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weeknd-ogoc · 4 months

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24 HOURS AGO・。.・゜✭・. LANDO NORRIS

SUMMARY: in which lando knows it’s not fair to try to change your mind about pursuing your dream! (inspired by jack & jack's song, lotta love)

FACE CLAIM: cindy kimberly

CONTAINS: artist!reader, fluff, breakup & angst!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: don't know how euros work that great lol so bare with me and maybe i could turn this into a part 2??? alright so i’m back in my jack and jack era and i thought this song would make a good imagine :)

ynusername

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ynusername today's art exhibit was a success, thank you to everyone who was able to come and super thankful for those who bought my paintings! 🪴

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landonorris FIRST!!

username when aren't you maxfewtrell ^^

landonorris you're so beautiful 💚

ynusername thank you my love 🥹

username 💘💘

username i showed up a bit late but she was literally so nice and lando was there swooning over her talking about her paintings!

username omgg i love how he's so supportive of her! username at the beginning i saw lando arguing with max over a painting but y/n told him she'd make him another one and he was pouting for a good fifteen minutes 😭

alexandrasaintmleux i had so much fun so proud of you babe!!

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username ugh i wished i lived in monaco!

✭

before entering this two year long relationship with you, lando knew your dream was to open up your own painting studio to be able to teach children how to open up their creative side — the first time you guys had met was when lando accidentally bumped into you in front of your old art class that you were temporarily teaching at.

"oh i'm so sorry, my friend here is a bit clumsy sometimes." max apologized as lando helped you pick up your art supplies while giving him a glare.

they had both seen you every morning for the past week and max noticed lando's eyes lingering on you for awhile so he had this grand idea to finally make lando talk to you and this was that grand idea.

"yes i'm very clumsy." lando nodded and went along with it. "your board thing broke too, i can pay for your stuf-"

the three of you looked down at your broken palette and you shook your head picking it up. "you know what lando and..."

max gave you a cheesy smile and a little nod. "oh i'm max."

"well lando and max, you guys could come to my art exhibit tonight to make up for breaking my very expensive palette." you knew that it was just a cheap one that your sweet old boss had given you to work with but they didn't have to know that.

max quickly nodded and agreed for the both of them which earned another glare from his best friend. "we'll be there!"

later that night after going through half of his wardrobe and a few of max's shirts, lando finally chose his black button up shirt and his khaki colored jeans.

"if i was that girl i'd totally slip right out of my clothes for you." max joked. "oh by the way i can't make it, have a date with pietra in an hour."

so on the ride to the exhibit lando found himself going through most of his pickup lines and jokes in his head and when he found a parking spot right in the front his eyes landed on you.

he kept his eyes on you as he walked over to where you were, you had been wearing an orange dress with your hair curled and for a moment he felt speechless and all the things he was going to say just slipped out of his head.

"lando! i'm so glad you made it!" you gave him a quick hug and handed him a last minute portrait that you decided to add. "this thing is about to start so please be a dear and hang my last painting up in that corner there."

while you ran off to talk to an older man he stood up on a little stool and put your portrait up, lando wasn't interested in art but something about your painting was kinda calling to him.

€ 453.52

yeah he was definitely buying it.

when you made your return back to the table you saw him fixing the labels on the bottom of your paintings.

you couldn't lie he looked really good.

as the night went on he was really intrigued by all the art that others made, your boss had pushed you to go hang out with lando while he stayed behind to watch your stand.

"you need a life outside the art world so now go talk to him!"

lando listened as you talked about what you've been doing for the past few years and when it was time to talk about his work, you found yourself amazed by it.

your dad had tried getting you into formula one for years but you just couldn't find yourself interested in it. "over 200 miles per hour? pretty dangerous."

"i actually have a race in two weeks here in monaco, maybe you can come? i could give you passes of coarse." he said with a cheesy smile.

you nodded and let out a laugh. "sure, i would like that."

before you could continue talking your boss called you over and as you walked over there max had called him about a forgotten reservation they had planned a few days before.

"i'll be right back."

he looked over to you and saw there was people interested in buying your work so he wrote a little note to you and left it with your boss.

dearest y/n,

sorry i had to go in such a rush but i had a lot fun tonight.

i can pick up the beautiful painting tomorrow and maybe we can get dinner?

xxx-xxx-xxxx

lando

✭

lando.jpg

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lando.jpg the true masterpiece

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ynusername ugh i love you!!

lando.jpg i love you more maxfewtrell love you guys the most 🥹

username my favorite couple

username please adopt me!

maxfewtrell it should've been me

ynusername but it's not :)) maxfewtrell 🥱🥱

lillymhe my love (her) with her love (him)

ynusername miss you sm 😭 alex_albon 🤨 im getting real tired of you guys lando.jpg ^ me too

✭

lando recalled being excited to finally make it to the third date because everyone knew what happens after it — it had already been five months of you guys talking but because the both of you always had busy schedules it was very hard to set up this third date.

my boss is leaving to new york on tuesday so i'm available!

if you can make it you can totally stay over my apartment for a few days 🙂

as soon as he read your messages he booked a flight over to monaco since he had a free week off. "you should bring her to another race, i really liked her!" daniel told him as they left the cooling room.

he arrived in monaco just an hour before your shift ended so he made sure to get you some roses and when it was time he made his way over to your job where he saw children saying goodbye to you.

look outside!!

when you were finally able to look at your phone, you looked up and saw lando standing outside giving you an excited wave.

as you waved back at him your boss called you into his office.

i'll be out in a bit

your boss had called you in telling you he was going to sell the studio in a few months and move over to new york. "trust me y/n, i will call you as soon as the place is up and running..." he said as he fixed a few papers up on his desk. "you are my favorite worker and i would love to have you as a temporary teacher again."

"i know i have told you about becoming a full ti-"

"i just don't see you ready for that right now..."

you had told your boss time and time again that you wanted to become a full time teacher but he always had excuses for it and as he used another excuse you looked over to lando who was swatting something in the air with the roses he had in his hand.

"thank you for the opportunity but i think i'm going to take a break from the art world for a good while."

so after getting your stuff together you made your way to lando.

"finally, there was this huge bee attac-" he was so caught up in looking for the bee that was just attacking him a few minutes ago that he almost didn’t feel your lips place a light kiss against his cheek. "oh um..."

you pulled away with a smile on your face and let out a little chuckle at how red lando's face was turning. “c'mon my house isn't that far from here...”

he handed you the roses he had bought you, some of the petals had gone missing due to all the swatting he was doing with them but you still appreciated it.

"they're beautiful lan."

he smiled and nodded, face still red. "not as beautiful as you." he noticed his voice crack due to all his nervousness. "wow that hasn't happened in awhile..."

you intertwined his fingers with yours and began walking in the direction of your house with a smile on your face.

when the both of you arrived you gave him a tour of your apartment and he loved everything about it due to it giving cozy vibes as he said and when you guys finally made it over to your room he saw the vision board that you had hung up on your wall.

"i want to open up a studio in new york one day..." you told him as you took down your board just to show it to him. "i kinda quit since he wanted me to become a temporary teacher over in new york and that's not what i want so maybe later on i'll be able to do it but for now i think i'm just going to take a break."

he slowly nodded — he knew that you guys had been talking for only a few months but he really wanted to help you out with this, maybe even help you open up your own studio one day.

✭

ynusername & landonorris recently added to their stories

✭

you remembered the first time your parents were going to meet lando and you were freaking out because you had never introduced a guy to your parents.

when your mom found out you were finally seeing someone she got excited because she was starting to think you were never going to give her grandchildren.

when your dad found out you were finally seeing someone he was suspicious of the guy but when you told him it was lando norris his mind completely changed — he had watched formula one for years now and even tried getting you into it when you were younger but you found it boring.

"he's here! please be nice and do not bring out the baby pictures!" you told your parents before opening the door.

"we'll be on our best behavior, promise."

and even though they had promised you, you knew they were still going to embarrass you by the end of the night.

just last week you had met lando's family and they adored you.

lando knew your parents meant the whole world to you so he made sure not to goof around too much and by the end of the night your parents loved him.

"this is the greatest day of my life!" your father had said since lando had promised your dad some vip passes for next week's race you figured that was what won him over.

when your parents decided it was time to pull out the baby albums you decided to go into your old bedroom to change out of your dress and quickly update lily on how the night was going.

as lando looked at the pictures of you he saw one of you around the age of eight maybe, painting a wooden dollhouse.

"she's always loved doing art projects when she was younger..." your mother had told him. "has she told you anything about maybe looking back into teaching again or maybe opening her studio?"

he shrugged. "i think she's been looking for a spot here in monaco since i just moved here but she hasn't said much."

your mother had worried that being in love was stopping you from doing what you love the most so she could only hope that it wasn't that. "my y/n has always been independent so this whole relationship you have going on, i hope you're truly taking it seriously because she has never introduced us to anyone so i think that says she likes you a lot." your mother told him which he nodded and just before he can talk your father spoke. "you hurt i promise i will hunt you down, that's all."

lando saw you returning back to the table with a fuzzy orange blanket and he smiled at the sight of you before looking back to your parents. "trust me, i'm not going anywhere for a very long time."

✭

ynusername

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ynusername frosted ❄️

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landonorris the future mother of my kids everyone

lilymhe y/n asked when landonorris tell her very soon 🤫 landonorris and bring her back to me rn lilymhe gtg

username please get married already

maxfewtrell sorry about pushing you into the snow 🤭

ynusername next time i'm going to push you off the cliff

username i miss when she used to post about her art!

username me too she needs to bring it back!!!

username if you look closely you can see me throwing myself off a cliff :)))

✭

landonorris

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landonorris snow days ⛄️

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maxfewtrell now hold on why didn't i get a good picture

ynusername because you pushed me into the snow and didnt even help me up landonorris ^^ maxfewtrell i apologized, let it go!!

username tell y/n to post her artwork again!!

ynusername ☃️❤️

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carlosainz55 im assuming it was y/n's idea to make cookies

landonorris yup

✭

finally two - almost three years into your relationship, the both of you were already moved in with each other and lando was thinking about popping the question to you since everything was just going great with the two of you.

he already knew he was going to propose on christmas day.

"almost all gone again!" you smiled at him, seeing that one painting was left on your stand.

"well your work is amazing." he said as his chin rested on the top of your head as you looked towards your stand.

you had been close to purchasing a studio here in a monaco but you still had doubts and lando wasn't sure why that was so when he saw your old boss entering the exhibit and you running to hug him it all came back to him, your dream.

"i'm so glad you're still here! i have something to tell you!" your old boss said as he gave you a big hug and lead you towards the buffet table.

lando stayed behind by your stand as some people were asking him questions about your art work and while he was answering them, he kept his eyes on you who jumped up with excitement but then looked back to him.

yes you had been painting and doing side jobs in art classes, constantly talked about opening your studio even sometimes doing modeling gigs but lando had thought you'd be doing it here in a monaco so you could stay with him.

"you're not going to believe it!" you said with the biggest smile on your face, he stared at you in silence fearing what you might say "lan?"

"y-yeah sorry, what did he say to you baby?"

you explained to him that he was now selling his studio to move to paris and before he could sell it to someone else, he recalled you wanting a place in new york.

"that's amazing! what did you tell him?" he asked trying to sound super excited about it but deep down he was a nervous wreck.

you smiled at his excitement. "that i would think about it..."

✭

ynusername

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ynusername finished 🎨

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username ah the art content is back!!

username beautiful as always 🥹

alexandrasaintmleux a true artist 🤌🏼

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username surprised lando didn't comment this time

oscarpiastri picasso

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✭

ynusername

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ynusername oops

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username she is GIVING

landonorris like a renaissance painting 😚

ynusername ❤️❤️ ynusername im surprised you could spell that landonorris oh i struggled a bit

username 🤤🤤

francisca.cgomes i have something inappropriate to say...

pierregasly well don't say it

username MOTHER

alexandrasaintmleux 😍

lilymhe so hot r u kidding me rnnn

username we must stay focused 🧎🏻‍♀️

username in another universe i go home to this girl & give her my undying love & affection

landonorris im with her in every universe, sorry mate :)

oscarpiastri i'm so scared right now

maxfewtrell me too landonorris both of you leave and never come back

✭

lando had stayed over max's house the next night and max could tell something was wrong with his best friend — he was way too quiet which he never was and looked like he had a lot on his mind so when he asked lando about it, he told him the whole story including the part of wanting to propose to you tomorrow.

"she's going to chose to move over there mate..." he told max making his voice crack. "it wouldn't be fair of me to beg her to stay but i can't make her stay if she doesn't want to, i mean this has always been her dream!"

he knew this would be simple, just move over there with you but that was not what he wanted.

the both of you had been good twenty-four hours ago but you felt something different between the two of you, he felt distant like he had something in his mind but he couldn't tell you what it was.

"i don't know lils, i know he won't want to come with me and it wouldn't be fair to ask him to come with me, he hates new york."

you knew this would be simple, just stay over here with him but that was not what you wanted.

✭

landonorris

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landonorris after some time and consideration, y/n and myself have mutually decided to end our relationship but we will always remain good friends. i wish her the world over in new york and have so much respect for her and all she does as an amazing and strong woman. ❤️

please respect our decision and respect our – but more importantly and especially her privacy moving forward.

comments disabled

✭

ynusername

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ynusername after some time and consideration, lando and i have mutually decided to end our relationship but we will remain very good friends. i wish him the world have so much respect for him. ❤️

please respect our decision and respect our privacy moving forward.

comments disabled

✭

you were having a small art exhibit for the the first time in your brand new studio and had a few friends travel over just to visit, you had been hoping lando would show up but as time went on you figured he wouldn’t.

“i’m sure he’ll show up.” alexandra told you as she gave charles one of your paintings to hang up on the wall.

the both of you still texted a few times throughout the week and even facetimed whenever you guys were available.

“hey y/n, someone called in wanting to buy whatever portraits are left by the end of the night!” alexandra said as she held up an unknown address somewhere in monaco.

you smiled as you nodded, the extra money would help out so much with new supplies and just before you could help charles hang up some other extra things you saw max walking in.

“he wanted to but something came up…” max said as he took a look at your new portraits, noticing that one looked a little like lando. “but he did give me this to give to you.”

a note.

my dearest y/n,

i’m sorry i couldn’t make it out today on your grand opening but i just wanted to congratulated you on opening your shop! there was never a doubt in my mind these past three years with you that you ARE the most talented artist in our generation.

i promise to make a trip over to new york sometime soon!

with all my love,

lando

by the end of the night only a few portraits were left and as max watched you pack them up into a box to ship to the unknown address in monaco, he got on the phone with lando who was currently curled up in bed thinking about what to say when he decided to call you later that night. “so what are you going to do with all those paintings now?”

he looked around at his now empty walls that once had your paintings hanged up. “place them around the house.”

his eyes landed on the little red box that held the ring that was supposed to be yours on his nightstand and thought about maybe going to travel to your place tomorrow morning as a surprise. “actually max, i think i’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning.”

✭

ynusername & landonorris recently added to their stories 24 hours ago

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!

my f1 & f2 masterlist!

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beefboyandbabygirl · 11 months

Text

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.”

“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!”

#svt smut #svt x reader #woozi smut #woozi angst #woozi fluff #woozi x reader #svt woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #jihoon x reader #jihoon smut #svt angst

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bryce-bucher · 5 months

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I've been feeling p sick this last week, which for some reason means that my brain really really wanted me to do nothing but focus on creating this render. I created as a means to get better at using Alias Poweranimator 9.0 because I eventually hope to use this program to make environments for games. I am really happy with the process of making this render, and I feel like I learned a whole lot! It's definitely the most detailed thing I've made in any of these old 3d programs so far, and it's given me a lot of confidence that I can pull some cool stuff off. I'm considering making some kinda video documenting some nurbs modeling techniques I learned since this kinda modeling is super dead and there is very little documentation on how they were doin it in the 90s. Lmk if that is something anyone would be interested in. (UPDATE: I did it: https://youtu.be/G8NmDeGIXZE) The only thing blocking me rn is annoying bugs that come up when running this on modern hardware, and the fact that I'm currently having issues getting it cracked on my windows xp machine. Anyway, here are some behind the scenes photos and variants of the wallpaper:

Here is what the wireframe looks like in tha program

Here is my initial sketch alongside some theory crafting sketching on how to model certain shapes. Making stuff with nurbs is super fun because everything feels like some kinda open-ended puzzle lol.

Here are a couple wallpaper variants I made with some color adjustments meant to test how they would look in printing. Modus Interactive and I figured this kinda thing is what gives a lot of 90s renders those distinct colors.

Here are some 4:3 crops for all of you out there who know what is good and true in this world.

Here are a couple high contrast ones as a treat.

Last but not least, here is just a buncha random behind the scenes screenshots:

Thank u for checkin this out I spent a lotta time on it and had a good time yippe wahoo

#retrocgi #retro cgi #retro 3d #retro aesthetic #90s cgi #poweranimator #maya #raytracing #3d art #3d artwork #3d render #diver #helmet #bubbles #underwater #ocean #vintage cgi

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comicaurora · 5 months

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Out of curiosity, how far ahead are you on the comic? I mean, you must have it all planned and written out, but I imagine that you are drawing the future of Aurora even while we're reading it.

So is Arc 2 already illustrated and ready for upload while you're on like Arc 5 or something? I'm by no means undermining your need for a break; I'm shocked that you've been uploading continuously for over 4 years at this point. I'm just interested to know how long it takes a person to make something this great. And also if you change any details in the final edit?

Basically: what's the workflow like?

Also I think you low-key inspired me to pick up painting as a hobby. I'm ready to pour so much money into creating things that I know I'll hate. :)

God, arc 5? That's a very generous assessment of how fast I can draw!

Typically, when the comic is updating regularly, I keep a buffer of 10 to 20 completed pages. Right now, in the interest of taking a break, the buffer is 0 completed pages.

Chapter 1 of Arc 2 is completely storyboarded, meaning it's sketched out, the dialog is all mostly finalized barring last-minute rephrasements, etc. It can be read in its current form, it just looks unpretty. In fact, just for fun, here's a sneak peek!

In the next month I'll go through and finalize as many pages from this chapter as possible - which means locking down the panel borders, fleshing out the backgrounds, lining, shading, coloring, polish, etc. - which will be the process of building up a new buffer for when the comic starts back up again in January. During that time, I'll also be storyboarding Chapter 2 and as much of the following parts as I can manage.

I have the next several chapters and sub-arcs planned out in loose timelines - event A happens at location B leading to consequences C and D, stuff like that. Chapter 2, being the closest, is a little more fleshed-out, with a more detailed bullet-pointed timeline and various character ideas I've had that might or might not make it into the final version.

What exactly the chapter breakdown is going to look like is a little more complicated. Initially I'd planned for Chapter 1 to be low-stakes downtime and Chapter 2 to quickly kick off the high-octane adventure again, but when I started bullet-pointing out the stuff I wanted to do in Chapter 2, I ended up with a big pile of slower-paced character moments I thought were well worth exploring, so the runtimes might stretch a little.

Translating those brainstormed notes into storyboards and dialog is what I would classify as the "writing" part of this process. It happens at an erratic pace largely determined by the whims of whatever muse decides to get me in a headlock that day; sometimes I go weeks with no storyboarding progress, sometimes I hammer out fifteen pages in one day.

It's kinda like weaving, to me. The soon-to-be-arriving parts of the story are the most finalized, the most densely woven. A little ways beyond that, things get looser - some patterns may be locked down, but the actual work that'll hold it together hasn't been done yet. And in the far-flung future arcs, it's just the basic bones of the story and a pile of the threads I've planned to use. I know the shape of it, but in order for it to be fun and engaging for me to make it, I need to give myself room to be creative when I'm putting the whole thing together.

I actually have a file called the "Toolbox" that contains every random character or subplot idea I've had, and sometimes when I'm debating where to go with a chunk of story, I'll crack it open and scan through to see if anything jumps out begging to be used. Lotta fun stuff in there that may or may not ever see the light of day. Dropping stuff in the Toolbox is one of the most fun and freeing parts of the process for me!

#asks #behind the curtain #writing stuff

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digi-lov · 18 hours

Text

Digimon Card Template->

Hey guys, I finally finished the templates! A few words to read before using, and more words under the cut if you will. I'd love to see any and all cards you create, so feel free to leave me an ask or DM! Also if you feel like supporting me a little, feel free to stop by my ko-fi->

First off, all fonts you need for the template are in the "Card Template Fonts" rar file. Remember to install them first before opening the files. Second, I recommend working with the PSD file in Photoshop, if you can. It has more and easier customization. If you use CSP, do use the CSP files. The PSD Text layers don't work in CSP, as well as certain other settings. I did my best to adapt the file to CSP, and it should work fine!

The Files have "HELP" layers in certain folders, I recommend reading them! Some of the Information I will repeat under the cut.

HAVE FUN! I wanna see lotta cards!

Okay, below the cut I'll leave some notes on how the Digimon cards are designed, as of the num <03> era at least.

Digimon cards have seven different colors. Red, Blue, Green, Yellow, Black, Purple, and White. White cards are rare and reserved for special Digimon/Tamers, and usually don't interact with other colors. For easier reading, Yellow and White cards have black text in their colors, instead of the usual white text. On multicolored cards, card including Yellow (or white in theory) have white text with a black outline. (before <03> if Yellow was the first color, the text was black with white outline instead, but they unified it with the update) The color on the left is considered the first color. Since the design update, the Card color is displayed in a color wheel around the Play cost. The digivolution cost bubble also recieved a color wheel, as well as the buble being split into the differen colors. Imagining it like a clock, the top color is the first, and then circling clockwise. Digi-Egg, or Lv.2 Digimon are always single color.

[tricolored cards have been introduced just recently and super rare. use sparingly]

Now to the Effects. The main effect is in white color with a black outline (also outlines on the keywords), while the Inherited Effect doesn't have outlines (unless it's a Yellow double color). If the Digimon has no Inherited Effect, there will be a small dash in the box.

Only white cards have black text in their main effect.

The effect text will start in the lower bottom of the image, not all the way at the bottom, and go down from there. If the Effect is too long it will move up.

Besides the regular evolution requirements, Digimon may have special "Digivolve" rules in their effect. This can make an evolution from a specific digimon cheaper, allow X Antibody Digimon to evolve from their normal counterparts, serve to overlook color requirements, or to allow evolution from certain traits, etc.

Some Digimon may also have an extra "Rule" in the bottom corner.

Ace Digimon will always have [Hand][Counter]<Blast Digivolve> effects. So far, they all had no inherited effects. They also have a significantly cheaper play cost than comparable Digimon, but in turn have the Overflow mechanic. EX6 introduced Blast DNA Digivolution, which specifies the required Digimon by name, and not just Level and color.

Lv.6 Digimon usually don't have inherited Effects, some might though, if they were made with Lv.7 evolution in mind. Furthermore Lv.6 Digimon pop out of their frame, even on the normal arts.

Now Tamers originally had neither traits, nor inheritence effects. But certain Tamers now do! Tamers with Mind Link effects, or the kids from Frontier for example, will have Inherited Effects.

Option cards have a grey backdrop for their effects, and the effect text is black. This black effect text carries over to full/alt arts, regardless of color. The have a (use) cost instead of a play cost. They can also have traits or rules, but it is rare.

#digimon #digimon tcg #digimon card game #digica #digisafe #デジカ #digimon card #digimon template #template #digi community #digi lov edits

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vendetta-ari · 2 months

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as an avid velvette lover, i gotta ask about your hcs for her, give me the silly random shit, smut WHATEVER- i just need more of HER (and ideas to doodle)

AAA HI I LOVE YOUR ART AND THIS ASK WAS SO MUCH FUN TO DO OMFG :3

Theese headcanons are all over the place, they also include a bit of Vox and Valentino, they're everywhere so apologies in advance!! (Bit of NSFW) enjoy!!!

~ Velvette can't spell for shit, ok this is random but this poor girl cant help to save her life

~ She is the typa girl to sing I'm the shower (really fucking loudly mind you) and sometimes you cheer her on outside the shower.

~ Her favorite types of movies are musicals, more specifically Heathers (me too girl)

~ As much as she loves extravagant dates she prefers cozy movie dates with you, feeding each other chocolate strawberries and all that stuff.

~ Her favorite season is summer, and her favorite holiday?

~ “My favorite holiday? Well obviously it's my birthday! why wouldn't it be”

~ She likes drawing sometimes, she sketches in her journal, usually outfit designs but sometimes other stuff too.

~ More specifically you. you looked through her journal while she was at work once and there were a hell of a lot of sketches with you, a few of her sketches were both of you with little hearts around them, and a few pages with you modeling her outfit ideas.

~ Velvette used to take you both to clubs, but you got hit on one too many times and she refuses to take you to one ever again.

~ Every year she throws the most crazy halloween party where everyone gets drunk, her last halloween costume was a female (kinda slutty) ghostface costume

~ Her halloween parties usually go south immediately, Valentino is trying to get everyone to work for him and is high out of his mind, he's been staring at the ceiling lamp for an hour.

~ Vox is chugging alcohol and is getting way too drunk, he's glitching out every sentence. He's calling carmilla drunk and telling her what a bitch she is apparently, carmilla Is used to this and ain't amused, she's gonna block his number soon.

~ As for Velvette she's recording everyone's stupidity and mostly sober, had a few hits of weed and about four shots, but she can handle alcohol pretty well so you aren't too worried.

~ As for you, you stay near Velvette's side, watching it all burn. you don't usually leave her side

~ Not that you need to though, Velvette is pretty much anything you'll ever need <3

~ She gifted you a collar once and she gets all pissy at you when you take it off, you don't normally use it during sex but there are a few occasions.

~ The collar is purple and red with a silver lining, it's kinda tight around your neck but, whatever makes Velvette happy I suppose

~ She hosts Christmas parties too, they're a bit more chill because it's less people but Val is drinking the entire bottle of eggnog, vox is asleep on the couch with an ugly Christmas sweater he was forced to put on (I hc him not liking Christmas too much. (request vox headcanons pls) And Velvette's giving people incredibly stupid gifts for the gift exchange.

~ during her breaks she usually eats lunch, and bitches about her day (Mainly just Val and Vox) while you sit in between/on her thighs

~ As for drawing ideas, I like the idea of Velvette painting your nails all these pretty colors :3

~Another idea I like is just velvette pulling the most sadistic pranks on val, bc let's be real he deserves it (as for what the prank is idk)

~ Also istg I'd pay to see art of the Halloween party mentioned earlier (on a side note, I love your art it's really good omfg 😭)

(Word count: 517)

Had a lotta fun doing this, hope you enjoyed too!

-xoxo, Ari

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel romantic #romantic #fluff #smut #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette #the vees #vox hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel

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quietblueriver · 5 months

Text

Was inspired by @horse-immorality's Imogen headcanons, so I wrote an origin story for one of them. Imogen likes to hang out in Fearne's mind and Fearne does her best to make Imogen blush.

Thanks so much for letting me have fun w your hc.

They were waiting to order another round at the bar, hemmed in on either side by the raucous crew of a skyship that had just received their pay and were eager to celebrate. Someone stumbled into her, sending her pitching forward toward Fearne, who used one arm to help steady her as Imogen braced against the bar.

It didn’t hurt but it broke her concentration enough that his loudly projected curses broke through the walls of protection she tried to build in crowded spaces.

Shit. Sometimes all it took was one, and now seemed to be one of those times. Suddenly the constant but manageable pressure of two dozen minds’ worth of muffled thoughts became a series of battering rams, and her walls began to crumble, pulling Imogen’s mind in twenty different directions. A familiar pounding began at the base of her skull.

He owes me a round…need to go see mom…where’s the fucking barkeep…think maybe I had one too many…

Imogen closed her eyes and gripped the bar in front of her with both hands, breathing deep and trying to start the process of rebuilding, of getting back to herself.

It was often harder to fix a breach than to prevent one. Once her mind was open, she had to work to stop it from focusing on every thought possible, and in a bar like this one, there were so many thoughts, so many loud, drunken thoughts, for her to latch onto. If she could just get her mind away for a minute, she could…

“Did he hurt you?”

Fearne’s voice, the faintest tinge of anger present in her typically dreamy tone, pressed through the din. Imogen opened her eyes to respond, only to be met with Fearne’s face close enough that their noses were almost touching, beautiful green eyes inspecting her entirely unselfconsciously, roaming over Imogen’s face as one of her hands moved to hover protectively at the small of her back.

Imogen cleared her throat and pulled her head back slightly, but Fearne seemed either not to notice or to care, one fluffy ear twitching as she waited for Imogen to respond.

“Um…no. No. Sorry, it’s,” she lifted her hand and brought two fingers up, tapped twice in the air close to her temple. She could feel Fearne’s breath on her cheek as she explained, “Happens sometimes when there are a lotta people an’ I can’t, uh, keep ‘em out.”

Her mouth twisted into a deeper frown, and Imogen hurried to reassure her, “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Just need a minute.”

It wasn’t a lie, really. Imogen just wasn’t totally sure she would just need a minute in this particular case. She was never sure.

She couldn’t help but close her eyes again as she was hit with someone’s panicked push to the door, pangs of nausea echoing in her own stomach. Gods, she hated this. Imogen let out a breath, took another and tried to focus on creating a peaceful place for herself.

When she opened her eyes again, Fearne’s hand was still planted at the small of her back, a sort of grounding pressure that Imogen appreciated, and she had leaned back a little, turned her attention to the rest of the bar.

Her gaze wandered over Imogen’s shoulder for a moment before she returned to Imogen again. “Doesn’t seem as fun as I thought. Reading people’s minds.”

“It’s…”

Poor bastard’s got no idea…How does it go again? There once was a lass from Nicodranas…Wha’ tha’ fuck’s on tha’ guy’s head…Can have one more, right? It’s early…

She sighed, pressed her fingers against her forehead and rubbed. “I just wish I had better control of it.”

The hand not on Imogen moved to fiddle with a bloom of foxglove, the pink color a beautiful contrast to the green of her hair. “Is there anything that helps?”

Imogen winced as one of the voices from before remembered and gleefully belted, inside and out, a drunken rendition of a deeply vulgar sea shanty. She wondered, teeth grinding, if Pate knew this one, tried to distract herself by memorizing a few lines for later.

“Laudna,” she said without explanation, voice a little choked with the tightness of her jaw, which she worked to relax, counting the petals on a pretty blue flower she didn’t recognize just above Fearne’s shoulder. “Or, sometimes a distraction, so my brain can, sorta, get away to fix it.”

It barely made sense to her, but Fearne didn’t ask for clarification, just cocked her head and smiled at Imogen like she understood her.

Or like she wanted to swipe her coin purse.

Imogen still hadn’t quite learned to tell the difference.

Fearne’s ear twitched again, a white oleander shifting with the motion, and she blinked, leaning further out of Imogen’s space. She pulled her hand from Imogen’s back to rest on her bicep instead, squeezed a little. Raised an eyebrow and did it again, harder.

She said, a mirror to her suddenly booming thoughts, “Well, that’s fun,” and Imogen found herself using as a focal point Fearne’s unabashed, complimentary, and loudly projected opinions about her arms, even as she fought the urge to melt into the floor with embarrassment.

What do they do on farms here? Throw things? Throw horses? No, that can’t be right.

Imogen snorted, her face burning hot still, and Fearne’s smile lit up. She winked, her hand now rubbing gently. It wasn’t the soothing cool of Laudna but it was good, helpful, and Imogen tried to relax into the touch.

Maybe it was lifting all of those library books.

Imogen, possessed by an urge she couldn’t process fast enough to suppress, flexed. Fearne’s laugh was as unrestrained as everything about her. It could’ve hurt, sharpened the pain in Imogen’s mind. Instead, she focused on it, on the way Fearne’s whole body moved with her laugh, flowers shaking in her hair.

“I was just going to try to steal your coin purse. And maybe your knife. But this is much more fun.”

Imogen let out a very ungraceful noise, disbelief and amusement, as she reflexively put her hand to the objects in question, both of which remained where she had left them.

“Thanks. Not exactly what I’m used to but,” she took stock, the voices in her head still pounding to get in but less distinct now, a move in the right direction at least, “it helped.”

Fearne blinked a little too innocently as she said, “Oh, I’m so glad. I bet Laudna could do the same thing, if you wanted. It was easy, really.”

The heat that had begun to recede rushed back to her face and neck for reasons she didn’t quite understand. Her mind very unhelpfully recalled Fearne’s grip on her arm and she swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, as that warm hand was replaced by a cool one, squeezing in fascination at her muscles. That wasn’t…she didn’t…

Unfortunately, her mouth was as lost as her mind as she started, “Laudna, um, Laudna has…she doesn’t need to…” A corner of Fearne’s mouth lifted in a way that made Imogen feel very much like she’d been caught, although she didn’t know at what. Finally, cringing at herself, she settled on, “That’s alright, thanks.”

“Oh, right. The music,” Fearne said, almost a sigh, merciful enough to drop whatever had just happened. “That makes sense. You know, I think she’s like music, too. The way she laughs and also,” she floated her hands through the air and tilted her shoulders and head, familiar motions on an unfamiliar body, “the way she moves.” Both ears lifted happily as she dipped her chin at Imogen. “You know. Very beautiful. She’d fit right in at home.”

Imogen didn’t need to look into Fearne’s mind to know she meant it, and she felt a surge of affection and solidarity.

Before she could say anything, she watched as Fearne’s left hand worked itself back into her hair while the other wandered casually across the bar toward the pipe of the man next to them, swiped it and moved it into the swishing fabric of her skirts like it was nothing. Her eyes never left Imogen, that same smile lighting up her face.

Winking, Fearne brought the hand out of her skirts, put her elbow on the bar and rested a cheek in her palm. “You should try my mind sometime.”

Imogen raised her eyebrows, and Fearne giggled.

“I mean it. I think it would be fun.” She bit her bottom lip, familiar and unfamiliar again, anxiety traded for flirtation, the dark spread of pooling ichor for deeper pink. Her tone was undeniably suggestive as she added, “If you want.”

Imogen, embarrassingly and with all of the bravado she’d displayed earlier clearly depleted, blushed. Or kept blushing, she wasn’t totally sure she’d ever actually stopped. Still she ducked her head immediately to hide it and was punished with a throb, which caused her jaw to tense again.

“Only if you want,” Fearne repeated, voice quieter, less flirtation and more gentle concern.

Imogen managed to meet her eyes. “Sure. Maybe.” After a moment she added, genuine but flustered, “Thanks. For distractin’ me.”

Their drinks finally appeared, Fearne swooping in to take the tray while Imogen picked up her own water and the last ale.

Her eyes were stuck on the tray precariously balanced on one of Fearne’s hands when Fearne said with a shimmy, eyes flashing with mischief, “My pleasure.” Her skirts flew behind her as she turned toward their table, offered over her shoulder like it was nothing, “Knock any time, gorgeous.”

When Imogen settled next to Laudna at the table, a cool hand was immediately on her cheek, Laudna tutting with worry as practiced black eyes checked her over. “Imogen, you’re so warm. Are you feeling alright? Too many people?”

Her walls were almost entirely back in place, the roar muted again, but her cheeks only got warmer as Fearne’s delighted laugh sounded out across the table.

“I’m good. Just a little hot in the crowd.”

Laudna hummed and turned back to Ashton, eyes unsubtly half on Imogen still, and Imogen pretended to pay attention to the conversation, sipping at her water and enjoying Laudna’s voice and the calming cadence of her thoughts.

Imogen was curious, of course. She hadn’t really spent casual time, time apart from some other goal, in anyone’s mind but Laudna’s. They’d been busy the last few days, to put it mildly, but now, riding toward the Heartmoor, they could only go so fast, and it wasn’t like there was a whole lot else she could do right now.

There wouldn’t be any harm in asking, right? Fearne would tell her no if she didn’t want her there and she could always leave. No harm.

It took her fifteen minutes to work up the nerve to knock. Fearne’s mind opened immediately.

Well, hello!

Hi. You…you sure this is alright?

Oh, definitely. Make yourself at home.

She ventured deeper, past the surface level and fully into the space where they could communicate without any kind of projection, where Fearne would have to work hard to keep a thought from Imogen rather than to send it. It was…

Laudna’s mind was beautiful and musical and unlike anyone else’s, and her thoughts were as kind as she was. They were also as strange as she was, which meant Imogen had been present for, among other things: careful consideration of how to use the skulls, skins, and assorted bones of many dead animals; the drafting and editing of at least four of Pate’s one-man shows and a series of undeniably well-written but alternately horrifying (Laudna) or outrageously horny (Pate) poems; the recitation of recipes both edible and other; and the general ebb and flow of Laudna, which was, as she was, haunting and wonderful.

She had spent years in Laudna’s mind, felt at home there, and so felt prepared for anything.

She was not prepared for Fearne.

A few weeks before Imogen’s eighth birthday, a massive traveling fair came to Gelvaan. Her daddy, fresh off a promotion and a raise, was in a good mood and gave Imogen some coin and Sam’s older brother Peter a stern look before sending them off.

She remembered lots about that day: bouncing in line for the carousel and running as fast as she could toward the beautiful gray horse with deep blue tack and purple hair just like hers; the stick of the candy apple coating on her teeth; the way her heart pounded as she rode down the big metal slide, the burlap sack scratching at her thighs.

Most of all, though, she remembered the fun house, which wasn’t really a house but a series of large, connected red and white striped tents lining the edge of the fairgrounds on one side. When they made it to the front of the line, Sam and Peter raced ahead, but Imogen took her time. She stumbled through the spinning tunnels and wove carefully through the swinging pillars, pressed through brightly colored ribbons and clambered over the shaking bridges that marked each new room.

By the time she made it to the maze of mirrors, she was breathless, and as she pushed back the curtain to the big room, she stayed that way, mouth dropping open as she blinked and a hundred other Imogens blinked back. There were three possible entrances, with an Imogen moving down each path, and she picked one at random, watching as she turned each corner ahead of herself and behind herself at the same time. Purple met purple as she stared forward and back and above and below, disoriented and awed.

She heard someone crying, loud and afraid, heard some teenagers behind her whispering words she wasn’t supposed to say, their necks craning up to stare at themselves in the ceiling as they passed. She understood, felt the little tingle at the back of her neck warning her that something wasn’t quite right.

Stronger, though, was the curiosity that buzzed beneath her skin. She had no idea where she was, how much time had passed, how far she’d made it or how far she had left to go. She felt infinite and small, and when she finally reached the end, blinking at the steps to the next bridge, she had to stop and reorient herself, moving only when someone shoved past her and forced a jarring reentry to the normal world.

And of course Fearne’s mind wasn’t a hall of mirrors. She wasn’t at a fair or in a fun house; she was in her friend’s mind. But it provoked a similar sense of fascination paired with disorientation, a similar split from the world, and somehow, from time as it generally operated. And like the hall of mirrors, Imogen felt lucky to be there.

There was so much, all of it undeniably Fearne.

In line with what Imogen would have guessed, a series of curious thoughts and feelings flowed idly and constantly through her consciousness. That’s a nice broach. I wonder if I could…oh, look at the bluebird. “Orym, look! A bluebird!” The lyrics to a song Dorian loved.

And then there was the rest, a simultaneous current at the bottom of the river of conscious thought, all of it moving over Imogen, rushing at times and meandering at others. Sounds of Mister and creatures she couldn’t name, fragments of a time and place outside of this world, words and phrases in other languages, and the presence of something darker, not all that different from the strain of music in Laudna composed of the organic dark parts of her.

How’s it going?

Good. Good. Thanks for lettin’ me…hang out.

It’s nice. You’re like a cute little fish swimming around in my head. Stirring things up a little.

Imogen snorted, and Chet gave her a look that she ignored.

A fish?

Oh, don’t worry. You’re a very sexy fish.

Don't worry? She blinked, her mind’s inability to process the words forcing her mouth into motion in an attempt to assist. “I’m a…”

Chet looked at her again, suspicious, and she caught herself before she uttered the rest of that sentence. Heat rushed to her face, and she pulled further ahead of Chet as she dialed back into Fearne.

Sorry, a…a…

A sexy fish. There’s this one at home with a beautiful long flowing tail with feathers, so it can swim through the air when it wants to. They can be all kinds of colors, but I think you’d be purple, of course. Unless you’d like to be another color, I mean.

She paused, apparently waiting for Imogen’s input into her…fish form. Imogen, being in Fearne's mind, had the advantage of knowing that she was absolutely being messed with, but she could also tell that Fearne was genuinely happy to have her there, was having fun and being mischievous and all of it was good. The kind of easy fun that Imogen wished she’d had in her life for a long time, even if this kind of familiarity with anyone but Laudna still made her a little uneasy.

It helped that Fearne was so disarming and so good at flustering Imogen, who had spent a long time trying not to be an easy person to fluster. With most people, she would have backed off immediately, hackles raised. With Fearne, Imogen found that she wanted to stay, found herself sort of unable but mostly unwilling to do anything but play along.

No, I…purple is good.

Great. So you, fish-you, have long purple feathers on your fins and tail that fan out and four eyes and two mouths. You sing when you want to mate. The two mouths help.

Imogen heard, below their conversation, the sounds of what must have been the fish song, a surprisingly deep wail that moved into shorter bursts of sound in different pitches. It didn’t sound particularly sexy to her.

As if she’d heard her, Fearne immediately asserted: Very sexy. I don’t know how it would change with your accent though…

The sounds shifted slightly, a different intonation and it kept adjusting for a moment.

Maybe like that. Do you sing? You-you not fish-you, I mean.

Imogen was distracted because the wailing sounds had multiplied. A couple? A call and response? Or maybe they competed?

Imogen?

Sorry. Sorry. What?

Do you sing?

Sometimes. I’m not…I don’t…

Oh, is it like fish-you?

Is it like fish-me?

Do you save it for mating?

Imogen choked on air, loudly enough that Laudna turned back to look at her, concerned.

“Imogen? Are you alright?”

She grabbed clumsily for her waterskin and sipped until she felt her face cool.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Sorry. Think…think I swallowed a bug?”

Oh, that’s nice. Fish-you likes bugs, too. You have lots in common.

The mating call of fish-Imogen and her companions increased in volume.

Does this sound about right? Is there someone else I should ask?

Imogen issued a fond and emphatic, Shut up, Fearne, oh my gods.

Fearne's laughter bubbled up inside her, washing over Imogen before it spilled out into the world, loud and joyous.

#imogen temult #fearne calloway #cr prompt fic #sort of

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eldritch-nightmare · 4 months

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celebrating the holidays.

a/n: hi here's my short replacement for the eyeless jack fic. that one is still gonna get posted!! just may take a while bc it's getting longer than i intended it to be lol. anyways i tried to keep the holiday relatively vague but since i personally celebrate christmas, i may slip up a bit. couldn't decide who to write for so i just spun a wheel six times and went with the ones selected.

includes: the bloody painter, nurse ann, jane the killer (arkensaw), eyeless jack, kate the chaser, and homicidal liu.

warnings: not proofread, very brief mention of helen's childhood, literally just fluff, also inconsistent length but that's to be expected atp, reader consumes meat in jack's section so sorry if u don't, nsfw elements in jack's part my hand slipped guys, blood, lotta kissing.

THE BLOODY PAINTER

He never cared much for the holidays, even when he was a child. Honestly, it was the one time of year that he dreaded the most.

He's an artist, so you know what that means. Every year, without fail, he would always get some art-related gifts. Not that he was complaining about that or anything, it was really, and still is, the only thing he had much interest in.

He just... found it to be draining. Apparently, at least according to his parents, he was supposed to find the holidays to be a fun, exciting time of year. And he was supposed to be oh so thankful for getting yet another sketchbook or paints from his relatives or whatever.

That was just too much work, honestly. So he grew to dread the holidays, even long after he became the killer he is today.

He's... not quite sure how he feels about the wrapped gift you're holding out in front of him. A part of him wants to reject it, and he almost does, but the barely contained excitement in your expression made him hesitate.

Your excitement only seemed to grow when he took the wrapped gift from you. While he didn't necessarily want or need a gift, he couldn't help but indulge you, especially since you seemed genuinely excited over whatever gift you had gotten him.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was expecting when he unwrapped the gift. Something art-related, no doubt. And it was art-related, just not in the way he was expecting.

It was something similar to a scrapbook, but it was really... neat. And more so a collection of art rather than an actual scrapbook. The thing that caught his attention the most was that it was just any old collection of art.

It was his art. You... you took or had his art professionally photographed and you put it in this book. It wasn't every single piece of art he's ever made, but it included a lot from different points of his life. It even included pieces from before he had met you.

He does not cry, no. But you do catch the tiniest smile forming as he flipped through the pages. It's... the nicest gift he's ever gotten before.

Helen's not sure how he'll repay you for getting something like this, so for now you'll just have to accept the tighter-than-usual hug and soft kiss.

NURSE ANN

Ann isn't too sure if she's ever celebrated any holidays before. She has no memories of her life before her... death? Is she dead? Well, she certainly doesn't feel alive.

She's rather indifferent towards the holidays, and honestly she probably won't even realize it's that time of year unless you or someone else point it out to her.

If you want to celebrate with her then she certainly won't stop you, just don't expect her to be the life of the party or anything like that.

You will have to guide her through how to celebrate because she simply will not know. But once she gets a hang of how things work it'll be something she retains for the future.

Ann stares blankly at the... tastefully atrocious sweater you were sporting. There were so many colors and the design clashed in a borderline unbearable way but you somehow made it look good.

Her gaze then drops down to the matching sweater you were holding out for her, an expectant look in your gaze. She thinks she understands, though she still glances up at you in confusion.

You explain that while it's not necessary to do in order to celebrate the holidays, you thought it would be fun to wear matching outfits with her. It's something couples do sometimes, apparently.

After your quick explanation, she silently takes the sweater from your hands and puts it on over what she was already wearing.

It certainly looks odd on her, no doubt, but the fabric is actually pretty soft, and the bright smile that lights up on your face makes it hard for her to care about whether or not the sweater looks good on her.

JANE THE KILLER

Jane hasn't celebrated the holidays since all the shit that's happened to her. She's been so focused on hunting Jeff down that it never even crosses her mind. Hell, she hasn't even celebrated her own birthday in years.

But then you come along and you insist on doing something for the holidays. Not because you necessarily enjoyed the holidays, but mostly because you just wanted her to take a break for once.

It'll take a lot of convincing. You'll have to get her to promise you months in advance, if we're being honest.

And if she didn't have such a soft spot for you, she probably wouldn't even humor the idea you had to celebrate. But alas, she loves you, and she finds it hard to say no to you more than she would like to admit.

She huffs in mild annoyance, sticking close to you as you guide her down the streets. She wouldn't normally be in such a crowded place but everyone was so caught up in their own plans for the holidays that no one spared her a single glance.

You wanted to go ice skating. It's not typically a traditional way to celebrate the holidays, at least not for her, but it seemed as if it would be fun. And it would give her an excuse to be close to you, so.

When you guys finally reach the ice skating rink, you're bouncing in excitement and eagerly pulling Jane along to go and put some blades on. She lets you, because your hand is oh so warm in hers and the way the lights shine in your eyes makes her feel... peaceful.

Now, there's no denying that she has never gone ice skating before. Hell, she's never been roller skating. So the moment you two were out on the ice, she was clinging to you to keep herself from falling.

It was embarrassing, and she almost wanted to storm off out of frustration but you never laughed at her. You would help her catch her balance whenever she slipped. You only laughed when you slipped.

You were even fine with sticking to one side of the rink, always keeping Jane behind you whenever another person would skate too close.

And when the two of you decided you had enough, she couldn't help but pull you close right as you go to step out of the rink, planting a deep kiss on your lips and leaving you dazed as she goes to take her blades off.

EYELESS JACK

Similarly to Ann, Jack can't remember if he's ever celebrated the holidays before. However, unlike Ann, he does have a vague idea on how people celebrate the holidays. He's not isolated like her.

He's definitely indifferent towards the holidays. He doesn't care much for them, but he's probably willing to celebrate if you really want him to.

Gift giving is not his specialty, dear lord. You will have to sit him down and tell him bluntly what you want so he can find some odd most certainly illegal way of obtaining it.

Jack is, however, an amazing cook and there is nothing that could change my mind on this, so he will definitely be willing to help you make any holiday meal you may want to try out.

Jack is silent as he watches you cook some meat for the meal the two of you had been spending the past few hours or so making. You had family coming over, and you needed dinner to be done before they arrived, so you had enlisted the help of your demonic, cannibalistic boyfriend.

His nose scrunched up in slight disgust at both the sight and smell of the cooking meat, and he grumbled silently under his breath about what a waste it was to cook it.

His mild disgust only seemed to grow more evident when you cut a piece of the meat off and pop it in your mouth to taste test it. He just couldn't understand how you could eat such a thing. Then again, he can't really judge considering he only consumes raw meat. Typically coming from a human.

You hum in delight at the taste, and perhaps it's an instinctual thing humans do, or maybe it's something else, but you cut off another piece and hold it out for him to eat. He just stares, and it takes a moment for you to realize what you had done, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh.

Before you could eat the piece of meat yourself, he was grabbing your wrist and bringing it back to his mouth, eating the cooked meat and biting your finger in the process. You hissed at the feeling of his sharp teeth pricking your skin, but you don't pull your hand away from him.

The meat was disgusting, no offense. You're an amazing cook so it isn't your fault, he just literally cannot consume cooked meat (or really anything that isn't raw/human) and he's going to feel absolutely awful tomorrow but that's for future Jack to worry about.

Present Jack thinks he deserves a reward for putting up with both the smell and taste of cooked meat, and he licks at your bleeding finger like your blood is the best thing he's ever tasted. To him, it was. It certainly helped to erase the taste of cooked meat.

Once he was satisfied, he was pulling you closer to him and kissing you deeply. He bit at your bottom lip until it was bleeding as well, and he couldn't help but groan as your blood invaded his mouth once more, relishing in both the taste and the little gasp that came from you.

He wanted more. Needed, if we're being honest. He found himself craving for you as his hands fell to the hem of your sweatpants, gently tugging at them. A clear sign of his intentions.

You grabbed his wrists before he could continue, breaking the kiss off and smiling slightly when he chased after you. The two of you were breathing heavily, the air in the kitchen feeling a lot thicker now.

Later, you promised. You still had a meal to finish cooking, and your family would be coming by in just a few hours. You sealed the promise with a quick, chaste kiss before taking the meat off the stove and setting it aside to focus on the next part of the meal.

And he helped you. He was patient, and he knew you could keep your promise.

KATE THE CHASER

Considering her sensitivity to light, it's not exactly easy for her to celebrate the holidays since bright lights seem to be a staple in them.

She's not really much of a holiday person anyway, so it's not something that bums her out.

She's probably the only one on this list that's least likely to indulge in celebrating, and will more than likely turn you down if you bring up the offer.

But she does feel a certain fondness in her heart when she sees you getting excited over something in relation to the holidays. While she doesn't enjoy that time of year, she's glad that you do.

Kate keeps her eyes covered as you carefully guide her through the forest. You had a surprise for her, apparently. Something to celebrate the holidays without actually celebrating.

She wasn't immediately thrilled, but you had promised that there would be absolutely no bright lights involved and that she didn't even have to consider it something for the holidays. That was enough to make her willing to indulge you just this once.

Even with her eyes closed, she could practically feel the excitement radiating off of you as you brought her closer to wherever it was you wanted to take her.

You told her to open her eyes shortly after, and she found the two of you standing in front of one of the many abandoned cabins within the forest. She didn't even hesitate to enter the cabin when you motioned for her to. Kate trusted you.

The sight she saw when she stepped inside was... it was breathtaking, honestly.

The walls and the ceiling were covered in glow-in-the-dark snowflakes and stars, illuminating the cabin in a faint green hue. It wasn't a grand gesture or anything of the sort. It was... it was nice.

The glow of the stars and snowflakes was bright enough to illuminate the cabin but dull and dark enough that she didn't have to shy away from it.

That wasn't the only thing you had planned either. She's not sure how much time and effort you put into doing all of this, but you had set up a little space in the cabin. There was even a small projector set up, as well as some food that you knew she enjoyed.

It's definitely the most romantic thing she's ever experienced. And if this is how you want to celebrate the holidays with her, then she definitely won't mind doing this sort of thing again next year.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Similarly to Jane, Liu hasn't really celebrated the holidays since everything that happened. He knows when that time of year comes around, and it makes him feel nostalgic, but he always found it hard to celebrate alone.

He's the one on this list who'll be most excited to celebrate the holidays with you if you ask him to.

It doesn't matter what you wanna do. If you wanna decorate your home, if you wanna give gifts, if you wanna make a meal, if you wanna just stay in and watch some movies and order takeout then he's down.

Sully doesn't care for the holidays and he finds the whole time of year to be annoying, to be honest, so you'll only be celebrating with Liu.

And you decided that you wanted to decorate your home a bit for the holidays. It was a simple way to celebrate the holidays, and you didn't even have to leave your home to get any decorations since you had some stuffed away in a box in your closet.

When you had told Liu that that was your plan, he was eager to join you. It's been so long since he's been able to do anything for the holidays, and he was just... really excited to finally have someone to spend them with.

You made sure to put on some music to play in the background while the two of you got to decorating, and you'd tell him where to put certain things if he didn't know what to do with them.

You two chat with each other as well during all this, sharing random memories and stories from your childhoods. Some were happy, some were sad. Sometimes, Liu would trail off mid-story and you'd have to change the subject to something lighter.

At some point, when a particularly romantic song played, you set down the decoration you were holding and pulled Liu away from the one he was setting out so you could take a break and dance with him.

It got the brightest smile out of him. The brightest one you've ever seen.

The bitter sadness and nostalgia that comes with the holidays lingered. It would always linger, honestly, but it was easier to deal with when he's with you.

And he was excited to make new memories with you. Ones that'll make him smile when the holidays roll around again.

#sigh keep forgetting how i tag stuff here hold on #the bloody painter x reader #nurse ann x reader #jane the killer x reader #eyeless jack x reader #kate the chaser x reader #homicidal liu x reader #the bloody painter x you #nurse ann x you #jane the killer x you #eyeless jack x you #kate the chaser x you #homicidal liu x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you

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