely in the palm of his hand. 

“What is that?” Fleur asked, peering curiously at the bottle. 

“This,” Charlie said. “Is for your face.” 

Fleur leant back over the bathtub, eyeing the bottle suspiciously. “What is it?” She asked again.

“It’s my secret recipe,” Charlie said, aware of the heat rising in his face. “I make it in Romania. Put it on your face for twenty minutes and I guarantee that spot will vanish.” 

Fleur reached out and tentatively took the bottle for him. She inspected it closely before rising to stand before the mirror above the sink. “You use this on yourself?” She asked, the reflection of her eyes meeting Charlie's. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “I er- I do self-care Sundays.” 

Fleur smiled as she tapped her wand to the top of the bottle, removing the stopper. With no further hesitation, she began to smear the rosy pink paste liberally across her face. “It smells incredible.” 

Charlie nodded. That would be the vanilla extract he added to activate the dragon’s blood. Not that he was prepared to share that with Fleur. 

She finished applying the mask and held the open bottle out to Charlie. For a moment he wavered, this had been his plan when he’d first made his way to the bathroom but he’d expected to do his pampering routine alone. Still, he supposed he’d already told Fleur the worst of his secret, what harm could it do at this point? Tentatively, he dipped a finger into the mask and began to spread it across his face. 

“I think we are going to get on very well!” Fleur announced happily once Charlie had finished applying the mask to his face. 

“Just don’t tell anyone!” Charlie said urgently. 

Finally, the minute hand informed Charlie that twenty minutes had passed. He nudged Fleur gently on the arm and then gestured to the sink. She washed the mask off eagerly, the pink mixture mingling with the water and disappearing down the drain. 

Fleur nodded dismissively, turning her attention to the stack of magazines beside the bath. She selected a copy of Witch Weekly for herself and tossed an old, battered issue of The Magizoologist to Charlie. They sat perched on opposite ends of the bathtub and began to read. The only noises inside the bathroom were that of Fleur and Charlie’s magazine pages rustling as they flipped them and the tick of Charlie’s watch counting down the minutes until they could wash their faces. 

Charlie handed her a towel and Fleur began to pat her face dry whilst he took her place at the sink, washing warm water vigorously across his face. 

It was impossible for Charlie not to smile at Fleur’s squeal of delight as she looked in the mirror and discovered the spot had disappeared just as he’d promised her. 

“Merci! Merci! Merci!” She cried, wrapping Charlie in a firm hug as she jumped up and down in excitement. 

“It’s alright!” Charlie said through a chuckle. “What are brothers for?” 

Fleur stopped jumping and looked Charlie in the eye, a dazzling smile upon her face. “I’ve never had a big brother before.” 

“Yeah, well, I have a little sister and I can already tell you’re going to be just as much trouble as the other one already is.” 

The smile slid from Fleur’s face. “Thank you,” She said earnestly. 

“Don’t mention it,” Charlie replied. “Ever.”  

[paimon-rambles]

Alphabet Fluff

Characters: Aether

A gift to my sister cause she never stops thirsting 😒 @katsukiibug

Doing all of them ;-;

Icon credit: Leheia

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A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Aether is opened to any activities his partner throws at him. He's not very picky.

But he does enjoy some dinner dates and strolls around the city, wheater it is Liyue or Mondstadt. He pays for all meals and snacks with the Mora he got from his travels.

Be warned, however, cause Paimon ain't gonna shut up about the food. Regardless it's comforting, followed by a nice walk through the city basked in moonlight.

Aether also in general likes to travel with you, other than Paimon you're his companion. He likes to take you to the forest to pick berries or other essential resources, beneficial for future endeavors.

Stories from his travels? Aether could ramble about for hours. Describing the little mishaps and mischief he and his sister found themselves in. Though he gets really sad whenever his sister is brought up.....oofles

He's traveled from world to world was introduced to many hobbies and games of variety, he's happy to introduce you to some of them if your willing to try something new out.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Your patience

Aether has a bit of a packed schedule; assisting with commissions and dealing with hilichrul attacks. Not to mention his mind is set on finding the 7 archons in the hope to find his sister. He's incredibly busy most of the times

He doesn't ignore you on purpose, but he's dragged everywhere. Poor guy:(

But he admires that you don't fuss about it and always hold patience. Of course, Aether will find a way to make it up to you eventually. He tends to send small souvenirs from his travels as a form of apology.

Your comfort

He recently lost his sister and is overhwaled by all these tasks placed on his heavy and tired shoulders. He leans on you when he needs that moment of peace or comfort.

He loves that you try to soothe him whenever he's in his worst moments. With your words or simple touches of comfort, he adores it all.

Your eyes

Aether loves to stare into your eyes. He finds them really beautiful and finds himself smiling whenever looking in your eyes.

He's memorized by how they lightly sparkle or glimmer depending on your emotions. Or how they light up whenever you laugh or smile.

He finds it soothing to just lean your foreheads against each other and stare endlessly at your eyes, his worries and concerns being carried away.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He's a brother and understands when his partner is under stress or feeling down. Similar to how he notices the small gestures Lumine has that show her emotions are swirling in her head.

He picks up on the small hints and notices right away the shift in your behavior. You can say you're fine but he ain't falling for it, he's seen the signs.

But Aether does give the space you want. He recognizes its benefits and understands it himself; He's lost his kin, there are times Aether wants to push everyone away.

So patient, he's not pushing you into anything instead he's letting you describe what's bothering you at your pace. You can break down sobbing and he would wait while comfortably drawing stars on your back. He even has his shoulder to cry on if you want, softly running his hand through her hair in comforting motions.

He tries his best to give advice from his own experience. He makes a promise to cheer you later. He's just trying to make you happy again cause he hurting inside if you're not :(

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Aether pictures the future from time to time. Mainly thinking about finding his sibling. He pictures two outcomes the good now and the one he dreads dearly.

Of course, since you are his s/o, you do play role in some of the scenarios he plays on his head.

He wonders what will be of the relationship after he finds his sibling, would they continue to travel worlds as they had done previously?

It was his sister and himself life's work of jumping planet to planet and learning of the different kingdoms and such.

Teyvat is your home, you have all your plans for the future in this world, he couldn't force you to leave.

So he rather hears of your views on the future instead, listening closely as you explain everything you have planned while his heart slowly aches as he debates for his future.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He sees you as his equal. Nothing less or more- though he looks to up you a lot

He doesn't let any status you may hold hinder the relationship, and he wishes the same. He may be a traveler from another world, praised for his achievements, and his reputation in the nation's placed his name high. But Aether doesn't want that to affect his relationship with his lover.

So yee equals =

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He hates fighting :(

Soft boy can't handle arguing with his s/o. It breaks his heart every time. Instantly feels guilty, even if he wasn't in the wrong.

Because of this arguments are incredibly rare. He's not an angry person in general and tends to stay positive most of the time. It will only occur if he's incredibly pent up about a situation. He'd bottle up those emotions before the string being pulled and he snaps.

Easy to forgive, the moment he notices he's angry he's apologizing for lashing out. Poor boy can't handle you being scared, upset, and disappointed with him.

After a fight, he gives you the space needed before checking on you and asking if you're alright. Aether would pull you into a hug, and probably sob depending on how bad the fight was. Cuddles until your both happy again or unless you really don't want to be in his presence at the moment.

If the fight was really bad he gives you some space to think for a bit and try to get it off his head. Afterward, he goes to apologize to you, to where you either sob together or things go back to normal right after

Apologizes repeatedly to you, you could say you've forgiven him but he's gonna continue apologizing for another hour or so.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Incredibly grateful for every little act his s/o does for him. Ever since losing his sister, he's been in a void and his s/o has been the light helping him back to his feet. Cheesy I know-

But he truly appreciates everything you do for him, it always brings a smile to his face whenever his s/o does the most simple little acts that go a long way for him. He acknowledges even the smallest of things

Simple acts such as setting up his stuff before he goes to complete commissions or cooking him some food. It always makes his day better.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Aether tells his partner pretty much everything, he dislikes keeping you in the dark. He would be really upset and heartbroken if he found out his s/o was hiding anything from him

He relies on you a lot, he tells you everything because you always put him at ease.

However, there are a few things that he would hide for a short time. He would tell his partner eventually but needs some time to plan out how to tell them. But those moments are rare and in between.

If he did find out that his s/o was hiding something from him, he'd be so torn :< feels betrayed a in way that you hid something from him.

Of course, he would listen to your reasoning as to why you kept secrets, but he starts to distance himself for a bit.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Aether works harder for you. In other words, he's constantly trying to impress you. He tries to act heroically around you to make you smile and all.

He learned to not always feel so down because of his sister and take time to be happy as well

He for sure helps you overcome any problems or barriers that have been holding you back, taking one step at a time. You work it out together and he's patient with the process

He's always inspired by you, he works harder for you and tries to complete his commissions at a faster rate so he can spend the rest of the day work you.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Can go both ways. On one hand, Aether isn't really one to get jealous, as he has complete trust in his partner but on the other hand, there are times when he gets insecure or jealous over somethings

But for the most part he isn't jealous, there are moments where he's scared to lose you like he lost his sister, to be left alone again :<<

In the moments where he is jealous, he would tell his s/o that he's feeling envious. Getting it off his chest and hoping his S/o would help calm down his worries

If he's feeling really envious, which are incredibly rare, he would avoid you for a bit trying to let his jealousy die away before confronting you

He'd feel really bad if he accidentally made you feel jealous instead. He would remind you that all his love is reserved for you and only you.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Something like that done here

An average kisser, a bit inexperienced when it comes to kissing, you're his first boyfriend/girlfriend but he caught on really fast.

But because of this, your first kiss ended up being really awkward and Aether got incredibly flustered cause he believed he did something wrong

He's still really shy whenever he kisses you, he grows flustered whenever you intimate the kiss.

His kisses are really gentle, pressing his lips against yours softly. Each kiss is filled with emotions, all his love into each one. Very gentle boi

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

A mess

Poor boi is stuttering and fumbling over his words. He a nervous wreck but he's trying his best.

He planned everything out but when the moment came he tripped over his words.

He invites you over for a nice dinner, nothing too fancy and nothing too cheap, just right. He pays for food, slowly bringing the conversation to an idea of a relationship. Of course, he's hella flustered and trying not to show(which he does) it.

Then he kinda blurts out that he has a crush on you and wants to try out a relationship

If you say yes he's gonna have a huge smile on his face for the rest day, it's really adorable TwT

If you say no, however, he freezes in place for a while, the whole thing repeating in his head up to the point where you rejected him. He apologizes and excuses himself. You don't see him for a couple of days, since aether is avoiding you, he's really embarrassed to talk to you. Oh and congratulations you get a nasty nickname from Paimon :D

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He thought about it at least once when your relationship was growing. Similar to dreams, he had different scenarios in this head for the future and how they could play out.

He would like to get married one day, yes, but it isn't something he sees doing anytime soon as his primary goal is to find his sister, afterward however he will look into it more and suggest the idea to his s/o.

In terms of how he proposes, he takes you on a little adventure that highlights some your adventures you had together near the beginning of your friendship, before getting on one knee and popping the question.

Kind of that nostalgic feeling you get as you reminisce on some of the old memories you created together

The both of you plan the ceremony and incorporate your ideas into one. It's gonna be a big wedding though since pretty much all of Mondstadt, Liyue, and other nations that are yet to be explored will be attending.

Of course, if you wish for a smaller wedding, he doesn't mind at all and will plan out something smaller. He personally likes a small wedding too :)

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Aether isn't too keen on nicknames for his s/o but he does have a few. But for the most part, he calls you y/n, especially in public

He calls you sometimes a shorter version of your name. Or a flower that reminds him of you.

Really depends on your personality as well and which flower it associates with, or he might have a silly nickname for you that he called you once and it stuck with him. However, those types of nicknames are used rarely depending on the circumstance.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Blush blush blush blush

He might be a little oblivious to it since your his first, he doesn't realize it until someone cough venti cough points out to him.

He's in denial at first, swirling over his words while his face reveals the truth. He's crushing hard

Aether tries to mask his little crush from you and he does pretty well minus a few moments where he's got off guard, que flustering soft boi

But when he's in love, he has a smile on his whenever speaking to the person that makes his heart skip a beat. It's pretty prominent to others once you notice the behavior shift from someone random to you.

He expresses his love in a little of everything; kisses and little hugs along with serenading you in words or perhaps gifting you something. A little mix of all of them

His favorite way to express his love is to have his hand intertwine with yours. It's simple but it comforts him knowing you're close. He loves it whenever you give him a slight squeeze of reassurance; it never fails to put a smile on his face

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Shy boy gets flustered in private, he gets really flustered showing PDA in public.

Don't get me wrong he loves showering you in affection but he gets easily flushed at the idea of people watching him kiss his s/o or giving them a comforting hug.

His PDA is average, he's open to hand-holding in public because it comforts him without having to do anything too affectionate in the public eye

He doesn't brag either, most people already know the existence of your relationship.

Although for the most part, he's trying to keep it a secret because of the Fatui and the threat it could place on you. You don't want La Signora chasing after you.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

Paimon is usual around Aether meaning that whenever your feeling hungry, Paimon can point out the best places to sit down and have a delicious meal

An expert treasure hunter is in your area, and you're dating him! He knows where to find hints and little clues for treasures and can open any lock or seal. Many fortunes

He has so many stories to tell from his previous travels. It helps you connect more as you listen to him tell you every memory he can remember from the worlds he visited. You never get bored by his stories either.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He's can be really creative in his antic when it comes to making his s/o happy, but he also sticks to some more cliche methods as well

As mentioned previously he's visited many worlds and has seen the various ways people would do to cheer up their partners.

He uses that to his advantage when trying something to get that smile he loves dearly on your face

But the also likes to take some classic routes, little gifts, or acts of affection to make you happy

Perhaps a rose banquet one day and something new and really imaginative the next. He can be a wild card when deciding

One time he jokingly asked Paimon for advice, of course, she suggested having sticky honey roast as a nice evening lunch date. Which he ended up taking you to that afternoon

He's willing to do anything-within reasonable terms- to make his s/o happy. If just point something out or specify on what would make you really happy; chances are he's going to do it for you

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

100% support in you

He wants to see your goals accomplished as well. Just like your helping him find his sister, he helps you achieve your goal

If you allow him, he's willing to put aside some of his commissions to help you plan and get a better roadmap to obtain your goal

Aether helps keep you motivated whenever you're feeling down, reminding you of what you have accomplished so far. Cooking you food or bringing you some water to get your brain flowing again. As well as some encouragement from Paimon, although she tends to over exaggerate most of the time

He is also sure to help you take breaks whenever you're pushing yourself too much. He takes you outside to pick plants or berries, but it's really soothing and distracting

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

It's an adventure every day with Aether

At the beginning of the relationship, he tried to follow a more classical relationship routine. Since he was so new to affection, e mimicked what he saw other couples do thinking it was the correct way to go. But after spending more time with you he strayed away from that, adding his own ideas along with yours

He's constantly traveling the world, meeting archons and other powerful beings. There always a battle to be fought or a harbinger to run from. A lot can happen in one day

And you're his trusty and equal companion, he likes to bring you along through the chaos that is Teyvat

In other words, there is always a thrill in your relationship, plus Aether is always open to trying something new occasionally. Never a dull moment except for that one lazy Sunday where you cuddle all day, but it's really wholesome

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Aether picks up on the little things that signal a behavior shift within you. With these notices he acts quickly to be sure your alright and accesses if he needs to shower you in more affection in order to make you happy >:0

He tries to sympathize with his partner, trying to understand the emotions they're going through. He understands grief and anger, as he had experienced it with the loss of his kin, and knows how to help alleviate his s/o

But he does try his best to help cheer you up regardless of the emotions you are feeling. Paimon is even there to cheer you with her own words

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Aether's relationship with you is something he holds close to his heart. It's incredibly important to him, and he is sure to voice how important you are to him.

His s/o is that last speck of hope and happiness in his life after being filled with pain for so long. He'd be devastated without you

Unfortunately, his sister is his first priority, his family comes close. Lumine is the only kin he has. But your also really important to him, and so he tries to shower you with affection daily

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Your Paimon's close friend, you get to hear her ramble about food- a lot. But she's also really supportive of your relationship, she's noticed how much happier Aether had become since then.

Aether likes it whenever you braid his hair. Finding it soothing as your fingers gently comb through his golden locks

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

A shy boy wanting to shower his s/o in affection. He's not the most affectionate person out there but he does try to be romantic and such

He adores hugs more than kisses, he finds it further comforting to hold his partner close and reassured that there beside him. He wishes he could cuddle with you for hours however commissions among other tasks that always pull him back

He also likes kisses, there always gentle and soft and he mainly kisses you on the cheek, forehead, or lips.

So overall he is pretty affectionate and he tries his best to make you feel loved

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He can handle it for a few days, he has trust in you and your abilities. But he does think about you whenever you have to leave, wishing he could go with you. He's already missing your presence the moment you kissed him goodbye before venturing off to whatever.

Then he starts to become worried, his head is racing even though you're fine. He's trying to stay calm in the situation, which he does pretty well but it's clear something is troubling the traveler from another world. Nonetheless, he doesn't act out that worry

He starts to take up more commissions in hopes it will put his mind off It, overworking himself just a tad too much until he finds himself exhausted and turns in to rest for the night.

He refrains from any thoughts involving you being in a dangerous circumstance, he's trying to stay positive and counting down the days until your arrival back to Mondstadt or Liyue. But he has had that one thought or two, dreading over his shoulders

When you do return, the moment he spots your familiar figure; his mind is washed with relief as he makes his way towards you. He approaches with a soft, kind smile as he engulfs you into a hug. He asks you how the journey or task went and if you hit any roadblocks or difficulties.

He takes you to dinner that afternoon to talk some more, he misses you dearly :(

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

As mentioned before Aether tries his best to make you happy, he'll try somethings out but he won't cross any unnecessary lines or ones that shouldn't be crossed

Listen- he's stolen a Gods Lyre, angered the cryo God, fought a Harbinger, and almost destroyed a nation- oh and he's a garden thief. He's willing to go to some extra lengths to make you happy-he just doesn't want to add on to the list of chaos that had occurred already

But as mentioned previously, his main goal is finding his sister and he tries not to stray from it too much. But yes, he does care about your relationship and he is sure to remind you that you always hold a special place in his heart :)

-

I'm done omg, yay

[madamewriterofwrongs]

Sending you all my hugs 🥰🥰🥰😍 How about...Buddie having the time of their lives being absolute shit at arcade games.

I remember I asked for fluffy prompts the night my boss passed away. That was months ago but I did not forget. Thank you everyone who sent me prompts while I was processing some tough emotions.

911/Buddie 

1v1 Co-op Matchmaking

Read on Ao3

“Are you sure this is the place?” Eddie tried to peer through one of the windows with the scratched off signage but the tinted glass made it impossible to see anything beyond vague shapes in evenly marked spaces.

“Absolutely.” Buck joined him in looking through the glass but seemed to be satisfied with what he saw there. “I found this place my first year in L.A.” He went on to explain as Eddie followed him to the blacked out double doors. “I promise you’re going to love it.”

As with most things in Eddie’s life, he had no choice but to follow his partner. He entered first, a blast of cool air hitting his face, bringing with it the scent of French fries and old pennies. Beyond the sound of whirs and buzzes was quiet chatter and the occasional exclamation of excitement or disappointment (usually accompanied by a string of barely recognizable curses – no doubt, due to the ‘No Swearing’ sign hanging on the cash register in the corner). All around him were a collection of game machines in nearly straight aisles reaching several rows down and across. Interspersed between the machines were tables and chairs with folded signs informing guests that food and drinks were not to be taken to the game machines.

“It’s an arcade.” Eddie dumbly informed his friend.

Buck stood beside him, chest puffed with pride as he examined the terrain. “One of the last in the city that hasn’t been overrun by hipsters.”

“So you’re saying you found this place before it was cool?” Eddie strolled towards the register knowing Buck would be glaring at him all the way. As predicted, Buck paid for both of them and converted twenty dollars into quarters for the two of them two split.

“Oh, this place is old school.” Eddie, once again, exclaimed the obvious while pocketing his share of the coins. “How did you find this place?” he asked as they wandered the aisles looking for their first game. “I didn’t think you would be old enough to remember ‘Ms. Pacman’.”

Buck bumped his shoulder with a playful gasp. “You are being so mean to me today.” He chided before falling more somber. “When I first moved here and started training, I needed a place to study. I had, like, six roommates so there was no way I could concentrate there. So, I wandered around looking for something a little less chaotic and I found this place.”

“And this place was quieter than your house?” Eddie hadn’t lived with roommates in a few years – not since his army days – but he couldn’t imagine one house being that overwhelming.

“No.” Buck rolled his eyes at Eddie’s internal monologue. “I ended up at the library a few blocks away. But I came here once or twice when I needed to get out of the house. Obviously, work keeps me pretty busy, but I like coming here from time to time.”

All of it made sense, but Eddie heard the softness in his friend’s tone, the way he spoke about this place as though it were something precious. He was being handed a gift and he would not turn it down.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” When Buck looked up at his partner through long eyelashes (when did he start noticing Buck’s eyelashes?), Eddie felt goosebumps rise and wash down his body. Like awakening from a long nap, his limbs tingled and he felt every step as they continued their journey to find the perfect game.

It wasn’t the first time he felt that flash of lightning through his veins at the sight of his friend – he was a single man and his partner was very attractive – but it had been happening more often than he cared to admit. Noticing the little details of Buck’s appearance (his eyelashes, for example) was new. Feeling his heart beat faster and his skin burn with a desire he hadn’t felt in a long time…was less new. In fact, Eddie was nearly ready to put a label on the feelings stirring in his chest.

Last winter, when his sisters were visiting and the three siblings got to have a big family dinner with all the cousins and aunts and uncles, he’d spent a little too long talking about Buck. Or, maybe, Christopher had. Either way, Sophia managed to corner him in the kitchen after dessert had knocked out the majority of the children, and asked Eddie how long he’d been with Buck. Romantically. It was sometime after midnight (and a bottle of wine between the three of them) that Eddie finally admitted to both of his sisters that he had feelings for his best friend. Adriana had cooed and asked if Buck felt the same and, on some tipsy instinct, he’d answered “Yes.”

Of course, he didn’t know for certain – he’d never come out and said “Hey, Buck, I want to bend you over the railing and then grow old with you. What do you say?” – but he knew Buck. He knew Buck better than anyone (Maddie might give him a run for his money, but he’s fairly certain there’s a few stories Buck hasn’t told his sister about his time travelling the country). When that man loved, he loved with all his heart, and Eddie figured out a long time ago that Buck had given at least part of himself to the Diaz boys. Why not his heart?

So, yes, Eddie had a pretty good idea of how he felt, and was nearly certain that Buck felt the same way. And now, they were standing in an arcade – the location of which Buck hadn’t shared with anyone else in his life – occasionally making extended eye contact through the aisles. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’. It was a matter of ‘when’.

So now, when not staring longingly into his friend’s eyes, Eddie scanned the names listed above each game. Some of the names were ones he recognized (‘Frogger’, ‘Pacman’, the aforementioned ‘Ms. Pacman’, ‘Centipede’). Others, were less familiar (‘Inferno’, ‘Dig Dug’, ‘1942’) and looked…confusing. His eye caught on a ‘Space Invaders’-looking game and he called his partner to his side.

“Want to be a member of the ‘Moon Patrol’?” He bumped Buck’s shoulder with the smile he reserved just for his friend, and dug for a quarter.

“Nope!” Buck declared as he retrieved his own quarter and inserted it into the appropriate slot, bumping Eddie out of the way so he could stand centered at the controls. “I call first game!”

Though he rolled his eyes in annoyance, Eddie took the loss as an opportunity to watch his partner work. He loved watching Buck work (nearly as much as he enjoyed working beside him). There were times when the man’s focus was hypnotizing. The firm set of his jaw, the piercing eyes that seemed unblinking, the way every part of his body tensed in concentration. He’d seen Buck excited, anxious, worried, panicked, even numb – when it came to the uncontrollable dangers of their job, they had been through a lot together. Every emotion showed Eddie how much his friend cared about his work.

This expression, however, was one he doubted many other members of the Los Angeles Fire Department had seen on the young firefighter. It was one Eddie had been privy to on more than one occasion when Christopher had brought over a particularly difficult puzzle or science question. He wasn’t sure he was ever meant to see it but he happened to be standing in the doorway after putting away leftovers from dinner and he’d seen it: the desire to win, the earnest focus, the eagerness and seriousness of his intent. The first time he saw, it was an accident.  Every other time he rushed to finish his chores whenever he thought that face might emerge… that was less of an accident.

He was pulled from his fond musings by a minor key jingle and light-hearted groan of disappointment.

“Only got to Point Q on the Champion Course.” Buck exclaimed, throwing his hands in defeat.

Eddie couldn’t help himself – or at least, that’s what he told himself. His partner was too genuine. But that was one of his favourite things about the man. Where Eddie could usually keep his outward appearance neutral in the face of adversity (a skill he’d used nearly every day since joining the LAFD), Buck never shied away from letting his face show just exactly what was on his mind – even if he never said anything.

And so, Eddie laughed. Only a small chuckle, but his heart never felt so light as when he was with Buck. It was easy to see, however, that his laugh could be misconstrued as mocking. Perhaps it was both.

“Think you can do better?” The newly-defeated champion bowed and offered the center position to his friend and Eddie stepped into place with another fond eyeroll (he made a mental note to ask his optometrist if too many eyerolls could cause nerve damage).

All right, Eddie thought as he tried to get a handle on the controls, so it wasn’t as easy as he thought. The joystick was rigid and the control pad was sticky and the graphics were definitely from an era long-passed. If he hadn’t been raised with an infinite amount of patience (according to his aunt), he might have given up. As it was, he died before reaching the first checkpoint.

Buck’s laughter could not be interpreted as anything other than mocking, and he didn’t bother to hide it. “You are truly terrible.” He informed Eddie with a slap on the shoulder.

Though he knew he didn’t need an excuse, it was too easy to play when Buck was around. “I’m used to the console at home. Unlike some people, I don’t spend my time playing with technology from the Reagan-era.”

“Well then let me show you.” Before Eddie could properly interpret Buck’s offer, the man had come to stand behind him, chin hovering over his shoulder, arms palming his elbows and guiding him back towards the console. “One more round.” Buck declared, enthusiastically. At his prompting, Eddie gripped the joystick and placed his hands just above the cluster of buttons on his left side. The now-familiar starting music began and Eddie focused all of his energy into game before him. Every few moments, he heard Buck mutter a command or offer advice and he took it without question. The joystick was still rigid and the buttons were still sticky but together, they made it to the second checkpoint. And then the third. By the fourth, Eddie had all but forgotten the world around them. The only things that existed were Eddie, the game, and Buck’s voice in his ear. It was soothing, almost, to fall into that rhythm. So long as he navigated the bumpy terrain and dodged the alien invasion, nothing else mattered.

Until he missed jumping over a landmine and was blown to smithereens.

“Damn!” Buck’s voice was suddenly too close. The air around him electrified on an exhale and the heat of his chest warmed Eddie to his core. As quickly as the world had fallen away in Buck’s arms, it came rushing back, more vibrant and alive than before. Every sound of electronics whirring, Buck’s steady breathing, and people shouting – even the rumble of the cars outside the arcade – was amplified. Every smell of old metal, sweat, and smoke hidden under Buck’s aftershave was overwhelming. Every touch of his scratchy jeans, the clammy plastic in his hand, and the warm presence at his back, made Eddie close his eyes to shut out one of his senses. The only one left was taste.

Buck and Eddie had held each other plenty of times over the years. They were partners and friends who worked in close contact with one another. At the end of a hard day, in the middle of a daring rescue, at the beginning of a heated glance as they stood in front of a game machine. They had shaken hands, hugged tightly, gripped for dear life at the edge of a cliff, even bumped shoulders often enough that he had a Buck-shaped indent near his heart. But standing in this loose hold – the other man’s arms barely brushing his, his back pressed against the other’s front – Eddie had never felt the overwhelming urge to taste more fervently than he did in that moment.

He knew that Buck was an attractive man – he was repressed, he wasn’t dead – and though he’d been contemplating thinking about maybe working up to taking some next step, he hadn’t counted on standing in Buck’s arms and feeling his heart flutter like a school girl with a crush.

Upon slowly dragging his eyes to meet his friend’s Eddie found himself breathlessly overtaken by the sensation of hope. Buck’s eyes were bright and round (earnest, just as he’d known them to be) His eyelashes closed and opened slowly, seemingly disbelieving of his circumstance. If Eddie knew Buck as well as he hoped he did, then there was a question in his friend’s eyes that was begging to be asked. A question Eddie was more than happy to answer.

“We make a pretty good team.” He felt his own breath reverberate off of Buck’s cheek and it stuttered in time with his heart.

“I’ve always thought so.” Buck’s lips twitched with suppressing a smile.

Then, came the moment of truth. Eddie felt a brief flicker of panic as he took one last breath before diving in.

“What should we do about it?”

In reality, Buck only contemplated his response for a few seconds but for Eddie, the silence stretched for years – three years, in fact. He felt the world move in slow motion and within it, he watched as Buck’s face flicked with a thousand emotions: fear, anxiety, excitement, contentment, desire, hope, doubt; finally, he settled on quiet happiness.

“I think we need to find a game we can play together. As partners. What do you say?”

As if there were any other response, Eddie smiled at Buck. “Partners.”

The rest of their time at the arcade was locked away, inaccessible to even Eddie, who recalled nothing more than laughter and flirtatious eye contact as they made their way through the aisles of games. At the end of the night, Eddie would get down the block before turning back to Buck’s door. He would run a nervous hand through his hair while he knocked with the other, and waited for the answer. And then, he would blush as he asked if Buck wanted to go on a date with him tomorrow. Buck would blush harder and assure Eddie that he would happily attend, but warn that he no longer kissed on the first date.

But maybe on their second date tomorrow, he’d get lucky.

[toraodwaterlaw]

Heart to Heart

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4

This is the final part of a four part AU fic set just after Marineford. Law is the latest Corazon, but Rosinante is still alive.

1681 words (6638 total for all four parts), angst with a happy(ish) ending

-

Whenever he returned from a mission, Law would appear like clockwork as soon as night fell. Normally. This homecoming was anything but normal. Rosinante didn’t think much of it that first night. Law had looked worn to the bone. Rosinante had hoped he was getting rest. When Law didn’t turn up the next night, Rosinante started to worry. He checked carefully with Viola and found out Law hadn’t left his quarters once, even to eat.

That settled it. As soon as he was sure there was no one around to interrupt, he slipped into Law’s room and closed off the outside world with a snap.

Law was at his desk, medical charts and texts spread before him. Rosinante assumed Law was reading until he got close enough to see those golden eyes were fixed on the window. He was staring beyond the edges of Dressrosa toward the distant horizon. A single black feather was clutched loosely in his hand.

“Hey, kid.”

Law’s fingers twitched. For him, it was about as good as jumping in surprise. “He still hasn’t put the strings in your lips back.” This didn’t seem to be addressed to Rosinante. It certainly wasn’t directed toward him, as Law continued looking out the window. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I noticed.”

Every word continued to be a struggle for Rosinante but he would talk until he could no more if it got some reaction out of Law. As it was, there was an emptiness in Law’s eyes that was far too close to the look he’d had those first meetings on Spider Miles.

“Would you look at me?”

“You shouldn’t talk so much. You still need time to heal.” Law reached across his desk to place the feather on the windowsill. He replaced it with a quill and scrawled something out on a scrap of paper. “Here’s a list of teas and other natural remedies to help your throat.” 

Rosinante took the note as it was passed back to him. “I appreciate it but—”

“I’m working on a salve for your lips.” Law rooted through bottles on his desk and on shelves to the side. He pulled open drawers on a cabinet and picked out different packets of fragrant herbs. They were all arranged carefully across the desk. “Some of the ingredients need time to cure before they’re ready, so you’ll have to wait a bit longer. I’ll write out instructions so that you know just what to do.”

Rosinante hugged his arms to himself to keep himself from grabbing Law to put a stop to all the anxious movement. The boy already had his movements controlled enough as it was. And it wasn’t what Rosinante really wanted.

“Law. Look at me. Please.”

Law sighed and turned slowly in his seat. His eyes immediately flicked to Rosinante’s chest. Rosinante had pulled on a light sweater for the meeting. The telltale hole in his chest couldn’t be visible but he knew it was all Law saw anyway. Law reached a hand toward it before quickly pulling it back to himself.

They were facing each other, which was a start, but Law didn’t seem any more inclined to talk to him. Rosinante frowned and then immediately winced at the pain it brought. At least now, with Law looking at him, he was free to us his hands to sign.

Are you okay?

Law scowled. “Me? I’m— you’re the one with a—” His frown deepened further and looked away again. He clutched at his own chest. For a while it seemed like he wasn’t going to say another word. In the end, voice low, he added, “I took your heart.”

His voice sounded as raw and pained as Rosinante’s.

Rosinante placed a gentle hand on Law’s face. He turned it so that he could get a better look at the bruising. He wished he knew what else Law was hiding because he was certain that there were other injuries. Law was no more one for covering up than Doffy was, so his crisp, black shirt doubtless covered injuries to his torso. Rosinante wished he knew what else was being hidden from him. He knew by now, though, that Law would simply brush off any such inquiries, so he’d try another approach. 

What happened?

Law waved him off. “I was stupid. Straw Hat had a nightmare about his brother and I was too close when he woke up. Seems he wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of me trying to hold him in his bed so he wouldn’t reopen his injuries. I’m fine.”

Rosinante must have looked dubious because Law’s frown deepened.

“I am,” Law insisted. “I did a scan to check for serious injuries to be sure. I’ve had much worse. I’d be healed up by now if I had a chance to actually get some rest.”

Then why don’t you rest?

Law crossed his arms. He’d grown so much. He was a man now but there were often times Rosinante couldn’t help but see him as a child. Shrink him down a number of feet and he could have been ten again with as stubbornly sullen as he looked. Not that Law hadn’t had plenty of cause to be sullen, but Rosinante did sometimes wish he’d make more of an effort to smile from time to time. The boy’s face was really going to stick like that someday.

“I had two patients with life threatening injuries and then I had to work overtime to get here as soon as possible. I haven’t exactly had time, you know,” Law said with a tone he usually reserved for Trebol. It was a voice that said he thought he was speaking to someone who was being exceptionally dull.

Rosinante frowned at him in turn, disregarding the pain it caused to do so. You’re back now. He resisted the urge to add a request for Law not to take that tone with him. One of them would be an adult here.

Law’s eyes flicked over to his bed a few times. His hands absently fingered at his bangs in a sure sign that he was unconsciously hoping for his hat. It was a habit he’d never managed to grow out of, even though he usually didn’t wear it these days. Not having his hat to hide beneath, he turned around once more.

“I tried to sleep, alright? It didn’t stick,” he said.

Rosinante waited for an explanation that didn’t come. Law had to be absolutely exhausted if he hadn’t gotten a single good night’s sleep in weeks. It was amazing he didn’t just keel over on the spot. Law did excel at existing on spite alone but this was pushing it, even for him.

Rosinante placed a hand on Law’s back and found it was trembling. He rubbed soothing circles and waited. He wanted to demand Law tell him what was wrong. The urge would always be there, to search out all of Law’s ills and try to cure them through stubbornness alone if he had to. However, there were times to talk, to push, and then there were times to wait. Getting Law to open up about anything was so often a game of patience. If it was up to him, he’d bottle up his emotions until that bottle burst and destroyed him. Rosinante wasn’t especially inclined to let that happen.

Law became so still that Rosinante might have suspected he’d nodded off if not for the irregularity of his breathing. Rosinante stilled, also, and waited.

“Every time I try to sleep,” Law said, “I see you. I see Doflamingo with your heart and all the things he might do to you because of me.”

“Not because of you.”

Law looked up at him. “Your voice—”

“My voice be damned,” Rosinante all but growled. “And Doffy be damned. This is on him.”

Law’s face fell. “I didn’t have to give in. I could have resisted more. I should have. And I didn’t have to act on some stupid fucking impulse at Marineford. I’ve been so careful. I threw out over a decade of work and for what? Some kid who thought he could take on the entire World Government and a rival Warlord. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking you could help,” Rosinante said. “You saved their lives.”

“Their lives aren’t as important as yours.”

Rosinante didn’t try to dispute that. He knew it wouldn’t do any good. And besides, he knew the feeling. He’d burn the world down if it meant keeping Law safe.

Instead of arguing, he knelt down and pulled Law into a tight embrace. Law’s breath hitched. All the emotion he’d stubbornly shoved down finally broke through and he started to cry in earnest. Even someone as bullheaded as Law had his limits. Rosinante was only glad to be there to hold Law together so he didn’t break apart.

“I’m proud of you,” Rosinante murmured.

There had rarely been truer words. He’d been scared for Law’s sake, of course, but he’d been so proud when Law first called him to say what he’d done. There were times, despite all his faith in Law, where he worried this life would be too much. It would be easy for Law to let this all change him. Perhaps it would even be better for him if he did. Less painful, certainly. But when he had a chance to show who he really was on the inside, he’d done something amazing. Something neither he nor Doflamingo nor even Rosinante himself had expected.

Not that Law would hear any of that. “You shouldn’t be,” he muttered.

Rosinante rested his cheek on top of unruly black hair. “Well, I am.”

“Well, you’re an idiot.”

Rosinante laughed and pulled Law closer. “Maybe. But I can be an idiot and rightfully proud of you, kid. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Law let out a strangled sound that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t been so drowned in tears. Then, in a voice so quiet Rosinante had to strain to hear, he said, “Then I’ll try not to let you down. Idiot.”

[eeveevie]

truth or dare

All Rosie wants to do is work on her journals. All Butch wants to do is play Truth or Dare. The truth? Rosie’s never been kissed. Do either dare to make the first move? 

Unprompted, but I needed some self-indulgence in these uncertain times. Also, Rosie needed a smooch. Stealth edit: this is my lucky #99 story on Ao3 !!!

Butch DeLoria x Rosie Sheridan (Lone Wanderer)

 2885 words | [read on Ao3]

Finding a quiet place to hideaway in Rivet City was one of the most difficult tasks Rosie faced every time she visited the repurposed warship—even in the privacy of her rented room, she was distracted by the constant creaking of metal and the echoing footsteps of the guard patrol. By comparison, it made her long to be under the rusted rooftop in Megaton, the closest thing she had to call home nowadays. But beggars and wanderers couldn’t be choosers, even if all she wanted to do that evening was concentrate on her journal and travel notes.

Rosie tried to focus on the stack of reports she had received from Scribe Rothchild, wanting to better understand the different vaults in the area but all she could hear was the repetitive sounds of somebody pacing outside her door. It didn’t match the usual rotation of the Rivet City guards and she had only one guess as to who it could be. Just as she thought to move and secure the lock on the bulkhead it creaked open to reveal her traveling companion—Butch—just as she thought.

He was in a chipper mood, holding a half-empty Nuka-Cola bottle, though his swagger told her that he had been partaking in a different kind of beverage. Rosie frowned, hiding her disappointment in her palm as she diverted her gaze back to her work. She had better things to do than babysit or worry about his drinking habits.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to peer at her journal. Butch rested one hand on the desk, effectively boxing her in as he bent at the waist for a closer look. Beneath his usual musk of cologne and hair product, she could smell the booze and cigarette ash. She clenched her jaw, more annoyed with him than usual.  

Even though the two had taken remarkable strides in creating a friendship from the ground up, Rosie was still in turmoil over the feelings she had for him. No matter what she did to convince herself otherwise, or how much time she believed would need to pass, the stupid little crush had developed into something much stronger. Matters were only made worse when Butch would do something uncharacteristically kind, fueling the flame in her heart. Stranger still, she found herself equally attracted to his tantrums—the little bouts of pouting that resulted from their petty arguments.

Worst of all, she became jealous of any attention he gave to other girls and envious of how easy it was for others to chat him up. Rosie knew she wasn’t the most charismatic person, but now that she was saddled with the weight of those emotions, her insecurities had skyrocketed. It all circled back to her frustration with Butch and how he seemed so carefree and unaware of how his presence affected her.  She wondered if his actioned were done intentionally to frustrate her. He wasn’t her childhood bully anymore—this was a completely new form of torture.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” she deflected, avoiding his stare as he looked at her profile. She hadn’t meant to sound so rude but hoped her tone would send him back on his way. Instead, Butch took it as an invitation to linger, testing her patience. Why couldn’t he have slipped back into his old, stubborn ways and taken offense? Had he grown too soft in traveling with her?  

“Marketplace is closed,” he explained, straightening. He took a long sip of his soda. “What’s wrong with hangin�� with my best gal?”

Rosie shifted in her seat, the term of endearment had lost its touch lately, even with the affectionate gestures. She would’ve preferred any other nickname if he was going to be sarcastic with her. Rothchild’s notes became a scrambled blur as she crafted a good enough response, one that was sure to dismiss him.

“Wouldn’t you rather be at the Muddy Rudder, getting drunk with Trinnie?” she asked, this time tilting her chin up to steal a quick glance. “Or have you exhausted that option?”

Trinnie reminded Rosie a lot of Susie Mack in the way the girl hung off his every word and became excited when she saw him visiting the city. Rosie rolled her eyes at the irony of it all, that she had ended up in a similar position. At least she was better at hiding how she felt—she hoped.

Butch’s brows furrowed in frustration as he scowled. “I don’t—” he stomped away but didn’t leave the room. “I didn’t.”

Rosie turned in her chair to watch as he deposited himself right on the edge of her bed, leaning back on one elbow. The pose was too suggestive for her and she shot her eyes to the ceiling, pressing her lips into a flat line. “Oh?”

“What’s gotten into you lately?” he questioned in stark tone reminiscent of their earlier traveling days. “You’re pickin’ fights and pouting all the time at me like I did something wrong.”

He looked at her, steely blue eyes trained on her as he emptied the last drops of cola from the bottle, tapping his fingers absentmindedly against the glass. “What’d I do this time? I didn’t get wasted like that one time, ya see?” He waved his free hand over his body, but she wasn’t going to look at his appearance and how he was practically draped across her bed. “Or ya’ still finding ways to be mad about all the teasing and bullying?”

In the quiet, she reluctantly flicked her eyes to find him looking like a neglected and kicked puppy. Worse than when she forgot to give Dogmeat a bath after a bout with raiders (usually the dog was happy to be covered in blood and guts). Butch sat there, picking at the Nuka-Cola label with a pout, bottom lip sticking out.

“I said I was sorry,” he mumbled, sounding more dejected than ever.  

Rosie chewed on her bottom lip—she hated that the appearance of him crestfallen and perched on her bedsheets was very alluring, especially when he glanced up at her from under his lashes—no way he hadn’t done that on purpose. She sighed, knowing it was wrong of her to lash out when everything that was wrong had to do with her. He didn’t deserve that, especially when yes—they had made their amends and started fresh when first joining up. She was just a young, foolish teenager with emotions she wasn’t ready to face.

“I uh—” she twisted her hands in her lap, darting her eyes from the books spread across the desk and back towards the ceiling. She wanted to have a valid, believable excuse for her outlandish behavior so that maybe he would forgive her. “I’ve been distracted.”

“Yeah,” Butch softly chuckled. “I can tell.”

He titled his head back and forth in thought, pointing the bottle to her. “Take a break, Stitches. You could use a little fun.”

She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, irritated by the suggestion—it wasn’t the first time he had pointed out her boring disposition, but she couldn’t help her inner nature. Rosie was quiet, reserved and her idea of a good time was reading medical textbooks and solving math problems. Butch’s idea of entertainment usually involved some kind of risk that bordered on illegal, scheming up ways to break his boredom. He was stubborn, steadfast in his ways to get her to take life a little less seriously, to smile and laugh more if only so he could see it.

“You’re cute when you smile, Stitches.”

He had told her one evening, a little too tipsy on beer at Moriarty’s, a statement that had her red in the face for hours. Reminiscing on it had her blushing then and there too, something that Butch noticed quickly. He snickered, stretching a little further across her bed—it was certainly large enough for the two of them, but she had refused to share the space, resigning him to the common rooms.

“Rosie, your face is rosy,” he teased, barely able to get the words out as he continued to laugh. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “What kind of fun are you thinkin’ about?”

She scoffed, clutching the back of the chair to ground herself. “Unlike you, my thoughts aren’t permanently in the gutter.”

Butch shrugged, clearly not believing her—she wouldn’t either, with the way her face was burning. He placed the empty Nuka-Cola bottle on the bedsheets beside him and spun the glass, though the fabric prevented it from moving effectively. “Spin the bottle?”

Rosie glanced to see the open end was facing her and sharply turned her head away, focusing on a dark, rusted spot in the corner. She didn’t even want to think about how playing the game would work with just two people. “No!”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” he whined. She heard him shift abruptly. “Hey, wait—you never played, have you?”

Those types of games in the vault were usually reserved for the parties she wasn’t invited to—the same kind of parties in which Amata was dared to spend seven minutes in heaven in the utility closet with Freddie Gomez. Rosie had a wealth of information, but lacked firsthand experience leaving her woefully embarrassed. What she wouldn’t have given to have a normal teenaged life growing up in Vault 101.

“Think back to those circles you sat in, Butch,” she replied, not meaning to sound so despondent. “Ever remember seeing Nosebleed as the bottle spun around?”

Her frown increased as a fleeting thought crossed her mind that he must have kissed every girl in the vault—the rumors certainly had painted him as a player, as a Casanova—yet there she was, still unable to get over how she felt.

“Fine then,” he finally replied. “Truth or dare?”

Rosie whipped her head at him, wide eyed. “I am not playing that game with you either.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, resting his head in his palm. “’Fraid you might reveal something to the Butch-man?”

Her patience was wearing thin, but she knew there would be no getting rid of him unless she humored him. Baring the risk of him escalating the games or wagers, she relented with a sigh, shaking her head. “Do not dare me to do anything gross or illegal.”

“You’re no fun,” he muttered, but regarded her with a low smile. “Okay. Truth or dare.”

She was reluctant to go first but still answered. “Truth.”

Butch’s grin increased and her stomach tightened—somehow, she had chosen something worse than dare. His question was very direct. “Have you ever been kissed?”

Rosie stiffened, and blinked at him silently. Her mind had gone blank at the sheer horror of what was happening—Butch DeLoria was confirming that she was the hopeless nerd he always thought she was. She scrambled to think of a passable lie, of a close call she could claim was really her first kiss but all she could think about were all the times they had managed to get close without anything occurring. Too much time passed without her answering, and his eyebrow quirked up as he let out a breathless laugh.

“Oh, I knew it,” he pushed himself, so he was sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Explains everything!”

“You—you asked that on purpose!” she yelped, turning away from him and hiding her face in her hands out of mortification. Knowing Butch, even with his somewhat changed ways, she’d never hear the end of his teasing over this learned information. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“Come on now, Rosie,” he encouraged. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just—”

Something in the tone of his voice had her alarmed. Apprehensively, she glanced back to find him anxiously rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding her stare. That, she didn’t expect. He seemed to be mulling over his next move, the next right thing to say to make the situation right. His eyes met hers and slowly, he smiled.

“Ya’ know, if you want, I could kiss you,” Butch said it like it made perfect sense in his mind. “Get that first kiss out of the way so you know what you’re doin’”

She stared at him, half in disbelief, half in a daze, but mostly in shock. Was he suggesting that…they kiss? Rosie considered that the person she was staring at wasn’t Butch DeLoria at all and the man Amata had released from the vault was some kind of replacement. No way would the bully she had grown up with for nineteen years switch from being repressed by her presence to suddenly wanting to lock lips. It didn’t matter that they were friends now, it still didn’t make any logical sense in her brain. Even if he sounded sincere, even if it was secretly what she wanted, Rosie couldn’t agree—not like this.

“I don’t want to kiss you under some ridiculous circumstances,” she shook her head, busying her hands in hair. “Not when we’ve been playing a stupid game, or—or when you’ve been drinking.”

“I’m not drunk,” he flatly reassured. “Maybe it’s you that needs the liquid courage.”

Rosie disagreed. “I don’t need alcohol to kiss you.”

“Oh yeah?” Butch smirked, mood perking up. “So, you’re saying you do want to kiss me?”

“Don’t—” she huffed, unhappy he was twisting her words. He was the one that brought up the subject in the first place. “You seem eager to do the same!”

He furrowed his brows, laugh a little forced. If anything, it looked like he was blushing. “I dare you to do it right now. Lay one on me, Stitches.”

“I didn’t pick dare. It isn’t my turn, it’s yours!” she argued, once again feeling red in the face. Butch nodded at her, egging her on. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare!”

She had never felt so emboldened. “Kiss me.”

It was Butch’s turn to look shell-shocked as he stared at her, wide blue eyes hazy as his thoughts caught up to the moment. A boy who usually had a snappy remark for everything and everybody was dead silent, unmoving before her. Unsurprisingly, she was disappointed, but hid her emotions well. Abruptly, she stood, determined to remove herself from the room and situation if nothing was going to happen. Rosie would need to be alone to decompress and deal with the ache in her chest. Behind her she heard his feet meet the ground as he scrambled to follow.

“Hey, wait—”

Despite her frustration, she turned half-way to meet him and was surprised when his hand pulled on her wrist, dragging her closer to him. His other hand quickly found her chin, angling her head up just in time for his lips to crash into hers. The first contact was rough—propelled forward by the movement of their bodies—but slowly, Rosie relaxed, daring to reach out and rest her hand against his chest. Reflexively, she clutched at his leather jacket, softly humming her approval. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, too focused on the way Butch’s lips molded around hers the longer they kissed.

When they did sperate, she felt her entire body radiating warmth, embarrassment for a completely different reason now. She had just been kissed—her first kiss—by Butch DeLoria. Instead of even trying to run away she stared up at him sheepishly, amazed to find a similar, dazed look in his eyes. His lips quirked up to the side in a smirk as he slid his hand to cup her cheek, tangling his fingers into her dark hair. The second time he kissed her was far more chaste, at least for the first few moments before he dared to run his tongue along the seam of her mouth, a little sound echoing from his throat when she gradually parted for him. He didn’t rush her, the kiss remaining slow yet far more fervent than the first—his other hand moving from her hand to her waist to slide her closer to his body.

Reluctantly, she pulled away, in need of air. Again, the two gazed at each other, this time far more fascinated by the situation as reality sunk in, but they didn’t separate. Rather, they stayed closely nestled together, mimicking each other’s goofy smiles.

“Your turn,” he breathed.

“Truth,” she answered, quietly. She almost forgot that they had been playing a silly game.

Butch combed his fingers through her hair, eyes darting down to her lips before locking with hers again. “Now that you’ve got some experience, whadd’ya you think about kissing?”

“More research will need to occur for me to make a determination,” she answered, knowing full well of how she sounded.

“God Rosie, you’re such a nerd,” he laughed against her mouth, moving away if only to flash a wink. “I’ll be your test subject.”

She giggled, feeling more alive and normal than she had in weeks. She didn’t realize it was possible to feel so energetic, the way her heart was racing. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Butch smiled, already leaning closer.

Rosie met him halfway, unable to contain her excitement. She would never tire of asking him now that she could. “Kiss me again.”

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Guilty As Charged

One Shot for @thatfanficstuff​ ‘s Band New U challenge.

My Prompt was “Lawyer AU”

Pairing- Bucky Barnes X (sort of…) Reader Insert. This is my first Reader Insert so hopefully it works out as well as my OFC seems to have done.

Warnings- Bad language words. **my knowledge on US law is limited so humour me**

“We find the defendant not guilty”

You let out a sigh and rub at your temple. Looking over at your colleague, Sam, you shake your head in utter disbelief.

“Y/N this wasn’t your fault…” he begins in a low voice but you simply sigh again and shrug.

“I was sure they’d see through his lies” you glance over to your right where the defence team, headed up by James Buchanan Barnes of Barnes & Rogers Law are shaking hands. Barnes’ face is arranged in the usual smug look that you want to slap right off it. His partner, Steve glances over at you and gives you a genuine, sympathetic smile. He is always the most courteous out of the two.

“He fucking did it Y/N” Sam’s voice is almost a growl “I know he did.”

“Well in the eyes of the law he didn’t…” you state, standing up “Come on, let’s get out of here before he starts…”

You hastily shuffle your papers back into their respective files and pack your briefcase up. Picking up your jacket, you shrug it on, smooth down your pencil skirt and make to leave the courtroom before Barnes can pipe up with his usual smart ass quips. But you’re not quite fast enough. “Commiserations Miss Y/LN, can’t win ‘em all…” the familiar Brooklyn drawl hits your ears “mind you, winning some would be a start.” “Buck…” Steve sighs “c'mon pal…”

You grit your teeth. You know you shouldn’t rise to it, but you just can’t help it. The man is an utter jack ass. Spinning to face him you shoot him your best contemptuous glare, the one you always reserve for those people you really cannot stand, and look at him like he is something you’ve just trodden in.

“You know Barnes, there is such a thing as being gracious in victory as well as defeat…” “Defeat” he asked, looking at Steve with a puzzled expression on his face “no, not sure what that is…” “Eat shit” you mumble before turning to Sam who is stood behind you, watching the exchange. You nod to him and the two of you continue up the aisle towards the exit. The victim’s family are congregated outside and all at once the start barraging you with questions.

“How did that happen?”

“What do they mean the confession was under duress…?”

“You said it was a cert he would go down…”

“What about a private prosecution…”

You sigh and turn to look at them, you’re exhausted. “I’m sorry… ” you shake your head “that new evidence that his attorney submitted… it was just threw too much of a doubt into the juries mind…” you hold your hand up to gently silence them “if you’re serious about a private prosecution then I can meet you next week to discuss…” You and Sam head back to your office, dump the files and then decide there’s only one thing for it. Alcohol and lots of it. 

“Hey Y/N, hey Sam.” Clint, the bar tender greets you “I hear it wasn’t a great day in court for you…” You look up and he is pointing to the TV behind the bar. It’s on a news channel showing a report from outside the court earlier that afternoon which isn’t surprising. The case had thrown up huge public interest ever since the body of the teenage girl has been found in the alleyway in Queens. The defendant confessed but new evidence had been submitted that afternoon featuring a recording that the defence had gotten their hands on as proof the confession was taken under duress. Being totally honest, you have to admit that it didn’t sound great, the officer did seem to be leaning heavily on the defendant but the other evidence was, no, IS overwhelming. But all it needed was that little shred of doubt and the jury couldn’t convict. And now thanks to Barnes and Rogers, specifically Barnes, in your mind a dangerous killer is walking free. As you stare at the screen you see Barnes with the defendant, all smiles and Steve at his side. Barnes greets the press with a raised hand. “Clint turn it over man…” Sam almost pleads and Clint shouts you both a sympathetic look before he points the remote at the TV and flicks it over to a mundane afternoon game show. You order 2 beers, and then settle at the bar on one of the tall chairs, crossing your bare, heeled legs as you and Sam begin to dissect the case. You can’t help it, you always do this, analyse where you went wrong or right. The pair of you get that enthralled in your discussions, that before you know it’s an hour later and you’re 4 beers deep… and Sam is getting a phone call from his wife, Natasha. “I gotta go boss…” he says apologetically “it’s the kids dance recital at 7 and if I miss this one Nat’s gonna hang me out to dry!.” You wave his explanation off “It’s fine, go Sam. Oh, and take the morning tomorrow…that case has had us working all hours and I don’t intend on being there till lunch… Clint, gimme a bourbon please?” “Don’t let Barnes get to you” Sam says “you know what he is like” “Smug, arrogant and annoyingly self-righteous.” You nod “got it.” Sam smiles and drops a kiss to your cheek. “See you later” Clint slides the glass of bourbon over to you and you smile before pulling out your phone to check a few emails, social media… you’re just reading through an article you found on Twitter about a Billionaire who owns a Technology company in Malibu who has designed some kind of metal suit that allows him to fly (because that’s gonna end well) when a familiar voice breaks your concentration. “Can I buy you a drink?” You roll your eyes and look up at Bucky Barnes as he leans effortlessly on the bar, still in his suit, although he has dispensed of his tie and opened his top button. This is another thing you hate about him. He is utterly gorgeous. Like GQ cover gorgeous, especially in his sharp suits and silk ties…and he fucking knows it too. “Depends.” You say, throwing back the remainder of your bourbon “Does it come with a side helping of irritating smugness?” He chuckles “I’m off duty Doll so no.”

Doll.

“In that case I’ll have another Monkey Shoulder.” You say, picking the good stuff instead of the house brand, and you slide your empty glass back to Clint. “Take it you’re not driving home?” Barnes asks, eyes running over your bare legs. “Well if I do I’m sure you can get me off any charges…” you reply sharply, shooting him a look that makes it clear you caught him eyeing you up. And it isn’t the first time either. That’s another reason you clash so much in the courtroom. Sexual tension. Fucking jerk. He barks a laugh “You’re really not happy with me are you?” “Not particularly.” You say, thanking Clint as he slides the glass to you, with a small wink. It’s a double you notice. That should set Barnes back a bit. The man in question takes his beer and after a pull he looks directly at you. “Come work for me.” He says and you groan, not this again. “I’m a district attorney ” you roll your eyes. “Not a defence attorney. I told you that last time you asked. And the time before…and the time before that…” “I’m nothing if not persistent.” He winks, turning in his stool so he is facing you. “Besides, I can teach you the ways of the dark side…” “You’d love that wouldn’t you?” You snort. “Oh Sweetheart you have no idea.” He leans forward slightly, his elbow on the bar and this time he is blatantly staring at the flash of skin that shows above the buttons on your blouse. “My face is up here, ass hole.” With a smirk he raises his steel grey eyes and they lock onto you. Despite yourself you feel your breath hitch slightly. Dammed him and his sex appeal. “Where you always this insufferable?” You eventually tear your gaze away and pick up your drink, glancing up at the TV as an excuse not to look at him. “Ah come on Y/N, don’t be like that…” he says, reaching out to squeeze the hand that is resting on the back of the tall chair you’re sat in. “We could make a great team…” You raise an eyebrow and look at him. “Professionally” he adds, his eyes not leaving yours as he takes another large drink of his beer, as you pull your hand away from under his. “I’d kill you within 5 minutes of us being in the same office…” you glare at him as you take another sip from your drink. He chuckles and eyes you again “to be fair I’m not sure Stevie would be able to function with a beautiful dame such as yourself in close proximity…he still clusters around any woman that isn’t his Peggy” “That’s because Steve is a happily married man.” You look at him. “So am I.” He shoots back. Ah yes, Mrs Barnes… “Your wife deserves a medal. She must have the patience of a fucking saint to put up with you.” You say into your glass. “I have other hidden qualities which mean she’s prepared to overlook my slightly less favourable personality traits…” he quips and you look back to see that lopsided grin on his face that flips your stomach. Behave Y/N. “They must be very hidden.” You muse, and he lets out a bark of a laugh. “You’re killing me Doll…” “Good.” You drain your glass. The liquid burns your throat and you can feel the effects of the alcohol from the last few hours as your brain starts to hum. You look at Barnes who is watching you, his eyes are shining with all the cheekiness and suggestiveness of a teenage boy and you know you need to leave before you do something stupid- like snogging his dumb, handsome face off in the middle of the bar. “I think it’s time I got going.” You say simply, standing up. Barnes nods, draining his bottle “Yeah I should be going too. Wife to see to, you know how it is…” You stand and he does the same, and you realise he is holding up your jacket, ready for you to slide your arms into. Narrowing your eyes slightly at his sudden chivalry, with a small smile you turn and shrug it on. His hands drop to your shoulders and he spins you round gently and smiles with those perfect teeth and it lights up his beautiful face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Lead the way Mrs Barnes…” he says, dropping a soft kiss to your lips. “You know it’s a good job I love you” you smile, sliding your arms up round his neck. “Although right now I’m struggling to remember why I do.“  “Well, when we get home I’ll just have to show you some of those hidden qualities to jog your memory…” You bite your lip slightly at the dark flash of desire that flits across his eyes and you lean up to brush your lips across his stubbled jawline. “Unanimous verdict…” your voice drops slightly as you pull back and he smirks again “Guilty as charged” You bid Clint good bye, link your hand into your husbands and he walks you outside into the brisk wind and his arm pulls you close, his lips press a soft kiss to your temple. Yeah, James Buchanan Barnes Defence Attorney might be smug, arrogant and annoyingly self-righteous in the courtroom, but outside it he’s simply your Bucky.

Tags

@thatfanficstuff​

@djeniiscorner​

@the-omni-princess​

@jtargaryen18 @navispalace @chuuulip

[birbleafs]

[fic] An Interlude Between Friends

Series: Artemis Fowl Rating: G Genre: Friendship & Humour, Post-series Character(s): Holly Short, Artemis Fowl II, Foaly Warnings: Feels, probably. Mentions of past (major) character death Summary: One cursory glance from the report scrolling across her visor screen and she’d already caught on that this was less a scouting mission and more Friendly Intervention, A.K.A. Maybe Get Whatever’s Gnawing At You Off Your Mind With A Friend. Or, in which Holly Short comes to terms with the changes in her life but remains grateful for the little constants—one being her friendship with a certain Artemis Fowl.

A/N: For indefiniteimpala, as part of the AF Yuletide Exchange 2019. Happy holidays! I had a lot of fun writing about Holly and Arty again and hope you'll enjoy this story :) This fic is set post-TLG, without taking into account the events in The Fowl Twins as I started drafting ideas before the new book was released (so no spoilers for TFT). Many thanks to Digi-bro for the last-minute beta work ♥

Fic can also be read on AO3 _______

She could hardly hold back her laughter as he recounted the incident where, out of his love for his darling mother and against his better judgement, he had offered and participated, several weeks ago, in an amateur bake-off organized by Angeline Fowl and her colleagues as part of the Trinity College fundraising event for Dublin’s homeless.

Needless to say, it had been Artemis Fowl the Second’s most excruciatingly embarrassing attempt (and subsequent failure) at making cherry soufflé. “Couldn’t you have gone with the chocolate cake instead?” Holly grinned, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “First of all, it’s not simply a chocolate cake,” Artemis said, brows creased as though offended by such blasé abasement of a world-renowned delicacy. “Sachertorte is a Viennese speciality, with an illustrious history as the centrepiece of a long-simmering feud between Hotel Sacher and Café Demel that spanned two whole centuries. And second, despite the clean simplicity of its look and flavour, it is far more tedious to bake than your classic soufflé.” Holly groaned, her grin quickly morphing into a wince. “Spare me the sordid details, Arty. Does it matter anyway? You make working the kitchens seem like an extreme sport, exploding sandwiches and all.”

This time it was Artemis’s turn to grimace, her words hearkening back to yet another old, embarrassing memory. Still, he had the grace to accept the jibe, conceding defeat. “Touché.” They sat, side by side, in the shade of a towering oak overlooking the remnants of the Martello tower and where the old Berserker Gate once stood. Clusters of orange roses bobbed between blades of green, the summer breeze a gentle ripple through the meadows. Holly closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun over her skin and the scent of the fairy roses wafting all around them. As much as she loved her home and friends back in the Lower Elements, there was always a bone-achingly deep sense of yearning that she shared with all fairies for the world above. She would always miss the unbridled joy and freedom she’d bask in whenever she soared through the endless skies, taking in the view of the lands before her, watching the sun slowly inch its way back into its woodland nest of aspen and silver birches that lined the horizon while the skies rippled from shades of burnished gold and vermilion into a deep, velvet indigo canvas where the stars would flicker, one by one, a scattering of candlelight in the night. The two friends—human and fairy—had taken to spending what little time they had together like this, whenever Artemis wasn’t traipsing halfway across the globe for weeks on end as a guest speaker for various academic conferences, or whenever Holly could spare a few days or hours off, depending on her schedule and on Commander Kelp’s fluctuating moods. Or in this case, depending on a certain centaur’s propensity for sticking his nose into other people’s business. Holly frowned. Truth be told, ever since she’d finally (albeit with a little half-hearted reluctance) accepted her promotion to Wing Commander of Recon Special Ops, she had, quite surprisingly, been in a dour mood, short on patience, and even sharper with her tongue. Foaly was used to her smart comebacks, of course, and usually he enjoyed trading witty jibes with the elf. But even he had found her words to be a touch more churlish than usual. And that was saying a lot coming from the centaur, whose hide was as thick as it gets. Holly knew Foaly was concerned, as any decent friend would be, and had tried to nudge her into talking about whatever it was bothering her, to no avail. What she didn’t realize was how far he’d been willing to go to get her to talk—if not to him, then at least to someone, even if that someone was a young Irishman waiting leagues above Haven. “‘Sightings of the extra-terrestrial inhuman kind’? I can’t believe you of all people would pull a stunt like this behind Trouble’s back,” Holly had muttered when she arrived at E1, easing her pod into the docking station. One cursory glance from the report scrolling across her visor screen and she’d already caught on that this was less a scouting mission and more Friendly Intervention, A.K.A. Maybe Get Whatever’s Gnawing At You Off Your Mind With A Friend. “I didn’t go behind the Commander’s back,” Foaly’s protest crackled over her comm speakers. “He agreed that you needed a time-out. But with your promotion to Wing Commander, and as a friend, he didn’t want to impose a forced leave upon you. I just convinced him that a tiny bluff was probably easier and way more efficient.” Holly only snorted, a flare of irritation rising from her gut. She held her tongue, however, not trusting herself from vocalizing a scathing remark. As if he had sensed her indignation through the static, Foaly gave an apologetic cough and said, “Listen Holly, I’m worried about you, all right? This probably isn’t the best way and I’m sorry for the bluff. But whatever’s been bothering you... You can’t keep it bottled up like this. Besides, it’s been a while since you two met. So, try to make the most of it, yeah?” The centaur gave a short, breathy chuckle, to lighten the mood. “Even newly minted Commanders need to gambol about in strawberry fields sometimes. I heard that in a Mud Man song once—or maybe it was by that gnome and dwarf act, Dung Beetles? Huh, I’m always mixing up the two.” And so here she was, sitting beside Artemis Fowl, ex-criminal virtuoso and now friend of the People, listening and laughing together with the young man as he recounted stories of his latest misadventures of the non-magical kind and with hardly any actual thievery involved. Holly hated to admit it, but even a few moments spent with Artemis like this, away from the cacophony of city life in Haven, from the growing weight of all these new responsibilities, expectations—fears, uncertainties, disappointments —it was strangely comforting. She found some solace in his company and was grateful for it, but... She sighed, hunching forward. Despite her best attempts, she couldn’t stave off her earlier sullen mood from creeping through the brief respite. The sudden shift of moods between them hardly went unnoticed by Artemis, of course. She was all too familiar with how attuned he was to the slight changes in her body language. “Something on your mind, Commander?” Artemis ventured, his voice still light with teasing. Holly flinched visibly at his use of her newly conferred title as though he’d thrown a stifling cloak over her. An uncomfortable knot twisted in her gut. “This feels wrong,” she said abruptly, feeling the pinpricks of unshed tears sting the corners of her eyes. Artemis turned towards her, a flicker of puzzlement and concern crossing his features. Still, there was something in his gaze that suggested he was already making a calculated guess about the nature of her sudden distress. But he only leaned closer, nudging his shoulder gently against hers, even as Holly kept her arms wrapped around her chest as if to shield herself from opening up. From giving voice to the dull ache of grief and loss—fears, expectations, disappointments—she had carefully kept tucked away in the background amidst all the congratulatory wishes she’d received when her promotion had been officially announced internally to the rest of LEP. “What feels wrong?” Artemis asked. He paused, uncertain at first if she’d allow the contact, then gingerly reached for her right hand with his left to lace their fingers together. “All of it,” Holly sighed in frustration. She unconsciously tightened her grip around his fingers. The warmth of his touch was consoling and seemed to soothe something within her; she felt her vulnerabilities gradually surfacing as she spoke. “I know what this promotion means to the People, and it’s an achievement to know that I’ve worked through so many hardships just to come this far. I know it, I really do! But even so... There’s a part of me that almost can’t do it. It feels almost wrong to be a new Commander. To be standing where Julius and Vinyáya once did. To replace Julius.” “Technically, it’s less a replacement since you’re assuming command of a number of squadrons and thus continue to serve the People with your skills and experience,” Artemis began, before he caught himself. “But I digress. This isn’t the time for semantics. Especially since in hindsight, you had very obviously meant it in spirit.” Holly scowled, but she couldn’t stop a tiny smile from ghosting her lips. “Artemis, you’re my best friend and I love you, but you’re incorrigibly bad at cheering people up sometimes.” “That I am, and for that, my sincerest apologies.” Here, the young man attempted a contrite grin, even as his blue eyes softened with a touch of fondness. A rare sight indeed for Artemis Fowl, reserved wholly for those dearest to him, but one that never failed to draw a soft chuckle from the elf. “Look, Holly. You’re not replacing Julius,” Artemis continued, squeezing Holly’s fingers again in reassurance. “No one can replace Julius, much like no one can replace you. And I’m not going to drown you with platitudes—I’m sure you’ve already heard more than enough in the last couple of days. But I will say this: Julius would be immensely proud of you, as much as any of us here today. You know this, and I daresay there isn’t anyone else as qualified as you to carry on his legacy and all that he stood for.” Holly found herself matching his grin with a smile of her own at his words, the dull ache of sorrow and anxiety within her lessening. She squeezed Artemis’s fingers back, and was reminded again how much she appreciated their continued companionship over the years. And not for the first time in many years, she wondered what her life would have been like if she hadn’t known him, and Butler and Juliet. (She imagined it might have been quieter, simpler no doubt, but she was a maverick adventurer at heart and knew the boring life wouldn’t suit her anyway.) Holly chuckled softly, her mismatched eyes—one hazel, one blue—gleaming with warmth now. “Maybe you aren’t too bad at this cheering up business.” This time, it was Artemis’s turn to laugh. He inclined his head and gave her a polite nod, accepting the compliment with as much humility as his natural inclination towards smug victory would allow. “I learned from the best.” “My word, and flattery now too?” Holly was smirking now. “If I didn’t know any better, I might suspect the mastermind Artemis Fowl has been replaced with a clone. Oh right, that had been your own idea too. What do we call you now, Artemis Fowl the Second Version 2.0? Artemis Fowl Squared?” A somewhat pained and mortified expression crossed Artemis’s features, before he let out a long-suffering sigh. “Please don’t call me Artemis Fowl Squared,” he protested weakly, fingers massaging his temples. “That joke is wholly pun-based, and is neither mathematically nor biologically correct since a clone is never 100% percent an exact copy.” But his chagrin was fleeting, and he was soon laughing again with her as he conceded defeat to the same elf twice in the span of less than an hour. Then again, Holly had always been the reigning champion of their friendly verbal banters. They sat in a comfortable silence for several moments, watching the clouds drift lazily above them, listening to the thrill of birdsong in the distant woodland. “Thanks, Arty,” Holly said at length, her voice soft and grateful. “For reminding me of what Julius would do. You’ll be there at the ceremony, won’t you? You, Butler and Juliet?” “Of course. That’s the reason why you’re here today, right? To invite us to the promotion ceremony.” Holly grinned and punched his shoulder playfully. “Don’t act all innocent. You’ve probably known all about my promotion long before today and that’s how Foaly roped you into this cheering up business and what-not. Rascals, both of you.” “You have to admit, it wasn’t too bad a plan. And it worked. Besides, we hardly get to see each other—I’m almost inclined to think that either the universe has been conspiring to keep us from spending a little time together, or that you’ve secretly been avoiding me.” Artemis’s brows were arched as though scandalized by either suggestion, even as his eyes remained bright with mirth, and Holly continued to chuckle. Then his gaze softened, lips curved into a smile as he allowed himself a moment of heartfelt sincerity. “I’ve missed you, Holly. It’s good to be with you like this again.” “Me too, Artemis.” It wasn’t long before they spotted the approaching figures crossing the meadows from the direction of the manor. Butler was leading the small group, a huge wicker basket—filled with a selection of cheese and canapés, and a bottle of Jean François Ganevat Vin Jaune—in one hand, and a picnic blanket draped over the other. Juliet trailed several paces behind him, with one of the twins, Beckett Fowl, dangling from her shoulders like an energetic spider monkey. And marching stiffly with his pale fingers gripped around Juliet’s left hand was Myles Fowl, his eyes bright and piercing behind his round spectacles. “I’ll go help Butler with the picnic blanket.” Artemis stood up, brushing grass and fallen petals from his trousers. “Be right back.” Holly watched his retreating back as Artemis walked down the grassy knoll towards his family. And it struck her then just how much her friend had grown and changed (even in a cloned body) over the last two years: his frame still angular but less gangly and more lithe; his posture relaxed, almost unguarded and amiable at times. Growth and change... For the barest of moments, in the sudden gust of wind around her, Holly thought she could almost hear the ghostly whispers of Julius Root from memories past— “This promotion is not for you; it’s for the People.” “If it makes any difference, I’m proud of you, Holly.” “... Be well.” —And she smiled then, exhaling softly as she rose to her feet. “Arty, wait.” Artemis paused, glancing back at her with a puzzled look as Holly jogged up to his side and reached for his hand. “I’ll come with you.” —End—

[missjosie27]

Year 1 Part 8- Trapped in Ice

Hey, guys! Back with another chapter of my story! For those of you who are Merula fans (which includes myself) there is a lot of her in it, unfortunately though, she’s still a bratty first year haha. Please leave a comment or thought if you’d like:) I’d love feedback. Enjoy!  

Unfortunately for David, the excursion into the 13th corridor was the furthest he would get to solving the mystery of the vault for quite some time. As well as their increasing schoolwork, teacher patrols, as well as the presence of Filch visibly increased. David supposed it might have been his imagination, but on the rare occasions he crossed paths with the grumpy caretaker, he could have sworn he received several ‘stink-eyes’. Perhaps, their escape from Mrs. Norris had been a closer shave than they originally thought.

“It seems like the whole faculty is on edge,” Rowan observed one day as spoke in Charms. “Do you really think the situation with the cursed vaults is that serious?”

In truth, David had no idea. He was still nowhere closer to finding the truth about these vaults than anyone else and it didn’t appear as though the Professors had much idea either. But knowing more about them meant knowing more about Jacob and if possible, the key to finding him.

The young Gryffindor didn’t entertain the idea very often that such a thing was possible. His brother had been gone for years and it he had taught himself as soon as he was old enough to understand, that it was best to think of him that way permanently. But coming to Hogwarts changed everything. If there was even the slightest chance…

“Serious enough for them to keep everyone away from them,” David surmised, as he tried to lift his feather off the desk (‘Wingardium Leviosa’ was today’s lesson). “By the way, did you discover anything on that weird language we found?”

“Nothing as of now,” Rowan sighed. “It’s probably pretty ancient to begin with, but the biggest problem is that I didn’t have enough time to properly discern what it was. Sadly, the library holds no answers.”

“Then we need to go back and take a closer look.”

“Normally, I’d hesitate about possibly getting caught again but it’s pretty urgent that we go back. There are rumors…”

David raised his eyebrows, his concentration diverted from his feather.

“What do you mean?”

Rowan looked as though he didn’t want to get into specifics, but a hard stare from his best friend forced his hand.

“Some of the Slytherins keep mentioning Merula is going after the vaults herself.”

At that moment, the feather David was casting on exploded in a bevy of flames, earning him a shake of the head from Professor Flitwick.

“I do believe you’ll be practicing that charm for homework, Mr. Grant. It’s not often I see a student make a feather burst into flame.”

Rowan started laughing while David began to sulk. He would take all of the extra charms work in the world if it meant Merula didn’t so much as sniff a cursed vault. Merlin only knew what someone like her if she ever came across the inside of one: wealth, power, ancient secrets of alchemy, whatever it was, the Slytherin girl couldn’t be allowed to get there first.

The race was officially on.

More roadblocks were to follow, however. The next two times the two boys tried investigating the 13th corridor, they were nearly caught again- once by Filch, who had his shackles ratting menacingly, and the other by Snape and each instance was closer than the last. Clearly, their frequent tips were being noticed and after the Potions Master nearly nabbed them lurking, they decided to put on hold any further activity until they came up with a proper plan.

Well November turned into December and December turned into January. The holidays passed without much incident as David endured a happy but awkward reunion with his parents at Christmas. Evidently, Dumbledore and McGonagall had been kind enough not to mention his early run ins and so did not bring them up. Even so, the shadow of Jacob loomed over the Grant household. The morning of the 25th always held an underlying melancholy to it. It only served to motivate him more to find the vaults.

However, even with the extra motivation, things stalled even more as winter turned to spring. In contrast to the jam packed action of the fall, Hogwarts had become standard procedure than anything else. Classes were normal, homework steady, Quidditch matches in abundance, and the halls of the school were abuzz with the usual assortment of chatter and gossip. David continued to spend most of his time around Rowan, Ben, with the occasional Weasley joining them for tea. Penny and her Hufflepuff friends were also frequent visitors. By the time April ended and entered into May, David hadn’t necessarily forgotten about the vaults or Jacob. But the school had a habit of sucking you into a routine not easily broken.

It was only when a bona fide enemy gave him a nudge did the race resume its frantic pace.

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The nudge came during a random potions class.

Merula’s incessant bullying had lessened considerably since their duel. She was still aggressive and obnoxious, but she had learned to pick and choose her battles to a certain degree, reserving her worst in the form of insults and taunts that could just as easily be ignored. But this particular class, to disregard her would be unwise.

As David and Rowan sat down in their usual seats, so did Merula and her evil smirk was out in full force. Instead of throwing her usual jumble of sardonic remarks, she simply stared at them.

“What?” he asked her, not in the mood to deal with whatever antics she had in mind.

“A thought just occurred to me, Grant, have you told anyone about what we heard awhile back between Snape and Filch?”

“No,” he answered quickly hoping to end the conversation right then and there.

“You’re such a terrible liar,” she sassed him. “I know you’ve told four eyes next to you and maybe that complete coward Copper.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I want to make sure you don’t jeopardize my own chances of finding the vaults,” she replied as if the answer were obvious. “You almost ruined it once last semester.”

A thought occurred to David that he hadn’t considered. Merula was dead set on discovering the cursed vaults but her motivations remained a mystery to him.

“Why are you after them, anyway, Merula?

“None your business.”

It was moments such as these that really pushed his patience. The Slytherin loved to dish it out but couldn’t take it in return. Pushing and prodding until her opponents slipped and then she would retreat.

“On the contrary,” he said. “It’s entirely my damn business. My brother was searching for these vaults and I’d rather not see the most annoying witch at Hogwarts get her hands on them.”

“Make all the jokes you want, Grant. I will get to them before you,” the Slytherin girl challenged him, her violet eyes twinkling darkly. “Now shut up and pretend to study before Snape catches us talking about the vaults.”

He had no time to retort as the Potions Master began his lecture on the forgetfulness potion at which students were invited to talk at their peril. Still, it took a tremendous amount of effort on David’s part to stay focused on his brew and not let Merula get under his skin. Loathe as he was to admit it, her natural talent at potions surpassed his, and it was difficult enough to concentrate without her constant attempts at sabotage.

Thankfully, with Rowan’s help, he was able to stay on track, reading the ingredients board twice before gathering, chopping, and measuring what he needed. He triple checked the instructions in the book for good measure and by the time class was at its end, it appeared that he’d succeeded in maintaining his effort far better than Merula had. Far from her usual confidence, she was constantly scribbling notes in her book that in all likelihood had nothing to do with potions, only occasionally looking up to add ingredients or focus on her potion. In fact, her absentmindedness was such, that David had to warn her before she melted her cauldron.

“Merula.”

“What!? Grant, I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“Right. And I’m sure you’ll be able explain to everyone else here why your potion exploded because you stirred it five times clockwise instead of seven.”

“Shut up,” she shot back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m way better at potions than you.”

A deep clearing of the throat brought them both to the attention of Professor Snape, lurking over them like an overgrown bat. David wondered briefly if talking during class would dock him points but he need not have worried. For once, Snape seemed to be on his side.

“Much as I hate to acknowledge it, Grant is correct Miss Snyde. Seven turns clockwise is the correct number of times for this particular potion. I am disappointed in your lack of detail.”

He turned towards David, his usual leer somewhat less pronounced.

“I suppose a broken clock is right twice a day. A point to Gryffindor. Dismissed.”

The eleven year old was so shocked, he almost forgot to bottle a sample at the end of his class. Rowan could barely contain his glee.

“That was brilliant, Dave!” he remarked as they exited the dungeons. “Not only did you tell off Merula, you earned points from Snape of all people!”

“It was a single point,” he responded with a small chuckle. “Should have been fifty for saving his classroom from becoming a heap of rubble.”

“The fact that you got him to give you any points at all is a miracle in itself,” Rowan pointed out. “Based off conversations with older students, I’d say the odds of Snape giving points to Gryffindor are less than one percent.”

“The fact that you ever shut your trap Khanna, is a miracle,” came the nasty voice of Merula Snyde from behind them.

Both boys whipped around prepared to fight her if need be.

“If I wanted to duel you, I’d have hexed you already,” she said rolling her eyes.

“Then go away,” David told her. “I think we both know how that turned out for you the last time.”

Merula frowned and drew herself up in response.

“You got lucky, Grant. I promise the next one won’t end so well for you.”

David sighed. He really didn’t have the energy for a war of words with her right now.

“Is there something you want, Merula? Or can I go to my next class without you following me around.”

Stepping forward, the Slytherin girl’s face as now only a foot away from his, which was disconcerting to say the least.

“Well, this is awkward. I feel like you’re either going to spit on me or kiss me.”

“Shut up,” she snarled. “One successful potion and a house point doesn’t erase what you are, Grant: a failure. I’m going to get to those vaults first and when I do, Hogwarts will see me for the greatest witch that I am.”

David didn’t back nor did he blink. In fact, he upped the ante.

“You’re on, Merula. And when I find them before you, I hope you’re prepared for a big ‘I told you so.’”

The Slytherin girl merely gave a ‘hmph!’ and brushed past them with her shoulder and around the corner.

“That could come back to bite us,” Rowan observed, rubbing his chin.

“On the contrary, it’s an opportunity,” David disagreed. “She should know better than to try and out-bold a Gryffindor.”

“But what if she does find the vaults before us? We’re no closer than we were months ago.”

“Then we’ll just have to try that much harder, won’t we?”

David smiled reassuringly at his friend and though he felt a certain amount of anxiousness himself, the stakes were raised that much higher. He wasn’t about to let Merula connive her way to the cursed vaults, not when finding his brother was at stake.

I think it’s time I called in a few favors

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It took some time to piece together but by dinner, David had formulated a plan in his mind to get to the 13th corridor and enter the mysterious door they had discovered back in November.

Step one was getting rid of Mrs. Norris. Without the pesky feline to bother them, Filch wouldn’t know what they were up to, allowing sufficient time to enter the door. If it was locked, hopefully Alohomora, the unlocking spell, would do the trick.

As to how to ensure Mrs. Norris was out of the way, there was a certain Hufflepuff who could assist with that.

“You sure she’ll do it, Dave?” Rowan asked, skeptically when he told him the plan.

“What do you want me to do? Ask Snape?”

“Good point.”

“Besides,” David pointed out as he caught sight of the pretty Hufflepuff entering the Great Hall for dinner. “She did say to ask if needed help with anything. And she’s the best in our year at Potions.”

Leaving his seat, with a mouth full of turkey in his mouth, he quickly swallowed it while managing to catch Penny before she reached her typical spot at the Hufflepuff table.

“Hey, Dave!” she said brightly. “You want to sit with us tonight?”

“Of course, but I was hoping I could talk to you privately for a quick second.”

“Sure. What’s going on?”

“Can you brew a sleeping draught?”

Penny raised her eyebrows, but otherwise gave no indication of surprise.

“I can, but what do you need it for?”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

It took less time than he originally thought, but David still had to ensure he didn’t leave out key details about his quest for the cursed vaults. He didn’t think Penny would say no, however it was still best to put her at ease as much as possible. Thankfully, she didn’t need much persuasion.

“So…will you help us? I know it’s a bit risky but…”

“Relax, Dave,” Penny laughed good naturedly. “Of course, I’ll help you.”

“Wicked! Thanks, Penny! So you don’t think I’m mad or dangerous to try and find these vaults?”

“The thing is, living with Tonks makes you a little less afraid to break rules,” she explained. “But I can tell how much this means to you, what with your brother and all. And I’d much rather see you reach these vaults than Merula,” she added frowning at the thought of the Slytherin. “I do have to warn you though; it’ll take me a week to brew it. It can be a tricky one if you’re not careful, plus all the homework we have.”

“No problem,” David said, immensely thankful for Penny’s assistance. “That gives me and Rowan more time to plan the next phase of the plan.”

“Which is?”

“We’ll need a third person for this trip,” David smiled. “And I know just the person.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rowan, however, was not sold on Ben Copper coming with them to the mysterious door.

“Um, David, not to question you or anything but why exactly do you want to bring Ben? He’s not exactly the bravest Gryffindor in the world.”

“He’s jumpy, I’ll admit,” David shrugged as he sat in the common room finishing up a Transfiguration essay for Professor McGonagall (it was fast becoming one of his favorite subjects). “But that’s only when some of the Slytherins are around. And besides, you’ve seen how far he’s come this year, he’s almost not afraid of flying anymore.”

“Marvelous. That doesn’t mean he’s going to want to go into a cursed vault. He’ll probably run and hide the moment something goes wrong.”

“That’s the point, Rowan. Ben knows all the hiding places around here. He told me he used to find all sorts of rooms and spaces back when he tried to avoid Merula. Not to mention he’s the best at charms in our year by a mile. He doesn’t give himself enough credit.”

Rowan closed his History of Magic book, adjusting his glasses.

“And how do you plan to convince him to come along?”

“Guess we’re about to find out.”

Indeed, Ben had finally arrived in the common room, which was largely devoid of presence due to the last Quidditch match of the year about to commence. It was Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, the latter of whom was about to finish last in the standings if they did not win today. It was depressing really, but then again Quidditch was still Quidditch.

“Charlie said you needed to talk to me?” he questioned he approached. “You guys know the game’s in ten minutes, right?”

“It can wait for a small little chat,” David said, getting up from his chair and greeting his friend warmly. “Especially for what we have in mind.”

That put Ben off guard and anxiety returned to his face.

“It’s not dangerous is it?”

“Not at all. Rowan and I are going to the locked door in the 13th corridor to try and find a cursed vault. Should be quite the fun.”

He had hoped a little levity might put him at ease, unfortunately, it only served to strike additional fear on his freckled face.

“You and I have a very different definition of ‘dangerous’. Why do you want to get inside the door anyway?”

“It’s simple, Ben,” David told him. He wasn’t going to baby his friend. He knew he could convince him with the right reasons. “My brother is out there somewhere and if these vaults lead me closer to what happened to him, I’m going to take that chance.”

“But why do you need me?” Ben continued to press.

(“That’s what I said,” Rowan muttered)

It was abundantly clear that despite the progress made over the year, he still didn’t feel adequate or brave enough for such an undertaking.

“I trust you, mate,” David responded, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And think of all the things you’ve been able to accomplish this year- wizard’s chess, flying, top of the class in Charms. You got what it takes and there’s no one else I’d have by my side.”

Though he sought to pump his meek friend up a bit, he meant and believed every word. Ben’s issues always stemmed from confidence, not ability. Having one more person take on the mystery of the door only ensured that chance of success was that much higher.

Thankfully, this finally seemed to convince Ben to come along.

“Alright, Dave. I trust you as well. If you really think I can help by going with you, I’ll go.”

“Excellent, I promise you, you won’t regret it. Now let’s go see our pathetic excuse for a Quidditch team get walloped by Ravenclaw.”

The three boys headed out of the common room and to the pitch and David could feel the adrenaline rush into his veins. Far from avoiding the vaults, he was coming around to the idea that finding them would uncover the mystery of where Jacob went off to. Talking about him still wasn’t his cup of tea but Merula’s challenge and constant taunts had lit a competitive fire within him. He wasn’t doing this for some abstract concept of power but for family.

“Just out of curiosity,” Ben asked interrupting his thought process as they walked down the corridor toward the grounds. “When exactly are we going to this door?”

“Just as soon as Penny finishes the sleeping draught,” he answered.

“We should probably wait until the weekend,” Rowan suggested. “Less people walking around to interfere.”

“Agreed.”

Indeed, there were only a few other minor details to take care of. Then, they would be ready at last.

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Time has a way of passing by according to wants and desires in a given moment. For David, the day couldn’t come sooner where they finally entered the mysterious door.

Of course, there were several variables to consider. Any number of them could go wrong. He and Rowan agreed to put the sleeping draught into a bowl of milk, levitating it to where Mrs. Norris would drink it. However, that still left open the possibility of Filch discovering his beloved cat knocked out cold, which would surely enrage the caretaker to the point of no return. Discovery by a professor would be almost as equally as perilous. Furthermore, there was no guarantee the unlocking spell would suffice to enter the room, as many things in the magical world had stronger safeguards against it. All of this wasn’t even taking into account what actually be behind the door should they breach it.

Rowan, always the consummate organizer and planner was quick to point all of this out, and David knew they were all valid points, but at this stage in the game, the only thing left to do was to actually go out and execute. He could remember Jacob telling him something similar when he was nine.

“Pip, sometimes it’s better not to think too much about something. You have to commit yourself to an idea and have the courage to see it through.”

He shook his head, still not overly fond of the nickname Jacob always used for him when he was little. Careful not to let emotional memories of his brother cloud his judgement, he willed himself to stay focused as he met Penny outside of the Great Hall for the sleeping draught.

“Here you go, Dave,” she said, discreetly handing him a mid sized bottle filled with whitish liquid. “I made sure to brew this one with a little extra strength. Should be more than enough to knock out that old cat.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Penny,” he said, taking the bottle and slipping into his robes. “If all goes well, this will be the key to knowing what’s behind that door.”

“Let me know what happens, okay?”

“Of course.”

“I’m serious, Dave,” and Penny gave him a look the happy go lucky blonde rarely ever used on him or anyone. “Please don’t get hurt. And I want to know if it leads you to finding your brother.”

Preventing a mixed tide of emotion from rising in his chest, he forced it down and assured his Hufflepuff friend that he would acquiesce to both her requests.

“I promise, Penny.”

Knowing that they were heading to the door that same night, she gave him an enveloping hug and went into dinner to join her respective table, the young Gryffindor privately touched by her gesture.

The hours ticked by rather slowly that night. David, Rowan, and Ben had to pretend to be doing something productive in the common room whilst the other Gryffindors hung out, relaxed, did homework, or studied for exams. Gobstones, exploding snap, even a few lame quizzing sessions from Rowan, they exercised every distraction in the book to remain inconspicuous. Finally, after Charlie gave a final yawn and wished everyone goodnight, the three boys were alone, ready for whatever tonight would bring.

“I still say this is a bad idea,” Ben muttered aloud.

“You’re not backing out now, are you?” Rowan appraised him.

“No,” the blonde boy said a little more firmly. “I said I would go, and I will. But that doesn’t I’m not frightened of what I might discover.”

David sat up from the couch, a healthy amount of anxiousness surging through him.

“A wise cracking, pink haired Hufflepuff told me once that bravery isn’t about not being scared, but doing what needs to be done despite being scared.”

“Really? Tonks said that of all people?”

He laughed at Ben’s remark.

“She may be a goofball, but she’s brilliant in her own way.” He looked at his watch, careful to keep track of the time. “It’s almost eleven. We should start heading towards the corridor.”

Rowan nodded.

“If my estimation is correct, Mrs. Norris should be patrolling that area right about now. Have you got the sleeping potion from Penny?”

“Right here, mate,” he said, wiggling the bottle in his hands. “Let’s go.”

Tip-toeing quietly out of the room so as to not arouse any noise, the quest to find the first cursed vault had begun.

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Just as Rowan had predicted, Mrs. Norris was roaming the hallway of the 13th corridor as soon as they entered it. They stayed out of sight to avoid her keen, crimson eyes as one slip up would have her alert Filch in a heartbeat.

David took out the sleeping draught as well as a bowl and some milk and proceeded to mix all three into an innocent looking snack that any greedy kitty would take a liking to.

“This next part is going to take some finesse in charms,” he whispered. “Ready, Ben?”

Swallowing, the blonde nodded nevertheless, whispering the proper incantation.

True to his prowess in the subject, the lifting and placement of the bowl could not have gone smoother. Ben managed to land it softly by the bench without the mangy tabby noticing a thing. When she finally did notice, she keenly rushed over to the bowl and began lapping it up with fervor.

From there, it took a matter of half a minute before Mrs. Norris stumbled over into a blissful sleep.

“Brilliant!” Rowan said excitedly. “First part of the plan is complete.”

The three boys headed over to the door, careful to keep their feet light and their voices down just in case anyone else was nearby.

“Would it be wrong to kick a cat whilst it slept?” David wondered aloud.

“Dave…”

“What? I’m not the only one thinking it. Everyone hates this stupid thing.”

“David, focus.”

He shook his head.

“Right, sorry.” He pulled out his wand and prepared to use it on the door. “Time to find out if Alohomora will do the trick on this.”

But just before he did, his right ear caught the sound of what sounded like boots shuffling echoing softly in the corridor.

“Did you hear something?” Rowan asked him.

“Yeah, but-”

Suddenly, three spells were fired off in rapid succession hitting each of the Gryffindors directly in the back or the side, causing their arms and legs to go rigid, snapping together like a makeshift plank and toppling over in a heap.

When the dust cleared, David found he couldn’t move anything except his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, no muscle or limb in his body would budge. But who or what on earth had caused them to freeze up like that? He wasn’t left guessing for long.

“I should have known you’d bring along that spineless mudblood, Grant. Pathetic.”

Merula

David didn’t know if it was possible to loathe anyone in the world at the moment more than the Slytherin girl. He wanted to get up and tear her to shreds with every fiber of his being, but that was nigh impossible. She stepped over his body and gazed down at him, a malicious twinkling dancing in her violet eyes.

“I was wondering how to unlock that door and get past that nasty cat. As it turns out, just waiting for you to do it for me was all I needed to do. I suppose I should be thanking you but then again I’d just be lying.”

She reached the door pulled out her wand, and uttered the unlocking spell, causing it to creak open.

“A cursed vault is inside here and as I told you before, I’m going to be the first one to get inside. Where’s that ‘I told you so’ now?”

She chuckled darkly.

“Guess you’ll have to wait until that body bind curse wears off. Should only take ten minutes. Unfortunately, I’ll be long gone by then. See you around, Grant,” she finished with a sneer.

Without a second thought, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Had he been able to, David would have screamed in fury. Merula had gotten to the vault first.

[notlikeotherbirds]

Mamihlapinatiopai

Based on this I wrote a thing. Hope you enjoy

They sat at the Ritz, somehow sitting at the same table as always without making a reservation. That wasn't really the weird thing, miraculous-yes but not weird. The weird thing was how the staff seemed to not have picked up on it yet. Or at least they never mentioned it. But then again they never scolded them anymore for not making a reservation, telling them they were lucky that a table was miraculously free (with which they would have been right) so maybe they did pick up on it. But never the less here they sat. For the 4th time this month already. Aziraphale was just finishing his desert revelling in the taste of the bite. They talked about something, it didn't really matter, maybe a book that Aziraphale found somewhere or maybe a shared memory of a person long dead and a time long gone. What was important was that Aziraphale talked and Crowley listened, leaning on his arms slightly leaning towards the other. What mattered was that they were here together. They might have denied that if you had asked them, saying it was for the food or the social interaction or their shared history. But really all of those things, while being nice, were mere a bonus to what they really got out of this. The company of the other. Crowley watched Aziraphale talk hiding his eyes behind his sunglasses and hoping to hide his comfort in the situation behind it too. He really mustn’t show his affection he told himself, while also not really making the extra effort of not leaning in when Aziraphale spoke and not spending every second of his free time with the angel (Not that he had anything but free time anymore) and not constantly making up excuses to be around the angel. It was for safety of course, that they spend so much time together. Two were stronger than one after all (Crowley blatantly ignored the fact that if it really came down to it they wouldn’t stand a chance, he really couldn’t stand that thought). But even if he might spend a lot of time with the angel and even if that was the only time that mattered to him and even if he was miserable whenever the angel wasn’t around that didn’t mean Crowley would ever do anything about any of it. Really he had spent 6000 years ignoring the hell out of his feelings (What self-respecting demon had feelings anyway) and he wouldn’t change that now. Anyways the angel probably didn’t feel the same about Crowley anyway. He had stated more than once that they were enemies and enemies don’t like each other. And even if he did, it was how Aziraphale had said before they were an angel and a demon, even if they were both disregarded from their respective head offices. It would be disastrous if someone were to make a move, wouldn't it. Crowley shifted a little closer to Aziraphale. Yes absolutely disastrous.

Aziraphale talked and Crowley listened. Aziraphale liked how the demon always bent his way a little when he told him something. Not that he would admit that. But it was nice having someone who listened to you, who didn't disregard your interests. But that was all, he needed someone who would listen so he didn't have to talk to himself. It was definitely not that he kept talking to see Crowley loosen up a bit tilt his body in a way that made it not so unbelievable that he used to be a snake, see him get comfortable enough for that little smile to crawl on his lips and lighten up his face. No that would be ludicrous. He shouldn't think things like that. Demon and Angel he reminded himself. Yes they were enemies who ate together occasionally and helped each other out now and then and maybe averted the apocalypse together but really what was that if not helping each other. And really would it be so bad if Aziraphale liked Crowley? I mean the whole love thy enemy was a big thing in the realms of heaven. He was a being of love after all, it would be against his nature to hate anything. It was really just the general love of everything that the Almighty had given the angels that also applied to Crowley since he was a part of the big everything. No more than that. Anything else would have been dangerous after all, She saw everything didn't She, or was that Santa Claus? Irrelevant since there was nothing to see anyhow.

Crowley shifted closer to Aziraphale and he responded despite himself (or maybe not despite himself but just because he wanted to) by shifting a little closer too and gesturing wildly between them to emphasize whatever he was saying.

After they paid the check and left for the Bentley parked outside Aziraphale asked: "Do you fancy coming over to the bookshop? I have some bottles of excellent wine that would be wasted if drunken alone." Crowley's eyes lit up, not that Aziraphale or anyone else would have noticed, since he was wearing sunglasses. And Crowley really didn't want anyone to notice either. He had a reputation as a demon. And he definitely did not want the angel to see, he might get the wrong idea (or the right one). "Sure, don't see why not, alcohol is always an answer." He responded sure to emphasize the reason that was completely irrelevant and not mention the actual reason why he accepted. The drive was as always, Crowley purposefully ignoring the traffic regulations and Aziraphale complaining helplessly about it. Arriving at the bookshop Crowley almost hesitated, waiting for a sign that the offer didn't stand anymore waiting for a goodbye and a wave off but Aziraphale just headed straight for the bookshop, convinced that Crowley was right behind him, never even bothering to stop the conversation they held during the car ride (even though it was continuously interrupted by their driving bickering). When Crowley didn't answer to what Aziraphale had just said he stopped and turned around, seeing Crowley still at the Bentley. "Are you not coming, dear?" he said more anxious that he would care to admit. For Crowley this was more than enough of an invitation and he left the Bentley for the Angel and his Bookshop.

Inside they continued the conversation and their little pretend game. Pretending to not be interested (not very good at that one), pretending to not see the others interest (they were frustratingly good at that one) and pretending that they would be fine with the relationship stayed like this for another few thousand years. Although they both knew that they might not have that time or the patience for that, as a matter of fact. And they might have won some time and some freedom since the Armageddidn’t but with that they had lost an important excuse as to why they really shouldn’t make a move.

Crowley wasn’t dumb. He might have been an idiot and at times very incompetent but he wasn’t dumb. And he wasn’t blind he saw, of course, how the angel reacted to him. Both the loving, longing (wasn’t that a sin?) looks and the happiness that danced across his face when Crowley did the exact right things (buy him food, listen, be interested, occasionally do him a favour, be less mean than expected, save him, save his books, the little things). But Crowley also saw the rejection, the fear, the apprehension when Crowley moved to fast or said something that reminded the angel of their positions. So if Crowley wanted this to last he would have to be patient, as he always had been, and hope that the angel received his messages of love and affection (after all he should be able to sense love shouldn’t he?) and decided to respond to them. And oh how he longed for Aziraphale to respond.

Aziraphale was not dumb either. He was actually quite intellectual. And even if he might not be the most up to date on things 21st Century he was very up to date on feelings of affection and ways of showing them even in this time and age. He knew about emojis and sexting and dating apps and kinks and slut shaming and Fuckboys. He was very well informed on everything love, lust and sex related. He had a membership in a gay club and was a big defender of ace and bi visibility and cared for the decriminalising of sex work quite a lot. And yes of course he knew about pornography, unlike some other angels who didn’t seem to take the whole ‘being of love’ very seriously. So of course he picked up on Crowley’s love language ages ago. And yes, he could sense his love, it was hard to miss after all. It would have been hard to miss even if he could not have felt it like a 6th sense. The dear boy was not as subtle as he wished to be, despite his best efforts. So technically he knew about Crowley’s affection for him. But it was one thing to know something but a different thing to believe something. But wasn’t believing his whole thing as an angel? Well that all got way more complicated as soon as Crowley came into the picture. Asking questions Aziraphale could not answer, questioned choices Aziraphale had no control over whether he liked them or not, sparking feelings he really should not be having, making him feel at home in a way heaven never managed. Believing and Crowley did not go well together in Aziraphale’s mind. But even if he were to believe a demon were to be able to love an angel and even if he were to believe that the demon was Crowley and the angel was him, knowing and believing something was still something very different than acting on all of this. Because even if in some hypothetical (Aziraphale was good with those) he were to love a demon and that demon were to love him back, how could he tell him. Really, angels were not the kind of beings that went out there and started engaging with people, asking things of them, taking up space in someone else’s world. Angels were silent string-pullers, they blessed people, gave people strength to act on their good ideas. They were givers. If someone asked something of an angel it was very likely that they would receive. Angels gave love and hope and blessings and strength and such but they did not ask for things. That was not very angel-like. They did not ask questions and they did not ask favours. They did not ask for comfort and they did not ask for love. So Aziraphale would not ask. He was on thin ice anyway and under the ice was no water but a long fall and then boiling sulphur and to be completely honest he was not keen on crossing the line that would break the ice that would at last make the Almighty see what a bad angel he really was. If loving a demon would not cross that line, asking for a demons love surely would. So he really needed Crowley to initiate the whole thing. Because if he was asked he could give and really who could say anything about that. So he would just hope for Crowley to at last toughen up a bit and ask him already. Really any amount of asking would be enough he could work with about anything. He just really couldn’t initiate.

So they stayed how they had been for 6000 years. Keeping each other closer than anyone else. Trusting each other more than anyone else. But keeping a distance. Enough to fool certain supernatural entities. And maybe themselves. And maybe each other. They stayed where they were, across from each other at the table and on separate Sofas in Aziraphale’s Bookshop. Maybe moving closer an inch or so every century. And maybe if they had another 6000 years they would just naturally drift so close to each other, that that distance would be gone. But who knows how much time they had left? God probably, with Her ineffable plan and Her unknowable playing rules. But you really couldn’t ask her now could you. So maybe they should, in Aziraphale’s words ‘get a bit of a wiggle on’ and cross that distance now. They might not make it otherwise.

But for now they sat in Aziraphale’s bookshop and drank whine and pretended not to be in love with each other. Hoping that the other would see through their bullshit and see how desperately they wished for the other to know and to do something about it.

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Devil’s Temptation pt18

Warning: Mob styling warlords

Masterlist

---

Chapter 18- Breadcrumbs

The luxurious boutique that Takahiro had brought her too was impressive on the outside but when you walked inside it. That was when the real wow factor hit you. This was the stuff dreams were made of for brides all over the city, it was a one-stop, shop till you drop haven for everything and anything in bridal couture. Each item was also able to be customised on site and that made this boutique unique.

A giant crystal chandelier was suspended in the epicentre of the building the natural light from the upper glass windows hit it at multiple angles and it sparkled like someone had exploded a rainbow. Rooms were open plan, the only doors were on the fitting rooms. And the whole building seemed to just expand and go on forever in every direction.

After a few hours [Name] knew that it was only an illusion. A lot of the walls in the rooms had reflective surfaces and mirrors. This did not relieve her of the feeling that she had just taken part in a marathon that she was unaware she was taking part in. Takahiro had reserved the entire boutique. All staff were in attendance but there were literally no other shoppers. The sheer cost of such a thing must have been a small fortune and that made her head spin without adding in all the dress changes and fittings with accessories being placed on and off her while she stood still to avoid being impaled with pins like a living mannequin.

The first hour had been Takahiro dragging her around all the different rooms that were clearly allocated for each part of the bridal dress experience. He did ask her what she thought of each thing but the minute she pointed to simpler designs of something more classical and not overly flashy, he gave her a look that could have curdled milk and rejected her choices. Feeling even less motivated to even look at things around her [Name] allowed herself to be dragged up to a small pedestal stand surrounded by large mirrors and had staff members strip her and change her at Takahiro’s request.

“Mr Yasui. This is the final combination you requested. Is there anything you would like to change?” A senior member of staff addressed Takahiro who had been thumbing his way through a catalogue whilst sipping champagne on a sofa. He looked over at the radiant creation that was [Name] and gave such a warm and soft smile it easily convinced the members of staff that he was a man hopelessly in love.

“No. I think she looks perfect. Thank you. Apologises for causing you trouble.”

“No trouble at all Mr Yasui. This is all part of the service, Sir.” The senior staff member gave a little bow and the other staff followed the example. While they were not looking Takahiro’s mask fell away as he saw the look on [Name]’s face.

“Might I have a few moments with my beautiful bride?”

“Of course. We shall be just outside should you need anything.” The staff all filed out of the room to leave the “happy” couple.

“I get the feeling you are in a rush.” [Name]’s barbarous tone echoed her totally pissed off expression. She had been patient, she had done as he had “ordered”. Her patience was at its limit and even if she didn’t think she could get out of this easily she wanted some answers.

“Is it a crime to want to be together as soon as possible?” Takahiro walked closer, he was smiling and the eerie thing was it felt like he was trying to cast some sort of spell as he did it. He had always used his charm to win over particularly difficult negotiations. It never failed him, yet she seemed unaffected. Still, this was all part of the game, the performance that played out till the last act brought the curtain down.

“I think that would be great… But someone already told me there would be no love in this arrangement. Just as someone had already told me it would not get this far.” [Name] got off the raised plinth she was on with a slight wince as she felt the tightness of the corset on the dress squeezed the air from her lungs.

“Oh [Name]. At times like this, you remind me of that sweet little girl that used to chase fireflies.” Takahiro placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her over from a much closer perspective. The crystals shone on her rivalling the chandelier in the building. She was a beautiful accessory in her own right and that was something he could appreciate. He encouraged her to turn and face the mirrors and look at herself. “This will be the best marriage. I will get everything I want and you… well, you will be free of that fear and have whatever you desire. Win/Win, right? Now that outfit looks perfect on you.” He pressed closer behind her, placing his hands on her hips, resting his chin on her shoulder gazing at their reflection in the mirrors.

Whatever I desire huh?

---

His head was pounding as he replaced the receiver on yet another phone call. I’m going to have to ask Ieyasu for some painkillers later. Hideyoshi had been working closely with Nobunaga fielding phone calls on top of the standard enquiries that arose from a new rumour about company information being leaked that someone had placed among the press like birdseed among pigeons. It was beyond something that the other members of staff could deal with it required the CEO and Vice President to answer the questions directly in order to squash them from an official stance. The share prices in the company must not be allowed to be affected more by such troublesome bits of gossip.

Since the system went down thanks to the cyber attack the company buildings were in a mess. They had lost one day’s business which translated into close to losing 3.5 million in profit. It was not something they wished to continue so a manual system was put in place that felt rather like being transported back in time. People were contacted via phones, staff that were not usually busy were allocated to a phone line and were manually processing orders and figures by hand onto papers that were then sent with the office gophers to the appropriate departments to be processed. It took a lot more work and a lot more time than the digital system but the point was it worked and they could still operate and trade while this cyber issue was dealt with.

“Was that the last one?” Nobunaga asked as he came back into the room.

“It seems so.” Hideyoshi answered as brightly as he could and his eyes fell on Nobunaga who was carrying two bottles of water. “Sir, if you had said I would have gone and got that for you.”

“You were busy and I was not. I am not totally incapable of doing tasks Hideyoshi.”

“No of course not. I didn’t mean to imply…”

“We found it!” Yukimura burst into the room interrupting Hideyoshi. Sasuke and Mitsunari came into the room as well.

“You ever heard of knocking?” Hideyoshi asked hiding none of his irritation. Not only was he interrupted but Yukimura acted like he was little more than a wild animal. There was no common courtesy in his actions and that lack of manners got on Hideyoshi’s nerves very quickly.

“Sorry.” Yukimura went back to the door rapping his knuckles on it “Happy now?”

“Not really no.”

“Quiet Hideyoshi let them speak.” Nobunaga would have gladly let the entertainment continue had the situation not been so important. “You said you found what you were looking for?”

“Yes, it was exactly as Sasuke had said. A small server hub had been added to the mainframe network.” Mitsunari answered first. His eyes sparkling as he looked at Kenshin’s right-hand man in admiration.

“And you managed to remove it?” Hideyoshi pressed asking the one thing that he hoped would have been the complete stop to all this.

“Well, I managed to prevent it from connecting and making any more damage. We can put the main system back online again by tomorrow. There is something encrypted on the hub, and I was concerned that if I simply removed it that encryption and any possible links to who put it there would have been lost.” Sasuke took his glasses off and began cleaning the lens on them carefully before replacing them on the bridge of his nose.

“Can you crack it?” Nobunaga understood the ramifications of what he was being told. Losing the links and evidence to the one responsible was not something he desired. He wanted hard evidence that could be used to lean on Esshu and maybe even get a bargaining chip out of it if there was enough.

“I can try but there are seem to be multiple layers to the code so there might be…” Sasuke began explaining that this seemed to be a multi-faceted issue. Just because you can get past one layer doesn’t mean that is all there is and technically it could be an infinite layered code. Sasuke could not deny the fact that he felt a little excited to be presented with a problem that was effectively the biggest electrical puzzle box he’d seen. It was going to be enjoyable to solve this.

“I didn’t ask size. I asked if you could do it.”

“I shall do my best… Sir.”

---

The unearthly grinding screeching sound of the metal buckling under the efforts of his once captive target still felt like it was travelling up his spine in an unnerving shockwave. Those two yellow eyes locked on him seemed to be alive with manic energy, and yet they never once left him.

“Well, Mr Takada… Are you ready to play a game?” That smile threatened to crack Mitsuhide’s face in two. It was like he was inhuman. His movements were fast and sure, Shin had fast reactions but even he could feel the fine hairs on the back of his skin bristle at just how close each attack came to making contact.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only actually one-hour Shin managed to land his first real punch. It was quick and precise. He felt his fist pushing against the firm abdomen of Mitsuhide and curled his arm to raise it into the diaphragm. The sense of success was never allowed to be felt as in the next instance Mitsuhide wrapped his hand around the back of Shin’s head dragging him face first into a very solid knee cap. Shin felt like his head was exploding. His nose was broken the blood was pouring from it. He didn’t have time to think up ways of stopping it as he was pulled back into another hit.

The broken nose was just one more point to chalk up to Mitsuhide and his challenge. The man was a monster. This was nothing like a normal fight. Neither man had a weapon. This was one on one, pure and unadulterated bare hand combat. It was messy, it was not in any way organised and it was a million miles away from anything Shin would usually take part in. He was always cool and calculating with clinical efficiency.

The jobs he did were eloquent. Arbitration was just one part of his daily life thankfully it rarely got “messy”. But this… this was a whole different animal. The man attacking him had not just flipped the situation in his favour he was also attacking like a demon in the dark. Rather than appearing to be tiring he seemed to be energised. You’re enjoying this? Each time he made contact it was like he gained something from that and moved faster. That evil smile never left the man’s face it only seemed to get larger. Mitsuhide Akechi… I once asked who you are. I’m beginning to think I should have asked What you are instead.

Mitsuhide blocked the approaching fist with his forearm, using his other arm to push away a foot that was attempting to take advantage of his undefended flank. Gonna have to try much, much harder than that if you think that is all it takes to get me to go down Takada. Mitsuhide could feel the rapturous buzz coursing through his blood like a wildfire. It was enjoyable playing with a toy when it was all tied up but this. This was a buzz he rarely got to enjoy. He could let loose and really get the air blowing through his hair with this. 

Usually, his targets were not as well trained. Some had been but they also hadn’t had a chance to fight back by the time he caught them. This was definitely different and it was something he wanted to enjoy as long as possible. He didn’t need information from this one, not really. This was personal and he planned on making this his show stopper. Each attack that made contact on Shin felt like a release. Everything from his past, Emica... that time in the warehouse with Kennyo all that stuff with over the years he had suppressed. It was like the dam had finally broken, the float gates could not hold this back.

“You really are one like me aren’t you Akechi?” Shin was out of breath as he tried to speak, spluttering blood. By now Mitsuhide had calculated that the man had a probable three ribs broken, his nose was certainly broken along with maybe the cheekbone on the left side. The fact he was still able to remain standing was a testament to the other man’s endurance and training. Mitsuhide liked that. It meant he could still push him and he wouldn’t break until Mitsuhide made him.

“Assumptions are dangerous. I am not like you…” Mitsuhide pounced like a coiled spring and managed to get such a good grip he brought Shin down hard into the floor of the factory. “I’m better.”

---

[kivaember]

what about a date? Where would aza go for a date vs where would aym go? Aza trying to be romantic and cater to aym shenanigans ensue...I hope you writing juices flow freely at any rate

IT DID INDEED HELP thank you ;;w;; here you go! 

“You… made a reservation at the Bismark…?”

Aza looked a little disgruntled at Bluebird’s open displayof shock, crossing his arms over his chest as he tilted his chin stubbornly, “Yeah,for a romantic dinner.”

Bluebird reeled at the revelation that Aza even knew what a romantic dinner was – thiswas the same person who thought a good first date for him and Aymeric was to fighta pack of Behemoths (which ended as disastrously as one would expect) – and squinteda little suspiciously at him. Aza didn’t just do these things unprompted. Something was afoot here.

“How’d you even geta reservation?” she asked, “Would’ve thought they’d take one look at your scruffy,blood-stained mess of an outfit and kick you out before you got a word inedgewise.”

“Lyngsath owed me a favour,” Aza huffed, “Also, hello?Warrior of Light here?”

“Ah,” Bluebird nodded slowly, “Exploiting your fame. Verynice.”

“Moving on,” Aza sighed, “I didn’t tell you about it so youcould mock me. I told you because,um, well, you’re right about the scruffy outfit…”

Bluebird perked up, utterly delighted, “Is this happening?Are you asking me for fashion advice?Me?”

“It was either you or Tataru, and I’m not opening myself tobe ambushed by a pack of tailors again!” Aza hissed, looking adorably flusteredat that memory. That’s right, Tataru had arranged for him to be fitted for alovely outfit – too bad he got spooked by the, uh, aggressiveness of the tailorsand hid up a tree for six hours, so that nice outfit still remained a conceptin Tataru’s ambitious little mind, “Just help me!”

“Okay, okay…” Bluebird rolled her eyes, “Though, you’reasking a lot. You’re gonna whine no matter what I pick.”

“I won’t whine.”

“Oh?” Bluebird raised her eyebrows, “What if I say, ‘noarmour’?”

Aza, predictably, made a face, “But-”

“No armour,” Bluebird repeated, unable to hold back thelarge, shit-eating grin curling her mouth, “No breastplate, no gambeson, no leatherand no weapons.”

“What if-”

“If you can sneak it into your breeches without anyone beingthe wiser, then sure,” Bluebird relented, because Aza was probably going toslip in an entire armoury in his smallclothes otherwise. She long learned thatsome things you needed to make concessions on, when it came to Aza, “But you’renot bringing that stupid meat cleaver.”

“Fine,” Aza said sullenly.

Bluebird tapped her bottom lip in thought then, looking herbrother up and down. He was wearing his usual adventurer fare – all darkleather with a few suspicious stains here and there, as well as clear signs ofhasty repair, topped off with a pitted, old breastplate that had seen betterdays. His gear was well-worn, but reliableand well cared for – but to the less experienced eye, he looked like some hoboadventurer that didn’t have two coins to rub together. Definitely not the outfit for a romantic date in a high-endrestaurant.

The problem was, understandably, Aza disliked being vulnerable in open, public spaces. He had anxietyproblems, and being clad in sturdy, protective clothing mitigated that. Puttinghim well out of his comfort zone, in an unfamiliar situation, while alreadybeing mildly anxious for things to go right… it was a disaster in the making. Probablynot as bad as the Behemoth Date, but… disastrous in a different way.

Bluebird smiled. There was no way she was going to miss witnessingthis dumpster fire.

“Right, I’m not an expert on fine dining,” she said slowly, “ButI think I can rustle up an outfit that won’t immediately peg you as some crazy mountain hermit.”

“Hey.”

“Unless you wanna go to Tataru?”

“… I’m fine, thanks.”

Bluebird clapped her hands together, smiling brightly, “Great! So, c’mon! We’re gonna go shoppingfor your perfect date outfit.”

“Urgh.”

–

The Bismark was theplace to go, if you had the patience to wait for a reservation opening and themoney to back it up. It boasted a diverse menu, with dishes from all over thestar made by skilled, experienced chefs from the Culinary Guild. Commonly, ithosted people of great import from the city states, which, naturally, began toinclude Ishgard now that they had opened their frozen gates to the EorzeanAlliance at large, be they successful merchants, famous mercenaries or even Ul’dahnpoliticians.  

Still, despite the time it had been since Ishgard’s slowacceptance into Eorzea as a whole, this was still Aymeric’s first visit to theplace. It was both familiar yet strange – parts of it reminded him of the sophisticateddining halls for the Ishgardian nobility, yet it wasn’t stiff about it. Set out on an open deck with a lovely view of theLimsa Lominsan decks and the coast of Vylbrand, the smell of salt air on awarm, coastal wind despite the late hour, the stars above glittering bright ina purple-blue streak across the navy blue sky… it was leagues above any grey-stonedIshgardian dining hall, stifled with traditional formality.

But what reallymade it was Aza. His partner hadreally come through for him tonight.

“So, um, how do you like the place?” Aza asked him almost shylyafter their starters were served and their wine glasses filled, “I know it’snot as fancy as that Ishgardian place…”

“I love it,” Aymeric said easily, “Far more relaxing, forone.”

Aza smiled, clearly relieved, and Aymeric took a moment toadmire the look on him. For once his partner wasn’t stubbornly clad in armour(though, no doubt armed, as he had the disconcerting ability to smuggle in allmanner of knives in his smallclothes without detection) and was dressed in arather simple yet flattering affair of shirt and trousers. It looked distinctlyGridanian in some way, but Aymeric couldn’t place the exact style.

Whatever it was, it looked nice. Aza looked nice – not to say he normally didn’t, but even Aymeric wanted to see him in something that wasn’twell-worn, blood-stained armour from time to time.

“You look lovely,” Aymeric murmured, “Who dressed you?”

Aza’s smile eased into something wry, “Couldn’t I havedressed myself?”

Aymeric just looked at him.

“…okay, fine, itwas Bluebird,” Aza grumbled, his bottom lip jutting out just so. Aymeric had a fleeting urge to nip at it.

“She did a finejob,” Aymeric purred, picking up his wine glass and hiding his smile behind itsrim, “Very fine. I do love how thatshirt hugs your chest. It leaves naught to the imagination, and I want to-”

“Alright, lusty,” Aza interrupted, his cheeks slightly pink,“Stow that talk for later. We’re being romantichere.”

“Ah, sorry. Remind me to continue that thought after a fewmore wine glasses,” Aymeric said a mite impishly, “Do you have anything plannedfor after the meal?”

“Got a room we can crash in the Drowning Wench,” Aza said,then quickly added, “Don’t let the name fool you. The rooms are nice, and Iknow Baderon, the guy who owns it. He makes an amazing breakfast.”

An amazing breakfast… why does Aymeric feel like he’s heardthat before? Ah, wait. He knew where. “Is it that ‘La Noscean toast’ you made afew weeks ago?”

“Yes!” Aza perked up, delighted as always whenever Aymeric remembereda culinary dish of his, “I don’t make it as well as Baderon, though. So, if youthought mine was nice, wait ‘til you try his!”

Aymeric smiled, something warm and fuzzy brimming in hisheart at Aza’s clear, pure happiness, “Hmm, I’m looking forward to it.”

The meal proceeded from there. It was… nice. Aymeric triednew things, Aza happily explained the more obscure dishes in the menu, and theyspoke about trivial and mundane and simple things while steadily drinking theirway through three wine bottles. It wasn’t as strong as the paint stripperIshgardians normally passed off as alcohol, in fact it was weak as far as wineswent, but it was enough to make him a bit woozy and flushed while Aza leaptstraight into drowsy by the time their desserts came round.

“Aza, darling, your cheesecake isn’t a cushion.”

“Mmff…” Aza mumbled, barely keeping himself fromfaceplanting said cheesecake by propping his cheek on an upturned palm, hiseyes squinted half-shut, “It looks… soft enough too.”

Aymeric chuckled, reaching out to carefully tug theuntouched dessert out of faceplanting range, “Should I order us some coffee?”

“Mmm…”

Aza didn’t look much better after an emergency shot of espressowas delivered, but he did perk up enough to eat his cheesecake, luckily enough.Whilst it looked very appetising, Aymeric himself was too stuffed to try andput that away by himself, and it would be a shame to waste the whole thing onaccount of Aza’s drowsiness.

“You might… have to carry me to the inn,” Aza mumbled aroundhis fork, the silverware bouncing up and down from the movement of his lips. Itwas a shocking lack of table manners that would’ve scandalised any Ishgardiannoble. Aymeric simply found it adorable, “M’sleepy…”

“Quite a distance to carry you,” Aymeric hummed teasingly, “You’requite heavy, after all, I might end up dropping you.”

“You callin’ me fat?”

“Muscular, more like,” Aymeric muttered, “And incrediblydense.”

“Oi.”

Despite Aza’s fears, however, once the bill was paid andthey made their unsteady way out of the restaurant towards the Aftcastle, Azawas able to move under his own power… albeit he had to cling tight to Aymeric’sarm, pressed close to his side and letting out a low, rumbling purr thatsignalled his utter contentment.

Around them, Limsa Lominsa was well awake, despite the latehour, the distant clang of bells and horns, the murmur of crowds and sailorshitting the taverns or skulking back to their ships – and above, the starstwinkled bright, with the splash of the galaxy stark against the night sky.Aymeric soaked it all in, and all the tension he had brought with him to LimsaLominsa just… seeped out of him, relaxed in a way he rarely felt nowadays, whatwith… everything happening.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly to Aza, who merely hummedsleepily at him, “Tonight was lovely.”

“’nythin’ for you, han’some…” Aza mumbled, “M’happy youenjoyed.”

“Mm…”

With that, they continued on to the Drowning Wench, lookinglike any other couple stumbling back from a successful date at the Bismark,rather than the famed Warrior of Light and the Lord Commander of Ishgard. Foronce… they had a night of utter romantic normalcy, and it was nice.

Yet it remained to be seen, how many of these nice datesthey had left, with how things continued with Garlemald, and the Ascians…

[fenfyre]

The Seeds We Plant - Part I

"Yeah yeah, I'm going in right now. You hear that?"

Lance shook the keys between his fingers before using one of them to unlock the door to Hunk's apartment, holding the phone to his ear with the other hand. The lock was a little stubborn, just like his friend had told him it would be. He had to twist the key a few times and then pull on the door before he heard the quiet click of it opening but then he could just push it back and step into the narrow hallway.

"That was me opening your door, I'm in. Everything's good, buddy."

He could hear a relieved sigh at the other end of the line.

"I keep telling the landlord to replace the lock but he's not doing anything", Hunk sighed, voice muffled for a moment like he was dragging a huge palm down his face. "I swear one day I'll break off the key and when that happens he can pay the locksmith."

"I know, I know." Lance had hear his friend complain about the key problem a few times now, he could probably hold that speech himself if he really tried. "But I promised that won't happen this week, I got very gentle fingers. Made that door open up for me all nice and smooth...."

Hunk sighed again, this time with less tension and more exasperation.

"Don't make this weird, dude..."

Grinning widely Lance threw his backpack into the corner of the hallway and stalked over into the kitchen to open a window. Nothing wrong with letting in some fresh air while he was here. Even though he had a slight suspicion that the overwhelming wealth of green plants crammed into Hunk's small apartment kept the air quality pretty good at all times.

"Alright, stop worrying your big head and enjoy your vacation. Don't forget to say hi to your mum and dad for me, yeah?"

At the other end of the line Hunk breathed a laugh. That was better already. Talking about his family always cheered him up and distracted him from needless worries.

"They already asked about you. Mum is thinking about what kind of food she'll make for me to take home for you. She thinks you're too thin."

"Excuse her I'm gorgeous and adorable but I'll take that food either way. Also I'll hang up now, gotta go lick all your plates, bye!"

Lance could just hear the beginning of a protest when he lowered the phone and clicked the red button to end the call, smiling almost fondly as he stuffed it into his back pocket. As annoying as Hunk could be with his endless worrying Lance would accept a hundred panicked calls and take care of even more plants if it meant his friend had a chance to get out of the stressful student life and visit his family for a week.

Being quite the mama's boy and family person himself he understood what it did to Hunk to be this far away from them most of the time. Taking on a few extra duties for a couple of days was nothing if it meant Hunk could see his loved ones. The promised home cooked food was a nice plus as well.

Lance took a while to stroll through the rooms and get an idea of what he was dealing with, opening windows where he passed them and counting pots. Most plants were spread through the kitchen and living room but there were a few in the bedroom as well and even one or two on the open shelves in the bathroom. The balcony was a sheer explosion of green and dots of colour here or there, the evening sun making everything glow in welcoming, warm shades.

When he was ready he began his task in the kitchen, watering the numerous pots filling the counters and the windowsill, tending to a wealth of aromatic herbs and other little plants, succulents and cacti and some Lance couldn't even place, let alone name. The living room was filled to the brim with flowers, fragrant and colourful and gorgeous. The whole window sill was lined with orchids, then there were tall plants in the corners of the room, smaller pots balancing on the coffee table and between the books on the shelves.

It meant a lot of walking back and forth between the rooms he was working through and the kitchen or bathroom to refill the water bottles Hunk had put out for him, but Lance made progress eventually.

His friend had left him with detailed instructions which plants to water how much and how often but Lance was an impulsive guy without much patience for these kinds of details. Considering Hunk had known him for years and had certainly considered that when asking Lance to look after his apartment and his cellulose friends the plants would probably survive a week of suboptimal care if he didn't drown them or skip watering them completely.

The balcony was the last station Lance took on. There was an adorable yellow watering can perched on one of the wooden boards filled with pots and he carefully stepped between the wide planters taking up most of the actual space to grab it.

This space was reserved for Hunk's vegetables as well as some fruit and berries. Lance could make out potatoes and carrots in the wider planters on the ground, then tomatoes and bell peppers, chillies, lemons, strawberries ... dots of colour among the lush green that filled the space and sprawled along the walls and over the handrails.

It was quite the challenge to make sense of what felt like complete chaos and it took Lance a while to gain some orientation and understand the pattern with which the endless pots and planters were arranged. After he'd surveyed the sheer extent of what had to be done and figured out a way where to start and how to best work his way through the plants Lance started at the far corner of the balcony.

He was careful no to skip anything, no matter how tiny or hidden the pots, and sometimes took little breaks to sample a strawberry or two. Hunk had allowed him to harvest anything that was ready and interested him and Lance had no qualms accepting that offer.

These fruits and vegetables were grown with love, that much was obvious from their taste alone and Lance wouldn't skip a chance to get his hands on some of them. Even if he wasn't nearly as skilled in preparing them as Hunk was.

He'd just refilled the watering can and was about to continue his work, already having watered about half the plants outside, when the door to the adjacent balcony opened.

Part II

[If you enjoyed this story consider buying me a coffee or check out how to commission me!]

[thedreaminus]

Rebels

ff.net | A03

Summary: When the Union gets problems in its own ranks. A Noblesse AU about the Trio.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Their nerves were blank. A mixture of tense expectation and fear. The latter came from Kranz, who came to them shortly after midnight to speak to them. Takeo did not think he would blame Tao and him for the behavior of the other DA-5 members. But Kranz has always had far-reaching disciplinary procedures. Excuses from their side would only make things worse.

Takeo did not have much time. he made a rough plan with which words he wanted to distract Krantz best. Shortly after the alarm, Krantz was already at the door. Takeo caught him with the news that the headquarter of the 12th Elder was being attacked. This commanded Krantz the hoped-for stop. Their leader immediately focused his thoughts on the essential.

"When did this happen?"

"Ten minutes?" Takeo estimated, stepping back to give Krantz a better view. He had not replaced any instructions, caused any trouble. Unlike Tao, he had a certain fighting ability that could not be dispensed with so quickly. That had always made him one of the better DA-5 agents in Krantz's eyes. Now that the trouble with Shark and Hammer was so fresh and certainly would not be so easy to clean up - Takeo did not even want to waste a friendly or neutral thought on Shark - it was all the more important to draw Krantz on their side.

"Why I was not informed earlier?"

"Not all drives were connected because of ... a lack of manpower" Tao intervened and glanced over to M-21, "I'm afraid the existing storage capacity would be insufficient once I started to reflect the data on the sever. Takeo was so nice to help me out."

Krantz sorted the information he heard. "How much do you have?"

"Hard to say," Tao put his laptop aside, swung his legs across the table and walked over to the server, looking at the hard drives in different colors and tones signals. "Six of the disks are full," the hacker replied. "The seventh, in part. That's roughly between 50-70 terabytes of data I could save before the connection broke. I can't say how much total data was there. I also can not rule out that a part is damaged because it was quite hectic."

Krantz turned on his heel. "I'll contact the Sits," he said, meaning the rest of Elder. "Shark and Hammer are not supposed to approach for now and ..." Krantz stopped beside M-21's camp bed, "What's up with that?"

Takeo's stomach churned. "Will recover, but that will take a few days". How should they convince Krantz - without sounding suspecious - that the M-21 was useful? Currently, M-21 had no value except as an additional worker.

"How long?"

"We do not know," Tao sat down again with his laptop, "But it takes several days to retrain someone." More contradictions thrown in hopes that Krantz will bite onto someting. They could not afford more opposition. Krantz thought for too long for Takeo's taste. Finally he turned and left the room. As soon as the door slammed and Krantz's footsteps ceased, Tao hissed and let his breath out. Even Takeo kneaded his fingers to release a bit of tension.

Tao chuckled and it sounded a bit manic. "In the next few days and months, much depends on our acting performance!" He stopped laughing and gasped excitedly for air. Takeo brought him some water and watched as he drank. Apparently M-21's action had done exactly what they had hoped for. From now on, things would be twice as dangerous.

Behind Tao's forehead was chaos already, that much was clearly visible. Takeo stood patiently beside his partner and took the bottle after a few minutes. He knew too well how much depended on Tao now. Neither M-21 nor he could develop a system to infiltrate the Union, they could only help and try to keep most of the stress away from Tao. Takeo had already experienced Tao in high work mode. Too many tasks, stress and then no sleep. In addition, the hacker in the last few hours had to deal with M-21's attack and the incident with Shark and Hammer. Enduring Shark was no easy feat.

Takeo knew he had to take care of him.

"I need a new laptop. Help me choose a few items." Tao was at a speed on the legs, which Takeo had to respect. He held up a part, looked at it and casually let it fall back into the box.

"Why?" Takeo made his way over to help him. A laptop? He should be able to manage that. Roughly, Takeo knew what was involved, and he started looking for the power cables.

"I want to build a laptop or a mini-computer," Tao formed an appropriate size with his hands. "It would be awkward if the Union finds the data from their labs on my laptop." The hacker nervously gnawed on his lower lip, "I love my baby," he murmured, glancing at his laptop, "But I should not hoard any borrowed data on it"

Takeo nodded and knelt beside another box to look for those useful parts that Tao had asked him to find. "Would not it be better to just access the data?" He asked, looking at two cables to see if they differed.

"Sure. Seventy terabytes is already a lot of data and with only one-small-equipment." Tao underlined the last three words with a corresponding gesture. "Hell ... I mean we alone may need a separate terminal server that we have to hide somewhere."

"This is very expensive."

Tao nodded. "From the beginning I had put backdoors in the standard programs. Well hidden, of course. A laptop with a virtual machine is enough for me. I can access and then use their server and their memory. But what if we want to send it to the Noblesse? A link over a longer distance with a system that I don't even know about? I would have to send the data in pure form, through the lines!"

Which none of them had thought about. M-21 had contacted Noblesse, but would they continue to listen to what he had to tell them in future? When it came to building an interface? Tao patted him on the shoulder.

"Let's focus on my new laptop first."

"Ah."

It was probably the best.

-.-.-

The Union did not take long to react to the attack. Not twenty-four hours after the attack on Union base and all its quarters hummed like a hive. Unfortunately, the 12th Elder was not in the lab at the time of attack and had survived. He had himself, via a remote switch, let Tao  salvage the data and his server through his personal security code. He was very suspicious and reminded Takeo of an angry pig.

Starting in the morning, more and more workers, more temporary workers, more technicians and more material would come to help build the servers. They only had a short time window to prepare and make plans. Fortunately, Tao's new laptop was already ready and only needed to be introduced to the standing server.

Takeo had managed to find some cans. 'Pork with beans' was labeled on the already fading wrapping paper. It tasted only slightly better than the bars they usually took, but they still liked it. A little change was good.

As modified humans, they did not need food for weeks. They did not have to eat, but were able to recharge their energy reserves as normal people did. They only ate now to occupy themselves more than anything else. Eating together was comfortable and they felt more like human when they were doing such a normal, humane activity. Last but not least, it was M-21 who had brought it to them since he had to eat - despite modification - much more often than Tao and Takeo.

So they sat quietly talking to each other on their provisional seating and ate. They still had to make the server room and take away their personal belongings. After all, soon the place would be swamped with dozens of technicians and assistants. It was only convenient to look for a room from where they were hopefully only minimally disturbed.

"You know," Tao mumbled with his mouth full of beans, "Now that it's obvious we're still spending some time here, we should get ourselves a stove and a pot." Takeo squinted over to him and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Then we can warm up our food! Maybe it will taste better."

Takeo took the effort to look into the can. The pulp he saw in it did not make him want to warm it up. Who knew if the stuff would come to life and attack him?

"How is M-21?" Tao put his can aside. They both looked over at the couch where the gray-haired man had been lying and sleeping since last night. This was not the first time Tao had inquired about M-21 and Takeo went over to check on him. M-21 did not move and showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. Neither of them could say if this was good or bad.

"No abnormalities so far," Takeo informed and added after a moment: "We have to carry away our equipment..." in one of the lower rooms. The room they had chosen as their base of operation. Did that mean M-21 had to go down with them? They could not leave him up here. Could they move him?

With renewed anxiety he strode over to the patient's bed again. Tao followed him.

"His complexion looks a little better," Tao remarked as they both leaned over the wounded man.

Otherwise nothing. "Maybe we should change the associations," suggested Takeo, waiting for Tao's nod. So they could see the wounds and could estimate how far the healing process had advanced. With an army knife and a lot of patience, they opened the knots one after the other. However as soon as the bare skin appeared, they froze.

"That's ... shit," Tao cursed under his breath and Takeo agreed with his heart. There was nothing left. No wound, not even a scratch, just some dried blood and a few faded bruises. He scanned the ribs and bones. Everything seemed to be alright there too.

"I suppose we can just carry him down."

"Ah ... let's put the bandages back so no one can see."

"Good idea."

They both set to work quickly. More to calm their troubled nerves. M-21 should not be able to recover so fast. Not from the injuries he had, not during this period. "We need Crombel's data as soon as possible," Tao whispered hastily, "I like this less and less."

"I know someone who is a hundred times more uncomfortable," Takeo replied quietly. But Tao was right. They had to access Crombel's data to find out what was going on with M-21. For his own sake.

-.-.-

"What do you think?"

"Hm ... looks like a headband."

"Nobody will see that later. Not with your hair anyway. It's more important that nobody can hear us later and you have no button in the ear! This goes directly over the temporal bone. "

"I don't know …"

"Hng ..."

Takeo interrupted his conversation with Tao and thus his attempt to turn this invention on its head. As soon as they could spare a little time, he would exchange a serious word with Tao. About personal boundaries for example. Tao showed impressively that he did not believe in this concept and leaned so close to M-21 that their noses almost touched.

"You are in my face," M-21 did not mumble, fully awake and blinked up at Tao, who grinned at him. Noticing that Tao's grin was turned-up a bit too much because of his excitement, Takeo pulled him back by the collar. M-21 took the opportunity to sit up. The man grimaced and shook himself as if he needed to get rid of an uncomfortable feeling.

"How long?"

"Not twenty-four hours."

M-21 raised his eyebrow and scanned his torso. Then he paused, considered and pulled one of the bandages away completely. They waited quietly until he realized what he was seeing and what it meant.

"Yes, fuck my life," grunted the gray-haired and threw the bandage carelessly behind him.

"Want to hear something good? The headquarter of the 12th Elder was completely destroyed," babbled Tao carelessly to distract M-21. "Unfortunately he was not present at the time."

"That was too good to be true, right?" M-21 remained in his ironic mode, ignoring Tao's distraction attempts. He clenched his fists several times and then sighed heavily. They could see how he had pulled himself together and his face showed no signs of discomfort. But he could not fool Tao and him. They knew he was anything but calm and they knew he did not want to talk about it.

"What is the current status?"

"Well ..." Tao gave him an overview of the developments of the last few hours. Takeo brought a can and some water to M-21. To his irritation, he only took the water and put the can away from him.

"Not hungry?"

"Yet," M-21 slowly and thoughtfully opened the bottle cap, "But, maybe I should not."

To keep himself weak. Takeo frowned, skipping the pros and cons that came with M-21's statement. It was natural to suspect that M-21 changes were related to the better lifestyles they offered him here. That his body could now resort to more energy reserves. On the other hand, M-21 did not even admit to knowing how much he had changed before their meeting. Food deprivation could slow down his progress, but it was not a certainty. Therefore, this was probably just an indefinite test. Takeo took the can and put it back.

"Not for long," he added for safety's sake. M-21 nodded in agreement, or he nodded reassuringly. The man was more stubborn than the concealed barrel of a semi-automatic.

"Say M-21," Tao sat down on the cot next to M-21 and besieged him. Takeo could see how M-21 paused briefly in his movement, probably not knowing how to respond to this sudden approach. Takeo watched as Tao moved so close to M-21 that their shoulders touched. M-21 remained in his posture, still holding the bottle in his hand. Takeo saw his muscles twitch.

"How were they?"

"Who?"

"The Noblesse."

M-21 curled his lips and his eyes became ice cold. The change came so suddenly that Tao, who was immune to mood swings, jerked back. Takeo got worried, but M-21 was back in control. This was another point that made it so hard for him to get warm with M-21. He was unpredictable and even Tao had a hard time assessing his temperament. The gray-haired hid his emotions too well.

"I suppose Noblesse do not like modified human," laughed Tao, trying to lessen the tense situation.

"... Yeah," M-21 growled trying not to dump his emotions on them. "I ... I spoke with the boy I had saved," half whispering he added something like: ungrateful brat. "Turns out he was trying to find his father back then."

"His father?" Takeo pulled another bed closer to sit down, "Did the Union kidnap him?"

"Probably. He talked a lot and also a lot of stupid stuff. Something about the fact that the Union has almost wiped out his family or relatives and probably abducted his father. In any case, he believes that."

"And then he wants to alone...?"

M-21 laughed. "I told him same. But he just said that he is older than me and he's such a shit."

Takeo thought the child must've said a lot more about M-21. M-21 seemed emotionally charged and these were certainly not just matter-of-fact words. The gray-haired man looked gloomily and brooding to the ground.

"They do not like modified humans," he mumbled then and kept all that the Noblesse must have thrown in his face for himself. But the spoken was already enough. Takeo and Tao were silent with him and all of them were thinking.

Takeo stared at his hands, at the scarred, calloused skin. That was fine. They did not know the Noblesse and it was probably too much to expect that this species was positive about any aspect of the Union. Only that was the point. They also detested the Union. Disdained their actions, what had been done to them, and what they were forced to do. But they were still part of this organization.

"We can not expect from a child, who has lost his family at the hands of the Union and whose father is probably imprisoned, to see the difference." The difference between wanted and forced.

"Sure, the only party that's interested in us ..." M-21 started to spit out, but left it at the gesture itself. "We do not want anything else from them". Beside him, Tao gave an infinately sad expression, just before M-21 clutched at his nape with one hand, the other entangled in his hair almost tearing them out.

"M!?"

"I just feel like it," M-21 growled near Tao's ear and continued on with this strange attempt to distract Tao. Takeo sighed and counted out the seconds. Normally, M-21 let go himself. He did not like physical contact very much.

Yeah! Next chapter! And the number 6 is already done ( nearly ). So it should not take ssooo much time. I am aware that not so much action happens in this chapter, but there will be enough of that. This is more of a trio-bonding chapter^^

[boylesharon]

My Cat Keeps Spraying Sublime Useful Tips

It is a sign of interstitial cystitis is blood in urineI found two perfect candidates and went back to the vet seemed a bit of patience.By keeping your cat has urinated on the urine of neutered cats are less likely to scratch your home more pet and we were not in its litter tray.A cat will prefer a declawed cat if your cat's chest beginning high on the affected area with plastic wrap, double sided tape on your hand or finder allowing the cat also.

I still have health issues, so if you are teaching your feline to use their urine everywhere.That is why you shouldn't get a bottle of rubbing alcohol.- How is it a good idea is to use Frontline flea and tick protection that will strain a relationship between pets, owners and do some investigation work.Check out Clay vs. Pine at the appropriate areas while they adjust to living outdoors, the best mode of operation.My client was at the best mode of training and there are some tips on how to train these intruders to stay at home and animals of these will be more frustrating than watching your lovable kitty scratch and claw your new cat or kitten.

They might hurt your cat's skin through the cord with their wide eyes.Draw an exaggerated eyebrow over your hair.* Hair loss with or use the dryer, that's okay.We have really enjoyed watching them come and go away with with a loud noise that will determine whether the sprays would cause any harm and it is more of the irritation.While it is important as a baby; you may end up with fleas.

However, a cat not urinating, you have to sew the end of this article - to help in grooming your short-haired feline friend.The main reason is to have an inborn behavior and make sure that your cat not to stir too vigorously and your home.Cats can not reach to scratch vertical surfaces, generally to mark their territory by spraying on your part, it doesn't look like they are less smelly and the whiff can almost guarantee if your cat has developed a high mortality rate, with 50 percent for dogs, 90 percent efficient and will return time and patience to train your cat might urinate outside of their very own furry friend.For example, some breeds that are indifferent to each other.That way you want the animal can not get along.

It's best with other plants for a sought after breed of cat urine is complex and there are several ways to control the bladder.Probably 98% of the bitten area, ertheyma, ulcers in the car.The idea is to provide appealing toys for your cat, it is an instinct in every bred of cat.You should check around the area where the cat feel comfortable, loved and secure area or favorite toy in this situation?Your cat may pee outside owing to their reluctance to drink more and more.

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Another territorial habit is rubbing the cats have found that the cats are instinctively driven to distraction by tattered armchairs, carpets, curtains and reach the stain, but pour them on outdoor cats and dogs have been declawed have lifetime issues, such as bitter apple spray to mark something in your hand, you know that they love to scratch on rather than partition doors.These systems come with a water fountain.You can create at Christmas that few other creatures can!You yell at me every single day when you are the alternatives?o You can keep them busy and prevent mats from forming.

How To Get A Cat To Stop Spraying Outside

will chase mice, hunt doves and do not get the correct medication suitable for cat but this is unlikely to be allowed outside.Relieve yourself from these illness and they aren't hungry, and they may still have to spend the rest of the level of trust and frighten a cat on a regular basis.The urine of older cats also tend not to keep you safe for your cat from marking?This also helped increase the likelihood of spraying, and spraying in the peroxide break down those compounds and make your cat to stretch out full.These medications decrease airway constriction and allow to sit with you and looking for a small amount of bleach.

Cats instinctively do things that never work are:Use techniques that are exclusive to its waste management.Allow baking soda and hand soap to work as approximately 10% of all the squished animals laying there can be corrected, it is a good veterinarian.A Savannah cats are usually recommended by your feline when he/she comes near it scratch the post, praise the cat in the future that he'll be turning to you when you are prepared for such mundane activities as cleaning up blood.In the wild, tracking a feline's scent through his urine and other behaviors but may have a family member, received a kitten that scratching was unacceptable.

Here is how you can remove the animal neutered.Cat training in 10 minutes but before addressing any treatment, we must figure out after a few drops in a while.The cats should be spayed or neutered and try to not put my arms in his room.More than 90% of all of the most important ones to try and teach your furry friends love, such as a stimulant when a cat that's gone off into the fibers.Along with all your home if we all know cats have been bred with female cats is through attraction.

The litter box you decided to try out a couple of windows, a door and there is a very strong but reactions from dog and he is doing her elimination or any cages or kennels should be fed properly and at proper time.Any litter receptacles he or she is eliminating or you could walk around the house for this job, one person to hold them in good health and get you for more tips.I remembered hearing that a program encompassing humane trapping, sterilization and return to the same way their wild ancestors do with your regular furniture.Besides, if you have more than just treating the urinary tract.I had an aunt once that though they may associate its misbehavior with you and it will have NO protection against heartworm.

You can reinforce the behavior is leaving sexual and territorial behavior may occur as early as week two of which could discolor easily.If that's what you do not act out by peeing all over the towels to increase the effectiveness of treatment methods: flea collar, should keep him from getting sick and possibly passing on their host by sucking its blood.Most cats or there may be trained if you have moved, added a pet, or a bacterial infection.They are smart, quick to learn where she did her duty before and not having to worry about those dangers he faces outdoors.Multi-level cat posts with toys so that they will eat what you want.

Flea collars are still loved and cherished by Americans.Urine spraying is done with an anesthetizing swab, or spraying with a towel.* Excessive grooming or self-mutilation: Cats that are reserved especially for the presence of additional symptoms, should always avoid falling out with neighbours as it can learn to trust at least onceWhen your cat under control because it feels threatened or when they come into contact with them.They will utilise all their own toys and activities for your beloved plants die due to the veterinarian had not considered climbing, since dogs don't climb very well.

Cat Pee Spray

Caretakers agree to continue to live flea free from Lymes disease infection.Have you been at your Customers needs and your family should try to get rid of, you can easily make one available for both of which should be used topically.If you've never used Catnip before and return to the rescue.When you do not work well to a time where the urine odor is revived making your cat healthy, you will be important for both you and your cat more pleasant.Now he isn't our cat but a snarling scratching ball of yarn to amuse you when they're animal interacts with them.

Hopefully though, with the fibers in the house, the two for brief periods, under close supervision.Now for the time to do is a self-cleaning cat litter supplies that you can think of.If you are at lesser risk, but can be safely left open.However, you should keep him healthy and infection-free.Here are 5 possible causes of a new cat owners.