in beige and gold.

a friend once told him, if you look a matcha girl in the eye you’ll realize they have no fear.

‘because you have to be insane if you truly like the taste of matcha’ he’d said.

sanghee had a penchant for flair, not dramatics per say, but elegance, finer things. in that sense it was easy for him to find acquaintance with kiko. it was obvious that the reason they frequented spaces that held high quality items was a mere coincidence but it was a coincidence that became too often, and too hilarious to pass up. after learning the details of her profession ( by word of mouth ) sanghee’s not only intrigued but glad to know some people still have guts. certain things deserve to be sold at face value and some people deserve the kick in their wallet when they don’t know true value.

did he understand that there was no need to bleed a wallet for certain objects? yes. did that mean he would stop watching others do it? no. 

sanghee frequented auctions and exhibitions alike getting a kick out of knowing enough to get him enough and not letting the tricks of the trade make him into a fool. that kiko had such a hand in mastering that trade was admirable, right up his alley in fact. there was something powerful and almost comical watching the way prices would shoot up and the greed and vanity in humans ate it up. 

as if there was something to prove with doing so. as if their lives depend on a necklace appraised with an extra three zeros that he knows aren’t necessary and definitely aren’t telling of their worth. the same goes for the trinket that’s spent the better part of the afternoon, resting on the countertop. 

“i understand that you think selling this is a good idea,” it’s oval-shaped and shimmering like a pearls, blues and pinks circling the material. it’s a necklace with three rows of chains and small beads of the same color etched in the design. to kiko it probably screams luxury, a deal, to sanghee it screams familiarity. and that’s enough to cause concern.

“but whoever stole this, i can assure you they’re dead.” he wishes she’d understand the gravity of the situation but like most matcha girls, who’ve adapted a flair for their hustle and their skills, she sits there sipping her second matcha latte of the evening. her eyes with no care for the storm that could be coming her way.

                  “well…” so maybe she shouldn’t have said ‘anything’. but frankly, asami wouldn’t mind working at the cafe. as long as she had enough training, she figured she’d be able to get the job done. “no, actually. but– but i’m willing to learn!” 

see, asami may not have been training to be in the coffee business, considering she was an education major and had only ever worked at a daycare center, but she knew that any real-world experience such as working at his coffee shop would teach her quite a bit. the girl smiled up at him, wondering if that was enough to convince him that she was at least going to be friendly towards customers. 

        “no?”

       so maybe it would be a waste of time. in fact for the moment sanghee was considering how it would be more trouble than it’s worth. but he’s met with the thoughts of those before her, those with experience. who claimed experience anyway, and how quickly that wasn’t the case. the honesty is admirable though that’s for sure. it’s admirable and it means more than those who claim to have all the knowledge in the world. if sanghee had but a lick of knowledge of culinary arts it’s from watching, listening and learning organically. maybe that’s what was best. maybe that’s better than the alternative. he knows humans have a love for their certificates and credentials.

        he just needs willingness. desire and here asami is offering both up. “i’ll allow a week.” there were probably formalities for this. paperwork yes. schedules that needed to be checked, orientation and all that. but she needed a job and sanghee was quite over everyone insisting he needed more workers.

working the register offers him a lot of time to observe. on the slow days it’s what kinds of customers come in, what kinds of lives they’re escaping or living to the fullest. it’s the student grabbing the largest, sweetest drink in order to shuffle in a corner and study. it’s a blogger grabbing the most eye-catching drink and setting up their space to take pictures with their friends. 

it’s usually not an intern seeing as he’s not that close to any huge companies in the city. not by choice but because this edge of the city allowed the sun to rise and touch all the places he held dear. skyscrapers sometimes made that impossible, and the people there were also impossibly stuffy. sanghee is strategic to a fault.

but sometimes he does get them, in all their scrambling and struggle for efficiency in inefficient cases. such as a particular intern who insists she can carry the load by herself even though he’s come to learn the company headquarters is nowhere near the shop. he also learns that there’s a specific taste for someone at their company that borders on the ridiculous, meaning she has to get their latte from his cafe or they cannot proceed with their day.

titles sure have a way of bringing out the best in people.

she’d cited her boss, and sanghee had forgotten the name as quickly as it was uttered. and she is gone as quickly as she orders every time. three mocha lattes, two strawberry-ades, one green tea latte, three room temperature espressos, one dry cappuccino, as well as one strawberry cake all with whipped cream and to go. it’s the most effective use of the carriers that sanghee has seen thus far and he made a habit of helping her out the door when he can. the orders are very particular so when he’s getting the mobile order this time, he immediately knows who the man standing before him is.

“i hope yewon not fetching your order means you’ve finally worked her into the ground?” sanghee’s diligent, everything said with a smile and with his hands working to prepare the drink. there’s no real grudge or bite, just curiosity. curiosity based on observations and what little understanding he can get from the scattered girl who’s always in and out, and today when she’s not.

it’s quite a pitiful sight.

mainly because there are far more effective tactics to do this, and there’s something distasteful about how unseelie fae go for what they assume to be easier targets. it’s a lower level one, definitely not one of the court and probably stepping out of boundaries out of curiosity. and inexperience, definitely inexperience, sanghee can see the way their glamour flickers and their facial features morph and mold into that of a deer.

to the trained eye it’s probably noticeable but to humans there’s nothing strange other than how wide their smiles can get and how enticing their voices can be. like diamonds scratching against granite. 

he has no idea why this unsightly creature has found habit in circling the area around his cafe but he’s not settling for it. the first few days were easy, it took a few warning glances before the fae knew they weren’t allowed near the threshold. but they are conniving and they have absolutely no manners, every refusal is a challenge. sanghee knows the feeling well but he has class, control over his inhibitions. unseelie just love to prove what wickedness lies in their bones. 

it’s not the first time he’s seen some of them roaming about in broad daylight and he does his best to ignore them, allow his eyes to flicker to their natural color as a means of warning. it is however, the first time he’s watched their deadly courting so close to his establishment. sanghee is a bit protective of those who frequent his cafe, and also protective of the space around it. it’s a bubble he’s cultivated to be calm, collected and free of such tricks and trades.

so to watch how this deer-familiar starts to hover around a customer as she leaves, no doubt asking for a favor, enticing her help in whatever way will allow him to attach himself, is disgusting. she doesn’t look too uncomfortable but she does look guarded and that’s good. but such motions entice them further and sanghee is out his own shop before he can help himself.

the starters are a bit lengthy because mostly to establish the premise or the relationship please do not feel stressed about length.

i take no offense if you wish to respond with gif icons or icons in general i will use them as well! it just slipped my mind by how long the starters were getting!

if there’s any plot/idea that needs more clarification on where i’m thinking or going please message me and if there’s anything about your muse i might’ve read wrong message me as well! i tried to be as accurate by what i read or researched to write them but i in no way wish to portray things incorrectly!

this reminded me of those days in rp when people would write starters saying ‘_____ has entered the shop’ and it warmed my heart so thank you! ♡

“okay tell me about the next one!”

it’s not that laughing is difficult for him, but usually when his customers go on tangents or take up space with tales and company, he’s there just for the experience. he’s not there to really learn much or do anything besides file the information for later and better use. it takes quite a bit of control to make sure he’s looked as thoroughly intrigued as possible and pulling responses that can lead to the same thought.

however, nari’s topics are one he can’t fake his interest in and he’s always filled with delight when the woman makes a stop in the cafe. she has her own reasons, her own need to be here and it’s often made with her nestling in a blue beanie bag and pulling out her wide array of books.

it’s because something of a decorated area now, with a shelf sanghee’s fashioned above to keep the recent ones, recommended ones from patrons and her favorites. she’s into fantasy, in a way that he often has to remind her ‘nari, your degree is showing’. but in a way that’s admirable, how stories can make someone light up. it’s also amusing and that’s probably where the relationship spawned, from sanghee’s off comments about fantasy books surrounding fae, to her deep declaration of their rich content and imagery.

so here he is, welcoming any new story she brings in, whether it pertain to fae or anything else.

“i won’t laugh this time i promise, i swear.”

that’s probably a lie, and she probably knew that but this wouldn’t be fun if she didn’t. and it wouldn’t be as enjoyable if sanghee didn’t get his fill of the ridiculous ideas humans had of his kind and their livelihood. “what’s this one about?” he’s curious, encouraging and without having to force it. he slides the small cup her way and continues to clean the area around them.

“if you hate this so much, please explain why you insisted on tagging along.”

it was the free food, sanghee knew it was the free food. because the path leading the the market he loved frequenting held many stalls to which karam could indulge in his favorites. this included those godforsaken spicy rich cakes and kimbap alike. sanghee doesn’t have anything against them he’d just prefer if customers didn’t come in with the residue fresh on their hands and get his counters smelling like pepper paste. 

details though, details.

karam is always up for an adventure even if this is nothing of the sort, it’s just sanghee shopping for extra decorations to put on the second level of the cafe. the aesthetic has seemed all over the place for a while now and he’s debating if that means more flowers or different architecture. karam’s insisted that the flowers in the back shop are stuffy enough but sanghee knows better than to take advice from his very biased, very opinionated friend.

one of karam’s longstanding opinions would be his take on places with too many humans and too much interaction as a result. the outdoor market is exactly the place, and it is this way because most of the furniture appraised here are antique and handmade, sanghee appreciates the craftsmanship as it reminds him of home. karam naturally hates it as it reminds him of things destroyed, altered and disfigured.

to each their own.

- ̗̀ open starter!   ̖́-

to: m/f/nb

plot: help asami get a job ( they could own a company or they work somewhere or they’re just someone who could help lmao )

                   “i– i didn’t know who else to ask.” it wasn’t that she thought they could GIVE her a job. she just figured they could, at the very least, help her find one. because while she knew she had to focus on school, she also wanted to be able to make money for herself. “is there anyone you might know… who has openings? i– i’ll take pretty much anything!”

        desperation was not a good look, it was neither flattering and yet somehow it was the go to. somehow it got the job done. 

        sanghee couldn’t say he was sympathetic to the cause but he was rather tired of the same questions from his customers, about whether or not he would succeed in hiring other workers. he wasn’t overrun with work despite the cafe’s popularity. he could hold his own, it was the part-timers who couldn’t handle their own ( read as: perfectionism ). it was an inevitable trait for someone who took such pride in creations and creating, even if it was just a cup or just a cake. it was more, it meant more. he doubted anyone could, or would understand. though, asami’s worries don’t fall on deaf ears.

he had heard of them, everyone had heard of them. the treaty was a natural part of their history, as was it one of the many political subjects sanghee spent years learning and following as it unfolded around him. as generations went by he’s seen the rise and almost demise of bloodlines that dared oppose other courts, other creatures. sanghee’s father wasn’t by any means a gentle man but he was reasonable and as the treaty unfolded, sanghee was able to see what peace looked like.

or rather what their idea of peace would constitute.

all that to say, he hates politics and hoped nothing of the sort would follow him when he left the court. of course that was foolish as permissions were inevitably needed once he was found living and coexisting amongst humans. they were easy to forge but always existing on shaky beliefs and guarded words.

what’s worse is, politics often know how to ruin the best of days. 

he’s had to close up early and now he’s sitting looking through quite an extensive selection of files. they all read the same, missing woman, missing child, missing, missing missing -

the accusation is a low blow, even for hunters. but they operate on their knowledge, their understanding of supernatural as an umbrella term. what falls under it are things that are unnatural, unable to match to the oh so beautiful moral compass that most humans - and hunters like to give themselves. he’s yet to see where kris thinks he falls among it all. but he entertains the meeting, the unsaid and the game that he has to play.

“if you think I did it, it’s simpler to just say that rosenhaine.” humans are interesting creatures, it’s why fae get a kick out of playing with them so much. they like to dance around so many things, as a sign that they’re aware they could be outnumbered in ability. but sanghee has nothing to hide and were he any other creature he knows the meeting might have progressed differently. 

why? the question of the day? how and why?

he knew how, there’ve been quite a mass of students and youtubers alike taking to the cafe and it’s scenery to spice up their blogs. seoul has an abundance of cafes, all with their own signature looks and aesthetics that bring regular customers and fanatics. cafe dalbits is no different, sanghee likes to boast he’s been careful about the image he presents. luxurious enough to draw the eye but mundane enough that the simplicity keeps the clientele.

if he’s added a few decorations from back home, no one comments, no one questions. because people are so easily lost in the wonder, in the comfort. 

so why, pray tell would sanghee do anything that disrupts that comfort, is the question. initially he didn’t think the event would be quite as - extensive as it was becoming.  but he doesn’t delve too much into details of the entertainment world. he knew the basics, that these people had a talent and they had looks. this led to loyalties, owed and given from screaming hormonal teenagers and grown soul-sunken adults alike.

so when they’re offering to hold an event at his cafe, he’s - skeptical but willing, always willing.

because julien is an....interesting boy, despite his disposition changing like the weather. anyone who manages to befriend the crafty littles creatures that geckos can be, deserve chances. and he’s always coming in, the gecko smothered in his hand and ordering in the lower level, separated from everything and surrounded by his headphones and a relaxation sanghee suspects he isn’t afforded.

julien’s disposition does not hold for his fans, or the rest of his group and whatever reputation they might have that has people already lining up outside the cafe. sanghee is mixing the last americano because these idol kids drink them like water and handing that and the espresso shot to the younger. 

because they’ll need it. by god will they need it.

the soft expression of only a few moments ago have evaporated, not that it would have ever stayed long. it was either a staring problem or it was as if her head was transparent and the strange waiter, barista, or maybe owner (whatever purpose he had in the cafe) was fascinated by an object two inches behind her skull. still, whether it was at her, it was enough to set her edging out of harms way. however non-existent. she looked left, right, and then behind as is customary. she grimaced, tried to go about her business of finishing a plate of a frankly very delightful dessert but couldn’t shake off the feeling of being stared at. she held his gaze and cracked a joke at first. “what do i get for winning this contest?” she said, referring to the gesture, or non-gesture, that she had been reading way into. there was a chuckle on her end, albeit forced. then there was silence. crickets. it was apparent that her words went over deaf ears. fed up, she finally stood up. walking toward the man whose attention was distrait, she spoke with her voice raised.

“what the fuck is your deal?” @faewarn

there were easy days. days that came with time, days that couldn’t hold a candle to when sanghee first started the shop. to where all the time he’d spent observing and learning did nothing for social interactions, for how alive and complex humans could be. to how textbook responses were just that, textbook and not able to capture or do anything substantial. 

not that he needed them to, or he expected anything spectacular from them. he just needed to get along, inconspicuously and without stress. which was pretty had to do considering back then the one thing he had little to no practice in was his glamour. a handy but a troublesome thing, that required concentration and focus and things he hadn’t had to worry about back home. when he’d first arrived it was a daily task, much like learning to bake had been, but with more effort. much more effort. days back then drew along by the second and by the breaths with sweat and stress of what would happen if his concentration broke.

now he’s become better at it, three years gives him a solid repertoire of practice and confidence in his ability but they aren’t without faults. so the days that he only realizes his fatigue when his body hits the bed, are nothing compared to the days when he’s just a little low on everything. stamina, focus, intent. the intent’s the most important because if he has no intent he can’t focus on what he needs done. the longer days like this go on, the harder it is to really concentrate without making it apparent. so it comes in the form of his eyes either flitting back or forth or zeroing in on something. something that’s usually nothing, just a space while his vision go in and out, realms merging and dissolving all at once.

for humans it must look strange, accusatory even. but sanghee doesn’t quite notice it, or remember that it’s such an unfortunate aftereffect until she’s marched her way in front of him. she does effectively snap him out the daze and whatever little creatures flit by when he’s caught trying to focus between the two worlds. color him confused because two seconds ago she’d been in the gentle haze that consuming his deserts brings. and it’d looked quite peaceful, reminded him why this is something he’s come to enjoy and it’s worth the separation. 

now there’s a disconnect.

“i forget some of you are more bearable until you open your mouths.”

and his head hurts and he might be forgetting his manners as a result. but luckily the words are a bitten whisper and the smile he puts on after is just as hard to manage but easier to play against.

“i wasn’t trying to challenge you. my contacts tend to get irritable, it might’ve seemed off-putting.”

sanghee’s never had trouble keeping the truth from humans. he’s never been stressed about keeping the little flutter of creatures a secret. butterflies with eyes on their wings, babies the size of bees floating about. sometimes the wrong realm gets pushed in and sanghee has to ignore them with as much patience as a saint. he can’t quite tell her of the things that float around in space that human eyes aren’t trained to see. he can’t quite disrupt her view of the world the way she disrupts his space, misunderstands it even. 

✧   BROOKLYN  NINE  -  NINE  SENTENCE  PROMPTS   !

@redrumurder237

sundays are glorious days. glorious in that not only are they named after one of the personification of life and light but it’s that same light that sanghee’s able to bask in on days like this. the cafe opens later and closes earlier, giving him time to sleep in maybe catch the sunrise from his apartment and see the sunset on his way home. in all the little joys of life, one thing remains constant between the realms and it’s the feeling of the sun on six-day fatigue. it’s always gentle, welcoming, and cares not for the days ahead.

that doesn’t mean those days don’t exist. and if there’s one thing that truly doesn’t care about fatigue it’s business. business could care less about the cramp he often gets from standing in place, from kneading and kneading and kneading, and installing a new table because more customers were filling up the room on the second level.

it wasn’t a bother, nothing involving the cafe was a bother for sanghee and he could handle quite a lot, but repetition took its toll regardless. the sturdiest of things tend to bend just a tad and while there was no shame in admitting it the shame was still there. sanghee doesn’t match with fatigue as well as other bodies do, and it’s probably the stature of this form that makes it hard to believe. the shoulders sometimes hold their own but his face isn’t as sharp, he’s a bit soft where he’s used to edges and maybe that’s why often gets questions. if he needs help, why he doesn’t hire more, if he’s tired.

if there’s anything tiring to him it’s the goddamn questions regarding it. 

no he’s not tired, but help is welcomed. when offered though, not necessarily asked for. and saemi, the sweetheart, is always ready to ask, to offer. so the cafe’s closing early and with sanghee having a new menu item to debut tomorrow there’s a fresh shipment coming in right as saemi crosses the threshold. eyes always in a wonder when he steps in, and sleeves rolled up like he’s about to take on the world.

sanghee’s smile is instant.

✧   BROOKLYN  NINE  -  NINE  SENTENCE  PROMPTS   !

@cepid

no he sees a problem, a very apparent, glaring problem.

the problem with these functions is everyone is playing dress up. yes it’s in ways that are much simpler than his own but it’s still dress up. it’s still foul play. anyone who partakes in fine arts has something to prove whether it’s in creation or admiration. whether it’s to themselves, to whatever lingers and gnaws at the mind, or to others about what does or does not linger in their own. it’s a dangerous game, a rather silly game and sanghee enjoys every bit of it.

it takes him to different places, the onset of a new collection at a fashion show where he’s watch ankles break into perfection, the audience of a ballet where he’s watched entire bodies break for it. the foyer of a restaurant that’s interior doesn’t match the sweat and blood of workers on twelve hour shifts, spotless, like the piano that sits untouched, unloved. everywhere that sits a diamond, sits the crust of the pressure and the weight surrounding it.

it takes him now to another exhibition, a small occasion with around 40 attendees held in a nice outdoor winery. it was invitation only and the rowdiness of the guests tells another tale. it’s why he takes such pleasure in coming here with one of the few he can truly enjoy his time with. there’s something about the way sunny watches every person that greets them, her eyes holding the same shine that sits about a polished glass of wine.

tempting, too much to handle if indulged in. sure in itself and seasoned.

it’s also in the laughs they exchange as they watch people fumble over names and ideas, about what this might mean, what this has to mean, where this is from and what this represents. as if lives depended on it. in this case - it was an exhibition for a fundraiser, including works inspired and works curated from the legendary and the amateurish alike.

which brings the problem at hand, a painting unaccounted for a list of only the most trusted collectors and socialites becoming the suspect list. sanghee would like nothing more than to go home than watch people drag names through the mud to elevate themselves, fun as it is watch.

“i look out there and see me not getting home until next week.” like this, people don’t think. they corner, they attack, they become defensive, friendless, mad. all it will do is take sleep from him, sleep that he desperately needs for an early shift the next morning. but sunny, ah sunny, always seeing the adventure in the situation doesn’t seem keen on letting up. in fact she looks enthralled by the idea.

and that’s a problem.