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soaringthoughts · 10 months

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:: A MISFORTUNE'S VESSEL. (chapter 2)

[ lowercase intended. ] a misfortune's vessel : chapter 2/? chapter - 1 PAIRINGS: aqua hoshino x reader

A/N: I actually didn’t expect for people to see and read my work, but here we go! School just finished for me and I just graduated so I've been very busy for the past month and wasn't able to update.

I procrastinated too much on this.. But now I finally finished it. ╰(❁´◡`❁)╯

word count: 3492 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

it felt as though time had flown. you're glad that your body is finally capable of self care.

what relieves you the most is that you finally reached the age where people wouldn't suspect you for walking and talking.

it didn't take long before you can finally stand up on your own two feet, you've always sworn to never leave your crib at all rather than do all the crawling.

everything changed, however, when the news regarding Ai reached you.

you didn't get to hear an ounce of it from Miyako. but due to Ai's popularity, the news spread like wildfire all across the internet.

you were devastated. Ai passing away was the least thing you'd expect to receive after not hearing from her for years.

it made you wonder, what about Aqua and Ruby?

you can't gather the wits to ask Miyako about it. perhaps letting her recover from it would be the wiser decision.

over the past years since the incident, you barely got any attention from your parents.

Saito deserted his responsibilities. he spiraled into depression and disappeared from the company grounds. perhaps it was because of what happened to Ai.

it was all so sudden that Miyako was forced to be bombarded with these responsibilities, which only occupied more of her time so you barely got a chance to see her.

you are often alone at home, well at least that's how you felt. Saito stayed with you, but he would often lock himself up in his room and only come out to eat or use the bathroom.

hell, he even wastes his time on drinking alcohol and only gives you money just so you could take care of yourself.

Miyako, however, thought that this was bad parenting and so she decided to leave you with a babysitter.

you were upset as to why her, your own mother, is out there taking care of other children instead of her own daughter.

but you were considerate enough to understand that she's still working for strawberry productions which concludes of being present at her workplace most of the time.

but despite all that, you still managed to graduate from primary school and live your life as it is.

you are currently a highschooler. and for this next school year, you are struck by the decision of whether to take general or entertainment program for your new school.

you've always wanted to be an iconic idol like Ai but after hearing Miyako's opinion regarding this matter, you've decided to just pursue being an average student.

she didn't sound too supportive of it, especially after what happened to Ai.

being an idol really does have its ups and downs.

“I'm going.” not sounding too optimistic, Miyako was concerned by your well-being.

“I'll give you a ride.” Miyako snatched her car keys from the kitchenette's counter, accompanying you outside the house to head for the car.

normally, the atmosphere between you two is awkward. perhaps it's due to the relationship you both have and from the times that you two barely spend time together.

but today seemed different. unlike before, Miyako seemed to be more talkative around you after the disagreement you had regarding being an idol.

“I'm sorry, [Name].” Miyako tried to clear the atmosphere. but the rest of the ride was in silence, almost deafening at that.

you didn't have any response to this. you had already given up from the start, or so you thought.

taking things slow, that's your current objective.

“I believe in you, good luck.” as soon as you arrived at the destination, you stepped out of the car.

brushing a hair strand to tuck it behind your ears, Miyako's lips lifted into a bittersweet smile. perhaps it was due to her stress. but despite that, you took her smile all whole-heartedly.

“Thank you, mom.” with the return of a heartwarming smile, Miyako gave you a gentle squeeze of a hug before you head inside.

the school didn't look all too fancy, it didn't look all too good-for-nothing either. just an average school to be precise.

the clanks of your shoes reverberated through the school halls as you made your way inside.

the campus looked almost empty, but you were still passing by a few students throughout the way. perhaps they were also here for the enrollment.

you fixated your gaze over the plates of each classroom you are passing by to look for the general program you'll enroll in. it didn't take long, you eventually stumbled upon the said room as you lined yourself up with the students who also seemed to be here for this strand.

there was nothing special about the area. the building was simply structured and barely furnished. the atmosphere was dull. but perhaps it's because it's a new opened school.

as you got done signing the papers and passing the qualifications and requirements for your enrollment, which took a toll of time, you returned outside the halls and started heading back into the direction from where you came from to head back home.

it was quick, the long line was what kept you in.

unlike earlier, the sun seemed to shine brighter now. the rays of it reflected through the hall windows and over your figure. it was almost blinding.

you were able to see the hallways more properly. now that it's lit up, it actually doesn't look that bad.

you made your way throughout the area, standing out in your proper school attire and your bag slinged in your back.

your mind was stirred with your current emotions of what you feel about your upcoming school year. your mood swinging from both anticipation and nervousness at the same time. even though it's just the same strand you chose in your past life.

almost drowning in your thoughts, you didn't notice the group of people you bumped on. specifically a girl that's facing the opposite direction.

they seemed to be arguing about something, or maybe that's what you thought.

“Oh?- are you alright?” the girl was startled and swiftly turned around to check you out. luckily, it was just a small bump so you managed to stay on your ground.

you were in daze by the familiarity of her voice. you blinked a couple of times to clear your sight, before taking in the figure of the girl, along with two other people with her.

the two that were right in front of you were lookalikes despite the opposite genders they are, they must be identical twins.

as for the other girl on their back, she was immediately silenced by the sight. she had scarlet orbs and hair locks unlike the two.

you felt the guy's gaze dart at you, as if examining your features. “..[Name]?” as well as the girl, the guy's voice also seemed all too familiar.

you were surprised by how he knew your name. and that's when it finally rang a bell, it was Aqua and Ruby.

“You guys..” was all you managed to mutter. you were still in shock by the sudden encounter. you didn't expect that you'd reunite with them here, out of all places.

considering the school attire they are also in, it was obvious that they are also enrolled for this school.

you can say that nothing much changed. they were still the twins that you knew.

Aqua is still as stoic as ever. his phlegmatic tone remains the same. Ruby, still a bundle of joy, much to your surprise.

Unlike Aqua, Ruby is still as talkative as ever when comparing the two, “Aw, is that all you have to say? it has been years!” to your surprise, the two seemed to still get along with you despite not seeing each other for years.

you indulged in a small conversation, mostly about updating yourselves about what happened over the years of being separated.

“So, what program did you take?” just as Aqua had decided to chime in, the atmosphere immediately shifted from someone clearing their throat. done on purpose.

that's when you remembered that the two were also with someone else.

“I'm still here, you know.” said the 'unknown' girl to ease the atmosphere, almost feeling bad for leaving her in the dark from the reunion of you three.

she had red locks with a length that extends to the central of her neck. as well as cerise doe eyes that somehow resembles Ruby's, which complements to the color scheme of her hair.

she had a navy blue beret on, unlike you, Ruby, and the rest of the females in the school. making her stand out.

“Well.. this is kind of a personal matter, [Name] is a friend that we haven't seen for years.”

you didn't expect for Aqua to respond, but you were glad that he is finally somehow being more open than letting Ruby do all the talking.

this earned a scoff from the girl, a name that is still unknown. “Maybe let me chime in at least.. maybe we can get along.”

although you appreciated the fact that this girl was willing to talk with you, you can't help but wonder if she only said that so she wouldn't feel left out.

setting your thoughts aside, you decided to conversate anyway.

“I'm [name].” there was no need for formalities, and so you decided to just simply introduce yourself by letting her know your name. you're awkward at starting conversations after all.

“I'm Kana!”

and without a word, the girl, who is named Kana now that you knew, slipped in between the twins to close the distance between the two of you.

she abruptly dragged you by the arm with a gentle grip, turning you two away from the twins as she whispered in your ear, “So.. are you and Aqua dating?”

this question caught you off guard, especially from someone you've barely met for an hour. not even for 15 minutes.

“huh? no, we're not.” you whispered back in a sheepish manner. you didn't even know why this girl, who is practically still a stranger, would ask this.

the situation was overly awkward. you felt the eyes of the twins watching both of you from behind.

“Really?” Kana exclaimed with a hint of enthusiasm in her tone, her voice now more audible that it was probably heard by the other two. shortly after the realization sinks in, she immediately clears her throat to brush the awkward atmosphere off.

“I- I mean, really?” she followed with her voice now less excited than before to cover her excitement up.

the two of you then turned back around after clearing Kana's question up, now facing the twins once more.

the twins glanced at each other's faces as if communicating by thoughts, confusion evident in their expressions. “What was that about?” asked Ruby, staring at the two of you intently.

“Nothing!~” said Kana, with the brightest smile on her face. “Don't tell them I asked you that, okay?” she whispered once more, in which you gave a nod of approval. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“For how long are you two going to keep on following me?” Aqua remarked in his usual tone.

― “Until you answer all my questions!” said Kana.

― “I'm not. I'm headed in the same direction.”

he simply hummed at the difference of your responses, spiced with a hint of displease from Kana's perseverance.

the two went on in their way with a small conversation, although it was mostly Kana just bombarding Aqua with questions.

you were headed for the same path as Aqua, it just happened that your destination was the same route as his.

throughout the entire conversation of the two, you were quiet. but you couldn't help but pique curiosity from their topic, especially from how persistent Kana is to suggest Aqua to continue acting.

so he used to be an actor? a child one at that. or so you thought.

“I'm headed that way, see you two.” you pointed in the opposite direction of two paths you three came across. this time, your route is now different from what they are taking. so you decided to inform them of your route before parting your ways.

“Wait! Why don't you come with us, [Name]? Aqua and I were just planning for a hangout so you might as well come,”

you abruptly stopped on your tracks from hearing Kana. you then turned around to face them again, an inviting expression on Kana's face in contrast to Aqua's impassive ones.

“No we're not.” Aqua remarked,

“Come on, Aqua! you haven't seen us both for a very long time!”

“My destination is not somewhere that will keep you two entertained.”

“As long as the three of us can hold a conversation..”

“Fine.”

it took a chunk of Kana's convincing before finally persuading Aqua into it. it made you wonder as to how she can even handle his unexpressive attitude.

she waved her hand at you to call you back. and so you decided to come along since you were free after all.

“Oh, Kana Arima. I haven't seen you in so long― and..? Aqua's girlfriend?”

almost choking from your own saliva, you cleared your throat awkwardly and as well as Aqua. do old people just often ask the most off-putting questions and embarrassing things?

“No, we're not. I'm a friend. That happened to end up here for a hangout.” you emphasized the word 'hangout', as if not expecting for it to occur in some strange old man's room. you didn't even know the guy.

with a chuckle, the man twisted his chair to face you three. “I see, I see. I was kidding.”

“That wasn't very funny..” said Kana who was patting your back to ease you from the coughing, the situation almost dramatic.

the room was then eventually beaming with a light atmosphere as you all conversed with general topics regarding your lives. such as school, relationships, and.. acting, which you cannot relate to.

but despite that, you all got along despite you just meeting the other two this day.

a while after for what seemed like an hour, you four were invited to dinner by an elderly woman that barged into the room, in which you all complied.

the dining table was in silence as you all fixated your attention on the food. but the silence was also broken from time to time with short paced conversations.

“So you still live off your parents, Director.” Kana remarked in the most casual tone.

'that wasn't his wife?..' you thought to yourself. it was bizarre to think about now that Kana mentioned it.

the dinner went on with them talking about the careers they used to have with acting. it seems that Kana was still in it, unlike Aqua who apparently already quit a long time ago.

of course, they made sure to include you in as well, asking you about your route in life and as well as your interest in acting.

and so you just found out that the man used to be a director.

hell, Kana even suggested you to be an actress with her.

she really is a persistent person. she even offered to give you a training after excusing yourself that you're not fond of acting. she seemed really desperate to have a friend with her.

if only they knew how talentless you were in your past life.

but that was in the past.. right?

even so, that fact deteriorated your self-esteem despite living in a new body that is probably way better than your previous one.

it didn't take long before the sun went down. only then you realized that you spent too much time in the hangout.

Miyako must be worried by now..

as you three dismissed yourself from the director's house, Kana parted her way. her dorm was in the opposite direction unlike you who's headed for the same destination with Aqua, which is the bus station.

the walk was quiet, considering the two of you are not fond of idle chit-chatting. but of course, the tension was less awkward with a few chats.

shortly after reaching the bus station, the both of you sat on the bench.

the next bus was the last, so it's only good that you two made it in time.

the surroundings were dark. the moonlight barely lit the ground, the only light source being the flickering street lamp that was beside the bench.

“I didn't know you did acting.” you suddenly commented to put a halt to the silence.

“Not for long. It's not my course.” Aqua simply remarked. he was still a tad replier up until now.

you were slightly taken in by surprise. throughout the hangout with Kana complimenting his skills, you didn't expect him to actually dislike acting.

“So you didn't take entertainment program?”

“I took general program. I wasn't even fit to act in the first place.”

“Shame.. I would've liked to see you perform.”

“Enough about me. You took the general program too, right?”

your face shifted into one of intrigue at Aqua's response. it was nice to finally have a talk with him after hours of just awkward greetings. much to your surprise, now that you two were alone.

“I did. It would be a good coincidence if we end up in the same batch!” this earned a hum from Aqua, not showing any signs of displease of having you as a classmate.

“Hm, you're right. But it seems less likely to happen considering the amount of those that applied.”

just as you two were finally conversing once again, the moment was interrupted when the bus had finally arrived.

you two rose up from your seats to quickly head inside, not wasting any matter of second in order to not miss the bus.

the vehicle immediately drove off as you two got in despite not even getting a seat. this caused you to almost stumble, in which you managed to stay on ground by holding onto a pole and with Aqua's hands firmly grasped in your arms from behind.

“Thank you―” you sheepishly remarked, returning with a simple nod from Aqua.

you two got further inside the bus, only realizing that all the seats were full.

that must be why the driver immediately drove off, because there were no seats left available.

just then, the driver abruptly stomped the brake, causing the both of you to stumble once again.

good thing the both of you were strong enough to stay on your grounds.

as the bus stopped, one passenger left his seat as he left the bus for his stop. the bus drove off again shortly after.

you two eyed the seat.

“You sit.” said Aqua, gently shoving you closer to the available seat. of course you couldn't refuse due to how exhausted you are from the day.

as you sat, Aqua stood beside you as he held onto the bus hanger for support.

the ride was surprisingly long. and the silence was frequently broken with small talks.

you shared stories, emotions, and laughter― well, something Aqua didn't reciprocate to say the least.

he was still as stoic as ever. but that's what makes him recognizable from all the people you know. and somehow, with that distinctive demeanor of his, it reminds you of someone. 'what was his name again?..' you couldn't quite remember his name, but his face was still as clear as skies in your mind. all that you know is that it was someone in your past life.

it didn't take long before you reached your stop. you were first to get off the bus before Aqua.

“See you, Aqua.” you waved your goodbye and rose up from your seat, stealing one last glance on him.

“See you, [Name].” he returned. as you eyed your gaze on him, you noticed the faint smile that lifted up on his lips. one you've never seen from him before.

maybe you only stereotyped him of not having emotions at all, that he's unexpressive.

now you found out that he actually is, well, except for his friends.

but with all those thoughts aside, you can't help but notice how good he looked with a smile. almost charismatic.

“You should smile more often. You'd get a lot of girls.” you playfully remarked with the smuggest look you had.

his face immediately shifted back into his neutral one, as if masking his smile. in which you found kind of funny.

“Is anyone going or not?” the driver eventually spoke, impatiently tapping his foot on the bus floor as if a sign to skip the stop if no one's going down.

not wasting anymore time, you quickly got off the bus. and with a few studs of walk, you finally arrived back at home. mind at ease from having to reunite with your friend. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @lumiriai, @miyakoa, @dododododooosworld, @kimiko-the-angel, @fukumiai, @kat-kaps, @karma-gisa

#aqua hoshino #aquamarine hoshino x reader #aquamarine hoshino #ruby hoshino #kana arima #oshi no ko #oshi no ko anime #fanfiction #aqua hoshino x reader #slow burn

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fallloverfic · 2 months

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Solo Leveling Episode 7 Thoughts

Excellent ep!!! Spoilery thoughts for the anime, novel, and manhwa below, CW: blood:

Jinwoo and Jinah are so cute together T-T I love them being close sibs. I mean obviously he helped essentially raise her since he was 14, when their dad disappeared and their mom was too ill to do everything, and then fully did so after he graduated because their mother was comatose, and I just... think about that a lot. This kid who has to raise another kid and never got to finish being a kid himself and had to immediately go into the workforce and give up going to university and he just wants her to have the opportunities he didn't and I just T-T

I feel like I accidentally am vibing with this because I got fried chicken on the way home from errands today, completely unaware this was going to be in the episode.

I love Jinah asking about him and how he's doing. Makes up for calling him a cheapskate >.< I mean to be fair to her, I grew up in a household that struggled for money and I was completely clueless about why we often didn't get stuff, though my parents really tried to spoil us to the extent they could. I do get it. It's realistic in my experience to react this way, especially when the younger person is kept clueless about finances. It's just T-T sometimes. But I do love that she cares about his mental health.

Jinwoo just processing his first murder(s) essentially alone cause he certainly didn't confide in Jinho and he is the older brother with a sister in high school who is just living a normal life and wants her to be happy and so cannot confide in Jinah and it kills me he kind of doesn't do this with anyone, ever T-T Sort of when the Hunters manager warns him, but not on an emotional level. I mean to be fair he's also kind of just, "I resented them for thinking they had a chance against me," which is pretty dark lol But he's obviously really conflicted about that cause these were humans.

Jinwoo has one goal and that is protecting the people he loves. He's pragmatic. I think it's interesting he doesn't focus as much on "they tried to kill me multiple times, it was self-defense and defense of another person". Just... "My family is what's important and I'd do it again if I have to." Which, yes, that's a consideration you can have.

I mean he "could" have incapacitated the Lizards, maybe, rather than killing them, but he's not trained to do that, lacked equipment for it, and in the moment it's hard to process that. It just bothers me he doesn't really do any actual emergency training or whatever other than just building up muscle, EXP, and fighting/movement skills. Even his healing solution is just... shove a potion in people's mouths and it's unclear if he has literally any training in first aid of any kind outside that time he helps Song Chiyul wrap his arm.

Also Jinwoo is still really cute :3 He's animated well.

Hehe learning about the detox, poor guy lol I honestly do love the detail that the system detects alcohol as a harmful substance. It's fun when stories add it in.

Jinah worried about him drinking too much T-T They love each other T-T I love themmm

(just skip down three paragraphs if you don't care about my rant about cellphones lol)

One criticism I have because I always focus on the appearance or absence of mobile phones in modern stories where they should be there: the novel focuses a decent amount on how Jinwoo's cellphone broke in the double dungeon, and he has to get a replacement specifically from the Korean Hunter's Association, and that is completely absent from both the manhwa and the anime, and the anime is compensating weirdly. The novel explains, "Hunter-issue smartphones used specialized technology, so Jinwoo had to put in a request directly with the association." (Vol 1, Chapter 4). So the phone does more than just allowing the Hunter's Association easy access to hunters (I think at one point it's shown it works inside the dungeons, when most technology does not, so I imagine it's powered somehow by mana/essence stones). Jinwoo doesn't have the money to speed up the process, so he has to wait for multiple weeks for them to provide him with a new one, and he forgets to take care of it until I think after he's out of the hospital, so that puts off the process even longer. This means: the association cannot contact him except via landline, and anyone with his cell number cannot do so either, unless, presumably, they have his landline number. In the novel, Jinwoo demands an explanation from Jinho for how Jinho has the number on the presumed landline (it's just called "phone" in the Yen press English translation, I don't know why he wouldn't have his cellphone if he has one in the anime outside his bedroom where Jinah is, and I can't imagine Jinho getting Jinah's cell number, or why the Association would have it other than maybe as an emergency contact, which, again, why would he get that number and I feel like Jinwoo would kill him if he did lol), and Jinho explains that he knows someone at the Association.

Most of this revolves initially around various people trying to contact Jinwoo during this non-cellphone time and not getting to him because he literally does not have a phone and, presumably, they don't have his landline number. The nurse whose number he got tries to contact him via his mobile and nearly gives up by the time he gets his phone back to see her messages. Like many related subplots, this is also part of showing that Jinwoo is just... bad at keeping in touch with people lol (I mean he explains, sadly, in the novel, "No one ever calls me anyway." (Vol 1, Chapter 4). But he gave this woman his number and ultimately decides to ignore her/not respond when he sees all the messages she sent him rather than saying literally anything like, "Sorry I was out of touch" or whatever, or just politely turning her down. He does this for most people: most of his interaction with his cellphone is to decide not to use it lol I can see why the manhwa dropped this plot nearly entirely (except for a later modification, which I really like) because it feels clunky. But it creates this weird scenario where... it's South Korea, Jinwoo doesn't have a ton of money but he's doing fine-ish enough to have a giant TV and a computer, and he needs his phone for work. Phones and mobile phones in particular exist in the anime (e.g., we see Woo Jinchul use one, Dongsoo crushes one). So one would ask: why does he not have a cellphone (and when/how did Jinho get his number)? And unrelated: why doesn't his email almost ever get used? The webnovel released in 2016, both would have been commonplace things then; I mean the guy goes onto a forum to ask if other people have leveled up in the novel; it would have been a lot simpler to have Jinho send him an email, though I guess I appreciate the added Jinwoo & Jinah bonding created by keeping this to some extent.

It doesn't ultimately matter in the grand scheme of things. It was really one of the weaker elements of the story and it's really incredibly minor. I can, again, see why the manhwa dropped it and why the anime is side-stepping it when considering what to adapt. But anyway, that was my aside of "how cellphone usage/lack of it when it should be there changes stories". (Also for the record, I think it's good he didn't respond to the nurse, in the end, because that entire plotline is really creepy and probably violates some ethics, but it's also so completely unnecessary).

Jinho pointing out the fight with the Lizards was self-defense :3 Good!

The "this cafe sells coffee" glamour shots are making me laugh, I don't know why lol

One thing that's always intrigued me with this series, and I don't know if this is common to the genre or something, maybe it is, is how much buildings are used as collateral. Like it is a simple truth that buildings are a very core part of value for wealthy people and organizations. Real estate is where big money is made. A lot of people in power literally control large chunks of your local real estate. But a similar story would probably just say like... "I can wire x money to you as needed". Instead this just upfront goes, "I'm rich, but here's this really big money item you could have: a building." It's just neat.

O.o Jinwoo doesn't take Jinho's offer. That's interesting. He does take the offer in both the novel and the manhwa, so I'm unsure about why the change? Maybe it combines into his realization that he needs to level up to face enemies past Cerberus and Jinho is a convenient way to do that.

Dongsoo's Japanese voice actor (Junichi Suwabe) has too pretty a voice for Dongsoo alkdjaldja Like he sounds unfairly beautiful aldkjalalkj (Unsurprising for the guy who voiced Viktor in Yuri on Ice) I don't precisely know what I expected him to sound like, and I'd love to see who they picked for the Korean dub, but alkdjal dang. To be fair... he did also voice Jaeha in Yona of the Dawn, and Grimmjow in Bleach, so I'm not that surprised the actor sounds good... I just. Wow. Salud. I don't know that this works for Dongsoo (at least for me) but he does at least sometimes play annoying dudes lol (I love you Jaeha and Grimmjow, and Viktor and Oda, but still aldkjalj).

Stop fatshaming your sister Jinwoo. You deserved that kick even if you did not at all feel it.

Bonding time ruined T-T

The way the buttons on the system get clicked is such a satisfying look/sound.

O.O oh, Jinwoo's learning about the Elixir of Life way early. That's intriguing! In the novel and manhwa he doesn't learn until way later. The anime is really focusing overall on making his goal centrally about caring for his family rather than more about improvement for the sake of improvement (I mean in the novel it feels kind of like 60/40 trade-off with the former being improvement). I get why the change: it makes him more sympathetic. And it also makes him look less strange for trying this difficult dungeon early, and for why he focuses so hard on getting back to it, even before he knew about the elixir. Also gives him a solid goal for season 2.

The gentle piano is lovely, and really sets the mood well. Jinwoo has a lot on the line: his mother's health, caring for his sister, beyond his own survival. The juxtaposition is really good.

As someone who loves Greek myths, I have seen a lot of designs for Cerberus (I have two plushie three-headed dogs, including the Cerberus from Hades the video game). Can't say I'm a fan of this design lol It's fine. It's functional. It's a very good remake of the manhwa design. I guess it just... didn't look as eh. It moves well and works, and the team did a good job. I think just... seeing more of it highlights how I really don't care for the design lol Dubu/the team were really good at designing some monsters, but not others.

The fight is really amazing and well-paced, though. Though it's an interesting change that the system is the one reminding Jinwoo about the gland during this fight, rather than him doing it on his own (he figures it out after discovering the detox in both the novel and manhwa). I like him making the connection on his own. Jinwoo can be a little thick a lot, but he is pretty intelligent, and that was one of his smarter moments. Ah well.

Will never get tired of his eyes glowing in shots. His wounds steaming as they heal is also a neat effect.

He's getting the Elixir of Life recipe early too :3 That makes sense. Would be weird if they bring that up early and don't reference it again for... goodness I don't even know that they'll come back to it before the season ends. I don't think we will, because I wouldn't be surprised if the season ends with the Igris fight. But it gives something to look forward to for maybe season 2.

Also he gets the dog collar :3 BUT... like the manhwa we don't see him put it on lol In the novel he's really nervous about people seeing him wear it, but canonically speaking, particularly since he never seems to take his armor off other than to exchange it for improved gear, he puts this on and wears an invisible dog collar through a good chunk of the story (until he gets a better neckpiece) lol Love it. Ah well. Would have been funny to see animated but they are generally sticking to the manhwa, so. It would be funny if I was proven wrong <.< Have him put on the collar, anime!!

All in all, a really good episode, with some great animation, some more lovely music, and some lovely moments between Jinwoo and Jinah. This continues the trend of modifying stuff in interesting ways. Looking forward to episode 8!

More episode thoughts:

S01E05

S01E06

S01E07 (you are here)

S01E08

S01E09

S01E10

S01E11

S01E12

#solo leveling #solo leveling spoilers #sung jinwoo #yoo jinho #woo jinchul #great episode #fallfthoughts #sung jinah #hwang dongsoo #나 혼자만 레벨업

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michelle-is-writing · 11 months

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Left behind ch.1, Nikki Sixx

Word Count: 1.1k~

TW!: mention of drug and alcohol use, angst

People know drugs are bad for you; that’s obvious. What isn’t obvious is the fact that drugs hurt not only the person who’s taking them but the people close to them as well. Combine them with an addiction to alcohol, and you’re in for an absolute shit show.

When I met Nikki at one of his first-ever shows, I knew he was something special. Not just because he was an upcoming rockstar but because I could tell there was something about him that made me feel like I was flying. When his eyes met mine later on at the bar, I could tell I was in for trouble, but at the time, it was the good kind of trouble. The trouble that sends you in over your head with your heart beating like a racehorse in your chest as you soar through the sky.

However, I should’ve remembered that everything that goes up must come down because, after a while, I came crashing to the ground. A relationship that I truly thought would turn into a marriage became a train wreck, and I found myself holding onto the remains of what once was. The words “Two against the world” were often used by Nikki when he felt especially romantic, but now, they held no meaning.

Anytime they had a tour, I always went with them, and at first, it was fun. When parties were going on and Motley Crue attended, we never stopped laughing. Nikki and I would always stay close with his arm wrapped around my waist and my body pushed against his side. Oftentimes, we’d happen to look at each other, and a bright smile would fill our faces as if we were so happy just to see each other. Then, it was like one day, that changed. Nikki didn’t want me going to parties with him, and he stopped holding me any chance he got. It was as if he didn’t want anything to do with me.

Weeks passed, and I watched Nikki grow worse and worse every day. I knew he was doing drugs, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He knew how I felt about it too, so before I could say anything else, he either walked away or changed the subject entirely. I felt like I was losing him, and I tried to do something about it. It didn’t work, however. Instead, it showed me that I was wrong; I wasn’t losing him - I had already lost him.

“Why do you always do this? As soon as I get off stage, you wanna start shit!” Nikki yelled as I stood a few feet away from him backstage, my arms crossed against my chest. “What is it with you lately?! You’re always in a mood lately.”

“I’m in a mood?” I asked him, rolling my eyes as Nikki threw himself down onto the backstage room’s couch. “What about you? All you ever do is drink and get high!” Walking around the couch to face him, I looked at him with nothing but anger. “You weren’t always like this, Nikki! You used to be sweet and happy; you were never this cruel,” sitting down on the coffee table in front of him, I watched as he stared at me with an unchanging face. “What happened?”

As soon as my question left my lips, Nikki sat up straight. “You,” he answered me, his tone dark and unwavering. “You’re what happened.”

All I could do was stare at him in absolute confusion. That wasn’t my Nikki; he would never say that to me. He was always positive and loving; the only times he had ever gotten mean were the times he was teasing me, and we would playfully go back and forth. This, however, was something different.

“What the hell are you talking about, Nikki?” I asked him, my anger forming a pit in my stomach. "Why would you even say something like that? You-"

“Because it’s the truth!” Nikki swiftly cut me off, jumping up from his seat with a sudden vigor. “No matter what I do, you’re always putting me down! I’m tired of this shit!” With every word, Nikki accentuates himself by holding his arms out. “I don’t want to see you anymore! F-Fuck all these years, it’s over!”

Those words rang in my head over and over again as I slowly began to pick myself up and gather my stuff. Nikki only stared as I did so, not saying anything more. “It’s over!” I could hear Nikki say as I neared the door, but it was only in my mind as Nikki remained silent. The only noise in the room came from me opening the door, turning to give Nikki one more once-over before I left, not knowing where I’d go. “Nikki,” I started, his eyes lingering on mine as they welled with tears. “I hope… I hope you’re happy.”

With that, I walked out with all of my belongings from the past five years, almost too much for me to carry. Heading to the ticket station for a bus back to LA, I try my hardest to blink away my tears, but I fail as the people passing me on the sidewalk give me strange glares. I can’t help but be upset. I’m leaving behind all that I’ve known for the last several years, and I’m still not sure what I’m going to do. Besides, I didn’t even get to tell Nikki I had some news for him, but then again, if I drag him down as much as he says I do, then a child certainly isn’t going to help that.

Just the thought of raising the current life inside my womb makes me want to stop and sob, but the thought of doing it all on my own makes it even worse. However, I have to do what’s best for my child, and having a heroin-addicted father isn’t what’s best. When Nikki gets clean (if he does), that’s when he can come back into our lives. I wish I could be there for him to help him get clean, but at this point, I think he’s beyond my help. In a moment where I need him, he needs something stronger than me.

Read Chapter 2 here!

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naomitours · 2 months

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Tromsø, Norway: The North Above the North

I am not a "cold-weather" person, both in personality and in personal inclination. So you might wonder why someone like me would go to Norway in December. And if you asked me this after I actually got there, it would've been a damn good question! But I had a single reason, and a good one:

That's right, I went to see the northern lights. The green lady. "A-AURORA BOREALIS??", in the words of Superintendent Chalmers. People much smarter than me say this is caused by the sun's upper atmosphere emanating a solar wind that reaches *our* upper atmosphere. While not the most consistent place in the world to see it, Tromsø is one of the easiest and largest to try your luck.

Disclaimers from the Top of the World

The first thing you should know about Tromsø is that the sun doesn't come up for most of winter. You'll have light for a few hours, sure, but it's not the same. The meaning of darkness is different when it's ever-present, and those brief few hours of light mean everything. I found myself wanting to shed my coat and soak the light in through every pore of my body.¹ Depression is a real problem here, so is alcoholism. (I was even told by a local that they track alcohol purchases via card, to make sure nobody is drinking too much in the dark months!)²

The "sunset" over the Tromsø harbor, 1:35 PM.

The second thing you should know is that you need traction on your footwear. Pack your snow boots, or buy some shoe spikes because otherwise you'll be spending a good chunk of your time here on the ground, cursing the ice. My dumb-ass had decided to come to Norway on a whim, without thinking or preparing, so I showed up in my Doc Martens slipping and sliding. I almost couldn't make it to my Airbnb, my host having to come down and help me up the hills!! Thankfully I was able to borrow boots from my, again, incredibly lovely host³, but my god you've never appreciated gravel so much!

The Tromsø Troll Museum

That's right, the main attraction in the city, the reason you flew hundreds, perhaps even thousands of miles! This tiny museum with a bunch of trolls scattered all around!

It's a cozy space, and if you're as fascinated as mythology as I am, it's really a must-see if you're in town. Also, there's a replica of a hulder. According to local lore, these were beautiful women who would often try to lure men away from their human homes, to live in otherworldly pleasure with them⁴, or they would marry human men and join our world, retaining their otherworldly strength⁵!

Aurora Borealis

The biggest disclaimer I'd offer for the northern lights is this, you are never guaranteed to see them, even if you do everything "right". This was such a huge source of anxiety for me until I finally had a good sighting, then I was able to relax. I recommend doing some guided tours, these are not necessary (I saw them once right outside my Airbnb!) but it's going to maximize your chances by getting you away from the city's light pollution. There's many different modes of transportation for this, I myself took a bus and a boat, but I saw advertisements for planes, helicopters and even dog sleds*. The first time I ever witnessed the northern lights was on a sleepy little boat tour, New Year's Eve 2023.⁶

The interior was very cozy, more importantly it was warm, essential on a night with subzero wind chill. I enjoyed cookies and coffee and hot chocolate with marshmallows!

The lights don't look like the pictures, that should be stressed. The vast majority of aurora borealis photos are taken via long-exposure, and our eyes just don't work the same way. But on a good night you can see a faint green distortion in the sky, as if a riff into another dimension. It's like you expect an alien spaceship, or the giant hand of a monster to come ripping out of it, changing our world forever.⁷ But for the natives of Tromsø, it's just a day like any other.

View of the Aurora Borealis, from my Airbnb the next day.

I also recommend booking a few different tours, if you're like me and only really need to see it once, many will let you cancel on 24hrs notice if you pay extra. I recommend this as a good way to save money, but I'm kinda a cheapskate, so what do I know?

Also, please don't be discouraged if you don't see the lights on any given tour, you still do get some really beautiful photographs. It's important to keep a sense of relativity about you, you are standing at the top of the world, in the freezing cold. And in this moment you are having a novel human experience, regardless of whether or not you see some pretty lights on top of it.

What I Ate

Now, you might think the food is very bare-necessities in this sleepy arctic city, but you'd be surprised! One of the first things I had was something I had actually failed to find in Oslo, a delicious Norwegian donut called a skolebolle:

With a custard center and coconut flakes trimming the top, it's a deliciously sweet treat that I found in a Eurospar for the equivalent of a dollar. I recommend enjoying it with black coffee! Not pictured are the other things I got from the store, including paprika-flavored potato chips (highly recommended) and a large bar of Freia milk chocolate, which you'll not be disappointed by.

There's also an abundance of little convenience stores that will get you hot meals for relatively cheap (Northern Europe is expensive!) On the right you'll see a pepperoni calzone that was pretty good, along with a Norwegian soda that was less so. But if you're looking for a finer taste of Tromsø, stay with me:

This is a sampling I did of Aquavit, the signature liquor of Scandinavia. All of it was made right here in Tromsø, and I had a lovely guide for this tasting. To name a few, lingonberries and reindeer meat, not to mention a small slice of grapefruit.⁸ It's a little skimpy, however the point isn't to eat, but to taste!⁹

Conclusion/Takeaways

It can be a very scary thing, to be so far away from home. In all my years of travel, though that uncertainty has diminished, it never truly goes away. Maybe travel is just like any other experience, your tolerance to it builds until you only feel the original high when you get even further out of the world as you've known it. In this way, travel is much like a drug. But what moves me most about travel is its capacity to help us understand not just the planet we live on, but our own place within it. And if you ever feel lost for purpose, I might recommend standing on top of the world, hunting for otherworldly apparitions in the sky //

Footnotes:

¹ Of course, if you actually try to walk around in Tromsø without a coat, you will a)freeze to death and b)look stupid

² LITERALLY 1984

³ Of course, I had to return the boots when I left for the airport, meaning I fell not once, not twice, but THREE times trying to get down the hills to the bus stop. Seriously, you can't wear your Docs, no matter how fashionable and punk rock they are!

⁴ But why would you want to do that, when society is sooooooo good?? Like, who wants to live in a fantasy world where there is no suffering or want when we have Pizza Hut here, right now?

⁵ A hulder also features prominently on the cover of that one metal album by the murderous Nazi that your friend still listens to, despite knowing he's, you know, a MURDEROUS NAZI.

⁶ I would later go on to watch a man in lederhosen play The Weeknd, Cher, and at midnight ABBA's "Happy New Year", all on a keyboard. Dude was a one-man entertainment MACHINE, the vibe was immaculate.

⁷ As seen in Avengers 17: We Saved the World Again, in theaters this summer! Go watch it. Right now. The corporations demand it. DO IT. CONSUME.

⁸ Make sure your meds don't interact with grapefruit. Grapefruit may cause side effects including sour taste. Ask your doctor if grapefruit is right for you.

⁹ You know, like, a tasting menu or something!!

#travel #norway #tromso #tromsø #northern lights #aurora borealis #traveler #travel blog #traveling #places to visit #travel guide #footnote comedy for your soul

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moral-terpitude · 1 year

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Fourth Time's the Charm - Part 6

[Masterlist]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

A/N: I have been sitting on this since I started it the 18th of September and I am just now getting it finished. There is not as much smut as usual, and for that I am sorry, but my brain is kind of dust right now and rereading it with no expectation I realized it flows fine. But I’m happy with it.

Warnings: kind of smut, character death, drinking? (Kind of?) not in excess. Mention of alcohol more like.

Word Count: 4,845 (whew!)

The situation, despite how terrible it was, did have the strangest bit of luck to it.

Because of your husband being Tommy Shelby, it only took two phone calls to get your sister in to the best specialist in London once she fell ill. The only thing it truly afforded you though, afforded her, was more time, and a small amount of comfort.

From the outside, you knew surely, people must be questioning why you hadn’t had a child yet. You’d been married, working keeping the books for your husbands business in addition to your own with Ivy taking over all the business at home, which could be done from home if you so obliged, yet still you weren’t pregnant.

From the inside of your relationship though it was anything as simple. The stress of it all had you barely able to eat.

That day. You remembered that day. It was only a few months after you and Tommy had married. You had drove Ivy to the doctor that day after she had a peculiar coughing fit while making a batch of royal icing for a birthday cake one of the women from your book club had ordered. They listened to her chest, they took X-rays, and sent you both on your way.

You should have never had let her go in to the appointment by herself and should have taken a page out of Tommy’s book about being a Shelby and see if that got you any further than, “We will give you a call with the results, Miss Astley.”

“I gave them our number to call. Just please, until we get the results back, come stay with us so I can keep an eye on you.”

She huffed, leaning back against the seat, arms crossed in defiance at the suggestion of you trying to mother her. “I’ve to finish that cake.”

“Fuck that cake, Ivy. You about fell over earlier because you’re so damn weak.” You barely took your eyes off the road to chance a glance at her, driving Tommy's car always made you nervous, even if it was the "older car" as he put it, but even a sneeze coming on while you drove put you on edge enough, you definitely couldn't pry your eyes away from the road willingly.

She nodded, resigned to the fact you were correct as much as she never wanted you to be.

Had you really been that consumed with your life changing that you had failed to notice your sister getting sick?

Once you got home, Tommy's car not yet present in the round drive, you made her hold your arm as the pair of you worked you way into the house and you helped her get comfortable in one of the guest rooms. Propping her up with pillows, you made your way through the house, and abandoned your coat on the hook at the front door.

Making your way to the kitchen felt fuzzy. You knew the way by now, although the engagement had been rather short, but, it was as if after the first night you had stayed at Arrow House, much to the surprise of the staff (you could tell on their faces the next morning) at not having to turn down bedclothes of a spare room, you never truly went back home for good, managing to turn in there most nights after Tommy had picked the ring, at a jeweler in London, that now graced your finger.

You were stood in the hallway, rather in a daze, when Frances approached you.

"Mrs. Shelby, I apologize, I didn't hear you return. Is everything alright?"

Your mouth was dry as you searched for the words, hand covering your mouth as your eyes roamed the shadows.

"I've put my sister in the guest room. The green room. Could you take her some tea, please?"

She nodded, as she took in the concern on your face and tried not to let it reflect on her own, "Will Mr. Shelby be home for dinner?"

You shook your head aimlessly, "I...I'm not sure. I didn't make it to see him today. I ended up taking Ivy to the doctor. I still need to wait for them to call, so I'll be in the office."

She gave a curt nod before departing, and at some point later, as you double and triple checked the same line of math in the register in the check book, came to offer you dinner, which you declined. Your stomach churned with too much indecision as your eyes eventually closed as you patiently waited for the phone to ring.

“Love?” Tommy shook your shoulder, as you sat up in the chair, taking a stretch as he waited with the questioning look on his face.

“Sorry,” you rose from the leather chair, pulling your sweater tightly around yourself, and rubbing the bridge of your nose as you tried to hold in the surmounting tears that brimmed in your eyes, “I was headed in, I was going to come to the office this morning, but when I stopped to see Ivy I took her to the doctor. Her cough is terrible, and she's so weak, Tom.”

He knew what you meant by the words. He had told you of the girl, before he left for the war, that he had been in love with that had died from consumption.

He sighed, tossing the jacket he’d been holding in the chair, and closing the space between the two of you as you finally broke down, the concern that filled his eyes finally being enough to make you break.

Your head rested against his chest, cold fingers in a tight grip against whatever part of him you could find to keep from thrashing yourself about in misery. He ran his hand along your back as you cried, his chin rested against the top of your head. The bulk of the light had been coming in from outside the door, but when Frances passed by and heard you break out in another round of sobs she closed the door ever so slightly, so that now the wild shadows cast along the walls changed, bathing the room only in the light from Tommy’s desk.

It had been quite awhile before he spoke, the silence being actually comforting as he held you together instead of letting you fall apart, before he turned back into the problem solver he was and spoke, “I know a couple of people with very good doctors in London,” he checked his watch, “it’s late, but let me make a couple of phone calls. I’ll see what I can figure out, eh?”

You nodded, wandering out of the office to leave him to make the phone calls, sitting on the bottom of the stairs with your head in your hands.

“Mrs. Shelby?” Frances’ voice was tinged with concern as she came down the stairs behind you, the empty tea accessories rattling in her hands despite her best efforts, as you turned to look at her.

“I’m sorry, Frances,” you were tired and the sentiment leaked through into your words, tinged with sadness, as you slid out of her way, close to the wall so she could pass you, pulling the skirt along with you.

“Ma’am, you weren’t in my way. Your sister is sleeping again. However, I believe she’s starting to run a fever. I’ve given her a cold cloth.”

You nodded, trying your best to hold back the tears as she rounded the corner.

“We’ll take her to London in the morning,” Tommy proclaimed, sitting next to you on the steps and pulling you close, doing his best to rock you in the small space.

“It’s the same way we lost mom,” you whispered, letting yourself be pulled back in to his lap like a small child. He nodded. It was something you only spoke of once, as was the way he did of Greta Jurossi, but once was enough for each of you to remember.

Sleep didn’t come quickly, or easily, as worry invaded once silence took over. Even once Tommy had you calmed down and helped you into bedclothes the tears still prevailed until you were sure they had run out.

You hadn’t pulled yourself out of the fog fully until the middle of her appointment the next morning. You knew Tommy had helped you get dressed, doing a wonderful job of matching the blouse with the skirt and sweater. At some point the three of you had fumbled through breakfast, Ivy taking only tea, and who had helped her dress in your clothes? Frances. She must have.

Ivy sat in the front of the car, otherwise she would be ill by the time you were just outside of town, and it didn’t take long until another coughing fit had her bent over in the seat, trying to catch her breath.

“Here,” Tommy relinquished the pressed kerchief, one of a few that you had embroidered for him for Christmas, from his pocket, and she nodded her thanks as you continued combing fingers through her hair in the silence.

“Miss Astley,” the doctor spoke looking between the three of you, “will need to be admitted for further evaluation and testing.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly, before the doctor continued, “I’ll have one of the nurses bring in the paperwork, we’ll get a room ready immediately.”

Days and weeks fell into a routine of monotony for the sake of survival. You didn’t think, simply went through the motions in order to keep your sister comfortable as best as you could.

It shocked you when, on the good days, she still laughed, still wanted to play cards, still wanted to tell jokes.

The days that were bad, some of them, you could tell she thought were the end. The doctors would make progress, just for her to start getting worse once again.

Many of the hours you spent with her, much to the distaste of the Doctor, you spent holding her. The two of you would cram into the hospital bed and you would read, or reminisce on childhood stories, or, when the coughing fits and gasps for breath got too terrible, you would simply smooth her hair and yearn for it to pass.

“Sissy,” she whispered, head heavily pressed into your shoulder one morning, awake but barely able to sit up alone, she fiddled with the fabric buttons of the blouse as you smoothed her hair, “when you have a girl…will you use my name?”

“Ivy, don’t talk like that right now okay,” her eyes were glazed as you chanced a glance at her, looking nowhere and seeing nothing, “they’re going to get this figured out, and when they do, you’ll be there to help me. Okay?”

She shook her head, clinging tightly to you and the lie you fed her to get her through the day.

Tommy, being the one with the foresight that the distance between London and Warwickshire was unmanageable to drive each day, had contacted an associate of his while you had filled out Ivy’s admittance paperwork, and arranged somewhere to stay.

You’d all been stuck in this strangely perfect rotation of keeping Ivy company at the hospital for months. Lucky for the graciousness of Mr. Solomons for the use of the property, although you couldn’t imagine it was came to legally as the furnishings didn’t seem to match the brief descriptions of the man you had heard. You hated that you had pulled Tommy so far from home, but he assured you that between the rest of his family that they had things under control.

And, you had discovered, negotiations for you remaining and him going were out of the question.

“Tommy,” your arms were crossed as your whispered between the two of you, nurses and doctors passing in the sterile hallways, when you had arrived one morning, “we’ll be fine. I can bring some books and if you bring me paperwork that needs done or anything it’ll keep me occupied and I’ll just stay here, I feel —”

“You don’t need to deal with paperwork with everything going on. I won’t exile you here to work through everything alone.”

Everyone’s days had been rearranged. Your father would do his best to come when he could, but after 5pm that meant him still driving over and hour and arriving around dinner. He would relieve you from the hospital until around midnight, before driving back home, arriving at 1 AM, and catching whatever sleep he could until waking at 8 AM.

The shifts were balanced like clockwork.

Tommy conducted most of his business from the residence you were staying in, much to your surprise that it had a phone at all, during the time you were at the hospital. When it was needed, he would go back to Birmingham during the day, but the times that was warranted had been few and far between, and thankfully not for more than a few hours. Time being spent together was already stretched thin and some days, with him gone, you felt as if you were going to combust from the lack of time together.

It almost sickened you. Maybe that's what life was. Love. Comfort. A little bit of selfishness. However, sometimes it struck you as odd that despite everything going on, you still had a want, no a need, to be satisfied by him.

You had discovered in the short period of time that you had been together that he never was one for much sleep, and when your father would leave the hospital around midnight, he would sit with Ivy through the night so she wasn’t alone while she slept, until you arrived around nine in the morning.

He never said it, but from the chatter of the nurses and the talk of the doctors, this was when she was the worst. The cough and the fever came terrible at night, sometimes enough that she would hallucinate, sometimes enough that she would just cry.

You were aware of Tommy’s own nightmares, they never broke through often, but if anyone would be good at pulling her through whatever haze she would find herself encumbered by, you knew it would be him.

Some mornings, the mornings of days where she was doing better and able to breathe easier, mornings where she woke early and the nurses would help her walk the halls, she would send Tommy home, if you could call this in between residence that you were staying in now home, because no matter how stubborn your husband was, for some reason he would listen to your sister.

Which meant you would wake to a hot cup of tea and being told to go back to sleep for a little while longer as the bed grew smaller when filled by his presence, strong arms surrounded you and soft lips found your neck.

Despite your looming guilt, that you should be there with her every moment, you took advantage of those overlapping mornings. The few hours in bed would be put to good use, because despite what was happening, whether good or bad, you had come to terms that you couldn't put your life on hold moving forward.

John and Esme, with the assistance of Frances packing bags, had brought more clothes one weekend while you had been thankful for a switch of scenery. Your father was staying at the hospital while you and Tommy occupied the flat above the bookstore.

To be out of London itself was a wonderful break.

The four of you enjoyed dinner together, at your insistence of cooking a nice meal, before they departed, although, the whole time you’d been able to do anything but relax, reeling in some kind of guilt for your father being stuck in the hospital with your sister for the next 48 hours, as if you were the parent abandoning the child.

The men were outside talking business, bringing things in from the car, while Esme assisted you with preparing the food. You hadn’t asked her, and felt too bad to tell her no once she started helping.

“The young girls have taken to Buddy,” she spoke fondly, a smile coming to her face as she diced the onion and spoke of your family dog, “they call him tud, because his color is light. Good hunting dog, too.”

Esme always had a different way about her when she spoke fondly of her family. Usually, she was tough, but the rare moments you had interacted alone with her the wall came down just a bit.

“I’m glad someone was able to take him. He would have gotten lonely.”

You nursed another glass of wine as they left, enjoying the only sounds being the running water as Tommy washed the dishes, you curled up in the small window seat watching rainfall against the window.

You suppressed a laugh at his sputtering at dropping the plate back in the water.

As you had watched him, you realized that even though the task was so mundane, something lit inside you. Part of you wished you would have met him before. Not necessarily before the war, but before he was more of a businessman, where a scene like this would have been commonplace more than once in awhile, in one of the small houses on Watery Lane, and where people thought you weren’t marrying him just for money.

Wrapping arms around his waist as he turned off the faucet, you felt the way as every muscle and limb moved when he reached for the towel to dry his hands, before taking yours gently.

The two of you had agreed, despite his joking of having a crazy family, that you wanted a baby. You agreed to take no precautions, and whenever it happened was the time, and something, in the deep part of your heart and you mind, decided that tonight was the night.

"Tommy,” you whispered, letting your cheek rest against the cotton shirt, finding a comfortable spot between his shoulder blades to nestle against, not unlike you would some mornings in bed if you were the one to wake up first, “we’re finally alone.”

You could hear the small chuckle and knew that it would be followed by a smile creeping across his face.

“Seems we are, eh?”

His fingers, still somewhat damp, worked the buttons on your blouse quickly, guiding you until you felt the back of your legs make contact with the now clean dining table, which you found yourself placed on rather gently, impressed with its sturdiness as Tommy’s mouth followed the column of your throat, sucking gently near the collar bone before untucking your blouse and discarding it all together.

“Tom, the curtains are still open!” You hissed, as if anyone was looking, and if they were, that they would hear your words through the rain, and the thunder, and the noise on the street below.

His fingers traced a path along the inside of your thighs, a smug smile playing on his lips as he leaned forward to capture your lips in his once again, deft fingers pressing against the satin and lace before creeping beneath the hem.

“Let them look then,” he was in no hurry as the words met your ears. His now slick thumb lightly drew lazy circles around your clit, his warm palm pressed against your skin, as you tried to push from your thoughts the fact this was your father’s table (for crying out loud) and revel in the fact that even if it was, at least one of the maids wouldn’t barge in without knocking on the door of Tommy’s office and waiting for an affirmative answer.

(She was new, and it was a mistake that could really only be made once.)

The thought of being alone softened your resolve quite quickly, thankfully ending up in the solace of soft sheets, although the table runner with its doily pattern was able to make a short lasting impression on your behind for the amount of time it was in the way.

That Wednesday, Tommy arrived home in the middle of the night. He had walked the blocks in the rain, and was less than shocked to see you already stood on your side of the bed, the small revolver he had taught you to use at the house, out by the river, clutched tightly between weary hands as he opened the door.

His clothes were drenched, and a now extinguished cigarette hung between his lips, as you watched him avoid your eyes in the blue light that crept in between the curtains.

He shook his head, as you returned the gun to its place on the bedside table, and you could see he struggled to find the correct words as your mind still tried to wake up.

“It was too quick. If I would have known…I should have known. I should have had someone call you, I should have called you.”

“Tommy?”

He closed the gap, still wearing his wet layers, to find warmth, pulling you close and ignoring the cold and damp, you settled there, preparing for the worst.

“She’s gone.”

***

The first few weeks, were filled with a numb feeling. You no longer could call the person who knew you best, who had put the veil on your head and buttoned your dress before sending you off on the arm of your father to marry Tommy.

The mornings after she had nightmares of a smaller arm around you as you shared the bed, not a instance in recent years, would never exist again.

The fighting over the best hair pin for church, or who held the basket when picking apples, or who would be stuck collecting chicken eggs, were all arguments of the past.

The incessant teasing she would give you for the smallest thing no longer would be present.

It took a month after the funeral for you to return to even the yard. Without Buddy and Ivy it wasn't home. That was certain.

It was a Sunday night. Polly had managed to pry you from the house to come for dinner, and on the way home, the silence filled by the air coming through the cracked window, the only thing you thought you could truly feel being the way Tommy soothed the hand he held as he drove with the other, it felt like you finally had words to say. For the first time in awhile.

"Can we stop by the house?"

"Absolutely, love." He gave a slow nod, the reassuring tone of his voice made it feel like you could finally breathe, finally breathe enough to feel the ache in your chest.

You stood in the yard, staring at the unlit house. The unlit barn. No dog in the yard.

It was no longer your home.

Maybe it had been best it happened this way. Maybe it was the way things were supposed to be.

The thought felt terrible as it first came to you.

But, in your head you could thank her, at least, because you never would have picked out that navy dress to wear all on your own.

How she knew, you never asked, maybe it was a lucky guess, but it had stood out to you that day, as Tommy took both of your hands in both of his, that his suit was the same shade as that navy dress you had wore when he took you out for a drink.

"I might come out here, tomorrow, and start going through things."

His hand on your lower back was the reassurance you wouldn't be doing it alone.

The next morning, you both rose early. The first time since Ivy was gone that you had made a effort to put yourself together properly.

John and Arthur had each brought one of the little Ford trucks with the fabric covering on the back to help move things. Most of the things, except what you had already set aside, would be going to the church for families in need.

You had forgotten how many Lee girls there were. Esme seemed to be trailed by about 4 or 5 girls of varying ages that all looked to be some variation of her, Buddy trotting happily behind the smallest of them all. You had let them look through the clothes and jewelry first, and whatever the could find that fit, was theirs.

For being Monday, this must have been the job everyone was instructed to do today. You never had experienced a large family coming together in a time of mourning, but, this must be what it was like.

No one would let you do anything, it felt like. In a way, it was a relief. You had ended up in the house, Polly and Ada beside you, as they flitted about the kitchen, boxing up cutlery and dishes. Your father didn't want any of it. You and Tommy had received a very nice set of China for a wedding gift, and there was already with silver service with all the place settings, so it wasn't necessary to have duplicates.

Soon, everything would be gone, and it felt like that was exactly what you needed to happen.

Polly had the soup kettle on the stove, and whatever it was, smelled amazing.

"Oi!" Tommy, you could hear through the cracked window, was already hounding Johnny Dogs as they made passes in and out of the barn where two kids were packing books in apple crates, "Johnny, if a one of those go missing, me wife will know, eh? Tell the Lee girls she's counted, and they need to ask before they take any of the books!"

Johnny gave a nod as he ran off after two of the smaller girls, hand flying to his head to keep the flat cap in place from the breeze.

As you finished dicing the last of the carrots for the soup, you popped the last of it in your mouth, before immediately spitting it back in your hand, a look of disgust crossing your face.

Ada laughed, the first laugh you had heard all day, "What was that face for?"

You took a sip of the now cool tea on the table. Carrots were your favorite vegetable and it tasted absolutely revolting.

"Oh no. I've just put all these in the soup and they taste terrible," the stress, was that what it was, that had tears brimming at your eyes?

Polly sat the stack of old newspapers down on the table, now bare without a table cloth, as she turned to face you. The inquisitive brow quirk already on her face as her lips twitched up in a hidden smile.

"What?" You could feel yourself flush as the words passed your lips.

“Poll,” Ada started, speaking before the other woman could move, the conversation something you were oblivious to what was meant, “you need to ask people before just grabbing them!”

“Well, now I can tell, I don’t need to grab.” She looked at you from the side, “you’ve hitched your skirt up to the ribs because it’s gotten tight the last couple weeks, hm?”

Ada’s eyes grew wide, freckled cheeks allowing a smile as you could still feel the confusion on your face, shaking your head as the door closed before you had time to take offense.

“What’s all this, eh?” Tommy passed between the two of them, oblivious to the women’s talk he had just interrupted, placing a kiss on your cheek before commandeering the knife and taking half of the questionable carrot for himself as you adjusted the strap of the older set of braces that were slipping off his shoulder.

“Don’t eat that, it tastes disgusting,” you gestured to the once bitten chunk in your own hand as he snapped it in half with a slow shake of his head, unsure of the issue at hand.

“It tastes fine, love.”

“Thomas, no wonder you’d sleep with the horses most nights,” Polly boxed his ear as she tried to shoo him from the kitchen.

“It’s ‘cause I am a horse, Poll,” Ada snorted and you couldn’t help but feel yourself go beet red as you understood the way she twisted his words, “Well?” He asked, shaking his head in the way he would when he wanted his question answered.

You silently did the math. Your clothes had gotten tight, your breasts always hurt, anything could make you cry, “I’m late.”

You watched the gears in your husbands head being turning again as he picked up the rest of the conversation that he had missed.

“Well don’t get to close to Pol, unless you want to know what we’re having, because she’ll be grabbing your chest to tell you if it’s a boy or a girl.”

He stole a kiss before you had time to be embarrassed that anyone was present, brushing your stomach gently before you had the wind knocked out of you by the amount of joy that was contained in bright blue eyes.

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#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x yn #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x wife

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puffinshufflin · 2 years

Text

MK X READER (idk what to title yet lol)/Porty MK x reader.

(A/N): Okay so I hope this doesn’t suck but it probably does. I’m not sure where I’m gonna go with this story or if I’ll even write more, it just depends tbh. But I had this idea while bored at work and couldn’t not write it down. Pls forgive any spelling errors I’m kinda dumb!!! ⚠️There is definitely some suggestive content in here but nothing graphic atm, but I’ll give warning if things progress in later chapters. Also I don’t care how much of a jerk he is, all MK’s, clone or not, ask for consent!!!⚠️ This is an MK x reader fic that starts out with Porty MK x reader, not even sure if Porty MK will make a comeback for a while. Set just after season 1! TW- Alcohol and some light cursing. Ok I think that is everything! Pls let me know what you think!!!

Blaring base made ripples in the drink you clutched. What little was left before you threw your head back and downed the rest of it at least. Despite this being your…5th? Yeah 5th sounds right. Despite this being your 5th drink of the night, the heat of the bitter liquid still made you cringe like you swallowed a lit match. But it went smoothly and your head felt light as you rejoined the dance floor. Your friends had all parted ways, posting up at different areas of the club with different groups, leaving you to figure yourself out in the middle. Now, this wasn’t usually your scene, much more of a stay inside kinda person, but you started a new job that upcoming Monday, some little restaurant and the stress was mounting. After spending time and money in college working for a practically useless degree and claiming your independence early on by moving out as soon as you had the chance, you would take any job you could get to keep your lights on and water running. And it seemed like Pigsy’s Noodles would be that job for the time being until you could move on to a steady career. So a little liquid courage makes total sense.

The push and pull of the crowd had managed to get you closer to the front and the base somehow managed to ingrain the beat into your skull, you could feel the pulse from behind your eyelids as they fluttered groggily. It took a few seconds before you realized that you were making eye contact with someone. Said someone being the DJ as his shutter shades dropped from his eyes and rested on the bridge of his nose. He gave you, and this is not an exaggeration, the douchiest smile you’ve ever seen and you felt yourself smiling back almost immediately. He looked like a stereotype of a rave boy had gained consciousness, your eyes didn’t know what to look at first; the comically large teal headphones, the aforementioned fuchsia shutter shades or the literal leopard fur coat that was slung over his shoulders like a cape. He clearly thought your prolonged staring meant he should pose for you to check him out, so he did. A variety of hand signs were thrown your way, gang signs maybe..you weren’t sure, then he leaned forward and rested his chin in his hands, squishing his cheeks out, then he went as far as to turn himself around to send a smoldering look over his shoulder all while showing off his ass and damn…this dude has clearly never missed a leg day. You laughed outright at that one and his grin widened before he reached for the mic. “Alright porty people, make some noiseee”, his obnoxious frat boy sounding voice had an immediate effect on the crowd, you included, as you all cheered wildly. “That’s what I like to hear! Now I’m gonna take a quick break to rehydrate, but this dance floor better still be bumping when I come back..or else”. Oh dear lord he had fangs. Why did you find that hot? Where you really that drunk? When he glanced back to you and jerked his chin in the direction of the bar, you decided that yes you were that drunk and you followed.

Pushing past a crowd was difficult when sober so it was nearly impossible now, but you managed. The DJ was already seated and had an empty barstool waiting, a drink somehow already in his hand. You could see the people around him excitedly nudging each other and getting photos of him but he didn’t seem to pay attention as you approached. You didn’t sit, just in case your little dance floor interaction had been a side affect of the booze and you were about to make a fool out of yourself. But then he gestured to the chair then you you and you got the message. “Hey”, was all he said and got a closer look at those fangs. “Hey yourself”, you had at least attempted to be flirty and casual, but his little chuckle said he could see right through you. “What can I get you”, he raised a hand and immediately the bar staff was pushing over themselves to get to you both. A young, giggly woman approached and quickly got your preferred order down as well as the DJ’s second before scurrying off again. “So what brought you here…”, he lingered a bit so you could fill in your name. “(Y/N)”, you gave it. (Y/N)! My first guess”, he snapped his fingers and you rolled your eyes at the obvious lie. “Amazing”, you said flatly, matching his smirk. “So (Y/N), you porty much”? Porty? Wow this guy was committed to his persona. “Honestly no, it been a while. But with the way my life is going to could see it being a more frequent occurrence”. Wow, not three sentences in and you were already over sharing, nice one (Y/N). He didn’t seem to mind, just chuckling, “I wouldn’t mind you becoming a regular sight”. You flushed, blaming it on the alcohol, “Wow! You are very forward Mr. DJ”. “MK”. You hummed. “My name is MK”, he elaborated. “My second guess after Mr. DJ”, you snapped back. Your drinks had arrived as MK laughed and the conversation continued at the same pace. It was like talking with him was a competition, both of you trying to one up each other with sly remarks and shameless flirting. Well maybe you felt a little shame but you swallowed it with your drinks. MK eventually and to leave to get back to work, but you caught his eye numerous times while swaying along with the crowd and you met back up on his next break. And the next one.

As the night turned to morning, the club crowd began to filter out save for the die hard partyers. Portyers, you thought with a snicker. You had switched from alcohol to water as to not totally overdue it but you were still sloshed and MK was just as much if not more. He wasn’t up on stage anymore, but pre mixed tracks still blared through the significantly smaller mosh pit that you found yourself in the center of. Arms were around you from behind as MK lazily hummed and murmured along to the current song. Your head was thrown back onto his shoulder and you peered at him from behind the shutter shades that had somehow migrated onto your face. This wasn’t the first time you had gotten a little touchy-feely that night, you had both thrown that out the window within the first few hours of knowing each other. But as he turned you to face him, this was the first time you felt his hands travel to a more pg-13 area. Your ass, he was shamelessly pulling you closer by your ass. Not that you cared too much at the moment. You both clearly have something going on, even if it is just a drunken fling. So you got even and grabbed his ass right back and he had the nerve to groan lowly. His shades slipped down your nose as you made eye contact briefly. He looked as smug as ever but you could still see the question his his eyes. You nodded.

The walk back to your apartment took considerably longer as you drunkenly pawed at each other but you made it. At just the right time, cause as soon as the door was shut, your back was against it and those fangs were pulling your bottom lip to give him access. Not that you minded in the slightest. For such a pair of chatterboxes, there wasn’t too much talking after that, just a lot of huffing and panting as you blindly stumbled to your bedroom. He had you down on the mattress and you could swear his eyes were glowing. “Are you sober enough”, he looked serious for the first time that night. True you could feel the alcohol still in you but no more than you would after a few glasses of wine and you could very clearly understand and consent to what was about to happen. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you”, you asked him and his lazy smiled returned, “You know it baby”. With that out the way, he dove down into your awaiting arms. “Let’s gets this porty started”.

#lego monkie kid #lmk x reader #porty mk x reader #porty mk #mk x reader

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thestalwartheart · 2 years

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Omg, those physical intimacy prompts are all so so good!! How am I supposed to choose one for you to write *insert actual display pic*

So imma be greedy and ask for 1) nose bops and 2) hugs that last longer than they should xD

Thankies and Happy Fest :D

Hello!

Here's your prompt fill for 'hugs that last longer than they should.' I tried to fit nose boops in here, but it seemed Too Much, and I also have a different idea for it.

Posted under the cut and on AO3. You might prefer reading it there as it's quite long (1326 words - I couldn't help myself).

Anyway, here it is! Enjoy 💖

put your arms around me (i'm shitfaced).

“Oh, I’m absolutely trolleyed,” groans Q, holding his head as he approaches his front door. Maybe if he keeps it steady enough, his brain with all its stupid thoughts will stay in his head, and he won’t say anything embarrassing.

Why did Bond have to be the one to get him home? As if the ramifications of drinking tequila with Moneypenny weren’t going to be torturous enough. He’s over thirty. His hangovers last two days. In fact, realistically, this one’s likely to last three. Doesn’t that seem like enough punishment without throwing James bloody Bond into the mix?

“I’d noticed,” says Bond conspiratorially.

He’s got his arm around Q’s waist now. It’s the size of a fucking tree branch. Ridiculous. How did they even get like that? He’s never once seen Bond use the gym, and surely it takes, what? About six hours a day lifting weights and doing that thing where you make the ropes move until they’re all squiggly—

“Battle ropes,” answers Bond, moving Q through the door like he weighs nothing. “Would you believe me if I said the job is exercise enough?”

“Absolutely not, don’t bullshit — oh, shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit. Did I say all that out loud?”

“Some of it. Did you not mean to?” Bond asks, looking far too amused. Q would be annoyed at it, but he really has got a very nice smile. The smile gets wider as soon as Q thinks it, and, oh, he’s going to stop thinking now, lest he say anything else that’ll have him handing in his resignation on Monday.

“Christ,” Bond laughs, “that last mission would have gone a lot easier if the target was this much of a lightweight.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Bond snorts. He deposits Q on the couch and disappears to the kitchen. “Not so witty when you’re blasted, are you?”

“You try being witty after six tequila shots.”

“Three at the most, surely,” Bond teases, handing Q a glass of water. “Though, to be fair, you were probably seeing double by then.”

Q gulps half the water in one go.

“You got there late, too,” he says around a silent hiccup. “You didn’t see the amount of drink Eve foisted on me before the shots.”

“Poured it down your throat, did she? Gave you absolutely no chance to refuse them?”

Q flaps out an annoyed hand in Bond’s direction. God, he hates when people make sensible arguments when he’s drunk. He hates it even more when they’ve got a stupid little smirk and sparkly blue eyes and a very nice shirt that’s got not one but two top buttons undone—

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Um, what?”

Bond rolls his eyes. “I want to make sure you don’t give yourself a concussion trying to get to bed.”

“Oh,” Q’s face is aflame. He hopes the alcohol making up half his bloodstream is a good enough excuse for it. “Upstairs.”

“All right. Finish your water, and I’ll help you up.”

“I don’t need help—” Q stumbles as he gets up from the couch. One of his traitorous little cats is right at his feet. "Oh, you twat!"

“Clearly. Come on.” Bond’s arm is back on Q’s waist as he guides him towards the staircase.

“I didn't mean that Marvin. You're not a twat, you're a darling.”

“Of course your cat’s named Marvin.”

“It’s ‘cause he’s paranoid,” mumbles Q, distracted by trying to make his feet work on the stairs.

Goodness, he really should give his cats more credit. They do this with four legs every day, bounding up and down like it’s nothing when it’s clearly extremely difficult. And toddlers! How on earth do they manage with their ungainly, chubby little legs? Oh, he really must call in and see the old 004 sometime. He can’t believe she’s got a baby now. Every agent should be able to retire and have babies. Or not, if that’s not what they want. Babies or fur babies, or furless babies. Whatever, they should all be able to retire and drink a million shots of tequila with Moneypenny and die because that’s what’s going to happen to Q if these stairs don’t ever come to a fucking end.

“God, you’re nothing but dead weight,” grunts Bond as they topple over the last. Q apologises, straightening up. The last of the journey to the bedroom is uneventful, and Bond looks around approvingly at Q’s decor before trying to manoeuvre him into his bed. They are right at the edge of it when Q feels an overwhelming urge to do something stupid.

“Wait, Bond.”

“What?” Bond’s still got his hand at Q’s waist.

Q shouldn’t, but Bond’s been so lovely and patient, and Q knows he won’t blab to anyone about this, except maybe Moneypenny, but he’ll likely be blabbing to her himself, so...

Q hugs him.

Bond’s arms settle around his back, warm and heavy. They squeeze with just the right amount of tightness to make Q sigh. Naturally, Bond is an excellent hugger. It’s unfair. People as good-looking and intelligent as him should at least have the decency to be bad at something. But no, he feels delightful pressed up against Q. And it's been a while since Q’s had a hug like this — a full-body affair that makes you want to weep with the comfort of it.

One of Bond’s hands plays with the curls at the nape of Q’s neck, and at some point, Q thinks — though he might already be dreaming — he feels Bond press a light kiss to the side of his neck.

He lost all sense of time about hours ago, so he can’t say how long they stay like that. All he knows is that he doesn’t want it to end, which is foolish. So foolish, because all things end, especially when James Bond is involved.

“Q,” Bond’s soft, deep voice in his ear brings him back to alertness.

“Hm? Sorry.”

“Don’t be. But I think you’re falling asleep.”

“Am I? Ah. That’s embarrassing.”

“More for me, I’d say.” He manhandles Q into bed with a soft smile. “I’ll do a better job of keeping you awake next time.”

“Presumptuous,” says Q. Or he thinks he says it. It’s probably little more than a useless set of consonants.

Bond laughs, pulling the blanket over him and patting Q’s hip like it’s all a job well done. “Goodnight, Q.”

“‘Night, James.”

In the morning, he wakes with more pressure in his head than the Marianas Trench. Of course, there’s also the embarrassment stinging at him like a physical thing. It’s too monumental to deal with, so he spends ten minutes cringing under his pillow before finally convincing himself to sit up. When he does, he finds a bottle of water on his bedside table, accompanied by a brand new packet of ibuprofen and a note with absolutely terrible handwriting. With his headache pounding at his brow, it takes Q whole, seemingly endless, minutes to decipher it.

Nipped out to get breakfast. Bringing back a full English, so I hope you’re not vegan. J.

Q laughs. It makes his whole brain hurt, but he doesn’t give a shit; he laughs until he snorts. Relieved beyond belief, he downs some ibuprofen and guzzles the entire bottle of water before he goes to have a shower. The water doesn’t even make a dent in his dehydration levels, which feels like the cruellest hit this morning has dealt him. Still, he feels he can deal better with it now that the crippling mortification has lessened a bit.

In truth, none of his usual hangover cures work quite so well as the knowledge that Bond is likely downstairs flipping bacon and sausages in Q’s tiny, cluttered kitchen. It’s an image Q can’t wait to see in reality, and he speeds through his shower to ensure he doesn’t miss it.

He wonders if he’ll get another hug. Maybe. Hopefully.

Last night’s didn’t feel long enough.

#00q #00q fic #my fic #007 fest #007 fest 2022 #teamcivilian

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bookhighlightss · 1 month

Text

BOOK REVIEW ON DREAMLAND BILLIONAIRE TRILOGY

I. The fine print

1. Okay I love how he created a whole ass person who did her drawings for her lmfao.

2. HE WATCHED ALL SEVENTEEN VERSIONS OF PRIDE AND PREJUDICE BECAUSE SHE LOVES PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. and the way he sometimes related his situation to mr. Darcy, yea adorable.

3. I love Zahra's brains and overall the way she helped in making Rowan realise how he messed up with the employees salary and shit. Independent girly. Love it.

4. I love how she wears and collects batches and the backstory behind it was adorable.

5. Rowan's relationship with her sister was so cute. I was here for it.

6. I don't rmr much of the book but yea they were cute and I like how iris stood up for herself when he treated her like shit and didn't give in easily. ( I don't remember much of the book I read it a month ago)

II. Terms and conditions

1. OMG WHEN I TELL YOU IM OBSESSED WITH THESE TWO I MEAN IM OBSESSED. i love them the most out of this series.

2. They are probably the only couple in this series that actually communicated properly about their feelings and considered each other's feelings too.

3. The way Declan genuinely tried to change and become a better person was wow. Also the fact that he liked her way before the marriage contract.

4. Super obsessed with them and they live rent free in my head alongside Alex and ava.

III. The final offer

1. When I tell you I have so many complaints on this book I mean I GOT COMPLAINS.

2. Okay first of all I get that they were childhood lovers or whatever and then he threw that away and got an alcohol addiction but that never gave the people in their stupid ass town to bring him down that much. Because first of all it wasn't like he vandalised or abused shit when he was drunk so the whole town putting their nose in and being all judgey was unnecessary because they saw how broke alana was after the breakup. Like did u see Callahan being all cheery? No. But okay sure go ahead and judge bcs what else do u have to do in a small stinky ass town.

3. Okay when I say alana had no character development, I mean zero. Nada. Bcs she didn't once ask him why he drank so much and as much as I'm against drinking, people don't drink that much unless they got baggage. She was legit waiting all throughout the book for a chance for him to hurt her and when he did she didn't hear shit she was ready to be like ha I proved myself right, u r an asshole.

4. The sole reason this worked out was because Callahan was down bad for her because she never communicated properly. Homegirl was so stuck on the fact that he left. He drank. He broke my heart. And didn't put herself in his shoes once. Callahan had a lot of baggage and idk I just wanted him to have a conversation with her about all his shit but I never got that so that ticked me off.

5. Okay I love Callahan and his whole personality. I mean mans went to therapy just to fix himself for her. But alana is a big no for me. Idk maybe if she had a character development in another universe I would be here for it.

Overall the books were fun to read. Super fast paced. Will help u get out of your readers slump.

If I had to rate the book from most favourite to least favourite:

1. Terms and conditions ( the best book out of the trilogy).

2. The fine print

3. The final offer ( I'm mega disappointed in this book but I LOVE CALLAHAN the most out of the three brothers )

Most favourite to least favourite kane men:

1. Callahan kane ( hands down the best )

2. Declan kane ( he was amazing )

3. Rowan kane ( he was lowkey toxic)

Most favourite to least favourite kane women:

1. Iris kane ( love love her )

2. Zahra kane

3. Alana kane ( yk why )

#books #highlighted #book review #booklr #book blog #book recommendations #lauren asher #dreamland billionaires #rowan kane #zahra and rowan #callahan kane #alana and cal #declan kane #declan and iris

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knickynoo · 1 year

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Previous anon here. I fell victim of characters limit :( I don't know if you've adressed the subject before and if you have I am so sorry please ignore that it: Do you have headcanons about the relationship between Uncle Ned and Alex BEFORE THE SLAP (we know Alex was fangirling over his uncle but girl...your analyses give me life so i'll drink your hc like a dying man would the water of an oasis), and AFTER THE SLAP? Does Alex forgive ? Is it one more trauma to add to his long list ? Love you <3

You know, I've actually never done any Alex & Uncle Ned focused headcanons. A friend of mine requested I do an analysis post of the Uncle Ned episodes like 2 years ago, and I was like "Ok, sure!" and then never followed through, lol. (Also, don't apologize; even if I had gotten an ask like this in the past, I'd still be happy to add to my previous thoughts!)

Alex and Uncle Ned BTS (Before the Slap)

Alex was Uncle Ned's #1 fan from the time he was young. Since Ned knew much more about the business world than Steven and Elyse, visits from his uncle gave Alex the chance to gush about the subject with someone who was just as interested as he was.

The thing about Uncle Ned is that he's SUPER fun and silly and carefree, which is very opposite of how Alex is, but Ned also seems to "get" his nephew really well. Alex is sort of an outcast in his family, but he and Ned can connect intellectually, and I can see that as being important to Alex, especially as a little kid who's considered weird by his peers. His Uncle Ned serves as an example of how someone can take their interest in business and turn it into success.

Though they have fun with their serious conversations, Ned thinks it's important to encourage Alex to broaden his horizons. So, yeah, he'll sit around and talk the stock market and economics for a while, but then he tries to get his nephew to focus on something else. A game of baseball, discussions about movies or music, etc. Ned wants Alex to get out of his head every so often, and he's good at figuring out how to do that.

Alex definitely has a framed picture of Uncle Ned somewhere in his room. Maybe a picture in his wallet, too, to go along with the article about his uncle that he carries around. He takes it out to impress people. "Did you know my uncle is Junior Vice President of the Syntram Corporation? Here's an article and picture of him." Likewise, Ned definitely talks about Alex at his work. "You know what my brilliant nephew said the other day...?"

I'm pretty sure both Uncle Ned episodes contain scenes where Alex and Ned are in the kitchen eating late-night snacks after the rest of the family has gone to bed, and I'd like to headcanon that as being a pattern whenever he comes to visit. The two of them meet up and sit around the table, chatting and eating cereal or sandwiches while they chat about the goings on in their lives. It's Uncle Ned's chance to pick Alex's brain and get the inside scoop on his school and friends and such.

ATS (After the Slap) ☹️

I have a lot of conflicting thoughts regarding how things would play out in the aftermath of "Say Uncle." It really is a bummer that they drop Ned entirely from the show. I mean, the least they could've done is mention him in passing in another episode or something to let us know how he was doing? Like. That episode leaves SO MUCH unaddressed. Does Ned actually go to rehab? Does he get better? Mend the now broken relationship with his family and dear nephew who thought the world of him???

As far as headcanons go, I can go the depressing route or the optimistic route. Depressing route says that Ned tries rehab for a little but doesn't stick with it. The fact that his life has kind of fallen apart around him, coupled with his inability to take things seriously/his need to constantly goof off might lead him to be like, "Why bother with this?" If that's the case, he'd likely only spiral more into alcoholism and continue to wreck his own life. And, being ashamed of how he acted in front of his family, I could see him just running away from it all, going off the grid and cutting contact. Very much a bummer to think about. (And could explain why they never talk about him after that episode)

The optimistic route says that The Slap serves as Ned's firm wake up call that he needs to get his act together. He's horrified that he could do something so terrible, but it pushes him to get the help that he needs. He goes to rehab, gets sober, and puts the pieces of his life back together. With Elyse being established as such a protective, mother-hen type older sister, she keeps in contact and supports him. Eventually, the Keatons are able to get to a place of moving forward and starting a new chapter with Uncle Ned.

I'd really hope that Alex would be able to deal with what happened--talk things through with his parents and eventually Uncle Ned--and forgive Ned. It's clear that they have a special bond, and it's sad to think of Alex losing that. If Uncle Ned truly works on himself and changes, I think Alex would be able to forgive his uncle. In fact, I think Ned might have a harder time forgiving himself for what he'd done than Alex would have forgiving him.

Still, the whole event could end up being added to Alex's Trauma Pile, even if things work out. Having your favorite uncle in the whole world hit you so hard in a drunken rage that you go flying halfway across the room is not exactly something you just easily move on from. And our guy Alex already has a really hard time processing his emotions and tends to latch onto/obsess over things, so he'd probably need some help to work through that. Maybe he talked it over with his therapist at some point during "A, My Name is Alex."

Thanks for the ask! Your line about drinking my headcanons like a man in the desert is one of my favorite things I've ever gotten in an ask. Love you, too <3

#asks #family ties #alex p keaton #apk #there was so much potential in Uncle Ned #it bothers me when shows bring in great characters for just a few episodes & then never speak of them again #like. i know the whole point was probably just ''let's get Tom Hanks to do a couple episodes''#with no intention or ability to keep him as a regular but come on #they didnt even give us closure #*sigh*

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maximumwobblerbanditdonut · 6 months

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‘Clanlands’: Sam Heughan is the Energizer Bunny to Graham McTavish’s Elder Statesman

'Outlander' star Heughan also talks about the wild journey he went on in getting to New Zealand, and the possibility of Season 3 of 'Men in Kilts.'

BY CHRISTINA RADISH PUBLISHED 9 HOURS AGO

The Starz series Outlander brought actors and Scotsmen Sam Heughan and Graham McTavish into each other’s lives, making them co-stars, friends, and travel partners. Since then, the duo have joined forces for another TV series, Men in Kilts, through which they go on epic adventures while immersing themselves in the landscape, history, and food and drink, first in Scotland for Season 1 and then in New Zealand for Season 2. And then, after they survive their time together in their camper van, they revisit it all for a companion book, which this time is called Clanlands in New Zealand: Kiwis, Kilts, and an Adventure Down Under.

Collider recently got the opportunity to chat 1-on-1 with Heughan about his experiences with McTavish, which are often adrenaline-fueled for him while anxiety-ridden for his travel companion. During the interview, he talked about how fortuitous their meeting was, deciding to do Men In Kilts while sharing a beer together, working in unison for the books (both print and audio), the incredible opportunities Outlander has given him, why doing non-scripted work was initially terrifying for him, how COVID almost derailed the season, letting McTavish take the reins for their time together in New Zealand, being more nervous than he lets on, and why everyone should write their own memoir when they go on holiday.

Collider: I love the Men in Kilts TV show. I love these companion Clanlands books. You and Graham McTavish are great at making everybody feel like they’re there with you, and it’s so much fun to watch and to read your experiences.

SAM HEUGHAN: Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. Yeah, it was such fun to write. It’s yet another romping, roving adventure.

You and Graham did Outlander together, you’ve done two seasons of Men in Kilts, and you have these books. Did you have any idea when you guys met that your partnership would be so successful? It’s one thing to be co-stars, it’s another thing to be friends, and it’s yet another thing to do all of this stuff together. Did you have a sense that you would develop a friendship like the one that you have?

HEUGHAN: No, I don’t think so. You never know who you’re going to get on with. It’s incredible. I think we have similar humor, but I think everyone on the set of Outlander did, and we all got on very well. It was almost fortuitous. I was looking to create a TV show and was talking to Graham about it, over a beer in Santa Monica. He also talked about a desire to do that. So, I thought, “Let’s just do this.” It really was the catalyst of, “Why not? I’ve got all the contacts here. We’ve got the locations. Let’s just give it a go.” The book series, as well, was something that I was toying with, at the time. I spoke to the publisher and they jumped at the chance. It’s been great. Even finding the voices in the dialogue that we had in the books was something that came out of COVID. It was us writing in unison on the same online document. I think that banter is something that we’ve captured, not only in the TV show, but in the books. We lean into it even more in the books, and especially the audiobook. It’s great. It goes back to having the same sense of humor and having a shared experience, as well.

In your dreams of being an actor, had you ever envisioned yourself traveling the world in kilts and making award-winning alcohol? Do you find any of these ventures particularly surprising? Are there people in your life that think you’re just absolutely mad, or would they all be like, “Nope, that totally tracks with what we know of Sam”?

HEUGHAN: God, I don’t know what people would say. They’d be surprised, maybe. I don’t know. Being an actor was never about being an entrepreneur, but Outlander has given me these opportunities. It’s made me realize some of the things I love about Scotland and it’s opened doors to opportunities. It’s made me realize, as a businessman, as an entrepreneur, and as a creative, I have different outlets and different ways that I can express myself. Perhaps it’s blind ignorance or stupidity, but it’s like, “Well, let’s give this a go and see what happens.” So far, touch wood, it’s working out. Maybe it is a naive innocence that I approach things with, and maybe that’s the relationship with Graham, as well. He’s the more elderly statesman, the experienced one, and I play the role of this Energizer bunny.

Do you always want to make sure it stays fun and doesn’t just become something you have to think about for business reasons? Whether it’s the show and the books, or even doing the different alcohol, do you make an effort to keep that balance between fun and business?

HEUGHAN: Yeah. I would say all these things are things I’m just so passionate about, whether it’s the spirits business that I’m in, or even the My Peak Challenge, or going on these adventures. It really is an extension of who I am. I haven’t ever branched out beyond the boundaries of what I enjoy, and I’m very lucky that people do enjoy, or seem to enjoy, our adventures. It would be interesting to do something that’s outside my comfort zone. It’s never about business, per se. It’s certainly not about making money. For me, it’s about sharing what I love and what I’m passionate about, and if people enjoy it, that’s the end goal.

Do you ever feel bad for tormenting Graham, or is there just too much joy in it?

HEUGHAN: Oh, it’s absolute joy. I put together the pilot schedule and amongst that were a couple of things that I thought he would be happy with. There was kayaking, there was going on chairlifts, and we were doing Highland games. I saw that he was reserved in doing that and I’d known that from being on set, as well. So, when we then went to shoot the first season for Men in Kilts, I was like, “I have to put in, as much as possible, things that are going to challenge him.” I think Kilt Rock and him abseiling was the big one, and it made such great viewing for me, personally. I enjoy it. I love it. It just gives me so much satisfaction to put him in precarious situations. And then, New Zealand was a no-brainer. It’s the home of adrenaline country. And I’ll give his dues, he agreed to a couple of things that he then pulled out of, but he agreed in prep to do them. It’s just so fun. I love tormenting him, and there’s still a long way to go.

Do you feel like you let him get away with things that you might not otherwise let him get away with, if you weren’t also participating in tormenting him as you do?

HEUGHAN: I don’t really know if he gets away with anything. He’s a bit lazy. He doesn’t do any driving. He doesn’t really pull his weight in any of those areas. But it means that I’m in control. It means that I have him almost in captivity, really. He has no say in the matter. I pretend that I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s actually all been preplanned and is just an excuse to get him to the highest point, and then push him off.

The work that you do on Outlander is often very physical. Do you find it more challenging to pull off the physical work that you do within the confines of a set and a production like that, or is it more challenging to do these real-life adventures that you participate in, either on your own or with Graham?

HEUGHAN: That’s a good question. I wouldn’t say physically it’s any different, but I actually became an actor to not be myself. I don’t enjoy being myself in front of people. I haven’t found it easy, over the years, but it’s something I’ve learned to do. So, presenting or doing non-scripted for me was terrifying. I really didn’t know if we could do it. We assume these characters. There is a lot of truth to it, but it is a character play between the two of us. That’s the most terrifying, or writing a book, or making a spirit. It’s like, “Well, this is what I like,” and God, it’s so nerve-wracking. Those have been the big ones for me, releasing the gin and the whiskey, which are really expressions of my home and where I’m from and what I love. It’s like, “God, are people gonna like this, or are they gonna pour it down the gutter, and essentially pour me down the gutter, as well?” It is much more challenging, in some ways.

It feels like something was testing you on your journey to even have this experience. You had to give up Christmas with your family to travel to New Zealand only to find yourself with COVID and quarantined. It just all sounds like a crazy story that you couldn’t make up, if you’d tried. When something like that happens, do you worry about what will not only happen to the series, but also then the book?

HEUGHAN: Yeah. Honestly, I wanted the whole thing to be longer. Actually reading the book now, it was very long and arduous before we even get to the adventure, but that was the situation. Around the world, COVID put up many barriers and we were lucky to even have the opportunity. At the time we chose New Zealand, it was free and easy and we were like, “Oh, this is the place to go.” And of course, then I got COVID, I had an accident, and then we were in the lottery system. Landing in quarantine, I was still happy and carefree until I was put into my cell, and I honestly didn’t think I could do it. There were a couple of days there where I thought, “I’m gonna have to pull out.” I knew we had a TV show and a book series, and I was like, “What are we gonna write about in the book series, if I don’t last?” So, there was a pressure on us. But as soon as we got over that hurdle, which was a very big one, we didn’t hold back and had an amazing time. We were lucky. Starz was very supportive in trying to get the TV show made. It was a really tricky process. And the publisher, as well, helped guide us into another book. Everyone was very flexible because our schedules are always changing, Graham and I. It’s hard sometimes to nail everything down. But it’s been great. It’s been a real challenge, but a really rewarding one.

Prior to doing this, what was it about New Zealand that made you want to visit there, and what was it like to do so alongside Graham? How did he guide things, as somebody who is experienced with living there?

HEUGHAN: Season 1 was very much guided, I think, by myself because I had feet on the ground and I knew a lot of the guests and a lot of the locations. And Graham had a good say because he has experience there. But when we finally decided on New Zealand, it was like, “Okay, we’ll let him take the reins here because it’s his home.” It’s fantastic to have this yin and yang, and have these two sides. He really gave us insight, and we met a lot of his friends there. He’s also a great historian. He loves really leaning into that, which I think is really interesting and gives a slightly different view than maybe other travel books or travel writing. We went all over. At first, we were gonna do another Men in Kilts in Scotland, looking at the islands and the Highlands. And then, we were also thinking about Scandinavia. I was really interested in that. And at some point, it was gonna be Men in Kilts in Boats because I really wanted to do everything by boat. But we were struggling with the season. The only time we could shoot would be winter and that’s challenging because we knew that the weather would be bad. The thought of going to New Zealand in the height of summer, where there was no COVID, was a no-brainer. And of course, there’s the Scottish connection, as well. It all fell in place when we realized that it was definitely a natural progression.

It seems like you’re game for just about anything when it comes to adventure. Do you ever question yourself, or is it mostly just Graham that does the questioning?

HEUGHAN: That’s a good question. Honestly, I think I’m game, but I’m actually probably a lot more nervous than I let on. It’s because of his complete fear that makes me more brave. For instance, in the book, we talk about going zip-lining and it was this enormous cliff. I was keeping him distracted the whole time going up, trying not to let him see over the edge. And then, he went first and when I saw over the edge, I got nervous for myself, not for him. I didn’t really care what happened to him, but I was terrified. It makes me braver, when I see how scared he is. There are a great many things that I’m nervous about. The helicopter, for me, was one. I’m not that comfortable in a helicopter, but I could never let him know that.

You do the series, you do the companion book, you do the audiobook, and then you do interviews with people like me to talk about it all. As you relive the experiences, do you get a different appreciation for what you were able to do? Are you able to fully appreciate it while you’re there and in the moment, or does it help to be able to look back on it all?

HEUGHAN: Actually, the book series has been so fun to write. Like all of us, if you go traveling or you’re on holiday, and you have great experiences and you take photos, you tell people, but that’s about the full extent of reliving it or thinking about this amazing time that you had. But for us, getting to go back over the experience we had and to relive it and write about it, you remember small details. Reliving it has just been so rewarding. Writing the books has been a great way to reflect on our experiences. I would suggest to everyone, the next time you go on holiday, write a little memoir about it.

Is there another location that you have in mind? Are you already trying to plan out a Season 3?

HEUGHAN: Yeah, we do have a particular location in mind and we’ve talked at great lengths about it. Obviously, it will come down to timing and schedules. He’s still alive, so there’s still time.

Christina Radish is the Senior Entertainment Reporter at Collider. Having worked at Collider for over a decade (since 2009), her primary focus is on film and television interviews with talent both in front of and behind the camera.

Well, well, that's what we thought. SH had a sudden thought and finally confirmed it. He got COVID-19 and had no choice but to quarantine in Los Angeles before Christmas.

His plans changed, “A Dram with Sam” didn't happen but that didn't mean his flight to New Zealand was cancelled. He showed a lack of common sense those days and when he arrived in New Zealand in January 2022, a new subvariant of the virus, Omicron, was circulating🤷‍♀️

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 year

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I’d been thinking anyway of writing a post about why I’d never be drunk at a comedy show, and then it happened yesterday. What I was going to write is that I often hear comedians complain about drunk people in their audience, and I just don’t understand that at all. I’ve seen a few live comedy shows this year, and I haven’t had a single drink. At the James Acaster show, my dad asked if I wanted to get a drink, I said no because 1) the show is called Hecklers Welcome and its premise is supposed to be that he’s changed his ways and will stop being a dick to audience members, but I don’t fully trust that and I’ve read the stories about what he does to anyone in an audience who looks at him wrong, so I don’t want to have to get up to pee during the show, 2) having a drink would require removing my mask in that room full of people, and 3) I don’t drink at comedy shows because I don’t want to miss any of the experience.

I like alcohol, mainly because I don’t like reality and alcohol makes reality go away for a bit, so I don’t want to have alcohol during the few times when reality is temporarily awesome. Why would I want to take myself out of reality when I’m getting a great experience like seeing a comedy show? Alcohol makes things harder to follow, means you might miss a detail, and unless you have the guts to try secretly recording it (which I don’t, but especially at the moment I have to say I appreciate people who do), you don’t get a second chance to catch everything.

I don’t even watch an episode of a TV show, or a movie, or anything like that for the first time when I’m drunk. If I’m seeing or hearing something for the first time, I want to be focused so I actually follow what’s going on. If I watch something and like it enough, I’ll re-watch it when I’m drunk. Or sometimes I’ll watch something and think “this is objectively bad and I’m not enjoying it, but it’ll be fun to re-watch while drunk”. I’ll do that with trash TV shows and things, but not with live comedy. If a comedian is only funny while you’re drunk, it’s not worth going to see them. Just stay home and watch trash TV.

Comedians who complain about drunk audience members do normally say that it’s better on a tour show than on a club night, since audiences who are specifically there to see them will be more likely to be focused. And I see how that makes sense, but still, if you want to just drink all night then don’t go to a comedy club. If you don’t want to properly take in the comedy, just stay home. There are so many other things to do while drinking, why would you go to a place where it’s impolite to be drunk and you’re not supposed to talk?

That’s a post I’d been vaguely considering writing for a few days, but I can’t write it anymore, because it would make me a hypocrite. Yesterday, I learned some fucking horrifying things, had a terrible day, drank whiskey about it, and then my best friend convinced me to do that with him instead of drinking alone in my bedroom about it. Which was a good call. It was, genuinely, healthier to sit with him at a pub and talk about how everything in the world is terrible than to just sit at home and think about it by myself.

Also, we got to play all the familiar games! The games we play every time we learn about a new sexual predator in our shared community! Like what Ben Cafferty from Veep calls “play[ing] Who Knew What When”, so we can work out which of our mutual acquaintances continued to be friendly with this guy after they first found out, and then we can further whittle down the dwindling pool of people in the world we don’t hate! Games like List All The Signs We Ignored. Games like Hey, Remember That Time We Were Nice To Him In This Specific Way? Looks like we were being nice to a terrible person again, a risk we always take whenever we are nice to anyone, and every time we’re reminded of that we start going through the world a little more cynically! What would a New Sexual Predator Reveal be without a round of all those games at the pub? You have to play the games. I have played those games so many fucking times over so many years, but it had been a while this time. Also, interesting twist on this one that we were playing it with a guy who recently died. So that’s fine.

Anyway, we sat around and played those games and got quite drunk. Then, for reasons I still do not understand, he suggested I go with him to the comedy club next door. He and I have spent a bunch of time in that club over the years because my brother used to perform there a lot and we’d go see him, but I haven’t been there since probably a couple of years before COVID even started. I asked him why the hell we’d want to go to a comedy club on this night, and he said it’s something to do. I told him I was already drunker than I’d like to be during a comedy show, and he said you’re supposed to be drunk at a comedy club. I said no you’re not, and he said, “Come on, who could complain about being drunk at a comedy club?” And I said, “The comedians.”

My friend asked me why this was a problem, and I said because drunk people will be disruptive and heckle. He pointed out that, given my personality, there’s not enough alcohol in the world to make me heckle a comedy show, and I had to admit he was right. At that Heckler’s Welcome show, James Acaster repeatedly asked the audience to yell out anything they wanted, and I sat there thinking, “Come on, just ask him where he gets his iPod Classics,” but couldn’t bring myself to do it.

So we went to the comedy club. I did not heckle or disrupt anything. I also did not laugh much, though a few of them got me a bit. Looking back, I don’t know how much was that the comedians weren’t great and how much was that I was not in the mood to laugh. Really, of all the things affecting me last night, the alcohol was not what made me a bad comedy audience member. It was more the crushing weight of recent reminders of how close we always are to horrors in the world – that made it hard for me to laugh at a story about buying a vibrator, and I’m sure that annoys comedians a lot more than some alcohol.

It's not that I’ve never had alcohol at a comedy club before – I guess I do see what comedians mean by tour shows being better than club shows that way, because at tour shows I have a strict “no alcohol at all” rule, while at comedy club nights I’ve gone to in previous years, I’ve usually had a few beers. But only a few. If I plan to get drunk that night, I’ll have a couple during the show and then get drunk after – I don’t start drinking before. Last night was the first time I’ve ever been properly drunk during a comedy show, so I guess I now can’t write a post about how no one should be drunk at a comedy show, because that would make me a hypocrite.

I’ve definitely been drunk after comedy shows before, though. I can now add last night to my list of memories of comedy club nights when the world felt like a terrible place. Like that time six years ago, when that same best friend and I learned my brother was performing on the 8th, and we decided to get tickets so we could spend that night in a comedy club where no phones were allowed. We could just opt out of spending the whole night constantly watching the news and checking for updates. Just go into the club at the beginning of the night, and by the time the show ends around 11 PM, it will be over and the results will be in. We can go to the bar upstairs and have some drinks to celebrate the election of the first female President of the United States.

Yeah, that one didn’t work out. At 11 PM on November 8th, 2016, my best friend, my brother, and I were sitting in the bar above a comedy club, staring bleakly at the screens that were showing American election results like it was a sports game. Ordering lots of whiskey because we had politely not gotten drunk during the show, so we had some catching up to do. I told my brother I hoped he’d enjoyed doing his set that night, because no one was going to feel like laughing ever again. So I last night is actually not the most depressing night I’ve ever spent in a comedy club. But it’s in second place.

I feel like I should have an end to this story or something, but I don’t. That’s my story. Went to a local comedy club last night, for the first time in several years. Didn’t much enjoy it, but that’s probably not the comedians’ fault.

#tw: alcohol

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mountains-moving-91 · 2 years

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Change Your Judgements, GAMER1

As I mentioned, in my previous 9lives, I was a frequent-rehab-flyer and you can probably imagine some of the other drunks and junkies that I met. And some of them were really good people, just trying to get out of the sideways choices they were making. That’s the thing, though. Sometimes good people get put, or put themselves, in the middle of very sketchy situations. And sometimes they cross paths with people that seem good @ the time but in reality, they are truly evil people - down to the bones. I learned it the hard way - All it takes is one misstep with the wrong crowd to end up going down the wrong path. Keep in mind, even if you go down the wrong path, it doesn’t mean it’s over for good. It just means you gotta find a way out. And if you happen to fight for it - YOU WILL find it. And when you find it - YOU CAN CHANGE it. But that choice is still up to you, GAMER1.

The first friend that I lost (like truly lost, 4ever) died from a herion overdose shortly after high school. He wasn’t even old enough to drink alcohol legally. Crazy story…his addiction was so bad that he left rehab to get high and never made it back. And I promise you, when he made the choice to walk out of that safe place, he wasn’t planning on accidentallykilling himself. And that’s why the drug game isn’t one to fuck around with - you literally have no idea when the devil gets to win. To make things even crazier, I met his rehab counselor a few years later, in rehab, as my roommate, which means her addiction to alcohol came back after she was treating people for addiction. That’s the thing with that specific devil - that game is EVIL. You are literally playing poker with the devil and that little bitch can see through your cards…doesn’t sound very fair huh?

Plot twist…ready, set…go!

If someone was once a fuck-up, by your own Reader 1 personal definition, how long do they have to pay for their consequences before you starting treating them like a normal part of society? How long do they deserve to be treated as less than? Say someone was once evil, and did a truly evil thing, AND SERVED THEIR TIME, BUT has also since CHANGED...then what?... And I don’t mean “stopped doing bad things as part of their court ordered probation program”. I mean truly - down to the core - changed, and 110% for the better. How long does the world get to frown down on them for? Rhetorically speaking…that is.

I’m a people watcher by default. I live through watching the world from an outsideR, GAMER2 mode. And I do still find myself passing judgements, by default. But I’m human and I am working to lessen that, as part of my own chance to change. Honestly though, sometimes I find myself wanting to ask people if they notice that they are wearing their internal thoughts all over their face. To me - that’s why SOCIETY is falling short as a whole. Call yourself out…you looking up or down right now? See - as I sit back and watch others I find myself judging the world we are living in and I don’t find myself asking why it is so dark. I personally feel like I know why - even just in the month or so that I’ve been in a better spot (mentally speaking, that is…still JOB_more_ORless over here).

My belief:

It’s us. It’s all of us. Where’s the help at? And I don’t mean the PROTECTING THE PEOPLE kind of help. I mean the SERVE OTHERS kind of help. We all have flaws. We are all human. And we are all passing the wrong kind of judgements. And it needs to stop. We shouldn’t be making others feel so badly just to me our one-self feel better.

LOOK - We live in such a fast fucking world these days, that no one slows down to notice anything anymore. Everyone is so busy with just their day to day lives, myself included, that we don’t see the world for what it is. We sit at home, within our own family circles and check off items on our daily honey_2_do lists-of-less-than-nothing accomplishments. And then we look out the window from our 3rd-story-mansion-sized-homes, from the outside PERSPECTIVE. That’s me speaking figuratively, of course. My way of saying - we are clueless to what happens behind closed doors, yet we feel entitled to look down on others by default.

Today - if you read_or_hear this - do ONE thing. Realize that you are above no-one, no matter what they look and act like. WE ARE ALL HUMAN. And we can all have super-powers if we want. We just gotta work together to get there. Think Toy Story gone PJ Masks.

Stay with me, and you won’t be disappointed.

#JudgementsSUCK #DoitKINDly #FeelSomethingForOthers #speakupspeakout #standbyTHEkind

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junghelioseok · 3 years

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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.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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