#Server checkbook

[lloydssluts]

Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge

Welcome to the Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge, hosted by the Lloyd Hansen server.

About 2 years ago, we got our first taste of Lloyd Hansen through Netflix’s trailers. From then on, we were hooked. To celebrate this anniversary, we invite writers to join our challenge and create their own Lloyd Hansen fics!

This challenge is 18+ ONLY. Minors are not allowed to engage in any way, shape, or form. It is open to everyone—not just members of our server, although we encourage you to join us if you haven’t already.

All fics will be about Lloyd Hansen. We do not allow incest (stepcest is permitted), underage, or scat play. Fics should be reader inserts* and as inclusive as possible. Any genre (dark, smut, angst, fluff) is allowed. *For any other specifications or adjustments, reach out to one of the mods or send an ask. This is not a strict requirement.

There is no word count requirement. However, you must use a “read more” break, no matter the length. Use appropriate warnings.

The deadline for the challenge is July 22nd, 2024. This is not a strict deadline at all!

You will choose a dialogue that the character has said in the film and transform it from the original context. Certain prompts are open to changing as long as you note that somewhere. Once you’ve chosen a prompt and sent us an ask with it, it will be crossed off from the list. Prompts are on a first-come, first-serve basis! You can select up to 5 prompts.

Need feedback or advice? Feel free to message either one of the mods (@hansensgirl or @cuttlefjsh), or visit our server to discuss your fic with other members.

TAG YOUR FICS WITH THE TAG #Lloyd Hansen Server WC24

Happy writing!

Asterisks + ‘[…]’ indicates a prompt is open for change.

Should we try again?

Boring.

“Mostly, it’s loss which teaches us about the worth of things.” That’s Arthur Schopenhauer. He was a German philosopher, a pessimist. He saw the value in suffering.

Damn it. Phones on silent when I’m working, please.

Still just flirting. But… [...] getting there. *

Well, no one goes to Harvard to play football.

I like to be the exception. What’s up?

Gimme a name.

Could be fun.

Well, I’m gonna need a full green light on this one. Open checkbook.

I’d rather you punch me in the dick.

We’ll find somebody [...] loves and squeeze. *

Have I ever done you wrong, [...]? *

Professionally maybe. Lloyd Hansen, Hansen Government Services.

Aw, does it? Good.

You know my work. That’ll make this next part a lot easier.

You know what makes me sad, [...]? *

Five and a half.

Who likes cats?

Let’s talk about the mess your [...] made. *

Oh, [...] made a big one. And judging by your shallow breathing and puckered asshole*, I can only assume you know why I’m here.

But see, that’s the beauty of the private sector. I don’t care about reasons.

My guess is you’re helping [...] already. So this shouldn’t put too much of a dent in your day. *

But your file, well, that’s chock-full of nuggets, some of which might make you rethink your fussy attitude.

You gonna answer it?

Hey, sunshine. Lloyd Hansen here. I’m the one running this op.

The one where I get exactly what I want.

Okay, that’s fair. Well, why don’t you come on in, and we can chat? My assistant will get lunch. You like sushi?

Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page.

Looks like you need a new phone.

Don’t say “preternatural” to me. It’s an asshole word.

And that, [...], is exactly what bad ethics and zero impulse control will get you. *

I can kill anybody.

Well, we’ll see.

We need to ground in *Vienna.

How do you feel about your license?

Who’s up for some *Tafelspitz?

Hey, sunshine.

What gave it away?

Ballsy.

Nice try, pumpkin.

What size shoe are you?

Can someone get me a Vicodin, please?

On the run, scared shit less.

You know all those rules you guys are always trying to work your way around? They don’t mean dick to me.

Shut up and go sit in the corner.

Oh. How about that?

Forget about the Vicodin.

That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.

Goldilocks, would you be a lamb and excuse us?

Shhh. Please.

Now, whatever I just did to your *ears, it’s not even torture. I just made it up on the spot. Just came to me. And that’s how this is gonna go.

Should we try again?

Maybe we should get the *girl back in here.

Well, that was unexpected.

Make him dead.

My God, how hard is it to shoot somebody?

What I do can’t be taught.

You know what I love about you?

Yahtzee.

No, success qualifies as success.

You wanna make an omelette, you gotta *kill some people.

You know, in English, we call this a *happy ending. However, if you say one more word, you may not see it that way.

Lock everything down.

Get me eyes on the bridge.

You’re making me destroy a historic building here!

Wait! Please don’t shoot! Look what you did to my hand.

Give me that, you little shit.

Now you pick those feet up, or you’re gonna get dead real quick.

Now, listen. You shut up, and you don’t move.

Now, I’m gonna stop you right there, cupcake.

What do you say we wrap this up?

I mean, I’m having a blast, but it’s way past the kid’s bedtime, don’t you think?

You’re gonna throw me that gun, or the little one gets a new face. *

It’s really a shame this isn’t gonna work out between us.

Now normally, at this point in the night, I wouldn’t be sticking around.

With the house lights about to come on, I’d find a desperate, ugly chick to lick my wounds and split, but you have been a pebble in my shoe since the very beginning.

And now I just don’t think I can walk away.

Guess what I’m thinking right now.

I think I’m better than you.

Still getting used to it.

Let’s see if these moves fuck.

[ivymarquis]

Thinking about a regular at one of my restaurants I used to work at and a series of interactions with him, and while the vibes were always platonic (duh and/or obviously dude is 3+ decades my senior and married lmao) I wanna take that dynamic and apply it to a Price x Reader fic lmao

Sunday brunches are always the fucking worst and I had this one guy who’d come in on Sundays after church and sometimes it was just him and his wife but other times there’d be 2-4 other people with them and I learned VERY quickly that the guy is a) easy to please and very low maintenance and b ) always tips well. Id usually give him the check but one time when he and another guy were squabbling over who got it, the other guy got it and of course was the living embodiment of the church crowd tip SO I LEARNED MY LESSON and always always always made sure 100% of the time that the checkbook hit my regular’s hands when the time came, and all was well in the world.

Anyway that scenario (minus there being a wife lmao) but with Price and his favorite server at his favorite spot when he’s back home

[daydreaminggiraffe]

Tonight at work, I was waiting on a pair of customers who made fun of the way I walk when one of them went back to her table. I could tell because I have a very specific way of walking when I'm holding a checkbook (both arms bent, hands down near my hips) and because I was the only server there. Suffice to say I hope they never come back but does anyone else walk a very specific way and if so how do you?

[momcntum]

GENERAL DESCRIPTION

Character Name: Seonho Jones

Gender Identity & Pronouns: Cis man, he/him

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Age & D.O.B.: 26 years old | February 28th, 1997

Nationality: American

Ethnicity/Race: Korean

Languages: English (fluent), Korean (fluent)

Hometown: Starlight Oaks, Washington, USA

Neighborhood: Downtown

Occupation: Uber driver, construction worker, bartender at blazing comets, dock worker, gig worker

How long have they been in Starlight Oaks? Local

Positive Traits:  Buoyant, steadfast, generous, enthusiastic, humble 

Negative Traits: Restless, escapist, stubborn, self-sacrificing, conflict avoidant

Faceclaim: Cha Eunwoo

APPEARANCE INFO

Height: 183 cm / 6’0”

Eye Color: Brown

Eye Sight: Poor, most often is wearing contacts

Hair: Black in hue, often dyed but currently is natural and growing long

Tattoos: Musical notes on his right ankle with ‘keep moving forward’ written next to it, an arrow heart on his chest with birthdates of his family inside, purple and burgundy forget-me-nots on his shoulderblades, Korean idiom across his spine which translates roughly to "at the end of hardship comes happiness" (고생 끝에 낙이 온다)

Piercings: ears (double lobe, double helix, snug, conch), left eyebrow

Build: broad-shouldered, muscular, toned

Style: street casual, comfortable wear, holey jeans, hoodies, multi-colored sweaters, a singular nice pair of khaki pants, wears a lot of durable clothes because he works so much but does look more stylish for events

PERSONALITY INFO

Zodiac: Pisces ☀ Scorpio ☾  Leo ↑

MBTI: ENFP - Campaigner

Moral Alignment: Neutral Good

Temperament: Sanguine

Vice: Pride

Virtue: Charity

Element: Earth

Schemata: The Server

Habits: Gesturing when speaking, pointing, wears mismatched socks, randomly bursts into song, nicotine addiction (vapes), in general poor self-care habits

Hobbies: Listening to music, writing music, producing music, dancing, sending memes, playing musical instruments, scrapbooking, papercrafting

Likes: Music, romantic comedies, socializing, sunflower seeds, sweets, humming, smiling, cuddling, tteokbokki, adult coloring books, thunderstorms, trying new things even if he’s bad at them

Dislikes: Conflict, waking up early, traffic, most academic things, balancing a checkbook / anything financial-related, folding clothes, humidity, being overheated, wasting food, feeling like he’s not doing enough

SNAPSHOT

• A product of who and where he's come from. With the face of the man who left, the work ethic and passion for music of the man who raised him, and the resilience and compassion of the woman who built his very foundation, Seonho is a survivor. He grew up poor, sometimes destitute and homeless and at best living paycheck to paycheck, and the foot of struggle and responsibility was against his neck at a young age.

• tw: brief mentions of death and illness The oldest of six with two full-blooded siblings and three half-siblings though to him there's no real distinction. The de facto head of his household since his mother was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's when he was seventeen the literal head of his household since he was eighteen and his mother was sent to hospice. Emanates big brother energy.

• A happy-go-lucky guy despite his circumstances. Lover of warm hugs with honey eyes that are always crinkling under the weight of a smile. Compassionate and empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Always puts himself last. Would give someone the shirt off his back if asked.

• When he's not working, he's socializing. Rarely sleeps and works himself to the point of mental burnout. Lives off adrenaline, energy bars, red bull, and nicotine. Not very good at self-care.

• Is a little too used to the grind and as a result, his life has become a bit stagnant. He lives day to day rather than for the future. Gave up on his musician dreams of pursuing after his (step)dad passed when he was fifteen. Still writes from time to time when he's inspired. Can play pretty much any instrument, and has a soft spot for jazz (and the saxophone) since it was the genre that he was first introduced to.

FULL BIOGRAPHY

tw: mentions of homelessness, illness, abandonment and death (caused by brain aneurysm)

Seonho was born in Starlight Oaks as the eldest child to Seongmin Ryu and Mina Park who moved from Korea when Mina was pregnant with Seonho after she was disowned by her parents who disapproved of Seongmin. His biological father walked out on Seonho, his mother, and two of his younger sisters when he was five years old and Seonho has always believed that they were better off without him.

After being homeless and hopping through halfway houses after the abandonment, his mother remarried three years later and had three more children with Seonho’s stepfather, Jalen Jones, who would become the only father that Seonho acknowledged in his life. Jalen adopted the three eldest children upon his marriage to Mina and they all took on his last name.

Early on in his childhood, Seonho fell in love with music thanks to Jalen’s side-gig playing the saxophone in a jazz band. He had a talented ear for music, picking up musical instruments and mastering them with an ease, and his parents encouraged his passion as best they could, ensuring that they budgeted well enough to afford sending Seonho to his music lessons.

While performing at Pike Place Market in Seattle, he was scouted by a Korean entertainment agency at the age of thirteen. However, he was still a trainee when he flew back home and prematurely ended his contract due to his stepfather dying suddenly of a ruptured brain aneurysm as a result of overworking when Seonho was fifteen. When he returned home, Seonho ran away for a short period of time, thinking that the last thing his mother needed was another mouth to feed and not knowing how to properly cope. He lived on the streets and worked part time at a gas station where he was paid under the table with food and cigarettes, developing a nicotine addiction that he has yet to quit entirely though he now uses a vape pen.

Eventually, he returned home and as the oldest child, he assumed a great deal of responsibility in the household. While he wanted to drop out of school, his mother insisted that he stay enrolled and graduate. Seonho earned money any way that he could to help keep the household afloat, mowing lawns during the summer and working manual labor in the evenings. Sometimes, he would resort to not-so-legal methods if need be. His music became all the more dear to him, filling the gaping holes in his chest that were created from his dream continually slipping through his fingers. Listening to music became a way to escape, no matter how momentarily. He could never catch a break after that.

A year before Seonho graduated from high school, his mother was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. After it came to the point that his mother could no longer properly take care of them or herself, she was admitted into a longterm care facility by order of the municipality.

At that point, Seonho was eighteen and filed for guardianship of his siblings who had been sent to foster care, which he would eventually be granted after a months' long battle with the courts. He also became the conservator of his mother’s well-being. Seonho insists that he provide for his family and ensure that each of his siblings focus on their studies, graduate from school, and are afforded opportunities that he did not have. Even if that means he has to work a slew of jobs in order to make ends meet. Even if that means he has to continually make personal sacrifices and stretch himself too thin.

CONNECTIONS

Non-playable characters of note: Mina Park-Jones (mother, in a hospice), Jalen Jones (step/adoptive father, deceased), Seongmin Ryu (biological father, absent), Sam (younger gender non-conforming sibling, age 17), Hana (younger sister, age 14), and Melody (younger sister, age 13)

Others to be announced!

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Two younger sisters with the same set of biological parents that are between the ages of twenty one and twenty five, will be posting a wanted connection later

Co-workers from any of his many jobs

People who he frequently picks up via Uber

People he annoys as he can be a Lot, very talkative and often overly friendly

Friends! A best friend, a ride-or-die, acquaintances, people he grew up with, people he is a positive influence on, etc.

Perhaps an ex or two at most, could have ended on good or bad terms.

Hookups. Seonho is more of a commitment guy as a terrible romantic, but he is indulgent from time to time as he is also a very busy man and most likely these would be one night stand situations unless he is close enough to someone to have a friend-with-benefits situation (singular) to address those needs.

Open to plotting! I am up for nearly everything.

[ashen--dreams]

apparently servers' tips have gone missing a few times and theyve talked abt it being the bussers- one of the servers made sure to mention that right to my face essentially. so now i am nervous even tho i havent opened a single checkbook once and i kinda think ik who might be doing it

[gothamstories1212]

Falling for a monster

Jeremiah Valeska x f!Oc character

Chapter One

Samantha Walker ran across the road to her waitress job. Of course it started to rain on her way here, now her hair and clothes were wet. She could hear her manager yelling at her. He always was out to get her.

“Why are you soaked?” Sam was questioned as soon as she walked through the backdoor. She rolled her eyes.

“It started raining when I was already in my car. The forecast said it was supposed to clear and sunny. I wasn’t expecting it. Sorry Jack.” Sam started to walk to the server stand to get her order book.

“Don’t walk away from me.” Jack followed Sam out of the kitchen and into the dining room. A few heads turned to look at them.

“Jack can we do this later? I have to clock in and get started. I have people waiting on me since Heather left early.” Sam turned away to go to her tables.

“No we can do this now.” Sam turned back. She opened my mouth to speak when a customer interrupted.

“Hey, I am not trying to interfere with anything. We have been waiting for fifteen minutes for our drinks. Can we please have our waitress?” Jack did his fake customer service smile.

“Of course, sir. I am so sorry for your wait. Are you ready for your shift, Sam?” He looked to her.

“Absolutely am! Let me bring you back to your table and get you guys started.” Sam smiled at the man.

He had red hair. Glasses that framed his face nicely and a very handsome smile. If she hadn’t been on the clock, Sam would’ve flirted with him. They made it back to his table and Sam saw a few other guys there.

“Once again, I am so sorry your waitress left. She had an emergency at home. What can I get started for you?

They all ordered their drinks and their food. Sam turned to leave but turned back.

“Thank you for stepping in.” She turned to leave when her wrist was grabbed.

“You are welcome. The way he was treating you was awful.” The red haired man smiled at her.

“Jeremiah always has to be the hero” The man on the left laughed, but Sam could tell he really didn’t like Jeremiah.

The rest of dinner was going smoothly. Jack was actually staying away from Sam after Jeremiah had stepped in. Sam went back with the check and laid it on the table.

“I have the check here for you guys for whatever you are ready. No rush though.” Jeremiah looked up from his conversation.

“Can I have another refill please?” He smiled and put a card into the checkbook.

“Absolutely!” Sam grabbed the checkbook and his glass and walked back to run the card. She poured his drink and went back to the table and sat his cup in front of him. Sam told him he needed to sign the top.

“Thank you.” He signed the receipt and she grabbed the book and walked back to the server stand to put the receipt up. When she looked down at it Sam saw he wrote on it.

‘Call me if you need a hero again.” She smiled and put his number in her phone quickly and went about the restaurant helping customers.

After work Sam went back to her apartment and giddily jumped on the bed to text Jeremiah.

“Hey this is Sam. The damsel.” She hit send then thought about how dumb it had sounded to her.

It took a few minutes for a reply and as soon as her phone dinged she excitedly opened her phone.

‘Hello, Sam the damsel. I am glad you texted me” She giggled at his opening line.

“What are you up to?”

“Not much, just finishing up work.”

They went back and forth and she learned just how smart Jeremiah is. She was wondering what a man with a brain like his wants with a waitress like her.

“Would you like to go out on a date Thursday? I know a pretty good restaurant.”Jeremiah joked. Sam looked at her phone for what seemed like forever but then snapped out of it.

“I would love to.” They set a time and said goodnight to each other.

Days came and gone until it was thursday. She got ready and waited by her door at three. It was an hour early but better that than making him wait.

An hour went by and he still wasn’t there. She waited four hours for him and he never showed. She was heartbroken. She couldn’t believe that he stood her up.

Another week went by after that dreadful night and she forced herself to forget about Jeremiah. As her Sunday shift came she saw a black van following her. When she actually thought about it she had seen the van all week. She pushed the thought out of her head as she entered her work. After all this is Gotham City. You can see a suspicious black van on every street.

Sam worked a hard after-church shift. For a group of people that are told to be kind to everyone they sure are rude as hell. She got off at three since her section had been empty since eleven. She walked out the door and saw the van still there. She thought about asking Jack to walk her to her car, but decided she would rather face a criminal than have to return the favor to Jack.

She made it to the van and was about to speed up when she felt a pain on her head and everything went black. She woke up on a soft bed draped in her favorite color. She got up ,feeling dizzy and disoriented, and opened the door to a small sitting room. There she saw the back of a man’s head. His green hair nice and neat. He turned to face her and Sam almost shrieked.

“Jeremiah?”

“Hello Sam. I am glad you are awake. How are you feeling?” He smiled at her.

“My head hurts from getting hit and I am extremely confused.” Sam answered slowly to gage his reaction. He looked shocked that Sam was hurt.

“I told them not to hurt you. I was told they chloroformed you. I will deal with that later. You sit and I will get you something for your head and explain everything to you.” Sam could tell that ‘deal with that later’ meant something bad for the men who abducted her.

Sam sat on the sofa and waited for Jeremiah to come back. And he did with a small pill and a glass of water. He held both out for her to take. She took a second to take them.

“If I wanted you dead then you would already be. I wouldn’t poison you.” She could tell that was supposed to make her feel better about taking the medication, though it put her more in edge. Still she took it as to not make Jeremiah upset.

“What am I doing here Jeremiah?” Sam asked him almost dreading his answer.

“I like you Sam. Quite a lot. And so I thought about dating you. But after getting sprayed with the gas sent to me I thought ‘why not just take her?” Sam was confused about the gas part. He put his hand up to stop her questioning before it started.

“Nevermind the gas . I know you hate your job and your manager is a dick. Also I have a nice place here. So why not provide everything for you so you don’t need a job. Plus your apartment was so dull. And i have a great place here for you to stay. So I decided to take you. Felt as if I would be helping you.” Jeremiah smiled.

“You broke into my apartment?” He looked almost embarrassed at the question.

“Yes. I had to get to know you better so I could make up your room for you. Sorry I know it’s a bit of an intrusion of privacy.” Intrusion of privacy needed an apology but stealing her didn’t? She could tell he was waiting for a response. A thank you to be exact.

“Thank you for going through such a huge process to make everything perfect for me.” Sam smiled even as she wanted to puke.

“You are welcome. Now if you wanna rest that head, dinner will be ready in an hour. I will come get you.” She was shooed back into her new room. And she fell asleep frightened and thinking about how to het out of this situation.

Before she knew it, she was being gently shaken awake. She turned and saw Jeremiah and learned that it wasn’t just a dark nightmare. Sam forced herself to smile.

“Dinner is ready, if you are ready to eat.” Even though he asked the question she could tell there was no actual option other than go eat with him. She stood up and looked at him.

“Dinner sounds great. Lead the way.” She followed him to the dining room. She saw that her favorite food ,chicken, had been prepared.

“Oh, my favorite!” She faked excitement.

“I saw in your diary. Now sit we have things to discuss.” Sam was put off by how normal he made that confession seem.

Sam sat and was served her plate. She looked to Jeremiah as he dug into his food. He looked at her confused.

“Is the food not to your liking?” He asked when he noticed she wasn’t eating.

“Oh no! It looks amazing. I was just waiting for you to start the conversation. I was raised to believe you don’t eat until the conversation started had ended.” It was a definite lie but she couldn’t tell him she was waiting to see if it was poisoned before eating it.

“No need for all that. Dig in. You must be starving.”

She grabbed her fork and ate a few bites and smiled. While he was frightening he was an amazing cook. She smiled at him.

“This is amazing Jeremiah. Thank you.” He smirked at her.

“I am glad that you like it. Now let’s talk about this situation. While you didn’t expect to be here this is your home now. As it is your home you are free to roam as you please. The bathroom is down the hall to the left. My room is across from yours. And my workspace is the last door on the right. While you can walk into every room anytime you want knock before you enter my workspace. When we have a meal we will both sit down and eat together. And the kitchen is open for you to have anything you want in between meals. If you would like to leave, you have to run it by me first. One of my men or myself will accompany you whenever you’d like to go. If you try to escape you will be punished. Any questions?” Sam shook her head.

“Good, how do you like your room? I know its kinda bare right now but I thought you might like to decorate it yourself.”

“It’s very nice. Actually I was wondering if I would be able to get a few things from my apartment?” Sam was hoping he’d be okay with that.

“Of course, write down a list and I will make sure you get everything you need.”

“Thank you so much.” He nodded. We ate in silence for a while before he spoke again.

“What are you planning to do the rest of the day?” He look up from his plate.

“What is the time?” Sam laughs and Jeremiah checked his watch.

“5:30”

“I will probably read in the sitting room. Are you working?” While Sam didn’t care what he was doing, she knew pretending was a good thing to do.

“I can take time off if you want to spend time together.” She nodded. As much as she hated his presence she needs to get him to trust her so she can escape.

After dinner they sat together both had books and were reading silently to themselves. Every once in a while Jeremiah would look up at Sam to see what she was doing but to his surprise she would just be sitting there reading. When Jeremiah’s watch chimed at nine, Sam stood up.

“I would like to sleep now, if that is alright.” He smiled at Sam.

“Of course. Good night dear.”

“Good night.” With that she walked to her bedroom,shut the door, and fell asleep staring at the ceiling.

A/n

This is the first part of my little multi chapter series. I hope you guys like it!!!

[goodbytegroupglobal]

Stock Your Home Pink Guest Check Books for Servers (5 Pack) Server Note Pads, Waiter Checkbook, Food Receipt Book, Restaurant Order Pad, Paper Checks, Waitress Accessories, 250 Total Tickets https://goodbytegroup.com/products/stock-your-home-pink-guest-check-books-for-servers-5-pack-server-note-pads-waiter-checkbook-food-receipt-book-restaurant-order-pad-paper-checks-waitress-accessories-250-total-tickets?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[workflowtoolsoftware]

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[superstrijder00]

My parents haven't had a checkbook since before my birth. If, somehow, the internet is down for the entire billing period of a bill (which can be anything from 14 to 30 days)...

Well firstly realistically if it is a recurring bill such as rent I set up a recurring transfer so unless it affected the server my bank runs their software on nothing changes.

Secondly if I am without internet for 14 days, that means I can't reach a library with internet for 14 days. The world has bigger problems at that point. Like "Apparently all of western europe is not having internet and electricity for weeks, we need to organize paper administration to get them food!".

Let's say theoretically I have a plumbing bill in this situation. Plumber does the work, sends me an email that afternoon with the bill, I read the email, power goes out. His power is out too. Next day power is still out. Cell phones are out. I am using the radio in our car and hear the apocalypse is ongoing in a 100km area centered on my house (the gain is terrible, after all the apocalypse has apparently destroyed all internet and cell phone infrastructure near me, so they are sending this from Germany and France). I bike to my parents to discuss. We decide to shelter in place, except my brother who will carry this decision by bike to my grandparents in Flanders, over 150km away. A 3 day trip.

We ration our food, and on the 2nd day army vehicles show up with more supplies, and NATO army engineers of many countries are getting a crash course in "repairing complex civilian infrastructure". By day 4 we have power again (well, we had some power from local solar infrastructure in the meantime, but we no longer have constant brownouts now). By day 6 I've gone to the local university to use their internet, and paid the bills. On day 10 the plumber sends me a text: "WTF, you paid that bill, weren't you busy with... you know... the literal apocalypse?!?!"

I reply "The world is still here, so it was really only a figurative apocalypse.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[mainsoptions]

Server checkbook

We’ve all been at a restaurant that’s clearly busy and struggling to keep up. There are many tricks to improve your service ( which we’ll get to later on), but here are five proven ways servers can earn more tips during each service. Thanks to most restaurant tipping structures, servers are in a unique position to earn more based on how well they serve guests on any given shift. Communication between servers to chefs and hosts on meal progression times is also key in keeping the restaurant running efficiently.A health inspection could happen any day, and restaurant servers need to make sure they aren’t committing any violations. Servers must know all of a restaurant’s sanitation, safety, and alcohol policies.A server needs to be trustworthy as they determine total charges, issue the check, take payment, give the check and payment to the host or manager, and return a customer’s credit card, signature slip, and any change.Servers must process sales and bring the check to customers at appropriate times.Restaurant servers are also responsible for cleaning up tables and dining areas, as well as tidying up any spills.Waitstaff are responsible for front of house tasks like setting tables, removing dinnerware, replenishing utensils and refilling glasses.Greet customers and build a positive customer experience from when they sit down until the bill is paid.Waiters and waitresses inform the kitchen and bar of customer’s choices, as well as of any special dietary needs or special requests.Being well presented, keeping track of tables, and remembering orders requires focus and concentration. Restaurant servers should be well-organized.Servers should know the menu well enough to help diners make an informed meal choice-and to upsell when possible.However, on-the-job training is almost always required and restaurant operations classes are available for servers wanting to upskill. Accordingly, they must be “on” all the time and ready to build relationships with guests.Ī restaurant server doesn’t need any formal education. Their main priority is the customer experience. First things first: while a restaurant server’s responsibilities vary depending on the type of restaurant they work at, their primary duties are to take customer orders and deliver food and drinks.

[brewjust]

Server checkbook

#Server checkbook license

#Server checkbook windows

+ Web links from "Monitor Stats" page to extended monitor information pages now open in a new tab + Added description in the Maintenance Mode panel + Added search bar to both selectors in the Maintenance Mode panel + Fixed issue with monitors not respecting a newly-applied check interval when using batch edit + Optimisations made to monitor set loading and saving

#Server checkbook windows

+ Improved search to highlight both monitor and chart, if the relevant windows are open + Fixed issue with settings.ini file sometimes not being kept up-to-date + Changed logs to CSV format (previously a plain text format) + Added failure history for individual monitors, accessible from the right-click monitor menu + Added setting to specify whether monitor failure alerts show on-screen or not + Added name of currently-loaded monitor set to main program title bar + Fixed issue where duplicated monitors retained the failure history of the original monitor + Fixed issue with crash if CSV log files are locked (e.g. + Added "All Failures" web report page and web URL option + Added "All Failures" email report option + Added main menu option to show all failures for all monitors or for only the selected monitors Removed legacy "last/most recent failure" report type + Fixed several issues with saved file name and save files + Fixed issue causing disparity between statistics failure times and failure times presented in failure history reports + Combined failure history into one report to display clearer history of all failures Removed setting Web Server -> Uptime stats show 100% + Tables shown in web failure reports can now be sorted by column headers

#Server checkbook license

+ Added license expiry information in About panel (depending on license type) + Fixed error when restarting after applying license + Fixed issue with recorded times of failures not observing UTC offsets + Fixed issue with showing only failures for last x days not being limited to last x days + Cumulative failure totals report now allows specific selected monitors to be displayed, as well as all monitors + Added setting Reports -> Minimum Time To Count As Failure + Fixed issue with daily "failure report" email being triggered incorrectly when reports should include failures with a minimum length only + Fixed issue with internal calculation of failure times when generating monitor failure reports

[oomisluvr]

SPOILED ROTTEN

(SEE: RICHBOY!SAKUSA SPOILS YOU A LITTLE TOO MUCH).

“ABSOLUTELY not.” He deadpans, glaring at you like you’ve just kicked his dog and insulted his mother. It’s not a kind tone, “Don’t ask me again.” 

“Kiyoomi, you always do this,” you seethe, ignoring the discomfort of the round-cheeked waitress holding the card reader, “Let. Me. Pay.”

“Fuck. No.” He returns, redirecting his attention to the server and handing her his card, “I’m terribly sorry about her. Debit, please.”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.” You say as she scurries off, clearly amused at the battlefield the two of you have created in the center of this high-end, dimly lit restaurant. You wouldn’t be surprised to find a moviestar seated at the table behind you. 

He repeats your name back to you in the same tone you used with him, a handsome grin on his face, “Yes, my love?”

“Stop paying for everything!” You demand, “People already think I’m using you for your money, and you aren’t really helping my case.” You’ve seen the tweets. Some are accusatory. Some are happy for you. None of them attest to your character. 

“Well,” he leans over the table, finding your hands and softly stroking the knuckle there, trapping you in his coffee-cold gaze, “Are you using me for my money?”

“No,” you grumble, a little flustered at his forwardness, “But still–”

He releases your hand as the words leave your mouth, a satisfactory smile tugging at his lips, “Then there’s no issue. Though, I wouldn’t be opposed to you using me for money. I’m a useful guy.”

“Kiyoomi, that’s not the point–”

“As a matter of fact,” he sifts through his wallet to find what he’s looking for, gently sliding it across the table when he locates whatever it is, “I’ve been meaning to give this to you.”

The young waitress returns with a smooth leather checkbook and a pen. He thanks her as she walks off, delivering his signature to the flimsy receipt with a few flicks of his wrist, “What’s twenty percent of two hundred? I wasn’t good at math.”

You don’t answer that, “You can’t be serious. Kiyoomi, I can’t accept–”

“Is fifty dollars enough to tip? Fuck it, I’ll just leave sixty.”

“This is your credit card.”

“You have great eyesight,” he comments, shrugging like it’s nothing, “And I have good credit. Use it for whatever. I’ll pay it off.”

You nearly laugh at the absurdity of it all, “Since when were you so confident?”

“When you started giving me attention,” He grins easily, “I’d do a lot of things to get you to pay attention to me.”

His transparency catches you off guard, “You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he fires back, “You’re too pretty to not be taken seriously.” 

You sigh, face feeling hot. 

“You’re too much,” It takes a great effort to fight back the grin that threatens to break through, to suppress a smile at his ease, “Let’s go home.”

“Why don’t we go find something sweet?” He offers, standing to help you into your coat, “There’s a good ice cream place around here that stays open late.”

Your shy smile gives Kiyoomi enough of an answer. Thanking the staff as the two of you head for the door, he slithers a sneaky arm around your waist.

“I’ll even let you pay,” he flirts, pulling you closer to combat the late-night temperatures, “With your new credit card, of course.”

This was so self-indulgent it's actually ridiculous. Marrying rich is a very real, very serious goal of mine. Hmu for offers serious inquires ONLY <33

[tricky-bastard-pokemon]

as someone who worked as a server for most of my adult life, aside from tips the thing that genuinely made me happy was whenever people would write little notes for me on receipts. i keep all of them in my checkbook!

Vote, add propaganda and reblog to spread democracy!

[emmyrosee]

MORE MICKEY X READER X ROMAN PLEASE

UGH OMG L I S T E N

Imagine your anniversary matching with a “gotcha” kind of thing, where you celebrate the new day you three became the unit you are. Mickey’d been working in maintenance in Roman’s building for a while, so it’s more when you all just started being together. Like the day Roman stopped asking Mickey when he would leave in the morning and instead would set him a plate at the breakfast table. The day he’d stopped saying “see you at the office” and became “you want a ride today?”

And when that day comes every year, Mickey dreads it. Being Roman’s little server and intern, he doesn’t make a lick of the money Roman does, and when Roman starts showing up with these big, extravagant gifts and Mickey cannot match it, he gets embarrassed. He hates the way your face lights up at the necklaces and gowns because it’s not because of him.

And it’s hard enough to share the one he loves with his goddamned boss.

And this year, Mickey cannot be fucked to lose to roman. His love for you does not have to be materialized. His bouquet of flowers does not deserve to be squashed by Romans trail of rose petals to a chef-made dinner.

And roman is not a heartless man- okay, well, yes, he is, but never when it comes to you and your feelings- and when he overhears mickey telling one of his employees how he’s absolutely dreading that very day, how he’s even wondering if it’s worth it to stay in this situationship, Roman feels a tinge of guilt.

And Roman will be damned if he ruins the week of your anniversary; even if it means he has to share you some more.

So let’s fast forward a little bit. It’s the evening of your shared anniversary, Mickey’s been lowkey avoiding conversations and gazes all day, and Roman can’t help but feel guilty. Like. He just doesn’t like the looks and one-worded answers Mickey’s sending your way, it just doesn’t sit right with him.

All through breakfast.

All through work.

All through the lunch break they spent together.

Roman couldn’t help but stir.

And he’s trying to keep his cool, look at this logically, but you’re blowing up his phone with messages about how mickey feels different today, how he’s not responding to you or how he didn’t seem to even acknowledge the date, and Roman can practically see the sadness in your eyes through the messages you’re sending.

Then, 5 pm rolls around, and it’s now or never for Roman to try and make this right. He’s so conflicted, so confused and borderline scared for the evening ahead, that he barely notices Mickey knocking at the door with a blank look on his face, asking him if he’s ready to get going.

“Uhhhhhh...” Roman drones, wide green eyes flicking around the room as he tries to think on his feet, listening to the devil and the angel on each of his shoulder. Mickey gives him an irritated look, and that’s about the last thing he wants to bring home to you.

Then, he just sighs.

“No. I’m gonna lay back,” he says, pulling out his checkbook. Mickey quirks a brow curiously and leans against the doorframe, “dude, it’s our anniversary-”

“No, it’s your anniversary,” Roman corrects, writing an absurd number on the check and flicking his gaze back up Mickey. “What did you get her?”

“Nothing; I knew it wouldn’t compete with your shit, so-”

“Shut up,” Roman snarls, passing Mickey the check. “Go to the jewelry store, tell them Roman Godfrey sent you. They know our situation and jewelry she likes, they’ll help you pick out something nice. Then, you’re going to go to the florist and pick up some flowers for her- I think she likes peonies- and when you get home, you’re gonna tell her that my assistant lost last months invoices, and I of course, had to find them-”

“Thanks, but I don’t need your help-”

“After that, you’re going to take her to dinner with the rest of that check, and then go to that bakery she likes, think it’s Frederick’s, and let her pick out whatever she wants. If she asks where you got the money, tell her you’ve been avoiding her lately so you could pick up more shifts.”

Then, Mickey’s face drained of any color, swallowing thickly as he know gets why Roman cares so much about this.

“Why are you doing this for me?” Mickey says softly, feeling nauseous. The feeling only intensifies when Roman glares at him, quirking a brow as if to ask if Mickey actually just asked him that, “I’m not going to let your dumbass break her heart on your anniversary. Just- go home and take care of her, ask Harrison for a ride, he’ll take care of ya.”

And sure enough, later that night when Roman finally shambled home, occupying his time in his office, at the local bar, just anywhere he could keep himself busy and not interrupting yours and mickey’s night, he follows the trail of discared clothes and walked into the darkened bedroom, the only light being what slips in through the window, and he can’t help but smile at the sight.

You and Mickey are a heap of tangled, naked limbs, his arms wrapped around your frame protectively. He chuckles and makes his way out to the kitchen for something to drink. Half eaten tiramisu and stems of strawberries liter the island (along with your heels and panties- Roman doesn’t even want to know), but most importantly, there’s a closed jewelry box, bigger than a ring but still relatively small, and Roman feels a weight being lifted off of his shoulders that Mickey followed through.

Roman knows in the morning, you’ll be pissed that he missed your night, but deep down, he knows it was worth it to keep Mickey confident in your relationship. 

It’s just a new normal he’ll have to get used to.

[angelictaehyun]

PAIRING: richboy!kang taehyun x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: He’s been a pain in your ass since you began working at the club. He’s arrogant and insanely wealthy, and you’re struggling to simply pay tuition. Needless to say, it’s not quite the match made in heaven… or so it seems. 

WC. 11,200+

GENRE: rich kid au, country club au, e2l au, crack, fluff

WARNINGS: mild language, illegal activity, y/n’s an actual dumbass, and taehyun’s kind of a dick lol

.

You repeatedly tapped your pen against your sticky, worn checkbook, awaiting a response from the refined, old lady sitting comfortably under a patio umbrella. You, on the other hand, felt the scorching heat of the summer sun against your back, making you sweat uncontrollably—you could only hope you didn’t resemble a drenched pig. The woman eyed you, a bit too judgmentally for your liking, before pointing her perfectly manicured nail at the menu in her hand, “I want this pasta, but make it gluten-free. Throw in another iced tea, too… extra lemon, of course!”

You winced at her shrill voice. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, all of our pasta is made from flour,” you explained patiently. Her right eye twitched. You were an obstacle in her way of getting what she desired, she was angry. Lovely. However, above all, she was confused, “Just tell the chef to make it without flour, let him know it’s a special request. I don’t see the issue.”

“Ma’am, I’m telling you… there’s no way to make it without flour, we just don’t have the type of noodle you want in house.”

She drummed her hand on the table, absolutely fuming. She glanced at you like you kicked a puppy, it was absolutely infuriating. She grasped for nothing as her brain formulated any response, “This is outrageous! I want to speak with a manager. Now!”

You sighed, “Gladly.”

It was astounding, truly, the lack of self-awareness and consideration some people had... or, didn’t have. You wished, so badly, to tell them off, but you desperately needed the cash. After all, college wouldn’t pay for itself and the bills piling on your coffee table wouldn’t just magically disappear. You swiftly turned around and trudged away, scanning the vast garden for your manager, Yeonjun, but unsurprisingly, he was nowhere to be found. You’d known him long enough to assume he was hiding in the manager’s office, his poor attempt to flee from the overbearing, entitled crowd. How he scammed his way into a managerial position, a position of authority… that was beyond you. 

You were halfway across the floor, pushing past another server when you felt an intense stare land on you. You halted in place, knowing exactly who the gaze belonged to. You glanced at the table stationed in the far corner of the garden, instantly meeting his piercing stare. He eyed you shamelessly, a signature habit of his, before throwing you a smug grin. You weren’t going to kid yourself, he wore the smirk well. 

Too bad he was a pompous ass. 

Kang Taehyun. You hated saying his name, it humanized him and he was anything but human. Rather, he was an evil, irritating demon spawn simply disguising himself as human. And the cherry on top? He was the absolute bane of your existence. 

There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but you didn’t necessarily want to. He opened his mouth to call you over, but much to your dismay, decided against it and instead rose from his seat to saunter over to you. You tried fleeing the scene the millisecond he stood up, but the elderly lady directly in front of you shuffled quite slowly, blocking your exit and trapping you in place. You tapped your foot impatiently as he approached you. 

“You look… sweaty,” he observed, chuckling at your less-than-appealing state. Truth be told, though he didn’t like admitting it to himself, he thought you looked beautiful. 

“Taehy—” he forcibly cut you off by landing his slender finger on your lips. You ignored the spark you felt from the small contact. He let his gaze travel to your Cupid’s bow momentarily, a part of him wanting to kiss your frown away. 

“Ah, not Taehyun,” he reminded you smoothly. You considered biting his finger off, but you prided yourself on your outstanding professionalism. Granted, it significantly dwindled every time you spoke to him.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled monotonously. “Mr. Kang… if you don’t remove your hand from my mouth, I will shove a menu so far up your ass, you’ll choke,” you snapped, a pretty smile adorning your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Your customer service and approachable personality never fail to amaze me,” he stated, drawing his finger away from you. He continued despite the growing, fiery rage in your eyes, “I’d like another fork, mine’s a bit dirty.”

“That’s your problem. I’m not your waitress, I have my own customers to deal with, so if you don’t mind…”

He completely disregarded your subtle plea for him to leave. “For your information, I’d much rather prefer you as a server and not him,” he admitted, throwing a spare glance at his server—Hyunjin, if you were guessing from the blond hair. 

“That’s too bad…” you trailed as you mustered up the fakest sympathetic pout you could. You continued, “Anyways, I really hate to cut this short, but I’d better get going. I’m sure you’ll survive with your fork. You probably won’t get tetanus, but fingers crossed.”

“Yeah, best of luck with Cinderella’s stepmom,” he mumbled, gesturing to your awaiting customer. He flashed you a confident wink before whirling around and returning to his seat. You scoffed, your lips tilting downward into an ugly grimace. The snapping sound from a couple of feet away brought you out of your disgusted daze. The lady you had spoken to was repeatedly snapping her fingers in an attempt to grab your attention. You were met with an expectant gaze when you directed your focus back on her. She was poised, her spine in perfect posture and hands folded properly across her lap; her body language exhibited no sign of emotion until you reached her watchful glare, clearly telling you to hurry along. You inhaled sharply before plastering on a fake smile. You resumed your hunt for Yeonjun, but once again, you felt the weight of a cocky stare land on your back. 

He was challenging you, silently. You knew it. Unfortunately for him, you had no interest in playing his silly, childish game, so you clenched your jaw and walked away. 

· ──────────────────── ·

As odd as it was, you and your best friend had a favorite bench. It sat a block from the country club and in the middle of a hidden, rugged park, but it was your safe space; it’d been your favorite place since you both found it in fourth grade. After every grueling shift, Kai would meet you on the bench with dinner. The food was almost always inedible, but you weren’t there for his cooking, rather his company. He was already perched on the bench, kicking at a pebble beneath his feet. He heard you approach but kept his focus on the fascinating rock.

“God, took you long enough, I’ve been here forever. I started to think you ditched me for one of those rich boys,” he complained. When you didn’t retort with a snarky comeback like you normally would’ve, he turned from his spot and glanced at your disheveled figure, immediately letting out an obnoxious laugh.

You looked like shit.

Your hair was a disaster, the wisps of hair framing your face no longer considered stylish, but rather unkempt and as Kai liked to put it, “homeless-like.” Not only did you look bad, you felt unclean. The sweat behind your knees was quickly becoming uncomfortably sticky and your mascara was rubbing off, making you look like a rabid raccoon. 

Despite all that, you were happy to see Kai, his bubbly personality never failed to cheer you up—but you’d never let him be privy to that. 

You shot him the nastiest glare you could muster, but that proved difficult considering the little energy you had left.

“Aw, Y/N…”

“I’m going to quit, I swear to God. If I have to hear one more soccer mom complain about her salmon being too fishy, I’m going to have to start perfecting my mugshot pose,” you grumbled through clenched teeth. He made a noise of disagreement, “Let’s not throw your ass in jail just yet. Orange makes you look like a traffic cone.”

You shot him an indignant glare, “Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Anyways, I made us some hamburgers and managed to grab some extra soda cans before leaving home. So bone app the teeth or whatever.”

You snorted. He always brightened your mood, just a simple sentence could lift your sad spirit. You had to give it to him, the burger looked pretty appetizing… but you’d learned that with his cooking, much like anything else, appearances can be quite deceiving. Despite this, you inhaled your burger, ignoring the fact that the meat was undercooked and the mayonnaise was likely expired. You paid no attention to the fact that your soda was lukewarm and flat—you sipped on it regardless. Your mind was elsewhere, easily drowning out whatever Kai was ranting about. 

“... I know you probably had a bad day ‘cause of your boy,” he observed quietly.

You snapped your focus back, “My boy?”

“Yeah, your boy. The one you think is a self-righteous prick, but secretly think is really hot. Hm, what was it… Terry? Tyler? Taeyong?... Oh, I got it. Trash can.”

You scoffed, “Taehyun, most certainly, is not my boy. I can’t stand him. His head is so far up his flat ass, I’m surprised he’s still breathing.”

Kai nodded in feigned understanding. He tilted an eyebrow quizzically before opening his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“And I don’t think he’s cute!” 

“... And I’m Beyoncé.” 

You didn’t respond, too tired to argue with him. Instead, you let out a small noise of disagreement before resting your head on his broad shoulder, contently sipping on your warm soda. He knew how tired you were; everyday he watched you wear yourself down to practically nothing, it hurt him. He leaned his head against your own, placing a hand atop your thigh and squeezing reassuringly. You allowed yourself to relax, breathing in the humid, summer air. You stayed like that until he let out a small laugh. 

“Let’s rob him,” Kai suddenly suggested. He was joking, obviously, but you still perked at the idea. You turned to face him expectantly, straw loosely hanging from your mouth. He visibly retracted, “Jeez, Y/N, I was kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“… I’m not robbing someone.” He threw you a cautious glare before aggressively taking a large bite of his burger and chugging his flat soda. You were losing your mind, he was sure of it. You poked curiously, “So I’m assuming your stance on graffitiing is the same.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line before letting out an exasperated sigh, “Obviously.”

You turned away, sulking, and he couldn’t help but snicker. You were his best friend and had been since second grade, but if he said he didn’t think you were a dumbass, he'd be lying. 

“Come on, it’s time to get you home, you have an early shift tomorrow,” he reminded suddenly, mouth still full. You smacked his arm, disgusted by his lack of basic manners. He opened his mouth to showcase all his unchewed food. 

You gagged. 

“You’re disgusting!” you screeched, shuffling away from him. He chased after you, catching you almost immediately. His long legs made it easy. He effortlessly tossed you over his shoulder, ignoring your squirming, and carried you to his car, “Hush, I know you love me.”

“Gross. Never.”

He slapped the back of your calf and you squeaked, “Kai! Put me down! Now!”

“No, not until you say it. Make it believable, too.”

He wasn’t joking, you knew that. Eleven years of friendship and he was still as shameless as the day you met him. More so, if anything. Yes, his eight-year-old self was quite the charmer. You grumbled monotonously, “Kai, what can I say… you’re the light of my life, my hero, my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably die. I love you, I guess.”

“Too sarcastic, but it’ll do,” he conceded. He set you down and held in a laugh. Your hair looked even worse than before. He slung an arm around your shoulder, “Okay, get in the car. Hurry. I’d rather not listen to you complain about your lack of beauty sleep… again.”

· ──────────────────── ·

You mindlessly typed in a complicated order as Yeonjun watched your gaze drift over to the garden. 

“You’ve pressed that button so much, the console’s probably broken. Cool it,” he reprimanded gently. Your attention snapped back to the screen which was littered with incorrect orders.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what has me so distracted today,” you mumbled sheepishly. He chuckled and gave you a comforting nudge on the shoulder, “I think I know exactly why.”

Your gaze followed his and instantly landed on Taehyun. As much as you hated to admit, he looked good. Great, even. It looked like he’d just walked out of a rager, especially with his tie undone and shirt untucked, which he pulled off beautifully. His hair was slightly disheveled and you suddenly had the strongest urge to run a hand through it. 

Your eyes widened at the sudden thought and you aggressively shoved it to the back of your mind. “I don’t like him!” 

“I never said you did.” he argued, suppressing a mirthful grin. Yeonjun reminded you of Kai, especially with his insistence on your attraction to Taehyun, or as you believed, lack thereof. He continued, “Just a reminder, though. The line between love and hate is so, so thin.”

Rather than responding and saying something that would surely get you fired, you huffed and turned your focus back on the order, unaware of your aggressive punching on the console’s screen. You were already having a rough day, but everyday spent at the country club was considered less-than-stellar. Yeonjun gave you a reassuring smile before sulking off to deal with another whiny, overbearing customer. You unconsciously let your gaze travel back over to Taehyun and was instantly met with a genuine smile, just not one directed to you. He laughed at a joke, oblivious to your longing and thank God, if he caught you staring, you’d never hear the end of it. His smile was just so pretty, you couldn’t help but feel giddy. Sure, you hated him—that’s what you told yourself—but you could appreciate a handsome face. As if on cue, Taehyun turned in your general direction and you quickly scrambled out of sight. As you turned, Hyunjin scrambled by you, the heavy tray resting on his shoulder nearly beheading you. His long, wavy blond hair, which was in a nice, neat half-ponytail at the beginning of his shift, was now splaying in every direction—he was beyond stressed. If the messy hair wasn’t enough, his hooded eyes were getting darker. You approached him as he grabbed a checkbook, “Hyun, you look like a mess.”

“Hey, Y/N! Yeah, I just have a lot of floor to cover, and they’re all extra demanding today,” he explained, short of breath. He groaned as he watched another set of people sit in his section and continued, “God, please cover me. I’ll owe you one. I’m already overwhelmed with my current table number.”

You laughed understandingly, “Of course.”

“You’re the best, it’s table thirty.” He squinted to get a good look, “Oh! I know that customer, he’s a great tipper. You should be just fine.”

You shifted your attention to the table in question, immediately deflating as you saw Taehyun sitting with a friend. You turned around to protest, but Hyunjin was already gone. 

You internally screamed before trudging over to his table, gathering all of your dignity... kissing his arrogant ass wasn’t necessarily on your agenda for today. When Taehyun saw you approach his table, he did little to hide his pleased smirk. You undid your balled fist. 

“Hi. My name is Y/N, I’ll be your server today,” you monotonously stated, an unenthusiastic but convincing smile plastering your face. To any other guest, it would’ve been believable, but Taehyun knew better; your server persona didn’t fool him.

“Y/N. What a pretty name,” his friend observed, a bit too flirtatiously for your liking. Taehyun noticed too, judging from the way he narrowed his eyes and tongued his cheek. And also the way he obviously kicked his friend’s leg under the table. You mustered a sweet smile, hoping to mask your disgust, “Thank you! That’s so… nice. Anyway, what would you like to drink? We got in a new Italian wine, just delivered today.”

“That’s alright, just water.”

“Water.”

Cheap. Especially for a pair of chaebol children. 

“Alright! I’ll be back momentarily,” you informed, smile dropping the instant you turned away. As you trailed back to the kitchen, you heard Taehyun give his friend a hushed reprimanding making you smirk. You passed Yeonjun, noticing he looked as if he was about to lose his sanity. You gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder—for someone so young, he managed well. Of course, he used his handsome face and charm as often as possible; his attractiveness and charisma was dangerous. He managed to grasp the attention of everyone and it aided him greatly. You pressed quizzically, “Jun, you don’t seem good.”

“Says you. You’re lover boy’s server. What a shocking, juicy turn of events. I’m on my toes,” he teased impishly. You stared at him vacantly. Yeonjun continued to poke fun, enjoying the lack of response you gave as you procrastinated to avoid returning to Taehyun’s table, but sadly, there was only so long it could take to fill a glass with water. Yeonjun pouted sympathetically, “Good luck.”

You didn’t need luck. No. To spend a precious hour or more, waiting on a privileged, disgustingly wealthy teenage boy, specifically Kang Taehyun, you needed patience, self-control, and temper management. You reminded yourself of just that as you approached him, placing his water near his plate, “Gentlemen, are you ready to order?”

You jotted down his friend’s order, ignoring the growing complexity as he piled on request after request, no sign of stopping. “... And I need it lukewarm. Not room temperature, but lukewarm.”

You diligently suppressed the eye roll that nearly bubbled up. Honestly, you’d dealt with far worse, Taehyun’s friend didn’t even scratch the surface. 

You had to wonder though, did people like this ever feel shame? 

You faced the cocky redhead, “And for you… Mr. Kang?”

You cringed. He didn’t miss the nearly imperceptible flash of disgust that crossed your expression. He grinned, “Just the lasagna. While you’re at it, I’d like another glass of water.”

“You already have a full glass,” you seethed, glancing at the glass you had just set down. He enjoyed this: testing you, pushing you, slowly dwindling your sanity until you snapped. He wanted to get a reaction from you, anything other than the bored, disinterested expression you gave him every single day. He smiled innocently, “What can I say… I like staying hydrated.”

His amusement was irritating. Unsurprisingly, his torment was based on the stupid, outdated notion that a boy has to show interest by picking on his crush, but you weren’t privy to his inner thought process. You suppressed another eye roll as you turned to grab a pitcher from Hyunjin, the boy sprinting behind you with a full tray. You felt bad for him, at least, until you remembered he pawned Taehyun’s table onto you and your pity became short lived. You filled an empty glass, increasingly aware of Taehyun’s piercing stare. Your emotionless expression would’ve given him no indication as to how nervous you felt if it weren’t for the slight blush that painted your face.  

He smirked victoriously. You hated it.

A breath of relief escaped you as his attention turned to his friend. He leaned back in his seat and lifted a hand to rest behind his head, accidentally smacking the pitcher, causing you to spill the cold water onto his lap. He flinched at the sudden icy contact. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you gasped, fishing a stray napkin from your apron. Normally, he would’ve brushed it off, considering it was his fault, but he felt pressured under the expectant gaze of his snobbish peer. Plus, he gained the reaction he wanted from you... something other than disgust. He feigned offense as he dramatically pushed his seat back and stood up, easily towering over you, “Next time, try not sucking at your job!”

He immediately regretted his outburst but he showed no sign of remorse, not when he had a reputation to uphold. God forbid, he could actually be a considerate person. 

More importantly, though, he pushed too far this time and there wasn’t much turning back. You winced at his tone, withering back from his harsh statement, though you quickly replaced your hurt with unadulterated rage. Your blood boiled as your vision went red, steam practically fuming from your ears. Your pained expression broke his heart and he nearly dropped his act, but before he could do or process anything, his silk shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his body as ice water seeped through. His slacks were drenched and his designer loafers were completely ruined. He didn’t pay much attention to that, though... not when you were an inch from his face, holding an empty water pitcher over his head.

“I quit,” you lowly hissed. You firmly shoved the pitcher into his hand and scoffed as he stumbled back from the force. All eyes were on you as you stalked off, hastily tossing your apron into the nearest trash can. Yeonjun gave you a quick nod, his subtle way of telling you he was proud. 

He’d get your resignation letter another day.

Taehyun helplessly called after you but it was useless. You were too far gone to care. 

· ──────────────────── ·

You slammed your car door shut, absolutely fuming. You blankly stared at the frog keychain hanging from your rearview mirror. Normally, you would’ve smiled at the small figurine, but in the moment, you wanted to punt it into another timezone. It’s cheeriness pissed you off to no end. You quickly fished your phone out to dial Kai’s number, the line ringing thrice before he picked up, groaning, “I’m trying to sleep.”

His voice seemed muffled, likely from the thirty plushies he insisted on sleeping with. 

“It’s dinner time.”

“It’s called a nap, genius.”

“Alright, well, I just quit my job… and I might have dumped a pitcher of water onto Taehyun’s stupid, privileged ass.”

The line fell silent. You wouldn’t have been surprised had he hung up on you—your tendency to act impulsively drove him up the wall and he was nearing his limit. You patiently awaited his response, likely a reprimanding scold. 

“Y/N, what the fuck.”

“He had it coming, I swear,” you promised. In detail, you explained your biased side of the story, ignoring the obvious judgement emanating from the opposite line. The minute you finished, you spotted Taehyun’s panicked figure run into the full parking lot, frantically searching for you; you ducked behind your steering wheel, praying he didn’t see you. You squeaked, cutting off Kai’s tangent, “Oh my God! Oh my God! He followed me!”

He sighed. “If you dumped ice water on me, I’d be chasing after you too.”

You peeked curiously from your spot, seeing he had yet to find you. The cogs in your mind churned slowly, mixing in with your rage, “What if we graffitied his house?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious, I want to do it! He can’t just get away with humiliating me in front of the entire club, waitstaff, and my manager. And graffitiing isn’t illegal… ish.”

You could practically picture his narrowed gaze, “It’s definitely, most certainly, illegal. Sunshine, I understand your anger, hell, I’d be outraged, but revenge isn’t always the answer. And graffiti isn’t the most… sound idea.”

You crossed your arms defensively, “It’s a genius idea.”

“It really isn’t.”

“I’m going to do it, regardless of if it’s a good idea or not. You’re either in or out.”

Once more, the line fell quiet. His mind churned, concluding there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d follow through—you were simply too chicken. He laughed, “Fine. I’m in.”

“Great! Find his address, I’ll be over soon.”

You hung up and regained your composure. Taehyun spotted your car as you buckled in your seatbelt, making direct eye contact with your enraged figure. You were surprised, he didn’t seem angry, rather regretful. Almost apologetic. 

But you didn’t care. 

You sped off the lot without sparing him a final glance. 

· ──────────────────── ·

“Have faith in me! Finding his address isn’t going to be hard. You know, I’m a tech whiz, it runs in the family.”

You snickered, “Beomgyu getting accepted into the computer science program at his university doesn’t mean you got the tech gene. You’re the worst with technology, you can’t even remember your laptop login half the time.”

He eyed you challengingly, before cracking his knuckles and typing furiously. Only a single minute had passed before he was yelling, “Jackpot! I found it!”

You were thrown for a loop. He was quite technologically inept, he couldn’t even open a browser without some trouble, let alone find an address. You stared at him quizzically, a smidge of doubt crossing your mind. He deflated, avoiding your hard gaze, “Okay… maybe, just maybe, I called Gyu before you arrived and had him help.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You sighed and tossed yourself back on his plush bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on his ceiling. You laughed quietly, you remembered putting them up there—it was really only a year ago. See, Kai had this whole star-sticker-related schtick or as he liked to put it, “Inability to have them as a child which subsequently caused emotional damage.”

You had just returned from a grueling shift and you were exhausted, weak, and insanely pissed—reason being Taehyun, of course.

It was always Taehyun.

In a frivolous attempt to cheer you up, Kai suggested pasting the stickers onto his ceiling. Honestly, it was more stressful than fun. He constantly wobbled around the bed, nearly dropping you several times as you sat perched on his broad shoulders and stuck them up. It kept you busy though, and thus, kept your mind off of Taehyun. 

It was funny, honestly. For someone that swore they hated him, you sure thought about him a lot. He took residence in your mind and you felt like the landlord trying to evict him. 

Even at that moment, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Of course, you were in denial. You told yourself it was natural to be thinking about him; after all, you were going to destroy his property. There was absolutely no other reason as to why he ran free in your mind… none at all. 

Kai knew you were overthinking. It wasn’t hard to tell, especially since your forehead usually tended to crease in the ugliest manner when you did. He tried reeling you out of your daze, “So, we’re going to commit a crime.”

“Yep.”

“... There’s no turning back.”

“I know. I’m not going to chicken out.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, of course you’d chicken out. You always did. He didn’t see any harm in indulging you with your idiotic plan, so he found the address. No harm, no foul. Right?

· ──────────────────── ·

You anxiously picked at the leather seating beneath you, nearly tearing a hole in the worn fabric. 

“Yo, cool it. Jihyo is already pretty fucked up,” Kai warned. Oh, Jihyo. You still couldn’t believe he named his old, rickety car—let alone after his ex. His car looked as if it had a mile left in it before it ultimately broke down, but you had to put some blind trust in Jihyo. After all, she was your getaway car if everything went south. You’d been sitting in Kai’s passenger seat for half an hour, coming up with nearly every excuse not to proceed with the crime.

“We really don’t have to do this. Not to mention, I don’t want to do this,” he grumbled. 

“Then why are you here?”

Imagine his surprise when you showed up at his door, decked out in all-black, stealthy gear, hope and adrenaline coursing through your body. He truly believed you would’ve backed down by now, and a small part of him hoped you still would, but the odds weren’t looking in his favor. 

“I’m not letting you go to jail! I can’t get through the school year without you, especially now that Jihyo—human Jihyo—is starting to spread her stupid, little personal agenda against me. Like, yeah, I broke up with you and that’s rough, but maybe next time, try not being manipulative… or a cheater,” he rambled. You flashed him a sympathetic smile; he said he was over it but you knew better. You patted his arm comfortingly and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a flustered, shy smile replacing his pout. 

“Guess what? I think I know exactly what’ll make you feel better,” you whispered sweetly. 

His smile instantly turned down into an exasperated frown, “Mhm, let me guess… robbing the rich boy you have a crush on.”

“I don’t have a crush on him! Why would I like him? He yelled at me in front of the entire club! And we’re not robbing him, we’re simply… graffitiing his house. Tastefully. 

“So you admit, you had a crush on him.”

“No! I’m just saying!”

He pointedly rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the castle-like house across the street, not wanting to have that conversation with you. He mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like idiot but you let it slide, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand. 

“Okay, so the gate code is probably something stupid like his birthday, his mom is probably sentimental like that,” you mumbled to yourself. You tapped your foot anxiously as you tried to formulate a coherent plan. You slowly continued, “The only problem is the crazy amount of security cameras around his house. Like, who needs that many cameras? People are dying.”

“God, I hate you,” Kai grumbled.

You ignored him, “There has to be a blind spot, somewhere a camera won’t cover. Hm…” you studied the perimeter, searching for that camera-free sweet spot. At that moment, you found a tiny patch of grass, hidden under a massive oak tree. 

Bingo. 

You shook Kai’s arm aggressively, “Look! Right there, that’s the spot. That tree has to cover the camera.”

He rested his head against the steering wheel, “Let’s get this over with.”

As you both climbed out of his car, you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. The street was littered with fancy, expensive cars while Jihyo looked like she belonged in the dump, making you even angrier. Kai crept over to the sidewalk, insisting on creeping in the shadows like a vigilante. You, on the other hand, struggled to carry your duffel bag full of equipment, constantly getting slowed down by the exceptional weight. That was your fault though, you packed it full of necessary, outstandingly heavy equipment (necessary being a loose term). Alongside the many cans of paint sat a bag of Goldfish, three juice boxes (because Kai is a massive baby), a faulty navigation system, a not-at-all threatening ski mask, and a broken hammer. 

You didn’t remember packing that hammer. 

You settled in front of Taehyun’s gate, hoping your birthday theory was correct. Of course, simply because it was you and your luck was awful, it wasn’t. You began pressing random keys, hoping something would work but it was fruitless. Nothing worked, not even the basic combinations. You huffed, “I guess we’re going to have to climb our way in.”

You mentally prepared yourself as Kai sent a couple of prayers out for good measure. He eyed your duffel bag curiously before opening it, instantly met with a multitude of spray paint in all shades. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed, “Jesus, Y/N! Where the hell did you get all this shit?”

“... Craigslist.”

“Bullshit, you were kicked off Craigslist years ago.”

You winced, insulted by his easy remark—he knew how sensitive you were about that. You kicked a pebble sheepishly, mumbling softly, “Fine, I bought the paint from Soobin…”

His eyes widened comically as his heart practically ripped out of his chest, “Soobin?! Choi Soobin?! You can’t be serious. No, there’s no way you bought from the school drug dealer! He’s a criminal! He probably tried to toss in some of that devil’s lettuce with your purchase, huh? Or worse… crack!”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your head back, he was always so dramatic. “Kai, he’s not a criminal. He’ll occasionally sell an edible or two, but that’s it! He didn’t try to sell me anything. Actually, he gave me a pretty good deal on this stuff.”

“Lovely, a modern-day businessman,” he grumbled sarcastically. 

“Whatever, just help me climb the wall,” you huffed, zipping up your bag before tossing it over the blockade. Hesitantly, he got on one knee, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear—not that you wanted to anyways. You delicately stood on his knee as he pushed on your thighs in an attempt to boost you over. 

Honestly, you struggled. Your weak muscles did little to aid in your quest, but Kai’s strength helped. 

“God, take your sweet time, it’s not like your flat, piece of plywood ass is dangling in front of my face or anything. I’m about to throw up,” he gagged. 

You scoffed, “Yeah, yeah, complain all you want but this is the most action you’ll ever see.”

“... I won’t hesitate to drop you on your face.”

However, before he could follow on his threat, you managed to hoist yourself over the brick wall. You offered a hand to Kai but instead of accepting, he eyed it mockingly, knowing you weren’t strong enough to lift him. He stretched his legs before taking a step back, giving him a running start, and surprising you both when he successfully lifted himself.

You placed your hand over his mouth, “Shh.. whisper. We’re in enemy territory now.”

He licked your palm, nearly making you screech, “Gross!”

He childishly stuck his tongue out. You shook your head and began scrounging the duffel bag for the perfect paint color. Of course, you wanted to create a masterpiece worthy of Kang Taehyun... you even considered tagging it. Kai silently sat on the grass, aimlessly picking at the freshly-cut blades as he watched you happily paint. 

You were pleased to say that in the half an hour you’d been painting, nothing had gone awry... yet.

“The fuck is that supposed to be?” he questioned curiously, leaning closer to inspect the vulgar work. 

“Taehyun,” you said easily.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like a dick.”

“It’s called symbolism, Kai.” You stepped back to admire your work as if it were hung in the Louvre whilst Kai scrunched his nose, clearly offended by the unpleasant art.

“You know, it’s funny how you have the biggest crush on this dic—” Before he could further elaborate, he was interrupted by an awfully familiar voice. 

“What the hell are you doing on my front lawn?”

You cringed. You’d been caught red-handed. 

Kai turned slowly, surrendering with his hands up. You, however, kept your back turned, considering just going to hell with it and continuing your tasteful artwork. He glanced at you anxiously, silently pleading for you to put down the paint can. 

Only because Kai looked a second away from fainting, you huffed and turned around, mimicking his pose, the only difference being the bored expression plastered on your face. 

Taehyun stood in front of you, his arms crossed and irritation painted all over his body language, but as much as he tried to hide it, there was a glint of amusement behind his eyes. You hated how his obnoxious, stop sign hair managed to look amazing under the glow of the moonlight—it was beyond irritating. Arguably, his entire being was irritating. You held his gaze, silently challenging his presence. Kai, on the other hand, was sweating profusely and dramatically hyperventilating. He clutched onto your shoulder, failing to catch an actual breath, “Oh my God! I feel like my heart is pumping out lukewarm sewer water.”

He placed his hands on his knees as he hunched over and continued, “Please, Taehyun. Please, don’t hit me with your Lamborghini. I’m begging you.”

Taehyung blankly stared at the younger, completely forgetting he was even there. You rubbed your temple and hissed, “Will you shut the fuck up? You’re making this worse.”

“I don’t want to go to jail! My face is too pretty for jail, they’d murder me on sight for being the most gorgeous boy they’ve ever seen. God, please don’t call the cops… I’ll do anything,” Kai shamelessly begged. You were so close to punting him into the Pacific Ocean. Taehyun’s annoyingly gorgeous lips twisted into a smug grin as he directed his attention back on you, “Hm, and what about you, Princess? I don’t see you begging.”

You scoffed, “I’d rather eat Kai’s shoe.”

He simply hummed, “That’s too bad. You know, I have a family friend who’s a cop… I’ll convince him to go easy on you in jail.”

“The wealthy wielding control over the justice system… how unexpected.”

“Oh my God! Y/N’s kidding, she’ll do anything,” Kai blurted quickly, shooting you a death glare. Taehyun’s eyebrow lifted curiously, a satisfied smirk settling comfortably, “Is that true?”

“What the hell do you want?” you questioned hesitantly. 

“A date.”

You briefly considered his words before shoving Kai forward, “Yeah, go nuts. He’s all yours.”

“... With you.”

You threw your head back and let out an inappropriate, hearty laugh. Even Kai let out a small snicker before replacing it with a fake cough, but Taehyun didn’t seem amused. He watched you expectantly, awaiting an answer. 

“So this is the only way Kang Taehyun can score a date… by blackmailing them. You know, that actually makes sense,” you theorized to no one in particular. You simmered in silence for a short moment before Kai cleared his throat, hinting at his obvious discomfort. Taehyun was enjoying this, you just knew it. 

That broken hammer never looked better...

“Fine,” you conceded. You glared at him, biting your tongue to prevent you from going off on his pompous ass. Taehyun’s eyes lit up with hope. 

Kai let out a breath of relief before mumbling an apology and dragging you off the lawn. His grip on you tightened as you turned around one last time to shoot daggers at Taehyun. He stood comfortably in the middle of his manicured lawn, the porch lights behind him highlighting his pleased smirk, yet all you saw was red.

· ──────────────────── ·

Kai splayed across your bed, mindlessly picking at a random throw pillow while you spritzed a hint of perfume on your forearm. His gaze trailed over your figure curiously, “You’re quite dressed up for someone who’d rather sleep in a dumpster than go on this date.”

“Well I’m not about to walk into high society wearing a stained sweatshirt and joggers.”

He snorted, “Right, that’s the only reason.” You smoothed your shirt and gave yourself a once over, feeling quite confident in your choice of clothing. Kai wasn’t blind, he thought you looked nice, but he’d let pigs fly before he told you that. He continued, “You don’t look… that ugly.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that was the closest you’d ever get to a compliment from him, “Thanks.”

“Do you know where he’s taking you?” 

“Nope.”

If you were being honest, you didn’t care where he took you; you didn’t set any conscious expectations. 

“Oh! Before I forget…” Kai smirked as he dug around his backpack. He tossed you a small, blue bottle of mouthwash. He winked cheekily, “You never know… mayhaps you’ll kiss him.”

You nearly threw up, “I most certainly will not be kissing anyone tonight, especially not his pretentious ass. Besides, you know about my rule.”

He groaned. He definitely knew about your rule, it was all you talked about after getting dumped by your last ex. After your last failed relationship (or four) you created a no-kiss policy for your first three dates. You wanted to make sure your kisses weren’t in vain, and honestly, it was fun just watching them work for it. 

“The rule is dumb,” he reminded. 

“... You’re dumb.”

You were busy dodging a pillow when your doorbell rang, signaling Taehyun’s arrival. You were shocked he didn’t just notify his presence by honking his horn—for a pompous ass such as himself, you wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“It’s time,” you mumbled somberly. 

“He isn’t the Grim Reaper. This is a date, it’s supposed to be a happy thing!” he tried encouraging sweetly as you stalked down the staircase, but to no avail, your mood didn’t lighten in the slightest. 

You aggressively swung open your front door, nearly knocking Kai unconscious. Taehyun dressed simple but pleasant; his expensive, black sweater was expertly tucked into a nice set of slacks and the Cartier bracelet that adorned his wrist, perfectly accentuated his veins. His bright, red hair was styled messily and his cheeks were flushed, beautifully highlighting his angled nose and sharp jawline. Your mouth gaped, just slightly, as you drank him in—while he was always attractive, this specific look had you stunned. He held a single rose against his chest and it only made him look more ethereal, if that was even possible. When you looked up, you instantly noted the hint of panic in his eyes, which made you feel at ease. 

“Taehyun,” you blankly addressed.

“Y/N! You look amazing, so beautiful…” he trailed as he handed you the rose. You grabbed it and immediately shoved it into Kai’s chest.

“Let’s get this over with,” you grumbled, pushing past him and harshly hitting his shoulder.

“... Right.”

“Hey, try not to murder him, I can’t afford bail. I make minimum wage,” Kai reminded, flashing Taehyun a sympathetic smile as the older trailed closely behind you. You were about to open his car door when he came rushing by, insisting on opening it for you. In return, you sent him a nasty glare, “I’m capable of opening my own door.”

“I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“A gentleman doesn’t go off on someone in the middle of a public space,” you reminded.”

He sighed. A mere five minutes into the date and he already felt defeated. He wished he could form a proper apology, but it would be futile—you’d just shut him down. So he decided to express his apology in the form of something he knew you’d accept; needless to say, he had a trick or two up his Gucci sleeve. 

You kept your gaze focused on anything but him. Your arms were folded across your chest, the evident frown on your face doing very little to hide your irritation. Despite that, he still thought you looked beautiful… granted, every single time he spoke to you, you wore a frown so this wasn’t new to him. 

“You look so pretty,” he complimented as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“I know.”

Of course he deserved every ounce of your cold, unwelcoming demeanor, but it still hurt. He was flushed but you didn’t notice since you made an obvious effort to scoot as far away from him as possible, practically pressing yourself up against the car door. However, the painful silence quickly overwhelmed you, so you hesitantly threw him a bone, “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise but I know you’ll like it. It’s my way of apologizing.”

“This better be a hell of an apology.”

“I promise you it is.”

You noticed his sincerity. His usual cockiness was replaced with shyness and a twinge of guilt, and you found it endearing. You stayed quiet for the remainder of the car ride, only a small sound of confusion as he pulled into a half-empty parking lot of a local carnival. A young employee approached the car and gave Taehyun a permitting nod, making you suspicious. He drove past the entrance gate and straight into a private space, parking next to a dinky, old ice cream truck. The space was close to a nearby forest, a bit too secluded for your taste.

“So you’re going to kill me,” you observed, scanning the dark environment around you.

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“That’s what a murderer would say,” you mumbled.

You were so stubborn, he knew that, yet he still let out an exasperated sigh. He frowned and climbed out of his car, shuffling to your side, only to find you were already halfway out. You didn’t say anything, choosing to send another hard glare his way instead.

He headed in the direction of the carnival—not the forest—and gestured you to follow him. You trailed behind, ignoring the damp mud that stuck to the bottom of your cheap shoes. You felt a bit overdressed, but when you glanced at Taehyun, you felt better. However, the more you thought about it, his outfit likely cost more than your college tuition, putting a slight dent in your ego. You focused your attention on the glowing moon instead of him, and when he turned to look at you, he was in awe. You seemed peaceful, or at least, not as pissed. 

It was nice.

He led you down to the middle of the fair where you saw a crowd gathered around a massive dunk tank. He seemed antsy, constantly shifting his weight and picked at the hem of his costly shirt. He momentarily abandoned your side and walked to the dunk tank operator, speaking briefly before grabbing a bucket filled of unknown stuff. 

When he walked back, you stared curiously at the bucket which was full of heavy baseballs. “This is my apology.”

Vague. 

As if he read your mind, he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you to face the tank, pointing directly at the chair above the pool. “I’m going to be sitting on that chair. Your job is to throw them,” he gestured over to the bullseye, “at the target, until I’m submerged.”

You couldn’t suppress your smile. He was right, this was an apology you’d accept, an apology in the form of embarrassment. Smart boy. 

He didn’t necessarily look forward to ruining his cashmere sweater, but he would’ve done anything to make it up to you, and your bright smile told him he was on the right path. You let out a light laugh, picking up a baseball and tossing it carelessly. 

He spared you a final glance before shuffling off to his fate. He seemed to garner a lot of attention, the crowd had grown significantly larger since you first arrived. You held the ball in your hand as he climbed onto the chair—you were arguably a little too excited to send him into the cold, cold water. He seemed shaky, but you didn’t care. You threw the ball with no hesitation. 

Strike one. You missed by a long shot.

He suppressed a laugh. You shook your body, ridding yourself of any anxiousness before trying once more. 

Strike two. You were closer. Barely.

You had an unlimited amount of attempts, but the longer you failed, the more embarrassed you felt. He now seemed comfortable... prideful, even. Your face was flushed red from humiliation, but you tried to keep it from affecting you as you threw once more, this time, significantly more aggressive. 

Strike three. This was outright shameful.

“C’mon, you can do better than that…” he baited. He couldn’t help but tease, it didn’t matter that you were on a date. The crowd let out a collective laugh. You scoffed indignantly, cracking your neck and back, your stare darkening. You were about to hit the winning shot, he knew it. He loosened his grip on the chair and leaned forward.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed. 

The longing, heartfelt expression in his eyes had you flustered. You nodded understandingly, reeling in his genuine apology, and flashing him a sympathetic, sincere smile before throwing the baseball straight at the bullseye, sending him (and his expensive outfit) straight into the tank. 

You pumped a fist in the air as the crowd cheered. He emerged from the stale water, completely drenched. He shook hair away from his eyes before climbing from the tank and into a changing room, but not before finding your figure in the crowd. You wore a gentle, soft smile; for the first time, you looked at him with something other than hatred. 

It gave him hope. 

After changing, he appeared by your side as the crowd slowly dispersed, dressed a lot more comfortably. He changed into a pair of fitted (and designer, you just knew it) joggers and a clean, simple sweatshirt, pulled together with a silver chain hanging from his neck. He went from runway to streetwear yet he managed to look absolutely fantastic and it irked you. He seemed expectant yet nervous, constantly shifting his feet and biting his bottom lip. He needed reassurance and suddenly, you weren’t hesitant to provide it. 

After a minute of painful silence, you conceded. “I forgive you.”

A deep sigh of relief escaped him. He’d practically been holding his breath since that day and all of a sudden, this weight had been lifted off his chest. A wave of solace washed over him, “Thank god. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if that didn’t work.”

You giggled softly. He short-circuited for a mere second; being the cause of your melodious laugh had him speechless. It was all new to him. Your laugh was so sweet, soft, and a drastic contrast from the person he was used to. He yearned to hear it again. 

You peered up at him without saying a word.

He coughed awkwardly. “Right, uh, that didn’t take long at all. Let’s get you home, this was a waste of your time, I’m so sorry,” he rambled, turning in the direction of his car. You tilted your head questioningly. The night was still young and you had no interest in going back home. You were pleasantly surprised, all it took was a simple apology for your hidden, buried feelings to surface, though you knew how hard it was for him to apologize. Maybe that’s why you were so easy to forgive. You reached for his sleeve and gently tugged him back, “You asked me out on a date, so let’s do it.”

Going on an actual date was the last thing he expected. His plan for the night was to pick you up, try his best not to offend you more than he already had, and get dunked into some dirty, stale water. Of course he couldn’t refuse, seeing as his heart nearly soared from his chest. He nodded eagerly, “Y-yeah! Yeah! Okay, let’s have a date. Okay, uh, this is a carnival, right? I have to win you a plushie then, that’s just basic, carnival date knowledge. That’s the rule.”

You snorted. “Can’t break the rules then.”

He led you on over to the strength machine, eager to showcase his brawn—he hoped to impress you. His boyish mentality made you laugh, as endearing as it was, you couldn’t help but find it primitive and a bit childish. Nonetheless, you indulged him. He fished change from his wallet and you couldn’t help but notice the shiny, heavy, black card sitting comfortable in his wallet’s compartment; you suppressed an instinctual eye roll. He held the massive hammer in hand, attempting to hide the fact that it slightly weighed him down, despite his muscular build. He flashed you a confident wink before raining the hammer down on the target, sending the marker less than halfway up the pole. You coughed in an attempt to hide your laughter, you didn’t want to embarrass him, he’d already been dunked into a tank of mucky water. 

He stood dumbfounded, “Okay, this is rigged.”

“Mhm, right.”

“Fine, hotshot. Give it a whirl then,” he challenged. You raised an eyebrow cockily, yanking the hammer from his hand. It was simple, all you had to do was send the marker higher than his. You smugly grinned before trying your luck, the marker barely rising an inch. 

He slapped his knee and cackled. You were offended.

“This is rigged,” you mumbled. 

“S’ok, love. There’s plenty of other stuff to do that isn’t rigged,” he encouraged, throwing a side eye at the gamer operator who simply shrugged in return. He slung an arm around your shoulder, choosing not to dwell on the way his heartbeat sped, “Let’s go get you a prize.”

· ──────────────────── ·

For him to win you a singular prize, it took a game of whack-a-mole, a shared slice of pizza, a tuft of cotton candy, a vigorous pep talk, and sprinkle of beginner’s luck. It was a cheap, funky-looking ring, but you wore it with the utmost pride. 

You both talked excessively, really getting to know each other, and with each new detail, he fell harder. Your shy smile, adorable laugh, witty sense of humor… they were all just a bonus. Normally, you weren’t one to fall, if at all, but you found yourself going against your instinct and doing just that. In hindsight, though, it’d been a long time coming. He was hesitant to initiate any sort of skinship, considering you’d forgiven him an hour prior, but you proved opposite after you mindlessly reached for his hand the second you spotted your favorite ride.

“The spinning teacup! That’s a must!” You both felt the spark from the contact, it was unmistakable, but you both chose not to say anything. He let you drag him over, despite his aversion to the particular ride; he just couldn’t say no. 

“Fine, but promise me you won’t spin fast.”

“Pinky promise.”

As the cup turned, albeit at snail pace, he admired the light wind that flowed delicately through your hair. You had a certain aura, he couldn’t help but notice. It was enchanting. The moonlight kissed your skin beautifully, it had him watching in infatuated awe. 

“You’re staring.”

“Pssh, I’m not staring.” You eyed him and he crinkled his nose, “Fine, I was staring. I can’t help it, you’re beautiful.”

He didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from, perhaps it was just the motion sickness, but he didn’t regret it. You turned away from him, clearly flustered, and it made him smile. The ride ended quicker than he expected, but it was a welcomed relief, considering his well-being. The second he stepped from the cup, he fell to the floor. 

“I barely spun the cup! It turned, like, a mile an hour!”

“I’m sensitive! I get sick easily.” He lifted himself off the ground, just slightly, continuing with a corny joke. “Look at me on the floor, I guess some might say… I fell for you.”

You snorted, not at the cheesy line, but the aggressive finger-gun that accompanied it. He tried to wink but failed, immediately hunching over from the queasy feeling in his stomach, “Oh my God, I’m going to die.”

He made an ugly, inhuman noise. 

“Jesus Christ. Are you okay?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m great. I just think it’s my time to go.”

He reminded you a lot of Kai—both of them had an affinity for being overly dramatic.

You rubbed his back soothingly. He felt so embarrassed, but the feeling was overshadowed by the sickly feeling. You continued caressing, making sure to glare at anyone that dared judge him. You crouched down until you were eye level and brushed his hair from his forehead, giving him a small smile. At that moment, he could’ve sworn you were an angel of some sort. He felt better instantly. 

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine,” he insisted, waving his hand carelessly, telling you not to worry.

“Let’s just head home. I’ll have Kai pick us up, he’ll definitely do it.” You paused, crinkling your forehead in thought, “Scratch that, he just got his license and ran over a cone yesterday.” 

He stood up slowly, waving his hand once more. “In the recipe for a perfect carnival date, the ferris wheel is a must.”

You didn’t like where he was going with that. 

“You’re going to hurl if we go on that. For real, this time.”

He rested his hand atop his heart. “I won’t! I swear.”

“I don’t know...”

He laced his hand with your own and pulled you to the carnival’s main attraction. He fiddled with the ring on your finger, proudly glancing at it every once in a while.

Just your luck, a slightly younger couple was paired with you on the ferris wheel. The ride operator shoved the four of you into the cramped, tiny compartment, ignoring the silent plea Taehyun sent her way. The other couple sat hesitantly with a noticeable distance between them, awkwardly shifting every now and then. The young men—one blond, one with raven black hair—stayed quiet and you couldn’t help but think they were also on their first date. They often glanced at each other but didn’t talk and Taehyun had to hide his amusement. All four of you simmered in uncomfortable silence for a good portion of the ride. 

Taehyun unconsciously threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close as you laid your head on his shoulder. It was a subtle display of affection that made you blush, but he didn’t notice. Out of the corner of his eyes, Taehyun watched the blond boy copy his movement, just significantly clumsier—the poor boy accidentally smacked his boyfriend square on the nose. It took a lot for Taehyun (and you) to suppress an amused laugh.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” whispered the blond. His boyfriend let out a small, nervous laugh, “It’s okay.”

The black-haired boy gently rubbed his nose before reaching for his boyfriend’s hand—a simple compromise. The blond avoided eye contact with you and Taehyun, choosing to shift his gaze to the carnival below. The black-haired boy spoke first, “We’re kind of… new to dating.”

The blond cringed, still looking at the fair, before nodding in agreement. You giggled at the obvious tension, quickly comforting, “It’s cute! You two seem like an adorable couple.”

The couple smiled fondly at each other. The blond squeezed his boyfriend’s hand reassuringly and it made you smile. They seemed so in love, you were swooning. The remainder of the ride was silent and the couple chose to get off the ride after the first go-around. The blond meekly nodded his head in Taehyun’s direction and your boy gently returned the gesture with a shy, caring smile. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, you both broke into a fit of laughter, “Oh my God! He was totally copying you, that’s adorable!”

Taehyun gushed, “They both were so flustered! Too cute.”

You both spent the next go-around giggling, conversing about nothing, and sharing sweet, longing gazes. The carnival beneath you slowly began shutting down, each area turning their lighting off one by one. You kept your hand laced with his and while you glanced down the dying fair, he lovingly gazed at you. 

“I guess that’s our cue to leave.” You gestured below. He trained his gaze to the lack of vivid lighting around the carnival and sighed, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He squeezed your hand tighter. You didn’t want to part from him so soon and he shared your exact sentiment. 

· ──────────────────── ·

As Taehyun pulled into your driveway, you instantly spotted Kai’s silhouette lurking in your bedroom window.

“Jesus Christ,” you grumbled.

Kai had spent his night waiting for you to come home, eager to hear your nightmarish tale. He planned to head to his house and simply wait for your inevitable call, but when he left to grab takeout, he found himself straying back to your house. Your mother must’ve let him in, granted he was also gifted a key and he used it regularly. Your mind suddenly short-circuited by the feeling of Taehyun’s hand atop your own. If you noticed his tremble and clamminess, you didn’t mention it. 

He cleared his throat, “Let me walk you to your door.”

You sheepishly nodded, anxious to speak. If yesterday, someone had told you you would be this shy at the end of the night, you would’ve laughed in their face. He rushed to open your door and you let him, much to his surprise, without any snarky remark. The short distance to your front door didn’t stop him from holding your hand, leaving you a giggly, flustered mess.

You could practically feel Kai’s smirk. 

Taehyun stood awkwardly, frequently shifting his weight, while you nervously picked at your fingernail, both waiting for the other to break the silence. He took the first leap of faith, “I had a great time tonight, I hope you did too.”

You were too focused on his calloused thumb tracing soothing circles along the back of your hand, making you lose your train of thought, “Yeah! Yes! So fun!”

You winced at your overly enthusiastic response. The luminous light, hanging haphazardly above you did little to hide your anxiousness. He chuckled softly, glad he wasn’t the only nervous one, “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m sorry you nearly threw up.” You both cringed at the recent memory. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Don’t worry. Weirdly, that’s not the worst thing to happen to me on a date.”

You tilted your head curiously, you wished to hear his story. Frankly, you found yourself wishing to hear everything about him, but before anything, you needed to get some stuff off your own chest. “I’m also sorry about other stuff. I have more to apologize than you, even before the incident, I was always so abrasive and mean, and I want to apologize for that. And, I, uh, also kind of broke into your house… so obviously I’m sorry about that too. Not to mention, I thin—” 

He placed his hand on your cheek and caressed softly, making you quiet. “It’s water under the bridge.”

You shyly smiled, looking away from his adoring gaze. He tried mustering up a cheesy line but he found himself losing focus, his eyes constantly straying to your lips; he couldn’t help it, he really wanted to kiss you. He sucked in a deep breath, gathering the courage to just do it, even though he knew you’d likely reject his advance. After all, it was just the first date and you only forgave him three hours ago.

Not to mention, Kai stole your phone to get Taehyun’s number just to inform him of your strict no-kiss policy.

He hesitantly brushed your hair behind your ear before leaning in slowly, his plush, attractive lips easily tempting you. Unfortunately for him, you kept to your rule. You splayed your hand across his chest before pushing him back gently, “Nice try, Romeo.”

He wasn’t surprised, it was a long shot anyways. He’d just regret it if he didn’t try. He nodded understandingly before leaning in once more, this time to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t hide the obvious blush that dusted your cheeks, making him grin. Maybe you weren’t as tough as you liked to seem. 

He felt hopeful.

“So for our next date, I was thinking mini golf,” he said enthusiastically. His eyes sparkled with excitement; he seemed thrilled, you couldn’t help but giggle, “Easy there tiger, I don’t recall ever saying anything about a second date.”

He leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek, pulling away only slightly to whisper, “I think I’ll be getting another date.”

He was right. He was definitely getting another date… and maybe, just maybe, you’d break your no-kiss rule.

[blackacre13]

Hi! I really love your fics your writing style is crazy crazy good!!!

I’d love if u could do a smutty one shot with some semi public sex with Debbie and Lou, like maybe an empty park in the evening or something?

Aw thank you so much!! Glad you're enjoying! Here you are:

“You want to walk around for a bit?” Lou asked softly as she folded the checkbook closed and slid it towards the end of the table.

Debbie gave her a nod, slinking out of the booth to stand as Lou wrapped her arm around her waist and led them out of the restaurant and down the street.

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Lou’s hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of Debbie’s back.

There was a low, twinkling, musical sound that made Debbie turn, her eyes lighting up, as the blonde followed her gaze with a chuckle.

“Need some ice cream, honey?” Lou chuckled, tugging her towards the truck.

Debbie nodded bashfully, hiding against Lou’s shoulder as she ordered Debbie’s favorite for her, reaching into the pocket of her blazer for cash as the server turned around to get the ice cream.

“Aren’t you getting something?” Debbie asked, with a nudge.

“I had a different kind of dessert in mind,” Lou shrugged, exchanging the bill for the treat before handing it to Debbie.

The brunette paused, with the ice cream in hand, a drop starting to run down the edge of her thumb.

“You do?” Debbie whispered.

“Been craving something sweet,” the Australian winked, turning away from the truck as she started walking towards a nearby park.

Debbie stood in stunned silence, suddenly feeling chills tingling down her spine and legs; and it wasn’t because of her sundress, even if it was starting to cool down as the sun went down around them.

“Coming?” Lou smirked, calling out to the brunette.

“Soon apparently,” Debbie whispered to herself with a snort as she paced forward, taking a bit more care than usual to make a bit of a show out of licking her ice cream as Lou watched her.

Debbie’s hand found Lou’s as she licked at her ice cream while the blonde led them towards an empty bench and sat them down.

“Want a lick?” Debbie grinned, offering out her cone towards Lou.

“If you don’t mind,” Lou whispered.

Debbie waited for Lou to grab the cone or let her tongue dart out towards the ice cream, but she ignored the offer completely and leaned in to lick down Debbie’s neck as she let out a gasp of surprise.

“Delicious,” Lou whispered, biting down on the Ocean’s ear.

“Lou,” Debbie blushed, looking down at herself.

“Careful, love,” Lou smirked, lifting the cone in Debbie’s hand up so she wouldn’t drop it or let the ice cream fall. “Can’t get too distracted, honey. Have to finish your dessert.”

Debbie looked at Lou in bewilderment as the blonde leaned back in to kiss down her neck, sucking a mark near her shoulder before looking up, into brown eyes.

“Go ahead and finish, Deb,” Lou encouraged her. “I can keep myself busy.”

Debbie did her best to finish eating the ice cream, trying not to let out whimpers and moans as Lou smirked and chuckled against her, rotating between nips and bites and sucks as she kissed down Debbie’s neck, shoulders, and collarbone as Debbie tried her best not to rub her thighs together, seeking friction.

“Something the matter?” Lou asked quietly as Debbie tried to bite her lip, one of Lou’s hands moving downwards in between the brunette’s thighs.

“Fuck,” Debbie moaned as Lou tossed her a look.

“How quiet do you think you can be for me?” Lou asked, pressing against Debbie’s panties as she squirmed, ignoring the ice cream now sticky on her fingers.

“What?” Debbie laughed, but her voice was strained. “You want to fuck me over on the swings?”

“I was thinking back behind that slide, actually.”

“Lou,” Debbie hissed.

“No?” The blonde smirked, cupping Debbie closer. “You don’t want me to feel how wet you are for me? Right now. Where anyone could see us?”

“Lou,” Debbie repeated, but it came out as a deep groan.

Moments later, Lou had Debbie pressed up against the back of a slide, the skirt of her dress bunched up around her hips as Lou’s fingers worked inside her, Debbie gripping onto Lou, nail’s digging into her arms.

“Naughty girl,” Lou whispered, thrusting into Debbie. “Couldn’t even concentrate on your dessert could you. Needed me to fuck you so badly you couldn’t even wait to get home.”

“I—I—you were the one who—“ Debbie stuttered, but gave in quickly. “Fuck, I don’t care. You feel so good, baby.”

“You gonna come for me, Deb?” Lou growled in her ear. “Gonna be a good girl for me?”

“God, yes,” Debbie panted.

“Gonna let me clean you up?” Lou grunted, curling her fingers. “I’ve been dying to taste you all night.”

“Fuck, Lou,” Debbie hissed. “I want your tongue.”

“I want you,” Lou hissed, kneeling down as she gripped Debbie’s thighs. “You’re my favorite flavor.”

“God, that’s chees—“

Lou cut off Debbie’s sentence with a long swipe that made Debbie moan. “Sorry. What was that?”