#// he's a florist ... very soft spoken

[mythcaels-a]

time to make another oc

[saintobio]

blank canvas.

problems arise when your tattoo artist boyfriend starts getting too cozy with the girls that wanted him to do more to their bodies than just inking their skin. the thing is, they knew what he wanted and they knew what you couldn’t give.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags. nudity, insecure!reader, virgin!reader, dry humping, mentions of needles, mentions of cheating, slutshaming

notes. if you’ve been here for a while, yes this is a repost from an old hq fic :’D i rewrote and remodeled it for sukuna bc i feel like he fits this au!

part 2 | part 3 | epilogue

Sukuna had seen it all.

He wasn’t dumb and he most definitely wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was attractive, bringing him a clientele of adoring women who would frequently visit his tattoo parlor. Who could blame them? He was handsome, had a good physique, and an overwhelming aura that pulled the attraction of many women, single or not, who were desperate to vie for his attention. His tattoos and his dyed hair even added to the overall bad boy persona that he had which, to be fair, was a girl’s guilty pleasure. 

The women were very assertive, it seemed, to try and lure Sukuna into their little seduction game. Was he getting tempted into it? No. He was loyal and he’d like to stay loyal to his kind and beautiful girlfriend. After all, winning you over wasn’t as easy as it would with any other girl. 

However, there were certain moments that almost tested his loyalty to you, especially when some of the women would ask to have their tattoos done on the most intimate places of their bodies. 

Take yesterday as an example: one girl asked to have a tattoo on her buttocks and she was certainly more satisfied at the feeling of Sukuna’s palms on her bum rather than the actual tattoo she was getting. And to top it all, she bluntly asked if he offered more service rather than just giving tattoos. Crazy. 

He had previously mentioned it to you that as part of his job, he was obligated to give his clients the tattoos they requested, regardless of where on their bodies they wanted them. It was strictly business. Ironically, despite dating a tattoo artist like himself, you had no single trace of inked art on your body. You were an untouched canvas that had never been painted on. Still, Sukuna respected your choice and he surely respected your boundaries even more. 

He knew that you had always been a gentle girl when he first met you at the floral shop across the street. You were always prim and proper, always dressed modestly, always following the rules, and always doing the right thing. All you cared about doing was to express your love through the delicate petals you arranged in your flower-scented haven. You were happy to be in your own little bubble, content in the company of fragrant blossoms and soft-spoken solitude. Introverted. Reserved. Pure. Unassuming. He was the exception to your goody-two-shoes nature, because he ended up winning your heart despite being the complete opposite of you. It wasn’t an easy task, either. Deciding to get to know you was on a whim at first, since he was intrigued about your simple joys in life and how you weren’t the type of girls that would visit his tattoo parlor. Something about your demure nature pulled him in until he realized that there was nothing else he wanted in this world but to make you his. He began by greeting you every morning from across the street, then giving you the same bouquet of flowers he purchased from your shop, followed by sending you texts complimenting how beautiful you looked as he watched you from his store, and finally asking you out on spontaneous dates.

It may be a bit peculiar to see the two of you together, but Sukuna pursued you because liked you. He was undeniably in love with you. He liked your smile, liked how cute and adorable you were, and liked how a simple look at you made him want to be a better man. He loved the idea of being with a girl he could protect. 

The main issue was, Sukuna dropped out of college and just decided to open a tattoo parlor business because he simply didn’t want to waste his years studying for something that he wasn’t passionate about. But that was the source of your parents’ distaste. They told you that you had no future with a guy like him. They said that they would disown you as a daughter if you decided to choose him. They called him dirty, rebellious, and uneducated. 

At that point, he thought that you would leave him after learning his rather reckless choices in life, but you stayed. 

You left your parents' home and stayed with him.

And he was grateful that you did. 

So to ask the question again, would he ever do something to betray you after everything that happened between you two? Of course, not. Not in a million years, no

But then again, he was also just doing his job and it wasn’t like he was purposely flirting with the girls that often flocked him during work hours. He was simply accommodating a client. Nothing more, nothing less. 

And on one of those typical days, he had to work overtime when one of his returning clients asked for her fifth tattoo to be done by him. He just finished picking up the tools he needed as she walked towards the recliner seat asking, “Should I sit here?” 

He nodded once, turning around to face the girl who looked at him with her alluring eyes. “Yeah, just let me know when you’re ready.” 

Oh yes, she was surely ready. She even had a smirk displayed on her face when she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, keeping her gaze at him while teasingly revealing her busty pair. 

He didn’t really pay attention to the size of her tits but instead, just casually pointed to a certain part of her body, “Is this where you want it?” he asked, referring to the lower left part of her breast.

With a very flirtatious grin, she nodded, clearly knowing that her assets were her biggest weapon. “Yes. Would it be easier if I took off my bra, yeah?” 

“You don’t have to. I can work it out,” he casually responded, reaching for his glove and busying himself with all the tool preparations. 

The girl let out a silent giggle along with her best friend who sat on the side, waiting for her turn. Waiting to be the recipient of Sukuna’s full attention. Sigh. 

“No, I can take it off for you,” the girl insisted, unclasping her bra and setting her huge breasts free for him to ogle at. They were perfectly round, probably a 40D, and a light pink shade for her nipples. With how firm they were sitting on her chests, she had probably gotten them done.  

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he asked her to sit on the recliner chair. Sukuna had seen women half naked in his shop before, but this was the first time someone willingly got naked in front of him, most especially with other intentions rather than to simply get a tattoo. 

Because of the awkwardness, he went ahead and blasted some heavy metal music to distract his mind. He had to think of something else and not stare at the girl’s luscious tits. He had to shift his mind to somewhere else like, for example, why the girl chose a calligraphy of the words ‘la douleur exquise’ on her skin this time.

“Is this French?” he nonchalantly asked, motioning for her to rest her back while he wiped the chosen area with a damp cotton pad. He specifically avoided brushing his hand on her breast, but it looked like the girl was actually angling herself to make him touch it more. 

“It means exquisite pain,” she purred, batting her thick eyelashes at him. 

His lips formed a smirk, impressed at how much of a skank she was willing to be for him. It wasn’t new, as established before. He’d also had a fair share of women who tried to get into his pants last week, but none of them were successful. He actually found it entertaining to watch them do all sorts of stunts to make him give in. To make him submit himself to his carnal desires. He was a man after all. He had needs, he had to get some form of release, otherwise it could pose a problem in his masculinity. 

All while she was getting her tattoo done, the other girl got up from her seat to walk closer to her best friend. Sukuna decided to refer to them in his head as Slut 1 and Slut 2 because he had no intentions of knowing their names. He knew slut-shaming was terrible, but he never said he was a man of virtue and truthfully, how else could he describe them? 

“Hey, Sukuna,” the other girl called, sitting at an empty stool with a smile. “You’re single, right?” 

He kept his eyes focused on the skin he was inking on. “...No.” 

Even from the corner of his eye, he knew that both girls looked surprised, “No way? You have a girlfriend?” 

Was it really that much of a shock? 

“Yeah, she owns the floral shop across the street,” he mumbled, wiping the trace of blood on the girl’s skin after he finished another letter. 

There was a visible pout on Slut 1’s face as if learning that Sukuna had a girlfriend was more painful than the needle pricking at her skin. “So, what’s she like?” 

Sukuna thought for a while because he didn’t know where to begin. It was too much of a long story for them to hear about. You were everything he wanted in a woman and that was all he knew. “She’s cute and kind.” 

His words earned a giggle from Slut 2. “Is she like the good girl type?” 

“She is.” He figured it would be okay to converse about you like this. Besides, he would rather be talking about you than to have these girls just try to flirt with him relentlessly. 

“How much of a good girl, though?” Slut 1 egged on, “I bet she’s a virgin and a prude.” 

That was obviously none of their business, but damn. They hit a nerve that they shouldn’t have. No one else had managed to bring up a topic like that to him, more so a topic that he himself knew not to cross. His sex life wasn’t as fruitful as anyone thought so, yet not once in his life did he complain. Not once did he talk about it to anyone. Not once did he tell anyone that he had been dating you for a year now and you two never really went further than making out. 

“I respect her,” was his answer, much to the two girls’ dismay.

“That’s kinda boring, though,” the other girl claimed, draping her arm around his shoulder before leaning close to his ear. “You’re still a man and you have needs. If I were her, I’d sleep with you every day. In every position.” 

The girl on the recliner chair grinned. “Totally! Like, you’re so hot and I feel like you’re good in bed.” 

Fuck. 

He almost messed up one of the letters because his mind just flew to somewhere unforgivable. It was a sin to even think about, but shit, he definitely missed the feeling of fucking someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he did so. 

“Sukuna?” 

He snapped out of his trance and looked up upon hearing the familiar voice, only to find you by the door, your eyes filled with hurt.

“Hey—” 

Your voice was caught in your throat as you avoided his gaze. “I just... I thought you were done.” 

In a swift motion, you hurriedly walked out of the room before dashing out the door. You didn’t even bother to look back, dead set on leaving him alone with the girls. Your footsteps were far too quick to even catch and he was hoping that you would at least slow down. 

“Babe!” he called, unable to chase after you as you shut the door. An exasperated sigh followed. 

This was going to be a big problem 

Just what was he thinking? 

He had a half naked girl in front of him and another girl clinging to him like he didn’t have a girlfriend. It must have hurt you a lot. No, it definitely wrecked you.

“Uh-oh...” the girl mocked. “I can sense trouble” 

He decided to leave it be for now and get his job done as soon as possible, even thinking of banning the two girls from going into his shop just to avoid further trouble. He had a lot of explaining to do and he couldn’t wait to go home to make sure that you would listen to him, not overthink the whole thing and place your assumptions because hurting you was the last thing he would do.

At least, he hoped you knew that.   

You were washing the dishes when Sukuna came home and the first thing he did was to wrap his arms around you. He had your waist caged in his tight embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings to you. To be real, you weren’t in the mood to see his face after what you saw this afternoon. You get it—he was exposed to all sorts of people with his line of work and most of them probably couldn’t just ignore his physical appearance. You were aware that some girls were only getting a tattoo to get close to him. Heck, you were aware that they all wanted to be with him.

But the only reason you were hurt wasn’t because he was desired by women, but because those very same women were all better than you in more ways than one. They fit his type more than you did and you were sure that they could give him exactly what he wanted. 

Still, it awfully tugged at your heartstrings. 

He was yours, not theirs. You had the right to be jealous when a girl was getting cozy with your man, but to see him letting them have their way? That was a different story. 

“Baby, talk to me,” he mumbled, planting a soft, apologetic kiss on your neck. 

You gave him the silent treatment as you walked away and dried your hands with a towel. What else would you say? He should already be aware of why you were acting that way. He should be the one to try and talk to you, not the other way around. And with your stubborn mind, you did your best to keep your insouciance, pulling his tattooed arms off of you and heading towards the couch. 

You could hear his sigh as he followed you, but you were determined to keep your eyes glued on the TV screen. If he wanted to talk, he should do the talking, you reminded yourself over and over. 

“You’re really pissed at me, huh,” he spoke as soon as he sat next to you, a hand carefully placed on your thigh. “I’m sorry.” 

“They’re pretty hot, aren’t they?” The bitter question left your mouth before you thought of holding back. 

He scooted closer and hooked an arm around your shoulder this time. “Definitely nowhere near as hot as my girlfriend.” 

What a load of… You rolled your eyes, remembering how the girls looked and how comfortable he was with them. “Yeah, right.” 

You couldn’t explain the tightness on your chest every time you recalled the scene earlier because you knew, you just knew, that there was more that could have happened if you didn’t check on him. You saw it in his eyes, even for a split second, that he almost gave in to temptation. How could he not? You were a prude just as they described—just because you didn’t have any sexual experience like they did. Perhaps when they called you boring, they were right and Sukuna wanted to agree. 

He couldn’t be stuck with a girlfriend that he couldn’t even have sex with, could he? 

“I shouldn’t have let them put their hands on me like that,” he admitted, showing his dire attempt to look apologetic. “Only you can.” 

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I don’t even know why you’re still with me, Sukuna. I put so many boundaries between us. Don’t you get tired of me?” 

“Fuck no,” he quickly answered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Never. You’re the only one for me.” 

Truth be told, you did feel bad that he couldn’t fully experience you as a girlfriend, but he had been very patient and respectful towards you. He never crossed the line and never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He said he was doing that because you never gave up on him even when you had the choice to. He said that you were worth waiting for. He said that he was satisfied with what you two already had.

Maybe you could let this one incident go, after all, he was never really a bad boyfriend to you. Sure, he looked like a bad boy, but when it came to you, he was surprisingly soft. 

“Okay,” you muttered, sighing in defeat and finally meeting his eyes. “Just don’t do it again. I don’t care if they get naked in front of you. Please set some boundaries and don’t entertain them too much or you’ll give off the wrong impression.” 

Your leniency earned a smile from him, delighted to earn your trust again so he made an effort to peck your lips. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“You’re annoying.” 

“You love me.” 

“I do,” you professed, placing a hand on his cheek, “so much.” 

Pleased with your words, he leaned in again to give you a much, much deeper kiss. He knew it was all he could do with you, but he wanted to make you feel that his kisses were satisfying enough for the both of you. Just with the way he moved his lips against yours and how your tongue rolled around his—it was almost impossible to breathe at one point, but he softened the kiss to allow yourself to catch some air. 

Gosh, you were jealous again. You were becoming annoyed as your mind ran at full speed, thinking of how those girls thought they could put their hands on your man. You were livid at how they tried to steal him from you. 

“You’re mine, right?” you asked for reassurance, pulling away to look at his dominating eyes. 

The smirk on his lips was replaced by a cheeky grin. “All yours, darling.” 

You didn’t know what gave you the sudden confidence to straddle his lap after he said that, but it just felt right. You wanted more of his physical affection and felt like you couldn’t get enough. Both of you were taken aback, obviously, because this wasn’t something you would normally do, and so the heat on your cheeks was mixing with the surprised look on his face. You were sitting directly on his crotch and he was having a hard time to control himself. 

“Babe,” he breathed on your neck. “You don’t have to force yourself.” 

He was right, but the thought of the other girls constantly seducing him behind your back just gave way to your deepest insecurities. You didn’t have the most perfect body in the world and you most definitely didn’t have the skills in bed that he expected—you were scared that you might lose him because of these facts. Or that he would find someone better, even at the cost of having them on the side. 

“Hey,” he spoke again, making you look at his eyes as you relaxed into his touch. “It’s fine. If you want it, I can be gentle. We can go slow.” 

“I-I don’t know... I just,” you hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put it into words. 

You didn’t know why sex intimidated you. It should be as easy as 1-2-3,  just him putting his member inside you, right? But you weren’t really scared of doing the act itself, you were scared that once you did it, he would leave you because he already got what he wanted. Losing it to the wrong person sounds like a nightmare and that was why you were having trouble coming into terms of losing your virginity before marriage. 

You could feel the hardness on his crotch pressing against your core and you didn’t expect a moan escaping your lips when you moved at the slightest. The fabric of your shorts were thin enough for you to feel the outline of his hardened member, displaying a prominent bulge on his sweatpants. You haven’t seen how big he was, but you could tell just by looking at his bulge that he was huge. Could you even take that? 

He held your waist and guided you to move again, this time urging you to move your hips back and forth, allowing you to feel the friction from his hard erection. Lust was clouding his eyes and it made you feel weak. 

“How does it feel?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your ear. 

You continued grinding on him with your lips parted, releasing your silent moans, “G-Good.”

He leaned forward to kiss your neck, eventually sucking the soft skin to leave his beautiful marks. “I wanna eat you down there, baby,” he growls under his breath, squeezing your right breast, “You’re gonna taste so good, I bet.” 

“Suku—” you whined, gripping his hair while he started matching your movements with his own. It was a foreign feeling for you to feel his bulge rubbing against your untouched core. 

“Fuck,” he cussed in a low voice, squeezing your ass with his huge hands in growing excitement. “Let me get a condom.” 

This was it. 

It was happening. 

Or was it?

Your eyes widened in panic as you pushed him back onto the couch. It was as though all of your senses were awakened and your body was telling you that you shouldn’t be doing all this. “N-No, I... I’m not ready.” 

You didn’t mean to always chicken out when you two were almost about to do it. You just didn’t feel confident enough to give yourself yet and even if you badly wanted to, you just couldn’t make yourself do it.

You could see the hint of disappointment on his face and he was trying to hide it. 

“Right,” he exhaled deeply with his head thrown back on the headrest. “It’s alright. Maybe next time,” he convinced himself. 

“I’m sorry,” you softly mumbled, hand gripping on his shirt. 

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you out of his lap and getting up from the couch. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.” 

You stayed seated as you watched him walk away. “Where are you going?” 

“I have to finish this off on my own,” he answered without looking back. You realized he was referring to the act of touching himself because you just couldn’t do the job for him. It was obvious how frustrated he was and for goodness sake, you did feel guilty, but then again, he didn’t act like this before. When you told him you didn’t want to do it further, he would simply laugh it off and say he would wait for you. 

This wasn’t the same Sukuna that said that. 

You became a little paranoid. 

Considering that girls would still pay your boyfriend a visit at the tattoo parlor, you always ended up overthinking about what he was doing while you were supposed to be busy at the floral shop. In the middle of arranging a bouquet of beautiful peonies, your mind was on haywire. You just didn’t feel at ease. You felt like anyone could easily snatch him away from you because you weren’t particularly a striking girl to begin with. You were leaning on the simple, conservative side rather than the rebellious, liberated women that swarmed his shop in hopes of sleeping with him. 

Because your thoughts were eating you alive, you decided to head to his tattoo parlor after closing the shop to make sure that he wasn’t doing any funny business. 

And you were somehow right. 

About three girls were in there this time, two of which you had already seen a couple of days ago, and they were already leaving the parlor just as you arrived. 

“You’re really amazing, Sukuna,” one of the girls told him in gratitude, “I might get another one soon.” 

You watched them walk past you with a smug expression on their faces as they left the shop. Sukuna had then seen you standing by the door with your arms crossed. 

“Really?” you questioned, walking inside with a frown. “They’re here again?” 

He sighed and walked back to his station while cleaning the mess from the tattoo session. He wasn’t even trying to win you over anymore. “I can’t just ask them not to come anymore. They’re still clients.”

“Let me guess,” you continued, “Did one of them get naked in front of you again? Did you let them put their hands all over you again? Did you perhaps forget that you had a girlfriend again?” 

His brows, now furrowed in annoyance and his mouth, thinning in displeasure. “No. We talked about this.” 

You held your breath, raising a brow in return. “I’m starting to think you’re doing more for them than just giving them tattoos.” 

“Like, what? Sell my body?” His question was clearly a taunt. A spasm of irritation crossed his face, but he still managed to display a mocking smile. “Is that what you’re suggesting, angel?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Then, what?” 

“You know what I mean,” you replied, trying to get your point across while keeping your composure. “You’re an attractive man and they’re the type of women you would willingly sleep with.” 

“Jesus. You’re so insecure, it’s crazy,” he retorted, rolling his eyes at you. 

Insecure? You couldn’t believe, just couldn’t believe he called you insecure. The air crackled with tension as your jaw tightened, muscles twitching with every suppressed urge to lash out.

“I wonder why!” Your voice rose hysterically. “If you weren’t busy flirting with those girls, maybe I won’t be so insecure.” 

“I said I’m not flirting with them!” he argued, slamming his gloves on the floor. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he looked at you with frustration that you had never seen before. It hurt. It certainly hurt. He had been acting distant since the night you didn’t give in to him and you knew that his exasperation towards you was rooting from that. 

Your breathing became unsteady. “But you know you’d sleep with them if given the chance. Since I couldn’t do it with you.” 

“Then, just fucking do it with me instead of bitching about it every day!” he snapped, voice thick with insinuation. “I don’t wanna be stuck acting like I give two shits about your interest in flowers and whatever nonsense you like to talk about. I wanna be with someone I can have sex with, not sit on the couch all day with a boring person like you!” 

His hurtful words left you frozen like a statue, unable to move while being dominated by the shooting pain inside your chest. 

You knew this day would come—that he would eventually get tired of waiting around for something that he could easily get from others. However, what hurt you most was the fact you believed he wasn’t that type of guy. That he wasn’t with you solely for what you could give, but rather, for what you just had. You thought he sincerely understood your boundaries and respected your choices the very same way you respected his, but it seemed that he had another thought in his head all along. 

After seeing the look on your face, Sukuna had softened his gaze and walked closer to you in reproach to his words and actions, “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean that.” 

A tear fell from your eye as you looked at him with both anger and pain building inside of you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You wanna have sex? Is that what you want?” Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. “You wanna do it so bad, let’s fucking do it, then!” 

Your fingers forced their way to spitefully unbutton your blouse despite his desperate efforts to stop you. You must be going crazy. But also, he drove you to this point. 

“Baby, no,” he said in remorse, grabbing your wrists tightly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m content with you. I really am, I’m sorry. Please.” 

Your chest heaved as you cried, unable to stop your emotions from exposing all of your vulnerabilities. “It’s obviously not enough for you.” Your voice quivered, each word a fragile whisper trembling with the weight of unspoken sadness as you sniffled and wiped your eyes. “You knew what kinda girl I am when you dated me.”

He pulled you for a hug and kissed your temple way too many times that you lost count. He felt absolutely sorry for ever hurting you with his words, but they just hit you so painfully to the point that your gaze grew distant and your face was clouded with resignation. 

“I know what kinda girl you are and I’m in love with you for it,” he reaffirmed, as if trying to get it through your head but his words were beginning to feel empty. “Please, believe me. I really didn’t mean what I said. You’re enough for me, baby. You’re all I want.” 

You didn’t feel comfort from his words, but you still returned his embrace because you loved him. Because you knew, even if he said more hurtful words, that you would still love him. Sure, you would be angry, but your love for him ruled higher than your pride. 

You were just scared of losing him over something like this. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear before placing a soft, apologetic kiss on your lips. 

When he pulled away, your heart still felt heavy, but you managed to conceal your face with an agonizing smile. 

“I love you, too.” 

He ran his thumb across your cheek and held your waist on his other hand. You just couldn’t get his words out of your head even after he apologized, because you never knew he was seeing your relationship that way all along. 

The girls were right. He was a man after all and he had needs. 

The fact that he was staying with you despite not fulfilling his needs must be a work of charity for him, and eventually, he would get sick of waiting around. He would desire you less and less the more the days passed by and it wasn’t absolutely crazy to think that he could potentially meet another girl he liked that was willing to give it all. 

The mere thought of it scared you. 

“I’ll do it with you tonight,” you offered, your voice breaking, hoping that you could finally break the barrier and be enough for him. 

[colonelarr0w]

"My love, mine all mine"

JJK Characters as oddly specific romantic scenarios.

Contains -> Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Hiromi Higuruma, Ino Takuma, Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

SATORU GOJO as randomly giving flowers.  

The action is unpredictable, unexpected — very similar to the unpredictable tendencies of the Special Grade. Gojo is never a one-trick pony, never does he want you to grow bored or tired of him (not that you ever will, obviously). Money did not matter to him, not when it came down to you. If a bouquet of flowers cost an arm and a leg, Gojo would gladly take a saw and get to work.  

If he happens to see a bouquet of flowers that would just look gorgeous on your desk, he’s throwing various bills at the florist and beelining for where he knows you’ll be. Gojo loves you, which is absolutely not a secret to anyone around him, and him randomly going out of his way to buy you flowers only reminds you of that bursting love that he has for you … and only you. And maybe, just maybe, he'll leave a small handwritten note with a scrawled declaration of just how much you mean to him.  

SUGURU GETO as admiring the rain. 

How serene and tranquil it is to just admire nature’s tears with Geto. Neither of you have to say anything, not that you want to — lest you want the loving silence to be tainted with whispered words. You don’t mind the silence, and nor does he. It's comfortable, peaceful, and it allows you both to momentarily forget about the world that you lived in. Instead, you could bask in the warmth that Geto emanates, clinging to it like a moth would cling to a light that they found.  

Geto’s arm is loosely draped over your waist, your side molding into his own like two pieces of a puzzle. Your head tucked against his shoulder, ears perked to listen to the rain’s gentle pattering. Geto’s fingers trace mindless shapes into your skin, content to sit in your presence. You carry with you a softness that Geto knew could never be replicated, reminding him that the things that have been done to him and by him are things long left in the past. For now, he could be Suguru – and he would only ever be Suguru around you.  

KENTO NANAMI as tying untied shoelaces.  

Late night walks where your shoes just won’t seem to cooperate. For as tight as the knots initially felt, they only loosened with each step you took. Even his steps had noticeably slowed to be in sync with your own, being sure to not accidentally leave you behind. Always attentive to you, reminding you that he loves you with a gentle squeeze to your fingers. The eyes behind his eyeglasses soften as you return his squeezes, but their softness is replaced then by a flicker of concern as you stumble, nearly rolling your ankle against the pavement.  

And so he pauses your walk, releasing the gentle grip he has on your hand and touching his knee to the ground. Fingers loop through the undone laces, expertly knotting them before softened eyes flicker up to your own. Your cheeks flush at the sheer adoration that swims in his eyes, your gaze flickering away from his own as a mumbled thanks falls from your lips. But he does not miss the curl of your lips – wearing that sweet smile that Nanami wishes that he could forever commit to memory. Nanami imagines an alternate scenario from his position, one where he holds silver and slips it onto your finger. Eventually… 

TOJI FUSHIGURO as late night drives.  

With gentle music and the soft rumble of the engine, it’s no wonder that you feel so incredibly safe sitting in the passenger seat of Toji’s (Shiu’s) car. Your hand rests on the back of Toji’s, which lays against your thigh — squeezing every few seconds in a silent ‘I love you’. His declaration spoken in a language that only you understand, one crafted for you and one used only when you were around.  

Your drives aren't known to have a set destination, just filled with senseless turns that never have a true end thought out. Many of them are silent, the car only filled with the sounds of your pre-prepared playlist of songs that both you and Toji enjoyed, but there are times where the car is filled with soft conversation recounting past experiences or simply reciting the day’s events. But one thing is for certain, only you could make the great Toji Fushiguro soft. 

CHOSO as shared routines.  

Your presence in Choso’s life has brought about notable changes to the course of his day — namely his routine and how he decides to spend the mornings and nights. What was once simply waking up and immediately moving about has now become remaining tangled in the sheets for five (sometimes ten) extra minutes. What was once a simple brushing of the teeth has now become a multi-step skincare routine and lengthy shower. 

His day just wouldn’t be the same without your shoulder brushing against his own as you both cleaned your teeth. It wouldn’t be the same without you brushing through his hair and styling it for him with the gentlest of hands. His nights wouldn’t be the same without your body against his in the bath, sponge rubbing away the day’s tension. And it certainly wouldn’t be the same without you wrapped in his arms, gentle snores fanning against his neck as you doze off — wrapped in the comfort of his embrace.  

RYOMEN SUKUNA as shared glances.  

They say that the eyes are the true window into the soul, detailing the true feelings of what resides within and bringing it forth in a discreet, almost unknown, manner. Fleeting glances can speak the same amount as a full-length conversation. Softened irises can shine with love and narrowed pupils can convey rage equivalent to that of a freshly sharpened dagger. Sukuna’s eyes were no exception to the rule — the love he held for you couldn’t be hidden behind pointed glares, not when they softened immediately upon finding you.  

The moment your eyes met his own, soft and gentle, something in him promptly melts. How funny that the King of Curses would find himself staring at you — a simple sorcerer — with crinkled eyes. Was he smiling? No, no he’d never admit to ever smiling, but the sight of you just brings one to his face so naturally. Your head turns so that your gaze meets his own, silently reading each other’s eyes before you smile at him. And though he wants so badly to scoff and turn the other way, for you … he returns it.  

HIROMI HIGURUMA as being picked up from work.  

It was no secret that there were creeps lining the streets of the city, prowling around underneath the cloak that night provided and waiting for the best opportunity to strike. Wandering around at night, while not inherently dangerous, did not sit well in the stomach of Hiromi. He knew that you were able to handle yourself well, you were no stranger to defending yourself in situations where you needed to – but he still could not quell the pit of worry that bubbled in the pit of his chest whenever you were kept late at your office.  

And so, to keep a sound mind, Hiromi would wait outside the double doors of your office building, smiling against your hair as your body molds into his own. His nose nestles itself into your hair, inhaling the familiarity of your scent – a soft mixture of lavender and rose. The hug lasts for as long as you need it to, broken only when you decide to take a step back. The passenger side door to Hiromi's car is then opened for you, your hand is held as you step inside, and a kiss is pressed to your cheek all before the door shuts.  

INO TAKUMA as sharing food.  

Relationships are meant to be 50/50, an even split that ensures that one party does not contribute more or less to the relationship than the other. To say that Ino believes in balance in his relationship with you would be the understatement of the century – he never wants you to feel as if you're doing too much or that he's doing too little for you. Ino also believes very heavily in sharing everything with you; personal stories, clothes, drinks, and of course, food.  

Never will he order the same thing as you, knowing that at one point or another, you'd try whatever snack or meal he had ordered for himself. Your eyes would flicker to his plate or to the ice cream in his hand, then to his eyes, silently asking permission. With a smile akin to that of a lovesick teenager, Ino extends whatever it is that he's eating to you, feeling his heart warm at the sound of your satisfied hum. You kiss his cheek in thanks before offering him whatever it was that you had ordered. Rinse and repeat, and suddenly you're both sharing two meals as opposed to enjoying one for yourself – and neither of you would change it for the world.  

YUUJI ITADORI as stargazing.  

Something about the silence that night provides paired with the gentle light that the stars in the night sky had always been so calming for you, always carrying with it a sense of serenity that could only be replicated by something as soft as a mother's love or a hug. And like a moth drawn to a light, you found yourself admiring those very stars every single night – now you had someone to share that peace with, someone to bask in the warm light that the stars provided.  

Laid out over a blanket, two pairs of eyes watch the twinkling stars with a fascination only replicated by that of a child. For a moment the world is silent, filled only with the sounds of your breathing and Yuuji's. His hand is intwined with yours, thumb rubbing back and forth against the backs of your knuckles. Your cheek is against his shoulder, both your eyes and his shut in complete serenity. Those are the nights where you can just be children, as in reality, it is what you both are.  

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO as interlocking pinkies.  

Not everyone is affectionate, not everyone is able to easily convey their love through prolonged physical touches such as a hug or a passionate kiss. Certain love languages come easily to some people, but to others it may be a touch more difficult. Some convey it through words, others convey it through actions that are a little more hidden, secretive. Megumi, for as quiet as he is, falls into the secretive category when it comes to displaying his love for you.  

He loves you, hell, he would devote himself to you entirely if given the chance, he just finds it a touch difficult to display that love for you through means of physical touch. That does not mean he won't hug you or indulge in your kisses, it just means that he may not be the one to initiate those actions. But there is an exception to this little rule, and that is the fact that Megumi will always link his pinkie with your own when walking on your side. The smile that worms its way onto his face the moment that his skin touches yours is missed by everyone, but never ever will it be missed by you – and to him, you are all that matters anyway.  

[bruisedboys]

underneath kitchen lights — james potter x reader

summary — james has a crush on you, lily’s shy and unbelievably sweet coworker. you nurse a crush of your own. (based on all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine!)

or .. you got a slurpee for free, I caught you looking at me, in the 7/11 under fluorescent lights. I spilled mac and cheese on my pants, and thought about kissing you underneath kitchen lights!

contains — shy!fem!reader, florist!reader, strangers-ish to friends to lovers, rugby player!james, modern au, flirting, mutual pining, fluff, james being a total sweetheart, sirius being a twat and a good friend, wolfstar because I couldn’t resist, kissing, lovesick!james, idiots in love tbh, and ummm lots of references to all my ghosts!!

notes — um I am very nervous to post this. but also please don’t let it flop.

fem!reader 8k words

James has an embarrassingly big crush on you. For someone he’s only met twice now, you’re very good at getting stuck in his head. It’s hardly his fault — you’re lovely. You always smell like flowers (which is kind of a given, he supposes. You work with Lily at Harriet’s, the florist’s down the road). You’re very pretty. You’re quiet and a bit shy but you’ve spoken enough that James at least knows you’re polite and friendly.

He’s talked to you a grand total of one time. You’d exchanged a few words and James had been very very quick to fall in love with everything about you. Your hands as you wrung them in front of you — a shy tell, he’d guessed. Your voice, pretty and soft, and how it’d sounded when you said his name. The way you dressed, your hair, the quirk in your mouth when he’d made a joke, the hitch in your breath when he’d shook your hand. He was a goner the second he’d met you.

“Prongs,” drawls Sirius, followed by a hard punch in the bicep. “You know you’re not as subtle as you think.”

James scowls in the general direction of Sirius’ voice. He’d been staring at you, he’s sorry to admit. You’re talking to Lily and you’re smiling about something she’s said and you just look so pretty.

He badly wants to talk to you properly, he has ever since the first time Lily bought you around to a party like this one, but he’s scared of embarrassing himself. He’s not exactly the best flirter when it comes to girls he actually likes. His tongue gets all tied and he can’t say two words without ultimately embarrassing himself. He’s not as much of a charmer as everyone thinks he is. He’s also scared you won’t like him, but he won’t get into that.

“Shut up,” he advises Sirius, rubbing his sore arm. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”

Sirius, sprawled on the couch next to James, rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yeah, okay,” he says, all sarcasm. “S’not like you’re burning holes into Y/N’s face or anything.”

For a split second James panics. He whirls around to look at you so fast he almost snaps his neck in half. Have you heard Sirius? Do you think James is a total creep now? No — you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Lily. James breathes a sigh of relief but it’s cut short when he realises Sirius is laughing at him.

“Mate,” he guffaws. “You’re hopeless.”

It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he says dryly.

Sirius grins with all his stupidly perfect teeth. “Y’welcome.”

James sighs and scrubs a heavy hand down his face. Maybe he is as hopeless as Sirius thinks. He’s certainly feeling quite hopeless right now. With you across the room and him sitting here unable to make himself get up and talk to you. As subtle as he can he twists to look over the back of the couch again to see what you’re doing. He’s just in time to see you disappearing into the kitchen by yourself, Lily now talking with the other girls by the ranch slider.

His heart rate spikes. This is his chance.

James is getting to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He dodges another hearty punch from Sirius, pretends not to hear Lily when she asks him where he’s going, and follows you into the kitchen on clumsy feet like a puppy on a leash.

He stumbles into Lily’s kitchen and there you are. Standing with your head in the fridge, the bright white lights cast over your skin. And there’s a lot of skin to look at. Your shoulders, your upper back. There’s a beauty spot on your back, just next to your shoulder blade. Your dress floats just above the halfway point of your thighs. You’ve got really nice legs. James snaps his eyes back up to your head before he can feel too guilty and clears his throat.

You start and then whirl around, eyes wide as saucers, one hand curled around the fridge door.

“Oh,” you say, breathless. “James. You scared me.”

James is so busy melting over the way you say his name that he almost forgets to speak. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head and your big dangly earrings jingle like bells. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”

You smile all soft and pretty and James really thinks he might pass out. He steps forward and leans against the kitchen island as casually as he can, when really he’s using it for support lest he keel over.

You’re looking at him like you’re expecting him to say something. He clears his throat again.

“Um,” he starts lamely. He braves through. “I, um— you look really nice tonight. I wanted to tell you earlier but Lily’s been stuck to you like a leech since you got here.”

You blink at him and James worries he’s said the wrong thing. Maybe this was the worst idea he’s ever had. And he’s had a lot of bad ideas. But then you beam.

“Oh,” you say, shocked like you can’t quite believe it. Which should be impossible, really, James thinks. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to believe it. “Thank you, James.”

James smiles back. Your shyness at being complimented only fuels him. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell Lily I called her a leech.” At this, you giggle, and James stammers through his next words, dazed from your laugh. “So, uh— are you looking for a drink?”

He gestures to the fridge, which you seem to have forgotten about, the door hanging wide open under your grip.

“What? Oh,” you say sheepishly, and suddenly you’re embarrassed and staring at your shoes. “No, I’m…” You lift your head and blink at him under your lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

James is perplexed, but he’s not gonna laugh at you if you don’t want him to. He licks his dry lips. “Yeah, I promise.”

You smile, then dip your head towards him like you’re sharing secrets. “I was cooling off,” you admit, sheepish. “It got too hot in the living room and Lily’s patio has mosquitos.” You hardly give him time to reply before you’re cringing, saying, “It’s weird, right?” Like you know he’s gonna think it’s strange.

He doesn’t think it’s strange. Well, maybe a little. But he’s been found in worse positions at parties. You look so embarrassed about it James is almost sorry he asked. Almost, because embarrassed you is adorable. You lean back and scrub your neck awkwardly, bracelets clanking on your wrist.

“No, I know,” he groans sympathetically, nodding vehemently. “Lily really needs a mosquito net or something, so we can open the damn door without getting eaten alive. Can I join you?”

You look baffled for a moment, and then shy all over again.

“You want to join me while I stick my head in the fridge?” You ask, an amusement to your tone that James adores.

James shrugs. “Why not?”

You smile outright then. “Okay,” you say, stepping aside so there’s more room in front of the fridge for him. “C’mon, then.”

James practically skips over to you. The moment he steps into your space he can smell your lovely scent. Flowery and sweet, something floral like hyacinth mixed with something sweet like honey. It’s intoxicating. He feels like he could drown in it. But there’s no time for drowning, not when your hand wraps around his elbow and pulls him into your side, your feet shuffling to accommodate him.

“Move closer,” you urge shyly. “You gotta get the full experience.”

James moves closer. So close his arm brushes yours and he could hold your hand if he wanted to. He very much wants to. He imagines your skin is as soft as it looks.

The coldness of the refrigerator washes over him and it’s actually really nice. Even though he can be a total party animal sometimes, he understands why you would be here instead of in there. It’s quiet in here. Nice and cool. No lingering scent of heavy wine. No Sirius to tease him and no Marlene to badger him with questions about his love life.

“This is nice,” he says quietly, over the gentle buzz of the fridge.

You giggle softly. James thinks he’d like to make you laugh a million times over. “Isn’t it?”

“Mm,” James hums. “I should do this at parties more often.”

You laugh again, delighted at his joking. “You should. Then I wouldn’t be so lonely when I escape to the kitchen.”

James laughs too. He can’t quite believe his luck right now, squished in front of Lily’s refrigerator with you, elbow to elbow, the rest of his friends and the party long forgotten.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he says, smiling big.

The next time James sees you, it doesn’t go quite as well as previously. To put it simply, it’s a disaster.

First of all, he’s late. Remus and Sirius are having a housewarming party at their new place and he’s had training all day so he’d forgotten all about it. It’s not until 9:30, an hour after the party was supposed to start, that he’s climbing in his car after training and his phone buzzes.

He picks it up, exhausted, expecting one of his teammates. Instead it’s a string of messages from Remus.

You’re late James!!!!

We started without u. Where r u????

Sirius is gonna wring ur neck

James scrolls through the messages with a mixture of confusion and dread. Confusion because at first he has absolutely no idea what Remus is talking about. Dread when he realises.

He speeds all the way home, showers at lightning speed, pulls on a rumpled shirt and a pair of jeans that he’s sure aren’t clean, and he’s out the door within ten minutes of getting home. Still, by the time he gets to Sirius and Remus’ place it’s almost 10. His hair looks a mess but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t even think about the fact that you could possibly be there. That is, until he’s finished apologising profusely to his friends and Sirius mentions you. James perks up from where he’d been slumping on the couch, feeling exhausted and sorry for himself.

“What?” He asks, too loud. He tries to tamp it down but honestly, it doesn’t really work. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy when he asks, “Is she here?”

Sirius grins, looking uncharacteristically cat-like. “Uh— yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. His stupid grin only grows and James thinks he’d quite like to punch his teeth out. “She came with Lily. Moons thought we should invite her. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

James knows he’s teasing but can’t quite bring himself to care — the prospect of seeing you has demolished all other feelings of pathetic-ness. He leaps off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, guessing that’s where you’ll be, a barely touched drink in his hand and Sirius’ teasing following him all the way. He’s so busy fixing his shirt before he sees you that he doesn’t see you. He walks right into you on the threshold of the kitchen.

“James!” You gasp, stopping short.

James’ drink, to his horror, has spilt all down your front. His glass, previously full, is now half empty, the rest of it splattered all over your white top.

You barely have time to be surprised before he’s apologising.

“Shit,” he curses, mind blanking. His hands go to fix the damage before he realises he probably shouldn’t touch your chest, where his drink is now seeping into your top and showing no signs of stopping. He pulls his hands back lamely. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Oh gosh. I’m so dumb, I—“

Your rush to forgive him is almost as quick as his apology. “No!” You shake your head and it’s awfully cute despite the situation. “No, it’s okay, James. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

James grimaces. He tries not to look at the dark red stain that looks like blood on your white blouse. It is quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve spilt on you.

“It’s okay,” you say again, softer, reassuring, probably clocking the pathetic look on his face.

“Don’t, angel,” James says, shaking his head. “S’my fault.” He grabs your elbow gently and starts to pull you out to the living room, seeking Remus, who he knows will have a spare t-shirt that’s at least clean. “C’mon, I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“Wait, James. Wait.” You plant your feet in the doorway of the kitchen and James stops walking. He looks back at you, feeling guilty, hopeless, confused, and a bit endeared by you still, all at once.

“What?” He asks as gently as he can when he’s feeling like such a loser.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip so hard James is sure it hurts. You’re shy, he remembers. Quiet and polite. You probably don’t like people making a fuss over you, even though you should really. You’re pretty enough that people should be making a fuss over you all the time. “I think I’ll just go home, s’only a ten minute walk. I was going to leave soon, anyway.”

James frowns. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head. He also can’t let you feel uncomfortable. He conjures a compromise. “Look, how about you wait here while I go ask Remus for a spare shirt? And then I’ll walk you home to make it up to you.”

He knows walking you home isn’t near enough to make up for ruining your top. But it’s the best he can do right now.

“But you just got here, didn’t you?” you say, frowning yourself.

James shrugs. That’s hardly a problem for him. “Don’t worry. I see those two asshats every day of my life, sweetheart.”

You still look unsure but James isn’t changing his mind. He’s going to walk you home if it’s the last thing he does. But first, something for you to change into. He leaves you in the kitchen and finds Remus, whom he asks for a shirt, to which Remus says, “What’s that for?” too loudly.

James explains what happened dejectedly. He’s not exactly surprised when Sirius laughs at him for it.

It’s a quiet walk to your place. You live close, which is both good and bad. Good because it means every time James is at Remus and Sirius’s, he’ll know you’re only ten minutes away. Bad … well, for the same reason.

James tries his best to fill the silence with easy conversation. It’s not hard, especially when you’re so sweet and kind and answer his questions so pleasantly. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t laugh at him when he slips on his words. You don’t make him wait for answers. You ask him questions, too, timid as you are about it.

James finds he enjoys your company even more than he was expecting. You’re like a breath of fresh air. You’ve got the radiance of an early spring morning and the softness to go with it.

It’s safe to say he’s disappointed when you come to a stop in front of your place.

“This is me,” you say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You’re in one of Remus’ band tees and James thinks you look much better than Remus does in it. As much as he loves Remus. He realises he’s staring too late, his eyes following you as you walk up your front steps.

You unlock your door and then look back at him, timid.

“Did you want to come in?” You ask, sweet in your shyness.

James would very much like to come in. He also thinks he might fall on his face if he spends much more time with you. He’s already dizzy on his feet and he’s been with you all of fifteen minutes.

“No, no, that’s okay,” he says as kindly as he can. “I should probably get back, or Sirius’ll have my head.” At least he knows where you live now. In a totally not creepy way.

He steps forward to take your wrist in his hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. He can feel your heartbeat. It’s not quite as fast as his feels but pretty close.

“I’m really really sorry about your top,” he tells you. He spreads his fingers over your forearm, your skin warm as late summer under his touch. “Can I do anything to make up for it? Buy you a new one?”

He wasn’t joking, but you giggle, your face lighting up, your eyes crinkling at the corners. James feels something akin to a mad swarm of butterflies in his ribcage.

“No, James,” you laugh, breathless and lilting. Your free hand lands on his forearm and his skin burns under your touch. “It’s okay, really.”

“Okay,” James breathes. His head spins as you squeeze his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. You smell so nice. “But, seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do. It was such a nice top, it looked lovely on you.”

You flush like James knew you would. He’s slowly discovering he likes making you flustered more than he’ll admit.

“Thanks, James,” you say, and James imagines if he touched your face you’d be burning. “But, really, it’s okay. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See you around, angel.”

It’s only after you close the door and James is at the bottom of the steps that he realises he should’ve asked for your number. He really is as hopeless as Sirius says.

-

James Potter is on your mind most of the time. You can’t help it. You’re not above admitting you have a crush on him. You are above admitting how big said crush is.

He’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Sure, you don’t meet a lot of people. But you’re sure if you did he’d still be one of the best. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s unbelievably charming. He’s a bit awkward sometimes and you like that, it makes you feel better about your own social ineptitude.

It also helps that he’s very very handsome. You would look at him all day if you could. He’s all dark, velvety skin, inky curls that you’ve imagined weaving your fingers through more times than you can count. Deep brown eyes turned bright with his ever-present smile. Thick eyelashes, a lovely sloping nose, a quirk to his mouth that you think you could get drunk on. He dresses well, too, though you’re sure he’d look just as good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Or nothing at all. You’d squashed that thought before it could go any further.

You don’t even mind that he spilled wine all over your nicest top. Sure, the stain is never gonna come out. It’s sitting in your closet, ruined. Embarrassing as it is, you smile every time you see it. James had made up for it tenfold anyway, walking you home and telling you he was sorry about a hundred times. It would be hard to not forgive him.

“Y/N?”

There’s a call of your name from the office door. You’re in here on your lunch break, not really eating more than you are thinking about James. Margaret, the older lady who owns Harriet’s but only comes in Thursdays and Tuesdays, is poking her head through the door.

“Hi, dear,” she says. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a customer out here asking for you? I can tell him to come back later, if you’d like, but he seems quite insistent.”

He. Of course, your mind flies straight to James. Which is ridiculous, you know, but it was already parked and idle at James, anyway.

“He’s asking for me?” You ask, perplexed. You don’t usually get personally requested by customers. And if it is James, you’re sure he’d ask for Lily instead.

“Yes, dear,” Margaret smiles, and she looks amused.

You get up because it’s your job, not because you’re hoping like hell it’s James. You put down your barely-eaten sandwich, brush past Margaret with a small ‘thank you’ and emerge into the shop.

There, standing at the counter, is James Potter.

“Y/N!” He says as soon as you emerge. He’s bouncy. Frazzled. You would even say excited. “Hi, lovely. I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, were you on your break?”

“Oh, um, no. It just ended,” you lie. You still had a good ten minutes left. Not that you’re gonna tell him that.

James’ smile makes the lie worth it. “Perfect. ‘Cos I need your help.”

You think you physically perk up. Like a cat when it smells food is near. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“Okay,” you smile. You’re happy to help if it’s James you’re helping. “With that?”

James explains that he needs a bouquet, your best work, better than a boring one you can get at the grocery store because he really really needs this person he’s giving it to to like it. Your smile fades at this. At the fact that he’s getting flowers for someone else. He won’t tell you who this someone else is. He also won’t tell you why he’s giving it to them. You’re sorry to assume it’s a girl he likes. Possibly Lily? Maybe that’s why he asked for you and not her. You wouldn’t be surprised, they’re close and she’s gorgeous.

Of course, you help him anyway. You recommend flowers that last the longest, colours that go together, which ones smell the best. He’s asks you what your favourites are and ends up going with those, saying he trusts your judgment.

You have to admit it’s all very endearing. And you have so much fun helping him that by the time he leaves, arms full of a huge bouquet made up of all your picks of flowers, you’re beaming. Despite the daunting fact that he’s walking out of your shop with a bouquet for someone else.

Margaret appears once he’s gone. She’s got this big smile on her face that you can’t quite make sense of.

“He’s a handsome one,” she muses. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Your cheeks go redder than the roses on the shelf behind you.

Much later, you’re in the comfort of your small home, a bowl of steaming hot mac and cheese in your lap while the TV drones on. It’s some sort of romantic comedy that you can’t say you’re very interested in. Despite the lead male being very attractive. You’re about to change programmes when there’s a knock on your door.

You start. Nobody ever comes over. You don’t have many friends, and the ones that you do have, you tend to go over to their places, rather than the other way around. You’re so busy worrying about who it is that you haven’t even stood up before there’s another knock.

You get up off the couch, mac and cheese forgotten on the coffee table. You give your outfit a once over. You’re in sleep shorts and a hoodie that’s too big for you. Not your best work, but it’ll have to do. You fix your hair with little to no care and then open the door.

It’s James. You gape. You definitely should’ve paid more attention to your hair.

“James,” you say.

He beams right back, seemingly unaware of your sleepy appearance. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You stare at him. He looks pretty as ever. It’s only just going on sunset, and the colourful sky casts streaks of orange and golden yellow over his pretty face. The last bits of sun tangle themselves into his curls and drown themselves in his eyes. He’s dressed casual, but he still manages to pull it off, like you’d thought. A hoodie and jeans, a pair of beat up converse. He’s hiding something behind his back and you think you hear cellophane crinkle when he moves.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he’s saying. He doesn’t have your number. But Lily does. Is it crazy to think he’s maybe asked her for it? “Is this a bad time?”

His kindness reminds you how to speak. “Uh— um, no. S’not a bad time, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you— um, did you want to come in?”

You’re rambling, you know. He hasn’t even told you why he’s here and you’re asking him to come in.

James smiles kindly and it makes it all better. He’s good at that. At making you feel okay for being a bit of an awkward loser (your own words, not his, of course.)

“I’d love to come in,” he says, all smiles. “But first, I have something for you.” He pulls whatever he’s been hiding out from behind his back and offers it to you between your chest and his. “To say I’m sorry about your top.”

You blink. It’s a bouquet. It’s the bouquet. The one you’d helped him put together. The one that has all your favourite flowers and colours and smells because despite you thinking it was for someone else, you’d still wanted the best for James. You blink again.

“James,” you say, a little breathless, a lot speechless. “They’re for me?”

James laughs and you feel dizzy for a moment. He’s got a really nice laugh. “F’course there for you, sweetheart. Who else?”

He makes you take them from him, one of his hands guiding yours around the stalks. His skin is warm and sets yours on fire. You’re surprised the bouquet doesn’t go up in flames when you take it from him.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter. “I thought …” you don’t finish your sentence. You’d thought they were for some other girl who’d caught his eye. You change tactics mid sentence, “They’re lovely, James.”

“I know they are, dove. You picked ‘em out.”

You giggle then. He’s the sweetest boy on the planet, you decide. He let you pick out your own flowers, and you didn’t even know it. You’ve never properly been given flowers before, despite working at a florist’s. It’s a new feeling. Like a star burning in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to go out. It hovers in you ribcage and stays there, buzzing madly.

“Thank you,” you say, lifting your eyes to his. You find he’s already gazing right back at you. There’s a rogue curl falling over his forehead that you’d love to push out of the way. “Really. I love them.”

James flashes you a boyish grin. “Good, ‘cos if you didn’t, I’d have to have a word with the girl who chose them.”

You’re still beaming when he comes inside. He follows you into the kitchen, where you find a vase for the flowers. You set about taking them out of their packaging, cutting the stalks and putting them gently in the glass vase filled with water.

James watches you and you can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it all, about being in your space, but his eyes scan your kitchen like it’s a map he’s trying to figure out. Your mismatched mugs on the counter. Your magnets and Polaroids and receipts on the fridge. Your overgrown plants on the windowsill.

You carry your flowers to your small living room and put them in the dead center of your coffee table. The bouquet is so big it would block most of your view of the TV if you sat on the couch. You hardly care. You’d rather look at them than the TV, anyway.

Setting the flowers down, you spot your half eaten mac and cheese and hope James doesn’t take you for a slob. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you on a Friday night. You’d be drowning in ice cream, probably.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, half hoping he’ll say no, because who in their right mind asks their crush if they want macaroni and cheese? It’s so lame, but you can’t take it back now. “I have mac and cheese, but that’s about it, sorry.”

You cringe and wish you’d held your tongue, but James beams.

“I’d love some mac n’ cheese,” he says. “Unless it’s boxed, that shit tastes like cardboard.”

You get him some mac and cheese, glad you made it yourself, gladder you haven’t resorted to boxed food just yet. The two of you sit in the kitchen on your tall kitchen stools under your golden lights and eat. James is easier to be around than anyone you’ve ever met. He makes you feel special but not to the point where it’s too overwhelming. He’s kind and he’s golden, he acts like you’re the only person he ever wants to talk to.

Watching him eat in your home is more of a pleasure for you than you’d like to admit. He compliments your cooking. He says he likes the bowl he’s got, which is a white one with pink flowers all over it that you bought at a market ages ago. He gets a string of cheese dangling from his lip and makes a dorky face trying to get it into his mouth without using his fingers. You think you’d like to kiss him. His lips all puckered and eyes crossed as he attempts to scoop the cheese into his waiting mouth.

You’re so busy laughing at him that you don’t notice your own bowl balancing precariously on the edge of the counter. When you go back to take another spoonful, your hand knocks the bowl and it goes tumbling. Right into your lap.

“Shit,” you curse, gasping when a dollop of hot pasta lands half on your thigh and half on your shorts. The sauce spreads like wildfire over the fabric of your sleep shorts. Why do things keep spilling on your clothes when James is around? It’s becoming a theme. Your horror grows when the bowl clatters to the floor and while it doesn’t smash, it spills mac & cheese everywhere. “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing. Um.”

You bend to clean up your mess but James beats you to it.

“Here, let me,” he says. He slides off his chair and is quick to start scooping up the ruined pasta.

“Sorry,” you stutter, standing helplessly as James cleans up your mess for you.

“Don’t be,” James shrugs and looks up at you, his cheeks dimpling as he smiles kindly. “Go change, I’ll sort this out.”

You feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and affection for him that makes you want to kiss him stupid. You don’t. Instead you go down to your room and find something to change into. Seeing as he’s already seen you in your sleep shorts, you suppose your checkered flannel pyjama pants aren’t really much worse. Nothing can be more embarrassing than what’s just happened, you decide.

By the time you’ve changed (plus spent a lot of extra time staring at yourself in the mirror, practicing your smile), James has cleaned up the spill and is washing your bowls in the sink. You decide then and there that you like him a lot more than you’d initially thought.

You emerge into the kitchen on light footing. You feel like a magnet being drawn to him like this. It’s bizzare, how much you want to be around him, no matter how shy he makes you. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. A rip in the ocean calling your name. You know of the danger but you don’t really care. You ignore the signs because he’s James and you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body. The warning signs basically don’t exist.

“Thank you, James,” you say, standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

James flashes you a big smile, up to his arms in soap and suds, scrubbing away at a bowl. He looks like a house husband. It’s almost more than your heart can take. “That’s okay. Hey, nice pyjamas. Y’look good.”

You can tell by his tone he’s not teasing. He’s being genuine, which is somehow worse than if he’d been teasing. Your smile is so big it hurts.

-

James is gonna kiss you tonight. He’s sure of it.

So far, all of his advances have gone well. Perfect, even. Unless you count the drink-spilling incident, but if it hadn’t been for that he’d probably never have found the courage to get you alone again.

He’s taken you out to lunch once. He’s been into your work twice, not including the first time. He’s invited you to his rugby game tonight, to which you’d said yes more enthusiastically than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a date, per say. But he’d wanted to see you today and he had a game and his coach would blow his head off if he’d missed it for a girl. No matter how lovely said girl is.

He’s waxed poetic about you to Sirius and Remus more times than he can count. He’s yet to kiss you. Sirius thinks this is beyond absurd.

“So you haven’t even kissed her yet?” He asks, incredulous. He’s in his rugby kit, hair up in braids, chugging a Gatorade though the game hasn’t even started yet. “What’s the hold up, mate?”

James groans. Sirius is yet to understand that some people don’t like to jump into the deep end before they’re ready. “I don’t want to scare her off,” he explains, straightening up from where he’d been tying his laces.

“Oh yeah, you’re reaaally scary, Prongsie,” Sirius drawls, dripping in sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and then clasps James’ shoulder. He’s surprisingly and uncharacteristically genuine when he says, “Look, I think she likes you enough that kissing her won’t scare her off.”

James blinks and looks up at his friend. “You think she likes me?”

Sirius makes a face. “Are you kidding? What other girl would want to watch you eat shit in a field with a dozen other sweaty guys?”

And he’s back, James thinks. Trust Sirius to be a sweetheart one second and as asshole the next.

Soon enough James is out on the field and he wants to say his mind is on the game and not you but he’d be lying.

For the first five minutes he’s distracted trying to spot you in the stands. Then the next ten minutes are spent trying not to stare at you. You’re with Remus, whom James is hoping isn’t relaying anything he’s ever said to him about you.

You look as though, to James’ extreme delight, that you’ve dressed up for this. In a pretty dress and a jacket that borders on being so big on you it swallows you up. Sure, you’d still looked pretty drop-dead in your pyjamas the other night. But this is another level of gorgeous.

The first chance he gets he bounds over to you, ignoring his coaches instructions to ‘stay with the team’. Most of the team has scattered for half time, anyway. James makes a beeline for you.

“You came!” He shouts as soon as you’re in shouting distance.

You grin and wave at him, brilliant and dazzling and so damn pretty in the early evening sun. You’re not far up the stadium and James is grateful he doesn’t have to climb too many steps — though he’d definitely climb all the way to the top row to see you if he had to.

“Hi, James,” you say, looking happy as a clam to see him.

James beams back. He wonders vaguely if he looks as lovesick as he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to care if he does. He’s lucky Remus is nowhere to be seen — probably loving on Sirius somewhere.

“Hi, angel,” James says, smiling around his words, which come out all sticky-sounding and fond. “I’m so glad you came.”

You beam and rock on your heels, looking one part shy and two parts delighted, your hands clasped in front of you like you’re not sure what to do now.

“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. “I’m so happy to see you, I might explode if you say no.”

He’s joking, of course. Or maybe not so much. You nod, a tad vehement, James notices smugly.

“Yes, please,” you say, breathless.

James steps into your space, heartbeat a mile a minute. You smell like flowers again. Lavender, he thinks. He definitely doesn’t smell anywhere near as good. “You’re sure I’m not too sweaty and gross?”

You shrug. “I don’t care, James.”

“You should. You look lovely.”

You make a noise that sounds half pained and half pleased and it makes James’ heart skyrocket.

“Can you just hug me?” You ask, a hint of desperation in your tone that’s actually much more than a hint but James is trying to be a gentleman. “Please?”

James thinks if you keep this up (by this, he means, acting as though maybe you like him as much as he likes you), he’ll die on the spot. He hugs you. For his own and your sake. Wraps you up in a big strong hug that’s so passionate he accidentally lifts you off the ground slightly. You don’t seem to mind. Your arms weave around his neck like they were meant to and you hook your chin over his shoulder and go all melty.

James almost moans. He can’t believe how perfectly you fit in his arms. How your body melds into his so nicely. He’s big and firm and loud and you’re quiet and small in your own way. But it works, and James is so glad it does.

“How was work, lovely?” He says into your hair. Your hair, which smells like coconut and something sweeter.

“It was okay.” Your voice is quiet but you sound just as pleased as he does to be wrapped in each other’s arms. “Lily says good luck.”

“Hey!” This is Sirius, jogging towards the stands and the, for want of a better word, lovefest. “Why don’t I ever get hugs like that?”

James releases you but keeps a good hold on your waist, twisting to meet Sirius. “What? You want one too, Pads?”

He lets go of you and holds his arms out for a hug, half joking but also half serious.

“Not from you!” Sirius scoffs, backing away from James like his hug will give him an incurable disease. “From your pretty cheerleader over there.”

Sirius plants his hands in his hips and nods his head towards you where you’re standing behind James. James doesn’t need to look to know Sirius has probably made you embarrassed.

“She doesn’t want to hug you,” he says dryly, in an attempt to save you from his obnoxious friend. “Where’s your boyfriend? You can hug him instead.”

Sirius scowls but it doesn’t last long. You brush past James and it takes him a second to realise what’s happening.

“I’ll hug you, Sirius,” you’re saying sweetly. “C’mere.”

And to everyone’s surprise, you hug Sirius. James finds it both endearing and highly annoying. Annoying because Sirius is smirking at him over your shoulder, his hands on your lower back. Endearing because it’s apparent you’re trying to make friends with James’ friends and he couldn’t be happier. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as yours and his, though. And Sirius doesn’t quite lift you off the ground like James did.

James watches, reluctantly fond, as Sirius pulls away and smiles at you all kind and un-Sirius-like.

“Thank you, m’lovely,” he says, swooping down to kiss your cheek. James shouldn’t feel jealous, because Sirius kisses everyone on the cheek, but he does anyway.

His jealousy quickly fades when you practically skip back over to him, all smiles.

“Sorry about him,” James says quickly. He’s very used to apologising for his friends.

“No, that’s okay,” you shake your head and then take James’ forearm in your hand unthinkingly. Heat licks all up James’ arm.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels. “Do you—?”

The shriek of his coach’s whistle cuts him off. Time to get back on the field, it says. James groans, long suffering, throwing his head back like he’s been resigned to the worst fate in the world. You giggle and it makes it all better.

James’ team loses the game. It’s embarrassing and then it’s not, because you bound up to him afterwards and give him a hug even better than the one at half time, gushing about how good he was, telling him it doesn’t matter that he lost because he played amazing, anyway.

He sure feels like a winner as he walks with you to the parking lot, his duffel bag swept to his wrong side so he can walk as close to you as possible.

“I didn’t know you were so good.” You’re still gushing and James thinks he’s never blushed more in his life. “I mean, not that I didn’t expect it. You just never told me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Sirius,” James murmurs, feeling overly feverish.

“What? What’s that mean?”

James gestures vaguely with his hands. “I don’t go around bragging, is what it means. And I’m not that good. We’re just a local team, babe.”

It’s your turn to flush. Head to foot you go all shy. He thinks it’s the pet name that did it. And maybe the fact that he’s pointed out your gushing.

“Right,” you say to your shoes. “Well, I think you should play for the country, is all I’m saying.”

James laughs, delighted and a bit startled at your joking, but mostly just sick as a dog in love with you. “Really? Wow, you should tell my coach that, sweetheart. I think he’d totally agree.”

You pick up on his sarcasm and burst into giggles that make James’ chest want to explode. He realizes you’ve almost reached his car and puts his plan into action.

“Hey, did you drive here?” He asks.

You look up at him and James thinks he sees an inkling of hope in your pretty eyes. “No, I caught the bus. Why?”

“Did you want to go get Slurpees with me? I saw a 7/11 near your place the other night.” Then, because he really wants you to say yes, “I’m paying.”

Maybe it’s James’ wishful thinking but he’s pretty sure you light up like a Christmas tree. He really thinks if you keep doing things like this his head is gonna get too big for his body. You beam, looking like an angel on earth in the last fragments of sunlight, skin painted in an array of bleeding golds and pinks and oranges.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod. “Except you don’t have to pay for me, James, I have my card.”

James shakes his head, grinning as he fishes his keys from his bag. “Nah, don’t worry. Pretty girls get slurpees for free.”

He’s ninety-eight percent sure you freeze up like a block of ice as he unlocks his car. He has the generosity to not mention it.

The drive to the 7/11 closest to your place is quiet. But good quiet. James puts on the radio and is delighted when you start humming along like he’s not even there, your fingers tapping along the window where you’ve rolled it down, the wind brushing over your pretty face. He can’t quite get enough of you. Even just driving in silence with you feels like cloud nine. He’s enamored. Totally lovelorn. He’s surprised he can even drive straight.

When you get there he parks the car and then tells you to wait so he can open your door for you. He holds your hand to guide you into the 7/11. It feels like walking on air.

You both greet the guy at the cashier, you much more shyly, but James is learning you’re nothing if not polite. It’s practically empty inside, which James is glad for. How is he supposed to kiss you if there’s a bunch of strangers around? He leads you over to the slurpee machine with the excitement of a kid in a candy store.

“What flavour do you feel like?” He asks, grabbing a cup for you.

“Um,” you lick your lips and James wonders, not for the first time, how it would be to kiss them. “Grape, I think.”

“Grape?” He wrinkles his nose in pretense. “I’m more of a cherry guy, but I’ll let it slide ‘cos I like you.”

You giggle and flush, to James' extreme delight. He lets go of your hand to fill your cup for you, all the way to the top. He pops on a lid and a straw and passes it to you, cold condensation dripping over his fingers like raindrops.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the cup from him, your fingers soft as they brush his.

James gives you a big smile in place of a you’re welcome, then preoccupies himself with filling his own cup. He can feel your eyes on him all the while. Practically burning holes into the side of his face. His face, which feels like it’s on fire. He finishes filling his cup and shoves a lid on.

“Have I got something on my face?” He asks without looking at you, definitely teasing but he thinks you can take it.

You groan and punch him in the arm. Punch isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a brush of your knuckles. James hardly feels a thing. “James.”

James laughs, delighted at your reaction. “What?” He chuckles, picking a straw and turning to look at you. “You were—“

But you’re gone, turning into the candy section just in time for James to see the back of your jacket disappear. He follows you, grinning like mad.

“Y/N,” he says, sing-song.

“James,” you copy, with half the enthusiasm but twice the sweetness. He can almost hear you rolling your eyes.

James can’t help it, he snags your jacket in his fingers and pulls. You squeal as he twists you to face him, his hand coming to hook around your waist. Your slurpees get crushed in between your chests. James can feel the coldness of his soaking into his shirt but he hardly cares. You’re so close he could kiss you. He’d like to. It’s what he’s been trying to do all evening.

You’re gasping, breathless from the closeness and his sudden attack. “James,” you say again, panting. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Nuthin’. Did you want some candy?”

You swallow and adjust your grip on your cup where it’s pressed to his chest. You’re staring at his lips. He’s staring at yours, too.

“No,” you say, your pretty eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I don’t want candy.”

James licks his lips, partly because he thinks he’s about to kiss you, but mostly to tease you. “Then what do you want?”

Your eyes follow the slow movement of his tongue. “Um.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, softer now. Less taunting. More sincere.

You stare at him. “We’re in the middle of a 7/11, James,” you chastise. But you don’t turn him down.

“So? There’s no one in here but us.”

He inches closer. His slurpee is probably spilling over with how much he’s squashing it but he can’t bring himself to check. He’s too transfixed by you, the hopeful look on your pretty features, eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted.

“Okay,” you breathe, hardly a word at all.

“Okay, what?” James says back, just as quiet. “I can kiss you?”

“Yes,” you nod once. Your hand ghosts over James’ elbow and he hopes you’ll grab it when he does finally kiss you. “Please.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He kisses you, and the very first thing he thinks is that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Thrown himself in the deep end, chum for the sharks. Because it’s glorious. It’s better than he ever imagined, better than anything he could’ve conjured up in his mind. You taste like grape slurpee, sugary and sweet. You’re tentative like you always are, but it doesn’t mean you hold back. You let him kiss you as hard as he pleases, tilting your head up to meet him, gripping his elbow with your free hand like you never want to let go.

He kisses you firm but careful, passionate so you know how much he likes you but soft enough so you know he’s okay to go slow if you need to.

Soon enough the moment is ruined — James shouldn’t have expected anything less. The guy at the cashier is wondering aloud if James is planning on ever paying for the Slurpees now dripping condensation into both of your clothes and hands.

James sighs and goes to pull out his wallet, but not before pressing another kiss to your smiling mouth.

-

feedback and reblogs are very very appreciated! please please lmk if u liked it (but not if u didn’t ahahah) xx

[hamsterclaw]

Fic Library: Jungkook (Part 2)

I realised whilst compiling this library just how many Jungkook stories I've read and recced. It's probably because Jungkook stories are far and away the most prolific on my feed and also probably because the maknae looks and acts like he does. I hope you enjoy these, don't forget to show these writers some love.

A blight on the heart by @thatlongspringnight features Jungkook x f!reader set in a historical AU. Jungkook is stoic but petty, absurdly jealous and so so devoted, and reader is soft but strong. Sweet, smutty and beautifully written.

Cream and sugar by @gukslut has a fantastically written asshole barista Jungkook who reader meets again after a one-night stand. The banter is strong, Jungkook is irresistible and Yoongi also features. It's perfect.

Babydoll by @gimmethatagustd has a heartless fuckboy Jungkook who is equal parts infuriating and irresistible.

Lather, rinse, repeat by @btsrunmylife features Jungkook and noona! reader where Jungkook is in full bratty little shit mode and smutty shower shenanigans ensure.

Up all night by @moni-logues is a neighbours to lovers/?fuckers story with an unhinged, ridiculously confident menace of a next-door neighbour Jungkook and a hilarious ending.

Cursed hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat features boyfriend Jungkook being his perfect pouty, horny, sexy self and results in you both getting what you want.

Better than me? by @7deadlysinsfics involves fuckbuddies reader and Jungkook and takes a hilarious turn when Jungkook's competitive side is activated.

What if I love you too much? by @taleasnewastime features single mum reader and sweet, caring neighbour Jungkook. Slowburn perfection.

Make it feel like Christmas by @yoongiphoria is a holiday story with best friends Jungkook and reader left stranded because of the snow. This couple is so sharp and witty and so so endearing, and there is a perfect description of Taehyung.

Photograph you in this light by @yoongiphoria is a bittersweet and lovely drabble that captures the sadness of impermanence perfectly.

How to make him cum 101 by @mimithings97 is set in a college AU and features a very sweet Jungkook. I love the writing style - casual and like it's spoken, and the smut is hot.

Pink carnations by @fizzydrink698 has a tattoo artist reader and a sweet smitten florist Jungkook.

Shades of red by @thatlongspringnight features whiny vampire Jungkook and a soft-bodied reader and is sexy, smutty goodness.

Idol hands by @bonvoyagenoona is a gorgeous story by one of my favourite writers featuring Jungkook in a love triangle with Namjoon and you. Heartfelt and lovely.

Ruin the friendship by @kpopfanfictrash is a best friends to lovers AU with a sweet fuckboy lite Jungkook that's fun and sexy.

Where do broken hearts go by @back2bluesidex is a series in progress with exes Jungkook and reader that I'm super intrigued by, and so endeared by reader and single dad Hoseok.

[windienine]

YOU. Kicks my legs like we're at a sleepover. Who was the character u were posting about in the tags.. spill..

kicking my legs back, ready to paint your nails at any time soooooo

okay i already dedicated a whole 2k word post to his partner goddess weird animal who bites him sometimes personal jester friend (?) Ysmé, so this time I'm going to spill about Loïc Ard from Soul of Sovereignty (prelude), an hour-long adult fantasy visual novel preview (< link here) that arrived on itch late last year courtesy of webcomic artist GGDG (if you're familiar with Lady of the Shard or CQ, you know their work)

So. This idiot.

look at this character design. the people hunger for men with strong cheekbones and glasses. look at the robes that attach at the fucking fingertips to draw attention to the position of his hands.

He's very soft-spoken and sweet. He knows a lot about the history of his world, as well as the biology of what lives there. He's staggeringly generous to others, even complete strangers. He's good at cooking. He knows how to sing.

He's the viewpoint character for the lion's share of the story atm, we get to look into his brain a little more often than Ysmé's for reasons that Will Become Rapidly Apparent As You Play.

Loïc is a middle-aged guy (late 30s? early 40s?) who works in an unofficial capacity at an inn in bugfuck nowhere (Tarn, a northerly village miles from anywhere else and regularly frozen solid by blizzards, with a population of Not Enough To Maintain Infrastructure), helping to cook, clean, and care for its mostly non-paying clientele, who his friend Alma, the proprietress, is allowing to stay for free. It's become a glorified sickhouse and shelter. No one is paying to stay in Tarn, but Alma can't turn her back on what she considers her hometown and Loïc can't turn his back on Alma (and he's here for other reasons too) so the inn is just kind of slowly decaying as conditions get less and less profitable. This sucks.

Especially because Tarn was built less than a century ago as an adventurers' hub for treasure hunting squads looking to uncover temples and relics right nearby, and the inn used to be full of good people and good food and fire and light and Alma wants all that back so bad it hurts and she refuses to say it's cooked and move back to the big city (in this case, the Mosaic, an ark-like vertical metropolis that housed humanity for hundreds of years after their world's apocalypse. After the outside was deemed safe again a century back, many people wanted to try and make a living documenting and salvaging stuff... but most of it turned out to be decayed, empty, and/or worthless, after so much time had passed.) The Mosaic is bright and lively, but it's a restrictive place to live for a lot of people-- cultures outside the dominant (very fantasy-Catholic) one are suppressed and the focus on making money to survive is exhausting.

But Loïc makes things a little less miserable. He's got a calm and pleasant bearing, he brightens up the place with flowers and greenery he manages to get growing even in this climate (he's a florist), and he's someone to talk to. He's witty, he's thoughtful, and he's almost a little too willing to dedicate all of his time and energy to helping people, and overall he's this mundane nice fella... with one big caveat you learn real early on.

Loïc is a mage, and a really unique sort.

The floristry bit isn't just his job or a characterization quirk, it's the whole basis of his magic. Species of flowers in this world each hold a unique concept-- fire (pallisia), calm (lavender), light (white dawn's eye), mundanity (dandelion), memory (cloud sage), you name it, there's probably some obscure botanical species that represents something in the ballpark of it. A god of language (Fayim) allegedly imbued a meaning into each, and if you can commune and reflect and experiment around hard enough to unravel the concept of one, you can turn that concept into something real.

Think of it like magical linguistics -- [correct flower] + [expressed meaning] = [physical effect], like [correct phonetics] + [contextual meaning] = [language]. You can even chain a couple of them to make a more complex spell, like turning words into compounds, phrases, and sentences, but you do have to understand what it actually means to do so. You're forming a connection to Fayim's power by talking. This burns up the flower, but Loïc's extreme dedication to botany means that he's got a regular supply of the spells he uses most often.

Loïc can hand you a golden pallisia blossom, start waxing poetic about the nature of warmth, and the firelight kept inside will radiate out and keep you comfortable even in Tarn's frigid weather. It's rare and potent stuff, doubly so because worship of Fayim is dwindling-to-nonexistent in the Mosaic, where the only faith and magic most people are familiar with at all are those revering the Builder, the creator deity who erected the Mosaic and saved humanity from the apocalypse in the first place. Everything else? False gods. Loïc himself doesn't worship Fayim or the Builder; he uses Fayimic magic but is pretty disconnected from his own background + faith in general. He's interested in the theology but doesn't use prayers in his invocation if he can help it.

Magic's not foreign to this world (most people in this world know at least a little artisanry, a more logical and physical approach to magic which lets you stitch together bespoke objects out of thin air, used heavily in both art and industry), but flower reading is a rare and dying language. Loïc's cute little flower shop back in the Mosaic was also a spell broker for people in need of small miracles. Given that the Mosaic worships a creator deity, I guess this implies that magic, generally, is something humans tap into extant divinity to borrow.

So, Loïc is holed up in Tarn studying magic and using mending spells (yellow rose) to cure people of minor injuries, but everything goes to hell when a certain sickly blonde washes up at the inn's doorstep begging for help escorting her to a nearby temple please please you gotta, she'll die from turbo tuberculosis otherwise, god (not the builder, some other guy, don't ask who) said so. Oh my gosh, you will? Thank you so muchhhhhh

[paraphrased very hard]

alma: this is definitely a scam of some kind. please just talk her out of this so she doesn't get eaten by mutant wolves.

loïc: oh for sure but you don't try for scam this obvious unless you're really desperate. idk what she even wants here, let me feel her out. i have nothing worth robbing. maybe this is a trauma thing or a money thing and i can talk to her about it.

alma: loïc, that's literally not your problem. loïc there's this weird pattern where you prioritize the hypothetical wants of strangers over your own proven needs. loïc no.

loïc: loïc yes

So, of course, it ends up coming out that Loïc is in Tarn specifically because he is a single father with a daughter named Lelia who is comatose from an unspecified illness. Her prognosis is extremely grim (low chance of survival that dwindles the longer she stays out, probably terminal.)

Specifically, he's on a hopeless little snipe hunt for a rumored species (the glass bell) that could act as a panacea for any illness, if harnessed correctly in a spell, and it might either be extinct or entirely fictitious.

He knows he can't find it alone. If it even exists, it is a needle in an impossibly massive haystack. He is consumed inside-out with a compulsive need to do something about it, and when that proves impossible, it starts spreading into a compulsive need to do something for anyone. The grief of admitting that Lia is already in a prolonged state of death would eat him alive, so if he can transfer that feeling of purpose onto anything else he can buoy himself. He is spinning his wheels because confronting the fact that he has outlived his own daughter and has to go on without her is impossible.

But like... he's dying slowly, too, in this state. Like Lia. Like Tarn. It's only a matter of time before there's nothing left of himself to give, and at the impetus of the story that's basically what he wants. There's nothing left for him.

... Unless...!!

OTHER THINGS:

would give blessings to his daughter every day before she went to school

apparently has a puppy and a kitty back home

loves lavender and sunflowers most

sometimes casts so hard he passes out

including other people and making his casting into a conversation is a quirk he does and that's just super cute

carries pictures of his daughter around in his spellbook maes hughes style

besides his suspiciously alb-and-chasuble looking mage robes, wears an apron and skirt around the house + gg regularly draws him in cute dresses. this is a known victor's weakness.

the in-game glossary has botany notes from him, usually paired with him waxing poetic about each species' meaning. this nerd shit is a known victor's weakness.

you see his general bearing and a lot of people assume he's kind of this easily-flustered anxious disaster type, but he's actually very serene and difficult to get a rise out of. he'll play along with most jokes you try to throw at him. if he does actually freak out at any point, you know something is up.

we don't know what happened between him and his ex, but there are dialogue clues that point to it being weird and messy. he's played very interestingly as far as divorcee characters go (conflict-avoidant rather than desperate for love, wants to be the better person at every opportunity), what with being a man who has primary custody of his kid (and a good relationship with her!) and taking on a position that the audience would probably identify as more motherly than fatherly, in terms of western gender roles. there's this fun contrast where he's very confident in his looks and presentation and bearing (very charismatic guy!!), but a lot of that is traditionally feminine. he's just very genderous.

(all of this tragically forgoes the meat of his special connection to ysmé, but that is the core premise of the prelude and if i got into that here it would really and truly give away the whole plot. i need you to experience her for yourself. (for ten dollar.) if you do not have ten dollar i will stream the game for you and give GG an additional ten dollar. this is a threat.)

(what i WILL say is that if you read lady of the shard, looked at the "sexualized mind control" tw beforehand and went "well now i want to read it more and not less," there is a delicious taste of that here and it once again intersects heavily with themes of control and coercion over the self, skewed power dynamics, and the emotions that arise from them.)

whatever horseshit this confluence of circumstances makes you assume he will pull, i guarantee you it is not the full picture of what actually happens.

[yutahoes]

Polarity

Chapter Fifteen

Masterlist

characters: mafia boss! Yuta Nakamoto x innocent! florist! reader

summary: While running away, you seemed to be moving closer to the man you were avoiding. Are you even heading to the right direction?

chapter word count: 5.4k words

chapter genre: super heavy angst

chapter warning: crying, death, gun, knife, blood, mental health, pills, nightmares, breaking up, major CHARACTER DEATHs

a/n: Sorry for the super late update and the last chapter plot twist. Please believe me when I say that I love Mark and his character. It was actually planned ever since in the beginning so yeah. I'm sorry. Also, apologies for this chapter. This is dark. Please prepare your heart for the worst.

taglist: @sourirensoleillee @kyuprincess @nuoyipeach @anonjyxd @a-bts-world @a-place-filled-with-random @smolbeanieee @yumilovesavocado @imnotsureokay @dhaly-g @spicyryujin @doodoodove @blueeyedlove-blog1 @kosmoreads @joepomonerof @calipsou @yutadae @juungvely @hangyeomcult @cherrphoenix @itsyntt @winterwritesblog @yutazen27 @ytzvivi @brightestmark @yujaesstuff @johnbanana @fullsunncit @loverofnct @127lvr4 @scuzmunkie

A boyish smile. The typical college boy next door. A man who adores flowers and knows the meaning behind them.

Mark Lee. 

Momo’s uncle. Yuta’s left-hand man. The future successor of the Nakamoto group. A friend you would always greet and would always smile at. 

A friend you killed. 

You gasped for breath, sitting up. Everything was dark. The same darkness from your dream.

Mark was standing in front of you, blood dripping from his lips. The steel of the gun felt cold on your fingertips.   

A friend you killed. 

“No!” You shouted, covering your ears to prevent that voice from ringing in your head. “Mark is alive. I didn’t kill him.” 

The door opened, light from the hallway almost foreign in the dark. “Y/N.” the male voice called, holding your shoulders to calm you down. 

You raised your head to look at him, tears springing from your eyes. “I didn’t kill Mark, right?” you asked. The guy only looked at you with worry in his eyes “Please say something, Jaehyun.” Your voice came in louder, fisting the front of his medical robe in desperation. 

The doctor stared at you, breathing heavily as if he was already exhausted. “Y/N, Mark fooled everyone. He betrayed everyone.” His voice was quiet. “He planned all of these.” 

You shook your head. Mark is kind and very soft-spoken. He’s smart but he cannot pull off something like this. He cannot do this kind of thing. 

Scenes from what happened that day flashed in your mind like an action movie. Momo tied in a dark and empty room whispering ‘Uncle’. The scent of oleanders. Kyoko being shot by Yuta in front of you. And Mark holding Momo in his arms. 

Then Mark was standing in front of you, blood dripping from his lips. Gun cold in your fingertips. 

You didn’t know what reality is from the nightmares. You weren’t sure if which of the scenes in your mind were real or just nightmares. 

You just wanted everything to stop. 

Jaehyun handed you white small pills. “It's just a nightmare Y/N,” he claimed then handed you a glass of water which you took. “Just take these and take a rest.” You complied before he continued, “I’ll ask Dr. Moon to see you tomorrow.” 

“Who is that?” 

“The chief of the psychiatry department.” 

“Jaehyun, I’m not crazy.” 

“I’m not saying you are.”He took the glass of water and returned it to the bedside table. “But you clearly need someone to talk to. Someone who knows what to do and what to say.” He asked you to lay down on the bed and pulled the blanket to cover your shoulders. “Do you want me to call Yuta?” 

You shook your head, feeling the tiredness of your eyes. “No, please don’t.” You closed your eyes, your body already feeling tired.

Everything returned to pitch black but you can hear Jaehyun's voice in your trance saying, “She’s asleep.” 

The smell of lavender filled the air. Momo, in her white dress, was standing in the middle of lavender fields. “Unnie,” she greeted with a wide smile which was easily replaced by a frown. Her dress started showing a splotch of red that came from her chest. “Unnie, what did you do?” She asked, crouching down while grasping her chest for dear life. 

You looked down at your bloody hands and a knife in your hand. 

“Y/N, what did you…?” You turned around to push the same knife on Jaehyun’s abdomen. “Y/N,” he called before you pushed the knife deeper. Blood started dripping from his lips. His pale skin turned paler as he fell on the ground, drowning in his own blood.  

You saw Yuta looking at you with a lot of fright in his eyes before you pointed the gun in his direction. “I’ll kill you for making me miserable.” 

A gunshot. 

And you sat up drenched in sweat. You gazed at your shaking hands with tubes attached to the back of your palm. 

Maybe you are indeed crazy. 

Doctor Moon Taeil is someone you didn’t expect from a psychiatrist. He’s super smiley and you were even convinced that Jaehyun is just messing with you by setting up this appointment. His office is filled with glass. One side oversees the tall buildings outside while the opposite side shows the reflection of his office. For the first time in maybe days, you saw yourself. You look terrible. Worse than when Sophie…

“So tell me about Mark.” The doctor in front of you casually asked. “What was he like?” 

Mark has a boyish smile. The typical college boy next door. Mark adores flowers and knows the meaning behind them. Mark is Momo’s uncle and Yuta’s left-hand man. Mark is a friend. 

“A friend who killed Sophie.” You blurted out loud. “Mark killed Sophie.” You found out about that fact from Doyoung when he accidentally shared it with Jaehyun inside your hospital room. The CCTV from the opposite establishment caught Mark coming into the hotel at the estimated time of Sophie’s death. The policeman listed him as one of the possible suspects first but knowing that you trust him, he took Mark’s name off the list. “And he’s coming after me.” 

The bright red letters of blood came to you. You’re next YN. “Mark wants to kill me.”  

Taeil tapped his pen on the clipboard. “You do realize that Mark is dead, right?” He claimed that made you look at him. “He cannot hurt you anymore.” 

“Am I the one who killed him?” 

The man in front of you didn’t say anything. The cheerfulness in his aura annoyed you. He should be serious about this. He should be mad at you for killing a person. A friend. The quietness made the thoughts swirl in your head. Mark. A friend you killed. 

Mark who killed Sophie because of you. 

Sophie, your friend, who was brutally murdered because of you. 

You killed a person. You were the reason why someone was killed. 

You held both hands on your ears, covering them to stop the voices from coming and haunting you. 

You killed a person. You were the reason why someone was killed. 

“I killed a person,” You blurted out loud, covering your ears repeatedly as tears sprung from your eyes. “I was the reason why someone was killed.” 

You hated how the man in front of you remained cheerful despite your crying. You looked pathetic. You looked terrible. You were ugly crying in front of a man you just met.  

“Doctor, please save me.” You desperately begged. “I just want my normal life back.” 

You didn’t even know how long you stayed in the hospital or how long you are going to stay. Even if you leave, you realized, you didn’t know where to go or what to do. Your dad is gone. Sophie is gone. You have no one. 

Jaehyun sometimes visits in the morning or night to check on you. Mama would visit, either with Aeri or Lexi. They would always ask you how you were and how was your relationship with Yuta which you wouldn't answer. “You’ve never seen him at all?” 

You shook your head. Jaehyun would beg you to meet Yuta or Momo since, as he claimed, they were begging to see you. Yet you cannot bear to see them. Not after killing a part of their family. 

You’re scared to see Mark’s niece broken. You killed the only memory of her mom. She had lost a lot of important people in her life even at such a young age. Your dad was the reason why Momo’s parents were killed. How dare you show yourself in front of her when you killed another important person in her life? 

You’re scared to see Yuta mad at you. Mark was his only ticket to get away from the life he wanted to run from and you ruined that. Yuta is in this mess because of your dad, because of you. 

You were the reason why innocent lives were killed; Sophie and Kyoko. You killed someone they trust. You killed a person. 

And it’s not impossible that you cannot do it again.

Jaehyun handed you another white pill after all your crying, a glass of water ready by the bedside table. He was talking to someone on the phone and when he averted his gaze away from you, you hid the white tablet in your blanket and pretended to take it. He only nodded when you returned the empty glass on the bedside table and tucked yourself to lay down. He removed the phone from his ears, closing the lights of the room. “Take some rest, Y/N. I’ll check on you later.” 

You didn’t know why you didn’t take that white pill. But feeling the effects of the lack of the pill in your body, you easily assumed that it was a sleeping pill. All this time Jaehyun has been dousing you with drugs to make you sleep. And maybe you should just take it. Every time you close your eyes, the image of Sophie’s body in the morgue, Kyoko’s smirk, and Mark dropping on the ground was all you can see. Momo grasping her bloody chest in the middle of lavender fields, Jaehyun with a knife on his abdomen, and Yuta’s look of fright flashed in your mind. You really should take the sleeping pills.      

But even before you could stand up to open the light and locate the white pill you hid on your blanket, the door opened that startled you. You pretended to sleep as you heard footsteps approaching your room. The small light by the table opened and you can hear some rustling in the background. There was a smell of lilies. Someone is changing the flowers in the vase from your room. 

So that is why there’s a different flower each day. 

But who would even do this? Jaehyun? He doesn’t look like he likes flowers. The only people you know who like flowers are Sophie and Mark. 

The footsteps became louder before you could even choke on a sob at the thought. The person circled your bed before stopping in front of you. You felt the hair covering your face being brushed to the side. “I miss you.” You prevent yourself from shedding a tear. You knew that voice. His warm hands held yours, kissing the back of your palm. “I miss you, Y/N.” He put your hand on his cheek, kissing the heel of your palm. “I don’t know what to do. I miss you, love.” 

His voice has two sides you’re accustomed to: the scary, loud one from when he’s mad partnered by his cold, dark eyes, and the soft, raspy one from when he’s whispering sweet words from you paired with his gentle chocolate eyes. Now, you discovered a third kind of voice. Broken. Sobbing. You can feel the tears on his cheek in your fingertips as he keeps on whispering that he misses you.

You wanted to open your eyes, to hold him and hush him. But doing that would only make everything worse. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want to hurt anyone. 

You cannot do this. 

Mama was right. Sophie was right. 

You’re not meant for this. You cannot be in Yuta’s world.

If you want to leave his world, you should learn to take care of yourself first. Jaehyun was startled when you refused to take the white pills and started to sleep normally. You talked to Dr. Moon about all the things bothering you without crying. You started to notice the little things around you: the vase of fresh flowers in the morning and the closed window. 

On your way to see Dr. Moon, you also noticed how the glass in his office was one-way. That someone can see you talking to him from outside. Your gaze cannot get away from the thought of who is watching you from the outside so when the doctor asked, “What is it that you badly want, Y/N?”, you didn’t hesitate in answering, 

“My old life back.” You gazed at the floor. “Waking up in the morning and cooking breakfast for my dad. Working in the flower shop with Sophie and going home to make dinner for my dad.” The tears welled in your eyes. 

“My life before he came.” 

With the psychiatric clearance, you were discharged from the hospital. You cannot go to your old house since you know that it was loaned to another mafia group so the only option you have left is Sophie’s apartment. 

Kim Doyoung was the one who brought you to Sophie’s place and it was your chance to clear what he knows about Mark Lee. He did share that what you heard was correct and Kyoko wasn’t even involved in Sophie’s murder. When you asked him the question bugging your mind, “I killed a person. Why aren’t you arresting me?” He didn’t hesitate to give you his honest answer. 

“Because your boyfriend asked to let it slide.” You gave him a confused look, “Miss Y/N, you have to understand that the mafia holds the police force in a chokehold. We cannot intrude with anything related to the mafia.” So the only thing preventing you from going to prison is Yuta and his connections? Why does it feel so morally wrong? “And personally, even if he wants to open the case, you’ll likely be acquitted.”  

The apartment was the same as when you left it except the flowers are already wilted and it doesn’t smell like Sophie’s place anymore. The place didn’t look this huge before. You felt it when you found out that Sophie was gone. But now that you are very much alone, you realized how huge the place is. You sat on the floor, tears streaming from your face.

You just wanted everything to stop.

You wanted to disappear. 

Jaehyun’s white pills aren't doing their job. You were tired of crying and settled on taking some to sleep but there’s no effect. You cannot seem to fall asleep as voices keep ringing in your head. You took one after another but nothing is happening. You went to the kitchen to get some alcohol but there’s nothing inside the fridge. Instead of going to your room, you settled on laying in Sophie’s bed. The robe she wore the night when Yuta and Mark came unannounced was still on the bed. 

If that night didn’t happen, Sophie would still be here. 

Mark will still be here. 

If you didn’t meet Yuta, they would still be here.

You wouldn’t be this miserable. This crazy.   

How could the best thing that happened in your life make you the worst person? 

You held Sophie’s robe, crying yourself to sleep.

—--

There was a repeated knock on the door, louder each time that passed. You wanted it to stop so you covered your head with the pillow but it only grew louder that annoyed you. Pissed off, you opened the door and were face to face with a man you didn’t expect to see. “I’m sorry I was too late,” he claimed before pulling you in for a hug. You realized how much you yearn for that simple affection that you cried, holding the front of his shirt. “I’m already here. You will never be alone, Y/N.” It was the same thing as what Sophie told you. The same thing Momo had said to you, “And I brought someone you might want to see, my little kitty cat.”   

Johnny broke the hug and stepped to the side so that you are entirely in the vision of the man who abandoned you. He was standing on both feet, a look of fright on his features. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” He whispered, “I’m sorry, my daughter.” 

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Crying is for the weak, that was what your father would always tell you. But right now, he let you sob in his arms like a child. Because even if he left you, even if he abandoned you, you’re still your father’s daughter. It’s still him who you need the most in your life. 

Your father explained everything. He did work as a gunman and a driver for Mr. Long and Johnny confirmed what Kyoko claimed, that he was the Nakamoto group’s rival. “Mr. Nakamoto was the one who killed your mom, thinking that she was Mr. Long’s wife.” No, you don't want to believe it. “He ordered me to kill the first son to get even.” Your head was aching. You’ve heard this before but you cannot wrap your head around how your life is intertwined with Yuta’s. “I tried to leave you at the Seo’s since I know you’re safer there.” He shot Johnny a look of gratitude, “I ran away because of threats I’ve been receiving.” 

“And it all came from the Nakamoto group,” Johnny claimed, showing some papers with faint dried-up blood. “I think Mark is behind all these.” You closed your eyes, trying to make sense of it all. Mark did plan all of these. There’s no doubt that he’s that smart.    

“I didn’t know that you'd get involved with the younger Nakamoto.” Your dad stated, “If only I knew, I wouldn’t have left you alone.” 

You should have told him. Meeting him is inevitable. But falling in love with him isn't. You should have stopped yourself the first time.  

Johnny leaned in, his elbows on his knee while moving closer to you. “I don't know what you intend to do, Y/N, but let's go to Chicago. I wouldn’t associate you with the Seo’s but I’ll take care of you and your dad.” 

“Why would you do that, Johnny?” 

He smiled. The same smile he showed when he saved you back in elementary school. He really never changed except he had grown mature. “Because I’m taking back the mother title.” Your dad looked at the two of you in confusion. 

You should have run away the first time. That was what should have happened.

Why does it have to take lives to fully realize that you are not fit in his world? 

Packing was easy because of Johnny’s help. You left Sophie’s apartment and just stayed in a hotel room that Johnny booked. He would always come with you during your visits to Dr. Moon and even confirmed your observation of the one-way glass. “Are you going to say goodbye to Doctor Jung?” Johnny asked while walking in the hallways. You shook your head, you had already said goodbye to him before. “How about Yuta?” You glanced at him, "Do you really not want to see him for the last time?” 

You didn’t have that much clothes. How weird that the bag you are using is the same luggage you have when running the first time but while clearing your drawer, you saw something that might bring you to see him. 

It’s been weeks since you last came to this luxurious hotel. You don’t even know if he was here to begin with but you wished he wasn’t. You grasped for the phone and the key card as if your courage lies in it. The penthouse was quiet and you were relieved that there was no sign of someone inside. You placed the objects on top of the center table and were about to walk away when a door from one of the rooms opened. Yuta came out wiping his damp hair with a towel. He obviously looked surprised to see you and you contemplated on whether to just stand there or walk away. 

You glanced at his phone and key card on the table, grabbing it to show it to him. “I just came to return this. I didn’t know you were here.” You shove the objects his way, looking at the ground. The option to run away seemed like the best choice there is. 

He took a step forward, taking the objects from your hand. The tip of his fingers brushed against your skin that you shiver at the warmth it brought you. You really should run away. “Do you want some tea?” 

You looked up at him. His eyes showed a lot of emotions at once and you cannot pinpoint what his exact expression was. It was foreign.

This is the perfect chance to run away. So why are you nodding your head and saying yes to his invitation? 

The moment felt like deja vu. But with everything that happened in the past days, you weren’t sure if the memory was a dream or a reality. He started filling one jug with hot water as the smell of lilies filled the room. “I don’t have any chamomile but lily tea can relieve headaches.” He slipped the teacup to you before pouring one on his own.

Lily. Yuta told you to use that name if you become a hostess. Innocence. You were always described as that before falling in love with him. Where has that girl gone?

The cup was warm, smoke coming out of the small object in your hands. Your thumb fiddled with the mouth of the cup, trying to clear your mind. “I’m…”

“How…”

You both stopped, a timid smile appearing on your lips. Yuta bit his bottom lip before smiling the same way as you. He rested his elbow on the table and placed his chin on his palm as he stared at you with a lot of warmth in his eyes. Gentle, chocolate gaze. “I thought I wouldn't be able to see you smile again.” You frowned and stared at him in surprise. “Sorry,” he shook his head. “That was…” he stuttered. “Sorry, I just missed you so much.” 

You drank the tea in one shot. You hope it can magically change into alcohol and get you drunk. Maybe it would make this less painful for both of you. How can you make this goodbye less painful? “My dad came back.” He didn’t look at least a bit surprised. The sides of your lips curled up. It was weird that Johnny is suddenly here and bringing your dad back. Now, you know why. “We’re going with Johnny to Chicago.” You stared at the empty cup, avoiding his gaze. 

You don’t want to see his expression. Didn’t want to see what emotion he was going to show you. “Is that what you want?” 

What you want. What is it that you want? 

You want to be free from all of these. You want to get back to your life. You want the voices in your head to stop. You wanted your nightmares to stop being your reality. 

But, you wanted to be with Yuta. 

“Yuta…” You called. Everything was fast. He was standing in front of you, leaning in that his lips were on you. Soft, warm lips devouring yours. His hand was on the back of your head, holding you roughly. His scent and taste filled your senses. But unlike the first time you kissed, tears spring in your eyes. 

His breathing was ragged as he stared at you, “It still has the same effect when you call my name.” He placed his forehead on yours, his breath tickling your lips. “When I told you to hurt me, I meant physically. Not this, Y/N.” His hand held your cheek, “I don’t think I can ever take this pain.”     

From the close proximity, you saw how tears were forming in his eyes. Round, puppy-like, moist eyes. The third voice. “Do you remember when we drank tea in the mansion before?” His voice came in a broken whisper. “I told you that I want you to leave when in reality, I desperately want you to stay.” Yuta kneeled on the floor, holding both your hands. “Now, I want to beg you to stay.” He said in between choked sobs, tears springing from his eyes. “Knowing full well that I cannot save you. That I cannot protect you.” 

His hold on you became tighter as he bowed his head, crying. “I want to be selfish for the last time and beg you to stay.” You tried to avoid looking at him and just focused on the ceiling to prevent the tears from falling, “But I cannot risk your happiness. I don’t want to see you cry, get hurt, or have nightmares because of all of these.” 

“I’m sorry for being so weak that I cannot save you.” You shook your head. He’s everything but weak. “I’m sorry for keeping you by my side even if I cannot protect you. I only caused you pain. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You kept on shaking your head. He knows that’s not the case. But you cannot do this anymore. “Yuta, I’m sorry.” You cried. It’s too late to make this less painful. “I’m sorry I cannot choose you in the end.” 

He looked up to gaze at you. His face was stained with tears. If you thought you saw him at his worst then this is something out of the books. Yuta wiped your tears with his thumb, smiling warmly. “I want you to choose yourself this time.” 

“Promise me you’ll be happy, Y/N.” You nodded before he pulled you into a warm hug. His hand rested on the back of your head, the other on your back. He held you tight as you only wished the time to stop ticking. Yuta let go of the hug and then stood up, turning around from you. “You should take your leave. It’s late.” 

Slowly, you stood up from your chair. “Goodbye, Yuta.” 

“Goodbye, Y/N.” 

He didn’t turn around and you grasped your chest as you made your way out of his kitchen and into the hallway of his penthouse. You were holding the door handle when you heard sobbing coming from inside. The cries got louder that you quickly pulled the handle and closed the door behind you. 

It was the longest elevator ride. Your eyes hurt from too much crying. Your hands shake as Yuta’s warmth can be felt as if it was imprinted on your skin. Your heart hurts so much that you wanted to take it out and just throw it away. When the door opened, Johnny and Jaehyun were both staring at you with question and worry on their faces. You stepped forward and Johnny was quick enough to wrap you in his arms, gently rubbing your back as he let you cry. 

You glanced at Jaehyun and he just tapped the top of your head. “Can you check on him?” You asked in between sobs. “He was crying so much it hurts.” 

“You’re the real deal, baby.” Jaehyun teased, “Making the almighty mafia boss cry.” You cried much more and heard Johnny hiss at the other man. “What floor is Yuta’s room?” You cried louder.   

You didn’t think you could cry that much. You thought the last time you can cry that extreme is when Sophie died. You’re dead wrong about that. 

When they said breaking up is painful, they indeed are correct. Saying goodbye is hard but telling the one you love goodbye is the hardest of all. Sometimes you wonder if this was all worth it. Maybe you should get back with Yuta to lessen this pain. But for how long? Will you risk it if you’ll end up getting crazy in the head? And if you find yourself killing Jaehyun, Momo, and even Yuta, can you bear living at all? 

Maybe this misery is payment for all the innocent lives you took away. 

The airport was the same as when you last came here. It was bustling with the fast-paced crowd. You stared at the plane ticket in your hand, a ticket heading to Chicago. This is it. This is your last chance to stay. Your last chance to choose what your heart really wants. You can run away and leave everything or stay and face all the demons there are. 

You felt your phone vibrate, Jaehyun’s number can be seen on the caller ID. “Are you boarding?” 

You lightly glanced at the digitized board and saw that you have almost less than an hour before your flight departs. “Not yet.” 

There was a sigh of relief from the other line. “Wait for Yuta. He’s on his way to see you.” 

“What?” you exclaimed, standing up in surprise which startled both Johnny and your dad. “Why is he coming here?” 

Jaehyun chuckled, “Although he let you go, he wants your last memory of him to be the cool one and not that pathetic crying loser.” You giggled although tears were streaming from your eyes. How stupid. “Just let him hug you this last time.” You nodded although he cannot see you. He ended the call, reasoning that someone is calling him on the other line. 

Johnny mouthed ‘Are you alright?’ and you nodded, smiling while you wipe your tears. You didn’t know that you’ll cry in happiness. You thought all your tears are for your misery now. Yuta really does wonders for you. The taller guy gave you a heartwarming smile, “I’m glad to see you smiling again, Y/N.” He ruffled the top of your head. “Let’s wait for your prince to come.” 

You nodded, hastily wiping the streaming tears. You wanted Yuta to see you smiling when he gets here. 

The minutes passing felt agonizing. You kept on tapping your foot, knees shaking in anticipation. You wanted to see Yuta already, wanted to hug him for the last time. 

“Passengers boarding flight 0209 heading to Chicago…” The PA from the speakers can be heard that made your friend look at you in worry. Your father went in first but he stayed to accompany you. The last call was made and you gave up. Maybe meeting Yuta is already impossible. 

Before you could stand up for boarding, your phone vibrated. Excitedly, you opened Jaehyun’s call but there was an obvious distress in his voice when he called your name. Your heart kept on thumping hard in your chest. Why is he breathing so hard? “Yuta and Momo wanted to see you.” he claimed, voice shaking. “They were in a hurry that they’re speeding.” This doesn’t sound good. “The car fell on a cliff.” No, it can’t be. “It exploded.” 

You grasped your phone tight.

This is all a dream, a nightmare. You should have taken the white pills Jaehyun kept on giving you before coming here.

The tears fell from your eyes and Johnny held your shoulder.

Why does he feel warm if this was all a dream? Why is your palm hurting from holding your phone tight? 

Why does your heart hurt at what Jaehyun said next? 

Your nightmares are indeed your reality. 

“Y/N,” Jaehyun called in between choked sobs.

“Yuta and Momo are dead.”  

Chapter Sixteen (Final)

[multifandomslxt]

BLACK ROSES PT. 3

Pairing: Mafia!Lee Jeno x Florist!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x sunshine

Genre: Dark Mafia Romance

Word Count: 1.5K (i think)

Synopsis:

Lee Jeno is a dangerous man. From going on k!lling sprees for fun to torturing and k!lling his own father. He does it all. In short Lee Jeno is the devil.

Y/N is a florist. She's as pure as they come. Nothing exciting ever happens in her life and she’s okay with that. In short Y/N is an angel.

He was bad and she was good. They were complete opposites.

…Or so they thought

Get your tissues for this one. It's gonna be one hell of a ride

Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of drugs, g*n violence, illegal dealings. He does something weird at the end.

*((((A/N: words in bold are her conscience and words spoken in Korean are in italics ))))*

Flower of the day: The name Agapanthus is derived from the Greek: agapē meaning "love", and another Greek word anthos meaning "flower", together meaning Love Flower or Flower of Love.

She stared at me like I just grew two heads.

“Madam, please calm down.” she spoke completely ignoring my question.

I stared at her wide eyed. “Calm down? Girl…who are you?”

She sighed and closed her eyes, pinching her nose out of annoyance.

“He couldn't find a more annoying slut to play with?” she spoke in her home tongue.

Suddenly, she stepped closer to the bed and stretched her hand out “I am Ji-eun, Mr. Lee’s maid. It’s a pleasure to meet you miss.”

I eyed her…and I eyed her damn hard.

“I’m Y/N” Carefully I took her hand in mine and shook…slowly.

She pulled her hand back and smiled “I know miss Y/N , Mr. Lee already told me. Speaking of which he requests an immediate audience with you”.

Now it was my turn to stare at her like she just grew two heads. “Who is Mr. Lee and why does he want an audience with me?”

She stared at me incredulously “Mr. Lee is the owner of this house and a member of the NCT Mafia. How do you not know this? He is the one that brought you here.”

You know that feeling you get when you’re sure your ancestors are warning you to get the heck out of a very specific situation?

Yeah…that’s exactly what I’m feeling right now.

Not good

Not f*cking good at all.

How the f*ck did I get involved with the mafia?

I covered my face with my hands and screamed loudly. “Jesus, my grandma is rolling in her grave…all those Sunday Morning church services gone to waste.”

Uncovering my face and found Ji-eun staring at me and muttering something under her breath.

“It's not only annoying, but also crazy... Good job Mr. Lee.”

Paying her no mind I looked down at myself and realized I was still wrapped up in the very very very soft sheets of this bed…

‘Normal people would have jumped up by now, wouldn’t they?’ My conscience questioned sharply.

Which led me to do just that…except my foot got tangled in the sheets and I face planted on an equally soft carpet.

My fall caused Ji-eun to run to my side and help me up.

Finally standing, I asked her a question that I should have left alone.

“What’s Mr. Lee’s first name?”

She huffed and straightened her uniform. “Mr Lee’s name is Jeno…Lee Jeno.”

Pretty sure my ass cheeks clenched like a fist.

 There was absolutely no way she just said that.

“Lee…Jeno? Are you sure girl?” I asked.

Ji-eun was growing frustrated. I could see it on her face.

“Miss Y/N Mr. Lee is Lee Jeno owner of this house and a member of the NCT Mafia. As I mentioned earlier, he’s expecting an audience with you right now.” She said passive aggressively.

I stared at her for what felt like hours.

“Why does he want to see me?” my heart was now in my throat.

Ji-eun furrowed her brows and tilted her head confusingly “Do you not remember last night?”

“Mr. Lee carried you here whilst you were unconscious, said you passed out from shock.” She continued.

Suddenly, the memory came rushing to me causing me to gasp.

 “I WITNESSED A MURDER!” I shouted.

‘Nope…you heard it’ my conscience corrected.

As I came to the realization, I felt like I was going to throw up.

Was he going to kill me?

‘Probably’

What if he wants me to join the mafia to keep a close eye on me?

‘Bitch please, you can’t even kill a roach so that’s null.’

“Miss Y/N we must leave now He does not like to wait.” Ji-eun said urgently.

Let’s just get this over with…what’s the worst that could happen?

‘Death, you dumb bitch.’

“Okay, let’s go then” I replied.

I started walking towards the exit when I felt a pull on the back of my shirt causing me to turn around.

“You must freshen up and change first Miss Y/N” Ji-eun said curtly gesturing to the neatly folded clothes on the nightstand.

“Oh, right” I said embarrassed. I as so worked up I didn’t even realize I was still in last night’s attire.

“I will be waiting for you on the outside” Ji-eun said before walking out.

Taking the clothes, I went into what must have been the bathroom.

As expected, it was luxurious. The floors and walls were granite and the shower and sink had black accentuations.

Placing the clothes on the vanity, I stripped down and stepped into the shower.

After a couple minutes I emerged from the bathroom fresh and changed.

I took a couple deep breaths before leaving the room and coming face to face with Ji-eun.

“Let’s go.” She spoke.

We walked for what felt like an eternity of passing many luxurious vases and pictures in the dark hallway, we finally reached our destination.

“He is right through here. Knock and wait for his reply. Goodbye Miss Y/N” Ji-eun rushed out and then practically ran away leaving me here.

I stared at the Large two handled door. It was all that stood in my way, shielding me from the monster who would be my ultimate demise.

With shaky hands I knocked three times

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

“Come.” A gruff and familiar voice shouted from behind the door.

I opened the door and stepped into what looked like a home office.

The walls were a dark blue and barren of pictures. The floor was of hard dark wood and the only lighting in the room came from a small lamp on the desk which stood in the centre of the room.

Behind that desk was none other than ‘Nono’ aka Jeno aka Lee Jeno aka A member of the fucking mafia

Sitting comfortably in his chair with his head titled and a smirk on his lips.

“Hello Y/N” only two word left his mouth but somehow it was enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“Hello Sir.” I replied.

I must have said something funny because next thing I know he threw his head back and started to laugh

“So now I’m Sir?” He smiled, amusement still dancing in his dark eyes.

I felt like I was about to piss myself.

“In other circumstances I would have been pleased to hear that from you but I’m afraid that this isn’t one of those circumstances.” He continued with a slight frown etched on his face.

Slowly he stood up from his chair and started the pace towards me.

Without realizing it I had started to step back and eventually my back was pressed against the door.

“Running will only make this harder for you flower.” he taunted.

He found this funny.

The sick bastard.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, now more annoyed than scared.

He now stood directly in front of me, his chest in my line of sight.

After long beats of silence, he hooked his index finger under my chin and lifted my head upwards.

“What did you see last night?” He asked.

Shut your mouth bitch… you did not see anything!

Tell him your vision is 20/200 or something.

 “I didn’t see anything, matter of fact I have no idea what you’re talking about”. Good. play dumb.

He raised his eyebrow in amusement. “Y/N don’t lie to me. Regardless of what you might think, I’m trying to protect you.”

“Bullshit.” I spat.

“I don’t feel secure right now. Honestly, it feels like you’re gonna blow my head off my body any second”

He dropped his hand from my face and stepped back. “Yet, your attitude doesn’t seem like it.”

I huffed and crossed my arms. “I saw nothing so I would like to leave thank you”.

He sighed and began walking back to his chair “You saw nothing, but you definitely heard something flower. What happened last night you were not meant to be there so I’m afraid you can’t leave.”

sorry?

“What?’” I questioned dumbfounded.

He sat on  the edge of his table and stared on a random light fixture in the corner of the room “I have enemies. You saw- I mean heard something you shouldn’t have and then ran to me for help. You now have a target on your back. “

‘You did it now child all of them sins are catching up to you’.

I could practically hear my grandma’s voice.

“No. I won’t stay here” I decided.

He directed his eyes to me “Yes, you will. Why? Because I said so.”

Tears were prickling my eyes.

Someone is trying to take my freedom again.

I can’t go back to that place again.

“I’m not an object. You cannot control me”.

He growled in annoyance.

Taking quick strides towards me he grabbed my jaw.

“You are not an object but the minute I stepped into that store I craved you. It’s your fault you chose my chest to run into. You innocently signed your life over to me so as of now I own your very being. You belong to me. So yes, I can make decisions for you.”

Tears were strolling down my face.

What have I done?

“I hate you” I gritted out.

He smirked and with slow movements started to lick my tears.

He closed his eyes and savoured the salty taste.

“But for how long?”

[valsnonsense]

Prince Lime of Pop

"Flowers are like Trolls. Mess up they're very strict daily routine for even a second and they shrivel up and die dramatically. What? I'm right!"

Parents: Queen Poppy and King Branch

Siblings: Choco (Elder Sister), Vanilla (Elder Sister), Strawberry (Elder Sister), Apple (Brother), Oran (Brother), Lemon (Brother), Blueberry (Brother), Grape (Sibling), Iris (Younger Sister)

Age: 18

Pronouns: They/He

Sexuality: Demisexual/Panromantic

Genre: Pop/Rock

Voice Claim: Patrick Monaham (Train)

The fourth of the Rainbow Brothers. Soft-spoken, a bit shy, but easy to talk to, Lime is one of the more laid back of his siblings. A sort of "just let life happen" kinda guy. Where he got this infinite patience no one knows.

Lime works as a gardener, tending to the upkeep of the gardens all around Trollstopia. They spend more time around plants then they do around Trolls, finding them much easier to manage. It's not their fault that social lives are so hard to manage properly!

Lime does do flower arrangements in his spare time, though the arrangements he makes are often... humourous. Need a romantic, loving bouquet? Sorry, he's not your guy. Need a bouquet that subtlety says "Fuck you". He's gotcha covered.

Lime enjoys both Pop music and Rock. He can play the acoustic guitar extremely well, and often serenades his girlfriend while they hang out in flower fields.

Lime currently resides in Trollstopia alongside his family.

Fun Facts!

- Lime is currently dating a Doll named Penelope. She's a florist who set up shop outside Trollstopia. The two are an EXTREMELY cheesy couple, nose nuzzles and everything

- Lime actually has a tattoo on his ankle of a rose and thorns. He tried ringpops one night with a few cousins and woke up with it. He's very embarrassed about it

- All his plants have names. Lime gets really attached to all his plants and gets really sad when they die. He's a very emotional guy

And that's Lime!! Little florist enby, I love him. OH! And if you're wondering what a Doll is, it's the Mount Rageons. I never liked that name for them, and an amazing artist @slugbuggy calls them Dolls, which I find much more fitting! Sorry for the tag, I just wanna give credit where credit is due! (Please go check out their Floyd/OC works they're amazing! (Also if you want me to not call them Dolls I can totally change it no problem)). Penelope's profile will be coming much later xP

Lime went through many design overhauls, they were one of the more difficult kids to design, but I think I like the design I settled on

Voice Example: Hey, Soul Sister (Train)

[crow-if]

|The world around you has gone quiet as snow covers it with a white blanket, singing it to sleep. Your palm tingle, and your dazed eyes twinkle with the reflected light of grains of flickering purple seeping through your fingertips, lightning the darkness engulfing you.|

Fate has chosen. A Witch. That's who you are.|

STIGMA : DRAGONFLY  is an Interactive Fiction game set in a high fantasy world. A setting that's inspired by African and Asian cultures. heavily north african.

[DEMO]

SYPONYSIS:

You were made to feel like a monster your entire life. How could it ever be fair?

You were aware of it since your childhood. How could you not when you were sent to an Academy just to explore your identity as a Witch, a mutated human or a Mystic. Maybe both or neither.

How was it? knowing you. That you were one of many, but none at the same time.

You ran away that day. Never looking back for once. You ran as fast as your feet could take you, and it haunts you to this day. It is a race with time, with nightmares and sufferings. It was a race you could never win.

But then... You were back. Because who dares defy them.

That very cursed fate of yours acquired you an audience with The Crown. You returned to them with your own two feets.

The Crown has spoken.

A single sentence, knowledge. A fact that was so simply stated you were pinned to your spot. A gold coated letter and a luxurious pretty title changed everything in your life. Forever.

A request? No. An order. Is it a curse? Or an opportunity?

Choose, Witch.

FEATURES:

ꕥ Customise your MC: You're given the chance to customise your Character from [Name, Appearance, personality, skills to purpose]. Includes:

Customizable personality system: Your Witch can be sarcastic with a sharp tongue, stoic with a soft heart, playful but secretive or as cold as a winter storm.

What type of witch are you: This feature allows you to wear the world as a ring on your small finger.

Witch's Skill System: From Intelligence, Agility, Vigour to Perception. These skills open up many different doors, outcomes, and options for your witch. And whether it succeeds or fails, it may tell you about secrets you did not take into account.

Customizable appearance: Customise your Witchfrom head to toe, includes but is not limited to; height, body type, unique features, tattoos.

The Witch's purpose: You're playing a dangerous game, but you're not who started it. What purpose do you have to survive it all?

ꕥ Face the consequences of your choices: Be careful, or don't. In both cases, the decision is in your hands, and the consequences are yours to bear. So what path will you draw for yourself?

ꕥ Romance one of four different ROs: Two mysterious strangers, a florist or maybe someone you never wished to see again.

ꕥInfluence others' fates as much as they do yours: Develop your relationship with others. Or use them to achieve your motive. Your decisions and every step you take affects those around you as much as it affects you. Would you care?

ꕥThe wise Elders are ambiguous: Explore this world and find the secrets it holds and behold.

ꕥTake in a little apprentice to succeed you.

ꕥVengeance. Deceit. Betrayal. Treason: It is blood for blood? How will you face the world that burned you alive?

ꕥYou don't fit anywhere, or maybe it's that you belong everywhere: Choose on your own, Humans or Mystics. Which side will you support?

[ROMANCES][MORE DETAILS IN GAME PROFILE]

RAEL GOVIATT: [M]

 [Isn't it curious? Do you want to flip and see the other face of the coin?]

TRAIT:  Mischievous, Ambitious, Brilliant and Patient.

ABOUT: People say Rael have a bit of a dual personality. His friendly but mysterious persona makes them lower their guard around him. Though, he never shows or tells the real attention behind anything he does, even if it looks foolish to others.

Rael appears to be always amused by something. He flashes a disarming winning smile that lightens his whole face but his untelling eyes.

[You are killing me, and you are keeping me from dying.]

ANWAR HAYFAR. [F/M]

[Eternal chaos and internal chaos are distinct from each other. But I seem to attract both.]

TRAIT:  Reserved, Tolerant, Idealistic and Secretive.

ABOUT: Quiet and unassuming. Anwar is a think before you act, type of person. They prefer to live in peace and away from politics or petty matters of the wealthy. But they are not that simple, as this florist may throw their guise and strike if pricked from the wrong side.

[And if a hundred loved you, they will only love you a drop compared to my ocean.]

HELIA [REDACTED] [F/M]

[Quit. Broke. Died. And made it through it all.]

TRAITS:  Observant, Practical, Indifferent and Stubborn.

ABOUT: Helia's cold and indifferent appearance can be deceptive, despite being part of their truth.

A common first impression of Helia is a mixture of intimidation, intrigue and a sense of stability. They have an imposing aura and the kind of demeanour that demands attention in every room, with otherworldly elegance and grace.

[It's the same rain I loved that drowned me.]

YASIR [REDACTED] [M]

[Either find a way or be prepared to bleed to make one.]

TRAIT:  Charming, Ambitious, Assertive and Inquisitive.

ABOUT:  Yasir is a calculating and cool-headed person. And while Yasir can be materialistic, his love for money is not sacred, but it is definitely up there on his values list.

Yasir is authoritative and demanding, especially of his subjects. He also prefers to rule with an iron hand, which may surprise people who have not seen him in action.

[I have passed by many eyes but I only got lost in yours.]

[REDACTED][REDACTED] [POSSIBLE SECRET RO]

[lilithblackwood]

Be honest with me, guys! For the next post or two, which story lore are you guys interested in so far? Because I’m always happy to talk about my works! (Definitely not because I’m needy for people’s opinions about what I write – )

Learn more about them with their summaries underneath the cut!

Witches and Nobility:

es·o·ter·ic

/ˌesəˈterik/

intended for or likely to be understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest.

Danica is a mysterious young witch who's affiliated with the infamous Edalyn Clawthorne, AKA Eda the Owl Lady. Blessed with incredible magic and a sharp mind, she is a force to be reckoned with.

When a young human girl named Luz Noceda accidentally wanders into the Boiling Isles and joins them to learn how to become a witch herself, Danica soon finds herself swept up in a tidal wave of dark secrets, hidden tales, and a twisted history that could change everything.

What are her reasons for affiliating with a fugitive like Eda? What is her connection to the Emperor's Coven? And what exactly are the full details of her past?

Lotus of Rebirth:

Lan is a soft-spoken and gentle young woman with a unique green thumb. She works part-time as a florist and lives next to a a noodles restaurant called Pigsy's Noodles, alongside an optimistic young boy by the name of MK, who serves as the delivery boy. Despite the demanding work and rough city life, Lan couldn't be any more content with her life.

Her peaceful lifestyle abruptly comes to an end when the Demon Bull King is released from his prison after thousands of years of imprisonment. The trouble seems to grow when MK is chosen to be none other than the successor of the famous Monkey King himself, as he is the one to wield his mighty staff.

Join Lan as she helps MK on his journey to become the next Monkey King, tasked with protecting humanity against the forces of evil. But it won't be easy...

Something is stirring behind the scenes.

Something that could change the world itself for the worse.

And it may have something to do with Lan's powers and these strange dreams she has been having lately...

𝕎𝕆ℕ𝔻𝔼ℝ𝕃𝔸ℕ𝔻.𝔼𝕏𝔼:

Barbie's very first memory was waking up in the Amazing Digital Circus, an eccentric virtual circus world filled with never-before seen wonders and horrors alike, all under the control of the bizarre ringleader Caine.

At first, it's a dream come true. But there's just one problem.

Every human that enters this virtual world is not only forever trapped in their digital avatars, but face the risk of "Abstraction": the moment when someone finally reaches their breaking point from the insanity of their eternal imprisonment.

Join Barbie and the others as they struggle to survive and escape their new home with the threat of insanity looming over their shoulders, along with something far more sinister working behind the scenes of the program trapping them.

...but it looks like Barbie is not who...or rather, what she appears to be.

And she doesn't seem to be very keen at the thought of escape.

[sgt-scottymoreau]

🛩️ The Pilot and the Florist 💐

"I met your mother during the spring of '84. I was off duty just on time for Mother's day. I never been the perfect son and I had no seen your grandma in a while, so I really wanted to make it special. I thought flowers might be a good idea. I found this small shop while walking the streets, it looked charming. Obviously, I was not very good at picking something that would make my mother happy, although even a single one would have been enough. That's when I asked for help to the prettiest florist I ever seen. She was there, behind the counter with her brown apron, messy hair - she just had finish restocking something - brown eyes illuminated by the sun that was shining through the windows. She took my breath away. She was so kind and soft spoken as she proposed me different bouquets. It was hard to choose one, because she was distracting me with her beauty. Eventually, I found the right one, she wrapped it for me and when she handed me the gift, our hands touched. A gentle brush, she gave me a small smile - time stopped. She had captured my heart."

This is how I imagine Henri and Suzanne meeting. They were in the early 20s and Henri was easily impressed by her. Suzanne not as much, but when the young soldier came by after that with different excuse to buy flowers, she couldn't help be curious of him. It was obviously flowers weren't the only thing he was interested in.

Suzanne had been working as a florist since the age of 16. She started by helping her aunt who owned one. Then after marrying Henri a few years later and just before the birth of Gabrielle in '92, they moved to Mons where she found another flower shop to work at.

Pictures on the left row where found on the Fb page of the Belgian Air Force. As much as I love the idea of Henri flying the F-16, I do think he would also flight helicopters. Now... to know in which he had accident that costed him his left eye 🤭

Did I needed to go so deep in their lore because they are not even main characters? No. Did I do it anyway because this ideas ^^ were cute? Absolutely!

[youras-wonderland]

A Bunch Of Flowers For You | Byun Baekhyun

• Baekhyun x Female Reader

• Fluff

• Author: youras-wonderland

A/N: A cutie Baekhyun for you. I hope you will like it! Enjoy! 💕

While it was cute sometimes that your boyfriend was a crying baby, it was getting on your nerves right now. He hasn't spoken to you for about three hours. He was probably waiting for you to hug him and apologize. Even though he was super stubborn, he wasn't going to be the winner this time.

Cleanliness was your weak spot and he knew it very well. Despite this, the entire kitchen and living room looked awful. Whereas you just went to meet your friends.

His irresponsible behavior made you angry. He did this all the time, and now you're out of patience. However, you politely told him to clean the house, but he ignored you and continued playing.

To piss him off, you unplugged the computer and made him lose the game he was about to win.

Gaming was his favorite thing, and he went crazy when he saw the computer shut down. He just gave you a quick glance and went to his room. It was obvious he was angry.

When you followed him to his room and asked him to help you clean, you got a big no.

'No, I will never help you! I lost the game because of you! Are you happy? Look at what you did for a stupid cleanup!'

'Stupid cleaning? The stupidest thing is the games you play! I'm tired of you being irresponsible, Baekhyun!'

Okay, maybe you shouldn't have yelled at him. That was a little too much. But his moodiness got on your nerves.

He hadn't left his room for three hours. You had already cleaned the house, cooked and rested.

For a moment you thought about going to his room and hugging him, but then you gave up.

Eating your meal alone was not something you were used to, and you felt bad for a moment.

I shouldn't have yelled at him. He was just tired.

The feeling of regret made you feel bad. You prepared a dinner plate for him and knocked on the door of his room. You went inside when there was no sound.

He was looking at you sullenly. You wanted to bite that sweet face but it seems that Baekhyun was still angry.

You left the plate on the table and left the room.

You quickly got dressed and went outside. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend. So you went to a nearby florist and bought a bunch of flowers for him. You smiled and smelled the flowers.

It was the first time you had done something like this for him and you were wondering about his reaction.

When you got home, you saw Baekhyun sitting at the table eating the other meals you made.

You slowly walked to him and held the flower in front of his face.

He looked at you in surprise.

'What's this? Why are you trying to put flowers in my mouth?'

'I bought a bunch of flowers for you. Sorry for yelling at you.'

He was smiling like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

You hit his arm with the flower.

'I miss you! You haven't spoken to me for hours!'

'You deserved it for yelling at me, dear. I was expecting you to apologize.' He said and took the flower from your hand.

'You're such a crying baby, Baekhyun.'

He laughed with his sparkling eyes.

'It's you!'

'Okay, now give me a hug.'

He stood up and hugged you tightly.

'Thank you for the flower, my love.'

'You're welcome, but... You're not mad at me anymore, are you?'

'No, but I want a kiss!'

Smiling, you held his face and gave him a soft kiss.

'Love you, Baekhyunie.'

'Love you too, darling.'

[lgcwenjun]

hi everyone!!! thank you sm for all the warm welcomes 🫶🏻 i’m super super excited to bring wenjun here and for his journey in legacy!! wenjun was born in fujian, china and has been a trainee since july 2021! he’s also a part-time florist so pls come to him if u ever want to talk about flowers or need bouquets 💖 i have wenjun’s profile linked here! i would love to plot with everyone so please feel free to like this post and i’ll jump straight into your ims!! i also have a twitter account @sserafimgfs ! and a discord as well if you’d prefer plotting there!!

underneath the cut i’ve got a basic profile of wenjun as well as some !!! plot ideas!! 

born in fujian, china 

2002 liner!! turning 21 in july!

wenjun is a part time florist! his father gifted his mum a store for her to turn into a flower shop on their 10th anniversary and growing up, wenjun would help her out there! 

because of his father’s love for music ( his father is a retired musician ), wenjun grew up loving music as well! he knows how to play the violin & piano, and he enjoys singing too. his dancing is... another story...

wenjun was fairly famous on weibo and douyin where he would upload covers of songs. it would mostly be him covering songs on his violin or singing along

his parents encourage him to audition for legacy ( even tho he had like 0% confidence ). he ends up failing the first time he auditions, but gets accepted the second time!!

still struggling with korean, so he may have a hard time expressing himself! he usually understands the gist of whats going on tho

because wenjun grew up in such a loving family, he’s also got a lot of love to give! 

wenjun is very very careful with his words, while he isn’t exactly ‘soft spoken’ he tries to not say things that may hurt someone’s feelings – which is both a pro and con because he can’t exactly be assertive

has only ever had two really serious relationships, but in both relationships he was dumped 💔 mostly because his gf & bf at that time didn’t feel important enough since wenjun is pretty nice and speaks gently to almost everyone

needs a hug tbh

plot ideas!!

friends!!!!!! wenjun definitely needs friends! people that he can trust, and that he’s comfortable around! he’s also 100% the type to gift his friends bouquets and random flowers

people that wenjun knew back when he was in china! wenjun studied in fujian but maybe they could’ve become friends on weibo and douyin, and kept in contact there! either one of them could’ve been surprised to see the other!

trainees that wenjun can comfortably speak mandarin with! sometimes he just wants to rant and it’s a little easier in his mother tongue

violin and piano enthusiasts!!!

rivals ?? someone that wenjun sees as a rival or vice versa! wenjun isn’t the type to trash talk though, but he’s definitely the type to easily feel insecure!

wenjun works as a florist part-time at a store, so maybe friends that like to visit his flower store! wenjun will welcome you with open arms ( and an open cash register!! pls buy something! ) 

wenjun wears contacts but sometimes his eyes get rly dry! you spot him blinking somewhere ( because of his dry eyes ) and think he’s winking at you??? or alternatively: while you’re talking to him his eyes start to get rly dry and he blinks so much he starts tearing up and you think he’s crying!! but because of wenjun’s inability to express himself well it ends up in a misunderstanding

wenjun is also very easily scammed by con artists on the street 💔 1) because he’s too nice and 2) because he hasn’t truly mastered korean yet. your muse starts feeling a little protective of him?? or points out to him that he’s been scammed!!!

exes? (m/f) the ex plot is open! 

one night stand...??? (m/f) wenjun is really not the type to be in a casual r/s or fool around with someone like this unless he feels a spark there so he probably freaked out after that one night, and wants you to forget!!!!!! feelings may or may not be involved????? more plotting can be done!!

[phantomuheist]

Please repost do not reblog

CHARACTER SHEET ―

FULL NAME.: Akira Kurusu. (now Sakura)

NICKNAME: Aki, ‘Kira, bro, leader.

ALIASES: Joker, leader of the Phantom Thieves.

PRONOUNS: He/Him and They/them

HEIGHT:  4’9″

ZODIAC: Aries

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Japanese, some basic English, and a bit French from Arsène, maybe.

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ―

HAIR: Jet black. Short, curly, and unkempt. Like a bird’s nest. Very soft.

FACIAL HAIR: None.

EYES: Grey.

SKIN TONE: Pale and fair.

BODY TYPE: Slim and an athletic build thanks to lots of workout sessions.

VOICE: Quiet, deep and somewhat monotone at first. Can be a little higher pitched when he’s excited or laughing.

DOMINANT HAND: Right.

POSTURE: Sits slouched with his hands on the table or on his lap. Tends to shake his leg a lot when he’s anxious which is almost all the time. Sits upright when told to.

SCARS: On his chest and back because of his abusive dad. He also has some bruises on his wrists due to the handcuffs he was wearing.

BIRTHMARKS: None.

MOST NOTABLE FEATURES: Because of the false charge, people are afraid of him and would rather not deal with him. He comes off as a delinquent, which he is not. He’s just very quiet and likes observing people first before saying anything.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ―

PLACE OF BIRTH: Osaka, Kansai Region

HOMETOWN: Osaka, Kansai Region, although it’s changed to Yonjen Jaya now.

SIBLINGS: None.

PARENTS: Mr. [blank] and Mrs. Arashi Kurusu.

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ―

OCCUPATION: Leblanc barista, florist, convenience store clerk, beef bowl restaurant employee.

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Leblanc, and later the Sakura household.

CLOSE FRIENDS: Everyone in the Phantom Thieves. Plus, Mishima, Dr. Takemi, Kawakami, Iwai, Ohya, Lala-chan, Yoshida, Shinya.

FINANCIAL STATUS: Stable and perhaps loaded, one might say.

DRIVER'S LICENSE: No.

CRIMINAL RECORD: False assault charge, proven innocent. Larceny, in secret.

VICES: Touch-starved, clingy, overly dramatic. He’s easy to piss off if you say the wrong thing. Can’t live without coffee. Kinda hates veggies.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ―

LOVE LANGUAGE: Words Of Affirmation, Touch, Quality Time and Acts of Service.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES:  A hopeless romantic who doesn’t know how to function in a relationship and is beside himself when he finally connects with someone on a deep, emotional level. Someone he can imagine moving in with and eventually, spending his life with. Be careful of his temper and impulsiveness in the Metaverse, things can get pretty chaotic!

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ―

CHARACTER'S THEME TUNE: Kill The Itch - NEO: TWEWY.

HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME: Watching TV, walking around town, reading, doing crossword puzzles, lazying around.

LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED: More left-brained but can also use his right brain when he’s in the right moment.

SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL: Oh, it’s so low. Don’t look at him, his parents caused it all. Although he received praise for his high marks, they never paid much attention to him unless he made a mistake or broke something. It’s also worth noting that in his old school, no one really hung out with him because they were afraid of him or thought he was a nerd who studied a lot and never socialized. However, when Joker takes over, he’s much more confident, revealing his true self and hidden anger issues, taking it all out on the Shadows. He’s very flashy and stylish too. Shocking, I know.

Stolen from: @tvstarkuma​

Tagging: @iiguess​ @electricea​ @galaxofmuses​ (Sonic) @epitomees​ (Makoto or Sae) and you!

[kiitchensiink]

One of them works a flower shop and has a crush on the attractive stranger that comes in once a week to get a surprise bouquet as decoration for his apartment. Worker is too shy/nervous to ask the attractive stranger for a date so he puts together kind of love-confession kind of bouquets for him every week, expecting him to not know.

Turns out a friend/acquaintance of the stranger knows flower language and mentions it to stranger.

(Stranger/Worker cuz it could go either way; Blurry could also show up maybe idk)

ah yes the classic florist au... ok so crazy thing, I'm actually uniquely skilled in answering this type of idea since I'm a trained florist and have a lot of experience with both the language of flowers and experience working with them lol

though I know generally in these aus it's probably Tyler who's the florist, baby boy has (self-admitted) soft delicate hands and would not be up to the task of holding together spiralised stems and making 50+ arrangements in one day lmao; So self indulgently, I think I'd put Josh as the florist and Tyler as the cute stranger.

Also Josh strikes me as the romantic Type who would try to flirt with a ridiculously oblivious Tyler through a language that he absolutely would have no clue of reading. Disasters, both of them.

Perhaps in this universe, Tyler has just moved in across the street. His house is very bare except for perhaps a futon and a table, so it's pretty empty and dreary... But he notices the flower shop directly across from his window, and so he resolves to trot down and take a look.

Josh works there part time, while also working on music on the side; This job is pretty hard work, but he enjoys it because it's still creative and working with natural materials is always wonderful... Despite it always being so cold.

Tyler walks in that morning, still in the same clothes he's worn for a few days since all his stuff is still being shipped to him; He looks like a scruffy mess. Most stores would take one look at him and assume he's there to steal stuff, but Josh isn't the judgemental sort, and greets him in a pleasant friendly way!

Tyler kind of stares at him from under his hat, googly eyed. He has literally no idea what to get or how to ask, so he just sort of waves hello, and stumbles through asking for a bunch of flowers.

Josh tries to help him, by asking a few questions, like where he wants it, what he needs it for... if it's for anyone special. Tyler would kinda balk at that.

He'd say himself, then realise oh shoot that sounded self-aggrandizing, then tries to explain it's not that he thinks he's special or something... which Josh kinda smiles at, and says he looks pretty special to him.

Tyler's spirit almost leaves his body because he's so humiliated... But he does thank Josh, and say he seems pretty special too.

After that, they'd probably just get to talking, Tyler would explain he just moved in across the street, Josh would tell him about all the fun things to do around there...

though Tyler feels like he's fumbling, Josh is kinda starting to form a little crush on him. He's cute, he's funny... And they've really clicked in just one conversation.

Since Tyler has absolutely no idea what he wants, Josh assures him he'll whip him up something perfect for his new home.

Josh probably makes him these gorgeous, intricate hand tied bouquets; Wild and nature inspired, starting at first with a few pink roses scattered amongst delicate asparagus fern and the curves of a few sprigs of twisted willow; It's a pretty overt hint that he's kinda into him.

Once he hands the bouquet over, he offers it on the house, and, in a moment of courage, writes his phone number down on one of the tiny message cards, and tucks it into the bouquet. Telling Tyler to call him, since he's new in town and may not know anybody else yet.

Tyler seems pretty happy, relieved he hadn't messed up socialising with the first person he's spoken to in this town; He gratefully thanks him, and takes the bouquet and the card... Completely oblivious that Josh is flirting with him. Just thinking that this dude is super nice wow!

They say their goodbyes, and Tyler toddles off home carrying his huge bouquet... And Josh flops face first onto the countertop, realising he's immediately started crushing on this new guy.

*Bonus: Twin brother Blurry that's moved in with Tyler as his roommate, who's more world-wise than Tyler, immediately recognises the symbolism of pink roses and asparagus fern. He does not tell him.