#what do you guy's know about sapphic yearning

[augustinepen]

My favorite little detail from last night's episode:

When Pin said these lines, I was wondering how they're gonna execute it. I love how in this specific love scene, they didn't go into detail but instead left more for everyone's imagination.

With that said, I was wondering if they were in any way gonna give call backs the next morning and I love how instead of showing little marks,

they decided to only allude to it by making Anil wear a half turtleneck, and intentionally covering parts of her neck with her hair.

So we don't really get to see the marks Pin may have left but we know she did try to leave some. Also makes us focus on the more important fact that Anil is leaving.

little things. subtle details.

(and yes i may have noticed it immediately on first watch don't ask me why)

[ghost-proofbaby]

kissing lessons

summary: you and robin have already shared several firsts as best friends: your first time holding hands, your first time cuddling someone, your first time flirting. so what's a little platonic kissing?

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: lots of sapphic pining, yearning, etc. assumed unrequited love. hopeless crushing. doing romantic things and claiming they're totally platonic when they very much are not. mentions of reading trying to conform to the 80s standards by dating a boy. reader is explicitly female (which should be given since robin is canonically a lesbian)

wc: 3.4k+

a/n: this one was a long time coming. it's based off of my own first kiss, loosely.

part 2

Being best friends with Robin Buckley has always been about growing – together.

Life has a plethora of lessons for young souls to learn in time, and some of those lessons were simply hard. The first time you picked up a musical instrument and attempted to play your very first note, and it sounded atrocious. Nothing like the movies, more difficult than you could have ever imagined. The first time you walked the halls of your high school, and the terrifying first wave of panic at the realization you’d need to learn the map of the lands in order to navigate that maze for the next four years. The first time you walked into a classroom all of two minutes late, and the first shatter of embarrassment in your chest as every eye in the room turned to you. The first time you trip over your own laces on your way to Chemistry, the first time you impulsively cut your hair with the kitchen scissors, the first time a boy asked you out as a joke, and the first time someone asked you out genuinely only to fumble over every single word. Your first school dance, your first time cooking pasta from scratch, your first time attending a concert without a chaperone. 

Firsts, firsts, firsts. Life is simply full of them, and they never get any easier or kinder, but having a best friend at your side certainly makes it all bearable. 

Robin Buckley was that rock for you. And you, for her. 

It’s sort of how you got into this mess to begin with. 

“It’s going to be weird, isn’t it?” 

“It’s not going to be weird unless we make it weird, Robin.”

“How can I not make it weird? Where would my lips even go?”

You’re both lucky that no one is home to hear all the shrieking currently occurring in your small bedroom. Only the posters on your wall and your teddy bear you’ve had since you were five are witnesses to the current predicament occuring. 

Robin had been the one to suggest it, in all fairness. Graduation was next week, and there had been a lot of reminiscing flying about. All the firsts, all the hopeful lasts, and all the fatal moments you needed to drag by the hair to the backyard and bury six feet under. 

The topic of conversation had veered pretty erratically, turning left towards that one stubborn B left on Robin’s postcard as a result of her refusing to attend her assigned tutoring for Geometry last year, and then sliding right as you’d huffed about that one girl who had been an absolute menace towards you sophomore year when you’d botched your improv solo at a band concert. But in the last five minutes, it had finally straightened out – it had finally begun to follow the trail of a line of remembering that no one else would ever be allowed to know outside of you and Robin. 

You’d brought up the first date you’d ever gone on. A ridiculous milkshake outing with some guy in your freshman English class that had left you feeling more confused than starry eyed or lovesick as the books promised. 

The date that had caused Robin Buckley to offer to hold your hand at random, in private moments, the week leading up to it. Just so you’d know how it felt. Just so you could figure out how to best intertwine your fingers with someone else’s without feeling terrible foreign about it all. 

It had been platonic. You both swore it had been, shrugging carelessly as you’d let your palm meet your best friends. 

And you’d felt more every time your skin brushed hers than you had the entire night with that boy. Spent the entire date wishing it was Robin’s knuckles bumping yours when you’d reached for that damn strawberry milkshake. 

“Against mine, I’d hope.” 

The dissection hadn’t ended at the hand-holding. Next, the two of you had wistfully recalled the sleepover in which you’d first decided to learn how to spoon one another. Robin had read about it in a magazine, you’d never had firsthand experience, and it just felt right to suggest. Robin had rambled for a good five minutes before you’d tugged her back into her bed and commanded her to just lay there as you figured out where you arm should go as your body curved along the back of hers. 

It had been nice. Really nice. 

You’d never gone out on another date after the Great Milkshake Catastrophe, as the two of you had called it. Robin claimed none of the boys at school could handle her eccentricism. Both of you, young girls fumbling about the world, starving for touch completely unaware. You told yourselves everyone cuddled with their friends. You told yourselves it was normal. 

But then, you’d switched positions, Robin being the big spoon as the teen magazine had described, and you swore your heart had burst when her arm wrapped around your waist and her fingers slotted between your own against your abdomen. 

You’d fallen asleep in that position. Awoken to Robin’s face pressed right into your chest as you’d spread out on your back. Ignored the flaky drool stain left behind on your skin when she’d finally joined the living once more. Pretended like you both hadn’t had the best rest of your lives as you’d clung to one another through fading dreams and subtle snores. 

It was normal, right? It had to be, because it was nice, and it had become a part of your normal sleepover rituals. 

Friends used each other’s boobs as pillows all the time, as Robin had defended. 

“Yeah, but, well-” Robin cuts off in her current stricken rambling, throwing her hands out around the air between you two, “What about when it’s more than just pecking? You know? All that gross shit, where tongues get involved and spit is exchanged and, oh God, should we be sucking on some mints right now or something? Oh my God, what if you’re allergic to my chapstic-”

Gross shit. 

The not-so-clever code word the two of you used whenever describing any sort of romantic interactions. Kissing, making out, sex. The things all of your peers were regular experiencing, sometimes even displaying in public, that the two of you only turned your noses up to. 

You didn’t want to suck the face off of Connor in your fifth period pottery class. The only person you could imagine on the receiving end of that that didn’t make your stomach turn was sitting right in front of you now, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as she clearly panicked. 

“I’m not allergic to passion fruit Lip Smackers, Robs.”

The switch to a passion fruit flavor was new. Robin had been using the strawberry flavor religiously prior, but had recently offered it to you with the excuse of your obsession with strawberry flavored things. 

And now, you’d been using it daily. Trying not to think about how many times her lips had been on it prior to yours. Trying not to think about how many ways you could twist it into some sick secondary kissing metaphor, to have your lips slick with the same sticky substance as hers had been so many times before.

Tried not to think about what Robin Buckley’s lips tasted like, period. Easier said than done when the thought crosses your mind every time you lick your lips moment after application, getting the faux sweetness all over your tongue. 

“You could be. And how would we even know? I can’t even drive! If you start to have an allergic reaction, I can’t even take you to the hospital! We don’t have a c-” 

You can’t do it anymore – any other day, you relish in the sound of Robin’s voice as she’ll squeal on and on about everything and anything. But not today. 

You cut her off with a kiss.

The very same kiss you’d both timidly agreed upon when you’d both realized graduation was next week, and neither of you had had your first kiss. 

The same deal as the cuddling. The same deal as the hand-holding. The same deal as all the pick-up lines and flirting you’d try out on each other, the same deal as all the sweet ‘love notes’ you’d write for one another and slip into backpacks and binders alike. 

The same deal as that fluttering in your chest every time she looked up at you at the local pool, eager to see if you’d witnessed her flip beneath the water. The same deal as all the nights you’d cried into your pillow after being pestered about if any boys at school caught your eyes, because you knew they hadn’t and they never would. Your eyes were already too busy, completely captured by the sight of the brunette now pressing her lips against yours. 

None of the boys at school could ever compare. 

Passion fruit and strawberry mingles within the short peck, freckled cheeks and nose smashing against yours in the most awkward fashion possible. It could be weird; it should be weird. 

It’s not. 

When you pull away, Robin is completely stunned into silence for quite possibly the first time in her life. And her lips are shining with some of your residual spit, and her cheeks are the perfect shade of rose that no actual flower could capture.

Mother Nature herself could never replicate the girl in front of you. The girl you’d been best friends with for six years now, the girl you’d pined relentlessly for for just as long. 

Only you’d just recently realized it. Somewhere between the lip smackers exchange and the movie night in which you’d intertwined your legs on the couch and felt the weight of her between your hips as she’d passed out. 

Looking at her now sort of feels like realizing it all over again. Sort of like looking out over a precipice, and taking a deep breath, because you know you’re leaping off the cliff. No scared looks over your shoulder, no hesitation as you throw your foot out into mid-air. 

The kind of rush you’ve never felt with a boy, and never will. 

“Was that…” she whispers, voice hoarse before she clears it, batting her gorgeous lashes and taking the shakiest of breaths, “Was that good?”

“I dunno,” you lie, “I think we should try again.” 

It’s like a dance, you soon realize. Following her steps, guiding her with your own. She slides her way up closer, and you press your back against your headboard. Her hands are shaking when they brush your outer thighs, and your blood is racing as you tug on her elbows to guide her to straddle your lap. 

You both had said, after all, you needed to learn to be better kissers. That you couldn’t leave high school without having shoved your tongue down someone’s throat at least once. Your words, not hers. 

Your desperate attempt to make sure that someone was Robin Buckley. Your pitiful attempt to have the one thing you don’t think you’ll ever be allowed to hold. 

The weight of her on your lap is nice. The feeling of her lips returning to yours is nice. The way neither of your hands know where to go as you let your lips linger together a few seconds longer than the first time is nice. 

It’s far nicer than Connor from English could ever make you feel. It’s far nicer than that poor boy at the diner ever was, though he tried his best. 

You’re the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’re the first one to let your palms settle at her hips, squeezing ever so gently to feel the softness beneath slot perfectly into your hold. You’re the first one to timidly include tongue, parting both your lips, trying to ignore the shivers running up your spine as all you can taste now is passion fruit lip smackers. 

Even with your own lip balm, you know your lips are horribly chapped. Dreadfully thirsty and desperate to absorb all the love you know isn’t yours to claim at this moment. Chapped lips, quivering hands, shaking breaths. Unsure movements and the ringing question in the back of your head of am I doing this right? 

Is she feeling what I’m feeling? 

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. But she’s kissing you back. Her tongue is meeting yours in movements that are nothing like the movies, shy baps that you both will probably laugh about later. Kitten licks to test the waters. 

And then there’s the retreating. The rock of her body as she settles her weight closer to your knees, and her tongue is put away in favor of just letting her lips slot between yours in slow and lazy movements. You can feel every deep breath she takes through her nose between the kisses, you can smell her perfume seeping into your psyche every moment she spends so close to you. 

The only lesson being learned right now is that you were an idiot. You were an absolute fool, and you are absolutely in love with your best friend.

“Better?” she questions when she pulls away entirely, and you try not to whimper. Try not to show her how badly you want this, need this. 

You hate the silence and you nearly wish she’d start babbling again. You wish she’d give you a reason to kiss her and shut her up, if for nothing more than to taste passion fruit and yearning all over again. 

You’re quiet for a few beats, staring at her as your chest heaves and your heart begins to twist up into terrible shapes. “I… Yeah. Yeah. I think we’re getting the hang of it, don’t you?” 

“Oh, absolutely,” her nervous smile breaks, and you wish she wouldn’t continue the thought, but she does, “You’re gonna be a pro in no time, breaking boys hearts left and right when you kiss them like that.” 

You don’t want to break a boy’s heart. You want to break hers – you want to entirely implode her heart the way she has yours, and have the honor to know it was mutual. A mutual destruction you both dove into headfirst. You only want to kiss Robin like this, forever. You only ever want to know how right her hand feels in yours, not some guy who can’t even choke out the right words to invite you to the cinema. 

You want, and you want, and you want. 

And just as you bite your tongue, decide against pouring out all your affections all over your bed sheets and pulling her right back into you again, desperate to share air with her and only her, you can hear your front door slamming over. 

Robin has never moved so quickly in her life. Jumping off your lap, leaping to the edge of the bed as a feverish blush overtakes her entire body. As though she might be embarrassed, as though she might be regretful. 

You still haven’t moved from your position, back sticky with sweat against the headboard, when your parents walk past your open door and say hello. 

They probably don’t even hear your sad and quiet excuse of a returned greeting, too enraptured by Robin’s own excited quip of saying hi. 

Your parents love her. Adore her in a way parents should care for their child’s closest confidant. They treat her like their own daughter, and Robin’s parents do the same for you. Once a month, your mothers meet up for mimosas over brunch and probably giggle about how lucky their girls are to have one another. 

You get it. You love her too. But certainly not in the way you should love your best friend. 

They finally leave, and Robin is quick to turn to you, eyes shining with all the stars and sunshine the Universe could have to offer, “That… um, thank you.”

“For what?” you laugh breathlessly, finally shifting forward, looking down at your thighs that had served as a temporary home to the girl who holds your heart, trying to swallow down any shame and all that rapid longing. 

“For… you know,” she smiles, a secret for the two of you to only ever keep, never sharing with the world. Selfishly, you almost enjoy the sentiment, “I’m sorry I was acting so weird about it before. You were right, it didn’t have to be weird unless we made it weird. I’m lucky to have you as my best friend, you know? And like I said, if you’re…. You know, doing that with boys, you’re going to be a certified heartbreaker. The world isn’t ready for my best friend. Besides! Another thing checked off the list, right?” she pauses, and you swear the smile has gone sad, but you can’t risk the projection, “Now we can both say we’ve done… that… before graduation! And-”

You speak before you can think better of it, interrupting her entirely, “I think I need more practice.” 

She stops in her tracks, eyebrows raising wildly and eyes turning to saucers, “What?”

“I think…” your head reels, desperate to come up with an excuse to kiss her again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. “I think I need more lessons, yeah? Like, I don’t know. More practice,” Oxygen evades you in desperation, giving your best puppy dog eyes, system in overdrive as you stare at her lips and your voice drops to a careful whisper, “My parents are out of town next weekend… Maybe we could try again then? Same time?” 

You swear her smile shifts, and you hadn’t even noticed the ingenuity in it previously until she dazzles you with one that must be real. As if you’ve just made her year, lightened her load, offered over your first born to the darling girl. 

“Well….” she moves her eyes across the room, focusing on a polaroid photo of the two of you pinned to the wall above the desk, “I mean, we did say lessons, plural. I can see if Steve will cover my shift on Saturday night if that works?” 

Am I doing this right? 

“That definitely works.”

Is she feeling what I’m feeling?

“Perfect. It’s a…. date, then.” 

“It’s a date.” 

It’s not. Only to you, never to her. 

But it’ll be enough. It’s enough to know next Saturday, she’ll be back here, in your bed and in your lap, getting that passion fruit chapstick all over your lips and shaking your chest from the inside out until it’s ready to burst. 

One day, you might be the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’ll tell your best friend all the ways she feels so nice, and all the ways you want to capture that niceness in a bottle for the rest of your days. You’ll tell her the way you have no interest in the boys at school and how you’re cursed to forever be the heartbroken, never the heartbreaker, and only ever at her hand. The very same one clasping yours as she stands at your front door, thanking you vaguely once more, grinning ear to ear as she gives you three tight squeezes that are completely lost on you. 

Today’s not the day, though. Today is the day where you spend the night in your self-made cage, face buried in the pillow, noises somewhere between desperately muffled screams of frustration and dry sobs of torture leaving your lips as you picture the way she’d looked after the kiss. Her eyes softly shut, her lips still puckered, her neck entirely exposed as she tilts her chin back to look at your ceiling through her eyelids. Picturing the way that next time, you’ll try to convince her the two of you should learn the art of neck kisses. Picturing the way that next time, maybe you’ll grab her hips a little harder or let your hands wander a bit farther to her thighs. 

Tonight is the night you have no idea amongst your pity party, that Robin Buckley is on the other side of town, experiencing the exact same turmoil as she longs for the girl who tastes like her gifted strawberry lip smackers – the very same one Steve Harrington berated on her to get rid of when she’d vomited out all the ways she hates fake strawberry flavoring, but you love it, and she’d convinced herself if she bathed herself in enough of it, you might just want her the way she wants you. 

Tonight’s not the night, though. 

One day, the kissing lessons will simply be kisses. One day.

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[beefboyandbabygirl]

Girl Code (18+)

pairing: student!jihoon x student!reader

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

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

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

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

wordcount: 12.0k

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

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

But that’s out there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jihoon, wait-” 

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

“Jihoon!” 

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause.

“Are you okay?” 

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

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Girl Code Rule #1

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

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

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

“Girl Code Rule #2

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

Girl Code Rule #3

Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.

Girl Code Rule #4 

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

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

“Girl Code Rule #5

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

“That’s-” you begin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.

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

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

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

“Seul?” 

“Yep.” 

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

“You’re not.” 

“You’re not.” 

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

“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?”  _____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t tell anyone.” 

The four of you exchange glances.

“We won’t.” 

He pauses.

“It’s.. IhaveacrushonthisgirlandIdon’twanttomessitup.” 

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

Holy hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not telling you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“We deserve that.”  _____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just tired,” you hum. _____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Son, no!”

“Never!”

“Absolutely not!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay, Y/n?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____________________________

“Let me come with you to the spa!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pssh!”

“Absolutely not!”

“As if!” 

Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.

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

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

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is going on?!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

“Mingyu, I will fucking kill you.”

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

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

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

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

“Unlovable.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Indeed, it is happening. 

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

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

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

Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you asked for me?” 

“Hm?” 

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

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

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

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

Where Jihoon is storming out of the house. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Jihoon?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.

“I didn’t tell her.” 

“Oh.” 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor. 

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

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

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

“Why?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

There are flowers in his hands. 

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

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

“I’m good.” 

He nods. 

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” 

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

“But- you and Wonwoo-?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, it was just-” 

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

You pause, flustered out of your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... Are you still hard?” 

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

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

“So,” Yeri trails off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, no..”

“Don’t say..” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Begging always works!”

[sunflowerwinds]

this love [h.c] | chapter five

summary: the news of your parents return caused your world to come crashing down. heart heavy and yearning for hazel, the blue eyed woman takes it into her hands to distract you from the world you live in and takes you to what could be your new reality.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: fluff to the max & time period homophobia

word count: 3.3k

a/n: OH MY GOD. hello everyone. it has been months since my last update. i kid you not i don’t know where this spark of energy to write for these two angels once again. also thank you guys for 2k followers! WHAT THE HELL. i love you all so so much to the bottom of my heart <3

‘this love’ masterlist

To say you were infuriated was an understatement.

The second Isabel had informed you about your parents' early arrival, your skin lit aflame. Hazel had emerged from your bedroom with a worried expression, expecting you to be running down the halls after your friend. You turned to her with hot angry tears in your eyes and her own sharp blue ones softened.

“Princess—” Hazel spoke with a gentle tone but was interrupted by your hushed words.

“They said two months. Hazel, now we don’t even have two weeks.” Your voice wavered as you ran your hands over your face with a shaky breath. “My parents are on their ways back home.”

Hazel’s face broke you. For a split second, her entire face dropped, settling into a frown that you’ve never seen before. Genuine hurt and fear on her face.

It aches you to see her this way.

The next morning, Hazel woke up tangled in your sheets and practically clinging to you. You hadn’t slept for a single second that first night. Your eyes were wide and red-rimmed from both crying and due to lack of sleep.

She stirred in her sleep and you glanced at her relaxed figure. You knew the staff was going to be arriving within the next week to start preparing for the king and queen's arrival. You sit up from the bed, careful of Hazel’s sleeping figure.

You should’ve known better as Hazel woke up seconds after your body left the bed.

“Princess?” Her groggy voice called out.

You freeze in your tracks and blink back heavy tears. Your back was towards her, facing the door.

“Hazel, I’m alright. I’m going to read in the library.” You tell her shakily, hoping she would leave it alone.

The shuffling of the sheets causes you to turn around to face Hazel. Her hair was tossed and her eyes were slightly squinted at you. It made you feel a little better to see her so adorable in the morning. That she cared enough to get out of bed.

“You’re not alright. That’s okay, you know that?” Hazel comes up to you and gently takes your hands in hers.

You avoid her eye line, afraid she could see how afraid you were to lose this once your parents arrived back home.

“I know. I… I don’t want them back. I’ve finally found my happiness without them,” You admit softly, looking up at her for a moment before shyly looking away once again.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Hazel muttered before tugging you into her body and wrapping her arms around your tense figure.

You dropped the ache in your shoulders to wrap your arms around her midsection. You snuggled your face into the crook of her neck, wanting to crawl into her skin to stay there for the rest of your days. That way you wouldn't face the horrors of the reality of who you were.

People would harm you and Hazel for simply being together. For being a sapphic.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you sniffled as you clawed at the cotton undershirt clinging to her toned back.

Hazel releases a shaky breath, her heartbeat picking up in speed. She couldn’t believe you felt so strongly about her.

“You could never lose me,” Hazel whispered into your temple before placing a gentle kiss there.

“You can’t say that. I’m petrified of what my parents will do to you if they find out.” You shake your head, pulling your head out of the crook of her warm neck. “Isabel had told me about a brutal hanging of a man a few kingdoms north that was… a homosexual. They threw tomatoes at his dead body, shouting awful things about how he deserved it simply because he didn’t love a woman.”

Hazel’s stomach, admittedly, churned at the gruesome thought of that happening to either one of them.

“We can’t ever be open with our affections and it hurts me so much, it might kill me.” You sighed out, a frown etched onto your lips.

You never thought you would worry that much about your love life this much. Hazel changed everything.

“How about we go somewhere for a few days? Go and take a breath of fresh air and not waste time thinking about the bad that could come.” Hazel’s hands cup the sides of your hot cheeks, wiping away the few streaks of tears that had left your tired eyes.

“Where?” You ask.

“I wanted to wait until the first month was over but I think you deserve to know about this place.” Hazel grinned softly at you, leaning forward to capture your lips into a gentle kiss.

So, you made your way into the kitchen area to snatch a few fruits and breads for however long the journey could be. Hazel suggested that the two of you could spend three days there, even longer if you desired. You weren't sure what this secret location could contain but Hazel seemed to know a lot more about the kingdom than you.

Well, you guess that’s what came with the freedom of being able to leave your own home whenever you please.

You came back to your bedroom to find Hazel packing a few trousers and shirts into a leather suitcase. Her short hair beautifully fell over her sharp features, sending an electrifying feeling up your spine. The skin underneath your nightgown became warm, borderline hot to the touch.

Curse Hazel’s genetics.

“Princess? Is everything alright?” Hazel glanced up at you, noticing how you were lingering in your doorway instead of stepping into the room.

You were still gripping onto the basket filled with food, feet planted onto the cool floors.

“Yes. Sorry. I forget how distracting you can be,” you tease, a cheeky grin spreading onto your lips.

Hazel’s brows raised, shocked at your sudden bold statement. You took a few steps into the room, eyes widening with want. The hairs on the back of your stand as Hazel meets you in the middle to cup the sides of your face, kissing you with just as much want and desire as you were feeling in your chest.

You can’t help but smile against her gentle lips on yours, your mood skyrocketing. You pulled away after a few seconds of sinking into the kiss to examine her face.

“So you really won’t tell me?” You press once but Hazel merely smacks her lips and shakes her head.

“It’s a surprise. I promise you’ll love it.” Hazel insists as she pecks your lips once more.

She backs away from you to finish packing her clothes and yours. It only took you another half hour to be able to inform Isabel of you and Hazel’s absence. The honey-haired beauty was in her own quarters just an enormous hallway down from your grand room. You knocked on the door and patiently waited for her response.

“Come in!” She called from behind the heavy door.

You push on the wooden door and see her sewing a soft green dress, almost the exact shade as her eyes, with white frilly trimmings on the neckline, end of the skirt, and shoulder straps. She really did have a gift. Her ability to sew such perfect dresses was admirable.

“Oh, hi!” Isabel beamed at you, finishing up the last stitch on the dress before setting it aside on her bed. “Is everything alright?” Isabel’s captivating eyes widened when she noticed that you were stiff in posture.

You nod with a soft laugh. “I’m alright, Bel. I wanted to let you know that Hazel and I are going to be leaving for—”

“Leaving?” She jolts up onto her feet from the seat at the end of her bed with a slight panic in her voice. Her frizzy hair bounces from the sudden jolt in movement as she walks over to frantically take her hands into yours. “If it’s because of what I had told you last night, I’m so incredibly sorry. I didn’t think it would drive you out of the palace.”

Your eyes bulged out of your head at her reaction, nervously laughing at her anxious state.

“Isabel, no. She’s taking me somewhere for a few days to get away for a bit. Not forever.”

For some reason, that felt like a lie. Like it wasn’t a promise you should be making.

“Oh. Okay. Well, you two please be weary and safe. I couldn't bear to think that something could happen to the two of you.” Isabel rubbed her thumbs over your palms, seeming to pass her anxiety through her touch.

“We will. We’ll be back in three days at the very most.” You lie straight through your teeth and it aches at your gums.

Isabel seems to ease a bit once you’ve informed her of what you and Hazel’s plans were. You left her with a bone-crushing hug, waving goodbye as you sped to your bedroom once again. As you leaned against the doorway, you admired Hazel who was bent over, clasping the suitcase closed.

“Do you need any help?” You speak up, folding your hands across the wide space of your soft skirt.

Hazel stood up with a small grin at the sound of your voice, her consciousness at ease.

“I got it, princess. You could get the basket you prepared,” She tilts her head at you, eyes not leaving your own.

You blush at her gaze. She was a sorceress in disguise, you swore it.

“I can do that,” you stated as you made your way over to the woven basket.

Every glance the two of you shared ached every part of your heart. In the refined space of your high-ceiling bedroom, you were able to place lingering kisses and gentle touches on her body. After holding back every fiber of your being back from kissing her until your lips bled, the two of you were able to sneak past the few guards that were beginning to arrive for your parents’ arrival.

You peaked around every stone corner before silently walking to the doors that led to the gravel walkway to the gates. Hazel was rounding the corner of the stables with two fingers hooked onto the reins. You approached them in a hushed manner, whispering gentle words to Peanut as you brushed your hand over his beautiful mane. With a few more quick glances to scan your surrounding area, Hazel helped you up and followed your movements so that the two of you could make this mysterious tret.

There in the clearing behind the beautiful lemon trees was a medium sized cabin with a straw roof and a surrounding fence that was smothered in vines and a variety of flowers that you were sure Hazel could identify. Your eyes widened in awe at the cozy home, your arms tightening around Hazel’s torso due to your growing excitement.

“Where are we?” You question breathlessly.

“My first home,” Hazel replied, equally out of breath.

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline at her words.

Her first home?

“My father technically owns this land and everything on it. The land is under his name. Lucky for us, it's my name as well,” Hazel cheekily responded, tugging back the reins so Peanut came to a halt just in front of the fence.

You let out a soft sigh, a content smile on your face as you continue to stare at the exterior. Hazel released the reins which caused you to let go of her waist as she was going to get down from her horse. Your eyes follow her lace up boot covered feet, grabbing the leather bit to lead Peanut to the fence to tie him too. You held yourself by the reins, eyes squinting as you peered through the surrounded forest. There hadn’t been people from what you could see; merely miles of green.

Hazel’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Princess?”

You blink and look down at her, a smitten smile on your lips.

“Yes?” You question.

“I’d love to show you around the cabin and the garden in the back,” Hazel put out her hand for you to grasp onto.

You grin as you take her hand in yours, carefully stepping onto Peanut’s stirrups to then put your own booted feet on the fresh grass. Hazel held your waist to keep you steady as you adjusted the skirt portion of your dress. Peanut huffed a bit before Hazel muttered a few words, brushing a hand over his mane.

“He hasn’t been here in quite some time. I think he remembers it,” Hazel spoke up.

Your eyes soften at her words, running your own hand over his back. He seemed to calm down after a few gentle brushes of you and Hazel’s palms. After Hazel had made sure he was safely secure, she took your hand in hers without shame and practically dragged you to the front door of the cabin. You were bouncing on the soles of your boots with excitement to see what was inside such a domestic home.

From underneath her deep, rich blue shirt, she pulled out a key that was hanging on a thin rope around her neck. You watched her carefully slide in the key through the heavy door, listening for the click to signal the door was now unlocked. Almost immediately, you were hit by the faint stench of the old wood wafting into the clean air outside. Hazel lightly coughed as did you at the realization that the home had not been touched in a fairly long amount of time.

Walking into the home with your hand grasped onto Hazel’s slightly rough one, a small living room, no larger than your favorite room in the palace; the library. You were surprised for just a moment to see no family paintings hanging on the walls; something you despise more than anything other than a few other factors from the palace. Though, there was a specific painting that had caught your attention that hung right above the dining area that had collected a few specks of dust from the untouched spade. Hazel seemed to notice your wandering eyes, tugging your arm a bit to motion for you to follow her footsteps over to the painting. Stepping past the log-like footrest in front of the couch and a dining chair, the two of you plant your booted feet right in front of the painting.

”Is this…?” You tilt your head, eyes flickering to the strokes of paint sculpted beautifully on the canvas.

“The bridge.” She confirmed your thoughts. “I wasn’t lying earlier when I said my father would go there to think about my mother. She painted this after he took her there to ask her to be his wife,” Hazel hummed.

Your eyes cloud with guilt and beaded with tears as you remember what you did to that bridge. Something that was so memorable to Hazel’s father was damaged because of you.

“Oh, Hazel, I’m so sorry,” you sigh, a lump forming in your throat.

Hazel turned her neck to stare at your solemn face. She shook her head slowly as she took your free hand in hers.

“It’s okay. I meant that. We can… fix it together one day and make it ours.” Hazel hummed as she stared lovingly into your eyes.

“Ours?” You repeated back to her, loving the way the idea sounded on your tongue.

Hazel nodded to confirm, her smile widening. Her smile lines beautifully indented into her paler cheeks as she released both of your hands to cup the sides of your face. You knew your cheeks were as warm as the heat outside, flushed at Hazel’s touch and sweet promise.

“Everything here could be ours,” Hazel softly assured you.

You glanced at quilted pillows on the couch, the quite large rug that was tucked under the feet of the seating area. You had no idea what you were expecting when you first entered the sweet cottage but something in you felt safe here. Hazel’s thumbs ran over cheeks as she watched your eyes dart to every square inch of the living area.

The idea of being away from all of your troubles back home was inviting but you had no idea what the outcome of it could be; how enraged your father would be knowing you disappeared into the night. He might even be relieved as he saw you as such a burden to the kingdom as a whole. Blinking out of you crowded head, you focused your attention on the one person that did want you around.

“I believe I was promised the garden view,” you hum, your hands reaching to cup over her wrists.

Hazel chuckled at your words, reluctantly releasing the gentle surface of your skin. You follow her through the, just as the rest of the house, small kitchen to the back door. Twisting the knob to the chipping door, you were met with a fresh scent of a mix of florals and greens, reminding you of baths.

Vines of roses twirled around a wooden arch that led down a path of patches of different vegetables and fruit trees. Without realizing, you took a deep breath at the smell of the lemon and orange tree. The sight of every one of your favorite fruits; including some of which you’ve never seen before, had your mouth salivating.

“My father has a green thumb. Thankfully, it was passed down to me as well,” Hazel beamed at how less tense you were here.

“Where did he even get a hold of some of these?” You kneel down into the green grass, touching over the ripe blackberries.

“One of my father’s friends from when he was training to be a knight also works at the ports. They retrieve seeds from all over the world for a variety of fruits and vegetables. He would drop some off every few months. He stopped a year ago because no one had been living here for quite some time.”

“Then how are these so… fresh?” You question in confusion.

“Well, blackberries,” Hazel slightly grunted as she kneeled down right next to you, pointing at the fruit, “usually take two years to grow before they’re ripe and ready to eat. Most of the things in this garden take a few years to be fully grown.”

You feel embarrassment settle within your chest at your lack of knowledge.

“Sorry. I didn’t know,” you brush your flyaways out of your face, sighing to yourself.

Hazel merely placed a kiss on your temple from her crouched position next to you.

“There will be no more apologies from you. I will teach you everything I know,” she wrapped her arm across the length of your back, placing another kiss to your cheek and then the corner of your mouth.

Flushed in every place imaginable, you turn your neck to capture her lips in yours with need. You cup her jaw gently as your lips move against each other, the twittering of unknown birds and Peanut’s huffs making the scene feel all the more domestic. The consequence of getting caught never crossed your mind; Hazel’s gentle tone and touch clouded over the negativity.

“Everything?” You pull away, breathing against her lips.

“Cooking, gardening, building, archery, work on your combat skills as well,” Hazel teased as her nose rubbed against your own.

You crane your neck back to examine her face, jaw dropping in offense.

“You said I had a good punch.”

“While that is true, you need more than just a single punch, princess,” Hazel explains to you.

You hum in disagreement, standing back up onto your feet.

“Maybe combat isn’t meant for me. I’ll have you protect me instead,” you tease, tracing a finger over the underside of her jaw.

Hazel preened under your touch, blue eyes wide with anticipation. She stood up on her feet eagerly, placing her hands on the waist of your everyday dress. It was laughable how much you enjoyed having her hands on you.

“I’ll always protect you. I’m sworn to it.”

tag-list: @hazelvrr @sc0ttstre3ted @vster0769 @angelsknifeprty @mih11 @em16cor @ahdbodhr @rubycruzin4abruzin @slut4els @lesbianknowitall @sam-cooperrr @athenalive @nomarksonelegance @crvptidgf @summerfillednights

[lanawinterscigarettes]

can you pleaseplease write a friends to lovers with jennifer check x female reader? i love ur writing btw 🙏🙏

ofc I can! and thank you so so much, that's so sweet of you to say 🥰🥰 this is meant to be a part two to a previous jen fic I wrote, practice makes perfect, so I recommend reading that one first if you want

Perfect Your Craft (Jennifer Check x fem reader)

Warnings: friends to lovers, kissing happens a lot here (both casual/platonic and romantic), sapphic/wlw yearning, slightly vulgar/salty language, slowburn (kind of but not really cause idk how to write that), brief implied mistreatment by Jen's past boyfriends

You couldn't get over the kiss you and Jennifer had shared. While you were quite certain that it was meant to be just that, a kiss and nothing more, the feelings you already held for her in your heart were starting to grow and blossom like a garden after a rainstorm.

Part of you was under the assumption that it would just be a one time thing, but you should've known better.

"Come over to my house after school so we can practice," she had murmured in your ear as soon as the bell rang to signal class was over.

A shiver went down your spine at her words, knowing exactly what she meant when she said practice. Practice makes perfect, right? So if the two of you wanted to get good enough to kiss your future boyfriends, you needed to practice on each other first.

But that was part of the problem. You didn't want a boyfriend, you wanted her. You wanted Jennifer.

Of course she could never know, because how do you tell your best friend since forever about the massive crush you have on her? You don't, that's how.

Especially not when you're both from Devil's Kettle, one of the smallest towns ever. She'd laugh right in your face for liking girls, let alone daring to have a crush on her of all people.

It was all you could think about for the rest of the day, even after you'd gotten to her house. You were so caught up in your quiet longing that you almost missed what she'd said.

"Okay, we should probably get to work on learning how to use tongue." The dumbstruck look on your face at her words caused her to let out an amused laugh. "Oh my God, you look ridiculous."

"Tongue? Tongue?" You questioned in disbelief, unable to wrap your head around the notion.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, now becoming less amused and more annoyed with how long it was taking you to digest her comment. "Yes, tongue. Plenty of guys use tongue when they kiss, so you'll want to learn how to use it, too. Trust me, it's for the best."

You tried not to make a face of displeasure as she mentioned the way guys liked to kiss. It was hard enough trying to handle the idea of her kissing you like that, you certainly didn't need the image of her experiencing it with guys firsthand.

"If you insist," you finally muttered in agreement, to which she merely grinned at in excitement.

"Great. You know, you're really gonna need to learn how to 'perfect your craft' in the subtle art of kissing if you want to score a date by the time prom season rolls around, or whatever it is that you dorks say."

The only date I want is you, you couldn't help but think automatically as you envisioned what prom would even look like for you. You'd obviously go with her, but not as a real date, more as a substitute if you weren't able to find a guy to go with.

She'd have no doubt finding one, meaning you'd most likely be third-wheeling her the whole time. As much as you wanted to feel bad at the thought of potentially spoiling her fun, imagining the look on her date's face as you spent the entire evening glued to her side was priceless. Talk about getting cockblocked.

Then again, she didn't seem like someone who'd be entirely against the idea of a threesome, so maybe you wouldn't cling to her so tightly after all.

"Hello, earth calling. What's your home planet like on Mars where you've disappeared off to?" Jennifer's sarcastic voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back down to reality.

It wasn't prom season yet, neither of you had dates, and you were both sitting on her bed about to practice kissing each other for when the time came that you'd need it. Perfect your craft, or whatever it was that she said.

"Sorry, I was just... thinking about stuff." What a weak excuse. She had to know you were lying, but for once she didn't push you for info. Probably only because she figured you were imagining some kind of boring "nerd thing", as she'd say.

"Guys like it if you're a tease, but don't do it too much or it'll only piss them off. Unless you're into that," she added with a cheeky smirk.

You bit back the immediate urge to blurt out the word "gross" at her advice.

"The most important thing to remember is how you move your lips. You're not just smashing them together with someone else's the same way you did when you played Barbies growing up, you want to try to fit them together perfectly, almost like a really sexy puzzle."

A sexy puzzle? Sometimes her comments made you wonder what you even saw in her in the first place.

"Like this." She moved closer to you on the bed so she could demonstrate. You stayed completely still as she kissed you, indeed moving her lips along yours as if they were made for each other.

"See? It's not so hard once you get the hang of it," she said once she'd pulled away, absentmindedly playing with her hair as she leaned back. "Now you try."

Oh, great. She expected you to initiate a kiss. It was awkward enough for you when she was the one who was doing it, but now you had to.

"Um, okay." You cleared your throat as you slowly shifted over to where she was. Closing your eyes, you leaned in and attempted to kiss her the same way she'd done to you.

She let you take the lead this time, allowing you to kiss her for as long as you wanted to. And once you'd started, it was hard to stop. Even though your lips were only touching hers for a minute or so, it felt like hours.

When you finally pulled away, you felt your face heating up as you realized just how eager you must've seemed to be kissing her for so long. "How- how was that?" You asked nervously as you tried your best to act natural, hoping she wouldn't notice just how affected you were by the kiss.

"That was great. I'm jealous of whoever gets to date you," she teased while giving you a playful shove.

Laughing awkwardly, you decided to play along. "Y- yeah, sure." It was hard for you to imagine wanting to kiss anyone else besides her, let alone date.

Jennifer casually checked her nails as she asked her next question. "You're not currently dating anyone, though, right?" If you didn't know any better, you would've thought that she sounded jealous, but there was no way. She was just overly protective, that was all.

"Uh, no. None of the guys at school really seem to interest me that much," you admitted as you watched her, always finding yourself mesmerized with even the smallest things that she did.

"Good, because let me tell you a lot of the guys at school are either jerks or creeps. Believe me, I know from experience."

It broke your heart to think about her getting mistreated by anyone, let alone by some random guy that she was seeing. "That's awful, Jen. You shouldn't have to go through that." You tenatively reached your hand out to rest on top of yours, half expecting her to scoff and pull it away, like she usually did.

This time, though, she simply allowed it, she voice uncharacteristically soft when spoke. "Yeah, I guess."

You thought about saying something else in order to help comfort her, but you weren't sure what. Eventually you just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I could treat you so much better than they could." You didn't know where this sudden burst of confidence came from, but deep down in your heart you knew it to be true. You knew you could treat her so much better than any guy she'd ever hooked up with before in the past.

Her gaze instantly shot up to meet yours the second those words left your mouth. You'd never seen Jennifer look so shocked before, if ever. "What?"

"I- I-" And just like that, your devil-may-care attitude disappeared just as soon as it came. "I- I don't know what I'm saying. I'm just being stupid." You turned away from her as you withdrew your hand, feeling embarrassed.

"No, hey, don't say that." She gently grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back in her direction, placing her hand under your chin so you couldn't look away. "I think we should try that, actually."

"Wh- What?" This time it was your turn to be shocked. You hesitantly met her eyes, which for once lacked their usual mocking glint. They didn't look bitter and mean, only soft and genuine.

"You're really nice, and you really care about me, and you're a really great kisser. If I was going to date anybody here and actually plan on sticking around instead of just bailing the morning after, it would be you." She admitted in a quiet voice, averting her gaze from yours as she spoke.

"Promise?" Your voice came out in a hushed whisper, and while you might've seemed to be frozen in a state of disbelief she knew she couldn't blame you for thinking that. Jennifer wasn't really one for commitment, but that was with other people who she never really cared about. That wasn't ever with you.

"Yeah, I promise." Her eyes flickered back up to meet yours, the both of you holding your breath as you waited for the other to make a move. Time seemed to stand still when you finally decided to lean in and give her a kiss, something you'd done so many times before- but this time felt different. It felt passionate, and full of love, and real.

She kissed you until she lost her breath, the two of you panting from lack of oxygen. "I love you. Like, really, really love you."

Your heart soared at her words, the blossoming love you felt within you growing more and more the longer you spent this moment with her. "I love you too, Jen. I really, really do."

A giggle of delight escaped from her at your words, and she quickly pulled you down onto the bed next to her. "I'm so glad you're my girlfriend now. I'll never, ever let you go."

You'd never seen her look so happy, and it made you proud of yourself for being the one to make her feel that way. Cuddling up close, you wrapped your arms around her and let out a sigh of content. "Me, either."

End notes: this was longer than I meant it to be but I didn't want to rush the plot so 🤷‍♂️

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[tigers1o1]

Yall really liked part one

PART TWO OF WHAT YOUR FAVORITE JRWI RIPTIDE SHIP SAYS ABOUT YOUUUU

(except this time I’m not putting pictures so i can do a longer post)

PC/NPC

Pistolwhip (jay/lizzie) - if you’re all the way caught up, you are HERE for the angst. That toxic, fucked up yuri. If you havent watched 101 yet, you think they girlboss. And honestly, you girlboss too.

Sharpshooter (jay/kira) - childhood friends to lovers FUCKS you up. You probably didnt have many close connections as a kid and yearn for the kind of love that can only come from knowing someone for years. You also really like the “lovers on opposite” sides trope, but maybe not quite to the “hero/villain” trope or enemies to lovers. Just tragic romeo and juliet types.

Clockwork rivals/ women in STEM (jay/ensa) - you’re probably a STEM major too to be honest. You’re hella chill, and i know that for a fact. You are also in love with ensa. You’re also probably a cat person.

Jay’s Harem - Jay is your favorite, you’re pissed that so many people over look her and you hate your dad. You’re probably a lesbian/sapphic. You think she deserves everything. You’re probably in either a very stable relationship, or chronically alone.

Swordfish (gillion/caspain) - i feel like you’re probably a fairly lonely person who seeks comfort in those with similar backgrounds/identities to yours. You just think theyre neat :3

Scarlet Captains (chip/jasmine drake) - BOY KISSER 🫵. No but in all seriousness you LOVE the flirting, the tension. You’d probably turn into a blubbering mess if someone flirted with you the was Jazz flirts with Chip. You’re down bad for Jazz, dont lie.

Chiptune (chip/queen) - queen is your favorite character, and you’re just a littol guy. You want to be wrapped in a fuzzy blanket always and have a sweet tooth like none other. You love fluff, and are probably obsessed with the character cinnamoroll

Fnfnc (gillion/caspian/chip) - you’ve been here for a while, havent you? I feel like this one was more popular in the earlierish days, so if this is still your favorite you’ve got some DEDICATION. You are loyal to a fault and you are not afraid to fight someone if they hurt one of your besties.

Sea sharp (gill/chip/queen) - you just like them being silly together :> you also probably want to be at the middle of a cuddle pile. You think highly of your friends and you’re probably on the quieter side.

Greater mana polycule (whatever that means to you is correct) - you’re autistic and when you were a kid, you had more stuffed animals than room on your bed because you felt bad leaving anyone out

NPC/NPC

Waning crescent/ frigatebird (lizzie/ ava) - oh so you like to cry. You like tragic yuri. You liked doomed timelines. You like MCD, you freak /pos. You fuck heavily with the “hero/villain” trope but ONLY when its messy and complicated and there are no heroes and villains and they love each other but they can never have each other and- yeah thats all i need to say. You know who you are. Also props to you is you shipped it before 101. There were like 4 of us, i fear

Rosewater (lizzie/caspian) - you are LOYAL. You know who your friends are and you will defend them until you DIE. Youre also a CHRONIC overthinker. You’re probably in a strange found family relationship with most of your friends and I’m willing to bet you’re ace. You love undying loyalty in relationships, and unconditional love through extremely tough times. You probably elect to ignore the “Caspian is a traitor theory”, and if you dont, you love it for the fucked up angst potential.

Cattlepunk (drey/ ichabod) - you are ride or fucking die for this ship. You scrounch up anything there is for this ship and if you’ve consumed it all, you make it yourself. You have a thing for cowboys and pray to grizzly every day that he beings jonah scott back.

Drearl (drey/earl) - oh you’re fucking OOOOLD. You’ve been in those fandoms since the days before they deleted fated. Also. If THIS is your favorite ship? What the fuck. But its almost definitely ironic, and for that? You are iconic.

Star crossed survivors (star/ zamia) - you’re adorable, probably a lesbian, and really like happy endings despite tragedy. You want to live in the woods with 4 cats, 2 horses and your soulmate. Your favorite barbie movie is/was Barbie and the Diamond Castle

Let me know if I missed yours!!

[unknownteapot]

guys what's going in with the amangela tag. i love you all what's going onnn this is my home!! our home!! yes, as an angsty, full-of-yearning-and-hope-sapphic, i live here. i really thought somehow we were different with amangela cause amanda's literally married and the two of them are such good friends (they literally call each other 'my familia') that all our 'shipping' is, is just enjoying their dynamic, loving their interactions and their humour. do i write rpf? yes. do i write about amanda and angela? no. i write about the 'characters' of them that i've assembled through all the media of them i've consumed, i don't *know* them, i couldn't write about them if i tried, because they're people, they multifaceted just like you and me. the F in rpf is for fiction. as in not real. i never write with the intention of speculating on anyone's sexuality, that is not my intention, i hope to god my moots and anyone else who knows me understands this. here's some things just in case:

⚠️ AMANGELA PSA ⚠️

(i cant believe i'm even saying this but) i don't believe amangela are together/have any intention of ever being together, being an amangela fan to me is just loving their interactions & dynamic

let's not speculate on people's sexualities, but also lightheartedly shipping people isn't intended to make a grand statement on them as people, it's just a silly way to smoosh two names together and love their dynamic

amanda and angela are real people. that means they have/had/will have real partners who should not come under crossfire/speculation/jokes. seriously.

amanda encourages edits & rpf, and we love her for that, but that does not mean she's encouraging speculation on her life

just be chill, i love y'all <3

tbh this should probably go out to twitter instead of here bc it is scary what people do on there but yeah

[elliesflower]

i saw you in a dream [7]

summary; it's winter break and that guitar has got to go.

chapter; 7/10 2.3k words

cw (per chapter); language, angst, TW: CAT >:(

an; hellaaaaurrrrrr i don't have much to say except ur all amazing and wonderful and thank u so much for loving this story so hard. i love u all more than words. (also sorry not much ellie in this chapter, next chap will be longer and most likely have smut teehee) ((also this isn't proof read so sorry if there's weird mistakes i'll go back nd fix later ok love u bye!!))

Your last interaction with Ellie had you feeling pretty defeated. You had thought that maybe you were getting somewhere—but now, with Cat in the picture, you were ready to give up.

“I’ll fucking kill her,” Dina threatened when you explained the whole story. You shook your head, laughing. “Seriously, she has no right to fuck with your emotions like that.”

“Dee, it’s fine. I wouldn’t call it ‘fucking with me,’ either. Relationships can be messy and break ups are even messier. You of all people should know that.”

“Don’t you fucking dare even mention that disgusting, vile creature,” she pretended to gag at the thought of her ex. All the verbal abuse she had to endure, you’re amazed she lasted so long with them in the first place. “But seriously. You guys had a vibe. That was fucked up of her to not even mention it. It obviously seemed like she was intentionally keeping it from you.”

You pursed your lips, looking down at your hands as you picked at your cuticles. 

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, shrugging your shoulders. You wanted to believe that Ellie wouldn’t do that to you. Realistically, you understood you barely knew her—the two of you had spent less than a full day together. Maybe it was silly to think she was letting you see her heart.

“No, no, don’t do that,” Dina pointed a finger at you accusingly. “Don’t do that hopeless romantic shit you always do. I’m telling you how it is.” 

“Okay, and maybe it is,” you agreed. “But—”

“Hello?! No ‘but’s!’ You need to forget about her. You don’t want to get tangled up in that mess, trust me,” she was speaking from experience, and you knew this. You wanted to believe Dina was right. Who would want to be caught up in lesbian ex-girlfriend drama? And yes, the lesbian part makes a difference. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline of a new crush—the yearning to be in a relationship, so strong you feel like you’d do anything, anything to be with that person, no matter what they’ve done, no matter what they say. Lust can be dangerous.

“Okay, okay,” you gave in. “I’ll leave it alone.”

Dina squinted at you curiously. She probably didn’t believe you, but it didn’t matter. You knew she had your back, always. She’d never do something you weren’t okay with, and she’d forgive you if you did go crawling back to Ellie. Which was still very much…up in the air. 

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a smirk, but it wasn’t very definitive.  

The next few days were…weird, to say the least. With Christmas quickly approaching, the amount of people on campus slowly thinned out—Dina included. She was heading east to be with her family for the holidays, which left you alone in your dorm for a few days. You spent most of the time aimlessly scrolling on your phone, confirming next term’s classes, and making last-minute holiday plans with your own family. It was all very…mundane. 

Which is a weird feeling; your outside life being so normal, while your brain was scrambling trying to make sense of your feelings about the whole Ellie situation. It had been over a week, and she hadn’t texted. Neither had you, but you weren’t sure what was left to say. You wanted to side with Dina, leave Ellie in the past and let Cat have her. 

But the other part of you—the hopeless, yearning sapphic—wanted to reach out. Every time you saw a short-haired redhead from the back, your heart rate increased. It was a little pathetic, if you were being honest, the way your heart fell when they’d turn around and it was not in fact Ellie coming to reconcile. It made you want to call her; want to see her; want to see if the two of you could really become something, after all; want to know what else spilled from her lips when she was high, and anything else she’d give you. 

It sure didn’t help that everytime you walked into your dorm you were stared down by the guitar you were really regretting buying instead of renting. Now that you didn’t have a….teacher, anymore, you were sure it’d just start collecting dust over there in the corner. 

“Fuck it,” you mumbled to yourself one day after you’d been staring at the case for far too long, deciding you were going to take it down to the student store and see what they’d offer you for it. 

The weather was bitterly cold, but it surprisingly wasn’t raining. You zipped your coat up all the way to your chin, readjusting the guitar strap over your shoulder as you walked across campus to the store. Today was the last day it’d be open before they closed for the holidays, so naturally the store was eerily empty, aside from the two students working behind the counter. 

You let your fingers trail across a few cute embroidered journals on your way up to the counter, where a very unenthusiastic student turned to greet you. 

“What can I help you with?” They asked flatly, resting their elbows on the wooden counter that separated the two of you. 

“Uh, I was hoping to see how much y’all would give me for this guitar,” you explained, hoisting the case up to the counter and unlocking it. Upon flipping the top, the worker gave out a low whistle of appreciation. 

“Has it ever even been used? It’s in perfect condition,” they said, grabbing the neck to pull it out and examine it. 

“Uh, just a handful of times…I took the class for one semester,” you explained, one hand subconsciously rising to rub the back of your neck sheepishly. 

“And you didn’t just rent one?” 

Okay, well damn. 

“Wasn’t thinking, I guess…” There’s nothing like a stranger confirming what you already knew to make you feel even worse about your initial purchase. They gave you an amused smile before leaning the guitar against the back of the counter.

“Give me a minute to run some numbers,” and luckily, they didn’t mention your stupid purchase again, and retreated to a computer. You leaned over the counter as well, pulling out your phone to mindlessly scroll. The electronic door chime sounded from behind you and the other employee shouted a greeting across the store. You didn’t pay it any attention until you heard a very distinct voice respond.

“Oh my gosh, it is freezing out there!” 

Your whole body tensed, your grip on your phone becoming tighter as she started to chatter away—of course her striking presence had the other employee out of their seat, smile plastered across their face as they made their way over to continue chatting with…her. 

Of fucking course. 

The whole point of coming here was to get this little part of Ellie out of your room—and now, an arguably bigger part of Ellie just came waltzing through the doors. You made it a point to keep looking at your phone, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of your attention. Even though she definitely had it, how could she not? Her voice was sickeningly sweet, even though it somehow made you feel sour, resonating over the quiet music playing in the store.  

“Elliott, you are such a riot!” She laughed from behind you. Her vernacular was straight out of a sixties romance movie, and you wondered briefly if that just added to her charm. You’d known girls like her—you know the ones who have to swear up and down that they’re not like other girls, when in reality, they are like clones roaming the earth. They all have the same cadence, the same attitude, the same god complex. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to be so blissfully ignorant. 

“Alright,” the clerk said after another grating minute of you trying to remain undetected. “This is the best I can do for you.” They at least had the decency to look apologetic as they slid you a scribbled note. You blinked down at the number. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled. The offer was less than half of what you originally paid for it. Not that you were expecting a miracle, but this was a little insulting. “You said it was in perfect condition…”

“I know,” they agreed, putting up their hands defensively. “There’s only so much I can do. I have to go by the school’s policies.” 

You frowned at the note for a moment, wishing nothing more than to go back in time and never sign up for that stupid guitar class. Or even if you did, you wished you’d never seen that stupid flier on that stupid tree on this stupid campus—maybe then you wouldn’t be stuck with your heart in your throat, choked up listening to Ellie’s ex-girlfriend slash roommate filling up the room with her stupidly charming personality. 

Wait a second, did she leave? Her voice disappeared, and the second clerk was returning back behind the desk. Maybe you should—

“Oh, c’mon,” she was peering over your shoulder in an instant, invading your space and making you flinch. Her floral perfume overwhelmed your nose, her black and silver bracelets tinkling as she examined the note on the counter. “We can do better than that, no?” Her arm was pressing your bicep, she was so close to you, you could hear her breathing and see her perfectly styled hair framing her sharp cheekbones. You were so taken aback by her boldness, by her invasiveness, you found yourself nodding.

She looked over at you, and her teeth were like pearls, shiny and probably not real. You just blinked at her, acutely aware that your expression was most likely not very kind. 

“Look, Cat,” the clerk started, and of course they knew her name. “You know I have to follow university protocols for these kinds of things.”

“C’mon, Dakota,” and yeah, of course she knew their name too. “There’s nothing you can do? For old times sake?” She leaned onto her elbows, resting her chin in her hands with a dopey look on her face. Good god, is this a joke? If so, it wasn’t very funny, because Dakota was now suppressing a grin, grabbing the paper off the counter before glancing at you briefly. 

“Let me see what I can do,” they smiled, returning to the computer. You wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. Not that it would make much of a difference, anyways. You were pretty much invisible until Cat showed up anyways. 

“Well, that’s more like it!” Cat grinned, crossing her arms and leaning a hip against the counter, facing you. “Nice to see you again, by the way.” An afterthought. 

You forced a smile back, your deeply embedded people-pleasing outweighing your disdain. 

“Cat,” you went straight for the formalities. You wanted to get out of here as quickly as humanly possible. “Likewise.”

“You left so quickly last week I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye!” She exclaimed, reaching out to grab your shoulder. It was like she was from another planet. “Ellie’s been talking about you.” You really hoped her otherworldliness didn’t give her the power of supersonic hearing, because she may have heard your heart fall into your stomach at the mention of Ellie’s name. But perhaps, she still did anyway, because she was cocking her head ever so slightly, crossing her arms over her chest again. 

“Oh, yeah I wasn’t…feeling great,” and it wasn’t a complete lie. You’re amazed you didn’t throw up all over the both of them the minute Cat got all handsy with Ellie. Cat still looked at you sideways, like she was waiting for you to respond to her comment about Ellie. No way she was talking about you with Cat. It had to be a ruse. You chewed at your bottom lip nervously, averting your gaze to fidget with your hands rather than be trapped. But she wasn’t giving up.

“Well, she’s been going on and on about how she was so happy she could help you pass your final,” she said, and half of her words were punctuated with a hand gesture. Your heart wa thrumming in your ears.  “She said you were a quick learner and so eager to play guitar. I just didn’t take you for a quitter, the way she talks about you!” 

Talks. Present tense. Fuck, she was good at this. 

“A quitter?” 

“Well, you’re pawning off your guitar,” she said matter-of-factly. You furrowed your brow, but quickly let it smooth out. 

“I never planned to play guitar long-term. Ellie knew that.” Or at least you thought she did. Cat was making it really fucking hard to tell what was real or not. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, before she was standing up straighter and shaking a few jet-black tendrils of hair from her face. 

“Well, then,” and she was no longer holding back. Her eyes very blatantly scanned you, up and down before she continued. “Let’s see what we can get you for this guitar then, yeah?” 

And as if on cue, Dakota returned to the counter. They walked straight to Cat as if you had never existed in the first place. 

“Alright, how’s this?” He slid the note over, and the number was significantly higher. You felt like a second class citizen. You were fuming—not that they would notice as they looked into each other’s eyes like they were Romeo and Juliet or something. How is it that Cat can weasel her way into everything that’s yours? 

Hah. As if Ellie was ever yours.

[abominable-space-they]

Another Au centered around music & punk Steve(sorta) bc of Steddie twt talking abt switching it up to celebrity Steve & just some guy Eddie.

I do love a good trope reversal

Underground Metal Eddie x (pop)punk Steve

Eddie working at a guitar shop that mostly catered to metal & hard rock musicians with a preference for a certain crunchy sound.

Since he was into a very specific niche of gay power & thrash metal, Eddie didn't know Steve was a pop punk star when they meet

He knew who Stevie Dynamite was, of course he did, everyone did. He knew that the guy debuted at 15, was supposed to be some musical genius who could play any instrument.

Eddie remembered the early songs because they were so personal, haunting little folk proto punk songs w/ a glam pop edge about identity, isolation, & loneliness. They weren't his thing but they were better then the usual radio fare.

Three years later after a series of salacious magazine spreads, notoriously explosive deals with several different make-up and high end hair care lines, more scandals then you could count, public partying, public meltdowns, cancelled shows, article after article abt the King of Pop Rock losing his touch, a mediocre album full of bubble gum party till you drop songs, and open speculation abt the nature of his relationship with indie pop darling Birdie (but Eddie knows that's not what ppl think it is. Her music is wall to wall barely subtle sapphic yearning, if there's one thing he knows it's gay subtext)

The rumors got louder & more dramatic until, five years after he rocketed to superstardom Stevie Dynamite publicly sued his label & parents for control of his image & brand.

He won

Then he quietly disappeared.

Thus was the end of the bigger then life legend of Stevie Dynamite

So when Steve Harrington walked into the guitar store on some lazy Monday afternoon while Eddie was sitting behind the counter working on a song in his downtime. He had no idea who Steve was.

When the unknown hot guy in a Violent Femmes hoodie & a plain black beanie struck up a conversation about Eddie's lyrics he thought Steve was just another life long grind musician wanting to talk shop

When the guy introduced himself as Steve, Eddie didn't think anything in particular about it

When Steve seemed to be flirting a little Eddie chalked it up to the guy wanting a discount on whatever he was in to buy.

When he dragged Stevie Dynamite viscously for being an absolute fake from top to bottom, when one of his newer songs came on the shop radio, Eddie laughed and agreed.

When Steve asked Eddie for help choosing a guitar with a very particular pensive but angry victorious sound he was happy to help (Steve paid full price & if he was annoyed he didn't show it)

When the guy came in again next monday for a new amp, and the Monday after that for new strings Eddie was confused but happy to see him

When Steve came in the Monday after that asking for help with the writing of a song, a service he would be happy to pay for, Eddie said yes against his better judgement. He knew he was well and truly fucked by the happy burbling in his stomach at the thought of creating music with this incredibly hot man.

When they spent six months of Mondays holed up in the break room working on lyrics, Eddie tried not to examine what it meant.

And when Steve abruptly didn't come by one Monday, Eddie had no idea what the hell happened but he was disappointed.

When one Monday no show, became two, then three, Eddie decided he must've been ghosted, he picked his embarrassingly broken heart up off the floor and kept going, resigned to never knowing what happened with Steve.

In fact Eddie had no idea that Steve Harrington was Stevie Dynamite until the first royalty check came in with a $ number so high, Eddie thought he probably died without realizing it. He'd never even dreamed of holding that much money in his hand at one time.

The check was from Dynamite Records?!?!?! Stevie Dynamite's personal label?!?!

Through a haze Eddie remembered that a a few weeks ago Stevie Dynamite had released his first post corporate divorce album to a tidal wave of media fanfare and critical acclaim. Everyone who had an opinion about music swore the real Stevie Dynamite was back on top again. Eddie barely noticed it, he'd been to busy not caring that Steve ghosted him to pay attention to yet another meaningless corporate shill telling him to dance all night

He called the corporate number on the check

"Dynamite Records, Jonathan Byers speaking, how may I help you?"

"uhh yeah man, I think there's been some sort of mix up. I uhh-, Look my name is Eddie Munson & as much as I would love to keep this check. It couldn't possibly be for me and I really don't want to get sent to prison for check fraud so maybe someone should come and get it or something."

The man, on the either end of the line immediately relaxed into a more casual manner.

"Eddie hey man, I've heard so much about you. It's definitely not a mistake, he wanted you to have credit since you guys wrote the songs together."

"uhh not to seem totally clueless or whatever Mr Byers, but umm He who?"

"Jonathan is actually totally fine, we're all family here right? Stevie Dynamite of course"

"Ok, but how in the world does Stevie Dynamite know me & why would he want me to get writing royalties on his new songs?"

"... Fuck...He still hasn't told you has he?"

"told me what?"

Jonathan sighed a kindly exasperated sigh on the other end of the line.

"Eddie have you looked at the new Stevie Dynamite album?"

"No-, I uhh no offense or anything it's just glam rock pop punk isn't really my thing."

"it's fine, it's not mine either-, hmm well are you at work? No of course you are that's where we sent the check. He didn't know your home address. You know, I should've known he didn't tell you now that I think about it. Why don't you go take a peek, pay specifical attention to the dedication. I'll wait here."

Eddie heard some rustling as Jonathan leaned back, talking to someone else apparently.

"Argyle, babe, you wouldn't believe this. He still hasn't told Eddie."

Even further away he heard a good natured huff of laughter.

"Bro? No shit. Man... Babe, your ex is so beautifully weird. I wish I found out a pop star was in love with me w/ a fat check and an album full of love songs. Stevie boy has style at least... wanna hit this?"

What the hell was that all about? If they were getting high he might as well just go look at the album right? Right. No time like the present.

Eddie didn't know why he was so nervous

The album cover wasn't anything remarkable, tattoo flash art of a nail bat, a weird flower full of serrated teeth, and a guitar. It was called "Stevie Dynamite: Love, Death, and a Baseball Bat Named Baby"

Inside there was a lot of concept photography, Stevie Dynamite after a show, make-up smeared, staring into a mirror with empty eyes. Each page of lyrics had a new picture of Stevie with some of the glamorous accoutrements removed staring at himself in the mirror, first he took off his shiny rock and roll lace top, then he replaced his leather pants with sweats, the next he had on an old beat up violent femmes hoodie, lastly he took off all the flashy metallic glam rock make up.

The last picture was just Stevie Dynamite, No, Steve Harrington, his Steve Harrington fresh faced, staring into the camera with a note superimposed, written in loopy feminine handwriting, the dedication.

'To Eddie who's inspired me since the day I met him, who never gave a damn about Stevie Dynamite'a fame or reputation, who was kind to me because that's just who he is.

To Eddie who helped me find my love of music again, reminded me why I was here in the first place, and helped me write the most sincere and meaningful songs I ever have.

To the Eddie I was so afraid of losing to the gossip machine I couldn't quite tell the truth.

All those dumb love songs that you were always teasing me about writing were for you Eddie. No matter what, you deserve to know that. I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me.

I love you,

Stevie Dynamite

(but you can still call me Steve if you want to)'

Eddie felt faint again. He picked the phone back up

"What the fuck Jonathan?"

"Yeah, man what the fuck. But that's our boy Stevie, passionate, loyal to death and back, more than a little impulsive, and terrified of his feelings. Once he decides he loves you, he's impossible to shake. I'm so sorry he sprang this on you like this man, but Argyle's almost done getting him ready. I'll send him your way when we're done ok?"

Eddie wasn't sure what he was agreeing to but he still agreed.

20 minutes later a leather clad pop rock god, slouched in, looked around from behind his dark sunglasses with disinterested affected distance, pushed those sunglasses up onto his head and magically transmogrified into Steve Harrington, the guy he'd been pining over for a month. They both sat in silence, each afraid to go first. Finally Steve cleared his throat and broke the oppressive quiet

"I'm sorry I stopped coming by, I was so afraid that once you knew you'd only see Stevie, not me anymore. I couldn't bear losing another person I loved to him. God he sucks."

"But... you're Stevie Dynamite right? I haven't hallucinated all this, right?

"No no, you definitely didn't. I mean, yeah technically I'm him, but he's still the worst. I kinda hate him"

"uhhh...."

"I know it's weird"

"No I get it-, I think,-, trapped in reputations of our own making and all-, but uhhh... You love me?"

"Yeah Eddie of course! How could I do anything else but love you? Didn't you listen to the album?"

"uhh-, well-, No? Glam Rock Pop Punk just isn't my thing"

To Eddie's surprise, Steve broke out in a radiant smile.

"Of course you didn't, what was I thinking? All that worry for nothing. I'm so-... Hey I'm about to go play a private vip show to celebrate the album's success, you want to come? I promise I'll explain everything-, No pressure though!"

Eddie still wasn't sure exactly what he was agreeing to, but couldn't even feel to bad about it when Steve blushed, radiant, bigger then life, like a rock god, as he pulled Eddie out the door.

Right then and there Eddie made a pact with himself to keep saying yes to Steve as long as Steve bothered to ask. He was to precious not to.

[gaz-light]

CW: Me but ugly

Ya know what fuck it. I don't intend to this mid week. I wanna do it now while I've got the time and honestly I'm a bit excited.

This is John. He's the guy I used to be. I don't have many other pictures of him but I saved these ones for this purpose. They're some of the few I could stand for some reason.

It's hard to think I ever used to look like that. Think or act the way I did. You could go back right now and tell him the events of the past like year or so and honestly he'd probably understand it. Would be too scared as shit nervous and doubtful to ever believe it. Hated himself too much to imagine it being this way.

This is how I started off on Hormones 1 year ago. 5/31/22. Somewhere between 11/7/21 and 4/9/22 everything went to shit. I crashed my motorcycle and broke my arm, ended up broke, didnt get into grad school, the girl I was madly in love with just let me know I was being replaced by someone with a pussy. It took about everything happy in my life turning to shit over night to finally crack the egg that I had been growing in for so long.

There were signs before. Things I always knew. Always hung out with girls. Liked sapphic content. Felt detachment from peers of my agab, enjoyed pretending at being an internet femboy. Horribly autistic. Fucking hated my body. Hated hated hated hated hated. I had a closeted sissy kink and dressed up FOR YEARS. So much more. Eventually I started hooking up with trannies the same way I hooked up with lesbians and things began to click. Something in me thought ya know what, I don't have to just admire and adore and yearn for them. Then a good friend of mine consoling me one April night more or less extended an invitation and I didn't look back.

And then she was born. I think these photos are from maybe a month post starting HRT. Would you believe I hadn't seen myself without facial hair in like 10 years before this point. I hadn't shaved it all off since I was 13. I'm hispanic. Greek and Cuban so I've had this accursed facial and body hair for fucking ever. I was so afraid the first time I picked up that razor. I didnt know if I'd like what was on the other side. I felt safe and secure in the validation I got from other people that I thought it'd be ok if I was just unhappy with myself forever. I hated whatever I was so much that I didnt have the energy to care for her.

Then I shaved.

I looked in the mirror and I thought that girl looked kinda cute. For the first time I really didnt think I looked so bad. My friends were very supportive thankfully. Not everyone was. Certainly not dear old dad who still wont call me by my name or gender me properly. The man who told me god had cursed him with 2 faggots. My little trans brother and I. The man who let me know I was a disappointment and that neither I or anyone of us were real women. I still havent forgiven him for so much. But I am trying to let it go. Even the cis people were kinda nice. I lost some who were kinda edgy friends from highschool. Nothing of value was lost.

Since then I've worked to navigate the professional world as a woman. My first boss at my first real post college job was this British woman from England who made my life kinda hell. Preyed upon and picked on me and embarrassed me professionally. One of the 2 other women at the office. She never would admit to it but I think she resented me for it. I was also the only tranny there. Well sorta. There was 1 other who worked down in facilities doing the trash and dishes for the labs. But not up there. Not on the 8th floor with us in the "war room".

And this is where and who we are now 1 year later. Same eyes. Same 5'0 looking ass. But happier. Smiles when she looks in the mirror. Can actually do things for herself. Set boundaries. Care. Maybe she can even love too. I've placed myself into countless lesbian romance fantasies and I feel like I have a shot at living them. I used to be like 200 pounds. I'm down to 128 and also built like a brick house full of muscle. I was horrified of being trapped in that body of mine forever and the fear and doubt that I'd never make it even this far scared me into doing nothing until i had little else to lose.

Let me leave you with some wise advice that friend who cracked my egg once gave to me: The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second best time is right now.

Transitioning was the best decision I ever made for myself. Happy birthday Morrigan. I love you.

[salt-hag]

My book opinions ✨

[some priory of the orange tree spoilers]

Samantha Shannon does this writing thing where she won’t completely describe the choreography or visuals of a scene through the narrating character’s pov. Instead, she makes like statements and then you piece facts together. Like for example one time instead of saying of saying “character x was startled when she sensed someone behind her” it was instead like “Ead pulled out her knife and turned around. There was a woman [some details about the woman].” This happens consistently. I’ve gotten used to it but it threw me off at first. I’m still not sure if this is something I dislike or not. It kind of scratches my brain but in a frustrating way. It’s definitely different for me, which I guess is a good thing to learn/experience.

Another pov thing: sometimes even though we are oriented through a narrating character, the narrative “camera” seems to be omniscient/not grounded through the perspective character. For instance, a wedding scene was described as if from above or encompassing the whole room rather than from the pov character who was standing in the wedding procession and probably having some feelings about it that were not directly expressed on the page. Not a bad thing, just something that again scratches an itch in my brain but also frustrates me.

There’s some internalization to characters—their feelings and reactions to things are somewhat described but I want more. Maybe I just haven’t read a chonky, sprawling fantasy in a while but I keep wanting to shake characters and ask how they feel about stuff. At mid point in the book this is less a problem bc terrible things keep happening and characters are appropriately distressed.

I do care about all the characters now!! Took a second. I’m now invested. Except for Loth. He’s fine I just found his sections boring, even when he rode on the back of a giant mongoose (I think?) while plague ridden in the wilderness. He’s just a guy! A nice one! It’s whatever.

Fav character is a toss up between the gay tenderly yearning badass assassin mage woman or the gay tenderly yearning aging alchemist who mourns his deceased lifelong secret lover.

The gay tenderness !! Gets me feeling a certain way!! Loved the subtle build up of the sapphic romance. You could tell those two were attracted to each other early on without it being stated directly.

The fantasy version of Catholicism is very funny to me but also strangely boring. Probably because it is a very direct and kind of flattened (imo) parallel to medieval Western European Catholicism (honestly mostly it seems super British. Inys just seems like the British isles. But like understand I’m a medieval British lit gal so my impression of medieval British religious culture is not nearly as suffocating or straight-laced as Shannon’s fantasy depiction of it. But I also wonder if this book’s medievalism is meant to be vaguely Elizabethan/Renaissance which tracks more for me). I want to know more about the rest of this fantasy world outside of “Virtudom.” We are now getting more of that at the point I’m at.

The descriptions of the dragons/action are good but also the Western dragons are weirdly boring/flat as villains. I think this is because they turn up, are scary, shout some scary things, and then fly off. Im trying to think of what appeals to me about classic western type dragons from like Beowulf and the hobbit. I think classic examples of dragons have a quiet menace to them despite their enormity in their respective narratives. Shannon’s evil dragons are treated as almost like climate disasters or catastrophes, which I think is really cool. But yeah pretty shouty and one dimensional so far. Hoping that changes.

The Eastern dragons are cool as hell.

I think the book is now building up to introducing maybe 2 immortal witch characters that are important to the plot?? I’m so excited. There has not been enough witches yet.

I’m on page 445/800 of priory of the orange tree. It is now good. I wasn’t sure for the first 200-300 pages but yeah. This book good

[crazyintheeast]

Why should you watch Warrior Nun(shipping edition)?

If you know any gays they have most likely spent the last twenty four hours screaming at you that you just have to watch Warrior Nun because it has the best sapphic couple in recent time. But this post isn't about the show itself(if you are curious about the show read this ) This is about Ava and Beatrice aka Avatrice and the amazing slow burn romance they gave us in Season 2 of Warrior Nun. So if you decide to get into Warrior Nun what can you expect from our girls? :

The first is yearning. A HUGE part of this ship is the yearning and both of our girls are not exactly subtle about it

-Next we have physical contact. They are both so touch starved and so in love with each other they will use any opportunity to get close . So many hugs, so much face touching

-Yes Season 2 literally starts with them being undercover in a small village in the mountain just the two of being roomates and working together in a bar all while secretly training in the beautiful mountain side. The show went for all the fanfic tropes. They spent two months living Raylla's dream

-Yes we have jealousy . Oh such delicious jealousy

-We also have lighthearted goofball moments where she just wants to go sight seeing and be with her girl in a new city or where she is dragging her tranqed gir through the streets away from the bad guys

-We have angst but those can't go more then 30 seconds being in a fight before they immediately apologies and console each other

-And of course we have them fighting back to back against overwhelming numbers

-Flying our girl our of danger? Yup. Took that straight out of supercorp's book

-some angst of course

-and finally after the slow burn and a thousand near kisses we finally have a love confession and a kiss right before the big battle

-And of course of Beatrice turning into a one woman army and slaughtering everyone who stands between her and Ava(but she does give them a chance to save their lives first)

So are you ready for Avatrice you ask yourself? Do you have the time? Will it be worth it? And the answer is yes. It will be worth it. The show is amazing and this one of the best written romances in years

[wandaromanova]

for blurb night, maybe one where r hasn’t kissed anyone before nat(also pls include their first kiss in it ahhh) and she’s insecure about that but then nat reassures her and says, ‘i’ve never kissed anyone i loved, until you’ or smth like that

Warnings: like one cuss word

A/N: i decided to just do a first kiss scenario! hope that’s okay with you, anon <3

blurb requests are closed

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You were currently sat on the rooftop of the Compound, sitting beside Natasha on the ledge. Your legs dangled off the side of the building as the two of you stared down at the busy city, your fingers intertwined.

You’d been dating Natasha for a few months now and things have been great. She treated you like royalty compared to the assholes you’d dated in the past. 

She was extremely caring and attentive. She didn’t just talk about herself, but she asked about you. Natasha wasn’t out to get anything out of you, she simply wanted your attention and that was something you’d give to her any day. 

Despite being with the redhead for some time now, there was a line you two haven’t crossed yet. You’re probably thinking sex and yeah, you guys definitely hadn’t done that either, but what you had in mind was a more innocent gesture; kissing. 

You’d dated people before Natasha, but those relationships (if you could even call them that), had never lasted long enough to get to that next step.

You turned your head to the side and admired your girlfriend. The sun was setting and the golden glow lit her face up and accentuated her green eyes, little specs of hazel present in her irises. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

She looked ethereal. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha sensed your staring and tilted her head, eyes locking onto yours. There was a small smile on your face and you felt your heart flutter as your eyes fell to her lips. 

“See something you like?” Natasha’s voice never failed to give you butterflies. The rasp behind her deep tone made you feel something you’ve never felt for someone else before; desire. 

“Yeah, actually.” Your eyes remained on her plump lips, instinctively licking your own. Natasha’s eyebrows raised at your blatant staring. 

“Then take it.” The redhead spoke challengingly and you felt a wave of shyness overcome you. You looked up to her eyes once more nervously.

“I would, but I don’t know how to.” Natasha’s flirtatious look turned to one of curiosity. You felt her thumb brush the back of your hand soothingly. 

“Then let me show you.” Natasha slowly leaned forward. She wanted to give you enough time to back away if you changed your mind, but you didn’t.

Instead, you moved toward her and met her lips in the middle. You let out a gasp as her soft lips collided with yours. The gentleness of the movement made you feel lightheaded. 

You could feel how much care the redhead held for you in the kiss. It took you a minute to match Natasha’s pace, but when you did, you felt like you were on Cloud Nine.

You always thought that the descriptions of sparks and all of that jazz in books and movies were fictional, but now? You realized that those works of art never did this scenario justice. 

Sparks? More like fucking lightning during a thunderstorm. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and yearned for more. 

Natasha was the first to break the kiss, much to your dismay. You kept your eyes closed, a blissed-out look plastered across your face. 

The sound of the redhead’s laughter brought you back down to earth. You were met with bright green eyes shining at you happily. You couldn’t help the fit of giggles that erupted from your stomach. 

You felt like a schoolgirl that just had her first kiss during recess with her crush. And in a way, that’s exactly what you were.

“If it makes you feel any better, that was a first for me too.” Natasha spoke as her other hand reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You’ve never kissed anyone before too?” The Russian’s hand planted itself on your cheek and you leaned into the touch. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No, I have. But I’ve never kissed anyone that meant so much to me before.” 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Your heart rate increased rapidly at her words. You felt as though words couldn’t describe how grateful you were to have her. 

So, you took advantage of your new alternative; you kissed her again. 

You felt as if you were at an amusement park and were terrified to ride any of the attractions. Until you’d gotten onto a rollercoaster and ended up absolutely loving the adrenaline rush. 

You’d overcome your fear and realized how irrational your worries had been. Terror was replaced with excitement and now you wanted to experience the entirety of the park.

In other words, you wanted everything and anything that had to do with Natasha Romanoff. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

taglist: @ledollarbean-em @perfectromanoff @aliancvnas @ultimateskyscraper @marvelwomenslut @chaekhan @rvselie @brieswife @imasimpfornatashamaximoff @natashaswifey @prentisshoe @mcubreakdown101 @yeetus-thyself @multiyfandomgirl40 @kindofasimp @007giu @weelight @scotts-orange-slices @puppy-danvers2016 @acertainredhead @jdougl-love @bi-rdofprey-writes @mindofwesley @shatteredlovesick @lostandsearching @tquick99 @rachel146 @illloveyou @thewidowsghost @uraveragelonelygay @useless-wlw-fangirl @pattypavo @wandasgirlfriend @sapphic-stress @olicity-boo @summergeezburr @ycfwmalise14 @suki-is-a-queen @xxromanoffxx @b-5by5 @romanovaslut @hagridsmomma @ooobviouslyyyy @chasethemoon @blurryylines @spxncervibes @yeeterthekeeper @maximoff-jp @midnight-lestrange

[moon-spirit-yue]

I've seen most of your incorrect posts on the ratld tags and keep going pls dshfhds also i have an idea to propose sponsored by my sleep deprivation: what if 18-year old Virana met someone from Heart and fell head over heels for her (bc sapphic yearning runs in the Fang royal fam) who turns out to be 18-year old Raya's mom but 18-year old Benja went "sike, i reached her oblivious ass first" and that's the story on why Virana wants to steal the dragon gem as revenge bc her first loml got "stolen", but she didn't expect for the Druun to come back

Wait hold on this is actually hilarious I got you:

18 year old Virana, talking to one of her soldiers: this is ridiculous! I should not have to go to Heart just because some stupid prince asked me to!

Fang soldier, laughing: hey, you know I like being here as much as you do, but you gotta remember this guy is the chief now

Virana, scowling: damn, you’re right. The old chief and her husband died like three years ago didn’t they?

Fang soldier, nodding: that’s right. Kind of makes me feel bad for the guy

Virana, rolling her eyes: doesn’t change the fact that I’d rather have my serlot maul my leg off than be here. Shit, I have no idea where we are

Fang soldier, frowning: me neither. We should ask for directions

Virana: I truly hate this day *walks up to a random woman and taps her shoulder* excuse me, do you happen to know where the Heart palace is?

Heart woman, turning around and smiling: oh yeah! I’m headed there anyways you two can tag along! I’m Lien! And you are ?

Virana, blushing and mumbling: way gayer than I thought apparently

Lien: what did you say? I didn’t quite hear you

Virana, trying to recover: uh I said my name is Virana. Princess Virana of Fang. Pleasure to meet you

Fang soldier: *trying not laugh*

Virana: *elbows him harshly*

*a few minutes later*

Lien: well here it is!

Virana, smiling at her: thank you very much. Would I be able to see you tomorrow? I’ll be here for a couple days and I quite like your company

Lien: that would be great! I like your company too

Heart soldier, walking up to them and sighing: I fear Chief Benja just became gravely ill. His sickness will leave him bedridden for a couple of weeks. He will be fine but he’s not up for visitors. My apologies

Virana, sighing: well there goes my hopes of getting this done in a timely fashion

Lien, frowning: oh poor guy! He’s so miserable when he’s sick

Virana, raising an eyebrow: so I take it you know the chief well?

Lien, nodding: yeah we’ve been friends for years. Ever since his parents passed I can’t help but worry about him

Virana: wow, you truly have such a caring heart

Fang soldier, rolling his eyes: oh give me a break you pathetic lesbian

*a few weeks later*

Lien, shaking Virana awake after one of their sleepovers: wake up! Benja sent one of his messengers to let us know he’s feeling better and can meet us!

Virana, smiling: oh that’s great, let’s go!

Lien, arriving at the palace: alright he’s usually- *blushes intensely* oh-

Benja, yawning and not wearing a shirt: right, let them know- oh, Lein! Princess Virana! A pleasure to have you both here! I apologize for the lack of attire I thought you’d be coming later

Lien, laughing nervously: oh you don’t have to apologize! You do whatever you want Benja! *whispering* Especially if it means you don’t wear clothes-

Virana, scowling: right. Let’s get this over with

*a few hours later*

Virana, bluntly: are you interested in Benja romantically?

Lien, sighing: well I try not to be so obvious, but he just never gets the clue! I assume he’s so focused on being chief that he doesn’t realize my advances

Virana, mumbling: please, I could treat you way better than he could

Lien, yawning: what was that?

Virana, casually: I said he’s stupid if he doesn’t realize what’s right in front of him

Lien, sighing: I guess…….

Benja, kicking down the door: LIEN ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH ME?!

Lien, startled: uh yes?????? This is really random what-

Benja, blushing: uh so long story short I go to therapy twice a week and I was upset because I couldn’t figure out how to tell you I liked you or knew if you liked me back but then my therapist basically told me to use my eyes and see that you were already in love with me so I-

Lien: *cuts him off by kissing him*

Virana, watching the entire thing: well, this is definitely my villain origin story

[babybluebex]

Hi! I'd like to request jealous smut of Beth Harmon x fem!reader. Both of them are switches and get jealous of Benny Watts flirting with the other; so Beth and the reader show each other who they belong to 💞

promises, promises [beth harmon x reader] 

pairing: beth harmon x reader (y/n)

summary: beth catches you flirting with benny, and she feels the need to remind you that you’re hers. 

word count: 1222

warnings: a little bit of smut (mentions of f!ngering), misplaced jealousy, me being a Yearning Sapphic ™ for too long

a/n: beth is a goddess. that is all. add yourself to my taglist!

tags: @simsiddy

“Ya know, I’ve always admired you,” Benny said. “You’re so… Cool.” 

“Thanks,” I said. “You’re pretty cool too.”

“Beth’s lucky to have you,” Benny mumbled, flicking ash off of his cigarette. Paris was cold at night, but Benny still needed a cigarette, and I, being the only one of our little group with any left in my pack, accompanied him out of the bar. “But.. Can I ask, why Beth?”

I titled my head in confusion. “I don’t understand,” I mumbled. “Like… Why am I dating Beth?”

“Yeah,” Benny said with a nod. “I mean, as opposed to anybody else.” 

I shrugged as I tried to come up with a solid answer. “I dunno,” I said finally. “She’s just… I like her. She’s easy to get along with most of the time, but, even when she’s grumpy and all, she’s… I can’t put it in words. I’m just in love with her, ya know? It’s hard to explain love.” 

“I get that,” Benny nodded. “And you’re fine with me always hanging around?” 

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I mean, Townes and Harry always hang around, so what’s one more?” 

“You understand what I mean, don’t you?” Benny asked. “You’re fine with me… And Harry… Always being around Beth?” 

“You can talk as slow as you want, you won’t be making anymore sense than before,” I told him. “Just spit it out.” 

“Do you know that Beth and I hooked up a few months ago?” Benny asked. “And she and Harry? And I think she and Townes, but I’ve never gotten a straight answer out of either of them about it.” 

I didn’t get jealous easily. I knew who I was dating; Beth was admired and adored in her world, and I was used to people pining over her left and right. I never gave it a second thought when we would wake up to flowers and dinner invitations. But something about Benny’s words made an uncomfortable heat bloom in my belly. “Oh,” I said, pushing my hair behind my ear in an act of nonchalance. “I didn’t know that, but I don’t mind. You guys are friends now, and any friend of Beth is a friend of mine.” 

“That’s good,” Benny said, and he dropped the cigarette butt on the ground. “I’d hate to screw up the whole dynamic of our friend group.” 

Just then, the door to the bar swung open, and Beth, Harry, and Townes emerged with laughter and snorts. Beth perked her eyebrow at me and wrapped an arm around my waist, and she pressed her thumb to my bottom lip. “Princess, you told me that you quit smoking,” she said to me. 

“I said no such thing,” I said quickly, taking my cigarette between my fingers. 

Beth took my cigarette for herself and took a drag, then blew a mouthful of smoke above my head. “No, I remember it,” she argued, as Beth was always so happy to. “I had my head between your thighs and--” 

“Christ!” I cried, my face screwing up in embarrassment, and Harry and Benny sputtered with tipsy laughter. “Bethy, you can’t just say that--” 

“Sure I can,” Beth said. “I mean, we’re adults, and Benny’s always going off about his conquests. But, regardless, you promised me that you would quit smoking.” 

“I don’t remember that,” I said. “But if you say so…” 

Beth discarded the cigarette on the sidewalk, and she pressed her warm hand against my cheek. “Come here, princess,” she said softly and tugged me close, and she brushed her lips past mine. I could taste the gin on her lips from her favorite drink, the same ones her mother used to drink, but it only made me want more. I pressed forward, putting my hands on her waist, and she slung her arms around my neck as she gently bit my bottom lip. 

Harry and Benny were content to continue to drink around Paris, but Beth and I suddenly had other plans that landed us in our hotel room. As quickly as we could manage, our dresses were tugged off, and she was laying between my quivering legs as her thin fingers teased my wet heat. Beth had magic in her fingers, I just knew it. She kissed my leg, leaving trace amounts of her favorite red lipstick, and she finally whispered, “What were you and Benny talking about?” 

“Jesus, Beth,” I huffed. “I don’t know. Just shooting the shit, ya know?” 

“Hmm,” Beth hummed lightly, and her thumb gently circled my clit. With her fingers inside me and the feeling of her warm breath on my core, I knew that there was no hope of me lasting much longer. Beth knew this too, however, because she pulled her fingers back and looked up at me through her gorgeous eyelashes. “What were you talking about?” She asked again. 

“Fuck, Beth,” I sighed, pushing myself onto my elbows and blowing a lock of hair from my eyes. “Why do you care?” 

“Because you were making those big eyes at him,” Beth answered. 

“Big eyes?” I repeated. 

“Yeah,” She said. “You know the ones, right?” When I had no answer, she laughed. “You gave them to me last night! I was studying a game, and you came and sat on my lap and kissed my neck, and you gave me those eyes.” 

“Oh,” I said, suddenly understanding her attitude. Was she jealous? We were really the perfect couple. I got jealous at the thought of her being with someone else, and she did the same. “Well, maybe I was making eyes at Benny. I mean, c’mon, Beth, it’s Benny. He’s so dreamy.” 

“You’ve never used the word dreamy in your life,” Beth said and raised an eyebrow. 

“Maybe I did wanna bed Benny,” I said. “What would you do about it?”

“I think,” Beth began. Her fingers curled in my panties and tugged them down my legs, kissing all the way down, and kissed back up to my cunt. “I oughta show you who you belong to.” 

“And who is that?” I asked. My tough demeanor was disintegrating by the second and, the second that Beth’s lovely mouth was on me, it would fall off completely. 

“Why, me, of course,” Beth hummed. “I thought you knew, princess.” 

“I know that,” I laughed. Quickly, I hooked a leg around her waist and pushed her to the bed, and I straddled her waist. “But I seem to remember that you neglected to tell me that you fucked Benny. Harry too, for that matter.”

“Oh, please,” Beth laughed. Her hair was splayed out on the creme pillow, the sounds of Paris outside our window. But it was warm in the hotel room and smelled like my girlfriend’s perfume, and the taste of her skin lingered in my mouth, and I knew that I could never wander far from her. “That was before I met you, princess. Before… Everything.” 

Everything. Her exploring her sexuality, coming out, the repercussions that came with that. Hiding our relationship, stealing kisses behind closed doors and blaming alcohol if we got too close in public. Before the ups and downs and backslides and… Everything. 

“I’m yours now, princess,” Beth said, pressing her hand to my heart. My hand captured hers and I took a deep breath as I squeezed her hand. 

“Just yours.” 

[isitbussinjanelle]

@moon-spirit-yue Some more of Raya using Namaari to get food😜

Sapphic yearnings because it’s so damn funny

*in spine*

Namaari: no where to run now, Raya. Surrender before I have to use my army.

Fang army: [gear up their crossbows]

Raya, cornered: c-come on guys I’m sure we can work something out? Right?

Namaari: [chuckles] get her.

Fang army: [closes in]

Raya’s mind: alright Raya, think, think, think- OH! That’s an idea.

Raya: [starts coughing aggressively and stumbling to the ground]

Fang army: uh should we-

Namaari: [pushes through them] what’s going- OH RAYA ARE YOU OKAY?!

Raya: alas [cough] it must be my time. I should’ve listened to Sisu [coughs and falls on the ground completely]

Namaari: oh no no no- please stay with us!

Atitaya: “us”? Since when is “us” obsessed with this HeartLand bitch-

Namaari: I-is there anything I can do to make you feel better, dep la?

Raya: you know [cough] there’s this vendor in Talon, Who makes the best congee I’ve ever tasted. If you could take me to him so I could have some congee, that would make me feel better [cough]

Namaari: of course, anything that will help you. Can you stand?

Raya: [cough] barely- can you carry me?🥺

Namaari: [blushing] oh um, sure. [picks her up bridal style] let’s go everyone! Your really light dep la.

Raya: well your super strong too [squeezes her muscles]

Namaari’s mind: AISHEOENEEEOWHWIWEB PLEASE SHES SO CUTE

Atitaya: is she for real- ISNT SHE SUPPOSED TO BE OUR PRISONER?!

Namaari: shush! My wife- I MEAN- Raya, is in desperate need of care.

Atiataya: HOW MANY TIMES HAS SHE DONE THIS?! THINK ABOUT IT SHES PROBABLY FAKING THE WHOLE THING

Raya: [coughs aggressively] I don’t have much t-time left Namaari…

Namaari: don’t worry sweetheart- everyone get on your serlot so we can head out! Did you wanna ride with me?

Raya: y-yeah..

Namaari’s mind: YES YES YES YES TAKE THAT ATITAYA😼

*on the ride there*

Namaari: hold on tight.

Raya: [wraps her arms around her] m’kay

Namaari: [blsuhing] ahhhh this is life ain’t it

Atiataya: are you dumb or just dumb, princess?

Namaari: excuse me?

Atiataya: THIS BITCH ISNT SICK

Namaari: what is your problem with her?

Atiataya: MY PROBLEM- okay. Fine. You know what? Have it your way. [moves ahead] she’ll break your heart just like she did mine. 😤

Namaari: what was that last bit?

Atiataya: nothing! Have fun with your girlfriend!

Namaari: huh. Namaari’s girlfriend, s’gotta nice ring to it.

*in Talon*

Namaari: alright, let’s tie up the serlots and find this congee place. [places Raya on the ground] you feeling any better?

Raya: kinda but…why are you caring for me? I thought you wanted to execute me or something.

Namaari’s mind: why ever would she think that 🤔

Namaari: [blushing] o-oh um…well I’m not doing this cause like- well- uhhh….[continues to stammer]

Atitaya: [face palm] oh brother.

Namaari: okay um- Atitaya, how about you go take our prisoner to get her food. I’m sure she knows where it is.

Atitaya: why me? I thought you were the one that wanted to spend time with the hoe

Namaari: okay first off, don’t call her that. And secondly, I can’t contain my self when I’m around her, so I need you too.

Atiataya: wow. Wow wow wow. You’ve gone soft.

Namaari: SHUT UP NO I HAVEN’T. [storms off all grumpy]

Atiataya: [chuckles] Whatever.

Raya: wheres Namaari going?

Atitaya: she’s going to cool off. I’ll look after you though. Come on, let’s go get your congee.

Raya: [smirks] okay, general.

Atitaya: please don’t try that flirty shit with me again. I’m not falling for your mind games anymore. ;-;

Raya: no mind games, only love. ;)

Atitaya: [blushes] let’s just go get your fucking food.

*later*

Namaari, staring at Raya lovingly: enjoying the food dep la?

Raya: [eating] I certainly am. Thankyou, Namaari. I know we’ve never gotten along great, but thank you. [puts a hand on hers]

Namaari’s mind: AHHHHHHHHHHH-

Namaari: uh- oh it was nothing…

Raya: oh it certainly wasn’t nothing. [cups her face] I think you’ve got a little crush on me. Is that right?

Namaari: I- erm well I- uhhhhhhhhhhhh

Raya: [leans in closer]

Namaari: of course I do- I MEAN NO

Raya: [Raises her eyebrows] I heard a yes.

Namaari: n-no you didn’t…

Raya: [kisses her] :)

Namaari: [fails to function]

Raya: well, thanks for the food but, I’ve gotta go.

Atitaya: so your ass isn’t sick

Raya: no duh. Your a slow learner aren’t you?

Atiataya: bitch [attempts to attack her but is held back by soldiers]

Raya: ciao [walks alway]

Namaari: adbeiseidhjerbeojebeowjeneiqbqianwkdndeirbdoshebdoshebdoshrifdeobeod🥴

Atiataya: LET ME AT THAT BITCH I’LL SHOW HER WHOS SLOW

Fang soldier: ATITAYA STOP

Fang soldier 2: YEAH SHOULDNT WE BE RECAPTURING HER?! CAUSE SHES OUR PRISONER RIGHT?!! RIGHT NAMAARI?

Namaari: no thoughts just her lips on mine [ascends to heaven]

Fang soldier: oh Lordy fuck she’s lost it-

Atitaya: don’t worry, she needs a boat in order to leave, and we’re her only ride.

Raya: [jumps into the water and swims away]

Fang soldier:

Fang soldier 2:

Atitaya:

Atitaya: well I’m not going after her

Fang soldier 2: fr that water is cold as shit

Namaari: WAIT WHAT IS SHE DOING MY LOVE COME BACK

Raya: damn I’m a hella good swimmer

Namaari: RAYA NO PLEASE COME BACK

Atitaya: she’s gone.

Fang soldier: yeah I don’t think she can hear you anymore.

Namaari: awww but she looks all pretty with her hair wet🥰

Atitaya: ARE YOU CRAZY-

Namaari: WHERE EVER YOU GO I WONT BE FAR TO FOLLOW >:D

Atitaya: NO NO NO PLEASE BITCH JUST GIVE UP ALREADY

Fang soldier 2: FR😭