#though i guess it wasn't so dinky by the end

[void-critters]

♪

[th0ti-th0ts]

just desserts

hobie brown x reader, miguel o’hara x reader (implied)

summary: leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. if only it wasn't this fun for hobie to mess with him.

or: hobie exploits miguel’s one weakness for some shits and giggles (but also to stick it to The Man).

cw: fluff but hobie makes some innuendos. jealous!miguel, miguel who can't admit his feelings, hobie who knows this and knows he has more game and takes full advantage of this

You’re talking to Hobie when his attention is captured by something behind you. His gaze shifts as he raises a brow challengingly, mouth pulled into a cocky slant. It’s quick, quick enough that most people wouldn’t catch it, but you’re not most people. Not with your reflexes.

“—And I was—Hobie? Something wrong?”

You’ve got his attention again. “Yeah, luv? Sorry ‘bout that, got somethin’ in my eye.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, and gives you a lazy grin. "Distracted me fro' your beauty for a minute."

You roll your eyes as you continue to tell your tale, Hobie listening to you with the kind of careless intensity that only he could pull off. While his flirtatious comments could be construed as something more, he says them with such a dry wit that it's hardly anything more than friendly. As the the two of you meander down the line of the cafeteria, grabbing whatever food spikes your interest, his arm remains a steady presence around you. Again, you don’t think much of it—Hobie's a touchy guy with his closest friends.

“Ya’ ever wonder 'ow these futuristic blokes come up wit’ some o’ these pop flavors?" he asks you, holding a can of soda in his hand as he languid reads off the label. "‘Sparkling orange cream cider with a 'int of lime...'" He pulls a face. "Sounds mad.”

You laugh. “It’s actually kinda good. Peter recommended it to me last time.”

He looks at you, surprised. “Huh." And then, with a hint of suspicion, he asks, "...Which Peter? Ya' can't trust all ov' their taste buds...”

With his arm around you, Hobie steers the two of you around the cafeteria, and you end up accidentally bumping into the person next to you in line. The two of you continue to chat--that is, until you hear someone clear their throat meaningfully. You glance behind you, unaware of the challenging glean in Hobie's cool gaze.

"Oh, hi, Miguel! I don't think I've ever seen you out here before."

He raises a brow. In his hand is a box of the empanadas he loves so much.

"I do... eat, you know."

Miguel's usual dry and blunt manner of speaking has hardly deterred you before.

"Yeah, but I don't think you really leave that dinky, dark room of yours," you say thoughtfully, to which Hobie snorts next to you. His body shakes with the effort to contain his amusement. Your eyes widen. "I—I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know what you mean," Miguel cuts you off. He jabs the empanada before him with tongs, puncturing its shell. His irritation is palpable. Maybe he's having a bad day? "I..." He sighs heavily, surveying the two of you, his gaze lingering on your shoulder. "Just felt like a change of scenery."

"Or at least I did," he mutters, but you don't quite catch it.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

"'Ey, 'ey. Look wha' we got 'ere." Hobie, the ever keen observer, steers you around Miguel, to direct your attention to today's dessert on the menu. Your eyes widen at the various flavors of cupcakes before you. You fucking love cupcakes.

"Lemme guess," Hobie says. "You're a chocolate kinda gal?" He snags a cupcake for each of you. Just as he hands it to you though, you're distracted by the sound of tongs clattering.

You glance to your right, only for Hobie to end up smearing some of the cupcake's icing across your cheek. You blink in surprise.

"Hey!"

"Oops." An amused smirk stretches Hobie's face. “Made a mess o' yourself, looks like it."

"You're the one who did it!"

Hobie puts his palms up, stating solemnly, "All's wort' it in pursuit of something sweet."

You glower at him, rubbing your cheek. "Did I get it?"

He shakes his head. "Nope." You rub again. "A lit'le to the left. Nope… Is a bit like finding a needle in a 'aystack for you, innit? Lemme help.”

Hobie’s thumb comes up to your cheek, swiping the suspect away. You scrunch your nose up, to which he makes a satisfied noise in his throat.

"Almos' regret doin' that. Ya' pull off the 'cream on ya' face' look."

You roll your eyes at the obvious innuendo, smacking his chest. “Hobie. Not in public!”

He shrugs unapologetically.

CRCKK.

The sound of cardboard crumpling meets your ears. The both of you turn around.

“Ay, chingados,” Miguel curses at his crushed box, meat and veggie filling from his empanadas splayed across the ground. He kicks the box away, before slamming his hand onto the counter. Hunched over, a hand tensely massaging his brow as he mutters, “Maldito sea. Estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa."

You raise a brow. You think you hear Hobie mutter something to the effect of, "Stickin' it to the big guy one step a' a time," and you're certainly not sure what that means. Miguel stops only when he notices you and everyone in the cafeteria watching him. He straightens up, and clears his throat before summoning his AI.

“Lyla, just have someone bring food to my room,” he grumbles.

"Roger that," she says.

And then Miguel is stalking away before either of you know it.

You watch his retreating back curiously. "I wonder what that was about..." you think aloud.

“No idea,” Hobie drawls. Of course, it's a lie, or as Hobie likes to think of it, a covert truth. He salutes in Miguel's direction.

Leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. If only it wasn't this fun to mess with him. And... Hobie glances down at you. If only you realized how much power you held over him.

Both of them, really.

—

translations:

estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa = i'm sick of seeing all this lovey-dovey shit

the other phrases are just a bunch of cursing lmao

[worldsokayestdragon]

GreedxLing Week Day 7: Campfire

Read here on AO3

Greed had never been camping before, because why the fuck would he? He demanded the finer things in life, and leaving your nice bed behind to sleep in the dirt in the woods was not one of the finer things.

Now he was stuck on an involuntary camping trip for months and months. All the way until the promised day, which wouldn't be until spring! It had been a week, and Greed was already sick of it. The ground was too hard to sleep on comfortably, the forrest was full of weird noises, and it got colder every night. Greed was pretty sure even people who like camping didn't do it over winter unless they were actually insane.

The people Greed was with were definitely insane.

Darius and Heinkle insisted that it wasn't that bad and it "built character." Greed had plenty of character, and it was that bad! Just because some people could grow fur coats on command didn't mean they all could.

Ed also said it wasn't that bad, and it was colder in Briggs. (fucking good for Briggs then, what did that have to do with Greed?) Ed also said that his teacher had sent him on a way worse camping trip when he was nine, and that he and his brother had ended up having fun by the end of it.

Fucking insane.

Ling also told Greed it wasn't that bad and he should stop complaining, but Ling was getting a free ride in Greed's head and didn't actually have to do any of the camping shit himself, so what did he know?

Greed was the leader of this little camping trip, so he had to stay present for it. No matter how much he hated it or how little he knew about "finding a good location" or "setting up a halfway decent campsite" or "tying the food up properly so it wouldn't attract wild animals, that's just common sense Greed, what's wrong with you?”

Animals didn't like to get close to homunculi or chimera anyway, so what was the big deal if he didn't want to climb halfway up a tree to store all their shit?

So Greed was the leader, but a leader didn't do all the work. He was more than happy to let the others make handle the minutia of day to day tasks and let him focus on the bigger picture. A good leader delegated.

And somehow he still ended up left in charge of building the campfire while the chimeras went on a supply run to a nearby town. Something about Ed and Greed not knowing how to be subtle or blend in. As if two giants blended in any better. But whatever, that town was too dinky to have anything worth Greed's time anyway.

That didn't explain why Ed couldn't light the damn fire, but the alchemist insisted he needed to "check their course," which just looked like wandering around to stare at the sky and check both sides of random trees, and occasionally making marks on a map.

Ling said what he was doing made sense, and Greed didn't actually know enough about maps to dispute it.

So Greed was left with a pile of wood, another pile of little sticks and dead leaves, and a box of matches. He had very little clue what to do with any of it.

You've been camping before, right? Greed asked Ling. On your way across the desert from Xing or whatever. Can't you do this?

Ling shook his head, or did the mental equivalent of shaking his head anyway. Greed could always tell even without turning his attention inwards towards Ling's soul projection, though it wasn't a sensation he'd know how to describe to anyone.

There isn't a lot by way of firewood in the desert. And it got cold at night, but it was still summer. We mostly just slept close together. The few times we did manage a fire, Fu and Lan Fan took care of it. Sorry.

He did actually sound a little sorry, which was decent of him. There was a reason Greed didn't mind having Ling around.

Greed groaned. ugh, fine. I guess I'll do it. I can totally do it.

Of course you can, Ling said, very matter of factly. We've watched Ed do it enough times. We can figure it out easily.

Right, Greed nodded and reached to pick up a branch. How hard can it be? Ed does it.

That startled a laugh out of Ling, an undignified snort that probably couldn't be considered quite proper for a prince.

Don't let him hear you say that. We'll have to sit through a whole rant about how he's a genius and none of us are on his level.

Yeah, that would be a pain, Greed said. But this really shouldn't be too hard. You just stack the big ones in a sort of a triangle shape and put the little bits inside and then light the inside first, right?

That sounds right to me. Ling agreed.

Right. That's easy.

Greed set to work.

It was not, in fact, easy. A sort of triangle shape was not an intuitive way to stack wood. The whole thing kept tipping over and collapsing into a big jumble.

By the fifth try Greed was growling to himself and barely resisting the urge to go find Ed and throw one of those stupid sticks at his head for making Greed do this.

Maybe I should try? Ling suggested. I probably have a more steady hand from all the swordfighting.

No, Greed snapped, glaring daggers at the stick pile as he started over. I will not be beat by a stupid heap of dead tree parts! I'm gonna enjoy lighting this shit on fire. It fell over again. Oh god damnit!

Oh-kay, Ling said slowly. You do it then. I think you almost got it a few tries ago. Just take a deep breath before you start over. It will only be harder if you're angry.

It'Ll OnLy Be HaRdEr If YoU'rE aNgRy, Greed repeated.

That was probably unfair. Ling had offered to help.

Greed took a deep breath before he tried again.

It took three more attempts for Greed to successfully arrange the large branches in a loose approximation of a campfire shape.

Greed used one of the matches to light a long, thin stick on fire and poked it through into the pile of twigs and leaves inside his branch pyramid. After a few long, nerve wracking seconds, the fire spread and the whole structure went up in flames.

It didn't burn as steadily or as brightly as the ones Ed made.

It's a little lopsided– Ling started to say.

It's on fire, isn't it? Greed interrupted. He was not in the mood for criticism right now. Whataya want from me?

You didn't let me finish, Ling said calmly. I was going to say that it looks good for your first time doing it. I don't think I could do better.

Oh. Now Greed felt kinda bad for jumping down Ling's throat. Well, thanks. I–

"You call that a campfire?" Ed tromped back into the clearing they were staying in and threw himself down across the fire from Greed. "It looks like crap."

He is such an asshole, Ling sighed.

"It's a fire. It's in the camp. It's a campfire. Now shut up about it unless you want me to set you on fire too."

Ed looked like he wasn't going to shut up about it, and Greed could feel Ling getting ready to beg him to let it go and not argue with the stupid runt no matter how much of an insubordinate little shit he was being, but Darius and Heinkle chose that moment to show up.

"The fire looks–" Greed glared at Darius. "...fine and normal."

“No it doesn't,” Ed said and ignored Greed glaring daggers at his head.

"Anyway," Heinkle cut through the tension. "The store in town was having a sale, so we got a little something special for tonight." He set down the bags of food he was carrying and started digging through one of them.

"I didn't say you could spend our money on unnecessary crap," Greed pointed out. Really no one was respecting his leadership tonight.

Don't you want henchmen who are smart and capable enough not to have to bother you about every little thing? Ling asked.

He did want that. Damnit.

"Whatever, it's fine. What did you get?"

Heinkle found what he was looking for in the bags and held up a few bars of chocolate, a box of some sort of crackers, and a bag of marshmallows.

"Oh, nice!" Ed said. "I haven't had s'mores since me and Al were little."

"Some more of what?" Greed asked.

All three of them turned to stare at him.

"You've never had a s'more?" Ed yelled. He sounded personally offended by the idea. "You're like 200 years old! How is that even possible?"

Do you know what he's talking about? Greed asked Ling.

Ling shrugged. No idea. Must be an Amestran thing.

Ed stomped over to dig through the pile of extra firewood, returning with a handful of particularly long thin sticks. He shoved one into Greed's hand.

"Here! Stick a marshmallow on this and hold it over the fire," he instructed.

Greed magnanimously didn't point out how rude it was of Ed to talk to his leader like that, because he was a great guy like that. And because he was really curious about these so-called s'mores by now. (Also, in the last week he'd been told no fewer than six times to "talk to Colonel Bastard if you want to know how I talk to a leader I'm disrespecting," and Ed did generally go along with what Greed told him even if he was a little shit about it.)

Greed stuck a marshmallow to the end of the stick and held it in the fire.

It immediately burst into flames, burning to a blackened lump as Greed watched.

"Now what?"

"Try holding it a little further from the flames this time," Darius suggested, handing him a new stick and marshmallow.

Ed shook his head. "No, setting it on fire is good, you just don't sit there like a dumbass and watch it burn after." He deliberately stuck his into the fire then quickly blew it out. "Faster that way."

Greed decided to go with what Darius said and held his second marshmallow above the fire until it turned brown around the edges and threatened to fall off of its stick. Then, copying what he'd seen Ed do, he put it between two of the crackers with a piece of chocolate and took a bite.

It was hot enough to be just on the edge of burning the crap out of his mouth, and also a total mess, marshmallow and melted chocolate squishing out from the sides as he bit down.

It was also really fucking good.

Greed tried not to react to the delicious taste, not wanting to give Ed the satisfaction.

Judging from the smug smile on Ed's face, he didn't quite succeed.

"So, do you like it?" Ed asked.

"It's fine," Greed sniffed, and then took another bite because it really was amazing.

Ed snorted a laugh, but kindly didn't rub it in Greed's face any more than that. He also didn't say anything when Greed reached for another marshmallow to make a second one.

It does look good, Ling said, a little wistfully.

Do you want to try?

Really?

Ling sounded pleased and awed in a way that made Greed's face burn for some reason.

Yeah, if you want. It's not a big deal, Greed muttered, and then switched places with Ling before he could answer.

"Ling?" Ed asked, somehow noticing instantly. "What are you–"

Ling completely ignored the Fullmetal Alchemist in favor of eating their second s'more.

It tasted even better than the first one, filtered through Ling's perception where Greed settled in the back of their mind.

After they'd finished their s'mores and–at Heinkle's insistence–eaten some real food, Greed and Ling got volunteered for first watch, even though they'd done all the work setting up the campsite. Ling didn't argue their case as hard as Greed would have, and Greed didn't care enough to push his way back into control of the body over it. He'd take over again in the morning.

The fire went out an hour before they were supposed to wake Ed for his watch shift.

Ling took his turn lighting it, and it went much better with Greed's now expert advice. They both agreed that the others didn't need to know about that.

[literaticat]

What do you think can be the average timeframe for a book to be published on the shorter and longer end? I've heard 14-18 months being average, is that accurate? I've also heard a publisher can really push something to 2-3 months but I'm guessing this is only if the topic is timely or it's a celebrity or famous author and an eagerly awaited book? Can the timeframe ever be shorter for an average debut writer - maybe because a sooner window opened up? Or is it typically the longer end?

I think 14 months is a little on the short side, 18 months is perfectly average, longer than that would be a little on the long side (except in the case of illustrated books, those almost always would be longer than that.)

I'd consider anything under 12 months to be a "crashed" book -- meaning they want it to be published ASAP. The fastest I have ever personally had a book crashed was six months and that was truly mind-bending to watch happen -- that was for a picture book though, I guess a non-illustrated book could be somewhat shorter.

That's not normal though, AT ALL. It basically only happens, as you say, when it is extremely timely, or there is some celebrity / otherwise "super special" component to it. There are no "sooner windows" -- that's the whole thing about CRASHING a book -- you are crashing into the regular schedule and MAKING a window where there wasn't one. A random debut book without those aspects will probably never be crashed -- nor should it be!

Crashing a book means you are asking everything else to get put to the side so this thing can barrel through, and crucially, you are also entirely getting rid of the lead time that sales and marketing need to catalogue a book, have sales conference, get sales reps into stores pushing the book to buyers, get review copies to reviewers, etc etc -- ALL that stuff needs at least a six month lead time not even counting all the OTHER stuff (multiple rounds of edits, proofing, printing, shipping, distributing, etc!)

Like, OK, if it is because it's a famous person or an extremely timely thing, maybe that's fine, because bookstores will buy it sight unseen and it will end up being on Good Morning America and Colbert and a similar media blitz anyway, who cares about a dinky Kirkus review. The new book by Michelle Obama doesn't need to be in the catalogue at all -- the rep will just call their accounts and say "Hey, I can't tell you anything about this book, there's going to be a media blitz, buy ten cartons, trust me." But for MOST books that are NOT by Michelle Obama or similar, that lead time to actually get it in to bookstores is VERY important.

[alfvaen]

Writing Exercise: Karaoke Gone Wrong

Trevor stood up and accepted the microphone from the previous singer. His last song had gone so well that he'd decided to try something a little harder this time. After all, anybody could sing "Louie Louie", right? So it was time to take it up a notch, and go for "Sweet Child O' Mine".

He stood as nonchalantly as he could in the open area center of the bar, looking up at the big-screen TV waiting for the music to start, the well-known Slash guitar riff (which the guitarist publicly disdained as too simplistic), so he was caught off guard when he heard the opening of "Stairway To Heaven" instead. "Hold on, man!" he shouted at the karaoke host. "That's the wrong track!"

The song stopped, but not before Trevor caught a glimpse of the first screen of lyrics, which didn't look anything like either song. In fact, he wasn't even sure he recognized all the letters.

"Sorry, what's the problem?" the host, a balding fortyish man, asked.

"That's the wrong song, dude," Trevor said. "I wanted 'Sweet Child O' Mine'. You know, Guns 'N' Roses?"

The host peered at his screen. "Huh. And that wasn't it?"

"No, it sounded like 'Stairway'."

"Weird. Must be mislabelled. Uh…that's the only copy of that song I have. Do you want to try it?"

Trevor hesitated. 'Stairway' was a lot longer, and a slower build, but he could probably pull it off. "You know what, sure."

"Just a sec, then, gotta get it back into the sequence."

While Trevor waited, he glanced around. From here, he could see a big table in the corner that he hadn't spotted before, which seemed to be full of aging long-haired men. One of them caught his eye, and Trevor froze. Was that Brian May? From Queen? In this dinky bar? And Roger Taylor next to him? The rest of the figures were more shadowy, but he swore somehow that all of them were part of the bands that had shaped his musical tastes over the years. He gulped.

"Okay, ready?"

Trevor's throat felt like it had closed up. He reached over and grabbed his beer, taking a swig, and of course it tried to go down the wrong pipe. He ended up coughing and spluttering directly into the microphone, which was still on, and everybody in the bar got to hear it up close and personal, at least until the feedback drowned it out. The host shut down the channel until Trevor had recovered, eyes streaming, risking another sip to clear things out, and finally waving to indicate he was ready.

The song started up again, and when the first screen of lyrics appeared, Trevor discovered he'd been right before--that did not look like the right lyrics. Or English at all. It didn't even look like Russian or anything. Gamely, he started singing the lyrics as best he could from memory. After the first verse he glanced over at Brian May's table and saw him frowning and murmuring to his tablemates.

By the next verse, the song had transitioned into something that didn't sound quite like "Stairway" any more. Was that…"Dust In The Wind"? How did that one go? Was this supposed to be the first verse or the second? He squinted at the lyrics, which still didn't look like English, but he was beginning to figure out, somehow, how they worked. He did his best guess, but he was pretty sure he was just making stuff up at this point.

The tempo picked up, and now he was pretty sure this was something by the Eagles. He'd never liked the Eagles. Was this "Hotel California", or "Take It Easy", or what? He was starting to get the hang of the alphabet now, though, so he decided to just go for it and sing what was coming up on the screen, and making up his own melody. Screw it, why not? Maybe he'd get points for style and originality, at least.

After the next verse, a few more guitars kicked in, and now this was getting more into like Black Sabbath territory. Bit of an abrupt stylistic change, but he was into it now. He screamed out the unearthly lyrics on the screen in his best Dio impression, wailing for all he was worth, until he began to taste blood. And yet he couldn't stop--there were no more breaks between verse or chorus, barely even word breaks any more, just an endless stream of syllables, in what language he was no longer sure, tearing their way out of his throat. And now he could see them, starting to accumulate in the air in front of him, floating glyphs in the red of his own blood, spiraling around and around until he was entirely wrapped in them. He gasped out the last few on the screen just before it was blocked from his view entirely.

And after that it was just red. And screaming.

Brian May shook his head sadly. "Guess he just didn't have what it takes. Okay, so where do we try next?"

[marlaluster]

Just following up after my doctor's appointment today...

My doctor's appointment went okay. Nothing really went wrong. I was on time. I wasn't too cold waiting on my transportation to and from my appointment. (It was in the upper 40's during the times I was outside.)

I just wish my blood pressure was healthier, so there would be no health concerns for me to have to worry about, but it was still a little high. It was 134/86 when my doctor rechecked it. (It was 145/78 when the nurse first checked it.)

"I am doing the things with the blood pressure, me, Buddy. I'm doing something to say she's not who she is," Buddy said.

Buddy is saying he's doing things to say I'm someone who loses, even though that's not who I am without his and others' tampering with things, he said.

He said he makes things happen to say I'm losing in order to say this world is not ideal. According to Buddy, a world that is not ideal is not possible to exist.

I am happy to believe that what Buddy says is true, and throughout my time in this world, I have thought some things akin to this. For years before I believed with certainty that this world was not real, I had disbelieved in diseases like cancer, and I had disbelieved in deformities and mental illness.

Buddy is the entity that talks most often in my mind, more than any other entity. I also often hear from an entity I have named "Dinky."

Dinky calls me "mum" and he seems very significant to my existence, so significant that I apparently have been mimicking his character for months now with this cute character I pretend to be sometimes.

"Uh I have something more to tell. I, but we don't go on soon. That's all," Buddy said.

Buddy and other entities have been saying in my mind that the world will end soon, ie that "we" won't go on soon. Buddy and others have been saying this world won't go on after December.

"Uh I am saying that, Buddy. We feel pretty certain about this," Buddy said.

I am supposed to go back to the doctor in April about my blood pressure. It seems a long time to wait, but I guess the doctor knows best.

I actually think really well of the doctor I see. She seems really confident, interested in her work; she seems very decisive and alive and present.

"All things that are about her not to have been. She's supposed to be someone who isn't to be. What I really mean is she's someone who is supposed to not make sense here. She's someone Marla can not have to go on for," Buddy said of my primary care doctor whom I saw today.

It has been said in the past in my mind that my doctor I saw today, and a gynecologist I have seen a couple times were to occur to be good doctors but weren't to be recognized by many people as this here. I find this detail very interesting and it seems this detail could be true, since both these doctors seem pretty good to me.

Back to my appointment today: Today, my doctor asked me if there was anything she could do to make my life better. It seemed a very generous question to ask. I didn't know what to say when she asked this.

It seems so grand to ask someone that, but I guess it is something a caring doctor does. The question seems a bit unusual because it seems someone could ask for any number of odd things like money or maybe food in response, I don't know.

The hospital the doctor I see works for is owned by Bon Secours and there is a Holy Bible in the waiting room for my doctor and a cross with Jesus on it on the wall in an office that is next to and visible in the waiting room.

The medical organization had a questionnaire in my medical paperwork asking the patient has need for transportation or food, things like this. Maybe the grand question my doctor asked had something to do with this questionnaire asking if people need food and etc.

For some reason I feel so much better for putting my thoughts into words dealing with my doctor asking me this question (Is there anything she can do to make my life better or easier?).

The thing I most wish is for this world to end. It seems I should say something else, like that I want things to go well for me in this world, but that's not what I really want. I want to be free from unwished things like aging and aches and pains and having to exercise and eat healthy.

So that's all from me, I guess. I am writing here somewhat often lately. I wish to write here more lately. It seems to help me. I wish to express a positive view of and relationship with the people (and things) of this reality.

I want to be a friend to people and things of this world and this reality. I also want to express myself and what I think and who I am. I think this world is kind and I want to be kind to it. I can do all these things by writing here.

[backtoyuta]

NCT 127: How they would be as coworkers in a shitty office

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❁ [Taeil] King of the welcome wagon; If it was your first day working in a small dinky business, Taeil will make it his sole responsibility to make the environment as inviting as possible. After all, the business wasn't some glamorous well known company, nor was it an exciting new start up, so Taeil made it his mission to paint the office as pretty as he could before you could decide if the job was too boring to keep. If you ask any of his co-workers they'll tell you nobody put him in charge of welcoming the newbie, but it seemed everybody but you noticed him do a double take at the receptionist's desk where you waited to be shown around. Soft moments included him making you a coffee every time he left to make his own, making a point of clearing a little space in the communal fridge for your lunch and hanging around while trying to maintain a respectful distance in case you had any queries so he could be the first to answer them. If you were low-key dreading your first day, you kinda forget about the nerves quickly because of his kindness and tells you cheerfully "See, we don't bite." Will make sure you have everything you need, down to the last sticky note and ball point pen, and smiles bashfully at you when you go to thank him.

❁ [Johnny] cheesy office romance; It was quite impressive really, the fact that Johnny managed to unlock every single office romance cliche you could think of and he wasn't subtle about it either. Though there was no policy really about dating co-workers, the whole situation was a tiny bit embarrassing given the blatant flirting from the titan walking around in his shirt and tie, always throwing devilish smiles from over the photocopier. Even if his desk was miles away from yours, there would always be an excuse to stroll by your work space to drop off some paperwork personally, or remind you of the meeting happening in the afternoon despite the email reminder going around. Johnny really put his bladder through it since he now took too frequent trips to the water cooler that was so conveniently placed next to your desk. The whole office gagged when you finally agreed to go for drinks after work. The hours were spent buying each other pints and admiring him with his tie loosened and shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the delicate tattoos that decorated the skin there before calling it a night and letting him kiss you on your porch after walking you home. You kind of became the height of office gossip, which Johnny thrived in, but you couldn't really be mad when you were dating that tall glass of water after all.

❁ [Taeyong] The receptionist with first aid training; Stapling your finger was embarrassing enough, imagine the heat flooding your cheeks when the receptionist appears at your desk clutching the first aid kit, big kind eyes glancing at your finger empathetically. Taeyong was the first face you saw when you walked through the door, that alone making a wonderful first impression, also he was a very diligent worker. He never made a fuss when you asked him to fax something, make a memo or photocopy, and when you had to ring the office because you left your keycard and needed to be let in, he laughed that off with you too while assuring that it happened all the time. On the blasted day you aimed the stapler at your paper but instead caught your finger, Taeyong was the first to perk from behind his desk at your exclamation of "Ow!" and was by your side before you knew it. He apologised profusely at the sting of an anti-bacterial wipe and wrapped your finger gingerly in a plaster, his chair scooted towards you and your knees bumping occasionally. You were pretty sure every female in the office was crushing on him and you were one of many, but you couldn't help the blush when you received a private IM chat asking if you wanted to get coffee after work: "Date? :)" he wrote at the end of the message. You wasted no time typing on your computer a reply, sneaking a glance at his face from behind the desk and exchanging a smile before looking busy once again.

❁ [Yuta] The guy that lowkey terrified you; Yuta was the co-worker that, whether it was on purpose or not, pushed you away with sheer intimidation and sinfully good looks. When you first encountered him in the office you were sure he was a model undercover, and when that was debunked you were sure he must have had a much higher level and higher paying job than you. His presence read corporate, the cologne you sometimes caught a whiff of smelt expensive and you could easily picture him in a big leather chair in a tall glass building barking orders at people. What surprised you was behind the intimidating aura, lay the humility of any of your other co-workers. All it took was one painfully awkward conversation in the break room and with the power of pointless small talk you learnt that his weekend plans didn't involve a modelling side hustle like you expected, but rather being a homebody, watching animated movies and cooking dinner for one instead. When you did finally enter an established relationship with him, expect impulsive moments like being tugged into the copier room so he can press his lips to yours and run his hands through your hair, or intense staring contests when other male co-workers demanded your attention. Overall, he was terrifying, but his redeemable qualities involved making dates after work so you had something to look forward to, buying your favourite cake during office parties and volunteering to do overtime with you so you would always be entertained.

❁ [Doyoung] The manager that scares you shitless; For the position of local branch manager, Doyoung exuded way more power and intimidation than what was probably warranted. Maybe that was why he managed to get the branch performing so well, everybody dreaded being called into his office for "friendly chitchat" after making a small mistake. When you first arrived, you steered as clear from him as possible, only venturing near his office when absolutely needed. What you didn't see was the way he would watch you intently in your little office nook, always appreciating how hard you worked and how cute you looked in your office get-up. You often squirmed at the amount of eye-contact he gave you when he ran meetings and you would glance around to see if anyone else was experiencing the same thing. Nope, just you. When he did call you into his office that one time you were quaking in your shoes. You had already convinced yourself you were fired before you had even reached his office door, but the feeling was replaced soon enough with confusion when he did eventually speak to you. "I just wanted to ask... would you be interested in.... this corporate training program?" He rushed. My god, your boss was just as awkward as the next bumbling guy. It would be a while before he asked you on an official date, dinner for two, also quite a bit of paperwork to fill out with HR, but you would come to realise his icy exterior wasn't all that icy when he wasn't in work-mode.

❁ [Jaehyun] The temp that never left; Jaehyun was fresh from university, now venturing into the world of work but still had the boyish aura that set him apart from the rest of the men in the office. From the way he spoke to you over lunch in the break room you could tell he was full of ambition, but also didn't seem to be in any rush to leave this job any time soon. Jaehyun was the guy who you initially tried not to get too close to, since you were under the impression that he would be leaving after completing the temporary placement and when he left it would hurt like a bitch. However, you could have sworn his placement ended like a month ago, but eventually you learnt that he somehow managed to talk himself into a full-time position. "Oh that, yeah, I guess I just realised I had more reasons to stay." He shrugged as casually as he could when you asked about it. You couldn't deny that you were happy, not when you saw his smiling face in the conference room saving you a seat, hearing his outrageous stories from uni and always being the two to get a little too drunk at corporate parties and being sent home in a taxi of shame. Romance blossomed when you remembered that one drunken kiss in the backseat and you both bonded when your boss gave you the cold shoulder after arriving to work a little more than dishevelled and with a hangover.

❁ [Jungwoo] Desk buddy; Honestly, who could hate their job when they had a sweet Jungwoo sitting at the desk adjacent to theirs. You kinda scored when your boss appointed you this specific desk because Jungwoo took to you almost embarrassingly quick. It made your heart swell looking at all the little knick knacks on his desk; toys to fiddle with and colourful sticky notes, this was just one part of his persona. You were a little shocked when he offered you a cigarette during the lunch break, kind of exposing a duality you didn't know existed, but nobody could be that wholesome of a person. Monday to Friday 9-5 was filled with Jungwoo ping-ponging back and forth between these traits, any off handed comments he would mutter to you when the boss was giving an announcement or the conversations you would overhear him having with a friend over the phone would remind you he wasn't a total puppy of a human being. However, the way he always offered to share a snack and would flick paper and notes at you playfully was also very much him being himself. You always fluttered a little at the smirk he would throw your way when your manager was talking something boring or ridiculous, it seemed those smirks were only reserved for you. It didn't take long before he became your best friend in the office, if he wasn't in that day you were in the right mind to just call it quits yourself (and vice versa), he was the guy that made the long hours that much more bearable.

❁ [Mark] The bumbling intern; When it came to responsibilities in the work place, you tried to delegate as little of that as possible to Mark the intern. It was cute really, the guy put in 110% effort into his tasks and yet when it came to coffee orders, photocopying or sending out a memo, something nearly always went wrong. You couldn't help but admire his enthusiasm, also that he made an effort to know everybody in the office, including the cleaners. Mark was one of the first people to greet you when you joined, waving around a little notebook of Starbucks orders and a company card to splurge, urging you to write down whatever you wanted. A simple task right? Rookie mistake. Bless him, you would never tell him how his mistake of getting full dairy rather than the soy you requested led to a night on and off the toilet, but that just scratched the surface of his office blunders. Somehow, he never cost the company too much, but there was a reason why the poor boy never got promoted beyond intern. He wasn't deterred though, he'd lean up against your desk while you made idle chit chat and he'd tell you that he liked his job and he didn't aspire to be the best in this business. Where he really proved himself was during company functions, you'll never forget during the annual employee bbq when he asked you your favourite song so he could sing it melodically accompanied skilfully with a guitar. Mark's contributions to the work place were always a little unpredictable, but he kept things interesting and people, including you, genuinely enjoyed having him around.

❁ [Haechan] Probably the reason you get fired; Even in the workplace, Haechan can't deny himself a bit of mischief. He made a stellar first impression by rocking up half an hour late, sending your boss a half arsed apology and plonking down at the desk across the room from yours. To be honest, he kind of annoyed you at first, his attitude came off immature and you didn't appreciate how distracting he was when you had work to do. However, things started to change at some point. Haechan was the guy that convinced you to ditch the office party and sit on the rooftop with him to watch the city lights, the guy that sent out ridiculous memos just to catch you smile and the guy eventually became the reason for you own demise after he started picking you up for breakfast most mornings. When the manager called you in his office after being late the third time in a row, you ducked your head and mumbled something about traffic while hiding a croissant wrapper in your pocket, Haechan covered a laugh with a cough and apologised on behalf of both of you. When you asked him about why he never seemed to give a shit about anything, you learnt that it was because he had a taste for adventure; "Don't tell me you wanna stay and work here forever? Don't you wanna do something more... exciting with your life?" He asked you incredulously, like the answer was obvious. He kinda got you, no, you didn't want to work in a dingy office for the rest of you life. To be honest, when he painted a picture of moving to a big city, or taking a road trip, or just fucking off to the suburbs you didn't hate the sound of that either. When you were both sat there in your manager's office, signing off on a severance package, you weren't even mad. You didn't have time to be, Haechan was already clasping your hand and leading you to his car and laughing about finally being free, tugging his tie from around his neck whilst driving no where in particular- the start of an adventure.