Y/N’s ideal man exists. Fortunately for her, he’s currently across the table, listening. “Height, tattoos, lip piercing, motorcycle—…Y/N.” “What?” “Turn around.”

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@ria127

The takeout boxes are a battlefield of soy sauce fingerprints and discarded chopsticks. Jimin’s stolen half the fries already, and Hana is kicking her shoes off under the table like she owns the place.

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