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oftenwantedafton · 6 months

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Vent - Steve Raglan/William Afton/Springtrap x Female Reader

Chapters 1-3

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - mentions of childhood trauma, mental illness, no explicit content in these chapters

Summary - You’re the one that got away from the yellow rabbit; the first of William Afton’s intended victims.

Eight years later, you find yourself drawn back to the pizzeria you’ve shut from your mind for so long; to the strange man that offers you a job and friendship …and something much darker.

Also available on AO3 - Chapter 1 | 2 | 3

Chapter 1 ~ the one that got away ~

You don’t feel well.

The combination of greasy pizza and the overly sweet frosting on the birthday cake you’d just consumed in rapid succession collide unpleasantly in your stomach. You feel yourself moving further and further back from the other children, but no one seems to notice, and who would, after all; it’s one of those parties the entire class is invited to so no one feels left out. You don’t really know the girl that’s celebrating, don’t find yourself engaging with the other children. You don’t really belong. You’re just a shadow drifting on the edges of the crowd, alone and unwanted.

The costumed yellow rabbit has been present for the entire party, posing for photographs with the children whose parents actually wanted a memento of the occasion. Your own parents do nothing but argue, make you feel like it’s your fault that they’re stuck together, a costly mistake that’s lasted a decade.

The rabbit figure moves to stand beside you, crouching down with a grace that’s impressive given the bulk of the costume. He’s tall even at this height, an intimidating figure towering by your small form.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says, his muffled voice low near your ear.

You’d gotten the cautionary lecture about going somewhere with strangers before, of course; there had been an entire afternoon at school dedicated to rehearsing what to do in certain situations.

But the rabbit mascot wasn’t really a stranger, was he? You knew it was a man inside the suit, of course; an employee at Freddy’s that you couldn’t imagine being anything other than friendly and kind.

“What is it?” You ask, your attention focused on the shiny button nose.

“It’s out back. You have to come with me to see it.”

Your stomach rolls again, churning a warning. Something was off, but you weren’t sure what it was.

He sees your hesitation and his paw rests on your back, rubbing a soft circle. It’s oddly soothing, in combination with his whispered reassurances and gentle promises; you can’t remember the last time someone had been so nice to you. You glance back at the party attendees that have already forgotten you exist and you nod, having to reach up to cling to the yellow fur covered hand he offers once he straightens, guiding you out of the dining room.

You’re led through a series of corridors until you arrive someplace much more dimly lit. It’s cold back here, quiet. There are piles of things you don’t understand stacked on steel shelves. You suddenly want to return to the party. At least it had been warmer there.

The yellow rabbit releases your hand. “Are you ready for your surprise?”

You nod uncertainly, wondering if you could even find your way back to the dining room at this point; if anyone could hear you scream for help.

You hear the sound of something metal being dragged as he lifts it from the nearest workbench, the kitchen knife looking so sharp next to that soft fur.

Your eyes widen and you turn and run.

You can feel him lunge at your retreating form, just missing, sweeping across your hair and the bow on the back of your party dress. You choose a direction blindly, your feet slapping against the concrete floor. Relief washes over you when you hear the sound of the dining room getting louder, the light spilling through the glass panes of the Employees Only doors a beacon for you to follow.

You burst through the doors and head for the nearest adult you can see, tucking breathlessly behind them, watching fearfully for your pursuer.

They never reappear, and you never tell anyone what had happened.

After all, who would care?

Chapter 2 ~ the oubliette ~

You walk with no destination, cutting through a field dotted with the end of last summer’s fading wild flowers.

The fence that borders your makeshift path has fallen to ruin, the wood rotted and collapsing, surrendering to the elements. You count the posts that defy the passage of time and remain standing, crediting even those that list to one side, the rugged earth crumbling at their bases. It’s a distraction, something to focus on besides the poor grade you’d received on your first history exam of the semester, your senior year already starting off terribly. You bitterly recall the fight you'd had with your stepmother the night before and the lunchroom that has no room for you, because you do not care for fashion or makeup or giggling over young pop stars, driving you to eat alone tucked under the stairs.

You reach out and run your fingers over the tallest weeds, letting the dry stalks brush against skin that is ink stained, forever smudged when you spill your buried thoughts and feelings onto paper. You never keep them, afraid they’ll be seen and misunderstood, and you can’t bear the thought of that; those innermost expressions violated and judged by others. They’re all you have to cling to.

You smell the rain before you feel it, the dry spell that has lasted for weeks finally giving way beneath the fury of the atmosphere. A few stray drops fall on your bare arms, a precursor of what is to come, the accompanying rumble of thunder a gentle growl in the distance.

You’ve reached civilization again, such as it is; this part of town long vacant, filled with closed shops and shuttered houses. The economy of Hurricane has always been a fragile thing, one of the many small towns that developers had sought to populate and expand, and for a time it had actually flourished. The expansion had happened too soon, though, abandoned in favor of cities with industry, lured by the promise of more jobs and better access to finer housing and richer commerce.

Your footsteps slow as you near a large structure rising up before you, the children’s party themed restaurant long vacated. You’d heard stories about it before, something about missing children, parents calling for it to be shut down and the owner investigated. You vaguely remember being there for someone’s birthday party once when you were younger, the feeling that something unpleasant had happened while you were there tickling the edges of your mind, but the details are fuzzy. A lot of your childhood memories are like that. Your therapist had said it was a defense mechanism, your brain trying to protect you by obscuring those recollections. You figured if that was the case you were better off not remembering whatever it was that was so traumatic. You had your journaling and that was more than enough as far as you’re concerned. You’d never liked going to therapy anyway, grateful when your stepmother had declared it a needless expense since you didn’t seem to be benefiting from it and you never returned. It’s the only good thing she’d ever unwittingly done for you.

Stepping over a chunk of broken asphalt, you enter the parking lot of the pizzeria. Weeds and small trees and patches of crab grass poke through the tar, finding life in the smallest bits of soil, the unattended blacktop crumbling in their wake. Another scattering of moisture from the gray clouds above strikes your bare skin and you hear the thunder’s growl becoming more impatient.

The building’s cheerful yellow and green paint has long since faded, the painted plaster and tiles of the checkerboard pattern decorating the outside missing in many places, fallen and crumbling. The front entrance and windows are all boarded up, surprisingly clear of graffiti, as if no one is willing to go near the place, afraid of the consequences of desecrating that structure.

The downpour begins.

You bypass the front of the building, stepping hurriedly around a fallen sign, the cracked glass and smashed lighting preventing you from seeing much more than the arm raised in a friendly wave that belongs to the restaurant’s infamous bear mascot. You nearly trip on a root as you weave through the side lot, the failing light from the darkening skies making it difficult to see.

Lightning briefly illuminates your surroundings and that’s when you catch sight of the open window.

It’s so oddly intact, unblemished unlike the rest of the building, the glass panes undisturbed, the frame solid. You think if you could find something to stand on it would be enough of an elevation to climb inside.

You hesitate over this thought, at the strong impulse that makes you feel as if you’re being lured inside.

It’s easy to blame the torrential rain for your desire to escape the elements and you discard the discomfiting thought. There are a couple of pallets from some forgotten shipment of goods that seem strong enough to support your weight and you drag them hastily beneath the opening. You’re drenched now, your hair plastered in wet clusters, your clothing adhered to your body. You climb onto the piled pieces of wooden slats and rest one hand on the sill, supporting your weight while you shove at the bottom rail, widening the space. It slides silently upward, granting you access to wriggle through, easing in one side of your body at a time. A short drop to the floor brings you inside of Freddy Fazbear’s, the noise of outdoors suddenly muffled as you’re swallowed into the abandoned establishment.

***

There is very little light from outdoors to guide you as you explore the space, deciding it’s some sort of storage area, though the room is completely devoid of anything other than a thick layer of dust that you disturb, sending clouds of it into the air. Another flash of lightning shows you the barred opening of a vent of some sort, the metal slats glinting for a brief moment and then the room grows dim again.

Curiously, there is no door to allow you to exit the space. You run your hands along the walls, completing the circuit. Save the vent and the window, there is no other point of entry or egress.

You hear a rattling sound of something dragging across metal and you freeze, holding your breath.

The screws bolting the cover of the duct into place quiver in their frames, the spiraled bits of steel surrendering to the tremendous force shoving at them. The encasement clatters to the floor and you hear the sound of something being pushed through the opening, straining until it, too, lands with a heavy thud.

You cower near the window, already attempting to pull yourself back up, failing without the added height to assist you. Stupid, so stupid that you’d come here, assuming you’d be able to leave as easily as you’d entered.

“Wait.”

The voice stills your struggling form instantly. The figure takes a step forward and it’s just enough for you to make out the shape of one of the mascots, an imposingly tall being well over seven feet tall. Its eyes flicker like a failing flashlight low on batteries. The rabbit—that’s what it is, you realize—has one ear torn midway through, the suit in a similar state of disrepair, the once golden fur and fabric long since faded and worn away, exposing metal and wires. The purple bow tie decorating its neck is frayed, drooping in twin deflated loops above a pair of black buttons meant to represent formal attire.

You stare at the animatronic, trying to reconcile how this creature is still moving on its own when the lithium that powers it should have been depleted long ago; yet here it stands, no longer programmed to remain onstage to perform, a free entity roaming the building.

The yellow rabbit chuckles softly, the noise emanating from within the headpiece sounding modulated, as if an algorithm is altering the amplitude, pitch, and tone. “I’m not like them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Your mouth is too dry to form words. You wonder how it is he knows that was exactly what you’d been thinking.

“Why are you here?”

“I was out wandering,” you manage, struggling to find moisture to wet your lips. “It started raining. I just wanted to go someplace dry.”

“Strange that you chose this place.”

“The window was open,” you protest. “I didn’t break anything. I’ll leave right now, I just don’t know how to get out of here. There’s no door.”

The rabbit continues to stare at you. “No, there isn’t.” You hear a deep inhale of breath from the figure. “Stay here a moment longer and speak with me.”

Your hand scrabbles absently at the wall in a futile gesture as if you could somehow claw your way through the solid surface. “About what?”

“Anything you’d like. It’s not often this place gets visitors these days.” The rabbit leans against the wall beside the window, folding his arms.

“I have to go…”

“Go where?”

“Home. My parents are expecting me.”

It’s untrue. Your stepmother is likely out spending your father’s money and he’s probably at the bar.

“Do not lie to me,” the rabbit says. “There is no one waiting for you.”

“How did you…”

The mascot’s head tips back to rest against the wall. “I am something of an expert on deception. Why are you out wandering in this part of town? Surely you’ve heard of this place’s reputation, young as you appear.”

“I was just walking home from school. Just thinking, not really paying attention to where I was going.”

“Thinking about what?”

You shrug uncertainly. “Nothing interesting. I promise,” you add, in case he thinks you are attempting to tell a falsehood again.

“I might find it interesting,” he replies, the headpiece tilting back down so he can study you.

You shake your head. “Everything is going wrong. I just failed my first history exam. I don’t have any friends. My stepmother hates my guts.” The confession spills out of you, the words coming easier once the floodgates have been opened. “I’m not like anyone else. I don’t fit in. I’m lonely,” you finish quietly.

Another deep inhale, as if the creature is absorbing your words. You think the lights of his eyes seem a little brighter now, casting a soft glow over the permanent grin on the rabbit’s face, the rows of teeth glinting dangerously.

“I don’t fit in anywhere either,” the suited person says. “So it appears we have that much in common, at least.” His head tips to one side, the intact ear tapping against the window pane. “The storm is ending.”

You shuffle your feet nervously. “Can I leave now?”

“Are you in such a rush to go to the home where you’re not wanted?”

The words cut cruelly and you look away.

The figure sighs. “Go, then, if that’s what you truly want. I won’t stop you. I’ll even help give you a boost up.” He bends, the steel encased hands now laced together to form a step for you. You place a foot there and he lifts you easily, allowing you to reach the sill and begin extracting yourself, one leg hooked over the edge, your torso bending to pass through the opening. Cool, moist air passes over your exposed limbs, reminding you that you’re soaking wet and night is approaching.

You hesitate, feeling the rabbit watching you. “How will you get out? Can you climb back the way you came, or…?”

He chuckles softly. “I was never trapped to begin with. But it’s kind of you to be concerned for a stranger’s well being. If you return, I’ll make your entrance easier next time and open the front door.”

“Return?” You blink at the invitation. “Why would I…”

“If you decide you want company the next time you get lonely. I’m a good listener.”

“Alright. Goodbye.” You don’t want to commit to anything but you also don’t want to risk the odd individual’s ire.

You can see him nod, his eyes glimmering in the strange, forgotten space, watching as you finish extricating yourself from the opening.

Outside, you’re grateful for the fresh air supply, for an escape from the musty scent of the vacant room and its bizarre occupant. You keep to the lit streets on your way home and once there change into warm pajamas and pull a duvet around you, a notebook resting on your lap. With your thoughts already given to another, you find there is nothing left to write about and the lined page remains blank.

Chapter 3 ~ sweet tooth ~

William Afton leaves the new mayor of Hurricane’s office with a smile on his face.

A major part of his electoral campaign had been focused on the promise of a renewal for the city that included renovation and rebuilding, cleaning up the vacant part of town and restoring the area to what it once was.

It was the perfect opportunity to lobby for reopening Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.

There would still be protests of course; it was inevitable given the history of the restaurant. But with this new blood in office, with a new identity to hide behind, with a new generation that didn’t know any better, it was a chance to begin again.

Sliding into the dark vintage luxury sedan parked along the curb outside the office, he reaches for the lollipop tucked into his shirt pocket. His sweet tooth has gotten worse as he’s advanced in age, the constant craving for sugar driving him to consume it as frequently as possible. He pulls the plastic wrapper free and settles the red candy ball on his tongue, sucking until the treat surrenders, releasing a burst of cherry flavor into his mouth. It mingles with his saliva and he hums in satisfaction, withdrawing it with a loud pop and swallowing the syrup down before replacing it once more between his lips.

Adjusting the rear view mirror, the man eases out of the parking spot and merges smoothly into downtown traffic which is light at this time of day. The stack of flyers on the seat beside him slide on the vinyl and he automatically reaches out a hand to trap them in place.

The public high school is a short distance away, the bulletin board outside the guidance office near the main entrance. It’s littered with postings, a few of which he tears free and crumples in one fist before tacking his own onto the cork board.

He tosses the ruined papers he’s holding into the wastebin as he turns and leaves, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. He exits the building, long legs making short work of the cement stairs, humming faintly under his breath.

***

You never really pay much attention to the job postings at school.

Yet today it’s impossible to ignore the brightly colored flyer whose bottom edge lifts in the breeze of the passing students, the strips of paper with a phone number fluttering in their wake. You slow down, looking at the advertisement, blinking in surprise when you realize it’s an announcement that Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria is reopening under new management and is seeking ‘motivated individuals’ to help with the project both before and after its completion.

You think of the yellow rabbit lurking in the depths of that place and you shiver. You’re still not even certain it had really happened; if it hadn’t just been some wild imagining your brain had conjured up, a dream that had felt a little too real. Imaginary or not, as odd and unnerving as the encounter had been, you couldn’t help but admit there’d been something strangely charismatic about the stranger. He was so easy to talk to. The fact that he was an outsider too gave you the sense of kinship.

You shake your head, silently reprimanding yourself. It was ridiculous. You weren’t about to make friends with a strange man that may or may not even exist wearing a decaying mascot costume hanging out in some abandoned restaurant. Even you aren’t that pathetic and desperate.

Still you hesitate, staring at the announcement until you find yourself tearing one of the slips of paper free, tucking it into the pocket of your jeans.

There is no thoughtful lingering walk home that afternoon.

You head directly to your house, sighing with relief that another school day’s behind you as you enter your bedroom, tossing your backpack on the bed and sitting down beside it. You toe off your sneakers and cross your legs beneath you, debating about whether you feel like raiding the kitchen for a snack when you remember the paper you’d shoved into your pocket earlier.

It takes you a moment to find it, leaning back slightly and rummaging around in the confined space, digging until you realize it’s been creased tightly against the seam. You pull the phone beside your bed into your lap and hesitate once again, thinking of flickering lamp eyes in the darkness.

Before you lose your nerve you dial the number, a man’s voice answering on the second ring.

“Steve Raglan’s office. Can I help you?”

His voice is an odd mix of rust and nasal whine, overly cheerful.

“Uh, yeah. I got this number from a flyer at my school. It’s about the jobs at Freddy’s.”

The career counselor’s tone shifts an octave lower, a rough grate of noise that sounds pleased. “Excellent. We’ll be holding interviews this week. Was there anything in particular you wanted to be involved with?”

“No, not really.” You wind the phone cord around your index finger, straightening out the tight coil briefly before it resumes its previous shape, hugging the digit firmly.

“Well, we’d love to have you come down and tell you more about the opportunities available. What day works for you?”

“Um, any afternoon is fine, really.”

“Great. Flexibility is something the owner really appreciates. How does Wednesday sound to you? Three o’clock?”

“Sure, that works.” You give the man your contact information.

“We look forward to seeing you then.” There’s a soft sound like a hum of amusement and then the line is disconnected, the dial tone loud in your ear.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #springtrap x reader #springtrap x you #fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie #william afton #steve raglan #springtrap

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maybeitsalivescribbles · 2 months

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TTD - True Evil 4/4

part1 part2 part3 part 4

“Do you understand?”

The Not-Earbuds were taken off with shaking hands. Superhero grabbed Hero’s wrists so tight the latter let out a muffled scream of protestation.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes!”

The man looked at their grimace of pain and slowly eased their grip, their eyes intense.

“I worry about you, Hero. You seem to think that villains are nice people if only you gave them a hug. Powers are a curse. Or you can shoulder them and become a hero, or you embrace them and you end in the wrong side. That’s all there is.”

“I-”

“I know it’s hard for you to understand, it’s different for you. You have a blessing, not powers. But you have to, or the reality will catch up to you. Like me, you’ll be responsible for a death.”

“Sir, you were not responsible for any of that.”

Hero’s wrists were released at once. It was the Superhero’s turn to recoil, a wide-eyed expression on his face:

“How – How can you say that? If I'd been a little quicker, I could have caught her. If I’d never approached the monster, she might have been safe.”

His fist clenched:

“If I’d killed them, they’d never have made victims then or after.”

Hero swallowed hard:

“Sir, I’m sorry for what happened to you. Truly.”

“Save your pity for people who deserve it. I want your efficacy. Can you promise me to do your job better than you've done until now?”

“I’ll try, sir. I’ll really try.”

Two pale red eyes followed them as they left the office. It didn’t scare Hero as much as before.

Villain’s room was still locked when they came back. Hero knocked, but didn’t try to enter. They let their back glide along it, landing on the floor, and slipped their hand under the door. After a while, they felt fingers encircling theirs. They looked at the ceiling, their eyes gazing at a small crack in all this white.

“When I was five-year-old”, they said, “my moms told me I could put my shoes on my own. It was really hard, you know. I had two pairs, so I had to make a choice, and it killed me. I knew that no matter what I’d do, there was going to be poor little shoes under my bed in the dark all day long. My moms found me in tears the next week. They had to buy a chest to make a shoe house, and a third pair so they could have fun with each other during the day.”

“That was very prejudiced of your child self. Like your shoes would rather work all day long than spending time on their own. Like darkness was a curse.”

“I was five-year-old, buddy. I didn’t think. That’s my point, actually.”

“I didn’t realize you had one.”

“I was devastated because of shoes. I can’t even imagine how it was for you, when you saw someone die.”

Hero heard a gasp from the other side of the door, but they grabbed the hand that tried to get away from them.

“My boss told me what happened. I don’t think you’ve killed anybody.”

“These sentences don’t go together. Do not even try to tell me he changed his mind.”

“He didn’t. He’s traumatized. But I’m the one who lives with you. Even if I didn’t know any fact, I know that the person who hugs me every morning before I’m going to work and who harassed me to call a doctor when I was sick would never kill someone on purpose. Of course it was an accident. It wasn't premeditated at all.”

“It is quite a shot in the dark for someone so terrified of it.”

“I was five. I got better.”

“How naive. Just because someone pretends to bear with you doesn’t mean they’re unable to murder anyone.”

Hero squeezed their roommate’s hand.

“But I’m right,” they whispered. “I’m sure I’m right.”

Villain struggled to get free and this time, they let go. After a few minutes, the lock clicked. Hero moved back from the door, staring as it opened. Villain looked at them back. For once, their shadow didn’t cover their head altogether, leaving two pale green eyes in sight, coldly glaring.

“I didn’t even see her run into traffic,” they simply said. “There were ants in the tree. I was too busy to fight with the little creatures eager to invade my very own personal space.”

Hero jumped on their feet:

“I knew it!”

“You seem suspiciously relieved for someone who pretended to be certain.”

“Hmm - it’s the ants. Everybody hates ants.”

“You are such a dreadful liar.”

Nevertheless, Villain grumpily accepted the hug.

Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

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potatomountain · 1 year

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“Red Suits You” Spoiler

Vampire Seongjoong x fem!reader!

Synopsis: Your sight was 20/20, just everything was gray. Everything except emotions, and the inhumane/supernatural. Red wasn’t a color you liked to see, but two vampires have deemed that the color that suits you most, in more ways than one.

Spoiler for another work I’ve been workin on. No release date yet ^^

Following two predators into a secluded room in their den was perhaps the most stupidest idea you had ever had.

Yet you did so.

Grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to her, Ari didn't even look in your direction. "Yes please." Only when they turned their backs did she glance at you with pure excitement and a low squeal. Forcing a smile you let her drag you after them, every step you took you filling you with more dread until it took most of the focus you could spare to keep it in check. If they knew you were afraid, they would question why; if they figured out that you knew what they were, you were as good as dead.

But how long could you play this game of charades when your very pulse could give you away? A simple nervous tick they would notice, or the pure fear they could no doubt smell if you let it get too overwhelming.

They approached a small black velvet curtain, the taller pushing it aside and letting the monochrome one lead you both down the small and eeriely lit hallway. You couldn’t help but look back, watching the crowd of sweaty bodies as you passed the man in red. Quickly the view was cut off by the man in red's form, the black curtain falling closed and a very noticeable difference sound already.

Magic no doubt. It wasn't often you ran into magic like this, but the purpose for the muffled sound barrier was obvious: so no screams could be heard past the velvet barrier.

Your heart rate spiked once more, palms feeling a bit sweaty as you held on tighter to Ari's hand. She didn't seem to notice how much quieter it was, but she did notice your reaction. "Aw are you nervous?"

You could feel both red gazes on you at her not too subtle question. To be put on the spot like this did not help you at all, but you were quick to try and turn it into an opportunity. Flushing at her question, you nodded admittance and kept your eyes downcast. "Of course I'm nervous... they're really hot." You hushed your words in a shy manner, knowing that Ari would buy it.

But would they?

"We're really flattered you think so-" The man in front started, approaching a dark door with a confident grin.

"-but we'd say that you are the attractive ones." The taller one finished, his words a hum by your ear and giving you a start. You hadn't realized he had gotten so close, which just had you pressing closer to your best friend. The amused chuckle he let out at your retreat only had your nerves on edge further. "And cute."

They were smooth, but of course they were. Who knew how many decades or centuries they had to perfect the hunt like this. Ari was smitten for it, not even aware of how you latched on as she stared at the monochrome vampire before you. He had opened the door to a lavish but also simple lounge of colors you couldn't place, but had a distinct feeling it matched the two vampires you were unfortunately trapped between.

"Oh my... this is so nice. Don't you agree?" Ari turned her eyes to lock onto yours, a silent message just for you brimming in them. Not wanting to answer, you just nodded and brought the forgotten wine glass to your lips as an excuse, looking around. You knew she wanted you to interact, to compliment them more and show an interest, but despite the resolve to protect Ari you were still too scared to do much.

What could you do against two vampires after all? Nothing. You were just a human with an odd sight. One who kept their head down and avoided them and the underworld as much as you possibly could because you knew it wasn't your place.

"My name is Seonghwa, its a pleasure to meet such beautiful ladies. Have a seat, relax, and I'll fetch even better wine." The man in red grabbed your attention while the other was already moving to sit in one of the large backed chairs to one side of the room. Behind the chairs sat a simple enough bar that Seonghwa moved over to with ease.

Ari took his words to heart and pulled you over to the loveseat across from the chairs, sitting you down so you were facing the still nameless vampire. With much enthusiasm she introduced you while you remained mute. "And my name is Ari, it's our pleasure really."

Cautiously you watched the back of Seonghwa between the two chairs, wondering if you could make out just what he was doing as he seemed to open another bottle of wine you couldn't recall where he grabbed it from. Ari was watching the vampire before you while he seemed to have his red eyes fixated on your face.

Only when he muttered your name did you pull your gaze to his, breath hitching at his expression. The pure lust in his eyes and the way he was biting down on his lip would have been quite hot normally, but your fear overwhelmed any desire that tried to form in your gut. You couldn't tell if he was looking at you like a hot meal or as if he genuinely wanted to fuck you. With an ankle propped up over his other knee, hands folded leisurely in his lap and a confidance to his posture, you were sure he believed he was going to have you as either. "I'm Hongjoong, so you know what name to chant later."

#ateez vampire au #vampire au #vampire ateez #vampire seonghwa #vampire hongjoong #seongjoong #ateez hongjoong smut #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #seongjoong fanfic #upcoming #spoiler #ateez fanfic #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez seongjoong

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mlmvoreconfessionals · 2 months

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Undertale is so good!!! Could you do any prompts with Sans as a pred? Disposal too if you can. !

I bet I can make more for him, yeah!

“Hey, do you mind moving?” The voice makes S.ans open one eye and look up. Since getting to the surface, he’s been enjoying a lot of the privileges that come with it. Like sunbathing on the beachside. Of course, that also means many more complications.

A human is looking down at S.ans, frowning. The beach is a bit crowded and even a casual glance around shows that there aren't many good open spots. S.ans is taking up a rather large one just for himself. He likes the space. S.ans shrugs and shifts slightly to the left. “There.”

The human clearly didn’t appreciate the joke. “Alright, buddy.” He stoops down and grabs S.ans by the shirt, lifting him up. He fully intended to just toss the skeleton aside. But then he feels something grip him, S.ans’s eye glowing slightly. The skeleton’s jaws open wide, drooling slightly, and the human’s head is engulfed before he can even scream.

The man lets go of him but can’t move enough to fight back. S.ans starts gulping wetly, sinking down the human’s shoulders and chest. He’s on his feet again as he reaches the man’s stomach and starts lifting him up.

A slow slurping sound rings out as the human’s legs slowly sink down. All the while, S.ans’s gut stretches out more and more. He lies back down on his towel, folding his arms behind his head. He releases the grip his magic had, letting the human’s legs kick slightly from outside his jaws. But they’re fine with a final slurp and a gulp, sending the man down the hatch.

With a low, crass belch, S.ans gives a few rough pats to his belly. “Hah…alright, there we go. More than enough space for both of us to share, right?” S.ans’s gut sloshes around wetly as his meal squirms. The skeleton just shrugs and folds his arms behind his head again. “Eh, maybe not a whole lot for you…”

S.ans settles back down from there, letting his gut do its thing. It groans and gurgles deeply, sitting in the sun to help it with its work. The skeleton’s stomach steadily rounds out and shrinks down, the human inside going still and silent. S.ans belches in his sleep and lazily scratches his stomach.

When he comes to, the beach is much emptier. The skeleton yawns and sits up, lazily rubbing his eye sockets. His gut groans deeply and he puts his hands on it gently. “Hey, buddy. Still want this spot, huh?” He sighs and shrugs. “Alright, I’m done with it.”

Getting to his feet, S.ans shuffled the towel aside and drops his pants. He squats down and starts to push. His gut groans deeply and with some effort, a thick log of shit begins to press out. Once it’s coming free, it’s a much smoother process, and he sighs softly as the human starts coiling up under him.

The beach is much cooler with the sun going down, so the warmth of the shit S.ans is leaving is kind of nice. The smell…less so. But with enough time, he punches off the last log and is able to stand up again. The pile is up to his waist, bones sticking out and a skull near the top. S.ans chuckles and gives it a wave. “Enjoy the spot. It’s all yours.” He bundles up his towel under his arm and heads home with a lazy whistle.

When a wet-sounding fart echoes out in the house, P.apyrus groans and puts a hand to his face. He’s certain that was S.ans sitting on a whoopee cushion. He never did get that. The point of the joke is that other people sit on it, yes? But he’s certain that S.ans does it like this just to annoy him.

He’d go and reprimand his brother but he’s busy making dinner right now. He’s sure S.ans only planned to do it the one time. He wouldn’t be getting back up again for any reason, even to set off the whoopee cushion again. Though, there is a different sound in the air. A thick bubbling that’s distinct from the boiling pot P.apyrus is tending to. And some muffled voices. The TV, maybe..?

When P.apyrus hears the whoopee cushion again, he pauses. He can’t believe his brother. The only time he’s not lazy it’s for the absolute worst jokes! Who sits on a whoopee cushion twice? On purpose, no less? He shakes his head and turns to look at the kitchen doorway. “S.ans, no whoopee cushions before dinner! It’ll spoil your appetite!”

“Ya got it, bro,” is the lazy and faint reply, S.ans not even bothering to raise his voice to respond. P.apyrus just shakes his head and returns to cooking. He can’t hear that muffled voice anymore and the boiling sound is getting louder, too. What is S.ans even watching on the television? It better not be cooking shows! He knows that he shouldn’t watch those without P.apyrus!

P.apyrus is finally starting to drain the pasta when he hears S.ans grunting. It almost sounds like he’s doing something laborious, which is odd, since he never does anything like that. There’s another whoopee cushion sound before S.ans sighs and something starts to thump on the ground. Finally done with this terrible joke, P.apyrus leaves the kitchen to confront his brother.

“S.ans, what did I say about—“ He stops in the doorway as he sees his brother. The stout skeleton is squatting over the floor, shorts down and ass exposed. Dense, thick shit is sliding out of him, piling up on the ground. Bones are baked into the mess and the stink is finally noticeable.

S.ans looks at his brother and grins. “Oh, hey...nngh…bro.” Another log drops out, a ribcage baked into it. “You mind putting my pasta in the fridge tonight? I already had a bite to eat.” S.ans grunts again as a final log coils up on the top of the mess, a skull sticking out of it. The skeleton sighs deeply and stands up again.

P.apyrus stares at his brother and the pile of crap he left on their living room floor. Then he throws his hands up. “I told you not to ruin your appetite! And clean that up!” He turns and stomps back into the kitchen, grumbling to himself. Now he’s going to have to eat all of the spaghetti himself!

“BBWwwwwwWWWOOOOOooouuurrrrp!!!” A deep, wet belch rumbles out across the room, like a thundering roar. S.ans sighs deeply once it ends and readjusts the mic stand, his gut now squishing against it.

“Well, I hope the rest of you are enjoying the food like I am,” S.ans says with a few pats to his gut. It sloshes back and forth, muffled yells being caught by the mic. His meal wasn’t having a great time now being packed away in the bubbling, groaning gut.

He’d been an audience member about five minutes ago. He was heckling the acts all night, and while S.ans loved a good back and forth, he doesn’t like jerks. So he brought the guy onto the stage and…

Another belch echoes out into the mic as S.ans’s gut stretches out. It clenches back down, squishing the person back into place with a muffled whine. He rubs over his gut, getting right back into his act without skipping a beat. He has some new on-the-fly material thanks to the meal kicking in his gut, which provided some very wet and noisy background noise to the act. It seems to be well enough received by the audience.

All the while, S.ans’s gut steadily shrinks down. It gurgles and groans even louder as it does, softening up the hackles and pumping him away through S.ans’s system. It’ll make him a little chubbier all around but not enough that it’ll be an issue. What will be an issue is the heavyweight sinking deeper inside of him.

A low, deep groan rumbles out of S.ans’s stomach and he pats it. “Heh, didn’t think my last joke was that bad. No need to groan over it!” His gut rumbles hard again and he winces slightly. “Oh, I get it. He’s got a joke of his own. Well…nnf…let’s hear it…” S.ans squats down on stage, pulling his shorts down. He faces the audience with it and a wet fart comes out. And then something much more solid does.

A log of shit spreads S.ans out and begins to coil up on the stage floor. He grunts softly and keeps pushing, eyes closed as he lets out a pleased groan. Bones are sticking out of the crap, a skeleton essentially coming out feet first as S.ans dumps his heckler. “Hff…he’s really…dragging this bit out, huh..?”

The pile keeps growing, logs breaking off every so often as they heap up. S.ans finally grunts hard as he pushes out a skull to top the pile off. It sits half buried in the muck, jaws open wide. S.ans gets back to his feet and grabs the mic. “Alright. Looks like we know which of us is a ‘shit comedian’ now, huh? I’ll be here next week if anyone else wants to test that out.” S.ans chuckles to himself and sidesteps the mess, finally done with his set.

#v.ore #gay vore #male vore #m/m vore #mlm vore #vore prompts #male vore prompts #oral vore #digestion #fatal vore #disposal #undertalevore #sansvore #ask

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fruitcoops · 10 months

Text

Chicken Strip(tease)

O'Knutzy Week Day 3: Cooking Mishap + Bondage! For @oknutzyweek2023 and many thanks to @lumosinlove <3

It was January in Gryffindor—in other words, fucking miserable. Leo gave himself a little extra grace for that when the screaming toddlers at the corner store started feeling a tad too relatable. The weather couldn’t decide between sleet, hail, and snow, so it vomited out some nightmare combination of the three with the magnificent addition of near-freezing temperatures from dawn (short) till dusk (even shorter). Any of Leo’s grumbling was sharply silenced by a blast of shearing wind to tell him to shove it up his ass.

The living room plants had a special light to mimic the sun during the months of garbage disposal weather.

Leo had the oven. And he was going to bloom and grow and photosynthesize, goddammit.

Simmer pots went from a monthly occurrence to a weekly staple—ostensibly, he needed to use up the extra oranges before they went bad. They had soup every night for a week, and as the sky grew darker, he transitioned to frequent roasts. The three of them could demolish a hunk of pork in one sitting without any trouble at all; Leo was sure anemia spooked and ran the second it glanced their way.

“What’s—”

“Veggies.” The first two rows of tiles by the oven were warmer than the rest of the floor. He had discovered that just after Cap’s birthday. “Carrots, celery, beets. The works. How’s your mom’n’em?”

“My—they’re good.” Finn’s socks muffled his footsteps. Leo stared into the tiny oven window, entranced by golden light. “Yeah, no, everyone’s fine. Excited to see us for the holidays. Mom sends kisses.”

Leo hummed. That would be nice. He wasn’t keen on winter any further north than Kentucky, but the O’Hara house was always warm. Warmer than Rimouski, at least. It was a testament to Logan’s love that he didn’t ask Leo to bury himself in snow that could be measured in meters.

“…you okay, baby?”

“Hmm?” He scooted an inch closer to the oven and gleefully wiggled his toes on the nearly-too-hot tile. “Mhmm.”

“You’re sitting, like, really close to the oven.”

“Warm,” Leo supplied. Wind shrieked down the brick siding of their building and he closed his eyes, leaning in. The oil was starting to sizzle.

“Please don’t bake yourself.”

The concern in Finn’s voice made him pause. He blinked. His face was beginning to prickle.

In the glass reflection, Finn squatted with a soft groan. His fingertips brushed Leo’s spine. “Le? You listening?”

“Mhmm.” The carrots would be ready to caramelize soon. Maybe he could do another soup as a side course.

“You gotta sit back, Butter.”

“ ‘S warm here.”

Finn sighed. “C’mon. Let’s get you a blanket.”

Arms came around his chest to haul him off the ground like a ragdoll. “No,” Leo protested weakly, reaching for his little square of salvation.

“Yes,” Finn mimicked. His sweater sleeves gave gentle cushion to Leo’s underarms as he was (dragged) hustled to the other side of the kitchen; Finn paused, moved to his front, and boosted him onto the countertop with only a quiet grunt of effort.

Leo couldn’t help the slide of his lower lip. “But…”

“Uh-uh. No baked boyfriends, please.” Finn leaned up to kiss his cheek, but swerved an inch before he made contact. “Oh, that looks tasty.”

Leo exhaled miserably and plopped his forehead onto Finn’s shoulder. A hand found his nape within seconds. “Chicken.”

“I see that,” Finn laughed. “Looks great, honey.”

“Might have soup, too.”

“You’re really feeling the soup, huh?”

“Tasty. Easy.”

“It’s amazing,” Finn agreed. He toyed with a few overgrown curls, then leaned toward the doorway. “Lo! Le made a chicken!”

An instant ruckus followed—Leo buried his smile in Finn’s neck. For someone so small, Logan couldn’t do anything quietly. “A chick—oh, coucou, you look cozy.”

“I hate January, and I hate the weather, and…” Leo groaned and pushed his face into the warm, spicy hollow of Finn’s neck and shoulder. “And I really like soup.”

“Okay,” Logan laughed. “Is that what we’re having?”

There was a nudge to his arm; Leo lifted it to make room and shuffled Logan against himself, resting his chin on the top of his head. Perfectly snuggle-able, that one. Warm, too. He knew he kept him around for a reason.

He had made a bit of a mess, when he really looked at it. The chicken was a work of art but he had been more concerned with lingering near the oven than cleaning as he cooked, which left a disaster of impressive proportions sprawling across the countertop. A small pool of olive oil oozed along the tiles. Pepper caught the edge and diverted it onto a spoon. He followed the lazy river past a bowl, a ramekin, and a spoon (half-burnt from one of Logan’s ill-fated baking attempts) before catching at the corner of the pan. A soft hiss followed, then cooled.

Before his very eyes, his Jacques-Pepin wet dream of a rotisserie chicken sat up and began to dance burlesque.

A startled laugh burst from him. One crispy leg lifted in arabesque—a wing shimmied at him, seductive and gorgeous and golden. Leo turned to muffle himself in Logan’s hair, unable to look away despite mild horror at Finn’s fingers all over his moment of divine inspiration. “Oh my god.”

The chicken paused, gave a sultry half-turn, and wiggled its voluptuous white meat at him.

The giggles flooded forth, and he simply couldn’t stop them. Logan’s chest shook under his hand.

“I can’t…” Finn’s tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to beckon with a wing. “God, you’ve got this thing all done up in—fucking bondage or something.”

“It’s trussed!” Leo propped his chin on Logan’s head. A warm hand folded over his own. He made eye contact with Finn and pressed a kiss to Logan’s ear. “And it’s perfect.”

“Course it is, it’s you.”

His grin made his cheeks hurt. “Stop playing with your food and come kiss me, Chicken Boy.”

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn ohara #cubs #oknutzy #oknutzy week 2023 #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #coast to coast #sweater weather #fluff

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33max · 1 year

Note

How does Max react to George saying he spat his dummy out in regards to the Baku incident? Does that scare him a little bit? Does Daniel need to comfort him?

cw angst, 955 words

It’s a slightly different Thursday evening, they’ve swapped their usual hotel rooms for a villa just outside of Miami. Daniel had booked it after watching the confrontation between George and Max at the previous race in Baku, deciding that a nice little getaway from the paddock and the media circus would be good for Max.

“You didn’t need to do this,” Max had said to him, “It is of course enough that you’re here for this race. I missed you last weekend.”

“I know, baby,” Daniel had replied, pressing a kiss to Max’s cheek. “I just want you to relax before the weekend okay?”

So that is what they try to do.

They’ve both had a long day of media duties and now finally they’re back at the villa relaxing before free practice starts tomorrow. Well, free practice starts tomorrow for Max. Daniel will be watching from the garage, legs jittering, he can’t even deny how badly he wants to be in the car alongside Max anymore. It’s only been 4 races and he’s ready to jump straight back into a race seat.

Daniel is slouching on the sofa, his head resting against the cushion on the back, and Max has his head in Daniel’s lap. He’s not regressed, but he’s got one of his binkies in, doesn’t try to deny himself this comfort when it’s just the two of them anymore.

There are tiny soft sucking sounds coming from Max and his binkie, but they’re drowned out by a film on the TV that neither of them is actually watching, both scrolling through their phones in silence instead. Endlessly comfortable with each other.

“I mean, it was all a little bit pathetic I think” George’s voice comes from Max’s phone, it is an Instagram post with an interview George has clearly given that day. It looks like it’s from SkySports and Daniel tries not to roll his eyes. Why is Max even watching this?

“Whatever,” Max huffs from his spot in Daniel’s lap, the word muffled slightly around his binkie.

George’s voice continues to play, and Daniel is only half listening when he feels Max freeze up.

“It’s poor to see how he spat his dummy out”

Daniel doesn’t hear the rest of George’s sentence, because Max has locked his phone and dropped it onto the cushion of the sofa.

It’s a figure of speech, obviously. But Daniel sees the hurt in Max’s eyes, the self-hatred, the shame. Like he’s been exposed.

“What the fuck?” Daniel says, fingers finding their way into Max’s hair to try and soothe him. “He’s being a twat.”

Max says nothing, but he takes the binkie out of his mouth. Not even bothering to place it on the coffee table, just dropping it to the floor like it’s burning him.

“Max…” Daniel tries, worried. Max is finally more comfortable with this side of himself, and now… now this? It doesn’t feel fair. Daniel wishes Max hadn’t stumbled across this video. No, actually, he wishes George hadn’t said it in the first place.

Daniel tries to reach down and pick the binkie up, but Max pulls his head out of Daniel’s lap and sits up. He’s moved all the way to the other side of the sofa, legs pulled up to his chest, guarding himself from any further attacks.

“Max…” Daniel tries again, but it’s only then that he realises he doesn’t know what to say. There’s not anything he can say really. It’s just a figure of speech to George, yet his words have the power to undo months and months of progress that Max has made.

Daniel wants to scream.

“It’s fine,” Max whispers, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Daniel says, reaching out to rub the top of Max’s foot. The only part of him he can reach now.

Max doesn’t look fine at all. His eyes are wide and watery, and he’s biting the skin on his lower lip already. Attacking it between his teeth.

“I am.”

“Okay… do you want your binkie back?” Daniel says, and he feels like a cunt, because he’s only asking to prove to Max that he’s not telling the truth. That he’s not fine at all.

As expected Max shakes his head, eyeing the plastic carefully.

“Max, there is nothing wrong with your binkies,” Daniel says firmly, yanking on Max’s foot so Max slides back into his space. They’re not having this conversation at opposite ends of the sofa, not when Daniel knows how much physical touch helps Max in times like these. It reminds Max that he’s still worthy of being touched, that he doesn’t repulse people, and that he’s still loved for the way he is.

“I’m fine,” Max says again, face completely blank, but now tears are falling from his eyes and down his cheeks. He’s not fine.

He’s clearly horrified by being associated with a dummy on international television, it’s like his comfort item has just become a joke to everyone.

“Baby,” Daniel says, holding him. “Tell me what I can do to make this better.”

“Cuddle me,” Max whispers, and Daniel holds him tighter, guiding Max’s head to lie on his shoulder.

“What else can I do?” Daniel asks him, helplessly, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. The only part that isn’t buried into Daniel’s shoulder.

Max doesn’t answer, but he tangles his fingers with Daniel’s and slowly brings their hands up towards his mouth. When he takes Daniel’s fingers into his mouth, Daniel lets out a deep breath.

It will be okay.

Max is still allowing himself comfort, but he needs it from Daniel, not his binkie right now.

But it’ll be okay. Daniel is sure of it.

#answered #anonymous #turkey dinosaurs au #writing

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byersbootyshorts · 2 years

Note

in case you haven't seen vol2, this request kind of has vol 2 spoilers !! don't read ahead if you haven't seen it pls D:<

BUTTTT, i'm requesting an eddie fluff (kinda au) where the reader is with him and dustin, and as he takes off to be chased by the bats, reader goes with him and they fight them off together. eddie gets hurt pretty badly but lives, and reader takes him to their house and gets him all cleaned up. dustin even stays over because he thought for sure that eddie and reader were going to be killed, they all lay in reader's living room, reader and eddie cuddling on the couch, sitting up, while dustin just keeps his head on eddie's leg and falls asleep.

i just rlly miss my boy :(( him n dustin's bond is so beautiful and i just,, can't believe it.

- 🐯

I Can Be Your Hero

Summary: Eddie wants to be the hero, but you're not going to sit on the side-lines and watch him be torn apart. However, you will be there to put him back together again.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Warnings: VOL. 2 SPOILERS, mentions of injury, kinda fluffy, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Sorry it's been so long, I was on holiday. I've never written fluff before so I have no idea if this is good. Anyways, enjoy this and act like vol. 2 didn't happen because that's what I'm doing.

You were cornered. Demobats were bashing the walls of your boyfriend’s run-down trailer (well, the upside-down version) from all sides, desperately seeking a way in to feast on your flesh. You, Eddie and Dustin stood back-to-back, weapons poised, ready to attack when the bats finally penetrated through the trailer’s walls. All you could hear was the heavy breathing of the three of you and the hellish screeching of the bats. Eventually the noise faded and it seemed as though the bats were retreating.

‘Hey dipshits!’ Dustin yelled. ‘Give up that easy, huh?!’

‘Shh,’ you scolded.

‘Is that really necessary?’ Eddie whispered.

A second after Eddie spoke the demobats returned. This time they took a new approach.

‘They’re on the roof,’ you said, as the three of you followed the sound of the small creatures scratching the top of Eddie’s trailer. The scratching led you to a vent and suddenly terror pulsed through you.

The boys soon understood what had paralysed you in place as they too stared up at the small vent on the ceiling.

‘They can’t get in through there, can they?’

As though Dustin’s words were its cue a small demobat suddenly burst through the vent. Eddie practically jumped in front of you, wielding his weapon like a psycho. He began hitting the bat back up the vent. You and Dustin joined him, all three of you yelling to mask the fear coursing through your veins.

You soon realised Eddie was no longer beside you. You couldn’t risk looking away from the ceiling in case a demobat got through so you shouted, ‘Eddie?!’

‘Get out of the way!’ you heard him scream from behind you. You turned around and saw him running towards you, shield in hand. You grabbed Dustin and pulled him to the side causing you both to fall to the floor, allowing Eddie to block the vent with his makeshift shield.

‘Holy shit,’ Eddie mumbled, his voice barely audible.

‘Nice one,’ you said, scrambling up from the ground and wrapping your arms around Eddie.

‘Thanks,’ he replied, his voice muffled by your wild hair. He placed a kiss on your forehead as you held each other.

‘Uh guys,’ Dustin’s voice startled you. ‘I don’t mean to ruin the moment but, Eddie, are there any other vents in your trailer?’

Eddie’s hands fell from your waist and his eyes widened. ‘Shit.’

Eddie raced to his room, you and Dustin in tow. But it was too late. Demobats were swarming the room, more entering through the tiny vent as you all stood there, frozen by fear.

‘Let’s go!’ Eddie eventually shouted, pushing you out of the way and slamming the door. Soon the whole trailer began to shake as the bats tried with all their might to break through the door.

‘Go, Henderson, go!’ you screamed, pointing at the rope you’d made from sheets that led to safety.

Dustin didn’t hesitate to do as you said as he quickly scrambled up the rope and fell onto Eddie’s stained mattress that lay below (or was it above?)

You looked back at Eddie. He was holding his spear in one hand, shield in the other, preparing himself to battle whatever came through that door.

‘It’s not gonna hold,’ Eddie yelled, ready for the onslaught of bats that would be heading your way any second. ‘Hurry!’

Using all the strength you had left you hauled yourself up the rope. Your arms ached from exertion but Dustin’s encouragement kept you going. When you were almost at the surface you looked back down at Eddie. He was still facing the now almost obliterated door with seemingly no intention of turning around.

‘Eddie!’ you screamed, holding out an arm for him to join you. ‘Eddie, come on.’

Eddie turned around to face you, a determined look in his eyes.

‘You go and keep Henderson safe. I’ll catch up,’ he said quietly, grabbing your outstretched hand and placing a kiss on it. Your body tensed up.

‘No, no. I’m not leaving you here.’ Your voice broke as you imagined leaving Eddie here alone with hundreds of those deadly monsters.

‘Please, just go, Y/N,’ Eddie said sadly. ‘We haven’t given the others enough time. I need to keep distracting the bats.’

So many thoughts ran through your head. You couldn’t risk losing Eddie. But there was no way you could convince him to come with you. Suddenly you had an idea.

‘Well, if you’re not going, neither am I,’ you said, jumping down from the rope. Eddie’s face dropped.

‘No, no, no. Y/N, you have to go, please,’ Eddie whined.

The door to Eddie’s bedroom was now nearly completely gone and you knew you wouldn’t have enough time to climb back up anyway. But Eddie wasn’t going to accept that. Without thinking you grabbed the spear from his hand and cut the sheets so half fell to the floor and the other half fell into Dustin’s hands on the other side.

‘What are you doing?’ Dustin shouted up at you.

‘Just get somewhere safe,’ you yelled back.

And right at that moment, the bats finally got free, filling the entire trailer.

‘Run!’ you shouted, pulling Eddie after you. You burst through the door that led out into the dark, baron land of the Upside Down. ‘Get on a bike,’ you ordered Eddie while rushing to do the same. You began cycling away just on time as a swarm of demobats began rushing after you.

What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Eddie’s voice was strained as he tried to shout over the loud screeching of the demobats.

‘Did you really think I was just gonna leave you in here?’ you replied. ‘And anyway, we have a better chance if there’s two of us.’

‘I don’t think we’d have much chance against these things if there were twenty of us.’

You were thankful for the shields you’d made from trash can lids as demobats hit you from all sides. Without them you’d have been long dead. Your legs were beginning to burn as you continued to cycle for your life.

‘Listen, I’m sorry ok,’ you panted, your breathing rapid from your manic pedalling. ‘I know you were just trying to keep me safe but I couldn’t just let you die in here. We’re in this together, ok?’

But Eddie didn’t reply. His sudden silence made you sick with concern.

‘Eddie?’

You looked back, trying your best not to lose your balance, but stopped dead in your tracks when you realised your boyfriend was no longer behind you. Looking back, you saw a large swarm of bats circling something. That something was Eddie.

You began racing back to him, so annoyed with yourself that you hadn’t noticed him be hit from his bike by a huge bat. When you finally reached him, you threw yourself into the middle of the circling bats, put your back against his and began swinging.

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you got hit,’ you yelled.

‘You should’ve kept going,’ Eddie said, his usual confident tone slightly less present in his voice. ‘I’ve got this all under control.’

But you could see that he didn’t. Blood was seeping from below his bandana and from what you could tell he seemed to be limping.

The two of you managed pretty well for a while, swinging your weapons at oncoming bats and using your shields to protect yourselves. But the bats kept coming. And there were hundreds of them.

‘They better hurry up,’ you said. ‘I don’t know how much longer we can do this.’

Every bone in your body was exhausted but somehow you kept going. The string of demobats hurtling towards you was relentless. All you could do was hope Steve, Robin and Nancy could get to Vecna before you got hurt, or even worse, Eddie.

As though somehow the bats heard your thoughts you abruptly no longer felt Eddie’s back against yours. He screamed as a group of demobats swarmed on top of him, pinning him to the floor. You felt helpless as you watched them tear at his clothes, some even gnawing into his skin.

‘Y/N,’ he called, his voice riddled with pain.

‘I’m trying,’ you replied. You wanted more than anything to get to Eddie, bat those monsters off him and help him but if you tried to do that then they were sure to get you too. All you could do was move towards Eddie and stand over him, stopping anymore bats from getting to him. However, that didn’t stop the creatures that were already on him from ripping him apart.

Every one of Eddie’s screams made you more and more frantic. You knew the minute you cut that rope that there wasn’t much chance for either of you to get out of there, but now you were in the moment, probably only minutes away from death, you had a new motivation.

Had you been alone you’d most likely have been killed already and you would’ve been okay with that if it helped save your friends. But you couldn’t let Eddie die. Maybe it was because you wanted more than anything for Eddie to get out of there and clear his name as a murderer, or maybe you were just selfish and knew you couldn’t live without him, but something took over you.

Before you even realised what you were doing you began pulling demobats from Eddie’s limp body.

‘Get. Off. Him. You. Stupid. Fucking. Bats!’ you panted. Adrenaline pulsed through you. Not even the flocks of bats scratching at your face could stop you.

‘Y/N,’ Eddie whimpered, his voice weak and shaking.

‘It’s okay,’ you said pulling a bat from his stomach and hurling it as far as you could throw. ‘It’s okay, I got you.’

But deep down you knew this would only work for a while. Each time you ripped a bat from Eddie, two more took its place. And now they were beginning to overpower you too. Your face stung with a thousand pin pricks where the creatures has scratched and bitten you. It seemed your efforts were in vain.

All you could do was hold Eddie as the bats enveloped you.

Except they didn’t envelope you.

Suddenly, there was silence. You lifted your head from Eddie’s chest to find all the demobats that had been slowly eating you both alive lying motionless on the ground.

‘What happened?’ Eddie asked, trying and failing to pull himself up.

‘I don’t know,’ you replied. ‘Let’s just hope the others killed Vecna. That would make all the bats die, right?’

‘To be honest, I don’t care how this happened. I’m just glad I’m no longer bat food.’ Eddie stifled a laugh but tensed up, grabbing his waist.

‘Stay still,’ you ordered, pressing down on his stomach to stop the bleeding. ‘We can stay here as long as you need to.’ You placed a kiss on his forehead.

‘Hey, what about your face?’ Eddie pointed at a particularly deep cut on your cheek. His eyes looked dazed from all the blood he’d lost.

‘I’m fine,’ you grabbed his hand in yours. ‘I’m more worried about how the hell we’re going to get you out of here.’

You looked around for something that could help you carry Eddie back to the gate. There was no way you could get him back on your own. Not in the condition he was in. But all you could see were hundreds of dead demobats.

And then, as if by magic, you heard the familiar yell of your young friend.

‘Eddie! Y/N!’

Dustin’s voice echoed through the entire Upside Down.

‘Dustin! Over here!’

As Dustin came into view you could see he was limping pretty badly.

‘How did you get back? I cut the rope,’ you asked as Dustin hobbled his way over to you.

‘I jumped,’ he said matter-of-factly, pointing at his swollen leg.

‘Hey Henderson,’ Eddie mumbled from the floor. ‘Sorry you missed the party.’

‘Holy shit, Eddie,’ Dustin knelt down beside his injured friend. ‘What did they do to you?’

‘Oh, you know, knocked me off a bike, ripped all my clothes, tried to eat me. Just the usual demobat stuff.’

Every time he spoke his voice seemed stronger, giving you a little bit of relief.

‘You think you can get up for me?’ you asked.

‘I can try.’

And so, you and Dustin spent the better part of an hour painstakingly helping Eddie back to the gate. Stops were frequent as he needed time to regain his strength but eventually you made it. However, actually getting up through the gate was even more difficult.

Dustin climbed through first, luckily this time with no further injury to his leg, and threw you the piece of tied together sheets that fell to that side of the gate. You tied the cut sheets back together and with great difficulty Eddie climbed through. You could see more blood seeping through Eddie’s ripped shirt and knew all that effort hadn’t been good for his wounds.

‘We need to get you to a hospital right now,’ you said, taking your jacket off and wrapping it around his waist as a temporary compression bandage.

‘No, no hospital,’ Eddie replied. ‘I’m still wanted for murder, remember?’

‘Eddie, we have to. You’re bleeding,’ you pleaded.

‘I’m fine. We just have to go some place safe and get some bandages. I’m fine, I promise.’

Although he didn’t look fine; he looked as though he could collapse at any moment; you had to agree it wasn’t safe for him to go to the hospital.

‘Okay, fine, let’s go to my place. My mom has a bunch of medical shit. I’ll see what I can do.’

You wrapped your arm under Eddie’s once more and you and Dustin led him out to the truck. You laid him down in the back then began driving, finally letting your muscles relax.

‘You sure you don’t need a hospital, Henderson,’ you piped up after a few blissful minutes of silence. ‘That leg looks pretty bad and at least no one’s after you. I could drop you off.’

‘Hell no. You think I’m leaving you after that?’ Dustin exclaimed. ‘I thought you were both dead. No way, I’m staying right here. Besides, I don’t think anything’s broken.’

You smiled at Dustin’s words. Never did you think you’d care so much for a literal kid, but here you were putting your life on the line for him.

The rest of the journey was silent, aside from the occasional whine from Eddie when you drove over a bump in the road. Eventually, you made it to your house. Your parents were out for the night so you had no need to sneak in. You would’ve taken Eddie to your bed but it was upstairs and you knew there was no way he was making it up there. So, you settled for the couch.

‘Dustin, keep your leg still, okay? Eddie, I’m gonna get you cleaned up.’

You darted to your mother’s medical cupboard and grabbed compression bandages and antiseptic cream. Then, you got a basin of water and a cloth from your bathroom.

When you returned the scene in front of you made your heart melt. Eddie was lying on the couch, one leg hanging over the edge while Dustin sat on the floor, leaning his head on Eddie’s dangling leg, both of them had their eyes closed.

‘Eddie,’ you whispered close to his ear. His dark eyes fluttered open; a glint of pain still remained in his dilated pupils. ‘I need you to sit up for me.’

Eddie obeyed and pulled himself up, leaning on you for support. You cleaned his wounds gently and surveyed his body. Most of the cuts were painful but not overly deep, except for the large gash on the left of his torso.

‘This is going to hurt,’ you said, preparing to apply the antiseptic cream to the still bleeding wound.

‘Ah, Jesus,’ Eddie winced as the cold cream stung his skin. ‘I thought this was supposed to make me better.’

‘It will, dummy. Just give it time.’

Lastly, you fastened the compression bandage around his torso. It was a lot more efficient than the one you made from your jacket which was now sodden in blood. It wasn’t perfect and you would’ve loved to have taken him to a hospital, however, considering the circumstances, you did the best you could do.

You hadn’t realised how completely exhausted you were until you finished patching Eddie up. You couldn’t even find the strength to clean your own wounds. All you could do was throw yourself on the couch next to your boyfriend.

‘Here, let me,’ Eddie said, reaching for the cloth soaked with water. He took your chin between his finger and thumb and softly cleaned the crusted blood from your cheek.

‘I still can’t believe you did that,’ Eddie mumbled, staring deeply into your eyes.

‘Well, I wasn’t just going to-,’ you began but Eddie cut you off.

‘I mean, I was supposed to be the hero and you totally stole my thunder,’ he chuckled, wincing once more at the pain.

‘Oh, you thought I was just gonna be your sidekick, huh? And anyway, I think you had your hero moment when you played guitar on top of your trailer in the middle of the Upside Down with a swarm of demobats headed straight for you,’ you laughed.

‘Yeah, well, at least I didn’t run away this time.’

You leaned forward and kissed Eddie gently, making sure you didn’t hurt him. The moment his lips met yours you felt relief. You felt like everything might actually be okay.

Eddie pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours.

‘I love you,’ he whispered.

‘I love you too. Just don’t ever think I’ll allow you to risk your life without me again.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

There was a sudden rustling below you as a half-asleep Dustin turned to face you both.

‘Ugh, please get a room.’

All at once everything felt normal again. Just sitting here, staring into Eddie’s eyes, Dustin at your feet, snoring softly. This was all that mattered. For a moment you forgot about Vecna. You forgot about the Upside Down and the Mind Flayer and the demogorgons. You felt safe.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #oneshot #fluff #fluff oneshot #eddie munson fluff #hurt/comfort #fix it fic #stranger things #st season 4 #stranger things volume 2 #dustin henderson

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imtooscaredforthis · 1 year

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Tethered

Part III- Chapter 26: Familiar

Mentions of: Flirting, amnesia, Joey being a meanie, and nothing rlly

A/N: Another Update!! And yes…things are getting quite interesting…

Tags: @prettycutebunny @vandeaad @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @moonshineinasippycup

As your eyes fluttered open, you let out a gasp, alerting the other survivors around you. Jake jumped, almost immediately moving to your side. “What? What is it?”

“I remembered something.” The memory itself wasn’t all there, with a few pieces missing. But it was too familiar to be a dream.

“What was it?” He asked. In response, you took his hand, leading him away from the others, finding somewhere much more private for you and him to talk.“I know this is weird, but can you help me remember?”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

“Okay, so, in my dream. I was dancing with someone..A boy? A man? I’m not sure. It’s all kind of foggy, and muffled, like I was underwater watching it happen.” You admitted.

“We were like this.” You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, moving his around your back.

Jake locked eyes with you, seeming quite nervous and stiff, his cheeks slightly flushed. You wondered how long it’s been since he touched someone like this since he danced with them.

“We were talking about something..and there was this song playing. And it seemed like…we were in love.” You confessed, smiling fondly at the memory. Jake smiled too.

The two of you swayed in silence, as you continued to dig through your brain, trying to find other clues. “Oh! And there was this song playing.“

You hummed, trying to find the tune. Somehow, Jake recognized it. “I know that song.”

“You do? Could you sing it for me?” His cheeks went pink. “No way. I barely know the lyrics, and I- I can’t sing.”

“I won’t judge, c’mon, please? To help me?” You pleaded, and he let out a reluctant huff. “Fine.”

He cleared his throat, his voice shaking slightly. “I love you baby, and if it’s quite alright I need you, baby, to warm a lonely night,”

You shut your eyes as you continued to dance with him, finding some sort of solace in his singing and the song. You shifted slightly, intertwining his hand with yours and wrapping the other around the small of your back.

“Trust in me when I say, Oh pretty baby, Don’t bring me down I pray, Oh pretty baby, Now that I found you stay, And let me love you, let me….I forgot the lyrics.” He admitted.

You giggled at that, and he did too, and the next thing you knew, you two were laughing together. It felt nice to laugh and feel all giddy and goofy. You missed that feeling, of not caring about anything, of just letting yourself relax and forget your worries.

“Thank you for helping me, Jake.” You said, your voice growing soft and serious. “Of course. Anything you need, (y/n). Just say the word and I’ll be there.”

Your faces were very close now, your lips almost touching. You leaned in and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. He smiled at that, reaching over to cup your cheek, before pausing.

He muttered under his breath, before speaking again. “I have to go to a trial. I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, okay, see you soon!” He slipped out of his grip, and you watched as he left, waving goodbye. Once he did, you turned away, taking a deep breath, processing what just happened.

The sound of a voice whispering your name from the woods got your attention. You walked over to the edge, seeing what it was, before getting grabbed and pulled into the woods.

You opened your mouth to scream, but before you could, a hand was covering it. The killer removed their hood, revealing themself. “Relax, it’s just me.”

“Susie? What are you doing here? And why did you scare me like that?” You couldn’t help but ask, scared and slightly irritated.

“I’m bored, and my friends are being jerks right now. They’re constantly fighting and stuff, and they’re making it really hard to want to be around them.” She confessed. “And I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now.”

“Wait, how long have you been-”

“You mean did I see you and your boyfriend dancing? Yeah, I did.” She interrupted you, with a knowing grin.

Your face went hot at that comment. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well, it seemed like you guys were pretty close, especially since you kissed him.” She remarked. “I- He- It’s- It’s complicated.”

“Right…complicated.” The teen smirked. You rolled your eyes at her. “Do you want to hang out or not?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop..let’s go.”

–

“So, what do you want to do?” You asked Susie, as you wandered the woods with her. “I dunno, there are a few realms we could hang at, but I don’t know how the killers will respond when they see you. But some are definitely out at a trial right now, so I think we can take our chances.”

That made you nervous, but you decided to follow her anyway. You only live once, right? Well…technically not when you’re here…but that’s good too since you can’t die.

“There’s a playground at Badham that’s a cool hang out spot. Wanna go there?” She offered. You shrugged. “Sure.”

It wasn’t long until you arrived, walking and talking as you made your way over to the playground. “Freddy’s pretty grumpy, and he hates kids, so we always hang out when he’s not here. We’ve vandalized the preschool a couple of times too, you should’ve seen his face, it was hilarious. Pissing him off is the best.”

“Susie?“ A boy called, getting your attention. You both looked over, spotting a boy, sitting on the swing set. Like Susie, he had a hoodie on, the hood pulled over his head. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing that you’re doing here. Getting away from Julie and Frank.” Wait, did she say Frank? She knew him?

“Who’s that?” He gazed over at you with mistrusting eyes.

“Before you say anything, yes she’s a survivor, but she’s my friend. She’s not going to hurt us and we’re not going to hurt her.” She told him.

“I’m (y/n). It’s nice to meet you.” You flashed him a smile, holding your hand out for him to shake. He glanced at your hand, before looking away.

“Yeah, Joey’s not a touchy, feely, kind of guy. But don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll warm up to you.” Susie reassured you with a small pat on your shoulder, before turning back to him. “So, let’s hang out.”

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threnodians · 1 month

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going to a wedding where i don’t know anybody besides the bride and groom is certainly a thing that is happening

#kayleigh.txt #a majority of them are conservative republicans which is uhhh. not ideal 🫠#it is only just now occurring to me that i should have removed my septum ring 😂#but alas it is too late now 💀#they’re all nice of course but like. (muffled screaming)#gonna stay for some food and then peace tf out lmao i am tired af #i wasn’t going to stay but my bestie’s mom was like “you’re staying for dinner right?” in her Mom Voice #and i mean. i need to eat. so 🤷🏼‍♀️

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

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Texan Meet Cute:

Tag: @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @myers-meadow-selfship @oceansrose2002

Macy’s POV:

Hoytt was getting on my last fucking nerve today, I swore to myself that one more comment and I’d send his head flying through the wall. Why were the men on my family all such perverted bastards? Monty wasn’t much better, crazy old man. But at least I had Thomas, the one thing that kept me someone sane in this place.

He was a great brother, probably better than I deserved. When our Mother didn’t give me attention, he would make the time for me. And that meant more to me than he’d every probably understand. I stomped down to the basement where he as hard at work. His chainsaw was revving, so I chose to wait by the door as to not startle him. It was almost funny sometimes, how someone like him could be so skittish.

“Need some help with that?” I asked with a smirk on my face.

Thomas turned to look at me, mask still on. He kept it on with victims, even though I told him it didn’t really matter. They were gonna die anyways, who cares if they see his face. “The face only a mother could love” people would say, but I think that’s utter bullshit. So my brother has a few deformities, that doesn’t mean he’s unworthy of love.

He set down his chainsaw and I walked over to admit his work. The poor bloke on the table was missing all 4 limbs but still very much breathing. I could hear his muffled scream through the rag shoved in his mouth. I shot a glare at the victim.

“Please, keep screaming… see how much you like it when I rip out your tongue.”

I was in no mood for this bullshit today. Why did they always have to be so loud? With all the begging and pleading, as if I’d suddenly grow a second heart .

“Upset?” Thomas signed.

I sighed heavily.

“Hoytt.”

I didn’t need to say much else, Thomas understood. I mean Hoytt wasn’t even nice to him either. Luda was the only one who could shut that man up. And I thanked my lucky stars that she put him in his place often.

“Walk? Feel better.”

“I’m not sure if I’m up for a walk today Tommy. Besides you’ve got a lot of work cut out for you by the looks of it. Don’t want that meat rotting and going bad.”

He gave me a sad nod.

“You need to have fun, I’ll finish your chores.”

“No, Thomas you don’t have to do that. It’s fine.”

But he wouldn’t budge. Both literally and metaphorically. He wouldn’t let me leave his basement until I promised to go do something fun.

“Maybe I’ll go for a drive, see where it lands me before I run out of gas.”

He gave me a look as if to ask ‘is that a good idea?’ But I couldn’t think of anything better to do.

“I’ll be fine Thomas, maybe a few days out of town will do me good. I mean what’s Lud- mom, going to do? Hold down the house while I’m gone? Hoytt May thinks he runs shit around here, but you’re the man of the house Tommy.”

I gave my brother a kiss on the cheek of his mask. I wasn’t usually one for affection, but I couldn’t help it when it came to Thomas. He was just so kind and sweet, something you wouldn’t expect from this family. A bunch of redneck hillbillies with murderous, cannibalistic tendencies. Yet here we had this gentle giant. A man the world is lucky isn’t filled with rage like I was. Thomas killed to follow orders, to protect his family and keep us well fed.

But I killed for a much different reason. The thrill, the adrenaline rush. A dangerous game of cat and mouse that could go on as long as I say so. Running a victim out of steam for days until they’re basically begged me to kill them. Making them submit to my every will. It was an intoxicating feeling that got you high.

“See you around Tommy, yeah?”

He gave me a sad look.

“It’s only a few days, you’ll be fine.” I assured him.

If I came home to find Hoytt or Monty upset him again, those men would have hell to pay. My loyalties stood with my brother and my brother alone. I wouldn’t bat an eye if someone splattered the others brains onto the pavement. Of course, Thomas would be upset, which is the only reason I haven’t done it myself yet. I was sick and tried of them trying to order me around. I helped plenary around here, yet it was never enough.

I packed a small backpack with some cash I’d saved, and a few spare clothes. I hoped onto the back of my Harley, one’s I’d rescued from the junk yard and repaired, and headed off in a random direction. Just driving and clearing my head until I found a town that piqued my interest. Ruggsville Texas. It was only on my radar because people had been reporting a higher amount of disappearances recently. And I was sure this town was harbouring secrets.

I stopped at a little motel on the side of the road, not wasting my time with pleasantries and instead choosing to pick a lock and break into one of the many vacant rooms. If I kept the shades drawn, the likely wouldn’t even notice me here. The door was wide enough for me to walk my motorcycle inside, as to leave no trace to my existence. Even if someone did discover me, I could always kill then and flee back home. I wasn’t completely opposed to that idea.

I locked the door and threw myself down on the king sized bed. It was still a bit small, but you got used to it. I felt bad for people who were even taller than I am. I didn’t even bother to change into night clothes, instead choosing to just kick off my pants and go to bed.

The sun was overly obnoxious in the morning, shining through the slight gap in the curtain. I groaned, hurling myself up from the end and going to the shower. I nearly laughed to myself when I say how short the shower head was. Thomas and I had built the shower in our home so that we could actually properly use it. We also put a pool noodle on the frame going downstairs to the basement, Thomas kept hitting his head on it.

I left my hair down, letting it dry in its natural state. There was a slight wave to it, not quite curly but not totally flat. At least I got Luda’s hair gene instead of my fathers. Thomas was blessed with good hair too. I decided I would drive into the main part of town today. As I drove around, I spotted a little blocked off street. Some sort of vending festival. It could be cool, I could get something nice for Tommy on my trip. A silent apology for leaving him alone at home. I parked my bike, hiding it in the alleyway and started walking around.

There were a few food stalls, some art exhibits and random assortments of knickknacks. This town seems kinda homey which was a nice change of pace. It was still brutally hot in the Texas summers. I wore black mom jeans and a tight black tank top. I had a hair tie on my wrist in case I got fed up, or it got too warm. One stall in particular caught my eye. They had a bundle of balloons tied to a little chair.

But that wasn’t what really caught my eye, no, it was the person on that chair. Even from this far away, I could tell it wasn’t just perspective making them look small. What the hell was someone like that doing out here alone? Their hair was huge and fluffy, it wasn’t often you saw black people down south wearing their natural hair. I didn’t know a lot about black culture, but all the ladies are Luda’s church either straightens their hair, or wore wigs. Their Afro was sort of adorable, like an unapologetic way to say ‘fuck you’ to societal beauty standards.

I hadn’t realised I was staring, until their eyes met mine from across the lot. And I swore my heart almost stopped. Now that I could see their face, they were genuinely adorable. They had some sort of face paint on, reminiscent of a clown. They gave me a quick smile, before going back to mining their table. I didn’t want to be too obvious, so I pretended to look at other things as I drew closer. Curiosity getting the best of me.

I could see their outfit more clearly now. It was similar to those old fashioned Circus costumes. With a Black and White almost Harlequin pattern. They had on combat boots with mismatched shoelaces on them. Their skin glowed under the hot Texas sun, a thin sheen of sweat on their brow. A man in a similar costume and makeup up walked up to the both, whispering something to them before leaving. I watched as he walked away, driving off in a truck. Odd.

But their interaction started to make sense when I saw them start packing up the tiny booth. They seemed to be selling food, I could smell it even from here. And honestly it was mouth watering. So I finally got up the nerve to approach them. They looked up from packing when they noticed me. I watched as their Addams apple bobbed slightly. They were nervous, but I was used to getting that sort of reaction.

“I know you’re packing, but I was wondering what you were selling.” I asked.

They just stared at me for a money, their eyes wide and glossy, like they forgot how to talk. I was about to just walk away, worried I scared them too much, when they finally spoke.

“Umm, yeah. My Gruncle and I were selling some of his famous fried chicken. Needed a bit of extra cash since people don’t stop by our store often. But rich white people love coming to these sort of things.” They rambles.

It was cute, watching them stutter and stumble over their words as they tried not to look at me.

“What’s a Gruncle?” I laughed.

I didn’t mean to laugh at them, but it was such an odd word.

“Grandpa-Uncle. Cause we call grandpa, Grandpa, but he’s my Great Grandpa and I don’t want to get them confused.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. God, I haven’t smiled in so long. I was worried my face was fixed in a permanent scowl. Only time I smiled like that was when Tommy and I got a day off and could hang out in the old abandoned apple orchard.

“I guess that makes sense, got any left?”

They pushed the aluminium tray forward.

“Take it, it’s on the house. Can’t stand being near the stuff anyway.”

Odd, why would they sell it if they hated it. The packed the rest of the stuff into a little milk crate. But it looked huge in their tiny hands.

“Are you sure? I have cash.” I said.

The shook there head.

“It was just gonna go in the trash anyway.”

“Macy.” I offered, reaching out my hand.

They just stared at it for a while, before meeting my gaze again.

“Blinky.”

I dropped my hand when they didn’t attempt to shake it. Blinky, what an odd name. Perhaps it was a nickname of sorts. They seemed to think for a second, pausing with their back turned to me, before turning back around.

“Hey, I don’t know if you’re from around here or not. But steer clear of Captain Spaulding’s Museum of Monsters and Madmen.” They warned.

That was their first mistake, because now I was curious. I stood by the booth awkwardly as they walked over to a bicycle and strapped the milk crate to the front of it. We’re they about to ride around in this heat, wearing that? My stomach growled as the smell of chicken was becoming overwhelming. It made me wish I was at home to eat Tommy’s cooking. But I couldn’t eta right now, not in-front of them. I was a completely different person when I was hungry.

I looked back up as I heard them walking towards me again, and lunged forward when I saw them stumble over their own feet. I caught them easily with one hand.

“Woah there!” I said, stabilising them.

Sure, she was already on her feet, but I didn’t want to let go of them just yet. And it seemed she didn’t mind either.

“Th-thanks.” They blushed furiously.

“Are you ok? You just tripped over nothing.” I laughed.

It wasn’t meant to come out so harsh, my intent was more teasing. They pushed themself out of my arms, crossing their arms over their chest and huffing. It was entirely adorable. God what was she doing to me?

“I’m fine, I got it stranger!” The snapped at me.

I was pleasantly surprised they had that much bite in them.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. That wasn’t nice of me, I’m just tired of everyone treating me like I’m a a child.”

“Are you not?” I laughed.

Surely they must be.

“I’m 18!” They said exasperated.

My brain began to short circuit. My intentions were much more pure when I first decided to approach them. Curious what a child was doing out here. I was shocked to find they were only three years younger than me. God she was adorable, I doubt if I left now I’d even be able to forget this little encounter.

“I’m sorry.”

I doesn’t know why I said it. I had nothing to apologise for, and even if I did, I wouldn’t do it. Apologising meant admiring guilt, and that was an emotion I was incapable of feeling.

“Let me help you with that!” I quickly added.

I was used to being useful. Thomas and I basically splitting the house hold chores 50/50. Monty couldn’t do much, and Hoytt was out on petroleum or down at the station most days. I easily picked up the table, folding the legs in and hoisting it over my head. They stared up at me in awe, a reaction I was hoping for. Hoytt would make fun of me if he saw me now, helping a gentle stranger and trying to impress them.

“Where to?” I asked.

“Ummm-“

They seemed to be panicking now. Maybe I had over stepped.

“Gas station, a little ways down the road. It’s kinda a long walk.”

The grabbed their bike, walking it along side me as we made our way down the road. Most of the walk was in a comfortable silence. I wasn’t really sure what to say. But I enjoyed their company more than I thought I would. I noticed her stealing little glances at me, and smirked. They brought me around back the building.

“Here, you can just drop it here. My Gruncle will take care of it later. Umm, I don’t have any extra cash to pay you.” She said.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? I could go run inside and grab you a soda or something.”

I was quite thirsty. But I had a better idea.

“I’m not much of a soda drinker. Maybe we could get a coffee.” I asked.

I’d grown quite good at flirting. It was an easy way to lure in vapid teenage boys for the kill. But I had to use a different strategy here, my flirting was sincere in this moment. They intrigued me to say the least. I was surprised when they quickly agreed, but they just seemed anxious to get as far way from the gas station as possible.

I followed after them, surprised by how fast they were with their legs being that short. My brain thought of what it would be like to chase them, but I quickly shoved that thought to the back of my head. She did nothing to be deserving of that side of me.

“There’s no coffee in town, did you drive her?” They asked.

I nodded.

“Yeah, we could take my motorcycle.”

Perhaps it was a little naive of them to go to a second location with me. But I found it endearing, when normally I’d find it annoying. I’ve barely even had a full conversion with this girl and they were already changing my whole mood. I’d long forgotten about the nasty comments Hoytt has spewed at me. I was pissed at him for murdering my last girlfriend, and feeding her to me without my knowledge. Something about “repenting in the eyes of god.” Maybe I hadn’t loved her, but she was a good lay. She always knew how to calm me down.

“You drive a motorbike? That’s so cool!” They beamed.

There was no sarcasm laced in their tone, they seemed genuinely impressed by this fact. I mean if that’s all it took to get them excited, then this would be easy.

“So, what’s with the clown thing?” I cringed at myself, quickly correcting my mistake, “it’s fun.” I added.

“You think so? I’ve always sort of admired clowns. They say laughter is the best medicine and I couldn’t agree more. I love laughing.”

Every sentence had me fighting with myself internally to not just throw them over my shoulder right now. My heart was beating faster and my skin was itching. But that wasn’t right or me, I couldn’t rush this. No I wanted to saver my time away in this quaint little town. And it seems Blinky was the only one worth while in this shit hole. If I ruined that now, I’d kick myself.

“You got any jokes?”

They shook their head no.

“I’m not very good at telling them RJ says. Do you have any?”

I’m went sure who this RJ was, but I already didn’t like them. I thought for a moment, trying to see if I remembered any jokes. We’re we’re nearly halfway back to wear I parked my bike now. Was I seriously considering trying to make a joke just to get an inkling of their laugh? This is not how I expected this trip to go at all. My plan was to stroll into town, kill a few locals no one would miss and then go back home.

But did that place ever really feel like home? Sure I lived there, but I hated it. I hated that house, hated my family. Thomas and I could go anywhere and I’d be home. He was just to chicken to leave, get rid of that old bat who for some ungodly reason he shared affections for. They would be nowhere without the two of us doing everything for them. And all they showed me in return was trying to send to to conversion camp when I was a teen. Fuckers. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm, it was dainty and delicate.

“Hey you ok? You don’t have to tell me a joke if you don’t want to. Being funny isn’t easy.” They attempted to console me.

“Yeah, no I’m good. Just got lost in thought I guess. Ok, so how about this: I have a stepladder because my real ladder left when I was just a kid.” I tried.

Sure my delivery wasn’t perfect, but I couldn’t help it. They somehow simultaneously made more more confident, yet nervous at the same time. The slowly dropped their hand from my arm and I had to stop myself from whining at the lack of touch. Why was I so god damn horny right now? It had been months since I’d been this psychically close to someone .

She placed a hand over her mouth and let out a small stifled giggle. It was possibly the cutest fucking sound I’d ever heard in my entire life, and I was desperate to hear it again.

“Same, except my dad used the ladder to leave.” They laughed.

It took me a second to understand their joke. I could see how someone could think they aren’t funny, their jokes seem to just require a little bit of thought.

“Oh my god.” I laughed, but I quickly sobered up as we continued walking, “was that just for the joke or…” I was bit concerned with how flatly they said it.

They shook their head no again. It made their curls bounce wildly.

“I was the one who found him. But don’t worry, it’s funny, you can laugh. I don’t blame him, I’d do the same if I had to be married to my mother.”

“Still, that’s a coward move. I can’t imagine someone finding any justification to leave you.” I said smoothly.

They bit at their bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

“Ok, umm my turn. So this woman goes to the hospital right? And she says ‘sorry I’m just nervous, this is my first surgery’ and the doctor looks her dead in the eyes and says ‘mine too.’”

They way they smiled up at me like they were so proud made my stomach flip.

“That’s awful” I laughed.

“I have one more,” I started, we were almost to the alley now, A child determined to burn his home down. His dad watched, tears in his eyes. He put his arm across the mother and stated, “That’s arson.”

“Arson?” They scrunched their brow in confusion, “oh, our son, arson! I get it now! You’re so funny!” They complemented.

“I wouldn’t go that far, you’re just easy to impress.”

Another sentence I hadn’t meant to turn into an insult. I wasn’t very good at this whole “being nice” thing.

“Well, this is me.” I said pointing to my bike.

I had put the small container of chicken in my backpack earlier. I strapped my bag down to the side of my bike.

“Wow!” They said, their voice somehow raising during a single syllable.

“You like? Built her myself.”

“You built this?”

“Mhhmm” I hummed proudly.

“You’re amazing!” They said softly under their breath.

“Hop on, I got a spare helmet.”

They hesitated, maybe they finally realised this wasn’t a good idea. I mean I was going to hurt her, but she didn’t know that. They started fidgeting with their hands and I frowned.

“Getting cold feet?” I asked.

I couldn’t help but be smug, I’m an asshole by nature. It just helped to mask my concern.

“Ummm, no, I really want to go get coffee it just” they pointed to their hair.

“I don’t think this will fit in a helmet.”

I couldn’t help the cackle that escaped me. That’s what they were worried about? Their hair? Not that fact that I could snap their neck with one hand without even trying. Or I could be taking her somewhere to kill her.

“How about this, you ride front and I’ll be sure to hold you right and keep you safely on the bike.”

“Ok!”

I watched as they struggled to try and get on, my bike had larger wheels so it was higher off the ground. It make it easier for me to ride. I stifled a chuckle in the back of my throat,

“Let me.” I said, picking them up and placing her on my bike.

I had to admit, this sight wasn’t exactly helping with my cloudy thoughts. I did my best to keep them pure, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. I was a Hewitt by blood, we don’t exactly pair well with purity. I straddled my leg over the side, scooting closer to them. I warped my arms around them reaching for the handles, and used my leg to pop up the kickstand.

“Just hold on right to the Center piece ok? What direction are we going?”

“It’s about fifteen miles north, first left on after the exit. You can’t miss it.”

I revved the engine and I could feel them tense a little.

“Relax little rabbit, this will be fun.” I cooed.

When I felt them lean back into me, I sped off down the road. I could hear the sounds of their joyous laughter over the sound of the wind and my engine. When we finally came to a stop outside of a little dinner, they were still giggling happily.

“I’ve never gone that fast before.” They laughed.

“We can go even faster on the way back. Not like there’s any pigs out here to stop us.”

“Pigs?” They asked curiously, trying their best to turn to look at me.

Even sitting down I was so much taller than her.

“Cops, it’s a little inside joke with me and my family. Ain’t much law in my town either, but when they do come around they’re always in our business.”

“We’ll that doesn’t seem fair.” They frowned.

I hoped off the bike, putting the kickstand down. Then reached out my hand to help them off.

“Greta behind the counter is super sweet, she lets me drink coffee for free since I fixed her back door. Her ex tried to break into her house and nobody from town would help her.” They explained to me.

I never pegged her as someone who was good with tools. I was sort of impressed.

“That was nice of you.”

“My sister always says we girls have to protect our own.”

“You have a sister?” I asked as we stepped through the door.

“Two now, Manon is still… adjusting.”

I could tell it was a sensitive subject so I didn’t push further. But what did they mean by “now” and “adjusting”, perhaps her parents fostered kids? But if it was that simple, why wouldn’t they just say that. The man from earlier looked nothing like her, so it wouldn’t be an unfair assumption to make that they were adopted.

“Blinky! How’s my favourite little trouble maker?” The woman who was supposedly Greta greeted.

She was a short and pudgy black lady, her hair graying. But she seemed nice, Blinky seemed to like them. But I wasn’t sure if that meant much, I mean Blinky seemed to trust me, when they had no reason too. Which concerned me, was she this trusting with every stranger? I mean we were about a half an hour drive away from wherever she must live, and she didn’t seem anxious in the slightest.

“Who’s this?” Greta’s voice brought me out of my head.

“Oh, this is my new friend Macy! She’s visting from out out town. We were wondering if we could get some coffee” Blinky leaned over the counter in a hushed tone and said “and the good stuff.”

Before looking back at me and smiling, I raised a brow amused.

“I do believe I can do that for you little miss. Your booth is empty.”

“Yay, you’re the best G!”

She grabbed my hand and dragged me to a booth in the farthest corner of the little dinner. There was less lighting over there.

“What’s the good stuff?” I asked

“Pastries they have to throw out at the end of the day. Greta sometimes sneaks me some. Oh, you should probably eat your chicken, it might be a little cold by now, but I don’t know if the place you’re staying has a fridge or not.”

How thoughtful.

“Are we allowed outside food?” I asked.

They giggled once again.

“You don’t really seem the type to care about rules.” They said bluntly.

And I couldn’t argue with that. I slid the container out of my backpack and pushed it onto the table. They seemed really fidgety but I couldn’t tell if it was a nervous thing, or if they were just like that. I don’t know why, but I felt compelled to ask them. I always hated when Thomas would get anxious. He’d start picking at the skin around his finger nails until there was nothing left.

“Are you good?” I asked.

Cursing myself once again for coming off so harsh and abrasive.

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong?” They asked.

“You just seem, antsy is all.”

“Oh, sorry. It’s just, there’s a few more people in here tonight than there usually are. This place is pretty dead most of the time.”

So they were nervous in crowds, interesting.

“I guess that makes sense, you seem to like it here.”

“Well I’m not allowed in town by myself very often.”

That made sense, they were tiny, anyone could just pick her up and steal her away if they wanted to.

Greta set down two mugs, and a plate that looked like raspberry danishes.

“Enjoy you two.” She smiled.

“That’s Greta, I owe you one.”

The older woman brushed her off with a kind smile. Blinky happily sipped their black coffee, and I was surprised. I expected them to at least put sugar in it.

“Did you need some cream or something?” They asked.

“What? No, no this is fine.” I said.

God, I really had to stop zoning out staring at them. But I couldn’t help it, they were just so damn adorable. I kept thinking that Thomas would love them. But they’re probably be scared of him, as most people were. I took a sip of coffee, letting it warm my insides, before my eyes wandered to the box of chicken. I was starving. I quickly ripped it open and began eating, not really noticing how I was practically scarfing it down. It was surpassingly really good. I only noticed I finished have the box when I looked up to find her staring. I feel a little embarrassed.

She silently help out a napkin for me.

“Thanks.” I said.

“So what do you think? Of the chicken” they clarified.

“It’s good, you said your uncle made it?”

“Gruncle.” They corrected.

“Right, Gruncle.” I laughed.

“Yeah, he’s surprisingly a good cook. He had a laughing fit when I told him I was vegetarian.”

“Oh?”

“He thought I was joking. I was not.”

They seemed to not pick up very well on subtle teasing, so I decided to slow down on that front. Not sure if they’d ever take offence to one of my jokes.

“So do you just not like meat, or are you one of those hardcore veggie people?”

“I just don’t like the taste much. Plus I couldn’t imagine killing a sweet little cow. I mean have you seen the one with little curly hair? I cry every time. My rule is if I wouldn’t kill it, I don’t eat it.”

‘Wouldn’t eat anything they wouldn’t kill’ that was an interesting choice. I couldn’t stop my brain from corrupting that thought, wondering what would happen if I pushed them to try my families diet.

“I know that look” they said.

“Huh?”

“You’re thinking something bad… what is it?” They asked.

Their words seemed idly curious, but their tone told me otherwise. That wasn’t a question, it was a demand. Something I didn’t expect. It was interesting how they could so easily go from puppy dog eyes and smiles, to a commanding sort of ominous tone.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. It’s stupid.” I said.

“Really, cause that smile on your face said otherwise. You enjoyed that thought.” They pushed.

“Perhaps I don’t want to throw out all my aces on a first date.” I turned the conversation back on her.

Two could play this game. And oh what a dangerous one it was. They had no idea what they were getting into with me.

“So this is a date then?”

“One were neither of us are paying, so I’d say it’s the best one I’ve ever had.” I joked.

They laughed, dropping their icy stare. Letting their guard fall again.

“Date. I think I like the sound of that.” They concluded happily, tearing a piece off the pastry and shoving it into their mouth. “Not as much as you like that chicken though.”

“Leave me alone, I’m hungry.” I grumbled.

They pushed the rest of the pasty toward me. A silent offering. I gladly took it with a smile.

“Wait here!” She said suddenly.

I watched as they leapt up from the table and snuck their way past a waitress and into the kitchen. What the hell was she doing. A few minuets later they snuck back out of the kitchen with a plate piled with food.

“Hope you don’t mind your food touching. I had to be quick so no one saw me.”

This girl really just stole food for me. I think I’m in love. I felt like a silly little teenager again. If Hoyt could see me right now, he’d never let me live this down. And Tommy would be swooning with me. He had liked my previous girlfriend, before the incident.

“I don’t mind a bit” I grinned.

It seemed she didn’t care that I wasn’t proper with my food. I wasn’t a slob, by any means, but was it a sin to enjoy good food? People like my brother and I had to eat a lot. I always felt sluggish and crappy when I had to wait a while for food. They must have noticed my hesitation because they spoke again.

“It’s ok, I like watching you eat.”

It was almost comical how wide their eyes got after that, and I couldn’t bite back my laugh.

“Not in a weird way or anything, you just seem to be enjoying yourself. It’s nice.” They quickly added.

“I am.”

“Good. Now eat up before it gets cold. I have to sneak the empty plate to the dishwasher. I don’t want Greta to get in trouble for the missing food.”

The rest of the meal was mostly in silence. I swore they must have had about seven cups off coffee. How were they not crawling out of their skin right now. I distracted the cook by flirting so they could slip back in through the door undetected, then they met me out back by the dumpster.

“You’re really good at that.” I commented.

“Perks of being fun sized I guess.”

Could they possibly be more cute? I mean the clown costume was adorable, but I wondered what they looked like normally.

“Hey Blinky?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you always dress like this?”

“Oh, this? Ummm kinda. I mean I wanted to be extra fancy today to make a good impression at the farmers market. But sometimes I’m more causal I guess.”

Normally when people thought of ‘fancy’ it was cocktail dress and pearls or suits.

“Why, does it look bad? I guess I could have been a little neater on the seems, but my sewing machine is ancient and doesn’t like to cooperate very much.”

“You made this?”

“Uh huh! I based it off of one of Mama’s vintage soap operas. The main character was more of a mime, but I don’t know how to make a Barrett yet so I just simplified it to be like a vintage clown.”

“You’re adorable you know that?”

I could practically see the blood rush to their cheeks. As they furiously tried to rub it away, only serving to make them cuter in my eyes. They were embarrassed.

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

“No, you can’t go to the house.” They exclaimed quickly.

I suppose that made sense, we’re still didn’t know ecagitehr very well. It’s not smart to give people your address.

“Not that that wouldn’t be nice, thank you for offering. But my families very… private. Umm but you could drop me off down the road and I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Alright.”

I could tell they were hiding something, and my mind raced with a million reasons why. I settled on perhaps their family was homophobic. I mean we’re we’re in Texas, that wasn’t uncommon. Even my own family was pretty bad about it, all expect Tommy. He was the glue that held us together, and the only thing keeping me from leaving. I drove to the spot they asked me to drop them off. Driving faster on the way back as I had promised.

“I wish I could go that fast on my regular bike.” They said.

I chuckled. They turned to look at me, but their eyes looked sad.

“I gotta go before my Dad comes out looking for me. I didn’t tell anyone I was gonna be out so they’re probably really mad.”

I frowned.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“No, no it’s not your fault. I wanted to go. This- this was fun. Perhaps if you’re staying in town a few days…”

“I would love to hang out with you again.” I calmed their nerves.

“I usually finish my chores before 5pm. Meet me back here tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

They started to walk away but I stoped them.

“Hey Blinky?”

“Yeah?”

I held out one of my switch blades for them.

“Maybe if we’re going to continue meeting in dark alleys, you should have something to protect yourself with.”

The took the knife slowly, examining it.

“I can’t take this, it’s yours. And it looks expensive.” They frowned.

“I insist. Wouldn’t want to find my date bleeding out in an alley somewhere.” I joked.

“Yeah, I guess that would kinda ruin things wouldn’t it? I’ll see you around Macy. Thank you, for today I mean. It was perfect.”

I did a fake bow before watching them disappear into the dark. I wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, far too excited about this new development to sleep. But I was itching for a taste of something more. I’m sure I could find some sorry sap out here to kill tonight. Stop me from running after Blinky and scaring them off.

Blinky’s POV:

I waited until I was out of sight and I heard her bike drive off into the distance, before I let out a little happy dance. Sure, I’d had crushes before, little in content ones. But they always seemed to disappear. I wasn’t stupid, I knew what happened to them. That’s why I would have to keep Macy a secret. Keep her far, far away from my family.

I mean she looked like she could handle a fight. But I didn’t want my family getting hurt either. I sighed in frustration. She was different from anyone who ever came to this town. She was tall, beautifully handsome, funny, smart. And she gave me her knife. But little did she know how perfect a gift it was. I got sad when I thought about long term. It inevitably wouldn’t work out and one or both of us would end up with our hearts broken.

But tonight was so freeing. And I didn’t want that to end. Maybe it was selfish of me, but these next few days I would remember and cherish forever. Even if she went back home where it was safe, and never talked to me again. I slowly pulled open the front door.

“And where the fuck have you been?” Otis’ booming voice called.

“A walk.” I said nervously.

“A walk, really, in the dark?”

“Mmmhmm, bought a new knife.” I said, showing off the gift as a makeshift alibi.

He squinted his eyes at me, but seemed to be satisfied with my response.

“Just tell someone where you’re going next time Yeah? Spaulding got back from the gas station and you were nowhere to be found.”

“Awww, we’re you worried?” I teased.

He scoffed, turning his back and walking away.

“Goodnight Blinky, and I mean that. Go the fuck to bed, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

“Yes dad.”

An: A reminder that Blinky uses both She and They which is why it switches so much. I tried to make it seem as natural as possible.

#Macy love-Hewitt #Macy Hewitt #thomas hewitt #leather face #texas chainsaw massacre #Texas chainsaw au #house of 1000 corpses au #blinky firefly #Blinky #cannibalism #cannibal oc #new oc

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bouwrites · 1 year

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Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 4

The Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Story under read-more.

Night shift is nice. Veery is glad to volunteer for it. Technically speaking, the students shouldn’t be out after curfew, but night shift on their regular patrols is an exception for obvious reasons.

That, and Veery isn’t a student.

The best part about it is that it’s nice and cool. Veery loves the sun, but the sun in Fódlan is hotter than it is in Albinea. At nighttime, when the chill of the dark falls over Garreg Mach, Veery finds it’s quite comfortable outside.

Of course, he’s also used to working in the dark. His eyes are better for that than the humans’ are, so it only makes sense to put him on the night shift. Plus, he’s awake at night, since he naps when he gets tired whereas the humans sleep for hours upon hours the whole night through and just stay up with the sun.

He supposes that having extremely irregular daylight coupled with a lack of rigid structure of when things have to happen (beyond simply the hours his prey is active) to follow means it only makes sense that his sleep schedule is a lot different from the humans, too.

It’s not like he has class, so he doesn’t see much need to change it. It’s actually helping now, when all the students are too exhausted to patrol the monastery in the dead of night, when their poor human eyes are straining so hard to see anything in the first place.

Not that there’s much to see.

Well, there’s a lot to see, but nothing that warrants an alarm. Veery is still constantly being awed by everything from the architecture to the shrubbery to the simple layout of the monastery, but he sees no shady strangers sneaking about.

Then again, he’s still not very familiar with humans. There’s a good chance he won’t know what makes any individuals he does see “suspicious” and not just… people who belong here, but that’s why he reports to Claude when he finishes his route. Claude will definitely know who’s shady and who isn’t.

Though, even Claude doesn’t think they’re likely to find anything until the actual Rite of Rebirth. According to him, all the bad guys are probably disguising themselves as pilgrims and won’t make any serious move until the day they strike. The chance remains that naming the Rite of Rebirth is a decoy, so that they don’t expect the attack until that particular night, which is why he’s insisting on these patrols, but Claude thinks it’s more likely that the day is right but the assassination is a decoy.

Veery doesn’t know nearly enough about humans to say one way or another, honestly. How they think is ever a mystery to him.

He’s passing by the student dorms when he hears a strangled, choked back scream. That’s… that’s definitely suspicious. It’s faint, from one of the upper dorms, and muffled to the point that if Veery didn’t have such sensitive ears he’d never hear it.

But he does.

There’s no sign of break-in on the outside windows, and he’s certain which room it’s from, so if someone is getting attacked, then the intruder comes through the door.

Running around to the stairs will take too long. Veery shifts, bounds over to a stack of small crates nearby, gets what height he can on those, gathers his legs beneath him, and jumps up to the scaffolding outside the second-floor windows.

He almost makes it and is left with his hind legs hanging off the edge. He flexes his claws to grab hold of the wood, leaving deep gouges in the surface in his attempt to find purchase with his claws to haul himself up all the way, but he manages it.

That’s about what he expects from that jump. Good time. Now, to find the right room.

It’s not… not hard to find. Actually, it’s a little scary how easy it is to get up here and look right into the rooms of the noble students. Students who Veery is told are so important that the world practically moves around them.

Then again, a human can’t make that jump. Then again, Veery isn’t sure why this scaffolding is here in the first place. It just seems like a convenient platform to look through the numerous and very large windows opening up to the student dorms. It’ll be harder for a human to climb up here if there isn’t a platform.

Maybe he should mention this to Claude.

Focus. The scream.

He finds the right room easily, because he can still hear the heavy, laborious breathing of someone having been in a struggle. He’s at the window before he has time to think about whether that’s the student or some attacker, but…

It’s just Edelgard. Coated in sweat and trembling slightly, nightgown askew and blanket pooled at her hips, but just Edelgard. The door to her room is still firmly shut, the windows not tampered with.

She notices him before he can think to just slink away, so he shifts back before she can ask and whispers, “I heard a scream. Just a nightmare?”

Edelgard swallows down whatever she was about to say and nods. “Was I that loud?”

Veery shakes his head. “I have sensitive ears,” he says, pawing at the cat ears on his head.

Edelgard nods, further collects herself, and then asks, “What are you doing outside the window?”

He shrugs. “I was on patrol. If you were being attacked, it’d take too long to go all the way around. So, I jumped up onto this platform here instead.”

Edelgard sighs. “That’s… I need to speak with Hubert about that.”

“I was thinking I should mention this to Claude,” Veery admits. “I only realized once I got up here, though.”

“Well… I appreciate your swift action,” Edelgard says, “but I am fine. I… it is not unusual for me to have nightmares, or to talk in my sleep. I’ve had them since I was a child. It’s terribly frustrating, but nothing to be alarmed about.”

“I understand. I’ll just…” He turns to drop down and get back to his route but hesitates. “Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to sit here for a while? I know… I know nightmares can be scary.”

Edelgard smiles at him. “No. They are just worthless dreams of the past. There is no point spending any more time than is necessary lingering on them. Your time is better spent continuing your patrol.”

“If you’re sure. It’s really not a problem just to stand guard until you fall asleep again, though, if you want.”

“That is a sweet gesture, Veery, but entirely unnecessary. I assure you I am perfectly fine. Please, continue your patrol.”

“Okay,” Veery whispers. He’s not totally convinced that Edelgard really is fine, but he’s not going to push her if she doesn’t want him there. “Good night. I hope you have a dream that isn’t scary.”

As Edelgard whispers her own “Good night” Veery slips away from the window, approaches the end of the scaffolding, and jumps down to the stone ground.

It is entirely too easy to sneak up on the sleeping students and to get away with it. He really should mention this to Claude.

The day of the Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth, which Veery still only barely understands the point of, he spends most of his time hiding in the Golden Deer classroom.

There are just… so many people in the monastery. It gets more and more crowded as the day of the Rite approaches, but the actual event is beyond anything Veery is willing or able to handle. As interesting as it would be to observe the ritual – or as much as the public is allowed to watch, anyway – he is not braving that crowd. Not in a million years.

Besides, he doubts he’s welcome, anyway. Lady Rhea might not mind, nor the students, but there are visitors both noble and common from all over Fódlan here right now and Veery is sure that they don’t want to see someone like him during a celebration like this.

So instead, he hides in the classroom and reads a book about the ritual. Leonie is in the room, too, doing some weapon maintenance (Veery is pretty sure that she’s turning one corner of the room into a miniature armory, but no one is complaining so he’s not either.) and helping him if he has questions about any of the words. Most of the others are at the ceremony, but the ceremony is long, so they come and go between that and their preparations. Leonie herself is present at the start of the ceremony, early in the morning.

Claude thinks the attack will happen when Lady Rhea is in the Goddess Tower, which is in the evening, but he’s still having a rotating patrol watching the Holy Mausoleum in the meanwhile. It’s open to the public today, whereas it usually isn’t, so it’s simple to have one or two students at a time between all the houses watch the entrance in shifts. Even the knights won’t get suspicious of students going to pay their respects at or even just investigate the rumored mausoleum.

For a day with so much hype around it, it goes by excruciatingly slowly. Everyone is expecting battle, and just waiting until evening when it will come. Veery thinks he almost prefers a surprise, if only because this peculiar mix of tension and boredom is distinctly unpleasant.

When evening approaches, Leonie guides everyone through some stretching exercises (which she personally has been doing throughout the day to stay prepared) and, when Marianne informs them that Lady Rhea is moving to the Goddess Tower, they get moving, too.

Not to the Goddess Tower, though, nor to their patrol routes. They assign those routes to a few select members from each house, just to be safe and save face, but the bulk of the collective student houses is going to disobey direct orders.

To the Holy Mausoleum.

Veery follows behind Claude through the monastery, watching Claude more than the crowd for any sign of suspicious people around. (He also, this time, is bold enough to grab onto Claude’s cape so that they don’t get separated. Claude laughs at him but doesn’t tell him to let go.)

They enter the cathedral in small groups, satisfied when they see that the majority of the visitors are gone or leaving, their places being taken by students – by backup. As agreed, the Golden Deer, sans Hilda and Marianne, who are on the official security patrols, and a small supplement of the Blue Lions, as well as Veery himself, are the first to go down into the mausoleum. The Eagles and the rest of the Lions remain up in the cathedral to block enemy reinforcements and ensure the remaining faithful here for the Rite are safe and have a way to escape, not including the students from those houses who are also carrying out their official orders.

The Deer being the main force in the mausoleum is primarily due to the fact that Professor Byleth is the only instructor willing to play so fast and loose with their orders to patrol the monastery. Professors Hanneman and Manuela both know what’s happening as well, but a combination of everyone agreeing that Professor Byleth has far more combat experience and them both having more pressing logistical duties to take care of for the Rite, including Professor Byleth’s own – not the least of which being the actual patrolling – means that this little mission ends up mostly in Professor Byleth’s hands.

They descend the stairs, peer into the mausoleum, and Veery is abruptly met with the realization that “suspicious” is a lot more obvious than he thinks it is.

He’s… he’s pretty sure bird masks are suspicious. And that knight in the middle with the spike fetish and huge scythe, that’s pretty suspicious, too.

(One unfortunate conversation with Sylvain is all it takes to teach Veery the word “fetish”. He… wishes he can stop seeing it everywhere he looks, now.)

The others have all come here throughout the day, so they already know the layout, but Veery is too afraid of disrupting things and of the crowd to stake it out until now, which is why Claude is sure to give him a space in the front where he can see. There are three clear lines down to the end of the mausoleum, with columns and raised platforms distinguishing them rather than walls. The humans might hesitate to scramble over those platforms, but Veery can easily clear them with a jump without breaking stride.

And, of course, there are already obvious enemies inside, and someone with one of those masks is messing with the magic protecting the coffin at the end of the room. Veery thinks it’s supposed to be Seiros’ coffin, but he doesn’t know why these people might want old bones, holy relics or not.

Honestly, a part of him tells him to just let these guys take them. The long-buried remains of an old saint surely aren’t worth risking student lives over. Right?

There are also bodies littering the place, lying in blood. Not many, but some. Stragglers. Faithful who are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Claude and the professor wanted to stop the bad guys before this could happen.

Claude curses. “We’re late. Alright everyone, look alive! Teach, command is yours!”

“Raphael, Ignatz, Lorenz, down the left,” Professor Byleth says, looking through the same gap Veery and Claude are. “Leonie, Felix, Ashe, the right. Claude, Lysithea, watch the battlefield, protect Mercedes, move where you’re needed. Those bodies are your priority. If any of them are still alive, they need to stay that way. Veery, rush those mages in the center, fast as you can – we can’t let them hit us while we’re stuck in this doorway – I will be right behind you, but do not engage the mounted knight. If he gets close before I do, you run. Everyone stay flexible. Understand?”

A chorus of agreement rings up, so Professor Byleth kicks in the door.

Like an arrow, Veery shoots out, released by the swinging door. He takes one step, pushes into a run, shifts, then, finally on all fours, he’s little more than a big red blur.

He clears the space to the mages in just two bounds – he doesn’t even manage to get up to full speed – and as the mages are still fumbling over themselves, trying to assess the intruders, his teeth are already sinking into the first one’s throat.

One sharp shake of his head and her neck is snapped. Dead. Done. This is how Veery prefers his fights, finished before his enemy knows he’s there.

Humans are… This is Veery’s first human kill. That he knows of, anyway – he may very well have killed through injury, but he doesn’t ever witness the death himself. He fights humans before, back in Albinea, but he prioritizes getting away. He’s faster, so he doesn’t have to kill. There’s no point in reckless endangerment. After all, even a minor wound can be death in the wilds.

Humans are surprisingly fragile. Veery doesn’t do anything he doesn’t do to take down a moose. Moose are actually tougher. By quite a bit. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, but he needs to settle his heart. These humans, though humans they may be, are prey right now. No different than a moose, except in the weapons they wield to defend themselves. The blood tastes the same, or close enough not to matter.

Ah, shit, the other two mages are reacting. They’re casting at him, though, and not at the students still filing through the doorway and fanning out to their positions, so it’s still good. Professor Byleth is faster than Veery expects, already halfway to him.

The closer mage summons a fireball – it’s not a very good one, compared to what Veery sees some of the students do. Rushed, probably, with the blooded beast so close. He thrashes his head, flinging the body of the first mage into the fireball before it can reach him. He gets singed whiskers, but that’s all.

Don’t let them attack again. Veery is fast, faster than his opponents. Professor Jeritza says so, and Veery knows it’s true. No hesitation.

He doesn’t need to get closer. When he drops the first mage, he can easily leap to the second with just one jump. Professor Byleth distracts the third, so he doesn’t need to fear the wind spell that one throws.

Razor sharp claws sink into his prey, the mage screams. He slashes the poor mage across the head, Veery’s massive paws and fearsome claws tearing through the mask as if it isn’t even there. One claw gets his throat. The mage can’t do anything more but choke on his own blood, if the blow alone isn’t the cause of death. He’s not moving, either way.

Good enough.

Professor Byleth runs the third mage through with her sword. Veery is awaiting orders and leering cautiously at the mounted knight who, for some reason, doesn’t move a muscle to help the mages.

Veery is very quickly learning what “suspicious” is. He doesn’t like this at all. His tail lashes side to side, showing his agitation. Why isn’t this knight helping his allies?

They are allies, right? What is it Lorenz says? Fair-weather friend? Veery can only hope that’s the explanation.

“Those Central Church dastards have spotted us…” the masked man at the casket says fearfully. “Buy me some time while I open the seal on the casket! Death Knight! Prove your strength and scatter these fools!”

“I don’t take commands,” the mounted knight drawls. “Or waste my time on weaklings.”

Veery is almost offended – he takes out two enemies in two seconds flat and he’s a weakling? – but then he realizes that that means the mounted knight has no interest in fighting him and, again, it is always better to avoid a fight. This works just fine.

(Maybe it’s the mage giving the Death Knight the order who is the weakling? It doesn’t matter, if he’s truly not willing to engage.)

“Thanks for telling us your plans!” Claude calls. “They’re after the casket, everyone! Not sure why they want the saint’s bones, but I’d like to defeat them before they can finish the job. And no one go near the evil-looking knight, okay?”

“Are we really trusting him not to attack us the moment we turn our backs on him?” Felix hisses, already cutting through the enemies on his side.

“Not a chance!” Lysithea answers.

“Focus on the enemies who are trying to kill you!” Claude says, loosing an arrow. “Not the ones who aren’t!”

“He will surely strike when he finds an opening,” says Lorenz. “It would be foolish to ignore him.”

“I’m not saying to ignore him!” Claude groans. “Just focus on the enemies in front of you! Teach!”

Professor Byleth nods. “I’ll handle the Death Knight.”

The knight’s mask turns slightly, his attention fixating on Professor Byleth. “Will you? Like a moth to a flame…”

Veery can see some enemies on either side of the Death Knight. The Death Knight himself is clearly powerful, probably too much so for Veery, but he can clear the way so that the professor has more room to maneuver without worrying about more enemies surprising her. He’ll have to take them out to advance in this center column, anyway, so it seems a sensible plan.

Still, he’s not rushing ahead like with the mages. Not when he’s approaching the Death Knight. He’s not an idiot. He waits until Professor Byleth and the Death Knight’s blades meet before he darts around them both to rip the throat out of the guy brandishing an axe at him.

(Church robes, no mask. If not for the axe and the yell, Veery wouldn’t be sure he’s an enemy. Only one of the mages in the front has a mask, too. Two groups? He’ll ask Claude later.)

The other fighter nearby looses an arrow into Veery’s shoulder, but that’s hardly enough to stop his advance. He snaps the bow clean in half with a swipe of his paw, then sinks his claws into the man’s flesh.

Dead and done. The other groups are reaching the stairs now, just about passing them, what enemies remain further up the center aren’t inclined to come close enough to attack.

The Death Knight, then.

Professor Byleth holds her own brilliantly. She’s easily the Death Knight’s equal, but equal means the match can go either way, and they can’t lose her. They need to find a way to tip the odds in their favor.

The stink of iron and something else wrinkles Veery’s nose. The chaos in the air is growing and growing. Claude, Lysithea, and Mercedes are done checking all the bodies they can reach and look as if they want to join the fight. Finding an opening in the flurry of blades surrounding Professor Byleth and the Death Knight is near impossible.

Near, but not impossible. Not if they’re fast enough. Veery gathers his legs under him and watches close. The two circle around each other, a clang of metal, grunts of exertion. Professor Byleth has a cut on her arm. The Death Knight’s leg is bleeding. Professor Byleth forces the Death Knight back, his horse nickering.

Veery is faster than the Death Knight, but only if he doesn’t hesitate. The Death Knight’s back is turned, and more importantly the horse’s is, as well. Veery has never done this to a horse before, but he kills moose this way. Sometimes it’s the safest. Usually, he wants to get his teeth around its muzzle, block off its air with his own mouth. Or the neck if not. Same thing – crush the windpipe. But this works too.

He pounces. Dangerous territory, now. He lunges out to nip through the tendons on the horse’s leg, to cripple it.

He misses. Rattles his teeth on that stupid armor. The armor smells weird, too. Not the horse – the Death Knight’s armor. That’s not steel, whatever it is, but the horse’s armor is. He punches through it with his claws. He can’t get deep enough for real damage, not through the steel, but he gets a good hold, stabilizes himself, and aims better.

The horse goes down, but his mistake means the Death Knight gets his scythe around to him before he can retreat. Blooming pain courses through him, but he’s still fast, and he isn’t hesitating, so where he might lose his head Veery manages to only get a very nasty cut in his shoulder.

Too nasty. Not quite crippling, not enough to make Veery lose focus, but enough that he’s not putting too much pressure on that leg. Same as the horse, he supposes. One down, each. It cuts out the arrow from earlier, though, but not very neatly. Blessings and curses.

He falls to his side, panting, hot and fighting the pain. Mercedes is here, talking gently to him. The horse is limping, but back on its feet. It’ll survive, if it’s treated, but it’s not helping its rider for the rest of the battle. Sort of like him.

“I told you that if you fled, I would not chase you,” the Death Knight says, on foot but unharmed by his tumble off the horse. “But it seems you wish to die…” He approaches, nearer to Veery and Mercedes than Professor Byleth is.

Not good.

Magic always makes Veery’s fur stand on end. He struggles to his feet, despite Mercedes still trying to heal him, and tries to put himself between her and the Death Knight. He’s not used to fighting in groups like this, but he knows enough that he should protect his allies. Especially the healer. If he gets hurt, maybe the healer can save him. If the healer gets killed, he’s dead right after. It’s just survival.

And not just that. He… he likes Mercedes. She’s nice to him. She defends him when people attack him for being an agell, for being from outside Fódlan. He doesn’t want her to die.

So, he plants himself under the Death Knight’s scythe, shakes the tingle of magic out of his fur, and roars. The roar is defiance, daring. The roar of challenge, of invitation. Veery doesn’t expect humans to know that – he’s sure all his roars sound the same to them, but it gets the message across regardless. (One of the lackeys, one without the masks, drops his weapon, despite the fact that Veery is about to die.)

The Death Knight laughs. “What a delightful animal…” he coos.

“Lysithea!” It’s Professor Byleth who speaks, with more emotion than Veery has heard yet from her. An arrow forces the Death Knight to delay this execution for just one more moment.

“Mercedes, Veery, duck!” And that’s Lysithea’s voice. With this tingle of magic in the air, Veery doesn’t turn to look. He just drops down, allowing the Swarm spell to fly over him, encasing the Death Knight with the violent buzzing. Veery flattens his ears back, trying to keep the noise out, but even as the magical insects feast upon the Death Knight, seeming to corrode his armor, Lysithea is lining up another spell.

There’s a flash of pale moonlight, and then a circle of the deepest of darkness so complete that even Veery cannot see into it. Everything is moving all at once, the lit candles around them snuffed out by the sudden rush of air dragging everything in its sphere towards that dark center. The Swarm is stripped off of the Death Knight, but he is himself thrown backwards along with it, twisted violently as he approaches the focal point, and thrown to the ground like nothing more than a ragdoll.

Two spells. Veery flexes his claws, scratching at the polished tile. He can’t get great purchase but staying low along with what grip he can get means he isn’t dragged in as well. Mercedes huddles behind him, clutching tightly onto his fur. He doesn’t mind.

Two spells! And the Death Knight is broken and bloody on the ground. Alive, unfortunately, and standing back up somehow, but on the verge of defeat. This is why Lysithea terrifies Veery.

“Eat shit, asshole,” Lysithea says. She sounds confident and in control, but Veery can hear the strain, too. That spell must be a lot for her.

The Death Knight laughs. Sylvain has a word for people who like pain. Veery reminds himself not to ask. “Mercedes…” The Death Knight says, as if Mercedes is the one who has half the enemies in the room pissing themselves. Veery rises again, staying firmly between them. “Was this meeting… preordained?”

And what does that mean? “Hmm?” Mercedes asks, entirely too calm. “What do you mean?”

The Death Knight doesn’t answer. Instead, his gaze passes to Lysithea, and Claude next to her, and then to Veery, and then settles on Professor Byleth just in time to block her strike. “I didn’t expect to find someone like you…” he says, as slowly and steadily as ever. Veery isn’t sure who exactly he’s talking about, or if he means all five of them. “How fortunate.”

Definitely don’t ask Sylvain for that word. Veery doesn’t need to know.

The Death Knight fends off Professor Byleth’s attack, narrowly avoiding swift death at her blade, and vanishes in a flash of light.

The limping horse vanishes, too. Maybe that’s not as important, but Veery hopes the poor thing gets treatment for its leg. It’s not the horse’s fault its rider is such a dangerous weirdo.

Or is this kind of thing normal for humans? He hopes not.

Speaking of treatment for legs. Ow. Veery has to be careful not to just collapse for fear of landing on Mercedes, so it’s all he can do to lower himself to the ground slowly. He’s starting to get a little dizzy, too.

“You alright, Veery?” Claude asks, sliding up to him. “Lysithea?”

“I’m fine,” Lysithea snaps. “Let’s keep going.”

“Mercedes?” Professor Byleth asks.

Mercedes is already back at work on Veery’s shoulder, carefully and gently sifting through the fur and washing the area with healing magic. “I’m unharmed, Professor. Veery will be just fine, too, with some rest.”

“The Death Knight got away… was that magic?” Claude asks.

“Yes,” Lysithea says firmly. “But not any I’m familiar with. It’s certainly not a standard warp spell.”

Claude sighs. “Oh, well. The others are already way ahead of us,” he says, pointing up the steps to either side where the other groups are already nearing the end of the mausoleum. The few remaining enemies in their center column move to support the last of the defenders keeping the two groups from pinching together and converging onto the man still trying to break into the casket. “We should catch up.”

The students are fighting more cautiously than before, and are sporting quite a few injuries between them all, so the extra defense is enough to keep them from breaking through. Veery nudges Mercedes to get her attention and gestures to them, telling her to go assist them. Veery’s wound is already healed more than enough for it to not be considered critical, and Raphael and Felix have some scary looking cuts they’re fighting through. Everyone is at least scratched up.

“Let’s move up,” says Professor Byleth. “Mercedes, let us know when you’re in range to heal the others. Lysithea, Veery, you’ll stay back with Mercedes when we get close enough.”

“Professor, I can-”

“Lysithea, you can barely stand.”

Veery looks over and, oh, she’s right. Lysithea has a determined expression but is undoubtedly swaying on her feet. She only has a tear in her sleeve, and no visible wound under it, as far as physical damage, but she’s swaying, panting hard, and gritting her teeth through what is probably a killer headache. Those being what Annette tells him are the first signs of magical exhaustion.

Veery tests his shoulder and, satisfied that he can at least walk with no trouble, if some significant pain, he pads over to Lysithea’s side. She’s too proud to lean on him, or he doesn’t make it clear enough that he wants her to, but he decides to stick close to her regardless. (He can probably carry her on his back if necessary, but he’s sure Lysithea won’t appreciate that very much.)

They begin their march forward. Mercedes does some minor healing on Professor Byleth as they go, but even with her wounds she’s not slowing down at all. The others start flagging, so Claude rushes to line up shots that’ll make their lives easier. “Here,” says Mercedes, and then raises her hands.

“Hraaaah! Alright, Mercedes! Thanks!” Raphael’s war cry and thanks marks the beginning of the end for the bad guys.

“You’re too late!” The guy at the casket says, as Professor Byleth and Claude approach him. “The seal is broken!” He scrambles, clearly frightened, as Claude levels an arrow at him. Claude is forced to turn his bow to take out one of the remaining lackeys who have realized what’s happening and turned around, which gives the main guy time to push open the casket’s lid. “Huh? A sword?”

…So, all of this, and these guys don’t even know what’s in there? Veery still kind of wants to know what they plan on using Seiros’ bones for, anyway.

Oh. Or maybe bones make some sense. The sword that the masked mage pulls out of the coffin certainly looks like bone, at least. Are Seiros’ bones made into a sword? Albineans carve weapons out of bone, sometimes, so it’s not absurd. Veery is under the impression that iron and steel are generally better for weaponry, though. (His own “weapons” are bone, technically, so maybe he shouldn’t talk.)

That doesn’t explain why the masked guy is surprised, if Seiros’ bones are a sword, though.

Professor Byleth approaches him and easily disarms him, taking the bone sword for herself. He tries to use his magic to stop her advance, but the bone sword glows and cuts right through it.

Wait… glows? That looks like Catherine’s sword. And now that Veery thinks about it, Catherine’s sword looks kind of like bone, too, right?

Professor Byleth finishes off the poor guy, and the students clean up the last of the bad guys, and then Catherine herself comes bursting through the door, Edelgard and Dimitri and some Knights of Seiros at her heels. “Where’s the intruder?!” Catherine snarls for a moment before lowering her sword. “Oh… Looks like you have this under control.” She turns to the knights. “You! Round up anyone left alive.”

As the knight goes to execute the order, Edelgard steps forward. “Professor. Claude,” she says. “We stopped the reinforcements in the cathedral. I see you handled this group as expected.”

“Not all according to plan,” Claude admits. “Dastards managed to open the casket. Teach recovered what they took, but still. And wait until I tell you about the Death Knight.”

“That sword…” Dimitri says, walking closer, “the way it is glowing. I wonder…”

“We have to report this to Lady Rhea immediately,” Catherine says. “Professor, be careful with that sword. That’s what was in the casket?” Professor Byleth nods silently. Catherine scowls. “Where are Saint Seiros’ bones?”

“Don’t know,” Claude says. “Casket’s empty, except for that, and it was sealed with magic for who knows how long. Best guess is they were never here.”

“We need to show this to Lady Rhea,” Catherine says. “Good job, everyone. Let the Knights take it from here and go get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

Veery looks to Professor Byleth. She gives them all a nod, dismissing them. Veery sighs.

It’s over. There are so many questions left unanswered, but the fight is over. Thank the gods. He shifts back, finally, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. His fur is gross. Matted and sticky and dirty. A bath in this form will get the grime off him but he’s still going to have to groom it out later. He really isn’t looking forward to that.

As everyone starts shuffling out of the Holy Mausoleum, meeting up with the other students, chatter begins to pick up.

“I’m going to sleep for a week,” Linhardt groans.

He groans louder when he’s slapped on the back, hard, by Caspar. “How can you sleep after a battle like that?”

“Ugh, I’m all sweaty,” whines Hilda.

Dorothea giggles. “You weren’t even here, Hilda.”

“It’s a long route you guys made me walk!”

Veery is thrown off-balance when Leonie throws an arm over his good shoulder. “I saw you face down the Death Knight! And here I was thinking you were a coward! You sure proved me wrong!”

Veery just fakes a face and scratches at his arm. “It’s going to take hours to fix my fur,” he groans. “I hate fighting.”

“Come on! It’s not that bad. We’re all going to be doing weapon maintenance for a while, too, after this battle. It’s just part of the process.”

“I get hairballs,” Veery whines.

“Pfft.” Claude snickers. “Wow, I honestly didn’t even think of that. Do you really?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Gross.”

“Shut up. It’s your fault my fur’s all matted and tangled in the first place.”

“How is it my fault?”

“You’re the leader, so everything’s your fault.” Veery grins. “That’s how human society works, right?”

Lorenz bursts into laughter. “Absolutely. Everything is Claude’s fault,” he says.

Leonie chuckles. “He’s got a point.”

“Not really, but I do agree it’s still Claude’s fault,” Lysithea says.

Claude gasps in mock outrage. “I lead you all to victory and you decide to bully me? My own house? Dimitri, help me! I’m being betrayed!”

Dimitri smiles good-naturedly as Claude hangs off of him. “I’m sorry, Claude, but a leader must take responsibility for those under their care.”

“Even you, Dimitri? My poor heart can’t take this! I can’t believe I trusted you people!”

“If you cannot control those you are supposed to be leading,” says Edelgard coolly, “you have only yourself to blame.”

“Thus,” Hubert adds, helpfully, with that particularly sinister tone of his working, for once, for comedic effect, “it’s Claude’s fault.”

“Woah!” Caspar yells. “I didn’t know you can make jokes, Hubert! Do another one!”

“Bully Claude time is over!” Claude cheers. “It’s bully Hubert time now!”

“It is not bully Hubert time.” Hubert hisses.

“Ha! You’re on a roll!” Caspar giggles. “I’m loving this side of you, Hubert!”

“That was not a joke.”

“Man, can you believe this guy?”

Caspar is only stopped by Linhardt tugging on his sleeve. “I’m going to sleep,” Linhardt says, leaning on Caspar. “Good night.”

“Lin! Aw, come on, at least go your room, first!” Caspar sighs and scoops Linhardt’s legs out from under him, easily maneuvering him into a princess carry. “Sorry, guys, I got to take Lin back to his room. I’ll see you later!”

Veery just keeps giggling. Humans are still really weird, but he likes that about them. They’re fun.

#fanfiction #FE Fanfiction #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe3h

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

𝔻𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕖𝕤

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ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Bucky gets hit with that god awful (but really hot) sex pollen. (this was requested)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Dub-Con/Non-Con as per usual with sex pollens fics (although i try to write them as consensual as possible :T) Smut obvi (18+ minors dni), slight daddy kink, age gap?, public male masturbation; it's brief but still

TW: very brief mention of possible suicide

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hot

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“Where are those daisies we collected from the last mission?” Tony asked you, eyes staying glued to the hologram in front of him.

“I left them on the quinjet. Fury said to wait for transportation until Shield confirms safety. It’s literally in a glass case, but whatever,” you rolled your eyes, making the older man laugh.

“Just protocol, kid,” he snickered.

Meanwhile Bucky sat with Steve eating lunch, chatting it up like old men do.

“So what did you bring back from the last mission? I saw a bunch of agents in hazmat suits,” Steve said sipping his coffee.

“Uh, well Thor said we should bring some plants back for research, but it seems like a bunch of normal lookin’ daisies,” Bucky shrugged.

“Y/n loves daisies,” Steve smirked.

“Ok?”

“And you love Y/n,” Steve teased.

“No I don’t-”

“Hey boys!” you skipped past the kitchen.

“Y/n,” Bucky said standing up with a big goofy smile on his face.

“Where ‘ya going?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

“Quinjet. Fury gave us the go to start doing tests on that plant you brought the other day,” you smiled lightly jogging to the runway.

“Why don't you ask her on a date, Buck,” Steve nudged.

“Come on, she’s way too smart to go out with a dumbass like me,” Bucky joked.

“Seriously.”

“I don’t know. It’s been years since I’ve talked to another woman. It doesn’t come naturally anymore. Wha- what’s even the first I’d say to her?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m on the same boat with you. Just… Tell how nice she looks today when she comes back.”

“Really?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Yeah, be nice to her.”

“I am nice to her.”

“I mean be extra nice. Flatter her,” Steve told him, “Go wait in the lab until she comes back and tell her she looks pretty today.”

“Isn’t Tony in the lab?” Bucky asked.

“Ha ha, yeah,” Steve teased, patting his back before leaving to his room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony mumbled seeing Bucky waltzing in the room awkwardly.

“Nothing,” he mumbled back.

Tony dropped his hands and stared at Bucky with an unimpressed look on his face. Everyone but you knew about Barnes’ little boy crush on you but he’s never had the balls to say anything. You were close to Tony and seeing as though he doesn’t particularly like Bucky, he didn’t want you hanging around him. But you were an adult so of course you hung out with whoever you wanted.

He was sure you liked him back too which never ceased to make him roll his eyes.

You walked back from the quinjet with the glass container of daisies. You weren’t exactly a plant expert but it was apparent that these daisies were mutated seeing as though the pollen swirled around the flowers gracefully. It was beautiful but then again they might be extremely dangerous considering it was a Hydra experiment.

“Hey Y/n, off to the lab again?” Steve smiled.

“Yup, gotta check these babies out according to Thor; said they might be dangerous if they’re what he thinks they are,” you said, still walking.

“And what’s that?” you just shrugged at his question unsure of the answer yourself.

“Well, Bucky’s waiting for you in the lab,” he slipped in the conversation.

“Really? Why’s-” Crash!

“Oh no,” Tony mumbled, seeing the collision in action.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you stuttered.

“No, no. I should be sorry. Here let me help,” bucky knelt to the ground grabbed the fallen daisies with his bare hands.

“No! Don’t touch-” Tony shouted practically sprinting towards you two.

The golden pollen swirled in a misty manner engulfing Bucky completely. You stared with furrowed brows confused at the sight before you and what was going on. Bucky’s skin began to burn and his senses were being overloaded. All he could smell in that moment was you; the same scent that he got a whiff of this morning when he hugged you, the perfume and the shampoo that filled his senses when you walked passed him.

Tony pushed you out of the lab roughly throwing you in Steve’s arms who was just as confused.

“FRIDAY,” Tony called out.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” the familiar voice answered.

“Lock all the doors to the lab and maybe turn on the a/c,” he commanded.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

All the glass walls and doors instantly shut and locked, locking Bucky inside. Bucky’s eyes found your and slammed his body against the glass desperately trying to reach you. You too ran up to the glass wall trying to understand what had happened to him. Everything was happening so suddenly.

Your forehead was pressed against the glass as was Bucky’s; both of you staring into each other’s eyes momentarily. In that moment, you could see his eyes turn golden for a quick second before his pupils dilated ridiculously before your eyes.

“Is he going to be ok?” you turned away.

“Y/n! Please!” Bucky’s muffled screams shocked you.

“Uh… where’s Thor?” Tony panicked.

“What the hell is happening?” Nat asked; Sam, Wanda, and Vision trailing behind closely.

“Nat,” you ran to her.

“What happened to Bucky?” Same asked.

“He- I ran- I ran into him by a-accident and the box dropped. There was mist everywhere and Bucky's eyes. His eyes,” you stammered breathlessly.

“Please! I need her!” Bucky hit the glass in an attempt to break it.

“Oh my goodness,” Wanda gasped at the sweaty Bucky hitting and practically going feral.

“Oh god, is he gonna be ok?” you teared up. This is your fault, dammit.

“I can asure he will experience no physical harm,” Thor’s voice made all of you turn around.

“Just physically? What the hell does that mean?” Sam argued.

“Well, uh… I’ve never actually seen it’s effects in person. Especially not on a Midguardian…” his voice trailed off and his eyes grew big.

Nat snapped her head, eyes widening as well. Bucky with absolutely no shame held his hard dick in his hands pumping it with his eyes trained on you. You went to turn around seeing nat’s expression but she covered you eyes before you could actually see the lewd behavior Bucky indulged in.

“What’s happening?” you asked holding onto Nat as she led across the room.

“Nothing, they’re gonna take care of Buck. Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly.

You sat in your room bouncing your leg as the movie on your TV played. Every now and then Bucky would moan and cry particularly loud making all of you wince and cringe. But your mind felt foggy simply thinking about Bucky and his safety; especially that moment when his eyes went from confusion to you don’t even know what. Hunger? Desire? Lust?

Whatever it was, it made your tummy flutter.

“Steve, any news on Bucky?” Steve stood at the doorway with a worrisome face that did nothing to ease your already panicked nerves.

“Well, as far as Thor knows the plant that was mutated with the daisies was pollen extracted from a breeding plant common among other galaxies; for species that can’t… reproduce like we do. The pollen enters the system and targets the nociceptors causing excruciating pain without physical harm. If untreated the victim can reach a traumatic state and truthfully, they will do anything to stop the pain; even kill themselves.”

“What the hell does any of that mean?” Sam grunted.

“It means the tin man is painfully horny,” Tony interrupted.

“Are you fucking serious?” Sam said in disbelief.

“What’s the cure?” Nat said.

“Oxytocin, of course,” Tony said.

“The cuddle hormone,” you whispered.

“Yup. Banner and I are already working on a serum containing artificial oxytocin in hopes to minimize the pain or even better cure him completely. We-”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit more complicated than that,” Thor interrupted Tony.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, see the pollen, it’s a little tricky. The oxyputin-thingy you mentioned…”

“Oxytocin,” Tony clarified but Thor didn’t care too much.

“I don't think artificial love is going to cure the boy. If you want results, he needs to be the one he desires most. That’s where you’ll get your oxy-pudding.”

“Oxy- You know what, we can figure this out without anyone needing to have sex,” Tony groaned.

“Tony, maybe we shouldn’t-” you started.

“Nope, we can do this. We’re science bros,” Tony stormed away like a child.

“Isn’t your lab being ‘occupied’,” Nat called out.

“Shit!”

Hours went by and the oxytocin experiments were clearly a fail. The first dose did nothing. The second also nothing. The third relieved him for only ten seconds before he went back to his painful state. Since then, they haven’t been able to help or relieve Bucky’s circumstance any longer.

You thought about Thor’s words, about how the one he desires most could cure him. A ping of jealousy struck your heart but you knew you to find the woman Bucky loved and just pray that she'd help him. You made your way back to the lad area where Tony and Bruce had their new makeshift set up while the lab was locked down.

“Tony, this is ridiculous. It’s been going on for too long. You heard what Thor said about what happens when it gets too much,” you begged.

“And what do you suggest we do?” Tony said angrily.

“We need to find the woman that Bucky loves so she can help him,” you argued back.

“It's not just some woman, Y/n! He wants you.”

“What?”

“All the bastard’s been doing for the past eight hours has been masterbating while moaning your name. I’m not putting you in that situation,” Tony yelled.

You couldn’t speak. Was he telling you the truth? Did Bucky want you like that? The same way you secretly wanted him? It’s not like you haven't thought about what being with Bucky would be like before. He was perfect; so handsome and charming.

You ran back to your room where the rest of the guys still were practically out of breath; your heart hammering out of your chest and your stomach fluttering like it does whenever you think about Bucky.

“I need to get to Bucky,” you panted out.

“What?”

“Please you guys need to help me. Tony said that Bucky wants me; I mean can you believe. A guy like him wanting me? I’m just… nobody. He’s way too out of my league and-”

“Y/n, focus,” Nat said.

“Right. I- I want to help him. I know I can.”

“Y/n, we don’t know how dangerous this is. I mean, it came from Hydra, this could be weaponized and you could get hurt,” Steve argued.

“Bucky could never hurt me,” you whispered; Nat looked at you softly, understanding the situation better realizing you were probably Bucky’s only chance of a cure.

“You’re not actually considering letting her do this are you?” Steve scolded Nat.

"Are Tony and Bruce making any progress?" she sighed.

"They haven't been to even relieve his pain for longer than ten seconds," you whispered.

"Steve, this is Bucky we're talking about. Hasn't he endure enough torture in his life?" Nat said softly.

That seemed to convince him. Seeing Bucky in so much pain like he had been only years ago was unfair, especially when they technically already knew a cure. Waiting this out was pure evil at this point.

"How do you suppose we go about this?" he asked.

You devised a plan in order to let Bucky from the lab; he'd find his way to you on his own. Wanda stood from afar using her powers to tamper with the equipment. Tony frustratingly would have to run across the compound to the conference rooms to grab new devices in order to continue with his notes and tests.

On his way back, Steve and his convincing and charming ways would stall Tony's return asking him all sorts of questions about Bucky's state. Meanwhile, Thor made up some excuse to lure Banner away just for a minute so Nat and Sam could override the lockdown through Friday and free Bucky.

All the while you sat in your room waiting anxiously for Bucky to barge through the door and have his way with you.

A few minutes went by and no sign of a ruckus you'd assume would accompany the escape plan. You fiddled with the hem of your skirt biting your lip in anticipation. Still no sign after a couple more minutes. Wanting to make sure you still looked alright for Buck, although he'd probably not even acknowledge your appearance, you stood up to walk to your bathroom.

Just as you stood up, Bucky in all his muscle and broad glory slammed the door behind him staring at you with nothing but desperate hunger. Your stomach flipped when you saw him lock the door, pushing a small chair you had just next to it in front of the door under the handle.

He stalked towards practically panting and you took in his appearance. His hair was quite disheveled and sweat lined his forehead and slightly down his neck. Despite that, he still looked so handsome and sexy.

"маленький, all dressed up for me to ruin," he growled crawling up the bed as you crawled back.

"Buck, are you ok? I want to help you," you whispered.

"I'm more than ok now, beautiful," he whispered leaning into you, his nose brushing against yours, chuckling when you visibly trembled.

"Is my красивый маленький ангел gonna let me use her?" he whispered, huskily.

"Bucky, I don't understand what you're saying."

"так драгоценно," he whispered against your lips before pressing himself completely against you.

His hands, contrast between hot and cold, crept under your shirt brushing lightly over your delicate skin. You had somewhat expected Bucky to have no control and use you relentlessly, of which you wouldn't have minded, but this soft ginger foreplay was really making your panties wet.

Bucky slowly lifted the shirt from your body before tossing it to the side and removing his own. His hands cupped your breasts squeezing the soft flesh quite roughly making you sigh and moan at the feeling.

His lips attached themselves to your neck biting and sucking harshly littering your skin with dark purple marks. He nibbled on your ear as he grinding his pelvis against yours, his large erection poking your center making you even more aroused.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. It smelled just like you," he whispered.

"T- The daisies?"

"I've been craving you, aching for you. Thinking about how good you're gonna feel wrapped around my cock," he panted speeding up his grinding thrusts.

"Buck," you breathed out.

Bucky shuddered over you before stilling for a moment. He couldn't help it, your scent, your warm skin pressed against his, he couldn't hold back anymore coming straight away in his pants.

You brushed his hair softly soothing him from his high. You thought it was over, that he felt better and was finally cured but almost instantly you felt Bucky harden under you, poking between your thighs and you gasped knowing very well it was going to be a long night.

Bucky stood on his knees and pulled your bottoms down your legs nearly ripping the material. He too rid his bottoms throwing them god knows where before climbing back on top of you. You stared adorably up at him and Bucky almost came again. He smiled softly at you before kissing you once more.

Suddenly, loud bangs on your door startled you but not Bucky.

"What the hell are you doing!" Tony screamed.

"Tony, you gotta stop! This is the only way! It's not fair to him to let him keep suffering. He's done enough of that, ok?" Nat shouted.

"She's gonna get hurt," Tony sighed.

"No she won't. This was her idea."

Tony looked back teary eyed. He really cared for you as his own and putting you in a situation like this wasn't fair to you either. He really tried to help but this was just too complicated and too advanced to solve in only a few hours. They were right, Bucky needed you as much as he didn't like that idea too much.

"Fine."

Bucky lined his cock with your entrance wrapping your legs around his waist. Slowly he pushed in pulling moans from you both. You've only had a couple lovers previous to Bucky but neither of them ever filled you so perfectly. Bucky stretched you out like none other and admittedly he wanted to use his fingers on you first but he'd been away for too long it was too painful to go another second without being inside you.

"So tight and warm, little one. Feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

"Buck," you moaned.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer to you as you kissed along his neck and jaw. Bucky moaned breathlessly in your ear and you couldn't help the clenching around him from arousal.

"Fuck, keep doing that, little one," he groaned.

Toy squeezed your thighs together and clenched around him again making him groan louder this time. His thrusts became sporadic and you moved against like a ragdoll unable to keep up with his relentless pace.

Your legs began to shake and your back arched into his chest reaching you first high of the night, gushing all over his cock. You realize he hasn't come and gently push him off you before flipping over to let him take you again from behind.

As expected, Bucky pushed into once again deeper this time and you shuddered under his hand that rested atop your arched back. Bucky smacked and kneaded your ass thrusting in and out. The lewd squelching sound of his thrust mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other echoed in the room.

"Shit, little one. Taking my cock so fucking well," he reached forward and bunch up your hair pulling your head back harshly.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sheets as hard as you could. You were approaching your orgasm quickly and you weren't going to be able to hold back any longer. Your pussy clenched around Bucky's cock making him throw his head back in pleasure.

"Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"You wanna come, darling. You wanna cream all over daddy's cock?"

"Yes! Fuck!" your arms shook before giving out completely; your head buried in the sheets as Bucky continued that same wild and rough pace.

"Please let me come, daddy!"

Your body felt on fire. No one has ever made you feel this good before, it was almost too much, too overwhelming. Tears brimmed your eyes from trying to desperately hold back. You wanted to come with Bucky but seeing as his pace had yet to slow down you were beginning to think he wasn't even close.

"Let go, doll."

Your body squirmed beneath him as you released all over his dick. You came with a near shout, your body violently trembling from the intensity of your high. Bucky slowed his pace for your comfort, gently riding your orgasm slowly down despite his still aching erection.

He languidly rolled you over to your back, his hands softly rubbing your sides up to your breasts. You breathed heavily, eyes feeling droopy, all you could feel in that moment was his cum dripping from you onto the sheets.

Bucky, still knelt on the bed and still chasing his release, lifted your legs over his thighs gripping your hip with one hand and his cock with the other. You squeezed your thighs together when you felt his tip poking at your entrance once again, soft whimpers emitting from you shakily.

"Such a good girl. Gonna let me take you again? Gonna let me keep using you?" he moaned.

"Use me, Buck. I'm all yours," you breathed out.

Bucky pushed himself past your folds once again, your cum easily letting him slide in. Both his hands made home on your hips gripping hardly surely to leave marks for you to remember this very moment. You looked at Bucky as his thrusts slowly began to pick up, bringing your own hands to your breasts to play with your nipples. You twisted the perked buds, moaning softly at the feeling as well as Bucky filling you perfectly once again.

"Filling me up so good, baby," you moaned, arching your back slightly allowing Bucky to hit a newer and deeper angle inside you.

"Pussy was fucking made for me," he growled.

His hand moved from its home on your hip right over your lower belly where he could feel his cock so deep poking his own hand through your tummy.

"Feel how fucking deep I am?"

You moved your hand and he pressed yours in the same spot under his and you moaned loudly, shuddering under him.

His pace quickened and for a moment he thought he was going to finally reach his high, that release he'd been thinking about for hours today, but when he felt you clench again, squeezing his cock tightly and he didn't cum, he knew it was gonna be chase that he didn't know you'd be up for. You gushed all over his dick, back arching and your legs pressing tight around his torso, coming with a loud scream of his name.

Bucky fell forward with tears in his eyes. His skin still felt hot and sticky. His sense felt dialed up to an eleven. It was all so overwhelming and all he wanted was to cum in you and hold you closer whispering how he really loved you. He pressed faint kisses to you equally sticky and warm skin and when you felt warm liquid dripping onto your skin to lift Bucky's head to find him crying.

"What's wrong, baby?"

“I can’t cum. I just wanna cum,” he whined.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. I can go as many times as you need me to. I want to help you, let me do that.”

“Can- Can you uh… use your mouth please? I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock so bad,” he moaned.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything for you,” you smirked before pushing him and crawling over him holding his dick in your hand.

Hours and literally hours had passed until Bucky was finally tired out only having cum three times compared to the fifteen-plus times you had. Your bed laid on the ground; the wooden stands snapped about two hours ago. Most of your sheets were torn to shreds and marks littered your body from your neck down to your hips and your knees from, well you know.

Your body shook as you laid in a fetal position. You burned between your thighs; the soreness overwhelming but pleasant at the same time. Sweat made what was left of the sheets stick to your body until Bucky pulled them from you to clean you. He used a warm towel all over your body with tears in his eyes whispering how sorry he was about everything.

“I swear I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m so sorry. I understand if you hate me now; if you never want to see me again. Just know that I’m so sorry about your bed, the blankets, if I hurt you, everything,” he sniffled, eyes and nose red and puffy.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice raspy and croaky from your moaning and screaming all night.

“Y/n,” he whispered back. You pulled him by the back of his neck into a soft yet passionate kiss.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out when you pulled away. You cupped his face with shaky hands but a smile on your face.

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I’ve dreamt about holding you far too many times, more than I’d like to admit. I should’ve told you sooner but like everyone else, I was scared you didn’t like me back; at least not this way,” he rubbed your legs indicating the intimate love he had for you.

“Buck, it’s virtually impossible for anyone not to fall in love with you. Unless they’re Tony,” you giggled as did he.

“Can you say it?” he asked softly.

“That I love you?” you smiled brushing your nose against his; Bucky practically purred as he nodded.

“I love you, James,” you whispered.

“Fuck, I love you too.”

He laid you down softly again on the broken bed pressing light kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. You brushed his hair with your fingers as he clung onto you ready to sleep.

“Thank you again, doll. For helping me today,” he said after a couple minutes of silence.

“Of course, my love. Besides I’m the one who ran into you with those damn daisies.”

“Thank god for them then. And for your clumsiness,” Bucky chuckled.

“Meanie,” you snorted, making Bucky laugh even more.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

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chocosvt · 3 years

Text

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!!

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader

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