#i could Not figure out how to make the bloom on the hand wraps/white of the shirt less glowy but OH WELL. i love her

[verysmallcyborg]

fornax doesn't wear formal attire much, but when they do...

[cookielixie]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 || 𝐥.𝐟. 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

A group of meddling friends, a sprig of mistletoe, and a month full of holiday mischief—what could go wrong? For Y/n and Felix, their obliviousness to their own feelings is only rivaled by their friends’ determination to push them together. As December unfolds, so do a series of awkward, sweet, and unexpected moments that might just make this Christmas unforgettable. 

pairing: lee felix x reader

wordcount: 8k

genre/warnings: college!au, best friends to lovers, friends meddling, mistletoe mishaps, awkward encounters, two very oblivious idiots, suggestive content (like a tiny bit), tooth rotting fluff, mentions of alcohol and partying and a smidge of angst. I guess minsung if u squint

A/N: This has been a wip for like... three years now lmao. i really hope you guys like it, feedback and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated <3 also english is not my first language... so yeah sorry if there are any mistakes

It all started with something simple—shared morning lattes and soft exchanges of “good morning” during your early lectures. Those small, fleeting moments quietly grew into endless hours spent together, until you and Felix became nearly inseparable. The group noticed quickly. The way your laughter came easier when he was around, the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought no one was looking—it was hard to miss. And though you both insisted it was just friendship, the boys could see the truth: you were smitten, both of you, even if you were too stubborn or oblivious to admit it.  

As the year went on, the group quietly rooted for something more to happen. There was an undeniable chemistry between you, a natural ease that left everyone wondering when—not if—you’d finally realize your feelings for each other. But no matter how much teasing or hinting was thrown your way, you both deflected it with flustered laughs and hasty denials. Every attempt to nudge you closer ended the same, with perfect excuses and an almost comical level of obliviousness.  

Eventually, the boys eased off, figuring you’d figure it out on your own. But when December rolled around, your dynamic began to shift. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit, or maybe it was just the closeness that winter seemed to bring, but the two of you became even more inseparable—more clingy, more obviously something.  

It was late November when the group gathered at Chan’s place, watching the two of you from afar and exchanging knowing looks. They’d waited long enough. If gentle teasing and subtle hints weren’t going to work, maybe it was time to take matters into their own hands. Armed with a sprig of mistletoe, a little holiday mischief, and a determination to finally get you two to confess, they began crafting their foolproof plan. This Christmas, one way or another, you and Felix would stop denying what everyone else already knew.  

December 1st:

To kick off the Christmas season, everyone had gathered at Changbin’s for the monthly movie night. Everyone except you and Felix, of course, who were running late after your evening lecture together. The rest of the group had already settled in: Jisung and Minho were cracking open beers and chatting by the couch, Chan and Seungmin were busy piling blankets and pillows onto every available surface, while Hyunjin and Jeongin hovered over the snacks, stealing bites when they thought no one was looking.  

Changbin, meanwhile, was in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a frantic expression and sweat beading on his forehead. His white t-shirt clung to him, dark spots blooming around the neckline. He’d spent the last hour scrambling to prepare what could only be described as a chaotic masterpiece.  

He held the item up in his hands, tilting it left and right under the kitchen light to inspect its durability. It was a long, slender branch, stripped of its excess twigs and carefully wrapped in duct tape. At the tip dangled a sprig of mistletoe, the final touch to what he jokingly called his “cupid’s staff.” After months of teasing, jokes, and failed schemes to push you and Felix closer, drastic measures were now on the table.  

“Hey, you almost done in here?” Chan’s head popped around the doorframe, startling Changbin. “They’re on their way.”  

Changbin glanced at his creation one last time before sighing. “I have no idea if this’ll work,” he muttered, holding it like a fragile relic.  

Chan smirked, his eyes turning into crescents. “It’s worth a shot. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.” He gave Changbin an encouraging pat on the shoulder before disappearing back into the living room. Changbin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help grinning as he cleaned up the remnants of his “art project.”  

When you and Felix finally arrived, your shared giggles preceded you, drawing attention as you stepped through the door. The others didn’t waste a second guiding you both to the loveseat—a small, almost comically cramped piece of furniture. You were forced to sit shoulder-to-shoulder, your legs draped casually across Felix’s lap. The closeness didn’t seem to bother either of you, and soon a comfortable silence fell over the room as the opening credits of the movie began to roll.  

Changbin bided his time, waiting until everyone was engrossed in the movie before slipping away to retrieve his cupid’s branch. “Bathroom break,” he muttered, his heart pounding as he snuck the mistletoe stick out of its hiding spot.  

Returning to the room, he carefully hid the branch behind his back as he took his seat. Minho noticed immediately, raising a brow and stifling a laugh, which, of course, drew your attention.  

“What’s so funny, Min?” you asked, glancing over.  

Changbin shot Minho a deadly glare, silently mouthing, Don’t you dare. Minho, however, didn’t even glance back at him. Instead, he deadpanned, “Changbin’s face. It’s just… always funny.”  

The group erupted into laughter, with Seungmin letting out a snort loud enough to shake the pillows. “Minho, I swear, one of these days, I’m going to drop a dumbbell on you at the gym,” Changbin snapped, though the threat lacked any real malice.  

Minho gasped dramatically, turning away with an exaggerated pout. “Whatever, I’m cuddling Jisung now. At least he appreciates me.”  

Jisung, already sitting beside him, slung an arm over Minho’s shoulders. “I got you, Min,” he said with mock sincerity.  

The laughter settled, and everyone turned back to the screen. Everyone except Changbin, who gripped his mistletoe stick like it was Excalibur, waiting for the perfect moment. He threw a quick glance in your direction and couldn’t help but smirk. Your head was now leaning against Felix’s shoulder, your face nestled into the crook of his neck, while his hand rested lightly on your thigh. Felix’s ears were burning red, a clear giveaway of how flustered he was despite his calm expression. You’re making this way too easy for me, Changbin thought, adjusting his grip on the branch.  

Unbeknownst to Changbin, your thoughts were far away from the movie. When did he become so beautiful? you wondered for the hundredth time since you’d met Felix. Tonight, though, the thought felt heavier as you stared at the way the TV’s soft light highlighted his freckles, making his eyes shine like little suns. You’d accepted your feelings for him a long time ago, even if you were convinced they weren’t mutual. You’d come to terms with it—being his friend was enough, wasn’t it? But moments like this, so close to him, made it harder to ignore the small ache in your chest.  

Meanwhile, Felix was doing everything in his power not to look down at you. His heart raced every time your breath fanned against his neck, and the weight of your legs draped over his lap was making it impossible to think straight. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts a chaotic mess. Stop being ridiculous. She doesn’t like you like that. But even as he told himself that, a part of him wished—hoped—that maybe he was wrong.  

That’s when Changbin made his move. Slowly, he leaned forward, positioning the mistletoe just above you and Felix. At first, Felix didn’t notice—his focus was entirely on not pulling you closer. But when a faint movement caught the corner of his eye, his head shot up. His eyes landed on the mistletoe, and his entire body stiffened.  

“What the hell, Changbin?” Felix’s voice came out sharper than intended, snapping everyone’s attention to him. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darted from the mistletoe to Changbin’s sheepish grin.  

“It’s just a bit of fun,” Changbin replied, trying to keep it light. “Tradition, you know?”  

“Yeah, hilarious,” Felix said coldly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He avoided looking at you entirely, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.  

Your stomach sank at his reaction. Does the thought of kissing me disgust him that much? you wondered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Clearing your throat, you shifted slightly away from him, your heart sinking as your insecurities bubbled to the surface.  

Sensing the tension, Minho quickly stepped in. “Alright, alright, let’s get back to the movie, yeah? Changbin, retire your cupid stick.”  

The awkwardness lingered for the rest of the night, though no one dared to mention the mistletoe again. By the time the movie ended, you and Felix left without so much as a word to each other, the comfortable closeness from earlier now replaced with a noticeable distance.  

As you walked home in opposite directions, the silence between you hung heavy in the air, leaving you both with thoughts you couldn’t bring yourselves to say aloud.  

December 6th:

Minho’s invitation to dinner—just you, Felix, and Jisung—felt like the perfect excuse to shake off the awkwardness lingering from the group’s last gathering. Felix had eagerly agreed, and you didn’t hesitate either. Spending time with him in a smaller, more relaxed setting was always easy. Plus, Minho’s cooking was a draw on its own.  

As you stepped into Minho’s apartment, the warmth and delicious aroma of home-cooked food enveloped you immediately. “Welcome to Minho’s Michelin-star kitchen,” he announced proudly, ushering you inside.  

Jisung, sprawled lazily on the couch, smirked. “Minho’s been on a mission to impress all day. He even cleaned the stove. You better be prepared to cry tears of joy.”  

“Please,” Minho shot back. “You’ll be too busy shoving food into your mouth to cry.”  

Laughing, you made your way to the small dining table set beautifully for four. You slid into your seat beside Felix while Minho and Jisung sat across from you. The atmosphere was cozy, made warmer by the soft yellow light spilling from the lamp above the table.  

The conversation flowed easily as you started eating, a mix of light teasing and genuine updates. Minho, always perceptive, grinned as he turned his attention to you. “So, Y/n, heard you totally destroyed that exam you were stressing over? What’s your secret? Is it some kind of illegal genius potion? Do I need to call someone?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “No genius potion, just sheer panic, too much coffee, and maybe a sprinkle of luck.” You reached for the salt shaker, but your movement froze as your gaze drifted upward. Dangling from the lamp above the table, hanging innocently over you and Felix, was a sprig of mistletoe.  

Your cheeks instantly heated. Minho and Jisung exchanged amused glances, poorly concealing their smirks as they watched you both. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Felix’s grip tighten slightly on his fork, his gaze firmly planted on his plate. He must have noticed it earlier, but he hadn’t said a word. Of course he hadn’t.  

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment, and continued your original task of grabbing the salt, doing your best to ignore the festive little sprig taunting you from above. Felix didn’t look up once, seemingly invested in rearranging the food on his plate.  

For the rest of the meal, your interactions with Felix felt careful and muted, though you couldn’t help sneaking a few glances his way. Whenever Minho wasn’t looking, you narrowed your eyes at him, your silent death glare saying all the things you couldn’t say out loud. But if he noticed your glare—and he absolutely did—he didn’t seem fazed, calmly serving himself another helping of food and chatting with Jisung about the latest drama in their group of friends.  

By the time dinner ended, the mistletoe still hung over you like an unanswered question, but neither of you dared to acknowledge it. You and Felix thanked Minho for the food and began your walk home in the crisp December night air.  

The silence at first was comfortable, your shoes crunching softly against the pavement. It didn’t take long before Felix cracked a joke about Jisung’s overly dramatic reaction to Minho’s slightly burnt bread rolls, and soon your laughter echoed easily down the quiet street.  

Amidst your conversation, Felix slipped his hand into yours. It wasn’t unusual for you two to hold hands—it was something you’d done before—but tonight it felt different. Maybe it was the warmth of the moment, or maybe it was the quiet intimacy of walking side by side under the twinkling streetlights. Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt, as though his hand belonged there.  

Felix glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his soft smile catching the faint glow of the streetlights. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but slightly hesitant, “this kind of feels like… a nice tradition.”  

You tilted your head, squeezing his hand lightly. “What does?”  

“This,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to your joined hands before he quickly added with a nervous laugh, “You know… just as friends. It’s nice, right? No weird mistletoe stuff this time.”  

Your laugh was light, but something tightened in your chest at his words. “Yeah,” you said softly, glancing ahead. “No surprises hanging over our heads.”  

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. Felix’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if he was afraid you’d pull away, but you didn’t. You kept walking side by side, your steps naturally syncing with each other like they always did.  

His words lingered in your mind, though, the way he so quickly clarified the moment as just friendly. Did he think you might have assumed something else? Had you been assuming something else? The thought stirred uneasily in your chest, but you shook it off, blaming it on the holiday awkwardness that had been following you both since the start of December.  

Beside you, Felix wasn’t any calmer. His heart raced, and he berated himself silently. ‘Why did I say that? Now it’s weird. What if she thinks I’m overthinking? What if she wasn’t thinking about it, but now she is?’ His thoughts swirled in an endless loop of self-doubt, but even amidst the chaos in his mind, he felt the warmth of your hand in his and refused to let go.  

The walk continued, the quiet punctuated by shared smiles and lighthearted comments, both of you silently agreeing not to think too much about the moment. For now, it was enough.  

Unbeknownst to you, Minho and Jisung stood by their apartment window, watching as your figures grew smaller in the distance. “They’re hopeless,” Jisung said with a laugh, shaking his head.  

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, smiling fondly. “But this time, I think they’re starting to get it.”  

December 12th:

Visits to the dance studio where Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix practiced had become a regular part of your routine. You enjoyed seeing the trio perfect their routines and loved bringing them food and drinks as a small gesture of support. Tonight, you decided to surprise them, knowing how late their rehearsals often ran. The thumping bass and sharp rhythm of the music greeted you as you entered the studio, the trio moving in perfect sync with the beat. The energy in the room was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but admire the sheer dedication in each step. For a moment, you stood in the doorway, watching them in awe, before they noticed you.  

Minho spotted you first, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Perfect timing, Y/n! We’re starving,” he announced, cutting the music off as the others collapsed onto the floor in mock exhaustion. Hyunjin dramatically wiped his brow, flopping onto his back. “You’re basically a lifesaver at this point,” he joked, while Felix walked over to you with a shy smile, murmuring a soft “Thanks for coming.”  

You sat down with them on the studio floor, unpacking the food and drinks. The conversation flowed easily, filled with playful teasing and updates about your days. Felix, ever the enthusiastic eater, dove into his food with gusto, but it didn’t take long for disaster to strike. “You’ve got sauce on your face, Felix,” you said, stifling a laugh as you reached for a napkin. Without hesitation, you leaned in to wipe it off.  

But just as your hand neared his face, Hyunjin leaned over you with an outstretched arm, dangling a sprig of mistletoe above your head. “Oops, look at that,” he said with a mischievous grin. Your hand froze midair, your eyes locking on the mistletoe first, then darting to Felix. His eyes were wide, his cheeks already dusted with pink. The moment stretched out awkwardly, your hand only inches from his face, until the reality of the situation hit you like a jolt. You recoiled sharply, your heart racing. “I—I should go,” you stammered, grabbing your bag and standing up so quickly it almost knocked over a drink. “Lots to do tonight, sorry!” Before anyone could say a word, you rushed out of the studio, the door swinging shut behind you.  

The silence left behind was deafening. Felix sat frozen, his hand hovering where yours had been moments before, staring at the door you’d disappeared through. His brow furrowed as a mix of frustration and regret crossed his face. “Hyunjin,” he said slowly, his tone sharp, “what the hell was that? The mistletoe again?”  

Hyunjin blinked, startled by Felix’s tone. “I just thought it’d be funny,” he said defensively, holding the mistletoe up like a white flag. But when Felix’s glare didn’t falter, Hyunjin sighed and dropped the sprig onto the floor. “Look, if you hadn’t reacted so… harshly the first time, maybe Y/n wouldn’t be so jumpy now. I mean, do you even know how much she likes you?”  

Felix’s jaw tightened. “What?” he asked, his voice lower now, but Hyunjin just shook his head, standing up to grab a drink. “Figure it out, man. We’re just trying to help, but it’s like you’re both running away every time something happens.”  

Felix didn’t respond. He stared at the mistletoe on the floor, Hyunjin’s words echoing in his head. If you hadn’t reacted so harshly the first time… maybe Y/n wouldn’t be so jumpy now. Was that true? Had he set this whole thing in motion? He thought back to the first mistletoe incident at Changbin’s—a moment he’d shut down immediately because the idea of forcing you into something like that felt wrong. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or pressured, not when he thought you might find it absolutely weird and deem him a creep or something. But now… was it his reaction that had made things worse? Was he the one creating this distance?  

His chest tightened. He’d thought he was protecting you—protecting your friendship—but maybe he’d only made things more awkward. And now you were running out of rooms because of him. The studio fell quiet again, save for the faint sound of Minho munching on chips. After a long silence, Minho glanced up, leaning forward slightly. “Felix, don’t overthink it,” he said gently, his voice less teasing than usual. “You two always bounce back. Just… maybe next time, don’t run away from the moment, yeah?”  

Felix nodded slowly, Minho’s words sinking in, but he still couldn’t shake the weight in his chest. As rehearsal resumed, he danced on autopilot, his movements mechanical as his mind replayed the night’s events. By the time the music stopped again, one thought was firmly planted in his mind: I can’t let this keep happening. I’ve got to figure out how to make things right with her.  

December 16th:

It had been a few days since the series of awkward holiday encounters—movie night, the dinner at Minho’s, and the fiasco at the dance studio. You and Felix had fallen back into your usual rhythm, or at least, you were trying to. The moments of closeness still felt natural, but there was a tension beneath the surface, a hesitance that hadn’t been there before. You chalked it up to everything that had happened, telling yourself that things would smooth out eventually. 

The two of you were standing by your locker that morning, talking like usual, and for once, it felt normal again. Felix leaned casually against the locker next to yours, his freckled cheeks still slightly pink from the cold outside. 

“I’m calling it now—Chan’s going to make us rewrite our part of the group project by the end of the week,” Felix said with a smirk. “He’s going to find some tiny typo and have an existential crisis about it.” 

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed a book from your locker. “He’s probably already composing the email. I give him until tomorrow before we get hit with, ‘Just a few more adjustments.’” 

Felix laughed along with you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Moments like this were your favorite—easy, light, like nothing had changed. The awkwardness from the last few days felt far away, almost forgotten. Almost. 

But then Jisung appeared. 

“Wow, if it isn’t my favorite dynamic duo!” he called out, his voice loud enough to draw a few glances from passing students. You turned your head just as he stopped in front of you, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face. 

“Jisung…” you began cautiously, narrowing your eyes at him. “What are you doing?” 

Instead of answering, he gave you and Felix a mockingly sweet look, then reached up and held something over your heads. Your stomach sank the moment you realized what he was doing. 

Felix noticed immediately too. His laughter faded, and for a split second, he looked up before his eyes flicked to you. But instead of pulling away or frowning like he had the first time, he hesitated, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something. His posture softened, his hand twitching at his side as though he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should. “Y/n, it’s not a big deal,” he said, his voice quiet and careful. 

But you didn’t hear the gentleness in his words. The memory of his sharp reaction the first time flashed in your mind like a warning sign. You panicked, your body stiffening as a heat rose to your face. “Jisung!” you exclaimed, your voice harsher than you intended as you reached out to push him aside. 

He stumbled back with a yelp, clutching his chest dramatically. “Whoa, okay! No need to shove!” he said, though his tone was still playful. 

“I’m not doing this right now,” you muttered, hastily grabbing your bag. Your eyes didn’t meet Felix’s, even as you felt his gaze lingering on you. “I’ve got to get to class.” 

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Felix and Jisung standing there in the middle of the hallway. 

The silence between them was heavy for a moment, until Jisung let out a low whistle. “Well, that didn’t go as planned,” he muttered, looking at Felix. 

Felix was still staring down the hall, his expression hard to read. His arms hung at his sides, his shoulders tense. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but laced with frustration. “Why do you keep doing that, Jisung?” 

Jisung blinked. “Doing what?” 

Felix turned to him, his jaw tight. “This. Pushing her like that. It’s not helping.” 

Jisung tilted his head, holding his hands up defensively. “Whoa, relax, man. I thought you two were back to normal. You were laughing and talking like nothing was wrong—I figured maybe this time, it wouldn’t be a big deal.” 

Felix ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “Well, it is a big deal. She’s already uncomfortable with everything that’s happened, and now she’s just…” He trailed off, his voice growing softer. “She probably thinks I don’t want this. That I don’t want her.” 

Jisung frowned, his usual playful expression replaced by something more serious. “You don’t think she knows how you feel?” 

Felix let out a short, humorless laugh. “How could she? The first time this happened, I acted like the whole idea was some big joke. She probably thinks the idea of… of anything between us is disgusting to me.” He leaned back against the lockers, his gaze falling to the floor. “But it’s not. It’s the opposite. I just didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything. I thought I was doing the right thing.” 

Jisung studied him for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Look, man, maybe it’s time to stop trying to protect her from something she doesn’t need protecting from. I mean, she’s clearly as caught up in her head as you are. Maybe instead of freaking out, you could, I don’t know, actually say something next time?” 

Felix looked up at him, frowning. “Say what?” 

Jisung smirked faintly, patting Felix on the shoulder. “Figure it out. Just… do something before she sprints away again. You’re both miserable, and it’s kind of painful to watch.” 

And with that, Jisung walked off, leaving Felix standing alone in the hallway. Felix let out another sigh, leaning his head back against the lockers. 

Maybe Jisung’s right, he thought, the idea twisting in his chest. She probably thinks I don’t want her. But what if she… what if she doesn’t want me either? 

The thought made his stomach churn, but as he stood there, staring down the hallway where you’d disappeared, he resolved to himself that next time—if there was a next time—he wouldn’t let things end like this. 

December 20th:

The soft hum of Christmas music filled the cozy café where you worked, the glow of fairy lights strung along the walls casting a warm, festive ambiance. The evening shift had been slow, with only the occasional customer trickling in, leaving you and Jeongin plenty of time to chat and clean. When the bells above the door jingled, you glanced up, immediately spotting Felix stepping in from the cold. A puff of white breath escaped his lips as he unwrapped the scarf from his neck, his cheeks and nose flushed pink from the chilly December air. He looked tired but happy, and his face lit up when he saw you behind the counter. 

“Felix!” you called out, leaning slightly over the counter to greet him. “Done with your last exam?” 

He grinned as he approached, his hair falling into his eyes. “Finally. I think my brain is fried, but at least I’m free now.” He leaned an elbow on the counter, his usual casual charm impossible to miss. “I needed a victory coffee, and I figured my favorite barista would hook me up.” 

You snorted, grabbing a cup and heading toward the espresso machine. “Victory coffee, huh? Is that what we’re calling it? Be honest—did you crush it or barely survive?” 

“Crushed it,” he replied quickly, then laughed. “Okay, fine. Maybe there was a little panic halfway through the essay. But come on, you try remembering six economic theories when you’re running on two hours of sleep.” 

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you started making his coffee. “Sounds like someone should’ve had one more latte before heading in. Caffeine solves everything, you know.” 

“Ah, yes, the secret to success: caffeine addiction,” he teased, resting both elbows on the counter now as he watched you work. Jeongin, wiping down tables nearby, snorted loud enough to make Felix glance his way. 

“She doesn’t give just anyone free coffee, you know,” Jeongin quipped. “You must be special.” 

Felix smirked, his gaze flickering to yours. “Guess I’m her favorite.” 

You felt your cheeks flush but kept your focus on the coffee machine, pretending his words hadn’t made your heart skip. “Careful, sunshine boy, or I’ll start charging you double.” 

Jeongin grinned knowingly but didn’t push it, disappearing into the back as you handed Felix his coffee. He took a sip, sighing dramatically as though it were the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Perfect, as always.” 

You leaned forward on the counter, resting your chin in your hand as you laughed. “I’ll take that as a five-star Yelp review.” 

“You’d get six stars if you threw in a cookie,” he joked, and just like that, the conversation flowed effortlessly. It didn’t matter how awkward things had been between you recently—when it was just the two of you, everything else seemed to melt away. Felix’s freckled cheeks were still pink from the cold, and the warmth in his eyes as he smiled at you made your stomach flip, though you tried to ignore it. 

The café was quiet, the snow falling softly outside making the whole world feel muffled and still. Felix leaned closer over the counter, his chin propped on his hand now, mirroring your posture as you teased him about his exam. He was laughing again, the sound low and sweet, and you were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice how close you’d both leaned toward each other. The space between you was practically nonexistent, and your heart was thudding in your chest, though you weren’t sure why. 

But Felix did notice. Just as his gaze flickered to your lips, a movement caught the corner of his eye. He stilled, his laughter fading as his focus shifted. There, by the pastry case, was Jeongin. He was leaning casually against the counter, a smug grin plastered across his face as he held something above your heads. 

Felix’s stomach twisted when he realized what it was: a sprig of mistletoe, dangling lazily from Jeongin’s hand. His initial instinct was to groan or roll his eyes, to glare at Jeongin for meddling again. But then his gaze returned to you. You were still smiling, your eyes shining as you waited for him to say something, completely unaware of Jeongin’s antics. 

Felix hesitated. He knew how you felt about the mistletoe by now—how every prank this month had left you retreating, flustered and unsure. But something about the way you were looking at him right now, so close and unguarded, made him want to push past the awkwardness and take the chance. Maybe this was his moment to show you how he really felt. 

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. “Can I tell you something?” 

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued, though you tried to keep your tone light. “You’re not about to say something cheesy, are you?” 

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine, and his gaze softened as he leaned in slightly. “Maybe. But you make it kinda hard not to.” 

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back some teasing remark, but before you could, Felix closed the space between you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. The warmth of his lips spread across your skin, catching you so off guard that you froze. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still, the café quiet except for the soft hum of holiday music. But just as your heart started to flutter, your eyes flicked upward—and you saw it. 

There, held high above your heads, was Jeongin’s hand. He was leaning against the counter, the branch in his grip swaying slightly, his grin practically splitting his face in two. 

The giddy warmth from Felix’s kiss vanished, replaced by a sinking feeling in your chest. Of course. Of course Jeongin had been watching, meddling, dangling his stupid branch like some kind of cupid. You stepped back from Felix slightly, your hand brushing your cheek where his lips had been moments before, and let out a nervous laugh. 

“Wow, smooth, Felix,” you said lightly, though your voice felt hollow even to your own ears. You avoided his gaze, your chest tightening with doubt. He’d kissed you, sure, but was it because he wanted to—or because Jeongin had been standing there, making it impossible not to? The thought twisted painfully in your stomach, and you turned your attention to Jeongin, your expression hardening. “And you! Don’t you have anything better to do than play cupid?” 

Jeongin grinned shamelessly, lowering the branch. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ as he straightened up. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

You rolled your eyes and busied yourself behind the counter, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. You could feel Felix’s gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. The moment had been so sweet, so perfect, but now it just felt like a game—like all the other forced encounters this month. The thought of it being anything other than real made your chest ache. 

Felix stood there, his own chest tightening as he watched you. He hadn’t missed the way your expression changed the second you noticed Jeongin, how you’d pulled away like the kiss had meant nothing. His grip on his coffee cup tightened, frustration and regret bubbling inside him. He’d kissed you because he wanted to, but now it felt like everything had been ruined by that stupid sprig of greenery. 

Later, as Jeongin wiped down a table nearby, Felix caught his eye. “Really?” Felix said, his voice low as he gestured toward the branch now lying on the counter. “You couldn’t help yourself?” 

Jeongin smirked, completely unbothered. “You two were this close. I just gave you a little push.” 

Felix sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She probably thinks I only kissed her because of you.” 

“Well,” Jeongin said, raising an eyebrow, “did you?” 

Felix glared at him, his voice soft but firm. “No. I kissed her because I wanted to.” 

Jeongin tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost understanding. “Then maybe next time, let her know that. Don’t let me or some stupid branch do it for you.” 

Felix stayed quiet, his eyes flicking toward the counter where you stood, your back still turned to him. Jeongin’s words echoed in his head as he finished his coffee, determination slowly building in his chest. If there was going to be a next time, he wouldn’t leave any room for doubt. Not this time.

December 22nd:

The Christmas party was in full swing, and Chan’s apartment buzzed with the energy of a group finally free from the weight of exams. The music pulsed softly in the background—a mix of festive classics and whatever Jisung had decided to throw into the playlist for chaos. Colored lights blinked unevenly from every corner, their soft glow bathing the room in warmth, while an unsteady Christmas tree leaned dramatically in the corner, its precarious decorations the result of Minho’s refusal to let anyone touch “his masterpiece.” The air was thick with the scent of mulled wine, spiked hot chocolate, and cinnamon candles that Minho had insisted were “mandatory for the aesthetic.” Empty bottles and half-eaten snacks littered the table, and Santa hats had somehow found their way onto everyone’s heads, whether willingly or not. 

In the kitchen, you leaned against the counter, cradling a drink that had gone lukewarm in your hand. Minho stood opposite you, arms crossed and a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watched you with laser focus. The noise from the living room spilled faintly into the space—Jeongin’s laughter cutting through Chan’s groan of defeat, the clinking of glasses, and Jisung’s exaggerated rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.” 

Minho raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he studied you. “Alright, what’s going on?” 

You blinked, startled. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Minho said, gesturing toward the door with his glass, “that you’ve been glancing at Felix every five minutes like you’re in a cheesy holiday rom-com, and you’ve barely said three words to him all night. Spill.” 

You groaned, setting your drink down on the counter with a little too much force. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, though even you didn’t believe it. “That’s the problem.” 

Minho’s smirk softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze not letting you escape. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m like a free therapist. Minus the therapy license. And the emotional sensitivity.” 

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “It’s just… complicated,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “This whole mistletoe thing—it’s made everything so weird. And now I feel like I don’t even know where I stand with him. What if all those moments didn’t mean anything? What if he only kissed me at the café because Jeongin was standing there waiting for him to do it?” 

Minho let out a long, exasperated sigh, setting his glass down with a dramatic flourish. “Y/n, listen to me. Felix isn’t the kind of guy who does something just because someone else expects him to. If he kissed you, it’s because he wanted to. End of story. Trust me, I’ve known him for years.” 

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “But what if I’m wrong? What if I say something, and it ruins everything?” 

Minho gave you a rare, sincere look, his tone softening. “Then at least you’ll know. But, Y/n, come on. The guy looks at you like you hung the stars. You’ve seen it, right? He’s just as caught up in this as you are. But if you don’t talk to him, you’re both gonna keep circling each other forever.” 

You hesitated, the weight of his words settling over you. “You’re really annoying, you know that?” you muttered, picking up your glass again. 

Minho grinned, raising his own glass in a mock toast. “And yet, I’m always right.” 

Across the room, Felix was perched on the edge of the couch, swirling his drink absently as he stared out the window. The faint glow of the city lights reflected in his dark eyes, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He barely noticed the snow falling in lazy flurries, his mind too busy replaying every moment from the past month—the awkwardness, the misunderstandings, and most of all, the way you’d pulled away at the café after Jeongin’s mistletoe stunt. He kept asking himself the same question: Had he ruined it? Had his hesitation made you think he didn’t care? 

Hyunjin plopped down beside him, dragging him back to the present with an exaggerated sigh. “Alright, sunshine boy, what’s your deal?” 

Felix blinked, startled. “What?” 

“You’ve been sulking in the corner all night,” Hyunjin said, poking him in the ribs with a candy cane. “Which, like, fine, maybe it’s your broody winter aesthetic or whatever, but it’s starting to get depressing. What’s going on?” 

Felix let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely not nothing,” Seungmin interjected from across the room, where he was perched on the armrest of the couch. “Even Changbin noticed, and he’s been halfway through that punch bowl for the last hour.” 

Changbin, who was indeed holding another cup of punch, nodded sagely. “Yeah, man. You’ve been staring at Y/n like she’s the last piece of cake at the bakery.” 

Felix groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “I’m not staring.” 

Hyunjin snorted. “Right. Sure. You’re just ‘coincidentally’ looking in her direction every thirty seconds.” 

Felix dropped his hands, shooting them a glare. “I don’t know, okay? The whole mistletoe thing has been a mess, and I feel like every time I try to fix it, I just make things worse. She probably thinks I only kissed her at the café because Jeongin was watching.” 

Hyunjin tilted his head, studying Felix’s slumped posture. “Or—and hear me out—maybe she’s just as scared as you are. Look, Felix, if you want her to know how you feel, you’re gonna have to stop tiptoeing around it. None of this ‘reading between the lines’ crap. Just tell her.” 

Felix’s gaze flicked toward the kitchen, where he could just make out the edge of your figure as you leaned against the counter, talking to Minho. His chest tightened. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You’re right.” 

Hyunjin grinned, clapping him on the back. “Of course I am.” 

The Christmas party had settled into a quieter rhythm, the earlier chaos giving way to a warm buzz of chatter and laughter. Chan’s apartment still brimmed with festive energy—colored lights blinked unevenly from the walls, and the half-decorated tree leaned at an almost comical angle, as though too tired to stand upright after hosting a steady stream of Santa hats and selfies. The scent of mulled wine, cinnamon candles, and something suspiciously burnt wafted through the air, mingling with the faint sounds of Christmas music pulsing from Jisung’s chaotic playlist. 

You needed air. The heat of the apartment and the weight of your swirling thoughts had become too much, so you’d slipped out onto the balcony unnoticed. The cold December breeze bit at your skin, sharp and refreshing, as you leaned against the railing and stared out at the snow-dusted city below. The streetlights illuminated the falling snow like glitter, and for a moment, you let the quiet settle over you, a sharp contrast to the hum of energy inside. 

Your mind, however, refused to settle. It was caught in a loop, replaying every mistletoe encounter from the past month—the awkward laughter, the stolen glances, the kiss at the café. No matter how hard you tried to push it away, one thought kept returning: Did any of it really mean something? Or had Felix simply gone along with it because he felt like he had to? 

The sliding door opened behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder, startled. Felix stepped out, his scarf loosely draped around his neck, and the faint glow from the apartment lit up his freckles like constellations. His cheeks were pink, whether from the cold or the warmth of the party, you weren’t sure. He hesitated for a moment, looking at you like he wasn’t entirely sure he was welcome, before closing the door behind him and stepping closer. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the breeze. 

“Hey,” you replied, your breath visible in the cold as you turned back to the view. 

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching between you like the snowfall. Felix shifted beside you, leaning on the railing, close enough that his elbow almost brushed yours. You could feel his presence without looking at him, and the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air. 

“Can we talk?” he asked finally, his voice hesitant but steady. 

You nodded, your pulse quickening. “Yeah. We probably should.” 

Felix let out a slow breath, his hands gripping the railing as he looked out at the city. “This whole month has been… a lot,” he started, his voice low. “The mistletoe, the teasing, all of it—it made everything feel so much more complicated than it needed to be. And I know I didn’t exactly handle it well.” He paused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “The night at Changbin’s… when I reacted the way I did—it wasn’t because I didn’t want to kiss you.” 

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening. “Then why?” 

Felix hesitated, his brows furrowing as he stared down at his hands. “Because I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I didn’t want you to think I was only doing it because they were watching. I didn’t want it to feel like some stupid joke.” His voice softened, and he finally looked up to meet your gaze. “I wanted it to be real. And I didn’t want to ruin anything between us by making it weird.” 

Your breath caught, and you felt the words spilling out before you could stop them. “And I didn’t want you to kiss me because of them either,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because of some stupid branch, or a game, or anything else.” 

Felix’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “that’s the only reason I’ve ever wanted to kiss you.” 

The rawness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart felt like it might burst. The tension between you was electric, the cold air forgotten as his gaze held yours, unflinching and unguarded. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Felix spotted something on the small table beside you. 

He let out a soft laugh, breaking the moment as he reached for it. In his hand was a familiar sprig of greenery—another mistletoe branch, as though the universe itself had been conspiring against you all month. Felix raised it above your heads, a playful smile tugging at his lips despite the nervous edge in his eyes. 

“Well,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement, “it wouldn’t be Christmas without one of these, right?” 

You stared at the mistletoe for a moment, your emotions a tangled mess of warmth, frustration, and something close to defiance. Then, without a word, you grabbed the branch from his hand, stepped back, and threw it over the railing. The sprig disappeared into the night, swallowed by the snow below. 

“To hell with that,” you said, your voice steady but breathless. 

Before Felix could react, you closed the distance between you, your hands cupping his face as you leaned in and kissed him. His lips were warm despite the cold, soft and tentative for half a second before he responded, his hands gently settling on your waist like he was afraid you might disappear. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like the two of you were pouring every unsaid word, every missed moment, into it. The rest of the world faded away—there was no snow, no cold, no noise from the party inside. There was only him. 

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the frosty air. Felix’s eyes fluttered open, and his freckled cheeks were flushed, his lips tugging into a soft, disbelieving smile. 

“Wow,” he said, his voice low and full of awe. “That was definitely all you.” 

You laughed, your hands still resting against his cheeks. “Yeah, it was.” 

The tender moment was shattered by a loud thump against the glass door. Both of you whipped around to see the boys pressed up against the balcony window—Hyunjin, Jisung, Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin, Chan, and Minho, all grinning like they’d just won the lottery. Minho smirked as he exchanged a smug high-five with Chan, while Jisung mimed wiping a fake tear from his cheek. 

Felix groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as his ears burned red. “They’re the worst.” 

You couldn’t stop laughing, wrapping your arms around him as you leaned your cheek against his hair. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as the snow continued to fall softly around you. “But maybe we owe them for this one.” 

[just-jordie-things]

blue orchids and white lies - nanami kento

word count: 5.2k warnings: none ? summary: nanami's never cared much for flowers until he steps foot in her shop and suddenly he's an avid gift giver of luxurious bouquets. a/n: this is for the anon that sent me a brainrot so good i blacked out, wrote this, and will prolly receive hate in the future as it's the only nanami piece i will (probably) ever write </3 ___

The first time Nanami Kento steps foot into that tiny flower shop, he treats it more as an errand than anything else.

Shoko was throwing a little get-together later that evening- something about a creepy discovery she’d made during an autopsy that excited her, truthfully Nanami tried not to pay too much attention to the gruesome details she’d shared- and he didn’t want to show up empty handed.  Utahime had already declared she was bringing the champagne, Gojo covered the catering from some fine dining restaurant Nanami had never even heard of, and it seemed as though flowers were the best he could come up with.

Still, being the thoughtful gentleman he was, he figured he might as well splurge on a well crafted bouquet, rather than the cheap banded wilting things at the grocery store.

Despite being right next door to his favorite bakery in Tokyo, he’d never had an interest to poke around the little shop.  There had never really been an occasion for him to buy flowers, and he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to pick some up just to freshen up his office or dining room table.  If anything, once the little bell above the door jingles to signal his entry, he feels incredibly out of place.  The shop is tiny, and covered nearly ceiling to floor in bright blooms of plants he’s never even seen before.

A soft but cheery “Welcome in!” comes from the wall where there are two clerks working away with nothing short of joy on their faces.  The first is cashing someone out at the register, handing over a plastic wrapped bundle of what he assumes are tulips but he’s not quite sure.  The other being the one who greeted him, and-

Nanami freezes, which is out of character enough to make his face feel warm and his heart stutter in his chest.  The other clerk, a woman who seemed to be playing rather than working on the bouquet before her.  As quick as she was to welcome the new customer, she was just as quick to return to rearranging the bundle of purple and white flowers before her.  She doesn’t even seem to notice the way Nanami stands in the doorway struck by awe as he watches her over-analyze the way each petal pushes against one another.

After a second too long of staring he realizes how creepy he’s being, and he makes a beeline for the opposite side of the shop, hoping no one around caught the way he’d shamelessly stared at a complete stranger, much less a woman simply trying to do her job.  She didn’t need some random customer ogling her- he wasn’t Gojo.

He pretends to glance over the array of pre-arranged bouquets on the far wall.  Pretend, as in technically he’s looking at them but he’s not really paying any attention.  His mind is still buzzing with that lingering haze of love at first sight wondrous surprise.  Eventually he settles for an arrangement of red roses.  Roses were always a safe bet to go with, right? It’s not like Shoko screamed ‘flower lover’ in her offputting demeanor.  As he’s carrying the bouquet to the front, he’s starting to second guess the whole thing.

Shoko would definitely smirk in his face for bringing such a silly gift to her party.  She’d probably start laughing if he told her that he was purposefully waiting for the pretty clerk who’d greeted him to cash him out- wait, what-?

“All set?” 

He tries to cover the way his eyes widen when she slides the project in her vase aside and beckons him to step up to his counter.  The other counter was completely open, and he could feel the way the second clerk stared at him in bewilderment as he’d ignored the universal sign for ‘my register is open’.  But Nanami is not as smooth as he’d like to be, and he can tell by the uptick in the corner of her mouth that she’s amused by his frozen stature.

“Yes- yeah, just this,” He feels like a teenager for stammering over his words, but she pays it no mind.  Her movements are overly gentle as she takes the bundle of roses from his hands, treating the bouquet with the utmost care, as though it were a newborn child.

His eyes glance down the nametag on her apron quickly, hoping she wouldn’t notice his sudden urge to put a name to the pretty face.  (y/n).  Certainly fitting.  Even her apron is embroidered with little colorful threads of cartoonish flowers.  Peeking at the apron of the other employee and finding nothing but a little bee pin secured next to their name tag, he wonders if she embroidered those flowers herself.

“These are beautiful, they’re going to love them,” She’s speaking again and Nanami finds himself standing up a little straighter.  “Would you like them wrapped up in a special way? I have tissue and ribbon” She offers with a smile that has all of the blood rushing towards his face.  He prays it’s not  noticeable.

“Uh- that’s probably not… no, I don’t think so” He replies awkwardly, and she can’t help but laugh a bit at his uncertainty.

“First time buying flowers for someone?” She asks, and he watches as she pulls open a drawer beside her and plucks out a sheet of white tissue paper with just the faintest bits of glitter sparkling on it.

“That obvious?” He mumbles, and he hopes it comes across more playful than embarrassed, but deep down, Nanami knows it’s the latter.

(y/n) chuckles again, expertly crafting the tissue to fit around the bouquet in a flattering way.  She makes it look easy, the way the paper folds to her will neatly.  It’s a simple task, but Nanami knows if he’d tried it himself, the tissue would wrinkle and it wouldn’t look nearly as flattering as she presents it.

“You’re not the first man to pick out the first bouquet of roses he sees,” SHe teases gently.  “No offense though, these are gorgeous.  I have to say I really outdid myself” 

“You grow them all yourself?” Nanami asks, and instantly regrets it.  Is that a stupid question? Do all florists grow their own supply? He hadn’t a clue on the inner workings of the flower market.

“I sure do!” Her reply is cheerful, and the question seems a little less stupid.  “There’s a greenhouse out back, but between you and me,” She lowers her voice like she’s about to tell him a grave secret.  Her eyes lock on his with an intensity Nanami thinks could rival Gojo’s.  “My best work comes from my own garden at home” She confesses.

Nanami can’t help the way it cracks a smile out of him, especially when she grins widely and finishes up his bouquet with a pretty string of red ribbon.  Even the way she curls it with the sharp edge of a pair of shears is done to perfection.  He really had to hand it to her for her craftsmanship.

He pays, making sure to tip a generous amount on the card reader, even if it is purely because she’d seemed to sweep him off his feet in less than two minutes of conversation.

“She’ll be very excited to receive these, they’re absolutely perfect” (y/n) says, handing the bouquet back to him with just as much grace as before.  Nanami finds himself moving slowly, careful not to crinkle a single edge of the tissue.

“I don’t know about that, I don’t think she even likes flowers,” Nanami says as he glances over the red petals smiling up at him.  The implication of the statement doesn’t hit him until a moment too late, and he looks back up at (y/n) almost too quickly, his eyes widened slightly as he tries to backtrack.  “She’s a friend- a, uh, colleague sort of friend.  She’s celebrating something and I… really didn’t know what to bring” It’s a lame explanation, and he finds himself fubbing the back of his neck and hoping he doesn’t come across like some slimy liar trying to cover his tracks.

“Oh! I see.  I just assumed, because, you know…” (y/n) laughs softly as she gestures to the roses.  Nanami follows the gesture before glancing back at her, his confusion evident.  “Cause roses are usually a symbol of romance.  Well, the symbol of romance, really” She explains.

His eyes widen further and she can’t help but laugh a little more.  Everything about her new customer amused her, and she didn’t usually spend so much time chatting with people that weren’t trying to chat with her, but she couldn’t help but want to drag the conversation on just a little bit longer.

“Oh god,” Nanami mutters, staring down at the roses with a newfound dislike for them.  “They’re going to laugh at me” 

“No, no, they won’t,” (y/n) quickly shakes her head.  “I’m sure your friend will think it’s sweet.  She’ll understand.  It’s a very kind gesture” 

He can tell just by looking at her that her words are genuine, she’s not just saying them to make him feel better.  Her eyes gleam as she nods at him encouragingly.

“Alright,” He sighs, giving the roses one last once over to make sure he’s not making a grave mistake.  “But if they laugh I’m not getting the fancy paper next time” 

Her cheeks bloom with color, next time, she repeats in her mind, and there’s an undeniable flutter in her chest at the sentiment.  She nods back at him with certainty.

“If they laugh, then I’ll help you pick out an appropriate bouquet, next time” She promises, and again he can’t explain it, but Nanami knows she absolutely means it.

His smile is soft, so unbelievably velvety soft as he nods and bids her a good day before making his way back out of the shop.

That night as expected, Shoko does make a weird face when he offers up the bouquet of flowers.  She gives him a tease he sees coming from a mile away- ‘Kento, flowers? I didn’t think you would know where to find these’- which makes the rest of the group laugh as well.  He decides he’ll gloss over that fact on his next visit to the flower shop. ___

His second visit to the flower shop, he realizes too late that he doesn’t have a decent reason for picking up a pricey bouquet of flowers.  As he wanders around aimlessly while (y/n’s) busy wrapping another pretty bundle for a customer, he thinks maybe she wouldn’t even ask what the occasion is.

“Hey,” 

And then she’s standing right next to him as he’s eyeing a clump of purple bundles that smells divine.  The smile on her face is one of clear recognition, and it makes his chest warm that she’d remember him, much less approach him first.

“So, what’s the special occasion this time?” 

And of course her first question is that one.  He would smack a hand to his face if it wasn’t so embarrassing.  She’s probably asking because he failed so miserably at picking out a proper bouquet last time, and he has to give her credit for offering him help, even though he’s struggling to come up with a half decent response.

But before he can stop himself, he’s saying,

“It’s my mom’s birthday” 

Which is an odd choice of lie.  He hadn’t seen his mother in years, and her birthday had passed months ago.  But that’s what he comes up with, and it’s not exactly the worst lie, but the cringe he makes as soon as it leaves his mouth isn’t all that hidden.

“That’s nice,” (y/n) beams at the thought.  “Do you know what she likes?” 

The way his face pales answers her question plenty, and she chuckles a bit as her eyes begin to wander the shop.  “No problem, I have just the thing,” She beckons him to follow her as she wanders off a bit.  “She’s an aquarius, so the safe bet is orchids,” 

He’s not even sure what she’s saying, but he nods along like he understands perfectly.

“I have these, if you like white,” She suggests, and he eyes the pretty thin stems with white flowers budding off of them.  Oh, so those were orchids.  Then her eyes light up, and without thinking, she reaches out and places a hand on his arm with her excitement.  “But I just brought in some blue ones from home, it was too cold to keep them there, would you like to see those?” 

He actually doesn’t need any flowers at all, so worrying about the color was far from his mind.

“Blue sounds lovely” He gives her a nod and as he thought she might, she grins before rushing off to the back of the shop.  He blames the way his skin tingles from where her tough had just left him even from under two layers of clothes.

As he slowly makes his way to the front to await her blue orchids, he glances around the shop a bit more.  Every single plant his eyes land on looks like they’ve been loved to the fullest extent.  Bright blooms of color cover every inch of space, every counter, shelf, and hook on the ceiling has a well loved clump of flowers occupying it.  Nanami can name roses and daisies, and he thinks the purple flowers he’d been eyeing earlier was lavender, but most of what fills this shop looks like a completely new plant he’d never discovered before. 

He wonders how much of her life (y/n’s) spent mastering her craft, because clearly, not a single sprout of life looks untouched or forgotten.

“Here you are,” She comes back out with a beam even wider than before as she holds up her precious blue orchids proudly.  “Beautiful, aren’t they?” 

He hums in agreement, his face warm as he barely even casts a glance at the bundle in her hands.  It might be obvious and cheesy, but he can’t exactly help it.

“Or were you looking at something else?” (y/n) asks, nodding to the hanging pot his eyes had been focused on before she’d come back out.  “The star jasmine is also lovely, but they can be tough to take care of at first” 

Again, he barely casts his gaze towards the pot before he’s turning back to her again, an amused little smile on his face.

“Could you really name every plant in here?” He asks, and he knows it’s a dumb question by the way she laughs, loudly, as if he’d made the funniest joke she’s heard in ages.

“Of course I could, it’s my job” She reminds him, and he nods, humming to himself thoughtfully as his gaze flickers across the shop.

“How about those then?” He points to a small pot of pinkish-purple flowers challengingly.  (y/n) glances at them before turning her attention back to him, raising a brow.

“Those would be cosmos” She says slowly, but matter of factly.  Nanami doesn’t necessarily have a way to fact check her, so he quickly points to another pot.

“And those?” 

“Gazanias” She barely had to look at them to give him her answer.

Nanami sighs as he turns back to her in defeat, and her smile crinkles the corners of her eyes.

“Not much fun of a game, is it?” She teases with a quiet laugh.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have underestimated you” He replies, and she shrugs a shoulder at him, her eyes falling to her prized blue orchids in her hands.  Absent-mindedly, she pokes and prods at a few stems, ensuring they were healthy before she passed them off to the handsome customer.

“It’s been a slow afternoon, you could have underestimated me a little longer if you’d like,” She says, only half joking.  Nanami breathes out a laugh of amusement.  He’s not sure if she’s flirting with him or just being playful, but from the way his heart skips a beat he certainly hopes she is flirting.  “Anyways,” (y/n) clears her throat, reminding herself to go back to the task at hand.  “I think your mother would adore these.  I certainly do” 

“Those it is, then” He affirms, and she eagerly circles around the counter, already gathering a few pieces of tissue paper she deemed pretty enough to pair with the rich blues of the flower.

“So now you’re a flower-gifting kind of guy, hm?” She asks him as she carefully wraps the thin sheets around the stems of the orchids.  “The roses must’ve gone over well, then?” 

Nanami chuckles, tucking his hands into his pockets.  More or less, he thinks.

“It might be a bit of a copout, if I’m being honest,” He admits.  “I don’t really know what else to give her.  But I’m an only child, so, I kind of have the responsibility to step it up” 

“That’s alright,” (y/n) hums, her focus completely on making sure the flowers are as presentable as can be.  “Flowers are always a thoughtful gift.  Especially mine, got it?” It’s the only time she looks up at him while wrapping up the orchids, a threatening expression on her face.  “Don’t go to the other shops in town, they’re sellouts, got it?” 

He laughs at her seriousness, before crossing his hand over his chest in an x motion.

“I didn’t know there was a flower shop turf war here in the shopping district” He muses.  (y/n) huffs as she carefully moves about a few stems so each one would fall just so.

“Well, there is,” She mumbles like an afterthought.  

There’s the tiniest of creases between her brows, and Nanami wants to tell her not to worry so much over this bouquet, seeing as he doesn’t know what he’s going to do with it once he’s home, but he has a feeling the sentiment would fall on deaf ears.  She seems quite lost in her arranging.

“And besides, I gotta make sure I have loyal customers, don’t I?” She adds once she’s finished, and her serious expression crumbles into one of softness as she gazes up at him again.

“Whatever it takes” Nanami hums in agreement.  He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too foolishly, but he’s not sure it helps his case. 

“What’s your name, anyways?” 

He’s not sure why, but the simple question takes him aback, as though it were as forward as asking for his phone number.  He hesitates too long, he knows by the way she lightly raises a brow at the way he pauses before he answers.

“Nanami, Kento” Even his answer is slow, but she hums and nods at him nonetheless, as though engraving it to memory on the spot.

“Nanami Kento,” 

She extends her hand as she repeats the name, and it takes every ounce of will he has left to keep a shiver from crawling down his spine.  He didn’t think his name could sound so sweet on another person’s voice before.  He raises his hand to shake hers politely, trying not to focus too hard on how soft her small hand feels when fitted against his.  His noticeably larger hand encases hers almost completely.

“I’m (y/l/n) (y/n),” She introduces, as if her name hadn’t been circling around his mind in the couple of weeks since he’d last been here.  “But everyone just calls me (y/n)” 

“Alright, (y/n),” He muses, and he wonders if she’d felt just as warm repeating his name as he did finally saying hers aloud.  “You can just call me Kento, then” 

She smiles, and the color in her cheeks is undeniable.  He almost forgets to release her hand.

Once the orchids are perfectly bundled up, she passes them across the counter, the tips of her fingers just barely brushing over his knuckles as they both handle the bouquet with great care.

“How much do I owe you for these?” 

“Oh, they’re on the house,” She waves a dismissive hand, and she can tell by the way he frowns that he’s going to argue, so she’s quick to keep speaking.  “They’re not even in inventory, they won’t be missed.  They’ll be of much better use as a gift to your mother, anyways” 

“I don’t consider that fair-” 

“I won’t accept a single cent,” She tells him boldly, her hands on her hips, and he wonders if this is her idea of scolding.  That cute furrow in her brow and the slight pout on her lips as she glares at him.  It’s downright adorable and yet again, she’s seized his heart.  “Now go, you can’t arrive late on your own mother’s birthday” She waves her hand in a shooing motion towards the door.

God, he’s going to hell for this lie.

“Alright, alright,” He chuckles as he backs away, slowly heading for the door.  “I’ll let you know how much she loves them” 

(y/n) leans across the counter as she watches him go, her face burning with her lingering blush as she shamelessly admires him while he’s not looking.

“Come back soon, Kento!” She calls just as he’s stepped out.

He turns just as the door shuts behind him, catching her eye through the front window.  She’s smiling with utter glee as she waves at him, and this time he can’t hold back his smile as he waves back. ___

The third time he enters the flower shop, he has a better lie in mind.  The ruse of gift giving had worked perfectly so far, he might as well stick with it.

“Nanami Kento!” 

(y/n) welcomes him by name as soon as he walks in, and a rush of warmth spreads over him so quickly he thinks the other clerk working beside her is chuckling to themselves because of him.

(y/n) says something to her coworker before coming around the corner to approach him properly.  Her hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head today, and it appeared she’d had some fun with a few little flowers sticking out of it.  He smiles as he admires the adorable look before he greets her.

“Afternoon, (y/n),” He replies warmly.  “Do you actually do any real work here?” He asks, nodding to the endearingly chaotic hairstyle.

“It pays to have a job you enjoy, right?” She asks.  “What do you do? Are you a time traveler?” She giggles through the question, the sound tinkly and so, so cute he thinks his knees could give out.

When she gestures back at him, it dawns on him that he’s left his sunglasses on his face.  He’s quick to pluck them off and tuck them into the pocket on the inside of his jacket.

“They’re odd, I know” He says, and hopes she won’t press further questions.  He’s had to lie about enough, what he does for work is an enigma even to him some days.

“I like em,” She shrugs.  “They make your whole business man thing look a bit more… steampunk” She waves her hands around the rest of his attire, and he can’t help but chuckle as he glances down at himself.

When he’d gone into the workforce he found he had preferred a business casual look more than the stuffy scratchy collars of the typical sorcerer’s uniform.  He’d matured a lot in that time, too, and after outgrowing his… emo… phase, found that a little pop of collar looked better on him than being swamped in black.

What’s funny was that what she called business man, Gojo liked to call flashy.

“Steampunk?” He repeats curiously.  “In a good way or a bad way?” 

“Depends,” She shrugs again, eyeing him skeptically.  “Are you planning on buying a bouquet today?” 

“I was, yes” He nods.

“Then in a good way,” She grins, and when he rolls his eyes at her in good nature, she only laughs more.  “Well tell me, who’s the lucky recipient this time?”

If he could get away with it, he’d happily stare at the way she smiles at him for hours.  Her hands clasped behind her back, the way her pretty eyes peer up at him from under her lashes, small splashes of color swirling within (y/e/c) irises.  Nanami can’t recall the last time he’d taken such a strong favor over another person, and in this moment if you’d asked, he’d tell you he’d never felt anything of the sort.  But her lips are plump and glossy today, and seeing them curled upwards so warmly, and for him, it has him in a chokehold.

He was growing so fond of her he almost couldn’t stand it anymore.  He could almost see that line he was trying not to trip across, because if he did step over it and into the unknown freefall that was complete and utter adoration… the thought terrifies him.

The invisible rose colored glasses that remained perched on his nose drove him to murmuring out today’s white lie before thinking about the credibility of it.

“My sister,” He finally answers.  “She’s got a promotion at work, and now I know the perfect secret in gift giving for women-” 

“I thought you were an only child?” 

Her brow furrows just slightly as she interrupts him with her question, a curiosity flickering over her features that has Nanami paling in an instant.  A part of him wants to be flattered that she’d remembered such a minor detail about his life that he’d given her a couple of weeks ago, but the anxiety that encompasses him as she’s caught him in his lie is a far more looming feeling.  He can feel sweat prick on the back of his neck right away.

The longer he hesitates to answer, the more expectant the look on her face is.  Slowly her eyebrows begin to raise, and her head tilts to the side ever so slightly.

“I… I am,” He starts slowly, hoping to stall until he finds the right explanation.  “I don’t know why I said that, um, what I… what I meant to say…” Unfortunately, he was as bad at stalling as he is at lying.

Through his terrible stammering, (y/n’s) perplexed expression starts to morph into something else.  The corner of her lips quirk up before she bites back her smile, pressing her lips together in a thin line.  She tries to hide it, but her smile is evident in the way her cheekbones raise, and the corners of her eyes crinkle ever so slightly.  She’s amused.  And Nanami’s not sure what startles him more, being caught in the lie, or the way she’s entertained by his scrambling.

“Nanami Kento, if you want to pop in just to see me, you can,” She tells him, and when she speaks there’s no chance of concealing the way her smile brightens her entire face.  “You don’t have to make up a sister just to come in” 

There’s some relief in knowing she isn’t upset, but it’s quickly eaten up by his nerves from her blatant tease.  His collar feels hot on his neck, and he’s certain that as soon as he leaves, he’ll have to loosen his tie.

It doesn’t help that the other clerk in the store had been obviously watching the entire interaction behind a large display vase of carnations.  Here and there they’d been snickering into their hand, surely also entertained by how terrible at this Nanami is.

“You’re right, I… I don’t know why I did that,” He chuckles bashfully.  (y/n) only glows brighter upon him fessing up to it.  “I did just… want to come and see you” 

She rocks on her feet a few times, her cheeks beginning to bloom with color.

“Well I’m glad you did,” She admits softly.  “You’re my favorite customer, you know” 

Nanami cracks a smile at that, some of the nerves starting to melt away the more he entertains the idea of crossing the blurring line between them.

“That simply can’t be true, I’ve only ever bought one bouquet” He reminds her, and she laughs a bit at the reminder.

“Alright, so you’re a flaky customer, but my favorite nonetheless,” She compromises.  “Besides, you said you were picking one up today, no takesies backsies” 

“Are you five?” He chuckles, but she waves her hand dismissively, ignoring the comment completely.

“What are you looking for today, Kento?” She changes the subject.

He thinks to himself for a moment, eyes flickering around the shop to see what stuck out to him.

Nanami Kento wasn’t necessarily a shy man, but he wasn’t the man that made the bold move.  That would be Gojo.  He also wasn’t the one to play coy until the other party eventually gave in either.  That was Shoko’s move.  Even after having a few short relationships or flings throughout the years, he never really made the first move.  Things sort of just… happened.

Now, he thinks it might be just the right time to make the bold move.

He still has to take a deep breath before he does, though.

“Depends,” He muses, glancing back at her.  “Which do you like best? I want to give you the right arrangement before dinner”  ___

bonus: 

They’re standing at the entrance to her building when she finally brings up the elephant in the room that had followed them for the entire evening.

“You know, it’s pretty corny to give me flowers that I grew from my store” 

“It was a good line, sweetheart, I’m going to stand by that,” He chuckles back at her.  “And you picked them” He adds, gesturing to the pretty bouquet of lilies of the valley tucked carefully in her arm.

“Forgive me for not being able to turn down pretty flowers from a handsome man” She replies playfully, and for once he manages to maintain control of himself as he gives her a gentle smile.

“Do you flirt with all of your customers to keep them coming back?” He replies coolly, and the giggle that escapes her is anything but coy.  Just pure, genuine joy.

She settles the bouquet safely in her arms before tilting forward on the tips of her toes.  It does little to nothing to shorten their height difference, but she’s close enough now that Nanami can practically taste the strawberry on her breath left from their dessert.  Common sense escapes him briefly as he follows suit, bending closer almost all the way.  The sudden movement startles her, her eyes widening and falling to watch his lips, curious if he’d actually kiss her so suddenly.  She smiles when he pauses just before his lips could touch hers, and her gaze flickers back up to his eyes.

“No,” She answers his question in a breath of a whisper.  “Just my favorite ones” 

He chuckles a bit at the cheeky answer, but he’s over the playful banter.  His hand, calloused, but warm and welcoming, reaches out to her chin, fingers gently tipping her head upwards just a little more, before he slides his palm across her cheek.

The question is on the tip of his tongue, but her eyes are already fluttering shut and she’s already closing the remaining space between them.  He supposes when her lips blindly land on his, he doesn’t need to ask for permission to kiss her goodnight. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[xxventiswindblumexx]

Yandere Venti being jealous of Zhongli because Darling is in love with him and him only see Venti as "cute" and "adorable" see's Venti as a little brother not at all she's attracted Darling is simply memorized by Zhongli ((who could blame her))

Who could?? I couldn't 😌

Shout out to my bestie for keeping me motivated!

⚠WARNING⚠:Yandere tendacies, non-con, unprotected sex

The warm breeze of Mondstadt’s early spring filled the air, carrying the delicate aroma of blooming dandelions. You stood at the edge of Windrise, the towering oak tree casting a playful shadow over your figure. Venti sat perched on one of its sprawling roots, his lyre resting lazily in his lap. The soft hum of a tune died on his lips as you spoke, your voice tinged with excitement.

“Zhongli is incredible, don’t you think? He has this timeless wisdom... and the way he speaks—it’s like poetry in motion.” You smiled, your eyes distant as though picturing the Liyue Archon right there before you.

Venti’s fingers froze mid-strum. His usually carefree expression faltered for just a moment, but you didn’t notice.

“Ah, yes,” he said, forcing a laugh that came out a little too light. “Old man Zhongli... He certainly has a way with words. Probably from all those centuries of rehearsing.”

You chuckled, taking his comment as harmless jest. “Dont be so mean,” you replied, playfully nudging him. “Besides, I find his company really comforting—like he understands things on a deeper level.”

Something in Venti’s gaze shifted, the glimmer of mischief fading into something darker. He tilted his head, the playful breeze that always seemed to follow him growing still. “And what about my company?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You blinked, turning to look at him properly. “Yours?”

“Yes,” he said, his teal eyes locking onto yours. There was something unnervingly intense about his stare, like he was trying to read every thought in your mind. “Do you find my company comforting?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, brushing it off with a smile. “But it’s different. You’re like a little brother to me, Venti. I know I can always count on you to make me laugh when I’m feeling down.”

The words landed like shards of glass. Venti’s smile remained, but his grip on the lyre tightened until his knuckles turned white. A little brother.

The breeze stirred again, colder this time, wrapping around you like a warning. Venti’s voice was light as he said, “I see. It’s good to know how you see me, Y/N.”

There was something unnerving in the way he said your name, the casual affection you were so used to tinged with something sharper. But before you could reply, he sprang to his feet, his cheerful façade slipping back into place.

“Well then! Shall we return to Mondstadt?” He beamed, slinging the lyre over his back. “The taverns won’t empty themselves!”

You hesitated but nodded, brushing off the odd tension as nothing more than your imagination. Yet, as you walked ahead, Venti lingered behind, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of longing and possessiveness.

‘..She likes Zhongli..’ the thought repeated in his mind like a haunting melody. His carefree smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a shadowed scowl. But that’s okay... I’ll show her just how much better I can be.

As you and him returned to the town of Mondstadt he wanted to show you something ‘special’ making you laugh “oh? Sure what do you got in mind?” He would only giggle as he lead you to and up the statue of his, making you nervous since it is high up.

It was when you wasn't looking he approched, just as quick and quiet as the wind

“You love me right Y/N?” He asked sweetly before pushing you on your back against the hands of the statue, making your race race as he pine you down.

"Baby, I’d play my lyre until my fingers bled if it made you smile. Now, tell me—would you bleed for me?" He spoke in such a sweet tone as if this was a romantic evening yet it was far from it. He didn't wait for you to answer

“of course you would, my windblume, precious Y/N..no more speak of that.. Old lizard” still stinging at his heart

"Why let his name linger on your lips, my windblume? Am I not the only melody you need to sing?" His free hand downs while the other held your wrists as you struggled

“Venti- what-” “shhh don't speak, I'm the archon here~” with that you felt your lips become dry and couldn't speak as if he commanded your voice to be taken.

His soft but cold hand pulls and rips at your clothing, discarding them on an unsuspecting mondstadter walking late night.

His thumb rolls over her nipples wanting them to perk up, a sick but sly smile plays on his lips “so soft.. And so sweet too, as I expect from my windblume~” his lips connect with your breast, licking and swirling his tongue around it before biting it making you squirm.

Slowly his hand made its way down to your pussy, feeling and rubbing the slit, wanting to create more slick, after all it'll be harsh to go in dry.

“Go on my windblume, show me how much you love me~” pulling his already hardened and twitching cock out he rubbed it against her growing slick, making the head occasionally pop in before slipping back out with a slight whimper, he couldn't help himself he's been dreaming of this. As he presses the tip against your wet hole you squirm and try to speak but nothing comes out as he giggles

“Too late~” before pushing into you, pushing all the way to his hips, savoring the feeling with a beautiful moan he starts to rock his hips. As his hips start to buck faster you could see his elemental marks glow as he couldn't help but drool.

"Please, my windblume, say it—say you love me. I need to hear it, need to feel it. Tell me I’m the only one in your heart, or I might just break without you." He pants and moans out as he held your wrists with a tight grip, for getting his spell he out on, it didn't matter, he couldn't hold back his ‘love's for you, his cock twitching delightfully before gushing cum into your womb, his hips stayed against yours as he held you in a loving embrace, whispering bittersweet promises to you

“Even if the winds carry you far, I’ll follow, no matter where you go. Even if it hurts us both, I’ll never let you go."

[hihhasotherfixations]

Wedded - Dragon! John Price x Reader | Chapter 1

When you are mistaken by a dragon as his promised bride, you unexpectedly need to learn how to live with your new husband. After all, the dragon made a deal, and he wants his end of the bargain - you.

Current | Next Chapter

The results of the poll were clear. Dragon Price is first to come up and be written. This was also the only option who’s fic had multiple chapters sooo, woop woop! Hope you all enjoy :3

CW: f!reader, dragon Price, violence in future chapters

Word Count: 3028

Walking into the town, your eyes curiously looked around, an excitement blooming inside you – one you always found yourself in any time you got to a new part of the land, finding cities and villages you never knew existed.

This time, you’d made it to a village just south of the roaring mountains. A range that spanned the border of the land near the east. It was a relatively small village, and as you walked through to the marketplace, you immediately became aware of how close-knit the community was, as everyone seemed to know everyone.

Making you stick out like a sore thumb.

Still, your travels hadn’t gotten you this far if that was something that scared you off. And without further thought, you stepped up to one of the market brokers. The man was a botanist, obviously, selling herbs and wildflowers, your keen eyes curiously scanning around.

“Hello, madam!” The vendor perked up, giving you a once over, noting the large bag slung over your shoulder, as well as the leather-wrapped stick you were leaning on. “New to town?”

“Good morning.” You smiled politely. “Yes I am. It’s very nice.” You said, though as you looked around, it was evident that a scuffle had recently taken place. Broken wood and scorch marks riddling the buildings around.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked, that typical salesman smile on his face.

Giving a small smile back, you shook your head. “No, I’m just looking for now.” You declined.

As you perused, you recognised most of the man’s wares. Within your own bag that was currently slung over your shoulder, you kept several exact specimens like the ones laid out before you.

After all, you’d been collecting them.

For the last three years, you’d been scouring the land, finding and testing herbs and wildflowers for their potencies and effects. What was once a hobby had become your life, with you abandoning your old one in the process. Yet not a day passed where you regretted your newfound freedom.

“Say, you seem very knowledgeable in this.” The vendor suddenly spoke up and you glanced at him, tilting your head in curiosity. Seeing that, the man explained. “Your eyes zero in on the rarer plants and skip over the common ones. Not many know them like I do.” He complimented.

“Oh, yes.” You smile. “I’m… well, a researcher. I’m writing a field guide on the plants of this continent and their effects.” You said, slight pride in your voice. Though it wasn’t a secret per se, saying it out loud was not something you often did. But giving the man’s profession, you figured it was worth a shot. “I’m looking for some rarer plants and I must ask, what is this one?” You questioned, pointing at a flower to the right. It had white, pointed petals that slowly turned blue the closer it got to the core, yellow spore marking the centre while the stem and leaves itself were green. Nothing like you’d ever seen before.

“That? Oh, that is a mountainscale lily.” He smiled, picking up the dried specimen. “Very rare. Found only in caves high up in the mountains.” As he said that, he turned and pointed to the looming mountain behind the village.

“I’ve never seen them before.” You mused, leaning in to get a better look.

“They’re native to this region. Only grow under very specific circumstances.” He explained and you nodded, curious.

“Is this in a place I could reach?” You questioned, making the vendor frown.

“I would not advise-“ “Ah! Hold on!” A woman suddenly interrupted, sliding in beside the merchant, her hand on his arm. The man looked a little startled, glancing at her in confusion, to which the woman nudged her head in your direction with an easy smile. “Look at the lady, she’s well equipped! Don’t be underestimating her now.” She teased, bumping her hip into his before squeezing his arm to get his attention and sending him a pointed stare, one you felt you shouldn’t be witnessing. At it, the man glanced from her to you – who was standing there confused – before grunting as he looked away from you, muttering under his breath.

Confused, you turned to the woman who turned to face you while smiling wide.

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“That’s… okay.” You hummed, shifting your hiking stick to your other hand, a little put off by her sudden appearance. “So, am I correct in saying you think I could get to where the flowers grow?” You questioned, the woman seeming to light up.

“I am positive! In fact, I would like to ask to make a deal with you. Hire you, if you will.”

That was both intriguing and concerning at the same time. Anyone could take one glance at you and see you weren’t exactly a mercenary for hire.

“Darla, no-“ The man started, placing his hand on her shoulder, but the woman just shrugged it off.

“Hush now, I’m sure it will be no problem.” She smiled, keeping her eyes on you, to which the man grabbed her elbow, forcefully turning her to face him.

“Don’t. This is our problem. We must bear the consequences.” He said pointedly, but Darla scoffed and yanked her arm free.

“We have a perfectly capable young woman here.” She spoke, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” You asked, confused and before the man could say anything, Darla stepped in.

“These flowers. They have a healing capability. About a month ago, our village was raided and our supply stolen.” She spoke, a resentment sounding in her voice. “It was supposed to last us through the winter but now new flowers need to be plucked. The problem is that gathering them requires skill and knowledge. No one but my husband can do it, but he injured his leg during the raid and hasn’t been able to make the trip.” She said while gesturing to him.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear.” You frowned in sympathy, looking at the vendor who had a defeated look, sitting down on his stool behind his stall. When looking around at the village, the evidence of a scuffle was clear. And not a small one. Not only were there the ruins and scorch marks around you, some houses were even burned down on the outskirts – which you’d seen when coming into town.

“Listen.” The man spoke up, catching your attention again. “The mountains aren’t easy to traverse, especially with an injury. It’s not a safe road. Think about this.” He warned, looking at his plants, avoiding your eyes.

Your brows creased together in thought as you then looked at the woman. “So… what is it you want?”

Darla perked up, her eyes landing on you before turning pleading as she walked around the stall, grasping your hands and holding them up between you and her. “We will tell you how to find the flowers. And in return, I beg you to retrieve a satchel full of them for our village. We cannot survive winter without them.”

Blinking in surprise, you looked from her, down to the pressed flower laying on the wood of the stall. You’d never heard of a flower which had capabilities such as that. 

“I-“ You glanced up at her again. Her hand was holding yours tightly.

“You can take this one for free.” She then quickly spoke, grabbing the pressed flower and pushing it into your hand.

Frowning, you looked down at it, briefly studying the colours and make before sighing, looking at the vendor again, who was still looking down. While the thought of a flower having such potent capabilities was hard to believe - not without it having some sort of addicting feature – the opportunity to study it was too good to pass up. “Okay.”

At your simple word, Darla lit up, grinning wide, though it was almost scary as she then turned to her husband and hugged him. “We’re going to be alright!” Before you could say anything, she moved back over to you, gripping your shoulders. “You will save every young maiden in our village from a terrible and ill fate.”

Letting out a bit of a confused chuckle, you leaned back a bit. “Why, does the flower not affect men?”

At that, Darla cackled a laugh – a surprisingly pleasant sound.

“Come, let me give you a map and explain how to get there.” She smiled, placing her hand on your backpack, gently pushing you with her, leading you across the market.

And in the haste of her offering you a place to stay at her impressively lavish two-story house, food, a map into the mountains and all the instructions that came with it, you failed to realise that the herbal vendor never came to the house, nor that neither him or Darla wore wedding rings.

- - - -

Leaning on your stick, you paused at the edge of the trail, huffing and puffing.

Since the early hours of dawn you’d been walking, resting periodically to make sure you’d be fit to continue.

According to Darla, the hike to the nearest cave containing the wildflowers was ten hours – on top of the hour you’d already travelled by horse together with the woman.

She had been incredibly helpful, sticking close to you and repeatedly thanking you for being willing to do this. Hell, it almost felt like she was glued to your hip until the moment you reached the foot of the mountain, where she was all too eager to send you off on your way, taking the horses back home.

Not that you blamed her.

Walking over to the rocky face of the mountain, you leaned against it, staying away from the trail’s edge, not to keen to fall down it. Shifting down to sit, you pulled your backpack off your back, digging in to get your journal where you flicked to the most recent entry.

Opening the page, you carefully picked up the pressed mountainscale lily, turning it in your hand. Before parting ways with Darla, you’d asked her many questions about the flower’s properties. She’d seemed a little flustered, almost unwilling to talk about it.

Glancing down at your notes, you pulled out the charcoal pencil from the spine of your journal, drawing a line down from the drawing you made of the flower.

Hunching forward, you scribbled a single word before a loud thud suddenly echoed through the forest down below, making you snap your head up, looking over the sea of orange-leafed trees before you. Far in the distance, birds rose to the air, making you hum curiously.

Glancing back down at the journal, you placed the flower back between the pages before closing the book, getting back to your feet again, ready to pass the next few hours mulling over your new hypothesis, that one word echoing in your mind.

‘Addictive?’

- - - -

Pulling your coat tightly around yourself, you shivered, tying the strings directly under your chin. Even with the sun shining fully in the sky, the air was frigid – a cause of both the height you were walking at, as well as the nearing of winter.

You’d long since pulled out your woollen hat, keeping yourself as warm as possible, your hands feeling like ice.

Holding your map tight, your eyes glanced from the parchment and up the trail you were currently on. It was small, a goat’s path more than anything and one misstep would result in you plummeting down onto rocks far below.

Yet as you looked right, you couldn’t help but be in absolute awe by the view.

As far as your eyes could see, the forest stretched. Along the way, a wide river shimmered in the slowly setting sun, everything bathed in a gorgeous light, enhancing the golden leaves of the autumn trees. If you weren’t at threat of losing the light, you’d have sat down to draw it.

Looking back at the map, you breathed out, exhausted. Your feet hurt, every step making you question whether or not this was worth all the hassle. Yet as you grasped onto the brittle rock on your left and rounded the bend, you saw it.

A large opening sat in the side of the mountain, a plateau in front of it providing plenty of space. The cave opening alone must have been the size of nearly two houses beside each other.

And about ten meters in front of you, you saw it.

A mountainscale lily gently flowed back and forth in the breeze, the petals gently moving.

Firmly pushing off your stick, you began walking towards it, crouching beside the flower.

It was small, incomplete and evidently not growing in ideal circumstances, too exposed to the wind.

Leaving it where it was, you kept going. The cave sat about thirty meters ahead and your heart began thudding in excitement.

Every herb and wildflower you’d documented so far was one you either already knew, or had vaguely heard of. All of them were known, most likely researched, used in experiments until every purpose was exploited. But this one? You’d never heard of a flower like this. And the thought of you being the first to properly document it? It filled you with an eager excitement.

Reaching the cave, instantly you saw the lily’s on the edges of the opening, blooming in the dirt-like ground that littered the plateau you were standing on, the forest behind you and far below.

Taking off your backpack, you moved over the left, crouching by a cluster of the flowers. Digging into your pack, you pulled out your journal and knife, carefully starting to prod at and study the flower, carelessly scribbling anything of note down.

Your mind was only focused on a single thing, yet as you inspected the flower, you noted that even in its alive state, the colours were less bright than the pressed flower the vendor had given you. Even these flowers weren’t sufficiently growing.

“Is it the cave?” You mumbled to yourself, setting your items down and getting to your feet.

Slowly, you started to walk in through the massive opening, your body casting a tiny shadow in the large circle of light.

For a minute or so, you moved. Yet the further you went, the more you walked, a dread slowly started to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Something felt off.

Stalactites hung from the ceiling, ominous and casting shadows onto the top of the cavern.

The light from the entrance was pale, limited. And as you walked forward, you slowly got to the cap of it. Daylight reached into the cave in almost a halo. A safe circle of pale light, ending where you stood now, right at your feet.

Normally, you didn’t feel like this. Normally, you’d step into the shaded part of a cavern without trouble but in this moment? You couldn’t.

There was something about this place that wasn’t right. Unnatural.

…Warm.

The cave was warm.

It was subtle, not immediately noticeable until you focused on it, but still your eyes widened in realisation of that fact. Despite climbing high up, damn near into the mountains to get here. There was no frigid cold. The difference from the moderately chilly air outside and in here was noticeable. And it definitely didn’t come from the watery sun outside.

A breeze suddenly picked up, a gust of wind so fast you had to snap your hand up to hold onto your hat, your eyes closing on instinct as your clothes billowed and ruffled.

Clutching the strap of your bag with one hand and your hat with the other, you dared to peek an eye open. Yet as you did, your heart sunk, watching as the sun that had been shining on your back was blocked, a shadow sliding in and covering your body.

The gust of wind passed, your heartbeat thudding harshly in your chest as you could hear every breath you took, your eyes wide as you stared at the unnatural shadow currently cast over you. A shadow that shouldn’t be there. A shadow that wasn’t a second ago.

Slowly, as if a thousand weights hung on you, you turned your head around. And the clench of your jaw slackened as a terror fell over you.

Sitting there, sprawled  across the opening of the cave, hung a dragon.

With scales a deep green, its eyes were fixed on you, unblinking while it sat. Hanging on the rock, its massive form blocked out the sunlight, small slivers only escaping near the corners of the scaly creature, the light almost casting it in a halo. Or hellfire.

You’d never seen a dragon before, only heard stories of knights or travellers, regaling the terror and power they could wreak.

You didn’t dare blink or move, just stuck in a staring contest until for the first time, it made a noise as a billow of smoke escaped its maw, a rumble echoing through the cave as it shifted, muscle rippling and scales glistening in the light.

With a deliberate and slow movement, it flexed the joints of its wings, stretching them slightly and blocking out even that last bit of sunlight that was on your body, fully encasing you in its mighty shadow.

With barely anything else to do, you turned your body around to face it like your head was, and as if on cue, that made it move.

Slinking down from the large cave entrance, the dragon landed on the rocky ground, front paws thudding down before the rest of the body followed, moving towards you.

Terrified, you stumbled back, wanting to run, though your heel hooked behind the uneven ground of the cave, making you fall onto your back harshly.

With the wind knocked out of you, you’d barely opened your eyes before you found the dragon’s maw hanging right above you, an amusement dancing in the crinkle of its eyes.

“Please-“ You whispered, only for the dragon to not hear as it instead spoke.

“Finally made the decision to show up, did we? You’re four hours late.”

-

I’ll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can! Please let me know what you thought and if there is interest for a tag list for future chappies ❤️

[lucygxybaird]

follow-up to this (sorry again) where the reader lives tw: injury, blood, near death

There is panic clawing at Billy’s throat like a wild animal, trapped in his lungs and desperate to get out. Where — where — where — where — he doesn’t realize he’s muttering the word, feverishly, over and over, until he catches sight of himself in the remnants of a shattered window and sees his lips moving. He looks like a madman, smeared with blood and and soot gunpowder residue, his collar torn and flapping like the broken wing of a bird.

(When did that even happen? How?)

But he can’t bring himself to care, because he can’t find you. He tries to will himself to calm down, but it’s like trying to recall the details of a dream even as they slip away — futile, no matter how much he concentrates. He has to find you, and he has to find you soon, and more importantly than anything, he has to find you alive. There’s just no other option. 

He won’t let things play out any other way, even if he has to tear time itself apart with his bare hands and his teeth, just to go back to a moment when you’re safe. 

(Last night, for instance. When you lay there with your head on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his waist, one leg nestled in between his. He remembers idly playing with your hair, listening to your breathing deepen and even out as you fell asleep. He’d watched the shadows play on the floor for a while after that, thinking that if there’s one person left in this world that he can’t afford to lose, it’s you.)

You aren’t anywhere in this house, he’s sure of it. Where — where — frantically, he stumbles outside, neglecting a coat in his desperation to find you. The day is still and crystalline cold, the sun bouncing off the churned-up snow, and it’s because of this glare that he almost misses it. 

At first, he thinks some kind of small animal, crouched near the roots of a tree at the edge of the yard. He squints, trying to make sense of it, trying to figure out what it could possibly be, and then he understands. Billy starts to run, boots throwing up sprays of snow, clumps of earth, and he almost trips once, twice, and then a third time, but it doesn’t matter because he would crawl on his hands and knees to get there. 

“No,” he whispers, falling to his knees beside you, ignoring — or trying to ignore — the fact that the snow around you is rose red, the vibrant hue of his nightmares, of the sin that splashes across the images his mind dredges up when he’s vulnerable in sleep. “No, no, no, no…”

You are so fucking still, your face the same slate-grey color as the sky, your eyelashes laying like ashes against your cheeks. He pulls you into his arms, and your head lolls into the crook of his arm. “Baby, what happened?” he asks desperately, like you can answer him, and then your lips part. 

It’s beautiful, that little twitch of your mouth, and Billy pulls you closer, leaning down until his face is inches from yours. You swallow, your forehead crinkles, your lips part further. You groan, barely more than a croak, but Billy thinks he’s never heard a more angelic sound. “Baby?”

Your hand grasps at the dirty crimson snow beside you. “Billy…”

“I’m right here,” he says. “Honey, I’m right here, I’m right here, just open your eyes and look at me…please…”

You groan again. “It hurts,” you whisper. “I hurt.” 

“I know, my sweet girl, I know.” Billy watches as small, round gray stains speckle your shirt, spreading, one after the other other, and he reaches up with his free hand to angrily dash the tears away. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m right here — I got you, okay? I won’t let…I won’t let you…”

“Cold,” you whisper, and he nods, swallowing.

“Let’s get you back insi—”

But as soon as he tries to lift you more securely in his arms, so he can stand with you, you start sobbing, color flooding in your cheeks as more of it stains the snow, poppies blooming against the dull white. “No! Stop it, Billy! It hurts!”

He feels like he’s going to choke on the effort of not crying out himself. “Honey, I gotta, we gotta get you back inside — you’ll freeze to death out here — ”

You let out a fragile, ragged giggle. “I don’t think being…” You cough, ruby slick appearing on your lips. “I don’t think being out here or inside is gonna…” Another cough, more red. “Make a damn bit of difference.”

“Don’t,” he whispers. “You’re not dyin’ on me. You’re not. We have too much to do.”

For the first time, your eyes open. Billy dabs at your lips with his thumb, wiping the blood away. “Like what?” you say.

Slowly, carefully, like you’re made of spun glass, Billy lifts you more securely into his arms. “Kiss,” he says, and you offer him the tiniest laugh. “Kiss and kiss and kiss. I’m not done kissin’ you yet, or makin’ love to you, or holdin’ you in my arms every chance I get. I’m not done bein’ your man. Not by a long shot.”

As he speaks, he finds his feet, easing upright and looking into your face all the while. He takes one tentative step, then another, another, and he keeps talking.

“I wanna marry you, you know that,” he says. “I want babies, as many babies as you’re willin’ to give me. I want a lifetime with you, I want birthdays and Christmases…” Step, step, step. He’s close enough to the house now to smell woodsmoke — Manuela has started a fire in the hearth, to boil water for bandages. “I want days where nothing happens. Where the sun comes up and the only thing that matters all day long is that I love you, and you love me, and we have tomorrow and the next day, and every day after that to be together.”

Your hand clutches at his torn collar. “Billy…”

By now, he’s got you inside, and Manuela appears as if out of nowhere, although Billy is so focused on you that he doesn’t know up from down right now. “My God,” she whispers, and when she reaches out to touch your face, Billy has to fight the urge to bare his teeth and twist away so she can’t touch you. 

It’s ridiculous, he knows, but he feels like if anyone else lays a hand on you right now, he’ll lose you. It’s   his responsibility to save you, not anyone else’s — he failed to protect you in the first place, but he can’t fail in this. He can’t. 

“Billy,” you say again. Your grip tightens on his collar, widening the tear. “Please…” Your breath hitches in your throat, tears dribbling from the corners of your eyes and into your hair. “Please. Make…make it stop…”

“Here.” Billy looks around, and sees Charlie, gesturing to a bed. It’s your bed, the bed the two of you share, the only one that’s free. Billy knows there are other people hurt, people that he cares about, but none of them — he feels a drop of self-loathing fall into the pit of his stomach at the thought, but it’s true — matter as much you do.

He lays you down as carefully as he can, but you cry out again, your grip tightening on his collar so intensely as you writhe that you tear his collar completely away, leaving his throat exposed. You clutch at the piece of cloth as you twist and turn, crying, begging him to make it stop. 

“Okay, okay, okay” Billy says helplessly, reaching, laying his hand against your forehead like a mother feeling for a fever. “Baby, shhh, shhh, please — just lay still, I’ll make it better, I promise. Just…just don’t go, okay? I’ll make it better. I’ll fix it. Just don’t leave me.”

You quiet down by degrees, your sobs turning to wracking moans, turning to whimpers, and finally to silence punctuated by rough breathing. Billy doesn’t move away from your bed, not even when the doctor comes, digging the bullets out. He says that you’re lucky, that if this bullet or that one was an inch to the left, or if it had entered here instead of there — Billy wants to believe you’re lucky, but it’s hard when he can still hear you screaming like it’s carved into every breath he takes, when you’re the color of a corpse and he has your blood on his hands, his shirt, and it’s staining the sheets.

Finally, you’re bandaged up and sleeping, and the doctor says they just have to watch you to see if fever sets in. Billy takes his task seriously. He kneels by your bed, refusing a chair because the floor driving itself into his knees keeps him awake, and because he knows he deserves the pain. 

He should have done better by you. 

“Billy, you need to sleep,” Manuela says.

He shakes his head. 

“Then at least — !”

“No.” 

It doesn’t matter what she’s going to suggest. Anything that breaks his attention on you just isn’t important. 

He doesn’t know how many hours pass, except that fingers of pale winter sunlight are starting to creep toward him by the time your eyes open. Billy sucks in a deep breath, leaning over you. “Honey?” 

You squint at him, wincing. “My…my throat…”

“Here,” he says at once, reaching for the pitcher of water sitting on the bedside table. He pours you a cup and helps you sit up just enough so you can drink without choking. “Here, is that better?”

You nod, and he lays you back down. 

“So I guess I didn’t…” You cough again, but this time, your lips aren’t stained cherry. Billy feels a little sliver of relief. “So I guess…I didn’t die, huh?” You cast a look around the best you can with your limited mobility. “Unless…” You swallow. “Unless heaven looks…a lot like our house.”

He laughs weakly, and you crack a smile, clearly pleased with yourself. Billy takes your hand and presses it between his. “No, you didn’t die,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your fingers. “You’re still here.”

“With you,” you say. 

He feels a swell of relief, tainted by the shadow of grief in waiting that hasn’t left him yet, that may never leave him, along with a rush of love powerful enough to the breath out of him. When it returns, it comes out in a sob so forceful it’s like someone has driven a stake into his heart, pushing the sound out without his permission. He buries his face in the coverlet by your side. Your fingers find his hair, stroking soothingly with what strength you have, which only drives the stake deeper into his chest. 

“Hush, hush,” you keep saying. “Hush.” 

He’s supposed to be comforting you, but he can’t stop crying. When he finally lifts his head, you pat the mattress beside you. His knees are stiff and bruised from kneeling so long by your bedside, but he scrambles up as quickly as he can, carefully curing his body around yours like a bulwark. 

You stroke his face. “You…you…need to sleep,” you say.”And I’m…” You sigh, your eyes drifting shut. “So tired. Just…lay here with…with me. Hold me.”

He’s afraid to hold you, lest he hurt you somehow, but you crack an eye open and fix him with a remarkably baleful glare, considering your condition. “I said…hold me, Bonney.”

He manages another laugh, and slips his arm under you, pulling you against his chest. You lay your head against his shoulder and sigh softly. 

The two of you fall asleep like that. Someone — Manuela, probably — covers you both with a fresh blanket. As Billy drifts off, feeling your breath rushing over his neck in a warm, soft caress, he knows you’re not out of the woods yet. It’s going to take time for you to recover, for everyone to recover, but that’s fine with him. 

It just means you have time. 

[kakushino]

Number 10, sickeningly sweet fluff, Kyojuro, SFW. Perhaps the first confession, was my first thought, but I leave it to your masterful discretion 🤲

𝖄𝖔𝖚’𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖔 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙, 𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓’𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚?

𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱

AN: Does this count as confession? Idk but it was forced into my brain by the voices. No beta we die like Sabito

APOLOGIES - I answered the wrong ask! This is the one I was supposed to answer ( @glitchtricks94 ):

I will be writing your ask soon though :(( I'm sorry again

The flowers were numerous in front of you, every colour of the rainbow, and some of them even more, and you had to take a few moments to think what you wanted to pick. The shop owner was busy with another customer - something about a wedding? - so you had plenty of time to contemplate.

Roses, a classic, with variety of meanings depending on the shade. A blue one for his uniqueness, or a bold red to state your feelings clearly? Neither felt exactly right.

The damp thick smell of flowers permeating the shop was so Kyojuro that you could never pass by a flower shop and not think about him.

There was a sunflower - last of its batch - in one of the vases. It still hasn't hit the full bloom, but the colour of it reminded you of Kyojuro's hair. The little description said it represented long life and good luck, best to gift to a family member! It wasn't exactly what you were going for though.

A glance told you he was about wrapping up with the other person, making you pressed for time. A bright flash of red and yellow caught your eye. You plucked the flower from its vase, nearly overtaken by the gerberas, which is why you hadn't seen it at first.

The tiger lily in your hand reminded you strongly of him - his hair and the openness of his heart. The tag said wealth, prosperity and good fortune.

He deserved that, he deserved only the best.

"Hello!" Kyojuro's cheerful voice cut through your thoughts, and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

"Rengoku! I nearly got a heart attack!"

His cheerful laughter reverberated through your body, warming you to the core. This is how he should be - smiling, happy, content.

"Apologies! I didn't mean to cause you any harm! I was simply happy to see you today," his grin was as bright as him. Warmth flooded your cheeks. He had no idea how charming he was.

You were on a mission however, and you had to get to it before you lost your nerve. "Ah, could I please make this into something beautiful?" you showed him the tiger lily you picked, and his expression gentled.

"Right away." He took it, beaming. "Any occasion you want it for?"

You followed him to the counter, butterflies in your belly. "It's for someone special."

You didn't see the way his expression faltered as he added leaves and embellishing flowers to the lily. He hummed as he worked, his forearms flexing and drawing your eyes to his figure.

The small bouquet was breath-taking. A red and yellow framed by green and white, a beautiful arrangement for a beautiful man.

Paying quickly, you admired the flowers in your hands, your nerves set ablaze with anxiety, your face feeling hot as you tried to find courage.

You took a deep breath and met his eyes head on. "This is for you, Rengoku." You offered the arrangement to him.

His stunned expression was something you won't forget for a long while, as was the blush quickly rising to his face, the tips of his ears nearly glowing red.

The moment passed and a warm startled laughter left his lips. You smiled brightly at that.

"You're so sweet, aren't you?" His grin made you fall in love with him all over again.

[dual1pa]

first date with eddie (headcannons)

warnings: overall fluff, makeout, touching, language

eddie munson x reader using she/her pronouns

Eddie was scared shitless to ask her out 

And when he finally grew the balls to ask her, he was quite shocked that she said yes 

They’ve been friends forever 

It started out as a harmless and romanticless relationship

They both considered themselves just best friends

Nothing more and nothing less

Eddie’s feelings for her didn’t bloom until the beginning of high school 

However, it wasn’t until their senior year (his 2nd senior year) that he started seeing her as a girlfriend 

Little did he know she felt the same 

She tried to show flirty signs for years, but he didn’t notice

The playful shoves or the arm in arm walks 

She joined his Hellfire Club at school - even though she had no idea how to play the game 

She just enjoyed watching Eddie have fun 

He even made her a one-of-a-kind shirt where the little devil had a pair of sunglasses on it 

Ones similar to the ones she wore on a daily basis 

That’s when her love for him grew fonder

One Friday, Eddie was going to ask her out while she was switching her morning textbooks for the afternoon 

He watched from afar as she walked up to her locker, put in her code, and start unloading her bag 

She was wearing a pair of denim jeans, oversized sweater, and her hair tied loosely in a pink scrunchie 

He walked up to her with a smile

“Hi, Eds,” she smiled

She was the only person that could call him that 

“Hey,” he said 

She had a concerned look on her face 

“Everything okay?” she asked

“Oh yeah, everything’s great. How was your classes?” he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear

“They were alright, happy that it’s the weekend.” 

“Hey, listen, Uh-” 

He kept pausing and rubbing the back of his neck

He was nervous as fuck

“There’s a new Friday the 13th movie out tonight, wanna go see it with me? Like, a date?” 

She blushed, no one asked her out in a while - not anyone she felt something for

“Of course I’ll go out with you, Eds.” 

His eyes lit up, all he wanted to do was cheer loudly and dance around the busy hallway 

“Great! Uh- awesome. I’ll pick you up at 7:30,” he smiled and walked her to her next class, not caring if he was late to his own. 

While she sat in class, she couldn’t concentrate on algebra

The only thing on her mind was Eddie

The more she thought about him, the more she wanted him

She cursed at herself why she didn’t make a better move earlier 

She couldn’t wait till their date

When he got home from school, he stood in front of his closet trying to figure out what he should wear - she was doing the absolute same

He decided on black jeans, white shirt and her a white skirt, pink shirt and a sweater

She was waiting on her deck when he pulled up her driveway in his white van

He, of course, had his favorite Metallica song blaring from the speaker - making her giggle 

“You look beautiful,” he said

“And you as well” 

The two sat in silence - awkward silence - as he drove to the Starcourt Mall 

Noramlly, the mall isn’t Eddie’s scene 

Too many people, stores that aren’t his type, music he doesn’t like plays throughout the mall 

“I can’t get away from this shit pop music!” he would say she “forced” him to help her find a homecoming dress 

He secretly loved it 

He winced at he saw the parking lot as he pulled in

“We don’t have to be here, I’m okay just-” 

“No,” he interrupted, “I want to take you to see this movie.” 

She smiled and grabbed his hand that was placed on his shaking leg. 

As they walked towards the large building, she grabbed his hand 

This was a date afterall 

He held the door open for her and motioned for her to go in first 

“A true gentleman.” she said

He smiled wide and threw his arm over her shoulder, and hers around his waist 

He paid for both tickets 

He found you a seat in the corner as it was a fully sold-out theater 

He felt so protective of her when she got scared from one of the scenes 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” he whispered in her ear

She blushed, “There’s someone right next to us, behind us, and in front of us!” 

“Fuck ‘em,” he said, grabbing her chin and planting on right on her 

Of course, once they started, they couldn’t stop. 

They got a few looks and a couple of rude grunts from people who were simply trying to enjoy the slasher film. 

“Why don’t we get outta here?” 

Eddie grabbed her hand and they ran out of the theater, out of the mall, and into the dark parking lot. 

It was late and most shoppers went home except for the movie goers - who were all inside

They were alone 

He pushed her up against his van and continued what he was doing in the theater 

Except he was way more handsy 

Her hands were everywhere

His hair 

His hips 

His neck

His face

His chest 

Everywhere

“Should have done this sooner,” he laughed in her mouth 

“We didn’t know and we were both too chicken shit to do anything about it,” she joked, “Take me home, Eds. Stay with me tonight.”

[ejzah]

A/N: Suggested by @mashmaiden after we rewatched “Spiral” tonight. A little Densi post-ep.

***

“Ow,” Kensi moaned, limping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her chest. She’d felt decent when she left the office, but after the drive back, her muscles had seized up and her ribs ached from the direct hits by their armed man. Dropping the towel, she found one of Deeks’ old t-shirts, and pulled it on, only lifting her arms as high as absolutely necessary. It was amazing how quickly she’d fallen into the cliché, but his clothes were so comfortable.

“Deeks!” she called out. He was somewhere around the apartment, likely cleaning up after her. She felt a twinge of guilt after their tense and physical day. He’d gotten clocked pretty good too, and looked equally stiff when they got home.

“Yeah?” he called back from another room.

“Can you get me a bag of ice and ibuprofen?”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Ice cream?”

Deeks’ muffled laughter made her smile as she shuffled around the room and grabbed her phone off the dresser, kicking a spare pair of pants out of her way on the way to bed. With a combined groan and sigh of relief, she crawled under the covers.

“Just as my Ladybird requested,” Deeks announced a few minutes later, walking in with a glass of water and white bottle in one hand and a bag full of ice balanced on top of a tub of vanilla ice cream.

As he set it all on the table, the bedside lamp played directly over him.

“Oh my god, Deeks,” she gasped, sitting up and tossing her phone to the side.

“What? Is it your ribs? Do we need to go to the hospital?” he asked in quick succession, already reaching for her in concern.

“No, your face.” Carefully, she took his chin between her forefinger and thumb and turned it towards the light. When they’d gotten home his cheek and around his had looked slightly bruised and irritated. Now, the entire socket had bloomed into a deep blackish-purple and below that, his cheek and jaw were clearly swollen.

“Oh yeah,” he said, touching under his eye with a wince. “I guess it took a little while to set in. I figure I’m pretty lucky though since that guy could have given Sam a run for his money.”

“Baby, that looks awful. Come on get in bed,” she encouraged him, z patting the side that had become his in the last few weeks.

“Kens, I’m fine.”

“Stop it. You brought me all this.” She gestured to the pills and bucket of ice cream. “Let me take care of you too.”

After a few moments of hesitation, Deeks stripped off his jeans, leaving him in boxers and the shirt he’d worn all day, and slid in beside her. Turning onto her side, Kensi gently ran her fingers over his skin, barely making contact.

She reached behind her without taking her eyes off him, and grabbed the sweating bag of ice, pressing it to his cheek. He inhaled deeply, staring back at her with a soft, vulnerable gleam in his eyes.

“I’m glad we didn’t die today,” he murmured.

“Me too,” she whispered back. Leaning down, she kissed him softly, wrapping her free hand around the back of his head. Deeks curled his arm around her, tucking her into his chest, and she closed her eyes, sighing in relief.

[aclowntiny]

Sunflowers and Snapdragons- Woozi x Female!Florist!Reader

Word Count: 5700 | Flower Shop, Fluff, Some Quiet/Sunshine Vibes | Warnings: a lil language & a couple naughty jokes oopsie

This latest photoshoot required going to a flower shop. It was this one specific one in Seoul that had three walls of flowers that made perfect backdrops. A lot of people already went to it for instagram shots, so there was some work cut out for them to make it unique, but everyone was confident carats would like it.

Seungcheol was really excited to visit the shop, having seen a lot of posts about it, and Minghao was admiring blossoms the moment they walked in. No one was at the counter yet, so they had some time to roam. Jihoon wasn't frustrated, though- they'd arrived with the crew over fifteen minutes early to scope things out. He strolled through one of the color-coded aisles, fingers gently brushing a delicate white bloom as Mingyu passed him by with a massive rose in hand.

"Are you using that for the shoot?"

"I'm not sure," Mingyu shrugged and grinned, "but if I'm not, I kind of want to buy it anyway. This will make great photos, too!"

As Jihoon glanced around, he could see that several members were already taking their own selfies with the flowers. Seungkwan had chosen a sunflower, Joshua was posing with a rose in a way that (at least, to Jihoon's eyes) only made him look like James from Pokémon, and Soonyoung looked like he was about to eat a marigold. To each their own.

Maybe he would join them later, but for the time being Jihoon was content to wander over to the pre-arranged bouquets wrapped up near the front. One was a splash of fall colors, reds, oranges, and yellows bursting from it, while another was a passionate, romantic red. This is red, too jokes aside, it was amazingly crafted, asymmetrical with one side waiting while the other burst like a firework, the perfect representation of an anatomical heart newly beating for its object. Who had such eyes as to create a work like this, Jihoon wondered as he leaned a bit closer, scanning the flowers and catching the fragrance of one of the small, thin roses making up the still-subdued half.

Right then, a figure came bouncing out of the doorway behind the counter, spinning in a circle in the air and making several small leaps to the counter before executing a few more clumsy, uncoordinated, unadulterated joyful dance moves. Several grooves later, your eyes flew all the way open and you jumped, hastily pulling a pair of airpods from your ears and straightening your apron again.

Jihoon A. kind of wanted to know what you were listening to B. was surprised to see someone like you running this elegant floral shop. You were young, surely close in age to him, and if your clumsiness, huge smile, and eager wave told him anything, not the usual personality one saw in a florist. Not that he ever made a habit of going to flower shops. He barely went anywhere, frankly.

"You're here for the shoot, aren't you?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper, and Jihoon was surprised just how pleasant it sounded.

Giving a hum in response, he nodded. “Is this shop yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied with a salute, “I studied the language of flowers for years and now I translate it for everyone!”

A very unique way to look at that. “I see. Alright, then, er, what are these saying?”

“Oh, those?” Your eyes fell on the largely peach-toned bouquet he pointed to and widened. “Uh, you know what’s funnier than those? This bouquet over here is my gag gift.”

Jihoon cocked a brow. “Flowers this beautiful as a gag gift?”

“Yeah, so like the yellow carnations mean ‘you disappoint me’ and the orange lilies are for hatred, oh and geraniums mean stupidity, so this one is the ‘screw you’ bouquet. People either get it with the gag card or just don’t tell the person,” you reply with a grin, hand waving over both the autumnal bouquet and his question.

“Ok, that is funny,” he agreed with a chuckle, unable to resist imagining getting one for one of the members without them realizing.

Before you could say any more, though, one of the photographers approached you, causing you to turn his way.

“Hi,” you waved, bouncing on your heels, “you’re here for the shoot, right? Which wall were we setting up at again? I made sure they were all ready.”

“We were planning on starting with the pink one.”

“Oh, good!” You clapped. “I was hoping you were going to use the pink one! Let’s go get started. …see you in a bit!” You called to Jihoon as they took him back aside to prepare.

Wow. Lot of energy. As the stylist got ready to check him over, he ended up next to Minghao and Seokmin.

“You sure seemed to hit it off with the florist,” he commented matter-of-factly.

“She just seems…really chatty,” he replied with a sheepish smile, “not how you usually think of a florist being.”

“Maybe not, but it’s kind of nice. A florist with a flower-like personality!” Seokmin said with a smile. Leave it to him to find an angle like that- such was his charm.

“I think you two would get along really well,” Jihoon told him with a teasing eye roll.

~

For this shoot, Soonyoung went first; he was paired with white flowers, which really made the pink backdrop stand out. The other members watched, some cheering and some cringing, as he posed, the lovely style of the shoot surely something carats were going to enjoy. That was how Jihoon thought of it, otherwise it wasn’t exactly his style, but thinking of bringing smiles to everyone’s faces was worth almost any concept.

After Soonyoung was Mingyu, who had yellow. At the professionals' prompting, you handed him a big yellow hibiscus, which he accepted with a smile.

“Your skin is so pretty!” You gushed. “And your smile is very nice.”

Mingyu looked quite pleased with himself, pulling himself up to his quite full height. “Well. You aren’t so bad yourse-”

“You remind me of my brother!” You added with an innocent grin, adjusting your name tag, which Jihoon saw read (y/n).

“Ah, right, thank you,” the tall rapper accepted the compliment sheepishly. Everyone else snickered behind him as you bounded back off, completely naïve to it all.

“You’re not going to be in front of the pink wall,” came a sudden voice at Jihoon’s side, sending him jumping back a bit.

Turning to face the sound, he was faced with the sight of you at his side motioning to his outfit. “You’re wearing red. That wouldn’t look good with the pink wall. You’re going by the white or the red one, huh? Oh, uh, not that you don’t look good, just color theory and all. You look really nice in red. If you don't usually, then you should wear it more often.”

He found himself flushing into the whirlwind at the compliment. Why, he couldn’t say- it wasn’t the first he’d heard, but something about the words coming from a florist stuck with him. “Thank you,” he replied stiffly, unsure what else to say, “I am going to the red wall. A few of us are going monochrome.”

“It’ll look great!” You cheered him on, handing him a single red rose.

"Oh, you don't need to-" Jihoon held the flower back out, but before he could finish you were bouncing off again at the photographer’s behest.

You talked to the others, too, but didn’t seem to give out any more flowers, just danced around the makeshift studio suggesting flowers and making adjustments, flitting around like a dandelion seed on the wind. Curious.

~

When the formal photoshoot was over, Seventeen gathered in front of the white floral wall to take group pictures with you in thanks. You insisted on doing 'a silly one', prompting some of the members to get really wild with their poses and wow Jihoon had no idea you'd be able to stretch your leg as high as you did. He held out your flower like a magic wand, having kept it in his hands the entire rest of the shoot- it was such a perfect rose, they even let him use it as a prop for some of the pictures.

A part of him still wondered why you gave it to him. Another part of him wondered what song you had been listening to when he first saw you. A third and final part just wondered why he cared when he had everything else in his life to think about.

Two was bigger than one. The only way Jihoon would ever find time to go back to that shop would be necessity, like if he left something behind, forcing him to return. Glancing, he saw the original jacket he'd entered the florists' with hanging on a peg behind the counter. Then promptly set his gaze drifting far from that, perusing a row of chrysanthemums as he followed the sea of men that was his members out the door.

"Goodbye!" You waved to them, apron flapping back and forth with the motion. "You were great models! I'll buy your pictures!"

A few cheers rose from the guys, Seungcheol, Joshua, and all three members of Booseoksoon at least. A wave of pride crashed over Jihoon's chest, probably because you were so earnest. Not because of the way the color of your eyes was brought out by the stars in them.

"We'll keep buying your flowers!" Seokmin called, waving the little bundle of pink azaleas he'd bought at you.

The last of you Jihoon heard as he exited your viral shop was a bright, musical giggle that echoed in his mind several times over.

~

Hands in his pockets, Jihoon made his way to leave the dorm the next day and go collect his jacket.

"You're leaving?" Soonyoung. Unabashed shock colored his tone, his mouth wide open.

"You're doing it too," Jihoon teased in response, a smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, but I'm me. I go shopping, I take walks, but you? You never leave. Where are you going?"

"I left my jacket at the flower shop yesterday, the long one I had on over the red? So I'm just going to see if they still have it."

"That's one of your favorite jackets," Soonyoung commented as he opened the door, ushering the both of them past the threshold.

"I know, so I hope they still have it."

"You never forget things like that," his bandmate pondered with a tilt of his head.

"They must have put it somewhere weird," Jihoon shrugged in response.

The jacket conversation died there, but Jihoon couldn't help hoping his tiger-loving friend didn't suspect anything as he strode along the sidewalk, hailing a taxi.

~

No longer reserved for a day's shoot, your shop had some business. A teenage couple was taking pictures in front of the pink wall in the chaste embrace of first love, a man alternately held up bundles of white and red roses, clearly trying to make a decision, and there you were behind the counter, shimmying with one airpod in as you secured some daffodils with twine for an older lady. It seemed like Jihoon was going to catch you dancing every time he saw you.

Glancing further behind your counter, he saw his jacket hanging on the peg where it was left the day before. Bingo. Striding forward, he got in line behind Daffodil Lady, who was just finishing up handing off some won to you before you gave her a receipt. When he stepped forward, your face lit up so bright it sent a whole swarm of butterflies fluttering inside him.

"Hi!" You waved, popping out your single airpod and placing it back in its case- interesting that you did that now and not when you were helping the old lady- before leaning forward on your wooden counter. "Woozi, isn't that right, sir?"

He chuckled. "Oh, just call me Jihoon. Sorry to bother you, but I think I left my jacket here?"

You waved a hand, still smiling brightly. "Oh, you're not bothering me. You could never bother me. Well, unless you were, like, burning my shop down or something- that would bother me. No arson on my florals, please!"

Jihoon just chuckled with a shake of his head as you bobbed over to the wall rack that housed his jacket, plucking it off the peg. "This one, right?"

"Yes," he nodded, "thank you."

"Of course, Jihoon," you replied, using his name, "anything else I can help you with?"

Maybe it was the way you said his name, the fact that just showing up, taking his jacket, and leaving seemed lame, but suddenly he felt a strange bit of conviction wash over him. Turning around, his eyes scanned the rows upon rows of blooms, taking in the fluttering rainbow of roses and carnations, sunflowers and snapdragons, tulips and hyacinths, before locking on a soft purple bundle. He walked over and took them gently in his hands, returning to your counter.

"These are really pretty," he comments as he hands them to you, "I'd like to get some of these for my studio."

"I'll put them in a vase then," you replied with a nod as you trimmed them and stood them up, "great choice! Lilacs are pretty, and they symbolize new love. Maybe they'll help you write a love song."

Your eyelashes fluttered a bit as you spoke, and when you said goodbye, you told him you hoped you'd see him again soon. He was almost tempted to forget something again.

~

"These are nice. When did you get these?" Seungcheol waved his hand over the vase of lilacs on Jihoon's desk, head tilted inquisitively.

"I bought them when I went back to that flower shop to get my jacket."

His leader smiled. "Oh, from the really friendly girl? You bought flowers?"

His face felt a bit warm. "I felt weird leaving without buying anything. Having something to decorate is kind of nice anyway," he answered with a shrug.

"Well, it's nice to bring a little outside in, especially since you never go out," Seungcheol teased, elbowing him lightly.

"I do, too...sometimes."

"Oh yeah? When was your next plan to leave here?"

Shit. "Er, ah..." Light bulb. "To get lunch!"

Seungcheol raised a brow. "You always get that delivered."

"Well, fine," Jihoon teasingly huffed, crossing his arms, "then we'll just have to make do bringing outside in, won't we?"

"Nothing wrong with that," the older man replied, leaning back into the lilacs and inhaling their scent lightly, eyes dropping closed a bit, "I wouldn't mind having a vase or two to brighten up my brother's place."

"I could get you some," Jihoon blurted out, cursing his own response's speed.

That smile of Seungcheol's was no good. "Oh yeah?"

Jihoon's face warmed, but he didn't back down, doing his best at a flippant wave of the hand. "Sure, I mean...you were the one who wanted me to get out more, weren't you?"

"Yeah," the rapper replied with a fond glance Jihoon had to roll his eyes at, "I suppose I was."

~

You were dancing again when he came in, this time with more of a formal choreography- Vixx’s G.R.8.U, if he wasn’t mistaken. The moment you saw him, though, you popped out your airpods again.

“Were the lilacs mean to you?”

“What?” Jihoon frowned slightly, eyes fixed on the way you fell into a forward lean over your counter, peering at him with your chin in your hand.

“I’m just messing with you. Wondering if you gave then the boot and are looking for a replacement or something. Maybe they talked back.”

“Oh, I forgot, you think flowers can talk.”

“Don’t make me sound crazy!” You protested, eyes widening in what Jihoon hoped was mock-offense, “I just mean flower language like from the Victorian days!”

“I know, that’s why you have ‘screw you’ bouquets and whatever the ones you wouldn’t…” Jihoon trailed off, hand waving over the infamous peach bouquets from visit number one, either new ones or somehow you were magically keeping them fresh for days on end, probably the latter. They were in a different position, individuals parted this time, revealing a card attached to the wood backing that revealed their price and identity. Those particular bundles, filled with coral roses, tiger lilies, and the occasional carnation and dotted with coriander flowers, were dubbed the “Let’s Get Down to Business” bouquet.

“Not red?” Jihoon mused quietly out loud.

Your gaze drifted diagonally downward; clearly you heard him, faint panic rising to your eyes as they fell upon the very-directly named arrangements you’d made.

"Those weren't my idea, just my translation! It was a popular request! Er, and no," you stammered, not meeting his eyes, “red’s more romantic than…uh, well, forward. Red is usually more for true love.”

You look really nice in red. If you don't usually, then you should wear it more often. “I see." His own stare trailed to the floor. "Well, are there any flowers just for friendship? I don't know if you remember S.Coups from the shoot-"

"One of the other red guys, right?"

He had been placed at the red wall. "Right."

"Medium tall? Black hair?"

Rather than point out that that description would match multiple members, Jihoon just nodded. "Yeah, the leader."

"Say the name guy," you agreed, mirroring his nod.

Say the name guy. He exhaled in amusement at that. Cute, but totally accurate. Jihoon was going to use that sometime. Seungheol would get a kick out of it too.

Fingers gently caressing a lily, he repeated what you said with a nod of his head and a twinkle in his eye.

“So S.Coups needs flowers now?”

“He said he wanted some after he saw the lilacs.”

You lit up. “Yellow roses are perfect to show friendship! How are these?” You asked as you pulled out a vase of yellow flowers.

“Perfect.”

“And I’ m really so honored you guys like my shop,” you added with a little bow as you started ringing up the vase.

“I’ll never go anywhere else for flowers,” Jihoon told you with a smile, “also, I have to ask- what music are you listening to?”

You glanced down at the counter again sheepishly, but a big smile spread across your face. Cute. You should tell her. No, shut up. That’s weird. “Well, I like upbeat stiff a lot. Right now I’m listening to-”

“Vixx-sunbaenim? G.R.8.U?”

Your eyes widened. “How do you- Oh, wait, I guess you would,” you chuckled nervously, “yes. That first day I was listening to MCND’S H.B.C. I guess I like acronyms!” At this, you gave a full-blown laugh, that sound better music than anything your airpods could have come up with.

“I guess so,” Jihoon said, and with that he left, wishing he knew what else he should have said.

"Oh, and here. Since those aren't for you, this one is," you stopped him before he left, leaning forward with a large camellia in hand.

As he waited for another cab, Jihoon snuck a glance into the wide windows of your shop and saw you, airpods back in, twirling around again behind your counter, heart constricting at the sight.

~

“Wow, that’s a really hype beat! I’m going to have to come up with a fast dace, aren’t I?” Soonyoung waltzed into Jihoon’s studio with a teasing groan.

Jihoon paused the instrumental immediately, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t know, this is just something I’m working on. I felt like making something upbeat.”

“Well, I can see why,” his hyung commented with a nod further into the room, “I think you have a problem.”

Giving a quick dart of the eyes across the room, the composer took in the four vases of flowers placed on two empty chairs and the two empty desk spaces that had once remained. “What do you want me to do?” He replied quietly, curtly. What else could he do, for that matter? He was running out of excuses to go see you. “I can’t think of any other reason to go!”

Soonyoung’s brows furrowed, gaze alternately narrowing and widening. “Huh- oh. Oh!” He smiled, a sight that usually didn’t bother Jihoon, but this one was even more immature than Seuncheol’s. “You want to see that florist again, don’t you? I was just going to tell you you were getting addicted to flowers.”

“Addicted to flowers?” Jihoon chuckled into the words despite the slight glare on his face.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve seen you do weirder things for inspiration,” Soonyoung replied with a shrug. “I saw her dancing, are you making a song for her?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s not a bad idea.”

“Well, I’m not doing it.”

“What a couple, you too,” Soonyoung shook his head, “you’re like a sunflower and a snapdragon.”

Two impulses rose, one to correct his tiger-loving bandmate that he and you were not a couple at all and one to state that in fact, you’d displayed those very two next to each other down the aisle of wooden boxes with all the yellow-toned stock. They apparently went together to some people. Maybe that was just offering ammo, though.

“Do you just buy flowers and leave? She’ll never know you like her.”

“She’s not supposed to. I mean, I don’t. Not really. Just a little.”

Soonyoung gave Jihoon his hoshiest cat eyes, shuffling closer with his hands behind his back.

“Look, I don’t have time to date anyone anyway.”

One more shuffle across the hard floor. Every muscle in Jihoon’s body tensed slightly. “How much time out of the week do you spend on trips buying flowers? A dinner or two’s time, you suppose?”

“I’m…I’m not good at saying stuff like you are,” Jihoon finally sighed into the unrelenting cat eyes and lopsided grin. “I should just be happy to go in and get flowers.”

“You want me to do it for you?”

“No.”

“I can. I’ll go in and just tell her how much you-”

“Absolutely not. That would be worse.”

“Well then, if you want it done right, you’re right. The only way is to go do it yourself,” Soonyoung concluded with a nod.

The worst part is that it wasn’t a bad point, damn his Bugs Bunny method. Didn’t change anything though. Time was still short, he wasn’t totally sure you were interested, and the mental image of any discomfort crossing your face on his account was nearly enough to bring a slick of sweat to his tightening palms. Going to your shop was all he had.

“I’m not going to harass her,” he finally spoke again, imagination starting to fade back away into reality.

“Then don’t. Maybe you should try…” Soonyoung paused for dramatic effect, opening his palms in little stationary jazz hands. “Complimenting her.”

“Complimenting her?” Jihoon repeated dumbly, hands opening and sliding back toward his keyboard, yearning for comfortable, familiar territory.

“Sure. Say something nice, see how she reacts. Kindness without commitment.”

Not a bad idea. He didn’t have to say anything stupid, after all. Nothing too weird. Drumming his fingers on the solid edge of his keyboard, he wracked his brain for things to say. What he said would depend on the context of course, because he’d only say something nice in response when it came up, not just blurt it out, and it has to be normal, not something out of the lyrics he definitely hadn’t been toying with writing about you.

“You’re overthinking things now, aren’t you?”

Jihoon opened his mouth fecklessly, no sound coming out, but before he could chastise his friend the studio door swung open again.

“Jihoon, we need to talk about all the flowers all over the dorms, you’re killing the rest of the vocal unit’s allergies and Jun just complained that-”

Seungcheol, the one who opened the door, swung into the room and locked eyes with Soonyoung, who crossed his arms and smiled with a nod.

“I’m on it,” he said.

Jihoon’s head fell into his hand, beat all but forgotten as he cursed his own slip of the tongue. Should’ve had the flowers sent to his mom or something.

~

“I, uh, listened to the songs you mentioned.” Jihoon stood at your counter yet again, hands wringing a bit nervously. He waited a week this time, practically the longest he'd gone, and the sight of your smiling face was like a pitcher of water in the desert. He wished you knew that, but wasn't about to be the one to tell you right then.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I liked them."

"Oh, good! I know you literally make music for a living so it would be pretty embarrassing if I recommended you stuff and you thought it was terrible or poorly made or whatever you call it when they don't produce it right if there's a word for that and I did, well, whatever the opposite of impressing you is."

"You always impress me," Jihoon chuckled.

"Oh, with my flowers, right." With a small unreadable smile, you glanced down at a set of pink tulips you were wrapping up.

"Not just with your flowers."

~

"And then you just LEFT?" Soonyoung burst out indignantly, arms flung open wide.

"What else was I supposed to say? I didn't have some poem to read her, song to sing! That was hard enough," Jihoon shot back, once again sitting with crossed arms in his now even more flower-filled studio.

"Oh no no no," Soonyoung shook his head over and over again, "no no no, this won't do at all. You can't be cryptic like that and just-" He sighed. "You're going back there. Now."

Jihoon didn't even look up from his laptop this time. "And waste all my cab fares?"

"You don't think seeing her is a waste and you know it. Otherwise we wouldn't have these, remember?" Soonyoung loosened one tulip from the pink bundle, sliding it upward from the vase until Jihoon smacked his hand, finally looking up into his triumphantly smiling face. "See? And if you're so worried, I will personally drive you back to her shop."

For once, the impulse to shoot back against the gloating wasn't there. "Do- do you really want this for me that bad?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"Call me a fool for love," Soonyoung replied.

Jihoon gave a small smile. "That's if you're rushing into something for yourself."

"Well, call me a fool for other people's love, then," his hyung grinned.

"Well, if you support it so much, then do me a favor...don't be there watching over my shoulder. I'll go back. Alone." Sighing and grabbing his bag, Jihoon made his way out of the studio once more.

Soonyoung just shook his head, chuckling. "What a couple you two are," he echoed his own earlier words at the composer's back.

Jihoon hailed the second cab of the day with a flush of embarrassment, not that this completely different driver would know why, it just felt like he did. Felt like everyone did. As he sat down, giving the address of your shop, he felt his phone vibrate. Reaching back, he slid it out of his pocket just far enough to see the notification.

Kwon Soonyoung: You got this 👍🏼🐯

All he could do was sigh again, this time with a shaky smile.

~

“Forget something?” If you were bothered by Jihoon’s return, you hid it well as you stood there, hands around your lovely face in a flower pose. A florist with a flower-like personality, just as Seokmin said.

“No. Well, sort of. I just suddenly needed-”

“Flowers for a pretty girl you just saw? I tease but you wouldn't believe how many times that actually-"

His hands involuntarily flexed, eyes scanning row upon row of nature's resplendent bounty as if to find the flowers that would do his job for him. Make it easier. Say all the words that had been planted in his heart on the day he first saw you, even if he hadn't realized how deeply they'd take root.

Wait, flowers did speak. You'd taught him that- there were friendship flowers, true love ones, sex ones apparently...and blooms for budding feelings.

"Lilacs are pretty, and they symbolize new love," you'd told him. That had lived rent-free in his mind for a good few days, even inspiring a few lines of lyrics ever since your sweet voice had spoken the concept into existence in Jihoon's universe, one that seemed far expanded at every one of your floral revelations.

"Yes, that's exactly it. Shouldn't it be lilacs, then?"

For the first time Jihoon had seen since he met you, you stopped fidgeting, standing completely still, jaw parting silently. Your eyes had widened a bit, narrowed with the furrowing of your brow, then blinked once, twice.

“Yes, I guess it should. You- you could also do a camellia bunch if you’re trying really hard,” you offered, head tilting his way with an inquisitive look, "but that's more like you've realized that you are in love."

A camellia. One of those big, pink, beautiful but fragile flowers he enjoyed, but also found inconvenient. Messy. Except he hadn’t minded when you gave him one- oh.

Oh.

Maybe this would be easier than he thought. Maybe, as much as it pained Jihoon to admit it, Soonyoung was right. Maybe dinner was easier than refilling six vases of water every other day.

“Which do you prefer, (y/n)?” He asked with a smile, using your name, which he rarely did, and catching a faint, flickering smile.

“I like camellias myself. The shape is appealing and the meaning is stronger. Though if you’re giving them to a stranger, I mean sheesh, lilacs are probably more-”

“No, I want the camellias. They’re for a pretty girl, remember?”

“I remember.” You weren’t dancing then. Your voice was flatter than usual. Preparing the paper, you cut the nicest-looking pink blossoms that Jihoon could see in the bunch, glancing awkwardly at him a few times before you handed it to him. “Well, alright, she better appreciate these or else she isn’t worth your time. You’re doing something nice after all, and I’ve seen girls complain about flowers their husband got them just because they were from the store and that’s messed up, so don’t you dare let her- Let her…”

Your ramblings trailed off as Jihoon accepted the bouquet, then immediately handed it back. Those usually wide eyes of yours just trailed down to the flowers, brows furrowing once again, the color of them obscured faintly by the motion.

“Is something wrong with them? Or was that the wrong color? Usually pink is the best if you want the love thing to come across, yellow's a bit platonic, but I'm sure whoever she is will like them if she's such a-"

This time, Jihoon cut into your words verbally, even as his eyes faltered, falling to the floor then back up to you, daring to ever so slightly meet yours. "You're the only pretty girl I've seen."

Jaw dropping, you took the bundle of flowers as if you'd never seen anything like them before, pulling them into your chest gently enough not to squash them, but a few petals still drifted to the floor because, well, camellias.

"So you really do like me too?" That wide smile Jihoon had come to miss on off-days, practically having it painted as a mural inside his eyelids, returned in full force as you looked between the flowers and him, knocking down the barrier that kept your counter private and stepping around.

Jihoon's breath hitched, words failing him as he simply nodded.

"Well, you know what?" You asked.

"What?" His voice felt hoarse, stolen now by your proximity, your side brushing his.

"No one's ever gotten me flowers before," you tell him with a grin before the bouquet is against his back, your arms thrown around his neck as you pulled his lips into yours.

Your smile, the way the white lights and sun filtering into your bright shop reflected in your eyes before they drifted shut, the way he could even see the spokes and intricate patterns within them thanks to the illumination, the feeling of you against him, was practically too much for Jihoon, and he quickly felt his head empty of thoughts, giving in only to sensation. No one had kissed him like you were in a long time, maybe ever, and he barely knew what to do with himself as his hands slid down to hold your waist, lips surging forward again and again.

You giggled as you two finally parted, keeping your forehead against his. "I didn't expect you to be a biter!"

If he hadn't already been flushed at the joy in your eyes as they stared into his, he would have been beet red at your comment. "Ah, did I... (y/n), I- I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't be, it's ok," you reassured him, smile not fading a bit, "you're just a bit of a snapdragon."

"You know, that's not the first time I've heard that."

"Oh yeah?" You laughed at that, nose crinkling. "And what am I then?"

"I'd say a sunflower."

A mock-pout fell across your face. "A friendship flower? After all that?"

"Look, I don't do flowers," Jihoon muttered, "I do lyrics."

"Oh, that’s right," you told him, smile returning quickly, "duh. Then sing something."

You barely heard your shop bell ring beneath his voice as he began singing, shakily before his voice found gravity, the two of you shoving off each other at light speed, adjusting your hair and clothes as the next set of customers swung the door open with faint looks of surprise.

"Er, flowers so beautiful you'll sing," you tell them with an unsteady grin, a nervous giggle, and one final, fluttering glance at Jihoon that melted him, spreading your arms out wide, "what can I help you find?"

Jihoon drifted back into a corner, for once not feeling he needed an excuse to stay there even though he had one: he wasn't leaving until he'd actually gotten your phone number.

[tenderhooked]

Hit me with more about the sun is only a God if you learn to starve!

for the wip fic ask game!

ABSOLUTELY MY LOVE!!! this is also colloquially known as the Jamie Gets Hugged Six Ways To Sunday fic, and i adore it so deeply. i'm currently working on chapter 2 so! i hope! it'll be out! soon!!!

here's a little jamie and isaac from much further down the road, because i love them so dearly and they make me insane and i need isaac to also Give and Get hugs because he deserves them and SO DOES JAMIE!!! i put some of it below the cut simply bc it got a bit long jsldfjaklj

“Oi,” Isaac ventures, scooting down the bench a bit until he’s close enough that he can speak softly, afraid of spooking the lad. His fingers curl around the metal, the cold shock of it enough to ground him. “Oi, Jamie. What’s going on?” Jamie shakes his head mutely. He’s rocking back and forth slowly, in small, minute movements. His knuckles are white to the bone. He’d been vibrant out on the pitch earlier, almost dizzying with it, his legs a blur and his face alight with a ferocious determination, but now he’s turned in on himself so that Isaac can glimpse only the tender, soft belly. He’d vanished during cool-down, and Isaac had wandered through the facility on purpose after everybody else had gone home, hoping that Jamie’d stuck around only to find him collapsed here on the floor, shaking like he was about to break apart. The shaking hasn’t gotten any better; it rattles the bones of him, the very skeleton. Isaac aches to watch. “M’fine,” Jamie finally mumbles, into the peaks of his knees. “Y’can go home.” Isaac rolls out his neck. “Nah. I’m good, bruv.” Jamie sniffles, fingers grappling more fiercely at his shirt sleeves. He hasn’t changed out of his kit or boots yet and his legs are grass-stained, and, horribly, Isaac is thinking of a different locker room in a different city but the wallowing emptiness of his chest is still the same. Nothing ever changes, does it. Nothing ever fucking changes. “S’stupid anyways,” says Jamie. His voice is dull, flat, so completely unlike Jamie that Isaac nearly can’t recognize him. “Just being stupid.”

There are many responses Isaac could give to that, but he pauses before he says any of them. They’ve talked and talked and talked it into circles, the lot of them, huddling in Dani’s living room trying to figure out how best to coax Jamie out of his ghost, back to the living world. Isaac, offer him your dino. Colin, take him out to dinner. Sam and Dani… keep it up, lads. None of it has worked. None of it has done anything, because Jamie hasn’t been there. But Jamie’s here now. He’s here, and so is Isaac. It’s easy, almost, to slip from the bench and onto the floor at Jamie’s side. A little harder, to wrap a careful arm around Jamie’s shoulders and draw him close. Isaac can feel the tense of Jamie’s muscles, the coiling of them, and he’s about to let go when Jamie relaxes into the embrace. This is all the encouragement that Isaac needs to pull him ever closer, tucking the lad into the curve of his side and allowing Jamie to decide where he wants his head to go. On Isaac’s chest, is the answer, and neither of them are small people but sitting here like this, Jamie is something delicate, something fragile, something that Isaac must handle with care because he doesn’t think Jamie’s ever been handled with care before in his whole life. Still, there’s a ferocity to the wrap of his arm around Jamie. A promise that this time things will be different. A sob rends its way from Jamie’s chest, a torn-wide wound, and he buries his face deeper into Isaac’s chest even as he simultaneously tries to pull away. “M’sorry,” he says, like he’s fighting with himself to accept what he’s being given. “M’sorry, I—” “You’re all right,” says Isaac. Instinctively, the fingers of his free hand card through Jamie’s hair in a gentle ruffle. It’s a light pressure, and yet there’s a warmth that blooms in it that spills over the boundaries of their bodies. Jamie freezes against it, but not as though he’s afraid of it; as though he’s afraid of it being taken away. Isaac keeps doing it, to prove that it’s not going anywhere, and says again, for good measure, “You’re all right, lad. You’re all right.”

[pinkhairandpokemon]

✍ - a memory of their mother

---

The second Blake heard a scream from their mother erupting from outside their bedroom window, they practically leapt out of their desk chair with a running start and sprinted through the house.

Pokéball already clutched in hand, they burst through the door in a fight-ready stance and disheveled hair. “What is it?! What’s going on?!”

“Blake!” Their mother, Camryn, cried out, scrambling up the porch steps to cower behind them. “This- this THING just dropped out of the sky, make it go away!”

“What thi-” Blake’s question was answered before they could even finish it when they looked up, greeted by the looming figure of a ginormous red and black bird with curving, knife-sharp horns.

“…Oh! Yveltal!”

Their mother’s face changed from horror to bewilderment as Blake ran down the steps to greet the monstrous creature with an ear-to-ear smile. Yveltal replied with a similar reaction, her white pupils dilating as she lowered her head down to their height.

“Hey, girl!” Blake chuckled, cupping the beast’s face in their hands and rubbing their face against hers lovingly. “What are you doing here?! You flew all the way from Kalos to see me?”

Yveltal chirped, a surprisingly soft and sweet sound coming from a creature so menacing. Tucking her wings closer to her side, she lowered herself to the ground more to let Blake reach her the back of her neck and scratch it.

"I- Wh- How-" Their mother stumbled over her words, utterly dumbfounded by the scene before her.

"Oh!" Blake suddenly backed away from the giant bird, realizing they should probably introduce the deity before their mom fainted right there on the steps. "Mom, this is Yveltal! She's a uh, friend I made in Kalos!"

"Um, I wouldn't pet her though," They added sheepishly. "If you do it might like- uh, hurt. It's fine if I do, but- yeah."

Their words barely registered in Camryn's head. She just continued to stand and gawk there, mouth agape as her eyes flicked between her child and the godly Pokemon she'd only heard about in legends right beside them.

"You remember how I said Auberi and I rescued a Legendary Pokemon from Team Flare a while back?" Blake continued babbling on like this was just another Tuesday for them, as Yveltal began began to preen their hair with her beak like they were a baby bird. "Yveltal was that Pokemon we saved! I caught her but I let her stay in Kalos, but I guess she decided to come visit today!"

Just as they finished that sentence, Yveltal backed up and hovered her head over the cobblestone path as she abruptly began hacking. Blake gave her a concerned eyebrow raise, that was quickly swapped out for a face of disgust as a cluster of what looked like fur and bones slid out from the Legendary's mouth. Once it plopped at her trainer's feet with a gross squelch, Yveltal sat back up and crooned innocently.

"Ohh, I guess she brought gifts too..." They mumbled, awkwardly sliding the pile off to the side with their boot.

The pungent smell of rot and saliva swiftly consumed the air, forcing Camryn to wince back and pinch her nostrils shut. As she did, she caught a glimpse of the flowers she'd planted alongside the path- only to find the once colorful blooms wilting under the shade of the Pokemon's tail.

"My garden!" She cried out, shocked at the sight of several years of hard work withering away in an instant.

"Oh shit-" Blake cursed, wrapping their arms around the Legendary's neck and gently leading her a few paces back from the house. As Yveltal followed, she left a trail of dead grass wherever she stepped. "Okay, um, sorry- I'm just gonna- I'm just gonna bring her somewhere else! I'll be right back!"

Without another word, they clambered onto Yveltal's back, and with a mighty flap of her wings the goddess of death lifted into the skies. Camryn watched as the Pokemon carried her kid over to an isolated hilltop in the distance, where Blake dismounted and continued conversing with the deity.

With a deep sigh, Camryn shook her head and rubbed her temple with her middle and index finger, the events of the last minute or so still struggling to catch up with her. "What the hell am I gonna do with that kid?"

---

[age-of-greta]

The Moon

The Moon represents illusion and deception, and therefore often suggests a time when something is not as it appears to be. Perhaps a misunderstanding on your part, or a truth you cannot admit to yourself.

Author’s note: hi!! welcome back to The Moon! This chapter is… a lot! Get ready. Anyway, no posting schedule, but all parts will be uploaded on Wednesdays at midnight est. There are only a few chapters left, but I’m unsure when it will get wrapped up as I will be on vacation soon. Just bare with me! Enjoy this chapter :)

Pairing: Sam x reader & Jake x reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, adult content, sexual situations, angst

Word count: 4.6k

PART 11:

The threat of cooler air began to creep in. That’s the first thing you noticed as you sat out on your porch. It was still summertime, but you noticed the warmth had begun to fade ever so slightly. That was the opposite of how you felt. It had been a few weeks since the Fourth of July party. You and Sam were incredibly solid. You were blissfully happy. He made you laugh until your stomach twisted. He made you smile until your cheeks were numb. He made you grip the sheets until your knuckles turned white. He gave you butterflies everyday. But there was still a twinge of doubt deep down in you. You two had never been tested. You didn’t fight. The secret you had been keeping about you and Jake loomed over you like a dark cloud. You had thought about telling him, but could never muster up the courage to say those words to him. The thought of his face twisting up in hurt made you physically ill. The thought of him leaving you over it was unbearable. So you decided you would just keep it bottled up, like a curse.

“Are you ready for tonight?” A beautiful voice asked as he sat down next to you on your patio.

You sighed. “I guess so. We haven’t been out in so long it feels a bit foreign. Are we old?”

Sam laughed. “No, we aren't old Birdie. I do get the sentiment though. However I have an inkling that once you get a few tequila sodas in you that social butterfly will bloom.”

You scoffed. “I’m embarrassing when I’m drunk.”

Sam makes a face at you. “You are not. You’re cute, and I cannot wait to see her tonight.” He says giving your cheek a light pinch.

You giggle and swat his hand away. “Yeah yeah. If you plan on showering you better go now. I have so much to do tonight.”

Sam sucks in breath. “Ooh sounds like I’m in for a treat. Not sure I can wait. Want to come jump in the shower with me?”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Go!”

Sam holds up his hands while chuckling as he heads back inside.

You two were going out with the rest of the gang. Which will be the first time you’ve all been out in a while. As well as the first time you’ve been out as a couple. That means you would be seeing Jake. Truthfully, you hadn’t seen or spoken to Jake much. A part of you mourned the friendship you once had. Sam had been staying with you for the majority of the time. You two often did things with Danny. You two had gone out to lunch with Josh, but had done nothing with Jake. You wondered if Sam or the other two had picked up on the shift. It was hard not to. Before you all were going out it was decided that you and Sam would come over for dinner then Uber to the bars after. You sat in the middle of your bedroom wrapped in a towel trying to figure out an appropriate outfit for both. You finally decided on a mini black dress with sheer puffy sleeves. It was a loose puffy dress and dipped down slightly low, but it wasn’t too much. You put it on and grabbed a pair of lacy heels to tie around your calf. After, you did a full face and took a while with your hair placing curls and fluffing. Then added jewelry and perfume before presenting yourself to Sam.

“Ready?” He said, still glancing down at his computer. He must have been working while you were getting ready.

“I think so.” You said back.

“Oh goddamn.” He said when he looked up. “Babe you look fucking incredible. Wow.”

You smiled at him and twisted your hair. “Thank you Sammy.”

He let out a breath. “You’re killing me. I’ve changed my mind. I’m taking you into that bedroom and we aren’t coming out.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” You say batting your eyelashes.

Sam smiles at you and groans. “Fuck.”

You laugh. “We really should be going though Sammy. We’re going to be late.”

Sam nods his head. “You’re right, although being late is on time for us.”

**

When you got to their house they were still cooking. They had made chicken carbonara and some “vegetarian bullshit” which is how Danny put it, for you and Sam. It smelled good. Jake was in the kitchen breaking a sweat over the hot stove, he didn’t really acknowledge you. You weren’t surprised. Josh was working on making the dining room into a suitable eating environment, he was such a good host. Danny was hanging around talking with you and Sam until he was summoned into the kitchen.

“How much longer?” Sam asked, grabbing a beer.

“I dunno, maybe fifteen minutes?” Jake said, still not looking up.

Sam nodded and grabbed your hand, leading you down the stairs. “Wanna show you something.”

He led you right to his piano. “I’ve been working on this new little ballad.”

He took a seat and you propped up against the piano. He began to play and beautiful melodic chords grazed your ears. Sam was a fantastic musician, but something about him playing the piano made you feel feral. He was so focused, mouth agape, eyes fluttering, hands sliding back and forth like butter. He was a spectacle, and you were in a haze watching him. When he finished he looked up for your approval and was met with sultry eyes.

He smirked at you. “What? Did you like it?”

You smirked back at him. “I loved it Sammy.” Then you sit down next to him on the bench. “It was hot.”

He curls his lip up. “Yeah? I got something else too. Go ahead and sit up here for me baby.” He says, tapping his hand on top of the piano.

You look at him strangely for a second before doing as you were told. You had to do some wiggling to get yourself up there, but you made it.

“Sammy what does-“ You began, but then he started playing. Your eyes got a little wide and a giggle came out of you as the spot underneath you vibrated with force. He continued on and so did your giggles.

“Sammy! Oh my god.” You said with laughs. If the situation weren’t as ridiculous as it was you probably would have had a different reaction, because fuck it did feel good.

“Stay right there baby.” He said, continuing to play.

This was torture. It was like edging you for his actual touch. You took a deep breath and rode out the vibrations, still watching Sam. You were beginning to become flustered. Then, he stopped.

“Did you like that one?” He asked, smiling innocently.

Your face was starting to flush. “Yes.”

Sam bites his lip for a minute. “Can I tell you something?” He says getting up and putting his hands next to your waist.

“Please do.” You reply.

“So I’ve always had this… fantasy right?” He says with a wicked smile.

Excitement grows on your face. “Oh yeah? Do tell.”

“Well the thought of bending you over this piano has crossed my mind a few times. I think about it sometimes when I’m playing.”

You swallow hard at that. You were beyond into it.

“Won’t they hear?” You ask, but it comes out more as a whine.

Sam leans in close and nips at your neck. “Nah. They have records on, plus the kitchen noises. We should be just fine.”

You close your eyes and slightly arch your back. Sam continues to kiss down your neck and collarbone. Then gets down on his knees. He pulls your dress up and kisses your thighs. Each kiss searing into your soft skin. You take a few breaths to try and compose yourself, but it’s no use. He takes his hands and begins raking them down your thigh before he slips your panties off. A soft moan slips past your lips. He grabs your legs and pulls you towards him, then his tongue meets your center. Obscene sounds are coming from below your dress, but at the moment it’s like music to your ears. When Sam incorporates his fingers you know it’s only a matter of time before that dopamine high courses through your veins.

“Fuck fuck.” You whine out.

Sam takes his hand that was planting you in place and instead covers your mouth. Now your moans and sounds are muffled, which only further riles you up. Your legs begin to shake.

“That’s it baby.” Sam says.

Hearing that was all you needed. You moan out into Sam’s hand while arching back on the piano. Your hand hits the keys which make an abrupt sound. You don’t care. Sam comes up and sees you slightly panting, but you can tell he’s not done with you. He grabs your waist and carefully helps you down.

“Bend over for me doll.” He says undoing his belt and taking off his shirt.

You happily obliged. Sam runs his hand over your ass before giving it a light smack. Then he glides the tip around your entrance which elicits a shiver to run up your spine.

“Sammy quit teasing.” You whine.

Sam takes in a quit breath and then sinks into you letting out a groan. He starts slowly pumping in and out of you, but quickly picks up the pace. Sam reaches over and pulls your breasts out of your dress, giving your nipples a slight squeeze. You look over and see a mirror- what a sight it was. Sam’s face, the way his hands are running over your body. It was so pornographic and so fucking hot. As he starting bucking into you faster the piano began to make sounds as the keys were rattling. You and Sam didn’t care you were too busy chasing that high.

“Fuck baby can you give it to me again? I need you to try- I’m so close. Fuck you’re so good. You feel so good.” Sam praised.

That makes fire burn in your core again.

“Yes Sammy I can just for you. Keeping fucking me just like that. Oh fuck.” You say back.

Sam loves when you talk dirty, and you knew saying those words wasn’t playing fair, he would really have to restrain himself to keep going. But you knew he would get you there. He always did, typically more than once.

Sam said nothing in response, you knew he couldn’t keep talking without coming. Instead he just let out a moan and pinched his face up in total concentration. When you saw that in the mirror you were done for. Between the obscene sounds, the piano keys sounding off, Sam’s face, and the feeling-oh god the feeling. You were burning up inside.

“Sammy- I’m- Sammy” You moaned out as you fluttered around him.

Sam was right behind you. He let out a grunt as he released inside of you. Then you both stayed there catching your breath and attempting to come back down. Finally Sam departed, and you winced from the loss of contact.

“Stay right here baby.” Sam said softly.

You attempted to shove your breasts back into your dress while Sam came back with a wet cloth. He ran it up and down your legs and softly pulled your dress down while placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“Now, let’s go see if dinner is ready.” He said, taking your hand.

You let out a laugh. “You’re going to have to give me a minute to clean myself up.”

You hurried into the bathroom and fixed your hair, makeup, and dress. Then went back out to Sam. You were less of a mess, but still looked slightly disheveled. You took his hand and climbed the stairs then made way into the kitchen. It looked like they were wrapping everything up.

“Ah there you two are.” Josh said, giving you a side eye. “That was uh an interesting tune coming from the piano. What were you playing, Sam?” Josh continued with a smirk.

Sam sucked in his cheeks. “Nothing in particular. Just fooling around.”

Josh nodded his head. “Well that was evident.”

Your face started to turn red, but before any more conversation stimulated Danny cleared his throat.

“Okay well everyone to the table. Come on now.”

You started to follow the other three into the dining room but stopped when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around, there was Jake with a look of discontent on his face.

“Yeah?” You asked.

He reached down and tugged at your shoulder strap on your dress then grazed his fingers on your skin, fixing the material. That sensation caused you to shudder slightly.

“Your strap was all fucked up. Wonder why?” He stated, then walked past you.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes before going into the dining room. It was going to be a long night.

**

“Hey thanks man.” Sam said, climbing out of the Uber XL and taking your hand.

Somehow you all had ended up at the same bar you had been at that first night they were in town. Everyone was in a somewhat good mood. Even Jake seemed to have lightened up by 0.1% - which was a vast improvement. You walked in with Sam and giggled.

“What?” He asked with a sly smile.

You shook your head. “Nothing. It’s just the last time I was here I was in bike shorts and a tank top and now.” You say motioning to your outfit.

Sam smiles at you. “I thought you looked hot then, and tonight?” He chuckles. “Baby, I’m pretty sure I showed you how hot you look tonight. But genuinely, I believe you look beautiful all the time.”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “My sweet Sammy.”

Suddenly, Josh had shimmied himself between you and Sam and put arms around the both of you. “As much as I love to see you two groping each other, can we drink now?”

You huff a laugh. “Lead the way to the bar Josh.”

Josh somehow got all of you to the bar and decided to order. “Can we get two salty dogs for me and the guy with the luscious curly hair down there, a bourbon on the rocks for the slightly less handsome version of me, and two tequila sodas for the lovebirds?” He says motioning to each of you.

The bartender gives Josh a strange look before nodding.

“You don’t always have to be so obnoxious.” Jake pokes.

Josh sighs. “You see dear Jake, I actually do. It was in my contract, just like yours says to be perpetually mopey.”

Jake snickers a laugh at that. You’re positive Josh is the only one who could say that to him and get away unscathed.

Your drinks arrived moments later and you all thanked your bartender while Josh got the first round.

“Alright, jukebox, pool, and darts anyone?” Josh suggested.

You all followed suit. The next hour consisted of pool games and a fair amount of drinks. You were buzzed, Sam was very touchy with you, Danny & Josh were intense with their pool game, and somehow Jake’s mood had lightened.

“Bullshit!” Danny yelled out.

“Yes! That’s it! That’s the money shot! I win!” Josh exclaims back.

“Gentleman! Let’s settle this in darts huh?” Sam suggested, while the others nodded.

“Birdie?” Sam questioned.

You shook your head. “No thanks. I need to pee, I’ll come watch in a bit.”

Then you head off for the bathroom, pee and freshen yourself up. You still looked good, you thought, just maybe a little undone. When you emerged from the bathroom you could see the dart game, but Jake wasn’t participating. He was sitting at a booth near them on his phone. You decided it would be weird to sit somewhere else, so you walked over and sat down at his table. He looked up at you and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” You shrugged.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just didn’t expect you to sit here.”

“Hm. Last time I checked you didn’t own this booth, but maybe your name is etched under the table.” You quip, then pretend to check under the table top. “Shit. Nope I didn’t see it Jake.”

He cracks a smile at that. “Smart ass.”

You couldn’t help but smile back.

You both sat and watched them play, in the corner of your eye you saw an older woman head to the jukebox. You were curious as to what her music taste might be. Then you heard the opening to Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac. You laughed to yourself at the situation you found yourself in and the song.

Time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me.

I know I could have loved you but you would not let me.

I’ll follow you down til’ the sound of my voice will haunt you.

You’ll never get away from the sound of a woman that loves you.

“Yeah, cheers to that.” Jake says, suddenly raising his glass towards you.

You look at him and laugh, roll your eyes, then clink glasses with him.

It was nice to know Jake’s sense of humor was still intact, and maybe, just maybe you two could get past all of this.

**

You woke up the next morning slightly hungover. You were in your apartment alone, as Sam had to go to the studio for a while today. You couldn’t help but feel giddy. Jake seemed to be softening, Sam continued to enthrall you, and you were starting to feel at ease with everything. You climbed out of bed and began to clean up. Margo was coming over with lunch in a bit, then Sam would be over later. He was so excited because he was going to show you how to make pickles with the cucumbers he had been growing. Secretly, you were just as excited about it too. You took a shower, did some skincare, and put on a record while you made coffee. After all of that the hangover finally started to go away. Then a knock on the door made you grin, Lana was bringing salmon and cream cheese bagels. That was just what you needed. You opened the door and gave her a smile.

“Hi.” You say.

She gives you a look. “Hi. Someone’s cheery this morning. Did you get fucked last night?”

You scoff and take the food bag from her as she walks in. “Can I not just be happy to see you?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She pokes.

You two head into the living room and sit on the couch.

“So.” She starts. “How are you and Sam? You two seem to be living in a fairytale- you’re obsessed with each other.”

You smile at his name. “We’re great, but we are not obsessed with each other. Just the right amount.”

She laughs. “Yeah right. These bagels are so fucking good.”

You take a bite and savor as the flavors hit your tongue. Definitely what you needed.

Your phone makes a ding next to you and you pick it up. You had a text, from… Jake?

Found your panties under my bed. Shall I give them to Sammy boy?

Then accompanies that text with a photo of the black lace panties in hand.

A small smile appears. You know Jake was joking, it was nice to see him interacting with you like this again.

Bold of you to assume they’re mine.

You replied back.

You get a response within seconds.

Believe it or not, you’re the only one who has been in my bed. Plus there’s no way I could forget who these belong to. I’ll slide them under my brother’s door.

You know it feels wrong, but you giggle at that. It leaves a strange feeling in your chest.

Very funny. Just toss them.

You said.

“Oh is that Sam now?” Margo says through a laugh.

You look up in mild horror for a moment before you nod your head. “Yes.” You lie.

“See! I could tell by the way you giggled like a schoolgirl. You totally love him.” She continues.

Now you feel guilty. It’s not like you were flirting with Jake right? Just harmless banter. You shake your head at Margo and change the subject, you don’t want to revisit what you had just felt moments ago.

**

“Hi babe.” Sam says, setting down countless bags and pulling you into a deep hug.

“And that’s my cue to go!” Margo says, dramatically grabbing her things.

You laugh at her. “You sure you don’t want to make pickles with us?”

Margo snorts a little. “I’m good, but thank you for the generous offer. Call me tomorrow?”

You nod, then she pats Sam’s shoulder and bolts out the door.

“She is so strange.” Sam says through a laugh.

“She is. That’s why I love her.” You reply.

He smiles down at you and then leans in for a kiss. His hands run up and down your body, it feels like fireworks in your skin. His tongue slips in your mouth and you let out a soft moan, which causes Sam to grip your flesh harder.

Before things escalate you pull away and take a breath.

“We have pickles to make Mr. Kiszka.”

“Fuck the pickles. Take me to your bedroom.” Sam replies.

You laugh. “Later. I promise. I may or may not have gotten a new little outfit in the mail that you would like.”

Sam groans. “You’re killing me.”

You kiss his nose. “I’ll make it worth your wait.”

Sam chews on his lip. “I know you will, but right now I need you to back up about ten feet away until I can collect myself.”

“I think I can do that.” You say with a giggle, taking some bags into the kitchen.

You loved that Sam always wanted you. It made you feel so confident.

You and Sam set down the bags in the kitchen and begin to unpack them.

“Are these the cucumbers from the farmers market?” You ask, taking them out of the mesh bag.

“Yes ma’am they are. Organic.” He says, holding one up.

“You’re the best.” You say, giving him a smile.

“I know.” He replies chipperly. “So, are you ready to learn Birdie?”

“Oh I’m so ready. Teach me your ways Sammy.”

He pulls out a few mason jars, vinegar, garlic, dill, and red pepper flakes.

“Interesting.” You say, staring at the spread before you.

“Can you grab a cutting board for me?” He asks.

You nod and grab the biggest one you have as well as two knives. Then you two began cutting and washing the cucumbers.

“We are going to do spears and chips here. You cut the chips.”

You can’t help but giggle at how serious he was. “Yes, chef right on that for you.”

“Don’t cut your finger off.” He says with a smirk.

You two get all of the cucumbers cut up and Sam instructs you on the next steps.

“Okay now we are essentially just going to throw everything into the jars. So mix the vinegar with plenty of fresh dill, garlic, and a splash of red pepper flakes. They’ll be a little spicy but delicious.”

You two get everything mixed together and portioned.

“Okay actually this smells kind of good. I’m impressed.” You compliment.

“Now you get it.” He says with a smile. “But I actually wanted to add something to the chips batch that’s supposed to preserve the crunch but I can’t remember what it is.” He says furrowing his brows a little.

You start soaking the cucumbers in the vinegar mixture. “You don’t remember what it was?”

He shakes his head. “No, for the life of me I can’t. It was something simple too.”

“Just google it.” You suggest.

He shrugs. “Good call.” Then he begins patting down his pockets. “Shit. I left my phone in the car.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay go grab mine. It’s in the living room I think.”

“Okay.” He says, heading out of the kitchen.

Your hands are deep in this mixture, but you're almost done. You can’t wait to wash this off of you, and hope you don’t smell like it later when you show Sam your new lingerie.

A few minutes pass and Sam still hasn’t returned.

“Um, did you get lost? I'm putting the lids on!” You slightly yell, then begin to close the mason jars. You are sure he will make you reopen them for some reason.

No response.

You tightly secure the lids and then begin washing your hands and finally he appears with your phone in hand. He looks weird.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks with concern in his voice.

You look at him strangely. “What?”

“Why does Jake have your panties?” He says, turning your phone around to show you the photo.

Your blood runs cold and a wave of anxiety crashes through you.

Sam has a look on his face that you have never seen before. You’re so caught off guard you can’t even speak right now.

He shakes his head. “I wasn’t even snooping. I unlocked it and this immediately popped up.”

You take a breath in. “It’s not what you think.”

He frowns at you. “Did you cheat on me? With my brother?”

You begin to shake your head vigorously. “No Sam, I would never do that.”

He continues to stare at you. “So what? Did you fuck him?”

You look up at him and tears begin to pool in your eyes.

He huffs out. “Oh my god. You fucked him. You fucked Jake.”

“No Sam it was before you and I. I swear- we were drunk and it just it- I don’t know.” You frantically spit out.

The way he is looking at you makes you want to crawl out of your own skin. There’s no look of love or admiration. Just solemnity and hurt.

“And you didn’t tell me?” He asks, almost in a whisper.

“I didn’t know what to say… I don’t want to hide things from you, but it didn’t feel right to say those words to you.” You reply back, meekly.

Sam stares at the wall for a minute. “Am I some sort of second choice to you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You begin, but Sam cuts you off.

“I guess I’ve always known how you felt about him.” He says quietly.

“Sam please just-“

He holds his hand up at you. Sam sucks in a deep breath and pushes his hair back. “I need some time.”

Your face falls. “What does that mean?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I need time.”

He grabs his keys and heads towards your door.

“Sam…” You say.

He stops in the doorway and his eyes linger on yours.

Then he’s gone.

And you’re standing in your kitchen by yourself with six jars of fucking pickles.

Once your body catches up with your mind, you grab your phone and immediately try to call Sam.

Straight to voicemail.

You sink down to the floor as tears begin to fall.

Fuck.

***

[hanasnx]

❝ taint. ❞

── jacob x lian

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3k SUMMARY: after their shared kiss, lian is desperate to know how jacob really feels about her. WARNINGS: religious themes | mild angst | kinks: size, corruption | nipple play | mentioned: drug and alcohol use, purity culture | pussy rubbing | biting | implied smut.

A kiss. A kiss that could not be described as harmless. It’s a confession, a breaking point, a promise. Even if JACOB refuses to acknowledge it. He lets the heavy air plod, the tension caused by their mistake hangs over their heads, accumulating into the existing cloud that’s loomed over his shoulder for over a decade. It makes no difference to him if he’s added one more sin to his fold. Even if that cloud is dark and heavy with rain, his justice is well underway to cost him his life for his misdeeds. It’s why he was a drunkard. A frequent of a tavern until they kicked him out on his ass into the cold winds. Until he needed something stronger, suckling on the teat of opioids to render himself consciousless. 

A princess doesn’t deserve that. LIAN doesn’t deserve that. When she’d first come to him she was painted white; woven in a cocoon of expensive silken fabrics. An angel cursed by his company. Even though God has abandoned him, he prays anyway. He prays for Lian. 

He doesn’t look at her if he can help it. Any business he attends to in the cave is met swiftly and soberly. Filling his time and his mind with tasks that require his attention means he can’t stop to contemplate her. To deliberate over whether he made the right decision last night. It haunts him. 

How coldly he’d treated her after she’d opened herself to him, how the touch of her lips lingered on his, until he’d demanded more. How his arms had wrapped around her, pressing her flush against him. Her inexperience shone through her stiff stance. When he’d deepened the kiss, she didn’t know how to receive it. A grim reminder of how he taints her. Temptation took root that night, he could see it in her eyes. She wanted him. 

“Jacob. Touch me.” she’d said. 

“I can’t.” 

To deny such a request, to deny an angel, felt blasphemous. He had taken his leave as he battled contempt for himself. She remained, alone and hurt in his wake. 

“Do you resent me?” Faint words lilt in reservation, and he snaps back to present at the alert of them. He listens to her footsteps approach him, and he pivots his neck in their direction. All he can see are the shadows of her figure in the fires. It’s quiet in these quarters, the cloth separating this room from the passageway offers privacy but no noise suppression. It must mean they’re alone in this field of the caves. 

A fear blooms in the pit of his chest, the black tar of it mixes with the flowery meadow of new love. He’s lost in the labyrinth of his mind again, the lines of right and wrong blurred hopelessly. 

Gentle hands rest on his shoulders. Nimble, and feathery, they’re like doves that land on his armor. It dims his torment, if even for a second. For one wicked second, he’s free, and it crashes down as soon as she guides him to turn. His storming eyes meet hers. The shallow pinch of her eyebrows, upturned in worry, crushes him. Damn him for causing her pain. A cold palm cups his cheek in comfort and familiarity. He shies away from her, and she hesitates. The trembling hand falls to her side. 

“Lian.” he speaks brokenly. “What are you doing in here?” After evading her all day, she tracks him down during a moment of rare and unwanted peace. 

“I came to find you. You’ve hardly spoken a word to me all day. Have I hurt you?” A pitied lull of her head to the side, searching his gaze, and he yearns to brush his fingers through her lustrous hair. 

On the contrary, on the most absurd contrary. he thinks. “No,” he responds. “You should go.” 

A disheartened expression befalls her, altering her perfect features in a light he can’t bear to look upon. Knowing he’s the cause of her despondence. He skirts her, and she whirls around to follow his receding back. “Should I?” she asks, a tone with an edge of desperation, begging him to reconsider. 

He stands still as he cannot answer. 

“What have I done to you?” Another inquiry, yet it’s spoken differently this time. As if she goads him into admitting that this is about their kiss. “Please, tell me, Jacob.” His name on her tongue causes his eyes to fall shut. She’s only learned his name days ago, and every opportunity she has to invoke it, she does. He inhales deeply to calm his quaking nerves, fighting off his overwhelming emotions, and his tyrannical withdrawals. Everything heightens when she’s around him. 

“You must know.” he reasons, his stoic nature consistently melts within her atmosphere. 

“I won’t unless you tell me.” Her watery words quiver in her throat. 

His heart aches. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” he tells her, and he absorbs her reticence, continuing on, “After I’ve restored you to your throne, I’ll be off. You’ll never see me again.” 

A gasp, and a hurried step forward is abruptly cut off. As if to mirror how she first recruited him to escort her through the mountains in hiding, she offers him payment once more, but this time it’s to stay with her. “What can I give you? Money?”

He faces her. “Don’t say that. I don’t want that.” Surely, she must know. 

Lian’s confidence wavers at the sight of him. Gathering bravery, she pushes through. “What do you want? Do you want me?” His brows furrow at the idea she could doubt that, yet it’d be better if she didn’t know. It’d be entirely easier and safer for her if he hadn’t accepted her act of love. That kiss ruined everything. 

He falters. He cannot lie to her. “Of course I do.” he replies in a forlorn, urged whisper. 

“Then have me.” she speaks firmly, submitting herself as payment. Now he understands what she’d initially meant, his frown deepening with a shake of his head. 

“No, Princess,”

It’s not known to Lian that men deny what they want. Any man she’s ever known has been taught to take their desires. To forge paths and change fates to gain their yearnings. Out of frustration, she yanks her outer layer off until it pools at her elbows, pushing out her chest. Respectfully, Jacob jerks his head to the side, shielding her from himself to protect her dignity. “Are you refusing me?” 

She sacrifices herself on the altar of humiliation and he won’t answer her. After what he’d done in front of that bonfire, the way he held her as they shared their destined kiss, she could not be convinced of his indifference. So she softens her approach, taking a sheepish step forward. 

Her enchanting voice lightens, encouraging him to look at her, to comfort her. “Do you not find me… attractive?” she asks. His calculative blue eyes drift to her shoes, climbing her skirt to feed off of what she gives him. 

“Princess,” he chastises in protest, “You will find love in another.” He takes a step back. “Once you return to your kingdom you’ll be betrothed and married off, and I will remain as I am.” An addict, a failed former soldier, a broken man. His tailbone bumps the end of a table, and he’s forced to still as she advances. That recognizable gleam in her eye returns, the one from last night. How she looks at him with hunger. It’s intoxicating. He’s heard of the sirens at sea, and the lustful witchcraft of the North, but they are nothing compared to the infallible power she holds over him. Out of dread of what he will do, what he’s capable of, he fixes his hands to the edge of the table, lest they disobey him and reach out to her. “Do not give yourself to me in hopes of consummation, it will not keep me.” he warns, his empty threat thinly veiling his self-control dwindling. 

She leans into him, causing his body to jump at the brush of her fingertips against his aching chest. Those lips– those addictive lips– shape, hollowing her stunning cheek bones when she purses them to form her next question, “Won’t it?” She affords a great deal of faith in her flesh, and Jacob can’t disagree. “Do you fear it?”

He concedes, “I am no stranger to sodomy.” 

A single glance to his mouth. “How lucky.” 

The pain grows unbearable and he growls in irritation over his defeat. He’ll condemn himself later, presently he’ll give her what they both need. He surges forward, stamping his lips against hers in his enthusiasm, causing a sting they hardly notice. A content exhale from his nose fans over her face as he presses on, leading her through this. A noise retreats from the back of her throat when he tilts his head, hasty to part her lips. His tongue reintroduces itself to her, a foreign feeling stirs within her as the tip glides along her until she grants the access. 

Hers is tense, allowing him to do as he pleases. His arms wind around her waist, drawing her flush against him so she’s unable to run away. Her instinct is to back up, but he’s made that impossible now. His tongue slides against hers, goading her to play. Warily, she rears it, and he invites himself to the underside of it. When she swipes hers back and forth, his fingers dig into her hips, and excitement seeps into her through her saliva. The memory resurfaces, the one of yesterday, when he kissed her so sweetly. This is different, it’s demanding and coarse. So this is the passion she reads about. 

When he recedes, her lips idle in the form of a pucker, having been unexpectant of their impending divide.  “Are you sure you want this?” he speaks against them, pecking them impatiently between words. He stoops to her eye-level, the end of his nose prodding into her cheek as he crushes her body against his. As if he saw fit to absorb her, he can’t get her close enough, air is expelled from her lungs. 

She can’t think of one time she wouldn’t have accepted him. Even if he’d asked the day of their first meeting, when she’d thought of him as a junkie who was good with a sword. He’d earned her admiration and respect when he’d inadvertently saved her and her brother’s lives, and more so when he came back for them to escort them into the mountains. It’s scandalous, but if the opportunity presented itself, she fears she would’ve said yes to the dirty stranger. 

Now clean and familiar, he stands before her, ready to take her as she’d requested. She can do nothing but nod over and over again as she inhales a steadying breath. “Yes, yes,” Her outer layer slips fully off her arms to her feet. 

Steadily, he guides her back, that grip on her so tight she’s sure if she stumbled he’d catch her. She doesn’t dare break his intense gaze, even when the bed of furs lick her ankles and she’s pushed over. His large hand cradles the back of her head, guarding her from the impact. Rushed pecks latch onto wherever he can reach, the impetuosity of a man left wanting for far too long. The corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jawline, and she cranes her neck encouragingly. He entitles himself to her pulse point, mouthing it, teeth scraping against it in a most pleasant feeling she’s never experienced before. Unable to contain herself, she tangles her nimble fingers into his hair, tugging as she involuntarily writhes underneath him. 

A pattern of his past, a phrase slips out, rolling off his tongue and vibrating against her, “You like that, princess?” It trembles her nethers, lifting her leg out of the confines of its skirt, tucking him in between her legs. 

“Yes, yes, I do,” she answers him curiously. Her eyes falling shut from the tingles resounding throughout her body as his stubble brushes her sensitive skin. All of this is new to her. Being untouched her entire life, it brought her puzzlement and immense emotion to come to understand the heat in her core. How it had been awakened by Jacob, and reignites with his shallow thrusts of longing. His hips slot in between her thighs, his heavy belt nipping at her clothed sex. The debauched nature of it flushes her cheeks, but how can she deny true love? “Jacob?” she sighs, and his lips falter as they suck on her exposed collarbone. “What is that?”

Confused, Jacob rears, and she meets his gaze, lids heavy with pleasure. It says enough to him, and he moistens his reddened lips. He shifts to his hip, propping himself up over her on a single elbow, as his free hand comes to gingerly form over her mound. “You mean this?” 

A symphony begins in her head, harmony created by the position of his palm. He watches her diligently, pupils dilating as he witnesses her acquaintance to the sins of the flesh. The volume of her imaginary song increases as he gently rolls the heel of his hand against her, so specifically she pushes into it begging for more. If it were under different circumstances, he may delay her on the basis she’d overstimulate herself. He can’t bring himself to now. How she parts her lips in a silent gasp, faithfully rocking against his experienced touch, bowing her head and demonstrating how loyal she can be in holding his gaze. She wants this as much as he does, he can’t say no to that. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he muses, finding himself entranced with how unapologetically she chases that high. The virtuous wonder in her spellbound eyes. He can’t remember the last time he felt like that, and he wanted to prolong it for her. If they could live in this single moment forever, they would. Unfortunately, he can’t wait that long, the stiffness residing his pants fit to burst. “Have you felt anything like this before?” 

She shakes her head. It confirms his apparent suspicions. A princess allowing a lowly peasant from the West stain her, it’s unheard of. Yet he does not slow. 

To experiment, he dips his fingers into the divot of her folds, grazing residue that leaks onto the tips. An intentioned swipe sends a shiver up her spine, and he regards her reaction with interest, increasing his efforts. Every simple touch intensifies her movements, and when he circles her bud deliberately she arches her back. Without warning, she moans out. Nothing alerting, but still evocative, and he claps his palm over her mouth. Widened eyes meet his, abashed she’d lost control of herself. 

He whips his head in the direction of the tapestry that hangs in the doorway. It billows with breath from the cave’s mouth, but it’s ultimately harmless. There are no footsteps to behold. So he returns his attention to her. “You’ll have to be quiet, Lian, remember that.” he informs, and she nods under the pressure of his appendage. “If you don’t, I’ll have to stop.” She nods again. A commanding eye on her as if to scold her as he tentatively takes his hand off her mouth. An apologetic kiss presses to her lips, and she accepts it. It morphs, becoming a conduit to swallow any of her undisciplined sounds as he massages her sweet virginal sex. 

Wandering fingers are tender in their endeavor, tracing down her collarbone, and hooking into her neckline. Delicately, so as to not disturb her, he tugs the fabric down, loosening it off her shoulders. He breaks their kiss, a string of saliva connecting them, as he takes away his hand in between her legs to pull her dress down. It frees her chest, and he loses himself in the sight of them. Unlike those of brothel women, they’re shapely, and perked at attention from the stimulation. Untouched, unsullied, he’s swift to bow down and worship. His plump lips enclose around one of her nipples, and she gasps from the new sensation. He doesn’t need to admonish her because she covers her own mouth with her hand, undulating underneath him with the heels of her feet digging into the covers. His tongue swirls around her responsive nub. 

The hand that abandoned the warmth of her core cups the fat of her breast, greedy in how he handles it, near strangling it in his fervor as he mouths more and more of her flesh. His teeth bite down, and her discontented yelp reminds him where he is. He releases it with a pop, while his fingers roll the other. A cruel motion by her standards, the sharp pleasure from it twists her expression, and he basks in the notion no one has ever touched her like this except him. And it’s still early in the encounter. How is she to cope when he introduces her to every inch of his aching length? The passing fascination shifts his countenance as intensifies his efforts. For a moment, he forgets decorum. He's an animal driven by self-fulfillment, plunging his face in between her tits to gather them around his temples. He mouths and licks at the salt on her skin hungrily, burying his face in her tissue like a drunkard would a willing, warm body at a tavern. A soft laughter, like bells, snaps him out of his stupor. So he views her through his brows, playfully nipping at the side of her breast as a smile is brought to his face. She finds his intoxicated enthusiasm endearing. 

That guilt within him assuages. His hips gravitate towards hers, seeking out friction in ruts. She inhales sharply, the tip of his nose tracing up her as he leaves a trail of kisses in his wake. Sloppy, and wet kisses. 

“Jacob,” she whispers over her hand. 

He hums. 

“I’ve never… Well, I haven’t done…” she begins, embarrassed over the fact she may not be what he wants, or know what to do for him. His lips against her ear quiet her with a hush. 

“I know, it’ll be fine. Let me handle it.” he reassures, pecking her earlobe as he picks himself up to sit on his haunches. He removes his outer layer, whipping it down his arms as she watches with intrigue. He removes fabrics to bare himself to her. His belt as well as his trousers remain, and he shifts backwards. Carefully, he rides up the skirt of her dress, and his cold fingers startle her heated skin as he hooks them into her underclothes, peeling them down and off. She lifts her legs for him, poised and lithe, and he removes her shoes, palming the heel of her foot to pepper the top of it with soothing kisses. 

He settles, the backs of her knees fixed atop his shoulders as he tucks his head between her thighs, eager to relax her, prove his devotion to her. Even if it takes all night. 

[junkpuppet225]

shotgun

Jesse&F!Reader

:::summary: Jesse wants to try something new and boy do y’all ever. Or, you and Jesse have been friends since kindergarten and tonight’s the night it blooms into something more.

:::word count: 21k+

:::warnings: smutty smut smut. weed smoking. don’t do drugs mkay. cursing. you kiss your mother with that mouth? uhhh, p in v unprotected - wrap it before you tap it. 18+ minors DNI. ✌🏼

:::a/n: I’m super new to this type of writing so I hope I kept it in the reader narrative. Had to use a few Y/N’s cause sometimes you gotta. I don’t wike it. Tried to proofread. Tired boss. Enjoy!

:::::::

Maybe it was the weed but his feelings for you were intensified by a thousand tonight - laid back on your soft bed his blue eyes watching carefully as you dance around the room with your hands in the air, moving your hips to the slow beat of the song playing from your computer.

What he wouldn’t give to act on these feelings that plagued his every waking thought - to push himself up from your pale green sheets and close the space between you - taking your face in his hands gently to kiss you with a decade of longing.

He spent the first ten years of knowing you trying to avoid you. At school he assured Badger and Combo you were just some silly girl that lived next door while he spend every free moment in your company at home. Then the summer of seventh grade hit and everything changed - he was in love with you from the second you stepped into your backyard wearing that white bikini.

Now you stand before him in an oversized hoodie that looks oddly familiar, making him spend the past thirty minutes trying to figure out if you have anything on underneath it, eyes fixated on your smooth legs.

You were so fucking beautiful - the kind of beautiful someone’s totally oblivious to he thought taking another deep hit from the blunt between his fingers - his nerves keeping him reclined back on your bed, one hand placed strategically over his lap to conceal the growing bulge in his sweatpants as he watches you from a safe distance.

You’re the best thing to ever happen to him.

You turn your head slowly meeting his hooded eyes as that amazing smile lights up his face and he pats the spot beside him on the bed asking if you want to smoke. His voice is deep and thrilling - sending a shiver of pleasure straight to your core as you sink to the bed beside him. Maybe it’s a secret or maybe everyone knows it but him but you’ve been in love with Jesse Pinkman since way before the seventh grade. When you were six you swore you’d marry him one day.

“You know my dad will shit a brick.” You whisper letting your eyes fall to the blunt he holds carefully between you, the lit side turned into his palm to keep you from getting burnt. “He’s not here.” Jesse assures as his eyes fall to your parted lips, watching with a silent groan as you swipe your tongue across them and laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“The second I put that to my lips he’ll manifest in here and kill us both. You know how he is.”

Did he ever. 6 feet of marine badass - your dad was not a man to be fucked with but like Jesse said he’s not here. No one was beside the two of you - your mom spending the weekend with her “sister” and your dad off on one of his many recruiting gigs. Remembering that you have Jesse all to yourself tonight brings on your own lovely smile as his glassy eyes lift back to yours slowly.

“What if you don’t put it to your lips?” He mutters sitting up so you’re facing each other on the bed as he brings the burning blunt back to his mouth and takes a quick hit awaiting your answer. “I didn’t know you could booty-bump weed.” You say which brings back his perfect smile while he expels the smoke into the air as a soft laugh escapes him. “Come ‘ere.”

You do as you’re told scooting closer to his chest as he takes a long drag from the blunt - filling his lungs with smoke before placing his lips dangerously close to yours. Jesse grins as your breath catches then he exhales into your parted lips filling your own lungs with cannabis smoke.

“It’s called a shotgun.” Jesse whispers against your lips lifting his bright blue eyes to search your pretty face. “Can we do it again?” You ask softly - blowing the smoke from your lungs as his grin widens and he brings the blunt back to his lips, repeating the process except this time as you expel the smoke back into the room you lean forward and place your lips to his running your fingers into the back of his hair as you brush your tongues together and pull him closer.

All coherent thought disappears from his brain as he cups your face gently with his left hand and shields you from the blunts flame in his right as your tongue moves against his. Fuck. Jesse crushes the tip of the blunt between his fingers and lets it fall to the ground as he sinks both of his hands into your soft hair and savors every inch of your mouth, pulling you closer to him as you straddle his lap - all the air rushing from his lungs. You sink your body weight onto his aching cock still trapped in his pants as he tightens his fingers in your hair and kisses you desperately.

Was this really happening? Or just another fucking dream that you’d wake up from any minute?

You’re sitting so close to him you swear he must feel your heart pounding against his chest as his hands move down your back and under the stolen hoodie, grasping at your hips as you rut against his hard length with a quiet gasp. “F-fuck.” You pull away from him just enough to take in a needed breath as he continues to guide your hips over his aching cock. “…feels so good.”

You kiss him again sinking your hands into the back of his hair as his eyes close tightly and he groans into your mouth - grasping your hips to slow their torturous pace. He isn’t sure what the hell is happening or if it was evening happening but he knew if you didn’t slow down whatever this was would be over before it could even get started.

“J-Jesse.” The desire in your soft voice is nearly his undoing as you whisper against his lips before pulling him back to your kiss - lost in him once again. You don’t know how long you sit in his lap with your tongue in his mouth, long enough for his quiet moans to turn to whimpers - his rigid cock trapped between the thin material of his sweats and the barely there shorts he finds out you’re wearing.

When you come up for air again a slur of profanity falls from Jesse’s swollen lips as his head falls back against the headboard on your bed and he drags air into his lungs - finding your blown pupils in the dimly lit room. “You’re so damn beautiful. I’ve wanted you like this for a long fucking time Y/N.”

“Jesse…, I want you too.”

You watch the knot in his throat bob as he tightens his grasp on your hips. “Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“H-How…, h-how do you want me baby?” His voice is so deep and needy as he caresses your soft skin - running his thumbs along the apex of your thighs as you try not to grind against him - you don’t want to torture him. He already looks like a man unhinged as he focuses on his hands moving along the crease of your legs. It feels so good you worry your soaked cunt is ruining his clothes - feeling his cock jerk at the wetness that darkens the center of your shorts.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Jesse closes his eyes for a moment trying to stay in control or he’s gonna come in his fucking pants. “F-Fuck…, tell me where you want me?” He groans out grasping your hips again and he’s nearly drooling at the sight of you straddling him. “Please baby.” You don’t want to torture him. You want to make him feel good so you allow yourself just the slight shift of your hips and watch his breath rush from his lungs. “Y/N, please. I’m gonna…”

“Inside of me. I want you…, inside of me.”

Your words are so quiet you’re afraid he didn’t hear them but Jesse lifts his eyes to yours slowly and you watch a lifetime of friendship dissolve between you. There’s no coming back from this you think as he slides his arms around your back and lifts you from his lap - laying you back on your bed as he joins you in removing each others clothes - staring down at your naked body a moment later in complete awe.

His eyes rake over you slowly as your chest rises and falls in sync with his and you reach out to touch his stomach, bringing him down to your parted lips as he kisses you desperately.

“I love you.” You watch his eyes darken with his quiet words - words he’s said to you a hundred times before. When he feels like the world is against him. When his parents are on his ass or he’s bitching about his dumbass friends - he tells you he loves you all the time but somehow this time feels different. This time sends a surge of dopamine through your entire body as you rake your fingers into his hair and nod, assuring him you love him too.

“You s-sure you want this?”

You look between your bodies as Jesse grasps his cock in his fist, stroking slowly as he waits patiently for your consent. “Yes. I want you.

I want this.” You whisper lifting your hips to his as he groans at the idea of finally being inside of you. It’s something he’s imagined every fucking night across the yard in his own bedroom just like this - stroking himself slowly to the thought of fucking you. Fuck. “I don’t…, I don’t have any condoms.” He whispers hoarsely as he continues to run his hand over the swollen head of his throbbing cock. Never in a million years did he think something like this would happen or he would have been prepared.

“It’s okay…, just - try to pull out.”

Pull out? Of what? You? He laughs without humor and shakes the thought. No fucking way he’ll be able to pull out of you. He tells you as much and assures you he can go get some rubbers but you shake your head and pull him closer.

“Jus’ go slow.”

Jesse’s eyes are glazed over with desire as he nods, running the tip of his cock along your slick folds as your head falls back to the bed with a gasp. “S-shit, Y/N. So fucking wet for me.” You lift your head to watch him place himself at your soaked center as he pushes inside of you slowly causing your eyes to close at the feel of him. “Is this okay? Y-you okay?” Jesse whispers as you nod and he goes further, burying himself deep inside of you with a groan. “Holy shit, Y/N. Holy s-shit…”

“…oh my god, that feels….” A shutter of pleasure fills you. “…feels so good Jesse.” You groan grasping his sides as you guide him to move and he pulls out of you to sink back in deeply. “F-fuck y-yeah it does.” It was like nothing he’d ever felt before - no words could describe the sensations rushing through his chest as your nails dig into his shoulders and he finds an inexperienced rhythm, watching his cock disappear inside of you again and again. “Fuck, I feel you tightening around me.”

“Oh god.” You place your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that escapes you as Jesse sinks his hands into your hair and loses himself in fucking you. “…so fucking tight Y/N…, you’re almost there baby - let me h-hear you.” Stars dot your vision and you feel yourself come undone around him - gripping his back with sharp nails as he buries his face in your hair at the sound of your desperate moans.

“Y/N… fuck - don’t…” Your thighs tighten around his hips as he thrust into you deeply as another wave of pleasure crashes over you - gripping him so good as he fists his hands in your hair. “Fuck, let me come inside of you.” He pleads against your mouth and all you can do is moan his name - lost in how good he feels. “Fuck baby m’so close, please..”

Fuck as much as he wanted to fill you until he’s dripping from you he didn’t want to get you pregnant and ruin your fucking life so he slid a hand between you to pull himself from your soaked cunt just as he came with a desperate groan. “F-Fuck.” Jesse wasn’t breathing, blue eyes locked on yours as you laid before him looking like a fucking goddess with your cock drunk gaze. “…fuck, that was… fucking amazing yo.”

The smile that crept to your lips as you agree brings him back to you, kissing you roughly.

[softsweetsuffering]

The poisons of battle.

introduction to my Fey Eldarin (Basically seasonal elf)

TW: multiple mentions of Blood, fighting, descriptions of pain.

--

His hand came up to his mouth as he caught his breath, chest heaving, ears ringing, as he delicately glided the back of his palm across his lips. The skin coating in a deep sticky crimson. He could almost feel the judging eyes of his mother at the act, echos of disgust “How improper” “You are tarnishing our family name” “No one from our bloodline dares hold you with honor”.  A droplet from one of the stalactites of the icy cave lands on his forehead and drizzles down his cheek, bringing him back into the moment. He proceeds to wipe the same hand on the fabric dangling from his belt, a once clean silk now soaking with blood.  

His tongue runs over his teeth, tasting nothing but copper and sweat. Eyes scanning the area around them. Upon the cold and icy floor, now coated in bloodshed, five men lay fallen at their feet, though he supposed they were not truly men. Their skin tarnished with reds and oranges, like they had been licked by the flames from the undergarden.  He leans down to inspect them closer, checking for items of use, by finding very little on bodies of the damned. He sighs, quietly uttering a small apology at their choices to fight on the wrong side. His fingers deftly shutting eyes that were left open after he lay their fabrics back down. 

It was while his back was turned, distracted with something stuck to one of the fallen foes' belts, that something moved behind him.

It all happened in a few moments. Somewhere between the glance,  getting up to check behind him, catching a glimpse of a moving shadow. His hand instead shoots out to grab his opponents. It misses, but finds purchase on some fabric, tugging it free. A glimpse of an eye, iris of that of a snake.  It’s almost like a dance the way he follows them, feet carrying him towards them in a cat and mouse motion, before he manages to pin them. Arms tangling, wrapping around their smaller frame. Quickly assessing how small his opponent was, and slightly confused.  Using the height advantage, and what was still left of his strength, he squeezes the arm around their neck in silent threat. Just barely applying pressure to keep them in place.  

“What do you seek, sneaking around a battlefield?”

“I sought to give you a message.”

“Why here, in this manner?”

“Because it is a warning.”

“A warning for what?”

As the words left his lips, he heard a twig snap behind him, but all too late. A voice shouted. A sharp hot pain bloomed from his lower back, and his arms swiftly dropped from the hold in shock. In a blink the foe ran, and he staggered. He looked up, to see two figures on the run, before glancing down, to see the familiar red, soaking into his fabrics. Struggling to stay upright as warmth soaked across his torso. Hands quickly moving to place themselves against the flow. He groaned. Hunching himself, he checked his surroundings, fearing for how low his guard had been today.  A rare time to be so caught off his game. He focused on these thoughts, their voices, the glimpse of a face. A warning left for him, a clear one if that. He was meddling in somewhere they did not like. Making steps he should not take.  He scoffed quietly, daring them to think a small warning stab would put him off his goal.

It was as he kept his mind at bay from the hot white pain shooting up his back and down his left thigh, that he walked, although it was more of an occasional lurch. Towards the exit of the cave, he had forgotten just how far he had gone to get here.

Eventually though he was greeted with the torchlight flickering outside and the quiet voices growing louder, bringing him a small comfort. His feet continued to drag, and as his eyes finally lay upon the sight of his group, huddled around an open flame, he leaned against the wall of the mouth of the cave. Fabrics and hands keeping the sight of wounds at bay. 

“Where had you gone?”

“We thought you had gotten lost back there, what was so interesting?”

“So it's a big ass cave huh”

“Did he go missing? I was busy with the stew”

The faintest of what one would call a smile graced his lips just for a moment if at all. 

“I was just assuring the cave was empty from any unwanted beasts.” He isn’t sure if he succeeds in holding the slight strain in his throat. His eyes are a little unfocused, the more he realizes he’s relaxing, the more he notices the pain, and the sticky warmth of blood that covers his hidden hand.

“Well, was there any?”

“He doesn’t look as put together as when he left.” “He always looks like that.”

“I don’t think so.”

He is torn between truth and a lie, still so uncertain of his trust within his group. Though as he tries to think his mouth runs a little dry, it's getting harder to think so clearly. 

“I assure, All is fine.” He tries to quell them with another tired smile, and goes to move from the wall to join them around the flame. This was however his own mistake, as before he can stop  himself, his knees give out, bloodied hands splatting on the floor to catch himself, and his stomach rolls unpleasantly. The voices seem so muffled.

“Fásach!”

“Quickly grab my tome-”

“The banadages are in the satchel” 

“Hold the torch up so we can see”

A burning spreading from the open wound at the sudden movement. He realizes how much sweat is on his brow, how warm he feels for being in such cold winds. His eyes widen as he realizes the human colour of his skin, no longer adjusted for the climate around him. Its with a small pang of concern he thinks, It may not just be a stab wound. 

A hand is on his shoulder, his body is shuddering. He wants nothing but to sit back up, but his arms feel locked in place. It's only on the helpful pair of arms that they put him against the wall, back against the cool stone, He winces, breaths coming out hard and sharp. His mind clouded further. It's like the wound is spreading, eating at him like tiny piranhas from the lake. 

“Just calm down-”

“What the hell happened in that cave?”

“Should we go look?”

“No- don’t” 

He tries to implore but he’s interrupted by a gasp as an ache that swiftly turns to agonizing shoots up his chest, making him sit upright for a moment before slumping back. Body heaving and twitching. Burning and freezing. He hates how he feels so watched, so surrounded, so helpless-  

Hands are trying to seek the wound, and he wishes he could stop struggling, and handle it himself. Fingers touching his skin as they pull away his shirt, every motion and connection burns anew, and it’s overwhelming.

“Just breathe Fásach.”

“Someone get him some water.”

The tender voice of the cleric brings him brief solace, before he seizes again, Hands coming to help pin him in place so he does not kick someone nor hit his head against the unforgiving rocks. Biting his own tongue as to not scream and instead voicing it as somewhat of a strangled cry.

“There’s- something- It’s more than ah-- wuh-wound-“

He can hardly choke out the words, while someone is slowly collecting to pin away his hair.

“We’ve got you, whatever it is- you need to relax Fásach.”

He moans frustratedly, he doesn’t wish to, doesn’t want to. He has no desire to submit fully to their helping hands. Yet he knows he has no option. It’s just so much, his hearth racing in his own ears. The throbbing from his abdomen, the aches in his muscles..

 He’s too distracted to notice the words being uttered. A simple sleep spell cast his way. Too in anguish to distinguish the feeling as it begins taking hold. His struggles begin to cease, his eyes begin to fall heavy. 

Unwilling or otherwise, he finally slips into unconsciousness.