#might go buy a purse just so I have room for a book and my chargers

[good-night-space-kid]

Tell me why Bahamas air only allows baggage half weight of a normal carry on for free. How the fuck am I supposed to back that light if I have a laptop that weighs 4 lbs and I want to bring back a shitton of sand

[literaryavenger]

Not So Bad

Summary: It's Bucky's birthday, but he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language. None, really just fluff. No mentions of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1K

A/N: He's my second story for today. Happy birthday, Bucky! Thanks to @ordelixx for the idea and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for read proofing it.

Masterlist

Ever since he’s rejoined society and gained the closest thing he can have to a normal life, being a supersoldier and all, there’s one thing that Bucky can’t bring himself to do: celebrate his birthday.

The more memories he regains, the more he remembers a time where he used to celebrate his birthday with his family and his friends.

Sure, they didn’t have much, but he had his mom and his sister and Steve. It was a simpler yet happier time, and he now all he feels is gloomy.

So every year he treats it like any other day. He trains and goes on missions if he has to, and if he’s in the compound he chills with a book or maybe takes a motorcycle ride, never once even making it known to the rest of the team that it’s his birthday.

“Seriously, Buck? That’s how you’re gonna spend your whole day?” Steve asks Bucky as they walk down the hallway towards their rooms.

“Yes, seriously.” Bucky answers with a roll of his eyes. Every year Steve tries to get Bucky to do something more to celebrate his birthday, but Bucky never budges. “You know damn well what I think about my birthday.”

Steve groans and stops walking, causing Bucky to stop too, and tries one last time before leaving Bucky to his sulking. “I know, but come on! Let’s at least do something together. Let’s celebrate your birthday like we used to, go to Coney Island or something. Don’t spend the day alone!”

“We spend everyday together, Rogers. Sometimes it’s nice to get a break.” Bucky jokes with a smirk before he starts walking again and leaves Steve to chuckle and roll his eyes before he walks to his own room.

What neither of the supersoldiers realized is that they had stopped right in front of your room to talk, just as you were about to walk out. You stopped in your tracks and listened to their conversation.

It’s Bucky’s birthday? How did you not know that? Sure it’s not like you’re the best of friends, but you’re still pretty close. You should’ve known that.

So you decide to do something nice for him today while still respecting his wishes of having a low-key day. You take your purse and jacket and head to the garage, getting into your car and driving towards the city.

Truth is, you’ve always had a crush on the Sergeant. It was hard not to when he looked the way he did, and he was as sweet as Bucky was. 

As intimidating as he might look, you knew how shy he could be. He got flustered easily when he got a compliment, and you found him so adorable when he started blushing and stuttering.

You go to the bookstore you know Bucky loves to browse when he is in the city, it’s a small store that’s filled with second hand books. Bucky always said that he loved to give books a second chance, just like he got one after Hydra. 

You look through the books until you find the perfect one: Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.

The team saw the movie together when it was Steve’s turn to pick, and as you sat next to Bucky you heard him quietly talk with Steve about the details they remembered from reading the book in the 30s. 

You go to Bucky’s favorite bakery next and buy two dozen of his favorite cupcakes, and when you see that they sell different colors of candles you have to buy a gold and black one.

You drive back to the compound and, after dropping the rest of the cupcakes in the kitchen for the team, you take one, putting the candle on top of it and taking a lighter. You go to Bucky’s room, cupcake in one hand and gift bag in the other, and knock on his door. 

“Come in.” Bucky says from inside, thinking it’s Steve coming to bother him again.

You open the door slightly and look inside, seeing him sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard and a book in his hands.

“Am I bothering you?” You ask hesitantly.

“N-no, you’re not. Come in.” Bucky says quickly, closing his book and sitting up straighter.

You open the door completely and enter his room, taking a couple of steps towards him before stopping. “I… I got you something.”

Bucky’s eyes widen a little as he sees the cupcake and the gift bag you’re holding out to him.

“Did Steve tell you?” His eyes narrow a little, and you squirm a little under his gaze and shake your head.

“I overheard you talking about it…” You say quietly, a little embarrassed. “I get that you don’t want a party or anything, but I thought… I don’t know, I just wanted to do something nice for you on your birthday…”

You start to second guess yourself as he just looks at you and, just as you’re about to backtrack on your stupid idea and leave him alone, he smiles brightly at you, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting the spot next to him.

You sit next to him and you put the bag on his bed so you can light the candle and hold the cupcake out to him with a smile. “Make a wish.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second. He knows what he wants to wish for, the thing is he already got his wish: you in his room, sitting with him on his bed. But he makes his wish anyway before blowing out the candle.

He wished for you to be his.

You smile at each other for a moment before you snap yourself out of it, shaking your head a little and picking up his present and giving it to him.

He puts the cupcake on his nightstand as he takes the bag and opens it and you can see his face light up when he sees it as he runs his fingers down the cover before looking at you with a smile. “Thank you, doll.”

You smile back at him and lean in to kiss his cheek. “Happy birthday, Bucky.” You say before getting up and leaving, letting him have his peaceful day of relaxation. 

Bucky watches you go with a slight blush, his hand over his cheek where you kissed it and a goofy smile on his face.

Perhaps celebrating his birthday is not such a bad thing after all.

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

POV u gave your s/o a naughty photo book

Seventeen edition

Literally nobody asked for this but the concept has been living in my head rent free so im posting it so you can all suffer with me.

Warnings: suggestive themes throughout, and some mention of orgasms and other sexual topics, this is literally about giving someone a published book of your nudes so minors pls don’t interact. There are no sex acts described.

Seungcheol

It's Seungcheol's birthday, and all of his friends have left. With shaking hands, you had approached him to offer him "the last gift of the evening."

"I'm interested," he said, with one eyebrow raised. He got *that look* in his eyes -- the one where you knew the thoughts in his head were taking a nosedive into sin. You had given him a soft half-smile, the kind you knew made him crazy, before pulling the book out of your purse and handing it to him.

He looks...confused? Upset? It's hard to read his expression as he thumbs through the pages of the *book* you just handed him, his brow furrowed, a broad hand covering his mouth.

After awhile you just can't handle the suspense. "Do you...like it?" you ask him, trying to sound amused, but hearing how worried your voice comes out.

He looks up at you. "I've never seen this set before," he says quietly, gesturing at one of the pages.

You're a nervous wreck at this point — you think he might actually be angry with you — but you also have an inkling that Cheol is just trying to tease you, turn you on…and you have to admit it’s working. He’s got you blushing and stuttering and trying to keep him from being too angry. "It's new," you explain. "I got it for the shoot."

"Hmmm."

Cheol calmly shuts the book, standing up and walking over to you until he's standing directly in front of you. "You're gonna need to come with me," he says, and suddenly he's slinging you over your shoulder like you're Saint Nicholas's sack of toys.

He explains as he walks back to the bedroom with you. "Saying I liked the book is not quite the right word. Not strong enough. It's more like after seeing that book there was only one possible way the rest of this night was gonna go. It's that kind of book." He pauses. "And I'm appalled that this is the first time I'm seeing you in that set. How much time do you have tonight?" he asks.

"I've got all night," you giggle.

"You'd better have the set with you right now," he says as he tosses you onto the bed like a ragdoll. "We're gonna recreate every single pose in that book in person."

Jeonghan

“What is this?” Jeonghan asks you curiously, coming out of the bedroom with a package wrapped in black paper tied with a red bow. His eyebrows shoot upward as your eyes widen.

“That’s one of your birthday presents,” you say, trying to be smooth and failing.

“Huh,” he says, still watching you carefully — one might even say suspiciously. “Can I open it?”

“Is it your birthday?” you reply.

“In a month,” he says, casually slipping the ribbon off the package. “Why’d you get it so early? And why are you acting weird?” He fidgets with the tape in a vaguely threatening manner.

You deflate. “Well…maybe you should just open it now,” you allow, blushing red. “I’m leaving the room, though.”

“Why?” he calls after you. “Are you embarrassed?”

“Yeah,” you admit, flinging yourself onto the bed in the spare room.

"Huh," he says, suspicious. There are soft ripping sounds, and then...

"Holy *shit*," he curses from the other room, softly enough that you can tell he isn't angry, but loud enough for you to hear.

You hear a page being flipped. "Holy shit," he repeats. "Are they all like this?"

"That's the point of the book," you say, dying of embarrassment and shoving your face into a pillow.

"Honey, I'm gonna need you to come here," Jeonghan finally says.

You don't respond. You can hear him coming after you, and you lay still, hoping he'll think you somehow fell asleep in the last 3 seconds.

He doesn't buy it. "Come here, my love," he nearly purrs, his voice soft and tantalizing. "Don't make me beg."

Hesitantly, you turn your body to meet his eyes. He's leaning against the doorframe, and in his gaze is a kind of cat-like, predatory hunger you're not used to seeing on his graceful features.

He beckons you to him with two fingers, and you sit up to join him. In a swift move, he pins you to the doorframe by the neck -- gently enough that you can still breathe, but your knees go weak as you stare him down.

He grins at you wickedly. "This was payback for Cheol's birthday party, wasn't it?" he asks, waving the book in your face. "Well, I've got a couple of ideas for how to even the score once again."

Joshua

"This is a special gift," you say to him, "to commemorate our first Christmas together."

It is Christmas Eve, and you have just returned home from your parents' house, where you've been celebrating all day. You had told him about your family's tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve, and he had agreed to participate. You'd picked your gift first -- it was a locket with his photo in it -- and then asked if you could pick his for him, to which he had agreed with a smile.

He makes a show of shaking the package, his eyes wide in anticipation. "It feels like a kid's picture book," he predicts. He rips the paper off the glossy, pure white cover and looks at you. "What is this?" he asks.

You smirk. "Open it," you say.

He does, and his jaw drops. "Baby," he says softly. "This is...wow." He continues to flip through the pages, looking up at you in open-mouthed awe as he does. "This one? Are you *kidding* me? You look so *good* in these photos!"

Your heart is thumping in your chest, a flush rising in your cheeks from his incessant praise of your lewd photos. "Oh, this one is art," he says, flipping the book around to show you. "Wait, let me show you which one was my favorite." He turns back a couple pages to let you look.

You beam at him. "You like it?"

"I *love* it, baby. Thank you." He pats his thighs, an invitation for you to come to him. And you can't help but listen, because his eyes are shining in those Christmas tree lights and making fireworks erupt in your stomach. You straddle his lap, facing him, as he gently places the book down and winds his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck. "You're so beautiful. That was such a thoughtful gift, and I'm so glad we get to spend Christmas together."

He looks up at you, pushing your hair out of the way so he can see your face better. "Do you *want* one more gift from me?" he asks you carefully.

You laugh. "I want everything you've got, Joshua Hong."

Jun

“I was waiting for a special occasion to do this,” you say. “And I figured getting engaged to you probably qualifies.”

The room is lit up by a million fairy lights strung overhead. Jun is reclined on a huge bean bag, grinning up at you, the glint of his new engagement band in the dim light making you almost dizzy with joy.

A big projector screen is behind you, hooked up to a PowerPoint presentation you’ve displayed on your laptop. The title: 46 Reasons Why I Deserve Multiple Orgasms Tonight.

“Whew,” Jun laughs, looking up at you. “Do I need to hear all 46 to get your point? That’s a lot of reasons.”

“Are you saying you’ll do it?” you ask him.

“Now, hold on,” he says. “I want to see the PowerPoint.” He takes a sip of his champagne. “But you can expect that we probably won’t make it past the 20th reason.”

You shrug. “Fair enough.” You flip to slide one. There’s a QR code there for him to scan, which he promptly does, waiting patiently for it to load.

And when it does, he opens his mouth in awe. It’s a link to your boudoir gallery, and just the first image of you is enough for him to stand up and grab you by the face and start kissing you like he hasn’t seen you for months and he might never see you again, with enough passion that you’re dizzy.

“46 reasons,” he says in your ear as he lifts you up off the ground. “That first picture deserves 46 orgasms all to itself.”

You laugh. “Did you see any of the other 45 pictures?” you ask as he plants kisses all down your neck to your chest.

“Nope, but i think we’ll just have to settle for me being in debt to you for as long as we live,” he says, and fumbles with the buttons of your shirt.

Soonyoung

You’re doing the dishes in your sweats and a sports bra when Soonyoung comes hurtling around the corner in absolutely nothing but boxers and a bathrobe. “Honey?” you say, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“What is this?!” he asks you, his voice an octave higher than it normally is.

Your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when you see what he’s holding in his hands.

“Oh,” you say. “Um… it was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday, but then I lost it,” you admit, embarrassed in more than one way, since his birthday was six months ago. “Where did you find it?”

“Never mind that,” he says, waving you off. “We need to talk about how these pictures have made me feel.”

“Do we?” you ask nervously.

He puts the book down on the counter and scoops you into his arms, his hands finding your bare waist. “Weirdly enough, my first thought when I saw those photos is that I don’t want anyone else to ever get to see you like that but me,” he says. He leans down and pecks you on the lips.

You stand on your tiptoes to kiss his nose. “You couldn’t lose me if you tried,” you tell him, tracing a hand down his chest and over his abs before you slide your arms all the way around his waist.

“I think we should get married,” he says, and you freeze.

“Really?” you finally say after a long while. “If that’s all it took, I would have done a boudoir shoot ages ago.”

Wonwoo

You’re standing in the doorway, hesitating. Wonwoo hasn’t spotted you yet - he’s busy playing a computer game, his mouse clicking at furious speeds. You can tell he’s engrossed, and decide to come back later, but just as you’re leaving, he calls your name. “Don’t go,” he says. “I’ll be done in a second.”

True to his word, half a minute later he removes his headset to turn and look at you with a smile. Your new relationship is still a little foreign to both of you, and the sudden fear of rejection is strong as you consider what you’re about to do.

“Hey, honey,” he says, reaching for you and pulling you into his lap, where you wordlessly bring your hands from behind you to in front of you, revealing the book. “What’s this?”

You take a deep breath. “Are you gonna laugh at me?” you ask him seriously.

“Only if you’re funny,” he replies.

You open to the first page. “I got them done a little bit ago and just got them back,” you say quietly. “I…wanted to show you.”

He looks up at you, his gaze curious. “Did you do these for me?” he asks, thumbing through the pages.

“Actually,” you say honestly, “I did them for me. We weren’t together yet. And I hadn’t been feeling very good about myself, so I did these. And it actually gave me the courage to talk to you.”

He’s silent for a minute, drinking in the sight of you on every page. Then — “they’re beautiful. *You’re* beautiful.” He gently presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Thank you.”

He throws the book onto the bed behind you and pulls you in so you’re fully facing him, straddling his lap. He reaches for you, kissing you like you’re air and he’s drowning, trying to tell you without words just what he meant when he said you were beautiful.

Jihoon

You’re relaxing on the couch after a long day, and Jihoon has just come over to you, wordlessly positioning himself on top of you and resting a head on your chest. You run your fingers through his fluffy hair and press a quick kiss to his forehead, using your other hand to scratch small shapes into his back.

You love that he’ll do this with you — you know he’s a bit shy about touch because of how it was when you’d first started dating, but you admire the progress five years, a marriage, and a whole child between you can make.

“Is she asleep?” you ask him now, and he nods against your chest.

“Just needed a brief daddy visit,” he says, yawning. “Oooh, I’m tired.”

“Can I wake you up?” you ask him softly.

He pushes himself up onto his forearms so he can look at you. “I’m listening,” he says casually, but his eyes are eager.

You laugh at how cute he is, and he grins. “Well,” you start, “I know we’ve both been busy lately…you know, with work and keeping a tiny human alive, and I wanted to do something special to reconnect.”

He sits up then, facing you on the couch. “Go on,” he invites.

You reach down and grab the book from under the couch. Jihoon watches you curiously, still looking at you as you hand it to him. “What is this?” he asks you.

“Open it,” you say with a mischievous look in your eyes.

He does, and he gasps. “Oh,” he says, and a blush heats his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you on the glossy pages — in the black velvet lingerie set he got you for Christmas last year.

He keeps looking from you to the book. “What are you thinking about?” you ask him, your soft voice making him shiver.

“I’m thinking about how I’ve seen you like this several times,” he says quietly as he flips through the pages, “and I’m still not sick of it.”

“That lingerie set was an investment,” you agree, and he smiles at you broadly.

He places the book down. “What are the odds you’re wearing it right now under your clothes?”

You laugh. “Why don’t you come find out?”

Minghao

“Remember those photos I took that one time?” you ask him while the both of you are sitting opposite each other on the couch, a mess of limbs tangled together.

“I think I’m gonna need you to be just a little more specific,” he says.

“The ones you encouraged me to take when I wasn’t feeling very good about my body.”

“Oh, those photos,” he says. “I remember them *and* what we did after.”

You blush. “I’m sure you do,” you say. “Well, I just got them back. Wanna see them?”

“Of course I do,” he says, reaching across the couch for your phone.

You hand it to him and watch as he scrolls through the gallery, his expression growing gradually more proud and impressed.

“Baby, these are amazing. Killer editing, and a perfect model.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to minimize your feelings, but it’s pretty incredible that someone who looks like you can think you aren’t beautiful.”

“Really?” you ask him with a smile.

“Really,” he says. “Come here, sit by me.”

You obey, relaxing your head onto his chest. He kisses your forehead before continuing. “You know I have an eye for beautiful things. I love art, and I love to look at things that have the power to move your emotions. I mean, I’ve seen statues of the goddess Aphrodite in person. And yet the best thing I’ve ever seen is still your naked body. So it’s pretty crazy that you’re better than every piece of art I’ve ever seen and you sometimes still can’t see that.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him, and he kisses your nose, sending your heart into flips. “Well, I’m not saying that repeating the post-photoshoot activities would help me feel validated, but…” you say, trailing off.

Minghao gets the hint instantly, climbing on top of you and pressing his lips to yours. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says between kisses.

Mingyu

“Uhhh…Gyu?” you say, poking his arm. “You haven’t moved a muscle in like…fifteen minutes. Are you okay?”

He doesn’t respond, so you come around to his side of the bed. His eyes are fixated on the book in his hand. You know what’s happening now, and you kneel down in front of him, prying the book from his fingers. “Gyu, baby, look at me,” you say gently.

He meets your eyes with awe. “How?” is the only thing he says.

“How what, honey?” you ask him.

He clears his throat, shaking himself. He cups your face in his hands. “How did you take those photos without me noticing?” he asks in a strangled voice.

“It was literally so hard,” you admit. “Thank goodness for remotes so I could do them myself. It was a couple weeks ago while you were gone.”

“They’re edited in my style, too,” he says breathlessly. “The things you do to me.” He leans back, letting his eyes roam over your body, in a tight black dress you had planned on wearing out to your anniversary dinner. You stand up and lean toward him.

“Would you like dinner or dessert first?” you murmur to him.

He grins, a slow grin that lets you know he’s debating. “Hmm…let’s still go to dinner. It’ll give you time for me to let you imagine what I’m going to do to you when we get back.”

Seokmin

You are both already undressed down to your underwear and kissing ferociously when the doorbell rings. The two of you look at each other in a panic before standing up and throwing on bathrobes, giggling. Your heartbeat is in your throat as you look out the peephole and see a package on the porch.

“It was just the delivery guy,” you whisper back to Seokmin, who’s in the hallway looking dazed in his silky robe.

“Then come back here,” he begs you. “You’re driving me insane.”

But something is telling you to grab the package first. You slip your hand out the door and slide it inside, inspecting the address on the front.

Your eyes light up with recognition and you run to hand the package to Seokmin. He gives you a questioning glance. “Why?” He simply asks.

“Trust me, you’re gonna want to see that before we go any further.”

His eyebrows shoot up as he rips the package open. They widen as he opens the first page of the book. And with every photo he sees, you can feel the tension in the room boiling hotter. He’s grinning. “Oh, *honey*,” he says.

“Just for you,” you say, lightly dragging your nails over his shoulder blades.

His eyes roll back, and he shudders, smiling blissfully. “Cancel your meetings for today. You won’t be coming to work.”

You laugh. “Why not?”

“You won’t be able to walk after I’m done with you,” he says, pulling you into his arms and picking right back up where you left off.

Seungkwan

“Gosh, seriously…” he mutters under his breath, over the phone with you. You’re just a city away while he’s filming, but it is your birthday, and he feels terrible for missing it.

“It’s okay, love,” you reassure him. “We can celebrate tomorrow.”

“But you got *me* a gift?” He asks you incredulously. “For your birthday? Who does that?”

“I do!” You reply with a giggle, and he nearly curses at his phone again.

“I miss you too much,” he says.

“You won’t have to for much longer,” you say, and just then someone hands him the package you sent him on set.

“Do *not* open it around anyone,” you warn him.

“Okay,” he agrees, shutting himself in the bathroom. You can hear the sounds of him unwrapping the book.

And then he moans.

And then you hear what sounds like…clapping?

And then his voice is in your ear again. “Baby,” he groans.

“Umm…hello?” you ask, one part amused, one part worried.

“I’m here,” he says in a choked voice. “But I’m about to come home.”

“No, wait, you have to stay!!” you say, panicking.

“Like hell I do,” he retorts. You hear him leave the bathroom, hear him shout to the room, “I’ve just come down with a terrible bout of IBS, and I’m leaving!”

“You still there?” he says, and it sounds like he’s running.

“Yes?” you ask, torn between laughing and scolding him.

“I’ll be there before you know it, and you’d better be prepared for a long talk.”

The way he says “talk” makes it clear that very little will need to be said.

Vernon

He’s so mild-mannered that you’re hoping the photo book will do it for him. You’re hoping he won’t just say, “that’s nice, love,” as he peers with a clinical gaze at your lewd photos.

And you aren’t disappointed. Because while Vernon isn’t loud, his facial expressions certainly are. His jaw drops comically when he opens the book to a full page, practically nude photo of you. And he just keeps on getting more and more flustered, blushing harder and harder, and saying “damn, baby! These are *gorgeous*.”

He takes his time working his way through the book - stopping to trace the outline of your body on the page, in a way that makes you blush as though he’s doing it for real. “I love this color on you,” he exclaims, holding up a photo of you in an electric purple bra.

“Thank you,” you say, holding your hands up to your red cheeks.

He laughs. “Are you embarrassed?”

You giggle a bit. “Yeah, a little,” you admit. “The shoot, the book… it was all kind of a bold move.”

He nods, looking proudly down at the photo book. “Yeah, it was, baby. Don’t be embarrassed. I love it.”

He stands up and pulls you into a huge hug, resting his head on top of yours. When he pulls away, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “While we’re making bold moves,” he says softly, bringing your mouth up to his for a kiss. And then, completely uncharacteristically of him, he lifts you off your feet into his arms to continue kissing.

Chan

You come home to see Chan pawing through a book laying stomach down on the couch. Every turn of the page, he erupts into quiet laughter and kicks his feet.

“What on earth are you reading?” you ask him, putting your keys in the dish and moving toward him to get a peek.

And then you gasp. “What are you doing with that?” you ask him, your face a mask of horror as you try to snatch it from him.

“This is for me, right?” he says, fending you off easily with one arm. “What’s the occasion?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you grumble, giving up on the snatching as Chan pins you to his side. “No occasion, I just…thought you’d like it.”

“You thought right,” he says. “This is great.” He kisses you on your cheek. “I have a question, though.”

“Ask away,” you say.

“Did you feel like you had to do this, or did you want to?” He sounds genuinely concerned. This is one of the things you love so much about him — he asks you all of your thoughts and doesn’t seem to mind any of the answers you give, so you know you can always tell him exactly what’s on your mind.

“I wanted to,” you assure him. “It’s just, you’re gone so often, and I wanted you to feel like you didn’t have to miss seeing me…well. Seeing me like this, I guess.”

He slowly leans backward until he’s holding you on top of him. “I am gone a lot,” he agrees thoughtfully.

“You are.”

“But I’m here now,” he finishes.

Your gaze drops to his lips and then back up to his eyes. “You are here now,” you repeat.

“So,” he says, a question trailing at the end of his thought, one he won’t ask out loud.

You kiss him before he knows what’s coming.

[archangeldyke-all]

wait—can we do plug!Sevika going to reader’s nail salon appointment. (maybe even getting her own matching nails done 👁️)

yesss!!

nail inspo!

men and minors dni

now that she's your girlfriend, sevika insists on paying for your nails.

she insists on paying for most things, actually. you've had to remind her from time to time that she's just as much your girlfriend as you are hers, and that while you might not be rolling in quite as much cash as she is, you do work enough to treat her sometimes. she's gotten better at letting you buy things for her and the two of you.

but she hasn't budged on the nails.

"what're you gonna get?" sevika asks as she pulls open the door to the salon for you.

"i was thinking black and white stars." you say, shrugging. sevika smirks.

"how long? sharp?" she asks, like she always does. you just giggle and elbow her.

"obviously." you chuckle. you get all checked in, then go to sit in the waiting room. you're surprised when sevika sits beside you.

usually, she'll wait with you to get checked in, hand you a wad of cash, kiss your cheek, then leave to make a few home deliveries while you get your nails done.

"you're staying?" you ask. she nods.

"can i?" she asks. you chuckle.

"obviously, baby, i just wish you woulda told me. i woulda packed you a book or your switch in my purse." you pout at her, worried she'll get bored. she smiles sweetly, leaning forward to kiss your cheek again.

"i'll be okay. i got my phone, i got you to look at, i'll be good."

"sap."

it's a slow day, so your nail tech lets sevika sit at the little table beside you. the three of you chat for a bit-- sevika acts like she's shy, but she loves gossiping, and your nail tech is always in some kind of drama.

as your tech gina files down your old set and builds up your new one, sevika mentions that she's a plug, and with gina's boss' permission, a few of the pre-rolls sevika's always carrying on her get passed around the entire salon, all the techs and clients getting progressively gigglier as they smoke.

"so what kinda design do you want today, honey?" gina asks. you tell her your vision and she nods along smiling. "and for you, baby?" she asks sevika.

seivka's eyebrows shoot up. "oh!" she says. you giggle. "uh... i have to keep my nails short for work... among other things." she mumbles that last part, so only you can hear it. you kick her under the table, biting back your laugh.

"i can do a simple clear manicure! lemme treat you since you treated all of us." gina begs, pouting. this is why you're always coming back to her.

"actually..." sevika thinks, a sparkle in her eye. "could you make mine match hers? but, like, simpler?" she requests.

you grin, butterflies bursting in your stomach. if your nails weren't under the lamp right now, you'd pull sevika forward for a sloppy kiss.

gina grins and nods, then reaches forward to take sevika's hands in hers, inspecting her nails.

two hours later, you and sevika leave the salon hand in hand, your matching maniucres glistening in the evening sun.

sevika's inspecting her free hand, grinning down at it as you navigate the two of you through the parking lot. "i feel so pampered right now." she giggles. "my nails are so shiny!"

"you look great baby." you laugh. she looks over at you, still smiling, and you pull her in for a kiss.

when you pull away, sevika's got a dark look in her eye. your stomach flops over, and you know she's going to say something dirty before she even speaks.

"you gonna let me take you home so i can see how pretty my nails look on your cunt?" she asks.

you just groan, flicking her forehead and hiding your flustered expression behind your hand as you wait for her to open the passenger door for you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676

[hannahssimblr]

I watch the clock above the whiteboard as the minute hand inches closer and closer to twelve. Four seconds, three seconds, two seconds…

It’s five. My chair scrapes against the linoleum and I start running. Past Mr. Doherty’s desk, out the door, into the hallway, down the stairs, damn it why is this school so big? Another hallway, a foyer, the front entrance… 

“Don’t forget to sign out!” The secretary calls after me and I huff and turn back around, yanking my student ID card out of my pocket and slamming it into the sign-in machine, and then I hurry out, down the steps, out the gate and onto the rush hour Clontarf streets. 

The air is like daggers on my face and my school bag is weighed with a ton of books. My stupid trousers and my stupid blazer are slowing me down too, as is having to wait for the stupid green man at the stupid pedestrian crossing. I don’t bother in the end, I just swerve through traffic and give the woman in the SUV who blows her horn at me the middle finger. 

The house is so far up the Howth Road that it might as well be in Killester, and I sprint the whole way with my bag jostling, as commuters alighting the buses onto the darkened winter streets glance at me with dull surprise as I thunder past them and shove through the gates of a little enclave community of Georgian houses concealed from the road. 

I knock on the door of number two.

“Oh, we thought you’d forgotten about us,” Ivy’s piano teacher looks rightfully perturbed when she answers.

I have to cling onto the doorframe and catch my breath, “I’m so sorry, they made me stay behind at school.”

“It’s ten past five, her lesson ended forty minutes ago. I had her sitting in for the entire duration of the lesson after hers.”

“I know, I know,” I wheeze, “Is she okay?”

“Well she’s a little upset,” She goes through the hallway door to retrieve my teary eyed sister from the practice room. “We thought you forgot about her, actually I tried to phone you several times…”

“Ivy…” I hold my hand out to her and she regards me with a furious clenched jaw and a hot, teary face. She fists her hands into my blazer and shoves her face into it so that her teacher won’t see her crying and I just lamely pat her shoulder in apology. “Um, well, I’ll pay you the money anyway, I’ll give you double for the trouble…”

“No, just the usual is fine.” Her teacher says with pursed lips, “These things happen but just know I’m on a schedule, and I’m not a babysitter…”

“I know, again, I’m so sorry. Thank you for looking after her, I… it won’t happen again. I’ll be on time next week.”

“I’m certain you will.”

Ivy tries to make me carry her home on my back as reparations, but I beg her for mercy after two minutes because she is not three and tiny anymore, my bag weighs as much as her and I’m still so gruesomely hungover that I’m not sure how far I can even carry my own body without needing to crumple up in a heap on the ground. She’s merciful today and lets me away with it, possibly because she can tell I’m off, but she doesn’t let me forget what I put her through. 

“I want you to make me pizza tonight,” she demands, “With pepperoni, and not chorizo like you got last time, it’s not the same. I want pepperoni. And do you remember that time you got that packet of it with spicy pepper around the outside? Well I don’t want that either.”

“Uh huh, how about you give me a break?”

“You left me at my piano lesson!”

“Yeah, I recall.”

She peers up at me, “Are you sick? You look horrible.”

“Thanks for that. Yeah, I am. I think I ate something funny.”

“Oh…” She looks troubled, “Well can you still make me pizza?”

The idea of going through the effort of the flour and the dough and the tomato sauce makes me feel slightly faint, “How about I buy you a pizza instead? Yeah? And I don’t mean a frozen one from the supermarket, I mean one from the Italian pizzeria down in the village.”

She gasps. 

“But you have to eat it in the restaurant. We’re not bringing it home and getting caught out by leaving the box in the bin. And when mom and dad get home later on you can tell them that I made you something healthy for dinner instead.”

“You’re a liar,” She says with a sly smile that creeps up her face, “We’re both liars.”

“Yeah, dead right. It pays off.”

“I’m still upset about the piano lesson.”

I muss up her hair, “No you’re not, shut up.”

“Uh huh! I am. When we get to the restaurant I might need a milkshake too.”

“You’re pushing it, Ivy, you can’t push me…”

“I can,” she shrugs, and it’s a fact so undeniable that all I can do is laugh. 

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that milkshake when we get there.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[dreamylittlesugarcube]

Delivery

Genre: EXO AU

Characters: Yixing x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Your holiday stint as a food delivery worker isn’t going as well as you’d hoped. Will a chance meeting with a handsome bartender be just the gift you need? 

A/N: A very happy Secret Santa reveal to my giftee, @leewalberg. I hope this brings you some holiday cheer! It’s been great getting to chat with you about Yixing and our mutual love of baking and food! @exols-silver-christmas

*Please note: I do not own the image used, so credit should go to the original creator/owner.*

~*~

“I specifically said ranch, not mustard, you idiot!”

Sauce packets bounced off your helmet and for the millionth time tonight you wondered why you were subjecting yourself to this. 

Oh, that’s right–Christmas presents. Times were tough in this economy and gifts didn’t buy themselves. 

“ –um, HELLO, are you even listening to me?” Unfortunately. 

Restraining yourself, you fished a copy of the receipt out of your pocket and held it up for her inspection. “I’m sorry ma’am, but the receipt specifically said mustard and–”

“ –well you should have known what I meant!” she sputtered. “Who eats mustard on a pizza anyway? That’s so stupid!”

“Ma’am, I don’t tell anyone how to eat their food, I just deliver what’s in the bag.” You started to back away towards your moped, ready to be done with this conversation. “If there’s a problem with your order, please contact Food2You support and they’ll be able to offer you assistance.” With that, you got on your moped, strapped on your helmet, and backed out of the driveway, as the customer continued to scream about “lazy, good-for-nothings, don’t think you’re getting a tip”. 

And true to her word, you did not get a tip. She’d gone into the app and removed it. Sigh. 

Thankfully, the rest of your deliveries went without a hitch. You’d even scored an extra large tip from a heavy order of sushi platters to a penthouse suite downtown. With enough cash to add to your Christmas Fund, you figured you deserved a little treat of your own for what you’d had to deal with tonight. 

The craft beer passport burning your roommate had gotten you for your birthday was just burning a hole in the button of your purse, so you figured you might as well use it. Flipping through the pages, you noticed one included location was not far from here: The Black Sheep Bar & Bistro. It advertised itself as having local, custom brews paired with bites to complement the individual notes of each beer. Right up your alley.

As busy as it was downtown, you were lucky to find a parking spot not too far from the bar. From the outside, the bar looked welcoming with festive Christmas lights Upon entering, you were greeted by a friendly host, a tall dark-haired man who told you his name was Chanyeol. The dining room was dimly lit with pale yellow twinkle lights on the ceiling and a variety of booths and small tables that gave it a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Situated on the other end of the room, was a shiny, mahogany bar. The low hum of conversation was quiet, surprising, since it seemed like all the tables were filled. 

“It looks like we’re fully booked tonight, so unfortunately I don’t have a table for you.”

You were about to say “no problem”, when Chanyeol’s gaze shifted over your head. He paused for a second, then smiled. 

“ –unless you wouldn’t mind sitting at the bar? Looks like a spot just opened up.” 

It must have been your lucky night, as you soon found yourself promptly seated at the shiny, wooden bar, perusing the many drink and food options. Beer flights, specialty cocktails, and appetizer pairings with an array of global dishes that changed monthly, according to the menu. 

“So, what can I get started for you?” 

You looked up to see a handsome man, probably in his mid-twenties to early thirties. Blonde hair, dark eyes. Cute. Not that you were looking. He’s here to ask you for your order, not for you to ogle like a piece of meat. 

You cleared your throat. “Ummm…it’s my first time here and there’s so many good choices…do you have a recommendation?”

He took the menu and flipped through to the entree page. “We do small plates here, but some are more generous than others. If you’re hungry, the beep tenderloin with garlic potato puree is very popular. More adventurous, I’d recommend the bison barbeque sliders. And finally, my personal favorite, the loaded mini hotdog bites. They’re stuffed with cheese and caramelized onions.”

You scratched your chin in thought. “Hmm, I think I’ll take the hotdog bites, you made that sound really interesting.” 

“And to drink?”

“Whatever you have on tap that would go well with the buns.”

He finished scribbling on his little pad of paper. “Sounds good, I’ll go put this order right in. I’m Yixing, by the way, in case you need anything else”. He winked then walked away. 

You watched him as he went. Yixing. You knew his name!

After hanging your ticket at the kitchen window, he went about his business, taking orders, making drinks, chatting with guests who were clearly regulars. It was calming to watch him move about the bar; it was rhythmic and he flowed as though a dancer might. 

Finally, he came to you again, holding a pint of pale liquid and a plate of little bites made of what looked to be puff pastry. He presented them to you with a flourish. “Our brewmaster recommends a nice, amber ale to cut through the richness of the meat and complement the cheese and caramelized onions. Both the chef and the brewmaster are very open to feedback, so please let me know if it isn’t to your liking.” 

You dutifully followed his instructions, and mindful of his watchful gaze, attempted to take a some-what elegant bite out of the steaming mini hotdog bites. Not expecting to heat, you reached for your beer and chugged a third of the glass. Smooth. 

“Sorry, sorry! I should have warned you. People usually wait for them to cool off a bit.” Yixing said, pressing his hands together in repentance. 

You swallowed. “That’s okay, it’s my fault. They just looked so good that I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m the same way,” he said, grinning. “I’d rather look like a fire-breathing dragon, than wait a whole five minutes.”

You smiled, staring at his face and wishing you were better at small talk. Come on, think of something. You did improv in high school and this is what you have to show for it?

“...well, enjoy your first couple bites and let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

You tried to say something to get him to stay, you really did, but all you could manage was a small smile and a thumbs up. Oh my god, really, that’s all the game I have? 

He raised an eyebrow, returning your thumbs up with one of his own. You could swear you heard him chuckling as he walked away. 

You tried to eat your food slowly, taking small bites and even smaller sips of your drink to make your time here last longer. After an hour, you’d finally finished your food, taking your time to people-watch, well person-watch, without making it too obvious.  The bar had pretty much cleared out and only a few diners lingered in the restaurant. 

“Kitchen’s closing in five minutes, so last call for orders. Do you want anything else?” Yixing asked. He stepped towards you from the other end of the counter where he’d been drying glasses. Which you had not been watching him do. 

You were, in fact, very full. And honestly, at this time of day, you’d typically smash a bag of salty kettle chips and call it a night. 

“I think I’m good, I usually finish out my night with junk food, so I’m not used to eating rich food so late. I’ll take another order of the hotdog bites to go though, my roommate would kill me if I didn’t bring anything home for her.”

Yixing nodded and headed over to put in the order, but instead of stopping at the window, he went through the doors and all the way into the kitchen. Moments later, he was back and walking towards you. He stopped and thought for a second before bending down behind the counter. You heard rustling, as though he was looking for something. Finally, he popped back up with a look of conspiracy on his face. His eyes darted around, as though making sure the coast was clear, before shoving a small box across the bar to you. 

Peering in the box, you saw a variety of packaged snacks: Lay’s chips, rice crackers, Pocky, Kit-Kats, cream wafers, pretzels, and many more snacks you’d never seen before. You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure of what was happening. 

Having seen your confusion, Yixing leaned forward, to whisper. “I love junk food, but the brewmaster, Xiumin, is my gym partner and he’s very strict about food. I hide these here so I can eat them when he isn’t watching. You want one?”

Mesmerized at his closeness, you reached into the box and grabbed a snack, not caring which one you actually ended up with. You smiled, fingering the waxy material. “Well, then I appreciate you sharing your secret stash with me.”

“And you can’t tell Xiumin, okay?”

“Of course. I will guard your secret with my life.” You made a serious expression, thumping your hand over your chest in promise. It didn’t even matter that you had no idea who Xiumin was. You just liked the moment you were sharing. 

The sound of a throat clearing made you jump and you looked up to see a short dark-haired man with glasses wearing a chef’s uniform. He held a white, to-go box, no doubt your hot dog bites. His gaze shifted between you and Yixing, almost like he knew something was up. “You better put that away before Xiumin comes in here and sees that.” He jerked his chin towards the box of contraband. 

Yixing nodded, the box disappearing as though it had never been. 

The chef placed your food on the counter and slid it towards you. “Here you are ma’am, have a wonderful night and thank you for stopping at The Black Sheep Bar and Bistro.”

Taking that as your cue to leave, you slipped on your coat and grabbed the box. Looking up, you locked eyes with Yixing. “Thanks, uh, for the recommendation,” you held up the box and your bag of snack, “ –and um, thank you for the chat.” 

Yixing smiled warmly. “You’re welcome. Feel free to come back anytime. I’m always here.”

You nodded, feeling almost light-headed, before awkwardly stumbling out the door. Chanyeol bid you farewell, smiling slyly as you left, like he hadn’t just watched you stare at his bartender all night. 

Outside, you leaned against the wall, fighting off an existential crisis. He wanted you to come back. To see you again. Had he been flirting? Or was he just being nice, the same as he was to all customers? Did he give special secret snacks to all the girls at the bar? You hoped he didn’t. You texted your roommate that you needed some “girl talk”, hoping she’d catch on that there was an emergency here. 

Trudging up the stairs to your apartment, you let yourself in. And as expected, Jessica was waiting up with ice cream and an expectant expression. Handing off the takeout, you went to change your clothes, happy to get into some comfortable sweats. 

“Hey, did you meet a guy or something?” Jessica shouted from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, why?” you shouted back.

“Come take a look.”

You padded out to the kitchen, where Jessica was waiting with a gleeful expression. 

Look!” she exclaimed, turning the open takeout container, so you could see the open lid. The open lid with numbers written on it. Numbers that looked suspiciously like a phone number. 

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” you asked. 

“Yes!” Jessica squealed. “OMG spill, what happened? Because last time I heard from you you had mustard packets thrown in your face. This is SO much better than that!”

Jessica wouldn’t let you out of the room before you spilled all the dirty details. Not that there were any. 

“This is JUST like what happened in the drama I’ve been watching!” Jessica said, stamping her feet in excitement. “You HAVE to text him.” 

“And say what? ‘Hi, I’m the girl that you gave prohibited junk food to at the place of your employment that was staring at you all night because I think you’re hot?’ Besides, how do we know he even meant it for me?”

Jessica sighed. “Maybe because he wrote it on the back of your takeout container? Who else would it be for?”

“Okay, but what do I say?”

Jessica cracked her knuckles and patted you on the shoulder. “Thankfully, Big Sister Jessica is here, I don’t watch rom-coms for nothing.” She grabbed your phone and proceeded to type. 

You peered at the screen over her shoulder. “ ‘Hi, it’s Chips Girl.’  That’s what you came up with? No, ‘Hi, it’s Chips Girl, thanks for tonight, what are you up to? Want to get married?’.”  

“Nope, we’re giving an air of mystery, darling. He has to make the next move.” 

Your phone buzzed in Jessica’s hand. Jessica squealed while you tried to remember to breathe. She handed you the phone, staring pointedly, as you read what was on the screen.

“Hi Chips Girl ;). I was hoping you’d get my message. I was wondering…if you wanted more chips…maybe tomorrow at 6:00 at the movie theater next to the bar?”

“He asked you on a date, OMG!” Jessica screeched, running into your room. “Come on, let’s go,” she called, “outfits don’t plan themselves.”

You sent off a quick “Yes, that sounds nice!” text, holding the phone to your chest. 

Smiling to yourself, you thought perhaps this day hadn’t been bad at all. “Merry Christmas to me,” you whispered. A perfect present for a perfect Christmas. 

~*~

I hope you enjoyed reading “Delivery”. I love writing food and restaurant themed fics for EXO because it just fits so well! Thanks for reading!

XOXO, 

Emmy

[sensei-venus]

Thinking about moon and Yasmine helping virgin!reader who is sexually frustrated and shy about it, so they decide to take care of her 👀

- gemini sensei

(Unedited) (Support Me Links🌺)(Virgin!Reader, First Time, Sex Toys, Starp-on, WlW, Penetration Sex.) ( @gemini-sensei )

When Moon and Yasmin first met Reader they knew she was a bit different. She was definitely shy and a bit introverted, but liked hanging out with them in more open and crowded places. As long as she was with them she was fine. She always tried to stick as close as possible when it came to being around strangers for too long. She didn't act very innocent, she still made the occasional dirty joke every now and then.

She’s on the chubby side and because of that she was a bit more reserved. It wasn’t until Moon encouraged her to try new things, like new flasher clothes and new makeup styles that she started changing a bit more. She was still shy but she was learning that she could do and like things people told her she couldn’t.

They found it adorable to watch their friend grow every day with their friendly help.

But when they found out something they shouldn’t have been so shocked about.

They knew they had to help her.

“I-I never bought one of these before- I don’t even know how to use it. I don’t know if this is a good idea or not. I can….just try other things like you know, my hands maybe?” Reader shrugs.

Her eyes stare at the wand Moon was holding, her cheeks flushed as she tightly pushes her legs and body together as she stands there. Moon blinks and looks at Yasmine with a questioning look. Her brow raised as she looked at the blond girl. The pretty pink and white wand still in her hand as she waves it around.

“Hey it’s ok, it’s just a fun toy you know? It’s ok to be nervous- what do you uselessly use then?” Moon questions the chubby girl.

Their trip to the mall wasn’t going as fun as she though it was going to be. Reader wish she had never gone into the stupid joke/sex shop in the back of the mall. She couldn’t believe she let the two pretty girls drag her into the more sexual part of the store with all the sex toys and costumes.

“I-don’t use anything like that….I don’t really play with myself to be honest…”

“But it’s fun, it’s like a stress reliever!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s super healthy to play with yourself. It helps relieve stress and anxiety. It’s super natural to do it!”

“Oh…”

Reader played with her fingers as she tried to play off her own embarrassment. She wasn’t going to tell two of the prettiest girls from school, even if they where her friends, and she may have had a small crush on the two of them, that she was to nervous to try and play with herself.

She definitely wasn’t going to tell them that she was a virgin too, but she felt like they could guess she was by now. She felt her face heat up even more as the seconds went by. Yasmine tugged her away and into another part of the store. Trying to destruct her from her own thoughts. She pulled her over to the other side of the store that had t-shirts, pointing to some cute ones she thought Reader might like. Reader smiled and looked at some of the t-shirts she was pointing at.

The whole time she never noticed that Moon was over at the register buying the cute toy.

After the trip to the mall the girls decided to go back to Yasmine’s house. Her parents were gone for the week at a gala event. It would leave the empty house all to itself. All three girls where happy with the turn of events as they drove back to her place.

They dumped all of their stuff from the mall into a corner of Yasmine’s room. They quickly went through all of it and showed off what they got. Reader was happy with the new shirts she got and some of the new accessories she bought. Yasmine showed off the new shoes she picked up along with a few new purses. Moon was happy with the crystal book she bought and some new earrings.

She saved the best for last as she pouted over at Yasmine, she couldn’t help but smirk and giggle as the other girl caught on to her little game. Reader wasn’t really paying attention at that moment. She probably should have been because a moment later Yasmine was helping to lift her off the floor and pushing her onto the her bed. Reader blinked up at the blond, wondering what was wrong. Why did she push her like that?

She also didn’t understand why she was smirking at her either.

Yasmine climbed onto the bed and sat down next to her. She smiled and giggled at the face Reader made. She looked back over at Moon who was now standing up on the other side of the room.

She was smiling, with just a hint of a smirk playing on the corners of her lips. Her eyes twinkle as she wiggled the plastic bag from the mall.

The one from the joke/sex shops place.

“Did I do someone wrong or-“

Yasmine smiled down at her, suddenly the girl was a bit to close. The plump girl could feel the other girls hot breath on her cheek, she could smell the strawberry lipgloss that was still on her lips from earlier that day. She let out a shaking breath as the girl smirked at her.

“Reader have you ever actually played with yourself before? Me and Moon know your a virgin, you reek of of.”

Reader frowned. She knew she probably shouldn’t have trusted them. She should have lied about everything, put up a front, and acted like she did have sex before. Maybe she should have made up a lie about a boyfriend from another school or a past relationship or something. Now they where going to make fun of her for being a virgin AND not playing with stupid sex toys. Man, she was stupid.

“Of course it’s just I never really wanted- I never wanted- I don’t know ok!” She felt her face heat up and her blush crosses her face.

“Hey you didn’t do anything wrong- me and Moon just want to help, maybe we could help you out, make you feel better.” Yasmine smiles and looks from Reader to Moon. Reader sighs softly and looks over at Moon, her eyes widening as she looks at Moon head-on.

She had opened the bag and opened the plastic of a brand-new wand. It was shiny and big in Moon's petite hand. She smiled and giggled at Reader's reaction. The girl's face went hot as she looked at the toy in her friend's hand.

“Don't worry we are going to make you feel really good, promise!” Yasmine says next to her ear. Reader is frozen on the bed as Yasmine starts messing with her. Her hands run over Reader's tits and down her soft belly. She's smirking the whole time, she tugs on the girls skirt and gets it down and off. She tosses it onto the floor along with the girl's shirt and just leaves her in her underwear. Reader feel a bit embarrassed. She's only wearing a matching pink bra and pantie set.

Yasmine’s fingers slowly move over her skin as she plays with the elastic of her panties. They slowly move keeping a hand over her mound as they enter and it makes the girl jerk up at the movement.

No one had ever touched her like that, it was all so new.

Moon left for a brief moment and came back with a pink and purple box. She came over to the bed and sat it down on the sheets. She opened it and pulled out two things that made Reader lock up and her eyes go wide again.

It was a purple harness and a pink strap-on.

“I knew the wand reminded me of something! This bad boy right here, me and Yasmine use it all the time. It’s the perfect size for you, I’m going to split that pussy wide open with this big boy.” She smiled as if none of her words were supposed to be anything other than harmless.

She quickly shead her clothes making Reader try and look away. She didn’t think the girl would start stripping right in front of her like that. Slowly Yasmine jerked her head back to make her watch Moon undress. All she could do was watch the tanned girl drop her clothes to the floor. She stood back up, completely nude. Her breasts where perky and her nipples starting to harden. Her pussy wasn’t completely shaved but trimmed nicely, Reader couldn’t help but ogle just a little bit. The style suited her.

Yasime sat back for a moment and removed some of her own clothes, tossing them behind her on the bed. Her own tits dug into Reader's back as she scooted to sit behind her once again.

Moon put the harness on and inserted the fake dick into the small ring hole in the front. It fit nicely a snugly in its new spot and hung between her legs. Her eyes sparkle as she grabs a bottle of lube from the box. She gradually gets on the bed and sits between Reader’s parted legs.

She held the wand in one hand and with the other free hand she spread the girl's lower lips. Her folds were already starting to get damp with the new attention. Moon swirled her fingertips through the girl's new leaking juices, she watched as her hole winked and shutters under her attention. She smiled as her fingers danced over her fat clit and down to her hole. Her fingers dipped into the heat of her tight cunt for a brief moment.

Reader jerked back into Yasmine and her whole body shutters. Her breathing flutters at the new sensation, for a moment she holds her breath as Moon plays with her. She can't believe how nice Moon’s fingers feel inside of her. It's weird but nice.

Moon takes her fingers out and licks them clean, moaning around the digits. A second later she is flipping the switch on the wand and it whirled to life in her hand.

Readers eyes widen when Moon places the wand straight onto her pussy. It's cold and hard against her folds and drags over her needy clit. She tries to pull back but it's fruitless as Yasmine keeps her still and pushes her forward onto the toy. She shutters as the toy vibrates directly on her clit and she's knows her pussy is drooling now. She can feel how her wet she's getting and how it's splattering out because of the vibrations of the wand. She feels it hit her thighs.

“So good, see we told you it would feel good. Now, let's pop that cherry, it's going to feel amazing once I get my strap inside that pussy.” Moon says with a big grin. Yasmine starts playing with the girl's tits from behind, fondling her big breasts. She pinches and pulls at her nipples. It only makes her loader as the wand works her from below.

Moon slowly maneuvers the fake cock to tap against her drooling hole. She lines it up perfectly with the winking entrance. The brunette girl bites her lip as she starts to push her strap into the chubby girl. The tip slowly pushes in and pops though the tight muscles of her entrance. Reader covers her mouth as her eyes roll.

“There you go~”

“I can't believe you have never done this before, its like your fat pussy was built for taking a nice big strap. Look at it just slip right in!”

The two girls praise her as the strap goes deeper.

Her juices are flowing as Moon keeps pushing in the new toy. The stretch is nice and hard and it makes Reader go boneless against Yasmine. She slumped back and laid out on top of Yasmine who happily let her relax. Her eyes slip as she lets the girl work her over. Her thighs start shaking as Moon finally bottoms out and softly ruts again her. Their soft skin slide together as their hips finally meet.

“See it's not that bad, just lay back and let us take care of you.”

Yasmine smirks with lust-filled eyes as she swoops down and starts licking and sucking at her tits. Her tongue lavishes Reader’s hard nipple. She blinks up at the moaning girl as she sucks her nipple into her hot mouth.

Moon slowly started to work her fake cock in and out of Reader’s tight hole. Her hips jerked as she almost pulled completely out but slid right back in.

Between the sound of Reader’s loud moans and wet skin meeting skin they could barely hear anything else. Both of their juices flowed together and made a mess between them. Moon moans as the fake cock brushes over her needy clit. It's swollen and rubs right against the base of the strap. The harness dug into her skin.

Yasmine is using both hands to hold Reader’s big tits. She shakes them and jiggles the flesh. She switches nipples and pops off them loudly. Spit ran down the girl's chest. It dribbles done her tits and pools on one of her rolls. Moons thrusts making her squish up. Her tough swirls around each bud before sucking them hard.

Moon starts to loss control as she listens to the new sounds the girl under her makes. The pretty whimpers and moans. She watched as the girls eyes fluttered and started to roll back into her skull. Her voice growing higher by the second.

Moon pounds away at her wet cunt. It sucks her cock in and starts cheach onto the cock. Her grip so hard they it threatens to keep the fat dick inside. Her pussy holding it hostage in a tight vice. Moon’s hips pull back harder to get the toy to move out of her. She's panting out as the minutes tick by, one hand pushing the girls fat thigh up into her belly while the other circles her clit with the wand.

Moon shoves the hard toy as far as she can not the girl. She grinds against the poor girl's cervix.

“Come on and cream on my strap! Make a mess on my dick! Cum cum cum!!”

Reader screams and her eyes cross as her pussy explodes. Her walls clench around the strap, her walls trying to milk it. A hot gush of liquid leaves her battered raw pussy. It slashes and sputters out of her occupied hole.

Moon franticly uses the wand all over her pussy and directly onto her clit. She pushed the warm wet plastic into her clit. Her hips jerk but Moon stays buried inside of her.

Once the girl calms down, Yasmine pulls off of her and looks at Moon’s handy work. She grins at the girl's puffy and soaked folds.

Moon slowly starts to pull out but it's a bit hard as Reader still clenches around the strap. Finally she works it out with a sharp pop. Her pussy is flushed and raw, her hole is gaping with no sign of closing any time soon.

Moon smiles saying as she turns off the wand and throws it on the bed.

“See wasn't that fun? I think we should do this more often. I think me and Yasmine need to teach you some things so you can have some fun. So we can have some fun~”

[jmrothwell]

"hold my hand" "absolutely not" "they'll think somethings wrong if you don't" *grabs hand and kisses cheek* / sweet tarts

“Do you need a job?” 

Reggie startled ever so slightly, trying his best to hide it by sitting up from the lounging position he was in while reading his book. Once up he found an aggravated Carrie standing in the doorway of the studio. 

“Are you talking to me?” He asked, looking around knowing full well he was the only one here. Everyone else had gotten pulled into various family holiday events. Even Luke and his mom had managed to reach a sort of compromise for the season. 

“Is there anyone else here?” She said again before releasing a long exhale disguised as a groan, “Anyway, did you need a job or not?”

“A job” He couldn’t help repeating the question, one of his eyebrows rising against his better judgment. 

“Ok, so it’s barely a job.” She said weight shifting as she adjusted her feet with her eye roll. Her gaze shifted away from him, examining the room around them, eyes lingering on the many photos Flynn and Julie had plastered across the wall. “I really just need someone to come with me when I go to my mom’s for Christmas.”

“I’m sorry what?” He really didn’t mean to blurt out the question as fast as he did. Still blinking away the shock of the words he was hearing. Couldn’t recall her ever mentioning her mom before, or anyone for that matter. Though if he had to judge based on the way Carrie’s face scrunched up and how she shifted her feet again she wasn’t very comfortable with the topic. 

“My mom’s been trying to reconnect and make up for lost time.” She said, voice bordering on her peppy show tone. 

“I don’t know.”

“It would be just for a week and she lives incredibly close to some decent skiing. So you could think of it more like a little winter vacation if you’d like.” Carrie said, her voice never straying far from that peppy ‘sales pitch’ tone which did not ease any unease he had at the idea. 

“What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.” She quickly said, disbelief written all over her face in the short seconds before managing to school her expression again. “Look, me and my family are even paying for everything. All you have to do is show up.”

He chewed over the idea, also chewing the inside of his bottom lip not really buying this perfect vacation she was trying to sell him on. There definitely had to be something she wasn’t telling him. Why him? Why not any of her other friends? 

On the other hand, it would be nice to have something to keep him out of his parents house that wouldn’t also have all his friends playing their usual ‘let’s help Reggie without him knowing it’ tactics. It might take them all a while to believe Carrie had randomly offered him what basically amounted to an all expenses paid ski trip out of nowhere. But weirder things had happened. 

“All right, when’s this trip?” He asked, trying not to be floored by Carrie’s unexpectedly bright, if short lived, smile. 

“We leave tomorrow.” She said digging her phone out of her purse and settling on the couch so close to him she‘d barely need to move to be in his lap. “Quick, give me your number so I can send you the details.”

“Oh yeah, sure.” He said fumbling for his phone, caught a little off guard by both her sudden proximity and the amount of shit he suddenly had to do before tomorrow. 

He barely registered everything she said about texting her his address to coordinate with her driver. Far too focused on mentally making his packing list, hoping he had enough clean clothes. Didn’t even question her when she suddenly pulled him in for a series of selfies, the first half dozen inadequate because he didn’t look happy enough. He doubted he ever looked happy enough, certain she just gave up, and resorted to using whatever filter for whatever app she was sure to be posting it to.

The next day didn’t fare much better for his nerves. Pleasantly surprised when she did in fact show up at his place several hours before the sun would even dare to be up so they could get to the airport on time. Too tired to enjoy the fact he got to sit in the slightly roomier business class, falling asleep before the even finished taking off. It was a rare direct flight too, so he wouldn’t get another chance until the flight home. 

Just as they passed security and into the throng of all the friends and family waiting, Carrie’s hand gripped his bicep tight pulling his attention to her as they walked. 

“Ok so, before we get too far there is something you need to know.” She said in a sort of half whisper, trying to not be overheard but still trying to be heard over the noise all around them. “I may have lied about there not being a catch.”

His heart clenched, he knew it was too good to be true, but more than that he felt more than a little betrayed. Did she seriously wait til he couldn’t escape to tell him what basically amounted to his side of the deal? He didn’t get the chance to call her out though, as soon a woman Reggie could describe as overly sparkly was rushing toward them with a big smile. 

“Carrie?” The woman said, throwing her arms around Carrie who had never looked so tense before.

“Aunt Debbie.” Carrie said through a forced grin, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“What nonsense.” Aunt Debbie said as she playfully slapped Carrie’s shoulder. “Of course we were going to pick you up, Richard’s keeping the car warm. Your mom would have come but she’s a little preoccupied.”

Aunt Debbie tried to do a little hand wave through the air, her vibrant nails looking more like talons than Reggie expected them to, clearly trying to dismiss or wave something away. The movement only seemed to make Carrie tense up more than she already was. Reggie didn’t get long to focus on that though as Aunt Debbie’s attention fell on him.

“Oh sorry, you must be..?”

“Oh, right, sorry. Aunt Debbie, this is Reggie.” Carrie said as Reggie extended his hand out to shake Debbie’s, all of the syllables he was going to use to greet her with however froze up in his throat as Carrie continued on. “My boyfriend I was telling you all about.”

“Ooooh well aren’t you handsome.” Debbie said, patting his, the sensation all he needed to know he wasn’t dreaming. “Well, we better hurry up before Rich gets too bored and does something foolish. Did you check anything?”

Debbie walked off after Carrie’s reassurances they only had carry-on’s. Reggie did not follow, forcing Carrie to double back for him, if she felt any guilt over the situation she had it hidden well under all the resigned exhaustion she wore.

“Your boyfriend?” 

“It’s only for the week.” 

“Carrie we’ve barely ever spoken to each other.” He said in lieu of saying how they could barely be called friends. 

“Please,” she said, surprising them both, though she recovered faster than he did. “Like I said it’s only for the week. We don’t even have to get all lovey-dovey with the pet names or overt PDA.”

“But why do they need to think I”m your boyfriend?”

Carrie quickly looked over her shoulder to where Aunt Debbie was impatiently looking like she was waiting patiently.  “I promise I’ll tell you later.”

He sighed, slowly resigning himself to the idea. His only other real options being telling everyone the truth and spending the next week uncomfortably awkward around strangers or trying to find some way to pay for a flight back home and leaving Carrie alone, by herself. “You owe me.”

She nodded as she painted on that winning showmanship smile of hers, “Of course, now hold my hand.”

“Absolutely not.” The words were out of his mouth faster than he intended, still too caught up in his own blindsided irritation. Her smile barely faltered, the slightest furrow of her brow.

“They’ll think somethings wrong if you don’t.”

He glanced toward Debbie who had definitely stopped trying to not look confused. He didn’t exactly trust his mouth at the moment, so he merely held out his hand towards Carrie. She grasped it in hers and pulled him down so she could quickly press a quick kiss to his cheek and whispering a quick “thank you” into his ear. 

He swallowed hard, an attempt to both unclog his throat of all the wrong words and to clear his head of the memory of her lips ghosting across the shell of his ear. This was going to be a more complicated week than if he had just stayed home.

[ajstudio]

Abridgecard finds Cocaine Bear.

---------

Alucard is getting the hang of the changes in society after rematerializing back into existence. While paying a visit to the Goodwill store Abridged Alucard finds a unique little gem.

---------

Abridgecard: Why are we here? There's a Michael's on the other side of this place.

Persephone: They are closed due to inventory. While it breaks my heart that one of my favorite stores is closed I would be passing up an opportunity to repurpose some old goodwill rags into some real gems. There's nothing better than getting some good fabric for a steal!

Abridgecard: What about Hobby Lobby? Don't they sell fabrics? Or did they stop while I was gone?

Persephone: Oh, no. They still sell fabrics. I'm just checking here first before I go there since I know I'll be there longer.

Abridgecard: Ah!

Persephone: My cousin's art teacher found this expensive blouse for $5. I found some workout pants from Glein Clein for $6 a pair when they'd be worth $50 if I bought them online. And when I am not looking for clothes to wear I find clothes made of good material I can use to make purses, shirts, and pants. I even made my prom dress out of clothes from the Goodwill store in my area.

Abridgecard: *reacts to some of the items at the store as he makes his way to the section with the VHS, DVDs, Blu-rays, and videogame *Can-can girl teapot, Pig Cleaning Lady Cookie Jar, The Muppets plush dolls, Pacman arcade game, pictures, Sophia (Golden Girls) Bust Bank, a hippo Bhuda statue doing yoga, grinning mugs, and a duck wearing a pope hat*

Abridgecard: Oh, Vampire Knight. Of course, they would be in a Goodwill store because no one wants to keep those books any more than their Twilight novels. OH, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! It's Twilight! Let's see. We have one. Two. Three copies of Twilight. Four Eclipses. Two Breaking Dawns. And one New Moon. Any me novels? Hey, it's the untitled goose game for the Switch. *Turns around to find a Pacman arcade game* Oh, that's so cool- Aw, it's not working!

Old Lady: The Pacman Game? I wanted it for my laundry mat to entertain my customers but the people that work here say it's not working.

Abridgecard: Wait! Wait! Wait a minute! Why donate it if it's not working?

Old Lady: Decoration, maybe? Someone might want it for their man cave. Or gamer cave. I don't know what gamers call their gaming room these days.

Abridgecard: Huh? What's this? *looks at the case and reads the title* Cocaine Bear? *snickers* Are you fucking real!? Is it about a bear doing drugs? *reads the back* 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Oh, fuck! This shit sounds hilarious! Oh, shit! I left my wallet at home! *spots Persephone at the checkout counter*

Goodwill Employee: Would you like to make a donation to St. Jude's Children's Hospital?

Persephone: Yes, please.

Goodwill Employee: Oh, you have three DVDs. Is there another one you'd like? It's buy three get one free.

Abridgecard: *slaps the DVD on the counter* I will have this one!

Persephone: 🤭😂😂🤭 (He timed that perfectly.)

Abridgecard: Please do this for me. I left my wallet at home.

Persephone: What did you pick? *looks at the cover* Oh, my goodness!

Abridgecard: *bends over to whisper in her ear* We are watching this tonight.

Persephone: Did you check to see if the disc is *opens the case* Oh! The disc is inside case.

Abridgecard: Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?

Persephone: Sometimes people will donate the case without double-checking if the disc is inside. I learned this the hard way with a Celine Dion album that was missing the CD.

Goodwill Employer: That happens a lot here.

Persephone: Or the case might have the wrong item inside. I bought a copy of a game my friend lost only to find out last minute the case contained a completely different disc inside.

Abridgecard: What was the game?

Persephone: I wanted to get Warriors Orochi for the PS2 for my cousin. But the case contained a Dora game for the Wii.

Abridgecard and Goodwill Employer: Ooooooo!

Goodwill Employer: It wasn't even for the right console!

Abridgecard: You know what. I think some kid might swapped the game out of the case with his sister's and taken off with it.

Goodwill Employer: Oh, that's probably what happened.

Abridgecard: Also, why don't you just double-check the cases before putting them on the shelves?

Goodwill Employer: I don't know, but I guess I could make a habit of it starting now. I'll check once someone takes over my shift.

Abridgecard : Hey, here's an idea. Why don't you just take all the mismatched games and movies, hand them out on April Fools Day, and tell everyone there're mystery boxes?

Persephone: Or you could just sell the cases themselves and sell the games and DVDs separately? But what you could put them in if they don't have a case?

Old Lady: Would you hurry it up? I've been waiting here for fifteen minutes already!

Persephone: Oh, I'm sorry! I'll be done right this instant. *hands over Cocaine Bear to the Goodwill Man* I'll be taking this.

Abridgecard: I also want this. *sets down the pope duck*

Persephone: Oh, it's cute! Did you name him yet? *hands the duck to the cashier and then realizes Alucard could've just warped back home to get his wallet*

As Alucard and Persephone leave the checkout counter, Alucard notices an old woman handing the cashier a DVD called The Diary of an Angry Black Woman with an old black African woman on the cover.

Abridgecard: The Diary of an Angry Black Woman? I wonder who passed off the old lady.

Persephone: Oh, did you see another movie you wanted to watch?

Abridgecard: Nah! Just looking at the stuff the old laundry mat lady bought.

Persephone: You know, I've seen that movie, the sequels, and the plays.

Abridgecard: Really?

Persephone: Oh, yes. My friends and I used to watch them. The first two movies were a big part of our teenage years. They were hilarious, but the scriptwriter Tyler Perry, who also plays Madea the old black woman on the cover, isn't afraid to tackle the touchy issues that an older generation would just try to swipe under the rug.

Abridgecard: Oh!

Persephone: To best describe Madea in a way you would understand, Alucard, if I had to pick a spirit animal for you Madea would be the perfect choice.

Abridgecard: Oh, now I need to see this movie! *pulls out Cocaine Bear* Right after we watch this!

Persephone: Well, the good thing is I already own most of the DVDs. My favorites are Boo 1 & 2, the Christmas Specials, and Madea Goes to Jail.

Abridgecard: Well, I guess it was bound to happen.

Persephone: I just want to give you a heads-up about the Madea movies. Despite what the trailers and covers may imply, the movies also focus on a family member of Madea's or someone she'll meet later on and the challenges they face. Madea can be a bit of a troublemaker and probably should have been locked up a long time ago. But just like a good family elder, she offers guidance when they need it. She's kinda like you.

Abridgecard: Are you saying I should be in jail?

Persephone: I wasn't trying to imply that. But realistically, the inmates wouldn't be safe with you. You would probably be put in solitary confinement.

Abridgecard: That's not nice.

Persephone: I'd come visit you.

Abridgecard: But would you break me out?

Persephone: No.

Abridgecard: Ow!

Persephone: But I could afford it I'd bail you out and I'd visit you until I could.

Abridgecard: And with that, you're forgiven.

Persephone and Alucard spent two hours indulging in their leisure activities. Persephone spent her time examining fabrics and restocking her art supplies, while Alucard followed her around with two garden gnomes. They then had a double movie night where they watched Cocaine Bear and Madea Goes to Jail. While watching the movies, Alucard was reminded of his past experiences of hijacking lifting cranes while performing his crazy antics.

[eleni-cherie]

lonely hearts club ✨ || kth au - chapter 0.8

“lonely hearts club // do you want to be with somebody like me?”

maybe single parents are meant to be members of the lonely hearts club.

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: single parents au, romcom, humour, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

»»»

Cassandra was trying her best not to check herself at every passing shop window. She couldn't help it though. She wasn't a narcissist though, she rather felt insecure. Unsure whether her choice of outfit was fitting or too much or too little for going to the cinema with a friend - she assumed they were friends by now. At least she was pretty certain her and Taehyung were friends. Or so she hoped. Still, he might see it differently. Whatever their relationship status was in the end, what concerned her more was her outfit right now. She wore a skirt - something she hadn't done after getting pregnant. Because of numerous reasons. But now that she was back to her prior weight and the weather being warm enough, she decided to go for it. Now feeling extremely insecure about it though.

She let out a small groan in frustration. It was too late to go back and change anyway. She could already spot the cinema further away. At least she had chosen her sneakers, making it more casual again, she thought when seeing Taehyung's tall frame in front of the entrance door. He was looking down on his phone, not having noticed her. And she approached him with a small smile. It growing wider when seeing his head rise. A smile spreading over his features as well. And just like that she forgot about her insecurities.

"Hey," he slid his phone in the backpocket of his cloth pants. His fingers tousling his brown waves a little as he greeted her with a bright smile. And for a moment, she forgot how to breath. "S-sorry, I'm a bit late." An apologetic sigh left her lips. Quickly shaking herself out of the little trance his appearance had put her. It was only ten minutes after the appointed time, but she still felt bad for making him wait there. Especially since she had been the one wanting to see this film. "Izzy's got a light coughing, so me and mum were trying to calm it." She laughed lightly along her explanation to cover her worry, although she knew a slight cough wasn't anything worrisome. And Taehyung could tell by the glimpse of distress in her eyes. "It's alright, don't worry," he assured her with his warm voice. "Hope she'll be alright." She nodded, unconsciously chewing on her lip as she followed him inside the building. Making her way to the foyer when Taehyung stopped in his tracks, confused watching her head to the stairs. "Shouldn't we buy tickets first?" "I already booked them online," she explained with a wink and started rummaging in her shoulder bag, "I always do that to choose the best seats." She seemed indeed dedicated when it came to watching films. He appreciated that. Although he insisted in buying the drinks and popcorn at least. His pride not able to allow her paying everything that night. And she couldn't deny liking this gesture a lot.

After getting provided with coke zero's and salty popcorn, they made their way to the designated screening room. Being surprised of how many other people had decided to share their plan for tonight. Their seats were exactly in the middle, allowing them to have a perfect view on the screen. The perks of booking online. As they were waiting for the advertisements to start, he noticed Cassandra glancing at him with knitted brows. An amused giggle leaving her pursed lips. He frowned for a moment, chuckling insecurely. "W-what's so funny?" He pointed at himself. "Is anything on my face?" Cassandra shook her head though, waving him off. "N-no, it's just.." She giggled and pulled out her phone, scrolling a bit before holding it up to him. Showing him a photo of her and an elderly man. "You wear almost the exact same outfit as my grandpa on his birthday." His brown eyes went round and he broke into a loud laugh. "Your grandpa has quite the taste," he eventually grinned smugly. Making her laugh under her breath. "He does. And you remind me a litte of him," she smiled then, sliding the phone back into her bag. "Oh? How so?" "First of all the brows," she said, pointing at his face, "You both have prominent brows. Well, his are thicker, but you get it. And you both have a very serious and intense, almost intimidating stare on your face when not smiling." "Oh, so I look intimidating?" he inquired in a fake offended tone. "Just a little. When you've got a straight face. Just like him." He had noticed her affectionate tone and the way her eyes lit up at the mention of her grandfather. "You love your grandpa a lot, don't you?" he smiled then, seeing her nod without thinking twice. "He's one of my most favourite people." "And I remind you of him?" Her eyes widened, only now realising how that must have sounded. Still, it was the truth. She hadn't intended anything, no hidden meaning. They simply had some similar traits she had noticed. That was all. "Yeah, a little," she plainly shrugged. The lights becoming dimmer. Indicating the film would start soon.

»»»

Two hours later the end credits started rolling and the small screening room was illuminated again. Cassandra quickly wiped away a single tear that had escaped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. Facing Taehyung next to her then with an inquiring smile. Seeing his eyes still resting on the screen. "So? How did you like it?" she asked full of anticipation.

His lips tucked into a content smile and he nodded. "I liked it a lot," he said as they stood up and made their way out. "Just.. was that really the ending?" She frowned. "Yeah, why?" "It was just.." He trailed off. Pushing the glass door of the exit, holding it open for her to pass behind him. "It was kind of.. a cliffhanger, wasn't it? I know they couldn't have done much in front of the reporters but she bid goodbye and everyone left. And at the end, he left as well. I liked it but it also left me.. empty and wanting more. I really thought she'd come back." Cassandra nodded while listening to his analysis of the ending scene. Agreeing with everything so far. "I know what you mean. I think so, too," she said then. Clutching the stripes of her bag as she stumbled next to him. Trying keeping pace with him and his longer legs. Taehyung noticed her struggle and let himself fall back, allowing her keeping up with him. "This open ending is both, suitable and painful," she continued, "That's why I like to think that it isn't the actual end of the story. That their story continues later on." He glanced at her with an arched brow. "You thought of your own ending? Would you share it with me? " he curiously asked as they entered the now dark street. Her eyes wandered up, smiling at the sky above them as they passed by some restaurants and empty alleys. "I like to imagine that after she finishes her tour through Europe, she returns to Rome to find him. She knows where he lives after all. And from there, who knows.." A dreamy expression on her features as she pictured Audrey Hepburn returning to Gregory Peck. "But I'm sure she'd return. And I'm sure he'd welcome her with open arms."

Taehyung hummed, giving thought to her version of the ending before breaking into a smile. "Sounds logical, in my opinion. After she's done with her duties, she should be able going back to Rome if she wants. And why wouldn't she want that?" "Exactly!" She didn't take notice of them already reaching his car, being too immersed in discussing the film's ending. Only when he came to an halt in front of it and unlocked it. And she took it as a sign to bid goodbye. "Alright then, see y-" "Get in. I'll drive you home," he interrupted her, motioning with his chin at the car. Smiling, she tilted her head lightly. She wasn't living too far away. Maybe fifteen minutes. However, it was getting darker and rather chilly. And honestly, she would've liked spending a little bit more time with him. "Sure, thank you," she eventually said and they both slipped inside. Allowing them to escape the light breeze. "You only have to remind me how to get to your place," he said then as he started the engine. Her lips parted, ready to explain when her phone began ringing. "Oh sorry, I -" She took it out in a hurry, ready to decline when seeing it was her mother calling. Making her frown. Especially considering the time and that she was looking after Isavella tonight. Cassandra suddenly getting a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Taehyung turned off the engine. Seeing no point in driving off when she couldn't tell him the way. So he leaned back. Waiting and observing her. Raising his eyebrows when seeing her expression changing. Dismay written all over her usual soft features. It wasn't hard for him to understan. So when Cassandra lowered her phone and glanced at him with dull eyes, he knew. His heart sank. "Izzy.. she got.. she got a fever.." Her voice thin, breaking at the end. "Where is she?" he instantly asked. Starting the engine again. "The pediatric hospital. Near the zoo," she monotonously said. He nodded and immediately drove off. His glance wandering to her then, worried. She had a blank expression while looking out at the passing buildings. And she was silent. Too silent. He sighed, unsure of what to do or say. "How is she?" he carefully dared to ask then. Not able to imagine what she was going through in that moment. "I.. I don't know. She's being examined now." Her breath was picking up, he noticed by her chest rising and falling quickly. She was hyperventilating and Taehyung stopped on the side of the street. Cassandra shooting him a panicked glare. "What - are - you - doing?" "Cassandra, hey." He leaned over. His voice was mellow and gentle as he placed a hand on hers. Squeezing it. "Look at me." Slowly, she averted her gaze from their hands. His almond eyes looking full of compassion, easing her a little. "It'll be alright. She's at a hospital now. The best place she could be in this moment. Okay?" She nodded, realising her breathing had calmed down. And he gave her an encouragong smile. "Good. Now take a deep breath and let's quickly bring you to her." He released her hand from his, placing it back to the steering wheel as he merged back into traffic. Cassandra, however, couldn't stop staring down at her hand. His warm touch leaving a cold spot on her skin now. And she bit down her lips, shaking her head. No, this wasn't the right time. She had to focus.

Taehyung peeked at her again, making sure she was alright. Tapping his fingers as he waited in front of a red light. He worried for the baby as well. He remembered when Ari had been sick for the first time and how scared it had made him back then. "Please don't drive yourself crazy," he spoke up again. "I'm sure she'll be alright. Babies can get sick, it's nothing unusual." "You know, we're never apart," she suddenly choked out then. The guiltiness eating her. "Besides when she's at daycare of course. And now, now I wanted to go out after a month again and this happens." She didn't cry. No, she didn't. But only because she was still processing it. She knew he was most likely, right. Babies got sick. But the fact they were still babies and their immune system not fully developed yet, made her anxious. "This is the first time she's sick. And I don't know what to do. You think I'd always know what to do, but I actually don't know anything." "It won't be the only time she'll get sick. You'll eventually learn what to do," he tried cheering her up. Thinking she would object or counter something. However, she remained silent and he could tell it preyed on her mind. "Don't feel guilty for going out once," he said then with a stern look, "You need to go out and vent sometimes." "But if I-" "Hey, am I bad when I meet up with my friends and leave Ari at my parents'?" "What? No, of course not!" "Then why you think you'd be a bad mum for doing it?" She sucked in a breath and looked at him. Watching his soft waves swayed over his forehead and eyes. It had something calming. And he was right. Again. And yet, she couldn't help but feel guilty for not being with her daughter in that moment. All because she wanted to go to the cinema. With him.

"We're there," he quietly announced then as he drove past the gates, into the hospital's parking lot. "Thank you so much for getting me here," she said with an apologetic smile as she fumbled with the seat belt. Unbuckling it fast. "And sorry for the.. well, for how the evening turned out. It was nice watching the film with you." She paused. Looking at him with a rueful smile on her lips. "Maybe we could do it again sometime." "Why are you telling me this now?" His brows furrowed. Almost laughing out loud at her flustered expression as she seemingly misunderstood him. "Cassandra, I'm not a douchebag. I'm obviously gonna stay with you and not just leave." He watched her big eyes widening. His words catching her off-guard. "You don't have to. It's late and my parents are here." "It's not that late. Besides, I'm worried for Izzy as well." And her lips parted. Not knowing what to say. It touched her in a way, how he appeared to care for them. It truly did. "Except if you don't want to, of course," he mumbled then. This time not joking when saying it. Realising she might not even want him around right now in a situation like this. He might be an annoyance. "I understand if you-" "Don't -" He felt something tugging at his sleeve. Seeing her hand clutching it tightly. "Don't leave." Her voice wasn't above a whisper and the way her eyes glistened at him made something inside him twich. "If you want to stay, then please do so. I-I could use a friend." Taehyung held her gaze. His hand gently grabbing hers and she let go off the fabric. "I'll stay then."

»»»

next chapter: 0.9 here

[inmyownwordz]

Food4Thought

Entry01 :::

(08/30/2022)

ALL I GOT NOW ARE MEMORIES - 

I miss the days when life was simple, when I used wish time would hurry up so I could be “Grown.” Now that I am, time seems to move way too fast. It made me realize how much I should have appreciated those moments. Why is it so common to not cherish what is before us, until it no longer is? These days I miss my nephews, it’s wild that we grew up together but now we don’t even speak. They’re in their 20′s now, that alone is crazy enough. The saddest part about us not speaking is that we don’t even have any issues, our family is just super divided. I really miss my parents too, my father passed in 2000 but I was too young to fully grasp death, and I still had my mother. Then when she passed in 2018 my life just wasn’t the same. It sunk in that both my parents were gone, and I began grieving both of them at that point. While I try to find comfort in knowing they are at peace and their spirits still live on... it’s hard not being able to call them, hear their voices, and feel their touch. I miss my mother’s smile, her kind blue eyes, her laugh, her sensitivity, her intellect and intelligence. My mother was the kind of lady that could finish crossword puzzles in 10 minutes. I would buy her crossword books (a couple at a time), she’d call me in a week and tell me she finished them. I’d laugh and say I would bring more for her on the next visit. I know so many random facts because of her always feeding me information. She was a teacher before her health declined, she mainly taught Pre-K. She loved working with kids, she had the aura for it for sure. I miss the days when she’d come home from work and always have something in her purse for me, it was usually a treat of some sort. I miss her calling my name to run to the corner store, or to grab her something from the kitchen. I miss watching her favorite shows with her in the living room, “Wheel of Fortune, Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, Everybody Loves Raymond and Kings of Queens.” Every Friday we’d order pizza from our favorite spot, I miss those simple traditions we had. I miss our house decor changing for every holiday, she loved putting up holiday decorations. I miss my dad getting me from the bus stop in elementary school. I miss him bringing me a “Yahoo Chocolate Drink” whenever he’d go to the store for his beer. I miss his scent, the sound of his voice, his cooking even the stranger things he made lol. I miss sitting on the porch with him and feeding the squirrels and birds. These days, I think a lot about who I might be, if he had lived longer. I miss the days when I had to come inside when the street lights came on. I miss being carefree, climbing trees, going to the park, walking to dairy queen in the summer. I miss .25 cent chips, .50 pop and juice. I miss penny candies and when candy bars only costed .99. I miss playing in the neighborhood with my nephews or friends. I miss the low-rider bike I got one year with the banana seat and the U shaped handlebars. I still remember spending weekends with my siblings. Sometimes I was at my brothers apartment, other times I would be at one of my sisters places. I miss my siblings, we don’t even talk these days, too much pride, resentment and unresolved issues that date back years. It’s sad to think that back then, all I wanted to be was older. But looking back, I wish I would’ve focused more on the good and less on all that was wrong. Life is just too short, and that is something I didn’t understand as a young child. Forever isn’t real, so just live for today and cherish life no matter what. Remember, moments are worth so much, cause unless you capture it on film you can’t ever go back and live them again. - K.A.M

[moonchild-things]

Chapter Twenty: Enticing Premium Quality Coffee Jello

Summary: Being a psychic is not an ideal life, at least for Saiki Kusuo. Didn’t you read/watch The Disastrous Life of Saiki K to know that? Still, this isn’t about him, not really. Instead, let’s focus on his one and only friend, Akari Watanabe, who is also quite abnormal. You might not believe that Saiki would actually have a friend, but that’s what fanfictions are about, right?  

Word Count: 2532

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“SAY ONEE-CHAN,” RIKUTO STARTED TO SAY TO HIS sister as they walked side by side on the sidewalk. Akari was escorting her brother to his friend’s house today. Since he had a bit of a detour the last time he was left to walk around the neighborhood on his own, Akari was tasked to watch him on the journey. There was no need for him to go out on his own and buy another manga since there was little to no room for it in his room. Also, their mother wasn’t exactly happy with him buying a bunch of “useless picture books”. They are not useless!!! They are pieces of art full of amazing characters and riveting storylines!!!

So to avoid Rikuto spending all of his allowance once again and/or bothering Saiki on his journey, Akari had to walk him to his destination. She wasn’t exactly happy about it, but it’s not like she had anything else to do today. Her parents knew this, much like it is most days, and figured that she should at least get out even for a short while today.

“Hm?” Akari hummed in question.

Rikuto skipped alongside her while pursing his lips, “Do you like Kusuo-nii?”

“He’s my best friend… so yes.” Akari furrowed her eyebrows at the strange question. How could Rikuto think that she didn’t? She’s around him a lot, like a lot. If she didn’t like Saiki, then she definitely wouldn’t be around him everyday. He has to be one of the least annoying people to be around, so yea, he likes him. Honestly, if  Rikuto is going down the path that she thinks he is…

He shook his head rapidly, “No, no. I mean, like like.”

Akari stared at him for a long moment, seeing what he was getting at. She shook her head and sighed, “You and dad are both obsessed with Kusuo and I being a couple.” Akari doesn’t know why they seem so invested in her non-existent love life. She’s a teenager with no interest in having a partner, why do they keep trying to meddle in it? 

“Well do you blame us?!” Rikuto sighed in exasperation, as if she was the crazy one. “You two are perfect for each other!”

“In what way are we perfect for each other? We both have psychic abilities, is that why?” That would be a shallow way to look at it. So the two super-powered teens have to be a couple? Is that how it works for Rikuto and her father? In that case, the same logic could apply to her and Toritska, or Kusuo and Toritska, so obvious that logic was skewed. 

“Well not only that but-” then Rikuto abruptly paused his rambling and froze. He started to shake slightly as he spotted something a little bit away by the playground. “Monster! Akari, it’s that monster again!” He shouted in alarm as he suddenly used his sister as a shield between him and the monster. 

Akari blinked at the supposed monster that was now standing in front of them. While she wasn’t scared of him, she kind of understood where Rikuto was coming from. “That’s just Nendo.”

Even if it was Akari’s friend, it doesn't make him less frightening. So Rikuto continued to quak in his shoes, “O-oh, man, I’m gonna have nightmares again.”

Nendo walked up to them, to Rikuto’s dismay, and had his stupid smile on his face. “What are you doing here, gal pal?”

“Taking my brother to a friend's house.” She explained before glancing at the boy who was beside Nendo. It was a bit of a strange sight, since she’s certain that he doesn’t have a little brother or anything. That’s a bit… concerning? “Why are you with a little kid?”

The little brown-haired boy jumped over to them and smiled widely, “He’s helping me find my baseball!”

Akari blinked at the explanation, “Oh.”

“Hey, why don’t you help us with finding it!” The boy exclaimed happily. If he can gather more people to help him, they’ll definitely find it.

“Please, say no. Please, say no,” Rikuto prayed quietly to the goddess Akari that she would heed his words and just walk away. He doesn’t want to spend any more time close to Nendo lest he end up with nightmares for a week. 

Though Akari shrugged her shoulders, “Sure.” Rikuto just gasped out in dismay in his hiding spot behind his sister. Why does she tortured him like this?

The smile on the boy's face had grown ten-fold. “Great! We’ll definitely find it with five people!”

“Five?”

Saiki then appeared out of thin air behind them. He seemed to be just as bored and annoyed as usual. Obviously, he had been joining them in the search for the poor boy’s baseball. Akari was going to need an explanation on how that happened exactly.

Rikuto jumped over to the older boy and clung to him. Ah, his savior is here! “Kusuo-nii, save me from the scary monster.” He was certain that Saiki would help him, especially if he tried to annoy him over it. The big scary monster will go away when Saiki uses his abilities to scare it.

“There’s no monster, just Nendo.” Saiki stated simply, though he obviously understood where Rikuto was coming from. Nendo does look like something that would crawl out from under your bed and drag you to the underworld.

‘How did you end up here?’ Akari thought to Saiki, who obviously heard it. Well, she knows his luck, and he had most likely been dragged into this against his will.

Saiki shrugged, “The boy hit my expensive coffee jelly with his ball… so I threw it away.”

‘Just how expensive was this coffee jelly?’ She knows that he can act irrationally when his precious coffee jelly is threatened. Though that did sound maybe a little bit ridiculous. Honestly, why Saiki went out and bought coffee jelly instead of coming to her house to see about getting some of her father’s is beyond her. 

Saiki was silent for a moment as he pursed his lips, “...¥3,000…”

Akari just stared at him for a long moment, not believing that he would actually spend all his monthly allowance on coffee jelly. ‘It was just one?’

“Don’t judge me.” Saiki sneered already knowing that Akari would make fun of him for it. It’s his money, he can do what he wants with it!

Akari laughed lightly at her friend, a teasing smile on her face, ‘I’d never do that.’

So the group continued on their search for the boy’s baseball. They searched all of the playground, the surrounding roads, across the streets, and yet nothing. Well, Akari didn’t do as much searching as the others did. She wasn’t going to be getting on her knees to look through the grass, she’ll let the others do that. Call her lazy, but she’ll stick to just walking around and looking. Honestly, same. I wouldn’t wanna get dirty.

“Is it not here?” Nendo said, “It couldn’t have gone far.”

Saiki’s eyes then crossed as he used his powers to search for it. “It did. I can use my clairvoyance to search for it.”

‘How far did it go?’ Akari asked.

Saiki explained, “It’s currently underwater.” Akari clicked her tongue. Yea, that was far. “I can’t find it. Too bad.” Saiki thought, already giving up, “I must give up. It’s my fault for throwing it far away, but it’s his fault too. Time to return home and eat my coffee jelly.”

While Saiki was content on just leaving already, Nendo wasn’t going to just leave this poor kid on his own. Nendo then suggested, “I’ll just buy you a new one.”

“It needs to be that one!” The young boy exclaimed with tears in his eyes, “It means a lot to me because my grandpa gave it to me before he died.” Ah, so it’s got sentimental value, which means that it would be even more upsetting if they didn’t find it.

Nendo nodded his head solemnly, “I see. We will find it then! All right! Everyone, look for it until we find it!” 

“Thanks! The pink-haired boy left though.” Yeah, Saiki was gone, but he didn’t just leave. He had gone off to search for the ball with his abilities. Not that they would know that though.

Nendo gasped at Saiki’s abandonment, “What?”

Akari shook her head and explained, “He just went to the bathroom.” 

“Oh, that makes sense,” Nendo exclaimed, “our pal wouldn’t just leave us like that!”

So while Saiki went off to use his powers to hopefully get the boy’s ball back, the others continued their search. “Negishi signed that ball,” The boy said as he, Nendo, and Rikuto all were on their knees looking through the bushes. Akari watched over them, a supervisor of sorts, as she was content just watching them search.

Nendo’s eyebrows furrowed as he threw a twig away, “Who is Negishi?”

“The baseball player!” The boy exclaimed as if Nendo was dumb not to know who that was. I don’t think many people would know what that is, kid.

“Seriously?” Nendo gasped, “That’s amazing! Was it expensive?”

“Grandpa said that another ball he signed was sold for nearly ¥3,000.”

Rikuto leaned over to the boy, “You ever think of selling it?”

The boy gasped at that suggestion, “No!” As if he was going to do that! Still, think about it kid, that's ¥3,000 you could use for something like a college fund, can never start too early to save up for that, right?

“I see.” Saiki thought as he came walking back up to the group holding the ball. “That’s what happened.” Currently, he was coffee jelly less since the ball and his treat were worth the same amount. Sad.

They spotted him, with the ball, and jumped up to him, “Did you find it?”

“Hey, pal!” Nendo shouted.

More than overjoyed, the boy took the ball from Saiki, “Thank you! I’m glad it’s back!”

“This is for the best.” Saiki thought, a strange expression on his face. It appeared as if he was dismayed to have to lose his coffee jelly, but also content with helping the kid out. “I can just buy another coffee jelly. This child’s ball is one of a kind.” The sentimental value could beat his need for coffee jelly he supposed.

Akari walked over to him with a thoughtful expression, ‘You gave up your coffee jelly to help him?’ When it comes to the treat, Saiki never usually compromises or gives it up, so it’s more than astonishing to see it happen.

“Is that surprising?”

She shrugged her shoulders slightly, ‘Maybe…’

Rikuto hopped over to the pair and started to whine, “Ok, found the ball, can we go?” He wanted to get as far away from here as he could. Plus, he wanted to get to the twins house more than ever now. He needed some relaxing time with his friends and their manga to calm him down.

Akari sighed and nodded her head, “fine. See you later, Ku-kun.” The siblings departed the group and headed back on their journey to Rikuto’s friend’s house. However, she continued to think about how… thoughtful Saiki was about losing his coffee jelly. Though the way he gave it up to help that boy just… struck her someway. A way she can't explain fully. So as she dropped her brother off and started to head back home, she figured that Saiki deserved something for what he did and gave up.

---

The next day, it was once again a pretty relaxed day. Akari had the option to stay inside and bask in her darkness unlike the previous day, but for once she made the conscious choice not to. She had worked most of the night to make this treat for Saiki. After yesterday, she was determined to cheer him up. So she knocked on the door with her box held in her hands. For some reason, unknown to her, she felt anxious about this. There was a small thought in the back of her head; would Saiki actually appreciate this?

“Yes!” Kurumi called out as she opened up the front door. She smiled sweetly as she saw who had shown up, “Ah, Akari!”

Akari gave the woman a small tight-lipped smile, still a bit nervous about being there, honestly. She entered the house and found that Saiki was sitting at the living room couch. He didn’t seem confused to see her there, but he was a bit confused by the box in her hand. Wonder what she brought him. 

Saiki stood up and walked over to the kitchen table as Akari placed her box on the table, “What is this?”

“It’s for you.” Akari softly stated, playing with her hands in order to not look at him, “I figured you’d want some coffee jelly after losing yours yesterday.”

Saiki stared at her for a moment before looking at the box on the table. While it’s not uncommon for Akari to give him stuff like this. However, he felt like this was different. Not totally sure what was different about it, but just that it was… He felt warm because of it.

So he opened up the box and was more than surprised to see a few portions of coffee jelly in the box. It wasn’t the premium ones that he had gotten for himself yesterday, but they were homemade. He suspected that they were made by Yamoto, which meant that they were going to be good. Maybe even better than that premium coffee jelly, who knows.

Saiki grabbed one of the cups of jelly and started to eat it. After taking the first bite, Saiki blushed happily, “Doing something nice is nice.” Though this coffee jelly tasted a bit different than what Yamoto usually makes. He couldn’t really pinpoint it, though he would say it’s a… good difference. The shadow-manipulator watched his reaction and smiled, more than content with how much he seemed to like it. He looked down to Akari, “You asked your dad to make these for me?”

Akari bashfully looked away, her pale cheeks starting to turn a light pink, “No… I made them.”

“Oh.” Saiki blinked after a short moment of silence. After all of their friendship, he has never seen Akari cook or bake anything. He figured it was just because she was both too lazy to learn and didn’t think she needed to with her father always cooking. However, if she was able to make this… He should ask her to cook this some more.

“They’re probably not as good, but I wanted to try making it.” Obviously, she was quite unsure about herself at this moment. Akari isn’t that much of a cook, despite her father having taught her how to cook a few dishes. Though if there’s one thing that she had made sure to try and learn to make coffee jelly. Just for Saiki.

“It’s good.”

At his affirmation, Akari couldn’t help but smile. An expression that Saiki more than liked to see on her. So yea, doing a good thing definitely paid off for him.

---

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[littlewalken]

jan 22

Watched Weyoun 6 again and I think y'all might be missing out on the idea that the Great Link does die out and Odo becomes the Last Founder and has to take over The Dominion. Immediately he'd dump the Cardassians and any other allies this side of the wormhole and take The Dominion back to the gamma quadrant to await whatever's coming.

Laas comes after Weyoun 6 so it's up to the writer if he becomes a part of anything and decides to take over The Dominion for himself.

I have got to say this game of let's distract ourselves from boredom by going to Imagination Land and coming back with writing ideas is working out great and I would like to encourage my brain to keep it up.

One thing I kind of can't do any faster is get to the greater batch of my art supplies. Just printed out a great reference picture of Sid I want to do on toned paper.

I could always buy more art supplies but with all I have it could only be a set of Mondeluz browns and tanned mixed media paper at the moment, no more shipping to this address, and the store that might have them is a day trip away.

Still have my mechanical pencil book so I can draw it, just not in the way I have visioned yet. Really want to use the soft drawing clay pencils or even get out the pastels and conte.

And we have to cut down because there's the possibility that even our beds go in to storage and we have to spend a night in a hotel for reasons of plot complications. The BJDs will start trickling in soon along with most of my clothes and a few other odds and ends.

It will only be for a few days not a few months, just having a purse won't be "too much stuff", you have two people in a mini van and don't have to make room for someone else's giant bag of things they won't even touch the whole trip.

I never put much thought to it before that a move could be healing but there is no other way for this one to be because the last one won the price for shitty. Even the apartment knows it's shitty, altho it's doing its best, and pretty much belongs to the earwigs now.

More rewriting the Spider-Man CYOA notes, the main timeline which I will then make deviations from. Decided that if I strip the Hollywood story back down to its bare bones in notes that the current version can stay. Usually a bare bones means a total replacement. It took a few years for me to toss the final comic book version of the boy band story and I can't remember if I have the gay guys one in that form but everything else goes scorched draft with each newer one.

Mostly its because I think, for now, I do have a pretty decent thing going, and it's the longest I've written yet. Only if the subsequent rewrite really does change everything for the better can the past one go.

But it also serves as a bit of a copywrite because of the metadata on the file and its modified dates.

[i-just-wanna-be-fuckin-happy]

A List of EASY, Not-Horrible Ways to Keep Your Home DPR (Dinner-Party Ready)

Always make the bed before you leave the house. Going on a trip and dragging yourself out of bed to make your early flight? Make the bed. Hungover and just not in the mood? Make the bed. Running late to work? Make the fucking bed! Just throw the duvet up toward the pillows and be done with it. You have time! Coming home to an unmade bed is unsettling and easily avoidable. Make the bed for a week straight, and I dare you not to feel better about life in general.

Clean the bathroom sink every day. EVERY DAY? Yes. Just keep a delicious Mrs. Meyer’s surface cleaner (rn I’m using “Rosemary”) in the cabinet, and spritz, baby, spritz. It takes like ten seconds. I like to do this at night before I go to bed so that in the morning I wake up to a nice smell and a clean sink. It’s a small thing, but what a way to start your day!

Clean up the party at the party, BUT not in an insane way. This is controversial, but as a party is winding down, start to put dirty glasses in the dishwasher, make sure trash is being put in the actual trash can, and when your friends offer to help clean, never decline. I’m sorry, but you’re not Emily Post. You have nothing to prove. This is not 1920, and good housekeeping is not the only way to prove your worth. Put your friends to work.

Don’t treat your dining room table like a landing zone. Same goes for the kitchen table, the coffee table, the TV dinner tray, or any other flat surface on which you might be tempted to “temporarily” store things. This is not a purgatory for your groceries. I always set up ceramics on the dining room table in a pretty display so I’m not tempted to clutter it up. You won’t be throwing a phone book (yes, someone is still sending me a phone book!), lightbulbs, and that package you must return to Amazon onto your dining room table if on it there is a delightful display of colorful ceramic plates you bought in Mexico City.

Upgrade the basics. Do you know why families (not mine) pass down silverware and crystal and fine china? One, because of weird customs having to do with dowries and “hope chests” and other unpleasant things, but, two, because it’s nice to sit down to a pretty display when you eat. If you were not lucky enough to inherit a special set of plates for holiday meals, might I suggest you go and buy your own? Maybe Goodwill has some pretty floral ones you can mix and match. They don’t have to be expensive; they just have to make you feel special. I upgraded my paper napkins to Japanese textile pieces. They weren’t costly, but they are very me and I love them. I made my place mats by hand-dyeing squares of linen in indigo. The whole project cost maybe fifteen dollars, but every time I set the table I think, How lovely.

Set the table for one. I often eat dinner alone, and I go all out. I’m talking lit candles, a place mat, napkins, silverware, flowers on the table, Ella Fitzgerald playing in the background. If it’s so nice to set the table for guests, why wouldn’t I enjoy the same experience?

Put things away after you use them. I know. Duh. I’m sure your parents told you that a million times. Actually, I’m not sure, because I wasn’t told that. But! If you put your stuff away right after you use it, you can avoid a mess and, even more important, losing things. When I’m done with my rose-gold pen, it goes in its place of honor in my desk drawer. When I’m done with my journal in the morning, it goes straight back into my bedside table. My purse always goes on the little shelf next to my bedroom door. It’s so much easier to know where your things are when you intentionally put them away.

The moment you are back from a trip, unpack. I KNOW. IT’S HORRIBLE. But it works. Within an hour of being at home, even if my flight got in late, even if I had to drive all day to get back, I unpack my bag. Because otherwise, I might never unpack. To help, I keep my dirty laundry from the trip in a pretty travel bag that reads “Please Wash Me” and closes with a big black bow. I keep my underwear in another bag with the words “On Vacation” embroidered in pink. I can easily chuck these cute, presorted little bags into where they belong: the laundry hamper.

Give yourself one corner of disorganization. But I’m talking one corner. A small one. Sometimes, you just don’t know what to do with a broken record player that you know you could get fixed one day. And what about the plastic container full of pictures from high school and letters from your grandmother? Someday I will make a scrapbook, but for now, I have a corner in my home office, hidden by a sofa, where my disorganization lives. It’s about two feet by two feet of stuff I’m just not sure how to handle. While Marie Kondo might say I am living in chaos and the absence of joy, I’m telling you, I feel no less blissful about my life because of it. Of all the things to feel bad about in my life, I am not letting a tiny bit of disorganization be one of them. Sorry, Marie. You can’t make me feel guilty. Not today.

Forgive yourself if your home is not DPR. I was not born into a DPR home, nor did I take pride in maintaining one until I was almost thirty. It took me that long to value how awesome-pinch-me-YES-amazing it feels to live in a place you fucking love. Start small. Don’t get overwhelmed thinking that EVERYTHING HAS TO BE PERFECT. It doesn’t; who said that? Put the plate in the dishwasher, return your running shoes to the bedroom closet (how did they make it into my home office?!), throw away that crazy-long CVS receipt-slash-coupon you’re never actually going to use, and move on with your day.

Don’t worry, I’m still learning too.

[stephensonibsen6]

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[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.”