#Cries forever I love colorful lights

[gothic-mothic]

Yk ratatouille

An Instagram poll made me do this

[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!”

[httpswstef]

《 if you go i'll stay you come back i'll be right here. 》

warning : none 🥺 fluff, u might cry a little bit, pure love between rafael and reader ♡

synopsis : rafayel promised to love you forever and he always keep his primises.

words count : 1555.

characters : rafayel.

stefie : hi hello my babies ! ! this my first fic for rafael, sorry if i have any mistakes.

Rafayel had never thought that there would be such a peaceful moment in his life, where he would be able to let go of everything and just breathe the pure air, enjoying the beauty of the world reflected in his flawless eyes. It all seemed like a pipe dream that he had at a very young age, when he first met you and felt your whole soul, it was as if he saw your life together and what you would experience with him: all the hardships, happiness, love and tears. Rafayel may be the ultimate fool, but he is your fool and he doesn't need anyone else. You made his world the brightest colors and gave him a happiness he never dreamed of.

You looked at him only with eyes of love, so pure and kind, it seemed to Rafayel as if you were an angel, a real angel! As if you had a nimbus on your head, and you were a fragile vase that he could break in seconds if he touched you with his delicate fingertips, so he only looked at you, only watched and studied you, found only good and wonderful things that made him fall in love more and more, with every breath wanting to love only you in this life: to tie this life to you and only you, to listen to the beating of your heart every day and how tenderly you call him "Raf", it really fascinated him more than anything else. He wanted to hold only your palms, look only into your eyes and thank the universe for you, Rafayel... wanted to kiss only your lips, putting everything he had left into the kiss. He must have been so selfish to other people, but he didn't care, as long as you were around, he would be anything.

You were his dawn after nightmares, the May air after rain, the song he cried his throat out to and his soul mate, holding Rafayel's heart in your hands as if you were controlling his breath and life all at once, is that so... perfect?

Yeah, it's really perfect.

To find someone like you and to receive your love, all of it, without a single remnant, to receive your care on the hardest days and your support when there was no strength left to live, but you were there to help him, to help him start living again and to see the good in the world, to show him again the beauty of nature and what was hidden deep, beyond the human eyes that could spoil it. You reached out your hand to him and stayed by his side, even when Rafayel didn't deserve it, when he was lost in himself and silent all the time, not saying what happened and why he was hurting so much, and he didn't know it himself, but he was afraid that you would go away and leave him here, in this empty room that squeezed his throat and cut off his oxygen, killed everything alive inside and any hope in you.

But you stayed — you were with him, even in such a moment, you covered all the monsters and all the worries with your bright light, holding Rafael's hand tightly and not allowing him to fall off the cliff of sadness on which he so suddenly found himself, afraid that he might lose forever, it was tearing him apart completely, but all he wanted for you was happiness, even if he wasn't, even if it was someone else — the main thing was that you were happy and had finally found your paradise.

But he was so wrong. So very wrong. Didn't know much and was lost: he missed your warmth, and he wanted so much.

Rafayel was the best man for you, he was your soulmate, as if you were one and the stars were always bringing you together so that you would not lose your connection, so that you would love each other as much and fight for each other with the same strength, protecting each other from all possible adversities, opening your skeletons in the closet and revealing the worst secrets hidden somewhere at the end of the world, where there is no one, where there is only you and your intertwined fingers, as you once intertwined your heart together, creating your house of love, where there is absolute peace, where Rafayel is no longer afraid, where Rafayel is sure of your love.

Rafayel fell in love with you at first sight and never wanted to lose you again, he would sacrifice his life to see you live and breathe, he would do anything, even give up painting if you asked him to, he is so in love and it is impossible to get rid of it, he wants to keep you close to him all the time, to be charged with your warmth and listen to your honeyed voice, to which he falls asleep and has the most vivid dreams with you: where you are happy.

The first time you met Rafayel in kindergarten, he was so playful, loud and he was everywhere, getting to know everyone and making friends in seconds, he was a kind of sunshine among the frowning clouds: he was your sunshine. From the moment he accidentally bumped into you and caused you to fall, and it was just like in the most romantic movies: a broken knee, a little blood, your upset face because of a little pain and Raf's promise that he would do anything for your forgiveness, but were you angry with him? Probably not. After all, he had been so gentle with you and careful, even though he was a little kid who spoiled himself all the time, but even so he knew he had to save his jokes for another time.

And it was at that moment that Rafayel realized that you were the best person in all the years of his life, he was so young and not so smart enough, he was only a child, but he already wanted to be yours and vowed that for the rest of his days he would hold only your palms and love only you.

For starters, he gave you a ring made of the most common grass and made one for himself to show everyone that you were together now. He shared food with you and always brought you his best toys and even asked his mom to buy you something to see you smile. And his passion for art came from you, because Rafayel wanted to capture you in his paintings, to show the world how lucky he was to have you and that you were the right person for him. For the others, it was just a joke, a childish crush that would end in a few days, and if you knew how much it pissed Rafayel off, how could they say that about his feelings for you? When his love was so sincere, so sincere that no one had ever seen or felt it before. And it pissed me off more than anything that no one saw the seriousness of that love. No one. Except you.

But now Rafayel waits patiently for you to walk down the aisle and let him bind you finally, but with every second he loses any patience he once had, he can't wait to see you now and fall in love again, like in kindergarten. But now you're in a white dress with a veil on your head, and in your hands the most beautiful bouquet of flowers that he himself picked out for you and wouldn't let anyone else do it.

He waits and waits, but the moment he sees your silhouette Rafayel stops breathing and his heart no longer beats, and the others have ceased to have any meaning for him and only you exist, his crystal eyes are filled with love for you and the warmth with which he watches you as you come closer to him and tears begin to slip from his eyes, making his gaze even more puppyish and sweet, the one you first met and the one you remembered for the rest of your life.

Rafayel gently takes your hand and pulls you to stand across from him, listening clearly to his vows, holding the candle in his other hand.

" I once said that I would love you forever, that no one could separate us, but remember their reaction? They laughed, thought it was a joke and just a normal childhood crush, but it wasn't. It's much more than a crush. I want to be with you, I want to be with you. I want to be with you so much and I will be with you. Always, no matter what happens, I won't let us lose each other. Your name will stay with me forever and if that's what it takes, it will be the only name I will ever want to say. I looked into those faces and I couldn't forgive them for not being you and not having your soul. They were strangers and I looked for you in them, time after time hoping to meet your face and I did, and I would give anything for it. It is so beautiful to be loved by you, a man who accepts me with all my faults and loves every bit of my soul. With my hands I will dispel your sorrow and sadness, your cup will never be empty if you let me be your wine, my one and only. "

And the next moment the candle is in your delicate hands, lifting your eyes to Rafael and gazing into his marvelous eyes.

"Rafayel, there are a million reasons why I love you. You make me laugh and smile, you take care of me absolutely always, no matter how bad you feel yourself. You're sweet and so caring. You named all your paintings after me and have an exhibition you named after me too, and it makes me cry more every time. You make me feel protected and loved. But the biggest reason why I love you is because you're the best friend I've ever had."

Rafayel restrains himself with the last of his strength not to flood everything with his tears, you are the only reason he can be so emotional and crying. Your vows made his heart stop for those moments and he could only hear you, only your beautiful voice. Raf takes your hands in his, removing the candle and gently approaches you, leaning down to your face.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes. Always yes, my only love."

[leonw4nter]

Hi! I love your works sm and have a silly little idea.. Maybe planning and having a wedding with leon? Like im seeing you in your dress for the first time, choosing flowers, the rings, and having all of your friends/family at your wedding etc? Just little headcannons about it would be super cute!!!

DI!Leon Headcanons on planning + having a wedding…

RE:DI!Leon x F!Reader

Leon was supposed to propose to you during an out-of-the-country trip to Switzerland but unfortunately, he left the ring behind and had to secretly beat himself up over it. One beautiful evening, after you and him had just gotten home from the orchestra, he fished the tiny velvet box from his pocket and got down on one knee, too overcome by nerves to remember the speech he swore he memorized and too much in love to stall the question.

“You’re the last person I’d want to lose and the first person I’d think of growing old with. Y/N, will you marry me?”. In the end, he got the most unforgettable ‘yes’ he’s ever heard from you.

The wedding planning took 12 months, enough time to plan the wedding straight out of your dreams. He made sure to make the occasion magical, ensuring that the wedding is fit for a goddess amongst women (in his humble opinion). The wedding rings you and Leon agreed on were perfect, eager for the day that you two will finally have them on forever and ever, the rings facing wear and tears as you go gray and feeble with him.

Everyone saw your wedding dress before your wedding day– everyone but Leon. As soon as the large doors opened up and revealed you, Leon could no longer stop the tears flowing down his cheeks– you were so beautiful and breathtaking and it was as if veiled light itself was walking down the aisle. He was unable to keep his gaze to the front, head tilting to admire you every second. “You look so beautiful,” he excitedly whispered. “I can’t believe I’m marrying you.”

Since you and him agreed on a wedding color scheme of black, different shades of pink, and varying shades of warm white, the flowers you had for your bridal bouquet also followed that scheme, the flowers being cashmere anemones; white and baby pink tulips; vanda orchids; white limonium flowers, and white mink proteas. Everyone else also wore their dresses and suits in pinks and black; Chris opted for a sleek black turtleneck and blazer with a pink flower pinned to his breast pocket. Most of the women in attendance at your wedding opted to wear pink, with the men opting for black. Everyone was buzzing with excitement in their placements: Rebecca and Claire making joking bets that whoever cries first will pay up; Jill and Hunnigan were talking about how pretty you will look; Ethan and Chris were hyping Leon up since the groom was nervous but nevertheless excited; Piers and Carlos were talking about how good everything looks and how magical the air feels.

When the priest said “you may now kiss the bride”, Leon took a small step closer to you, gently lifting the veil that covered your face. He did everything slowly, as if he wanted to savor the moment and commit every single detail– the sparkle in your eyes, the music in the background, and how everyone and everything else seemed to be a blur of colors except for the glowing bride in front of him. As soon as he removed the veil from your face, he took a few moments to admire you and pepper you with sincere compliments. He placed his left hand on your waist while his right gently cupped your cheek, big hands handling you with so much caution as if you were made of porcelain. He leans in and presses the gentlest, softest, most tender kiss ever, a small spreading on his lips when it really sinks in that he finally gets to call you his wife.

You and Leon had your first dance somewhere private since you wanted it to be a moment only you and him will share so after the first dance, you and him walk back to the reception hand-in-hand with the brightest smiles. The ring looked amazing on both your hands and Leon couldn’t stop to admire your hand. “You’ve got a ring like mine too, you know,” you’d softly tell him. “I know. It looks better with you though,” he’d respond sweetly before kissing the back of your hand. For the bouquet toss, you decided to use an exact replica of your bouquet since you wanted to keep your flowers in your own home; Rebecca ended up catching your bouquet, much to everyone’s surprise. She happily swung it around, showing it off to everyone, before walking with a happy sway of her hips towards her boyfriend Billy, which made Billy chuckle before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

You and Leon left early, waving everyone good night and good bye as you got in the bridal car that would take you to the hotel you were going to stay in. Since Chris was sober and had already volunteered to drive you to the hotel, he also left the party early. As soon as you two were out of the reception, it was immediately all kisses and giggles and I love yous muttered. Chris had to look you two through the rear-view mirror and say “I’m still here. You’ve got a room for all that when we get there.”

Married life won’t be all smooth sailing and conflicts are unavoidable but in facing and resolving those conflicts together, you will discover just how strong your commitment to each other is.

NOTE - TYSMM to the anon that requested this, I know I took long before I finally got to answer it but I hope it was worth the wait (despite this drabble being shorter than usual) <33 Currently craving ramyeon and mushrooms and seafood... naw but eating noodles late at night?? TOP TIER EXPERIENCE. Kinda stressing rn since one of my groupmates can't do their part on our research paper and it's getting on my last nerve BECAUSE I GAVE US SO MUCH TIME GIRLIE PLEASE 😭😭🙏🙏 Anyways, let's hope that I passed my entrance exams and the exams I took last week bc my grades cannot take another beating 🕯️TYSM for reading my fics, I <33333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!

The hanging star divider is made by @benkeibear , the images are colored by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[pedge-page]

Ahhh asking again!!!! I love and laugh about Joel and Preggo. What if she wants Joel to prepare the nursery? They go to pick out paint ….she says needs to see it in the room, he paints sample areas. ……she picks one, he paints it and then she cries because she hates it and accuses him of doing the wrong color. Please change this prompt anyway and every way! Basically about preparing nursery to her whims. Or he does everything and she has changed her mind.!!!!

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife - Oh the Colors You'll Choose

Warnings: girlie is up to her usual tactics, slight Jealous!Joel at the end

- - - -

One thing Joel’s really excited about with the baby on the way is getting to design the nursery. Finally having an excuse to throw away your old high school gear you haven’t touched in over a decade, the clothes that had no style in the modern era, collecting dust in bins, all the Christmas gifts you never were going to use just stocked up in the spare bedroom for storage. Now the room was vacant. Tarps and old sheet cover the carpet, walls primed and prepped for the first round of paint.

Joel picks out a nice pink neutral tone, something perfectly lovely for the little girl he’s about to have.

You barely glance at the swatch in his hand, just nodding and waving him off as you lie sprawled eagle in bed, trying your best to cool underneath the high speeding fan.

He’s spent the entire afternoon of your nap getting the room partially painted. The whole time, giddy with the idea that he’s going to be changing diapers in here, reading stories, cradling his baby’s soft small head and walking around the room to get her to sleep—

He finally notices you patting gently into the room, just awoken from your fresh nap. He’s halfway to an excited smile until he sees the absolute wrought look of disappointment all over your face. 

"What, what's wrong?"

There’s no hint of happiness or enthusiasm in you. You survey the walls disappointingly, crossing your arms with a disgusted look before walking out without a word. 

Joel’s not going to let this room be the thing that upsets you—no you’re going to love it, he’ll be damned sure.

He shows you 5 more colors—all ranging from pinks to purples and—

“Does it have to be pink? Why are we forcing the gender thing on her?”

“I mean, I don’t know. Doesn’t have to be. Thought maybe could be something sweet…” his voice trails off as you make a disgruntled frown. 

“We can pick a neutral color if ya want.”

Joel pulls out a few colors he had stored in his bag—some greens and blues, grayish whites and browns.

You make a firm decision on one—the light green forest color. It’s bold, but it seems to make you happy.

Until he starts painting:

“No! No it’s not right.”

Joel sighs. “What’s not right? This is the one you picked!”

You shake your head again. “The light from the window makes it look so bland. It just doesn’t look good.”

“I can’t control the sun…”

“You’re doing it all wrong, Joel.”

He wipes the paint off of his beard. It’s been 2 days of painting now, much longer than he expected.

He lays 5 different colors on the walls in tiny samples; this time you’ll be able to see the one exactly as it will be when he finishes painting.

You walk back and forth, finger pressed to your lip in hard concentration. “Oh! This one!” You exclaim: an orange tan.

“Are you sure?”

You nod.

He starts doing the color, now halfway through the room, fumes suffocating his brain, but now you’re telling him it's just not as pretty as it looked on the swatch. 

“Why are you painting the wrong color!”

“It’s the same one!”

“No it’s not!”

You've now moved on to the next color of the rainbow on your hit-list since he somehow fucked orange up. He lays out 10 swatches of blue. All of which look the same to him but none appeal to you. 

“Can we just pick one and settle on it? This much paint on the walls aint good. Gonna take forever to get the smell out.”

“Joel, this is going to be our BABY’s FIRST COLOR she'll associate with. It has to be perfect for her! She’ll be stuck with it forever!”

He raises his eyebrow unconvinced.

“…Until I decide to change it again,” you add plainly. “Or until she’s old enough to decide for herself. Do you really want a tween picking out her own bedroom color to haunt us?”

He huffs but agrees.

You are eating a banana just as Joel's finishing laying on the neutral ocean blue throughout the whole room. You had come in twice already but hadn’t made a peep either time, so maybe this one is the one—

 "Oh my god!" You exclaim. Joel nearly falls off the latter with worry that the baby somehow just dropped from between your legs until he sees you point to the banana peel excitedly. 

His shoulders slouch in a ‘you gotta be kidding me’ sort of way. His back fucking hurts. Hands cramped up. There’s gotta be a permanent strike of white in his hair right now. He drops the paintbrush, splashing it into the now wasted paint can of blue before taking your peel and walking out the room. Of course, its already nighttime, so the hardware store is closed and he’s gotta wait till morning to get the new paint.

The next day, he's rolling on the new yellow.

You wrinkle your nose disgustedly. "Ugh what the fuck is this?"

"It’s the banana!"

"No it's not! This is so much darker!"

"BANANAS GET DARKER EACH DAY. YOU WANTED ME TO MATCH FROM A HALF EATEN PEEL.”

“It sucks. You've put this god awful yellow in my mind now I don't want anything like it.” 

You turn around and survey the room, repulsed by its bright wrongness. Joel opens his jaw wide and silently screams into the air, pounding his fist into his head angrily without letting a sound out.

You turn around just as he drops into a neutral, emotionless demeanor.

The lightbulb in his brain flickers on. “You know what? I got an idea."

-

Joel takes you to the Home Depot.

"Hey Rick,” he says towards the man behind the paint counter.

Rick just chuckles. “Hey Joel, getting another paint? Your wife gonna make me match to the crazy fire in your eyes when you tell her to—“

Joel clears his throat when you waddle quickly to hold his hand like a child eager to stay close to dad in an unfamiliar land. Your mouth agape as you stare up at the ceiling and around all of the endless aisles of lumber and tools. Luckily, you were too stunned to hear Rick’s passing words.

"Why is it so big here?” You ask innocently. “And woodsy. And ... orange."

Joel grabs your hand and plops you in front or the swatches wall.

You gasp, “THERES SO MANY OPTIONS,” eyes sparkling and wide like a child in a candy shop.

"Pick a couple to take home, and then we're getting the paint for it. Ok?"

"How much are they?"

"They're 40 bucks each—“ Joel starts.

But Rick, the ever so helpful manager to anyone but Joel, buds in. “The swatches? You don't gotta pay for them darlin,” he winks.

Joel gives him a dagger look, but you smile so wide and start slipping swatches like they’re on fire.

Joel shakes his head and grabs some more rolls and brushes since his are all worn out. By the time he returns to the swatch wall, all 23 seconds later, you’ve got a giant of colored papers pile barely held in your hands of every single color. “We should check them all!”

He grits his teeth but bares a smile.

-

Joel tapes every single swatch on the wall at home. You walk and study each one. Holding one eye closed, tilting your head to the side, putting a different color next to it. You couldn’t see him pretending to bang his head against the wall on the other side of the room as you debate for an hour now.  

Finally, you stand back and take in the entire multicolored wall. “Oh thats it! It’s all of them! We make it like rainbow ombre in like little squares.”

"I would have to buy a can of every single paint. No. We're not doing that. We said one color only.”

"They can't give you like little cups of each color?"

"No.”

"That's dumb. What a scam!"

You wonder downstairs for more inspiration. Something homely. Something familial yet not too obviously Joel or your own style. You come across an old picture of young Tommy and Joel standing in front of Joel's truck, that had just been passed down by their dad. Their smug grins and messy hair, wrinkled clothes and slung arms around one another make you feel pleasantly at ease. Your baby needs to have that same sense of security, youth, and warmth. You study the photo a bit longer, and then it hits you. 

-

Joel wakes up, and the first thing he subconsciously does every morning is to reach for you on your side of the bed until he’s in contact with your warm body. It puts him at ease, touching you, knowing you’re there and he’s home. The only times you wouldn't be there would be if you were in the bathroom. But as he looks through heavy eyes, the bathroom door is open, dark, unoccupied. He furls his eyebrows back to your cold, empty side of the bed.

The sound of his truck rumbles distantly through the open window, growing closer and squeaking to a hault in the driveway.

He throws the blankets off and rushes down the stairs 2 at a time just to see you hauling a big heavy paint can slung down low with both your hands desperately holding the handle, all by yourself, bloated tummy and all, through the front door.

Barreling to you, he snatches the can from your sore fingers. 

“Are you crazy??? You can’t drive! You can't carry heavy shit! What were you doing—“

"Yes I can!” You challenge back. He sets the can on the table with a loud slam just as you drop his keys in the tray. “I’m not completely helpless, Joel! I can get my own pain and drive my own ... your own truck!"

"Yeah? Go paint the room yourself then, if you're so independent."

You scoff, bemused by his suggestion. “I’m not doing that. That's what I have you for.”

He shakes his head and looks at the new can.

“This better be worth it. "

You smile. “It's the one. Trust me." 

-

Joel finishes lying on the paint. It's a breezy, toned down pinkish salmon. Definitely not something that you would have gotten from a swatch. No, you had this one custom matched, and he can't quite put his finger on why it feels so familiar. And gives him little irksome itch too. 

He’s about to call you up when he hears Tommy greeting you at the front door.

The two of you make your way up the stairs, Tommy with a muffin shoved half in his mouth. When you round the corner, your husband stands in the middle of the room, awaiting your response.

"Well?" Joel asks curiously. 

To his relief, you've got the brightest, sweetest grin plastered all over your face. "It’s perfect. I told you!"

Its worth it--to see the excitement in your face--this is what he was hoping for the whole time. "Thought we weren't doing the gendered color thing?"

you nuzzle yourself under Joel's broad arm. "Well... this one is special."

Tommy nods in agreement "this looks good!" He walks around the room, more so noting Joel's handiwork rather than the choice of paint. It's kind of funny that Tommy almost disappears like camouflage with how closely his favorite shirt matches—

Joel's satisfied grin immediately drops to a shocked frown.

“You made me match our baby girl’s bedroom to Tommy's old ass shirt??"

You nod happily. “Isn't it so good!"

His arms flex angrily across his chest—it’s not good at all. “What’s next, you two havin’ an affair I don't know about,” he accuses between his brother and his wife.

"Joel!”

"Dude!"

"No! We're not painting our daughter’s room after him! This can't be your favorite color! What about every other color we looked at? What about all my shirts?"

Your eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of your sockets for such a ridiculous suggestion. “Plaid????????????" you ask audaciously.

"I got some denim too!"

Just as you two are screaming at one another over who’s shirt to match the room to, Tommy tiptoes backwards out the room quietly while swallowing the rest of his muffin, hoping to snag one more in the kitchen too before dipping.

"...and I'm just to assume our daughter is MINE when you got me painting HIS shirt—“

"I wouldn't be hanging out with your sensitive ass if it WAS his baby, damnit Joel, its just a color, what is WRONG with you—!”

Suddenly, he dips his hand into the bucket and slaps two saturated handprints onto your breasts. 

You gasp, backing away. Two Joel-sized hands in pink are wetly printed onto your large t-shirt, your favorite tee, as you stare down in shock. "You. Did. Not.”

Joel shrugs proudly. 

You grab the wet brush on the table next to you and slash it across his face before he could stop you. 

you try not to laugh, his face dotted in splotches of pink paint dribbling down his whiskers and neck. He rolls his pursed lips before looking at you, a predator smirking at a silly little bunny who’s just been put herself in a trap. 

".... This stuff comes off clothes...  right..." you ask hesitantly, backing away as he grasps the roller slowly and strides toward you.

You make a run for it, but the big belly doesn’t let you get far as he closes the distance and snatches you. You squeal out, giggling in his arm arms as he rolls and pats paint all over your clothes and body, the two of you getting soaked by the thick pigment. He pulls you around and smashes his lips for a heated kiss. Pink-colored hands rub paint all over your cheeks and chin affectionately. You rub your nose along his bridge, grinning at one another, covered in the glossy acrylic without a care in the world right now.

You peck his lips once more. “It’s a good color on you too, ya know…” 

He rolls his eyes. “Tell ya what. We’ll keep the room like this since ya like it so much. And next time I see Tommy, I’m bleaching that shirt. Win-win.”

“Deal.”

- - - -

Taglist

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[theblueflower05]

Heavy In Your Arms

A/N: We didn't get enough time at High Camp. I swear, it was the perfect setting for hurt/comfort. Forever upset about it.

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: Explicit smut. Aged Up characters. Talks of PTSD and war. Injuries. Blood. Angst. Cursing. Oral Sex(male receiving). Riding. Service Top Neteyam. Reader with a praise kink.

Summary: You and Neteyam find moments of peace during the war. Neteyam x Fem! Omaticaya Reader

I was a heavy heart to carry,

My beloved was weighted down.

My arms around his neck,

My fingers laced a crown- Florence & The Machine

Life can change in an instant.

One moment, things are as they have always been. Your existence a well loved pattern, easy and comfortable in the Forests of Pandora.

You had been born after the Long War, after the evil Tawtute had been sent back to their dying planet. You had only ever known peace and kind humans like the scientist that lived in the rickety out post. You’d only ever known the rich and abundant rule of Toruk Makto, Jake led your people to victory and prosperity. The Omatikayan Village had been a beautiful one to grow up in, colorful and cheerful and thriving despite all that it had endured.

Your days had been filled with community and childlike wonder.

That had all changed when the Sky People returned. When they set fire to the Forests just to watch the Great Mother bleed.

Your naivety had been stolen, snatched away by uncontrollable circumstances.

By war.

High Camp is nestled deep within the Ayram Alusing hidden in a twisting impenetrable cave system.

It is bustling and busy and just bit cramped.

The Omatikaya are a resilient people and even through forceful uprooting had managed to make due of the space given. The Stronghold is littered with Canvas tents and woven mats. Small burning fires, and a larger one for the communal meals that are so desperately needed after long days battle.

You spend most of your time in the main healers keklu, working tirelessly with Mo’at and the other medicine leaders. You’d never been much of a healer, always more of a story teller. You’d get lost in the tales of old, in the songs of the ancient ones, but since the invasion, most had honed their medical craft.

It was all hands on deck, wherever you could be helpful you would be.

It’s good. Keeping your hands full is a good thing. It helps to distract your restless mind.

The War Party had left early in the morning- the sun still hiding behind the shadow of the eclipse, and had still not returned yet. You fear that it might be one of those missions, the kind that lasts days and leaves the village in shambles as they wait for the return of the warriors.

You’re grinding Ti’ku’klu seeds into a fine paste, your arm tired as you stare wordlessly into nothing.

The healers tent is quiet, filled with only low chatter and the crackling of the fire, the boiling of the pot that contains a potent medicine. One that needs to be kept hot and steaming. You cant seem to be present, to keep up with conversation when your mind is so far away- soaring over the forest. Focused on the unseen battle

This would be a dangerous one, you’d heard the whispers of the people. The humans were growing sick of the raids. They had heavy precautions laid out- would kill any Na’vi on sight. You trusted your Olo’eyktan whole heartedly, truly, you did.

But the thought of having to lay any more of your brothers and sisters to rest made bile raise in your throat like acid. There had been so much death, so much loss.

You sneak a peek at the woman next to you as she works in sorting bandages.

Zephya is only a few years older than you- and yet the light seems to be gone from her eyes. Dimmed down to something small and wilting. You’d never forget the piercing sound of her cries, echoing off the rock cave walls as her munxatan’s (husbands) body was brought back from the last raid.

Another round of nauseating anxiousness churns in your stomach.

You dont know if you could survive it…

Would you be forced to? Would this war force you to watch the ones you loved die?

The thought of losing your own lover is enough to send you free falling. Spiraling into your own mind.

“That is quite enough” Mo’at tuts her tongue in your direction and you stare at her with a wide, almost guilty expression. Had the Tsahik heard your thoughts? Sometimes you didnt doubt the elderly woman could, with all of her boundless knowledge and those all knowing amber eyes “You will destroy the paste, it is not meant to be so thin”

“Oh” you feel like dunce as you look down at the mortar and pestle in your hand “I apologize, I just wanted to make sure it was well mixed”

“Hmm” she doesn't call your bluff “Why dont you take a break. Go find more herbs, the fresh air wll clear your head. You’re no used to me here with thoughts so loud”

Her words are casual but her gaze is knowing and warm and you nod eagerly “Of course, Tsahik”

You’re happy for the break and the opportunity to stretch your legs, you stand quickly and exit the incense heavy area.

Everyone has gotten good at pretending.

At pretending they’re not terrified, at trying to go on with any semblance of normalcy. The scientists still gather near their trailers, facemasks on and typing away at holo tablets. The karyus’ still teach the younglings, their little giggles can be heard in the distance. You smile, a very practiced mask, at any you pass. Are pleasant. Friendly. Not betraying the inner turmoil you feel-

You’re jostled out of the heavy thoughts.

Nearly rushed straight on your ass, more like it.

“Oof-” the wind is knocked out of you as a small but solid weight collides with your side. You look down and find big golden eyes string up at you- golden eyes so familiar.

“Y/N! Hi!” Tuktirey is the youngest Sully, and probably the one you’ve always been the cloestst to. Back home, years ago, she’d become a bit enamored with you. More specifically, you’re weaving and jewelry crafting skills. Many teased that she was your shadow. “Look, look’it what I made”

You cant help but grin. Her joyful energy is contagious and you’re glad for the distraction. You take the necklace she shoves into your face delicately. Run your fingers over the rows of mis matched beads. She really is quite good.

“Very pretty, Tuk. You’re getting so good! Soon you;ll take my place- the whole clan will be trampling over themselves to wear one of your pieces” You’re words make her blush, make the smile on her face go a bit shy and bashful.

She looks so much like her brother it hurts.

“I did that thing you showed me! You’re right- sometimes the bigger beads need the little ones to anchor them”

Tuk is rarely quiet, always a babbling brook but even she isnt immune to the tense atmosphere that looms, to the toretoure that is waiting for the warriors to return. She talks about the necklace, but her tail flicks nervously behind her. At her side, a carved wooden Toruk toy hangs in her loose grip.

You figure, maybe you can distract her too.

You reach for the toy and she holds tight to it before sighing. You’re probably going to take it, she thinks. Tell her to stop being annoying. Chastise her the way that others had when she’d tried to get them to play with her. All day long, everyone had turned their heads or sighed in annoyance when she’d approached-

You raise the wooden Toruk above her head- and let out an undignified squawk. Your best impression of the mighty beast. It’s dismal, but it seems to satisfy the little girl who instantly breaks out into giggles.

“You better run, Tuk Tuk” you grown payfully, sending the toy into a nosedive “Before I eat you whole”

She shrieks and sets out running in the opposite direction and take after her, ignoring the stares. Should you be back in the medicine tent helping? Maybe. You’d rather play with the seven year old instead.

The two of you play for a while, until your thighs burn and your lungs hurt from laughing. You dont have the endurance of a child, she runs absolute circles around you. She’s fast and agle and quite obviously takes Neytiri’s lessons to heart, even at her young age. You can only use your size to you’re advantage, picking her writing squirming body up and spinning her round-

The horn is loud and echos through the rock walls of the cavernous case.

Both yours and Tuk’s ears swivel, perk up and stand to attention.

There it is. The calls of your people. The sounds of ikran wings flapping.

Tuk writhes in your hold, the back of her head connecting with your lip painfully as she hollers joyfully “They’re back!”

Shes off then, only sparing you a quick glance as you seem to stand there in daze, rubbing your slightly split lip lightly as your stomach does somersaults.

“Come on!” The little one hollers back at you and your feet carry you forward, seemingly of their own volition.

The crowds are building as the people make their way for the edge, where ikrans land by the dozen. Carrying the warriors on their back. Along the way, Kiri and Spider join you. Eagerly bouncing along, following an over animated Tuk.

Excitement and dread bubbles in your stomach, a horribly potent and toxic mix. It’s always like this when they return. When he returns. You’re so anxious to see him, physically there. Alive. So anxious that he might not be-

Your eyes are peeled for the familiar swirling green and blue patterns of Atanzaw, his ikran.

“Mom!” Tuk screeches, of course she spots them first.

Your eyes follow her,

Straight to him.

Neteyam.

He dismonts his ikran, alot less gracefully then his mother did. His actions sluggish and unlike him- it only takes you a moment to notice how injured he is. The bleeding wounds and bruises that litter his body arent pretty and hes limping, not putting his full weight on his right thigh. His face in smeared war paint- blacks and yellows and greens. They make him look intense, as he stangs tall and muscular and still fully dressed in his tsamsiyu(warrior)garb.

When his gaze meets yours your breath gets stuck in your throat.

Usually when he returns they’re bright. The adrenalin of the fight still cursing through his veins like wildfire- this time thats drained. His eyes are filled with barley concealed dread. Sharp with pain.

Your fingers itch and your chest aches, the invisible string that ties you to him taught. You want nothing more then to go to him-

“Sully’s, fall in” Jake’s voice is booming and stern. All Olo’eyktan. Marine. War leader. You can barley recognize him like this. So far away from the carefree doting father he’d always been.

-Its a small thing. A barely there shake of Netryam’s head but it sends a clear message. He doesn't want you to approach. When he turns away from you, giving you the necessary but cold shoulder your unsettled stomach lurches.

It’s like it plays out in slow motion, you watch the family from the edge. An outsider. Not welcome in their obviously private conversation. Even Spider, a human, get’s to be closer than you do.

You’re unwelcome.

The heated words. The way that Jake scolds his sons, you’re not supposed to be privy to it.

“Jesus, I let you two geniuses lead a fleet and you disobeyed direct orders!”

Those words hurt you, for him. You know that they must peirce right through Neteyam. He still hasnt looked back in your direction and you are sure he doesnt want you to bare witness to any of it.

You slink away, slowly falling back. Fading into the background of loved ones reuniting. Warriors returning, alive and dead. The clan welcoming them back with open arms. You wish, as you so often do, that you could welcome Neteyam the same. That you could run into his arms. Hold him the way you ache to after these difficult and dangerous missions-

You convince yourself that you are content with just knowing that he is alive, and make your way back to the healers tent where your presence is wanted.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It gets so cold in the mountains. Frigidly so.

The wind whips through the caves, leaving a bone deep chill in their wake. You keep the fire at the center of your tent going all night long, and can normally be found crouching at it’s hearth. It’s been raining on and off all day, torrential down pour to drizzles- from the sound it seems as though it has finally stopped. Quieted down.

You wonder if the sky is clear and the stars are bright. You miss climbing high into the trees after the evening eclipse. Miss gazing at the constellations, miss basking in the Pandoran night and listening to the sound of the forests.

Mo’at had sent you home, demanding you get some sleep.

It had been three days since the soldiers had returned and they had been very busy. Full of tending to the wounded, and organizing for the dead. You’d thrown yourself headfirst into anytask that was given to you. Kept yourself busy. Useful.

You didnt have the time to mope and obsess over a man that was not yours.

That is what you told yourself at least.

This…thing that you and Neteyam shared didn't have a name or a definition. It had started out of loneliness, out of the desperation for comfort. Before the humans had come back and brought their war upon the clan, you dont think the future Olo’eyktan had ever really looked at you twice. Violence and hurt had pushed you into eachothers arms, both of you seeking companionship. Someone to weather the storm with.

It wasnt love. Not to him, you know that. He would marry a woman with high standing one day- one that could be his match. Become Tsahik.

That wouldnt be you.

For Eywa’s sake, you could barely do stitches. You messed up simple tasks like making salves. You would not delude yourself into thinking it was anything more. Many Na’vi couple without mating, pleasure isn't stigmatized in your community. That was all it was. A need for pleasure. Your body satiates him and that is all.

You cant go looking for him. Begging for his time or his touch.

So you sit by your fire, thread your necklaces, and long for the stars.

You’re humming a tune to yourself, something soft and gentle and melodic when theres a sudden shift. The canvas wall of your tent shakes and your stiffen, reaching for your knife that lies on the makeshift table next to your bed-

Neteyam slips through the flap- easy as anything. Smoothly, his motions fluid from all of those years of training.

Your eyes and mouth are wide open, ears lying low to your head.

“Hi” the man grins, boyish and handsome as ever.

As though he hadnt just broken into your home. It’s not like the two of you hadnt done this before, he’d spend many nights sneakily tucked inside your tent but he usually came through the front entrance.

“Vonva!(asshole)”you hiss at him, exasperated “You- ugh! I couldve stabbed you!”

He’s so handsome it makes you sick. He’s so tall and broad, a few of his braids falling into his face as his eyes sparkle with mirth “That would not be very nice of you, what have I done to deserve such a fate?”

“Breaking and entering is grounds for stabbing” you huff “you scared me!”

Neteyam steps forward a bit, hands out stretching to you, tone gentle “Hey, I didnt mean to scare you. I just wanted to see you is all, Im sorry”

You hate the way that you’re so easy for him. He ignores you for days, and then shows up unannounced and you’re jumping at any and all attention he may give you.

The way that as his large hands engulf the tops of your arms, you lean into his touch greedily.

“It’s fine. It's just- very late. I wasn't expecting anyone” you try to keep your tone even “I was actually about to go to bed”

“Oh?” Neteyam wonders, his tail flicking behind him “Can I join you?”

Your heart speeds up, if thats even possible. Both at his words and his tone. The insinuation right there. He had spent too much time in your bed that really, it shouldn't be a question. You'd always welcomed him into your nest of blankets, your warm arms. In between your soft thighs-

“I'm not sure that would be a good idea” you respond, stepping out of his hold.

Neteyam sags a bit, surprised. His ears swivel and his smile weans, tugging downwards at the corners of his full lips “Not a good idea? Why not?”

You shrug, not able to look directly at him. Instead focusing on his shoulders. His abdomen. He’s still all banged up, the bandaging covering his bruises are expertisley wrapped. Done by the Tsahik herself, obviously.

It’s the perfect excuse.

“You’re still hurt,” you insist ”You need to be careful, you don't want to reopen anything”

A smooth chuckle escapes him and makes a tingle run down your spine. He reaches out again, this time he grabs at your hand, leading it from its place awkwardly at your side to his chest. Pressing your palm gently against his warm skin.

“I'd like to stay with you tonight, if you’ll let me” Neteyam starts, you can feel the vibrations of his strong voice in your palm, pressed against the muscle “I may need you to be a little bit gentle with me though, paskalin”

You're quiet, lips quirked, stuck in your head for a moment as your fingers lightly trace over one of his stripes.

“Y/N, hey-” He seems to be more serious than before as he urges you to look at him “I'm not sure what’s wrong, but If you want me to go I will”

Everything in your body, your soul, protests at his words. There is no part of you that wants him to leave.

You’re being so stupid.

Neteyam could have anyone. Anyone. And he’s here, with you. So what if he doesnt love you. You have to take whatever you can get. You dont want him to find solace with anyone else, dont want him to leave and never return-

You lean in, where your hand is, on his strong chest and place a kiss to the edge of the bandaging. Its a small little thing, a barley there brush of your lips but still. When you look up at him through your lashes you know you must make quite the sight.

“Stay” you urge. “I want you to stay with me tonight,” everynight. ”Please?”

He looks unsure for just a moment, clearly thrown off by your conflicting mood, before he nods. He cups the side of your face then, forcing you to make eye contact with him. No matter how uncomfortably intense- you cant turn away.

“Can I kiss you?” His words make you quake. He hadnt asked, so explicitly, for months. Since the two of you were still fumbly and newly exploring eachothers bodies.

It makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, makes you giddiously nervous. You nod, way too hard “Mhmm”

And then he’s bending down, having to crouch because of how much taller he is, to capture your lips with his own.

Its always so good.

His mouth and the way it tastes and the way it makes you feel. Neteyam seems so sweet, everyone in the clan knows him as the Golden Boy. The perfect soldier- in privacay, in these stolen moments of intimacy, he’s anything but.

His kisses are dirty, all demanding tongue and nipping fangs. He kisses like a man whos trying to get his dick wet. Like he wants to pick you up, crush you to him. Rut into you-

And normally he would. Normally he tosses you around like nothing but a child’s ragdoll(and you let him), but he’s still hurt. Still tender and healing. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug, trying to climb him like a tree, he hisses in pain,.

“Shit” you pull away from his mouth, your lips wet with his saliva “Sorry, I didnt mean to”

He just shakes his head, nuzzling at your cheek “It’s fine, I’m okay”

“Im hurting you” you argue.

“You’re not. Just- be gentle, okay?” Neteyam urges, trying to lean back into the kiss “Grandmother thinks they’ll heal quickly, but my ribs-” he breaks himself off, laughing a little strained. “I fucked them up pretty good”

You frown.

He always does this. Always downplays his pain. You will have none of it, you grab his hand and tug “Come, I will make you tea”

Neteyams hairless brows raise “You dont have to, I’m really fine”

“Bah” you lead him to your bed and push gently on his shoulders until he sits. “Enough, it is no trouble”

You keep an ornate clay kettle next to the fire, boiling water always ready. He watches you as you fiddle with the many little jars in your arsenal, collecting herbs here and there. Steeping them in the hot water before pouring him a steaming cup.

“Here- it is bitter, but it will dull the pain”

Neteyam accepts the tea with a small smile “Irayo(thank you)”

It’s nice having him in your space. In your bed amongst all of your softest things as the fire crackles and illuminates the tent in a warm glow.

The shadows it casts over his angular face make him look haunting. So beautiful.

You like to take care of things. Instruments. Broken pottery. Children. It comes naturally to you.

You dote on him even though he protests, check his bandages and make him drink the whole cup of strong leaf tea, before he lies down. You're perched beside him, still on the edge of the bed mat.

“I didn't come here to be nursed, Y/N” he sighs as you rub salve on one of his nastier bruises.

“Humor me” you reply wryly, your dainty fingers all over him.

It takes him a while to relax, as it always does.

But oh, its your favorite thing.

Watching his walls come down and the facade of Olo’eyktan in training slip. Neteyam is funny and witty and a downright gossip. You enjoy talking to him as much as you enjoy getting fucked by him.

You like that when given the opportunity and the ear to do so; he loves to talk. About any and everything. His deep voice is like a blanket, warming you up from the inside out.

“I feel bad. I sneak in here; scare you and then make you take care of me” He snorts, “You must be so sick of me”

“No” you reassure with gentle touches “Never that”

You dont really know what Neteyam sees in you.

You’re pretty enough- but far from the gorgeous warriors and dancers that throw themselves at him. But when he looks at you, like he is now, you know there must be something. Something that turns those eyes of his to molten amber. They���re hungry, you’ve never seen him look at anything the way he looks at you. Except maybe the prey that ends up victim to his arrows.

He makes you want to be good to him. Be good for him.

“I enjoy taking care of you” you whisper as you trace the leather cords of his tweng, your fingertips dipping dangerously below them. “Can I take care of you tonight, Neteyam? You want me to?”

Neteyam nods slowly, making room for you as you climb carefully over him. Spread his legs enough for you to settle between them.

You cant help it, cant help how much you touch. You cant get enough of the feeling of his strong body under your hands. All of that corded muscle, all of his pretty deep tahini speckled skin. His strong calves, his well built thighs.

When you reach where he’s hard, straining against his cloth, his eyes flutter closed. You rub him until he chubs up, all plump and hard. Until a patch of wetness starts to darken the cloth-

“Help me a little, sayrip(handsome)”you urge as you tug on the strings of his tweng. Neteyam lifts his slim hips, helps you shimmy it down his thighs-

You’ve seen him naked more times then you can count, now. But still. You’re always struck by it.

His cock springs free- thuds against his well toned lower stomach. Drooling and pulsing, the tanhi there exceptionally bright. He’s so pretty, so vulnerable that it goes to your head. Your leaning in, tongue first-

“Wait,” Neteyam gruffs, “I want to see you too”

Ah.

Neteyam was very partial to your body. He’d told you many times- would try to wrangle you out of your skirt whenever he got the chance.

You smile, raising up on your knees before tugging the gossamer top off, over your head, Your nipples are hard and peaked, reacting to the cold. You run your fingertips over them, knowing that he likes a show. He likes to watch. He props himself, arm behind his head as he does so, it feels so lewd to play with your breasts for him. To trail your hands slowly down your tummy, to your full hips- tugging on the strings of your own tweng.

When the mound of your pussy is revealed he groans, he can see the way your slick shines in the low fire light.

“Good Mother” Neteyam’s rough and demanding as he yanks on you, pulls you into a kiss “You’re so fucking sexy”

His kiss is fervent and you could so easily lose yourself to them- you know what he wants. He’s already inching closer to your hot wet slit, his big fingers kneading at your plush asscheeks.

“Lemme take care of you” your mumble is insistent, and he sighs. Letting you pull away. Letting you re situate yourself between his legs.

He just lays back flat once more, a lazy grin on his face. “Okay, baby. Take care of me”

You’d always loved giving pleasure with your mouth, and lovers you’d had before had told you how good you were at it. You liked the taste and feel of a heavy cock on your tongue.

With Neteyam, as everything seems to be, it’s different. You dont just like giving him head, you love it.

You love the way that he jerks when you give his rosy tip that first little lick. You love the salty tang of his precum, so much that you spread it all over. Your lips, your cheeks. You rub his cock along your face, nuzzling it. Your cheeks, chin and nose wet with him. You love the way it stretches your lips as you take him into your mouth- he’s the biggest you’ve ever had and it pushes you to your limit. The hinge of your jaw aching as you force him down your throat.

“You’re such a good girl for me” Neteyam praises you, all choppy. His long fingers tangled in your waist length hair.

That is what you adore the most.

The Omaticayan prince is so vocal. He’s all whimpery moans and deep gritty groans. He lets you know exactly what he likes and doesn't like. And he rains down praise on you like its his job.

You’re his good girl. His sweet berry. His little whore..

You take it so well. So- ah- determined for him. You ram him down your tight convulsing throat ,until you’re sobbing around his dick. Never trying to pull away. Eager to get him off.

It is the most shameful position you’ve ever been put in. You’re addicted to the way that me makes you feel- you could never allow yourself to be this with anyone else.

“I-Im close” He warns as though that's not exactly what you want.

“Good” you hum, before diving back in. Suckling on the head and the sensitive sides of his shaft over and over. Just like you know he likes it.

It doesn't take long at all, you can feel him twitching n your mouth. His balls, so full and swollen, start to pull up, taught and ready to blow.

“Oh fuck, Y/N. Fuck”

He gasps as he knots his fingers at your scalp, as he holds on for dear life, his hips swiveling madly. His belly concaving with his heaving, rapid breaths as as his orgasm rips through him.

It’s a good one. You can tell. He’s biting his lips bloody and grinding his head back into your pillows, eyes tightly closed as he rides the waves of pleasure. The whole time, he fists your hair, holding your face to his crotch.

You take his cum, all of it. Popping the tip on your mouth and catching the thick spurts with your tongue. He tastes so good, it feels so intimate to get to have him like this. You close your eyes and savor it, dont pull off until he's twitching and whining with over sensitivity.

You sit back on your haunches, wiping your messy mouth clean with the back of your hand and assessing the damage.

Neteyam is all shivery, his arm thrown over his face as he comes down from the high. He’s still struggling to catch his breath and you cant help the pride that

“You feeling any better, baby?” the human term of affection rolls off your lips, smug and sultry and he laughs behind his arm.

It takes a few moments, but he finally collects himself “You are way too good at that” he’s told you before, but repeats it as he pulls you close. You’re perched in his lap, his strong arms around your waist as he holds you close.

“I like watching you” you admit between the pecking kisses “I like the way you come”

He smiles into your mouth, you can feel his sharp canines on your lips “That’s my good girl”

You full body shiver at the praise, gritting your forehead against his and breathing through your nose in an attempt not to lose it. You're gushing between your legs, your thighs a sticky mess and your cunt swollen and blood hot.

“Your turn, huh? Come on, I know that pussy has to be needy. You want me to eat it?” Neteyam whispers hotly in your ear and you just groan.

And while his skills with his tongue are legendary, you’re feeling particularly empty, needing to be full of him after weeks of distance “Mmm, no. Want you inside of me”

“Can do” he affirms, his hands going to your hips, nudging you “Lay down, I’ll fuck you, paskalin. I’ll fuck you so good. Wanna’ stretch you out”

“Wait” you press a hand to his chest when you notice the grimace on his face. The one he’s trying to hide as he attempts to lift you “You’re still hurting, Nete”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got you” He assures, stubbornly “I want you to feel good, too”

He’s not the only one who's stubborn. You wiggle out of his grip, pressing down firmly on his chest.

“We can try something else” you suggest, really not wanting him to hurt himself even worse. Neteyam can get…intense when hes fucking you. It’s all very physical, he pours buckets of sweet down onto you as he works your body.

“You want to get fucked” He reminds you, his hips jerking up pointedly so that you can feel his erection between your legs.

Eywa, yes you do. You want him, you want him to carve his way into your body. To bully your tight walls until they accommodate his wide girth.

You bite your lip and reach for his length, pumping his cock thats still wet with your spit before leaning in close so that you can whisper in his ear “We’re just going to have to compromise”

Neteyam is huffy until you sink down onto him and ride him until neither of you can formulate thoughts.

Until you’re boneless, tangled limbs and buried under your quilts.

The afterglow is your favorite.

Neteyam is always so gentle and tender after sex. He holds you, lets you lie your head on his chest and listen to the steady thrumming beat of his heart as he plays with your hair. The only thing that could make this better is if he reached for your kuru. Is if you got to experience Tsaheylu with him-

It’s not fair,

How could he expect you not to fall in love with him?

The quiet stretches on. The fire is dim and dying and the tent is mostly black, night creeping in and covering you both in darkness.

“I’m sorry” his voice almost startles you, his words confusing and unexpected “I’m sorry I ignored you- the day we came back. I was trying to figure out how to calm my dad down. He was so pissed and Lo’ak’s attitude only makes it worse-”

You don't say anything. You just keep listening to his strong heart.

“I didn't mean to hurt your feelings”

You don't respond for a while. You don't want to shatter the atmosphere that is shimmy fly wing delicate “I was just happy to see you alive. It terrifies me, that you’ll leave on one of these raids and never come back. I dont- I wouldn't know what to do if that happened”

“I'm not going to leave, Y/N” his arms tighten around you and you close your eyes, relishing the way he holds on to you. It makes you feel like maybe you're not the only one desperate for this to never end.

“Do you promise?” You sound young, look so small in his big arms.

“I promise”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Weeks later, The Sully’s leave the tribe.

They’re running, fleeing for the good of the Omaticaya people- that is what Jake says. He claims it is for the best. You have never doubted his prowess as Olo’eyktan until that moment.

The tribe mourns, falls into great sorrow as the family says their goodbyes.

You can not bear to look. You drown in your tears and hide in the crowd. Will not meet Neteyams gaze no matter how much he tries to get you to.

When he mounts his ikran and takes to the skies you feel something inside of you shatter. He disappears into the vast horizon.

Neteyam leaves.

You were a fool to believe he’d keep his promise.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Welp. Um hi guys lol. I was like let me post something short and sweet to come back with before I start hitting you guys with all of my Kinktober prompts next month. Somehow I ended up with a 5k angst filled what could be first chapter of a series. LOL I HATE MYSELF AND THE FACT THAT I CANT WRITE ONE SHOTS.

I literally don't have the time to work on another story, but if this one was a little too much angst, I'd be glad to give us a fix it Part Two.

This will be the last kind of stand alone update until after October. If you havent alread, check out Luna’s( @pandoraslxna )Kinktober prompt list. She is such a gem for cultivating it and helping keep this fandom alive and thriving.

As usual, please leave me some feedback. Good, bad(not mean though lol my psyche’s very fragile rn) I want to hear your thoughts!

Love ya, pretty babies!

[thefireintheshadow]

He’d done it. He’d gotten his mending book.

[authors note: this seems like a cute little fic about grian and his mending book but it is in fact a dark mafia fic jsyk…]

Grian couldn’t believe it had finally happened. It was so surreal that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

He went through the motions of cleaning himself up. It felt good to shave, see some color on his cheeks. Even his eyes were brighter.

When he returned to the dock to clean up all of his fishing gear, there was a silhouette in the setting sun. He couldn’t make out who it was, a broad frame almost haloed in glittering red.

“Hello, Grian.”

He squinted. “Beef?” As he grew closer, he could make out the source of the glittering, a suit that appeared to be crafted from salmon scales. “Wow.”

“Been doing a lot of fishing lately?” Beef asked, running a hand up one of the pillars of the little hut.

Something felt off in Grian’s gut. Something in his friend’s tone felt…predatory. It couldn’t be. This was Beef. He was one of the sweetest guys around. “You could say that,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “But I’m all good now, got my mending book.”

“Is that so?” Beef cocked a brow, and stuck both hands in his pockets, as if on a casual stroll. Something in his gait screamed danger, though, and was this just too much time spent in death games? Was this overflow from Secret Life and Demise and—

Beef stopped on the block over Grian’s storage room. No.

“Why don’t you come on downstairs?” Beef asked, but it was hardly a request. “Because somehow I don’t think you’re all good.”

He pulled out a handful of seeds and composted them, disappearing through the floor.

Grian’s pulse thundered in his ears. What the hell was going on? How did Beef find out about his secret area? And what the hell was up with that suit? His head spun.

On the surface this would look like a fun prank. A bit.

But it didn’t feel like a bit. It didn’t feel fun.

He didn’t want to go down there.

But something told him he needed to, some instinct buried deep. Though surely Beef just wanted to make a deal for something in the chests down there, right?

Heart hammering, he composted and dropped down.

But there was nobody there. His guts twisted. Beef meant down downstairs. This was getting weirder and weirder, and that sense of danger felt sharper and heavier.

He dropped down into the cave and his heart ceased to work.

He couldn’t quite register at first the tableau in front of him. His gaze zeroed in on Mumbo’s face, beautiful skin marred by blood and tears.

“Grian! They’ve gone-” Mumbo cried, but his words choked off on a scream as a sickening snap echoed and suddenly time seemed to stop.

Grian’s ears buzzed, as if no other senses other than his sight were capable of working at a time. Mumbo was on his knees, hands behind his back, face twisted in pain. Skizz stood behind him, muscled arms gleaming as he took the kneeling man’s disheveled hair in one of his fists.

Skizz didn’t look quite right, though. His eyes were too big, almost bulbous, and too far apart. His face shone with what Grian had at first thought was sweat, but no, it was as if his skin were made of…scales? And nowhere was that soft, sweet, fun-loving Skizz energy. He looked maniacal. A maniacal, half-mutated fish man.

And Beef. Beef in his salmon-scaled suit, still cool as a cucumber, hands in his pockets, watching the scene with detachment.

Grian sucked in a deep, ragged breath as his lungs screamed for air, and time seemed to start again, his brain somehow catching up with the fact that he couldn’t just watch the scene forever.

“Walk with me, Grian,” Beef said, strolling towards the redstone door.

“No!” Grian cried, his entire body quivering. “What are you doing to Mumbo? Skizz!” He took a step forward, but in a flash, Skizz jerked Mumbo’s head back, exposing the tender flesh of his throat, and pressed a glittering diamond sword against it.

“I already broke his wrist, want another lesson?” he warned, and something was wrong with his voice, it sounded so distorted.

“My associate here will take good care of Mumbo,” Beef said as the door opened. “I’d like you to show me this room.”

Grian swallowed hard, staring at Mumbo with desperate eyes, the man he cared about most in this world, the man he’d do anything for. Somehow, somehow he’d fucked up and now Mumbo was in pain and there was fucking nothing he could do. Why hadn’t he brought any weapons down here? Why hadn’t he acted on his instincts up there…god.

A drop of crimson beaded on Mumbo’s throat, and he hissed in pain.

“You’d better go, your little friend has thin skin,” Skizz warned gleefully.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Grian said, forcing his feet to move, one in front of the other, towards Beef, towards the door…away from Mumbo. “Please stop hurting him.” The words came out so disgustingly weak sounding, and he hated it. He wanted to press his thumbs into Skizz’s mutant eyes until they popped out of his fucking head, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything.

Skizz lowered the sword at least, and Grian scurried after Beef into the manifest room.

“Tell me about this,” Beef said once the door closed behind them, spreading his arms.

“It’s my…my manifesting mending room,” Grian said, and it sounded so stupid now. He had to admit he’d gone a little batshit with all of that fishing, with his obsession. What did this have to do with Beef and Skizz, though?

Beef pursed his lips, shaking his head. “It looks to me like a cod-worshipping room,” he said.

Grian’s blood rushed through his ears. Was this what this was all about? Types of fish? “No, they were just, easier to build statues of,” he insisted. “The color palette-”

“I don’t believe you,” Beef snarled, and his blazing anger was so jarring after being calm for the entire exchange. “Big Cod is trying to get a foothold here and my employer is not going to let that happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Grian asked, head spinning. “This is literally just for me, you can see my painting at the other end-”

“I saw the painting,” Beef interrupted, turning his back, clasping his hands there, walking down the platform to look at the painting in question. “Quite an expensive piece, for a fisherman.”

Grian scrubbed his hands down his face. “Well I’m not just a fisherman-”

“No, you’re not,” Beef said, whirling on his heel. “You know, my original thought when I was tasked with eliminating the cod threat was just to blow this whole thing to hell with you inside it.” He raised a finger. “But I thought, no need to make such a mess. I think I can bring you to heel with the right motivation.”

As if in cue, the redstone door opened, and Skizz dragged Mumbo in, shoving him back to his knees. His nose was freshly bleeding, and he looked about to collapse completely.

“Beef, please, whatever you think this is, it’s not,” Grian begged, whirling back towards him. “I swear I don’t know anything about…big cod-I just-”

There was a thump and Mumbo groaned.

Grian whirled again as Skizz pressed his boot against the man’s back, shoving him into the floor.

“Stop hurting him!” Grian cried, turning back to Beef. “Please, what do you need me to do? Just stop hurting him!”

Beef reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar – since when did he smoke? – and flicked a zippo, taking his time lighting it evenly. He puffed, then tossed the zippo over his shoulder, landing it neatly at the bottom of the painting.

It went up quickly. Grian watched the flames, swallowing hard. He was happy to trade the painting for Mumbo’s safety, but it was still hard to watch it go up like that.

“Since you have your mending book, you won’t be needing that anymore,” Beef said, smoke trailing as he strolled up the walkway, free hand back in his pocket. “And since you’re certainly not working for Big Cod, you won’t need this room anymore. Dismantle it. Destroy it.” He pointed at Grian, cigar smoldering between his fingers. “I will be checking. And you don’t want to have this meeting again, do you? Who could I motivate you with next? Gem? Or how about Scar?”

Grian shook his head vigorously. “No, you don’t have to motivate me, I’ll do it.” He took a step back. “Please, just let Mumbo go and I’ll do it right now.”

Beef patted him on the cheek, chuckling as the sickly-sweet smoke made him cringe. “Yes you will,” he said, and stalked past him, snapping his fingers on his way by Skizz. “Kill him.”

Grian screamed, launching himself towards them, but he was too late, Skizz stabbed Mumbo through the back of the skull and Grian landed on the hard floor, next to the bundle of bloodied ropes left behind.

“I don’t want to see your face on the surface until it’s done,” Beef said as Skizz crossed the threshold. “Or else.”

The door closed, leaving Grian alone and sobbing on the floor.

[read on ao3]

[stormberry-12]

Hellooo how are you this fine evening..

I wanted the ask if you could make one for jj where he does something that upsets the reader and she’s crying and sad and jj gets the silent treatment the whole week but he starts to cry hard and beg for her to talk to him and reader can’t help but comfort and hug him and give him all the love that she has and jj is all pouty and sad in the end

It’s fine if not <3 :)

didn't mean to ~ jj maybank x reader

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Fem!Reader

warnings: language, angst, arguing, silent treatment.

notes: thxs for the request! Sorry I haven't posted in forever guys, im doing final exams at school rn and stuff. Also, sorry this is so short. But anyway, I loved this concept and also hated the way they solved JJ and Kie's fight in Season 4 so I tried to recreate it here with a better ending. Sorry, this took so long lol, much love!

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

"I mean, it would all blow up anyway. You know? Like... Look at you. You got your new threads on!" JJ exclaimed. "Look at me. What do I got? This? This piece of shit?" He threw something out of frustration, panting. You looked back at his run-down house, the eviction notice nailed to the front door with bright yellow police tape crossing over it.

"Getting kicked out of this place in three weeks anyway. shit, I don't even got parents right now. Why would you care? Why would you care? I'm just some loser that..."

"JJ..."

"You don't care. No, you don't!"

"I do care!" you shouted, getting frustrated with his attitude.

"No, you got parents that live in Figure Eight, you know?"

"That's not my fault."

"That's your future." he countered walking towards the water, hand running through his hair in frustration.

"Look, if you need us, we're gonna help you. I'm... I'll help."

"No- It's that right there! Okay? Like... It's so easy for you to say that." he whirled around to face you, yelling, "You know why? Because you're a Kook. You're a Kook, Y/n!"

"Yeah... I'm a Kook. I was such a Kook when I was living in a cave with you for a month! Soaking in the Kook life!"

"That's not what I'm talking about. GOD!" he exclaimed, reaching for his bike, he swung his leg over the seat.

"Jayj, don't leave." you pleaded, the engine of his bike revved and he started to drive away,

"JJ, WHAT THE HELL?" You screamed after him, tears rolling down your face, "MAYBANK!"

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

You were pissed the fuck off.

The first day after your fight you hadn't seen JJ, you cried for a couple hours, indulging in your favorite ice cream watching a sad rom-com, really getting in your feels.

Kie texted you to ask you what was up, the pogues had gone fishing that day but you never showed, to angry and sad to show your face to the world.

'Ask the blond kid,' was all you responded. you watched as her three typing bubbles flashed beneath your text.

'shit head's not here either,' she responded. 'wtf is going on,'

'fight. he called me a kook.'

'oh shit,' was all she said.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

A few days later you walked around the chateau and dug through John B's fridge, you were fully aware of JJ's presence on the couch but still continued to ignore him. It was closing in on a week since you had last uttered a word to him.

Grabbing a chilled beer you walked past JJ and to the front door.

"Y/n," he said, voice cracking.

It wasn't the first time JJ had tried to talk to you this week and once again you ignored him. You slipped your shoes on and walked out onto the porch, slamming the door behind you. You flinched at how harsh it was but brushed the feeling away as you took a sip of your drink.

You sat at the edge of JJ's hot tub, the disco lights twinkled in the water, and the beer started to make you feel nauseous. You set it down and let out a shaky breath, blinking away tears that made the colorful lights spur in all different directions.

'Oh stop it Y/n' you told yourself, you would not cry anymore over this boy, if he didn't want to date a 'kook' that was his problem.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

A long time must have passed, you had slid down fully into the hot tub finishing off your drink and basking in your own thoughts. The sun had set and the tides changed across the water.

"Go!" You heard someone on the deck grunt, you looked up to see John B pushing JJ out the door towards you locking him outside. JJ made his way down the stairs awkwardly and stood at the edge of the hot tub across from you, not getting in like he was looking for your permission.

"What do you want Maybank?" you asked quietly.

"I-uh," he sniffled and you focused closer in the dim light to see tears streaming down his face. "I made you a bracelet,"

He mumbled in the softest voice that made your heart clench and reached out to hand it to you. You looked at it closely, intricate little hearts knotted into the design, made with your favorite colors. And of course, the sea blue strings that you had told him reminded you of his eyes countless times. You didn't know what to say. Until you heard the soft sobbing coming from his lips, he thought you didn't like it.

"No, JJ..." you cooed, wrapping the bracelet around your wrist and tieing it in a crisp knot. You slid yourself through the water and stood in front of him taking in his state. He looked at you with pleading eyes and you wrapped your arms around him. He collapsed into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. You felt butterflies in your stomach at his touch and lifted a hand to stroke his hair. God you loved this boy so much.

"I-i'm sorry," he cried, "I called you a kook, I'm such a dick, It's all my fault..."

"No, Jayj-" you whispered.

"Yes,"

"No, I am in the wrong too, shouldn't have ignored you like that," you whispered.

"But I called you a kook," he said again.

"And then I was acting like one, it was wrong,"

You stood there in silence hugging each other, you you feel his breathing slow and he recovered to look up at you.

"Please forgive me," he said.

"Always, as long as you forgive me," he nodded frantically at you causing you to giggle.

"Thank god that's over," you heard Pope say in the distance.

"Yeah, pass me one of those?" Kie said, taking a beer out of the cooler, the rest of the pogues walking toward the hot tub.

You all settle down in the warm water, JJ snuggling into your side, looking at your bracelet sweetly for the rest of the night. You kissed the top of his head, knowing what ever happed in the future you could always get through it with him.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

Tag list: @sarahskywalker-amadala @sunasro @idli-dosa @aslanvez @somerandos-world @vivian-555 @loverofdrewstarkey @totallynotkaibiased @jjmaybankisbae @fishingirl12 @antagonize-me-motherfucker @princessbl0ss0m @pank0w @callsigndiamond @brynley-a-xoxo @plk-18 @fallingwallsh @hemogloban @valentineshiftz @taintedxkisses

[sunnitheapollokid]

🏎️ ˖*°࿐ CP 1, may the best racer win!

🎤 mc’s notes : AND HERE SHEEE ISS!! yes,, i’ve been tryna cook this. THIS WHAT IVE BEEN SO EXCITED ABOUT. guys. racers are hot. like cmon. how could i not. AND REMEMBER WHEN I SAID LEO’S FAV MOVIE IS CARS? yep. this is it. GAH i hope you guys like this as much as i loved making it!!! enjoy! and see you again soon! >3<

🏎️ ˖*°࿐

LEO WIPED the grease off his forehead with the ends of his white tank. he’d been working on his car for the past hours, forgetting that it had been forever since he’d last eaten. he should probably get on that. he let out his last heavy breath before getting up. he patted the hood of his red racecar, “you’re almost as good as new flames.” since his last race, his car had been beaten up pretty good by one of the other racers, travis stoll. he was annoyed to say the least, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. that’s what regularly happens on the track.

“leo?” he slightly jumped at the sound of his name being called, since it was incredibly late at night. only hearing the crickets out of his garage door and the flickering of his broken light. “yo jace!” he clutched his chest in relief, not that he was.. nervous or scared.. or anything. jason chuckled, patting flames with his own palm. “not working yet?” leo bit his lip, “just a few more tweaks and she’ll be good.” leo mirrored the blondie’s smile.

jason nodded, “good. ‘cause we got another race coming up soon.” leo furrowed his brows, “wh-what? we just finished tour!” he shot back, gripping the wrench in his hand tightly. jason gave a kind of scoff-laugh, “you’ll change your mind once you find out who’s coming out of camp to race.” the emphasizing of jason’s choice of words brought leo curious to say the least. the curly-haired kept silent, watching his best friend leave and back inside.

“who??” he asked the darkness.

🏎️ ˖*°࿐

“ANNIE, i’m gonna get myself killed.”

“no you won’t! i’ve seen you out there (name)! you’re an amazing racer!” (name) groaned softly, throwing her head back in her chair. “no way josé!! i’m telling you!” annabeth exchanged the same expression, crossing her hands over her chest as she attempted to convince one of her very best friends to start racing. “piper and hazel would say the same! you’re amazing.”

“please don’t charm me.”

annabeth groaned, “okay fine. one race.” (name) continued her own work, rubbing her forehead as she focused. halfly on the words of annabeth. “you do one race, if you hate it, fine. no more racing. you like it, then keep. doing. it!” (name) stopped. it wasn’t an entirely bad idea. she did love racing. what’s the worst that could happen? she turned to annabeth, “one race. i’ll do one race.” annabeth practically jumped in place, clearing her throat she beamed. “it’s settled.”

they shook hands. “we need to get you some equipment little miss sunshine racer.”

🏎️ ˖*°࿐

VEGAS WAS never this big back then. at least to leo it wasn’t. he remembered wilderness school back in nevada with jason and piper, and vegas was never this big. but then again, they we’re always on some weird field trip out of the city.

“feels good to be back, yeah?” jason patted the shorter boy’s back. leo letting out a chuckle as he shook his head. “yeah. duh.” he replied a hint of sarcasm mixed in. jason knocked the back of his head with another laugh. “you never told me who this special guest racer was.” leo opened the pack of candy in the compartment of his car while some others polished the red car.

jason let out an ‘ahh.’ “i’d rather keep it a secret until we get on the track.” leo rolled his eyes, “jason c’mon! you know i can’t wait for shit like this!” he cried, his mouth full of rainbow-colored skittles. jason laughed again before being cut off by the host, “racers to your stations! the race is about to start!” the two began to double-check their cars, and greeting a few of the audiences. the half-blood racers had always been famous. especially leo. he was an automatic crowd favorite, for being one of the fastest, the one with the best car, and of course, the guy was attractive in a racing jacket.

“there she is.”

jason laughed as he high-fived the [hair color] haired under the yellow helmet. leo raised a brow, “who the hell?” he mumbled to himself, thinking it was just some other guy going to wreck his car on the track again. jason turned to leo, “oh leo, this is our special guest.” leo watched the stranger remove the helmet from their face,

“(name) (last name)?” his mouth hanged open at the sight of the girl. “nice to see you too lee.” the way that her hair fell out of her helmet and so gracefully on her shoulders sent him to the moon. she walked towards him, ruffling his curly hair with a smile. “i haven’t seen you in ages!! look at you! finally taller than me!” she cackled, her one arm hugging her helmet, the other on her hip. (name) wore a yellow racing suit that matched her helmet.

“you look..” leo trailed off, still shocked, his eyes glued to her as it was incapable of blinking. he shook off the thought, “i didn’t know you raced.” he smiled. “i—“ cut off by annabeth, she slinged her arm around (name), “(nickname)’s an amazing racer.” leo cocked a brow, the side of his lips twitching into a smirk. “amazing racer huh?” he tilted his head to her. (name) flushed, “i wouldn’t say amazing. but i do love racing.” she beamed again, now hugging the helmet with both her hands.

the noise of what a horn would make echoed across vegas, “racers!” the mc’s voice. “oh titan, we gotta go.” jason spoke, quickly hopping in his own purple racecar, right behind leo’s. (name)’s car was beside the son of hepheastus, hers was yellow and white. “they weren’t kidding about the whole sunshine title thing we’re they?” leo teased, running his fingers through his hair as he slipped the helmet on and hopped in his car.

(name), letting out one final giggle, slipped inside. her helmet in place on her head, she pulled the visor up to get a good look on leo’s face through his window across her. she winked through her visor, “they don’t call me the sunshine racer for nothing, hotshot.”

🏎️ ˖*°࿐

THE RACE felt like it lasted two seconds to both leo and (name). but really, it lasted about five laps, until someone had won.

and who won?

obviously (name).

“she broke your streak?!” percy cackled, throwing his head back on the couch of the racers’ lounge. leo scoffed, tossing his helmet beside percy forcibly out of frustration. jason continued explaining the race to frank, as they sat across one another on the small table they shared. “leo was in the lead for about three of the laps— until! ho, ho, ho,” leo groaned softly grabbing a bottled water and chugging it down as he listened to jason’s side of the story.

“(name) swooped! right beside him, totally catching all of us off guard. gods, she’s crazy fast.” frank’s jaw dropped, the remaining take out in his mouth falling out. frank shot leo a look, “listen, she lacks speed. that’s for sure. what she’s got is agility. i’m still the fastest on the track. of ANY track, for that matter. flames got nothing on that eye-sore of a car.” leo emphasized gulping down his water.

percy continued to laugh at leo, the water from his eyes now trailing down to his cheeks as he hugged his stomach, “COME ON DUDE KNOCK IT OFF IT’S NOT THAT FUNNY!” leo threw a pillow at his face, only for percy to be quick enough to catch it. “when you think about it, it is. not only we’re you beaten by a girl, but the sunshine racer who you happen to be in love with for like, centuries.” leo huffed, “i’m— not,” he scoffed, “in love with her.” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“oh yeah, very convincing.” jason leaned back on his chair. “y’all are assholes.” the boys’ racers lounge echoed with laughter as leo walked out with a churning feeling in his stomach.

as soon as leo walked out, continuing his habit of running his fingers through his hair, he caught a glimpse of (name) fixing her car. he strolled over, sassily clearing his throat to get her attention. he could hear her giggle under the hood, “hi leo.” she greeted, keeping her head under to fix the engine. she immediately knew it was the curly-haired racer. “you need a hot mechanic’s help with that?” he tried to play it off cool, looking away. she took the hood down to close it, “i’m okay. i’m a big tough girl.” she mocked a deeper voice, flexing her non-existent muscles. she laughed, leo smiled.

“i could hear the crowd cheer your name. fan favorite?” she asked, leaning her palms on the hood. leo psh-d, “i wouldn’t say fan favorite. but yeah- yeah, i guess.” he teased cockily, “ahh.. you know, i’m the fastest on the track, i got a nice car.. i’m good-looking, all in a days work.” he dusted off his shoulders with a smug smile. “but of course.” she shot him a scrunched smile, wiping her hands off. “why now (name)?” he suddenly asked, “hm?” she hummed. “what do you mean?” she stopped her tracks.

“why start racing now? i heard you have a nice club back at camp with rach.” he shrugged. she smiled again, walking forwards to fix the collar of his jacket. “wanted to see who’s the best racer. but we all know who it is.” she winked again, leo could feel his ears heat up, watching her walk away. “pfft, yeah. we’ll see sunshine.”

sunshine.(name) . .

guess who’s the new fastest on the track!!!

flamingleoval . .

buy me skittles and i’ll admit it

🏎️ ˖*°࿐ end of cp 1 . .

[sughuru]

red and blue fireworks

- gojo satoru x reader

Firework shows aren't as nice to look at now with him gone.

genre/warning: angst, chapter 236 spoiler, sad reader, sleep deprived writer, writer doesn't really keep up with the manga.

notes: its 11 PM here so I'm posting this early but I believe its already past new years in Japan and other countries so happy new year everyone! I'm sorry I haven't been posting, been busy + I have writers block :( anyways, I hope you enjoy this, english isn't my first language so pls do correct me if i'm wrong gramatically/spelling! P.S epilogue is my copium :')

home | masterlist

--

As the clock counted down within the city, the countdown began, crowds were already anticipating for it to come. Three..two…one. Fireworks painted the night sky in an array of colors, amidst the cheers and laughter, you stood there by the balcony, admiring the lit up sky alone. The new year has arrived and for the first time in what seems to be forever, you stood there with no one by your side. 

You heard of the news, of course. Who hasn’t? 

Gojo Satoru was killed on December 24 2018. He, who promised you he’ll always bounce back. He, who said he would win. He, who is now gone. 

The city lights flickered, casting a gentle glow on your face as you whispered to the night, "You were supposed to bounce back, Satoru." The emptiness of the balcony echoed your sentiment, a silent tribute to the void left by a man who had vowed to change the Jujutsu world.

As the new year started, unfolding before you, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of sorrow and determination. As Tokyo continued to celebrate, you stared at the countdown and couldn't help be reminded of the void Satoru had left. 

The news had left you with more questions than answers. How did someone so vibrant, so full of life, meet such an untimely end? The crowds below celebrated the birth of a new year, but your thoughts were consumed by the void left by Satoru's absence. It was as if the world had shifted, and you were left grappling with the aftershocks of a reality that felt inconceivable. One could argue that it's been a week, and it's time to move on.

But how could you? Satoru’s been with you for the longest time, be it as a romantic partner or just a friend. He was pretty much your other half.

The relentless tick of the clock seemed to mock the idea of moving on. Each moment felt like an eternity, a painful reminder of a reality without Satoru's infectious laughter, his reassuring presence. 

"You're such a liar...you know I hate liars." you looked down sadly, a tear unconsciously slid down your left cheek.

Usually, Satoru would be there to wipe it off but not anymore. The silence that followed hung heavy in the air, echoing the void left by his absence. Your gaze lingered on the empty space where he used to stand, a ghostly reminder of the love they once shared. 

"You promised you'd always be here," she whispered, as if expecting him to materialize and dispel the ache in her chest. But the room remained still, and the unspoken truth echoed louder than any words spoken. Satoru's absence was a void that no amount of promises or memories could fill.

So you cried.

And cried.

And cried.

For what seemed like an eternity, you just cried on your balcony, crying for him to return to your arms. As the night wore on, the tears eventually subsided, leaving you with a quiet emptiness. 

The solitude was interrupted when you heard the door creak open, and for a split second, you had thought it was Satoru. Your heart skipped a beat, hope igniting in the darkness of your grief. The room seemed to hold its breath as you turned, half-expecting to see his familiar silhouette in the doorway, ready to dispel the emptiness that clung to the air.

But the fleeting hope was quickly extinguished as reality asserted itself. The figure that stood in the doorway was not Satoru; it was Shoko

"Hey, I heard... I just wanted to check on you," a soft voice broke the silence, and Shoko stood there, a concerned expression etched on her face. Their presence was a well-intentioned attempt to offer comfort, yet it only emphasized the stark contrast between the one you longed for and the one who stood before you.

You managed a weak smile, grateful for the support, but the ache persisted. The balcony, once a haven of shared moments, felt invaded by the intrusion of reality. You couldn't shake the lingering feeling that the universe was playing a cruel joke, teasing you with false promises of a return that would never be.

As Shoko offered a comforting embrace, you couldn't help but cast a longing glance over their shoulder, half-expecting to see Satoru materialize in the shadows.

Suddenly, your friend got a call. The soft melody of a ringing phone pierced the quietude of the room, interrupting the delicate balance that had formed between shared grief and silent companionship. They glanced at their phone, apologetically mouthing a quick "I'll be right back" before stepping outside, so once again, you were back alone on your balcony, gazing at the fireworks that have slowly died down.

A flash of blue and red fireworks appeared all of a sudden, and you widened your eyes. The unexpected burst of color and light painted the night sky, momentarily distracting you from the weight of your emotions. The red and blue reminded you of him. In that fleeting burst of fireworks, the colors seemed to echo the vivid hues of Satoru's presence in your life. 

"Happy New Year, Satoru..." you whispered, the words carried away by the night breeze. With a final gaze at the night sky, you turned away from the balcony, carrying the memory of the red and blue fireworks and the whispered greeting to Satoru into the embrace of the new year. 

____

Epilogue

Shoko returns, and as you close the balcony door, she looks at you with a mix of emotions. "Y/N," she calls out, "there's been recent updates on Gojo’s condition."

"What?"

[microwaveable-squish-cheese13]

🌀 promises ..

!!

this is js sm else i had in my notes too, figured id post this one since the other one didn't completely fail 😼

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley + fem!civilian!reader

WARNINGS: mentions of killing and stuff

...

you weren't pretty.

no, no...

not in his eyes. god no.

you weren't pretty.

beautiful, sure. that's a word for it. but not what he would describe you as.

you were like the summer sun on his skin, like the ripples in the water he would see at the pool he went to as a kid. you were like freezing cold water on a hot summer night.

you were like the breeze in the trees. the songs the birds would sing, only for the crickets and frogs to take over once Mother Moon rose to bathe him in her light.

you were like the reflection of the stars in his mother's eyes. the smell of strawberries in his family's kitchen.

you were his best memory.

you know how people say that you correlate certain people to certain things?

yeah.

you were everything to simon.

he saw you in everything the earth had to offer.

the way the sun set and the way it rose- it reminded him of you. of the way it would look on your skin, painting it a golden color for him to cherish.

the way the crickets chirped late at night reminded him of that one time you said that sound comforted you- helped you sleep. he smiled after that. that was the very first time you saw him smile so genuinely.

vanilla? you. simon could almost hear you tell him that vanilla was your favorite scent at some mom and pop store (you've already told him eight thousand times before). every time he would just laugh and say "noted."

these are the little things. the little itty bitty things that keep him alive.

and at night when the guns roared and his life was on a wire, he would think of these things. when his own blood smeared over his skin, tainting his body and his mind with things you'd probably leave him for.

when the head of another human was under his gun, you were what he thought of. how this action was for you- to get home to you.

if he didn't shoot this man, then how did he know this man wouldn't turn on him and keep him from fulfilling his promise to you?

"just.. come home. please?" you had whispered the night he left. simon only nodded, slipping on his mask and sighing.

"always, love. forever and always. promise."

and he'd be damned if he broke that fucking promise.

even as bullet left his gun with a shuddering snap and the man fell dead under him, he kept reminding himself this was for you. all of this pain and suffering he held on his shoulders was for you.

the woman he intended to marry.

the woman he wanted to grow old with.

the woman he would never break a promise to. never in his goddamn life.

...

sometimes when he gets home he's scared to see you.

he's not scared of you. never.

he's scared of the chance that maybe you'd finally realize all the lives he holds on his hands, that maybe when you fuck late at night that the blood on his hands will shine through and stain your beautiful skin.

stain and ruin the last perfect thing he has in his life.

he's scared that maybe, you'll realize that you're sleeping with and loving a murderer. maybe you'll turn him away once you see the blood on the mask he tries desperately to hide from you. he didn't want Ghost and Simon to mingle.

you got Simon. you never got Ghost.

he's scared that when he grows the balls to drop to one knee and solidify the bond between you that you'll turn him down. that you'll frown in disgust at this war criminal for even assuming that you'd love a creature such as him.

but deep down, he knows that's all irrational. that you'd never do such sinful things. say such hurtful things.

and he's right. you'd never.

because you were as hopelessly in love with him as he was with you.

and you promised it to him.

"i love you." were the words uttered late into the night as they laid in the shadows of their bedroom. simon almost cried every time you said that to him. the last time he'd heard that was when his nephew told it to him.

now it was you saying those three words.

three words that could tear a man like him

down to his last thread. "i love you too."

a few heartbeats later, he spoke again.

"you promise?" his voice was so soft you thought you imagined it. you tilted your head up at him. "what?"

"you promise that you love me?"

it tore him apart to ask it. it sounded to him like he was questioning your affection. but you knew he wasn't.

"yeah." you smiled, laying your head back on his shoulder.

the moon was high, smiling down and shining her light through the glass and onto them in neat squares through the window.

the crickets chirped, and the frogs croaked back as they sung their songs to the stars. somewhere out there water rippled and a dove cried, pleading out into the night about a tragedy mankind will never know about.

"i promise."

[vickyyoon]

Paring - best friend hyunjin x fem!reader

Genre : smut, fluff

Warnings : heart melting amount of fluff and very very soft sex.

Synopsis : your best friend always had feelings for you but you never came to know that especially when you found yourself so little next to him.

You were slouched on the couch with your best friend hyunjin's head on your shoulder as you watch a movie that was apparently " super popular and amazing".

Soon you guys got bored and decided to catch up on somethings you guys missed out when he was visiting his grandma.

You ranted and ranted on and on to him about how you were just so single and it burned your skin watching couples. Your family always made you feel left out because of that.

" they always go on group dates with my cousins, relatives, siblings and others. I could be there with them right now but Is it because I'm ugly? Am I not good enough? Why do I have to be single! " you were about to explode in anger.

"like this time again? That's so rude honestly. I mean they're your family" he watched you rant on and on smiling and finding it cute.

" they don't even call me! They just leave me all alone! How hurt could I even be? Why is everyone taken!?" you cry.

You looked like you were about to tear up. And he gave you a comforting hug. You had rare friends that comfort you like him. You always wondered how he was so patient listening to you for hours.

" I find your stories interesting and funny. That's why I like you." making you happy and feel a bit better.

You go to the kitchen and bring out a bucket of ice cream you keep for yourself especially on these days. He watched you shove your mouth and rant on and on... again.

It was entertaining until you brought up a boy. " You remember Lee know? Well I always liked him but he's been so distant I swear I can't reach him. I feel like being with him for the rest of my life but he's always so much better than me and it makes me feel so small" you pout.

" at this rate I'll be single forever. I wish I could get close to him. If school ends how will I ever be with him?!" you were tearing up from that thought.

His face changed too he wasn't smiling like before, he looked a bit hurt. He couldn't even hear you when his mind flood with thoughts.

Such a pretty girl, what a pity she isnt taken. And if you would be his he would be the happiest person in the entire world. He remembered when he was in that same loop hole.

Waking up drenched in sweat with the thought of you being with someone else. He worked so hard just to be your friend. He worked even harder just to be your best friend and now his mind only ached with those memories of how hard he tried.

He liked you since first grade. You were the apple of his eye, A sweet melody played on his mind when he thinks about you. In fact whenever he sees you, he only finds good memories. Like the beautiful scenery of a field of colorful flowers or a dawn where the sun's ray of light hit the waves of the sea on a misty blue morning.

You were his only reason to live. You were his only purpose to find life because he was lost before he found a reason to live.

Today his heart ached to hear such a thing from you. Tears threatened to leave his eyes but he knew very well how much it swells in your heart to not have the person you want close to you because he's been though all of that.

You could tell something was wrong. " H-hyunjin? Is there something wrong?" he shook his head smiling at you.

"No it's just that minho is taken, didn't you know that?" he couldnt believe but he's lying now.

" wah-what? But no one told me!" to add feul to the fire he lies even more. "it seems like they're in deep love too. He said he's planning to propose to her after graduation.I'm surprised you didn't know That" hyunjin said.

"wah-what no! Why? Wh-why is this happening to me?" you were breaking down and he came closer to you and gave you a comforting hug that you cried onto his shoulders in seconds.

" If you're really looking for someone..." he pauses. " you have me. I'm ready to be yours. I've always liked you." you froze in your place.

He pulls out from the hug. He stares at you who was speechless. You know you've always liked him but you always knew that he was never going to be yours especially when he's just your best friend who always looks out for you. You could never loose him so you always pushed that tight far far away so much so you found yourself looking for others to keep yourself distracted.

"I-I'm really sorry if you don't think of me like that." he stumbles over his words ready to leave.

"wait." you grab his wrist sitting him down. "what do you mean you've always liked me?" and he stared at you before telling you how he's spent half of his life just chasing you.

It was the first day of 1st grade that his eyes landed on you. From then he liked you. That feeling grew much bigger by each grade.

" if you remember that field trip in 7th grade where we went to a huge mountain. I only stared at you looking at the mist and fog near the railing of the huge mountain. You looked liked my lost happiness." and from then he chased after you even harder,

Shifting his body, mind, behavior and likings just to be perfect for you.

You just stare at him only wondering how this popular hot boy only ran after you when he was surrounded by pretty people.

"it wasn't just your looks, your smile reminded me of my first time star gazing with my mom. I could remember that moment only when I saw you smile." you flushed.

" it started with just you but then I fell harder for your personality, behavior and kindness. How could you exist? How could a person like you even exist? I only knew I needed you."

This was when he became your best friend. "it didn't mean anything if it meant changing myself for you. I would happily do that to be a better person. Maybe I don't know my real self because I changed for you but I'm happy like this."

You were crying again. You only needed to hug him. " if only you be mine, my soul will rest in peace." he said kissing your forehead and you nod your head in his chest.

---------------------------------------------------

Somewhere in between those tears you two were turning hot and burned from the inside, searching for that one feeling of relief.

Before you knew it, you two were making out. You were on top of him while sat still. Eating each other hungrily.

Out of some intense climax you started grinding on his hard bulge hinting him what you were craving.

You took off your hoodie and your little top, then your pants, underwear and bra. You guys stripped every piece of clothing off of each other.

You could only admire his physique just wondering why you didn't ask him out earlier. This all could have been yours.

He was shaking pulling down his boxers. He came towards you with his hard pink red cock leaking pre cum. It was big.

You were resting your head on the armrest of the couch. He lifts your legs to your chest. Staring at your wet cunt.

He picked up your wet slick and stuck a finger inside. Making you whine at the feeling. He admired your sweaty red flushed face.

He licks your wet cunt, the texture of his tongue shivered you.

You didn't know if the feeling was because of the sensitivity of your first time or the feeling of being fucked by hyunjin made you this mess.

You were whining and whining until he started to pump into you. Lewd moans escaped your mouth.

You were grinding on his fingers. " Pl-please. I just fuck me already." just waiting for him to fit inside you.

Without another word he sticks his cock in you giving you a stretch you think youll never find this good. Before you knew it he was slowly thrusting in you.

" that feels good. I always knew your walls you'd feel good but never thought it would feel as this good." he moaned.

Shit...this wasn't him fucking you. It was him making love to you

His wet lips draped over your entire body. Covering you with marks and wet kisses. Touching everything single soft parts discovering you and your favorite parts.

The feeling was tingling. Even though his thrusts were slow and agonizing, the feeling made you blush harder with every thrust. Just the thought of him in you, and how much he wanted you. You finally felt wanted.

" Y/n I've rejected every single girl I my life, hoping I'd have you one day." he claimed. " and you're not ugly, it was me who warned all the boys off."

Though the confession hurt you, you liked how he did so much just to get to you. " only if you asked me out earlier, I wouldnt have to do this." those words spun in your head.

You realize how he's been hinting you all along but you've never thought of it like that.

" oh please! Mmh- just please go faster." a tear slips down your face.

This pace picks up a bit faster. The feeling has your walls wrapped around him.

" baby please loosen up, I might not last any longer if you keep up like this." he moans his face flushing aswell.

His face is buried in the crotch of your neck and you can feel his burning hot cheeks and sweat. His breathe was shaky and warm.

With every thrust you felt bubbling up, so much closer and closer to your first orgasm.

And him kissing and caressing your face did not help. The thrusts got sloppier and sloppier till it only made wet sounds.

" ahh I-Im close." you chocked on a moan, he moved even faster. Til both of you came together.

Both a panting, shaking mess. The feeling was euphoric, you wanted this every single day. Forget about Lee know.

" now are you still single?" he asked laying beside you looking at you stare at the ceiling.

"then will you be my boyfriend and be only mine?" you chuckled but looking back at him the question was his life. His eyes were teary.

" ye-yes! Ofcourse" he said. And you can see the sparks in his eyes. He really wanted you, and he really needed you. He looked like he won in his life.

[kissingkiszka]

Mother’s Day - dad!Josh Kiszka x Reader

Happy (late) mother’s day! Here’s some dad!Josh for you :p

Words: 900+

Summary: it’s your first Mother’s Day as a mom and Josh wants to make it as special as possible.

CW: MDNI, 18+, dad!josh, fluff, talks of pregnancy, kids, cheesiness, I think that’s it idk?

—————————————————————

Josh knew he had to make your first Mothers Day as a mother extra special. After giving birth to your twin daughters, Sunny and Celeste, only six months ago, Josh has made it his main mission to be the best dad in the entire world, and he has since accomplished that.

You still recall the day you told Josh you were expecting like it was yesterday. You can imagine those two pink lines in your head as vivid as they were the day you first saw them.

…

“Josh?” You called out to your husband who just got home from a long day at the recording studio.

“Yes, my love?”

“I have a surprise for you.” Your lips tipped up into a smile.

“A surprise? Sweetheart, you know I’m no good with surprises.”

“Trust me, you’ll love this one.”

And without another word, you were racing into the other room to pick up a small gift box you had prepared for him.

Your heart raced as you placed the small box into his clutch, watching as he unwrapped the very neatly tied white bow at the top.

As he slid the lid off, your stomach turned into a knot. You watched as Josh’s face contorted into a smile.

“Baby…what is this?” He says, picking up the test. He knows damn well what it is, he’s just In disbelief. “Are you serious? Are you really-”

“Yes!” You smiled through sobs. Josh wiped away a few tears from his eyes, before picking up the light yellow onesie which suns and stars scattered all over.

You knew while you were living it that this would be a moment that would be forever remembered. You launched yourself at him. He engulfed you in the biggest embrace you had ever felt. You loved Josh and your new family so much.

…

and then there was the time you found out it wasn’t just one baby…

…

“That’s Baby A…” the sweet doctor read off, showing you your baby that was no bigger than an olive.

“Baby A?” Josh asked, sounding confused.

The young woman replied with a nod. “Congratulations! There’s two.!”

Your jaw dropped in shock. More tears continued to roll down your face. You knew twins had a chance of being genetic but never imagined it would happen to you.

“Twins? You gotta be joking.” Josh laughed. “Ah, I should’ve known!”

You and Josh cried tears of happiness the entire way home.

…

“Sunshine, what do you wanna pick out for mama?” Josh spoke softly to Sunny, who was close to falling asleep in her stroller.

The grocery store aisle was filled with flowers and other items marketed towards Mothers Day. Going to the grocery store was usually a thing all of you would do together, but luckily Josh convinced you to stay home this time around.

Although Josh had always provided you with the most thoughtful gifts no matter the holiday, he knew he had to step it up this time around.

As he scanned the shelves, he heard Celeste cooing in the stroller.

“Yeah? You like this one?” His hand hovered over a bouquet with the most colorful flowers he had ever seen. “Mama will love it too. Great job Estie.”

With that, he picked up the bouquet and placed it in the shopping basket. He took a few more steps to the card aisle, scanning his finger over the Mother’s Day cards. He picked up a light pink card with hearts and tomatoes that read “momma, I love you from my head tomatoes.” On it.

“This one will be from…Sunny…and…” he continued, grazing his finger along the card display. He landed on another card with a bee hive and some bumble bees on it that read ‘Happy Mother’s Day to a bee-utiful mom!’ On it. “This one will be from Celeste. Alright! Now that that’s covered-”

He swiftly made his way around the rest of the store, picking up other items like orange juice and pancake mix to make you the most special breakfast.

He also swung by the craft store and got a few supplies to make another very sentimental gift he knew you would forever cherish.

…

The very next day, you were awoken by the smell of your favorite breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Chocolate chip pancakes.

Before you could even attempt to get out of bed, you hear Josh’s footsteps padding across the wooden floors.

“Hi mama!” He smiles, entering the room holding Sunny and Celeste in each arm. “Our Sunshine and Estie wanted to say hello!”

He holds out the twins and places them delicately on the bed sheets. He places a soft kiss to your lips.

“We have some gifts for you. Happy Mother’s Day my love.”

“Thank you baby.” You whisper back as Josh pulls out a small gift bag and a vase filled with a vibrant and colorful bouquet from inside his closet.

You open the gift bag to see three separate cards, one from Sunny, one from Estie, and one from Josh himself. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst from happiness. You open all the cards, all three have Josh’s handwriting, obviously. He is such a sweetheart and you couldn’t have married anyone better. The messages he wrote in all of them were something that you could only have imagined you’d receive someday. Putting your hand back into the gift bag, you pull out a canvas with two foot prints on it, one foot for Sunny and one foot for Celeste.

Underneath the foot prints are the words ‘Sunny and Celeste ❤️ Mama’ in cursive writing.

Tears begin to well in your eyes, Josh racing to wipe them off.

“I love it.” You blurt out, trying not to say anymore or else the tears will keep coming.

“We love you.” Josh spoke, moving a strand of hair out of your face.

[storytowrite]

Love Untold (OT8 x F! Reader)

Chapter 23

Paring: BangChan x Y/N

Genre: smut

Warnings: 18+, blowjob, overstimulation

Word Count: 3873

Masterlist

Due to the work of your parents, you are forcet to constantly move. However, this time moving houses let to interesting and unusual events. You met 8 handsome boys at school and somehow you managed to move in with them. How will your fate go?

……………………………..

Your parents' text messages were becoming more and more persistent. It was getting harder and harder for you to hide it from the boys. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to keep your emotions in check. You often locked yourself in your room, covered yourself with a blanket and cried. You felt powerless, you were afraid that you would have to go back to the people who hurt you so much.

And today was just such a day when you felt particularly shitty. Tonight was sleepless and hard. There was a huge confusion in your mind, your parents' messages showed that they were getting closer to finding you. You didn't know who to turn to. Contact with Sebastian seemed too risky since your parents could control him. But you also didn't want to bother any of the boys. After all, they had enough of their own problems.

You looked lazily at your phone, it was 2 p.m. You decided it was the right time to finally get out of bed and leave the room where you had been staying for several days. You put on some stretched out sweatpants and tied your hair in a messy bun. You didn't pay attention to your appearance at all, you didn't care if you looked beautiful or like a total bum.

You reluctantly left the room, blinded by the bright light that wasn't in your room. Squinting slightly, you headed towards the kitchen to eat whatever you could find in the fridge. All the time you were locked in your room, you weren't eating well, in fact, you could almost say you weren't eating at all.

You were only one thing away from starving yourself because Minho brought you home-cooked meals every day. The boy must have guessed that something was wrong, because often when you didn't open the door for him, he left food at your door, with a note attached with some nice words written on it.

Stretching, you crossed the threshold of the living room, but stopped mid-step to look around the room. Surprise was evident on your face as your eyes fell on the walls decorated with colorful garlands and balloons, and the table groaning under the weight of gifts caught your attention.

You were confused and started to wonder what was happening and who this celebration was organized for. You repeated all the boys' birthdays in your head, but none of them had even close birthdays. Unless you couldn't keep track of time and got the dates wrong. However, before you could comprehend the situation, a group of your close friends entered the living room.

"Surprise!" They shouted at the same time, causing surprise to appear on your face.

The boys smiled brightly as they stood in front of you, ready to wish you a happy birthday.

As the initial shock left your body, you felt your entire body warm up from the warmth of their gesture.

"I completely forgot it was my birthday today!" You laughed lightly, still unable to believe what the boys had prepared. "Thank you very much. It makes my day.”

"No problem, Y/n! We're here to support you and make you feel special!" Chan smiled, coming to hug you.

“We will do everything to make you feel special every day. “ Minho placed a sweet kiss on your cheek.

Their words brought tears to your eyes. You were touched by their kind gesture, but you were also sad that you distanced yourself from them so much and they would steal the moon for you.

"We have prepared something special for you." Changbin added, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

At this time, Felix entered the room, holding a huge handmade cake. This made you completely fall apart. You made a wish “ That this moment would last forever and that you would never have to leave them.” And you blew out the candle.

You lived this beautiful moment, you were happy to have them next to you. The boys were racing to give you gifts you never dreamed of having. You got a big teddy bear, beautiful perfume and much more. Finally, it was Hyunjin's turn, and he was the only one waiting calmly for his turn.

He brought you a beautifully packaged, quite large but narrow gift. You had absolutely no idea what it was. You carefully tore the decorative paper and saw a hand-painted picture of all 9 of you. Tears flooded your eyes again, you didn't know what to say, you were touched. You simply snuggled tightly into Hyunjin's chest, who hugged you back and gently rubbed your back, assuring you that your emotions were normal.

“I really don't know what to say. I love you guys. I love you so much. I'm sorry I've been acting like this lately, but my parents are getting me down. “ The smile on the boys' faces quickly turned into consternation. After all, you didn't tell them anything about the increasingly frequent threatening messages from your parents.

“Y/n, you can always tell us if something is bothering you. You know we will always listen to you and try our best to help you.” Han said, sitting down next to you and wrapping his arms around you.

You looked at all the boys who were waiting for your answer. You took a deep breath to collect your thoughts and began to speak.

“My parents started texting me more and more often, threatening to find me and force me to marry the guy who molested me at one of their parties. They chose him only because he is the son of an influential businessman who can strengthen their position on the market. Recently their messages have become more and more detailed and it seems to me that they are already close to finding me. I'm afraid they'll take me away from here and I'll never see you again." Just at the mention of your parents, you started shaking.

Han and Minho immediately hugged you, trying to calm you down. Of course, their touch, their warmth helped and I felt unpleasant shivers.

“You don't have to worry Y/n, we won't let anyone take you from us. Hyunjin assured you, gently circling your hand with his finger.

You looked around the room, seeing all the boys standing close to you, assuring you that everything would be okay, it made your body fill with peace and warmth. You trusted them, you trusted that they would do everything to make you feel good, like the most important person in the world. You were theirs and they were yours.

Your mood improved slightly and you decided that there was no point in wasting time and that you should celebrate.

“Let's celebrate! “ You screamed, and all eight of them followed you.

The next thing you could hear were cheers and the sounds of opening bottles and cans full of various alcohols echoing around the room. You had a great time listening to great music. The time for drinking new drinks made by Hyunjin was interrupted by dancing with each of the boys.

After a few drinks and you don't know how long, you danced with everyone except Chan, who was sitting on the couch watching you all. The boy was by far the most sober person in the entire house and he was having a great time watching his friends behave after drinking too much alcohol.

You had to admit that it must have looked funny when everyone was tripping over their feet, falling and rolling on the ground laughing. You felt like you were about halfway there when it came to your level of intoxication. The clear winner was Han, who was close to dying, but Minho was already taking care of him to prevent that from happening.

You took a few sips of another drink and felt a great need to dance with someone. You looked around the room and everyone seemed to be busy. Minho was keeping an eye on Han, Changbin was practicing with Felix, and Hyunjin was preparing more drinks for Jeongin and Seungmin. The only person who was doing nothing was Chan, who was sitting in the men's spread, leaning against the backrest, one hand between his legs. His posture exuded confidence.

He looked hot and you swore he had been staring at you for a long time. His gaze was deep and full of mystery, radiating sensuality, like the flames of a fire in the dark. His lips were slightly parted, revealing the spark of unbridled lust that danced in his eyes. His breathing was almost palpable, and every movement of his muscles focused your attention on him. He looked at you as if he wanted to dive into the ocean of your existence.

You took a few steps towards him, keeping your eyes on him and started dancing. It wasn't a very difficult dance, you focused more on sensuality than skill. You squirmed to the rhythm of the music, gently pulling up your shirt every now and then, exposing your belly.

Chan wasn't reacting the way you wanted him to, he was just looking at you, so you decided to get closer. Your movements were bold, full of sex appeal. You stood between his legs, turned your back to him and leaned up, exposing your round buttocks. You felt his hands on your thighs, moving slowly upwards. And after a while, your buttock burned from the boy's strong slap.

You turned to him, a slight smirk on his face. He licked his lips slowly, grabbing the back of your legs and pulling you towards him so that you were now straddling his lap. Chan squeezed your buttocks and you moved your hips to the rhythm of the music.

You were about to press a kiss to his plump, full lips when you felt the cold, sticky drink spread over your body. You jumped away from Chan and saw Han lying on the ground with an empty glass in his hand. Minho was already standing near him and trying to pick him up, apologizing to you at the same time.

You weren't mad at your friend, you even laughed when you noticed how bad his condition was. You wiped your face from the drops of drink running down your cheeks. You looked down at yourself and realized that you needed to take a bath, and quickly, before your hair got unresolvable tangles.

You went to your room, grabbed your towel and went to the bathroom. You took off your soaking wet clothes and stepped into the shower. Water flowed from the ceiling shower, creating a cascade of pearl drops that resounded melodiously in harmony with the gentle noise. Steam filled the bathroom, enveloping you in a mist of humidity, creating an intimate atmosphere.

You sank into yours, standing under the stream of warm water that enveloped you like a soothing touch. Your skin reacted to the heat, and you squinted slightly as the drops flowed down your body like pearls on velvet fabric. This pleasant feeling brought to mind the situation from a moment ago.

Thinking about Chan, you started caressing your body. Your hands glided over your skin and you melted into the pleasant massage that dissipated the tension and made you feel relaxed. You imagined that every movement of your hands was replaced by Chan's, as if he was standing with you in the shower and caressing your body.

You were starting to get aroused, heat filling every inch of your body. You slowly rubbed your thighs together, trying to satisfy your needs in any way possible. You placed two fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. Every now and then you sucked on one of them, you really wanted your fingers to be something else, but for now it had to be enough.

You moved your saliva-moistened fingers to your crotch. You painted in circular motions on your clit. Your mouth involuntarily opened in pleasure, letting out a soft moan. You grabbed your breast with your other hand and slowly started caressing it. A wave of pleasure spreads through your body. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to take a full breath, and the drops of water hitting the ground drowned out your moans.

Your imagination began to work even better, behind your closed eyes you knew Chan was touching you where you liked it best. Drops of water replaced his lips as they glided over your body, leaving wet marks made with his tongue.

“Agh…Chan…Yes…that's right…” You couldn't hold back your words.

Suddenly you heard loud clapping. Your eyes immediately opened, moving towards the sound. Chan was standing in the doorway. He was leaning against the wall and shaking his head slightly. As usual, he had that smirk on his face.

“ Oh well, someone's having fun here. “He went inside and closed the door behind him.

His voice was calm, slightly throaty, pleasantly teasing to your ears. You were shocked and quickly stopped doing what you were just doing. You got out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. The boy immediately pinned you to the wall, lifting your arms up. The quick movement caused your towel to slide to the ground.

You stood completely naked in front of him, his thigh between your legs, pressing against your still sensitive pussy. His body was close enough to you that you could feel the warmth radiating from it. The boy leaned towards you, closing the distance between you even more.

“Let me show you what a real pleasure is, baby girl.” He whispered into your ear, pressing even harder against your crotch.

His movement made you bite your lip, holding back the release of the moan that was hiding just beyond your lips. As soon as he loosened his grip, your hands fell limply to his shoulders. Your fingers dug into his neck as his full lips placed their first kiss on your neck.

You felt every move he made, every breath he took, with double the force. Your body was very sensitive to everything he did. You closed your eyes, completely surrendering to his touch. You drown in his kisses, which lightly tickle your neck. Chan knew exactly what to do to give you as much pleasure as possible.

His lips traveled all over your neck, leaving wet marks in their wake. Every now and then he would lightly suck on your neck and your body would respond with a beautiful arch, allowing him even better access. They don't want to let you rest for a moment, the boy ran his tongue along your collarbones, lightly biting your skin.

You dug your fingers into his skin even harder, to the point that your fingertips turned white. You couldn't hold back your moans any longer as his hands cupped the underside of your breasts, lifting them slightly. Before you knew it, his mouth was around your nipple, sucking on it. Moments later, Chan added his tongue, rubbing small circles around your hard nipple.

“Agh…Channie…” It fell from your lips, causing a smile to appear on Chan's face, but he didn't stop playing with your breasts. His tongue swirled nimbly between one nipple and the other, biting them from time to time.

While he was giving you an enormous amount of pleasure, you didn't want to be left indebted to him, so you slid one hand down his body, grabbed the bottom of his shirt, and in one swift movement, took it off him. The boy was now standing topless in front of you, and even though it wasn't the first time you had seen him without a shirt, you were always amazed by the sight of his well-built body.

The other hand went to his already swollen crotch. You moved it around, adapting to the rhythm Chan gave you with his tongue. The atmosphere in the bathroom was getting hotter and the air was getting thicker, making it difficult for you to breathe.

Finally, Chan stopped playing with your breasts and in a fluid movement he sat you down on the counter next to the sink. He moved between your legs, cupping your buttocks in his hands and planted a luscious kiss on your lips. Your tongues fought against each other in a romantic dance, your saliva mixing together in thin threads as you broke apart for a moment to breathe.

You felt that you wouldn't last long until Chan filled you from the inside, so you slightly pushed him away from you, knelt right in front of him and took off his pants and panties. The boy knew exactly what you were planning, he inserted his fingers between your hair and gripped it hard.

Without further ado, you took his cock into your mouth and deepthroated him. Tiny drops of tears formed in your eyes as Chan pushed his cock even harder down your throat. But you didn't move away, you just looked at him from below and started moving your head. Chan towered over you, looking at you with great desire, but at the same time carefully making sure he didn't overdo his movements.

His cock grew even bigger in your mouth, revealing his thick veins. Your legs were already starting to shake. You couldn't hold in any longer the arousal that was inside you. Your juices flowed out of you, more and more.

Chan lifted you off his lap, bending you down and resting you against the bathroom counter. You were facing the mirror and you were leaning towards it. Your breasts were pressed against the cold stone. The boy spread your legs, immediately placing the first, not too hard, slap on your buttock.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, but you liked it. A moment later you felt Chan guide his fully erect cock towards your hole. You couldn't wait for him to fill you, for him to start fucking you. You were ready to fulfill every one of his deepest fantasies.

Chan immediately pushed his full length into you and waited for you to get used to his size. Only when he was sure everything was okay did he start moving. His movements were strong and confident, hitting your sweet spot perfectly. Your legs went slightly weak under you, but Chan quickly caught you and supported you so that you wouldn't run away from him.

The force of Chan's movements was so strong that you placed your hand on the mirror to give yourself better support. You were now looking directly at your reflection and seeing what you looked like when Chan was fucking you from behind.

Your earlier play had brought you close to your climax, and now you didn't have to wait long for a wave of pleasure to wash over your body. The orgasm was very strong, your whole body was shaking and you were glad that Chan was holding you because you would definitely fall.

The boy didn't stop moving his hips the whole time, maintaining the same rhythm. When you reached the end of your fulfillment, you felt another slap, this time harder, on your buttock. Your bottom stung and the raspberry red imprint of his hand appeared on it.

“I'll make you scream my name.” Chan's voice resonated in your ears, but you didn't fully understand what he said because the post-orgasmic emotions hadn't left you yet.

“Chan more, more please.” Was all you could say as your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

You lowered your head, but the boy grabbed your hair and pulled you up so you could see what he was doing to you.

“Look how you look while I'm fucking you. Watch you act like a whore, demanding more.” His movements became even more aggressive.

A few movements and your body experienced a pleasant feeling again. Your pussy throbbed and the feeling became almost unbearable. Two such intense orgasms in a matter of minutes exhausted you, but Chan had no intention of stopping.

“Chan I…I can't take it anymore.” Your voice was shaky and very quiet.

“Hold on for me just a little longer, baby girl.” He placed a few kisses along your spine and continued in the same rhythm again.

He gripped your hips even tighter, digging his fingers into your skin. His movements were strong, and he moved you to double the force of his blows to your sweet spot. After two powerful orgasms, you were overstimulated and your eyes were glazed over with tears gathering in them.

You don't know how long it took until you felt the pleasure approaching again, but for you it felt like an eternity. And your mirror image showed it perfectly. You were all wet, your hair was sticking to your forehead, your eyes were red and your body felt like jelly.

"Chhan! Agh! Chan! I can't handle it anymore. I can't stand it.” You shouted without lowering your voice at all.

“Just a moment. You can do it." His voice was airy and heavy, as if he was approaching fulfillment himself.

“Agh…Chan!!!” You couldn't take it any longer and a third orgasm took over your body.

Your walls tightened around Chan's cock as it began to throb inside you.

“Ugh…You're tightening on me. It feels so good.” The boy sped up his movements and a moment later you felt warm sperm shooting inside you.

Your legs were shaking mercilessly and felt like cotton. You dropped your body onto the cold countertop and were glad that Chan was holding you, because you would have been on the ground a long time ago. When he finished cumming inside you, he pulled out of you and placed a sweet kiss on your ass where his handprint was.

While you were recovering on the bathroom counter, Chan ran a bath for you. Once the water filled the tub, he lifted you up like a princess and gently placed you in, then sat down right behind you and wrapped his arms around you tenderly.

“Happy birthday Y/n. You did well.” He said, pulling you closer to him and placing a small kiss on your shoulder.

Your cheeks flushed and you don't know why you felt embarrassed.

“Thank you Chan.” You rested your head on his shoulder and snuggled in as much as you could.

You spent some time in the water, your fingers started to wrinkle and the water slowly became cold but you felt blissful. You immersed yourself in the moment, your moment together.

“Y/n.” You turned to face Chan. “Back to what you told us. You have nothing to worry about, we won't let you be taken away, you have nothing to worry about. You belong to us and your place is here, with us. We all love you and we won't give it up for anything in the world.” His words made you emotional and you placed a kiss on his lips.

Suddenly you heard a bang coming from behind the door and then you remembered that there were 7 very drunk guys in the living room. You quickly got out of the bathtub, got dressed and went to take care of the revolution that was taking place in the living room.

<- Part 22 | Part 24 ->

[deerlottie]

OKAY, SO, I DON'T THINK ANYONE HAS ASKED THIS BUT- HCS of proposing to the yjs? Like, would they propose or would reader propose. Also, how they would do it dhhshdhan

lottie: FOR SUREEEE she would be the one proposing. i think she'd try sooo hard to be subtle, but you know in an instant because she's so fucking nervous 😭 also didn't hide the ring that well...it'd be on a trip to greece - idk the first thing that came to mind was a little sunset picnic by the beach near ur hotel, little makeout session which turns into her getting emotional and pulling out the ring. she'd go on a monologue for like 10 minutes about how lucky she is to have met you and be with you and wake up every day to kiss you :( I feel like she'd just love a quaint little wedding with all your guys' friends and some family. doesn't have to be huge but if that's something you want, shes more than happy to oblige.

jackie: YOU WOULD! her ass would be dropping hints that she's ready for marriage and would get SO excited when you make up the worst lie when you're going with shauna to go ring shopping LMFAO. you have to wait until she forgets about it because she's on edge Every Day. i think she'd LOVE the attention if you do it in public... telling her you wanna go on a simple walk and she starts to realize you're taking her to where you guys went on your first date :( proposing to her at the exact table you sat at too 😭😭 ohh she'd be a mess. it'd take her like 5 mins to stop crying and say yes.

shauna: she would!!!!! this is probably cliche and corny as hell but i can't stop thinking about her saying she bought you a book because it reminds her of you and when you open it, inside is a poem she wrote about how she feels about you :( she includes lines from her favorite books and at the end of poem is "please say yes." you're confused but she tells you to flip to the last page and there's a ring. she's holding her breath for what seems like forever until you say yes and shes so happy :(( tbh i can see her just wanting to get married secretly and the girls finding out about it when they see that huge ass ring she got you.

nat: you'd propose. but i could also see her being kind of upset she can't afford an actual ring for you so she gets you like a ring from one of those quarter machines or some shit 😖😭 but its soo sweeet. she actually pours her little heart out and maybe cries a little...(she'll kill u if u mention this to anyone) but as for you, a simple dinner proposal is just fine. doesn't even have to be fancy - it could be a pizza shop you two frequent a lot and she'd be content. you'd do it in such a cheesy (no pun intended) way tho 😭 "accidentally" dropping your fork and asking her to pick it up for you and when she's bent down, that's where you place the ring on her plate. she scoffs but she's so enamored >__< will also flaunt that ring like there's no tomorrow!!!!

taissa: she would :P she told you very early on in ur relationship that you shouldn't even THINK about proposing because she's gonna be the one to do it. im such a sucker for halloween/christmas themed proposals so im imagining her doing it with christmas lights and ur too busy staring at how pretty she looks to notice the letters spelling out something when you help her put them up. thinking of the word "you" not lighting up properly so it just spells out "will marry me?" and you're like HUH!!!!! but ofc you say yes, and she gets you the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous ring ever that matches with a necklace she bought for herself :(

van: they would!!!! im obsessed with the idea of them doing it in a movie theater 😭 using their connections to have it display "y/n, will you marry me?" during the end credits of a movie you went to go see. and you HATE staying for the credits, so it takes a Lot of begging from van to get you to sit ur ass back down. the lights turning into a warm red color and van's VIBRATING beside you with a huge grin on their face as their message pops up. Trust that the ring box would be themed to fit your guys' favorite movie like the little nerd they are.

misty: oh, she would...if it was acceptable, she would've proposed one week into your relationship. caligula would 100% be involved. when you arrive at misty's house, caligula is carrying a note in her beak telling you to meet misty at the park. you walk around with her for a while and feed the ducks with her until she takes you by this totally not suspicious guy who's playing romantic songs on his guitar, which definitely sounds like ur favorite song....she gets down on her knees dramatically before proposing 😭

[grapejuicestyless]

Good Luck, Babe!

Harry Styles x Fem!reader

Summery: Harry could run around the world in search of a replacement to fill the void that you left, but he’s better off coming to terms with the fact that he’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

I’m okay knowing I won’t ever get to call my future lover my high school sweetheart. It’s hard to stay committed to someone for decades as an adult, let alone at sixteen. But it pulls at my heart strings just to know little me would be so devastated knowing the boy who used to string up fairy lights and scribble on big bubbles letters on poster boards for our prom decided I was too boring for his massive life and left once the glitter from all the glamour of fame got in his eyes.

It’s funny to think about, ten years thrown away forever because my stable life wasn’t worth living when he could offer me anything I could ever dream of. God forbid I want to settle down with some little ones to teach nothing but love in a world where everyone can only ever teach their children hate. God forbid I wanted that with him.

No, my dreams were stupid compared to those of his own. Children mean nothing to him if he’s not taking home another award for his excellence. Settling down is a laughable dream, how could I expect him to ever even try when it seemed like with every single chance to start trying he was at a new peak in his career.

When I left him, he didn’t even look sad. Not even when I turned to face him as I walked out of our front door with all my things stuffed in a bag slung over my arm. He looked distant, sure, but not sad and that made me sad, for me but mainly for him.

Three years ago if I had even shown signs of unhappiness he would have stopped the world to fix our issues, ironed it all out real nice to make sure that I never felt that feeling again. Now I could beg on my knees pleading for him to hear me and my cries would fall on deaf ears.

But I don’t regret leaving him in the end. It hurt at first, leaving behind all I ever knew, letting him go after I wasted away all my youth on him, but life goes on and my heart would heal the longer we were apart.

Occasionally he would reach out, letters with the same swooping letters that I recognized as his own handwriting, the same writing that once wrote me love letters, all addressed to me with the hopes of meeting up.

But I knew myself better than that, I knew Harry better than that. If I met him, even only for coffee our night would end with me back in his arms and his head between my legs. We weren’t ever meant to split, but then again no one who’s ever felt the same kind of love like young kids is ever made to walk away from something so sweet.

I was better for it, between each letter there was a new girl. A model who resembled me in the most vague ways. I wondered all the time if he ever accidentally called any of them my name. If he chose them with my eye color so when he looked into their eyes he could see mine for just a second. It felt like each week he was caught leaving some bar with some other girl, someone else’s lipstick staining his jaw.

I got over him slowly, never fully, but enough to love again. I had room to give once more and enough strength left to keep fighting for the love I deserved. I earned the right to be able to hold someone who would call me “baby” with pride, without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment.

Harry could kiss a hundred girls and boys in bars, drink away his twenties and sing to his fans across the world, and I would be here chasing my own dreams. After all, he always needed the spotlight, he lived for it. All I needed was a little love, and somehow in his search for glory, he lost any kind of that he had and I had found it again.

I saw Harry a couple years later, the small bar in Brooklyn with the good music and sweaty bodies. He looked good, he always did. His hair looked a little grey and I must admit, I almost drooled, but looks were the only attraction I would ever feel for him. Emotionally, I was cut off, even when he leaned up close and pressed me into a bone crushing hug.

With a cool smile on his face he asked me confidently what I was doing here and how I’d been. I told him a friend of a friend had invited me along to come celebrate an old friend’s birthday, that I didn’t really want to drink tonight and was just trying to enjoy myself.

I could see his hesitation when an arm slung itself over my shoulders, curly brown hair tickling my cheek and a kind smile flashing towards him and somehow in our conversation, I forgot the most important update in my life, one I’d make sure he’d never forget.

“Who’s this?” He asked kindly, ready to introduce himself even though we were all well aware everyone in the room knew him by name.

“Oh, Harry, how rude of me!” I laughed at the time, but I’m still not sure if he could hear it over the music. I hope he did, because it would have been the last time he would hear it.

“Harry, this is my girlfriend.”