#the one guy from 500 days of summer

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[totalswag]

love love love ur writing babes!!

maybee u could please do one where reader begs rafe for a darry ring, like the $500 ones u can only buy once in ur life and u have to submit ur id to buy it.. i want to know what ur thought process on how rafe would go about it? 🫣🫣🫣

promise sealed — RAFE CAMERON

authors note I don't think you guys realize how much it means to me when you compliment my writing. I hope you enjoy this request lovie.

summary rafe buys you a darry ring showing his love and devotion to your relationship.

warnings none

Rafe Cameron was not used to hearing "no." In his universe, money and power could sway any circumstance to his liking. So, when you casually mentioned a Darry Ring—an unique sign of eternal love that could only be acquired once in a lifetime—he became fascinated.

You were seated on the patio of Tanny Hill with Rafe to your right, his arm over your shoulder, watching the sunset from afar. The summer wind on your skin and the birds chirping made the moment feel especially pleasant.

"Baby have you heard of a Darry Ring before?" You blurt out, playing with Rafe's gold ring.

"I've heard about those rings," Rafe replied, and raising an eyebrow at you. "Why do you want one so badly?" He was curious and wanted to know more.

You took a deep breath, knowing that you needed to express your feelings clearly. "This isn't just any ring, Rafe. This is a promise. They only allow you to buy one in your entire life, and you must submit your ID to confirm it. It signifies that the person wearing it is the only one for you. Forever."

"Forever, huh?" he wondered, more to himself than you. His fingers tapped against the armrest, and you could see the wheels churning in his head.

You nodded, thinking he understood how much this meant to you. "Yes, forever." It's not about money, Rafe. "It's about the promise."

Rafe loves you more than anything in this world. You're his everything. He would do anything for you, literally. One thing he fears the most is losing you and breaking the promise of never hurting you.

Everyone sees how in-love you are with each other. The way you look at each other is like you two are the only people in the room. The moment you got together, friends started talking about your wedding day.

But as he saw the openness in your eyes, he felt something shift. You weren't asking for financial things; you were asking for a pledge, a piece of his heart.

As the rest of the night went on, the conversation about the ring stayed in Rafe's mind.

Over the next four days, Rafe found himself continuously thinking about the Darry Ring. Constantly on his mind going back and forth. One thing Rafe doesn't want to do is buy this ring for you then could do something that may hurt you; never in his life does he want to hurt you.

You asked him about the ring one of the days you were hanging out. He told you he was looking into it but never gave you a final answer.

He did research, learning about the company's ideology and the importance of the ring. He even read comments from other couples who had purchased the ring, and each story touched a deep part of him. He wanted this to be perfect.

Once Rafe came the finalization about the ring he started to search for the perfect one for you. Luckily for him, he's been saving up money for special things like this.

Rafe spoke with his sister, Sarah, about the concept of getting you the ring. She was quite excited about the ring. She assisted him with the design because you two hang out occasionally.

Rafe accepted that this wasn't only about you; it was also about him. It was about his willingness to venture into the unknown and truly commit to someone he loved. The Darry Ring's exclusivity was both scary and thrilling. It meant he'd always put you first.

A few days ago the ring was ready to be picked up on the mainland. He was so excited and nervous to see how the ring turned out; made sure it was perfect.

He decided on a simple yet intimate setting. He took you to your favorite spot by the beach, where the two of you had shared countless memories.

You were sitting on a blanket with food you ordered from a restaurant down the road. The waves hitting shore filled your ears. People talking amongst themselves, kids running on shore, etc.

"The sunset looks beautiful tonight, don't you think?" Your gaze is drawn to the sunset in front of you, with the waves gently touching the shore. 

"Not as beautiful as you" Rafe replies, kissing your cheek while reaching in his back pocket for the Darry Ring.

You could feel his heart racing thousands miles per hour with your back pressed against his chest. Frowning with concern before he spoke up again.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said," he began, pulling out the small, elegant box from his pocket. "About promises and forever."

He actually got it.

Your eyes widened when you realized what was going on. Tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. Getting chocked up by the moment. Searching for the right words to say.

Rafe opened the box to discover the stunning Darry Ring inside. "This ring represents something to both of us. It's a vow that you're the only one for me, and I'm willing to commit to you for the rest of my life."

Tears slowly fall down your face; carefully wiping them off your face. Now your heart is beating thousand miles per-hour. Your entire body is on cloud nine.

“Wh-a-t did I get to deserve someone like you Rafe?” You cry, lifting your shaky left hand, allowing Rafe to slide the ring on your finger.

"I love you so much, sweetie. You mean the world to me. Our love is stronger than any other." You cut Rafe off by pulling him in for a long kiss, your arms gradually tightening around his neck and his hands grabbing you around the waist. 

It was the perfect moment that you'll cherish for the rest of your life. You couldn't take your eyes off the ring, admiring its beauty for the rest of the night.

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

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[moamidzyism]

gross! (c.yj)

ʚ♡⃛ɞ r/RelationshipAdvice: what do you do when you bump into your ex-situationship when you come home from college?

fluff + angst ౨ৎ ୨୧ choi yeonjun x fem!reader, spinoff of yuck! featuring all members of txt, yeji and chaeryeong of itzy, sungchan of riize started. mar 16 ended. apr 28 status. completed [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

profiles: bitches who brunch no more mr. nice guy himbo brigade

i. comeback season ii. i thought she died iii. blast to the past iv. ding dong the witch returns (written; 661 words) v. sour by olivia rodrigo vi. fuck it we ball vii. (500) days of summer viii. please send the floods ix. mass disbandment x. in the sense that xi. team y/n xii. nothing to worry about xiii. the band's back together, sort of xiv. all fun and games xv. shift in the air xvi. bad idea, right? xvii. burning bridges xviii. we're good xix. eternal sunshine of the cluttered mind xx. beginning of the end xxi. resolutions (written; 563 words) xxii. one last chance xxiii. our year of falling

bonus!

ask the characters: google form ask the characters: answers part i part ii yeji's words of wisdom ask the characters: take two: google form ask the characters: take two: answers part i part ii

taglist: @boba-beom @silvergyus @wiisoob @isabellah29 @yutacchin @amanda4004 @dejavu-jun @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tinyelfperson @wolfytae-exe @hyunjinvoid @thejadeazalea @yawnzsof @wccycc @ryunjin0 @my313 @nikilvrfvr @beaabz @taytayjustherelol @soobsfairy444 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @headlockimnida @coconutjjun @itzzz-yerin @snghoonluv @tyunzonlystar @impureperhaps @calumsfringe @bunnyeonny @luvtyunn

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[brideads]

CHAPTER THREE: WELM (what ever major loser!)

m.list | main page | prev | next

YN'S DISSAPERENCE | 4:12 PM "hey, maki, have you seen yn?" nobara asks, barging into maki's room without knocking.

"seriously? do you not remember last time? knocking, nobara—it's not that hard," maki says, raising an eyebrow as she puts her phone down.

nobara rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. "does it look like i care about yuta?"

maki scoffs, sitting up straight and looking at nobara. "anyway, to answer your question— no, i haven't. i saw her at lunch with miwa, but i haven’t seen her since."

nobara frowns slightly and sits on the edge of maki's bed. "seriously? do you think she's mad at me? i told her i was too busy to rewatch movies with her, and she replied with a broken heart emoji. hasn't responded since."

maki raises an eyebrow, slipping her glasses back on. "she also asked you the same thing?" she says, her voice laced with curiosity. "and honestly, if she was mad at us, she'd probably block all of us and come home blackout drunk— neither of those have happened."

nobara groans, flopping onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

maki sighs, scooting closer and looking down at her. "what’s going on with you?"

nobara turns her head, a slight scowl on her face. "i’m kinda mad at yn," she admits, letting out a small huff. maki raises an eyebrow, silently prompting her to continue.

"she has this video of me. it’s from, like, musically? and she's using it to blackmail me into paying her back!" nobara whines.

maki chuckles, leaning back against the pillows. "really? which one?"

"i don’t know, i was dueting a camp rock scene—doing that 'whatever major loser' thing. i looked ridiculous," nobara admits, crossing her arms.

maki laughs a little, but then catches the scowl on nobara's face and quickly quiets down.

"why don’t you just pay her back when she asks?" maki suggests, raising an eyebrow. then she narrows her eyes slightly, looking to the side. "speaking of, you still owe me—"

before she can finish, the door slams shut as nobara storms out.

"1,220 yen..." maki mutters, rolling her eyes and grabbing her phone again.

extras!

hey guys.. testing week is finally over and i mastered all my tests who cheered !!! yn and megumi actually hanging out?!?!?! this chapter title is actually based off of me #lol in like 2017 i made a video w like my laptop in front of me playing that scene and i repeated everything and oh my god i genuinely looked stupid as hell so... MY MOM FOUND IT TOO AND SENT IT TO ME its 2:30 am please kill me megumi finished binge watching regular show and thought 'mordecai is so me core' and finally changed his pfp after like 7 years megumi's spider senses did go off during the movie but he lowk didn't realize it uh oh 💔 he missed a robbery but fear not todo saved the day I JUST FINISHED REWATCHING 500 DAYS OF SUMMER W MY BEST FRIEND..... i wasnt crying this time god bless yn is NOT a self insert i did not deinstall discord matter of fact i literally bought nitro 6 days ago #lol #richgirllife

main page: here! a/n: i hope u guys enjoy this chapter... lol... i put my blood sweat and tears into this.. a/n part 2: i had a whole other draft for this chapter but i don’t know where tf it went it was supposed to have yk… more action… 😭💔💔 FRICK U TUMBLR IT DIDNT SAVE taglist: @satoryaa @the-feral-president @qtnfer @stillnotherapy @azharyy @rijhi @digitaltrippers @walllflowerrrsss @anonymity-222 @mikikkoo @1l-ynn @2ukira @heyybaejjk @r0ckst4rjk @therealsatorugojo @cinnamontheevillittle @arionater @leaderwon @beepbopzlorp @megumiiislvr222 @chososcamgirl @drxgonspine @emostrawrobbery @essjujutsu @belovedbrinna @alsomimi @milkteeboba @izanacult @jaylenezzz-deactivated20241103 @wooomymeow @lucentwings @startwithrecords @expiredbred @nishislcve @sonotpattismith @kiss-my-asscheeks @kyliexreads @jtoddlover @veevei @2ukika @bunichuu @aegsland @swordymacaroni @laughingfcx-deactivated20241116 @megumislovedoll @shotos-angelic-whore @qhllrs @tibibibi123

red users indicate i can't tag you ! : ( pls update setting or tumblrs glitching idk

[carlplsrailme]

𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 | 𝐜.𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

summary: the cowboy hat rule. take a cowboy's hat, you gotta ride the cowboy.

carl grimes x fem!reader

cw: riding, p in v sex, etc

word count: 500

request: Idk if you’re taking requests right now but this popped into my head? Have you ever tried writing Carl with the cowboy hat rule? If not this is definitely a suggestion to try :) (Cowboy hat rule: take someone’s hat and put it on your own head, you have to “ride the cowboy”)

he's gotten on your last nerve.

well, he actually "got on your last nerve" about 2 hours ago, you're just soaking in it.

you sit in the desk chair, tip-toes halting your limp spinning as you stare at your boyfriend again.

you're so bored.

"do-"

"no."

he answered plainly, flipping to the next page of his comic that stole all his attention. he's sitting on his bed as the perfectly good day wastes away into the night.

you don't even wanna go out anymore, you just want to lay with him, kiss him, but he isn't even giving you a chance!

you sigh as the sticky summer heat slicks your body with every movement, you rest your fist on your cheek as you fantasize about all the things you could do if he'd just listen.

"Carl."

he looked up from his comic, brow twisted in confusion at your almost stern tone as you sit up from the chair that's been melted to you for the past two hours

you lean down to him and swiftly remove his sheriff's hat from his head, placing it onto your own.

you still felt his confusion, but you most certainly got his attention.

"the cowboy rule," you begin

"take the cowboys hat, you gotta ride the cowboy" and with that, he pulls you into him, lips sealed onto one and other as his hands grip your sides, he moves your hips on his own as you grind against him.

you quickly remove your clothes and start to unzip him, he groans with your touch and soon he springs free, pre-cum oozing from his tip as you stroke him a couple of times

you scoot up to him as you line yourself with him, sliding his cock in as you lean yourself closer to him, overwhelmed with pleasure

after adjusting, you begin to roll your hips, pussy clenching onto him as you twitch with the movement. he groans and latched onto your hips as his nails dig into your sides

"carl!" you cried as you fucked yourself with his cock, moving up and down as the cowboy hat on your head threatened to fall. with one hand you held it on tight as you leaned down to kiss him, feeling yourself bubble up with pleasure

his cock bullied its way through your insides with every movement you made, tip poking your cervix as he thrust up with you.

you felt your pussy ache as his dick stretched you out even more, soon letting out a broken moan as you came, he sped up his movements as he groaned and confessed he was close, soon shooting his cum inside of you

you leaned into his body as he wrapped his arms around you, breathing not slowing as he lets out a chuckle, and you feel the hat get snatched from your head

he places it back onto his as his brown locks feel empty without it, you grin up at him, successfully stealing his attention and placing it on you.

an: hii guys! I missed you guys so much! I hope you guys enjoyed this even though it's short, btw, whoever anon is...I love love loved this request!! thank you so much!! <33

[alexging]

sean diaz fluff alphabet (rq)

(A) attractive - what do they find attractive about u? how do they show this?

sean is attracted to anyone or anything that deviates the norm. dyed hair, unique background/perspective, and unconventional features. literally anything u think is unattractive and not up to the beauty standard about u, he probably rlly digs it. hell draw it in his journal always! but not in a way that comes across performative—he just draws u authentically. he doesnt feel the need to modify how u look in his art bc he thinks ure perfect as is (booo corny).

he shows his attraction through flesh-blazing, skull-burning staring. he analyzes his muses thoroughly after all... he knows where all ur freckles/moles are and can draw ur smile from sheer memory. in the months that he crushed on u, u couldn’t help but feel this pestering feeling of being watched in class constantly.

hes still a dorky teenage boy so if u share the same music taste as him or have the same hobbies hell geek out!! “no way she can skate AND listens to my favorite songs…” lyla will just roll his eyes at him in response. he acts like tom from 500 days of summer 😭

(B) baby - how do they act around kids?

sean definitely says he hates kids. hell talk about how annoying they are and use daniel as an example ALWAYS. that however does not hide the fact that he is REALLY good with kids. i wouldnt say its in a fatherly way but kids tend to look up to him as a cool older brother (even when he doesnt try to be one).

sean also secretly loves it when ur good with kids, despite him allegedly hating them. he cant help but grin ear-to-ear when he sees how happy u make daniel. once he becomes self-aware he tries to wipe his smile off asap. when u, sean, and daniel go out u guys are practically his parents. both of u know how to shut down daniels whining fast. albeit sean does more of the hushed, frustrated demands and u just try to defuse daniel.

(if u guys have ever seen the video of jake and tara with that baby thats how i imagine u guys with kids 😈 except ur both a mix of tara n jake)

(C) cuddle - how do they like to cuddle?

honestly the two of u can never decide who’s big spooning and who’s little spooning. to solve this issue the two of u just kind of… stack on top of each other.

esteban will do his routine dad check up on the two of u (preventing teen pregnancy) and walk into u guys jenga-ed on top of each other. ur legs are a tangled mess and u look like two corpses laid on top of each other. scrolling through ur phones while stacked is the go-to. ull be muffled chuckling into sean’s stomach at random videos for an hour…

while cuddling sean always traces little drawings/words on ur body. when u ask him whats hes drawing hell probably say its a dick LMFAO. so romantic 🙄

at the beginning of ur relationship, sean always felt the need to be the “man” and cradle u like some big infant. overtime he got more comfortable and whenever u guys watch movies on the couch hell be sprawled out on top of ur lap. one arm up supporting his head and a leg propped up like a princess xoxo

(D) dates - what are dates with them like? what do they like to do?

concerts, fairs!!! and MOVIES for sure

sean casually drops half his check on good seats for one of ur guys favorite band. the two of u have a tradition of replaying their music for weeks until the concerts about to start. it literally does not matter how many times uve gone to concerts with sean—u guys stay excited every single time. the after concert high is so good and u guys always kiss in the car afterwards. the two of u mess up each other’s hair and shuffle back in ur seats with swollen lips. sean backs out the parking lot while awkwardly clearing his throat 😭

SEAN IS SUCH A BIG FAIR GUY. he gives less than two shits if the pop-up fairs are shady and will probably collapse at the slightest gust of wind. he WILL take u on all the janky rides and tease u for being freaked out. he holds ur hand while giggling like a lil boy on the ferris wheel bc the creaking starts to freak the both of u out. he also tries to win fair prizes for u and say its a “bullshit scam” when he loses.

u beg him to go into the photobooth and take cute little couple-esque photos. he says “fineee” after some convincing with a smile and he avoids ur gaze after too. he definitely secretly wanted to the whole time though!! when they print out, they come out with those face-adjusting filters. u guys are WHEEZING laughing in front of the slot where they regurgitate out those abominations. sean puts it on the back of his phone case bc he thinks its so hilarious 😭

sean is a film nerd considering he had goodlands on his laptop. hes definitely up to date on any movie releases and will want to watch anything new with u. u guys always dissect the movie aggressively afterwards. the both of u will forever and always argue about which characters u liked and didnt over some takeout.

(E) equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

sean on the regular is passive. he never was the “dominant” type to like… back u into corners. in fact he was really awkward when u first met him. hes lowkey scared of women 😭

it took him a while to get comfortable/assertive. by “comfortable” i mean gaining the ability to tease u back LMAO. when he first gave u a snarky remark ur jaw kind of hung open and u guys HAVENT STOPPED SINCE. overall, sean usually was the one to wait for u to initiate something. he never wanted to put u in a situation ud be uncomfortable with.

(F) fight - would they be easy to forgive their s/o? how are they fighting?

u guys fight like an old married couple. playful arguments always happen but once it becomes serious/personal things go south. one thing leads to another and the two of u just get agitated with each other

when u guys do seriously fight sean eventually lets u have ur way ALWAYS. he always prioritizes what u need/feel in the end and is really good at saying sorry. a part of him feels like big fights indicate ull leave him so hell always choke out things like “i just dont wanna lose you” after arguments. it sounds really dramatic but he has DEEP-rooted abandonment issues. hell hold u—whether it be an embrace or ur hand just to feel comforted afterwards.

(G) gentle - how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

GAWWWWWWWWWDAUH sean is so incredibly very gentle. sure, he teases u sometimes but in the end, again, he always makes sure ur comfortable! he asks u if ur okay when u look clearly overstimulated/out of it.

physically, sean doesnt mess around. he will constantly playfully shove u, mess with ur hair, etc. obviously its never to the point where it hurts but this is the only way he can get his daily dose of pda, so!

(H) hugs - do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?

sean is crazy on back hugs. he will always surprise u with one and he WILL trap u in it. ull be walking around his house and chatting with his leech-self wrapped around u. he likes nuzzling his nose in and u can feel his lips curl into a smile on the nape of ur neck when u make a joke (😢)

sean takes the opportunity to embrace u at any moment of privacy hes given. when daniel or esteban catches him he immediately flings off u and starts stuttering LMAO. hes kind of lanky so if anything his clothes are what cushion u. BUT he is very warm and is a personal heater #tbh. who needs a coat when u have sean???

(I) i love you - how fast did they say the l-word?

i feel sean is VERY quick to fall in love but takes forever to actually utter the words out. he will have a love at first sight moment with u and only have the feelings grow bigger and bigger as time goes on. sean is overall a reserved person and wouldnt go out of his way to tell u, no matter how much lyla encouraged him.

he would only say it once it becomes overbearing for him. like, to the point where the extent he loves u has become pervasive and PERSISTENT. it will just explode out of him at some pivotal moment. u guys will be laughing hysterically at something only u guys would laugh at. then, boom, it slips out like its something he had to swallow back down a hundred times before. because its so sudden, it will definitely catch u off guard.

he would repeat it because he didnt think u heard it the first time like a dork. his stomach acid is doing fucking somersaults at this point. u will visibly see this guy’s face drop and his hands start to fiddle anxiously. his eyes will kind of dart all over ur shocked face in fear. he’ll choke a lil “sorry i have no clue why i even said that-“

u lean in and the rest is history 🤓

(J) jealousy - how jealous do they get? when do they get jealous?

sean is always a bit wary of specific guy friends or potential suitors u have in ur life. again, sean picks up on LOTS that most people brush over. he knows when people flirt with u and he always bites his tongue before he says anything.

whenever u talk about other people too much, he gets a little… sassy. ull be thanking some guy in ur class for giving u the answers and hell be grumbling “i wouldve gave them to u…” under his breath. u shoot a look at him and he just defensively puts his arms up LMAO. he never seems to stop either. the amount of times u caught him rolling his eyes… criminal.

(K) kisses - what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss u? where do they like to be kissed?

sean is so shy when it comes to kisses. when u first began dating, sean never kissed u without a shy “can i?” before. he never knew when was appropriate or if u wanted to kiss him at all. his ears would flare up in red and his eyebrows would furrow in concentration each time.

overtime, as he got more comfortable, sean began finding the “right times” himself. whenever u leave his house he always gives u a quick peck. daniel never misses his opportunity to scream “EWW” as loud as he can. sean will be like “one more” and smooch ur cheek and then say “wait another one” and just KEEP GOING. if he wore lipstick u would look like u were dunked in a pig’s blood.

smiling into the kiss happens without fail—every single time. sean cant help himself, hes a lover boy!! he will always slowly open his eyes and pray u wont catch him sneaking a look. once he pulls away, he laughs while covering his mouth with his wrist. he gets butterflies still, no matter how many times u kiss 😭 im sick.

(L) love language - what is his love language?

sean’s family is big on quality time so he definitely prioritizes it. impromptu hangouts are his absolute favorite and if he could, hed spend every hour he could with u. sean never fails to randomly invite u over and hold u at gunpoint to do family time with him, daniel, and esteban.

also sean is a big gift giver! he will always give u doodles of ur favorite characters and little things that remind him of u. u guys have matching pins, keychains, bracelets, etc. not only does he go all out, but he also knows EXACTLY what u like. again, sean is the most attentive bf ever. hes the kind of man who would spend hours making coraline dolls of u two.

(M) mornings - how are mornings spent with him?

sean is not a morning person. he is almost always running late to first period, so oftentimes u cover for him. he will come to class with messy hair and will lizard-blink at literally anything u say. when u tell him that u gave the teacher an excuse, hell let out a croak-ey "thanks" and he will on a 99% chance knock out right after. he'll probably dazily open his eyes at u every so often and go back to sleep LMAO.

on weekends, sean will... barely be awake for mornings. ull be up and ready, watching hawt dawg man on the couch with daniel while eating cereal. sean shortly comes out of his mancave, stretching and yawning. hell come to lean on ur shoulder and stare blankly at the screen. its never particularly productive but sean couldnt care less honestly.

(N) nicknames -what does he call u?

sean has a disdain for nicknames. uttering any of them out loud just seemed so embarrassing to him… unless he’s making fun of them. he does however love “girlfriend.” its not exactly a nickname but he loves saying ur his girlfriend or “my girlfriends coming over” to people.

at a certain point he started using it in sentences that wouldn’t make sense. he’d go “hi girlfriend” every time he sees u. he’s so stew peed… 😢

(O) on cloud nine what is he like when he’s in love? is it obvious for others?

lyla never hears the end of u. shell be talking about something entirely unrelated and sean will be disassociating with his mouth open. when he finally snaps back into reality the first thing that comes out of his mouth is “do u think she would find it a turn off that u drive me everywhere?…“

“yeah obviously— were u even listening sean?”

“mm okay…” he just goes back to tuning her out again LMAO.

esteban will be asking for his tools from sean and he’d be totally zoned out just thinking about u. esteban will pull himself out from under the car and groan “augh… lover boy…” without sean even saying anything to him… so yes hes obvious.

(P) pda - is he upfront about your relationship? does he brag about you with others? or he rather shy to kiss, etc. when others are watching?

i already wrote on this but sean would rather keep intimate contact privately. that is, unless hes really in the heat of the moment. for example, at a concert hed just get so riled up. the lyrics of the song perfectly aligning with the way he feels about u MIGHTTT just make him collide lips with u, who knows! at special moments he won’t hesitate to kiss u but he’s just usually not a show-ey person.

too many times have the two of u attempted to sneak away to be romantic alone and gotten caught. whether it be lyla, esteban, daniel, or any of sean’s guy friends—they always tease u guys. lyla is so dramatic and she’d probably do the most, screaming and squawking when all she sees is sean hugging u 😭

(Q) quizzes - how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?

just like i mentioned earlier, sean remembers every little thing. he knows which side of ur smile leans more toward, the distinctive mole on ur arm, etc etc etc. he loves u like how a husband with a camcorder loves his late wife <3

sean has pulled multiple joe goldbergs before u started dating. he will give u some small knick knack of ur favorite video game/show/band and ull thank him, visibly confused on when u mentioned it. hell notice and just go “i heard u talk about it like three months ago.” he only realizes HOURS LATER how creepy he sounded and his ass will start sliding down a wall dramatically in his room.

(R) rosy - what makes them blush?

sean is quick to blush. honestly, any time u guys are intimate in any sort of way his ears are probably burning up. he’ll try to hide that he’s nervous by giving u quick one-liners back but inside his heart is RACING.

(S) security - how protective are they? how would they protect you?

sean goes to great lengths to protect people he loves, like u. in relation to actual life is strange 2 lore, sean definitely does anything in his power to not involve u in the incident. if u try to contact him or find him, he’ll probably be EXTREMELY upset. at first, all he can think about is how much he wants u away from all this mess. he just wants u to live a normal life—and if that meant being far away from him he’d be okay with it. u would beg him to let u back in his life and eventually, with much hesitation, he’d oblige. keeping u alongside daniel on the road allowed u to see another side to sean. he had been hit and came back up so many times just for u. all he wants in his life is to keep u safe.

exempt from life is strange 2 lore, sean always does little things to keep u safe. there are many times where he treats u like daniel—aka a big baby LMAO. he’s big on acts of service as well so he’ll always make u walk on the inside of the sidewalk, hold ur hair away from ur face when it’s windy, help u jump off of places too high up, etc.

(T) try - how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

he’s so bf coded of course he puts maximum effort at all times! he gets crafty for you every anniversary—a collection of drawings of u and a curated playlist/burnt cd is the MINIMUM he’s capable of. he’s the kind of boyfriend that can actually pick up on subtleties. something u mentioned liking once? it’s now in his cart.

when sean feels like switching it up he’ll try to do things he’s not used to like pottery and completely fail 😭. he has some place in the back of his closet for all the clunky diy gifts he’s tried to make for u in the past. despite this, he’ll give u a perfect trinket dish and u’ll wonder how he’s so good at everything… well, one day in his room he’ll ask u to go get something from his closet. u go inside and see a cardboard box with 15 versions of that very same trinket dish he made.

(U) understanding - how well do they know their partner?

sean does his best at understanding you as a person. when u talk about complicated emotions and unique experiences he doesn’t quite share, he’ll have this really pensive expression. he nods along and tries to understand ur perspective to the best of his ability. because of this, its really easy to open up to sean.

sean has you down to a T. hes so so so perceptive and knows when u feel uncomfortable. a small falter in ur smile, the glossy glint in ur eyes, ur lip quivering, he sees it ALL. he will immediately try to get u out of whatever situation ure in.

(V) vanity - how concerned are they with looks?

he could give less than two farts tbh. he loves when u look like a mess, more drawing opportunities for him. he however will make a big deal about looking good in front of u. he will be styling his hair for an hour in front of the mirror before going on a date with u, hogging the bathroom. he also practices the way he approaches u and lays out his outfits to impress u LMAO.

(X) xtra headcanon

sean loves cats so much. if u have a cat, he will spend the whole time at ur house trying to befriend them. bro will be crawling all over ur house on all fours... it gets to the point where u guys can never pass by a petsmart without sean making an impromptu visit to see the cats. plus, u guys have matching cat profile pictures!!!

(Y) yearning - how will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

sean coops up and calls and texts u as much as u can. its to the extent where he will send u nonsensical texts just so he can open ur guys' chat. ur phone will be vibrating so much and out of curiosity ull open it to just see random symbols and letters strung together. he'll send u random photos throughout the day that remind him of u and make unplanned video calls. u guys do mundane tasks together in silence for HOURS. they never fail to end with him just falling asleep on call.

(Z) zzz - what are their sleep habits?

sean is NOT a morning person. because daniel’s usually the one that wakes him up, he will slam a pillow into ur face when ur just trying to wake him up. he will open his eyes to see u and mumble a “shit sorry…” and snake his hand around u back into bed. he will hold u PRISONER under those sheets. if u try to shuffle out he will snake another arm around u. u're essentially held hostage until sean decides he wants to set u free... cruel world.

unfortunately i feel like this is very lackluster and COULDVE BEEN BETTER idk. also not proofread so sorry if this was... inchuresting to read... it also sucked me dry so i think i may have to start writing ACTUAL fanfics instead of hcs😢😢😢 thank u if u did enjoy though...

[ofjunemoment]

work it | na jaemin

Jaemin can’t quite keep a part time job; every time he gets hired, he somehow fucks up enough to be fired straight away. But he just can’t get fired from his job with you, not until he successfully asks you out on a date, anyway.

OR: How many times can your cover Jaemin’s mistakes before you blow up, or him. 

pairing — jaemin x fem!reader

genre — restaurant!au, slowburn, fluff, humour, smut (MDNI)

wc — 20k 

content — profanity, both jaemin and reader work at a chinese restaurant, kun, jaehyun, mark and shotaro mentioned, waitressing dynamics (im gonna be honest most of this is just me throwing words together and hoping for the best), smut tags below the cut :)

a/n —  *sniff* my baby.... i loved writing this so much because the dynamics is something i truly enjoy ^^ there were times i wanted to strngle myself because i just couldn’t think of how to but the scenarios into words but here it is <3 hope you guys have fun reading!!!! 

smut tags — making out, boob/nipple play, fingering, pet names, just the slightest bit of a dom/sub dynamic, lmk if i missed anything <3

Jaemin is in the back room of the pet store, looking at a big bag of dog food and a laminated paper with the number of servings needed for each pet section when he hears his boss call for him.

“Jaemin? You doing okay here?” He turns around to look at Mr Choi, showing a light smile and a thumbs up.

“All good sir, just trying to familiarise myself with each serving of the pet food before I try feeding them.” He waves the card around, the lanyard attached to it swishing around. Today was his third time coming in with a shift at the pet store, and although the place isn’t near his house, it wasn’t far from his campus either, which ultimately makes his travel easier. If he can go all this way to a lecture he won’t even remember, he can go again and again to make some cash and help his sobbing wallet.

Mr Choi grins, plump fingers clapping together in delight. “I knew I could trust you. You’ve worked in so many places so you must have adapted quicker.” At this, Jaemin’s smile strains a bit as he lays his hand on one of the food packets to seem normal. He’s not wrong, Mr Choi— Jaemin has worked at a lot of places. He started when he was fourteen at his uncle's small business in the night markets, looking after keychains and phone cases while his uncle would try to sell items with his marketing voice. His task was to answer customers when they asked for the price, and to find out the price he just had to remember the prices — and if he was really struggling, his uncle quips, you can look behind each sections name tag, where the prices are written in vibrant red.

But he was confident with the prices, who would forget that the key chains cost 500 won and the cases cost 1000 won?

Of course he wouldn’t forget, but he wasn’t correct either. The five and fifteen behind those items were actually 5,000 won and 10,000 won. And throughout the entire day when he would receive coins instead of the colourful notes his uncle was collecting, he didn’t even question it; he just thought his uncle was a top-tier marketer. Needless to say, he was ‘fired’ (he’s not sure if he was even supposed to be paid for his labour) and his parents took out the money he credited to his uncle from his savings.

You would think that the brutal action of taking someone's hard-earned pocket money would deter them from trying another job again until they were fully prepared to take on such professionalism. But Jaemin was devastated at the fact that he had lost his chore money while sitting down on a plastic stool in the hot summer's night market. And so he tried to get another job to attain back the money.

At age fifteen, for his birthday present, he had asked for a job opportunity from his parents. Reluctantly, they had asked one of their neighbours if they’d like to get their lawn mowed. After seeing Jaemin in the backyard a few times doing the gardening, they weren’t abhorred by the idea of paying him a small fee to clean their lawns. Excited, he set to work with the mowing, which was something he would do, but he didn’t remember if it was the growing bush on his left side or right that he was to avoid at all costs. Turns out it was both, which attained Mrs Choi’s sacred tea sprouts that she’d imported from one of the islands in between Malaysia and Indonesia, and it costs an arm and a leg, he recalls her saying. The horror on her face, when she saw the shaved-down plot of land, was something Jaemin never wishes on his worst enemy and all the while desires to draw frame to frame.

But of course, it didn’t end there. He worked at a convenience store and a local retail store when he was sixteen, but was fired from the first and never received his roster from the latter. He thought that maybe local stores were just too picky with their quality of work due to having to compete against monopoly businesses, and so he opted to turn to chain businesses instead. He worked at McDonald’s and almost deep-fried his instructor's hand when being taught how to work the fries, and barely batted an eye when a few teenagers shoplifted the stores’ display clothes when he was working the chain clothing store at the mall near his house. To his defence, he’d thought that they were his coworkers changing the clothes on display with their casual dress code of the workplace, and so naturally, he didn’t think much of it. His longest-lasting job was at a general retail store he was hired for during Christmas, where he lasted for three weeks due to his supervisor being too busy to catch Jaemin’s mistake.

It’s a miracle really that he’s lasted three solid days at this place, but there isn’t much he can screw up in a pet shop; so far all he’s tasked to do is feed the fishes, as they’re the easiest to feed, and discard the box with hamster and rabbit poop for compost. Surprisingly, they’re both placed in the same corner of the room, but they’re kept in different storage boxes. Jaemin remembers how green means compost, and blue means fish; it makes sense, so he just goes to the blue one and scoops one full scoop into a mini bucket, before going into the store and feeding the fish. With the compost bin, he simply fits it onto a wheeler before going out to the back and dumping it into the designated compost area.

Jaemin sniffles a bit, before placing the laminated poster back on the shelf, checking his watch for the time. “Oh,” He exclaims, “It’s lunchtime for the fishes,” His smile towards his boss might just be pushing it, but it seems like he’s doing a great job at, well, keeping this job; anything resembling ass-kissing, he’ll try. As long as it guarantees a longer stay for him of course.

Mr Choi laughs heartily, sending Jaemin a thumbs up as he slowly filters out of the back room while Jaemin heads to the blue tin. What he misses is how the relief from Mr Choi’s face turns into sheer horror, as he sees Jaemin scoop into the blue tin and drop the pendant-like substances into the fish’s designated feeder.

“Stop!” Jaemin drops the scooper into the tin as his boss yells out, his blood running cold at the sudden shout. “Jaemin..have you been using—” Mr Choi’s eyes widen as he cuts himself off, going back to the store with hurried steps. Jaemin is very confused, as he has his hand midway in the air from Mr Choi’s exclaim, standing in the backroom like an NPC only activated when a main character comes to him for a quest.

But, miraculously, he can move his feet as he hears another shout of— a woman? Or maybe it was just Mr Choi’s sheer…excitement of Jaemin’s dedication to his job? But what he sees when he gets out of the back room and into the main store isn’t a surprise party held for Jaemin and his efforts (okay, he thought that maybe this was all a ploy to just show his new staff some appreciation; he’s still sceptical about the horror in Mr Choi’s voice, can you blame him?). What he’s instead met with is his boss’ and how his hands are clenched on his already thinning scalp — Jaemin winces when he sees a strand slowly descend to the floor— as he skids left and right around the aquariums.

It isn’t until Jaemin takes a closer look and sees that the fishes he thought were sleeping are now, well, permanently sleeping; on the floor of the aquariums, save with a few floating slowly, hanging on for Mr Choi’s happiness or the longevity of Jaemin’s work streak. He later finds out that fish float when sleeping.

“Jaemin, oh my god— the blue tin is the compost bin, and the green one is the fish food! I’ve told you about this two times, there’s even a fish sign on the green tin, how could you not tell?!” Jaemin might be tripping, but he swears he can see the bald patch on his boss’ head growing steadily.

Of course, now wouldn’t be the best time for him to point out scalp care remedies, and so he settles for the next best thing; “I thought the fish sign meant that they just…smell really bad…” Mr Choi now has his hand splayed across his face before he slowly goes to rub at his eyes, and nose bridge next, probably preventing a stress-induced nosebleed.

He points towards the front of the store, where the counter sits next to the door, finger jabbing up and down. Jaemin takes this as a sign to get some tissues from behind the counter, or his boss’ water bottle that always seems to have unlimited tea; but before he can even get back to him, with his eyes still close, in the softest tone Mr Choi says “... Out.”

He would’ve stopped his job hunting there, to be honest; but he’s in the last year of his course and is living with a roommate in a separate flat from his parents, which means he has to have at least some money to buy some necessities like groceries, much less pay rent.

He tells this much to Mark when he asks why Jaemin decided to work at a gym straight after working at a pet shop, and also what his resume looks like for people to still be keen to hire someone like him. He completely evades the second question, happily confiding in his friend about the job at a gym he picked up a week after being fired from sending the fishes into a food coma.

(“…Too soon?”

“Yeah, maybe a little bit.”)

And when Mark asks how Jaemin’s day was as a conversation starter, he vulnerably confides in him about losing his job again. This time working at a gym, he was assigned the task of giving out flyers and talking to people about why they would benefit from going to the gym, according to the outline he was provided in this big binder, the corner of the cover peeling off with age. While he was trying to promote the gym and give the discount flyers, he got into a long-winded conversation with this one old man who was talking about how the treadmill ‘fucked his knee up’, which had Jaemin thinking if treadmills existed in the 1980s.

They were five minutes into Jaemin searching the creation of gyms on Naver and the old man scolding him for not listening to a customer even though he was ‘not yet a customer because you haven’t accepted the flyer, now have you?’  when his supervisor comes out and yanks on Jaemin’s ‘employee in training’ lanyard from around his neck. Jaemin wasn’t sure what factor was the tipping point, but Mark thinks it was because he was on his phone during work hours.

“Or maybe the fact that you were stuck talking to someone likely to be the last person to ever sign up to a gym?” Mark is spinning his pen as he says this, looking up from his laptop screen towards Jaemin. Mark doesn’t even write his notes by hand, so it’s truly beyond him why he’s brought a high-class fountain pen to their study session at Jaemin’s, but that should be the last of his worries.

“Actually, they did have yoga and treadmill training for those aged sixty-five and above, so I wasn’t even targeting the wrong market.”

“Are you saying you’ve been wrongfully fired?” Mark sports an amused smile at Jaemin as if he’s laughing along with his joke; but that’s the problem, he wasn’t joking.

“Don’t laugh at my demise,” Jaemin smacks Mark’s arm, and he would feel bad at the wince that the latter lets out if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of his brutal laugh-hitting habit five out of seven times in the past week. Mark slowly halts his laughing fit when he sees Jaemin sulking, suddenly turning soft.

“Alright, you know what, here,” Mark fishes out his wallet as he says this, twisting and turning his bag on Jaemin’s bed. He gives the latter 10,000 won, waving his hand out towards Jaemin’s window. “Go ahead and get some snacks, my treat. And get me the watermelon-flavoured ice cream too?”

Jaemin scoffs. “You’re only doing this because you’re too lazy to get it yourself.” Mark’s smile is sheepish.

“Well, do you have 10,000 won to spare?” That shuts Jaemin up, as he snatches the notes out of Mark’s hand with a glare.

“When I do get 10,000 won, I’m making you eat the note,” Mark’s laugh is nervous as Jaemin marches out.

The cold hold of the ice cream contrasts the warmth in Jaemin’s hand, as the walk back to his unit proves to be a good remedy for taking a mental break from studying, as he decides to take a long way back; partially because the walk through Central parks is nice, but mainly because he wants Mark’s ice cream to have melted into a gross mush when he gets back.

Walking through the park, the rustle of the plastic bag and the tree branches are the only sounds echoing throughout, with Jaemin swinging his arm leisurely. The park is a circle shapen thread of grass with benches and pathways swirling around it, adorned with a children's playground in one corner, and the park's famous Yoshino cherry tree sitting right in the middle of the whole scene. The walk from the ice cream store back to his unit, the long way, requires Jaemin to walk through the park and the line of stores and restaurants in company with the park’s facilities. For as long as he’s lived here, three out of four of the store slots have been busy with business and traffic; all but one.

Unit store 1279 is infamous for dooming local businesses whenever someone applies for its lease. Jaemin has seen two restaurants and at least three cafes open and close, all with varying reasons for closing; the landlord is a nightmare to deal with, a corner of the store leaks something green but only when no one pays attention, and lastly about how there’s a ghost that lingers near the back door, sending cold shivers down staff and patrons alike when they pass through the door.

Out of all these rumours, Jaemin truly has yet to see one of them be proven true, the landlord was friendly enough to send welcoming flowers when each business would open; and close. He was keen to feel the shiver of the ghost's presence course through his body when he visited two openings ago but to no avail.

However, the reason why he finds the store so intriguing today is related to neither of those rumours; right on the glass door of the supposed vacant spot is an estate-sealed sticker adorned with bold letters spelling out “SOLD”. Not leased, but sold, with just below the official sticker being a recruitment post, a single slip of the business's phone number flapping in the light breeze.

We are looking for part-time staff. Starting rate at 25,000 won per hour. No prior experience is required.

Jaemin shifts from one foot to another as he eyes the piece of A4 paper taped to the door. Isn't this fate? A store opening right near where he lives, willing to accept someone with no experience, and the last slip of number is left? All while Mark’s ice cream is melting in his bag. This is the universe's calling if he knows of any.

Jaemin paces around the living room while Shotaro sits on the couch, head tilting left and right to the opposite rhythm of Jaemin’s paces as he tries to look past his whizzing figure and to the TV. If Shotaro had even a single mean bone in his body, he would ever so kindly tell Jaemin to stop pacing and maybe instead stand in one place, if he’s comfortable to of course. But as far as Jaemin is aware, he flinches at the sight of a fly, and is much less able to hurt one, so, of course, he doesn’t tell Jaemin to stop obscuring his vision, and instead turns to look at him, ignoring his show.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and Jaemin finally deflates, seeing this as an invitation to rant to his roommate. Plopping himself right next to Shotaro on the three-seated couch, he links their arms together by the elbow, needing something to ground himself.

“I wanna call this place and see if I can get a job, but I don’t know how to go about it; is there such a thing as a verbal resume?”

“You mean, an interview?” Shotaro provides, hand hovering slightly in the air as he contemplates patting Jaemin’s hand in comfort, but not for long as Jaemin separates them with a look of shock on his face.

“So that’s the word I was looking for?” He frowns to himself in contemplation, before sulking right back into Shotaro’s bicep. He doesn’t think they’ve passed the phases required to get this close to his former, but he’s too stressed about fucking up another job, and Shotaro seems to not mind this sort of interaction.

“If you find it so stressful to call them and have a phone interview, why don’t you send them a text?” Jaemin doesn’t know if this is truly coming from the goodness in his heart or if this is just something that everyone knows. Either way, the words put him at ease as he stands from the couch, patting Shotaro on the shoulder in thanks.

“You’re right! They didn’t specify their expectations; they just had phone number slips and a recruitment notice. You’re a genius Shotaro,” To that, the boy flushes with a shy smile on his face, but before Jaemin can hear him say something about how he didn’t do anything, and that he would love to help you even a little bit, Jaemin has headed off to his room and is curating a message to send.

To: +82 10-7854-4793

Hello, My name is Jaemin and I am interested in working in your establishment. When can I come in for an interview?

From: +82 10-7854-4793

Hello Jaemin. We are grateful for your enthusiasm, could you stop by next Thursday at 12 p.m at the Tao Village restaurant? Please bring a copy of your resume and provide a USB of a soft copy of said resume. We look forward to hearing from you.

To: Tao Village HR person (I think)

Yes I am available :) Thank you

Jaemin was not quite sure what is an appropriate outfit for when you want to be interviewed for a job as a waitress, but Shotaro’s eyes had dimmed just the slightest when he saw Jaemin step out of his room with jeans and a hoodie.

“Is that what you’re gonna wear?” His tone was far from condescending, even with the smile on his face, he looked more like a proud mom, but Jaemin could tell when his roommate may be slightly disappointed with a poor choice, so he had gone back and dressed up in some slacks he had and a polo shirt tucked in. he hopes he doesn’t see people he knows, or worse, Mark, because he knows he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Now he’s situated in front of the store, the ‘sold’ sticker now nowhere to be seen and a light glow shining through from the glass door, but the sun shinning from outside obscures any other view Jaemin could peak from the inside, as he sees more of his own reflection instead. Hand clasped on a clear folder and a USB with his resume, he pats his head one last time before opening the door and stepping in.

He’s been inside this store a few times over the past few cafes and restaurants, and so he’s not surprised to be met with a whole new interior. On the contrary, he’s quite pleased with the choices that the current owner of the store has made, with the walls now an even slate with ivory-coloured paint instead of the rundown orange brick that the last restaurant had. There are tables and chairs fit for two, and a last one for six people uninformed from left to right, with a counter and a curtain obscuring what he assumes is the kitchen towards the end of the restaurant.

Jaemin was too enamoured with taking in the whole place that he had completely missed the mini counter situated a bit to his left, with you standing behind, confused as to why someone has came in to simply look at the interior design and not, well, the menu.

A clear of your throat startles Jaemin out of his daze, as he looks towards you with the initial look of annoyance before his expression melts.

She’s so pretty. What the fuck? Does she work here? Is this a needed requirement? Maybe Jaemin should’ve topped up with a bit of cologne or something to truly seal his spot, but before he could embarrass himself by very subtly going to smell his shirt, you start.

“Hi, welcome to Tao Village, how can I help you?” He’s not sure if you’re using a customer service voice on him but it proves to work as he immediately thinks of how sweet your voice sounds. But Jaemin doesn’t want you to think he’s a creep who follows pretty women around and ask for their number the minute they open their mouth (he was so, so, tempted to ask for yours), so he tries a better way to ease in.

“I need to…speak to your manager.” His strong voice startles you both, as your eyes widen a bit before you lean back from the counter, now wary.

‘Is…is everything okay? My manager is unavailable at the moment.” Your eyes flit back to the curtain, where Jaemin assumes the head of this whole place is at the moment. His brows furrow further as he looks down at his watch. Twelve p.m., on the dot like the person he had texted requested. There must be a mistake.

“No, I’m sure they’re here. Maybe somewhere at the back? I need to speak to them,” he’s not sure why he’s suddenly being so demanding (he suspects that it's the polo shirt he’s wearing) but he’s nervous and he doesn’t want to be rejected before he was even given a chance to prove himself.

“I’m sorry if I offended you in any way, sir,” You voice out, now leaning back with your hand situated on the ring button placed below the counter, in case of emergencies or to be able to call for backup from the back of the kitchen. You didn’t think that you’d use it this early, “Can I make it up to you or help you in any form?”

Before you get to ring the button or Jaemin gets to backtrack, the curtains pull back and out comes a man in his mid-twenties, wearing an apron and holding a… paintbrush?

“Is everything alright?” He drops the paintbrush into its respective tray before he steps closer towards the two of you. You point at a faint smear of paint that’s caught on his cheek, mentioning silently to rub it off. Still, when he gets the memo and goes to wipe it off, he ends up smearing it further into his skin, his expression not wavering from its seriousness. It’s when he does a one-over at Jaemin that it all clicks.

“Oh! You must be here for the interview.” He pats down on his apron as if checking his bearings. “Kun said he’ll be back by now; that’s alright, have a seat.” He offers one of the two-seater tables, as Jaemin shuffles his way onward to take a seat, plopping himself on the opposite side of who he assumes is the boss of this place, as he takes his apron off and goes to brush at his clothes, before taking a look at his stained hands and deciding otherwise.

“Thank you for coming, my name is Jaehyun and I’ll just give you a brief breakdown of this place,” Jaemin nods as he rubs his palms against his jeans, thinking about how much he truly knew about this job. Come to think of it, he has no clue what the job he’s applying for even entails, just that they need staff who don’t necessarily need any experience (Jaemin does have some experience, maybe not the right kind) and were willing to pay enough for him to be able to pay his rent and only eat instant noodles two times a week, instead of the standard eight.

“We’re called Tao Village, and we offer a range of Chinese cuisines. I run this place with Kun, who was the one that got in contact with you. Both he and I cook, so we’re always in the kitchen. I have my niece,” That’s when Jaehyun points at you, which you don’t hear as you set up cutlery on tables with your earphones in, completely tuned out. “But she needs help for when we get a bit busier, or when it’s closing time; I can’t stay back because I have to wake up early the next day for the stores' essentials. We can show you the ropes but so far I just need you to work from Friday till Sunday.” Jaemin does his best to listen and store the information, but he realises that Jaehyun’s waiting for his reply.

“Yes, that should be okay,” He gave a thumbs up and a tight-lipped smile, which he slowly brings down when he sees Jaehyun’s stare on his hand.

“Great,” Jaehyun claps, standing up and reaching for the apron he placed on his lap before wrapping it around himself. “Well, the official opening of this place is on Saturday. Come in on Friday and we’ll try to acquaint you with the basics.” With a clap on the shoulder and a grimace of a smile - can it even be considered one? -  Jaehyun hands him a brochure-like menu of the restaurant, telling him that if he can memorise it as soon as possible it will be helpful.

You’re wiping down the counter when Jaemin stands to leave, and when he shoots you a barely-there smile, all you do is look away.

“You got another job?” Mark sounds surprised when he says this, and that puts Jaemin off, because, of course, he got another job.

“What was I supposed to do? Stay jobless and have Shotaro pay all the rent and food expenses?” Jaemin’s on laundry duty this week, and is being mindful of what colours are supposed to go together according to the laminated piece of paper Shotaro taped above the washing machine.

“Knowing him, he probably would offer to pay your uni fee too.” Mark tosses up a pair of bundled-up socks as he says this. “Wait, so where do you work now?”

“At the new restaurant, you know the haunted place just past the park?” Mark hums as he says this. “I’m a waitress, er, waiter there now. From Friday to Sunday. Which is good because I only have classes throughout the weekday.”

“And you barely get invited out during the weekends anyways,” Mark snickers as he says this, but misses catching the sock as Jaemin grabs a pair of used underwear and throws it directly at the boy, barely missing the undergarment as he looks at him wide-eyed. Words of ‘ew dude’ and ‘that’s gross’ goes into one ear and out the other as he picks the briefs back up and shoves them in the washing machine, closing its door and starting it off.

“Well, I have a good feeling about it this time,”

“Are you gonna blame the ghost for your- wait, did you put any detergent in?”

“ …Does it not come with detergent already?”

Jaemin picks a lint off of his shoulder, before smoothing his hand down his shirt and his pants next. He was told to wear an all-black attire, not sweatpants or hoods, so he stuck with a simple t-shirt and some black jeans.  He doesn’t know why he’s exceptionally nervous this time when all the other times he was only caught praying to last more than a weeks worth of paycheck. For some reason, he’s not keen on crossing his boss this time - Jaehyun seems scary.

Stepping forward, his hands find the handle and with one deep breath, he pushes the door. Except it doesn’t budge.

He steps back and looks through the glass of the door, seeing if anyone is inside. When he doesn’t find anyone, he pushes once more, and one more time with all his body weight; yet it doesn’t budge.

“I swear they asked me to come in at four,” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, looking at the time while his face stays squished against the door. Not even a second later, he hears the click of the door unlocking, and before his reflex could take over and help him step back, he’s launched forward and onto the ground.

“Oh my god, are you okay? Why would you cling to the door like that?” Your voice reaches his ears as he’s situated on the floor, and he then realises that his fingers were latched onto the door handle when you pulled the door to let him in.

Your slack-covered knees come into his vision first, before your face enters his view, albeit upside down.

“You didn’t get a concussion from that alone, did you?” Sounding so serious, Jaemin couldn’t help but laugh slightly at your words as he pushes himself up to his elbows, brushing at his shirt before inspecting it for any dirt. So much for looking wanting to look presentable.

“Jaehyun’s not here yet, and Kun’s stepped out just then,” Jaemin realises this is the most he’s heard you speak since the first time he’s seen you, as he sees your standing figure reaches a hand out to him, offering to help him up. He gladly accepts it, but is mindful to not pull all his weight.

“Oh,” Is all he can muster, now sheepish at the fact that your second impression of him is not any better than the first. His eyes scan around the place as he finds new additions since last week, such as a few ink-wash paintings on the wall and paper lanterns lining down the ceiling instead of the LED lamps that Jaemin saw last. Even the staff counter looks more lived in compared to the glimpse he caught before, with what looks like a brand new electric kettle and two mugs with silicone lids, one with a peach and another with a bear as their handles.

Not knowing what else to say, his eyes seek yours for any sort of initiative; hoping that you will catch his gaze and give a smile, all while explaining to him the in’s and out of this place, like how should he take orders, if there’s a particular way to fold the tissues that are placed on the tables, and if the Fujian fried rice of this restaurant is the one with or without pumpkin. Simple details.

But you all but look back at him, instead you drop your gaze away from him entirely and go to the staff counter at the back of the restaurant, picking up and taking a look at the kettle before you go behind the curtains that lead to the kitchen, out of Jaemin’s sight. He’s not sure if he’s even allowed there as a rookie staff, so he doesn’t play with his luck and instead trudges behind the counter at the door. After a few minutes of poking and prodding at things like the card reader and a pen cup, the front door swings open and in comes a tall man with red hair, holding plastic bags full of an assortment of things from food to cutlery.

“Oh, you must be Jaemin,” Jaemin straightens his back at the mention of his name, nodding his head and bowing in lieu of a greeting. The man trudges through the restaurant, the bursting plastic bags bumping into the chairs every now and then, and not long after the door swings open once more to reveal Jaehyun.

“Jaemin! You’re,” He gives his watch a glance, “On time! How pleasant, come, have you met Kun? Let’s go into the kitchen first.” Jaehyun manages to say this all with an expressionless face, but Jaemin does not feel like he’s being condescending, following his now-boss silently through the restaurant, past the main staff counter and the curtains and into the kitchen. Boxes are perched on the metal counters of the restaurant’s kitchen, filled with what Jaemin guesses are the containers for the ingredients of the dishes, and some restaurant plates, as well as takeaway boxes and bags. You’re taking out the abundance of takeaway container lids from boxes that take up two-thirds of your height, stocking them up on the top shelf.

“Kun, have you met Jaemin? I’m not sure we’ve given him a proper tour of the place,” Jaemin doesn’t think he’s gotten any sort of tour of the whole place, so all he does is politely shake his head.

Kun grunts as he places another big box next to your unpacking figure, the impact of it barely making you flinch. He looks at Jaehyun before his gaze falls on Jaemin, and with a smile and a wave of his hand, he goes through the backdoor of the kitchen without looking back.

Jaemin is guided through the whole place, with Kun showing him the storage room and the cold room, which conveniently has a sliding door; the singular bathroom of the whole place, and the main part of the restaurant.

“You don’t need to prepare much for tomorrow, it says in your resume that you’ve worked in a lot of places for short amounts of time, which gives me the impression that you can pick up traits easily,” Jaemin delivers a stiff smile as he feels Kun clasp a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Me and Jaehyun will just tell you the way we work, but first I need you to help with the unpacking. Any questions?”

Jaemin nods his head, taking the chance to now ask his burning question. “Will I get paid for today?”

Kun just laughs and pats him twice on the shoulder, shaking his head and heading to the kitchen, shoulders bunching up now and then.

Tasked with the job of organising the cutlery, Jaemin places the metal spoons and forks into the cutlery tray placed next to the plates and bowls for setting up the tables. You’re here too, wiping down the window and the glass door, emitting any sort of stain. Jaemin tries his best to not let his gaze wander on for too long, wanting to be in your good books. From what it seems, you seem just as important as both Kun and Jaehyun, so he doesn’t want to risk doing anything wrong, or piss you off. He also thinks you’re really pretty and would like to ask you out, but that’s beside the point.

It’s when you’re getting up from wiping the bottom of the window when you hear the clatter of plastic. Turning around, your eyes widen when you see Jaemin and the plastic forks he was supposed to put away at his feet.

“I…” There goes Jaemin’s one and only chance. He isn’t even being paid for this and he’s gonna get fired, right in front of the person he was trying to rizz up, too. Before he can say anymore and save his reputation, you whizz past him and into the kitchen, the curtains flying around you but you’re mindful enough to shut them back, not letting the sight of Jaemin with a bunch of forks splayed around him like he’s being sacrificed to the fast-food culinary Gods. He hears Kun and Jaehyun’s voices coming through the curtains, variations of them asking if everything is alright, to which you answer with the clutter of pots and pans.

Coming back with a big metal bowl, Jaemin’s eyes widen as you kneel — for the second time today — at his legs, picking up the forks frantically and placing them in the metal basin.

“Are you gonna help?”

And now he’s on his knees too. Scooping up the forks and placing them in the bowl, once every single fork is off the floor, you rush towards the undermount sink at the corner of the staff counter just as footsteps echo from the kitchen and Jaheyun’s figure emerges.

“Is everything good?” Jaemin feels paralysed, unable to decipher anything since the doom he felt spilling all the single-use forks onto the floor.

“Yup,” You answer nonchalantly, filling up the basin full of forks with water and a few drops of dish soap. “Just thought to rinse these clean first before…” You pause for a second as you look at Jaemin, before trailing your gaze to Jaehyun with a smile. “Before Jaemin organises them.”

Jaehyun simply nods his head before he trudges back to the kitchen, and Jaemin barely gets to utter a ‘thank you’ before you walk past him and into the kitchen.

“So she just helped you? That simply?” Jaemin’s smile is all but smug, as he cracks open his beer and clinks it against Marks, both taking generous sips.

“What can I say? I charmed her with my natural skills,”

“The natural skills of messing things up,” Mark scoffs at him before leaning over to get a piece of fried chicken out of the takeout box. “She probably pitied you for making a rookie mistake.” He starts munching on the chicken and hums in delight, following it with a sip of his beer. Jaemin reaches to pick up a pickled radish.

“Well, rookie mistake or not, she likes me enough to help me. You should come to work tomorrow for the grand opening, and while you’re at it bring everyone else too; I swear she doesn’t even like people,” Mark laughs in delight at Jaemin’s invitation, promising to come up with something.

Mouth full, he asks, “How long do you think you’ll last?”

“Swallow your fucking food first before jetting all your spit at me dude,”

In the same black polo shirt, Jaemin steps in at noon, just like his boss number one (Kun) asked him to, while boss number two (Jaehyun) had emphasised that calling him this early is to ease him in easier into the culinary business. Jaemin doesn’t mind, he’s just glad that he’s being paid for today's work.

He greets you with a wave as soon as he gets in, to which you wave back before going to the kitchen and announcing his presence.

“Jaemin’s here now,” You come back out and stand at the staff counter, taking the kettle and filling it up with water to boil. Going behind the counter, he places his phone and earbuds into his pocket, remembering that they were prohibited unless he’s on his break. Once the water is boiled, you pour it into the two mugs Jaemin remembers seeing yesterday, before putting it back on its stand and taking the mugs back into the kitchen.

Jaemin simply fiddles around, not knowing what to do. It looks like his presence on Friday was needed to set things up, but now that it’s all done, he can only wait for a customer to walk or call in, or either one of you to give him a command; he’s weary this time ‘round to not fuck anything up.

Coming back out right behind Kun, you busy yourself at the counter next to the door while Kun comes up to Jaemin, patting him on the back.

“Don’t worry about doing much today, it’s just a soft opening and not a lot of people know about our business anyways. I’m just expecting maybe two or three takeaway orders and just a handful of tables. This could be a good chance for you to bond with each other, yeah?” But before Jaemin could take in the fact that Kun had wanted some sort of bonding to happen, his mind got caught on the words ‘soft opening’.

“Wait, so today’s only the …soft opening.” Careful with his tone, Jaemin tries to make it sound like he’s just restating a fact rather than being surprised. Kun is too busy drinking from his hot water to notice Jaemin’s nervous front.

“Yup, Jaehyun and I decided it would be best to have a grand opening maybe after we got to test the waters out.” He places the silicon lid with the bear cover back on his cup to retain the heat, and Jaemin really can’t help but feel like something bad is brewing. But before he could even voice out a word, the door to the restaurant opens with a bell resounding, and in swarm a pack of ten or so customers, and a blob that looks like Mark.

“Yoo, this place is quite neat,” Apparently it talks like Mark too.

Both shocked still with wide eyes, trying to make sense of where and how this many people all came together into the restaurant just minutes after the soft opening, Jaemin just hopes that nothing about Mark and what seems like a club he gathered from the university can be somehow linked back to him. It doesn’t seem like the universe is keen on taking his side, however, as he sees Mark’s eyes squint and searches around the restaurant, knowingly searching for him. Jaemin doesn’t know why he hasn’t tried looking at where the general staff area would be, like at the door or where he’s currently situated, but before he could duck to hide or face his impending doom, you miraculously step in.

“Hello, welcome to Tao Village, how can I help you?” You sport a kind but mute smile, hands clasped together politely.

“Yeah, can I have, like, a table or something?”

“Sure, for how many people?”

“Ooh! Good question… I think there’s like, ten of us at the moment.”

“Is it alright if I were to ask you to sit separately? Since you’re walking in, we didn’t have the opportunity to set up. Just in two groups of three and one table for four maybe?” Jaemin doesn’t know how you do it, but his shoulders sag when Mark gives you a thumbs up, going back to the group of people all loitering around the entrance, telling them that they will just break into subunits.

Kun has somehow slipped away without any notice, which left just Jaemin behind the counter for you to encounter when you head towards the bottled water in the fridge. “Can you help me with the water? I’ll take their orders and you can just follow along first,” With a nod of his head, you press the bottle into his hands, waving him off as you reach for a server notepad, writing down table numbers and heading to the tables.

With your presence and the two chefs busy in the kitchen, Jaemin doesn’t do much but avoid eye contact with Mark and listen to you pick up the scarce phone orders that come through; trying his best to learn how to pick up such skill. After the third time of the phone ringing and Jaemin staying in place, simply looking at you to pick up the phone, you pick it up and press the answer button, before pressing it against his ear and giving an encouraging nod.

It turns out to be a scam call, with the person on the other end attempting to sell Jaemin a double-doored fridge with a touch screen and dual ice and water dispenser, all while Jaemin tries to promote the restaurant.

“With the dual dispenser, you can fill your glass up with both water and ice at the same time so your water doesn’t go too cold on the first si-“

“The mapo tofu is a great dish to order, as tofu proves to be a primary source of iron, easily accessible and cheap with the rising price of meat.”

“…It’s a Samsung model which has been on limited release—“

“Do you want the food or not?”

(The telemarketer hesitates just a bit before stating that they’ll call another time.)

Nothing else happens, you two go to the kitchen whenever a sound of the bell ringing resounds, signalling that a dish is ready to be served, and Jaemin uses all of his brain power and logic skills to pick up dishes that are for tables that Mark isn't seated at.

He successfully gets to do all that is required of him and stealthily avoids Mark, silently celebrating as he sees you place fortune cookies at every table, signalling that it’s time for them to pay the bill and leave.

But of course, nothing good ever lasts.

“Jaemin, bro,” Mark must’ve been some assassin in his past life because Jaemin barely notices him creeping up to him until he’s already wrapped in a handshake and a bro hug. “Well done dude, you barely made a mistake today. Yo, the food was good too, you should bring back some of the Mongolian lambs every now and then, yeah? I’ll see you later,” And with two claps on his back, he’s fishing his pockets for spare change as he heads towards the front counter and near the door, finding a singular coin before placing it in your palm, smiling as if he’s single-handedly pulled you out of poverty.

“Your friend?” You murmur towards him, looking at the coin in distaste.

“Yeah, unfortunately so.”

“I can’t do it,” Jaemin is shaking his head and hands vehemently; making him feel even more sick than he was.

You roll your eyes at him, holding the restaurant's phone in your hand. “You have to start somewhere, you can’t just avoid it now and expect to be miraculously good one day. I swear once you learn how to pick up phone orders you’ll only want to do that.” You explain, before putting your free hand out, palm facing up, encouraging Jaemin to do the same. Once he follows, not without a lot of hesitation, of course, you gently place the phone in his hand, closing his fingers around it with two hands before giving it a light pat.

“Now,” You pick up Jaehyun's phone that's placed on the counter, dialling the restaurant's number before placing yourself on the other side of the restaurant to cease any echoes. “I’m gonna call and act like a customer, you try writing down the order details.” With a nod of his head, you press the dial and turn the other way around, opting to look away to make Jaemin less nervous.

With a deep breath in, he picks up. “Hi, welcome to Tao Village,” He pauses, looking at you for any sign of motivation, but continues when he notices you waiting. “What would you like to order?”

“Jaemin,” Your voice sounds in the dining area and not through the phone, as you turn slightly to look at him with the phone tucked into your chest. “Some customers might not order food straight away. Maybe try asking how you can be of assistance,”

“Hello, welcome to Tao Village restaurant. Uh, how can I help?” Jaemin tries again, to which you reply with a bunch of dish names, asking for the different types of sauces that come with the mixed vegetables, as he tries his best to answer with what he remembers and writes down the prices of each dish from the takeaway menu.

“Uh, okay. Is that, did you want anything else?”

“Nope, I’m good. What's the total?” Jaemin fumbles with the calculator, shoulders hunched over the counter, punching in the numbers and writing down the total on the piece of paper. “That would be around 38,000 won.”

“Are you sure?” This time your voice is right by his ear without the phone pressed against it, your arm brushing against his side. Jaemin doesn’t even have the time to be scared, distracted by the proximity of you two as you reach over and use the calculator.

“It came up to 42,000 won. Did you forget to calculate the buns?”

“Oh,” Jaemin splutters. “Maybe, my bad.” Although this all sounds so new to Jaemin, he doesn’t feel as overwhelmed as he thought he would; with every other job he had, there would be someone assigned to help Jaemin understand the ropes of the place, but everyone else would add something on too, like how folding clothes the ‘Marie Kondo way’ was is even more efficient, even if that defeats the whole purpose of displaying a t-shirt at a department store.

You coach him through the quirks one by one, not moving on until Jaemin shows that he’s somewhat picked up the action. It all feels like a dream come true, with you guiding him as if you know that he couldn’t last a week into his job without actually knowing that. He’s just not sure how effective it will be in the long run. And it turns out that he doesn’t need to wait long to find out, as the ringing of the phone echoes in the restaurant devoid of any noise except for the soft piano background music.

Nodding your head at him, Jaemin picks up the phone and only hesitates for half a ring before he presses accept, bringing the phone to his ear and repeating the welcome phrase. It all goes well, with the customer asking if they can make a phone order for pick up, to which Jaemin replies ‘Why yes, of course you may’, and the sound of a car door closing sounds through the phones speakers, and suddenly the quality of the customers' voice sounds like hot garbage as their phone connects to their cars’ bluetooth.

“Sorry, did you say you wanted mixed vegetables in rooster sauce? Sorry, we don’t offer— oh. Oyster sauce. Yup,” You look at him with a confused look on your face, curious as to why Jaemin can’t understand the person when everything was good. The furrow of your eyebrows and the scratching sound from the phone sets Jaemin off, as the customer mutters something about ‘how many times do I have to repeat myself?’.

Jaemin writes down what he can understand, writing down the name ‘Kai’ and giving the customer the estimated waiting time, before hanging up the phone.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” You give him a pat on the shoulder, taking the slip of paper from his hand, wincing as you take a look at the scribbles writing of the dish names and their prices. “It’ll just go up from here. Hey, tell you what, why don’t you try remembering the ingredients of our fried rice, and see if you can differentiate between which one is the normal one and the special one without looking at the names, yeah? I’ll go help set up the ingredients for cooking these dishes,” And with one last tap, you disappear behind the curtains, taking a pen with you and correcting the mistakes before providing it to the two chefs.

You’re busy talking at a table of customers when the door swings open and in walks a customer, which leaves Jaemin to tend to them instead. With a customer service smile, he clears his throat and greets them.

“How can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m here to pick up an order. Under the name Kim I think? Sorry, I didn’t place the order but my dad did.” The woman scrolls through her phone as she says this, looking at what Jaemin guesses to be an exchange of texts between her and her dad. He ducks a bit to look at the dock under the table, where all the takeaways are brought and placed with the order slip attached to them with a piece of tape. He sees one with the name Kim and picks it up, removing the attached slip and placing it on top of the counter while the lady reaches for her wallet.

“Okay, uh, did you order the sweet and sour pork, with a large fried rice?” Jaemin reads off the food, a procedure you emphasised was important when dealing with takeaway orders. The lady nods, impatient as she swings her card around. He looks at the price at the end of the paper before punching it into the machine. Once the transaction goes through successfully and a receipt is printed, the woman quickly snatches the handle of the takeaway plastic bag and nods her head goodbye. Jaemin senses that something is wrong, off maybe even, and so he looks at the copy of the receipt and the contents of the order slip, looking at the other orders waiting at the dock and their contents and seeing that they all match their slips, and so with a shrug, he sets off to go back to the staff counter.

It isn’t until ten minutes pass that his wrongdoing was confirmed, as you call for his name from across the restaurant while sifting through the takeaway orders, a customer patiently looking over to see your interaction. He pulls up beside you, squatting down eye-level to the dock like you are before he whispers, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Where is the order for Kim? The one with the fried rice and sweet and sour pork? I remember bringing it here when it was packed at the back.” Jaemin feels his blood run cold at the mention of the order, a clear replay of his interaction with the woman coming in full blast.

“Oh… that…” At this, you pause your search and look at Jaemin, whose breath hitches at the short distance between your faces, courtesy of your crouched figures. You close your eyes, breathing in deeply to calm your nerves, before straightening up at lightning speed, knocking Jaemin over and onto the ground with an ‘oof’.

“Your order is still not ready yet, sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll go and check up on the progress, did you want to take a seat while you wait?” You smile at the customer, who nods back and says something about not minding the wait. You walk over Jaemin’s bent knees on the ground, going past him and into the kitchen.

He picks himself up quickly, making brief eye contact with the customer before looking at the curtains which you walked into. He’s doomed, you’re gonna tell Jaehyun and Kun about the mistake you made, and they’re gonna come out mad with their sleeves pulled up, ready to beat the shit out of him. He should’ve taken the self-defence class his mom recommended to him when he was twelve, maybe then he could do something to make the pain afterwards not hurt as much.

But before he could think about running out of the place with the bowl of fortune cookies (compensation for the beating that is due… possibly), you come back out, heading for the sink and filling up a glass of water while you place it on the table that the real Kim sits at.

“Shouldn’t be too long, they’re just finishing up on the sweet and sour pork. Here some water while you wait.” And now Jaemin is confused. He’s still on the floor of the restaurant with his brows furrowed and mouth hung open as if he’s gonna start throwing a temper tantrum. Your eyes widen ever so slightly when you catch a glimpse of him still on the ground where you left him, but your professionalism pushes through as you widen the smile on your face with a hum, before shuffling away towards his direction when the customer looks away. Pulling him up, Jaemin is only able to offer you a few murmurs of random words to voice his confusion.

“They’re making a new batch, I figured that someone provided a similar name and didn’t know the order details, which is why they accepted it. Don’t worry, they don’t know that you mixed it up,” Jaemin feels a sense of relief wash over him, looking at you with what he knows to be his puppy eyes; you make sure to look away.

“Isn’t it like, against the rules to not tell them?”

“Well, if you like rules so much, you can go ahead and take this takeaway order to the back and confess. Or you can split its payment with me and take what you like home. While you decide what to do, I’ll call the customer you gave the wrong order to and offer some apology coupon.” If it was professional to, Jaemin would give you the biggest head; but unfortunately, this isn’t the film industry, and so he sticks to the next best thing, which is to just look at you longingly.

In hindsight, five weeks have passed and Jaemin is still an employee of Tao Village, surpassing his longest streak of two weeks and five days at the retail store. Which calls for a celebration.

“To Jaemin,” Shotaro opens a can of beer with one hand, which truly impresses Jaemin, because he didn’t think that he knew what alcohol was, let alone drink it. “Who can finally pay his half of the rent on time,”

“You’re too nice, Shotaro,” Mark clinks his can against his and Jaemin’s at the toast, taking a sip. “I would’ve kicked him out as soon as he somehow disconnected the house's water system. You guys had to shower at the campus locker rooms for a week.”

Shotaro simply laughs as Jaemin lunges at Mark. “You don’t even live here, why do you keep coming? You should pay rent at this point too, fucker,”

Mark shoves at Jaemin’s face, which was really close to biting his shoulder, effectively avoiding a months-long bruise. He scooches away on the couch, leaning against the handle and sipping his beer. Jaemin picks up a piece of takeaway fried chicken, and it’s with his mouthful when Shotaro asks how he’s liking the place.

“It’s okay, it’s not too busy since it just opened and no one really knows of its existence. Except for when Mark brought a shitton of people on its soft opening day,”

“You told me it was the gran-”

“Anyway, thankfully I didn’t get into trouble for that. But I was close all the other times…”

Mark snorts while Shotaro mumbles something about how well Jaemin is doing. “What, did you do all the cliche mistakes?”

“Define cliche,” Jaemin speaks after taking another bite of the chicken, making Mark kick at his thigh lightly.  “Like, did you spill red wine on a customer? Or break a plate, or write down the wrong order. You know, restaurant waiter cliches.” Jaemin ponders for a second at this, thinking back to his five weeks of employment at the place.

“Not quite…” He tilts his head in thought, but before he could follow it up with anything, Shotaro and Mark clink their drinks together from opposite sides of the couch.

“Then that means you’ve finally healed! Let’s celebrate while we can,” Mark and Shotaro both chug at their drinks, and Jaemin would be ecstatic to join if it weren’t for the fact that it’s only three pm in the afternoon. But also because he doesn’t think he can celebrate yet.

“Shotaro, did you know about this person Jaemin’s working with as well? He has a massive boner for her but like, they barely interact.” Shotaro chuckles at this, glancing at Jaemin whose face is now red as he stumbles for an excuse.

“She must be really nice if you like her; does she help you around a lot?” Shotaro questions, making Jaemin flush even more.

“If only you knew,”

He picks up a carton of Sprite from the ground of the cold room, goosebumps erupt all over his forearms as Jaemin hurries out of the place, closing the door shut with his foot. Shuffling past the two chefs cooking and back into the dining area, he briefly searches for you before he finds you at the basin at the staff counter, washing the used cups.

“I brought the carton,” He announces, making you turn around.

“Thanks, do you mind placing it here? You can open the carton but be careful when you put it at the edge, it can spill out.” Your fingers are covered in sud as you point at the counter next to you. With a nod of his head, he perches the carton on the counter, half of it hanging out with the cluster of items placed, not providing enough room. As he gently prods open the cardboard packaging, he glances at you, back facing him as you lather the cups in soap one by one. Before he could continue with his task with his newfound motivation (your existence), you lean over and open the door to the mini glasswasher, backing up against him as you place the cups in.

He averts his gaze quickly, eyes wide from seeing you bend over like that, not wanting to lose his feminist streak from letting his mind wander so easily. As he continues to prod at the Sprite container, he feels the briefest brush of your legs against his, and he completely splutters, accidentally hooking his finger at the opening of the carton and ripping it open, making all the cans stacked against each other topple out and over the edge of the counter, one by one making an impact with the floor.

With a screech and a poor attempt of stopping the cans in motion, he squats to make it to the cans before they fully fall to the floor. But it seems like, yet again, the universe is not on his side, because not only does he fail to catch most of the descending drinks, the bridge of his nose makes contact with the edge of the counter, making him join the cans on the floor.

“Oh my god,” You’re shocked by the view in front of you, like some sort of twisted Renaissance painting. You reach down, and just as Jaemin is about to tell you not to worry about him, and that he can just die a beautiful death with the cans surrounding him, you pick up the fallen cans, inspecting them for any damage.

“You’re lucky none of these popped open, the floor would be sticky for days,” You mutter as you place the cans back on top of the counter, separating the ones that turned out fine and the dented ones. All the while Jaemin lies there, his nose throbbing, contemplating how he’s lasted here so far.

“Aren’t you gonna tell them?” He closes his eyes as he gently presses his cold fingers against his nose bridge, soothing the pain. The answer seems to be an obvious ‘yes’ if your lack of reply is anything to go by. A few seconds pass and he feels the cold contact of a can replacing where his hands were on his features, and when he opens his eyes, he sees your face above his, inspecting him.

“What is there to say? That you’re on the ground fighting against a nosebleed?” You taunt, removing the can and inspecting the spot with the gentle press of your fingers. Grabbing his hand and opening his palm, you place the dented can you used gesturing to his face.

“You can drink it once you’re done, they won’t notice,” Jaemin sits up as you say this, bringing the can up to his nose, pressing the cold against it as he watches you go back to turning on the machine and walking away, tending to other restaurant responsibilities.

Notepad and pen in hand, Jaemin walks to the table that raised their hand at him and delivers his best customer service smile. “Hello, welcome back to Tao. Would you like to order?” You had given Jaemin the heads up to look after this table exclusively.

“They’re this group of ladies that have nothing to do but spend their significant others’ money. They come like, almost every second day; something about wanting to support local businesses. And they give generous tips. No one does that.” You sigh. “I wish I had that much free time.”

The women smile at him, seemingly charmed. Jaemin knows the power he holds, and he also knows that if he bunches up his cheeks just right, he can have any woman over the age of fifty want to pinch them.

“What a charismatic boy,” one of them comments, and he blinks his eyes and tilts his head, smile still on his face feeling just slightly strained as he politely rejects the compliment, feigning humility.

“Okay, well can we start our entrees with a set of fried dim sims and spring rolls, and for the main course we’ll have the mapo tofu, fried rice— did you say you wanted Hokkien mee? One of those too please, and a serving of mixed vegetables with oyster sauce and chicken chow mien. No mushrooms for either, please. And for drinks, we’ll just have three tsingtao’s and one glass of Shiraz.” The woman drones, and Jaemin has a bit of difficulty catching up and writing down all the dishes she’s named, and so he repeats it all back once it’s done; a practice heavily encouraged by you.

When Jaemin finishes listing the dishes back and receives four nodding heads, he smiles in thanks and head’s to the kitchen, yelling out ‘New order!’ for the chefs to be aware of. Coming back out and placing a copy of the notepad at the staff counter, his smile turns genuine when he sees you, showcasing two thumbs up.

Now bashful, he says “I think I’ve replaced you as ‘favourite waiter’ now.” His smile is cheeky as he says this, with you rolling your eyes, pointing at the fridge near the counter instead. “Stop spewing bullshit and get the drinks ready. I’ll write down the prices of each dish.” With a salute and nod of his head, he goes to fetch the drinks from the fridge and the bottle of red wine nearby, as well as an empty wine glass. Preparing the drinks, your shoulders brush against each other in the tight space of the staff counter, with you looking back and forth between the menu and the order slip. Jaemin misses when your eyebrows furrow together, inspecting the slip for something.

“Uhm, Jaemin,” He hums back in response, eyes still focused on pouring no more than one standard drink of the wine. “Did you tell the kitchen that this is the table with a mushroom allergy?”

Jaemin’s heart drops to his ass.

His posture straightens immediately, vision zeroing in on the table he just took the order of, as his head slowly turns to you, a million thoughts run around in his head. With the expression he sports, you quickly grab a pen and a highlighter, running back into the kitchen as quickly as possible. Scanning the restaurant, when he sees all the customers occupied, he slowly slips away and into the kitchen, leaving them unattended to somehow save his ass, and from a possible murder case.

“—do you mean there’s a mushroom allergy? And why did none of you tell us? Of course the mixed vegetables and chow mien have vegetables in them.” Kun speaks as he cooks on the wok, lifting it every now and then as the clang of his wok’s spatula echoes out, mixing around the satay chicken.

“He wrote it down but just forgot to say it out loud,” You bluff, pointing at the copy of the slip that Jaemin brought back into the kitchen, now adorning the words ‘NO MUSHROOM’ in bold, highlighted letters at the top. Your other hand is clasped behind your back, holding the pen and highlighter. Jaehyun momentarily stops making his fried rice, coming up to the counter, and looking at you over it before snatching the slip, his aggressive manner making Jaemin wince slightly.

With a poor squint of his eyes, you and Jaemin wait with bated breaths for him to somehow finish reading the two words. When his eyes stop squinting, he spares a look at both you and Jaemin, placing the slip back down onto the counter before reaching into the bowl containing the ingredients for the dishes, fishing out the mushrooms and putting them back from where he originally picked them up, waving you both off. And you barely waste any time, muttering a sorry and going towards the curtains, pushing Jaemin out with you.

“Sorry. Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say, looking at you while you ignore his gaze so close to your face, centring him back to the staff counter. You shake your head and hand at him as if to say that he has nothing to be sorry about.

“Mistakes happen. Now can you put the puppy eyes away? We have a new customer to serve.”

“I’m not that stupid to bel— Hi, welcome to Tao Village. How can I help you?”

“Jaemin, do you think you could give the Chardonnay to table three? It’s for the man with the glasses,” You ask as you calculate the total of a takeaway order you just took, glancing at him to see if he’s available.

“Sure,” It turns out that you’ve already set out the glass and the bottle, as he opens the cap and pours it in, before taking a tray and placing the glass on it. You’ve taught him a few times to hold the tray with one hand, but he’s taking it slow and only using a single hand with drinks and sauces that he’s asked to deliver, not wanting to be too ambitious. Balancing it, he eyes for table number three and said man with glasses, strategically planning to swiftly arrive and deliver the drink.

As he waltz’s his way through, with his vision zeroed in on the customer, he completely misses the lady at the table before wanting to get out of her chair, completely skidding it across the floor and making an impact on Jaemin’s side.

Everything is suddenly carried out in slow motion, as he sees the fright on the woman's face, the tilt of his body and tray towards the customer settled on the table, the white wine toppling over the rim of the glass. If he retains his focus, maybe he can slow-mo recover and balance himself, only causing the wine to spill on the ground and maybe himself. He is willing to sacrifice his (Shotaro’s) black t-shirt.

Then he blinks.

A groan echoes and silent gasps are spilt, as he opens his eyes and sees first the man drenched in white wine, and Jaemin’s hand on his arm, balancing himself. Before he could even separate himself and apologise profusely, he is suddenly grabbed by the collar, and in his head, he’s already commemorating the lovely memories he’s made here with you and mourns how quickly he has to abandon the delusion that you two will end up together.

With one eye squeezed close, he’s not sure if it’s better to expect a punch or a slap against his face, but before he can anticipate either, he hears someone say “Excuse me, sir,”

“What do you want,” The man snarls at you, as you make eye contact with him, a silent customer-service-smile sported on your face as always.

“Apologies sir, but we don’t accept this sort of behaviour in our restaurant. Violence is not part of our values. I do ask of you to let out staff member go, you’re scaring him.” Jaemin can’t help but nod his head at the man, who glares at him before letting him go and jamming a finger into Jaemin’s chest.

“This boy spilt my drink all over me, how is that a part of your values?” He yells, making Jaemin wince at the loud volume, but you merely blink, stepping forward and closer to the customer, lowering your voice in an attempt to get him to soften his, too.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience caused sir, but this sort of behaviour is not tolerated. If you would allow our staff to apologise and we’ll-”

The customer scoffs, “Apologise? An apology isn’t gonna fix the stain caused on my shirt. Isn’t the customer always right? Who the fuck are you to speak to me like this,” He shoves you at your shoulder as he says this, causing you to stumble back into Jaemin’s figure, whose arms shoot out and hold you by the waist.

The curtains leading to the kitchen skid aside, and out steps Jaehyun. It all feels so dramatic if Jaemin were to look at it from a perspective of an outsider, as Jaehyun walks over to you three, his figure looming over all of you.

His smile is blinding, dimples forming on both his cheeks as he clasps his hands together. “Out,” Is all he says, hand now facing the door of the restaurant.

The man blanches. “But—”

Jaehyun merely shakes his head in a stern manner, smile suddenly dropping, pursing his lips as if taunting a child. Without making contact with the customer, he guides him gently towards the door, before the man gets the memo and stomps his way out. Jaehyun turns to the remaining customers at the table, providing a formal apology and confiding in them that they simply don’t tolerate this sort of behaviour towards their staff.

“Would you like to pack away your remaining food? You can pay at the counter just at the front, thank you for your understanding and apologies for the inconvenience,” And with that, he steps back into the kitchen, curtains shutting close as if they barely jostled. As you and Jaemin pick up the plates and pack the food into takeaway containers, Jaemin slowly approaches you, his arm brushing against yours.

“Are you okay,” He asks, voice solemn. It never feels nice to get yelled at by a customer, Jaemin’s just used to it, but he forgets that it can take a toll on different people.

Your smile is shy, barely looking in his direction as you click to close the lid of the container, grabbing both of your containers before placing them in a takeaway bag. “Yeah, I’m okay.” without a second glance, you walk to the front counter, giving the bag to the customer as well as the receipt.

“Can you two close up? Kun and I have to get up early tomorrow to make it to the fish market before the good quality scallops all sell out.” Jaehyun says this later in the day, as he folds his apron and places it on the staff counter. “I’ve already mopped the back. Do you have the keys?” He looks at you as he says this, to which you nod and give a thumbs up. With a nod of his head, he goes through the back door of the restaurant, leaving you two alone. Jaemin mops as you wipe the tables clean, preparing them to be set up once again tomorrow. Silence engulfs you two, with the only sounds being the slosh of the mop in the bucket and the scrape of chairs as you manoeuvre around them.

Jaemin decides that this is a good time to speak up. “Thank you for doing that,” He continues pumping the mop into the drainer part of the bucket, removing all excess water before plopping it back down. “I wouldn’t have minded if he had smacked me,” At this you laugh, cheeks bunching up cutely making Jaemin’s heart flutter.

“Did you want him to smack you?” You look into his eyes this time, the lights of the restaurant reflecting in your iris’. Jaemin thinks he could get used to this.

“Are you kink-shaming me? I doubt that’s allowed within the Tao VIllage values,”

“I’m not too sure. Hey, why don't we talk to the boss about it tomorrow?”

Jaemin’s grin is cheshire-like, “Wouldn't be the worst conversation I’d have,” At that you raise an eyebrow, to which he throws a wink. A comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, as you continue with your tasks, working around one another and you avoid the places Jaemin has freshly mopped while he manoeuvres himself around you.

It’s when you’re outside of the place and locking the doors, sizing up and down the door to put all the locks in place when you speak up. “You don’t have to thank me, by the way. People make mistakes, and Jaehyun would be less mad at me than at you. Plus, Kun doesn’t care like that either, as long as he can run this business, you can break as many cartons of drinks as you desire,” Looking over your shoulder, you catch Jaemin gazing at you, the same puppy eyes leering at you. Looking away, you pick up your stuff from the ground, wanting to bid him goodbye and completely disappear, maybe quit this job and move countries and settle down with a farming family of seven that don’t mind an additional one person to work their fields and pet their cows as a form of cattle therapy. Anything but face Jaemin’s face abd his ridiculously handsome features.

But before you could begin your progress, Jaemin calls out your name, making you turn around to face him once more. Thankfully, there’s no sign of the puppy eyes, but he is smiling.

“Since it’s a Sunday and we have a day off tomorrow, do you want to grab some food with me?”

The warmth from the broth and fishcake in your cup seeps into your hand, preventing them from getting too cold in the Autumn breeze. Jaemin counts his notes under the red and yellow haze of the fishcake stall, handing them to the old lady once he collects the right amount. The woman snatches the notes once Jaemin presents them and counts them twice, nodding her head in dismissal when she’s done.

Picking up his cup, the two of you manoeuvre yourself around the park and settle on a free bench, looking out into the lit-up park, with parents and kids at the playground while adults settle their picnic mats and huddle around near the fairy-lit trees; the Central park seems to be teeming with more people with the sudden shift of seasons, as people embrace the coming cold by celebrating in their own ways. Kids scream at the top of their lungs when sliding down a steep slide, and adults teem with laughter as they swish their wine in their plastic glasses.

Picking out a stick of fishcake from the cup full of broth, you blow on it a few times before biting into it, settling into the park bench more comfortably as the warmth of the food engulfs you. Excluding the bustle of people, you and Jaemin sit quietly as you indulge in your food.

But the silence doesn’t last long. “I don’t know how kids are so agile at such a young age. Like, aren’t their bones basically jelly?” Jaemin points at the few kids climbing up ropes at the playground, taking them to a tall slide as a reward.

“It doesn’t look too hard,” You quip, head leaning closer to Jaemin as you look at the kids climbing up vicariously. Jaemin turns to look at you, making you realise just how close you leaned in. “You think you could climb that?”

“At my age? Easy,” You scoff, leaning back and away, now feeling more flustered. If Jaemin catches on to your behaviour, he doesn’t make it obvious, sipping on the broth in his cup and opting to ask you about your favourite playground equipment.

“Thank you for the fishcakes,” You pat your stomach, smiling at your coworker.

“Of course,” He rocks back and forth on his heels the two of you standing at the edge of the park, ready to part ways. “I can never have a pretty girl like you be deprived of such Autumn goodness,” Jaemin teems at you as he says this, ready to receive some sort of backlash for his behaviour.

Imagine his surprise when you slightly guffaw, before stopping yourself with a hand to your mouth and a straight face. “If you think I’m so pretty,” You start as you turn around, slowly beginning the walk back to your house. “You would do more than just buy me a 3,000 won snack; I think pretty girls like me deserve more. No?” And with a wave, you continue your walk, leaving Jaemin with wide eyes and a slightly concerning grip on his cup.

It’s been eight weeks since Jaemin started working at Tao Village as a waiter, and he hasn’t known peace throughout.

It’s not that the pay is bad, or that the people around him treat him terribly. The pay is generous enough and as rarely as he sees Kun and Jaehyun on his shift, even if they’re a curtain width away from him, they’re nice and give him a container of food after every shift. And you’re an angel on earth, helping him whenever he fucks something up, and saving his ass nearly six times since he’s started working here.

The problem is that he makes those mistakes. And he has to go out of his way to not make these mistakes, and after every shift he feels like he’s worked five days with no break when in reality he just had a five-hour shift and a very generous thirty-minute break, eating hot and sour soup while you tell him about the weird customers you’ve encountered, asking him to rank them from most to least smashable with the details given from your anecdote.

Speaking of you, he thinks you're the epitome of his worries. Ever since he slipped up and basically confessed to thinking you’re attractive, you’ve been tormenting him, torturing even. If he were to tell you this, you would deny it all. And of course you would, because—

“I’m not doing anything,” You reply when Jaemin asks what you’re doing with the order slip that he’s just written down on. With a pen in your hand and a separate order slip, you’re copying down everything word for word instead of just taking Jaemin’s one to the back like normal.

“Yes, you are. Why are you making a copy of my slip— Are you ripping it to pieces?!” Jaemin shrieks, which catches the attention of the patrons in the restaurant, earning him a light smack against his arm.

You sigh, “Look, Jaehyun doesn’t like it sometimes when the slip looks too messy. There’s already a lot of oil and water being splattered on these poor things the minute they go past the curtain.” You shake the paper in your hand. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, you grab Jaemin’s hand, not looking at his face in case he’s flashing those eyes again. Jokes on you, because he’s also blushing, so you’re doing him a favour.

“Your handwriting isn’t messy, they’re just used to mine. I don’t want them to make a fuss over nothing,” You pat his hand and head to the back, not before reminding him to check on table number seven.

Looking at his left hand, the hand which you grasped hours ago, he holds it to his chest and prays to whatever holds power to keep him strong. He doesn’t know if you’re doing these things on purpose, or if he just has a weak heart.

“You barely go out of your room, so I’d say the second option is more likely.” Mark quips, tilting his body to the same side that his kart skids in the game. Jaemin lies down on his bed arm slung over his eyes as Mark plays on his console.

“Am I just due for a good fuck? Is that why I’m basically busting whenever she brushes past me?”

“Yo,” Mark sounds concerned now. “Brushes past you? Like, it’s just the accidental skinship that makes you horny?”

Jaemin sits up now, wanting to prove himself innocent despite the words he uttered just seconds ago. “You have to understand, I think she’s doing it on purpose.”

“I’ve seen your place Jaemin. The staff counter seems like a tight fit, I don’t know how she can be doing these things on purpose.” Jaemin huffs at that, falling back onto his bed again. He doesn’t know how to explain to his best friend that he isn’t delusional, so he just mutters a ‘whatever’ and tries tickling him, wanting him to lose the game and get last place.

“Yup, your order is just right here. So it’s just the large special frie—” His voice gets stuck in his throat repeating back the order to the customer when he feels a figure pressed up against his back, and with a glance to the side he sees you leering over, looking at the slip he holds in his hand. When he makes eye contact with you, you barely give back a nod of your head, encouraging him to continue reading.

“Sorry. Uhm, just the large special fried rice, and two servings of the spring rolls,” You lean in even more, and Jaemin can only thank the great heavens above for the bit of privacy that the takeaway counter provides. He feels the plush of your breasts pressing against him, leaning against him while you reach over below the counter to some pens, opening the notebook of table reservations and writing in a new booking.

He only messes up putting in the total price of the order twice on the machine, before the customer picks up his food, leaving you two behind the counter. Just as he’s about to turn around and say something, you separate yourself from him, patting him on his shoulder and closing the notebook shut.

The first thing he does is find his bearings, as he clutches a hand at his chest, then his neck, and lastly his ears, feeling how hot they were. Next, he has to somehow find a way to see if he just made that whole scenario up. Looking at where you now were, which was at a table, conversing with a customer, he was a few seconds away from losing his mind. But his thoughts were confirmed when you glanced a look at him, the corner of your lips lifting ever so slightly before you continue speaking to the table.

Jaemin doesn’t know how long he can last.

He now knows how long he can last.

Unsurprisingly, it’s not long at all. He doesn’t know if what you’re doing is on purpose, or he’s just infatuated with you enough to now notice these things, but all he can blame it on is the fact that it’s been some time since he last got laid, and so that’s why he’s getting flustered by your proximity these days.

But he also thinks that you might be doing some things on purpose; like squeezing past him in the tight margin of the staff counter to wipe some inconspicuous water stain, bodies brushing against each other in a tight squeeze, or inspecting his hand for too long after he’s delivered a sizzling plate of Mongolian lamb to the table, in search for an injury you both know is not there if he hasn’t already blatantly dropped the whole dish onto the table. Or that one time when you both went to the cold room, with him reaching up for the carton of beers while you kneel to get the soft drinks, side to side. You had momentarily lost your balance while pulling out the boxes from the back, resulting in your hand clutching at his pants, wanting to regain your balance.

“Oh, sorry,” Your words are a clear contrast between your actions, as your hands linger on for longer, lashes fluttering when you look up at him, the light of the cold room twinkling in your eyes. Jaemin swears he feels your hands squeeze ever so slightly before you let go, shuffling out of the room with a carton tucked by your side.

He doesn’t know how to confront you about it; it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the sudden burst of attention he’s receiving from you, it’s just that it’s both not enough and too much. He wants more but he doesn’t want to risk popping a boner while taking a sixty-year-old woman’s order.

Every time he thinks he’s got you cornered, something always comes along to save you, like the call of a customer, or Kun coming through the curtains to get some hot water, even though his sightings are as common as blue moons.

So when Jaehyun asks you two to restock some of the items into the storage room as a part of your closing shift, Jaemin thinks the opportunity is basically being graced into the palm of his hands.

“The stuff might be a bit heavy, so be careful with your posture when picking up the boxes,” Jaehyun tuts, scrubbing his wok clean. “And remember to lodge something between the door, it still gets stuck from the inside. Don’t go home too late, but also don’t half-ass things as well.” Jaemin almost shivers when he hears her mom echoing back the same things to him in his head.

“Jaemin, do you know that door wedge we have at the back? You can use that, sometimes even I forget. Kun’s trying his best with the handle.” He steps over the freshly mopped places, going past and at the cashier, placing your tips in your dedicated storage boxes.

“Okay we get it Jaehyun, but if you keep speaking we won’t be done unti—” The front door shuts before you can finish what you were saying, but you only let out a light sigh before finishing up with the mopping, with Jaemin drying the cutlery with a towel.

“I’m gonna start with the boxes first,” Jaemin nods his head at you, seeing you go through the back door and towards the storage room. Jaehyun and Kun were kind enough to place a few boxes inside, but there were some still littered outside.

When a few minutes pass and Jaemin is all done, he still sees the extra boxes outside, not having moved a bit. He calls for your name, just to see if you’re back there.

“Yeah, I’m here, just—” You grunt, balancing the box on your knee as you take its contents out, placing them on the shelf. “Trying to sort this. Can you help me with the boxes outside? Be careful with the door, I have my shoe lodged there.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at the third reminder of the day, before shutting the lights off from inside the restaurant and picking up the boxes near the door, stacking them on top to only use one trip to the storage room. The light from within shines a silver lining across the now dimmed restaurant, as Jaemin nudges the door open with his leg, careful to avoid your shoe as you had advised.

He places the boxes down with a groan, straightening up and stretching his back. “That was a piece of cake,” He smiles cheekily at you, to which you barely react, handing him the box you were balancing, opting to take the items out from his hands, making the process more efficient.

“Are you having fun?” Jaemin speaks again, not letting the silence between you two stretch out for too long.

“With putting these things away? Not exactly my definition of fun,” You look at him questioningly, picking up another item while glancing at him.

“Not with the packages,” He shakes the one in his hand for emphasis. “I meant ever since that night at the park, where I called you cute—”

“Pretty,” You mutter, and the word slightly shocks you both, as Jaemin sees your shoulders stiffen. You have been doing everything on purpose, because you, too, put some meaning into his attempts.

“You keeping tally on how I compliment you?” putting the box down, he opts to look at your face as he says this. It’s not every day that he gets to tease you like this, so he uses this opportunity to rile you up a bit as you do to him, body inching closer to yours.

You feel the heat radiating off of him and onto your back, as you place down the last item in your hand on the shelf and turn around, only to be startled at the proximity of you two, Jaemin inching closer with the box discarded at the side. This close to him, your eyes tilt up to look at his, mischievous iris’ grinning back at you.

“I don’t…” Jaemin’s eyes glance at your lips as you start, parted open now as your mind blanks on what to say next. The distance between your bodies shortens, and you feel yourself craving for something. A simple touch of his hand at your sides, the heat of his breath at your cheek, the soft push of his lips against yours.

Your tongue brushes the corner of your lip at that thought, an action Jaemin can’t miss with how close you two are.

“You don’t? Don’t what, don’t know what I’m talking about? Finish your sentence pretty,” Jaemin’s hand raises, and your chest flutters at the anticipation of his touch, only for it to deplete when he places it on the wall beside your shoulder, getting closer and closer.

You want to scream, needing him to just do something, anything, but your body still inches back, wanting to see how far either of you can prolong this. Jaemin notices your game, leaning his head in and bringing his lips to your ear.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything for you, just gotta have you use your words, baby.” At this your eyes flutter, fists clenching at your sides to gather up the courage as his warm breath fans against your neck.

“Can you kiss me?” Your eyes look at his as you push his body back by his shoulders, wanting to look at him as you ask for him, for more. Smile slowly softening, he leans in and places a peck onto your lips, plush skin pressed against you, both of your eyes closing shut. Before you get to do anything else, he parts back slowly, seemingly done. But you’ve barely even started.

“More,” You mutter before placing your arms around his shoulders, pushing both of you closer to one another as you lean in, kissing his lips once again, catching him by surprise. His lips are only still for a split second, before he reciprocates, pushing against you, giving you exactly what you asked for.

“Your hands, please,” You mutter in between as they slowly turn from innocent pecks to open-mouthed kisses, your own hands coming to his biceps, wanting him to touch you.

“Where, baby?” He sighs against you, hands grasping yours, ready to be guided.

“Everywhere,” You clasp your hands together, before grabbing his wrists, placing one at your waist and the other underneath your boob, arching your back in encouragement and contempt of finally having him closer. And Jaemin listens well, hands squeezing and thumbing at your body over your clothes skin, before roaming them around. Slithering one behind your back, pushing your body flush against his, chests brushing as he rushes to kiss you more, lips pressing against you feverishly. Your arms wrap around his neck and shoulders, wanting your boobs to be pressed against him fully, nipples perked with arousal from him, having the both of you pushed back and against the wall as he follows your lead of wanting to be all over each other.

Except walls don’t click shut.

But Jaemin either doesn’t notice or pays it no mind, continuing his quest of ravaging your lips, not that you mind, as he squeezes the flesh of your boob and brushes a finger over your clothed nipples, biting lightly onto your bottom lip as your mouth parts slightly from the pleasure, soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.

“Jaemin,” You try calling for him, voice coming out a bit hoarse as you pull back slightly. He takes that as a sign to venture more.

“What is it, hmm? Want me to go lower?” He doesn’t wait for your reply as he angles his head down towards your neck, breath tickling against your skin as he nips at it lightly.

“No, Jaemin. There’s—” He chuckles at you, looking into your eyes with a smirk now adorning his face. He raises his eyebrows at you while he scans your body pressed against his, and that shouldn’t affect you as much as it did.

“What, does my pretty baby want more?” his smile now turns slightly giddy, placing a sweet kiss on your lips before bringing both hands to your sides, squeezing slightly making you react to the sensitive spot being handled. “I can’t fuck you here, as much as I’d love to. But I don’t wanna be looking at a box of fortune cookies—”

“Jaemin, we just closed the door.” And you physically see Jaemin react to this, as he processes your words with a confused look, before the light in his eyes dims and his face falls, looking frantically between you and the door behind you. He searches at the bottom of the door where you had lodged your shoe, only to see it past the frame, squeezed from the pressure of your bodies against the door.

He’s about to apologise profusely, mind scrambling to think of a way he can get you two out. But before he can get too far, you plant a kiss on his cheek, and another one on his lips when he turns his head to look at you. You let out a light sigh as his hands find themselves back onto your body, pushing your hands towards his jacket, wanting it off. He shucks it off and throws it behind, hands grabbing at you again as you bring your fingers to rake at the hair at his neck.

“But—” Jaemin cuts himself off with a whimper when your hand grazes under his shirt, the cold press of your fingers against his warm stomach, fingers splaying themselves against his taut muscles, grazing your nails lightly making his body flush even further.

“Fuck, the door,” He tries again, but falls short as his head falls against your shoulder when your fingers linger past the seam of his pants.

“Later, I need to feel you,” You mutter. “Someone will come by tomorrow morning anyway,”

“Oh, fuck.” Jaemin curses as you palm his dick over his pants, his hips bucking up and into your touch, wanting more of you against him. His hand pushes your shirt up, tucking it before he slips his fingers behind your back, reaching for your bra and taking it off once the hooks are undone. His hands cup at your boobs, vision glazed over you as he squeezes them together. He leans in with his mouth parted, looking up at you and making eye contact, whining slightly in lieu of asking for your permission. It’s hard to wait for your word when he’s just as desperate, wanting your touch and scent all over him.

“Jaemin, please,” You pant, hand flying to his hair and gripping softly, scratching your fingers against his scalp as an initiative. “Make me feel good, I want your mouth on me,”

He swipes his tongue against your perked bud, before blowing lightly and saying “Anything for my doll,” mouthing at your breast, before closing his lips around your nipple, sucking in as his free hand occupies itself with your other boob, slightly scraping his nail against you before pinching your tit. The pain and pleasure shoots through your body, as you moan his name, nails scratching his head.

Your whimpers and whines turn Jaemin on even more, as he swipes at your bud one last time before pulling back, tipping your face back towards him and kissing you again.

“Want your fingers…been thinking about this so much,” You reach for one of his hands, guiding him to the apex of your thighs, looking at him as you press his fingers against where you want him the most. Even through the thick fabric of your pants, the push of his fingers against your core has you whining, happy for some friction but wanting, needing more.

As his hand goes to unzip your pants, he replaces them deftly with his leg instead, pressing his knee against you.

“Fuck,” You sigh, as he presses himself closer to you, body now flushed against yours, thigh stimulating your pussy through your pants, mouth at your cheek, jaw, neck. Jaemin is completely overpowering your senses, yet you want more.

“Pretty doll, letting me do all of this to you.” he pushes your pants down, leaving you in your underwear and your shirt tucked up, fixing it every now and then to pinch at your tits, loving when you keen against him. “Wanting me to do all of this to you. Have you thought about me a lot? Bet you thought about us sneaking off right here so you could suck me off, or maybe thinking about me taking you right behind the counter, forcing yourself to act normal with my cock in you,” He hums against your ear, swiping his tongue against the shell before biting lightly on your lobe, wanting you to remember his touch all over you.

You’re not entirely sure what he's saying, yet you nod your head up and down, moan slipping past your lips at the light swipe of his fingers against your clothed core, doing anything to get him to give you more.

Jaemin chuckles, “Is your mind going blank already? I barely did anything to you baby, do I have to dumb it down for you and remind you?” His condescending tone is the only thing that registers in your head; that and the fact that he’s not doing anything, hands splayed still at your sides, his knee not pressing hard enough against you, with no signs of more.

He leans in and presses a sweet peck against you, before his hand squeezes your cheeks together, an attempt of garnering your attention back.

“If you want something,” He leans in, just a breath away, but moves back when your eyes lock on his lips and lean in. “You gotta tell me. I’ll only do what you want me to, got it?”

Nodding your head, you add a breathy ‘yes’ when Jaemin raises his eyebrows at you.

“Good girl,” He smiles, and it only makes your head just the slightest bit dizzy. But you’re brought back when you feel the press of his thigh against you once more, a friendly reminder of what you’re missing out on.

“I want your fingers,” You start, voice wavering a bit, getting shy from having to voice your dirty thoughts. But the press of his finger pads against you edges you on even more, encouraging you to continue. “Always look so good doing the most mundane things. Want you to fuck me with your fingers, fuck,” Jaemin proves to be a great listener, as he quickly makes work of shoving your underwear aside, commenting how you’ve ‘soaked through your panties and my pants, messy girl’. He rubs against your clit, building up a rhythm, before rubbing his fingers against your folds, soaking them in your juices thoroughly before the pad of his fingers press against your hole, making quick work.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jaemin grunts at the squeeze of your walls against his two fingers, filling you to the hilt and shallowly pushing. “Bet you would feel so good around my cock,” You moan at his words, eyes falling shut as you rest your forehead against his shoulder, giving him better access to whisper such filthy words to you.

“So fucking dirty, getting off of my fingers in public like this. You’re lucky it’s late, no one gets to see you like this,” His fingers quicken their pace, the hot feeling in your stomach tightening as the palm of his hand smacks against your clit, other hand occupying itself with gripping your ass or tweaking your nipples. “Only I get to see you like this, messy and undone. All mine for the taking.”

“All yours,” You echo back, head burrowing further into his neck. As you feel another finger push into you, his pace making you clench tighter and tighter, you let out a high-pitched whine when his other hand comes down to stimulate your clit. Mockingly, Jaemin repeats back your moan in the same high-pitched voice, twisting the end of it to sound like a question.

“Is my baby close?” He pecks at the side of your forehead, a sweet gesture contrasting the pressure of his fingers against you.

“Please, Jaemin. Don’t stop,” You feel yourself grow hot, storage room now feeling stuffy as you separate from his shoulder, head tilted back against the door as your senses are overwhelmed.

“You’re so hot, fuck.” He smothers the pool of drool gathering at the corner of your lips, spreading it onto your cheek before leaning in for a kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, too close and fucked out to makeout steadily, just wanting to feel him against you. Curling his fingers against you, you feel yourself ripping over the edge as he presses his other hand against your stomach and swipes his tongue over yours, sucking at the tip of your muscle before finishing it off with a peck.

“Let go, pretty. Show me how messy your cunt can get,” Fingers fucking into you, with a final rub and pinch of your clit you break off into a silent moan, hands clutching at his shoulders as you tense up, finally reaching your high. Jaemin’s fingers keep a steady pace as he helps you ride off your high, now going slower than before. But his fingers don’t stop even when you calm down, seeing how far you can go as he overstimulates you.

“Hurts,” You cry, but don’t make a move to stop his ministrations, hips pushing up into his touch, panting against his mouth when he kisses you again, pushing his fingers in and out of you. After a few more seconds though, your whine lilts painfully and you weakly push at his hand, to which he relents as he slows down the pace, before pulling them out carefully.

“It’s gonna feel icky for a bit, so bear with me,” Jaemin softly murmurs, reaching above to a shelf that conveniently holds paper towel rolls. The emptiness that is left emphasises the tiredness you feel, as your shoulders slump and you lean back against the door for further support. Jaemin folds the towel and dabs at your core, cleaning you up to the best of his abilities before he wraps his clean hand around your waist, manoeuvring you to lean against the wall, carefully pulling your shirt down and underwear and slacks back up. He slides the two of you down slowly, and you open your eyes to look at him, tiredness slowly wearing away as your heart flutters at his gestures.

“You okay?” He hums, his back now pressed against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with you as he gently smoothens his hand down your scalp, before cupping your face gently. You nod your head, leaning in and pressing a kiss against him.

“More than okay, that was so hot.” He chuckles at your words, poorly concealing the smug look that overtakes his features.

“I’m glad at least one of us had fun,” He teases, which makes you feel shy, as you spare a glance down to see a chub at the zip of his pants. He waves you off, adjusting himself a bit before sliding his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.

“With what we did just then? I’ll be able to come for days even just thinking about you,” He laughs softly as you squeeze his hand in warning, before resting your head against his shoulder, with Jaemin reaching over for his jacket discarded earlier on, tugging it over your legs to provide warmth.

“You haven’t made a mistake today,” You mutter, breaking the silence that had settled as you play with his fingers with both your hands. Jaemin can only look at the side of your face as you say this, before getting comfortable and pressing his cheek against your head. “How could I when you have such high standards to meet? I need to be on your good side,” Your scoff holds no mean intentions, glancing at him briefly over your shoulder.

“You’re already on my good side,” He faux gasps.

“You’re telling me you liked me this whole time? I didn’t have to prove myself to you?” Jaemin squeals as he sways side to side, before wrapping himself around you and swaying you along with him.

You’re shy when you speak up again, muttering “I’ve already told you how I thought.. about you,” He tsks as he meets your eyes again, eyes going down to look at your lips that you bite nervously.

“Don’t even think about talking about that, I don’t know how long I can stay working here and pining after you.”

“But… I like— wait. Do you not like working at the restaurant?” Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, Jaemin tenses a bit at the information he let slip. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s ungrateful for your efforts, but the soft gaze that you give to him only soothes him.

“Okay, I’ll be honest. I think you’ve noticed by now that I’m not the most, flawless, person ever.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve made a few mistakes? No way,” He whines at your tease, as you bite your lip to contain your laughter, nodding your head to get him to continue.

“I’m just not really good at keeping part-time jobs like this. Things that need me to physically and actively do things. I once got fired from a scouts guidance group because I would give badges to the kids when they asked.”

“…Aren’t scout leaders there by volunteer? How can they fire you?”

“That’s my point!” He grumbles against you, bringing your head back down to his shoulder when you lift yourself to look at him, not wanting to look at you directly in your eyes. “And working as a waiter is definitely not easy, because I have to guess when a customer wants to order before they actually call me, and help with food and dietary needs and advice, and be smiling and happy all the time even when the old ladies pinch at my cheek and call me handsome like I’m some three-year-old golden child.” You pat at his bicep soothingly, fingers squeezing as he rambles on, letting him pour it all out.

“Well,” You bring your hands up to your lips, pressing a light kiss at the back of his hand before settling it back against your legs. “If you hate the job so much, why not quit and find something better?”

He stills as you ask this, thinking about your question. He hasn’t ventured far from the initial annoyance of having the job, not thinking of the reasons why he’s staying in contrast with the million reasons why he doesn’t want to. But the tingling feeling left at the back of his hand seems to be enough of an answer.

“Because I get to spend my time with you,” You squeeze your lips together as he says this, not knowing if you should cringe or swell at his words. You giggle lightly when you see him fall shy, hiding his face into your shoulder.

“Okay, then don’t quit,” You quip when you realise he’s not going to come out of hiding anytime soon, opting to play with your laced fingers instead. “Stay with me. You can deal with customers who ask if we have duck on our menu even when we clearly don’t, and try your best to not burn your finger on the sizzling plates, or get locked in the storage room overnight.” Jaemin feels bittersweet at the scenarios you provide, torn between what he should do.

“Or you can ask me out and then quit,” You shrug, conveniently avoiding his sudden gaze on you as he sits up. “Up to you,”

“I can do that?” You glare at him.

“I’m gonna blow up, Jaemin. I can’t believe you haven’t—” He stops you with a peck to your lips, now grinning like a maniac. “Can I be your boyfriend?”

“What will I gain?”

“Uhm… unlimited head?” You clench your grip on his hand harder. “...And a very deep and meaningful emotional connection where we fill each other's gaps and lift our—”

“Unlimited? Can you promise?” He’s about to agree without a second thought, before he sees you raise a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“..Yes?”

“Then yes, you can be mine.” He sighs contentedly now, cuddling himself back into you.

“I can’t wait to quit.”

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by the sound of a door hinge and a sudden shine of light. You try to bring your hand up to shield the onslaught of the sunshine, but the weight on your hand reminds you of your position, with Jaemins head tucked on your shoulder and yours stacked on top, hands still laced and legs slightly tangled into each other. With a squint of your eyes, you look up at the figure standing at the door.

Jaehyun’s facial expression doesn’t change much, other than the slight parting of his mouth. To you, this means that not only is he shocked still, but also somehow angry and maybe … confused? If the left side of his lip is slightly tilted down; you’re still trying to learn.

“Jaemin,” Your hoarse voice calls, shaking the boy next to you lightly to wake him up. He whines, lips mumbling gibberish into your shoulder.

“The doors open, Jaem,” That wakes him up a bit more, as he squints towards the open door.

“Oh,” He says, and then Jaehyun clears his throat. “...Oh,” The two of you rise slowly, as Jaemin places his jacket over your shoulders.

“So,” Jaehyun starts when the three of you step out of the room, the two of you now standing like students being punished for their wrongdoings. It takes all his willpower for Jaemin to not raise his hands in fists over his head.

“Funny you ask, boss. Remember when you told me not to close the door?” Jaemin thought he started off strong before he saw you looking at him with wide eyes. Jaehyun’s lip tilts to the left.

“How could you ignore the only warning I gave you? Not only did you lock yourself in that room, but her too? You know how dangerous that is, what if we didn’t have a Sunday shift to open for? This liability costs you, Jaemin.” At that, the boy feels his posture straighten.

“Am I..?” Jaehyun's frown is the strongest expression Jaemin has ever seen. He feels like doing a backflip right now.

“Fired? Of course—” And it probably is rude for him to whoop as loud as he did, but Jaemin is on cloud nine, having bagged a person like you and being liberated from having to mop the floors like clockwork. He cups your cheeks and kisses you square on your lips, laughing at the surprised squeak you let out and the bliss he feels. Taking and shaking Jaehyun’s hand, he turns and walks out of the place.

Jaehyun sighs. “This is who you were rooting for?”

Your cheeks feel hot from the sudden public display of affection, before shrugging. “He’s cute. And he’s always trying his best.” You try as your hand clutches at the sleeve of the jacket he’s lent you.

Ever since being fired from the restaurant, Jaemin feels like he now has the best of both worlds, going to the restaurant after your shift to pick you up, or spending time with you as your boyfriend throughout the week, not feeling like he only has to look forward to a shift to see your face. You’re also happy with this shift in your relationship, spending your time with him freely.

But Mark isn’t.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t have asked her out and kept your job. You don’t even get to use your twenty percent employee discount.”

“I mean, if I’m an ex-employee then I can’t see why I couldn’t.” Mark grunts as he smacks at Jaemin, leaving the latter with a pout on his lip as he rubs at his shoulder.

“I miss the Mongolian lamb, man. Can we not go back at all?” Jaemin thinks about it briefly, his mind going back to the restaurant and how you’re probably working your Friday shift at the moment. “I don’t see why not,” he hums, thinking about planning a day when both he and Mark can drop by, but he is dragged to his feet and is being pushed to wear his shoes and shrug on a jacket, before he is out the door with Mark guiding him through it all.

“Welcome to Tao Village. Oh, hi,” You look up from the slip of the phone order you just took, seeing Jaemin and Mark standing at the door. Jaemin’s lips break into a smile as he sees you, already enamoured even when you’re in your work uniform. Mark merely smiles and nods his head as a greeting, before lifting up two fingers, gesturing for a table for them.

As the boys take their seats, you go up to them with a bottle of water and ask Mark if he wants his Mongolian lamb dish for today. He clasps a hand to his chest, touched. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“It’s all you order, really.” You write down his order into the slip in your hand, before looking at your boyfriend, who’s been gazing at you fondly, barely concealing adoration. You tap at the menu in front of him, encouraging him to voice his order.

“I want you,” Jaemin’s smile is menacing as he says this. Mark visibly shrinks in his seat, but you barely blink. “Gross, dude,”

“A dish's name, Jaem. Or I’ll tell Jaehyun that you’re here.” At that he pouts, leaning back before asking for fried rice, and a glass of red wine.

Mark gets his dish on the sizzling plate, and Jaemin spends two whole minutes trying to make sure that your fingers didn’t get caught on to the hot pan. You smack at his hand to get him back to his food, to which he flings his hand back, making impact with his glass and conveniently spilling the red drink all over. Mark blinks twice at the scene unfolding, pausing when he almost shoved a piece of lamb into his mouth, before continuing when he sees the wine only seep into the tablecloth and not anywhere near him.

Jaemin looks between the cloth and your expression. “Look at what you did,”

“What I did? Your hand was the one that smacked into the glass. You didn’t even try to catch it?” Jaemin ignores your words, waving at your words as if they’re merely pesky flies.

“It’s okay, I can forgive you but you have to compensate in another way,” He smirks at you, before his fingers slowly inch towards your waitress' apron wrapped around your waist, thumbing at the fabric tied around you. “Maybe a pretty girl like you can go out with me?”

You smile sweetly, clasping his hands into yours and rubbing your thumb into the back of his hand. You place it down on the table, your smile not dimming as you shake your head. “You have to pay for that, kind sir,” You nod your head in mock shame and guilt. Jaemin’s smile dims as he looks at the red-stained tablecloth.

“It’s part of the Tao Village policy.”

OKAY the part where jaemin *mocks.. u hehe was completely inspired by @/sunpopz haechan fic called ‘free falling’ !! give that a read bc its soso good

thank you for reading! let me know if you enjoyed it &lt;3

[szynkaaa]

Left my own art, right commissioned from peacchip

ok ok I think I've vaguely figured out some of my OCs backstory for Black Myth Wukong.

She goes by the name Oz (奥兹 Àozī ) - it's not her "real" name, jsut what she prefers to be called. You can find more BMW verse info and OC fanart under the tag Cepheus Baskerville. A head's up that I've had her since 2017 and I throw her into any fandom I am obsessed with, so her backstroy gets adjusted according to my current obsession.

She is a modern OC that gets isekai'd into fantasy ancient China. Oz has met the Monkey King before as a kid, spending summer at her great-grandfather's house, and he has some random sorts of knick knacks lying around in the attic, one of them being a magic object that serves as a portal between two worlds. He was buried under the mountain by then already, she'd bring snacks and food and cake over and visit him and he'd tell her stories of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Also time flows differently between the two worlds, what is a day in her world sometimes it would be weeks or months or years that passes for Sun Wukong. Being the dumb 5 years old kid she is, she promises that she will save the Monkey King one day. He chuckles at the declaration and plays along with it.

And then summer ends and her great-grandfather passes away, and she grows up and forgets about the Monkey King, at this point it's just a vaguely rememebered childhood memory of an imaginary friend of a lonely girl that loved mysteries and stories about heroes and adventures. to be honest, SWK also forgets about her LOL like my guy was buried under a mountain for 500 years and he probably watched a lot of mortals growing up and passing away, she was just another one of them albeit an odd one out. Thinks she is already pushing up daisies by the time he got out under the mountain and journeys west

Fast forward to when she turns 2X years old and inherits her great-granfathers house and everything that is inside, finds said magical portal object again and what dya know, time to fullfill her promise and """save""" Sun Wukong, or help his reincarnation on his journey to obtain all artifacts.

As to why her great-grandfather has a magical object like that - maybe her ancestors were from that other world and escaped into this one through said object (probably because the Celestial Court is being a dick) and settled down and got married and had kids. Maybe there is some magic in her blood that has been dormant for centuries and with being back in fantasy ancient China, it slowly becomes active again? I can imagine that sometimes when they bump into Celestial Court members they'd be like "you seem awfully familiar your face but idk why and I don't like that feeling". probably gets called a traitor by the court a lot because of the actions of her ancestors LOL

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Arms Around His Angel

Author: blackhorsedances

Artist: stonelions

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, minor Benny LaFitte/Garth Fitzgerald IV, Gabriel/Kali. Charlie Bradbury/Meg Masters; Jody Mills/Donna Hanscum. Past Dean and Lee Webb; Past Dean and Lisa Braeden; Past Dean and Benny LaFitte. Sam Winchester/Jess Winchester. Jack is Sam and Jess Winchester’s son.

Length: 36041

Warnings: No major archive warnings Content Warnings: Mention of James and Amelia Novak dying in an MVA (no gore, nothing on screen), mention of the humane slaughter of a steer (no gore, nothing on screen).

Tags: !Inventor Castiel. !Rancher Dean Winchester. Bisexual Castiel Novak. Semi-comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester. Top Cas/Bottom Dean. Smut and fluff. Mostly safe sex. Hurt/comfort. Happy Ending.

Posting Date: October 14, 2024

Summary: Castiel Novak invented cutting-edge solar technology and left his position as CEO of Angelus, Inc. to protect himself and his technology from his dysfunctional brothers. He found safety on a 20 acre farm in Kansas with a pond, house, barn, and his trailer. When his twin and sister-in-law are killed, he’s drawn back into the business, and into danger, to protect his niece Claire and his technology. Dean Winchester rebuilt Winchester Ranch after John almost destroyed it. He has 500 acres of land, a ranch house, and a big barn. He raises American Wagyu beef. He’s a single Dad with a great son, Ben, a giant moose brother Sam and Sam’s wife Jess, and an adorable nephew Jack who roams around the ranch with his trusty sidekick, Honeybee, Dean’s old palomino mule.  Castiel and Dean meet accidentally at a hotel and share a night of wild–and completely anonymous–intimacy. When Castiel wakes up alone, with no note and no phone number from his ‘Cowboy’, he assumes that the night was a one and done, and regretfully moves on with his life. Dean keeps thinking about the ‘Angel’ that he spent a night with, but is pretty sure that he doesn’t deserve that kind of a guy in his life. Jack and Honeybee discover “Mister Cas” and inadvertently set the stage for ‘Cowboy’ and his ‘Angel’ to meet. But sinister forces are moving in the background. Will they be able to overcome the forces that are trying to keep them apart?

Excerpt: “What’s Jack doing, Sam? Garth says he and Honeybee are out most days from breakfast until well after lunch. Jody says he packs peanut butter and banana sandwiches.” Sam shrugs. “He says he’s out visiting Mister Cas. I think he probably found the fort we built that one summer, and is holed up out there with sandwiches for his imaginary friends. Let it be, Dean. The heifers are out in the north pasture. The steers are in the east pasture. There’s nothing out by the fort to worry about.” “Snakes, Sam. There are snakes to worry about.” Sam looks at Dean across the kitchen island, and shakes his head, hair flopping over into his eyes. “You’re the one that told me that a mule will kill a snake faster than you can say ‘snake’, and I believe you because I’ve seen Honeybee do it. Let him be. Ben will be out of school in a couple of weeks, and he’ll be following Ben around like a puppy.” “Heh, you’re probably right.” Dean runs a hand down the back of his neck.  “I know I am, Dean. You worry about all of us, but you worry too much. You can’t watch over everyone all of the time.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[justevelynnnn]

What the boys got you for christmas 😍🎄‼️

Notes: Just a little something for christmas 😭👍🏾 i haven’t written anything else lately cause of work but that armin angst is still coming! But yeah, still merry Christmas!

Context: The following aot boys x black!fem reader. (not proofread😭)

Warnings: fluff aside from couple of cuss words and mention of getting high on plug!connie’s part

Characters: Armin, Eren, Connie, Jean and Reiner Bonus!: Nerd Armin and Plug!Connie

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Armin:

- Armin is so sweet.. From the moment u met him u knew he was a soft bookworm with a kind heart. He asked you to be his on valentine’s day by writing a letter confessing his feelings.

- You were happy to be his fr and you were really excited when y’all’s first christmas together came around.

- You got him this limited edition old dictionary, one of those fake aquariums from the 2000s, a fancy microscope and the entirety of his favorite book series.

- However when Christmas came and it was his turn you couldn’t have been more surprised.

- He got you multiple cute chanel coats and purses, a box of your favorite chocolate, a box of miss dior and an entire macbook😭😭😭

- “ARMIN?!?” You exclaim. “Since when ever was you rich????!?”

- And the boy just smiled at you and said he saved a bunch of money from his job but you didn’t really believe it.

- He also spent the whole day watching christmas movies and taking taking cute pictures together with you😚❤️❤️

Eren:

- You and Eren got officially together on Halloween after a party so you guys were still kinda new and tryna feel each other out.

- You knew he liked working out so you just got him some gray sweatpants, some protein crap and one of those flannel hoodies.

- This boy ended up getting you some uggs and one of those “The tote bag” bags and a bunch of bath and body work stuff

- He even got all your favorite scents, aw❤️

- Eren acted like he didn’t always listen or pay attention but he clearly was the whole time and it made your heart melt🥹

- Eren didn’t wanna do the sappy shit he did but he sure wasn’t gonna show it right now so he just hopped on the game and you happily watched for the rest of the day.

Connie:

- Connie and you spent yall first christmas together as not really a couple but that weird talking stage thing. You still counted tho cause you might as well be his gf🤷🏾‍♀️

- Connie was a goof ball fr so you didn’t really know what to get him. When it came down to the serious emotional stuff y’all just joked yall way out of it and so it was this weird limbo ish going on

- You settled on a nike jacket and a gift card to his favorite restaurant. You felt so bad cause it seemed like bare minimum but Connie was excited regardless!

- He said it’s the “thought that counts🥰😊” and all you could say after a few seconds was “Moral of the story headass..” and yall just busted out laughing

- Connie ended up getting you the brown faux jacket you saw and wanted from burlington, some pearl earrings and a necklace and a visa gift card with-

- “How much money is on here Con?”

- “$500.😗”

- WHAT?!!!2!@/

- You were expecting $50 or even $100 but $500? Half a band?

- “Yeah i didn’t know what to get u so…😗have fun!”

- You hugged him so hard and accidentally said he was the best boyfriend ever but when you pulled away to quickly apologize he just shushed you and said, “Anything for my beautiful girlfriend😌..”

Jean:

- You and jean got together in the summer after school let out. Jean didn’t talk much like Eren but he was a goof ball like Connie especially when he was around him.

- You didn’t have much to work with embarrassingly. It was gonna be y’all’s 6 month anniversary on christmas but you barely knew a thing about him!!

- You ended up getting him some polo club cologne, airpods and a plain black hoodie.

- When Christmas came around you received some jewelry, some of the makeup you use and a cute brown fluffy teddy bear 🧸❤️

- Y’all had a very chill christmas, Jean wanted to go for a walk so you went with naturally and y’all ended up witnessing a beautiful sunset❤️

Reiner:

- You and Reiner got together in spring. He asked you out by bringing you a bunch of flowers in a bouquet which was definitely on theme for spring time..

- Reiner also stayed to himself a little bit more but he was more open with you so you had a good idea of what he liked.

- You got you and him some matching pjs to wear for the holiday. You got him a couple of books since sometimes he would read, a fancy shaving kit, a couple of turtlenecks and a photo album of you guys first year together❤️

- You were really proud and happy of your gifts but then you saw he didn’t get you anything other than a bunch of replacements for the hair products you use.

- “Hold on i think i put your other gift over here….close your eyes real quick..”

- You sighed and closed your eyes. You prayed he wasn’t gonna put anything together out of nowhere. You were kinda disappointed but it was ok.

- You heard shuffling and then you could tell when he was right in front of you.

- “Ok, open.”

- When you opened your eyes yoy immediately took everything back.. what you saw was a kneeling reiner on one knee holding a gorgeous diamond ring 💍😍

- For christmas he gave you a proposal!!!

- Even though it was kinda early, to be honest you two were talking for a lil minute anyways so it still felt like proper timing.

- You guys planned your wedding for christmas eve as spent the rest of that day cuddling with him watching Christmas themed sit-comes

Bonus:

Nerd!Armin:

- You knew Nerd!Armin since you two were kids and over time feelings developed.. then it naturally blossomed into a relationship. It was kinda weird because as you two grew up you guys just slowly became girlfriend and boyfriend.

- Nerd!Armin had always been a bit brainy and a major science fan so it wasn’t hard to get him anything at all.

- You got him a brand new pc, plentyyyy of books especially the sci-fi types and some weird graphic tees.

- He smiled with his braces and handed you a louis vuitton purse that had some louis vuitton jewelry and perfume inside. Also a soft blanket with your favorite design/character on it, Dior makeup items and chocolates.

- “Where did you get the money to buy this? Cause all i see you do is watch youtube and science shit-“ You questioned in surprise.

- “Stocks..”

- You just shrugged cause you had no idea on what he was talking about but you were just happy this silly brainiac was yours for the holiday 🫶🏾

Plug!Connie:

- You and Connie started off as any other plug and customer. But then Connie started to catch feelings and by like August of this year he asked you to be his.

- He was very protective of you so by the time the holidays came around no one knew you two were a couple.

- He would always spoil you too with shopping sprees and paying for you to get your hair and nails did 💅🏾

- It was hard to think of what he’d want cause he could literally buy anything he wanted plus he didn’t really talk about himself much

- You settled on a couple of hoodies, one of those vape shark jackets and a game for his ps5.

- He ended up getting you a whole ass black Audi r8.

- Your jaw was on the floor 💀

- “Con, what the hellll..”

- “What? Y’don like it?”

- “I do but literally how??”

- “Ion know😗.”

- “Boy-“

- Connie never told you how he did it but he had proof it wasn’t stolen at least so 🙄

- He also got you a giant teddy bear and a new iphone.

- You kinda felt like your gifts were not the best compared to his but he assured you it was fine and he was grateful to have you regardless. ❤️

- You two ended up spending the rest of the day getting high and watching weird christmas movies no one talks about .

[simonisferal]

not you again “ scaramouche x male reader “

episode ten: this is NOT the USA miley cyrus was partying in 📖

warnings: vulgar language, mentions and consumption of weed and alcohol, mentions of suicide and self loathing, one sex joke, y/n is kind of a bitch

notes: i listened to the demons 😐 sorry skibidi rizzlers. i didnt have a sigma day

500 words

You groan. ‘That asshole.’ You turn off your phone and put it back in your pocket.

You shouldn’t have even considered picking it up. All he does is brag nowadays. You can't seem to maintain a proper conversation with him without the guy spewing out some bullshit. You'd say it was just like him if you didn't know him before.

You shouldn't think of him anymore, especially since you won't see him again but you still had a lingering feeling of guilt.

Your trance was put to a stop as a familiar voice called out to you.

“Y/N!” It was Tartaglia. He wore a weird combination of a Hawaian shirt and jean shorts that barely covered his knees. “Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You would’ve burst out laughing if you weren’t so confused.

”Childe? What are you doing here? I thought you were back in Liyue.”

The ginger shrugs before Diluc and Kaeya both come out of a very expensive looking house. The walls were painted a cream color and it looked like the place had three stories. The root was carefully bricked and the bushes surrounding the land were beautifully trimmed and watered.

The sudden realization that you were possibly the only penniless person there (besides Venti) came you to. ‘What the fuck.’

Kaeya spoke up, “He got kicked out of summer school for fighting a guy named Xiao. My sweet brother, Diluc, was so charitable and is letting him stay here until summer is over.” He had a small grin on his face as Diluc let out a groan and crossed his arms, displaying fake annoyance.

”Seeing how Kaeya is so adamant on Ajax, I figured I could do him a favor… Though I’d rather not hear anything suspicious in the manor’s bedroo—”

”Woah!” Tartaglia interrupted him, waving his hands around and becoming a little louder as if to drown him out. “Diluc! Some things are better left not said, ‘kay?” He had a sheepish smile on his face.

Diluc scoffed. “It’s my house.”

Kaeya interrupted, “It’s also mine.”

”You don’t pay rent.”

”And you don’t do your bed.”

”You—“

 “We should go inside! Y/N hasn’t seen the Dawn Winery yet, right?” Childe, as if begging you to go along, wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You stiffen a bit, he’s gotten slightly taller from what you recall, but agree.

”Yeah. I’d like to see it.” You weren’t too sure if you should be talking formally or not, seeing how fancy the house—or ‘manor’ was.

Kaeya and Diluc shared a look but, nonetheless, invited you in. They began to walk with you following them but Ajax stopped you.

He looked both ways before handing you a small bag. “Here. Take this.” It wasn’t anything big, just a chocolate brownie. “Uhh, thanks?” You took it a little too fast for his liking.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. You could see the gears turn in his head. “Oh! Y/N, dude, it's an edible.” Tartaglia explained.

Oh. You ignore the fact you forgot what such a thing was. You open the bag cautiously, scared it might alert the FEDs or something. “Why would I need one?”

”Did you look in the mirror when you left? You’re a mess.” He looked concerned and your heart sank a bit.

”Don’t worry about the weed though, it’s only like six milligrams, I think.”

You took a bit out of it. It didn’t taste bad. ”You think?”

”Yeah… I’m not a knower.”

masterlist - prev - next

taglist: closed!

@furiscara, @fisbred, @shutingstar, @terapung, @scaradooche,

@cherimu, @thystarsshine, @zoropookie, @justyoureader, @kazumiku,

@heusalettle, @khisuko, @neversore, @liuaneee, @popcorn-milk,

@yangbbokari, @swivy123, @featuredtofu, @pookiemax, @academiq,

@notrsz, @mercy-not-merci, @kiekole, @pwaap, @vxcmx,

@vamxpi, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @b2tr09, @ell1e2010, @moonslie04,

@allaboutiknowthatyoubeingdead, @somnium-kiss, @crxwned-mxnarch, @jad3-n, @emptydinner-plate

[jakeperalta]

@pscentral event 13: tropes

a selection of my favourite rom-com tropes — featuring: when harry met sally..., friends with benefits, 13 going on 30, plus one, what’s love got to do with it?, love rosie, always be my maybe, how to lose a guy in 10 days, to all the boys i’ve loved before, the proposal, single all the way, serendipity, the holiday, set it up, about time, 500 days of summer, the half of it, crazy rich asians, you’ve got mail, love and other drugs, palm springs, sweet home alabama, love simon, fire island, 50 first dates, bridget jones’s diary, love actually, something from tiffany’s, sleepless in seattle, letters to juliet, hitch & notting hill — [layout insp]

[littlejuicebox]

This is probably wack AF, but ... Dadstarion takes the fam on an island vacation and Gale becomes fascinated by his new crab friend. Now everything needs to be measured in crabs, e.g. "Yes, Gale, I'd reckon you're about five and a half crabs tall." Also, the amount of sunscreen necessary for this family is jaw-dropping.

Pale by comparison.

Haha I love these scenarios you guys give me! The Ancunin hijinks continues! I did a fair bit of crab research for this piece. :P

Tags/Warnings: fluff, dadstarion, parenting, children, very mild angst with comfort, lmk if you see anything else

Word count: 2.4K

-----

Astarion still hates the beach, which puts him, unfortunately, in the minority of the Ancunin household. His wife and children cannot seem to get enough of drying salt water and coarse sand stuck between their toes. 

But carting three children to the beach and back in a single day is exhausting, and the father learned his lesson last summer when Gale and the twins all burnt to a crisp after they ran out of sunscreen on their day trip. Tav went on and on about sunspots and melanoma after that, worried that their children would wind up with an incurable condition in 500 years. After that, the parents were sure to bring more than enough sunscreen, but the already overloaded carriage broke down on the following day trip, and Astarion decided he’d had enough.

So this year, he and Tav decided to take Wyll and his wife, Euphemia, up on their offer and borrow the Ravengard beach house for a week. The quaint cottage is built on a small island dotted along the Sword Coast. It is sparsely populated, mostly by native humans year round, but hosts various nobles and elites from Faerunian cities during the summer months. The latter includes the Ancunins — at least for the week.

“Evander, you cannot go to the beach naked. Run and put your swim trunks on now; I don’t care that you don’t want to!” Tav scolds the older twin as she coats the younger one in sunscreen. 

Finnick is squirming under her touch as he laughs and tries to remove his bottoms to match his brother. 

“Finn, absolutely not,” Tav warns before shooting a pleading look at her husband. “A little help here?” 

Astarion closes the basket, which he’d been examining to ensure that, yes, they still had more than enough sunscreen and then scoops the naked twin up with an annoyed sigh. The father heads down the hallway to their bedroom, giggling brunette three-year-old in hand, on his way to retrieve the abandoned swim trunks. As he’s walking, Astarion rapts a quick knock on his eldest’s door and calls, “Almost ready in there?” 

“Yes!” Gale shouts moments before he rips open the bedroom door to join his family in the main living area. A bucket and shovel are in one hand and a waxed, wooden surfboard is tucked under his other arm as he patiently waits for his parents and siblings. 

“Where is your hat, my little love?” Tav asks her eldest, prompting the boy to run down the hallway and grab his sun cap before returning back to his mother with a smile and a showy wave of the head cover. 

Astarion joins the family a few moments later, Evander now properly clothed, and exchanges one twin for the other so that Tav can begin coating the previously naked twin in sunscreen. The father glances down to inspect his eldest and catches sight of some creature trying to crawl its way out of the bucket. The older silver-haired elf’s nose instantly wrinkles in disgust. 

“Gale, did you bring a crab into the house overnight?” Astarion questions as he unceremoniously plops Finnick into a chair and then turns and begins to slather sunscreen on his eldest child.

“Yes,” Gale answers, always the picture of honesty. The seven year old’s voice is muffled and his eyes are slammed shut as his father rubs a thick layer of white lotion onto his cheeks, nose and forehead before paying special attention to the child’s pointed ears, causing him to squirm at the sensation, “Mama said I could.” 

Astarion shoots a disapproving look at his wife and she responds with a half-hearted shrug. 

“But remember what I said, Gale? Only for one night. Now we have to return the crab to the ocean,” Tav interjects as she releases Evan and starts to gather all the other beach day necessities into the family’s basket. 

“Why can’t I take Shelly back home?” The eldest Ancunin boy asks, his voice tipping up into a whine as he scrunches his nose up at his mother. 

“The crab needs to stay here, Gale,” Astarion responds, “It— Shelly will be happier here on the island rather than in your room back in Rivington, don’t you think?”

Gale groans as he peers down at the crab; the sea creature is still trying to crawl its way out of the bucket but finds itself unable to get a proper grip. The boy props his small surfboard against the wall and carefully pulls the animal into his hand as he sighs,  “I guess...” 

Finnick jumps from the chair without warning and darts forward to grab the crab. Before Gale can stop his brother, the youngest Ancunin boy is met with a sharp pinch to his finger and shrieks out a startled, “Aah– aaah! Ouch!” 

The younger twin begins crying as Astarion swiftly moves to pry the crab from his son’s hand and drop it back into the bucket. Gods, why does his eldest insist on caring for creepy crawly creatures? 

Gale rolls his eyes in annoyance at his brother, the spitting image of his father as he says, “I told you not to touch her, Finn.” 

Evan moves to hug his crying twin, but Finnick pushes his brother out of the way, causing the elder twin to bump into Astarion’s leg as the injured one runs toward his mother, still crying. 

“Kill it, mommy!” Finnick cries, clinging to Tav as she inspects the damage on his hand and whispers a quick healing spell.

“We aren’t going to kill Shell— the crab,” Astarion sighs, his eyes rolling at the ridiculousness of this conversation, “And what have I told you about keeping your hands to yourself, little fox? See what happens when you don’t?”

Finnick pouts, his head buried in the skirt of Tav’s dress as he pointedly ignores his father. Astarion scoffs and then hoists Evander into his arms, giving all three children a final inspection. Hats, swim trunks, swim shoes, sun lotion – check, check, check, check.  

“Everyone ready?” The father asks as he grabs the basket from the table. 

“Yes,” Evander and Gale respond in unison. Gale snatches his surfboard back under his shoulder.

Finnick says nothing as Tav sweeps him up into her arms; he simply buries his face in his mom’s neck and continues to pout as the woman gently lectures him about respecting animals. 

“Off we go then,” Astarion says as he opens the front door and gestures his arm in a wide arc, as if he is shooing everyone out of the house. Apple, the family dog, is waiting outside and takes off as soon as Gale sprints toward the water with a cheer.

The father chuckles when the twins are placed down in the sand and immediately run after their older brother. As he readies to pitch the tent, he watches Tav set up a blanket and call after the boys, reminding them to be mindful of how deep they go into the water without their parents.

Astarion hates the beach, but he loves his family.

*

While the children eat a late lunch in the tent, Astarion works on embroidery. The twins are starting pre-school next term, and Gale will begin second grade. Every year, Astarion adds something new to his eldest’s backpack; this year, he’s starting the same tradition with the younger Ancunins.

The twins both requested dragons for their first piece of embroidery. Evander wanted an orange one; Finnick wanted a green one. Those pieces had been finished earlier that summer and the four-year-olds used their bags for the very first time to bring their own clothes on vacation. Astarion thought Gale would choose another bird — pre-school had been a chicken, kindergarten had been a peacock, and first grade had been an owl — but instead, the boy spent quite a while deciding what he would request this year. And finally, this week, he chose a crab. A small crustacean is almost finished on the side pocket of the eldest Ancunin’s knapsack. 

Gale has yet to release Shelly back into the ocean. He’s the last to finish his lunch, and his siblings are already back playing in the waves while his mother watches carefully. Just after he finishes returning his plate to the picnic basket, the boy sneaks up behind his focused father and places the animal in Astarion’s hair with a giggle. 

The older elf stiffens as two pinchers snap around his curls, anchoring the small creature to his head. 

Astarion looks out to his wife, but Tav is busy with the twins, where they are playing pirates along the shoreline, costume eye patches and hats included. The spindly legs running along his scalp make a shiver run down Astarion’s spine. Cazador used to do something similar to him with rats when he was in the kennels.

“Gale— take it off, now,” Astarion hisses, the tips of his fingers starting to tremble as he sucks a deep breath in. 

From his father’s tone alone, the eldest Ancunin can tell he made a mistake and quickly removes the crab from Astarion’s head. He goes to place the creature back in the bucket and frowns up at his father, already on the verge of tears, “Sorry, Papa… it was— I was playing a joke– I didn’t– s-sorry.” 

The wind picks up for a moment, swirling around the tent as the most sensitive Ancunin boy blinks away guilty tears. Thankfully, a blast of wind never comes; the child takes a deep breath in and then exhales, like his parents had taught him. Gale had done better about controlling his powers since entering primary school, but the dampener around his neck still helped.

Astarion abandons his project, running a hand through his own hair to dispel the sickening ghostly feeling of tiny legs scrambling along his scalp. He offers a reassuring smile to his eldest, “It’s okay, little prince. Just… don’t put things on my head when I don’t know you’re going to, okay? Ask permission first.”

The silver-haired boy nods and then looks down at his tiny companion, stroking the top of her shelled body with a single finger,  “Dad… do you think I’m weird because I really like animals… and I can talk to them?” 

Astarion furrows his brow as he watches his son, “No, Gale, I don’t. Why would you ask such a thing?” 

“Well, some of the kids at school don’t believe me and they say I’m weird and that I’m lying. But I’m not lying. I could hear Shelly, when she was buried in sand and stuck upside down on the beach… that’s how I found her.”

The father nods as he considers what to say next. Most children with abilities like his son’s join Druid circles early on, or are born into a Druid circle themselves. While there are people like Gale in cities — Jaheira, for example — it is rare. 

Astarion joins his son in the sand and extends his fingers out toward the small crustacean. It willingly climbs into the older elf’s hand, and despite his distaste for the animal, the retired rogue forces himself to hold the sea creature.

“Gale, you are talented; the other children do not believe you because they do not yet understand…” Astarion starts, watching as the crab in his hand rubs its pincers together. “You are able to see the beauty in things others don’t… even in the creatures others may consider monstrous. You are like your mother, in that way. You are exceptionally empathetic and kind… but you are not weird, little prince. Not at all.” 

Astarion slowly lifts his hand, and his son watches as the father gently places the crab upon his own head once again. 

Gale giggles before he says, “I think she likes you, Papa.” 

“Does she now?” Astarion asks with a half-faked chuckle as he works to ignore the gooseflesh trailing down his spine. 

The boy nods and laughs again before he stands and retrieves the crab from his father’s head. 

“I guess I should go put Shelly in the water now,” Gale murmurs, the slightest tinge of sadness in his voice and the smallest pout on his lips as he peers down at the tiny animal. 

“I think that would be best, little prince,” Astarion responds, ruffling his son’s curls as he sits back in his beach chair. 

The child nods solemnly and then holds the crustacean carefully in both hands as he makes his way to the shoreline. He spends several minutes seated in the rippling water, speaking to the crab, before he finally places her down upon the sand. The creature waves her pincers up and down, as if she’s bidding goodbye to the little boy, and then sidesteps into the ocean and disappears.

Astarion is anticipating sadness when the child returns to his father but instead, he’s wearing a grin, “Papa… did you know mermaids are real?” 

The older elf has resumed his embroidery, but pauses for a moment to assess his child curiously. “The crab— Shelly told you that?” 

Gale nods and then launches into the story his crustacean companion told him before her release. Astarion listens with a mixture of fascination and confusion, and when the three other Ancunins return to the tent, Gale is sure to tell them mermaids are real, too. Evander and Finnick are both thrilled by this news, because if mermaids are real, then that means leviathans are, too. The twins think maybe one day they will slay a sea monster together. 

*

Several weeks after the island trip, Gale is still obsessed with crabs and Merfolk. The Wizard of Waterdeep, after a short weekend trip to visit the Ancunins, sends his namesake a book on Crustaceology. Gale learns that Shelly was a juvenile Dungeness crab, and that at her full grown size, she will be roughly 30-40 centimeters long. He begins measuring everything in “Shellys,” and even ropes his younger brothers into the behavior. 

Gale decides he is about four Shellys tall, while his younger brothers are between two and a half to three Shellys tall. Evander is half a crab claw taller than Finnick. The younger twin is not happy about this announcement and starts standing on his tiptoes whenever he’s near his almost identical (save the minute height difference) brother. For the rest of the summer, everything the boys touch is measured in crabs, to the dismay of their parents and the confusion of the servants and townspeople. 

And so, perhaps, the Ancunin boys are a bit weird, after all. But their parents wouldn’t have them any other way.

[gluion]

the book of us — masterlist

non-idol!zerobaseone x reader

wc — projected to be 10-15k words per story under side a, 5-10k words per story under side b general genre/warnings — fluff, angst, crack, band au, a mix of college, fresh graduates, and highschool aus, crazy case of loserism from the zb1 guys (as it should be), music is the connecting factor <3 make sure to read every story's respective genre/warnings important notes — stories can be read as standalones but it's highly encouraged to read through all! all previous and upcoming y/ns will be referred to as __!y/n titles and synopsis are subject to change but plots/genres are pretty set author's note — happy 500 followers! you cannot separate me from my zb1 guys and day6... i'm excited for this series so please send strength my way <3 i hope you guys stay seated for this series :D thank u again to @vernyangel and @shegotthewoobies for the support and helping me create this universe! always remember that reblogging helps a ton and will help me gain traction :3

want to be part of the series taglist? fill out the form! masterlist

synopsis — listen closely to the stories of zb1 as they find themselves entangled in lives filled with friendships, passions, hardships, love, and of course, music!

SIDE A

kim gyuvin’s track: missing home // teaser

when kim gyuvin is forced to volunteer at an animal shelter, the last thing he expects is to be compared to a rescued dog. (and to fall in love with you.) — strangers to lovers to exes to lovers, small town au, summer au, fluff, angst, based on “i smile” by day6

seok matthew’s track: the ballad of a lovestruck friend

while everyone seems to know who seok matthew’s crush is, he refuses to reveal the identity to you. (now, why’s everyone calling you dense?) — friends to lovers, university au, fluff, based on “i like you” by day6

kim taerae’s track: the plotted invisible string

if kim taerae had any regrets, it would be not asking out his first love. luckily for him, he’s got another shot now. (how’s he going to mastermind it this time?) — strangers to friends to lovers, highschool & university au, fluff, crack, based on “wanna go back” & “chocolate” by day6

zhang hao’s track: on (your) strings

if there’s anything zhang hao hated, it’s double harmonics, paganini’s caprice no. 24, and the annoying viola player in orchestra. (so why can’t he stop thinking about you?) — enemies to lovers, university (master’s) au, fluff, angst, based on “i wait” by day6

kim jiwoong’s track: first day(s) on the job

although kim jiwoong is set to impress his boss, he’s unlucky to be assigned with the clueless intern who seems to always cause a mess. (maybe you two wouldn’t be staying in your jobs for that long.) — strangers to lovers, workplace au, crack, fluff, angst, based on “man in a move” by day6

SIDE B

shen quanrui/ricky’s track: eye for talent

as ricky plans to invest in the next big band, his eyes are set on the university crowd’s favorite bar for their breakthrough. (and the owner who always says no to him.) — strangers to lovers, university au, fluff, angst, based on “emergency” by day6

park gunwook’s track: lost in translation

although park gunwook wants to make his name in underground hiphop scene, he’s set on meeting the respected, masked rapper that took the community by a storm. (it just so happens that he didn’t know he fucked up his first meeting with you.) — strangers to lovers, university au, crack, fluff, based on “what can i do?” by day6

sung hanbin’s track: 8,000 kilometers worth

if there’s one thing sung hanbin wasn’t expecting, it’s being kept far away from you. (did you two have what it takes to sustain it?) — established relationship, angst, based on “about now” by day6

han yujin’s track: slowly bruising but healing

han yujin’s biggest enemy is himself, but you’re here to remind him of his worth amidst a sea of criticism. (all you can hope is that he’ll listen to your voice as he hopes the same for you.) — platonic, highschool au, angst, coming-of-age, based on “marathon” by day6

[malebodyexhibit]

To Break in New Clothing

The guy paid me $50 to wear this jockstrap everyday when I went to the gym. He asked that they get exceptionally sweaty. I’m not one to turn down money for dignity, so I agreed.

I had a suspicion of what he was doing with my jockstrap when I gave it back to him, but that just made me more turned on. I took a drink as I rested between sets. With the 3-inch inseam shorts, I could feel the summer breeze airing my puckered hole. I took a breath and rubbed my hand along my hairy chest, smearing the sweat down my abs toward my dick and balls. Speaking of balls, I adjusted them, rubbing the jockstrap cloth deeper into the swampy groin. I guessed I like the thought of the guy inhaling my stench while he jerked off. He wasn’t attractive, but the fact he wanted to breathe in my man musk was enough to make me precum, and maybe I should charge him more for how much of my precum I soaked the dirty jockstrap with.

When I met the guy again, he handed me the money and I made a show of slipping off my shorts, then pulling off the jockstrap. The rush of cool air caused an immediate reaction to my sweaty cock, but I tossed the strap to the guy and dressed myself again. I was hoping for a bit more, but the guy thanked me and left. I was a bit disappointed. I was hoping for some begging, some desperate attempt to check me out, but nope. It was suspicious, so I decided to follow the guy. What was his deal?

It took a while, but I found the guy in the hills out of the city limits. I hid myself behind some rocks, peeking from the corner, conspicuous as I was with no underwear in running shorts. Then what I saw was impossible.

The guy placed the jockstrap on the ground and uttered some words then... the jockstrap transformed into a cute twink. His hair was messy; he was nude; he was drenched in sweat; and he gave a relaxed, content grin to the guy. He looked beyond satisfied. He pulled on some shorts, and it looked as if he had just completed a run. He was so sweaty.

“God, you stink,” the guy said to the nude twink. “Did you enjoy your day out? I can’t imagine why you like it.”

“I enjoyed it,” the twink said. He slurred his words as he was buzzed. A lazy smile melted on his lips. “He was a sweaty boy today. We worked out and he messaged me against his cock. He was getting hard and I drank his precum. I think he likes it just as much as I do.” The twink started to walk towards the guy.

“Hey, stay away. Take a shower first, then pay me.”

“Why would I shower? I wish I could smell like this forever. Maybe you could make me his gym sock, but I would miss his dick. He finally broke me in, but I’m gonna be broke at this rate.”

I could’t believe what I was hearing. This whole time, the jockstrap I wore and abused with my sweat was actually a person. The thought was hot. With this info, I imagined all the ways I could play with this gay guy--make his dreams come true. I stepped from behind the rocks. Both men glanced at me with wide eyes.

“Hey, I’m gonna need my jockstrap back,” I said. I walked closer to the twink. He smelled absolutely ripe. He smelled like my gym bag, and he needed to get back there.

The twink gave a nervous smile and backed away. “Look man, there must be some misunderstanding.”

“No no, I don’t think I missed understood anything. I want my jockstrap back. I’m not finished with it yet.” I stared him in the eye. “Maybe I want gym socks instead or even a cum rag.” I turned to the other guy, “How much to get what I want?”

The guy stammered and settled on $500. “You say these words to change him.” He spoke something in another language. “And if you want him to become something else, just say it also. But make sure you change him human every once in a while.”

“Why?”

“So he can eat.” The guy seemed confused at my question. “And shower and live his life.”

I stared them both in the eye. “He eats when I tell him to and his life is over. My cum rag shouldn’t worry about his life.” I spoke the word and watched the twink shrunk and fell into the street as a piece of clothing. I swear I saw him smiling, and I had smiled back.

[billthedrake]

HALL PASS

Story idea from @aestheticsupremacy

It was still summer warm as the two lacrosse jocks walked across campus after practice. Brian was going on about the chick he had a date with late that evening and was teasing Jake.

"Dude... if you ever wanted pussy, you'd be so set. Girls fucking love gay guys."

Jake laughed, his blond hair still on the lighter side from summer beach time. He and the star attacker got along great because they never BS-ed each other. "Bro, I don't think it works that way," he said, flashing his dimples. "Besides, I think all those sorority girls want a gay pal they can go to the clubs with. I can't dance worth shit."

"You can't," Brian grinned. "You got the moves on the field but, fuck..."

Both guys laughed as they entered the residence hall, one of the nicer ones where a lot of the athletes lived.

"Hey Jake!" the student worker at the front desk said when he saw the two jocks. "Some mail came for you."

"Mail?" he asked as the walked up to the desk. Normally, mail got delivered to their mailboxes, which Jake didn't check regularly. Who the fuck sends mail these days anyway, other than advertisers?

The desk guy nodded. "Yeah, certified or something. Looks important." He reached over and pulled out a document sized cardboard envelope.

"Hey, I'll catch ya later, Hoss," Brian said as he bumped fists with his teammate buddy.

"Yah," Jake said, then looked back down at the envelope. There was a familiar return address. It was his dad's work. Jake's father was a high-powered executive - not Fortune 500 but CFO for a top financial firm. Leave it to Dad to send paperwork in hard copy. Jake tried to rack his brain to guess what document was so urgent, but maybe it was some school form he needed to sign. Maybe Jake should take more responsibility for those things, but his dad tended to look after the details.

"Thanks, Mitch," he told the desk guy, then went to the elevators to go up to his room.

It was quiet in his room, since his roommate had taken off Thursday afternoon to go home for a long weekend. He got along well with Ed, a varsity baseball player, but they weren't real tight. And Jake liked having the alone time and privacy sometimes.

The lacrosse jock set down his phone and keys and shook his head with a chuckle as he opened the envelope. "You're so fucking old school, Dad," he said aloud. "I love it."

It wasn't a form inside, but instead there was a linen-white stationary with his Dad's company logo and his father's name and title embossed. "From the Desk of Steven J. Weir."

It was what was printed below that made Jake's heart stop.

"Dear Mr. Wier:

This letter serves as official notice that Jacob Peter Weir has his father's permission to have sex as often as he likes and with whomever he likes, from the date of August 20, 2023 to May 14, 2024. This arrangement will be extended in subsequent years unless the two parties renegotiate their terms.

sincerely,

Steve Weir"

There was his father's recognizable wide, cursive signature, undoubtedly written with one of his favorite blue-ink fountain pens that his family had given him for Christmas.

Jake was rock hard. "Fuck," he hissed.

Only then did he realize there was something else in the envelope. He reached in and pulled out three photographs, each 8x10 glossy portraits of this father. They were different poses of his dad in business attire, like professional headshots for a company website or something.

"Got your package," the jock texted his father.

It took a second but then a message came up from Dad: "You able to Facetime?"

Jake got a big grin as he hit the dial button to video call his father. His heart jumped a little as the image filled his phone screen. His dad was in his C-suite office and looking handsome as fuck in his tailored suit as his own horny grin matched his son's.

"Hey Sport," he said. "Looking good." He leaned back in his swivel chair and angled the phone to give Jake a better view of his suited upper body. He had a good knowledge by now of what pushed his boy's buttons.

"You too Dad," the jock hissed, reaching down to paw his crotch again. "I can't believe it's only been 24 hours since I've seen your face... fuck."

His father laughed. Because Steve felt the same way. He knew it would be hard when Jake went off to college, but he was going through sexual withdrawal in addition to the normal empty nest syndrome.

Only now his bright smile got a hint of nervousness. "What did you think of what I sent you, son?"

Jake felt that constriction in his throat. Sorta like the first time he knew he was gonna fuck his dad... that combination of sheer horniness and disbelief it was gonna happen.

"You know, Dad," the 19-year-old smirked, "A hall pass isn't an actual piece of paper."

Steve's brown eyes seemed bright. Happy. Excited. "I wanted to make it official. For you. For us." The exec was definitely getting that bedroom voice, and Jake could tell by the movement in his dad's upper body that the man was reaching down to unzip and haul out his cock.

For his part Jake tugged down his shorts with one hand to free his junk, which was firming up real fucking fast. His father had given him the encouragement to freeball it, and it was now Jake's preferred way of casual dress. It made him feel free and sexual.

Jake prided himself on the sexual confidence he'd learned to project with his dad, but times like this he still felt unsure, deep down. "I told you, Dad. I don't need to have sex with other guys."

"You're 18, Sport," his dad said resolutely. "A college kid should be spreading his wings."

Jake got a playful grin. His right hand was working up and down his bone while his left hand held the phone. "You really want me to fuck other guys?" he asked. Pointed. Challenging.

Steve shook his head no. "Honestly, no. I don't. But I want you to lead the life that's going to make you happy." His own fist was working up and down in his lap. "I want you to become your own man, Jakey."

Something about that nickname drove the jock wild. He felt a spurt of precum in his palm. "You think sending me 8x10 glossies is gonna make me happy," he hissed. Jake's tone was halfway between a statement and a question.

Steve loved watching his son get in horndog mode. He'd like to think he passed that on to Jake genetically, but something about the kid's sex drive seemed innate. And all Jake.

The exec's voice got low and gravely. "You tell me, son. Did they make you happy?"

Jake just let go of his prick and angled his phone down to capture the hard teen bone that stood up long and rigid. "This is the reaction those pics got." He pulled the phone back up to see the amused and pleased look on his father's face.

"I'm glad," Steve said. Then with a pause, he angled the phone to show Jake his own fatherly prick, standing out from his unzipped suit.

"I wish I could suck that, Dad," Jake said, enjoying the freedom to talk aloud like this. "I wish I was there right now."

"You primed for some office sex, Sport?"

"Fuuuckk, Dad." Jake's fist was now steadily pumping his jock bone. "I'm still pissed off you won't let me fuck you there."

That got a laugh out of his father. The 49-year-old was even more handsome when he smiled. "You're a spoiled brat, you know that?"

"Fuck yeah I am," Jake shot back, getting into the zone with the teasing sex talk with his father. It came to them so fucking easily. "Something about nailing your dad regularly will make you that way."

That got a soft growl from the executive, and Jake watched as his father reached up to flip his tie over the shoulder of his suit coat, getting it out of the way.

"Damn, you gonna cum on your shirt today, Dad?"

Steve shook his head. "Hopefully not... but just in case. You get me so worked up, Sport." Off screen Jake knew his father had gone back to stroking his hard dick.

"So, Dad... if I take you up on that hall pass... what are you gonna do?"

"Whaddya mean, Jakey?"

"I mean..." the teen's own fist was working up and down his cock. "Does that mean you get a hall pass, too?"

"That's not part of the deal," Steve said, his brown eyes now wide with excitement. "But Buddy... I honestly don't know how I'm gonna get through this year. I guess I'll be doing a lot more of what I'm doing right now."

That got a matching growl from his son, whose hand moved faster and faster on his prick. "A fucking waste of dad cum."

That got a grin from Steve. "You like my sperm, huh, Jakey?"

"Can't get enough, Dad," came the immediate response. For a confident top when it came to fucking, Jake loved to taste his dad's prick and to eat his father's semen. When he wasn't sucking his dad off, he'd be licking the cum off the man's well-fucked body.

The jock felt another spurt of precum when his Dad brought the phone down close to his crotch, that solid, thick seven incher sticking out from the unzipped suit trousers.

"That's my dad," Jake growled. He'd have to find a way to have phone sex more often.

"Wanna cum for me, Jakey?" Steve asked, his voice signaling he was already on the edge.

"Nah," the jock said. "Hold off one second," he urged. He set down the phone and stripped off his T-shirt and kicked away his lax shorts. He then angled the phone just right on his desk and stepped back. Even from the distant view, he could see his dad's face will up the phone screen.

"Damn..." Steve growled. "That's my boy."

Jake felt fully alive, head to toe, as he stroked his cock and showed off for his father. He knew he was a good looking stud, with a great toned, athletic body. But his father's approval made him feel that much studlier.

"So Dad..." the teen asked. "If I used that hall pass, you wanna hear about the guys?"

"I don't know, Sport," Steve said with visible mixed feelings. "I'll let that be your call, OK?" He watched his son intently, as if it was the last chance he'd see Jake naked and hard. "I almost didn't send it," he confessed.

That made his son grin and Jake removed his fist from his dick, showing off the erection by swinging it side to side. "Yeah? It was so fucking hot to read it, Dad. You know, that you'd even send it."

"I'm glad, Jake," came Steve's reply.

"We're you hard writing it?" the son asked.

Steve's voice got soft and low. "I was, son."

"You want me spreading my wings in college, huh?" Jake's hand resumed its stroke. He really wanted his dad to cum first today but he didn't know if he'd be able to hold off.

Fortunately, Steve was getting into the zone now. Jake could only see his face, not his cock or masturbating fist, but he recognized that horny tone in his father's voice. "God, Jakey, you're such a fucking stud... seems wrong if you can't enjoy college a little, you know?"

Jake grinned, getting into a slow stroke that seemed to keep things on the boil without erupting over. "Maybe I'll line up some hot coach to fuck... but you know if I do, I'll be thinking of you the whole time, Dad."

That got an audible groan from Steve. Which only encouraged Jake to go further.

"Yeah, I'll be balls deep in some daddy ass and have to shut my eyes so I can think of my father... of fucking you..."

"Yes," Steve hissed. He was getting closer to cumming.

"of bending my dad over his office desk and pulling down those suit pants of yours..."

"You're not gonna stop pestering till you get that will ya, Jakey?"

"No, sir. I wanna get my way. Nail you hard to that expensive desk of yours... in your expensive suit... to thank you for all that expensive tuition you paid over the years."

This was new territory for the Weirs. They'd never talked about money, other than some of Steve's jokes about how much Jake's private school cost and some practical dad-son talks about personal finance. But Jake was bringing it into the sex talk and both men were surprisingly turned on by it.

"FUCCK!" Steve cried a half second before choking his reaction to be quieter in his office.

"Go for it, Dad!" the lacrosse jock said more openly. He stepped up closer so he could see his dad's face as he rode out an intense orgasm. "Nice!"

Steve's face was flush red as he caught his breath. "Goddamn, I needed that," he said. Then playfully he tilted his phone down. Huge splotches of his pearly white seed dotted his dress shirt after all.

"Cumming!" Jake cried, unable to hold by his ejaculation now. Steve had to look, had to watch his Jakey in full nut. It was just a beautiful sight. The only thing more beautiful was watching Jake orgasm as he was buried deep inside his father.

"Attaboy, Sport," he encouraged. "Goddamn, that's a huge nut."

Jake grinned as he felt the aftershocks. Playfully, he squeezed out dribbles from his long piece of jock meat and brought it up to his lips to taste. Not his dad's but a second best. Jake just loved the flavor of cum.

He could now tell his father was wiping off the cum from his shirt and his cock before pulling the phone back.

"That was incredible," Steve said.

"I'll say. I'll have to thank Rich for giving me the free time," Jake laughed.

"Is he away?"

Jake nodded. "All weekend. Maybe we can go long and deep this weekend, you know, edge a little."

Steve grinned. "I'll try, Sport.... awful hard to last with you, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Jake agreed.

His Dad seemed happy and yet sad at the same time. "Listen, I should go."

"Yeah," Jake said. "I need some dinner."

"I miss ya, Sport," Steve said. "So much."

"Miss ya too, Dad."

****

Steve felt nervous all Saturday. Jake had suggested they wait till later in the day for phone sex. The father tried to kill time with household chores and a super long session at the gym.

"You're a fucking mess, Steve," he said to himself as he drove home from the fitness center where he'd been spending a lot more time since the divorce and especially since he and Jake started fooling around. It felt wrong to be so attached to his own son, and yet he was.

There was a package on his front porch. FedEx Saturday delivery. Steve picked it up.

"What the fuck?" Steve laughed as he saw his son's dorm as the return address. "That little bugger."

As he opened the door and stepped in, the man squished the sides of the plastic package-envelope. It was soft inside. Steve opened the end with the pull tab.

As he pulled out the fabric, Steve Weir recognized the shorts immediately. They were a well-worn pair of Jake's high school lacrosse shorts. Wadded inside was a worn jock strap.

"Jesus," Steve hissed with excitement. Maybe Jake wanted him to have these for their session today. Or maybe this was just for the times it was Steve, alone in his bedroom, imagining a grown son who wasn't there with him.

Either way, Steve knew both the shorts and the jock were gonna be crusted with his own cum before long.

It was only after a second that he noticed scraps of paper on the floor. They'd fallen out, hand torn.

Steve immediately sensed what they were, and a quick look confirmed it. It was the hall pass he'd sent Jake.

"Man, buddy," he said aloud in the quiet room as he pulled out his phone. He had to call his son.

"Hey Dad"

"Oh, Jakey..." Steve said.

"You got it."

"Yeah, I got it," his dad replied. "You're not doing this just to make me happy are you?"

"Maybe," Jake said. "But not really. I don't know, Dad. I just realized I'd rather have blue balls than fuck a substitute you, you know?"

"Sport, that's the most fucking romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," Steve beamed.

That made his son laugh. "Yeah, that's me, one romantic fucker... just promise me one thing, Dad."

"Anything," Steve said.

"We gotta find away to see each other through the semester. Yeah, I know you want me to go off and be my own man. But I can't wait till Thanksgiving. For real, Dad."

"Yeah, we'll make it happen. I'll come down next week. And fly you up whenever you want. Promise." This was a backpedal from the promises Steve made himself when Jake went off, but he realized he was happy changing his stance.

"Cool. God, Dad, I love you."

"Love you too, Jakey," Steve said. He looked down at the scraps of paper and everything they represented. "And son... next time you're here, I'll let you fuck me on my desk."