#their frozen yogurt date :')

[stories4eve]

Justice will bend truth as she sees it fit.

[foreverafangirl14]

A date with shoto

Sero was panicking because of how quiet and socially awkward Shoto was, he couldn't read him, he must be thinking something bad about him or judging him... 🍨

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧'𝗦 𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗗, 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬 oscar piastri  x  girlfriend!reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . you attempt to prank your boyfriend oscar by telling him you can't pay your half of the rent this month, he takes it surprisingly well.

( my master list | more of oscar piastri ) ( requests )

You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring at the coffee table like it insulted your entire lineage.

There’s an envelope—unopened—labeled "RENT DUE" in bright red Sharpie. Dramatic, yes. Authentic? Not even a little. You made it yourself. The ink is still wet.

Oscar should be home any minute now. You even pulled out your phone to record his reaction for posterity (and potential TikTok virality).

You clutch your head in your hands and start muttering nonsense.

"How am I going to afford groceries? How am I supposed to live, laugh, love in these conditions—"

The door clicks open.

You immediately shift into Oscar-winning performance mode. (Pun 100% intended.)

“Babe,” you groan, as he walks in wearing a hoodie and gym shorts, hair slightly damp from a post-workout shower. “We have a problem.”

Oscar doesn’t even blink. He steps inside, drops his gym bag by the door, and eyes you with the same calm expression he reserves for red flags in Turn 1.

“Okay. What’s up?”

You dramatically shove the envelope toward him like it’s radioactive.

“I… can’t pay rent this month.”

Silence.

He blinks. Once.

“Okay,” he says. Like you just told him the sky is blue or that Lando wears bucket hats unironically. “That’s fine.”

You blink back. “Fine?”

Oscar shrugs, walking past you toward the fridge. “Yeah. I got it.”

You stay frozen, confused, suspicious. “Wait—what?”

He pulls out a yogurt like he’s in a chilled dairy ad. “I’ve been paying half anyway. What’s the difference?”

You’re blinking so fast you might take flight. “Well… this would be all of it.”

Oscar stabs his yogurt with a spoon, finally giving you a look. “My salary tripled this year. I’ll live.”

Damn it.

You pause the recording.

He walks back over and sits beside you, yogurt in one hand, cool as ever. “Was this… a prank?”

You groan, throwing your head back. “It was supposed to be! I saw this girl on TikTok freak her boyfriend out and he panicked and offered to sell his gaming PC. Yours was boring.”

Oscar deadpans, “Sorry I wasn’t financially incompetent enough for TikTok.”

You snort.

Then he adds, casually, “Also, I’m paying rent from now on.”

You sit up. “Wait, no. That’s not—this was a joke. I can—”

Oscar raises a single brow. “You want to pay rent while I make six million a year? Be serious.”

You flop dramatically back onto the couch. “So the prank backfired.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hums. “And now I’m the landlord.”

“Oh my god. I’m dating a landlord.”

He grins. “But like, a hot one.”

You groan again. “I should’ve just prank-called Lando.”

“Please do. He’ll probably Venmo you five grand and forget why.”

[daisybell17]

day 41: solo date!

took myself on a solo date! so i got lunch! then go frozen yoghurt which was SOOOOO good! then i bought stuff for my place (and something i got which ill post soon hehe) and then i got home…and…IM SO TIREDDDDDDD work has me so sleepy and deadhwhahshs huhu

ive sat in front of my laptop for 5 hrs doing stuff and my brain has melted, now im doing one last thing then im gonna SLEEEEEP!!!

[studioeisa]

you deserve each other ⛱️ seokmin x reader.

all is fair in love, war, and... trying to get fired? the waterpark is the last place you and seokmin want to be. in a ditch attempt to escape your job, the two of you opt to break carat bay’s unspoken, cardinal rule: don't date your co-worker.

⛱️ pairing. co-workers seokmin x reader. ⛱️ word count. 12.4k. ⛱️ genres. alternate universe: non-idol, alternate universe: waterpark co-workers. romance, friendship, humor, hint of angst. ⛱️ includes. mentions of food, alcohol; profanity. fake dating and all its shenanigans, sweetheart seokmin, lots of making out (do with that what you will), soonyoung is a plot device, other idols get randomly name dropped as employees. ⛱️ notes. this is part of @camandemstudios’ carat bay collaboration. ever so grateful to be trusted with seok! ‹𝟹 thank you to my ride or die, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, for beta reading. check out the other fics in the collaboration here. 🎵 seokmin’s top tracks this month. sugar, brockhampton. sunny days, wave to earth. get you, daniel caesar ft. kali uchis. heart to heart, mac de marco. m2m, cody jon.

The framed plaque is heavier than you expect.

A small, polished thing. Mahogany edges, gold trim. Your name etched onto a brushed metal plate, capitalized and misspelled. The receptionist claps politely. Someone offers you a slice of cake. Your manager—Changbin—says your name like it’s a blessing, like you’re his biggest win this quarter.

“... a beacon of initiative,” he’s saying, hand on your back, smile radiant and full of teeth. “Always on time, never a complaint, always going above and beyond—”

You stop listening around the word beacon. 

Where joy should be, a horrible kind of dread is crawling up your throat like soda foam. You don’t want this. You never wanted this.

For the last six months, you’ve been orchestrating your own quiet downfall. 

Small acts of rebellion: late reports, mismatched fonts in client decks, turning in spreadsheets without formulas. Once, you deliberately CC’d the wrong contact on an invoice email. Twice. Three times.

Nothing. Not a single reprimand. You’ve only been praised for your ‘out-of-the-box thinking.’

Now here you are. Employee of the Month at Carat Bay—home of hollow branding jargon, ergonomic nightmares, and a break room fridge that smells like egg salad and regret. You’re holding a plaque you prayed someone else would win.

The universe is cruel. Your parents are crueler.

See, Carat Bay is just the latest on your resume’s Greatest Hits of Unwanted Professions. Before this was the summer you spent handing out frozen yogurt samples in a visor that said Lick Me. Before that: barista at a vegan café that also sold crystals. Before that: dog-walking, tutoring, retail at a candle shop that played Meghan Trainor on loop.

Your parents forced each one of them with the same airtight argument: You need discipline. You need direction.

You said you wanted to freelance. Write, maybe. Design book covers. Do something weird and personal and fulfilling. They laughed. Your father nearly choked on his coffee.

But a deal was struck with the Carat Bay gig. If you got laid off, they’d stop pushing. Let you go rogue. No more curated job listings emailed at 5 a.m. No more passive-aggressive forwarded TED Talks. No more, ‘When I was your age, I had a mortgage and two kids.’

If—if—you got laid off. Quitting was not in the cards. It was either that or you stay for at least three years, which you would honestly rather die than do. 

Now, you find that you have this. A plaque. A photo op. Changbin squealing, “This one’s going in the newsletter!”

God, you think, gripping the plaque like it might shatter. You are being rewarded for mediocrity. You are being celebrated for incompetence.

You smile for the camera anyway.

It’s the kind of smile that could get you promoted.

Back at the merchandise stand, your co-worker greets you with a grin and a pair of scissors he’s using to snip zip ties off a crate of branded tote bags.

“Look at you, hotshot,” Seokmin says, nudging you with his elbow. “Changbin’s golden child. I knew you had it in you.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re not mad?”

He scoffs, that beaming smile of his slotting back into place without a moment’s hesitation. “Why would I be mad? This means I don’t have to be Employee of the Month. That plaque is cursed,” he teases good-naturedly. 

You laugh. Genuinely, if only for a second. Seokmin is the kind of person who makes you believe in the good of humanity. 

He once gave his lunch to a crying intern. He always remembers your birthday. He talks to every lost tourist like it’s his job, which technically, it is not. And—in your honest, unbiased opinion—he’s easy on the eyes, too. It takes a lot to make the dreadful polo and even more dreadful khakis work, but Seokmin somehow manages. 

“Seriously,” he continues, turning back to the tote bags, “I’m happy for you. You’ve been working hard. And let’s be honest, you’re the only one who knows how to fix the card reader. Changbin was probably just buying insurance.”

There’s a lightness to his voice. No trace of envy. Just easy, unaffected kindness.

You swallow down the guilt forming like a pit in your stomach. You’ve been quietly planning your own escape route while he’s been showing up every day like a real adult, juggling overtime and night classes. You’re trying to crash and burn and Seokmin—sweet, undeserving Seokmin—might get singed in the crossfire.

You clear your throat. “Thanks, Seokmin. That means a lot.”

He just shrugs. “Don’t let it go to your head, okay? You still owe me lunch for covering your shift last week.”

Seokmin walks away to restock mugs, and you stare after him, plaque still under your arm, feeling like the world’s worst con artist. You don’t want Employee of the Month. You don’t deserve it. 

You know someone who does. 

Lee Seokmin, who brings extra socks to work in case someone forgets theirs. He knows the perfect ratio of syrup to ice in the rainbow slushies. He has an uncanny ability to get toddlers to stop crying with a single balloon animal. 

You’ve seen it all. He’s sunshine in human form, if sunshine occasionally tripped over its own feet and knocked over the popcorn machine.

That’s the thing, though. Seokmin—bumbling, bright-eyed Lee Seokmin—isn’t just your co-worker. He’s the son of the owners. 

The heir of this kitschy little theme park kingdom. The golden boy who is destined to inherit its cotton candy throne and take up the sticky, sunscreen-slicked mantle of summer fun for generations to come.

Carat Bay is practically tattooed on his DNA. The gift shop trinkets, the underwater mascot shows, the overenthusiastic lifeguards. This whole place was designed by his family and built on a business model of manufactured joy, and he was the prince working the merchandise stand to get some good ol’ starting-from-the-bottom experience. 

So when, days later, he startles and blurts, “I swear it’s not what it looks like!”—while clutching an open box cutter and a half-disemboweled box of limited edition light sticks—your first reaction isn’t anger. 

It’s confusion.

You ask, flatly, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He winces. He always winces when you swear. Rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes dart around like he’s searching for an escape hatch. “Okay, I know this looks bad. Like, really bad,” he starts. “But I swear I wasn’t going to, like, ruin them. Just… make them look better?”

Your mouth opens. Closes. And opens again. “But why?” you manage. It’s a good thing the waterpark has already shut down for the day. You’re not sure what you’d do if you had to deal with this with a whole shift ahead of you.

Seokmin sighs. It’s the kind of sigh that carries a decade of summer-themed retail trauma.

You glance over his shoulder to the shimmering banner flapping in the breeze: WELCOME TO CARAT BAY—THE #1 MERCH DESTINATION ON THE COASTLINE! A glittering monstrosity. Just like everything else here.

“I thought you liked it here,” you add, genuinely bewildered. “You do the Carat cheer. You wore the mascot suit that one time. Willingly.”

He shrugs, sheepish. “Well, yeah. But I also want out.”

“You’re the owner’s kid. All this is going to be yours someday.” You gesture vaguely at the cartoon dolphins, the sparkle-laminated shelves, the sea of bubblegum-pink merchandise. 

Seokmin shouldn’t be cutting up product. He should be on some managerial fast-track, drawing up expansion plans in a conference room somewhere. Not ruining stock and looking like he’s going to hurl from the guilt of it.

It happens fast enough for you to almost miss it, but Seokmin’s expression crumbles into  a grimace. Unnatural on a face that usually had a perpetual grin, a catalogue of every positive emotion known to man. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Exactly.” 

It clicks, then. All of it.

The too-frequent mishandling of inventory. The time he tripped and unplugged the entire register system. The day he mistakenly shipped an entire box of glow-in-the-dark keychains to the wrong coast.

You’d chalked it up to Seokmin being Seokmin. Lovable. Mildly chaotic. But now—

“You’ve been trying to get fired,” you say, the truth hitting you like a tsunami on the Wave River.

“Just like you,” Seokmin confirms. The knowledge sends a prickle of panic down your spine, but it fades when he goes on to joke, “Only I suck at it even more than you do.”

You snort. You can’t help it. “Wow. So we’re really the dumbest people here.”

He laughs sheepishly, but it’s the most honest thing you’ve heard in weeks. And when your eyes meet, there’s this quiet understanding that passes between you—like a pact sealed in shared misery and mutual sabotage.

You exhale. “Fine. I won’t rat you out. But you’re going to tell me what it is you actually want to do. Eventually.”

Seokmin grins. It’s that sun-bright, unfiltered expression he wears when he’s about to say something incredibly sincere or incredibly stupid.

“Deal.”

You reach for the disemboweled box. “Let’s make it look like an accident.”

Now you’ve both got a secret. And a goal.

The only thing more dangerous than two people who hate their jobs? Two people who’ve decided to stop pretending otherwise.

--

Except nothing you try works.

You set the air conditioning so low people start confusing your booth for a meat locker. Seokmin deliberately stocks the wrong merchandise on the featured shelves. You both take extended lunch breaks and once, very deliberately, you curse out a mom with three kids after she calls the staff lazy. Seokmin nearly fainted afterward from the adrenaline.

But none of it lands. Your manager pats you both on the back. Customers rave about your booth on Yelp. Kids write thank-you notes in marker.

Next thing you know, a laminated sign appears at the break room. Your name and Seokmin’s, right next to the dreaded Employees of the Month title. 

The photo is horrible. Your smile is tight with disbelief. Seokmin’s peace sign is half a second from cramping.

You two convene in the supply closet. Your emergency meeting room of choice.

“This is bad,” you say, pacing. “This is so, so bad.”

“We could, uh… just keep trying?” Seokmin offers, nibbling the edge of a pen.

“We’ve been trying. We ended up with a plague.” You groan. “We need something bigger. Something bold.”

Your mind whirs. You sift through memory like old receipts in a drawer. Nobody gave a fuck enough about merchandise to cry about its sabotage. Snark was to be somewhat expected from the two of you, and you didn’t really want anything too extreme on your track record. 

How had the past couple of people left Carat Bay? Your fingers tap, tap, tap on the closed closet door. There had been Heeseung, and Soobin—

Bingo.

The recent firings. Not many, but enough to see the pattern.

Heeseung, shortly after he was confirmed to be living with the girl who worked the bodyslide. Soobin, who packed his stuff up when he was found making out with the after-hours lifeguard. 

The ‘rule’ wasn’t written in stone. Not in the employee manual, not mentioned during briefings. But it still existed in a yellowing Post-It taped up on the janky breakroom refrigerator.

DON’T FUCK EACH OTHER.

“Of course,” you whisper. “Of course.”

“What?” Seokmin says, wary.

You turn to him slowly. The smile that breaks on your face only seems to unnerve the boy even more, especially when you go on to declare,  “We fake date.”

A beat. Seokmin blinks at you like you just offered to throw hands with God himself. “Fake date?” he repeats. 

You nod sagely. “It’s bulletproof. Everyone who’s gotten canned the past three months? They were caught hooking up with coworkers. There’s a Post-It in the lounge, remember? ‘DON’T FUCK EACH OTHER.’”

Seokmin opens his mouth, closes it. Then again. It’s like watching a fish try to breathe above water. Finally, he croaks, “No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, slightly firmer now, arms crossing over his chest like that would protect him from you. Which, to be fair, it might have if you weren’t already smirking.

“Wow,” you say, feigning hurt. “That repulsive, huh?”

Seokmin chokes. “Don’t put words into my mouth!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then what am I supposed to take from that, huh? You look like I asked you to run off to Vegas.”

He rubs the back of his neck, visibly flustered. His ears are already pink. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Why? What, you got a secret girlfriend stashed in the plushie bin?”

He groans. “No. That’s not—I just… haven’t.”

“Haven’t what?”

“Dated.”

“You’ve never had bitches?”

“I don’t—women are not bitches,” Seokmin splutters. 

He looks like he might spontaneously combust. You’re half-tempted to poke his cheek, see if steam comes out of his ears. Cute, you muse to yourself, but cute in the same way that a kitten might be if its head was stuck in a tissue box. Not cute in a I-want-this-man way. At least, you don’t think so. 

You lean your elbow on the counter and study him, thoughtful. “I could ask someone else. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t even hesitate,” you note. “But I wanted it to be mutually beneficial.”

Seokmin chews the inside of his cheek. “Mutually beneficial?”

“Yeah. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, handsome,” you say, deliberately sweet, watching his face redden by the second.

He presses his hands to his cheeks like that’ll stop the heat. “Can I… think about it?”

“Sure. Just don’t think too hard. Might take it personally.” 

He groans again, but you catch the shy little grin he tries to hide as he ducks his head. Victory tastes a lot like Seokmin’s embarrassment—soft and just a little sweet.

Four days and three failed sabotage attempts later, Seokmin finally gets back to you.

You’re in the middle of stacking sun-bleached baseball caps that say CARAT BAY: GOOD VIBES ONLY when he approaches, rubbing the back of his neck like he might apologize for existing.

“So,” he starts, glancing around like he thinks you might have an audience. The only person within 10 feet of you is a kid licking ice cream and glaring at a pigeon. “About the thing. The, uh. Proposal.”

You know where he’s getting at. You just want to hear him say it. “You’ll have to be more specific,” you say breezily. “I proposed several things.”

He goes pink in the ears. Adorable.

“The fake dating thing,” he clarifies, and then fumbles over his next words. “Not that I think dating you would be—I mean, obviously, you’re very—I’m not, like, repulsed or anything—”

“Seokmin.”

“Right. Sorry. Yes. Let’s do it.”

You blink. Then blink again. You had expected him to try and let you down gently, to instead try and rope you into vandalizing the mat racer. Instead, he’s shifting from side to side, laying his heart down on your feet. 

“If you still want to,” Seokmin adds when you’re silent for a beat too long. By some miracle, you resist the urge to coo. 

“Handsome,” you say slowly, grinning as he sputters. “Of course I still want to. What changed your mind?”

He looks down at his shoes, his voice soft. “You said it could be mutually beneficial. And I figured… I want out. You want out. Maybe this is the way.”

Something flickers in your chest. Not pity, exactly. Something warmer.

“Alright,” you say, and you reach over to the counter to hold out your hand to him. 

You lay out the ground rules. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time the past few days doing research of your own—watching contemporary classics like Anyone But You and To All The Boys I Loved Before before scouring the fake dating tag on AO3. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” you remind him. “Touch is probably the best way to go about this, but we only have to do that when somebody’s watching. Convincing flirting is the key. The goal is to get caught.” 

You don’t add the cliche of all cliches. No falling in love. Not because you’re hoping for it, no, but because it feels like a given. You like to think you’re smarter than Sydney Sweeney’s Bea and Landa Condor’s Lara Jean. 

Seokmin listens with rapt attention before bobbing his head up and down in a solemn nod. With eyebrows slightly scrunched from concentration, he takes your hand. 

The two of you shake on it. 

--

You and Seokmin agreed to start small. Ease into it. Not make it too obvious. Open flirtation in the break rooms, stolen glances in line for churros, maybe a suggestive comment or two over headset. Nothing too dramatic.

So far, none of it has landed.

You’d told Seokmin to just follow your lead. He was good at that. Always had been. When you reached across the table to oh-so-casually pluck a cherry off his soda float and pop it into your mouth, you expected at least one co-worker to clock it. Instead, Soonyoung kept chattering about the new ice sculpture exhibit, completely unbothered. Joshua just nodded, as if you had simply demonstrated the polite camaraderie of sharing a beverage.

You even tried batting your lashes while Seokmin offered you the last dumpling. He didn’t need to play it up much—just smiled wide, ears going red. Still, all you got from the others was a distracted thanks-for-leaving-some-for-us, not even a wink or a whisper.

You were going to have to double your efforts.

“This is a disaster,” you mutter later that night as you help Seokmin restock souvenir mugs.

He straightens a bit too fast, knocking over a stack of keychains. “I thought it was subtle,” he sniffles, going to pick up the plastic surfboards. 

“Exactly the problem,” you shoot back. “We’re so subtle, it’s like watching two Barbie dolls try to make out without bending at the waist.”

Seokmin’s laugh is loud and unguarded, drawing a look from a passing intern. He ducks his head and waits for her to pass. “Okay. We go bigger. I can do that,” he says, probably trying to convince himself as much as you. “Maybe I could, I dunno, carry you bridal style through the sand sculpture path?”

“Let’s not go zero to K-drama,” you say dryly. “We build up to that. We start with touches. Long looks. Close proximity.”

“You say that like we’re not already touching every five minutes by accident.”

You hand him a mug and let your fingers brush his, lingering. It’s an act, sure, but you’re sure he feels it too. The jolt of electricity. The thrum beneath your skin. Seokmin’s breath hitches, his eyes flitting to where the tips of your fingers had just pressed. 

“That,” you point out. “But on purpose.”

He nods, dazed. “Right. Totally. On purpose.”

If anybody asked, you were building a believable relationship arc.

A couple of days later, you find Seokmin hunched over the merchandise booth counter, the cheap company laptop tilted slightly toward him. He’s got that familiar deep crease between his brows, the one he gets whenever he’s hyper-focused. Usually while trying to fix a jammed ticket printer or master a new drink recipe from the cafe next door.

You lean closer, about to tease him for working too hard, when the wikiHow tab on the screen catches your eye: How to be a good boyfriend: A guide for beginners.

You bite back a smile, heart squeezing painfully at the earnestness of it. Of course he’d look it up. Sweet, ridiculous Seokmin.

“Whatcha doing, handsome?” you ask, voice lilting and teasing.

Seokmin jolts upright so fast he nearly knocks the laptop onto the floor. “I—Nothing! Research! Important work research!”

You snicker, plucking the laptop gently from his grasp and setting it safely aside. “Research, huh? Planning to date the slushie machine or something?”

He groans, covering his face with both hands. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, words muffled by his palm. “I'm—I'm trying to be good at this.”

Your chest aches again. Not in an oh-I’m-screwed way, but in the reminder that, once again, Lee Seokmin is too good for this world. Too pure to be roped into your low-budget, romantic-comedy life. 

“Hey,” you say delicately, nudging his arm until he peeks at you between his fingers. “You can just ask me, you know.”

“Ask you?”

You grin. “Yeah. You’re fake-dating me, remember? Free resource right here.”

He drops his hands, staring at you for a moment. It lasts long enough to make you feel seen, which is never good. “You’d really help me?”

“Of course. I’m an excellent fake girlfriend.” You lean in, conspiratorial. “Tip one: You’re already doing great just by caring this much.”

Seokmin's mouth parts slightly, like he wants to protest but can't quite find the words.

“Tip two,” you continue, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “If you ever don’t know what to do, just be honest. It's kind of…” —you soften— “my favorite thing about you.”

He blinks at you, visibly flustered, and you resist the urge to pinch his cheeks.

“Got any other questions, babe?” you tease, but Seokmin only shakes his head and mumbles something about knowing what to do. 

You’re not all too sure about that. Especially as he starts acting pretty weird in the coming days. 

At first, you think it’s just regular old Seokmin nerves. He fumbles during his cash register shifts, stutters when customers ask for directions, and practically leaps out of his skin when you tap his shoulder to pass him a bottle of water.

But then you notice him sneaking glances at you every few minutes. Shifty, fleeting glances. Like he’s hiding something. You catch him half the time, and he immediately goes red, waving you off with a too-high laugh. “Nothing!” he chirps. “Just—! Nothing!”

Suspicious.

During your lunch break, you find him pacing behind the Carat Bay merchandise booth, clutching his phone like it’s a lifeline. When he spots you, he stuffs it into his back pocket and beams so brightly it’s blinding.

“You good, handsome?” you ask, raising a brow.

“Yup!” His voice cracks on the word.

You narrow your eyes but let it go. For now.

It’s when you’re restocking plushies that you notice it: Seokmin, in the distance, accepting—and then panicking over—a large, extravagant bouquet of flowers.

He tries to hold it normally. He really does.

But first, he almost drops it. Then, he sneezes. Loudly. Violently. Three times in a row.

“Are you okay?” You rush over just as he doubles over with another round of sneezes, the bouquet wobbling precariously in his arms.

“I’m—” he gasps between fits, “—fine!” Sneeze. “Fine!” Sneeze.

You take the flowers from him. It’s a stunning collection of pink and white blooms. “Were you… getting me flowers?” you ask dazedly. 

Seokmin nods, eyes watery, nose turning a tragic shade of red.

Your heart lurches. “Seokmin. Are you allergic to flowers?”

“N-No?” He says unconvincingly before another sneeze rattles through him.

You bite down a laugh, the affection nearly overwhelming.

“Oh my God,” you murmur, shoving the bouquet into Joshua’s bewildered arms as he passes by. “You’re literally dying to be my boyfriend.”

Seokmin sniffles pitifully. “Worth it.”

You shake your head, pulling him by the wrist toward the staff lounge. “C’mon, Romeo. Let's find you some allergy meds before you actually keel over.”

Behind you, Joshua calls out “Are these for me?” while holding up the bouquet.

Seokmin sneezes again in response.

--

“We should actually get to know each other,” you say around a mouthful of rice.

Lunch at Carat Bay is a lawless stretch of twenty-five minutes during which the staff gathers in a sun-warped outdoor seating area, and hierarchy momentarily dissolves into lukewarm leftovers and communal fries. You and Seokmin decide this is the perfect place for the two of you to set your scene. 

You sit on the same picnic bench, unnecessarily close to two people who claim to be coworkers. Which is the point, really.

“I thought we were doing okay,” he answers middlingly. 

“You Googled how to be a boyfriend, Seokmin.”

His ears redden. You fight a smile.

“Let’s do this,” you urge, setting your chopsticks down. “Secrets. Weird facts. Stuff you tell someone if you’re… you know. Really dating.”

Seokmin shifts, folding himself smaller as he thinks. “You first,” he says, almost bashfully.

“Fine,” you huff dramatically. “I can’t snap my fingers.”

Seokmin blinks then bursts into laughter, his head tilting back with the force of it. “That’s your big secret?”

“You’d be surprised how often it comes up in life!”

He wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, still grinning. “Okay, okay. My turn. Uh. I still sleep with a nightlight.”

Your heart squeezes. “That’s cute,” you say, smiling softly.

“It’s dizzying otherwise.” 

“It’s fine,” you say, nudging him. “Better than getting eaten by whatever monster’s under your bed.”

He groans before looking at you with an open, helpless fondness that makes you feel raw. If you were a little smarter, you’d call it off then and there for both of your sake. 

Instead, you go back and forth like that, trading tiny confessions. You tell him about your irrational fear of mannequins. He admits he once tried to drink orange juice after brushing his teeth on a dare and cried. Every admission makes him squirm, makes you giggle, softens the space between you and pulls it tighter.

Seokmin is sweetness, clumsy and earnest and golden. And as he talks, stammering through another story about how he accidentally joined a ballet class in high school thinking it was an improv workshop, you realize: you aren’t acting when you find him impossibly endearing.

You lean your head against his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “We’re gonna crush this fake dating thing.”

“Yeah?” Seokmin says, wide-eyed but smiling.

“Yeah,” you say, and it’s with a certainty that’s wholly misplaced.

Soon enough, the conversation spins into romantic experiences. When Seokmin asks you about your worst dating experience, you lean in conspiratorially. “There was this one guy who wore socks during sex. Like—knee-high, novelty print socks,” you divulge. “Multiple times.”

Seokmin’s mouth falls open. “No. No. No.”

“Yes.”

“Was that—was it a kink thing or—?”

“Unclear,” you say. “He called it his 'performance gear.”

Seokmin makes a scandalized noise and drops his sandwich in horror. “That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard. I hate the fact you experienced that.”

You’re laughing now. The kind of light, surprised laugh that bubbles up without warning. “I can go worse.”

“Don’t you dare. I’m already mortified.”

“Come on, Mr. No Dating Experience,” you tease. “You’re the one who wanted to know. Unless you’re just jealous.”

He goes red instantly. It shoots up his ears, stains his neck. “I—well, maybe I should be! I don’t have any dramatic sock stories to tell,” he says defensively. “I had one crush in the eighth grade who gave me half of a Twix bar.” 

“That’s romantic.” 

“She transferred schools the next day.”

You burst out laughing, while Seokmin stares at you helplessly. “It’s not not character building,” he whines, shaking your shoulders as you giggle over his misfortune. 

Across the lawn, Joshua nearly drops his water bottle doing a double take at the sight of you two. Joshua blinks a few times, looks away, and proceeds to accidentally pour water down his own shirt.

You and Seokmin exchange a glance.

“Half-win?” he whispers.

You grin. “Half-win.”

He reaches for another fry. You nudge his knee with yours. Lunch hour ticks on like a warm, strange summer dream.

--

You’re elbow-deep in foam fingers and keychains when Seokmin saunters over, oozing effort.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, leaning on the edge of the merch booth like he’s James fucking Dean. “Need a hand, or were you just waiting for me?”

It’s so out of character that you freeze for a second, your fist halfway inside a box labeled CLEARANCE MUGS. Then, you clock Soonyoung loitering a few steps away, nursing a popsicle and watching the two of you with all the interest of someone half-invested in a reality show.

You turn back to Seokmin. He winks. Actually winks. It’s not subtle. You can feel the twitch of his eyelashes from here.

Soonyoung squints. “You guys good?”

“Just peachy,” you chirp, playing along. You sling an arm around Seokmin’s shoulder and lean in a little, giving the performance a few more sparks. “My knight in branded polo just saved me from mug-related peril.”

“Cool,” Soonyoung says, totally unfazed. “Let me know if you find the sunscreen shipment. Shua burned his face again.”

You hold your grin until he’s gone, then collapse against Seokmin’s side with a snort. “Jesus. That was rough.”

Seokmin groans. “I thought the wink would sell it.”

“The wink was, frankly, terrifying.”

He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m trying, okay?”

“You’ve got heart, baby,” you say, patting his chest. “Execution just needs a little work.”

He mutters something about humiliation and stock rooms.

“You sure you’ve never dated before?” you ask, teasing.

He sighs, still pink. “Yeah. Theater kid. Improv. Not exactly irresistible, apparently.”

You blink at him, then let your gaze sweep from the messy fringe of his hair to the freckle on his jaw, lingering a second longer than necessary. Sure, Seokmin is a bit—all over the place. But he’s boyishly attractive, and if he wasn’t doomed to wear rose quartz and serenity as a 9-5, you think he might actually be a real catch. 

You decide to let him know. 

“Seokmin,” you say slowly. “You are irresistible as fuck, actually..”

He gapes at you. You pretend not to notice how his ears go red like warning lights.

You busy yourself with mugs again, all while your heart plays hopscotch in your chest.

After the disaster masterclass with Soonyoung, you decide to up your act. With Seokmin's consent, of course. 

It’s silly, really. His hand settles in the back pocket of your jeans as if it belongs there, palm flat against the curve of your ass like this is the most natural thing in the world. It’s not. It isn’t. Seokmin is practically vibrating with embarrassment, eyes darting like he’s waiting for a lightning bolt to strike him down. He’s sweating through his uniform polo, and you can feel the tremor in his fingers as he tries—bless him—to stay composed.

“You okay there, champ?” you murmur out the side of your mouth, smile still perfectly plastered. You’ve faked worse. But there’s something especially comical about watching Seokmin try to play suave when he looks like he might pass out from holding your gaze too long.

“Totally fine. Just, uh, practicing proximity,” he says, a little too loud, a little too stiff.

“Proximity,” you echo, biting down a laugh. “Sure. That’s what the kids are calling it now.”

He opens his mouth to reply but clams up instantly when Joshua walks by and double-takes so hard it’s like his neck cricks. Joshua’s eyes linger for a second too long, eyebrows halfway up his forehead, and then he walks faster, like maybe if he moves quickly enough, the image of Seokmin copping a feel in broad daylight will erase itself from his memory.

“Was that—did that count as a win?” Seokmin mumbles.

You grin victoriously. “Definitely a win.” 

Seokmin exhales, relieved. “You’re really good at this,” he breathes. 

“Oh, honey,” you say, adjusting your shirt and looping your arm around his waist like it’s nothing. “I haven’t even started.”

--

Seokmin shoots you a wide-eyed look over Soonyoung's shoulder. You know the one. The look that says, Please get me out of here before I die.

For the past fifteen minutes, Soonyoung has been monologuing about his fantasy, co-ed K-pop group, who he thinks would thrive the most in JYP Entertainment. You catch Seokmin’s eye and give him a sympathetic smile. When there’s a lull in the conversation, you seize your moment.

“We should get going,” you say, brushing your hand against Seokmin’s arm. It makes you feel like a scene partner in a bad rom-com. “Busy day.”

Soonyoung nods, waving a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah! Go do your merch-y things!”

And that’s your cue.

You lean in like it’s second nature and press a kiss to Seokmin’s cheek—except he turns to look at you just as you're going in, and your lips graze far too close to the corner of his mouth.

Seokmin freezes, eyes wide, cheeks pink. You pull back with a proud little smirk, only to hear Soonyoung’s delighted voice go, “Aww, cute!”

Soonyoung then leans in and, before you can stop him, plants a swift kiss to your cheek.

You blink.

Seokmin blinks.

Soonyoung pulls away, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “Guess that’s how we’re saying goodbye now, huh? Love that for us.”

And then he’s gone, humming something off-key.

You and Seokmin are left standing in stunned silence, lips parted, eyes still tracking the space Soonyoung just vacated.

“What just happened?” Seokmin asks dazedly.

“We’re either really bad at this,” you say, “or Soonyoung’s just really, really good at being Soonyoung.”

Seokmin lets out a strangled laugh. “You think Shua’s gonna want a kiss next time too?”

“God, let’s hope not. I only have so much emotional bandwidth.”

The next month’s announcement comes with a twist neither of you anticipated. 

Wonwoo—quiet, brooding, catlike in demeanor—is the new Employee of the Month. The rest of the team cheers for him with tepid enthusiasm, and he accepts it with a shrug, already halfway back to the cabanas before the applause dies down.

But for you and Seokmin? It’s hope. A rare, glimmering thing.

Seokmin finds you an hour later, halfway through inventory behind the booths. He sidles in beside you like he’s doing something criminal, which—considering the last few weeks of manufactured PDA and workplace sabotage—isn't far from the truth.

“Heard the news?” he says.

“Wonwoo finally getting recognition for his uncanny ability to look hot and disinterested at the same time? Yeah. Big day for the guy.”

“No, I mean—” He lowers his voice, eyes flicking to the open slats of the booth. “Do you think this means it’s working? That they’re onto us?”

You close the inventory sheet and lean against the shelf. “I mean, maybe. But let’s not get cocky. We still work here. We’re not off the hook until we’re fully jobless and making life choices our parents would cry about.”

Seokmin grimaces. “Right. That.”

You bump your shoulder into his. “We gotta up the ante.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What, like another back pocket maneuver?”

“No. We bring out the big guns.”

He looks skeptical. “What’s bigger than the back pocket?”

“A kiss.”

Seokmin chokes on absolutely nothing. “A kiss?”

“In public. Obviously. Catch us in 4K. Let the rumors fly, let HR cry.”

He stares at you like you’ve suggested robbing a bank. Which, to be fair, with this level of emotional fraud it isn’t too far off. “You’re serious.”

“As a tax audit.”

He groans and drops his forehead onto your shoulder. “I am not mentally equipped for this.”

“You’re doing great, handsome.”

“Don’t call me handsome when you’re about to ruin my life.”

You grin, threading your fingers together in a fake prayer. “It’s only fake ruining. Come on, do it for the cause.”

He sighs deeply, like a martyr. “Alright. But if this backfires, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Deal. And dessert, too. You’ll need something sweet to cry into when we’re finally free.”

The plans get made. You’re both actively trying to get fired, sure, but Seokmin still wants to get some of his stuff done. And so the two of you stay even as the clock ticks past eleven, Carat Bay, a ghost town save for you and Seokmin. 

Plastic bins of unsold shirts and foam fingers lay scattered around you while you’re both sluggishly folding and stacking them back into place. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sterile hum over the quiet.

Seokmin yawns into his shoulder and tosses a crumpled hoodie into a bin without aiming. It lands with a sad little flop, nowhere close to folded. You nudge him with your hip.

“You're getting sloppy,” you snicker.

“‘M tired,” he mumbles.

“Whose idea was it to volunteer for overtime, huh?”

He gives a small, sheepish smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes tonight. You watch him for a beat longer than you should, picking up on how the weight of something heavier seems to settle over him.

“Hey,” you say, softer now. “You okay?”

Seokmin fiddles with the hem of the hoodie, his fingers restless. For a moment you think he won’t answer. But then he breathes out a laugh, quiet and self-deprecating.

“I guess I owe you the truth,” he says, “about why I wanted to get fired so badly.”

You put the last foam finger down and turn to him, giving him your full attention. He looks everywhere but you before admitting, “I… I wanna open an animal shelter. Mostly for dogs, but… you know. Cats too. Whatever needs a home.”

You blink, processing. “Seokmin, that’s—that’s noble as fuck.”

He gives a short laugh. “Yeah, well. Not really. I’ve been saving up, but my parents aren’t really big on  charity and shit. They still want me to take over this place."

Your heart twists painfully at his honesty, at the way he says it like he's bracing for you to think less of him. “Seokmin,” you insist, stepping closer, “I can’t believe you’d ever be embarrassed of this. You want to get fired because you want to help dogs?”

He lets out another laugh, finally looking at you. “When you put it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It sounds like you have the biggest heart in the world,” you correct him.

He flushes at the praise, ducking his head. You feel something tender pull tight in your chest.

“You’re gonna do it,” you say, firm. “You’re gonna open that shelter. And it’s gonna be amazing."

Seokmin gives you a look so soft you have to glance away, pretending to busy yourself with a pile of lanyards. But even as you fumble with the cheap keychains, you feel the warmth of his smile on your skin—quiet and certain, as if for the first time, he believes it too.

--

The cubicle smells like a mix of chlorine, sunscreen, and the ghost of body spray someone probably forgot to bring home last week. 

You and Seokmin are pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the tight space, backs to the damp plastic wall, waiting. You can hear the sound of people outside. Laughter, feet slapping against tiles, the zip of a towel being whipped like a weapon. No one ever checks the shower cubicles during lunch. They’re too humid, too gross. That’s what makes it perfect.

“Okay,” you say, shifting your weight, peering at Seokmin. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, eyes fixed on some grout on the tiles. “We don’t have to, like, make out or anything. Just something quick. Catchy. Like a Sabrina Carpenter music video.”

Seokmin nods slowly. Then shakes his head. Then nods again. “Right. Okay. But, uh… just so you know… I’ve never done this before.”

“Kissed someone?”

“Yeah,” he says. He sounds like he’s confessing to murder. “Like—not even a stage kiss. I always got cast as the comedic relief or the tree.”

You pause. That makes your heart hurt a little. This was supposed to be a dumb performance. Another scheme. But now, your stomach knots with guilt. 

“Do you want to back out?” you ask, already leaning away. “I don’t want to take your first kiss in, like, a sticky-ass stall with pool water dripping on us. That’s a memory you’ll carry forever.”

But before you can make a clean retreat, Seokmin grabs your wrist.

“I want to,” he says, and for once, he doesn’t sound unsure. “With you. It’s doesn’t sound  bad.”

You freeze for a beat. His grip is warm. His cheeks are flushed pink, and he’s still damp from the park’s mist sprayers. For some reason, your heart picks that moment to hammer in your chest.

“Okay,” you breathe.

You lean in. You expect it to be awkward, but it’s… not. 

It’s a little shy at first—his lips tentative, almost featherlight—but it deepens just slightly, like he’s trusting you to lead. His hand flutters awkwardly at your waist, not quite sure where to go, before settling on your hip.

When you pull back, you’re both a little dazed. 

“Christ,” you murmur.

Seokmin grins, soft and stunned. “That wasn’t terrible.”

You smile, and for a second, you forget why you’re even here. Right—

You're still holding onto his wrist, gently, when you say, “We could practice. If you want. Just to make it convincing.”

Seokmin clears his throat. “Practice?” 

“Yeah,” you say, with a noncommittal shrug. All cool girl, chill girl, this-isn’t-a-big-deal girl. “Just enough so we’re not all teeth and awkward angles when it counts. We want it to look natural.”

He nods, visibly thinking through the logistics. Then, a little breathlessly, he says, “Okay. Yeah. Practice. That makes sense.”

You step closer. The shower stall is cramped, so it’s not hard. Your shoes bump into his, your body brushing his chest. You place one of his hands on your waist. His fingers are hesitant, like he’s afraid you might change your mind and bolt.

“Touch me like you want to,” you urge him gently. “Like you're allowed to.”

His palm flattens more deliberately now. You feel the shift in him, the effort. His other hand lifts but hovers, unsure.

“Here,” you guide it, fingers curling gently around his wrist to place it at the side of your face. “You can hold me here. It helps.”

His thumb grazes your cheek, trembling slightly. His breath comes shallow.

“Now, slower this time,” you say. “Tilt your head a little more.”

He does, obedient. Eager. His eyes flick to your mouth, and then he leans in.

The second kiss is better. Less rush, more curiosity. You taste mint gum and something sweet—maybe from the café earlier. His lips are soft, tentative, and open slightly when yours press in a little firmer.

Your fingers rest lightly on his collarbone. His hand on your waist grips tighter, just a little. He kisses you again, like he’s learning. Like he wants to keep learning.

When you pull away, just slightly, he’s dazed and pink in the cheeks.

“Okay,” he says, voice low and stunned. “That was... useful.”

You try not to laugh. “We’ll need more practice. Just to sell it.”

“Right,” he agrees, too fast. “Totally. For realism.”

You’re both kidding each other at this point, but to hell with it. 

Things escalate not long after. He’s touchier. Bolder. Somewhere along the way, Seokmin has stopped flinching when he touches you in public and started leaning into the performance like it’s second nature. And worse still: he’s getting good at it.

A brush of his fingers along the dip of your waist as you reach for the locker door. A comment in front of Soonyoung about how you look good in the staff polo, followed by a wink that is actually genuinely disarming. One time, he even smooths your hair back before a team meeting, murmuring something about presentation.

You catch Mingyu watching the two of you, eyes narrowed. Minghao frowns when Seokmin lets you steal a bite of his lunch using the same fork. The whispers are starting, and not even Seokmin’s endearing clumsiness can cover for the shift in atmosphere.

But the real danger doesn’t come from the outside.

It comes from the break room.

You’re sitting on the counter while Seokmin stands between your legs, lips a breath away. It’s meant to be another rehearsal. A quick one. A casual, convincing peck for the hallway.

Instead, Seokmin’s hand brushes your thigh. Not by accident.

Your breath hitches. He pauses. You don’t move.

His palm presses firmer, sliding just barely, just enough.

Then, without much warning, he leans in and kisses you again. Slower. A little hungrier. It catches you off guard—not because it’s clumsy, but because it’s not. It’s careful. Considered. There’s intention behind it, like he’s trying to see what else he can get away with.

You make a sound. It’s not loud, but it’s unmistakable. A quiet, surprised thing at the back of your throat.

Seokmin jerks back immediately. You stare at each other, both stunned into silence.

“What was that?” you ask, heart pounding.

His voice is soft, eyes wide. “I—I don’t know. I thought we were practicing.”

“We are,” you say, but it comes out shaky.

You both stare at each other for another beat.

It’s getting dangerous. Very, very dangerous. You force yourself to act, to play the role. You shift, leaning back slightly to break the tension, giving him a small, teasing smile. “Now I’m curious, Seokmin. Can you make the same sound?”

The question only flusters him even more. “What?” 

“You know. The sound I made. You looked like you liked it.”

“I—” he sputters, adorably scandalized. “That wasn’t—I mean, it was nice, but I wasn’t—”

You lean closer again, voice dropping just slightly. “Let me try something.”

He nods. Wordless. Willing.

Your hands come up to rest on his chest, warm over the fabric of his shirt. You feel the faint thud of his heart beneath your palms. He’s wound tight, you can tell, nervous in the way he always is when you close the distance. You tilt your head, angle your lips near his ear.

“Relax,” you whisper, soft, lilting.

Then you kiss him.

It starts gentle, barely-there pressure. Your hands slide up his shoulders, then down, resting at his hips as you slot your mouth against his more deliberately. You deepen it slowly, coaxing, guiding.

When your fingers skim up the nape of his neck, he makes a sound—a small, breathy one that ghosts from the back of his throat. It makes your stomach flip, makes you smile into the kiss. You do it again. Just to hear it.

“That,” you murmur, lips brushing his, “was hot.”

He groans in embarrassment, pulling back to bury his face in your shoulder.

“You can't just say stuff like that,” he mumbles, muffled.

“Why not? You sounded good. Really good.”

You laugh, light and airy, and he groans again. When he peeks up at you again, he’s still flushed. But he’s smiling.

“Okay,” he whispers, all conspiratorial, almost as if it were a dare, “your turn again.”

You’re in trouble.

--

The plan is simple, in theory: get caught in a compromising position by the most enthusiastic gossip in Carat Bay. 

The break room behind the bumper cars is off-limits after closing. Soonyoung has a habit of staying late to tally the day’s dance competition scores. It’s foolproof. Everything’s lined up.

Except Seokmin is looking at you like he’s just been asked to disarm a bomb with his teeth.

“I didn’t think you’d actually…” he trails off, eyes darting downwards, where your polo shirt now lies folded over the employee bench. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen them, which is saying something. You’re still wearing your undershirt—barely indecent by any standard—but Seokmin’s expression says otherwise.

“Strip?” you finish for him, amused. “It’s the uniform. People get fired for less than partial nudity, you know.”

He swallows. Hard. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

You laugh, stepping closer. “Seokmin, we’re trying to sell the illusion. If we’re going to pull this off, I need you to look less like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not gonna pass out,” he lies, his voice two pitches higher than usual.

You reach up, fingers grazing the side of his face, and it’s like flipping a switch. He exhales, trembling a little. Your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth.

“We’ve done this before,” you remind him gently. “We’ve kissed before. This is just like practice, remember?”

He nods again, more believably this time. “Yeah. Just like practice.”

“Exactly.” 

You press your lips to his, soft and warm. 

Enough to ease him in, to coax some steadiness into his hands where they hover near your waist. You kiss him again, this time slower, more deliberate.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re reassuring yourself as much as you are him. Because your skin tingles where his fingers tentatively land on your hips, and your breath hitches when his mouth parts just slightly, enough to let your tongue graze his.

He pulls back first, eyes wide and unfocused. “That was…”

“Convincing?” you offer, trying to keep your voice steady.

He nods mutely, blinking at you like he’s never seen you before.

“Good,” you murmur, straightening his shirt collar. “Let’s make this a performance Soonyoung won’t ever shut up about.”

The break room is just warm enough to be stifling, wrapped in the hush of neon hum and the smell of popcorn grease and old rubber. You’re straddling Seokmin’s lap on the worn-out couch you’ve both dubbed the ‘emergency plushie zone.’ 

Seokmin’s tie is hanging off a peg behind you, abandoned somewhere between your fifth and sixth practice kisses. How much fucking practice one needs to get this ‘right,’ you’re not sure, but neither of you are complaining. 

This kiss starts like the rest, lips brushing with practiced familiarity, but something shifts when Seokmin’s hands curl around your waist with more certainty than before.

"You’re really getting good at this," you murmur against his mouth.

He huffs a shy laugh, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your undershirt where your skin runs hot. “You told me to practice.”

“I didn’t tell you to practice this well,” you say, and then you kiss him again, hungrier now, breath catching when his hand trails up your spine.

It’s just an act, you remind yourself. Just something to get Soonyoung to walk in and freak out, let the gossip train do the rest.

Except Seokmin moans when you nip at his lower lip. A small sound, barely there—but it melts into you. You want to hear it again. So you shift your weight, rolling your hips once. His breath stutters. Yours does too.

You press your mouth to the underside of his jaw, voice low. “You’re really committing to the bit.”

“I think,” Seokmin says, voice wrecked with something like disbelief, “I’m losing track of what’s a bit.”

You smile against his neck. “We’ve been at it for twenty minutes. Where the hell is Soonyoung?”

“Was—Was Soonyoung even at work today?” 

You freeze. You pull back and stare at Seokmin. 

Kwon Soonyoung had taken a ‘sick’ leave today. To line up at midnight for a video game. He bragged about it in the group chat that all the newbies shared. 

You glance down at your exposed chest, then at the way your thighs are locked around Seokmin’s hips. “Are we fucking stupid?” you wonder out loud. 

Seokmin blinks at you, lips swollen and pink, eyes blown wide. He leans his head back against the couch with a groan. “I don’t think I can do that again without losing my soul,” he rasps. 

“You’ll get it back in pieces,” you sigh, patting Seokmin’s chest in a gesture that’s meant to be reassuring. “Starting with your tie.”

--

You’re heading back from the boardwalk, salt still on your skin and the cheap cola you pilfered from the vendor stand fizzing in your hand, when you hear voices. The kind that make you stop short and lean just a little closer to the maintenance shed wall, pretending like you’re very interested in the bulletin board you’ve seen a hundred times.

It’s Joshua. Low and calm, like always, but there’s a seriousness in his voice you’re not used to.

“Seokmin. I just want to know what this is.”

You freeze. You don’t mean to. You know it’s bad form to eavesdrop, especially when you’re the this in question, but something roots you to the spot.

“I’m not trying to start anything,” Joshua continues, “but if this is just a game, if the two of you are pretending? You guys should quit it. Seriously. You’re both going to get into a shitton of trouble.”

A beat. Then Seokmin’s voice rings out, convincingly offended.

“It’s not pretend. I like her.”

Your breath catches.

“I like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts even when she has a towel. I like how she rolls her eyes like the world’s exhausting but she still shows up every day. I like that she lets me be nervous, but doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile. I like her laugh. A lot.”

Joshua doesn’t say anything, so Seokmin keeps going.

“I’m—I may not be able to call her my girlfriend. Not yet,” he says hastily. “But that doesn’t change the way I feel. I lo—like being around her. I like her, Shua.” 

You press your lips together, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands, your breath, your entire chest. You feel like a live wire. Humming, sparking at the edges with something dangerous and sweet.

None of that was part of the act.

And, fine. You wish it were real. Just a little bit. Just enough to close the distance between his feelings and yours.

You slip away from the corner of the shed before either boy notices you there. The cola in your hand has gone flat. Kind of like your plan.

The conversation makes a home underneath your skin, hangs like a cloud over your head. It exists even as you’re perched on the countertop in the employee break room, the sickly hum of the vending machine buzzing under the clatter of Seokmin's footsteps. He slots himself between your knees with the same ease he’s learned over the past few weeks, hands bracing on either side of your thighs. It would be routine now, if not for the fact that your heart is somewhere around your ankles.

His eyes search yours. “Are you okay?” he asks delicately, looking at you with that concerned glance he’s been throwing your way all afternoon. 

The thing about Seokmin is that he's gotten good at reading you lately, which would be great if you weren’t actively trying to keep your thoughts from turning into a romantic nosedive. You sigh. Might as well throw it all out. “I overheard you and Joshua,” you push out through your teeth. 

Seokmin freezes like you’ve just dropped on him  a bucket of ice water. “What?”

You offer a crooked smile, something flimsy and fragile. “You were good. Like, really convincing. Should’ve guessed you were a theater kid.”

He looks like he’s been punched. The breath leaves him slowly. “You thought I was lying.”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to. The way your gaze skitters off to the corner of the room is answer enough.

His voice goes soft when he says his name, and you presume it’s him readying you. He’s about to let you down gently, you think. “I—” he starts, and you refuse to hear it. Not without one final act of stupidity. 

You move before you can think. Your hand cups the back of his neck and you yank him forward, pressing your lips to his like it'll keep everything messy and tender at bay. It’s not careful. It’s not supposed to be. It’s a distraction, a fire alarm, an emotional eject button.

Seokmin doesn’t kiss you back, not immediately; his brain is still caught on whatever he was about to say. The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but it’s long enough for the door to swing open behind you.

“GUYS—”

You both tear apart like you’ve been electrocuted. Soonyoung stands at the doorway holding a neon slushie. The look on his face is the type of thing that would have him going viral on TikTok.

You and Seokmin exchange a look, wide-eyed and flushed.

It’s the worst time to get caught, and of course, that’s when it finally happens.

--

The fallout begins quietly.

Which is the worst part, really.

No fireworks, no messy confrontation, just an unrelenting silence that creeps in where easy laughter used to be. Every brush of Seokmin’s hand now feels weighted, every shared glance taut with the possibility of a conversation you’re not ready to have.

Worse, people are buying it. Hook, line, and sinker. After Soonyoung caught the two of you mid-liplock, the rumor mill went into overdrive, and suddenly, no one bats an eye when Seokmin shares his food with you, or when your knees knock beneath the merchandise booth. Everyone thinks you’re together. That you’re real.

It makes it harder than ever to fake it.

Seokmin still tries. He flashes you that warm grin and slings his arm around your shoulder like nothing’s changed, but it has. You can feel it in the way he hesitates before touching you, or how his laughter doesn’t quite reach his eyes when you tease him. He wants to talk about it. You know he does.

And he tries.

It happens after another long shift, the two of you walking side by side through the near-empty parking lot. The sky is bruised and pink at the edges, cotton-candy dusk descending on Carat Bay like an afterthought. He catches your wrist, gently but firmly.

“Can we just—talk?” he says, voice low, eyes impossibly sincere.

It’s the exact thing you’ve been avoiding. You look at his hand around your wrist and your heart hammers in your chest. You want to hear him out. You want to ask him which parts were real, and which ones were for show. You want to tell him it’s been pretty damn hard for you to tell the difference, even if you’re the one who laid out the blueprint months ago. 

But you’re a coward. And this isn’t part of the plan.

So you do what you’re best at.

You run.

You tug your hand free and turn on your heel. You don’t get far. Just past the bumpers, right by the yellow staff lines painted across the lot, you hear it—the telltale squeak of worn soles and a long-suffering sigh.

Changbin. 

He’s standing there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His eyes flick from you to Seokmin, whose hand is still hovering like it’s caught mid-air.

“Inside. Both of you,” Changbin says coolly. “HR wants a word.”

Great.

You’ve been trying to get fired for months. And now, at long last, it feels like your wish is about to come true.

Except the look Seokmin shoots you isn’t relief.

It’s heartbreak.

The HR room is ice cold. Not temperature-wise—someone must've left the thermostat on the exact edge of comfort. It’s cold in that awful, bureaucratic kind of way. Like nothing good has ever happened in here. Like no one’s ever left this place with dignity fully intact.

Changmin, the HR Manager, offers you both paper cups of water. His smile is so bland it’s offensive. “Let’s make this quick,” he says, as if he has something better to do than scold employees for handsy interactions in the Carat Bay parking lot. “There’ve been some... concerns.”

Your arms are crossed. Seokmin’s foot keeps tapping under the table, a nervous rhythm he’s trying to stifle.

“Rumors have been circulating,” Changmin continues, folding his hands neatly. “Several employees have reported seeing you two getting cozy on company time.”

You open your mouth, but Seokmin beats you to it. “We weren’t—I mean, it was nothing compromising,” he argues feebly. 

“The CCTV disagrees.”

Holy shit. You almost forgot about that. There are eyes and ears all over the place; you and Seokmin didn’t even have to wait around for Soonyoung. The two of you could have just made out in the merch booth and been done with it.

“You’re both aware of the rule,” Changmin goes on. “No romantic fraternization during work hours. No workplace relationships without disclosure. And certainly not in full view of customers or staff.”

“Yes,” you mutter.

Changmin sighs, as if he genuinely hates what’s about to happen. “After internal discussion, we’ve decided to terminate the employment of one party.”

It sinks in a beat too late, what’s wrong about the statement. 

One party. Only one of you is going to get sacked, and it’s pretty clear who it’s going to be. 

Seokmin’s head snaps toward you. “What? No, that—that doesn’t make sense,” he sputters. “We both broke the rule.”

Changmin's smile flickers. “Mr. Lee, you know very well your position in this company.”

Ah. There it is.

The heir card.

You could laugh, but it’d come out strangled.

“This doesn’t have to be a big thing,” Changmin says smoothly. “We’ll phrase it as a mutual separation. No disciplinary record. A clean reference, if needed.”

You stare at the condensation sliding down your paper cup. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To get fired. To be released from this pastel-colored theme park hellscape and finally live your own damn life.

And yet.

Beside you, Seokmin's voice breaks. “It wasn’t just her. If anyone should take responsibility—”

“This is final,” Changmin says, in the politest voice imaginable.

You got what you had planned for. Why does it feel like shit?

You find Seokmin in the parking lot after the meeting, his hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders drawn up like they’re trying to shield him from the world. The Carat Bay sign flickers behind him, casting a tacky blue halo over his profile. You take slow steps toward him, gravel crunching under your shoes.

“Hey,” you say tentatively. “I—I didn’t think it would go like that. I thought we’d both get fired. That was the point.”

Seokmin doesn’t look at you. His jaw works, like he’s trying to swallow something sharp. “I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted,” he says flatly.

“That’s not—” You stop yourself, bite your tongue. “You know that’s not what I meant. I didn’t want you to get hurt by this. I didn’t think they’d—only fire me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, the kind that tastes of ash. “Of course they didn’t. Why would they? I’m Lee Seokmin, Prince of Carat Bay. Fucking heir to the tacky throne.”

You step closer. “Seokmin—”

“No, seriously. This is the first time I ever tried to do something for myself, and I managed to ruin it by—” He breaks off, exhales hard through his nose. “By catching feelings for someone who only wanted a clean way out.”

You flinch. “That's not fair.”

“Isn't it?” he snaps. “You heard what I told Shua, right? You were eavesdropping. So you know. You know I wasn't acting. You kissed me anyway, like it didn’t matter. Like it was just another scene.”

You shake your head. “I kissed you because I didn’t know what to say,” you say, voice cracking. “Because I was scared. Not because I didn’t care.”

Seokmin finally looks at you, and it guts you. His eyes are red-rimmed, vulnerable in a way he’s never let you see. When he speaks, it’s as good as a confession, “I thought maybe, just maybe, if I kept being useful, if I kept showing up, you’d start to want me for real,” he manages. “But I guess I really was just an acting partner, huh?” 

He pulls back when you reach for him. “Don’t,” he says, looking less like the boy you’ve come to love and more like the ghost of him. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.” 

And then he’s walking away, shoulders still hunched, hands still buried in his pockets, as if letting them out might betray too much. You stay rooted to the spot, the neon lights buzzing overhead, your name already half-forgotten by the place—and the coworker—you were trying so hard to leave behind. 

--

You have at least two more weeks before your exile from Carat Bay is final, and you tell yourself you’re okay.

You tell yourself that when Seokmin, who you’ve worked elbow-to-elbow with all summer, starts pretending you’re not breathing the same air as him. You tell yourself that when he disappears to ‘stock’ the back room every time you so much as look at him.

You tell yourself that when he hands you inventory lists like he’s passing secret messages in a Cold War spy thriller. Gaze averted, fingers barely brushing yours.

You’re fine.

It’s fine.

You’re very normal about the fact that the boy who once had a casual palm curved to the slope of your ass now can’t stand to be within two feet of you. The boy who used to trip over himself to steal kisses, to coax soft sounds out of your throat in the shadowed corners of Carat Bay, now can’t even meet your eyes.

The merchandise booth is tiny, the kind of claustrophobic that’s usually endearing in the early stages of a slow-burn romance. Now it feels like a battlefield. 

Every interaction is a landmine. You joke with Soonyoung and Joshua louder than necessary just to fill the silence Seokmin leaves behind. You laugh a little too hard when Mingyu teases you about winning the Fastest Employee-to-HR Pipeline award. You act normal. You’re good at acting normal.

Seokmin, for all his theater-kid roots, isn’t.

His silences are loud. His stiffness is louder.

You catch him watching you sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking. There’s a hollow, guilty kind of sadness in it, like he’s punishing himself. Like he’s mourning something neither of you can name.

You don’t know how to fix it. You’re not sure you should. Wasn't this what you wanted?

You got out. You got what you needed. It’s not your fault if somewhere along the way, Seokmin handed you something far messier, far more dangerous, and you didn’t know how to hold it.

You clock in. You clock out. You memorize the days until your last shift like you’re counting down to parole.

You don’t think about how empty the booth feels now.

You don’t think about the way Seokmin used to smile at you like you put the sun in the sky.

You don’t think at all.

You can’t afford to.

And, really, you don’t mean to cry. You’d told yourself you’d get through your shift, maybe duck into the bathroom if it got bad enough. You could’ve handled this like an adult. Quietly. Dignified.

Instead, here you are in the back break room, facedown against the sticky laminate table. Your shoulders are shaking, and you’re sniffling embarrassingly loud as you try to muffle the sound.

“Whoa, hey,” comes Soonyoung’s voice, full of immediate alarm. “Hey, what—oh my God, are you crying?”

You don’t look up. You can’t. You just groan low into your arms, trying to make the world swallow you whole. Of all the people who could find you. 

There’s the rustling sound of Soonyoung pulling out the chair next to you, scooting in close. A warm, awkward hand pats the middle of your back.

“Hey,” he says again, softer now. “Hey, it’s okay. Breakups suck. Like, really bad. Especially when it’s someone you see every day at work. That’s brutal.”

You let out a wet, miserable noise.

“Everyone’s been talking,” Soonyoung continues, unaware of the dagger twisting deeper into your gut. “Like, we all kinda figured something was wrong since Seokmin’s been… I dunno, all weird. He barely even smiles anymore. He’s acting like you killed his cat.”

You lift your head just enough to squint at Soonyoung through bleary eyes. “It wasn’t even real,” you whisper.

“Huh?”

You sniff and rub your sleeve across your nose, cringing at yourself. “It was all fake. Me and Seokmin. We were faking it.”

Soonyoung blinks at you. “Like… the relationship?”

You nod miserably.

“Why?”

Through your tears, you tell Soonyoung everything. The plan, the faking it, the makeout sessions. The way it ended on a Wednesday, of all days, which is terrible—because you both had to clock in the next morning like you hadn’t just broken each other’s hearts. 

Soonyoung leans back in his chair, processing this with the same serious expression he reserves for really important things, like choosing what to order for lunch.

“Okay,” he says after a beat. “That’s kinda… diabolical. But also, like, you and Seokmin… you’re just idiots in love.”

You let out a half-sob, half-laugh, wiping your eyes with the heel of your palm.

“I mean it,” Soonyoung says, smiling now, in that rare, earnest way of his. “You’re both idiots. And it’s kinda beautiful, if you think about it.”

You don’t know if ‘beautiful’ is the right word for the mess you’ve made.

But maybe—maybe it could be.

--

You always figure there’s a big act of romance in every rom-com. A grand, sweeping gesture by the male lead. Unfortunately, your male lead is out of commission; you decide to take things into your own hands. 

It’s your last day of work, and you have nothing left to lose.

Lunch time is your choice of poison. You wait for the clock to hit exactly 12:30, and then you hit Send after making sure everybody who matters is in the breakroom. 

Someone gasps. Someone else drops their coffee. Employees and managers alike pull out their phones to see what’s so stunning. 

The screenshots are in the group chat. Seokmin’s texts to you over the past few months, confessions of all the petty little sabotage attempts he’s made at the merchandise booth: mislabeling shirts, sneaking wrong sizes into bags, purposefully miscounting plushies. 

People are side-eyeing you, whispering among themselves—

“Damn, she’s really airing him out.”

“Was the breakup that bad?” 

“Evil ass ex.” 

You ignore them all.

You’re focused on Seokmin, who is seated between Joshua and Soonyoung. When he glances at his lockscreen, he does a double take. Blinks. Shoots up, his expression slack with horror. He looks like he’s about to make a run for it. 

You cross the room in a couple of quick strides. Before Seokmin can say a word, you grab him by the collar of his stupid Carat Bay polo and kiss him. Long. Hard. Unapologetic. 

Your mouth moves against his like you’re staking a claim. Like you’re not done with him yet. 

The breakroom explodes in noise—shrieks, whistles, laughter—but you barely hear it. Your brain is doing that thing again, the one where your entire world narrows into nothing whenever you’re up against Seokmin like this. 

You’ve known since the first time you kissed him that he would ruin you. You were right. 

You break the kiss to breathe, to murmur against his lips, “You’re definitely going to get fired now.” 

You don’t need to look to know a few mothers outside the breakroom are going to be scandalized. That the CCTV in the corner is blinking red, and Seokmin’s face is angled so you absolutely cannot manipulate or miss who had just participated in public indecency. 

For the first time in days, Seokmin smiles.

Not the fake half-smile he’s been giving you lately. Not the sad, wilted one. A real one. Wide and bright and devastatingly beautiful. He cups your face, leans in, and kisses you again—softer this time, like a promise. 

Screw the script. You're writing your own ending.

--

EPILOGUE. 

The drive is long, but not unbearable. 

Soonyoung and Joshua have packed the car with snacks, and between the three of you, there’s enough chaos to keep the ride from feeling too heavy. It's only when the road smooths out into rolling countryside and the first glimpse of the shelter comes into view—an unassuming building with bright, inviting banners—that your heart tightens in your chest.

“There it is,” Soonyoung says, leaning forward against his seatbelt, eyes wide.

“Cute,” Joshua adds, pulling his sunglasses down to get a better look. “Looks like it belongs to someone who loves, like, every living thing.”

You laugh, amused. “Sounds about right.”

The car barely parks before you're throwing the door open, feet hitting the gravel with an eager crunch. Seokmin is already at the entrance, waving both arms above his head like he's trying to guide a plane in for landing. You sprint the last few steps and collide into him, arms wrapping around his middle.

He lets out a winded, delighted noise, hugging you so tight your feet lift off the ground for a second. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here,” you murmur against his neck. “I’d be a terrible girlfriend otherwise.” 

Behind you, Soonyoung and Joshua groan loudly.

“God, it’s worse than I thought,” Soonyoung sighs. “You’d think the honeymoon phase would be over by now.” 

“It’s watching a rom-com on 2x speed,” Joshua agrees.

Seokmin only grins against your hair, clearly unfazed. He sets you back down but keeps an arm looped lazily around your shoulders as he ushers everyone inside.

The shelter is still new—there’s the faint smell of fresh paint, and not every kennel is full yet—but the energy is unmistakably Seokmin: warm, bright, buzzing with earnest hope. He introduces you to every animal like he’s presenting you with priceless treasures. You fall in love with each one.

You had properly fallen in love with Seokmin shortly after you were both freed from the clutches of Carat Bay. The two of you talked it out. He asked you on a proper date. The rest became history, and the story of your origins—now about half a year in the rearview—proves to be a fun tale to swap during drinking sessions. 

This time, you both got what you wanted, and so much more. 

At one point, Seokmin presses a kiss to your temple. You instinctively lift onto your toes to kiss his jaw in return. You both giggle like teenagers, noses brushing, completely lost in each other.

From behind you, Joshua pretends to gag. “Do we need to leave you two alone with the puppies?” he says judgmentally, arms tightening around the Rottweiler puppy he’d been eyeing for weeks. 

Soonyoung joins in on the teasing. “Disgustingly cute,” he announces dryly, already halfway out the door so he can escape you and Seokmin. And then, he throws in as an afterthought: “You two deserve each other.” 

You glance up at Seokmin. He beams down at you like you’re the only thing he can see.

It pains you to admit—but for once, Kwon Soonyoung might be right about something. 

[trivia-yandere]

now that milf is kinda?? becoming a ‘series’ COULD WE AT LEAST GET ANOTHER PART FOR ‘OFF LIMITS’ AND ‘WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO DO?’ PLSSSSS

like ceo jk, hybrid jk, milf jk, dark web jk, actor jk, step-bro jk is just going to have to continue waiting i suppose???

fuck it, another part to brother's best friend jk!!

off limits (3)

the act of sneaking around behind your brothers back is highly exciting for you and jungkook.

word count: 4.632

warning: smut, secret dating, jealous mc/jungkook, alcohol intake, kisses/neck kisses, oral sex (m), oral fixation, unprotected sex, praise, degradation lmao, mc slobbering like a slut, dirty talk, creampie, semi-public sex,

part one | two

”That’s a lot of toppings.” you laugh, witnessing the way Jungkook douse his frozen yogurt with fudge - not including the amount of fruit, sprinkles, granola and even candy already on it. 

“The more the better, baby.” Jungkook winks, rounding around you to get even more topics.

You roll your eyes, doing the same.

The last two months, you and Jungkook had been secretly dating. It took over 3 weeks for Jay to not watch you like a hawk after the incident at Jungkook’s house.

Now, even though you and Jungkook remain careful, you’re able to freely come and go without his questioning it much.

You have to admit that sneaking around with Jungkook is fun. When Jay’s friends would be around, you and Jungkook would share glances, his lips would form a little smirk and he’d send you a wink. When no one is looking, he’d slip away to the bathroom where you’d be waiting just to kiss you  - all because it was a rush.

Jungkook at times had his doubts. He loved Jay like his own brother and going behind his back wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he also loved you. You were someone he couldn’t keep my mind off of, especially after having you for the first time. Each time Jungkook thought about confessing to his friend, you would shut him down.

You didn’t want Jay and Jungkook to be against one another because of you. Deep down, you also had the fear that Jungkook would end things with you out of respect for your brother, an act of finally coming to his senses.

“I think we should binge watch Temptation Island later.” you say prior to bringing a spoonful of frozen yogurt into your mouth. You hum at the sweet taste. “Lina’s been trying to get me to watch it for weeks now.”

Jungkook’s already halfway done with his frozen yogurt when you speak, taking large spoonfuls, his eyebrows knit together and a look of pure disgust on his face.

That meant Jungkook liked the way it tasted, as weird as it was.

“Later tonight?” Jungkook asks, licking his lips. “Jimin’s having a party.”

“A party?” you tilt your head. “I wasn’t invited.”

Which was weird because you were always invited to Jimin’s parties. There wasn’t any mention of it before now.

Jungkook nods. “You know why.” he says, a glint in his eyes. “Jimin knows about us.”

Your eyes widen slightly, your mouth falling open. 

“You told him?” you murmur. You’re unsure why - it was only you and Jungkook in the frozen yogurt shop. The teenager behind the counter could care less about your and Jungkook’s secret relationship. “What if he accidentally slips up and tells Jay?”

“I had to.” Jungkook takes another scoop of his frozen yogurt. “He caught on to us.”

You scoff. “How? We’re very discreet!”

Only discrete when Jay was around. However, this was also Jimin. Jimin had a keen eye for these things. He knew of your crush on Jungkook since high school and pondered if, while now in college, if it ever subsided. He kept an eye on you, not reporting back to Jay this time since you were an adult.

Jimin noticed just how close you and Jungkook had become. The wandering eyes whenever you two thought no one was looking. The subtle touches here and there, the smiles and laughter. 

It was painfully obvious - only to him, however.

“Jimin’s not going to tell.” Jungkook assures. 

That didn’t mean Jungkook hadn’t been confronted. Jimin, while Jay and Taehyung were arguing over a game of checkers, both tipsy, had leaned against Jay's kitchen island. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at him - “You’re fucking Y/N.” he stated in a low, hushed tone. 

Jungkook denies it at first, but then he squeezes his hands together. An immediate sign that Jimin was right.

“Jay’s going to kick your ass when he finds out.” Jimin sing-songs. He grabs a bag of chips and turns to walk away. “Secrets safe with me.”

“That doesn’t explain why I’m not invited.” you pout a bit. You wanted to hang out with Jungkook. You didn’t have class tomorrow, either. There was an abundance of things you wanted to do - watch Temptation Island and grow irritated, make clay sculptures like you’ve seen on Tiktok. Sit on his face.

“It’s not that you’re not invited.” Jungkook has reached the bottom of his frozen yogurt by now. “Jimin knows you just can’t keep your hands off of me-”

“Now you’re just full of shit.” you snicker. “It’s you who can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“-and how else are we going to keep our secret when you’re going to be there provoking me?”

You rolled your eyes.

You had every intention of going - and you did.

After you and Jungkook ate frozen yogurt, he had dropped you off at home; Jay being at work. That didn’t mean that you weren’t going to jump into his lap and initiate a makeout session that Jungkook willingly participated in. His arms wrapped around you to hold you close against him while your hands cusp his cheeks.

“You can always come in for a bit.” you hummed against his lips, pecking it a few times. “Jay isn’t off until another hour.”

“That’s risky.” Jungkook squeezes your hips. “Jay will see my car out here and know that I’m in there fucking you good.” he jokes.

You roll your eyes. “Not if you park it down the street.” you hum, rubbing your nose against his. “How would he know? It’ll be dark out by the time he’s off.”

Jungkook pecks your lips. It was insane that he was considering it, right? He never enjoyed saying no to you.

“Especially since you’re planning on leaving me to go to Jimin’s party.” you say against his lips.

“You’re guilt tripping me now?” Jungkook snickers. “I’ll be inside in about five minutes.”

Your smile widens. “Can’t wait.”

Neither could Jungkook.

Even if Jungkook’s conscious knows that doing this with you was risky, it brought such a rush through the both of you. The act of being caught doing something neither of you should be doing just makes you two want to do it even more.

Jungkook’s lips are on you as soon as he enters your bedroom. His hand roams your already naked body, groaning against your lips. “You’re already naked and ready to be fucked.”

“You’re not naked enough.” you respond, tugging at his shirt.

Jungkook leans away from you enough to remove his shirt, throwing it aside. He’s already tugging at his belt, inching to remove his clothes and be closer to you.

Your legs wrap around Jungkook’s waist, bringing him close to you. You loved kissing him. He was a naturally passionate person, as if every time you kiss is the first time. He would savor the taste of your lips, kissing you gently and slowly.

Then there were times when Jungkook's kisses would be needy, kissing you with such intensity. It would grow hot and heavy, his tongue dominating with yours.

“‘wanna make you feel good.” you break the kiss first, your cheeks warm. 

Jungkook allows you to flip him so he’s on his back now. Your pussy is so close to his cock that it throbs. He swallows, licking his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod your head. You decide to tease Jungkook, kissing his soft cheeks, down his jaw to his chin. You make your way towards his neck.

Goosebumps erupt throughout Jungkook’s skin as you begin to kiss from his neck, to his collarbone to his chest. His hands rub along your back as you get lower and lower.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me to go to Jimin’s party.” you say. Your hand wraps around Jungkook’s cock. You glance up at him.

Jungkook bites his lip, gulping once more. “If I don’t go, Jay would be suspicious, don’t you think? I’m always at a party with them.”

You roll your eyes, but Jungkook had a point. Your tongue swipes at his tip, causing him to inhale sharply. 

“I’ll miss you.” you say against his cock, twirling your tongue teasingly around his tip. You can taste the salty pre-cum and you’re determined to have him shaking in the next five minutes.

You enjoyed sucking Jungkook’s cock. 

The act of sucking dick is far more enjoyable when it’s someone you actually liked. Doing this with Jungkook was an activity you highly favored - witnessing the way his breathing would hitch in his throat with each suckle onto his hardened length. The way his thighs would shake a bit as you take him deeper and deeper into your wet mouth. The groans that would come from his own parted lips.

Your eyes would glance up at him to find that his own are fluttering. His head would be drawn back in relaxation.

It would cause your own heat to throb with such need - just like now. You aren’t being quiet as you engulfed his cock into your mouth. Your soft hand is gripped tightly, gripping his cock along with you when you reach the tip.

Jungkook himself is whimpering like a bitch - but it isn’t his fault you’re this good. You suck him as if it brings you pleasure, as well - and maybe in a way, it does. He knows just how wet you get by hearing him moan for you. You’d often clench your thighs together and provoke more moans from his lips and each time, it worked.

“You’re so good at sucking my cock, baby.” Jungkook sighs, a hand resting on your head. “You always look so pretty doing it.”

There goes the throbbing - you were also a sucker for praise just as you were for degradation. Or maybe you were just into whatever as long as it was Jungkook.

Through his lashes, Jungkook witnesses a bit of drool trickle from the corner of your mouth as you take his cock deeper and deeper, your throat tightening around him. He closes his eyes, whining at how good it feels, the pressure building up deep in his stomach. He was never afraid to moan for you, especially when you were treating him so well.

Jungkook’s fingers tightens in your hair and without warning, he pries you off of him. You gag, saliva flying down your chin. Your eyes blink a few times until your blurry vision is clear to look at your boyfriend.

“I wanna cum in you.” Jungkook pants. 

You nod your head hastily, already climbing into Jungkook’s lap. Your thighs widen to and gently,  you sink lower where Jungkook’s cock is already waiting, his palm wrapped firmly around it to assist in entering it inside of you.

“You’re already so wet by just sucking my cock, huh?” Jungkook murmurs, his tip running through your wet folds. “You always get so wet.”

Your walls clench when you feel Jungkook begin to enter you. You whine a bit, the feeling euphoric. One palm lays firmly around your waist, another on your ass as he thrusts upwards. He grips the flesh in his palm, sinking you firmly on top of him.

“You feel so good.” Jungkook gasps.

You take the first initiative to rise and fall, needing to feel him entirely. Jungkook allows you, fully enjoying the way you take control and use him for your own pleasure.

You rocked your hips, mouth fallen open to let out short whines of pleasure when his cock springs inside of you by your own doing. The sight of Jungkook beneath you, completely pussy whipped, sends electricity through you. His staminas always outmatched your own, but this had given you enough will to keep on, completely blissful and full of pride that Jungkook was like this because of you.

“Your cock feels so good, Kookie.” you coo, hovering above his face as your hips buckle more and more, skin slapping echoing off your walls. Your pussy is so wet, gushing out entirely and onto his thighs that it’s nearly unbearable to handle.

“We’re being so loud right now. We can be caught at any moment.” A hand lays onto Jungkook’s cheek, a thumb tracing along his panting lips. Jungkook’s eyes open a bit to look at you - they’re dark and full of lustful bliss. “Maybe I should slow down…”

You’re only teasing him, but Jungkook gives you the reaction you want.

“Please don’t.” Jungkook whines, gripping onto your hips and ass tighter. “You’re so good at this, baby. I love your pussy so much.”

You pick up the pace, bouncing onto Jungkook’s needy cock with every bit of will you have. It hits against your sweet spot and sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body. You couldn’t help but want to fuck him with every fiber of your being; especially with how hot he looked beneath you. 

You press your lips against Jungkook’s firmly, prying them open so your tongue can dance with his. Jungkook’s hips begin to meet you halfway, allowing a more harsher pounding - all until you stop bouncing and let him take control.

It wasn’t a complete mistake, Jungkook knows how to fuck you just as good. Your pussy squelches for him. Squeezing and unsqueezing with each punishing thrust that you were beginning to see stars. 

Your teeth clamp down onto Jungkook’s bottom lip, tugging it slightly. There is a tightness in your stomach with each thrust that has you whimpering against him, your forehead pressed against his. “I want you to cum in me.” you beg, knowing that you were so close and the action was going to be what was going to send you over the edge.

“I know you do.” Jungkook sighs. His thrusts are already sloppy. “You always do, baby. You love having my cum in you, huh? You’re such a fucking whore for me and I love it.”

The pressure subsides when the warmth fills you entirely. You're shaking against Jungkook as his cum fills you up. You let out a tired sigh, slumping onto his chest.

Jungkook’s chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily. His eyes are closed, his cock still inside of you. A hand rubs against your back softly. It was another five minutes until you moved from on top of him to beside him, an arm around his torso.

“Are you coming back later tonight?” you asked, eyes closed. “Jay never comes home after parties.”

Jay also goes to work the next day, which is such a dangerous combo, but you have to applaud his will to get shit faced just 5 hours before he clocks into work.

“Me being here is already risky.” Jungkook responds. He presses his lips into your hair, inhaling the scent prior to pressing a kiss onto it. “Why don’t you just come to mine later? I’m off tomorrow,  too.”

You and Jungkook lay in silence for who knows how long until there’s footsteps heard throughout the home. 

Jay was back. He never enters your room without permission, so you weren’t worried. Quietly, Jungkook begins to dress, the moment not truly ruined, but he wished he had more time with you.

You poke your head out, eyes roaming the hallway to see where Jay had gone. Down the hall, you hear the shower on.

“Coast is clear.” you sing-song, whispering to the man hovering behind you.

You linger at your front door as Jungkook makes his way out. He turns to you for a moment and smirks. “Don’t look so sad, my love.” Jungkook murmurs. He wraps you in a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’ll have all my attention later.”

You lift your head so Jungkook can press a kiss to your lips - and he does. You knew full and well that you would have his attention later.

Right when you showed up to Jimin’s party.

Jimin was always here when there was drama.

Not in his personal life, of course. But others? He loved it.

Just like now, witnessing you and Jungkook glaring at one another. Both of you are drunk and seething and only he notices it.

It began when you had walked right into the party, a sea of dancing bodies all around the large home. You were none the wiser when you witnessed Jungkook next to a woman - who was obviously flirting with the man, yet he’s as oblivious as he always is. 

Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first, and even if he had it wasn’t as if he was entertaining the woman. He was just too nice to tell her that he had no interest in a conversation. That, and he was terrible at flirting cues - the batting eyelashes, wide smile and constant laughing even if nothing he said was remotely funny.

It was hilarious for Jimin to watch. Especially when Jungkook had finally noticed you. The look in your eyes as your eyes glanced between the two of them. It was as if a light bulb flashed in Jungkook’s mind, and he finally realized that the girl wanted more than a conversation.

Jungkook couldn’t pursue you here without appearing suspicious. Jay hadn’t noticed your presence yet, and Jimin doubted he would. He was already drunk and upstairs participating in beer pong to know that his sister was downstairs in a rather tight dress that revealed more than he would approve of.

Jimin began to watch you and Jungkook as if it was his favorite reality show. You downed shot after shot, ignoring Jungkook entirely. When he would get close enough to catch your attention, you would turn on your heel and go somewhere else entirely.

An hour in now and Jungkook was leaning against a wall not too far from you. He watches you with annoyed, yet interested, eyes as you dance. You were enjoying yourself, he thinks, or maybe you were enjoying ignoring him while you know he watches you closely.

Jungkook doesn’t step up as he watches you, beer bottle in hand. He sips it.

Jungkook doesn’t step up until there’s a man directly behind you. Jimin watches, his eyes glancing between a now more puzzled Jungkook and you, an equally puzzled expression.

It happens so slow in Jimin’s eyes. The way Jungkook storms over, pushing the dancing bodies away to get right between the man - who is an acquaintance - and you. There’s a few words exchanged that Jimin cannot make out of, but he reads Jungkook’s lips and he’s sure he’s telling the man to fuck right off.

Jimin takes a shot as Jungkook turns to you, his eyes glaring just as yours are, but neither of you speak. It was so dramatic, he thinks, the loud music. Sea of people surrounding the two of you, yet he’s positive that at this moment, it’s just you and Jungkook. The music in your ears is dying down and the people are just blurs in the background.

That, or maybe Jimin was so drunk that he was making a whole plot in his head.

“You’re drunk.” Jungkook says.

“So are you.” you retort. “Where’s your friend?”

“You know who my friends are.”

You cross your arms. “Do I?”

Jungkook watches you for a moment. He had watched you the entire time, tight dress riding up your thighs with each sway of your hips before the man had come and attempted to dance with you. An action he was never going to allow, no matter how upset you were with him.

“I’ve been watching you since you came in.” Jungkook speaks.

Jimin rarely dims the lights, but he feels as though now it’s needed. For this moment, he thinks. On his phone, he does just that. 

Thank God for smart lights. 

Jungkook would thank him for allowing him some sort of privacy - especially if Jay suddenly appears and witnesses this. Now, you and Jungkook blended perfectly into the crowd of dancing bodies.

“I bet you have.”

Jungkook feels more comfortable touching you now that the scene was darker. The music is upbeat enough for the both of you to keep up. He turns you around, placing his hands onto your hips. 

“You’ve been distracting me.”

You decide to do what you were doing prior, swaying your hips now against Jungkook instead of alone by yourself.

“You must want to get caught.”

The small quarrel you and he were having appeared to have diminished, unknowingly to them because of Jimin and the lack of light. It was easier now to blend with people that couldn’t truly see you unless they were close. 

“You’re the one behind me.” you respond. “Maybe it’s you that wants to get caught.”

Jungkook’s lips are on your neck, his hands gripping tighter to keep you firmly against him. 

“You look so good in this dress.” Jungkook says against your neck. “You knew what you were doing coming here in this.”

You were already warm, but Jungkook was now making you hot. You and he continue dancing, his hands roaming your body for whatever feel he could get. 

“Suddenly you’re not afraid of getting caught.” your head leans back and turns to look up at him. Those eyes are familiar, you think. The yearning eyes he has whenever he wants to bend you over and fuck you. 

“No one’s really watching us now, are they?” Jungkook’s hands roam upwards past your breast and onto your chin.

Jimin has to admit that a drunk Jungkook was a far bolder one. He watches him place his lips onto yours, all the while you and he sway against the beat. This was far better than any reality tv he’s watched.

Your lips dance with Jungkook, completely uncaring about being in a room full of people who both knew you and him - together or separately. As of right now, it was just you and Jungkook, both of your minds swirling with liquid courage.

“I want you.” you pant against his lips. 

“What happened to playing hard to get?” Jungkook chuckles, pecking your lips once more. 

“We can go upstairs.” you murmur, turning to face him.

“Jay is upstairs.”

It’s as though Jungkook suddenly remembers where you and he are at. His eyes glances around, ensuring that no one has been watching you. Of course, he doesn’t notice Jimin.

“Can’t we go home then?” you pout. You grab his hands and slightly squeeze them. “I need you.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek.  “Now?” he questions. 

You nod your head. You come closer to him, tugging his hand. “I’m so wet.” you murmur. “Just feel.”

Jungkook swallows. You’re dangerously close. Your eyes watch him just as his hand discreetly goes between your legs and swipe at your clothed clit.

Wet wasn’t the word - drenched was.Your cotton panties were doing a good job at concealing your arousal, but Jungkook groans at just feeling how excited you were.

“Fuck, baby.”

Jungkook grabs a hold of your hand. “Follow me.”

The bathrooms were occupied. Jungkook wasn’t going to risk trying the one upstairs and bumping into Jay. He had promised to meet him later on for a game of beer pong, and he never turned down a game so leaving before that wasn’t going to happen.

“What if we get caught here?”

The sun room is the only part of the house that’s empty, as strange as it was. It’s dark out and the frosted glass on the walls allows a bit of privacy. The top of said sun room has regular glass windows where the moon and stars shine just bright enough for Jungkook and you to see one another.

“Isn’t that what makes this fun?” Jungkook smirks. He closes the door behind you and him, the music muffled. “Imagine someone coming out here and finding me fucking you?”

You lick your lips, clenching your thighs together. 

Jimin’s sunroom was simple, a round rug that held a round coffee table and four surrounding chairs. A few plants surround the room, some tall while others not. 

“Please fuck me, Kook.”

Jungkook grunts. “You’re that desperate?” he scoffs.

You are. You don’t want foreplay or anything - you just want his cock buried deep inside of you.

You lean against a chair, hiking up your dress. Jungkook is just as needy, undoing his belt and pushing his pants down.

“You’re such a fucking whore, Y/N. So cock hungry that you’re willing to get fucked anywhere.”

Jungkook’s fingers hook between your panties and shoves them down. Your glistening cunt welcomes him and without much thought, he dives in.

You and Jungkook aren’t even trying to be quiet. His hips snap and he’s fucking you with such punishing - yet delicious - speed. Your ass bounces against him, pussy squelching loudly as the sound of skin slapping dances around the room.

“My pretty girl,” Jungkook grunts. In and out, in and out - he fucks you with such need. Your pussy hypnotizes him and all he can focus on is the way you cream against his cock, whimpering and begging for more. “you’re such a good little whore, Y/N. Fuck,” he lets out a strangled groan. “all mine. I’m all yours, too.”

Your eyes glances at the shut door, adrenaline rushing through you at the thought of someone finding you and Jungkook in here. His fucking you with such greed, showing you and anyone else who saw that you were his.

That finally Jeon Jungkook was yours, and no one else. After silently crushing on him since your youth, now you and Jungkook are together. He was as yours just as much as you were his.

“I love you so much, Kook~”

It was easier saying it seeing as you’ve said it before - countless times. All those back when he thought of you as a little sister. Now, however, it causes his heart to jolt in his chest and the familiar pressure in his stomach to return. “Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, coming closer to you. “I-I love you, too.”

It didn’t feel weird saying - Jungkook did love you. It was more complicated now, only because of your brother, but he didn’t feel like he said it out of lust. He genuinely did have love for you, far more than he had when you and he were children.

Jungkook shoots warm cum deep inside of you, his right hand reaching between your legs to rub at your clit. You’re gripping his cock, thighs shaking with overstimulation until you’re cumming all over him.

“Oh,”

The door opens for a moment and Taehyung walks halfway through it before noticing Jungkook and you. His eyes are wide and slowly, he begins to back out. “I see the room’s already taken. Fuck,” he hisses.

The door closes and for a moment, Jungkook and you are silent.

“Is he…”

“He’s drunk.” Jungkook assures. “He’s not going to remember walking in here.”

Jungkook pulls your panties back up and your dress down before fixing himself. You sit slump against the chair to catch your breath.

“We should tell Jay.” 

Your eyes glances at Jungkook who sits besides you in another seat.

You bite your lip.

“It doesn’t have to be now or even a month from now.” Jungkook says. “But…we can’t keep this secret forever. I can’t keep pretending to hold it together around you.”

You softly smile, recalling the way Jungkook had glared daggers at the man before.

“And neither can you.”

Jungkook’s teasing, but you’re fully aware of that yourself. Your hand tangles with his and he brings it to his lips. 

“Until then,” you give him a playful smile. “you’re still going to fuck me when he’s asleep down the hall?”

Jungkook laughs aloud. “Of course.” he says - because the act of sneaking into your room as if you and he were horny teenagers in a forbidden romance was fun.

trivia-yandere: hopefully this final part satiates you guys :3

@sweetempathprunetree @investedreader @darkuni63 @chimmy-licious @momnomnom @dreamersparacosm @deeznutkooks @purple-realms @jenniebyrubies @ahgasegotarmy116 @marylight098 @matryoshka-poetry @laross860 @jimineepaboya @joonislife @vsr4197 @amyelbahary08 @jkmyyou

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

“all’s well that ends well to end up with you”⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

what song your love story with the blue lock boys would sound like.

part 1; rin, isagi, reo, kaiser

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧  ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

itoshi rin - chemtrails over the country club (lana del rey)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ polaroid photos, childhood love story, nostalgic summers, pushing the other into the pool, eating at a corner resturaunt, dim lights, eating ice cream, walks on the beach, watching the ocean and sunset together, falling asleep tangled in each other's arms talking about childhood memories

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧  ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

isagi yoichi - invisible string (taylor swift)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ pictures of each other as phone wallpapers, dates in the park, late night calls, frozen yogurt, dancing in the rain, getting lost and finding each other easily, feeding stray dogs, "i love you" first thing in the morning, talking about the future, eyes softening, hands always laced together

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧  ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

mikage reo - sailor song (gigi perez)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ accidental love, pining, down bad, passionate kisses, brushing hair out of your face, "just because" gifts, hundreds of bouquets of roses, constant trips to jewelry stores, learning to enjoy the simple things in life, kisses on cheeks, food fights while baking, soft words in the middle of the night

(a/n: i know this song is wlw and i fully support, but i just think that this song matches reo very well. thank you for your understanding!)

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧  ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

michael kaiser - until i found you (stephan sanchez and em beihold)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ beginning to believe in love, the look of love, "mein schatz", tight hugs, kissing tattoos, soft sweet nothings, kisses with tongue, reassurance, learning how to be a human being, darry ring being slid on fingers, fingers tangled in and messing up hair, "i love you" being whispered like a prayer

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧  ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

this took way too long for some reason

[lexiputellas]

Not A Date from the broken vows series

The house was finally quiet.

Upstairs, Dolores was reading to Iris in a slow, gentle voice that drifted down the stairs. You couldn’t make out the words, but the cadence was soothing. Nora had stopped giggling ten minutes ago. You pictured her passed out on top of her comforter, tangled in glittery gift bags and torn wrapping paper, still wearing the paper crown someone had handed her during cake.

You stood barefoot in the kitchen, wine in hand, every bone in your body humming with exhaustion. That specific post-birthday-party fatigue: part joy, part chaos hangover, part identity crisis.

Then your phone buzzed on the counter.

@ elliemercer:

So. Did you survive?

You smiled. For the first time today, it wasn’t polite or forced. It just happened.

You:

Barely.

You took a sip of wine. Let it rest on your tongue.

Another buzz.

@ elliemercer:

Do you want to have a drink?

You choked. Actually choked. Set the glass down too hard and backed away from it like it had bitten you.

You stared at your phone for a full five seconds, frozen.

Oh my god.

You turned in a slow circle in the middle of the kitchen.

She saw me today. I had a ‘Happy Birthday’ sticker on my boobs. There was frosting on my sleeve.

You grabbed the fridge handle. Opened it. Closed it. Opened it again and stared at an expired yogurt like it might answer for your entire romantic past.

Okay. It’s just a drink. It’s not a date. Not a thing. Just… a casual beverage.

You paused. Voice quieter.

She’s not Alexia.

Your eyes flicked to the counter. You could still see the knife Alexia used to slice the cake earlier. Her bracelets had clinked against the countertop. She’d looked tired. Focused. Like this wasn’t strange. Like she hadn’t ripped your whole life apart just weeks ago, like cutting cake in your kitchen was still her place to be.

You shook your head, pressing your palms to your cheeks.

No. No, no, no. I haven’t shaved.

Wait. I’m lasered. That’s why I haven’t shaved. I’m smooth like a marble countertop. That’s right. I’m unstoppable.

Wait, why am I thinking that? I’m not having sex with her. Or—maybe I will? No. I’m not.

You:

Where?

The answer came quickly.

@ elliemercer:

I know a bar. I think you’d like it.

Your heart gave a single, measured thump. Not panic. Not fear. Something quieter. Older.

You:

Okay. I’ll meet you there. In 40 minutes?

@ elliemercer:

I’ll be waiting.

You stared at the screen like it might dissolve if you blinked, especially after she shared the name of the place.

Then you bolted into motion.

Upstairs, everything was soft and dark. You passed the girls rooms quietly, stepping lightly. Nora was already out cold, diagonally across her bed, clutching a new toy and drooling a little. You smiled, kissed the top of her head.

Then you crossed to Iris’s room. The door was half-open. A nightlight threw golden, animal-shaped shadows on the walls. Dolores sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting gently on Iris’s back, a book closed on her lap. She looked up as you stepped in.

I’m heading out, you whispered.

Dolores gave you a slow once-over, taking in your bare feet, your tangled hair, the wild panic probably still leaking from your eyes. She didn’t ask. Just nodded.

You leaned down, kissed Iris’s forehead. Her breath was warm. She made a small, content sound and rolled onto her side.

Thank you, you whispered.

Dolores smiled softly. Have fun.

You slipped out of the room, pulled the door almost shut, and padded into your bedroom.

The closet lights flicked on as you stepped in. Everything looked too polished—too calm compared to the chaos in your chest.

You reached for the black high-waisted jeans. The ones that fit just right, hugging all the places that needed hugging. Then pulled on the soft black off-the-shoulder top, the one that made your collarbone look like something worth photographing.

You stood in front of the mirror and tried different earrings. Sprayed perfume—wrists, neck. Changed your bag twice before settling on the small black baguette slung effortlessly over your shoulder. Slipped on silver heels that gleamed even in the closet light.

You looked in the mirror one last time. Hair loose. Lips tinted. Skin flushed with adrenaline and maybe fear.

Okay. I look like someone who forgot how to flirt but accidentally put together a really hot outfit.

A notification buzzed, it’d the car you had requested. Marco. Black BMW.

You clicked off the lights and tiptoed downstairs, heels now clicking softly against the hardwood. You didn’t call out again. Just opened the door and stepped into the night.

The car was parked by the curb, windows slightly fogged, headlights dimmed. You crossed the lawn slowly, heart rattling in your ribs like it was trying to warn you.

You pulled the door open, slid in, gave the driver your best attempt at casual.

The city moved around you. Lights flashing past the windows. Perfume rising from your skin. Pulse steady but sharp.

You leaned your head back and whispered, not to the driver, not even to yourself really—just to the space.

What the hell am I doing?

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Food History

B.C.

10,000 - almonds, cherries, bread, flour, soup

8,000 - wheat ⚜ 7,000 - wine, beer, pistachios, pig, goat, sheep, lard

6,500 - cattle domestication, apples ⚜ 6,000 - tortilla, dates, maize

5,000 - honey, ginger, quinoa, avocados, potatoes, milk, yogurt

4,000 - focaccia, watermelons, grapes, pomegranates

3,200 - chicken domestication ⚜ 3,000 - butter, onion, garlic, apricots

2,737 - tea ⚜ 2,500 - olive oil, seaweed, duck ⚜ 2,300 - saffron

2,000 - peaches, liquorice, marshmallow, pasta, ham, sesame seeds

1,500 - chocolate, vanilla ⚜ 1,200 - sugar ⚜ 1,000 - mangoes, oats, pickles

900 - pears, tomatoes ⚜ 700 - cinnamon ⚜ 600 - bananas, poppy seeds

500 - artichokes ⚜ 400 - pastries, appetizers, vinegar

300 - parsley ⚜ 200 - turkeys, asparagus, rhubarb ⚜ 65 - quince

1st—13th Century

1st Century - chestnuts, lobster, crab, shrimp, truffles, blueberries, raspberries, capers, kale, blood (as food), fried chicken, foie gras, French toast, omelettes, rice pudding, flan, cheesecake, pears in syrup

3rd Century - lemons ⚜ 5th - pretzels ⚜ 6th - eggplant

7th Century - spinach, kimchi ⚜ 9th - coffee, nutmeg

10th Century - flower waters, Peking duck, shark's fin soup

11th Century - baklava, corned beef, cider, lychees, seitan

12th Century - breadfruit, artichokes, gooseberries

13th Century - ravioli, lasagne, mozzarella, pancakes, waffles, couscous

14th—19th Century

14th Century - kebabs, moon cakes, guacamole, pie, apple pie, crumpets, gingerbread

15th Century - coconuts, Japanese sushi and sashimi, pineapples, marmalade, risotto, marzipan, doughnuts, hot dogs

16th Century - pecans, cashews (in India), Japanese tempura, vanilla (in Europe), fruit leather, skim milk, sweetbreads, salsa, quiche, teriyaki chicken, English trifle, potato salad

17th Century - treacle, pralines, coffee cake, modern ice cream, maple sugar, rum, French onion soup, cream puffs, bagels, pumpkin pie, lemonade, croissants, lemon meringue pie

18th Century - root beer, tapioca, French fries, ketchup, casseroles, mayonnaise, eggnog, soda water, lollipops, sangria, muffins, crackers, chowder, croquettes, cupcakes, sandwiches, apple butter, souffle, deviled eggs

19th Century - toffee, butterscotch, cocoa, Turkish delight, iodized salt, vanilla extract, modern marshmallows, potato chips, fish and chips, breakfast cereal, Tabasco sauce, Kobe beef, margarine, unsalted butter, Graham crackers, fondant, passionfruit, saltwater taffy, milkshakes, pizza, peanut butter, tea bags, cotton candy, jelly beans, candy corn, elbow macaroni, fondue, wedding cake, canapes, gumbo, ginger ale, carrot cake, bouillabaisse, cobbler, peanut brittle, pesto, baked Alaska, iced tea, fruit salad, fudge, eggs Benedict, Waldorf salad

20th Century

1901 - peanut butter and jelly ⚜ 1904 - banana splits ⚜ 1905 - NY pizza

1906 - brownies, onion rings ⚜ 1907 - aioli

1908 - Steak Diane, buttercream frosting ⚜ 1909 - shrimp cocktail

1910 - Jell-O (America's most famous dessert)

1910s - orange juice ⚜ 1912 - Oreos, maraschino cherries, fortune cookies

1912 - Chicken a la King, Thousand Island dressing

1914 - Fettuccine Alfredo ⚜ 1915 - hush puppies

1917 - marshmallow fluff ⚜ 1921 - Wonder Bread, zucchini

1919 - chocolate truffles ⚜ 1922 - Vegemite, Girl Scout cookies

1923 - popsicles ⚜ 1924 - frozen foods, pineapple upside-down cake, Caesar salad, chocolate-covered potato chips

1927 - Kool-Aid, s'mores, mayonnaise cake ⚜ 1929 - Twizzlers

1930s - Pavlova cakes, Philly cheese steak, Pigs in blankets, margaritas, banana bread, Cajun fried turkey ⚜ 1931 - souffle, refrigerator pie

1933 - chocolate covered pretzels ⚜ 1936 - no-bake cookies

1937 - Reubens, chicken Kiev, SPAM, Krispy Kreme

1938 - chicken and waffles ⚜ 1939 - seedless watermelon

1941 - Rice Krispies treats, Monte Cristo sandwiches ⚜ 1943 - nachos

1946 - chicken burgers, tuna melts, Nutella ⚜ 1947- chiffon cake

1950s - chicken parm, Irish coffee, cappuccino, smoothies, frozen pizza, diet soda, TV Dinners, ranch dressing ⚜ 1951 - bananas foster

1953 - coronation chicken ⚜ 1956 - German chocolate cake, panini

1957 - Quebec Poutine ⚜ 1958 - Instant ramen noodles, crab rangoon, lemon bars ⚜ 1960s - beef Wellington, green eggs and ham, red velvet cake

1963 - black forest cake ⚜ 1964 - Belgian waffles, Pop Tarts, Buffalo wings, ants on a log, pita bread ⚜ 1965 - Gatorade, Slurpees

1966 - chocolate fondue ⚜ 1967 - high fructose corn syrup

1970s - California rolls, pasta primavera, tiramisu ⚜ 1971 - fajitas

1975 - hicken tikka masala ⚜ 1980 - turducken

1980s - Panko, portobello mushrooms, bubble tea, chicken nuggets, Sriracha, Red Bull energy drink, everything bagels

1990s - artisan breads, Jamaican jerk ⚜ 1991 - turkey bacon, chocolate molten lava cake, earthquake cake ⚜ 1993 - broccolini

1995 - Tofurkey ⚜ 1997 - grape tomatoes

21st Century

2002 - flat iron steak, tear-free onions ⚜ 2007 - Kool-Aid pickles, cake pops

2008 - Mexican funnel cake ⚜ 2013 - cronuts, test tube burgers

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[sturniolo04]

Can u do a fic where on the nc show instead of nick going on a date with tara he goes on a date with reader. And reader is dating chris and they still kiss at the end

A/n:  ofc! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!! I made it into a series of moments! I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

dividers: @issysh3ll

You knew as soon as Nick had asked you to help him film a surprise for their upcoming tour that it was going to be the best one ever. Chris and Matt didn't see it coming to say the least.

Nick wanted to go on a date with a female for one of his surprises on this tour which that in itself was going to be a surprise since he was the gay one out of the group. The twist was he didn't want to go on his 'first date with a female' with any girl so he chose you. Chris' girlfriend

You werent apart of the tour shows at every stop but nick flew you out to north Carolina for that tour stop because he knew that was when they were going to announce the surprise he filmed and wanted you to see your boyfriends live reaction in real time.

"okay surprise time"

matt exclaims into the microphone as the crowd cheers

"im nervous"

chris chuckles out as he takes as seat on the couch with nick. The screen reveals who's surprise is being reveal tonight pulling up a side by side video display of you and nick causing both chris and matt's mouths to drop.

"no fucking way"

chris chuckles out in complete disbelief as the crowd continues to scream in shock and excitement.

"what did you two do"

matt causally asks.

"okay before I bring her out because she is backstage what do you think the surprise is"

nick asks his brothers after pulling out a rose from the hint box on the stage.

"no way she's here oh my god"

chris exclaims covering his mouth because that too was also a surprise considering he thought he wasn't going to see you for couple of months until he got done with this tour.

" dude i have no clue "

matt honestly states as nick chuckles begining to ask the crowd the same question them not making a guess in the ball park.

"okay then well lets bring her out so we can show you what it is we did"

nick exclaims as matt and chris stand up from the couch as you walk out onto the stage giving both matt and chris a hug.

"hiii"

you squeal dragging out the 'i' waving to the crowd as the cheer in response. You and nick sit down on the couch as the screen starts to play the prerecorded surprise.

"okay i'm extremely nervous i am about to do something that i never thought I would do but for the sake of the tour I am going to go on a date with a woman"

nick states in the video matt and chris' gasping into the mic at the very statement.

"so what better girl to go on my 'first date' with than Sophia who also happens to be my brother's girlfriend"

nick continues in the video as he covers his mouth as you two look over at chris' reaction.

"no fucking way my girlfriend nick"

chris chuckles out laughing at the thought that this was an actual thing he and you decided to do.

"so i go her some flowers because that's what every good boyfriend should do I think I know chris does this all the time so it might be the right move"

nick shrugs in the video.

"oh my gosh aww flowers thank you nick"

you squeal out in the video giving nick a side hug him placing his head on top of yours considering your four foot figure.

"your welcome Soph i had to start out strong"

nick laughs as you take both of your hands to grab the flower vase from his hand setting it on your island counter in your kitchen.

"my flowers that chris' had gotten me from valentines day were old so I had to throw them away so perfect timing; sorry chris"

you giggle in the video as chris chuckles.

"okay so lets go get dinner maybe and then frozen yogurt does that sound good"

nick states as you nod your head towards the plan. Throughout the whole video Chris was surprisingly taking it pretty well that nick had decided to go on his date with a woman with his grilfriend.

"okay guys well that was my date with Soph I hope you enjoyed and hopefully chris wont be mad at us"

nick chuckles as you giggle along with him as he says 'bye' quickly placing a kiss to your lips.

"oh my god oh my god oh my god"

matt exclaims.

"what the fuck Nick Soph no way"

chris screams after seeing you two kiss at the end of the video.

"so what did you think"

you ask the pair but really mainly chris.

"i-im just shocked i mean wow nick! chris how do you feel I mean nick kissed your girlfriend dude"

matt exclaims chuckling.

"weirdly enough im fine with it probably because i know its not going to happen again like ever"

chris chuckles out

"damn right"

you exclaims giggling as you quickly stand up running over to him to lean down and place a kiss to his lips as the crowd cheers.

Tagslist🗂️

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333

@stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @ksturnz @chaoswithus @emely9274 @ivysturnss @sturniolo-szn2 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @chrepsi @lyingonchris

@tezzzzzzzz @babytomatoes21 @zenithsturniolo

[theshiniestgemstone]

what I think your relationship would be like with the family if you were dating gideon

pairing: gideon gemstone x fem!reader

shamlessly going to mention that this is kinda self insert, oops

jesse: oh i think he'd love you, but in a weird way that boosts his own ego. i feel like he'd pick on you a little bit (quickly chastised by amber, gideon or eli "leave gideon's poor girlfriend alone"), but he would 100% love being able to say my son's got a girlfriend and he's definitely marrying up. i think he'd cry if he thinks about you two settling down. he’s also the king of accidentally bonding with you over things like conspiracy documentaries and then refusing to admit it. I never said I liked that Flat Earth one, I was just watchin’ it to prove ‘em wrong. don't twist my words.

amber: based off of season 1, i feel like she definitely has a soft spot for gideon. once she realizes that you're really sticking around, i think she'd really like having a daughter-in-law and get all the things she missed out on with her boys. im talking shop 'til you drop, frozen yogurt, spa days, etc. you mention offhand that you like a candle she’s burning? she buys you three and a new sweater. you'd also be able to count on her to knock some sense into gideon if he's being stubborn.

eli: he's the one that gideon really wants to impress, so you're nervous the first time you meet him, afraid that you'll upset him, but he's so nice. the one time you end up sitting at a table alone, gideon and amber come back to find you and eli in literal tears from laughing so hard. he absolutely adores you because you make Gideon better. he’ll quietly pull you aside and tell you, I’m glad he found someone who really sees him. it reminds him of aimee-leigh taking a chance on him.

judy: gives you shit for a week and one day she stalks up, shoulders square and asks if you really love gideon. when you say yes, she tones down the insults and jabs. if you're the kind of person who can dish it back, you help her come up with complicated insults for her brothers. suddenly you’re bonding over iced coffee and she lets you borrow her clothes (I can't have you looking a mess next to me). she lets no one borrow her clothes.

bj: totally has no idea how to talk to you. he knows you're young, and kids like memes, right? he asks you about grumpy cat and impact font. you think he’s kidding until he shows you his meme folder, and it’s just Bad Luck Brian and he's in literal tears. after that, you have weekly internet lessons, vine comp watch parties, celeb gossip sessions, and a notebook full of modern slang. he hasn't quite made it to skibidi, but he loves "wtf is up kyle" and as an optometrist, iridociclytis. he also manages to use rizz in every context but the right one (he'd once said: who wants dessert? I’ve got rizz crispies!)

kelvin: ally. similar to BJ, i fear you'd keep him up to date and help him out with prism. kelvin is your ride or die. he calls you “babygirl” platonically and FaceTimes you from Sephora for opinions on moisturizer. he’s forever asking for help putting together his little fits for Sunday services, asking both you and keefe is this too much glitter or just enough Jesus?

keefe: ever the oddball, you walk away confused from every conversation with that man. in the moment you think you get it and you're nodding along, but the moment you're more than ten feet away from him, you're just absolutely lost. that being said, he knows the best indie films. he shows you one that changed his life. it's in nepali. you watch it without subtitles. you've never been the same.

pontious: that boy couldn't give less of a shit if he took one right then and there. you're the only person who he can beat in that racing game he and his brothers play. he acts like he doesn’t know your name even after a year of knowing you, but not in a mean way—in a “he literally doesn’t care enough to store the info” kind of way. you’ll walk past him and hear, Ay, Gideon’s lady… girl… woman. You want the rest of this Red Bull? he’s been drinking it for an hour. it’s warm. you politely decline.

abraham: the littlest of the gemstones is a tough nut to crack. he just stares at you at first. no words. no expression. just intense eye contact from across the room, like a little FBI profiler in a Minecraft hoodie. until you give him a share size pack of skittles and buy him mcdonalds when amber asked you to pick him up from practice on your way to the compound

baby billy: he immediately tries to ask if you have funds to help him get his christian based leisureware off the ground. i feel like you'd be one of the only people he would be able to take critiques from without an outburst. that being said, he did make you cry twice

aunt tiffany: you call her aunt tiffany right off the bat and she loves you immediately. she once helped you curl your hair before an event and you constantly have to set aside time when she comes to town to let her do some hairstyle on you.

[stellar-haikyuu]

can't keep your hands to yourself ☆ hinata shoyo x reader

synopsis: sometimes, you need a little joy and whimsy in your life. hinata unintentionally delivers. details: fluff | romantic relationship | ~1.1k words | gn! reader | based on my second date with hinata boy! (he’s so cute guys, i can’t do this anymore.)

A month ago, Yachi gave you the username of her best friend’s social media account.

She had done so out of the blue, but she insisted that you give it a try—something about being a good match for each other. 

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself vibrating with excitement whenever you receive a message from him.

He also sends you flowers on Valentine’s when you’re busy in school. It also seems he’s done his research (through Yachi, perhaps), if the cute little stickers he gives you are anything to go by.

The last thing that made you lose your mind? On your first date, he snatches the receipt away from you and pays for your lunch.

Naturally, you don’t back down. To return the favor, you insist on paying for everything next time.

(Next time, you think with a giddy smile).

So, here you are now, in the middle of your second date with Hinata Shoyo.

“That was a good lunch,” you tell him as you exit the curry place you both just ate at.

“I’m glad you enjoyed,” he grins wide, eyes twinkling. “I’m so happy we share similar tastes.”

“Me too.”

While neither of you have explicitly confessed, Yachi and your friends say that he seems to like you. 

And you hope to the gods that is the case, but that’s a discussion for another time.

“So…dessert?” Hinata shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets.

You nod. “What are you thinking of?”

“Uh, there’s this cookie place Yachi talked about the other time.” Hinata scans around the vicinity for the store he’s pertaining to. “There,” he points.

The posters of the pop-up store tell you everything you need to know about their selling point—the cookies were pretty huge.

You turn back to him. “Let’s check it out then. I’ll see if there’s something I like.”

When the both of you get closer, you see the price range. 

“It’s a little overpriced, isn’t it?” Hinata whispers to you, so none of the customers or staff overhear.

“Yep,” you peer at the cookies they have on display near the cashier. Well, they do look tasty, but you’d rather buy something else with the money that you have.

As Hinata looks over the options, you notice a little sign in the corner.

“Lookie, lookie, don’t touch the cookie?” you quietly read to yourself. 

Oh, these are actual products.

Wait-

Before you can say anything, Hinata’s has already reached out to touch the display.

“Hinata,” you whisper-shout. “Those cookies are real.”

“What?” He says, incredulously. “Nah. They’re like the fake ones restaurants use.”

You barely get a chance to grab his arm before he touches the cookies again.

“Hinata-”

“Sir, those are real cookies,” an employee finally says from behind the counter.

For a few seconds, the two of you freeze, unsure of how to react.

A nervous giggle bursts from your mouth and Hinata immediately walks a few feet away. 

You turn around to look at where he’s gone, but the sight of a grown man with his head in his hands is enough to have you doubling over in laughter.

With a hand clapped over your mouth, you physically distance yourself from the store. You’re practically crying and Hinata is close to combusting. There is no need to attract more attention from other customers and staff.

When the pop-up store is out of sight, Hinata’s bright red and you’re still wheezing, holding onto him like a lifeline.

“Oh my gosh.” You wipe at your eyes. “Are you good?”

“Yeah, I am,” Hinata replies, looking a little out of it. He pauses for a while, before giving a new suggestion. “You know what, let’s just go look for some frozen yogurt.”

“Ooooh! I know a place,” you grin at him, pointing straight ahead. “Let’s go.” 

As you slowly recover from the incident, Hinata sighs. “Oh man, I thought they were gonna make me pay for touching it or something.”

“What, why?” 

“Uh, I don’t know…destruction of property?”

You bark out a laugh in response. Man, your cheeks and stomach hurt.

“Eh, I doubt anyone’s eating those cookies. After a whole day of exposure to the public air? No thank you.” You shake your head. “Besides, they should’ve just kept the cookies behind a clear barrier if they really wanted all hands off. I can already imagine all the kids who can’t resist a touch.”

You await his reply, but he only hums and goes silent. It worries you a little.

“Hinata-”

“Do you think I’m too childish?” His voice is much softer this time around.

“No.” You answer truthfully, surprised by the sudden change in tone. “What- why?” 

Oh.

Oh, crap. Was it what I said?

“It’s just…uh…” Hinata scratches his head, avoiding your gaze as you two walk. “I don’t know, but what happened back there was pretty embarrassing.”

“What? No! It’s alright.” You shake your head vigorously. “You didn’t see the sign.”

“There was a sign?!”

“Yeah, but it was really tiny. Plus, I was in the way, so you wouldn’t have seen it. Not your fault.”

“But…” Hinata hesitates.

“Hey, I swear.” You place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “It’s fine, Hinata. I promise. I have my fair share of silly moments too. It’s not just you.”

“You sure?” His eyes dart over to you. 

“Yes. What good would it do for me to lie to you?” You give him a gentle smile. “Now come on, let’s get that yogurt before the line gets longer!”

Hinata, ever the gentleman, walks you back to your dorm.

You find yourself wishing the date wouldn’t end, but your residential building is already in sight.

“Aww,” you pout. “Looks like I’ll have to go already.”

“Well, we have next week!” He chirps. “Your birthday party’s coming up soon, right?”

You nod. “Mhm, can’t wait to see you there!”

The two of your pause for a few seconds, wondering how to part ways on the sidewalk. 

“So, I’ll see you around!” Hinata quickly pats your shoulder, the same way he did on your first date.

But something else compels you to do more.

Just before he increases the distance between the two of you, you reach your hand out to grab his.

You see the shock in his eyes during the few seconds your hands stay connected. 

In that moment, you feel the wind knocked out of your chest.

His hands feel so nice in mine.

You give it one final squeeze, before gently letting go.

And as you tell him to take care on the way home, you realize that you also can’t keep your hands to yourself.

masterlist

[chukys-mouthguard]

what are the odds? | part 3

matt rempe x female reader; featuring numerous side characters

social media au!

part 2

your.name.here

liked by alleyrempe, mattrempe, addison.clark and 319,300 others

your.name.here checked my pulse and my hearts still beating

alleyrempe we love a trader joe’s girl

-> your.name.here weekly trips thanks to the giant who eats everything in my apartment 🥲🫶🏼

-> alleyrempe haha he’s your responsibility now 🫶🏼

liked by your.name.here

user29484 oh my god soft launch?!

-> user98356 he’s not tagged though…

-> user31854 you’re telling me you don’t recognize the giant that is matt rempe?

liked by your.name.here and alleyrempe

mattrempe can i still give you CPR though?

this comment had been deleted by mattrempe

mattrempe damn, that’s one lucky guy

-> your.name.here the luckiest 🥰

liked by mattrempe

user85294 okay but the note on the flowers 🥹🫶🏼

liked by your.name.here

-> user20402 where can i find a matt rempe??

liked by your.name.here

-> user30589 okay but we still don’t know that it’s him, let’s not get our hopes up

addison.clark okay but when can we get you fitted for a jacket? 👀

-> francesca.kreider it’s quite literally been made for weeks 🙊

liked by your.name.here

-> your.name.here ask him if I’m allowed to wear his number yet 🤪

-> mattrempe he told me yes, you can wear it

liked by your.name.here

user30285 they are literally talking about getting her a jacket! It’s for sure rempe and it’s definitely serious! 😭

-> user39587 it seems obvious but they are really trying to keep this lowkey

mattrempe

liked by alleyrempe, tybauer_, your.name.here, and 300,012 others

mattrempe life is good, i can’t complain

tybauer_ working hard or hardly working over there bud?

-> mattrempe let’s not bring up our sparring session ty 👊🏼

-> tybauer_ lucky punch 🙄

user20485 now rempe with the soft launch 😭

-> user07493 she is barely even in the photos, if she’s even in them

-> user22845 they are not tagging each other at all so we have no clue

alleyrempe ice cream definitely isn’t in your meal plan, I’m telling

-> mattrempe it was frozen yogurt goon, relax

-> your.name.here i had to force him to get the froyo, he almost broke his diet 🤦🏼‍♀️

-> mattrempe i really need instagram to incorporate a dislike feature for all the comments where you two gang up on me 🥲

-> alleyrempe 🫶🏼

-> your.name.here 🫶🏼

user50385 well she just outed herself as at least being in the ice cream photo

-> user30589 i don’t think she cares about being outed, maybe they are just causal or want privacy?

-> addison.clark impatiently waiting for double dates with you two 🙄

-> your.name.here you know he and k’andre would high jack that date real quick 😂

your.name.here you’re looking really happy lately 😊

-> mattrempe I’ve got a pretty great girl, she makes it easy to be happy

liked by your.name.here

-> tybauer_ get a room love birds 🤮

this comment has been deleted by mattrempe

user20559 did ty just out them??? 👀

-> user20489 wait where?!

-> user20559 omg his comment got deleted!! Very sus

-> user20559 not matt deleting ty’s comment to try and keep this a secret when everyone knows 😂

liked by tybauer_

[kobunnie]

dating them looks like

ft. bakugou + todoroki + kaminari + kirishima + sero

⤻ summary ; little things with them

⤻ genre ; fluff

⤻ pronouns ; none mentioned

𝜗𝜚 BAKUGOU KATSUKI

study dates, acts of service, standing too close to each other in public, messy makeout sessions, cooking together, wearing his shirts, skincare together, stolen glances, over-protectiveness

𝜗𝜚 TODOROKI SHOUTO

café dates, words of affirmation, hand holding, forehead kisses, stargazing, stealing his hoodies, building legos together, slow dancing in the kitchen, reading together

𝜗𝜚 KAMINARI DENKI

arcade dates, physical touch, random hugs, leaving kisses everywhere, sharing playlists, frozen yogurt outings, matching outfits, bragging about you, your #1 supporter

𝜗𝜚 KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

movie dates, quality time, pinky promises, cheek kisses, late-night drives, lots of couple photos, necklaces with each other's initials, carrying your things, listening intently

𝜗𝜚 SERO HANTA

dinner dates, gift giving, intertwined fingers, hand kisses, flower bouquets, playing with his hair, headphone sharing, facetimes, having each other on lockscreens, shopping together

[soleauclub]

My Go-To Guide for Grocery Shopping Like a Pilates Princess

by Soleau Club / www.soleauclub.com

If you've ever fantasized about floating through Whole Foods in your matching set, headphones in, reusable bag slung over your shoulder, and cart full of glow-up ingredients—welcome. You’re in the right aisle.

Shopping like a Pilates Princess isn’t just about aesthetics (although… yes). It’s about choosing foods that fuel your energy, support your hormones, and keep your digestion so calm and cute that you can wear a set with no bloat fear.

This is your chic little guide to stocking a cart that says “she microdoses wellness.”

1. Protein That Loves You Back

Lean protein = stable blood sugar = more energy and fewer mood swings. The Pilates Princess is powered by:

Organic pasture-raised eggs

Wild-caught salmon and tuna packets for lazy girl lunches

Rotisserie chicken (the shortcut queen)

Unsweetened Greek yogurt (high protein, high princess vibes)

Plant-based protein powder with clean ingredients

2. Greens You’ll Actually Eat

We’re not buying kale just to watch it rot in our fridge like a Victorian ghost. Go for greens you like:

Baby spinach (smoothie-friendly)

Arugula (makes salads sexy)

Frozen broccoli (for throw-it-in-anything moments)

Cucumber, celery, and mint (hello, spa water core)

3. Beauty Carbs

No low-carb fear here. We eat carbs that glow:

Berries (antioxidant-packed and bloat-friendly)

Sweet potatoes (they make your skin look radiant, trust)

Jasmine rice, quinoa, or rice noodles for balance

Sourdough, because it’s probiotic-coded

4. Healthy Fats for Skin, Hormones & Sass

A Pilates Princess needs her fat fix—gracefully and glamorously:

Avocados (duh)

Extra virgin olive oil (drizzle it like you mean it)

Almond butter or tahini

Chia seeds and flaxseeds (digestive angels)

Dark chocolate (yes, she’s a wellness food)

5. Snacks That Won’t Crash You

Because we snack with intention and aesthetic:

Seaweed snacks

Dates with almond butter

Hard-boiled eggs

Hummus + veggies

Coconut yogurt with berries

6. Glow-Boosting Bevvies

Hydration, but make it aspirational:

Coconut water (electrolyte queen)

Herbal teas (especially peppermint, ginger, and dandelion)

Chlorophyll drops

Sparkling water with a citrus moment

7. Gut Girl Essentials

Pilates girls care about gut health without getting gross about it:

Bone broth (sip or cook with it)

Sauerkraut or pickled veggies (if you’re not anti-fermented)

Digestive bitters (pre-meal, if you’re fancy)

Magnesium and probiotics (optional, but powerful)

Princess Pro Tips:

Never grocery shop hungry. You’ll end up with five types of gluten-free cookies and a weird frozen pizza.

Bring a cute reusable bag. Preferably beige.

Plan a few go-to meals so your cart makes sense.

Romanticize it. Grocery shopping is self-care with a shopping list.

A Pilates Princess doesn’t just eat to stay thin—she eats to stay soft, sculpted, and self-loving. She chooses food that loves her back, keeps her cortisol low, and her mornings magical.

Ready to go hardcore with your clean girl routine? Follow Soleau Club on Tumblr for more daily challenges, catch our YouTube videos every Sunday for new routines, and stay connected with us on TikTok and Instagram (@soleauclub) for all the inspo and accountability you need. For it-girl wellness accessories and free US shipping, shop online at www.soleauclub.com

[webbluvrsugar]

I’m loving the fact so many people are requesting Ethan stuff, it seems like the tag here on tumblr has been so dry recently!

how about Ethan x reader kissing each other for the first time after their first date together? 🥹 i’m not sure if you’re up for fluff but i’d love to see you’re take on it

a/n: ooo I know!! I’m specially grateful that many of you found my account and place the requests <3

Ethan finally gets the courage to ask you out, let’s just say it’s the best date you’ve had before.

It’s all pretty romantic even if it’s a cheap date he came up with last minute because he didn’t know where to take you.

He took you to an expensive frozen yogurt shop you said you’d want to try, made sure you didn’t pay any of the extra toppings — and the cup itself — you ate that to be honest, is not over three dollars per person, but he still did it, just to see that smile on your face when you drag the mango flavoured cream past your lips, saying it’s better than expected, that the raspberries over it make it sooo yummy to eat, that you even like the tangy feeling of the chocolate and asking him to try it because he barely got any toppings.

He’s not a fan of frozen yogurt, but he brought you here and ate it all with a smile on his face, for you and for the way your eyes light up.

He’s made a few jokes along the date, complimented you, wiped the extra cream off your lips, smiled and played with the charm on your chain necklace, it all works, makes you feel well and loved, and by the time it ends, you have a big dainty smile on your face, he’s surprised you liked the dessert that much — except it’s not about that.

He’s holding your hand as you walk back to your apartment, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand as you both look around while walking, both nervous to talk to each other.

“Did you like it?” He finally asks, smiling.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice, cozy,” you smile back, looking up to him. “Loved the yogurt.”

He chuckles, he’s grateful you liked it, because he was sure he might’ve just killed someone — literally — if those ten bucks he spent on you two weren’t worth it.

“I’m glad.”

It’s all so peaceful, the birds chirp around you, the sun is nice and bright, the soft breeze of the wind brings you close together before you reach the door to your building.

You almost don’t want to go inside.

“I… I really liked seeing you today.” You mention and he blushes, he’s almost frozen, gives a light nod and you turn around to look for your keys.

‘Get at her, you idiot.’ He thinks, his hands shaking as you seem farther away when you slid the key in, read to go, so he just acts impulsively, doesn’t think about what he’s doing before he’s pulling you into him, lightly pinning you against your door before he deposits a soft kiss on your lips, it’s awkward and weird, he barely knows how to kiss but he does it, his hands on your shoulder as he pulls away, flushed.

You don’t say anything, your heart is beating fast and your eyes are wide staring into his, he clears his throat, blinks before asking:

“So…. see you tomorrow?”

He smiles, nervous, hoping you’ll say yes, you nod.

taglist: @babygorewhore