#also grass kinda = plants

[kindred-spirit-93]

when ur told to touch grass but these are ur favourite foods

[exopelagic]

thinking abt the horror inherent to cornfields again. maybe I’m just british and have never seen cornfields (I know we DO grow it over here but I haven’t like. seen it) but the thought of an annual crop plant growing THAT TALL (average 2.5m/8ft) for us to just eat the grain feels viscerally wrong. wheat is like 1.2m/4ft you can exist in a wheat field but corn will swallow you whole

[mold-for-breakfast]

my children <3 <3

[eternally-tired-cryptid]

Oh btw X-Men oc concepts. I'm thinking. She looks like a human w antlers at a glance. But those antlers are branches growing from her head, flowers and leaves sprouting in between the "hair" that when you look closer is actually rough brown vine-like structures growing from her head. When you shake their hand you discover not skin but bark, flowers and leaves sprouting from her skin every moment. If they stay in one place too long they put down roots, when they move away there's broken roots left behind.

[theworstcreature]

Sensory issues not in the “if I wear socks I will immediately die and explode” way or the “socks are my lifeline. Without them, I shall perish” way but a secret third way (if I can even feel anything out of the ordinary on the ground (or honestly just go outside in general), I will burst into flames and need shoes at basically all times or else)

[theveryworstthing]

SpaceDancer's request for parasitic roses and Camille Alexander's request for unicorn fops created Angelique.

i now present my newest Charming Little Freak ✨

Angelique is one of those beings that isn't cleanly classified as a fae or a demon. he/it/whatever (roses are perfect plants and so it mostly goes by the pronouns common for the additional sex of his host body in human society because they couldn't care less) is a Rampant. a type of sapient parasitic rose that, over time, transforms the body of their host from a simple quadruped beast to bipedal humanoid (kinda) monster. every Rampant seems to mold themselves into unique forms, and designs often carry over if they somehow manage to get "uprooted" without dying and have to start over with a new flesh body. if Rampants stay rooted then they're borderline immortal even though their hosts are...dead? it's unclear. the Rampant certainly carries memories of what it was like being an animal and their flesh and blood is altered, but alive. the body keeps the score whether they like it or not. but the beast itself, its mind, dies quickly after a Rampant takes root. either from the trauma from becoming a Flowerbed or from the Rampant purposefully putting a thorn through its brain. whether fae or demon, Rampants take. they do not possess. they do not imprison.

Angelique currently lives in a small dying village, spending his time checking in on the aging population as a kind of town housemaid/caretaker and tending to his flower shop/apothecary. most people would say that having a creature like him around isn't a great idea, but this eldritch horror has basically been adopted by every lonely old person in town so good luck getting rid of him.

Fun Facts:

he loves nice soft clothes, meat (blood sausage is his favorite), and (in spite of his goth everything all the time) sunlight.

buzzing sounds make him flustered while prolonged exposure to cut grass smells and cold weather make him anxious.

he's an scary good climber and will forgo a door if he knows someone is on a higher floor of a building and he sees an open window.

always well hydrated. carries around a flask of water at all times and likes to sit outside naked when it rains.

he has many little leafy assistants which are also just him. he's like an octopus. the people in the community assign them all little names and give them unique decorations and he thinks it's really cute.

what is he getting out of staying in this village? none of your business.

he's currently in a weird situationship with 2 local gravekeepers from rival graveyards/religions and the recently widowed agnostic town doctor. everyone in this polycule hates everyone else but him. he's also friends with benefits with my character Brooke, who finds all of this hilarious and is eager to hear about the latest disaster every time he passes through town.

[ohbueckers]

EXTRA POINTS. blurb!

pairing, paige bueckers x fem!reader. notes, glasses p fic per request of a few queens… MAMA WORKED AS FAST AS SHE COULD! @thaatdigitaldiary @absolutelydreadful & credits to @justliketoreadsowhat ‘s anon for the detail. warnings, none just fluff? sexual jokes as well because who am i without them, like…

the night air is still pretty warm, the scent of freshly cut grass still tingling your nostrils after the soccer game you attended with paige and her teammates. it had been a long night—filled with cheering, concessions, and paige’s arm constantly draped around your shoulder as she proudly showed you off. she somehow convinced you to tag along, but watching her light up during the game made it worth it.

now, you’re walking back to the dorms, the sound of sneakers and laughter being the only thing heard off the empty sidewalks as the team stalks a few yards in front of the two of you. paige has her hair slicked back into a messy low bun, a few strands falling loose, and her purple glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose. the lenses catch a subtle blue tint from the streetlights, a little detail you can’t stop staring at—honestly, she looks so good, it’s borderline unfair. you never thought purple glasses could be your weakness, but here you are.

“you enjoying the ice cream, or are you too busy staring at me?” paige teases, glancing over with that signature smirk. she knows exactly what she’s doing, making it impossible to look away from her.

“shut up, paige,” you reply with a scoff, although there’s no ruthless intent as you nudge her with your elbow. “i’m just enjoying the quiet now that your fan club’s calmed down.”

“oh, you love it!” she laughs out, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “don’t act like you don’t love watching me be all famous and stuff. plus, you looked cute taking all those pics with me. so i ain’t complainin.’”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile creeping up on your face. paige had been asked for a picture more times than you could count on your hands, and obviously the tiktoks came with that. she’d dragged you into most of it, keeping you close the whole time, making sure everyone knew you were hers. it was chaotic and you were used to it at this point, and you could admit there was something fun about watching her be in her element.

“alright, maybe it was kinda fun,” you say, taking a bite of the spoonful of ice cream she’d held out for you so casually. the cold hits your tongue, and you savor the flavor for a second before narrowing your eyes at her. “but you still owe me.”

paige jerks her head back, grinning and clearly enjoying herself. “owe you? i’m literally spoon-feeding you right now. how do i still owe you?”

you quirk an eyebrow up at her, leaning in a little as you held her gaze, and it was the kind of look that said enough.

she chuckles, leaning back slightly, still holding the spoon in front of you like she’s ready for round two. “aight, fine, i’ll give you that. but let me get you back at home, baby—i got some ideas.” her voice drops a little lower, clearly playing but also half-serious. she may be all jokes, but she definitely knows how to back them up.

before you can even respond, she takes her own spoonful of your ice cream, the nerve, flashing a cheeky grin before planting a wet, playful kiss right on your lips. the cold of the treat and the warmth of her mouth clash, leaving you squealing and half-laughing, trying to push her away. “paige!” you protest, wiping the ice cream from your lips, but there’s no hiding the wide smile breaking out across your face. she’s such a menace sometimes.

as if one cue, everyone seemed to have glanced back at the right time, catching sight of something straight out of a rom-com.

“yo! they really can’t keep their hands off each other.” kk’s voice cuts through.

“really can’t take them nowhere…” aubrey quips.

sarah laughs, chiming in. “oh, we see you, paige! real smooth,” and morgan practically doubles over in laughter beside her.

paige smirks, and you swore she would’ve thrown up those rizz hands if her hands weren’t full. “what can i say?” you smile yourself, shaking your head at her and leaning into the blonde’s side as the banter from behind fades into the background. as much as paige plays around, the way she’s been with you tonight—keeping you close, showing you off, feeding you ice cream like it’s the most natural thing in the world—it’s those little moments that make it so easy to fall for her. every laugh, every teasing smile, even the way she annoys you, it’s like she knows exactly how to keep your guard down. and honestly, you don’t mind one bit.

“you know, you didn’t have to buy me ice cream,” you say softly, looking up at her.

“nah, i did,” paige replies, her voice gentle. “had to make sure my girl knows i take care of her. plus,” she smirks again, looking away like she’s cooking up some mischievous ass reply. “i’m tryna’ score some extra points for later.”

you laugh, shoving her off of you yet she barely flinches. “yeah, okay, keep dreaming.”

paige pulls you even closer, kissing the side of your head as your arms fall to your sides. she murmurs, “dreaming? nah, i’m ms. make it happen.”

[foreingersgod]

You (on my arm) . CH

pairing: caroline harvey x reader

synopsis: cute moments with kk throughout your relationship!

A/N: this came out kinda shitty, but i promise i’ll have better kk content coming haha

I wanna sit around and watch you do your hair

“you’re so pretty,” caroline sounded from the doorway of the bathroom “d’you know that?”

it was nearing 6:30 am on a friday morning. you hated getting up early with every fiber of your being, wanting to stay wrapped in caroline’s arms for as long as you could. but today, she had an away game, causing the both of you to pack an overnight bag and make an excruciatingly long drive.

you quite honestly looked a mess, dressed in your comfy clothes and your face decorated with the smallest amount of makeup. your hair was a disaster as you brushed it out, trying to style it in a somewhat presentable manner.

“shut up,” you laughed, looking at her through the mirror. she looked so good, also in her lazy day clothes as she leaned against the frame of the entry way, arms folded across her chest. she looked you up and down, smiling adoringly “i look like a disaster”

“not to me,” she came up behind you, moving stray hairs away from you neck so she could rest her chin on your shoulder. her hands planted themselves on your waist “you look gorgeous no matter what”

you turned your head, planting a kiss to her temple, humming against her skin. she sighed as she gave a gentle rub to your hip.

“love you” she mumbled, voice muffled by your sweatshirt.

“love you more” you confessed to her like you had a thousand times before. she was your person, your everything.

Talk it all into the ground

Have a ceremony there for something, don't know what it'd be

you were sprawled across the grassy meadow, long green blades standing tall, surrounding your body. your sundress rode up your thighs a bit, sneakers kicked off somewhere next to you. your arm was outstretched to your left as your hand fit snuggly into caroline’s. she laid next to you in the grass, smiling at you past the scattered flora. you looked radiant like this: skin glowing and sunkist, hair descending down your shoulders and onto the dampened earth beneath you, teeth sparkling as you let out the most infectious laugh.

she sat up, rolling onto her side and propping her head up on her hand as she stared down at you. her free hand maneuvered over to toy with the hem of your dress, fingers gliding across the soft material.

“i’m gonna marry you one day, i swear”

your cheeks burned from the sun, growing even hotter as she said that. there weren’t enough words to describe how caroline made you feel, so appreciated and wanted and loved. you had every intention of marrying her. although for now it would have to wait, you hated the idea of planning things and balancing school and a job and a full on wedding at the same time. but you both knew, without having to say it, that it didn’t matter if you married or not. the love was there all the same.

“one day,” you mirrored her movements, also rolling to your side “and i can’t wait for that day”

But it'd become nothing, it's nothing

And you'd smile at me

you had done it. through all the last minute study sessions, stressful midterms, and the nights spent crying at the kitchen counter as caroline rubbed your back sympathetically. you had finally graduated college. it was a beyond thrilling moment to slip on your gown and bobby pin the unflattering cap to the top of your head. just thinking of walking away with your degree made your stomach ache with excitement.

your high heel clad foot bounced against the floor as you stood in the long line. the room felt hot and crowded while you waited to make your way across that stage and get your degree. in the distance, the boom of the microphone could be heard echoing through the stadium as the names of the graduates were announced. with each passing moment, you were getting closer and closer to your turn. the hundreds of faces sat in the stadium made its way into the view as the line slowly inched forward. you strained your neck looking around the different sections, trying to find caroline’s familiar face.

unfortunately, your parents and the rest of your family couldn’t make it to this huge milestone in your life. you had gone no contact with the majority of them a while back once they ‘disowned’ you. when they found out you were dating caroline, a girl, they were furious and couldn’t stand having a daughter that followed such a lifestyle. your sister was the only one you stayed in contact with, but she was studying abroad and couldn’t make it back to the states in time to see you graduate. you were absolutely gutted about the whole situation.

but caroline was there for you through it all. sat with you while you sobbed the day before graduation because it was all settling in. she assured you that, even though it wasn’t the same as having your parents and sister there, she was going to be there front and center to watch you succeed. caroline was by far your biggest supporter, your rock through everything. you couldn’t believe you had gotten so lucky with someone so attentive and prideful towards you.

so as you finally reached the front, body shaking with excitement, your eyes bounced around all of the smiling faces. it was only when you handed the announcer your name card, taking your first steps onto the stage, you saw her. she was beaming ear to ear as she locked eyes with you. she had her phone out, ready to record her gorgeous girl accepting her degree. caroline had dressed up just for you, sporting a navy blue dress shirt and slacks to match the colors of your university. she watched as you accepted all the hand shakes, posing for pictures with the dean, and evidently walking off that stage with that cherished piece of paper.

you walked off the stage and started to make your way back to your seat to finish out the rest of the grad ceremony. you looked over to her, finally able to get a clear look at her face. you gave her an excited wave, showing off your degree to her. she clapped for you and blew you a kiss, still smiling as brightly as before.

‘i love you’ she mouthed ‘i’m so proud’

and you smiled, mouthing back to her with tears in your eyes ‘thank you’

I wanna be, I wanna buy you pretty little things

And never ever lie to you

“what’s all this?” you asked, stepping through the door into your shared apartment with caroline.

you had gotten off of work quite upset, driving home with irritation coursing through your veins. you got called in for a so called ‘emergency’ even though you had requested the day off for yours and caroline’s anniversary. in reality, it wasn’t an emergency, rather your boss just needed someone to run errands for him. your girlfriend was so sweet and had planned out the entire day to celebrate, you were in a bad mood the whole day wishing you could just got back home.

but when you walked through that door at around 7pm, the scent of pine wafting around the kitchen, your heart melted. a bouquet of your favorite flowers sat upon the marble countertop, a neatly sealed letter leaned against the vase. there was a small box that also sat next to it with a baby pink ribbon tied around it. caroline stood from where she was previously sitting on the kitchen stool, coming over to greet you.

“just wanted to do something since you had to work today, s’all” she shrugged, pulling you into her by your waist as you set your stuff down on table “happy anniversary, baby”

you felt like you could cry, tears welling up at your lash line. you had felt horrible for spoiling the day by going into work, but caroline was so sweet and understanding and always made sure you felt seen.

“caroline, you didn’t have to do this!” you gestured to the flowers and box, leaning in to smell the flowers “i spoiled our anniversary, i don’t deserve this”

“don’t be ridiculous, you didn’t spoil anything” she kissed your cheek, you could feel her lips curl against your skin “and of course you deserve it, you deserve the world. now open your gift!”

the small ribbon glimmered underneath your dim kitchen lights as you ran your fingers over it. you looked at her with a skeptical face, smirking slightly when she laughed at your expressed. she urged you on, promising that you would like the small little present. you untied the ribbon excitedly and lifted the lid carefully.

sat on a small bed of tissue paper, was the most beautiful charm bracelet you had ever seen. you instantly pulled it out, putting it up to your face to see it closer. it was only when you had gotten a closer look that you had realized what it was.

when you met caroline, you noticed she had always worn a small little bracelet on her left wrist. she told you about a month into your relationship that it was something she’s had since she was a kid, a way to keep important memories close to her. you adored the thing, always asking about the charms that she added and what her favorite ones were.

the bracelet she had gotten you was a near exact replica of hers. it shared a few of the charms that hers held, ones that you said were your favorite. but it also had several new ones. many came from the vacations you and caroline took together, others she bought because they reminded her of you, and one that had both of your initials in a heart. it was by far the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever gotten for you.

“caroline,” you exhaled, completely blown away “baby…i don’t know what to say”

she laughed, taking the bracelet from you and grabbing your hand. she delicately wrapped it around your wrist and secured the clasp. she pulled you in for a passionate kiss, wiping away the tears you seemingly couldn’t stop shedding.

“i hope you like it,” she said “i just know how much you like looking at mine and so i thought-i don’t know maybe it’s silly, but i thought you might like one of your own so we can match”

“of course i like it” you shook your head, looking back at your wrist to admire the charms “this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me…thank you so much, babe”

you spent the rest of that night on the couch, curled up into her side with a glass of wine as caroline explained each and every detail of the charms she picked out. she watched as you giggled at every fond memory she took inspiration from, noticing how you ran your fingers across the intricate designs of the little pieces, thinking about how much she loved you.

Watch you get dressed

And compliment your taste

she laid on your side of the bed, extended horizontally so that her stomach stretched along the width of the bed. her elbows were propped up to support her head as she watched your gorgeous figure from across the room. at first she was scrolling mindlessly on her phone to pass the time until you were ready to leave for your guys’ date, but now she was beyond distracted.

you emerged from the bathroom, hair done up and makeup dewy, walking over to your walk-in closet. you wore nothing except your nude bra and underwear, rushing around frantically trying to pick out an outfit. caroline was practically ogling at you, drooling at the sight.

“is this cute?” she had snapped from her trance when you came out, holding up a yellow dress to your body “i don’t know i can’t decide”

her eyes flickered back forth between your stressed expression and the frilly, lacey dress that had previously been tucked in some corner of the closet. she had seen you wear it a few times, remembering how much she loved the neckline and the way it flowed gracefully down your thighs. in truth, she loved everything you owned no matter what it was. she thought you looked good in everything.

she grinned at you, wanting to scream from how beautiful you looked “yea honey, that looks perfect”

“are you sure?” you asked again. she knew you liked things to be perfect, wanting to look your best for outings and such. but caroline always thought you looked your best no matter what “is it too fancy or anything? i don’t want to look like an overdressed loser or something-”

“hey,” she interrupted, making you quiet down and take a deep breath “you’re gonna look amazing, ok? you could be wearing a paper bag over your head and you’d still turn heads”

“you’re too sweet to me” you said rushing over to press a small kiss to her forehead before scurrying back into the closet to change. caroline observed you through the small crack you left in the closet door. not in a lurking way, she just wanted to appreciate her girl.

she bit her lip as she watched how you shimmied the dress over your hips, how you stuck your tongue out as you tried to zip up the back, and how you ruffled up your hair in the mirror probably a dozen times before deciding you were ready. then you waltzed out, just as beautiful as you were before, grabbing your bag and ushering her off the bed. you kissed the back of her hand as you interlocked fingers, making your way out the door.

man, she had really hit the jackpot with you.

…I'd be better armed

If you agreed to take it <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Girl Code (18+)

pairing: student!jihoon x student!reader

genre: college au, angst, smut (MDNI), lotta crack, friends to...?

description: when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.

warnings: brief bondage/restraint, heavy insecurity on readers part, self-doubt, dirty talk, pet names, dom!uzi, sub!reader, desperation, oral (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), muscly uzi, unprotected sex (dont do it guys....), pining, bad writing, red velvet are your friends, theyre super fun, mingyu is excluded badly, he just wants to b a part of it :(

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "i am simply a hole for him", "pussy? wet. heart? pounding. me? yearning", "every1 talks ab sapphic yearning but what ab just. jihoon-yearning?",

wordcount: 12.0k

a/n: idk why but this is deffo not as good as my previous works. n e way also sorry to @onlyseokmins bc i promised her a seokmin fic WHICH IS STILL COMING i just felt like this was kinda genius and needed to happen first ok bye

It’s mid-spring, and the world is blossoming and flowering around you. Grass sprouts greener, plants drink in the heavy rainfall and flowers are blooming, slowly unfurling their pedaled heads to crane into the beautiful sky. At odds with nature, people walk the street to be drenched in the downpour, only to be dried off by the shyly peeking sun, and to have freckles surfacing on their skin and hair, getting frizzy from the humidity, when they’re biking along the streets. It’s serene, it’s natural. You’re reminded to love the place that birthed and fostered you. 

But that’s out there.

You’re sitting, bottom planted firmly on the sticky surface of Joshua Hong’s couch, looking distantly into artificially colored lights, flickering across the floor, where people are dancing on one another in skimpy outfits and makeup, and everything is very far from the moon and the flowers. 

“The second one is a lie!” Seulgi yells over the music, cup of god knows what in her hand, and slurring her words.

Sitting on the couch and stools surrounding the coffee table is you, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Seulgi, Irene, Yeri and Jihoon.

“No, I know she likes anal!” Screams Soonyoung giddily (forever oblivious to his surroundings), receiving a glare from your roommate, Yeri. You were currently playing two truths and one lie, and attempting to discern whether Yeri was lying about being on television, lying about having black belt in taekwondo or lying about having tried anal. “It’s about whether or not she’s tried it!” Irene rolls her eyes and huffs. “My point still stands,” Soonyoung grins and eyes Yeri, and you watch somewhat disgusted, reminding yourself to ask her about it later.

You’re sitting next to Mingyu, utterly small next to him, and the two of you are only watching the scene unfold, sharing snickering glances when something funny happens. “I’ve never done taekwondo!” Yeri screams at Soonyoung, and you and Mingyu fall back in your seats laughing and slapping each other, when Soonyoung’s face drops for a moment. 

“They’re so dumb!” Mingyu cries, and you nod buried in a decorative pillow. 

“Screw this noise, I’m finding Junhui,” Hoshi mumbles, a little deflated from his loss. Then he’s standing up, cargo-pants and all, and trudging away, pouting over his shoulder when he hears the laughing continue.

Jihoon - who’s been incredibly quiet and observant throughout the night, only sipping a single bottle of beer, slaps his thighs. You’re hoping in his ever searching eyes he hasn’t seen the way you’ve been staring at him all night. Are you drunk or is he so complex and sexy, and wearing a t-shirt that shows his huge arms and pants that show his thick thighs? You’re almost certain you can chalk this up to only ever seeing him in sweaters that totally swallow him - almost. “I’m going too,” he announces, standing up and not leaving much room for argument.

“Why? I’ll be the only guy,” Mingyu whines, pout pushing out his bottom lip. You scoff. You know he loves feeling like he’s one of the girls. “Paper,” Jihoon says, and adds more, when he realizes he’s being so curt it’s almost rude: “Tomorrow. I have a paper tomorrow.” 

The group seems to accept this, knowing the stresses of college are weighing on each of them heavily. But your eyes narrow. You’re not buying it. 

You watch him sling his jacket across his body, biting back more words. He’s quiet, sure, but never this quiet. With how he’d slumped back in his seat all night, almost bent into himself, there must be something bugging him. Jihoon’s eyes meet yours. It’s a half a second, but you feel like he knows you’re on to him, the way he hides his face under his long, black hair again and turns his back to you. All of a sudden he’s hurrying away, excusing himself half-heartedly. You narrow your eyes even further and purse your lips.

“Be right back,” you say. Seulgi pouts.

You’re trudging after him, fussing with your hair all of a sudden and adjusting your dress and - God, you care so much how he sees you. But you suppose you care more that he’s okay. That’s why you’re squeezing through the dancefloor, getting grinded on by several anonymous bodies, before pushing out to the entrance and finally breathing air that wasn't coming directly from someone else’s mouth. 

“Jihoon, wait-” 

You catch up to him by the doorway, where he’s stopped his journey, to slip Vernon a bill for a ziploc of mediocre weed.

“Jihoon!” 

Finally, he hears you and he turns to you, where you’re regaining your last leg from the mass of bodies. Vernon is apparently still sober enough (you wouldn’t have thought so) to understand time and place, so he gently pushes past the two of you into the crowd. 

You’re not ready for the look he gives you. Eyes so sharp and face darkened from his shaggy hair, curling into his face, and frowning and furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t understand why you’re here. 

It sends your out-reaching body slamming backwards. You’re shrinking away from him, eyes flitting downwards self-consciously. You consider your history with him for a moment, weighing it in a glass of vodka-cranberry. This is pathetic, you realize, and it feels terrible. You’re pathetic and desperate and clingy and why would you feel the need to ask him this.

And then one moment to the next you’re scolding yourself for thinking that way. For thinking it was wrong to reach out a helping hand.

Jihoon apparently has enough of you debating with the angel and the devil on your shoulder, because he speaks finally: “What is it?” 

There’s a pause.

“Are you okay?” 

Another pause. You watch Jihoon’s face soften in shock, mouth falling open for a split second, before he’s closing it again and looking away. The ziploc crunches in his fingers, when they tighten and he shoves it into his inner pocket. 

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay.” 

And this time and even longer pause! You can barely take it, the way he looks at you, and it almost feels like he suspicious of you, like he’s trying to discern what you’re doing here in front of him.

“Have a good night,” you say. He nods slowly and begins to walk off, and you watch him and the way the moonlight fills the entrance, so you’re coated in for a moment. Then it disappears with a slam of the door. You let out a shaky sigh. 

Why did you do that? Why would you even think to do something like that? 

You decide against standing there for any longer, not allowing yourself to overanalyze it, and you turn around to go back to your friends. Yet again comes the song and dance of trying to navigate the most terrifying human cesspool, face scrunching up in disgust as you make your way back to the sofa, almost unscathed, except you think you accidentally got caught in an armpit. 

“Y/n! Come quick, so you can be a part of this momentous- momentous.. Moment!” You hear Mingyu calling and when he’s finally in view, you realize something very, very terrible is about to happen.

Mingyu’s holding a leather notebook between his fingers - Jihoon’s notebook. It’s the one he’s always writing in; the one he shuts closed whenever anyone gets too close, the one he keeps tucked under his arm at all times; the one he’s inexplicably writing in, even if he’s blasted on Vernon’s weed. And it’s private and he’s somehow forgotten it.

“We’re not opening it,” you say immediately, power-walking back to your spot in the couch. Mingyu snaps his head towards you, and he almost looks offended at that. “What do you mean we’re not opening it, of course we’re opening it!” 

“It could be private, Gyu!” You retort and Seulgi chimes from her spot on the couch: “I’m with Y/n.” 

“No, what? Fuck you guys! We’re seeing what’s in that notebook!-” Irene spits. “Thank you!” Mingyu says.

“Yeri, it’s up to you,” you say, eyeing your roommate sharply, as you sit down again. The entire group turns to her, fury behind their retinas, and she gulps, shrinking a little. 

“Me, I just…” she shrugs abashedly and trails off. There’s a moment where you think she’ll side with you and leave the poor boy alone. You have some semblance of faith in your friendship, and maybe, maybe she’ll back you-

“He’s a music major, it’s probably just angsty lyrics, now open!” 

“Yes!” Irene and Mingyu gloat, and despite wanting to respect his privacy, you scoot closer to Mingyu (he scoffs at you, but does not mention it further, as he is itching with curiosity). With a solemn, heaved sigh, as if about to unfurl the world’s grandest mysteries, Mingyu’s large hand flips the book open.

There’s no justified way to put word to the shock that follows this. The first page reads:

“Girl Code Rule #1

Guys should bring flowers on the first date. Either lilies, roses or tulips. Depends on vibe.”

There’s a confused silence - as much as silence as you can get from a bass-boosted room of drunk college students. 

“What?” Irene quacks in disappointment, leaning closer to read it again. “Why-.. Go to the next page.” And Mingyu does, turning over the page and the next couple of pages follow suit. 

“Girl Code Rule #2

Whoever offered the date pays for dinner. First date should always be dinner, ‘none of the bowling crap’.

Girl Code Rule #3

Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.

Girl Code Rule #4 

It’s an ick to wear skinny jeans. *Google what an ick is.”

They come one after another, each more confusing than the last, and it’s not until number 5, that the heavy, suffocating spread of realization begins blooming among you. Clarity - your minds open like leaves of a flower in spring.

“Girl Code Rule #5

The cinema on Attacca street is a nightmare and we hate them. Never go there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

“Us!” Yeri finishes, pointing her finger at the page but directing her eyes, wide and pupils small from shock, towards you. The group exchange gaping glances. It’s undeniable - the cinema thing is relating to an incident that had happened months prior. You refuse to go into detail, but it had gotten grim.

“These are all things we’ve said!” Seulgi snatches the book out of Mingyu’s hold, beginning to mindlessly scroll through the book with furrowed brows, etch growing deeper and deeper in outrage. 

“That’s- This is crazy. That’s so not cool!” You shriek and Yeri nods in agreement: “Girl code is for girls only!” 

There’s a general agreement on the outrageousness of this. That is, except for one big boy on the couch.

“I meaaaan,” Mingyu is looking a little sheepish sitting in the middle of you and Yeri and Seulgi and Irene. All eyes flit towards him, small and sharp. He’s talking slowly, lowly and carefully:  “You guys have to have said it out loud while he was there, so you weren’t exactly being discreet…” 

“Men don’t usually listen to women, we thought we were in the clear!” Irene hisses.

“No man has ever listened to me in my entire life,” Seulgi deadpans, looking at Mingyu from beyond the book. Mingyu throws his hands out, incidentally hitting Yeri in the face, and ignoring her pained groans when she falls back on the couch. “I listened. Just now. Check that off your list-” 

“Why is he writing this down..?” You mumble, seemingly the only one grasping the gravity of the situation (although maybe there is none? You can never tell when it’s with him) and it truly is such a mystery. Was he attempting to pry open the minds of women? You don’t exactly think he has trouble finding dates, so you’re left a little at a loss. 

“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.

“He just left, dumbass,” Irene spits and you can tell she’s almost disgusted with herself for ever siding with him.

“Let’s ask him tomorrow, then, after class,” you say decidedly. 

“Ugh, don’t talk about tomorrow..” Yeri groans, and you can see the regret settling in because why do all the hot guys throw weeknight parties? “Y/n, can we go home?” she asks and you’re nodding immediately.

“Seul?” 

“Yep.” 

And in the span of just a couple of seconds, your entire friend group is packing up, Seulgi stuffing the book into her tote bag. Mingyu’s still sitting, much smaller when you’re standing over him, and when he has that almost starstruck look on his face. “I’m so glad I’m a part of this, guys.” 

“You’re not.” 

“You’re not.” 

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu counters, clearly thinking otherwise. He’s grinning stupidly. “Hey, wait, where are we confronting him tomorrow?” he calls out suddenly, but you’re already on your way out.

“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?”  _____________________________

You, Yeri, Seulgi, and Irene sit side by side on the middle-back row in class, eyeing Jihoon from the peaks. It’s a quiet, morning class, and the teacher rambles on while the four of you glare down at him. Or at least they glare. You hope it’s not noticeable how there’s something softer in your eyes - something almost tender. He’s fidgeting a little. Maybe he feels the pairs of eyes on the back of his black-buried head or maybe he’s noticed the book is gone and he feels the consequences coming.

It was certainly a strange situation to tackle. Mingyu did have a point, if it was a private conversation, you certainly had not discussed it as such. And even then, was there a crime in what he was doing? You just couldn’t understand how Jihoon possibly felt the need to garner all this information on women. He’d never had trouble picking up girls. You would know.

You shake the terrible, terrible thought away, when Irene speaks up: “The coward is all nervous.” 

“Okay, let’s calm down. We can’t know he’s an evildoer, before we find out his true intentions.” Seulgi reasons, a hand soothing over Irene’s arm. Yeri nods softly. “God, I wish class was over.” 

And suddenly it was. Well, twenty more minutes of suffering through a class that was totally lost, picked up by the pollen-saturated wind. Then the professor is excusing himself and wiping the board. 

Never in your life had your group been so fast at packing up their things, pencils and computers shoved down bags, before you’re strutting (model-walking) over to Jihoon. “We need to talk to you,” Yeri says, once she’s in front of his desk, hand on the wood. Jihoon looks up from where he’s packing his bag, eyes peeking through the thick strands of hair. He nods. He knows. 

As you wait for students to exit the class (Minghao giving Jihoon a confused grimace, before he squeezes out), you study Jihoon. He’s still sitting, and you’re all towering over him. His pale skin is glowing in the light and he purses his lip and bounces his leg - God, his thick leg - in nervous await. 

Students are slipping out the door in droves and when the last, tired body escapes, Seulgi reaches into her bag and pulls out the leather-bound book. “We read it.” 

“I figured,” he mutters. He’s avoiding your eyes, flinching a little when Irene slams her hand onto the book. “So, why have you been writing down the girl code?” 

Jihoon sighs. His lips make a tight line, and you can see how he wonders what to say. The pause would’ve been more tense had you not had the girls with you. 

“The girl code is for girls only,” Yeri supplies. 

“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it-”

“Just answer the question, Jihoon!” Seulgi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is, like, top-level strange.” 

“Alright!” Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. His eyes flit to you, totally quiet and scratching your nails on the wooden table. You look away. He sighs a little. “I… It’s..” 

You almost want to hug him when he buries his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his hair. 

“You can’t tell anyone.” 

The four of you exchange glances.

“We won’t.” 

He pauses.

“It’s.. IhaveacrushonthisgirlandIdon’twanttomessitup.” 

There’s a beat, where the information glides cooly into your skulls and you begin to process. Jihoon - cold, cynical, loner Jihoon - has a crush on a girl and is trying to improve himself for her? 

Holy hell.

“Jihoon!” cries Seulgi and Irene chimes in, equally as adoring and diffused: “That’s so cute, you should’ve just said something!” 

There’s an uproar of coos and cries and oohs and ahhs and compliments being thrown at Jihoon and he just sits there, cheeks blazing bright red, although with a little, shy smile on his lips. 

And then there’s you. It’s so dumb. Why can’t you help the slight disappointment that lowers on you, like the fog does in the blooming season? Why can’t you smile wider, happier for Jihoon? Why do you feel this way? Does it really take all this commotion for you to realize how much you want him? You half-smile and look at your shoes. Just as how your feelings blossomed like a flower in spring, you hope they, too, are destined to wither away once more. 

“Congratulations,” you say to him, giving him a dignified nod. Jihoon looks at you for a moment, before he smiles tightly and thanks you.

“Jihoon!” Yeri says, and you know you’re about to hate her for what comes next: “We can totally help you with the crush!” 

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- you guys don’t have to-” 

“No, no! You can come to our girls’ nights and we can tell you everything!” Irene cuts in, nodding in reassurance. Jihoon smiles to himself a little sheepishly.

“Who is it?” Seulgi asks, and you can tell her heart is triple its usual size.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on!” Seulgi begs, but Jihoon is steadfast. He gives her cheeky smile and shakes his head again. “No way. It’s my secret.” 

“We can keep a secret!” Yeri begs, bending her knees in plea. You, unusually quiet, speak up again: “We can.” 

There’s a pause while Jihoon looks at you again. He narrows his eyes and it’s almost like he’s trying to decode you. Maybe he’s noticed you’re just as quiet as he was, at that party. You hate yourself when your heart picks up at the thought of him caring about you. 

Suddenly he’s snapping out of it and smiling and shaking his ruffled head of hair again. “No. If girl code was supposed to be a secret, then I don’t even wanna think about telling you.”

This time there’s no talkback, only somewhat embarrassed nods.

“We deserve that.”  _____________________________

You come back to your dorm room that afternoon, and lie down in bed. Thoughts of Jihoon plague your mind and you feel disease-ridden, attempting to push away the thought with the same useless reminder: You should do your paper, gotta do your paper now, it’s due very soon…

But no matter how many times you tell yourself, you can’t overcome the crushing feeling in your chest, like your entire rib cage is being compressed. 

You know when these emotions started. It was at the Halloween party, six months ago, and Jihoon had been wearing a cop-outfit and you, with a more humorous approach, a lobster costume (Mingyu was a chef). Somehow, he’d still found you sexy though, because he was laughing in the bathroom of Seungcheol’s frat house, ripping the costume off of you. 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna fuck a lobster,” he’d said in between kisses, laughing again as he caught sight of the costume, discarded on the floor. You giggled. “Me neither. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know?” 

And he’d thrown his head back, still with that black hair, still in that sexy fucking uniform, and his nose all scrunched and adam’s apple bopping in time with his joyful laughter. “Stop making me laugh while I’m trying to get you wet!” 

“I’m already wet,” you’d shrugged, “you’re hot.” 

And before you knew it you were handcuffed and he was rutting into you against the sink. His cock was disappearing and reappearing from your pussy, hooked onto him like a vice. Groaning and listening to your withheld moans, he’d left the most sinful hickies along your shining neck, while mumbling desperate praises to you: “You’re so pretty, N/n, letting me have you like this, so fucking hot.” 

You supposed you’d buried those feelings, because you felt so pathetic for catching feelings from a one night stand.

And it is pathetic. And you are pathetic, and desperate, and alone, and God, is it even Jihoon, or is it the way it suddenly feels like no one wants you? 

“Stop that,” Yeri says suddenly, lying on her bed on the opposite side of your room. You tilt your tired eyes towards her. “What?” 

“I can hear you thinking. What’s up?” She said nonchalantly, dropping her phone, that she’d been mindlessly scrolling through. Cheeks bunched up on your pillow and mascara smudging under your eyes, you look at her and sigh.

“Just tired,” you hum. _____________________________

Jihoon has been adopted. For a whole week following that incident, suddenly, your friends are taking him with them everywhere, and your safe space is invaded by his hair, his laugh, and his subtle cologne. It’s him with you during movie nights, it’s him during girls’ nights, and it’s him while you’re getting ready for a bar-night, all sitting in Irene and Seulgi’s pink-tastic room, doing makeup on the floor and on the desks and on the bed. 

“I love your eye makeup,” Seulgi says to Yeri (it’s a pink number with glittery inner corners), under eyes totally covered in white powder, as she’s baking her makeup. Jihoon is sitting on the floor, hair tied up in two pigtails that Irene had given him. “Thank you, Seul.”

You’re doing your own makeup, working blush into your cheeks and trying not to look at him, the way he’s half-lying on the carpeted floor, looking absentmindedly into his phone. His thighs are huge, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and you think you’re going insane.

Irene (who’s done with her makeup before anyone else, always) looks up from her own phone. She narrows her eyes deviously. “Jihoon, what do you think of Yeri’s makeup?” 

Jihoon snaps his head up, pigtails bouncing. “Uh,” he looks a little lost, when he turns his head over to Yeri, who smiles sheepishly, not totally understanding what was happening. “It’s nice.” 

“Just nice?” Irene smirks, and Jihoon finally seems to catch on to the fact that this is some sort of test. Indeed it was, and you knew it from the moment Irene began to talk. Your eyes flit between them, sitting behind you in the mirror. “Can you elaborate on that?” Irene smirks.

“It’s…” Jihoon considers what to respond, almost nervous. “She looks better without makeup.”

“Son, no!”

“Never!”

“Absolutely not!” 

It’s a cacophony from the girls, even a pillow is thrown at his head, which he dodges in shock. “Never say that to a girl, Jihoon! It’s rude!” Irene lectures, a finger pointedly thrown in his direction. When he doesn’t seem to get it, Yeri explains: “Imagine spending time on something, only for someone to say they’d wish you hadn’t done it all.” 

Jihoon, who’s been bristling like a disturbed cat up until now, softens in understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, our child, you’re learning,” Irene says, face turning back to her phone, as she apparently has lost interest in the conversation. 

You watch quietly with a bemused smile, having paused your ministrations on your face, brush held in the air before you. Jihoon’s eyes flicker over to you, an unreadable expression on his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror, pitch black and blank. You look away quickly.

You can feel him, still looking at you, and you feel self-conscious at the way you crooken your back to better focus on your face. What’s he thinking? That you look ugly? That your back is ugly? Your makeup?

“Are you okay, Y/n?” 

You freeze. His voice is soft as ever, and you understand now, better than ever, why he’s a music major, because it’s so melodious and sweet in your ears. All eyes in the room snap to you and you eye them all in the mirror. “Yep.” 

Yeri sighs, exasperated. “She’s been depresso for, like, a week.” 

“I’ve been fine,” you correct, smudging out the pencil on your lid. “I’ve been fineeee,” Yeri mocks, making her voice nasally and high. You glare at her through the mirror, but all she does is stick her tongue out at you. 

“I’m just stressed out, okay? I've got a lot on my plate,” you mumble bitterly, and it’s true, because every time you’re trying to do assignments, papers, write notes and focus in class, you think of him, and how he doesn’t want you. And one wrong thing leads to another, and then you’re thinking about how no one wants you, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you entered college. And then it’s something about how you look, or it’s something about how you are, as a person, and you just sit at your desk with this terrible feeling in you gut, trying not to cry, or hoping that your sniffles don’t overpower Replay by Shinee blasting in Yeri’s headphones, as she’s eating crackers in bed, just a few feet away from you. 

“Just talk to us if you need anything, okay?” Seulgi frowns and you smile at her, hoping it looks convincing. She nods at you, turning back to her handheld mirror. But alas one person stays staring at you. You avoid his eyes, trying not to look like you’re about to cry.

“I can arrange a spa day? We can get our toes done,” Irene asks, and she wiggles her toes in the air for emphasis. “Ooo, yes!” Yeri exclaims. 

Finally, Jihoon’s attention is ripped from you, wincing at the thought of another person handling his feet. “Can I skip out on that, maybe?” 

Irene scratches her chin, pretending to think about it. Then she says, bluntly and directly: “Nah.” 

_____________________________

“Let me come with you to the spa!” 

“No! Jihoon, walk faster,” like a mother, Seulgi is grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and dragging him further from the tall, huge man behind you. Mingyu is following you all like a dog, whining and crying, and pouting. “Please, guys! I don’t wanna go with Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they’re mean!” 

“Spa day is for girls only!” Yeri yells over her shoulder, as the five of you stumble away from Mingyu, crying out to you. “What about him?” Mingyu yells and points. 

“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Seulgi tells Jihoon and he nods very seriously. “He’s our adopted son! Now shoo!” 

Finally Mingyu gives up the chase, and you disappear behind the outerwall, beginning down a busy street towards Irene’s favorite spa. “I don’t get how you’re friends with that guy,” Irene says, elbowing you, and you both snicker. “He’s a pup,” you shrug.

The streets are filled with people, the sun is shining, and it’s spring, and everything should be great, because you’re with your friends. But he’s here too. Swallowed up by his hoodie, pitch black in a sea of colors, he’s still here and his very presence has you tense, and yearning for the touch of a masseuse. The streets that had grown so familiar, that you thought you had learnt and mastered, had become so foreign, and you’re trying to escape into yourself, trying to find a backdoor out of the constant blabbering, teaching Jihoon the importance of gossip and female communication and companionship. These are your friends. The sadness eventually musters into frustration.

Soon enough, you’re sighing so hard you think your soul escapes with it through your mouth. A spa-worker begins massaging your feet, and working her thumbs into your sore soles. Irene laughs at your reaction, two seats over. “Told you all you needed was a spa day!” she beams. Yeah, a spa day and maybe a new friend group that wouldn’t adopt the guy who you should certainly not be around!

And speaking of him, he’s sitting in the chair right next to yours, grimacing and flinching back from the disdained worker. 

“What are you gonna tell her?” Yeri quips, smiling at the end of the row. Jihoon takes a second to snap out of his constant flinching, looking over at her nervously. “Oh, uh…” 

The girls are all looking at him expectantly, but you’re squeezing your eyes shut and wishing your ears could shut too. 

“Probably, like.. ‘Hey, I like you, would you maybe wanna go out on a date sometime?” 

“Pssh!”

“Absolutely not!”

“As if!” 

Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.

“Here’s what you’re actually gonna say,” Seulgi leans over in her chair towards him, directing him with a finger in her armrest. You hear Jihoon scramble in his chair, and you know he’s taking out that stupid notebook again.

Seulgi lowers her voice to mimic his, when she talks again: “‘Hi, crush, how are you?’ Wait for her response… Then: ‘I’ve always thought you were very beautiful. Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date, would that be okay with you?’ And be suave about it.” 

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”

Yeri and Irene burst into laughter, hitting the armrests of their chairs and covering their bright smiles with their hands. Even you snort in amusement. “What?!” Seulgi exclaims, outraged. “What’s so funny about that?” 

“Nothing, I just-...” Irene wafts herself, trying to ease away that tears of glee that spring in her eyes. “I can’t imagine any man, let alone our son, saying that to a woman.. Wow.” 

“It’s good! I would be flattered,” Seulgi defends herself viciously. Yeri snorts from her seat: “It’s not a drama, Seul!” 

“Well!” Seulgi scoffs, twisting her upper body to face Yeri now. “Maybe I would like my life to be a drama, thank you very much!” 

Their argument continues viciously, insults and laughter being thrown at each other left and right and you can almost begin to tune them own, letting the feeling of pads on your feet and a gentle, cool brush on the nail lure you to sleep.

Then there’s a hand on your forearm. You peek an eye open and see him - God, it just has to be him - leaning over his chair to gently grasp you. He looks at you through lashes, and he’s so sincere that it kills you when he says: “I can tell you’re not okay.” 

You’re a little taken aback, one second prior you were being lulled to sleep and now he’s talking to you, so low, so seriously, while the girls try to attack each other behind him. You wish your heart isn’t suddenly galloping, and you wish his warmth on your arm and radiating onto you isn’t so nauseating. “I-”

“Don't say you are, when you're not. You’re very obvious, you know?” he hums, smiling softly when he sees you flush from his intense gaze. You avert your eyes nervously. “Uhm. I just.. I don’t really want to talk about it, Hoon.” 

You flick your eyes back up to his to survey his reaction. His expression softens at the nickname, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he nods in understanding, all the warmth of his closeness disappearing, when he sits back down in his seat.

“That’s okay,” he smiles at you in reassurance, and your heart leaps, and you can’t help but think that he doesn’t need anymore training to make his crush - whoever the lucky girl is - completely and totally happy for several lifetimes. 

He’s a beautiful, sun-beamed flower, where he sits, light flitting through the store-front windows. You’d be happy for several lifetimes. If only he wanted you. _____________________________

“What is going on?!” 

It’s Mingyu, and he’s somehow found you, as you’re trudging out of your latest class, suddenly hot on your trail and outraged about something or other. “What?” you mumble, heading to the cafe near the end of the hall.

“With Jihoon?! Why does he get to be your son when I don’t?!” Mingyu wafts his arms and pouts and you cringe, leaning away from his loud voice. “Ugh…” 

“I need to know why he was writing that girl code stuff, Y/n. Why is he suddenly allowed at girls’ nights, when I’ve been trying to get in for months?!” 

You take a turn into the cafe and sigh at how crowded it is, immediately placing yourself in line, Mingyu right behind you. “Calm down,” you say, just wanting a sandwich and maybe some peace and qui-

“I will not!” he snaps back, brows furrowed and a determined look on his face. You look up at him, pursing your lips in thought. Did Mingyu deserve to know? Maybe. He had been trying to get into girls’ nights forever, always going on about being ‘an honorary member’. 

“I’m not sure I can tell you- Hey, can I get a tuna sandwich, please?” You say, quickly turned to the clerk behind the counter. “I won’t tell anyone, pleaseee- Can you get me one of those too? Thanks.”

You’re handed your sandwiches, and you hold both of them, drifting over to a table by the window, both of Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders and his voice in your ear: “Please, please, please, pretty please with the sugar on top?”

You plop down in your seat, simply exasperated, and hand him his sandwich. He’s settling himself down when you answer: “Okay.”

“Yes!” Mingyu fists the air in victory, mumbling self-assured under his breath: “Begging always works.” You snort and take a big bite of your sandwich. 

“Stop eating and tell me!” he whines. “I’m hungry– Hey!” 

Mingyu snatches the sandwich right out of your hands and grins at you deviously, dancing with it. You hate him. You hate him, but it is a little endearing.

“Jihoon has a crush on some girl and he’s been writing down the girl code in an attempt to understand women,” you deadpan, and when Mingyu’s mouth and guard drops, you snatch your sandwich back and begin gulping down hungrily. 

“Are you shitting me?!” You shake your head.

“So, that's why he's allowed at girls’ night?” You nod your head. 

“So, that’s why you’ve been so down?” You almost choke on your food.

“What?” 

“Because you like him,” Mingyu says seriously and, with a totally stunned look on your face, you shark down the bits of sandwich in your mouth painfully. “How do you know that?!” you cry, head suddenly snapping in seventy different directions, relief washing over you, when none of your or Jihoon’s friends are around.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird around him since you fucked at Seungcheol’s Halloween party,” Mingyu shrugs. You wave your arms wildly.

“How do you know that?!” Whining, you throw yourself back in your seat, and bury your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Your delicate secret, the one that could have - should have - simply faded away into summer, was now out and open, and you look out the window, and it’s spring.

“I know everything,” Mingu says ominously, giggling evilly.

“Mingyu, I will fucking kill you.”

“Fine! I needed to pee and you guys were super loud,” Mingyu pouts and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “No need to be so rude.” 

“I can’t believe you know,” you groan, head collapsing on the table. Mingyu, forever and always silly, finally softens and frowns. You’re scattered. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“No,” you say. Then, a moment later (in true Girl Code fashion) you’re lifting your head from the table and burying it in your hands: “I just. I don’t know, Mingyu. I feel so pathetic for liking him after a one night stand! And now he’s doing all this for another woman and he’s with us all the time…I haven’t had a boyfriend in college, Mingyu. I just feel so…” There’s a pause, when you’re trying to find the right word, and Mingyu stops breathing, looking at you and fearing the worst. Then comes the word, ripping itself from your lips:

“Unlovable.” 

Mingyu’s frown deepens. Big, puppy Mingyu who’s always silly and happy, just slumps in on himself. “You’re not unlovable,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely disbelieving. You scoff.

“Thanks, Mingyu, it’s just.. That’s how it feels,” you admit, running a hand through your hair and looking at your half-eaten sandwich on the table. Mingyu’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks up again, he’s determined, and you can discern almost immediately that there’s no escaping this plan. Or he’ll for God’s sake start begging again.

“I’m going to wingman you,” he’s nodding to himself, and you can see the plan falling into place in his head, “I’m gonna wingman you and set you up with my friend at the party on Saturday!” 

“Please, don’t,” you groan half-heartedly, but a piece of you brightens with hope, with summer, like maybe this was the thing you needed to get over your schoolgirl-crush on Jihoon.

“No,” Mingyu responds simply. “This is happening.”  _____________________________

Indeed, it is happening. 

The frat house is practically bumping with each beat of whatever pop song is playing over the speakers, and you lean into the rhythm that reverberates in the kitchen table beneath your fingers.

You somewhat wish that you hadn’t been as excited for this as you were, that you hadn’t spent hours picking out the perfect pink dress and doing your makeup, and that you aren’t hopelessly dependant on Mingyu (of all people) to find you a fuck. But you are. Putting on that dress and hoop earrings and doing your hair and declining Yeri’s invitation to the girls’ (and Jihoon’s) pre-party, you feel like you’re scrambling, like constantly falling through the air, flailing for something to ground yourself on. 

Now, scanning over the tinted lights and the dancing people and feeling the slight, warm buzz of vodka in your blood, you know you need this. And still, you combat that slight anxiety, the insecurity that you hadn’t felt in years - what if Mingyu couldn’t find a single guy that wanted you? 

Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.

“Okay! We just gotta figure out who to set you up with. Take your pick,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing and gauging your reaction. Your brows furrow as you shrug. Somehow, even when half the guys are objectively hot, you can’t say you find yourself drawn to any of them. You don’t linger on the feeling, fearful that maybe you’ll realize all the things they’re missing, the things they’re falling short of, are just Jihoon’s traits. “I don’t know, man. I just-..” 

Mingyu senses your struggle and elects to give you his excellent guidance. “Alright, well you could do Joshua?” He’s pointing somewhere in the crowd, and sure enough, you notice Joshua, majoring in communications or something like that. “He’s a star: total hottie, super smart, sweet and considerate, and-” 

“And he fucked Yeri,” you deadpan, head lolling over to look at Mingyu disapprovingly. Mingyu’s mouth falls open: “What?!”

“Yeah, like, two months ago!” you argue, wafting your hands. Mingyu’s mouth stays open, and he’s seemingly totally appalled by this. 

“What?! Okay- nevermind. How about him?” He points his long limbs again, and this time you notice- 

You narrow your eyes confusedly. Hopefully Mingyu was not trying to set you up with the biggest player in your year? “Jeonghan?!” 

“What? No, the guy beside him, dickwad,” he playfully smacks the side of your head as you refocus your eyes. Indeed, a blonde guy is standing next to Jeonghan, seemingly whining at him. “Who’s he?” 

“Lee Chan. Super sweet, great bod, a little dumb, but very doting-” 

“Is he a freshman?!” you cry, almost as if it were a crime. Mingyu huffs. “You’re not making this easy, you know?!” 

“I’m not dating or fucking a freshman,” you cross your arms and Mingyu senses the air of finality in your words. He sighs, slumping behind you for a moment, before he spots something across the room.

“Wonwoo! What about him?” he doesn’t even bother pointing at this point, simply tilts your head towards the man, who was currently talking to Seungcheol a little ways from the kitchen. You spot him. You suppose you’d always been a little curious about Wonwoo. From what you’d seen of him in passing, he was sweet and polite, absolutely gorgeous and extremely smart. You nod solemnly.

“I could- I could see that,” you say and Mingyu’s eyes light up. He bounces victoriously, punching the air. “He’s great, you’re- you’re gonna love him,” Mingyu delights and before you can even get another word in, Mingyu’s yelling across the room: “Hey, Wonwoo! Wonwoo, scootch over here!”  

Your eyes widen in shock. “Wha- we’re doing this now? Just, on the fly? No warning?” 

“It’s fine,” Mingyu waves you off, eyes trained on where Wonwoo is now walking towards you. 

“Do I look okay?” your voice is wavering nervously. You still can’t help how you feel, even in your dress and your makeup. Where had all your confidence gone? The confidence with which you’d literally fucked Jihoon in a lobster-costume? Even the thought of him stings. Mingyu’s confident facade falters for only a split second at the vulnerability in your tone. His gaze softens and he looks at you: “You look great, N/n. Calm down, Wonwoo’s super nice.” 

“Hey, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is cool, as he approaches Mingyu. Standing in front of you and Mingyu, he briefly scans you, then acknowledges you with a nod and a sweet smile. “Wonwoo, hey, you know, I was just wondering if you’ve already done the history paper?” 

Wonwoo is unamused. “I’m not doing your paper again, Mingyu.” 

“Oh well, shucks, that’s simply too bad,” Mingyu (poorly) feigns annoyance and defeat, before he’s grabbing your shoulder. “Anyway, Wonwoo, have you met my very good friend, Y/n?” 

You fake a smile, hoping the absolute pain of the current interaction was not showing on your face. If you’d known Mingyu was this bad at wing-manning, you would’ve gladly put up with his begging instead. You want to crawl into a hole and die, because based on Wonwoo’s smug smile, he has a pretty good understanding of what’s happening.

“Whoops, look at the time!” Mingyu looks at his wrist. He is not wearing a watch. “Damn, I guess I gotta go and- and leave my two good friends alone with each other, such a shame, uh, anyway!” As he speaks he backs further and further from you, trying to ignore the glare in your eyes, before he’s bolting at his last word. 

There’s an awkward silence as soon as Mingyu’s gone. You feel like an unshelled turtle. You purse your lips and stare at your heel-clad feet. 

“So, Mingyu was trying to wingman you?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and bemused. You look at him in horror, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.

“Yeah,” your breathe, and he immediately begins laughing. “Sorry about that, he was- he was just trying to be helpful, although it’s hard to defend him right now.” 

“He’s wingmanned me before, too,” Wonwoo muses and, thank God, this was actually a good thing. You find a balance on the common ground. “Really?” you grin, looking up at him.

“Yep,” Wonwoo admits, “safe to say I did not get my dick wet.” 

You laugh hard, and it feels like a switch has flipped inside you, restarting your joy-generator, because you’re laughing and hitting Wonwoo’s arm, and he’s smiling because he’s just made a pretty girl laugh. 

“He’s so bad!” you say when you’re done laughing. “Everytime!” Wonwoo drawls, “Everytime he pulls that shit and he’s never wearing a watch!” 

You and Wonwoo laugh together, throwing (good-hearted) snarky comments about Mingyu around, and your cheeks are rosy and shining in the kitchen-light. Finally, party still bumpin’ and pumpin’ in the near distance, your laughter dies down and you’re both half-leaning against the counter. Wonwoo looks down at you with a smug smile. 

“What?” you ask, growing insecure again under his gaze. He hums.

“So you asked for me?” 

“Hm?” 

“When Mingyu was wingmanning you,” Wonwoo reminded you, tilting his head. “You asked for me?” 

“I-” you stutter, and your heart clenches nervously, because if things had been right, if things were different at least, you would have asked for Jihoon. It’s this gut-punching guilt. It feels wrong to use him, Wonwoo, to overcome Jihoon. “He was laying down my options.” 

“Options?” Wonwoo quips, brow raised questioningly, but he doesn’t interrogate further. Instead, he leans his head down, so he’s much, much closer to you, breathing hitting your face when he whispers: “But you wanted to fuck me. Isn’t that right?” 

You gulp. His presence is almost suffocating. Avoiding his eyes, you flicker them onto the dancefloor, where- 

Where Jihoon is storming out of the house. 

You squeeze your eyes shut - something Wonwoo thinks is out of embarrassment, from the question he’s just asked you - and try to refocus on Wonwoo. Try to ignore how the thoughts about Jihoon come bubbling in your head. It was probably something with his crush. You want to do nothing more than comfort him, hold him, steal away every bad thought he may ever have. 

You open your eyes, hoping that somehow seeing Wonwoo’s face would fill you with a need for him - him, and not Jihoon - but seeing him in the low lighting only serves as a reminder that Wonwoo is not him. 

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I gotta go. I’m really, really sorry-” you say suddenly, and immediately you’re scurrying towards the door. Wonwoo frowns, eyes following you in your path. “Did I- Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

“No, you were hot!” you say absent-mindedly, before you’re disappearing into the entrance, and then further along, out the door.

Wonwoo stands alone at the counter, still somewhat leaned towards your ghost in front of him, and shakes his head in confusion. “What the fuck?”  _____________________________

“Jihoon?” 

You exit just in time to see him, stomping on the other side of the road, armless denim jacket wafting in the wind. It’s spring, just warm enough that you’re not freezing, but still cold enough that you curl your arms around yourself. Your hair blows gently. It smells distantly like flowers. 

He turns around at your voice. When he does, you know your suspicions were right. He looks so defeated. His gorgeous long hair, that usually only makes you clench your thighs together, is limp and drags him downwards. His arms hang similarly at his sides, fists clenched at the bottom, causing veins to ripple along the forearms. He stands just below a street light, spot-lighted, as if on a stage.

“Leave me alone!” he yells out to you across the road, voice breaking halfway. This does nothing to dampen his demeanor - this tough front, this anger he suddenly carries. You still in the grass beside the road, looking at him pleadingly. He can’t hold your gaze.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Jihoon,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “But I can just.. Support you. You don’t have to be alone right now.” 

This almost seems to piss him off more, clenching his jaw, sharply defined by the harsh shadows, and steering his head away from you, like a sunflower following the sun in the sky. It hurts your heart. The way he almost seems angry with you. And yet again you’re made to feel pathetic for following him out here. Like you’re on your knees and he’s standing there in front of you, spitting on you. Why does it hurt so much? You almost wish you’d stayed with Wonwoo - that you’d followed him to his room and let him fuck you and pretended you weren’t thinking about him the entire time.

“Shouldn’t you go back inside?” he’s prickling with hostility. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”

“Jihoon,” you say breathlessly. “None of us is having a good time if you’re not.” 

Whatever cog you unturned, whatever screw you unscrewed, Jihoon’s tightly wound posture unwinds, and he softens and withers before you, one hand clamping over his eyes. You take this as a sign to move towards him, heels clicking on the asphalt warning him of your advance. It’s deadly quiet, save for the heartbeat of the frat house behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally lowering his hand and looking at you. You smile sympathetically, relief flooding you, when he lets you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

The two of you begin to walk in silence, and you recognize it as the path that leads back to the dormitory. It’s calm, steps becoming rhythmic and breeze easing your muscles with its cool touch. You study his face as it’s lit and unlit by the systemic presence of street lights. You’re able to put your own feelings aside for him, to be a martyr, and to sacrifice yourself to comfort him. It feels like cutting your own throat to talk to him about another woman, a woman he loves, truly, but you know it must be done.

“So,” you muster finally. “What happened in there?” 

He scoffs bitterly, looking at the pavement underneath his shoes. You frown. “Nothing happened.” 

“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.

“I didn’t tell her.” 

“Oh.” 

You’re honestly not the best comforter, you realize, cringing and hoping you’re not making it worse by talking to him about it. You see the faint outline of the dormitory at the end of the street. 

“Why not?” you quip quietly. His mouth makes a tight line. He breathes out shakily, and you fear you’re riling him up again by asking further.

“She was talking to some other guy,” Jihoon says, eyes flitting to yours before immediately ducking back to the pavement. You furrow your brows. Could it be you? That thought nurtures the spring garden in your stomach, the one you’d been trying to kill. But the insecurity that had come with it, and with him, only manages to squander that light.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you say softly, hand finding his arm, but he pulls it away from you immediately. Ouch. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor. 

Finally, you decide to just shut up, to stop pushing him when he’s so vulnerable, but this time it’s Jihoon who doesn’t stop speaking. “You know,” he begins and again he’s laughing, but you can tell it’s only a cheap plaster for the pain in his voice, “I’d memorized that- that confession thing Seulgi made. And I followed all the- the style advice and the-” his voice breaks and he hisses at how pathetic it sounds. “Everything. I did everything,” he summarizes finally and when you look you see orbs of tears forming at his waterline, like the dew drops that sparkle on leaves in spring. 

You don’t know what to say. It’s almost too hard to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“Stop saying that,” his voice is harsher, groggier, thick and stained by the sobs in his throat. You pause your steps. You’re standing in the yard outside the dormitory now. Hundreds of windows become an audience to where you now stand before each other. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“Because-” he wipes the tears away aggressively, composing himself before he finally, finally looks at you. “Because you’re gonna make me think that you actually care.” His voice is suddenly laced with venom again. The hostility that you’d tamed returns and it’s so much stronger, more bitter. You’re taken aback.

“I-I do care? Why do you think I don’t care-” 

“Oh, please, Y/n. You didn’t want me at your girls’ nights or at spa day or fucking whatever. You didn’t- You don’t care about my book or my crush or my-” 

“I do care!” you interrupt, voice stern and much louder. “What, you think I follow you out of parties for fun? Because I don’t care about you? And yeah, maybe I didn’t want you at the girls’ nights, but what does that matter-” 

“It matters because!–” he stops himself in his tracks, hand coming out to halt you. “Fuck it, wait here,” he orders, and suddenly he is trudging into the darkness of the courtyard. You stand still, flabbergasted, and thoroughly confused. It’s so dark you can’t even see what he’s doing, only hear him in the dirt, silhouette blending into the shadows. Then, he’s walking back to you and you finally see him. 

There are flowers in his hands. 

It’s a makeshift bouquet, held tightly in between his veiny, pale hands, consisting of flowers that grow in the courtyard, red, yellow and lilac. It’s a slow-burning realization as he stands himself before you, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that is laced with pain. You know this part of the girl code. 

“Hi, Y/n, how are you?” he breathes, and his voice is shaking and he’s looking at you and practically begging you to play along - to indulge him, even if you would turn your back on him. You can hardly register anything but him and those flowers, because your surroundings, the moon, the stars, the shadows and the streets are overpowered by the blooming in your chest. A single flower unfurls the pedals of your heart until you are open before him. You meet his eyes.

“I’m good.” 

He nods. 

“I’ve always thought you were very beautiful,” it almost seems like it physically pains him to admit these breathless feelings. “Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date,” another pained, gulping pause. “Would that be okay with you?”

It’s as if time has stopped in this moment; how his chest rises and falls under his shirt, how his hair gently nuzzles his face, how his eyes blear out at you from underneath his bangs, how he glows in the moonlight, and how his hands shake around the stems of the flowers. 

“Was I..” his voice is hoarse, “Was I suave about it?” 

“Yes,” is all you can manage, because all those flowers that you had stomped into a half-death were coming alive again and this time it was more than welcome.

“Yes?” 

“Yes, you can take me on a date,” you break into a wide smile and, upon realizing you probably look like an idiot, you lower your gaze and your warm, shining cheeks to the pavement. He gasps, and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

“But- you and Wonwoo-?” 

“Do you wanna know why I was even talking to Wonwoo?” you ask, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s also smiling. You can’t help but reach out a hand to wrap around one of his, still frozen in holding the flowers. He quickly maneuvers the bouquet to the other hand and intertwines your fingers. Your heart soars. “Mingyu found out that I was sad because you had a crush on someone - I didn’t think it was me, you know? So he promised to wingman me at this party.” 

“Son of a bitch,” Jihoon whispers, and you laugh, feeling so floaty and lovely. “Don’t call him that,” you say, but Jihoon only smiles cheekily, eyes matching the crescent moon in the sky above you.

“No, I meant me,” he says. He looks down at the flowers and frowns. “Is that why you were so quiet? On girls night?” 

You nod and he sighs. “I’m such an idiot.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re so sweet,” you say genuinely, and Jihoon nearly melts at how much you mean it. There’s something so wonderful about the way all the words, that he would never use to describe himself, float around your head and sparkle in your eyes in this moment, looking up at him.

Jihoon needs to kiss you.  He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything as badly. He rips his free hand from yours only to place it tenderly against your cheek, pulling your face and your warmth into him, bouquet held out at his side to allow you snugly in his chest. 

His lips are so soft and his nose nuzzles your own, plush hair tickling your forehead, and his huffed out breaths dance along your cheeks. Your lips mod perfectly, unlocking the shackles with which that earth-shattering yearning had held onto you. The world is anguish but will momentarily and suddenly be interrupted,  cleaved apart with a sudden gash, by a planet-killer: love. 

You truly don’t mean to make it heated, hell, you’d be content just kissing him forever, feeling how his tongue prods at your lips and meets your own, but his sculpted chest under your fingers draws out a pathetic moan. His eyebrows spring up and he pulls back to look at you. You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your dress.

“Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot,” he gasps, lips swollen from your insistent sucking on them, panting into the night air. You brighten at his compliment. “Inside. Now. To my room.” 

“You know, girl code says to not have sex before on the third date,” you say smugly, unprepared when his free hand pushes you back into his chest, and his lips drag over half of your face, finding home at your ear. His voice is a growl: “Fuck. Girl code.” 

He begins a somewhat dramatic march to the front door and you can’t help but run after him, taking his hand, and seeing how he smiles at that feeling. He looks so happy. Your heart skips a beat, because it’s you - you’re the one making him so happy. 

And he’s so hot, it’s all you can think about as he drags you along the corridors, how nice his arms look in the sleeves denim, how pretty his hair is, his fucking face, and the chest you just barely felt under your fingertips. You’re watching doors pass in a monotonous routine, jittery and unable to wait for the one that might be his, for him to take you through it, and for you to bloom, totally and perfectly under him.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes, voice gruff and much lower than you’re used to when he stops at his door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. It enters the lock and with a click, everything you fantasized about is opening to you. 

As soon as you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing you against the wall, nails gripping into your dress, when he finally drops the makeshift bouquet on his nightstand. He cries out into your mouth at the way your chest bounces from the impact, immediately capturing your lips in his again. 

You can’t help the way you’re tugging at his hair, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of him, when he shoves a thigh between your legs. You moan into his mouth, rutting into him, while his wandering hands pull your skirt up you to pool around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, how your hips cant into his strong, big thigh, and how your pink, lacey panties cling to your wet pussy. 

“Off,” he mumbles, apparently having decided that the simple tugging of the fabric of your dress won’t be enough. You turn around in a daze, not even uttering a word, simply shoving the zipper at the back of it. 

Jihoon groans, he has to, seeing the way you stick out your ass to him, while your hand lay flat on the wall. You shake your hips teasingly at him, and his hands float to your ass, petting it and squeezing it in his fingers, and biting his lips because it looks so fucking good and plump, and there’s a wet spot in your panties. He grabs your hips and rubs his dick into you. You gasp at the feeling, nails scratching against the wall.

“You make me so hard, baby,” he says breathlessly, unable to help himself humping against you, pre-cum spilling from his tip. “Shit,” he grunts, and you’re squeezing your eyes closed at the outline of his dick pressing into your pussy. 

Finally Jihoon collects himself and his cold hands drag the zipper down. The top of your dress loosens and slides down your shoulders, where Jihoon aids you in slipping it off. His hands spin you around, finally taking a breath to marvel your bare chest in front of him. 

You blush, suddenly so bashful, when just before you were wiggling your ass at him. You curl your arms over your chest, but Jihoon’s own come to stop them. “No, no, no, no,” he tuts, almost sad, “why are you doing that?” 

You don’t answer immediately, but apparently it’s not a rhetorical question. His hands intertwine with yours to prevent you from covering yourself up. “Uh, I don’t know,” you stammer sheepishly, “I don’t wanna, like, kill the mood or any-” 

“You’re not killing the mood, pretty,” Jihoon whispers so, so achingly sincere and your heart hurts. 

“Sorry, it was just-” 

“Don’t say sorry,” he lectures, interrupting again. He tilts his head and he looks at you with a flaming intensity. “Try again.” 

You pause, flustered out of your mind.

“I-I’ve just been feeling a little insecure lately, I guess,” you say and you’re positive your face is beet-red, but if it is Jihoon says nothing, only pouts and releases one hand only to direct your eyes back to his with a hand on your chin. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he says and even when you seek it out, you can’t find even the slightest hint of lying in his voice. “I want to show you, but I can’t do that if you cover up. Understand?” 

You nod, lips breaking into a little smile, that his heart becomes hot like the spring-sunshine. “Okay,” you say and he smiles brightly, releasing your chin from between his fingers. 

He guides you onto the bed, but it’s no longer heated and rushed, it’s so soft and gentle, and he pulls off your underwear only after you whisper in agreement, and then he lowers himself into it, again, only allowing himself the pleasure when you whisper a strained yes and nod vigorously. 

He fully makes out with your pussy - his lips are wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking it, and fucking moaning into it, sending vibration straight to the coil in your stomach. You’re moaning so loud, broken cries bouncing off the walls, while your finger wrap into his hair and your legs thrash. His tongue flattens against your folds, then dips down to trail around your slit. 

“Jihoon!” you cry, hips bucking into his mouth. He groans again, releasing your pussy with a soft pop. “Fuck, baby, keep saying my name like that.” And then his face disappears in your pussy again.

And you do, everytime his nips and gums on your sensitive folds, tongue trailing back up to your nub to fully envelop it. He sucks, hard. And you think you might cum the second you look at him, because the image of his full head of hair buried in between your legs and lapping like a starved man is so pornographic, your head spins.

He might go insane from just the taste of you, he realizes, because even when you cry that you’re cumming, and your legs shake around his head and your pussy is soaked with your cum, he can’t bring himself to pull away, strong arms wrapping around stomach to still you as you begin to wiggle from the feeling of his tongue just continuing to lap at you.

“Jihoon! Fuck, t-too much,” you whimper and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He finally pulls away, eyes still trained on your pretty cunt, and the way it clenches around nothing. “Clenching so hard, sweetheart, only for there to be nothing, shouldn’t we fix that?” he hums, leaning down to trail his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness on its tip.

You whimper uncertainly, when he crawls back over your body, hair tickling your face when hovers just above you and he shushes your pathetic squeaks. He pushes the wet finger into your mouth and you suck obediently. “Shh, baby, just taste yourself on my finger, how can you be insecure with a pussy like that, hm?” 

You cry around his single digit, tongue sliding over it eagerly. He wants to fuck your face, the way your pretty, plump lips wrap around his finger, but he’ll save that for another time. “Shh, baby, I know. You’ll be stuffed full of cock soon, don’t worry,” he rasps soothingly, and slips his drenched finger from your mouth. 

Finally, he rips the denim jacket off, white tee following soon after, and you’re left, mouth gaping, at the how toned his stomach is, how big his pecs are and how fucking thick his arms are at his side. 

“You’re so fucking hoot, Hoonie,” you drawl, making grabby hands to urge him back to you. He smiles at those words, even gains a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he shakes his head. “Gotta get my pants off, baby.” 

“Hurry up,” you grin playfully, and he scoffs at you from where he stands, pants and boxers coming off in one fell swoop. “So needy,” he mumbles to himself, but you can tell by the overjoyed expression on his face, that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. 

His cock is finally freed, and your eyes float to it, drinking in the sight of him. He’s so pretty and so red, and a single vein creeps up its curved surface towards the oozing head. You gulp, eyes sparkling. 

“Wan’ it in my mouth,” you mumble, where you’re now half sitting up and glowing from your first orgasm. Jihoon looks at you and laughs, as he climbs on top of you again. 

His face hovers over yours, finger carding through your hair tenderly. He looks in your eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

He coos at you, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and you feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily on your stomach. “Not right now, pretty, I wanna fuck you.” 

“You don’t have to cum-” you reason, mouth practically watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. He stops you though, hand still brushing through your hair, so delicately, as if you were a lily, or a rose, or a tulip.

“I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you look at me like that with my fucking cock in your mouth,” he whispers, and it’s so intimate, despite being so vulgar. How warm you both are, naked and holding onto each other and his dick is oozing onto your stomach and your pussy is leaking onto his sheets. “Like that,” Jihoon emphasizes, when you look up at him adoringly. You smile. 

“Okay,” you say, a determined look on your face, “later then.” 

He laughs. “Eager baby. Relax, you’re gonna get a pussy full of cock now, your mouth can wait.” 

You wanna retort, say something snarky, anything, but you’re abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his cock pushing into you. You moan and your nails claw at his back, because it’s so big and so raw in your pussy, you feel that fucking vein dragging against your walls. “Shit, Hoonie. Fuck, fuck.” 

He’s groaning too, hands on your waist and face in your neck. “So fucking tight, so pretty.” 

You’re both panting when his cock is fully nestled inside you, sitting snug against your walls. You look up at him and he’s pretty, all flushed and lips swollen, and the sight makes you clench. He hisses, jerking abruptly, making the both of you moan. 

“Fuck, baby, can’t just clench on me like tha-” 

“Please, please, just fuck me now, can’t wait anymore!” you cry, clawing at him, nails raking over his flexed biceps, where he holds onto you. And he can’t help but fulfill your wish.

You honestly don’t know where he gets his stamina, because the second you’re done asking, he’s ramming into you so hard and so fast, your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a long whine. The whole bed is shaking from the impact, as his hips sheath and unsheath from your warm, welcoming pussy. 

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he drawls, hands trailing up from your waist to your bouncing chest, thumbing over your nipples. “Bet Wonwoo wishes he got to see you like this, hm?” 

The way your pussy has his cock in a chokehold, the way you’re lying beneath, it has him fully dazed, and now he babbles all that comes to mind. “Yeah, but you’re mine, princess. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else can have you crying like this for their cock, right?” 

“N-No one else,” you whimper, sopping cunt clenching and unclenching around his dick. “That’s right,” he pants, humid breath on your cheek, “Say you’re mine, pretty girl, say you’re fucking mine.” 

“A-ah, ‘m yours, Hoonie,” you cry and he thinks he might cum just like that, at your blissed face, glowing beneath him, and your pussy sucking him in, and you obeying him thoughtlessly. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he rewards you by dragging his hand down your stomach to rub your clit. Your whole body convulses into his, hands dragging over his big arms for support. “Come on, sweetheart, cum on my cock now.” 

And you do, the tension in your stomach tightening beyond what you can take, before it finally unfurls, and it blooms, and it’s spring, and your squirting all over Jihoon’s abs, because God, he’s so fucking hot and he fucks you silly with his dumb, big muscles and his dumb, cute face.

The sight of your squirting, thrashing and shaking underneath him is all he needs. Jihoon shoots you full of his cum, making you feel so full and wet, before he finally halts his rutting hips, stilling on top of you. 

You’re both panting. You’re sweating so much, your hair sticks to your forehead, and you’re gasping for air. Jihoon is still on top of you, holding himself up somehow, and licking at your neck appreciatively. 

There’s a pause, where you’re basking in each other's warmth, and there’s so much love between you it’s almost suffocating. Then you're narrowing your eyes at the head of hair in your neck, growing suspicious. 

“... Are you still hard?” 

He laughs into your neck, peering up at you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you still open to that dick-sucking thing?” _____________________________

“So,” Yeri trails off.

You’re sitting in front of her, Seulgi and Irene at the campus cafe after a thorough round of congratulating you and Jihoon’s new relationship. They’d been both surprised and somehow not-at-all-surprised. 

“He can’t come to girls night anymore,” Irene states the obvious, and immediately you, Seulgi and Yeri are nodding along. 

“Thank God, I wasn’t the only one thinking that.” 

“It just wouldn’t work,” you supply, agreeing. 

There’s a pause. Seulgi pouts. “I can’t believe we don’t have a son anymore. They grow up so fast,” she says and she sounds genuinely sad about it.

You sigh a little, debating whether or not to play this card. Then you say: “I know someone who would like to be our son.” 

“Oh, no..”

“Don’t say..” 

“Yep,” you shrug, and then you hear him. Lumbering clumsily down the hall, like a galloping horse. 

“I HEAR THERE’S A NEW POSITION OPEN DURING GIRLS NIGHTS!!!!! I MADE MUFFINS!!”

Mingu is running through the cafe, dodging stools and chairs like he’s on Ninja Warrior. 

Irene frowns. “I guess he’ll do as our new son.” 

“We can always kick him out if he gets too annoying,” Yeri shrugs, just in time for Mingyu to stand before your table with a fresh tray of muffins. 

“Yes!” he cries with glee, voice incredibly high because he just can’t believe it.

“Begging always works!”

[tomblythismyhusband]

flowers [billy the kid x fem!reader]

[summary]: billy the kid x fem!reader | You and Billy enjoy a sunny afternoon out in the flower fields to get away from the pressures of life.

[warnings]: just fluff :)

[wc]: 890

[note]: little blurb i wrote so it’s kinda short, basically just imagining what it would be like to lay in a field with billy…. sigh….

Sun kissed and happy.

That’s all you were at this moment. Your body in the strong arms of your lover, Billy as you both sprawled out in a vast field of daisies. The warmth of the summer sun danced upon your skin as you laid on the soft grass.

Billy had taken you out early that morning to this little spot out on the prairie. “We won’t get caught here.” He had said with a smile. You trusted him.

Obviously, being romantically involved with an infamous outlaw had its down sides but Billy always made it up to you. Anytime that he could do something for you, he would. Whether it was leaving little gifts by your doorstep or sneaking you out of your Pa’s house, he always worked hardest to make you feel loved.

And now, laying in a field of smiling daisies, you felt at peace. You were often worried about Billy when he was away. At any time he could be caught, killed, or imprisoned, so moments like this - where you were safely in his arms - made you feel like you were in heaven.

You lazily tilted your head up to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. Laying next to him on the warm earth almost felt unreal, like a part of a romance novel you’ve read before.

“You smell good.” You hummed against his neck, taking in the scent of him. He smelled like campfire and whiskey, two things that shouldn’t smell as good as they did.

A laugh puffed out of Billy’s lips as he angled his head down to place his lips on your temple. His lips felt soft against your skin.

“I’m guessin’ you’ve missed me huh?” He said, his voice rough and ragged. You could feel his warm breath against your forehead making your cheeks heat.

You shifted your body so you laid on your side with your face over his as he stared up into the blue sky.

“Of course I’ve missed ya.” You said softly. You couldn’t help but smile down at him, your lashes fluttering over your eyes.

He reached a hand up to trace your cheek. You would never get bored of the feeling of his rough, calloused hands caressing your skin. It was comforting, his touch felt like home.

When Billy touched you, nothing else mattered, only him. Despite his rough exterior he was always soft with you, as if you were a delicate flower that could be crumpled easily.

You picked at the grass below you while you stared into his striking blue eyes.

“I can’t stand being away from you for too long darlin’” He whispered, also shifting his body so he was propped up on his side.

Billy’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the gentle swoop of your hips and waist waist as you laid there. God were you beautiful. Billy felt like the luckiest man in the world to be lounging here next to you.

He stared at you for a while, taking in all of your perfects. He loved the way your hair fell into place on your shoulders, the way your eyes sparkled in the sun, and especially the faint pink of your cheeks.

You felt his eyes on you and blushed. “What?”

Billy’s lips parted as if he was trying to find the words to say.

“You're just so… Beautiful.” He finally said, giving you a soft smile.

You couldn’t contain your joy as you swooped over to him to plant a kiss on his lips. Your arms found their place around his neck as he let out a muffled grunt.

Billy leaned into the kiss, pulling your body closer to his. He put his arms around your waist and moved you so laid on top of him. When you broke apart from the kiss you couldn’t look anywhere but him. You loved the faint freckles that dotted his face, the curls that softly sat on his brow. You loved all of him.

You spent the rest of the day in the flowery meadow, not having a care in the world. You sat and talked for hours about everything and nothing at all simultaneously. You liked the time away from the stress of the real world. You liked being able to live in your own fantasy, even if it was just for a day.

“I wish I could stay here forever.” You whispered to Billy, as your hands worked meticulously on crafting a crown of daisies. The sun was starting to set now, casting an orange glow across the meadow.

Billy smiled down at you. “You sure you wouldn't get tired of me darlin’?”

“Never.” You giggled, placing a finished daisy crown on Billy’s head. Who knew a known killer could look so impossibly gorgeous in a flower crown?

Billy smiled at you, adjusting the crown on top of his messy brown curls.

“Jesse would never let me hear the end of it if he knew I was sittin’ here with flowers on my head.” He joked.

You let out a laugh, scooting closer to him. You cupped his cheek gently.

“I love you Billy.”

He leaned down to kiss your lips, pink and warm. “I love you too darlin’.” He murmured against them. You could feel his words vibrate through your body.

You wanted this moment to last forever.

You and Billy.

And a field of flowers.

[wing-ed-thing]

Life of the Party (Niji Vinsmoke x Reader)

Synopsis: An infamous flirt who throws the best parties in town, your charm utterly captivated your favorite guest, Niji Vinsmoke. But at your latest rager, Niji finds that your attention and favoritism aren't exclusive to him.

Word Count: 5k

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Modern AU, Petnames (baby, sweetheart, hotstuff, babe), Reader Flirts with Everyone, Slight!Zoro x Reader, Pretentious Rich (Adult) Kids, Everyone is Shallow and Selfish and Kinda Sucks, Name Calling, Language, Verbal Fights, Alcohol, Suggestive Language

Notes: Maybe I went a little beyond the prompt, but Niji and this MC were such a blast to write I love this setting

The Vinsmoke boys were hardly strangers to a good rager, and when it came to ones that Ichiji would readily, intentionally drag himself out to, your parties were almost always guaranteed his presence. He’d even go as far as to put it in his calendar, for fuck’s sake, and it wasn’t just for the free booze. 

As you perked up from the other side of the pool, Ichiji was reminded why he had gone through the trouble of dragging his brothers out in the first place. You made a show of standing up on a sturdy, expensive-looking pool chair as you waved, and to a lack of surprise, you were wearing something that left little to the imagination. 

The booze was bottomless, the guest list was always impressive, and all the decor was as high-end as money could buy. Extra, as Yonji had once described it, or perhaps he was describing you. It all accented the modern pool in the center of your yard that easily cost tens of thousands of dollars in and of itself, yet all of it paled compared to the actual reason Ichiji always showed up.

By the time you dismounted and began to run toward them— with little regard for how the colorful drink in your hand was spilling over the edges— Niji had stopped mid-sentence to take his sunglasses off to reveal shining, blue, captivated eyes. 

You were the one person who could make Niji shut the fuck up.

“Ichiji, baby.” He leaned to accept the two kisses you placed on his cheeks. He wouldn’t do the same for anyone else, and both of you knew it. You spared a glance just behind the eldest Vinsmoke son before returning your self-satisfied gaze to Ichiji. “Need a babysitter that bad?”

Ichiji let out a reluctant sigh. You could always clock him faster than he expected. He should have known as much; it happened every single time. 

“Please just take him.” 

“There’s already a drink for you at the bar.” With a wink, you swatted him away with the back of your hand, and it didn’t take much more convincing for Ichiji to wander off. 

Niji had been particularly insufferable for the past week, which was saying something considering that regularly insufferable seemed to be Niji’s default state. 

When you turned your attention to Yonji, you noticed that he had already taken his shirt off, grabbing it from the back collar to heave over his head and throw somewhere onto the lawn. He donned lime green swim trunks, and his brown sandals were also lost somewhere in the grass. You’d surely find them tomorrow morning and add them to the growing stock of clothes Yonji had already left at your place. He certainly passed out in the guest room enough times.

Yonji barely greeted you with a simple “Hey hot stuff,” leaning down to just brush his lips across your cheek as he bounded toward the pool. You caught something about an inflatable crocodile before you heard a loud splash behind you. 

Niji was left grinning from ear to ear as you sauntered toward him, grabbing him by the loose tie he wore and pulling it tight around his throat. You tugged him toward you to plant a kiss on the corner of his lips.

”Hi, Niji.” 

Niji was your favorite, and that was something he reveled in every blessed day he had on earth. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” 

You pulled back, still keeping a grip on Niji’s tie. Your bottom thumb swiped along the opposite corner of his mouth to clear away a bit of drool. You had him wrapped all the way around your finger, and if his reactions were any more cartoonishly apparent, you might have seen tiny little hearts in his pretty blue eyes. 

His finger hooked around the band of your swimsuit.

“I like this.” 

“I thought you might. It’s new; I got it this weekend—”

Niji’s touch recoiled as you led him to the other side of the pool where you had been before, pulling him by his tie. The thin, patterned tie that complimented his casual, sleeveless, black button-down draped nicely over the back of your shoulder, and you continued to play with it as you sat and leaned your side against his chest.

You sat on the cushion of the deep poolside lounge between Niji’s spread thighs with one arm draped over his shoulder. Your legs curled over his left leg. The hand over his shoulder played with his undercut, causing a shiver to go down his back. 

“There was this new cafe that opened in Cocoyashi that I was dying to go to, and so, of course, I had to call up Nami because she’s from there, you know. Did you know that Nami grew up in Cocoyashi?” you babbled. Niji nodded along, a scotch neat somehow having found itself in his hand.

“That’s crazy,” Niji hummed, taking a sip. 

“And so she’s showing me all these boutiques. Oh! The cafe had this blueberry danish that made me think of you. You have to go and try it…” 

You usually rambled on like this, draping yourself over Niji’s arm or placing yourself in his lap to tell him all about the frivolous little treats you had bought yourself since the last time you’d seen each other. You dropped names in every other sentence, many of which Niji didn’t know nor care. 

If he was being frank, when it came to your babbling, Niji couldn’t’ve given less of a shit, and if you were anyone else, he would’ve already pushed you off his lap. But you kept a few fingers running through his hair and a drink in his hand, and so, the more Niji drank, the less he cared how chatty you were.

“Niji, have you been working out?” You splayed a hand over his chest, tossing his tie over his shoulder. You knew when you were losing him as well as you knew how to rein him back.

Niji grinned widely, slouching a bit more into the couch with one arm slung over the back cushions and the other around your waist. 

“Yeah,” he bragged, a light red tinge on his cheeks. “I’ve been on a cut.”

Niji had the textbook definition of a swimmer’s body. Tall, with a lean, muscular build and broad shoulders, his figure was toned and objectively attractive. A cut, he said with his second glass in his hand. You must’ve been exceptional.

“Wow, really?” you asked, letting your eyes wander as Niji began some tangent about red meat or protein something. 

Suddenly, you shot up, nearly causing Niji to jump with you as you let out a boisterous scream before shooting off toward the other end of the lawn. New guests typically parked out front in your massive, circular driveway and let themselves in the main entrance and out the back door to the pool area. You bounded toward the door, just about throwing yourself at the man who had just arrived before he could even step fully onto the lawn.

Yonji resurfaced from under the water, raising his arms to hold the ledge near where Niji had been left. Niji sat at the edge of the couch cushion, elbows over his knees as his leg bounced.

“The hell is that all about?” Yonji asked, not about to see from the pool. 

Niji grumbled, pursing his lips inward as he glanced toward you and then back to Yonji with a rude, pointing gesture of his thumb.

“Did you know Roronoa was gonna be here?” 

Yonji turned, keeping a hand on the ledge of the pool.

“Oh, shit.” 

Niji huffed again. Yonji’s reaction hadn’t exactly been helpful. Niji looked away for a second, and by the time he looked back, the group at the entrance of the yard had multiplied. Niji stood up, storming over to the other side the moment he laid eyes on a familiar cut of blond hair. 

“A 2015 Château Margaux, an elegant wine for an elegant host.” 

“Aw, Sanji, you shouldn’t have! You’re so sweet.”

Sanji was more than eager to receive the two kisses you offered his cheeks. 

Niji passed the one guy who competed in the professional shooting competitions, who was making his way to the pool before nearly colliding with the bigger guy who always hosted barbecues at the beach that Niji never went to. Jesus, the entire crew was here.

Niji glared holes in the back of Sanji’s head, grabbing him by the back collar of his Hawaiian shirt before yanking him back. He disappeared from the group quietly enough, with everyone’s attention captivated by you while you were captivated by everyone else. The life of a host never had its breaks, Niji supposed.

“The hell you think you’re doing here?” It wasn’t the smartest question, but it was the one that left Niji’s lips.

Sanji ripped himself away from his brother’s grasp to face him defensively. Sanji had gone to live with their mother almost ten years ago, and despite Sora’s attempts to build close bonds amongst her children, Sanji hardly spoke to any of his brothers after he turned sixteen. Niji suspected he kept in contact with Reiju, but she’d never tell him and Niji certainly didn’t care. Now, in adulthood, while the Vinsmoke siblings would see each other on occasion, it was almost never purposeful. 

“We were invited, dumbass.”

You knew everyone; by extension, everyone was invited to your extravagant parties. Sanji had been to them before, as had other friends you and Sanji shared mutually. They, however, were an uncoordinated bunch and rarely showed up together. Zoro was a rare sighting in and of himself. 

“God damn, Zoro, where’d you get these?”

You stood in front of him, weight shifted to your hip. You held the bottle of wine from Sanji cradled in your left elbow while your right hand wrapped around Zoro’s exposed bicep. He wore a sleeveless workout hoodie and dark green basketball shorts. Your hand barely wrapped around half his muscle. 

“I dunno. They’re the same size as last time.”

“No way. They’re definitely bigger. Are you gonna get in the pool?”

“Ha! Not with that bar over there, are you kiddin’ me?”

Niji came up behind you, snaking an arm gingerly around your lower back as he leaned in, trying to catch your attention from your peripheral. He made eye contact with Zoro, who immediately frowned at his presence.

The begrudgingly mutual tolerance Zoro appeared to have with Sanji didn’t appear to extend to any of the other Vinsmoke brothers. Yonji occasionally worked out with him, but they were hardly close enough to hang out outside the gym. Zoro glanced Niji up and down before crossing his arms. 

Niji’s reputation proceeded him. 

“Vinsmoke.”

“Roronoa.”

“Niji, come check out Zoro’s arms. Aren’t they crazy?” You were oblivious to the silent round of ocular fisticuffs that occurred out of your range of sight. Zoro stared Niji straight on, an acutely smug smirk twitching the corner of his mouth. “You must have a killer routine.”

“Kenpō,” Zoro said, popping the “p” sound. 

Niji tore his eyes away from Zoro and tugged at the band of your swimsuit.

“C’mon, baby, weren’t we talkin’ about something?” he tried to laugh, trying to fight off the way he was burning up inside. Niji’s barely restrained temper usually got him kicked out of events like these, but he wasn’t about to break one of the only rules you had.

One, don’t break shit. Two, don’t steal shit. Three, no fights.

“Not really.” You shrugged off his touch, much to Niji’s dismay. 

He immediately scowled. You didn’t notice, or at least pretended not to. Zoro, on the other hand…

“Hey, man, you got a problem or something?”  

Zoro’s arm extended in front of you, making you step back as he pivoted to stand partially between you and Niji. Niji was forced to step back, and for once, he took a second to think carefully as a deep scowl contorted his lips. Well, he thought as carefully as Niji could think. 

The usual slouch of his back disappeared as he rose to his full height, squaring his shoulders back. He had a few inches on Zoro in height, even as Zoro stood with his chest puffed out and his arms crossed over his chest. They squared each other up, moving in close before you injected yourself between them. You planted a firm palm in the middle of Zoro’s chest and then Niji’s, having to put a bit of effort into pushing them apart. 

“Alright, boys, tone it down with the testosterone. If you’re gonna fight, you’re not doing it here.” You frowned, trying to shoo both of them in different directions. “Grab a drink or something.”

They held heated glares even despite your protests. 

“I’m not the one who has the problem here.”

“You white-knighting, Roronoa?”

“God, just kiss already or shut the fuck up!” You snipped at the two of them, turning to scold one away before turning around to dismiss the other. You snapped your fingers before grabbing the bottle of wine you had shoved into Sanji’s arms. “C’mon,” you said to him with a huff. “I wanna open this.”

Sanji gladly followed you inside. Zoro rolled his eyes and made for the bar, and Niji, not one to give up so easily, chased after you, calling your name. 

You barely reached the doorway to your house when you stopped, letting your shoulders fall with a dramatic sigh. Sanji was a few steps ahead of you. His mouth opened as Niji continued to pester you, stepping forward to get involved. But you stopped him, once again passing the bottle of wine off to Sanji as you started to get annoyed.

“Sanji, love, be a dear and open this please. I’ll be right over.” You accented your words with a pointed glance Niji’s way. 

Sanji was reluctant to back off, glancing between you and his brother before slowly entering the kitchen. The modern, open kitchen was just inside the back door. Nami and Robin were already seated at the island, chatting amongst themselves as they snacked on the ridiculously large charcuterie spread. 

You pulled Niji aside. 

“What?” you snipped. Niji shifted his weight to his back leg and shoved a hand casually into the pocket of his shorts with a wide grin. He trailed the back of his knuckles along your cheek. 

“You know I love it when you get all fiery, baby, but c’mon now—” He glanced toward where Sanji was pouring wine. — “The hell are you hanging out with my loser brother for when we were having such a great time?”

You rolled your eyes. Niji scowled as you pushed his hand away.

“Because you’re being annoying, Niji,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest with an upturned nose. Niji visibly darkened, shoving his other hand into his empty pocket as he hunched over you. “Maybe don’t act like a freak when I’m just trying to say hi to my friends.” 

“Oh, is that what you’re calling feeling up Roronoa?” His voice dropped in tone, but didn’t lose the arrogant attitude. Niji cocked his head to the side, his face growing closer to yours. You blinked in astonishment, lip curling as you recoiled. 

“The fuck?” you spat. “Have you seen the way I talk to you and your brothers? With literally everyone here? Or is it because it’s Zoro?” Niji’s expression visibly twitched at the mention of Zoro’s name. His back straightened the slightest bit before he leaned back toward you, arms crossed tightly over his arms. 

“It’s different.” 

“Literally, how?” You glanced around the corridor you stood in. You weren’t very secluded, but no one appeared to have followed the two of you to check out the commotion. You’d prefer to keep it that way. “Because you don’t have to like everyone I’m friends with. I haven’t seen him in a long time, Niji, so why don’t you shut the fuck up.“

“Hey, watch it,” Niji gritted. He grew closer, and you glanced him up and down with disgust. 

“Or what? Are you gonna fuck me up, Niji?” You pushed him back. Niji’s arms unfurled as he almost slammed his back into an adjacent wall. “Are you gonna beat me unconscious because I’ve pissed you off?” 

You were getting in his face, and Niji pulled back, pivoting around on his heel with a series of head shakes as he ran a hand over his face. He pointed a finger at you.

“That’s a low fucking blow; that happened when I was a kid, and I never would have told you that if I knew you were going to lord it over my fucking head—”

— “Seventeen is barely a kid!” —

“You’re the one who fucked off to feel up another guy’s tits.” Niji pointed aggressively in the direction of the backward. “So check your bitchy fuckin’ attitude ‘cause I’ve done jack shit.”

“Yonji’s tits are in my hands like every time he’s here, and you’ve never said shit about that, now have you, Niji?” You were screaming at this point, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if you turned a few heads of guests who were enjoying your indoor amenities. You were heated, bursting at the seams with little regard for how ridiculously your fight was devolving.

Niji rolled his pretty blue eyes. They were still pretty, no matter how pissed off you were at him. Maybe you found them pretty because he was your favorite, or perhaps he was your favorite because you found them so pretty. 

“That’s because Yonji’s Yonji.”

“He’s got his own fucking drawer here, and you’re getting pressed over nothing! You can’t come here, acting like my boyfriend and starting shit when you don’t do relationships.” You weren’t expecting your words to ring out over the room like they did.

Suddenly, the energy in the atmosphere took a deep plummet, leaving you and Niji face to face. Both your eyes were wide as they stared into each other. You watched as his electric blue irises darted around your face, all the annoyance and rage he wore on his face melting into something resembling shock.

“Neither do you, so what’s your problem?” he asked lowly. 

Another beat of silence overtook the space around you as you stepped back. You averted your gaze to somewhere else in the room. Niji continued to study you. You could feel his gaze.

“You know better than to pick fights here, Niji.” You shook your head, running a hand over your hair. But what seemed to mimic resignation didn’t last long as you whipped toward him to raise your voice again. “Now you’ve got me pissed when I thought tonight was going to be fun!”

“I wasn’t the one picking a fight, so you can take that to your boy toy,” Niji’s tone was simmering, deep, and level. His hands were shoved back into his pockets, and his shoulders appeared somewhat relaxed as he assumed his usual posture. A deep scowl was still present on his lips.

You huffed, backing off yourself.

“I’m done talking to you, Niji. Get out.” You turned on your heel and stormed back out into the backyard.

It was the worst fight you had ever gotten into. Hell, it might’ve been the only fight you and Niji had ever gotten into. After all, there had never been much to fight about before. The both of you tended to keep things light. He got to ramble about his petty and frivolous things, and you got to babble about yours. You hadn’t needed to go much deeper. 

You were sexy and had more charisma in your pinky than anyone else Niji knew. You kept a drink in his hand. You knew the right spots on his undercut that he liked scratched, and it was something about getting attention from you that had him over the moon. 

“How’s it feel being the favorite?” Yonji once asked him.

On the other hand, Niji wasn’t entirely sure why you had picked him out of everyone you knew, and you certainly knew everyone. You spent so much time and money throwing these parties— which you held regularly— yet you always carved out time to pay him some special attention. You always greeted him, gave him all the amenities he could ask for, and sat with him for the better part of the night just talking. 

Niji knew of his more infamous reputation. He was nowhere as well-liked as you, and when it came to getting into trouble, Niji had paid his way out of sticky situations more times than he’d counted. He was satisfied with any excuse to throw a punch because when it came to people who mattered, who should he give a shit about anyone but his two brothers and his sister?

And then you came along. You came along with your talk— Niji made it abundantly clear the first night you met that the last thing he was interested in was talk (not when you looked like that, HELLO)— and now, for the first time, Niji worried. 

“If you’re gonna be angsty and shit, can you do it somewhere else?” 

Niji didn’t realize how far he had sunk into his couch cushion until Ichiji spoke. The ice in Niji’s glass had already melted. 

Ichiji turned to him, one leg crossed over the other and a whisky in his hand. A neutral frown plastered across Ichiji’s lips. 

“Weren’t you leaving?” he asked. 

The couch Niji had found Ichiji sitting on was tucked away on the other side of the yard. A dormant firepit sat in the middle of the semi-circle seating, and the grill wasn’t too far away as a team of professional chefs made food. Seeing this seating area from the pool was difficult, but Niji could see you talking to Zoro again from where he sat. 

Ichiji shifted, leaning a bit to the side as he regarded Niji. 

“Why don’t you just apologize?"

“Because I didn’t do shit,” Niji snapped. But at the view of the dismayed and stern expression on Ichiji’s face, Nijij immediately simmered. “We got into a fight…” 

Ichiji sighed, leaning back against the couch cushion behind him. Despite an equally close relationship with Yonji, at the end of the day, Niji was Ichiji’s ride-or-die. Ichiji wouldn’t hesitate for a second to kill for his brother if it ever came to it, and if there were ever a day Niji showed up at his door with a trash bag and a shovel, Ichiji wouldn’t waste a second grabbing something to dig with from the garage. 

However, this didn’t make Niji any less annoying. If there was anything Ichiji found more irritating than Niji yapping dreamily about you, it was undoubtedly him silently pining over you. Niji looked like a kicked puppy, for fuck’s sake. It was unbecoming.

“I’m sure it’ll all blow over by tomorrow morning,” Ichiji said, returning to his whisky. “Go home, shower, order some flowers to be delivered, and make a reservation somewhere nice for tomorrow night. You’ll be fine.”

Niji immediately stood, and it was with a suddenness that communicated to Ichiji that Niji hadn’t absorbed a single thing he’d said. Ichiji’s back straightened as he sat at the edge of the couch cushion. 

“Hey, what are you—”

Niji was already making his way over to you. You stood at the side of the pool, standing in a circle with Sanji, Zoro, and some other vaguely familiar faces that generally hung out with that crew. Zoro stood at your side, and Sanji at your other. The pool was directly behind you.

Niji stormed across the yard with purpose and confidence, and the group hardly had time to react to his presence as he cut right through the circle to get to you. It all happened so quickly that the words, “What the fuck, Niji?” didn’t even make it out of your mouth before Niji took your drink from your hand and shoved it at Zoro before hoisting you up to throw you into the pool. 

Splash!

The shocked expressions didn’t melt into action fast enough as Niji turned, throwing up both middle fingers before smirking widely.

“Get fucked, Roronoa!” Niji proclaimed before falling backward into the pool where you were just beginning to resurface and gather yourself. The splash he made sent a wave over your head, further drenching your face and hair. 

“Niji, you asshole!”

Even fully clothed, Niji made swimming the deep end of the pool look easy, quickly gathering you in his arms before paddling to the opposite side of the pool. The pool was as large as it was expensive, but Niji made short work of the distance, placing you on the ledge of seating that ran across the perimeter. The water lapped at the middle of your ribcage. Niji remained suspended in the deep end, folding his arms over your lap as he gazed up at you. 

You raised your hand to slap him, but Niji caught your wrist, pinning it down to your lap as he crossed his arms again. 

“Niji!”

“Tell me about shopping with Nami in Cocoyashi,” he hummed, a smug little smile on his lips. You hit the water with your other hand, splashing Niji across the face as he laughed. The stern frown on your lips didn’t falter.

“I thought I told you to get out.” Niji gathered both your hands in his, crossing them over each other to pin them down by his wrists on your lap. 

“Well, I decided on more important things,” he said, cocking his head. You rolled your eyes, trying to move your hands. His grip on you was too firm but not enough to hurt. You continued to glare down at him.

“Oh yeah, like pissing me off—”

“I’ve decided that you’re no longer single.”

A solid pang reverberated in your chest. Your lips parted, agape in shock as Niji continued to smirk up at you. He released one of your hands, resting his cheek on his palm. The fingers of his opposite hand were still intertwined with yours. 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you spat, narrowing your eyes. The feeling of his thumb swiping over the back of your hand wasn’t lost on you as a warm heat rose under your skin. “Something tells me that that’s something I need to consulted about, genius.” 

“Hear me out,” Niji didn’t give you time to respond. You crossed your arms over your chest. “We see each other every weekend, drink, and chit chat… But what if I want to see you more than just every weekend?”

Niji stared up at you with a self-satisfied grin as you waited for him to elaborate.

“That’s it?” you asked. Niji nodded with a victorious hum. “That’s the speech you’re giving to win me over?”

“If you need it in more elementary terms, I like you, and you like me, so let’s do something about it.” He rotated his wrist to intertwine his fingers in yours fully. He continued to snicker, something about his own audacity amusing. You stared him straight on.

“You just wanna smash.”

“Oh, absolutely.” You noted his three-point glance as he looked you over before his gaze drifted to your fingers. He moved your hand as he talked, bringing it behind his head to his undercut. “But I’m not opposed to spoiling you a few times a week either just to call dibs. Buy all the blueberry pastries you want. Little numbers like this’ll be on me, and there’s more where that came from—” He tugged at your swimsuit. — “And I don’t know jack shit about wine, but I can probably pick out a nice one… or pay someone to do it for me.”

Niji was already beginning to run your nails through his hair before you pulled your hand away.

“I’ve got my own money.” 

“I know you do, but I also know you’d do something nice with your hair if I gave you a couple hundred for it.” Niji’s grin only grew wider. “Or get yourself dinner somewhere expensive, designer clothes, whatever the fuck you wanna do.”

“And I’m not going to stop hanging out with Zoro either or Sanji just because… I don’t even know what’s going on there.” You scrunched your brow.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Like I said, I’m perfectly fine calling dibs… at least for now.”

Niji left the spot between your knees to swim to the ledge beside you. He pulled himself up to sit, leaving the water in his wake feeling cold. You turned to him, water still dripping down strands of your hair.

“You can’t just throw me in a pool and expect to buy me, Niji. I’m still pissed at you.”

“Yeah, but now you have an excuse to change into whatever evening outfit you had planned.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but for what felt like the umpteenth time that night, you found your voice stalled in your throat as Niji laughed. You did have a nice outfit planned. You always did. You pouted as Niji rose from the pool, dribbling water from his soaked clothes. He offered you a hand, which you reluctantly took. 

“You’re gonna have to work hard as hell to make it up to me. I haven’t agreed to any relationship nonsense!”

Niji heaved you up with more force than necessary, catching you as you stumbled over the ledge and onto dry land. Your momentum worked against you, and in what seemed like an instant, Niji planted a kiss right on your lips. He held you for a moment, just long enough for the shock to sink in, before he pulled away with a grin.

Your mind went blank; the apparent look on your face made Niji laugh again.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get changed.” Niji’s arm snaked around you as he guided you back to the house. “Call it a trial run.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[jjuniehao]

[02:39 pm]: bang chan

“come on, you need some fresh air!” you whine, squeezing chan’s cheeks when he still won’t budge, “maybe touching some grass, too. all you do is sit in this stuffy room, you probably have brain cells dying by the minute!”

chan breaks through his straight-faced demeanour and snorts at you, hands finding your waist and pulling you onto his lap, chin resting on your shoulder.

“baby, i’d love to, really. i wanna go on a real date with you so bad, but right now i just can’t spare the time, i’m sorry,” he mumbles, imagining the scowl you’re most likely wearing on your face right now, pressing a kiss behind your ear in hopes of soothing you a little.

his hopes be damned. though.

you groan, taking your boyfriend by surprise when you rise up from his lap, placing your hands on his shoulders and bending your knees to be on eye level with him.

“listen, mister. i get it, okay? i get it so hard— really, i understand, work is demanding and it’s hard to stay on top,” the serious look on your face makes him break out in a goofy smile, nodding along in hopes of maybe, perhaps receiving some praise for being such a diligent, hard worker from his favourite person…?

“but,” your tone drastically changes, furrowed eyebrows and lips pulled into a pout he’d really love to kiss instead of having you rip into him and his “capitalistic victim mindset” that “keeps him working until he eventually disintegrates with no trace left since he lived to work instead of working to live.”

pretty dramatic, but he gets your point. kinda.

“i’ve tried it all. i tried to be all caring and gentle to get you to take a break for just one night, i even brought cupcakes!”

“they were so good, ba—“

“i tried to be strict, i tried to be all smart and brought up all the health issues overworking and stress can cause,” chan looks at you sheepishly, feeling a little guilty for getting you so worried and desperate, though it also makes his heart flutter in a weird, twisted way.

“so i’m just going to be honest, and maybe a little selfish, and you’ll be the good boyfriend i know you are and agree with me, okay?” chan blinks at you, and before he can even come up with a counter, you have his cheeks cupped in your hands, determined eyes boring into his.

“i miss you. i miss spending time with you. i want my boyfriend. you always say i’m allowed to be a little selfish, so i’m cashing that in right now. i want to be selfish and i want you to go and have this cute little picnic i prepared. i even made mini sandwiches. do you know how annoying it is to cut lettuce into little squares?” chan stays quiet for a while. every second of silence makes the confidence you had built up shatter a little more, your eyes starting to nervously dart all over his face.

suddenly, you’re pulled back into his lap, face in his hands, cheeks squished, frantic kisses planted all over your face.

“wah, you’re so cute. what am i gonna do with you? how am i gonna work from now on when all i’ll be able to think about is your little speech?” he whines, pressing a kiss to your lips every few words, making you burst out in giggles he loves so much. “is that a yes?” the hopefulness in your voice makes chan melt, stealing another quick kiss from you.

“yeah but also no? i have maybe,” he reaches towards his phone laying on the desk, checking the time, “around 20 minutes. think we can make it outside, eat, and be back in that time?” chan is almost sure you’ll refuse, upset that he can’t spare you a little more time. instead, you practically shoot up from his lap, “well, then what are you waiting for?”

and with that you’re flying out the door and down the hall, chan scrambling to catch up with you, stupid lovestruck smile on his face.

part of the bucketlist boyfriends series

*i can’t link it since it messes w the tags </3

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Marigolds In The Porch Lights (18+)

Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (FINALLY), but also some Fluff and Angst

Warnings: A poor attempt at a shower sex scene, unprotected sex (ALWAYS USE PROTECTION, Y'ALL), and some kinda twisted feelings I guess idk these two are just constantly teasing each other

Words: 6.4k (I had so much fun with this y'all)

Summary: 1971 era; SEQUEL TO STRAWBERRY LEMONADE; George and Reader finally have their time together; also Geo is not famous in this so I guess it counts as AU lol

A/N: MUST READ STRAWBERRY LEMONADE FIRST FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE! But honestly the amount of requests I got to make a sequel, anyone who's here has probably already read S.L. (also thank you for all the requests! <3)

==============================

==============================

One week had gone by since the blossoming of your new relationship with George, and you could not stop thinking about him. Calling him during the week just for your own pleasures seemed rather selfish, so you forced yourself to wait the full week until his next Saturday gardening job. After all, that wouldn’t be fair to his personal schedule, now would it?

Now, here it was, the fateful Saturday afternoon, and the anticipation was swarming you. You knew that you were always his last appointment of the week, and you would have him all to yourself from now until the sunset. You contemplated walking outside naked to greet him, but quickly remembering that neighbors exist, the idea was obligated to fade away. You still wished you could, though.

You left the gate unlocked, allowing him to let himself in. He was so caring of your space, taking time to lock the gate behind him so as not to allow the opportunity of any unwanted guests. You waited by the patio for him, prepared with another plate of fresh strawberries and a cold glass of lemonade. You made enough for two this time, specifically if those two were going to be staying together for a while.

Upon George’s entry, he eyed the fruity treats reminiscent of his previous time here. Instead of helping himself to a snack, he approached you to place a patient kiss upon your lips, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist as he did so. His other hand held his gardening toolkit, keeping it at his side while you deepened the kiss. George was almost ready to drop the bag and take you in his arms, but felt he should at least accomplish what you’re paying him for first.

“How have you been?” You started, having a bit more courage to talk to him this time. He laid out his tools as he knelt in the grass.

“Doing what I normally do, I guess.” He replied absentmindedly, “Though I was excited to get back here and see how the strawberry seeds are doing.” He flashed you a cheeky grin, and your shoulders instantly floated down to a more relaxed stance. George wasn’t big on expressing his true feelings directly, but he had his own ways of getting his point across. You slowly drifted off, listening to his voice as he spoke, until he stopped, and you realized he was waiting for you to answer his question.

“Pardon?” You squeaked, causing George to tilt his head in confusion.

“You have been watering the strawberries, right?” He repeated, gesturing to the empty space beside him, “The soil looks moist, so I’d say they’re doing well.”

“Oh! Yes,” You giggled, “I purchased a book on how to care for them the morning after you planted it.” A wide smile spread on George’s face, giving you a short nod and happily moving on to the next patch of flowers. You wore a scarlet colored dress today, planning for him to give you a matching rose from your garden. You concluded that you were the one who could determine which type of flower you receive by the color you chose to wear that day. You weren’t sure if George was also aware of this arrangement, or he just enjoyed finding flowers for you too much to notice.

You had treated this time you spent with George almost like your first date. You wanted to know everything there is to know about him, no matter how minor. In the hours that he had been there, you learned that George also knew how to play guitar, and he enjoyed writing songs, but was never really interested in the life of fame and performing to the public, so he preferred not to pursue it. Being a gardener and getting as much time in nature as he could was more than enough to make him happy.

The time went faster than you both wanted it to, partly because this time felt like you had known each other for years. George had even taken the time to show you how to tend to certain flowers, as the rules differed based on the type of plant. He showed you all his tools, demonstrating how to use them and the best places to start to preserve the flowers, as well as any of his personal favorite natural additives to help the flowers grow. You now knew that adding common household items, such as white vinegar or banana peels can give your flowers a speed boost. George even explained how ground coffee could be beneficial to the soil if you decided to start growing vegetables. His wide range of knowledge was better than any purchasable book could provide.

Before you knew it, the sky was growing orange, and the sunset was upon you. More time to spend with George aside from his occupational responsibilities was not completely out of the question, so you hadn’t lost hope yet. That is, until you saw him reach for his bag to start packing up his tools.

“You’re leaving?” You blurted out, not wanting to sound desperate but your body not even giving you a chance to consider your words. “You just got here!”

George glanced down at his watch, eliciting a small chuckle. “I’ve been here for three hours, love.”

“Well it felt like three seconds to me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and slumping back against the tree you were sitting under. “And you said we would do more together next time! That’s what you said the last time you were here!”

“And we did, didn’t we?” George replied, not missing a beat. “Last time, there was much more uncomfortable silence. This time, we had a wonderful conversation.” He paused to remove his gloves and place them in the pocket on the side of his bag, slowly rising from where he was seated in the grass. “That’s a pretty big improvement, don’t you think? It’s something I can cherish, especially since we won’t be seeing each other next week.”

Your eyes widened. Initially, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly, but it was true. First you had missed out on quality time with George and now next week he wasn’t going to come by? You felt your heart sink, trying your hardest to keep the tears from escaping your eyes.

“Why not?” You whined, a little louder this time. You didn’t want to sound like you were throwing a tantrum, but it was difficult when that was exactly what you wanted to do.

“I’ll be out of town next weekend.” George replied matter-of-factly, “I’m going to visit my family as one of my relatives is getting married. The wedding is on Saturday, so I’ll be gone the whole weekend.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything that would make him stay. But why? He didn’t do anything wrong, but your impression of how the day would go when he got here was a lot different than how it actually went down. You felt like you were lied to, except that you weren’t. Last week, George said that you would ‘make more time for each other’ this time, and technically, you did. He never said what that time was going to be spent on. Perhaps you two had different ideas as to what his return would bring. But instead, you tightened your chest, putting away that tantrum for your alone time later.

“But I thought-” You stopped yourself, knowing that telling George what you really wanted could potentially lead to unwanted results, especially if he didn't feel the same way.

“Thought what?” George asked, staring at you as you mentally cursed yourself for popping a corner of the lid on Pandora's Box. “Did you have a plan for today?” He was too clever. There was no going back now.

“Well…” You started, feeling a blush creep up onto your cheeks, “Sort of…”

“Oh?” He teased, the sunset casting a brilliant sparkle on those dark brown eyes, “Well, come on then. Out with it.” You pursed your lips, shifting your gaze to the floor. George leaned in closer, the coarse hairs of his mustache brushing against the shell of your ear. “So long as we're pretending I don't already know.”

He knew what you wanted. He was going to make you say it.

You stood concerningly still, almost frozen. It was a battle of wits, but you weren't exactly sure if you wanted to win or lose. If you gave up now, and spilled your guts, would you get what you wanted? Or would George continue to string you along, making you wait anyway just to see you squirm?

George sighed, looking at his watch again. “Well,” he huffed, feigning annoyance, “if you have nothing else to say, I suppose I should be going now.” He kissed your cheek, wedging his hand into your own to leave his complementary petal before making his way to the gate. You couldn't even look at him as he left, feeling too embarrassed. Instead, you looked down at your hand. A rose petal, no surprise. You were about to head inside until you heard George call your name. You partially turned around, still feeling rather conflicted. He was standing on the other side of the gate, pointing towards the patio.

“I'd turn that light on if I were you. It gets rather dark out here.” He waited for you to respond. You slowly nodded, approaching the back stairs. And with that, he got in his car and drove off.

You flipped the switch, watching as the porch light came on. It was a glimmering golden yellow hue, expanding its beam about halfway through the garden. You weren't sure why George told you to put it on, but it did make the garden look brighter. Even when you were angry with him, you would still do whatever he wanted you to.

But why were you angry? George hadn't done anything wrong. You knew he was teasing you, but you didn't care. In fact, there was a part of you that liked it. You felt like he was playing with you without even touching you. Wrapped so tightly around his finger that you felt like it was your life force. It strangled you in the best way possible. Like an invisible leash secured around your neck, and he could pull you wherever he wanted. You were completely and truly captivated by him.

Slipping quietly into the house, you felt like you wanted to cry. The anger had subsided and was soon replaced by a persistent longing. Your disdain towards having to go two weeks without seeing George wasn’t even due to the fact that you were crazy about him. It had become a routine. At this point, you wished you hadn’t been so shy to start a conversation with him the first three times he showed up. That you hadn’t waited until just this previous week. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe you’d be closer.

You didn’t know where to go from there. Part of you accepted this as what it was, and you would see George eventually, while another part of you felt defeated that you wanted to do something about this when you knew you couldn’t.

When you woke up the next morning, your house felt quieter, despite you having always lived alone. Almost like George had been staying in the guest room this whole time unbeknownst to you. Perhaps he was a frequent visitor to the guest room in your brain.

You spent the rest of your weekend like any other weekend: it was another gorgeous spring day, and you loved to sit out on the patio and catch up on your reading while you enjoyed your lunch or an afternoon snack, hearing the faint melodies coming from your living room of whatever record you put on for the occasion. It was the only time you actually preferred being alone. Perhaps it was the only activity potent enough to fill the void of your longing for George.

When night came again, you headed inside, about to shut the patio door when you swore you heard a voice.

You froze, but briefly shrugged it off as being in your head. You looked outside, barely being able to see your garden, but knowing it was only your subconscious. You shut the door, turning to walk away until you heard it again.

I’d turn that light on if I were you.

It gets rather dark out here.

You sighed. Even when George wasn’t around, you felt like he was right beside you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry, so you released a noise that sounded like a mixture of both as you flicked the porch light on, not paying it another thought as you headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Monday morning. You dreaded it more this week for some unknown yet obviously known reason. The past few weeks, you would just think about your weekend with George to get you through the boring parts of the day. But since this weekend did not pan out like you thought it would, there wasn’t much to occupy your mind. That was the hard part about all this. George didn’t have a typical nine-to-five. He would have gardening sessions scattered throughout his day. Sometimes he would be booked solid, and other days would be quick appointments for treatments, leaving more time for his personal schedule. Even if you wanted to meet up with him during the week, your strict schedule prevented you from having any time with him. Maybe something could’ve been worked out eventually, but the current state of your brain would not settle for that. You wanted him and you wanted him now.

When you got home that night, the feeling had not left. It was more manageable while you were away, but you felt like you were coming home to a house that was once full of life, only to no longer harbor that same feeling. You had never realized how much life George brought to your daily routine even when you didn’t live together. For a moment, you wondered why this was affecting you so much. Perhaps you were overreacting. You would see George again. It would just be longer than usual until you did. You released a heavy sigh, a sliver of hope that you could push this feeling out of your mind, for at least a little while, had begun to show itself.

Until night fell. You glanced at the back door.

The porch light.

That fucking porch light.

The entire time you lived here, you barely even acknowledged its existence. But ever since George made you aware of it, you think of it every night. Subconsciously, you thought maybe if you were consistent in putting it on every night, he would come back. He would find his way to you, sensing your desire to see him, and you would never be apart again. Never be alone again.

You turned it on again, simultaneously hopeful in your delusional scenario and growing impatient at how long your heart wanted to keep up the act.

The next morning, going by the door to shut the light felt like a walk of shame. What were you waiting for? George had his own schedule. His own life. He would see you when he could. You couldn’t help but start thinking if George was missing you as much as you were feeling every day was so bleak without him.

But yet, that night, you turned the porch light on again. Feeling an overwhelming, compelling urge to stay, you opened the back door, stepping out onto the patio. You stared up at the light, admiring the wonderful golden hue of the small bulb inside its painted glass shade. The shade was brushed in bright yellow, matching the bulb and some other accents of the house’s exterior decor. It seemed so much more prominent at night. It was the only thing visible from far away. A sign of life in the home. You smiled at the thought. You would’ve probably never got around to use it if it wasn’t for George. He truly did bring new life into your home.

Thanks to the light, you could see the first few rows of flowers in your garden surrounding the large tree in the center of the yard. This was your gradient row, as you loved to refer to it as. The row where George had taken many creative liberties, creating a smooth-flowing spectrum of colors around the tree like a color wheel. The warm tones faced the house, showing you your lovely spread of roses, tiger lilies, and marigolds.

The marigolds reminded you of the light. Bright, yellow, and outstanding. It was also one of the only few flowers in your garden that George had not given you petals from. You turned back to the light. You decided it could be your marigold petal. At least for now.

You didn’t stay long. You quickly returned inside, shuffling briskly back down the hall, trying to make it to the bathroom before the tears dripped off your face and down onto the floor.

The following morning, as your fingers brushed against the switch to turn off the light, you let out a loud sob. It had rained in the middle of the night, and the sight outside the back door, one of gray overcast and a messy, muddy garden, made it all feel much too real. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You missed George. Oh, how you missed him. One day a week wasn’t enough anymore. You needed more of him. So much more. More than your own mind, body, and soul would ever know.

You considered taking off work today, as your mangled emotions were surely draining your energy. But realizing that staying home would only twist the knife further, you conceded. It was almost as if any choice that life could make would've been wrong in your eyes. Whether you went to work or stayed home, you felt uncomfortable. If the work day went quickly, you were dreading coming home to face your feelings again. Yet, if the day dragged on, you groaned at the thought of having to endure more time until your fateful reunion with George. You were incessantly unsatisfied. Insatiable, even. The only correct answer was George. You needed him to give you what he had promised you, whether he was waiting for you to admit it or not. At this point, you wouldn't have even cared if you sounded desperate. You were desperate. You didn't care if you had to call him right now and divulge everything you felt. How badly you wanted and needed him. Your brain was chasing a fierce addiction, and George was your dealer.

That night had been the hardest so far. You couldn't even bring yourself to walk down that hall. The light wasn't going to be some magical beacon to signal George. You felt like you were holding onto nothing. You didn't care if the light wasn't on tonight. It made no difference anymore.

You went to sleep early that night. Your main thought process was to sleep as much as you could to make the days go by faster. You didn't even want to think about this Saturday. Your soul felt like it was grieving. But grieving what? George didn't break up with you. Technically, the two of you never even established any sort of declaration of a relationship anyway. But you felt like you belonged together. You were his and he was yours. As sweet as the thought was, you quickly shoved it away as you felt your eyes welling with tears.

You turned on your side to try and sleep when you heard a noise outside. It sounded like a low thud, but fairly close to your house. You shrugged it off at first, until you heard it again a few minutes later, sounding closer this time.

You sat up in bed, overtaken by fear. Living alone, you always worried about having to fight off intruders. Luckily, nothing had ever come of it. Until now.

Grabbing a broom from your hall closet to arm you, you headed into the living room. Your first instinct was to check out the front window, being too scared to open the door.

You peered through the curtains, seeing nothing to the left or right of the door, the street only illuminated by the porch lights of your surrounding neighbors. Of course the universe had to think of a way to remind you of what you were desperately trying to put out of your head.

You closed the curtains, ready to go back to bed when you heard what sounded like wet footsteps coming from your back door.

Oh fuck.

If this really was an intruder situation, you were anything but prepared. You glanced at the back door, hiding behind the hall corner. With your breath held and your muscles stiff as the wooden boards beneath your feet, you took slow steps down the hall. You lurched forward to quickly lock the door, which you normally did anyway but forgot that night as you never actually made it to the door without crying.

Knowing that the lock was safely in place brought you some time. Being closer to the door, you heard another sloshing sound, as well as some angry muttering. With your luck, the intruder slipped on the wet and muddy grass and was now disoriented, leaving you time to- well, do what, exactly?

You hadn't thought this far. Do you call the police? Make a loud noise in retaliation in hopes to scare them away? Armor yourself with throw pillows to burst through the door and use your broomstick to beat them senseless? Your mind was racing. The most reasonable thing to do in that moment, although it hurt quite a bit, would be the answer to whether this was really a life or death situation.

You turned on the porch light.

When the illuminating glow hit the grass below, you saw a person laying there, covered in mud, clearly not anticipating the new biome that had been created in your backyard. You screamed, causing the person to immediately look up at you. Upon making eye contact, you felt your heart spring up into your throat before free falling down to your stomach. You threw open the door, feeling like you were being fled with a million emotions at once, all conflicting each other. You stood there in shock, only being able to choke out one single word.

“...George?”

“I thought I told you to keep that bloody light on! I almost broke my neck out here!” George shouted, but couldn't keep a straight face long enough to be convincing, dissolving into a puddle of laughs back onto the ground. You felt your whole body fill with happiness. You dropped the broom, running out into the yard, slippers and all, squealing all the way before landing on top of him, trapping him in a tight hug.

You kissed him faster than your brain could process what you were doing. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, luscious hair and beard, and plush lips made your whole being swell with euphoria. Your golden yellow silk pajamas were now full of mud, but it didn't matter. George was back here with you. And you didn't need anything else.

“You’re getting all muddy, love.” George giggled, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face.

“I don't care!” You shouted while laughing, pressing loud, wet kisses across his face and neck. George wrapped his arms around you, resting his hands on your waist. You pulled away, staring into his eyes. It may have been late at night, but you felt wide awake as ever. Before you even opened your mouth to speak, you knew there were tears dripping down onto your cheeks. “I didn't think I'd see you again for a while.”

“I planned to stop by before I left, but I didn't have much time during the day.” George confessed. “I wanted to surprise you, but I'm realizing it might have been a better idea in my head.” He looked around the yard, then at his muddy clothes, eliciting a light chuckle. “Thinking about it now, I probably should've called first.”

“I'm just so happy to see you.” You replied, not even hearing half of what he said. You heard he planned to come back for you, and that was all you needed to know. “But I'm guessing your plan involved you being able to see once you got back here. Hence the, you know, porch light.” You averted your gaze, adding a nervous laugh.

“First I tried hopping over the fence, and tripped over that.” George explained, staring back at the gate. “Then I tried to walk quietly, and slipped in that big puddle over there. Not to mention I tripped over the center gradient, so I apologize for that. I'll be sure to fix it the next time I'm around.” He added with a swift cup of your chin and a kiss to your lips. You looked at the tree, seeing the warm toned flowers slightly uprooted, tiny specks of dirt adorning their golden petals. Honestly, that didn't even matter to you. The image of George trying to sneak into your backyard and failing miserably made you erupt into laughter again.

“I suggest you have to get cleaned up now, don't you?” You asked, running a finger through the thick layer of mud adorning his jeans.

“Well, yeah, but I refuse to get your floors all dirty.” George declared. You helped him up off the ground, trying your best to smudge the dirt out of his hair, as well as your own.

“You can leave the clothes in the laundry room. I'll deal with them tomorrow.” You replied. George shot you a look, helping you brush some of the grass off your pajamas.

“So it's already been decided that I'm spending the night, then?” You smirked, not saying anything back. George smiled, sneakily pinching the skin on your waist. You squealed, playfully batting his hand away. You turned to walk back to the patio when he spoke again.

“Even after we get out of these filthy clothes, we still have to get ourselves clean, you know.”

You froze, a chill running through your spine, excitement filling your body. You whipped your head around, grabbing George’s hand and leading him to the stairs. You were about to open the door when he put his arm out to stop you.

“I know you're excited, love, but I still don’t want to bring all this mud into your clean house.” He seemed genuinely concerned by this issue, but at this point, nothing was going to stop you.

“Okay, fine. Easy fix.” You stated, slipping the straps of your pajamas off your shoulders, followed by your underwear. George’s eyes widened as he watched the silken fabric pool around your ankles, leaving you completely nude standing on the patio. The cool air of this particular spring night began to wash over your body, and you shivered slightly. You weren't sure if it was from the sudden breeze, or the tantalizing feeling of this whole situation, but either way, your nipples were completely hard.

Seconds later, George followed suit, removing his muddy shoes, followed by his equally sodden shirt and pants. He stopped at his underwear, feeling a flash of uncertainty. He was no stranger to being nude, but being nude while standing on the back porch of his lover’s house in the middle of their classy suburban neighborhood? That was a new one.

He turned back to you, taking in the sight before him. Seeing your fully bare form, taking one slow drag of his eyes over your lower half, he quickly shuffled off the remaining piece of clothing and tossed it on the floor with the rest. You opened the door, scooping your clothes up in one swift motion, walking a mere few feet and tossing them in the laundry room to be dealt with eventually. You couldn’t be bothered right now. George did the same, keeping his clothes in a neat pile right beside yours, placing his boots by the door. He stood there for a few seconds, gauging your readiness to proceed. With a smirk on your face, you grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom.

You opened the shower curtain and turned the water on, feeling the warm steam slowly fill the room. You adjusted the water to a comfortably neutral temperature before climbing inside, leaving space for George to join you. You stayed under the stream of water, allowing it to take its time to rinse all the mud off your arms and legs, and most of it out of your hair, leaving you with a fresher start before moving on to shampoo and soap. You looked over your shoulder at George, who now seemed rather chilly, so you switched places, allowing him to rinse off as well. He had been wearing more covering clothes than you, so there wasn’t much dirt he needed to get off his body, but his hair was a different story. He spent extra time using his fingers to comb through his beard, which seemed to be a prime target for all that grass and soil.

Getting started on washing your body, you had briefly turned away from George to grab your soap. Before you could open the container, you heard a low shudder coming from behind you. You looked at George, who was now staring at you, while sporting quite the erection. You giggled, lightly poking his stomach. “Am I taking too long for you?”

“You know, for someone who wanted me so badly outside, and is now teasing me about having to wait, you’re quite mad, aren’t you?” He stated, glancing down at himself while continuing to rinse his hair. You laughed louder this time.

“I figured we would clean up first.” You said innocently. He chuckled.

“Why do that when we’re just gonna get dirty again, love?”

You bit your lip, holding back a whimper, but the way your legs involuntarily began to clench shut gave it away immediately.

You nodded. “I see. Well let’s get it on then.”

The second you finished your statement, George wasted no time grabbing your waist and pressing his lips against yours. It was a hungry kiss. Passionate. Longing. It had confirmed he missed you just as much as you missed him. You put your hands in his hair, which was now much softer under the water. You were the one to take that passion further, feeling his lips part and allowing your tongue to enter his mouth. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy this, moving his hands from your waist down to your ass, kneading it softly yet with an impatient edge to it. You were tempted to hook one leg over his waist, but the slippery floor beneath you made you fearful of losing your balance, so you refrained. But you wouldn't have even had time to take action, as George quickly pulled away, spinning you around and pushing you up against the shower wall. You put your hands out, both of them splayed out on either side of your head as your cheek made contact with the cold tile. George grabbed your waist again, slowly grinding against you, slightly pressing you between the wall and himself. The contrast in temperature between the cool, flat surface and the steamy air made your head spin before he even did anything else. He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your earlobe.

“I think you've waited long enough, my beautiful flower.” You moaned softly at his statement as you felt him enter you. Slowly, savoring it just as much as you. It was a bit of a stretch, but you never found it painful. The combination of the warm water and your mutual arousal provided a decent amount of lubrication.

George continued to leave kisses around the shell of your ear and down to your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once he was all the way in, he steadied himself before going any further. “You doing okay, love?” He cooed, patiently waiting for your response.

You sighed blissfully, softly nodding your head and letting out a low “mhm” while taking in all the sensations around you. The mix of everything made you whine in pure ecstasy, feeling so full in the best way possible, not wanting to say or move much in fear of losing your grip on it. You felt like you were in a different world, where it was only you and George, and nothing else mattered. However, you were not in the mood to be kept waiting either, feeling like you were holding your breath a bit, waiting for his next move. You took another deep inhale and exhale, releasing another moan in the interim. “It's okay,” you mumbled, “you can keep going.”

George nodded, starting with a soft, slow pace. Even with shallow thrusts, you were already in heaven. You quickly got lost in the rhythm, hearing his occasional breathy sighs directly into your ear. Hearing him enjoy it just as much as you were only turned you on more. And the more George fell into a rhythm as well, the faster he went. His thrusts became quicker and harder, pushing you up against the wall with each motion. Your moans had just become one long groan of pleasure, the way your nipples dragged across the cold wall with each thrust stringing you along even further.

When you felt that pressure start to build, you couldn't even form a coherent sentence to signal anything, the only word falling from your lips a meek “George...” before a high-pitched whining overtook you again. George shushed you softly, rubbing his thumbs along your waist as he brought you closer to the edge.

“I know, flower. I know.”

What felt like seconds later, you felt your orgasm crash over you, a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a scream flying from your mouth, proclaiming your everlasting love and worship of the man behind you, feeling yourself begin to slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath. George finished shortly afterwards, his grip on your hips tightening as he came inside you. He tilted his head back, a low, steady groan signaling his release. He had no choice but to use the wall for support as well, nearly falling on top of you after he slowly slid out. It was times like these you considered turning off the shower head and just filling up the bath instead, as your legs felt like jelly by this point, leaving you with minimal energy to hold yourself up.

Before you could say anything else, you felt George’s hands on you again, running his fingers through your hair. You smelled the familiar scent of your shampoo, feeling it glide through your hair as you closed your eyes again. He held you tenderly, guiding your head to the water, gently tilting it back to rinse the suds from your hair.

Once finished, he started on your body, massaging the soap all over your back, making sure to be careful around any areas that were currently more sensitive than usual. You sighed happily, feeling pampered like royalty, so grateful to have him here with you.

After a few minutes, your legs didn't feel like that of a newborn giraffe anymore, so you turned around to face George, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before taking the bar of soap. “I got it from here.” You giggled, finishing yourself off before starting to help him out as he eyed your shampoo. It wasn't what he used, but it smelled nice, and there wasn’t much of a choice in this situation. He chuckled before squeezing a small amount onto his palm, looking down as you lathered up his chest and stomach.

Once you both had thoroughly cleaned up, you turned off the water and stepped out, fetching some large fluffy towels and equally soft robes to only increase your level of comfort. By now, both of you were free of mud, partially dry, and ever so tired. Wasting no time to climb into bed, you snuggled up against George, resting your head on his chest.

“I'm so happy you came back.” You whispered, placing a kiss right over where his heart is. George giggled, caressing your arm.

“I would've always come back, flower.” He paused with a pensive sigh. “I enjoy every second I spend with you. You give me new life. A new purpose to an already wonderful experience.” You stared up at him, eyes wide in awe. It was the first time he had openly expressed his feelings to you without hiding them behind his usual cheeky humor. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard.

“You have no idea how special you are to me.” You beamed, craning your neck up to kiss his jawline, surprised when he turned his face and you landed on his lips instead.

“And you to me.” He replied. You enjoyed the streak of added sappy statements from George, but you knew it was a big step for him, judging by the deep breath he took afterwards, followed by a swift “Let's get some sleep, love.”

“Okay,” you agreed, “but let me just make sure I locked the back door first.” George nodded, getting comfortable on his side of your bed as you hopped out from under the covers, shivering again as the cool night air came back with a vengeance on your naked body. You quickly put your robe on and shuffled down the hall. You clicked the lock shut and went to go back to your room when you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. Something yellow.

You looked around until you spotted it again, sticking out of the side of George’s boot. Bending down to get a closer look, you moved the muddy laces and pulled it out. A tear almost fell down your cheek and you held it between your fingers. A petal from one of your precious marigolds, presumably stuck there when George tripped over them on the way in. You smiled warmly, feeling your heart soar at the idea that George can give you a petal every visit, even if he didn't realize it. Without saying anything, you put the petal in the pocket of your robe and made your way down the hall, trying not to disturb George as you quietly slipped back into bed.

==============================

IT'S FINALLY HERE Y'ALL 😄 I'm so happy I can share it and it was definitely a fun plot to continue!

Taglist: @peaceloveandstarrs @queen-of-stars @nosegoes @cocteautwiny @thatgoesinthere-misshapes

(If you want to be added to my taglist, feel free to send an ask and let me know! 🥰)

[lady-ashfade]

Ease your mind.

Kaz brekker x reader

!This is very short!

Warning: Nothings much, kaz being okay with a bit of touch and more from the reader, reader is geisha, heartrender, reader being shorter then kaz. Just short and fluffy.

(Kinda reminds me of the song “Ease my mind” by Ben platt.)

The sound of the wind blowing the grass around him, the tree and the leaves swaying made kaz feel a bit at easy. This was his favorite part of the day, or when he got the chance. He would come to the old tree you like to sit at and read your thoughts away, sometimes the world liked to get easily overwhelming and you needed a break. Mostly it was the noise of the bar, all the loud voices and sounds of the chips or cups hitting the table for hours, drives you slightly insane.

As kaz inched near he saw your body laying against the tree and your head hanging down to read the words of your book. He found you breathtaking. Kaz walked through the grass with his cane helping him walk, he noticed you never looked towards him.

“I could have killed you already, you need to work on your surroundings.” His voice made you smile but didn’t look up at him.

“I heard your heartbeat approach me, kaz.” It was slick in your tone, how you shot back a snarky remark. Kaz smirked and let out a small chuckle, to quiet for you to hear. He walked closer and was then right beside you and looked out into the forest.

“How long have I been gone?” You asked and finally looked up at him, talking in his sharp and handsome features. “Two hours, Nina sent me.” You nodded your head and closed the book. You knew if someone didn’t come to get you each time, then you wouldn’t come back until you noticed the light from the sun was gone.

“Could they handle it?” You pushed yourself up and grabbed the small knitted bag you brought and placed your book inside. “Nothing they couldn’t handle.” Kaz answered and kept his eyes straight into the woods.

You smiled and giggled at the sight of his expression being somewhat calm. “I like it when you come and get me kaz.” You appeared right by his side and looked towards where he was looking.

Though as soon as you got close he turned his attention fully to you, a much better view then the trees. “And why’s that?” He was curious to know your answer. His eyes trailed along the details of your face. From your eyes, to the outline of your nose, then to your lips.

Everything he knew by heart.

“Because it gives you some sort of peace. I can feel how your heartbeat softens. And the look on your face,” you turn your head to meet his eyes, he liked the soft smile you gave him. “I just like to know something can ease you.”

His heart did flutter a bit and you noticed, also knowing yours did the same as well. He looked so handsome just looking at you with the sun shining on his face, the place around you looked like a place in the books you read. These moments the two of you shared throughout the years was special, just for the two of you.

“I do like the occasional kruger to ease my mind.” Kaz charmed and smirked at you. You sighed but laughed as you shook your head at him, he was still kaz. “Then I shall head back to work to make you some.”

His body burnt as you softly placed your hand on his chest through his vest, reaching up on your toes and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. This wasn’t new to him, you had giving him a few touches and cheek kisses before. But no matter how many times you did it, he still got butterflies. His demons didn’t scream as much when you were so gentle.

“Be on your way.” He shooed you away and pulled back to look away from you, his cheeks becoming pink. You giggled and hoped off to the path to make your way back to the bar, kaz watched with a feeling in his stomach. It was to late for him to stop himself from falling in love with you.

Because that happened years ago. He was all yours the day you calmed him down from the flashbacks of his pasted. When you hushed the voices in his head, and eases him through it. The real reason he was at peace when he came to get you was not the nature around the two of you.

It was just your presence.

[avatarmerida]

Hey fellow losers I’m back with more beta huntlow fluff. I know I’ve written some Paulina/William stuff before but this is based on the most recent even more beta huntlow we got from the leaked show bible. So we’ve gone from awkward little prince and fumbling quirky girl to feral witch hunter and equally feral creepy plant girl and I also love them too so hope ya like it 💛💚

———

“And if the water boils here how do all the plants live?” William asked, balancing on the fence along Paulina’s garden as she did some maintenance and planted some new seeds they had found in the forest. She never tired of answering his many questions about the demon realm, especially about the flora and fauna.

“The same way they do in the human realm I suppose,” she said with a small shrug. “I think the stems here have more coating than the plants you’ve seen, but a lot of plants close up during the rain to protect their petals.”

“Interesting,” he said, jumping down to look at her work closer. “How do you persuade the ones with teeth not to bite you?”

“I just keep them well feed, they don’t nip unless they’re hungry or scared,” she said. “But feeding them the food that helps keep their teeth healthy is tricky because it smells kinda gross.”

“They can smell it?”

“They sure can.”

“Fascinating,” he marveled, looking at them closer to see if he could understand how.

“Can I ask you a question?” Paulina asked, wiping some stray dirt from her glasses.

“Of course you may,” replied William, sitting on the ground beside her.

“Why are you still so upset with Luz?” She asked, changing topics. She saw his body language shift.

“I think it’s very clear why,” he said softly.

“You know she didn’t wake you up early on purpose,” she said gently. “She’s really a very nice person, and she genuinely thought she was helping you. Is there anything she can do to prove she’s sorry?”

“I’m not upset that she woke me from my slumber, I'm upset that she was able to,” sighed William, hugging his knees.

“What do you mean? Do you not want to be here?” Paulina asked, hoping it wasn’t the case. Selfishly, she liked having him around.

“When it happened… my uncle told me I’d awaken to a better world. That the suffering and confusion I was around would be gone. That I’d be awoken gently by my…”

“By who?”

“… by my true love.” He said under his breath, almost as though he was embarrassed to utter the words.

“Oh, so you think that Luz is your-.”

“Ew! Bleh, no!” He exclaimed in disgust. “Er, sorry that was rude. No, no I don’t think that. But I think she able to awaken me the way she did because I don’t have a true love.”

“Oh,” Paulina breathed, seeing the genuine hurt slip though the cracks as he tried to keep his lip from trembling. She ventured this was the first time he had said the sentiment aloud. “Or maybe the spell just wore off.”

“Or maybe it just gave up,” he said with a hurt chuckle. “I mean, it makes sense; maidens didn’t favor me before, why would they ever start now? I was better off sleeping forever, giving the world some peace.”

“William, don't say that,” she said, taking his hand. He didn’t flinch at her dirt covered hands.

“It’s true, is it not?” He sighed, focusing on her knuckles decorated with grass stains and tiny scars from the thorns she did not fear. “I cause you nothing but trouble despite you showing me nothing but kindness.”

“Well technically I did threaten to feed you to my plant,” she reminded him. It was certainly a unique first impression.

“Twas for my own good,” he said. “Plus knowing you as I do now, I know it was merely a jest to teach me a lesson. You are kind and patient and I’m just a nuisance.”

“No you’re not!” She insisted. “Okay, well maybe a little at first, but you’ve changed! You’re still learning and adapting, growth doesn’t happen all at once overnight.” She gestured to her garden as proof, a mixture of progress and color. “Love is the same way, ya know. Usually you have to get to know someone first before you label them as your ‘true love.’” She carefully plucked a vibrant yellow flower and placed it behind his ear.

“So… you don’t believe in love at first sight?” He asked timidly as she went back to her gardening.

He remembered when he first saw her, how there was a rosey spotlight around her like a halo. How time slowed down so he could soak in every detail of her beauty, memorize her voice and her movements before reality set back in and with it brought a new breed of confusion. He didn’t know better, but upon reflection the whole ordeal felt like what the poetry he had read in secret during his studies labeled as the phenomenon of love at first sight. His eyes had not seen such a thing before and ever since.

“Hmmm, not really?” Paulina pondered. “I think it’s different for everyone, but I also don’t think I’d want to marry someone I don’t know who kissed me while I was sleeping.”

“That is a fair point,” William chuckled, leaning over to help her make another hole in the ground for her next round of seeds. “You’re correct, as usual.”

“Exactly, and I’m also correct when I say if you want to fall in love then you will,” said Paulina. “You just have to give it time, it’s not something you can force.”

“You know… much about love then?”

“I mean, my dads really love each other but they didn’t get married the second they met,” she said. “They got to know each other first and they didn’t meet the way they thought they’d meet their spouse. Everyone’s story is different.”

“But it’s also possible that some of us aren’t meant to have a story.”

She couldn’t deny that, but she refused to accept a world where a boy who seemed to cherish love so much wasn’t meant to have it. “Maybe she was able to wake you because she was meant to introduce you to your true love.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his mind fully focusing on how she had been the first person Luz had introduced him to. He couldn’t complain about that logic.

“It also might help if you had a crush first,” added Paulina, carefully pressing the dirt back into the ground as though tucking it into bed.

“Like a duel?”

“Oh well, a crush is like… what comes before someone is your true love,” she tried to explain without divulging how complicated they could truly get. “Like, having positive feelings about someone, and wanting to spend time with them without, like, getting married after a few days. Just like thinking of them romantically.”

“I think I may… have formed this crush.”

“Oh! On who?” She asked with enthusiasm that made him quiet. Paulson wore her heart on her sleeve, but he had trouble expressing anything that was not deeply rooted in fact. Or at least, the facts he had been feed. A few moments ago he didn’t have the words to describe his feelings let alone validation their were sinful. He didn’t know the proper way to share them.

“Wel… um…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Paulina quickly, sensing the answer was hard for him to bring forth. “I didn’t consider it could be someone from your original time. I’m sorry if that was too forward, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“And… not wanting to share it doesn’t make it wrong?” William asked.

“Of course not,” she assured him. “You’re allowed to have secrets, and if you want to tell me eventually that’s fine too; you decide when and if you’re ready. I mean, I’ve had tons of crushes on very different people but sometimes they’re just something small, ya know? Sometimes they take awhile to figure out and sometimes they go away on their own, each one is different.”

“Has there ever been one you weren’t able to escape?”

“Well, I don’t know if I would word it like that,” she chuckled. “Having a crush is supposed to be fun, it’s exciting. And sometimes scary, but that also makes it fun. Like a rollercoaster.”

“A roller… coaster?”

“Oh yeah I forgot,” she giggled. “I’ll have to show you one.”

“A… crush?”

“No a rollercoaster,” she said.

“Ah, haha yes of course,” he laughed nervously, painfully aware that he could not seem to stop. “So w-what does one do if they don’t wish to have the crush dissolved?”

“Well I guess you could ask the person you have a crush on to go on a date with you.”

“And a date is like… a courtship, yes? I would seek to woo them?”

She giggled. “Yes, you would seek to woo them.”

He didn’t know what he said that was so humorous but he’d say it everyday for the rest of his life it meant getting to hear her laugh like that.

“Ah, well then. That’s another obstacle, as I know not the way to do so,” he said with a slight frown. “Especially in this foreign, modern land I feel that any outing I plan would not be up to her standards.”

Paulina’s ears perked, her first suspicion dashed as William made it clear the person he liked was someone he had met since he had awakened, which meant it was more than likely that she knew the person as well.

She wondered how well she knew them.

“I mean, like you said I still have much to learn about this world and this time,” he sighed. “But regardless, I’m still myself and I can’t help but feel as though someone discovering I have this crush for them would be most unwanted.”

“I don’t think so,” said Paulina. “I think they’ll think it’s sweet.”

“Surely you jest,” he scoffed. “You’re kind to spare my feelings but I’m sure if this person was aware of my thoughts regarding them they’d be repulsed and uncomfortable.”

“Well I’m sure they’d be perfectly fine with it,” she insisted. “After getting to know you these last few months I can tell you’re actually really sweet, even if you don’t think so. Give yourself more credit.”

“Oh so if I were to tell you I fancy you and wish to spend my days with you, you wouldn’t find it revolting?” He asked as though it was the most comical thing he could imagine.

“No.”

“Oh.” He said, surprised at how quickly and confidently she replied. He cleared his throat and dared to continue. “S-so if I were to say that I would consider it an honor to hold your hand and escort you anywhere you wish to go, you wouldn’t find it inappropriate?”

“No.”

“A-and if I told you you have the most captivating, soft eyes I’ve ever seen and that they make precious jewels envious you would be… okay with that?”

“Um…” Paulina found herself speechless, struck by his words like they were an arrow destined for her very heart.

“Oh yes of course that sentiment is made of cheese, as you might say.” He laughed, slightly embarrassed. “I should have realized my attempts at poetry were novice at best. I apologize if the example was offensive, I should have-.”

“No, no it was very nice!” she said quickly, not wanting to prevent him from saying such lovely things. “It was a beautiful thought, Will. I think anyone would like to hear that.”

“Truly? Uh, well thank you,” he said, unable to hide the blush that danced across his freckles. “Eh, but I’m sure you hear things such as that daily from your suitors.”

“My suitors?” She repeated with a snort. “Oof, now that’s a good one.”

But William did not find it humorous. “I’m sorry, I’m confused.”

“Well let’s just say when other witches my age notice me it’s usually not for the best reasons,” she said. “Most of them think I’m weird or creepy.”

“My apologies again, I’m still getting accustomed to the colloquialisms of this time, do those terms mean something different now?”

“No, I’m pretty sure they mean the same thing now as they did back then,” she said with a small smile, secretly recalling how when they first met William had a similar impression of her, though in fairness it was more about the witch aspect than her specifically. She wondered when exactly that had changed. “I’ve never been very popular. In fact, after Amity stopped talking to me and until I met Augustus most of my closest friends were plants.”

“Well perhaps it is because those plants have the sense to appreciate being in the presence of a rose.”

It was her turn to blush now. “Well, aren’t you the secret romantic?” She giggled, impressed with how quickly he had provided the response. They sat in silence a moment as William realized he hadn’t complimented her hypothetically this time and that something in her tone had shifted. As much as Paulina was willing to try and spare his feelings, he knew she would not lead him astray in this manner. She would not lie to him about this, but did that mean her words applied to her?

“Miss Park… I have a favor of sorts to ask of you,” he began, taking a deep breath.

“Of course,” she said, and he was taken back by how quickly she had agreed. She didn’t even ask what was in it for her benefit, like he was worthy of her assistance without any bribery.

“I will admit I know little of the courtship rituals from my time and even less about the present ones and I was hoping that you would be willing to help… educate me.”

“Oh yeah?” She said with a smirk, scooting closer to him. “How so?”

He could feel his hands get sweatier under his gloves. “Well, would I perchance be able to take you on an outing I believe suitable for expressing such… feelings,” he said as he cleared his throat as though the word made him dizzy. “And you advise me on if it was a suitable choice? I can compensate you for your time, I’ve been saving the snails I’ve acquired in exchange for my sewing and tailoring skills. We can have a grand collection of treats!”

“That sounds really nice,” said Paulina, adoring the way his full smile was on display and she could see the gap in his teeth without him shying away, too caught up in his own hypothetical excitement. “I would love to go out with you William.”

“Okay, wonderful,” he managed to squeak, and his eyes lit up in a way Paulina had never seen before. “I will uh I shall make all the arrangements! What day favors your schedule?”

“I’m fine with whatever day works best for you.”

“The sooner the better!” He exclaimed, louder than he intended to. He swiftly adjusted his volume. “I-I just mean for research purposes. I look forward to the learning aspect of the evening, heh.”

“I’m excited too,” she said and he couldn’t control the wide grin that consumed his whole face. She began to pat down the dirt to help support the budding bulb she had been keeping an eye on, ready to bloom any day now. “Do you think at the end you might be ready to tell me who you have a crush on?”

“I think that if everything goes as planned… I will be. Yes.”

[the-prettiest-teardrop]

What A Gentleman

Pairing- Billy the Kid x Femme reader 

Warnings- Drinking mentioned, drunk people, reader gets hit on, unwanted flirting, unwanted touching, Billy says reader ‘belongs’ to him, allusion to smut

A/N- um, this is kinda shit writing, but I like it. lmk how you feel abt the allusion to smut. also, SEND REQS

———

You and Billy had been seeing each other for a while now, but considering that you were a sweet lady, he didn’t want you to be associated with him.

Well, that was until tonight. You had decided to go out, making your way to a nearby bar to enjoy the night. You weren’t someone to be messed with, although Billy thought you were all fragile, you were far from it. You’d grown up learning how to fight, and although you were underestimated as a woman, you could protect yourself quite well. Because of this, you figured you’d have no trouble turning guys away that night, until a random young man, obviously drunk, made his way to you.

“Hello there, pretty miss, what’cha doin’ here alone?” He drawled, his speech a little off thanks to the alcohol. 

“Just tryin’ to get a drink.” You replied with confidence, a little surprised he had approached you. I mean, you didn’t exactly look like the kinda girl most men went for, I mean, you had gotten away with wearing pants instead of a skirt for fucks sake.

“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be here all alone. Why don’t I take you back to your home and you can show me what you can do?” He said forcefully, left hand landing on your waist, causing you to startle. In that moment, you became aware of the breath of someone else fanning down your neck.

“You leave her alone, she’s got a man.” A familiar voice says from behind, without even having to look, you know it’s Billy. The man’s eyes widen and he scampers off, head hung in defeat. “Here, This’ll keep ‘em away.” He murmurs, firmly placing his hat on your head.

“You sure?” You ask, wide eyes looking up at his. Everyone would know who you belonged to now.

“Of course, Doll. I don’t want you havin’ to deal with that.” He plants a kiss on your forehead after he finished speaking, then reaching down to take your hand. “C’mon sugar, let’s get you home.”

He leads you home, making sure that you didn’t trip over something as you looked up at the stars. 

“Billy, can we watch the stars from my backyard?” You ask in a tone too sweet for him to resist.

“Of course, sugar. I’ll watch the stars with you.” He murmurs as he slings an arm around your waist. 

Once back at your house, you get a blanket from your bed and wandered into the garden where Billy already waited. You lay next to him in the grass, a blanket pulled over you two.

“Billy, will you stay with me tonight? Please?��� You plead, already knowing it was going to be a no.

“M’sorry sugar, it just isn’t safe for you.” He murmurs as he plants a soft kiss on your head.

“Please? Just tonight?” You beg, and the way you look at him, the way you beg even though you knew he’d say no, breaks him.

“Fine baby, just tonight though.” He murmurs, a little hesitant. All his worries melt away as he sees your face light up. Nothing was better than the sight of his girl, in his hat, grinning like she had won the lottery.

After a bit more stargazing, he leads you back up to your room, helping you change before crawling in bed with you. He makes sure the covers are just how you like before moving in to kiss you. Every time he kissed you, your heart fluttered, it was always like the first time. He poured so much passion into the way he moved his lips, and you could feel that in the kiss. He eventually broke away, leaving you gasping for air.

“You need to rest Darlin’.” He whispers, pulling his hat off your head and hanging it off a bed post. You complied quickly, tucking your face into the soft skin of his neck while his rough hands pulled you closer. Although you were supposed to sleep, things didn’t stay like that for long.

In the morning, he helped you out of bed, legs still shaking from the previous night. Being a gentleman, he had made breakfast for his girl, because after all, even if you could barely walk after a night with him, he wasn’t one to be impolite.