#finally opening my etsy store tomorrow

[kirby-the-gorb]

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[incomingalbatross]

GF Fic: (Insert Time-Related Pun Here)

Having a birthday on the last day of summer was great when you were a kid.

When you were in college and vacation ended somewhere in the last third of August? Not so much.

“Grunkle Ford, I...I don’t think Mabel and I can make it to Gravity Falls,” Dipper confessed, the day before his twenty-second birthday.

“Is it the travel time?” Ford asked from the other end of the phone. “If your usual transportation is too slow, we can call in a favor or two for you kids—I know plenty of entities that would be happy to give you a lift as a birthday present—”

“No, I know, I know,” Dipper said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “And I really appreciate that, Grunkle Ford, I just...it’s not the travel, it’s being there. The other years we’ve been in college, our birthday was always on a weekend—last year was a Monday, but we spent that year with you guys instead of in school—”

“Thank goodness that seer tipped us off about her vision of 2020!” Ford agreed. “Taking a gap year to sail the Arctic with us was definitely the right decision for you two.”

“Right? Half a semester of online classes was more than enough. But—I mean, maybe it��s being back in school after being gone for a year, maybe it’s just early-semester problems, but...” Dipper sighed. “It’s just, I’m taking five classes, and I’ve got a TA job this year, and I’m getting back into the DD&MD group again and maybe planning to DM a oneshot as a Halloween event, and...” He sighed again. “It all looked much more manageable on my schedule. It was color-coded and everything!”

Grunkle Ford hummed noncommittally.

“Yeah, I know,” Dipper admitted. “Not the first time I’ve overbooked myself.”

“Not quite, perhaps. But it’s very good that you’re learning to recognize it and take steps to take care of yourself—when I was in college, I burned out routinely.”

“Mabel would sic the ‘Self-Care Fairy’ on me again if I didn’t learn.” The “Self-Care Fairy” was a truly terrifying onslaught of Mabelness, complete with costume and character voice, and would not go away until its subject had reached an acceptable level of well-being and had examined their mistakes. “Which is why...I have to cancel. If I came to Gravity Falls, even with instant travel, I’d only be able to get there around like 5:00 PM and I’d be stressed and anxious the whole time. And then I’d get back here exhausted and with no homework done and with class tomorrow, and...I just don’t think I can afford that.” Dipper paused, a knot twisting in his stomach. “I’m really sorry, I wish we could come...”

“Of course, Dipper, we know you do!” Grunkle Ford hastened to assure him. “Don’t feel sorry for us—of course we’d love to see you, but we just had the summer together. I’m just sorry you’re so short on time.” There was a moment’s silence.

“But how is Mabel doing? Is she facing the same challenges?”

“I mean, sort of.” Dipper smiled ruefully. “She kept trying to figure out some solution so that we could have our usual birthday and everything would work out, but...neither of us could come up with anything that would actually work. And she’s really busy too. She jumped back into school full steam ahead, and she’s got her Etsy store, and all her social groups to keep up with—you know she’s better at managing her energy than I am, but it’s still a lot.”

“I understand that,” Ford said. “You both do what you need to to keep up with your responsibilities, okay? We’re very proud of you both, you know.”

Dipper swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I know, Grunkle Ford.”

“Well, then, I’ll let you go—I imagine you have plenty to do right now! We’ll get in touch with you tomorrow, even if only by text.”

“Thank you, Grunkle Ford! Mabel and I are going to video-call at some point, we think, so there’s that. Say hi to Stan and Soos and Melody and the kids and everyone for me?”

“Of course, my boy. Have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The call disconnected, and Dipper sighed, throwing himself down on his bed. After a minute, he picked up his phone again and texted Mabel.

Just called Ford and canceled plans. He said to take care of ourselves and that he and Stan are proud of us.

Then he pushed himself into the homework for tomorrow until his phone buzzed.

Aww, of course he did. <3 Thanks for calling, brobro. I wish we could go, but you were right--I’ve got WAY too much booked. Why didn’t we check what weekday our birthday was FIRST???

Dipper snorted. Maybe we’re dumb :/

IMPOSSIBLE, Mabel sent back. Clearly an evil College Schedule Gremlin messed with our brains

Is that the same guy who makes it so you can never take the prereqs you need when you need them?

Yep!! And the one who fogs your brain so you THINK you’ve filled all your requirements until it’s too late to patch up the holes in your plan. His phone buzzed a second time after that text. ...Ugh, maybe there ARE gremlins in all the college systems

It would explain Blackboard, Dipper agreed with a frown. Huh, maybe they should look into that...

Anyway, though, u good for Zoom tomorrow?

Dipper huffed, reminded of the fact that they had no time for a paranormal investigation right now. Yeah, he typed, I can do an hour or so anytime after 5:30.

Cool, I will figure out a time and let you know!! Can’t wait to see your 22-year-old face!! :) Even if it sucks that we can’t party :(

Same, same. TTYL :)

Dipper tossed his phone aside again, shutting his eyes for a minute. It wasn’t just the party that had him down—though he would miss the bash that Gravity Falls usually threw on their birthday. It was...everything.

It was having a birthday without Mabel.

Oh, sure, they would talk, but they wouldn’t be in the same place. That was why, really, he’d hung onto their plans until the very last minute. He’d made it work on paper—taking an evening to travel to Gravity Falls, have a party, and be back in time for the next class—and it just felt wrong to admit defeat, to compromise on something this important. Their birthday meant the two of them celebrating together, having a good time, acknowledging that it was important.

This year wasn’t going to feel like a birthday at all, Dipper thought glumly.

But no, that was quitter talk. They were going to do their best anyway, because they were the Mystery Twins! Even if the situation was lame. Even if he was going to spend his time on the call with Mabel tomorrow doing homework and/or bursting with stress.

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. “Why do I always overfill my schedule?” he asked plaintively.

The ceiling didn’t answer.

---

Dipper dropped his backpack with a thud on his dorm room floor, hastily unzipping it and digging out his laptop. He was late—he’d left his thermos in his last classroom, and been halfway across campus before he realized and turned around to go get it. He blamed his sleep deprivation (a week in, and his body still hadn’t readjusted to the rhythm of morning classes).

Now, though, he could finally pull up Zoom. He plugged in his headphones as he waited for it to connect (stupid dorm wifi), and was rewarded with an ear-splitting squeal.

“Happy birthday, Dipper!”

He grinned at her beaming face. “Happy birthday, Mabel!”

“Did you get a birthday cupcake?” she demanded. “Or at least a birthday cookie?”

He grimaced. “I got ice cream at the cafeteria, but I had to eat it there,” he confessed. “Here, I’ve got...a birthday candy bar?”

“Hmph.” Mabel looked crestfallen, but plastered a smile on anyway. “It’ll have to do! We can sing Happy Birthday, anyway. One, two, thr—”

Before they could launch into an inevitably out-of-sync rendition of “Happy Birthday,” Dipper heard a loud knock. Judging by Mabel’s startled turn towards her door, she heard it too—

Wait, what?

The knocking repeated. On both their doors.

“..Huh,” Mabel said thoughtfully. With a wordless glance between them, they both unplugged their headphones and went to their respective doors.

“Happy birthday, slugger!” Stan said, grinning, the instant he saw Dipper. Over the internet, Ford’s voice was greeting Mabel at the same time.

Dipper’s jaw dropped.

“Ha!” Grunkle Stan shoved past him into the room. Waving to the camera, he added, “Happy birthday, sweetie!”

Ford peered past Mabel into the screen. “Happy birthday, Dipper, my boy!”

“But—what—”

“Grunkles!” Mabel cried. “...But wait, why not just video call us? Not that we’re not happy to see your wrinkly faces, but you came such a long way!”

“Yeah, exactly,” Dipper said, waving his arm in confusion. “You guys—you know we can’t really visit, right? Even with you with us? We don’t have time. I dont want you guys to waste a trip—”

“But we didn’t,” Ford said smugly. “We came to bring your birthday presents.”

With a flourish, Stan produced something and handed it to Dipper. It looked like...a piggy bank, but with a clock face set into the side?

Mabel gasped. “It’s so CUTE!”

“But what is it, Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asked.

“Simply put, my boy...it’s time.”

“It’s a Time-Savings Bank,” Stan said proudly. “Got our hands on these babies a few months ago, on a little side trip. See, when you’ve got some extra time—like, at night, or when you’re waiting for a pot to boil, or whatever—you can use these gizmos to store it up instead! Then when you need more time, you use the clock to take it back out. Whammo! You squeeze in a few extra hours between the normal ones.”

“Like Daylight Saving Time without the false advertising,” Ford added. “We know you two are short on time right now, but...if you’d like, there’s enough in here to give you and everyone currently at the Mystery Shack a good few hours of spare time. What do you say, kids? Still up for a party?”

“Are we!” Mabel crowed.

Dipper stared at this miraculous device. “But...that’s a lot of hours,” he said. “Where did you get the time?”

Stan barked out a laugh. “You kiddin’, Dipper? We figured from the start that at least one of you would burn out when you went back to school. We’ve been putting time aside in these things for months.”

“...Really?” Dipper said. Somehow, he found himself blinking rapidly, and swallowing down some obstruction in his throat.

Stan coughed uncomfortably, looking away. “I mean, it’s not like we gave you any time we had a use for. Just some odds and ends here and there...every day... Anyway! You kids wanna get this show on the road?”

“YES!” Mabel shouted.

Dipper beamed. “Definitely,” he said. “Absolutely.”

And a few minutes later, when they all found themselves in the Shack (courtesy of one of those “favors” Ford had mentioned yesterday), and Dipper had piled into the inevitable group hug with his twin and his grunkles—and with hours of birthday celebration in front of them all—he had to add, “Best present ever.”

[sugar-petals]

hey angel (m)

♡  sub!felix + reader 

↳ The JYP Halloween party is ditched on short notice. That means: You have a down-to-celebrate boyfriend in full angel costume on your hands.

words. 5k 

tags. domestic au, finger sucking, hickeys, latex, corruption kink, fingering, vaginal sex, footjob, harnesses, cunnilingus, kitten antics, edging, aftercare 

★⎡CARO’S NOTE⎦› here goes the cutie on duty 👼

genre. domestic + smut/crack

„So sorry mate,“ Bang Chan’s voice resounds through the speaker. „I thought it could work but… We can’t celebrate tonight. Really sorry, Felix. Changbin and I already got dressed up too, but, you know things got shut down. JYP won’t let us with the Corona rules and stuff.“

„Oh no…“

„Yeah, man. Looks like we’ll have to do it next year.“

„You even prepared the food already, right?“

„We’re handing it out to staff and eat it at home. I know, it sucks. I spent half the morning in the kitchen. I can like keep the pumpkin cookies so you can eat them tomorrow after practice or so.“

„I feel so sorry Chan… and thank you.“

„I’ll be calling Hyunjin and Han now as well. Really sorry we’re cancelling short notice. I hope you’re still having a nice evening bro. Maybe we can make it happen for Christmas.“

„Okay. Cheers mate.“

„Yeah, cheers.“

Felix puts his phone down looking more than deflated in his angel costume, puffs out a big sigh. You can tell he really looked forward to this. Just an hour before, you bothered to sew the wings in place rather than rely on the wobbly back-pack like construction that came with it. 

They’re firmly attached to his white top now, and all for nothing. He glued them together by himself with a pack of synthetic feathers ordered on Etsy for a ridiculous shipping cost, along with a little halo that he clipped into his hair. Which, because maybe it really does sense his mood, dangles low and even a bit lopsided over his head.

„It’s the party of the year,“ Felix flops down on the living room couch. “I can’t believe this.“

You sit down opposite to him, starting to clean off the table where masses of cosmetic products and leftover feathers have piles up.

„Next time, Lixie. We can keep the costume. Poor Chan, he organized the living shit out of everything.“

„I’ll just go and shower, get this off, and stuff,“ he points at his face. Felix applied his own makeup with a little help from you here and there, including some golden sparkles. Just yesterday, he bleached his hair. It’s sculpted down to every strand with hair spray now. Felix unties his sneakers with the little gold stars on. Just before he starts plucking off his halo, you get an idea, pick up your phone from the table.

„Wait— Let’s at least make some pictures with your phone, you put so much effort in this. You look so cute. The fans might want to see it as well.“

„Oh! You’re right,“ Felix stops right in his tracks. „For Instagram.“

After tightening his sneakers again and you making sure the halo sights right, Felix walks around your flat in search for a nice backdrop. You follow, quickly flipping through some filters to try, and adjusting the flash on the camera.

After posing at the fridge — strange idea — and in the bathroom turns out a little awkward as well, you decide that such an elaborate costume needs a themed background, and only the bedroom offers just that. You recently changed the duvet to sky blue sheets with clouds on them. The overall interior is mostly clean white as well, with some thrifted vintage furniture. Fairy lights, heavy curtains, a wooden ceiling. Perfect.

„We’ll caption it as… post your own stay-at-home costume, something like that,“ Felix plops down on the bed, acting as if he just took a seat on the cloud in the very middle.

„Sounds pretty good,“ you press release, and the first picture pops up on your screen. „Can you turn a little towards the light? That the sparkles are showing.“

„Yay, I love the sparkles!“

„Just like this, just like this. Don’t move. The sparkles!“

A five-picture series of more snapshots ensues, with you adjusting Felix’s face a few times by hand, even, turning his chin by sheer millimeters to find the perfect angle. He’s stunning.

„I have another idea.“

„Oh?“

„I remember what I wore for Halloween three years ago. The costume must be somewhere. I think it fits together with yours.“

„What, oh wow?“

„What was it again, wait…“

You already begin to sort through your wardrobe, checking each hanger, each drawer, end up where you store your socks, and finally pull out a larger plastic zip bag from the very depths of all that chaos. There it is. Nice.

„Lix, if you’d turn around for me, please.“

He immediately does. Blushing.

„Thank you, angel.“

You pull off your sweat pants, your grey shirt, socks, your bra. Time to dress up. Only your simple black panties stay on. On goes a pair of scarlet stockings, snug and high. Then, a dark red latex skirt that goes in big circles and flounces, down to the mid-thigh. 

Added: A tight sleeveless peplum top that admittedly… and deliberately squeezes your boobs a little. Not too much. More important is that your nipples are showing right through, and the cleavage is sweeping, every demon would be salivating at your feet. If an angel does: Remains to be tested.

Around your waist and chest and over your shoulder goes a black harness, pulling everything together. Some very pointed, glossy pumps with thin heels complete the costume. They’re not crafted to be walked on in the very least, their balance is terrible. You’re planning something else with them. Cherry on top: Devil horn headband. Really curved and pointy, too. Can’t go wrong. You click your tongue and take a spin. The skirt flares out perfectly. Ready to go.

„Felix, time to turn around.“

He does. You can tell he didn’t cheat.

„You’re, you’re so hot in this,“ Felix buries his face right in the comfort of his sweater paws, hoping they would not give away his embarrassed little face. But — his voice does, effortlessly so.

„Come on, have a look at me. Real closely, angel, come. You’re allowed to.“

Felix gazes through his fingers with what sounds like a little meep! in a much more high-pitched tone than his usual speaking range. He’s cute.

„Hey pum’kin. Miss Lucifer speaking. Where’s the barbecue?“

Felix and you recently agreed that hell must be one big and extremely hot cave where everyone’s grilling and having a good time. Australia, essentially.

„Welp!“

„Damn right. Infiltrating God’s realm one cloud at a time. Any last words?“

„It’s so intimidating!“

Felix digs himself into a mountain of pillows on the bed, with only his eyes and nose peeking out. You shrug, adjust your horns.

„Hm. Time for my first satanic act I guess.“

„Oh no!“

„Wait just one minute, be a sweet and patient boy.“

You leave Yongbok confused given that you’re quick to hurry to the kitchen. However, what you return with puts a giggle on his lips right away.

„Boom. It is served.“

„Yes, yes, please!“

Poufy black cocoa cupcakes. The ones with the cute little ghost frosting on it, and the melted chocolate inside. Felix finds them irresistable since the last Halloween party, to the point where you bake them mid-July. The current set of cupcakes was meant to be a contribution to Bang Chan’s eerie and delectable buffet. As for now, they’re in deep need of someone hungry since you made a lot of them, assuming a post-workout Changbin would devour at least five or more.

„Good move,“ he admits, a little shaky, and you proceed to tray the cupcakes on the bed — stuffing Felix for a solid ten minutes until there’s chocolate all over his face. What you’ll be quick to confess is that you’ve been deliberately messy feeding him, with all the crumbs in particular.

„Spoiled honey bun,“ you plant a kiss on top of his head.

„These taste so good, I swear.“

Next up is Felix who has to carefully maneuver the sweet treats into your mouth without spoiling your outfit.

„If you get crumbs into my cleavage, I can’t put your face in there later you know.“

Fierce nodding.

„That’s the spirit.“

Under your eagle eyes, he proves to be an obedient little cherub doing his job pretty well. The cakes are delicious in how spongy they are, and the liquid chocolate warms up so well on the tongue, it melts even more. You’re more than pleased and have Felix store away the remaining four pieces only after quite a while.

„I’ll have them for Brekkie, woo!“ is what he’s fast to proclaim, and you agree he’ll need them the next morning. Once you’re done with him, that’s gonna count as a hangover even Chan’s wildest party couldn’t give him.

„We’re talking dinner first, Felix.“

At this point, all the sugar is kicking in. Or it’s the chocolate being some kind of aphrodisiac. Whatever, could be either, you’re feeling like you’re up there at the ceiling, and you’re not the only one. Felix coming back to the bedroom so bouncy and cutieful just gets you even more in the mood.

You sit at the edge of the bed, slanting backward just a little. „You look like you need some more corruption, I won’t lie,“ you pat your lap, beckoning. He can ditch wifi because this is his favorite hot spot waiting for him. Felix sits down looking tiny as ever, eyes full of anticipation and his pants full of… big fat late night erection.

„I don’t mind at all, Miss. I don’t, oh my god…“ he mumbles into his nonexistent Aussie trucker beard, and you’re clear that whatever the skirt did to him, his brain must be doing kangaroo somersaults right now. In the meantime, something very eager is poking right at your lower belly. Captain Boomerang already came fully armed tonight and the Suicide Squad isn’t even anywhere near to be seen.

„Oh hey hey, cupcake. Getting really big there,“ you wipe at the curled little corners of his mouth. Some crumbs come off. His lips already twitch the way you know they want to do naughty things on you. He doesn’t seem to notice. Autopilot Felix has already taken over.

„Don’t hurry with it,“ he stares, mouth half-open, but his little grinds prove him a dirty — in an entirely direct sense — fucking liar. Like he’s literally rubbing himself against your stomach.

„Boy oh boy. You’re not even trying.“

„I’m fucked!“ is what Felix soon realizes with the daggers you’re shooting at him through your hopefully very satanic-looking eyes right now. Alongside catching up with his darn hips doing their own thing.

„You are.“

„I’m sorry for grinding, God help me!“

„He won’t. Cuz I’m here on your cloud. Cue stage number two of my demonic plan. Safeword?“

„It’s chocolate!“

„Mh. Good pick.“

The rest as usual. Tapping the thigh, yellow for pause, towels plus water ready, and always double-checking the lube in case of Jisung putting a glass of vegemite under your bed as his latest practical joke. Yes, it happened. It’s a whole new level of demonic. On the other hand: perhaps Felix’ ass could’ve actually handled it, Made in Australia it is. 

„Let’s go honey angel,“ you curl at his hair with a little finger just to tease him a little more. The answer is a little meow, at this point Felix’ communication skills have simplified to kitten vocabulary which always happens when he is nervous and looking forward to something.

Next thing poor Felix knows, his face has entered the scorching satanic abyss that is your cleavage. Literally, you’re burning up. It’s fucking October and Felix has you breaking a sweat from all your horniness (literally, your horns are just that chic) already. Twice the reason to punish the shit out of him. If that can be considered anything near a punishment.

A shower of various „Mh— nh!“ and mewling noises comes to rain down on you while Felix face takes a trip down mammary lane, and that, too, is literal. He’s salivating. So much about rain. Actually, great lubrication. Felix always does things best by instinct.

„Yes, good boy. Great job.“

Now that his mouth is wet already, you’re unceremonious about shoving your fingers right down his throat after he resurfaces. Blushed, hard, and ready to choke himself since he’s already running short on breath. It doesn’t take long until he’s gagging himself stupid and the sparkles under his eyes start running.

„Pretty, pretty,“ you lean down a little, kissing his nose. „Give me all you got.“

„Gh—gch—“

The answer is as slobbery and unintelligible as can be. To a normal human, at least. You’re a demonic top. That automatically means having an Ivy League major in gag noise translation.

„Oh yes, I know,“ you stroke his hair, using your free hand that usually rests at the back of his neck. „Talk to me about it. Exactly what I was thinking. Do go on.“

And he does, louder than ever. If there’s one satisfying sound, it’s this, that heavenly deep voice doing all kinds of nasty acrobatics is making you go crazy. That Felix is absolutely close to cumming in his angel pants is very much clear to you given how the veins and muscles on his neck are having a chaotic Halloween party on their own.

Which includes his tongue taking turns on your two fingers as well. And a wide-eyed Felix struggling, swallowing, holding on to your shoulders with his little feet twitching in their sneakers. Like mad… and you love it. But also — hopelessly sucking and moaning and slurping and squealing until his neck has way too much saliva on it for you not to make it your next target. Felix is so good at this. Way too good.

„Looks delicious,“ you lean in, your hair tickles his ears. And now, you’re busy nibbling, biting a little… and most importantly, giving Felix a wet hickey that will send his makeup artist — my God, you really torture the unsuspecting man almost weekly — into a meltdown. Rowdy and unholy is the look you’re going for.

In the meantime, Felix is still wrapped up trying to hit your fingers at the back of his throat. If his cute bouncy run and rude boner moment didn’t turn you on already, now you would be. The way he’s just sucking in his own spit makes you realize that you won’t ever need a fire brigade for your flat.

You emerge from his neck and raise your brows. Felix is just hard-wired to impress. „Just how much saliva can you produce!“

„Ch… Mnh— Nh…“

Hitting some more complex syntax and consonants there, is he.

„Oh, I get it now. You stayed hydrated during the day. Thanks for explaining, mate. That’s the secret.“

Whether that’s perfectly scientifically correct down to the enzyme theory and shit neither of you can google right now. At least you know that you’re both drenched on either end so that’s that.

Once Felix is so horny from deepthroating your damn hand that he has pull off and yellow-word, you’re already prepared for introducing a new position which you can prepare while he’s gathering himself and wiping off his chin. You hand him a second towel for his neck, and present him a little hand mirror to see how the hickey turned out.

„It’s shaped like, hm,“ he pants, words still slurring a little. „I dunno! It’s really cute!“

„Let me see… No doubt that’s a rice cake hickey. That’s the shape.“

„You’re right!“

And off he goes snapping a selfie with it while you get comfortable on your back, cleaning your own fingers.

„Just don’t upload that one to Insta instead of the cloud shots, we’re not gonna survive another Manager call at 1:15 AM.“

„Can I use your phone for it? That’s where it’s supposed to be on, anyway.“

Felix giggles a little. That cute brat. Always knowing how it’s done.

„Sure babe!“

And voilà, Felix is already occupied setting a good view of his new rice cake-shaped friend as your phone background. Good thing, helps his erection cool down a little, he was about to blow up his poor white pants. The acceptable unfair feat being that he’s just riling you up even more like that on the other hand.

„If you come to mommy now,“ you wriggle one foot in the air, the other splayed on the duvet, knee slightly bent. „Rubbing her pussy and doing your thing, you know how it goes.“

„Angel duties calling! What am I doing!“

At the speed of sound, Felix stores your phone back on the bedside table and crawls over in an instant. He props his chin on your abdomen and blinks.

„Sorry Ma’am. At your service. Never wanna keep you waiting.“

A big smile rouses his cheeks, and you boop them from either side. His peach fuzz is so soft and his eyes are so beautifully dark. You don’t waste any time keeping your skirt down for any longer. Another blink and Felix is already pawing — well, kneading and caressing technically — between your legs. He’s visibly understanding just how wet the whole finger sucking circus has left you now.

„What if I used my heels on your cock, boo. Still no cumming. Just my heels and my lil’ prince.“

Satanic plan stage number three. Felix has gotten to savor it last Christmas and for his birthday, and some time around the holidays in summer.

„I love it yay!“ Felix claps his hands. Baby, baby.

„C’mere then. Just keep on rubbing.“

His arms are fairly long enough. While you’re dragging the slender heels of either shoe right across the outlines on his crotch, Felix, eyes loosely closed, maintains a steady rhythm on your clit with three fingers lined up on the fabric of your panties.

„Oh fucking hell, Felix, shit—“

Whenever you masturbate, that alone would never do. You’d get frustrated after a while. Need more stimulation. But when Felix is on angel duty to keep your pussy soaked, it doesn’t need much to make your clit throb, even with your underwear still on. Guess that God’s little helpers know how to work their magic to make your head spin.

He’s hitting the right spot, with the right moves, and his other hand doesn’t miss out on a single opportunity to stroke at both the in- and outside of your thighs. The touch is so subtle, you twitch. Felix strokes on, delirious himself. His eyelids flutter.

„Fuck…“

Despite the little pause from earlier taking out most of his tension, your heels leave Felix with pants that are even more bulged out. That’s making it easy to direct your feet to jerk up and down at either side. You’d never know either of you would be so into this. Foot fetish and all.

Once he’s edged you to the point of moans, last thing you properly remember is calling it quits with the panties and telling him to line himself up. The heels kicked off, the skirt still on, you decide that unpacking your Halloween treat has been long overdue. You slide his pants down, roll down a pink condom, and grab his cock at the base to glide it all over your wet lips.

„Lix, come fuck me. You got me all horny. Satan is recruiting.“

„With me it’s not sinning,“ he smiles, brighter than the sun and you do right along. It’d be hard not to. Felix truly has the innocence of a virgin, the subtle confidence of an intermediate, the caution of a pro, and the kindness of a real veteran.

„You’re right about that Felix,“ you say, prop your entrance at the very tip, let the wetness do its job. „Come kiss your honey girl.“

And he does. Entering you with care for the right angle, letting your hip do the rest. What’s been circling and sucking your fingers so deliciously is now doing a hot job teasing and pleasing your tongue all over. His lips are amazingly soft and plump, they open so gently and feel electric on yours. A gentle squeeze around your left breast sparks a moan into the kiss from you. It’s Felix massaging your breasts while deepening his penetration, and you can tell the vegemite can stay under the bed today. You can tell Felix is getting more than flustered knowing it was all him who made you this dripping wet.

Even his dick seems to blush in sync. It’s fucking pink and red. Oh wait, that’s the condom. But knowing him and from your viewpoint, it’s still more flushed than before, no kidding. Faithfully pumping in and out of you at its full length now. You wrap your legs around his waist, the thrusts become deeper, shorter, parting you open much more, and filling you out so properly.

„So good. Right there, angel. Just right there. I’m loving that.“

Felix has a great dick. Best handy size, the girth’s comfortable, all nice and bendy, virtually no curve, you can always gyrate on it in any way and even take a complete 180 if you go from cowgirl to reverse (which you’d be doing right now but he’d crush his wings if he were on his back like that so no). Cherry on top, compact but soft balls that don’t steal the show but still do the trick during doggy. They’re whipping up the best cum in the world, so.

The slow kissing goes on and on and Felix tries to walk the tightrope of neither letting your pussy lips suck the orgasm out of him, nor making you cream his cock with shaky legs from all that gorgeous sloppy friction, and the kissing, and his sweet cherry shampoo scent that has your brain in absolute limbo.

With everything hanging by a thread like that, every kiss becomes special and full of a suspense that makes your lips tremble — either set, and Felix can hardly bear it himself.

His little halo is dangling back and forth, and you can tell by his face that all that thrusting has him in serious trouble. And you? Are fucking leaking and groaning, and that little shallow series of first contractions before your orgasm is already preparing you.

The sugar high from the cupcakes is fading, but your adrenaline is sure to replace it. You just want Felix to fuck you more and rock against him, and hold his head, and kiss him. God, his mouth is so warm and inviting, tastes so good like cocoa.

The pace joins yours without any effort, it adapts when your rhythm changes, and it stabilizes everything when you’re currently riding the high of his cock really filling you out so you can clench your muscles around him, feel him and tell him just you wait, I’ll milk you. He’s such a good kisser. You can feel all of your wetness running down your ass like it’s Christmas.

„Felix, I’m overflowing.“

„I’m so sorry,“ he whines into the kiss. „I’ll be washing the sheets.“

„Listen, baby,“ you break the tongue-on-tongue, „you doing laundry is really sexy. But the overflow is the best part. Just look what you’re doing to my body.“

You could ravage him on the spot. He’d probably lose it and cum in two seconds. Holding yourself before the edge is so tough right now.

„Shit… yellow again. Need a moment.“

Felix has to resort to a bit of cockwarming, and you use the little break to rid yourself off the harness. It’s not perfectly comfortable when you’re lying down. You’re about to fling it off the bed that Felix asks to wear it. Oh. Very well. It actually goes as a nice contrast on his white top, and the straps make it easy to adjust to him. And he wants it to sit on him really tightly. Oh again.

You realize—

On you, it’s only a fashion piece. Something random that came with the costume.

On him: It’s kinky.

„Hey hey. You look sexy, pum’kin,“ you pat at his chest. „Look at your waist, wow.“

Your sweet boy. It’s like it’s made for him. So cinched and the exact opposite of his costume. He’s a corrupted, dirty angel now, it’s perfect. With his pink neck and all sweaty face, and his little puppy gaze that will haunt you in your sex dreams because it literally just gets into your pants so much. Oh god, you just wanna cum. You have to distract yourself with chaste images of Felix washing the dishes or writing grocery lists with little hearts and emojis on them but that just makes it five times worse.

The way he puts the harness on with his dick inside you is so mouthwatering and cumworthy, you can’t wait to resume and switch your own brains off on that angel cock. Once Felix is ready to exit phase yellow and resume the session, your hands magically gravitate towards the straps of the harness at this waist.

„Can I?“

„M—hm!“

You have the time of your life grabbing and guiding him by the harness, controlling every thrust. Felix clenches up his teeth from how lavishly his cock is squeezing into your pussy.

„Oh babe,“ you groan out. „Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Come on, angel.“

He’s not going to take it much longer. Felix is tensing all over, neck to the knees, it’s a huge shock wave in the making. That climax is going to be like a fucking punch into outer space.

„I’m really at my limit, I’m, I’m…!“

„Cum for me, angel,“ you reach to his neck to bring his lips down again. Your mouths going into shaky contact brings a big soaring moan with it.

„Ahn—!“

You lock lips, his face scrunches up, and you can tell that cum worth of three orgasms is currently pooling into the condom. You don’t belong to the mile high club, but going by how far up this feels, you might as well be. Those sweet shivers. And the little whines. It’s all too much for him, this one got him bad. Felix cumming is like the angels really are singing. With bells and harps and all that shit at once.

After pulling out, the ruined condom goes off lightning fast. Felix’ cock gets some much-needed cooling, but his face is on heavy duty. How he does it after almost getting his lights turned off, it’s a mystery, it must have been six whole loads he shot into you. You’d already be collapsing in his shoes. Felix still being able to put his mouth to work is an act of divine intervention. Honestly though, it doesn’t even take half a minute. Sloppy head from Felix is cryptonite, your stamina comes tumbling down. His tongue just knocks you out with an overwhelming rush of pleasure.

“Oh— yes...”

What is gravity? You don’t know what north and south mean anymore. He laps and sucks you through your high and your legs give up their soldier service. All you see it fluffy blonde strands of hair peeking from below your skirt, a glimpse of the harness, the rest is heavy growling and swearing from all of the contractions and Felix getting raw and dirty Down Under with no fears, literally none, to bury his face and move it around and let his tongue loose. Time and again Felix shows you he’s a swallower. Satanic agenda: success.

For tonight, your pussy will be nothing but glitter, cum, and spit. Swollen like crazy, properly fucked, and tipped to the absolute limit. Felix keeps on slicking up his face completely, and then brings you into the afterglow with his fingers. One at a time, barely adding stimulation. Just fetching you where you are and climbing down. Looks like you’ll share the cupcakes, this is a couple hangover in the making. In Felix’ case in particular. It’s like he signed up for testing a mad scientist’s latest designer drug.

„Wow wow… So you served me choco cupcakes and God’s menu,“ is the last thing he can say in his delirium before falling over. He’s so fucked out and went so wild on eating you, a part of the harness came off. Thank god his nose is so small, all that swiping could’ve broken the bridge and whatnot. And his lips, they’re twice as plump. You really have to compliment in on what his mouth has done today because that was some champ shit.

You’re both buffering on the sheets for a solid five minutes until you roll to the side. Towel… water… forehead kisses. Yes, forehead kisses most importantly. After gathering yourself a little, you pamper Felix into a heart rate around 90 rather than 120. And with the onset of exhaustion for the two of you, that’s not too hard after some minutes passing. Whispering sweet nothings and praise is all you do up until 2 AM and after. Felix is somewhere between worlds, one foot in the door of the dreamland, the other soaking up the care and the intoxicating, thick scent of the room that has a lot of cherry shampoo in it.

At some point. You loosen the harness, pull off his shirt with the wings attached. The halo you unsuccessfully try to spot in his hair. Turns out: It flew off. Felix really must’ve made Satan proud if it fell down just like that. Good job. Felix has earned a title of being a dirty angel now, and by the way he’s chugging water now, a wet one on top of that.

Five tons of spit, six, seven, who knows how many he’s afforded for today. A head pat is not enough, it has to be several, and Felix passes out onto the pillows. As good as you can, you wipe him down, bin the condom, get off his shoes and his half-pulled down trousers. After staggering to the bathroom, your skirt and peplum shirt follows, the stockings stay on, they’re cozy as hell. Last but not least, you remove your devil horns. It feels like they granted you the most unknown demonic powers.

Next time Felix is on his way to making you cum again, you’ll be wearing them, and you’ll last the way you did tonight. Meanwhile, Bang Chan is blowing up your phone because Felix pressed send by accident earlier, but you don’t notice. It just keeps on vibrating on the bedstand and Chris will have to riddle over the rice cake selfie for the rest of November.

Felix dozes with an angelic little smile on his lips and puffs his cheeks in his sleep, his makeup wiped and his hair truly messy. Instagram can wait. Maybe you’ll get to brush your teeth a little later, it usually takes some time until you wake up again and topple to the sink. You huddle together, tuck your sweet baby pum’kin into his second favorite spot at your chest. Ah, the glory of Felix little spooning.

As the last signature, you nibble at his ear, call him your cutie pie, and switch the lights off. You have to listen closely but if you do, it’s like Felix is purring in his sleep. Whatever your own dreamland is planning to launch on you tonight, you’re looking forward to it.

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. reposts, modifications and translations are prohibited. character depictions are fictional & for entertainment purposes only.

PS — oh, my good ole fellas, a last cursed disclaimer. i must insist on the following for obvious reasons. vegemite makes for some terrible strap lube okay 😂🇦🇺

like my writing? donate: ko-fi

[soulmate-game]

My Etsy Store is Coming!

Hey guys! So, I can't charge for fanfiction (because of a ton of reasons, even if I could I probably wouldn't) but I do, like all of us, need money. I have been unemployed for a while because of Personal Reasons, but I have been working for a while to reopen the Etsy store I used to have when I was in college. It was never a big thing and, looking back on it I did a bunch of things wrong, but I have been planning a reopening for a very long time and worked very hard to get there!

I am finally there! No later than Monday 1/10/2022, I will be reopening my Etsy Store! If all goes well, it might even be open as early as tomorrow or Sunday, but most likely Monday with how things look at the moment. I will have a total of three types of objects in my store upon opening, which are as follows:

Pendants (with plain black hemp cord included, so you have a full necklace!)

Earrings

Bracelets

Each of these three categories once again falls into one of the following three... extra categories? idk what word to use, but they are:

Wax Seal Jewelry (these, as of right now, are exclusively pairs of earrings and a few pendants. They are made from double-sided wax seals in various designs.)

Wire Wrapped jewelry (in all three categories. I have been working hard to improve my wire wrapping skills, and I am only getting better as time goes on!)

Embroidery (exclusively pendants, in small embroidery frames, as of right now)

I'm not expecting a huge reopening-day amount of sales or anything. Like I said before, my store was never huge, but I am proud of the amount of things I have managed to put together for the reopening. If you want to support me and have a little extra money to spend, please consider dropping by the Etsy store on Monday, even if you just browse what I have so far. Thank you guys so, so much!!!

But also, if you do not have the money or what I have up for sale ends up not being your style, or for whatever reason you just don't wanna buy anything, don't worry! I still appreciate each and every one of you regardless and just the fact that you read and enjoy my stories brings me joy!

https://www.etsy.com/shop/WiccedlyMagickal?ref=seller-platform-mcnav

[eyesaremosaics]

“When I look at you, oh, I don’t know what’s real.”

These lyrics echo softly around the room. Dark, enveloping as these times may be, our love for each other just grows stronger. I feel very grateful that I finally found my person. How good it feels to finally be wanted by someone I feel equally as strong for. A rare anomaly.

It hasn’t been easy though. Falling in this kind of love at this point in time. It’s almost as if the universe said: “—well... you got a lot of shit coming, so here, we will throw you this bone but that’s all you get.”

We sit and build gundams together, play Pokémon, magic the gathering, watch adult swim cartoons all day everyday, we both sleep with our favorite stuffed animals, and they sit right on our bed. Our apartment is coming along beautifully. We co-created the space effortlessly. I am so stoked to have a kitchen I can cook in. I’m always cooking or baking something.

My GI issues have gotten better (thankfully) it was truly awful not being able to eat anything. I’ve got my diet down to a science now. I will be sharing recipies periodically for those who are interested. Finally able to start my Etsy store selling vintage. Beautiful Art Deco apartment, room full of plants... we just decorated our Christmas tree last week. Had two people over, it was nice to visit with friends and cook dinner for my guests. I feel so comfortable and at ease here.

My new web series is going to start filming soon. There is a fundraiser on the 21st. I will post links soon as I have them. Got a tripod and light ring for my phone so I can start making more behind the scenes videos for my IG. Need to be proactive. Did make appointments with all my different doctors though. Haven’t worked the last few weeks because the family I work for hot covid. Luckily I had no contact with them, and at first it was nice having time off, but now I’m a little bored I guess. I think I needed this time off though. The universe gave me what I desperately needed. I was really burnt out from working so many hours. Having my entire industry disappear over night... it’s been a hard year for everyone, actors are no exception. Though I have been fortunate to have ongoing projects. I had three acting gigs in 2020, which is more than any of my colleagues... I should be counting my blessings.

2019 was hard. Losing one of my oldest and dearest friends, then watching his mom almost die of a heart attack right in front of me and all Michael’s friends on thanksgiving. Yeah. Traumatic. But nothing could have prepared me for 2020. Between losing my career, meeting the love of my life and then watching their mental health deteriorate from stress. His dad almost dying, my step fathers suicide, covid, isolation from all friends and family, being overworked with virtually no life of my own. Yury getting jumped, rushing him to the ER with his head split open in two different places. No luck finding a place because of our credit. Being diagnosed with GERD, unable to eat anything without being in excruciating pain. Had to give up alcohol and drugs completely, along with coffee, chocolate, gluten, garlic, tomato, onion and anything fried. I lived off lentil soup for six months. Constant panic attacks, being doubled over in pain, clutching my stomach crying constantly. My throat burned from stomach acid. Horrible side effects from the drugs I had to take to keep my acid levels low. Dizzy, heart palpitations, fainting. Panic disorder triggered by reflux. Unable to eat, lost 15 lbs because of this—not in a healthy way. Had to go in for endoscopy, had a biopsy taken of the pollups in my stomach. Luckily no cancer. Have to go to the gynecologist to get checked, dr. Thinks I may not be able to have children, freaking out about that. We’ll see tomorrow... feeling very nervous. My eye sight has gotten significantly worse. I may need surgery for detached retinas. Freaking out about that too. Sigh.

Let’s pull back. I am grateful that I am still being paid even though out of work due to covid, grateful for the sweet, handsome, wonderful man in my life. Every day I thank the universe for him. My family is all healthy and okay. My friends too. I have an ongoing acting project. I just bought a new camera, going to start my YouTube channel. Open my Etsy store. I am grateful for this time off for self reflection and self care. I really needed it.

That’s plenty for now. This was just one long run on sentence, but I felt the need to purge all these thoughts swirling inside my head. Also wanted to explain what had been occupying me the last few months, and why my presence on tumblr has dwindled. I’m still here for you guys though. I promise to get back in the saddle with new and interesting material for you to peruse. Just been a lot.

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

as usual, an unrealistic list of things I’d really like to get done over the three-day weekend, which is not super likely to go well considering I’m posting this at 5 fucking p.m. but whatever:

gaming-related

I have exactly a month left on my (so far unused, whoops) PC Game Pass subscription, so I need to go over my wish list again and identify

which games have achievements

each game’s average playtime so I can prioritize

which ones interest me the most (emphasis on spooky games because...it’s spooky season)

try Fallout 76 once it finally finishes downloading, because I played the free weekend on Steam before and this is Microsoft, and...I think my character should just be on their servers but I don’t actually know hahahaha yeah that super didn’t work, maybe in a week when our billing cycle restarts I’ll try redownloading and reinstalling it, and anyway I did download and test a couple other Game Pass games

cancel my current SWTOR subscription so I’m not still paying for that while focusing on Game Pass games

play one of a few Flash games on my to-play list, if there’s something short

misc/housekeeping

check out my current backup situation and see how hard it would be to modify, I mean at some point I have got to set up an actual system but for some reason that’s intimidating so if what I currently have is at all usable, I should add to it

and then verify my drivers. I don’t know what’s wrong with my PC and I’m really not sure how to figure that out but since Memtest86 ran for three fucking hours and came back clear, it seems like this is the next major step in the troubleshooting process okay I actually didn’t do this but I did try some other things that also didn’t work

finish claiming all the Black Panther comics

a tiny bit of room cleaning? maybe?? I actually already did a very tiny bit, and this is something (one of...many things) I could do while on a call with friends, which is also in my plans

open a couple packages from one of said friends, which keen-eyed readers might note was in a to-do list ages ago oops

check Tumblr drafts

work on modifying or fixing some masks that currently aren’t working well

send an email that’s been on my to-do list for...a while

actually another email would be a good one too

keep trying to get Hazy to learn that letting people handle her paws results in good treats, so we can make an appointment for a Petco nail trim (and ideally clip them ourselves, sometimes)

ah fuck I still need to finish my will

creative

mildly edit the short fic I posted a few days ago, give it a title, and toss it on AO3

as always, some typing would be really really good

so would...some writing...

make some more potion bottles with, uh, random stuff I’ve collected on recent walks around the neighborhood (other potion bottles with other random ideas I’ve had wouldn’t be a bad idea either...and I would like to try one of the Youtube tutorials I found for making tiny hourglasses, but I guess that’s probably not a priority)

do a little reorganizing in my giant to-do lists for a) 1/6-scale projects and b) lyrics for titles

doing more research on parts for a 1/6 female Loki is really not urgent but...I might want to...and some things are on sale right now...

repair Tiny Loki’s tiny mask

rewrite my paper list of prioritized projects, which I needed to do anyway, but now I’ve also lost the original and that’s very annoying (also make a pocket for it in my notebook so this is less likely to happen again)

make designs for a few new Pride Cap shields, maybe? it really would not take long to make just a few, and now is when I should be adding stuff to Etsy if I have any hope of like...holiday sales

for that matter, now would be an extremely good time to at least start planning what kinds of holiday-specific things (and/or other new listings) I might be able to make in time to list them on Etsy

mental health

write up a post for the ADHD Reddit and maybe other related places

experiment with Notion and Airtable as organizational options

research some bullet-journal layouts to see if anything seems like it would work for me

in general, spend some time just kind of...brainstorming the type of system that would be useful for me in keeping my shit together, so I have a better idea of what I’m looking for (also probably helpful to list like...the big problems I’m trying to fix)

see if Penzu seems like a good option for a keeping-my-shit-together strategy I have in mind from my latest therapy session, and if not, do a little research on other journal-type possibilities

shopping I probably shouldn’t be doing

make a Michaels order tomorrow when both coupons will be active, because...there are some Halloween things that are somehow already sold out at the nearest store but I still want them...and they’re available at the store all the way across town...so...

possibly go to an estate sale benefiting the rescue group where we got Scully and Hazy, which is also all the way over on the other side of town but if I’m going over there anyway, I might as well

some stuff in my Etsy cart that I don’t want to miss

ditto eBay, I think mostly in my cart but also check watch list

AliExpress is also having some sales and yes there are more tiny things I want to buy for Loki’s arcane workshop, shut up (but also if I’m going to buy another Hot Toys body, this time for Thor, I gotta...take some measurements)

politics

call legislators

I really don’t know why I bother but I’ve found a bunch more articles recently that I’d like to throw on Facebook

for that matter at some point I’m probably just going to do a Facebook post like “hey, if you care about me at all, please consider voting Biden,” which also probably won’t make a difference but like...there’s a tiny chance it might

actually write those Sierra Club letters to voters that I meant to do like...two weeks ago...and maybe also some postcards, idk

maybe go to a thing Monday afternoon

also maybe just like...look through my links and folders to see who’s doing textbanking? like I don’t necessarily have to do any of it this weekend, just figure out what’s available?

........hmm this is all a terrible idea, probably, in part because my brain is looking at this absurdly long list and still going “oh shit, oh fuck, we’re forgetting something major aren’t we!!!”

[bobasheebaby]

100 Roseanne Prompts

I usually try to stick to quotes that can work for everyone but some of these were too good to skip. Break at 15 like always. Request a show

1 “Hey, all our lives suck.” — Roseanne

2 “Here's why you can't trust your kids 'cause they're stupid. That's why we don't give 'em cars or booze.” — Roseanne

3 “Etsy is like a yard sale except online because nobody can afford a yard anymore.” — Darlene

4 “All of your relatives died from alcoholism. The ones that didn't drink were killed by the ones who did.” — Roseanne

5 “Did all of your children's deliveries go according to your birth plan?” “Um, they found their way out, if that's what you mean.” — Andrea & Roseanne

6 “You gotta pick your fights in life.” — Roseanne

7 “Okay, he doesn't have to wear pants, but he's gotta wear underwear.” — Dan

8 “It is not my fault that I just happen to be a charismatic person who's always right about everything.” — Roseanne

9 “Why are you picking on me? What, did I take the last doughnut, or something?” — Darlene

10 [Person B is embarrassed after walking in on Person C nursing her baby] “Oh, now, NAME. It's not like you've never seen breasts before.” “NAME’s my friend. As far as I'm concerned, she has no breasts... It works for me, okay?” — Roseanne & Dan

11 “The car has heated seats? Thank God, I thought I was going through the change.” — Roseanne

12 [stoned and laying the bathtub] “Is this the sink? Am I shrinking?” — Jackie

13 “In this house, I'm in charge and father knows squat.” — Roseanne

14 “What's up? I smell fear. I love that smell! But what's up?” — Roseanne

15 “Do you have anything sharp I can stick in my eye?” — Dan

16 “You are really, really gettin' on my nerves today, man! I mean more than usual!” — Dan

17 “Well, you think you can stop me from seeing NAME, huh?” “I think I can stop you from seeing tomorrow.” — Mark & Dan

18 “You were always trying to push us apart. You were always putting me down!” — Mark Healey

19 “My marriage is not based on me listening!” — Roseanne

20 “Why don't you just kiss my butt?” “Well, haul it on over here, Jumbo!” — Becky & Darlene

21 “You are just evil!” — Jackie

22 “Oh good, go for the guilt. You better take a looong, hard look at yourself, NAME, 'cause if you are this obsessed with my life, there is obviously something missing from yours.” “Just figure that out?” — Jackie & Roseanne

23 “I thought you were just gonna go over there and scare him/her?” “Well, it started out that way.” — Roseanne & Dan

24 “Being your own boss isn't that great of a deal. Last week I sexually harassed myself.” — Dan

25 “Hell, even I don't hate her that much.” — Dan

26 “Oh my gosh, I'm so nervous.” “Just don't shoot any milk out of you nose, and you'll be fine.” — Becky & Roseanne

27 “Please, NAME, I don't want you to help me, I just want you to leave me alone ... Please.” — Darlene

28 “Don’t toy with me, NAME.” — Roseanne

29 “We, have had a fight, and we're not speaking to each other.” “Oh, well, what was the fight about? Maybe I can take a side.” — Roseanne & Jackie

30 “He/She wanted to do something; I didn't feel like it.” “Yeah, well, so what are you going to do?” “Nothing.” “That's what you did last weekend!” “Yeah, well I'm not finished.” — Darlene & Roseanne

31 “No, NAME always was the bad influence.” — Roseanne

32 “Talking - it's like yelling, only not as loud.” — Roseanne

33 “Yeah, but you know what they say, NAME. They say, ah, when you really love something you should, you know, make it go away or get rid of it, or whatever.” — Roseanne

34 “You're acting like a crazed psychopath.” [snorts] “Well the voices in my head disagree.” — Dan & Roseanne

35 [on getting married] “I always thought it was the smartest thing I ever did. You obviously don't agree.” “No, I do agree with you, it was the smartest thing you ever did, but we're talking about me now!” — Dan & Roseanne

36 [Person A and Person B bury the hatchet] “So, I guess we've finally approached the end of Bitch-Fest YEAR.” “Oh what a time we had!” — Roseanne & Darlene

37 “You can't tell NAME what to do. She's a big girl!” [snarls] “Compared to who?” — David & Roseanne

38 “What kind of list is he/she making? Not that it's any of my business.” “A hit list.” — Beverly & Dan

39 [feeling for pulse] “I think he’s/she's dead.” [steps back] “Check again.” “I know how to count to zero.” — Roseanne & Dan

40 “What was the second thing you noticed about me?” — Roseanne

41 “Aw, get off the sympathy wagon, NAME; there were plenty of guys/girls standing in line for you to treat 'em like dirt. I was just the lucky one.” — Dan

42 “You are rotten rotten kids, and I can't even believe I'm related to you two!” — Jackie Harris

43 “You'll just do something stupid that you're going to regret later.” — Roseanne

44 “I'm your husband/wife. That's my right.” — Dan

45 [finds present] “You're not going to open it, are you? It's two days away.” “Yea! Well I need time to practice pretending like I like it.” [pulls something ugly from the box] “Oh man, I should'a opened it a week ago.” — Jackie & Roseanne

46 “Oh, this is going to be soooo great!” — Darlene

47 “What's the catch?” “No catch, can't we do something nice?” “I don't know, you never have.” — Roseanne & Becky

48 “Oh my God. You're kidding me!” — Roseanne

49 “Save your breath, NAME, you're not gonna talk me into dropping this lawsuit.” “Well, maybe I can talk you into begging for your life.” — Fred & Roseanne

50 “I'm way more powerful than any law!” — Roseanne

51 “Well NAME, I guess you're just not the man/woman I thought you were ... and I wasn't too happy with that one!” — Roseanne

52 “We should've known, NAME, men stick together no matter how butt headed their argument is.” — Becky

53 [about Person b and person c’s sex life] “You're kidding? You guys have a night?” “Yes, we have a night. It's not only Wednesday, but it's always Wednesday.” You have a time too?” “Yeah. Twenty minutes, or until he gets a cramp.” “Well, you should make him wait half-an-hour after he eats.” — Jackie & Roseanne

54 “Oh, c'mon. Just because you guys aren't having "Wednesday", doesn't mean he’s/she's out ... "Wednesday-ing" somebody else.” — Jackie

55 “What's the matter with you, boy/girl? Can't keep your pants on?” — Dan

56 “Damn women! Who the hell do they think they are!” “We are sugar and spice, and everything nice. So bite me!” — Dan & Roseanne

57 “Have you met NAME?” — Roseanne

58 “Gee, I'd love to NAME, but I'd rather stay home and drill some screws into my toes.” — Darlene

59 “Remember one thing, NAME, I'm your worst nightmare!” — Jackie

60 “You always say how you want better things for us.” “Ah, yea, but I was talking about me and your Dad. You kids already got it too good.” — Becky & Roseanne

61 “You are a controlling bitch!” — Dan

62 “Boy I'll tell you, I wish I had never m - -“ “What? Say it.” “Nothin'.” “Well that makes two of us.“ — Dan & Roseanne

63 “Ooohhh, we all know what this is about, don't we? You're just jealous because I've made something of myself.” “Yeah, an ass ... And where do you get that hoity-toity accent anyway? You're from PLACE!” — Ronnie & Roseanne

64 “I can't believe that I wasted TIME hating you for something as stupid as a wedding, when there's a very good reason to hate you. You're a bitch!” [gasps] “I'm a bitch? Hah! I bow to the queen of all bitches.” — Roseanne & Ronnie

65 “Look me in the eye and tell me it was an accident. And remember ... I can tell when you're lying.” “It was an accident ... could you tell?” — Roseanne & DJ

66 “I could go for something to eat.” “Yeah? Well, then go.” [motions toward the door] — Arnie & Roseanne

67 “You're going to flunk marriage if you can't pass the oral ... oh my God ...” “We know too much, we know too much.” — Dan & Fred

68 “NAME, where'd you get those jelly beans?” “From the bin at store.” “NAME, I told you, you gotta finish eating them while you're in the store, 'else it's stealing!” — Roseanne & DJ

69 “I never thought I would say this ... I'm too depressed to drink.” — Dan

70 “Let's just cut the crap, okay. You're talking to NAME’s mother here, the mother of all mothers and she is majorly mad.” — Roseanne

71 “NAME, NAME, NAME. I have raised two of the best damn liars in the free world. Don't embarrass yourself.” — Roseanne

72 “This is for the pain.” “Owwww. Make it a double.” — Nurse & Jackie

73 “I hate to see you laying here in pain like this.” “Well actually, ever since he/she gave me that shot, I'm feelin' kinda neat.” — Gary & Jackie

74 “I want someone who will love me and support me no matter what. Just like NAME does for you.” “Are you insane! You know how many years I had to put into NAME? You think he/she came out of a box like that!” — Jackie & Roseanne

75 “What do you think your punishment oughta be?” “What do you mean?” “NAME told me everything.” “That little rat.” “But I told him/her I wasn't going to do anything until I get your side of the story.” “Well first we, wait a minute, uh, uh --“ “You're getting good.” — Roseanne & Becky

76 “I worked it out with NAME, he’s/she's gonna stay here and babysit and I'm gonna go out.” “Why would he/she do that?” “I have dirt on him/her. “ “What kind of dirt?” “Now if I told you, I'd have to stay home.” [person a leaves] — Darlene & Roseanne

77 [Person A is acting like a hunchback] “I brought the baggage master, where do you wish me to put it?” “Just put it anywhere Igor.” “Maybe later you and me.” “We'll see.” You're so kind.” [ kisses hand] — Dan & Roseanne

78 [about child’s behavior] “NAME you did stuff like that when you were NAME’s age right?” “No, the boy's odd.” — Roseanne & Dan

79 [offering to the family] “Hey, I got one more pancake.” “I want French toast!” “Well, you better move to Europe.” — Roseanne & DJ

80 [Person A, angry, grabs keys and leaves the house] “Oh God. This is really bad.” “Yeah, I know.” “Oh no. I mean, this is really bad. I'm parked behind him/her.” — Jackie & Dan

81 “Yeah, I do. And we're not going to put him/her through that again, are we?” — Dan

82 [comes in through the front door] “NAME, you all ready to go?” [whining] “I don't wa-haant to-o-o-o! I feel like a used piece of gum that somebody stuck under the table, just waiting for the excitement of drying up and hitting the floor.” — Jackie & Roseanne

83 “You HAVE to take this job ... you're the only one that applied!” — Marsha

84 [grabs the syrup bottle and comes up behind PERSON B] “Remember me, NAME?” [look of terror] “Not Mrs. Butterworth ... please not Mrs. Butterworth.” “Remember how your brother/sister NAME told you how I came to life at night in the cupboard? Remember how I would chase you around even though I have no legs? Well I'm back and I just want one more sticky kiss!” [PERSON B screams] — Roseanne & Jackie

85 “I hope I see you later, I mean, a lot later.” — Roseanne

86 [after the birth] “I didn't call you any horrible names back there, did I?” “No more than usual.” — Roseanne & Dan

87 [about kid dressed as a lawyer] “That's the scariest costume all night.” — Roseanne

88 [going through the candy bowl] “This is all sugar in here.” “Not true, there're chemicals too.” — David & Roseanne

89 “You should be giving children the stuff their bodies need.” [gets fruit from the kitchen] “What the hell is that?” “Wait a minute, honey, I've seen this before, it's food that doesn't come in a wrapper.” “That's unsanitary.” — David, Roseanne & Dan

90 “Did you see the Great Pumpkin last night?” “No, NAME wore pajamas.” — Jackie & Roseanne

91 [discussing Person C] “She's rude and selfish.” “I know, but, inside she's just a ... scared little girl.” Yeah, and I know what's scaring her, the raging bitch on the outside.” — Dan & Roseanne

92 “I'll be back later to give you your present.” “Why can't I just open it now?” “I haven't bought it yet.” — Jackie & Roseanne

93 “And don't you ever feed my dog!” “If I get drunk enough, I'll fight your dog!” — Roseanne

94 “I really don't think it's wise for anyone in this family to be giving away livers.” — Beverly

95 “Say 'I'm not taking any crap from anyone'.” “I am ...” “Stop! It's not 'I am', it's 'I'm'.” “I'm not taking any... do I have to say the C word?” “Yes you do, NAME, because that's the most important word.” “I'm not taking any crap from anyone.” “That was good but are you serving tea, NAME? Get mad and say it.” [louder] “I'm not taking any crap from anyone!” “Good, now personalize it, make it your own.” [louder] “I'm not taking any damn crap from anyone!” — Roseanne & Doris

96 “Hey, where's my 'My other mug is a shot glass' mug?” — Roseanne

97 “Why are you gettin' so mad at me?” “Because you are making me defend NAME.” — Becky & Roseanne

98 “I am not sexist. I'm much too frightened of women to be sexist.” — David

99 “Get me a beer.” “Get it yourself, slob!” — Mark & Darlene

100 “I can't believe you're jealous over this.” “Why not? It's very typical of me.”

[euphoriacrossing]

So, uh finally got my journal stuff.

I put it together yesterday, I am SO excited about it, it's better than I thought, BUT I have eight dividers (and can actually have more sections than that if needed because I have more dividers, plastic folders I can use to separate, and extra tabs I can use to label) and I don't know what sections I want to put so I can write it on the tabs.

I was thinking things like a tab for character profiles for the villagers, a tab for friend profiles, a tab for collecting and crafting, a tab for decorating, a tab for bells and budgets, things like that. I don't even know if I can come up with eight solid good sections, I might need to take some dividers out but we'll see.

I also have seen some pretty cool layouts. Like a play tracker someone made, I actually had a sheet come with my journal that had the months and days all listed in a chart so i am using that. But if you have any cool journaling layouts so far i would love to see them.

I am gonna try to print out my dodo airlines ticket and avatar from piccrew to paste in my journal since I can't draw. I have TONS of stickers and glitter glue and craft stuff so I might decorate my dividers with non-AC related decorations just so they are cute but I don't waste too many of my AC stickers though I guess I can always order more from etsy (lol, not really because I have already spent too much money and it's just the first of the money... but I mean, if it becomes an "emergency" I can and I can always purchase them at later days), and I actually still have some coming from etsy.

I ordered some gold letter stickers to spell out "New Horizons" on the front of my journal. I decided I just wanted to put that instead of my island name which I'll put inside on a "title page" of sorts. That way if I change my name for my island before the release I can just rip that page out and do a new one.

Oh I have both a clear pouch where I can put stencils and I have some stickers stored, and a fabric pouch where I have a pen, a stylus, and my amiibo cards. The fabric pouch I have clipped into the discs, but on the front so it doesn't hold the cover open. I know they have those pouches you can slip onto the planner with an elastic, but I like this little clip on one better. It's really small and only fits like one pen along with the other things which is usually less than I would carry BUT I guess this is already a bulky enough planner, I'm already unsure if it will fit in the AC sling bag with my switch, so best not make it any bulkier. Though my journal/planner did come with a canvas case, and it's not too much bulkier but it is a good place to store stickers and pens as long as I don't bulk it up too much, and that should help protect it if I shove it in a bag.

I guess most AC journaling will be done at home, but sometimes I go to my grandmother's or the hospital and I might want it with me to use depending on what info I end up writing down in there and how useful it becomes to me, I am not sure. I mean, I definitely have bags it will fit in along with my switch, but I ordered the AC sling bag because it was cute and I wanted to carry it, so if it doesn't fit I will possibly not be carrying it as much.

Oh also my journal stuff came with these nifty clip in to-do lists which I have a feeling i will be using to better make use of my AC time. I got some weekly planner sheets as well. I also have the monthly ones which were unnumbered so I went ahead and numbered those. =/ Tedious work. But now the monthly ones I will use to write down events, holidays, and birthdays, and I will leave those in there. The weekly planner sheets I just put in six weeks worth, and I will probably just do six weeks at a time and tear them out and throw them away when I'm done. That way I am not taking up too much room on my discs, but I can write more detailed plans and things I need to get done on those, but after I DO those things, I won't need the weekly pages at least I hope I can part with them. I am trying very hard not to make this a AC /diary/. I want it to be more like a reference book for my Island. The difference being one is nostalgic for me and the other one is actually useful to me OR anyone who might play on my island. Like if it's a proper reference someone else could pick up my switch and play and have access to say my Islanders birthdays, or the native fruit, or how much I was intending to spend on this, that, or the other. I don't know how many people intend their journals to be more like a diary, but I don't want to waste time writing things down that will only be nostalgic to me, instead I want the GAME to play as my sort of diary, for the memories I make to be playing, not writing. I want to write down things I need to remember and not just things I want to remember, I'd rather those just happen as in game moments. And if I want it to be a diary in the future, since it is discbound I can do that. But to start off that is not what I am going for. So that being said, hopefully I can part with the weekly pages and just throw those away since they won't really likely contain and pertinent info I will need in the long run. And any that do contain like birthdays or events, those will be added to the larger calendar so I won't need the weekly pages to remember when those things are.

Anyway, I am overall pretty excited about my journal being here and being able to work on it. I actually listened to some music yesterday while working on the calendar and it was kind of fun. Now I can just test different layouts, and things like that. My stencils come tomorrow I think. I ordered two sets actually so I could have more little doodles. And I can test what pens work the best and all that. It gives me something New Horizons related to do, which considering that's all my brain really wants anything to do with right now, it makes a huge difference for me.

If you have any ideas to help me with my journal, feel free to share them either in a reblog, or reply, or tag me in a post on here, whatever. I'd love to see your layouts and hear your ideas for different sections and stuff. Oh! And if you can think of anything else cool to print out for my journal, let me know! I know a lot of people are doing the dodo airline's tickets and I am gonna do that plus the piccrew avatar, but is there anything else cool I should print out? Like any reference guides or information that might be helpful when playing?

I know some people are already writing down friend codes and what not. But I am going to wait until I actually add people which will be closer to when we can actually play together.

But other than that, PLEASE share your ideas with me. =)

[holyraptorus]

‪I’m finally starting to feel like I’m in a good place, with myself and with what I do. 😌🌻‬

‪I want to thank everyone who has been supporting my art and my creations. It makes me believe that anything is possible. ‬

Even when I have recently opened my Etsy store, I didn’t think it would actually kick off and people would pay for my art and love something I’ve created. It’s a crazy and a very personal feeling.

‪Tomorrow I am coming back from my holiday (as you can see I’m just chillin’ with my boys (I wish)), and after the longest art block of my life, I am ready to create again. Regularly. ‬💪

‪I love you all. 🙏❤️‬

[dionysus-is-my-dude]

Lot to think about...

So when I went out with my dad last week, we spent a long time talking about what he wants my future to be like. I expected the whole “you should grow your hair back out and find an older man who can help you around the house”. I DO wanna grow my hair back out, but long curls like mine are a huge hassle, as beautiful as they are. As for finding an older man to “help me around the house”, I think he still doesn’t accept that hello, I like girls. Men make me feel gross inside, especially when they touch me in any kind of romantic/sexual way. One day, he’ll have to accept that I’ll never be happy with a man, no matter his age or household skills.

But the main thing we talked about was my career options. I told him I wanna really get into sewing and crafting, and run my own Etsy shops/brick and mortar shop maybe. HE says he’d really like me to take over our food stand/grocery business. He wants to get a real, physical building to make our own family grocery store in, and he wants me to help run it. With my degree in accounting, I feel like I’ll be able to help, and I’d rather work within my family than for anyone else. I wouldn’t have to worry about not getting along with someone, because I’ll be running everything once my dad hands over the reigns. He says I’d make PLENTY of money to sustain myself and go travel while I’m still young and childless, which really sold me on the idea, too. He said it’s perfectly fine if I wanna craft, too, as that can also make me some money doing something I really enjoy. So, when we’re NOT out drinking, we’re probably gonna sit down and really go over this. Either after I graduate or when he finds a building he wants to move us into. The idea of staying in this town sounds...disappointing, but he says I don’t have to stay in town. I could go live in a neighbouring city with more people my age and just travel when need be, which would be perfectly fine by me. We have Springfield and Champaign nearby that are full of young people my age and have more of an LGBT-friendly environment. (Our local gay bar apparently closed down, so I have nowhere to go to meet any fellow lady-lovers in my town.)

School is really tough this semester. Having assignments due all days of the week and struggling to meet deadlines is becoming a big problem. I’ve been trying so hard to stay on top of due dates, but I fall behind every now and then. And I’m doing so  POORLY in my microeconmics class for some reason. I took a quiz twice and got a 40% each time. But apparently, I’m not the only one doing so bad in this guy’s class. I sincerely feel like he needs to be evaluated or something, as this is the second time I’ve taken a class of his and most of us are doing poorly. At least I’m doing pretty well in my other classes.

Oh, for anyone wondering how my beta, Poseidon, is doing. He’s still kicking. It’s been a week since I started turning off his light at times and given him a moss ball and new fake plants. His tank is surprisingly really clean! I’m so impressed! He seems a lot happier without all the algae everywhere.

Think I’m gonna finally take pictures of my embroidery hoops and try to open my store either tonight, tomorrow, or Thursday...maybe Friday since that’ll be a full day off. I have homework to do on Thursday.

Anyway, update over. Have a good rest of the day, my dudes!

[tallgrassstore]

Okay, here's the lot I'll be dropping off at the Otakon Art Show tomorrow! The 3 amigurumi will be Elias Ainsworth from the anime, The Ancient Magus Bride; Ampharos from Pokemon and Wolf Link from Legend of Zelda Twilight Princess! The shadowboxes will be my happy Soot Sprites with their candy; Mimikyu based on his totem battle in Sun/Moon (Mimikyu also glows in the dark!); and finally the last minute inspiration strike of Minior in all his core colors~ If you're attending Otakon this year in D.C be sure to take a look for my work at the Art Show! The Art Show is also a great place to find so many cool artists and unique pieces and since it's in the artist alley I find it the best place in the con to be 😆 If these pieces dont find homes at Otakon, they'll be listed in my store and/or sent out to any open orders for them (mainly the amigurumi). Wish my work luck this weekend~ Useful links; Find me on Etsy: http://TheTallGrass.Etsy.com/ Follow me on DeviantArt: http://TallGrassArt.deviantart.com/ Daily updates on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thetallgrass/ Support new Amigurumi: https://ko-fi.com/TheTallGrass

[mineral-vulture]

My Etsy Shop Will Be Opening

I will be opening my etsy shop tomorrow in the afternoon! I am so excited I am finally opening my store after so long it took me to get to this point

[mako-lies]

I wrote a fic for @ignoctweek ! The prompt was Pressed Flower. You can read it here or on AO3. 

Title: promise Rating: T  Notes: This work contains allusions to an unspecified mental illness. Mentioned Luna/Noct or Luna & Noct, however you’d like to read it. Takes place in this universe. 

It’s merely a passing fancy that catches him so off-guard that he indulges. Ignis purchases flowers from the supermarket.

The cosmos are lovely—vibrant purple blooms, surrounded by clusters of small white flowers that are delicate as lace. They smell divine—a soft, non-cloying scent—perhaps he’ll have to see if they make candles or soap with it.

If he has time, he chides himself. He has already wasted more than enough of it on this venture.

+

The flowers moulder on his coffee table for nearly a week, beside the photo books that Prompto recommended him. His apartment, while tidy and not wanting for any comfort, is not where he spends his time. Naturally, his days are spent in the Citadel or Noctis’s apartment. On rare occasion, he finds time to go out.

But his apartment is more a place to sleep, when he doesn’t have more pressing concerns elsewhere. (And when he doesn’t fall asleep on the overstuffed couch in his Citadel office.)

Ignis considers moving his flowers to said office, but they’ve already begun to dry and last time he bought flowers for his office, Gladio had teased him about some “admirer” until Ignis had finally given them to one of the elderly Citadel cooks. Gladio had apologized later, shame-faced, and Ignis hadn’t been above accepting his bribe of Ebony.

So he leaves the flowers at home, but the problem remains on his mind.

+

Waiting outside of the locker rooms for Noctis, Ignis finds himself looking at “do it yourself” articles about what to do with cut flowers. He has never been one to leave a problem unsolved, after all.

Of course, pressing them is a classic suggestion, one that is amenable enough.

It has little practical purpose, but surely he is permitted his moments of frivolity? So long as no one can witness them, of course.

+

Pressing flowers, as far as flights of fancy go, is simple enough with the myriad articles he finds on the subject. Seven days later, his flowers come out from between the waxed-lined pages of The Tenebraen Encyclopedia, 7th Edition.

They turn out… decently. Some of the blooms are twisted, like he didn’t get them perfectly on their faces, but most have retained their color and their shape. Two of the seven flowers he pressed he would even consider ideal. Lovely.

But even in their loveliness, they raise a new conundrum: what to do with them?

+

“Now I have pressed flowers that I don’t know what to do with.” He adjusts his glasses for want of something to do with his hands. “I know, of course, that I didn’t have to do anything with the flowers save enjoy them. It simply seemed a shame to throw them out without enjoying them.”

Avery, his counselor, scratches their beard. For a moment, he’s worried they’ll rehash the old—you should spend less time working—conversation. The one that they’ve been having since His Majesty began insisting Ignis attend therapy, shortly after his breakdown following his acceptance into the Crownsguard.

“Must you do something with them? Can it not be enough to have them and enjoy them?” They look at him sharply from over the rim of their glasses, a trick Ignis reminds himself to master for when Noctis won’t eat his vegetables, however cleverly masked.

He supposes—except he can easily imagine himself storing them away and creating clutter.

“I know that look. Very well. Could you give them to someone else?” they ask.

“Some aren’t perfect…” he trails off as Avery gives him another over-the-rim stare. “I’ll try.”

“Good. That’s your homework before next session. Either gift them to someone else, or content yourself with enjoying them.” It seems an easy enough task, but Ignis knows it may well prove to be the most difficult thing he does all week. Including attending the Councilor’s Banquet on Wednesday evening.

+

Gladio, with his blooming love of the outdoors, is the obvious choice, but, as it always does, it comes back to Noct.

Noct is curled up on the couch of his apartment, clutching the notebook he shares with Lady Lunafreya. His mouth is pursed in thought, hair in it’s typical unkempt style, and he surveys the spread of stickers on his coffee table. Unfortunately, in creating the table space, he’s tossed all his books and video games and comics onto the floor under the table. Ignis itches to clean it, but Avery has suggested he attempt to clean Noct’s apartment less, unless it’s absolutely dire.

He wants to say this is dire, but he’s seen worse. Trash piled to the ceiling. Spilled juice left to mold on the counter. Laundry covering his bed, forcing Noctis to sleep on top of the mountain. He can see it all in his mind’s eye so clearly.

Ignis blinks back to himself as Noctis says, “I need to find new stickers, Specs. The ones I’ve got are lame.”

Bollocks. They are going to spend another series of weeks combing Etsy for new stickers. He’ll need to make inquiries to all the speciality stationary shops in the city. A headache begins forming behind his eyes. Finding stickers is one thing, but finding stickers Noct will consider fit enough for the captive princess… Even Ignis’s training and skills aren’t always up to thattask.

Noct sets aside a holographic skull sticker that Gladio had found in some Indie Music shop. He sighs. Ignis has flashbacks of Noctis spreading a store’s entire selection of stickers over the floor and searching for hours as Ignis’s phone erupted with notification after notification as Gladio live texted a council meeting he’d gone to in Ignis’s stead.

Finding stickers is no simple matter. Ignis sweated into his undershirt, risking sweating through to his dress shirt, when he remembers the flowers with all the desperation of a man holding to the final rock before the plunge of a waterfall.

Pressed as they are, the flowers could easily be inserted into the journal. “I have,” his voice rasps, and he clears it, “I have freshly pressed flowers that might just do the trick.”

“Flowers? Isn’t that Gladio’s schtick?” Noctis asks, picking up a glitzy unicorn sticker and tossing it back into the pile just as quickly.

“Last I had heard, his doctor was checking him for allergies. And I assure you, I find flowers quite pleasant.”

Noctis looks up, frown tugging at his mouth. “Allergies? Oh, he’ll love that. Explains all the sneezing, though.” Then he laughs. “Sure, I guess. I’ll send ‘em to Luna. But when did you start pressing flowers, anyway?”

“Last week. I’ll bring them tomorrow.”

The smile he’s graced with, all but gleaming, shines like the promise of stars Ignis has always dreamed of seeing. His uncle says that he saw them as a child, in Tenebrae before Mother shipped him to his Grandmother in Altissia. But he can recall the stars as well as he can recall his mother’s face, which is to say, not at all.

A pang. He wishes the flowers were perfect. If Noctis is picky about stickers, how will he see Ignis’s first attempts at flower pressing? But Noctis has been—accepting, if not patient—of Ignis’s failures in the past. No matter how many times he fails in making the Tenebraen desert, Noctis still eats them all. Perhaps he will accept the flowers, too, even if he cannot bear to send them to Lady Lunafreya.

Despair claws at his stomach with raptor claws, before he reminds himself—he needn’t be perfect. He cannot be. And striving will only make him a friendless killjoy. He smiles at Noct, and means it, even if he remains unsure whether his face demonstrates that same sentiment. “Well, at the least, it shall give you an extra day to write a fitting message to Lady Lunafreya.”

Noctis flushes, a pleasant pink in his cheeks, and bends once more to his task, fringe hiding his dear eyes. That fond longing wells up, as it ever does. Yes. The pressed flowers will be a (hopefully) wonderful gift.

+

The following day, Ignis sifts through his flowers and finds that three of the seven are fine enough to give. The others have folded petals that are more than unsightly. But those three are near perfect.

He is maybe less than subtle in placing the flowers between the pages of A Brief History of Economic Relations Between Lucis and Accordo, which is not even remotely brief, but is important nonetheless.

Noctis stares at it open-mouthed upon its presentation. He groans. “Seriously, Specs? I’ve got tests coming up. I thought we agreed—no more extra work before tests...” He tentatively cracks open the book like his doom is contained in the dry tome, then he stops at the sight of the flowers. “Oh, wow, Specs. They’re—pretty. Luna’s gonna love ‘em.” He turns that smile on Ignis again, and Ignis alights with it.

Enough that he wonders what lengths he would go to, to ensure that Noctis will continue to smile?

“Do I have to read the book?” Noctis asks, curious fingers gentle on the petals.

“Not now. But you should try to read most of it before you change classes in April.” Dry though it is, it is an important topic for Noctis to know before he becomes King. Though they all hope the day will be far off, the reality is is that His Majesty appears weaker with each passing day.

“Expensive flowers, but thanks. I’ll start working through it after I finish my tests.”

“Good. I’ll help you study. Let’s take a look,” he says, and guides Noctis to the couch.

They settle together, Noctis pressed up warm and soft to his side, and they go over his textbooks, and Ignis never wants this moment to end. The future will come, but oh, how he wishes it wouldn’t.

+

Ignis doesn’t see Noctis put the flowers into the journal, but with how closely he guards it, it’s no surprise. So he puts it out of mind—and nearly forgets the entire matter, save for those instances when he sees beautiful flowers he could press, that draw him in as though he’s a starving butterfly. But he refrains, in stunning feats of will-power.

Except a year later, shortly after Noct finishes high school, Ignis is helping him go over a new set of trade proposals with Altissia. Noctis frowns at the notes he’s been taking. “My journal is out of space. Mind grabbing me an empty one from the drawer?” Noct asks, gesturing at his desk without looking up.

Ignis makes it a point not to go through Noctis’s drawers, even when cleaning for him.

Privacy is in short supply for the monarchy, and Ignis is driven to preserving as much as it as he can. Not going through Noctis’s things is small, but it is still of vital import.

The drawer is a jumble—pens and notebooks and stickers and what looks suspiciously like his bank book. “Which journal would you like?”

“Blue one.”

There’s a blue satin bound notebook. Purple glittering stars are painted on the covers. It’s lovely, and very Noctis. That boy does love his stationary.

Ignis flips it open to check the paper composition (and to ensure it’s blank, of course) and something falls out of the pages. He bends to pick it up off the floor, and stops when he sees familiar purple blooms. The flowers that he gave to Noct. He didn’t give them to Lady Lunafreya after all.

Were they not sufficient? “Noct… Are these the flowers I gave you?” The words can barely escape his suddenly closed throat.

Noctis looks up. Then looks away again. “Oh. Yeah. They were really nice. So… I kept them. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” He puts the flowers back into the journal, with gentle but trembling hands. Is it true? Did Noctis keep them because he wanted them, more than he wanted something to give the princess? “No. Of course not.”

That Noctis thought them so fine a gift he had to keep them… If that’s the case… “Why keep them? I didn’t think you overfond of flowers.”

“They’re really nice, Iggy. I usually keep the things you get me… It’s—they always remind me of you.” Noctis shuffles through the reports in his hands, but he fixes his endless blue gaze on Ignis.

“Well, then—I must say I’m glad. That you’ve cherished my gifts.”

Something is blooming between them, something with that same sweetness of the flowers. Noctis sets aside the papers and approaches. He stalls—time suspended between them, some tension born of potential. Ignis holds the journal and the flowers. Noctis smiles, so beautiful and reassuring, Ignis’s hands sweat in the second skin of his gloves—Noctis puts his hand on Ignis’s shoulder, touch bright and searing even through his dress shirt, vest, and his undershirt. His skin heats with awareness, that heady sweetness cloying in the air between them, till Ignis fears he will become drunk on this attention. Ignis knows he shouldn’t respond so, but he cannot stop.

As ever, he will gladly drink up whatever affection Noctis will give. “Thanks, Iggy,” Noctis says, as soft and soothing as lavender. “Think you could make me some more?”

“I’ll get you flowers any time you’d like,” Ignis promises.

“And I’ll keep them all. Fill my apartment up with them,” and Noctis seals his own vow with a pointed kiss on Ignis’s cheek.

Alight. Joy bursting at the seams where Ignis had stitched himself back together, painstakingly over the years. Filled where once there was but empty sorrow.

He did have his eye on some pansies at the market. Anticipation curls within his gut, sweet as anything. Something to look forward to, as he dazedly hands Noctis both the flowers and the journal.

Ignis has a whole library. He can fill the pages with flowers for Noct, and it will never match his care or devotion. “I’d best get started then.”

“Hold your chocobos,” Noctis laughs, sitting back down. “Help me with this, first, Specs.”

And, beaming, Ignis does.

[blackfox1985]

Finally going to open my Etsy store tomorrow. Goal was for today but had a meeting and didn’t get to do today since work in 5 hours and not slept yet… so tonight is going to be a fun shift 🥴 anyways here is fun posts poses of spawn with the pin. #enamelpin #enamelpins #pins #pinstagram #pincollector #pincollection #pincommunity #enamelpincollection #pinsforsale #art #pindesign #pincollecting #hardenamelpin #enamelpinsforsale #pinsofig #pinsofinstagram #pinaddict #art #artist #spawn #toddmcfarlane #spawncomics #comics #mcfarlanetoys #comicbooks #spawnmovie #art #mcfarlane #comic #comicart https://www.instagram.com/p/CSu9fKHJPR-/?utm_medium=tumblr

[lcwithkc]

#FinancialFreedomFriday . . Hey yall! It's Friday.... we made jut through another week 🙌🏽. Today, I'm preparing shipments from my homemade @klassie_locs skin, hair, & beauty care line. TOMORROW at 1pm, my Etsy store will be open to online orders! . . Being an entrepreneur or having multiple streams of income can be exhausting. Long days, even longer nights. Reminding yourself to eat....while making sure that your client/student/customer is fully satisfied. But when you finally get a moment to take a deep breath, you look at it all & smile. Why? Because you're living in your purpose while creating a brighter future for your children & generations to come. . . So what are you doing on this lovely Friday to fulfill your purpose? . . Talk soon ✊🏼 #Welcometomygarden #CertifiedLifeCoach #FinancialFreedomFriday #SmallBlackOwnedBusiness #NaturalSkinCare #SheaButter #FlaxSeedLocingGel #NaturalDeodorant #Smile #Purpose #Live #lifecoach #life #LoveYourBody #love #Happiness #LoveYourself #Positivity #RememberYourPurpose #wholistic #healthylifestyle #homemade #HealThySelf #Progress #Peace #passiveincome #explore #knowyourworth #King #Queen https://www.instagram.com/p/CRZ2yyEhTpR/?utm_medium=tumblr