#writing all those fucking tags were a chore

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Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Good Omens (TV 2019)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel, Nina/Maggie, Elspeth/Wee Morag, Aziraphale & Gabriel, Aziraphale & Muriel, Aziraphale & Nina, Aziraphale & Maggie, Crowley & Gabriel, Crowley & Muriel, Crowley & Nina, Crowley & Maggie, Aziraphale & Demon Eric, Crowley & Demon Eric, Aziraphale & Elspeth, Aziraphale & Wee Morag, Crowley & Elspeth, Crowley & Wee Morag

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley (TV 2019), Muriel (TV 2019), Gabriel (TV 2019), Nina (TV 2019), Maggie (TV 2019), Beelzebub (TV 2019), Metatron (TV 2019), Shax (TV 2019), Michael (TV 2019), Demon Eric, Saraqael, Dagon (TV 2019, Furfur, Uriel (TV 2019), Elspeth (TV 2019), Wee Morag, God (TV 2019)

Additional Tags: Penguins!AU, No Death!AU, Ineffable Husbands, Fix-It!AU, Season 2 is Semi-canon, No Betas we die like my heart did on the last episode, Not Beta Read, Angst, Pining, Parenting, Happy Ending, God is a Zookeeper, The humans are seagulls who take the penguins leftovers, Maggie squawks love songs, Nina sometimes adds ingredients from outside the enclosure, to the fish, and gives it back to the penguins, to say thank you, Beelzebub is a transplant chick, from another zoo, the Zoo Crowley was sent to for a couple years, penguin chicks!, species not specified, imagine what you want

(Burning) On The Ice

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Summary:

Aziraphale & Crowley are the only two penguins healthy enough to raise the next brood of their species - one facing extinction! Are they up to task? Or will their English no Angelic no Penguinish fear of rejection about their feelings for each other after all these years mean the end of the species?

Went to a zoo where there's a gay penguin couple but the problem is they're the only penguin couple at this point that the zoo has who are healthy enough to safely raise an egg so they keep being given eggs to raise and I'm just losing it over the mental image imagine being this old gay couple who just wants to live in peace but you keep having babies handed to you because all of your friends have too many issues to look after them

[bwabys-scenarios]

CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO PERV ILLUMI i do not think there is enough perv illumi content on this app

He’s a perv

Perv!Illumi x Fem!Reader

A/N: sorry this is short and may resemble my other perv writings… but I hope y’all like it! Join my server

warnings: pervy Illumi, yandere behavior, masturbation, panty stealing, he’s kind of yucky, breeding, pregnancy

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Illumi had never experienced sexual attraction before. Had he gotten some morning wood once or twice? Yes, but he rarely felt the urge to jack off.

That was… until he met you.

He wasn’t quite sure what made you so appealing. You looked ordinary, at least… you should have. Illumi had been surrounded by the worlds most beautiful women since he was but a boy… yet here he was, getting hard over a girl he had barely met.

Maybe it was your soft curves, or the ways your hips swayed when you walked… it could have even been your sweet voice, and those pretty, glossy lips that made him want to pull you in and taste the shiny lipgloss you were wearing…

Whatever it was, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Illumi’s body had been acting strangely. Even a whiff of your perfume could have his cock twitching, standing at attention and ready for you… it was quite embarrassing, or it would have been if Illumi had any shame.

No, the only reason Illumi his his overwhelming desire for you was because he wanted these feelings to go away as quickly as possible. He couldn’t fall for some nobody Hunter with nen weaker than all the other applicants that had passed with you. No, Illumi was supposed to marry the best of the best, a woman whose womb could bear a strong heir.

But… that didn’t stop him from acting on some of his urges…

Unfortunately, Illumi couldn’t seem to let you out of his sight. It was annoying, following you around as you did your little daily chores in town. He could hardly get any work done when you looked so cute. You didn’t even realize your panties were showing when you bent over to pick up a coin…

When he couldn’t be constantly watching over you, Illumi would steal little trinkets from your home to… keep him satiated. Used panties, your lipgloss, and clothing items that smelled like your perfume.

He’d wrap your panties around his cock as he jerked off, your cardigan pressed against his face. If he really focused, he could imagine your pussy tightening around him, your plump thighs pressing against him as he bounced you on his cock…

He’d cum buckets into your panties, then break into your apartment and drop them off on your floor, like a cat leaving a dead mouse as a gift.

After a while, his urges grew and grew, until your panties just weren’t enough for him anymore.

Wooing you wasn’t too hard, and getting into your pants was easier than he would have though. The fact you were a virgin was very surprising… but welcomed. After all, he was a virgin as well.

The second his cock sunk into you, he immediately knew that he could never let you go. To hell with a strong heir, he wanted you, and only you. You were the only one that could make him feel this way… soft, vulnerable, and so goddamn horny.

Poor, poor you, having Illumi fuck into you for hours on end, unable to pull out of your pretty, warm cunt. He fucked so much cum into you that you felt so swollen and full…

Even after he was done, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he held you close, kissing the top of your head. “You’re all mine, darling. I’ll have wedding preparations ready within a week.”

You were much too exhausted to argue… and you weren’t sure you could say no to Illumi Zoldyck… so you just slept, accepting your fate. You’d be taken care of, and would never have to worry about anything ever again.

Shortly, Illumi would have his now pregnant wife in his home, where she would be safe, and where he could ravish her whenever he felt like it.

[unknownati]

Hello! I hope you're doing well :3

Can I get something about Ekko (headcanons, short scenario... you choose the format) with a s/o with chronic migraines? I absolutely love how you write him!! And it would be very special for me, considering that this topic is not talked about enough.

Thank you so much for your contribution to the fandom! ily byee

vi. ekko x gn!reader w/chronic migraines (hcs)

a/n: twin. I GOTCHU 😭🤝 and tysm!

i'm sorry if this isn't up to your expectations, i tried to do extra research on it (i was on r/migraine and like 3 different medical sites for a WHILE.) to make sure i repped u the best i could! please lmk if there's any inaccuracies :(

from what i read, most people's experiences were pretty similar so i tried to keep it in that middle ground.

warnings/tags: fluffy fluffy fluff, lowercase intended, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, descriptions of pain, reader gets insecure at the end (w/ comfort!), just ekko taking care of u like the gentleman he is really, i need this man

_____________________________________________

-ekko didn't quite know how to handle it when you first started getting close.

-you could tell he cared, constantly glancing over at you with worried eyes every time you rubbed your temples and took deep breaths. his hand would rest on your shoulder, and even though you brushed it off, he knew it sucked.

-you somehow managed to keep it pretty low-key until you two started dating.

-the first time he really got a glimpse into it was during a baaad week after you started dating.

-"doin' okay?" he'd murmur, kneeling down next to your duvet shielded figure. all you do is groan, sticking your hand out to find his, interlocking fingers with him.

"yeah, i guessed. brought you some meds, maybe it'll help make you feel a bit better."

he knew he was doing something right when you squeezed his hand and whispered "thank you."

it was the most grateful he's ever heard anyone sound for anything.

and even though those pain meds didn't do the best job in the world, it's the thought that counts!

-afterward, he started with peeking to see what meds you take, constantly keeping them restocked for you. he thinks you don't know he's the one sneaking them into your bag, your cabinet, on your nightstand, etc. you know. there's only one person in your life who you know would leave spray paint stains on the little bottles.

-he'd make sure to keep areas he knows you mainly hung around much dimmer. buys you blackout curtains and figures out how to make controlled light bulbs for you that can be dimmer or brighter as you needed.

-he carries a shocking amount of stuff on him. boom, canteen of water! boom, snacks! boom, painkillers! woah, what's that? ICE PACK! check behind your ears? holy shit it's a heating pad.

-one thing though; as much as he cares for you, he won't baby you. he knows just how capable you are of doing things...he will, however, give you major royal treatment. you will be getting that shoulder massage 🙏🏾

-during days where your migraines are less brutal, he just keeps an eye out for you. makes sure stay hydrated and well fed.

-he does your chores for you during those extended periods, tearing his gloves off to stick his hands into your pile of dishes and clean them up for you. when you shuffle downstairs later in the day to put a cup in there, you find a small little note in front of your now cleared sink.

'hope i could lighten your load (get it) ♡ - e'

-and it was such a stupid joke that almost didn't make sense but you'd be lying if you said you didn't smile wide as fuck when you read it.

-during the extended periods of your migraine attacks, when you're just in bed, he brings you literally anything and everything.

-when you wake up from a nap you can almost always find him cuddled close to you, drool pooling into your pillow.

-and he does not mind leaving where you are just for you to go get some peace and quiet.

-it hits you like a train when you're out with him and a few of his friends. the stinging, pulsing cluster of pain forming behind your eye made you groan. "fuck, baby 'm sorry my head is just...killing me."

"hey guys, we're gonna head out, okay?"

"what? no, you don't have to leave, i can just—"

he flashes you what is the most loving glare you've ever seen and just gets up, ushering you along with him. silence fills the walk back between the lanes, gravel and wrappers crunching beneath your boots.

"i'm sorry." you murmur, smoothing your fingers across the arch of your brow. the way he looks at you when the words leave your mouth made you think he was offended by them.

"why are you apologizing?"

"i just...don't want you to always have to stop enjoying yourself just for me."

"nah, don't say that. it doesn't bother me. plus, it means i get to go home and chill out with you more often, i'm fine with that."

"yeah, but what if i'm just too much? what if you get sick of...doing all this?"

he scoffs, pulling his glove off and stopping you from walking so he can raise your chin, looking at you with eyes so determined but so gentle. his thumb swipes between your brows, making you relax them. "you're never gonna be too much for me. and i won't. ever."

-and trust me.

-he doesn't.

[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

[a-killer-obsession]

Day 3 - Mistletoe Heat + Foot Fetish

Tags: afab reader, degradation, femdom, footjob, foot worship, oral sex (reader receiving)

WC: 800

You cracked your neck to the left, then to the right, stretching out the sore muscles that ached from working hard for several hours now. Pen scratching against paper after paper from a pile that seemed endless, going over all the requests the crew had for the upcoming restock island and making sure they all fit within the budget. It was careful work to juggle the finances of the Kid Pirates, it was up to you to make sure the crew raided enough treasure and sold off enough of it to cover all the necessary expenses. Your heels had long since been discarded on the floor under your desk, and you did your best to not get ink on your face as you readjusted your glasses.

“Hnng, fuck,” Heat groaned from where he sat on the other side of your desk. The seat was usually reserved for those discussing the budget or making special requests, but today it was occupied by the fire breathing commander.

“Can you keep it down?” You huffed, not bothering to look up from your work, “I'm trying to concentrate.”

“S-sorry, fuck,” Heat whined, the chair under him creaking as he shifted. His head lolled back against as your stocking covered toes pressed against his cock, stroking it against his abdomen where precum was starting to make his skin sticky. His hands ran up your calves, admiring the smooth texture of the thin nylon fabric. You sandwiched his cock between the soles of your feet and stroked his shaft with them, making him bite his lip and let out a low whine as he tried to not bother you. He held your feet together to add more pressure and jerked himself off with them, letting out a louder groan.

“Heat!” You growled, “be quiet or I'll take them away!”

“Please don't! Fuck,” Heat pleaded, “gonna- gonna cum.”

“So hurry up and do it, I'm busy,” you complained. You weren't really that busy, but Heat liked feeling ignored, like getting him off was just an inconvenient chore. It was degrading for him, and it got him hot and bothered.

“Ah, fuck,” Heat groaned, pressing your feet harder against his erection before you felt the hot wet gushes of cum dripping over your feet. He went slack in his chair, panting, as you rubbed the cum on your feet into his softening cock. The overstimulation made him whimper and leak more, making you grin as you continued to pretend to ignore him.

“Disgusting,” you grumbled in faux anger, “your gross cum is all over my feet. Clean it off, dog.”

Heat slid off his chair with a whimper and took your foot in his mouth, sucking on the clothed toes and licking away the drops of cum. His mouth worked further up your legs, worshipping them with his tongue and lips and hands, until he met your thighs where your stockings met with your garters. He nipped at the delicate skin and looked up at you with pleading eyes, groping the meat of your thighs. You spread your legs for him, revealing your lack of panties under your short skirt and your wet pussy. Heat nosed against your cunt as you hooked your legs over his shoulders, and you reached under the table to thread your non-writing hand through his hair. You pulled it hard, forcing his face properly against your cunt where he eagerly lapped at it, alternating between sucking and licking on your clit and bullying his tongue inside you. Heat always ate pussy like his life depended on it, and you always appreciated the enthusiasm.

“Good dog,” you cooed, “get me all cleaned up. Show me how much you appreciate me blessing you with my feet.”

Heat's hands gripped your thighs either side of his head as he nearly suffocated himself between them, his groans vibrating against your cunt as he ate you out under the desk. Unable to keep up the facade of concentrating on your paperwork anymore, you fully involved yourself with him, digging your other hand into his hair so that now both hands were tugging at his blue locks. Heat liked having his hair pulled, and every tug made him groan against you, making you moan in turn. One last suck on your sensitive bud and you were riding out your high against his face, holding him in place as you ground your cunt against his tongue and nose until you went boneless.

Heat pushed your chair back carefully so he could climb out from under the desk, kissing the top of your breasts and your neck before his lips found yours as he leaned over you. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you wound your arms around his neck to embrace him, feeling content and satisfied in your afterglow. “Thanks for indulging me,” he smiled, brushing his nose against yours. You replied with a sleepy “mmm,” and Heat laughed quietly, lifting you carefully to plop you in his lap on a nearby couch, so you could take a much needed break and have a quick nap with his warm body lulling you to sleep.

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Oneshots Taglist: @daydreamer-in-training @chairmanraph @florcxo @luvnisstuff @nocturnalrorobin @fanaticsnail

[loganwritesprobably]

Life with the Red Haired Pirates as a woman

From anon: I wanted to ask if you could write how is  f reader's life write the red haired pirates

Tags/Warnings: Red Hair Pirates & F!Reader, headcanons, slice of life, non-sexual mention of genitals, periods mentioned

Shanks’ crew had never contained women, not since he first set it up, just him and Yassop - until you, that was

He hadn’t had a good reason for why he didn’t take women into his crew, he respected and loved women equally, he had just never met one that he felt truly fit in with the crew he was building

You took no nonsense from the boys, and could more than hold your own in a battle beside them, even against them which was no small feat

Living with all guys wasn’t the easiest lifestyle choice that you’d ever made, but certainly there was worse choices you could’ve made

They yelled, and drank, and often smelled - but you could do all of those things too

You didn’t change to be more like them, rather changing to be more like yourself, and everyone around you could see it, and couldn’t help being proud of you

Never would you admit it, but sex and even romance with the men around you had crossed your mind more than once - of course it had - but you would never go there. The crew was your home, and you wouldn’t risk losing that for a good fuck

If, far in the future, once the world was different and everyone had completed their dreams, one of them was interested.. Well maybe you did have your eye on someone

The day to day was much the same as sharing a house with any friends would be, provided they were friends you mostly got along with but sometimes threatened to kill

Everyone split chores evenly, there was no designation of work to you just because you were a woman, and you were grateful for that. It was more than you would’ve gotten on your home island

Of course, they all flirted with you, it was in their nature. It was almost entirely platonic, and it was fun. You enjoyed just laughing with people that you cared about

They were also gentlemen, for the most part. That meant them opening doors for you, pulling out chairs for you, buying your drinks. You never stopped them, who were you to be against the princess treatment?

Some crew members were more queasy about your monthly than others, and those who weren't would mock those that were. You were never made to feel unsafe or unwelcome though, that was important to all of them

Limejuice - as one of those more queasy - explained once that it was nothing to do with the process itself, it just always prompted him to think about bleeding out of his dick and that knocked him sick

One thing you did always get was complete bathroom privacy. They were content to walk in on each other, no matter what the person already in was doing, but they respected your right to quiet when shitting or showering

Tag List: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

If you'd like to tip me and get exclusive ficlets, Kofi

[tosuckmyweenis]

Just wanted to share a thought but infinite darkness older Leon is 100% the kind of man to buy his girl those vibrating panties as a “romantic” gift and also take full advantage of the fact that he has the remote for it and abuse his power

That is all

Anytime!! Anywhere!!! Absolutely!!

I tried to write a full fic, but I had a few ideas and couldn't decide; the worms aren't worming yet, so enjoy these bits and bobs for now Anon 💕

It's in a slightly weird formatting, but I hope it doesn't bother too much. I'm kind of on the fence about these because i read them over too much but fuck it we ball.

In public while doing mundane tasks?!

The only day Leon is home is, of course, the day you chose to get all your errands done; he only tags along once he convinces you that today would be the perfect day to test out that little gift he got you, wagging the remote in one hand and the black lace in the other. After all, he sounded so convincing, and with that smirk plastered on his perfect face, you weren't going to say no.

Starting off with just the lowest setting on the way to the first store with the reassurance that he'd be on his best behaviour.

Staying close behind you, staring shamelessly at your ass while you're pushing the cart in some grocery store, making your way through the isles trying to grab the box of cereal you needed off the top shelf, he refuses to help.

Waiting until you're on your tippy toes before cranking the power up to max. He loves how your body jerks in shock at the sudden intensity and clamping your hand over your mouth and the inside of your cheek to stop a moan from slipping out. Then, he takes the opportunity to press himself against you to grab the item before leaning down and whispering into your ear. 

"Careful, Sweetheart, You wouldn't want to cause a scene, would you?" Finally lowering it once he tosses the box in the cart, continuing to do the same thing for every item you reach for over and over, never letting you cum though

"Why should I risk letting other people see your pretty face? It's meant for my eyes alone. Although, you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?"

Finally, getting everything you need and checking out, loading everything into the back of the jeep. 

He'd just hand you a bag, and when you bend over to put it away, smack your ass, and when you turn to yell at him, he's just leaning on the side, holding the remote and turning it up with a shit-eating grin. 

"Leon, please," shamelessly begging him at this point, your legs finally giving out.

"Sorry, what was that? Please, what?" 

"Please let me cum, s'too much; I need to" 

"Since you asked so nicely, I'll give you what you want." 

Deciding to go early in the morning before rush hour was the smartest decision you made that day.

At home while you do chores?!

Doing chores was at the bottom of your list of things you wanted to do today, but things needed to get done, and you refused to ask Leon for help; the poor man works enough as it is and deserves to relax a little.

You were grumbling about it until he brought up a little positive reinforcement, which is how you ended up with a death grip on the edge of the kitchen sink.

You lost count of just how many times you came so far, panting like you just ran a mile, legs trembling, barely able to hold weight anymore.

Staring at the back of his head while watching a movie, his arm lazily tossed over the back of the couch, his thumb mindlessly moving the controls around in no particular rhythm, periodically stopping to give you a break before resuming.

"I don't hear any dishes being washed."

Rinse and repeat until you're just a crying, overstimulated mess.

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 38

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

The Spreadsheet is back! Welcome to my not-so-weekly fic rec list. This is everything I've read since the last time I did this (I think). They're in alphabetical order (I think) by Pedro Boy.

I'm being even more lazy than I usually am and not including the tags, just the summaries, so be careful and look at the tags! Any commentary from me is in green.

Sight - a Dave one shot by @goodwithcheese - A surveillance job offers Dave a distraction. - there are other one shots in this universe I also highly recommend. You can find them >here<

Forget My Charms - a Dave one shot by @joelscruff - your new boss gives you a memorable first day

Work Song- a Dave one shot by @eupheme - Work Song + Dave York - this was for my hozier drabble challenge and it's so good!!

Sedated - a Dave one shot by @luxurychristmaspudding - you and dave are no strangers to this business, to death. so there can be no harm in relying on each other in times of need.

Hold Please - a Dave/Javi P/ Marcus P series by @ghostofaboy - Dave decides to arrange a little get-together for him, Javier and Marcus. - m/m/m!!!

Memories - a Dieter one shot by @bitchesuntitled - What happens when your husband, Dieter, forgets who you are?

You're the Loss of My Life - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters - You reminisce on your time with your riduur after his death. - ow

[Sin]ema - a Frankie one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - You are unhappy in your marriage but trying to hang on. When you ask your husband to spend more time with you, he thinks a movie date is in order. You don't expect to run into your ex fiance, Frankie, and his new wife there.

Sun to Me - a Javi P one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - Javi wakes up early to do chores, but can’t peel himself away from you just yet.

Sunlight - a Joel one shot by @lotusbxtch - Joel Miller has avoided love, pushed it away at the first sight to stay in the darkness. But then he meets you, and he wonders if he was wrong after all.

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun - a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes - Storm chaser-turned-weatherman Joel Miller hunts down his old crew in an effort to serve his wife with divorce papers. When a storm interrupts his efforts, he finds himself falling back into old routines and old feelings. A Twister (1996) AU

Delicate - a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters - You play with Joel’s hair during a moment of anguish.

Pull - a Joel one shot by @javier-pena - You discover something new about Joel.

Should've Stayed Bored - a Joel one shot by @pedroshotwifey - You really need to learn to lower your expectations. - this fic is hilarious

Nephilim - a Joel series by @cherubispunk - Joel Miller was something of a biblical figure to you. A small glimpse into the past of something archaic, untold, and harbouring on the dangerous. You liked to imagine him as one of the Nephilim. A son of god, offspring borne of a fallen angel and man. A giant of misunderstood nature. Who’s soul had been cast down on earth in punishment. His large hands had bloodshed on them, or so people had said. They whispered it quietly in the spaces between. The places he didn’t occupy often. But he was always on your mind…so there was no place for those whispers there.

Nicest Thing - a Joel series by @schnarfer - Let's fall madly in love with neighbour!Joel

Observations - Joel one shot by @ezrasbirdie - You're not like the other girls, but it'd be easier if you were. Joel Miller doesn't see it that way. - neurodivergent reader!!!

God is a Woman - Max Phillips one shot by @wheresarizona - Max Phillips has been trying to fuck you since the moment you met. It surprises him when you want to fuck him. (Or pegging Max Phillips) - y'all already know how i feel about pegging fics.

It Will Come Back - a Max Phillips one shot by @beskarandblasters - Against your better judgment, you let Max drink your blood. - another amazing entry for my hozier drabble challenge!

Happy Reading!

[quotidian-oblivion]

Writing Positivity Tag!!!

Wasn't tagged, but again saw this game and loved it.

What do you take pride in with your own writing?

Hmmm... probably the plots. Because I really like the ideas and concepts I come up with. I mean, the Bruce Wayne writes fanfic au? I'm still blown away by it.

Did you have any big inspirations from another writeblr?  Who and how?

Ughhhhhh. I have so many. But the biggest ones? @cygnusdoesthings because of her, i'm still writing right now. Cuz the comments she put on My School’s Local Mafia Boss and then the recordings was what made me really, truly, well and fully realize that there were actual people who were saying all those stuff behind the comments. And also she has helped me a whole lot through so much.

@tristicorde cuz i go to her every time i feel low about my writing or about posting something and she always - always - knows the right things to say. Thats because the things she says are just facts. Not reassurances made up for the sole purpose of reassuring, but facts that reassure me. Also, her descriptive style of writing is something i strive to achieve 😭

@wakkoroni It's because of Vibes that I have as many crackfics as i do now (wips and posted). We have such a time and vibe just spouting out shitposts to each other in conversations, as well as incorrect quotes and hypotheses and hcs about the batfam, it is impossible to spend even 5 minutes with her and not get inspired to write or create something.

@sardonic-sprite because the first real fic i wrote (Ya Dun Fucked Up) was inspired by her Harbor. Her fics are the ultimate comfort, the ultimate hurt, the ultimate angst, the ultimate crack, and the ultimate family bonding. If you don't at least appreciate them, you don't appreciate anything.

That was a long answer. Anyways, moving on! (oh, special mention @uncertainwallflower cuz she helped me get past a very incredibly super-awful severe case of writer's block once)

What are you most proud of in your current WIP?

LMAO. WHICH WIP? 🤣

K the main one i'm focusing on rn is the tim gets kidnapped fic co-written with Vibey. And two things i'm most proud of in there are: a) how well mine and vibey's ideas just meld into each other b) the sheer amount of angst sprinkled throughout the fic. It's awesome. I love it.

What is your idea of a perfect day of writing?

Uhhh. I have chocolate milk or boba. I'm sitting at my desk instead of the beanbag cuz the desk is actually clear for once. I'm hyperfocusing as i write and don't notice the time pass by and don't have any pressuring due dates for school and everyone at home is sleeping and the sun is sending its rays through my window and shining on my hair making it go the cool brown color i love as i'm tip-tapping away at my computer. It happened once. I was writing the angstiest thing i had ever written at the time and was shaking. It was glorious.

What’s your big goal with writing?

That I never treat it like a chore. Ig thats more of a wish than a goal.

Then ig a goal would be to make it mean as much to someone else as it does to me. Or for people to just have a blast and let go of their worries and take a break as they read my stuff. But the goal that will never leave is to improve. I take one thing and work on it one by one until it's to my satisfaction. Currently, i'm working on describing settings.

No pressure tags: @uncertainwallflower @cygnusdoesthings @sardonic-sprite @wakkoroni @tristicorde @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego @blightwritesfic @pevensiechase

[gonnachasethestars]

Readmored for length, tw for injury, and tw for emotional abuse from family. If there's anything else I need to tag let me know and I will!

Why was climbing up a trellis such a chore? A person would think after all the times the tanuki had done it, things would get easier. But he was still panting, as he climbed through the window in the hallway of the second floor. His little brother came out of his room, likely with the intention of going downstairs to do the final cleanup for the night. It had been Kounosuke's turn, but there were photographs to be taken.

As usual, he'd asked his little brother to lie for him.

"You really should lose weight if you want to climb up mom's trellis." Spoke Yukiharu, who was just getting ready for cleanup.

"I'm not fat. I'm just a liiiiiittle bit chubby." Kounosuke had more important things on his mind right now. "You're not gonna tell them I was gone, are you?"

The smaller tanuki shook his head, as a no. That put a smile on Kounosuke's face, as he hugged the little guy. That was when he went off to his room, to settle down for the night. To look over his photographs. He had a contest to win, and a scholarship to earn. Curious, he looks over what's in his camera, compared to what he had printed.

Nothing really special. The thought came in his mind to give up, but he had to tell himself to stick with something, even if he didn't have a natural talent for it.

He caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror while placing the pictures back on the desk. Well. Plenty of men were into fat guys, right?

Glancing through the magazine, photographs were studied. They were all so... good. Kounosuke felt as though his angles were off, or his shots were boring. Who needed twenty photographs of the same beetle? To be sure he didn't miss the deadline, he checked the date, which he hadn't done before.

...It couldn't be right.

Setting the magazine down, Kounosuke prepares to go to the bathroom to wash his glasses off. Clearly, they were dirty, and causing him to see things the wrong way. But before he could reach it, an ear twitched. He could hear his parents arguing all the way up here. What was it this time?

"Where is he this time? He's supposed to be cleaning down here." His mother always did have a demanding voice.

"How should I know? Let him be a kid." Said his father. "I was the same way at his age."

His mother sighed, and shook her head. "He's going to be living with his little brother all his life if he doesn't learn responsibility! What if he's a lost cause?"

Though Kounosuke was only listening, he could still almost hear his father's anger.

"Like I was?" Said Mr. Kuri. "How can we expect Kounosuke not to be a fuck up like me?"

That was where Kounosuke stopped listening. Everything hurt. What was he supposed to think, when those who claimed to love him unconditionally didn't feel that way at all? Quietly walking back to his room, his arm is to his face. Yeah, he was alone. No one could see him crying his eyes out.

He knew they were right. He was useless. If he stayed here, he'd be sponging off of Yukiharu the rest of his life.

For a short time, he buries his face in a pillow. He didn't want anyone to hear, in spite of his silence, that he couldn't stop crying. He knew his friends thought he was a failure, but he'd never heard that kind of treatment from his parents. Not to this extent. He knew his father cared way more about watching sports than spending time with him. He knew his mother always got on him about watching the shop.

But nothing like this.

No. He refused.

Though the tears continued to pour, he got up, and through blurry vision, began packing a bag. He refused to spend the rest of his life that way. Even if it took him a long time to get back on his feet, he'd prove to them he could do something. Maybe someday he'd write them a letter. If they even cared enough to read it.

He'd be just fine on his own. He could start with something simple. Waiter or dishwasher. Maybe both. He didn't care if he had to work three jobs, he'd find an apartment. He'd get out of this village, and he'd make something of himself. He'd be someone. Not the repair man's fat loser of a son.

Bag packed, it's soon on his back, and he's prepared. Just enough money for a bus ticket to Kazenari, and a train ticket to the next city over. No one would ever think to look for him there, assuming anybody even noticed he was gone. There was no way he could make anyone happy, at least, not as he was now.

Sliding out into the night air, he's finally calmed his breathing. The tanuki begins climbing down the trellis, soon...

S N A P !

Maybe he had put a couple pounds on over the summer. The trellis snapped under his weight. Upon landing, he couldn't even breathe. He'd just fallen, having landed on his right foot on impact. It hurt like hell, and there he was, crying again. Moments pass, until he can finally breathe again. Then, he forces himself to his feet, to discover how it felt to put weight on that foot.

It was like stepping on glass. God damn it.

His little brother must have heard it, the only one nearby, finishing up the end of night shop cleaning. Due to the night, hopefully Yukiharu couldn't see him crying. He didn't want his little brother's last memories of him to be him bawling.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone." Kounosuke said.

His little brother nodded, and Kounosuke pulled him into a hug.

"I love you, lil' bro. I know I don't say it enough but... yeah."

Yukiharu began walking back towards the shop. God it hurt to walk, but he pushed through the pain, and eventually, he even stopped crying. The sadness, and pain turned into a fire. Determination to make something of himself.

To be somebody.

[sixflame438]

Forever

Synopsis - Its exam season and you just finished your last paper. What better way to celebrate than to spend the night with the love of your life?

Pairing - Pham Hanni X Reader

Tags - Fluff, jumping jokes, swear words i think? Established relationship, possible spelling and grammar errors as i proofread this at 3am. You’re both so in love

A/N - FIRST POST!! Lowkey quite excited to make my debut but it’s scary lol. Hopefully you enjoy reading it. This is in honor of me finishing mocks, cant wait to fuck up my real ones :D

Word count - 4044

“Pens and pencils down students, your exams are now over” called a monotone voice. A crack of bones could be heard as the invigilator stood up and walked around collecting all the papers.  You hurriedly finished off what you were writing before dropping the pencil in your hand, looking back at your paper with disdain and disbelief. 

3 hours. You had spent 3 hours writing and erasing the same thing over and over again. The first time you had done spelling mistakes, the second time you had thought of a better way to rephrase everything and by the fifth time you rubbed your work out you had 5 minutes left.

Why did you even take that subject? You never enjoyed it and it was a chore to even complete the work assigned. Well it was either this or advanced maths and chemistry you thought to yourself, lowly chuckling knowing you would’ve rather jumped than take either of those courses.

Reluctantly you handed the paper over to the old man who said nothing as he hobbled over to the next desk, still with the same bored expression he wore when he first walked in. You cant blame him though, he had been sitting in the same room as you for 3 hours doing nothing but staring out the window. 

Scanning the room you could see the mixture of emotions, some ecstatic that the paper went well, some just as distraught as you were while some were just glad  it was over. Deciding maybe that’s the best thing to think about right now you also let out a sigh of relief, following your peers out of the exam hall.

After collecting your phone and bag you open it to see the time and no new text messages. Strange, Hanni should be free around now considering she had finished all her exams last week and the one you just took was the last one on the schedule. Thinking nothing more of it you trudged your way through the busy corridors of the building and found yourself in the cafeteria, the long, dreadful hours of your exam really took a toll on your energy.

After surveying your options for lunch you eventually decide to just keep it simple and grab 2 of the prepacked sandwiches, not even caring enough to see what flavours they were, you were just too hungry. As you took a bite of your sandwich (inside was ham, scrambled egg, hash brown and sauce) the deafening sounds of the dining hall finally catching up to you.

It was always busy, hundreds of students gathered in one place to hangout and enjoy some mediocre food, not to mention that an exam had just finished so the level of activity in the hall was tremendous. Deciding it was too much you opt to go home instead, back to your dorm you shared with the best (and your only) roommate you could ever ask for. It was the end of the week and you had no classes left either so there was no reason to stay anyways. 

During the hike home (you lived 10 minute walk away from campus) you stopped as you walked by the local park and playground. Seeing all the kids running around so carefree and excited had you reminiscing about all the times you and Hanni had fun there too. When one would have too much energy to sleep or were too bored to study you would always find a way back to the park together having the time of your life doing the most stupid shit known to man kind. Small but precious moments like those were the ones you cherished most. You didn’t need big grand and fancy to be happy, being quite content with small and intimate instead.

Finishing off the last bite of your sandwich you reached into your backpack and pulled out your second one as you continued your trek home. The first sandwich although did surprise you wasn’t all that bad. The flavours worked well together especially with the house made special sauce but it was all probably leftovers from breakfast anyway as they were your typical morning foods. You would kill to find out what was in that sauce though, there was just something about it that had your tastebuds melting away into a land of bliss and yumminess. Hanni never agreed with you (being a strong hater of the sauce) but found you quite endearing and just marked it off as one of your weird but adorable quirks. 

By the time you had finished your second sandwich (just a basic BLT but with chicken??) your legs had carried you to the front of your door. Scrambling around the pocket of your backpack you pull out your bundle of keys (filled with memorable keyrings and charms you and Hanni got one another) unlocking the door and slowly closing it behind as you enter.

Kicking off your shoes and placing down your stuff on the nearest table you walk over to your bedroom, quietly opening it to find a sleeping Hanni curled up in a little ball deep in the depths of her slumber. You giggle to yourself as you take a picture of the sight with your phone, adding it to the preexisting album of similar photos you had been sneakily taking for the past (almost) 1 year you guys had been together.

Hanni sleeping was one of your favourite versions of her. Here she is all calm and relaxed which is a stark contrast to when she was awake, lively and chaotic bring havoc anywhere she went. You loved her for it though, it brought a sense of uncertainty to your day and you just loved to see her have fun.

Deliberately trying not to disrupt the serenity you had found yourself in, you place your phone on the bedside drawer. Taking off your hoodie you change into more comfortable sleeping shorts. You carefully crawl into bed next to Hanni and wrap your arms around her waist. Instinctively Hanni responds to your touch pulling you closer to her and snuggling her head into the space between your head and shoulder. Your heart fluttered inside your chest at the small movement. The two of you did this every night but you knew you would never get tired of having her in your arms, basically sharing the same air. A small smile could be seen on your face as you drifted into the slumber of your afternoon nap, the exhaustion of the early morning hitting you hard. 

—————

Shifting around you warily open your eyes to be met with closed blinds, a blanket placed over you (now ruffled up as you had woken up) and an empty spot where Hanni used to be. As you got out of bed and peeked behind the door you could clearly hear light jazz and the sound of Hanni tapping away on her phone.  Tiptoeing over to her you gently pull her into a soft embrace. She flinches a little startled by your presence but quickly reciprocates the hug. 

“Hey baby how was your nap?” 

“It was nice but i woke up to find my giant teddy bear missing” you say with a pout.

“Aww baby your so cute, I’m right here though and I’m not going anywhere” she says back with a light chuckle, clearly amused with your response. “How’d your last exam go?” 

“I don’t think its anything worth talking, it wasn’t anything good thats for sure.” You reply, disappointment clear on your face. 

“Hey its alright, its just a measly paper you can always do better in the finals yea? Mocks are just for practice anyway” 

“Yea yea” you say dismissively “Whatcha doin?”

“Oh yea i was replying to Yunjins text, she was asking if we were gonna go to Wonyoung’s party tonight, you know the one she hosts after every last exam?” 

“Are we?”

“That depends on you, do you wanna go?”

“Uhh I’m kinda tired and parties aren’t usually my scene anyway”

“I think you should though. It would be a good way to let loose after exams and have some fun. I’ve seen how tense you’ve been the past few weeks, studying so hard to do well. Plus you would get to see the rest of the girls, its been a while since we’ve all hung out outside of class.”

In all actuality you didn’t want to go at all but with how much Hanni wanted you to just have some fun, you couldn’t say no to those pleading eyes. You missed the girls anyway so it would be a nice bonus.

“Yea okay but I’m only gonna have a few drinks max.” 

“Its fine you drink as much as you want i’ll stay sober for you tonight. Just have some fun okay?”

Parties were always more Hanni’s forte and for her to stay sober just for you was heartwarming as you knew she didn’t want you to risk doing anything dumb or getting hurt. Testament of how you had broken a large ceramic vase at the last party you went to when you had drunk too much and tripped over your own foot while walking. Luckily Wonnie didn’t care too much about that specific vase, saying she wanted to get rid of it anyway so you just gave her more of a reason to do so.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel left out or anything because of me”

“Yes I’m sure plus taking care of you is my full time responsibility can’t let anything happen to you. Now come on lets go get ready” Hanni says excitedly.

You grumble in annoyance but ultimately allow yourself to be dragged back into your bedroom, how could you ever say no to Hanni anyway???

—————

“And done!” Hanni exclaims as she steps back, admiring her hard work. “I’m gonna go get myself ready now hurry up and put your outfit on! I’ll be waiting outside” your girlfriend says before kissing your cheek and skipping out of your shared bedroom. A light blush appears below the blush she had just finished applying to you as you smile to yourself. God you loved Hanni so much she was just so adorable and treated you so well too.

You were never a big fan of doing your makeup or purposefully dressing to impress and you only really started putting in that effort when you started trying to rizz Hanni up. (You tried and failed but she found you quite endearing) How you managed to pull her you will never know but you would go through all your failed attempts again if it meant having her by your side. She is literally the love of your life and the amount of things you would do for her makes you seem borderline insane, but anything for her right?

After putting on the outfit Hanni had planned for you and grabbing a few other essentials you walk out to see the girl in her own outfit, although simple it did wonders on making her look so much prettier. Or was it the other way around?

“Aww baby you’re so beautiful, I’m so glad I get to call you mine” 

“Such a sweet talker, have you seen yourself in the mirror? The pleasures all mine” You reply back in between kisses. If there was one way you would happily die to it was lack of oxygen while kissing Hanni. Her soft pillowy lips were quite literally to die for and just thinking about them could have you watering. 

“Okay we can continue this later let’s go!”

—————

Hand in hand you walk up to the house that was blasting hiphop tunes, door wide open as you could see that it was already packed. You felt a queasy feeling come up but pushed it aside as you felt Hanni squeeze your hand in comfort. “Remember if you want to leave just let me know, i’ll probably be talking to other people but I promise to stand in open places so you can find me easier okay?” 

“Okay I’ll keep that in mind, thanks again for tonight”

“Aww baby you’re too cute” Hanni says with a happy pout, giving your face a little squish in the process. “Now go have fun its what your here for” 

“Yes ma’am” you respond with a small salute before going over to the drinks table. Hanni giggles again at your behaviour, how could she have not fallen for you? Although nonchalant on the outside you were just an adorable little loser, HER adorable loser and she wouldn’t trade you for anything. 

“Aye Yn you look so hot girl! If I didn’t know any better I’d so hit on you tonight” 

A small laugh escapes your mouth as you feel 2 arms wrapping around you. 

“Hey Gigi its nice to see you too and don’t even get me started on you’re outfit! Are you trying to get hit on tonight or something??”

“Haha thanks girly, I’m not but Minjeongs definitely trying to. She’s been attempting to flirt with Karina all night but she’s so short and cant stand her ground because she keeps getting interrupted by not only her own stupidity but also the other partygoers who are also trying to hit on Karina. I feel sorry for Minjeongie but its fucking hilarious to watch especially since she keeps stumbling over her words. She’s both whipped and drunk, its a great combo” Giselle tells you as she laughs at the situation Winter had gotten herself into.

“Enough about her let’s go get you some drinks in your system and have some fun!” 

You nod in agreement as you allow yourself to be dragged away again, twice in one day. 

—————

By now you had had multiple drinks and played 4 rounds of beer pong against different classmates. You danced here and there when good songs started playing and also managed to trip up Yunjin completely on accident as she has tried walking up to talk to you. You didn’t drink much normally and were quite the lightweight.

Some how during the night you ended up with Minji instead, neither of you knowing how you ended up together. You were barely coherent as you tried to drink more, swaying from side to side as you walked. 

“Okay girl I think you’ve had enough where’s your girlfriend at? Come on Yn let’s go” Minji whines as she attempts to drag you over to Hanni but you weren’t having it, choosing to grab onto the nearest object you could to prevent yourself being dragged away. You weren’t about to be kidnapped today and no one but your girlfriend could touch you. 

“God you’re so stubborn how does Hanni deal with you everyday? You know what forget it you’re a lost cause” 

“HEY! You say exasperated “thats so meeeeaaannnnn” purposely elongating your words to annoy Minji even more.        

“Yea? Well I’m done ah perfect timing here’s the angel you speak so highly of.” 

“Hey Minji sorry for having to deal with her but I can take over now” Hanni had been easily alerted by your loud presence and came over to see what was up.

As soon as you registered who the owner of that angelic voice was you turned around and did a little jog over to her with outstretched arms ready to crush her and never let go.

“Hannnnniiiiiiiiiiiiii” You were always extra clingy when drinking but ONLY towards your beloved, everyone else had to face an annoying baby who was actively praying on their downfall. 

“Hey baby I’m here now” she tells you but she’s sure its gone straight over your head as you do nothing but cling tighter. 

Minji just stands there amused at the scene in front of her. “Nah don’t worry about it Yn hardly ever drinks anyway and despite how annoying she is she’s quite entertaining haha”

“Yea she’s something when she’s drunk alright. Do you and the rest of the girls wanna hang out sometime? Exam season is over and its been a while”

“Oh yea of course I’m so down, i’ll ask the girls later. Speaking of I should probably go check on Dani, last I saw she was throwing up in a random bush” Minji says wincing at the last part, Dani no anyone throwing up was a disgusting sight.

“Oof yea have fun dealing with her, I think I’m gonna take Yn home now. I’ll text you later yea?”

“Yep sounds like a plan, have a good night!” 

“I think you need that more to me haha” 

“Yea I probably do” Minji says deadpanning before leaving to go find Danielle “Cya!”

During her conversation with Minji you had managed to almost fall asleep just hanging onto Hanni like a koala and if it weren’t for the support you would’ve fallen over by now with how much you were swaying on your feet, the alcohol making you unable to stay still. 

“Hey sweetheart wanna go home now? You look very sleepy” Hanni cooes gently. However you were unresponsive so she pokes you in the cheek and squishes your face with her hands. This does nothing to wake you up though as the warm hands against your face just make you feel more at home. 

“Yn?” Hanni chuckles lightly. What a sweet sweet voice that is you think to yourself, should only belong to the prettiest girls in the world. Oh wait thats my girlfriend. Hehehehe, mine. Hanni chuckles again as she hears you mumble out that last part 

“Ynnie you’re too cute, come on lets get going” 

“Nooooo but I don’t wannnnaaa go homeeeee” You whine pouting your bottom lip even further as if it would convince Hanni more.

Your girlfriend thinks for a second before replying “how about we got get some food then? From that one place we go to when I’m hungover and your too lazy to cook?”

“Oh yay I love that place! They make the best fried chicken and cold noodles. Its always so yummy, there isn’t a single time its been bad. And their homemade dumplings??? Ugh so good. Have you tried their…” You carry on rambling as Hanni leads you out to your car, most of your words slurred but having spent so long with you now Hanni has no problem deciphering your drunken thoughts.

The entire drive over was just more of you asking and answering your own questions like a loopy idiot. Hanni did nothing but listen and hold one of your hands as she drove towards the late night restaurant you both frequented. Usually it was always Hanni yapping away so it was a nice change for both of you today.

—————

After you both devoured that one hell of a meal;(you ordered almost everything and Hanni couldn’t find it in her to stop you. If it weren’t for the old grandma who owned the place you would probably be out of money now “yah don’t eat so much so late! Come back another day”) you decided to go to the local park.

It wasn’t far from your home (the same one you walked past earlier) and had a beautiful view. Not prettier than your girlfriend of course but definitely up there. Sure it was now 4am but thats beside the point and you both had nothing planned anyway. Somehow after spending the entire time laughing and giggling away your drunk ass still had too much energy, the alcohol still apparent in your system. Hanni didn’t know how you did it, you were always so energetic when drunk, more hyper and affectionate.

It was as if all the energy you didn’t use in the day gets stored and just comes out all at once. She loved you like this though as it gave her a chance to take care of you like you normally did to her. Hanni was always more appreciative when you drank though as it was when she realized how much energy it truly takes to look after a drunkie and made her feel sorry for you as you were always there for her after every night out. 

Hanni made her way over to your spot on the little hill, luckily she didn’t have to lug you around this time as you had bolted off as soon as she had parked the car. Running around like a child in the meadows, basking in the sunlight. It wasn’t the afternoon or anything close but the bright moon rays casted a wonderful glow over everything it touched, including your body that was now sprawled out on the grass. 

Sitting down next to you she leans on the giant oak tree standing proud as the flagpole of your sacred space. You shift closer to Hanni and put your head in her lap, staring up at the stars above. Tonight was the first time you had seen this many stars out in a while, the sky free of clouds as the stars shone like glitter in the night.

No matter how radiant the stars were you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at your girlfriend, her dazzling beauty and kind personality captured you in a kind of enchantment. There was no other star you needed except her. The both of you just sit and stare out at the stars as you enjoy being in each others presence. It had been about 10 minutes before you spoke up, nearly dozing off against Hanni.

“Hey Hanni thanks for taking me out tonight, I think I really needed this and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

You speaking out of the blue catches her attention as she looks down at you with an affectionate smile.

“Aww sweetheart there’s no need to thank me I’m just returning the favour” She replies back proudly

“I love when you take care of me like I’m the only girl in the world” 

“I’ll make sure to do it more often then my sweet baby angel” Hanni says as she brings her hand up to your hair, combing through thoroughly and getting rid of the knots that formed from the eventful night you’ve had. “ you’re lucky I love taking care of you and I’ll keep doing it for as long as you’ll have me” 

“Make yourself comfortable then cause I don’t plan on leaving any time soon.” You retort back with a muffled chuckle. “Or ever for that matter” Whispering the last line softly when you feel a warm hand fall to your left cheek.

“Oh really? So forever?” Hanni asks a little amused but more wonderstruck as the implications of your words didn’t escape her. 

“Forever” you replied back, asserting your previous statement. 

Hanni’s face goes flush as she turns her head away from you in embarrassment, not that you could tell either way as your eyes had almost fully closed. A small ping from both of your phones regains Hanni’s attention as she glances down at the notification. Beaming at you she bends down to leave a kiss on your forehead. The gentle and delicate touch wakes you up as your eyes open up again, looking back at your girlfriend with a dopey and sleepy but loving gaze. 

“I love you so much you know that?” You remind Hanni as your eyes start fluttering close again, shifting in and out of consciousness. The mix of her tender touches and the stress of the week adding to your sleepy state. 

“You remind me everyday, how could I not?” Hanni quips before fondly adding  “I love you too Yn, happy 1 year anniversary” 

Tearing her gaze away from your drowsy figure, she could see the glimpses of sunlight start to poke through the sky.

A low whisper could be heard as you mumbled back an I love you too.

There is no combination of words Hanni could use to describe how much you meant to her and how much she cherished you. You were her everything. She smiled lovingly as she heard your breathing slowly even out.

Ironic how you fell asleep as the world began to wake but sometimes it’s better to just have that moment to yourselves. And what better time to have it than when everyones asleep? Not a single soul out to bother you.

Just you and the love of your life.

Together, forever. 

[introvertbard]

Your weekly reminder that this "preindustrial travel" post has been updated A LOT! https://jadevine.tumblr.com/post/738801850678116352/preindustrial-travel-and-long-explanations-on-why

previous poster's tags: #writing #fascinating info really #that last tidbit seems true though im pretty sure thats how the US postal service started out basically

The Pony Express is very famous... and very short-lived! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pony_Express

There was also a preindustrial version of it: The Persian / Achaemenid Empire's postal service! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chapar_Khaneh

Notice how this is an EMPIRE and not a "Kingdom," though?

Read more for why the Pony Express is Not Practical!

If you swap out horses, you can cover a lot more ground in a day than one rider and their loyal horse. BUT you will need:

-A safe route. Problem: How do you keep it safe? Perhaps...

-A unified group of nobles/officials who all agree on where the route goes, and who is responsible for maintenance. This rules out... a LOT of preindustrial regions.

-However many FIT AND WELL-TRAINED HORSES you need to cover that distance. Problem: You also need to find people WILLING TO PART with those incredibly fit horses. Preindustrial cities and towns averaged 20 miles of distance. The Pony Express averaged 10 miles between stations, so 2-3 reasonably fit horses can power through the distance between two preindustrial cities. BUT you are surely sending more than 1 letter per day! Let's say you need 50 horses to account for a couple dozen rich and impatient clients, who REALLY want overnight shipping!

-ENOUGH GRAIN AND HAY to feed all those Olympic-level horses. Problem: You know how a warhorse eats 10-20 pounds of grain per day? Fifty top-level horses need 500-1,000lbs of grain altogether PER DAY and ~182,500-365,000lbs of grain PER YEAR. Your average person eats 3-6lbs of grain per day and probably 1095-2190lbs per year, so that means... you need a LOT of food and a LOT of convincing to feed it to horses instead of people.

-However many FIT AND WELL-TRAINED RIDERS to use those horses properly! Problem: RIDING IS A FUCKING WORKOUT!!! I mentioned in the original post that hard rides can literally kill you AND your horse from exertion, so here's a story about how LIGHT rides can also put you out of action: My lesson pony spooked one day in the arena, and on the way down, I sprained my shoulder and cracked off a bit of a fingernail.

It took a month for my shoulder to heal enough for me to DO CHORES WITHOUT PAIN, and then LIFT THE SADDLE in my next lesson. It was not fun because I was using a Western saddle, so it was probably 20-30lbs. When I changed my fingernail bandages, it was also creepy to see about a quarter of my nail slowly grow back over several weeks.

So I can ride, if the horse is reliable, and I'm in a safe area. Galloping for one mile minimum, though? That's for GOOD riders who've gotten way more than weekly lessons on a handful of school-horses. At their level, they probably have their own horse by now.

People who make a career out of galloping are RACING JOCKEYS, who I've mentioned in another post are notoriously stacked. Pretty much every other rider says that they are on a completely different level of fitness, and they're ALREADY fit!

--

Everyone knows that European knights were trained for fighting and riding horses from childhood, but here's some Ancient Chinese cavalry requirements that sound just as fucking beastly:

"The rule for selecting cavalry warriors is to take those under forty, who are at least seven feet five inches tall, strong and quick, who surpass the average. Men who, while racing a horse, can fully draw a bow and shoot. Men who can gallop forward and back, left and right, and all around, both advancing and withdrawing. Men who can jump over moats and ditches, ascend hills and mounds, gallop through narrow confines, cross large marshes, and race into a strong enemy, causing chaos among their masses."

The Chinese foot in the third century was likely the chi and closer to 9-9.5 inches, so "seven feet and 5 inches" in third century China translates to "68-71 modern inches." Five feet and eight inches is what most people would call "normal/average height" for a man, but with "draw a bow and shoot" combined with "THERE IS ONLY ONE SPEED IN THE CHINESE CAVALRY, AND THAT IS 'GALLOP,'" you'd need the conditioning of a Mixed Martial Arts fighter to handle that.

That "under forty years old" cutoff is remarkable, considering that a lot of athletes retire MUCH younger just because of the wear and tear they go through, not because they WANT TO. In my own field of acting, the "injured dancer/athlete to actor" pipeline is FULL of people who started their former field in childhood and got a career-ending injury at like 25 years old!

Imagine finding a hundred jockeys / welterweights who are willing to do glorified mailman service! How much do you pay them? How do you make sure they don't just steal your VERY NICE horses and rampage across the countryside?

Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance." For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND.

If you are traveling in winter or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

[bamsywrites]

Guilt (Tyrion Lannister x Reader)

paring: Tyrion x Reader; Tywin x Reader

summary: Tyrion is consumed with guilt as he sees just how his actions have affected you

word count: idk but sure as fuck not 13.k Idk where I got that number from 🤦

tags: pregnant! reader, mentions of miscarriage/infant loss, pretty fucking huge age gaps mentioned. tywin doing tywin things. angsty with some hurt/comfort. there's a lot of plot building as i want to attempt to make this into a series. pining. future friends to lovers.

AN: this is my first time writing in a loooong fucking time. I am open to constructive criticism and feedback. I have plans on making this into a series so let me know if that would interest you. this scenario has been in my maladaptive daydreams for so long lol. Please let me know how you like it!

--

Tyrion watched you from his spot overlooking the river where the women were doing the washing for the day. An older woman was showing you the best methods for getting stains out from the fabrics of sheets and clothes, you watched with a furrowed brow and genuine curiosity from your seat on a large boulder. Tyrion had noticed this was a new behavior trend of yours. You'd go to the kitchens, the stables, the rivers, all to try and lend a hand or learn. Your noble birth made it so you never had to wash your clothes or clean your rooms or make your food. He'd observed that since arriving in Mereen, you almost seemed to be trying to repent of the sin of being born a noblewoman by doing the chores and duties of those most would consider beneath someone of your birth. Not that you ever thought that way.

Tyrion's eyes drifted down to your swollen belly which you were stroking softly as you watched the woman and he scoffed with a quick swig from a flask of whatever wine he was able to get his hands on. You were nearing the end of your pregnancy, evident by your size and the waddle to which you walked. Dany had been accommodating to your state by having someone around to assist you if need be and keeping a midwife on standby for the impending birth. The queen had been more forgiving than he could have hoped for when it came to the two of you. You had given a rather convincing speech when you had arrived after fleeing Kings Landing. He could still hear the words ring in his mind.

"Your Majesty, I was but a child when your father was overthrown and family murdered. I was a child still when I was betrothed. No choice in my life has ever been my own. I was sold like cattle to the highest bidder and forced to have his children so he could in turn ship them away and form alliances with lords and kings. Everything I have done has been to protect me and my children. All I ever will do is to protect my children. I want them to live a life better than mine and from what I have seen here you would be able to provide that more than any man in Westores currently fighting for the throne. For that, you will have my loyalty."

It was well-spoken and you stood tall while you said it, but he could see the fear in your eyes. How could he blame you? A pregnant woman far from home in the territory of someone who wanted her dead simply because of who she was forced to marry. Staying in the Red Keep wouldn't have bode well for you either, his sister had never been fond of you and with the death of his father, the castle suddenly became very dangerous for you.

Tyrion understood why Tywin wanted to make an alliance with your house. Your father was lord of a southern house that was known for its impressive feats on the field of battle, no one had ever defeated House ____ on the battlefield and most were met with devastating defeats when they were on horseback. The best tacticians Westores had ever seen either came from your house or were mentored by the lords of your house. Tywin wanted that alliance and he was always looking to further his family line but Jamie had made vows and Tywin would rather die than give Tyrion any claim to Casterly Rock. That left him to marry you, which he did. You were young. Very young. He remembered how scared you looked on your wedding day as his father covered you in a robe of Lannister Red.

You'd done your duty as a wife very well. 6 years since your wedding to his father and you'd had several pregnancies and two living children - daughters much to Tywins dismay. You bore him a son named Tytos but he fell asleep one night never to wake again. Tyrion remembered that day very well, he walked into the hall to see his father holding you as you sobbed, pressing a kiss to your head and looking as vulnerable as Tyrion had ever seen him. Tywin always seemed to respect you and held some possessiveness over the fact that you were his lady wife. You were spoiled by him as was expected, always in the finest dresses and jewelry. Tywin made an example of anyone who dared to disrespect you, even if that person was the boy king himself. He seemed to value your intellect and wit, finding bragging rights in your brains and beauty. A fact that drove Ceresi mad. Though Tyrion supposed, the way Tywin treats your daughters was an even bigger slight to the Queen Regent.

Trysta and Nataria.

Tywin doted on them more than he did you. It was made known behind closed doors that Tywin would keep putting babes in your belly until you gave him an "heir and a spare" but there was a light to his eyes when his youngest daughters were around that made it known he cared for them too. There was an affection there that Tyrion did not remember his father showing Ceresi or Jamie as children. A fact confirmed by the jealousy his sister had for the two young girls, Jamie had never made a comment on it but he enjoyed the company of your daughters very much.

They were very sweet girls, with your eyes but the signature Lannister hair. Trysta was the eldest at five years old, she was smart and sassy, a combination that always brought a smile to Tyrion's face. There was nothing like watching a noble lord be put in their place by a small girl in a pink dress, knowing that they dare not comment back for fear of facing her father's wrath. Nataria was younger, still not quite speaking in full sentences yet, and always wanting to be picked up by anyone who would take her. Tyrion would never forget walking into the tower of the hand to see her sat on Tywins lap with her head nuzzled into his chest as she napped. Tywin informed Tyrion that the babe you were carrying was making you ill and the handmaids were unable to get her to stop crying. He didn't look up from the papers scattered across his desk and his voice was as stern and emotionless as it always was. It was almost alien to see it, to see how much Tywin was capable of some form of care for his children. Tywin often made the comment that his first three children were disappointments and that he was going to make sure his next turned out differently.

You had made the smart choice to send the two girls to stay with your family after Jofferys murder. Kings Landing was not safe for them and both girls adored Tyrion. You had not wanted them to witness his trial or execution or to be brought into the middle of dangerous court politics. You probably would have joined them if Tywin had allowed it. Tyrion was sad he never got to say goodbye to them. He loved them as much as they loved him, always reading books or buying trinkets for them. He missed them dearly but knew you missed them more.

Especially today. It was Nataria's second name day.

Tyrion was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your laugh as you watched the children play in the water and their splashes of water soaking your dress and hair. He noticed that your laugh didn't quite reach your eyes and the guilt panged through him.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

You were distracting yourself, he realized, from the pain of what today meant. The pain of not being with your children. The pain of not knowing when you will see them again. He couldn't imagine the pain in your heart. Almost like you knew what he was thinking, your eyes locked with his and he gave you a curt nod before standing and heading away from the river.

---

Later that night he saw you again, sat in the gardens of a courtyard lit by the stars, and a few torches spread over the area. There was a piece of parchment paper in your lap and your fingers were playing with a necklace around your neck. Tyrion noticed your beauty in the light of the stars. The way the flames from the torches flicked across your features. He always knew you were beautiful but it was dawning on him that you were more than beautiful. He sometimes found the air leaving his lungs if the light hit you right. The sound of your laugh, your voice, when he heard you sing it was like the whole world stood still. It wasn't fair, he thought, that someone as kind and smart and witty as you could also be so beautiful.

The sound of a muffled sob brought him out of his thoughts and he felt that searing guilt tear threw him once more.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

His feet moved him through the courtyard and he sat next to you in silence. You quickly wiped at your eyes and shoved the paper, what Tyrion could now see was an old letter from your father about how your daughters were doing, into your dress. The two sat in silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say. You'd always treated Tyrion with such respect and kindness and he'd returned the favor to you. You never let Tywin taint your view of him.

"You've been avoiding me," your voice cut through the silence.

It was true. He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences since defending you to the Queen when you were brought to her throne room. "And yet you have been watching my every move."

He nodded, eyes fixated on a particular patch of grass in the courtyard. "Always observant aren't you?" His voice was soft.

"You'd think someone of your size would be better at hiding but alas....."

Your comment made him laugh. The first laugh in a long time.

"Spying is not my strong suit, I must admit. Drinking, books, and whores are my real talents." His eyes traveled over to you and he noticed your small smile.

Your smile shouldn't cause him to feel the way he was.

The two of you sat in silence for a long while after that. It wasn't an awkward silence, neither of you seemed to know how to get the thoughts flowing through your head to form into words. There was so much to say, so much to explain. You broke first.

"I miss them," Your voice wavered and your lip trembled. "I miss them so. It feels as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest." The tears started to fall all at once, Tyrion swore he could hear them hit the ground like rain.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Every time the babe inside me moves, I remember how it felt to feel them move too. I think of them from the moment I wake to the moment I sleep and then I dream of them. Are they happy? Are they safe? Where are they? When will I see them?" You rambled through the thickness of your tears, your fingers gripping tightly at the fabric of your dress.

Tyrion hesitantly grabbed your hand in his, afraid you'd hurt yourself and gave it a small squeeze.

"Your sister...Oh, your sister...she hates them. She hates me. She'll have them killed. I can't...I can't.." you choked on sob after sob

He said your name softly and moved to stand in front of you so he could look into your eyes. The tears falling down your cheeks and hitting the skirt of your dress broke his heart.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Ceresi is many things. A hateful bitch is among one of her most prominent attributes. But, she is not stupid enough to wage war on your family. Her hatred for me consumes her. Last I heard they think I kidnapped you." He almost laughed bitterly at the thought. Remembering how he rushed you out of The Red Keep, it wasn't too far from the truth. "And despite even with all of that aside. Do you think Jamie would let her? Let her kill your children? Our sisters?" In truth, he had no idea what would happen but he had to hope. He had to have faith that his choice wouldn't lead to the fatalities of you and your daughters.

Your arms quickly wrapped around him and your face nuzzled into his neck. For a moment he just stood there in shock, this was the closest you'd ever been to him and he found himself enamored with how you smelt and soft you felt. But soon he ran his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. Tyrion could feel your hot tears on his shoulder and the mantra repeated in his head.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

"I'm so fucking sorry," He whispered into your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You pulled away and he found himself missing your warmth. He told himself it was because he wasn't used to such interaction, which wasn't a lie, but there was a stirring deep within him that he had to push down and hide. That would only bring him more shame and heartbreak and insult you further than he already has.

"All my life, my father hated me for killing my mother and for being a dwarf. He loathed my very existence. The only thing that kept me alive was my name. I was a Lannister. And then he lets me be led like a lamb to slaughter for a murder he knew I didn't commit. My only option is death or going to The Wall, there's not much difference there as people seem to think. He takes the woman I love and turns her against me, having her lie to all of Kings Landing. And then I find he's fucking her..." Tears were starting to well in his eyes now as he remembered Shae and how it felt to find her in his father's bed. "I didn't think about the consequences. Not for you or the girls until after it was done."

He remembered how the lamp light flickered across your face as you stood there, hand on your belly and mouth agape as he held the crossbow. He remembered how it felt to have the realization slap him in the face. Tywin had become fond of using you to belittle Cerasi, often saying you were more worthy to be a Lannister than she was. Cerasi was jealous of how Tywin seemed to care for and respect you. You wouldn't last long at The Red Keep. Tyrion remembered the scared look in your eyes as he took your wrist in a harsh grasp and led you through the corridors to where he was to meet Varys.

He was pulled from his memories when he could feel your fingertips lightly brush away his tears. "It's my fault," Tyrion's voice broke as he said those words to you, "and I can never express how sorry I am."

You swallowed thickly and looked at him for a moment before your eyes drifted up to the night sky. You were quiet again and this time the silence was thick and heavy. Tyrion could see your brain working hard to formulate thoughts and feelings into words.

"I was 15 when I was betrothed to Tywin," You said softly, your eyes still on the stars. "My father was so excited. The Lannisters would make a great ally and I was the only daughter he had to offer. For two years I waited, knowing that I was to be married to a man who rode into battle with my grandfather. It was the day after my 17th name day that we were wed. Within a year I had Trysta." Your tongue peaked out to wet your lips. "Tywin was not a moral man. He was not a good man. He was a smart man. An ambitious man. But not a good one. I know he respected me, I think he may have cared for me in his own complicated way. I know he cared for our children. But he was old and mean and arrogant."

Tyrion was silent as you spoke, you two had talked in the past for hours about books and history but you never quite opened up about your relationship with his father. Your eyes fell down to your lap and you picked at a loose string.

"I may be cursed for thinking it but I do not miss him. I miss my home. I miss Casterly Rock. I miss the sea and the beach. I miss Trysta and Nataria. But I do not miss Tywin. I am not naive enough to think that I will ever experience what it's like to be loved...to marry for love. That's not a reality for high-born women but I do hope the next time I'm married off it's to someone who is less of an ass."

Tyrion stood there for a moment and then took your face into his hands, "I promise you by whatever Gods are listening that I will get you back home. Back to your children. Or I will die trying." And he meant it.

You simply nodded. He took his seat next to you, his hand resting atop yours. The two of you sat there in a peaceful silence looking at the stars with his hand on yours and you weren't sure how long for. It could have been 15 minutes or two hours. When Tyrion noticed your head starting to bob and your eyes struggled to stay open, he stood up and silently offered you his arm.

The walk to your room was quiet. He had more he wanted to say to you but he knew this was not the time to say it. Once he got to your door he didn't know what to say, he didn't know if he should say anything. He cleared his throat and rested his arm at his side.

"If you, uhm, if you need me...." His voice trailed off.

"I know," you nodded, "thank you." You placed a soft kiss on his forehead before disappearing into your room.

Tyrion stood there for a moment, frustration rushing over him like waves. It was happening. He could feel the feeling creep into his heart: he was falling in love with the woman he widowed and he wasn't sure how to stop it.

[habeascorpseus]

im curious, what do you consider ooc for grian? i agree w you completely but i would like to know 👁👁

ohoho *takes a BIG sip of my 5 hour energy and slams it on my bedside stool*

okay, so i HOPE this doesnt become a big old rant, because i really should sleep, but, the thing people misunderstand about him MOST, which therefore sort of branches into most other mischaracterizations i see with his character, is that he's not an asshole.

he's also not not an asshole.

here's what i mean: grian's moral compass is looser than a door without hinges, but his honor, and the honor of others, holds priority. in season 8 during the boatem prank war with big eyes, he aptly called his policy, "prank hard, clean up harder."

for the more innocuous offenses he commits, like pranks, and minor amounts murder, he will almost always feel bad and offer to help clean up if he feels like what he did is "too much." "too much" is dependent on circumstance, but most often it includes permanent loss of valubles- like armor, large amounts of resources, and hard to obtain items- which he will attempt to replace or make up for with helping the unfortunate recipient of his ill-fated prank with chores. "too much" also includes griefing and base editing whether it be accidental or on purpose- most notable examples being in season 7 when keralis discovered the "removing stuff from keralis' base" challenge, and rebuilding part of scar's base in season 8 after accidentally getting it blown up. if he feels like it's even partially his fault, he'll almost always offer to help fix the mess, even if he does complain about it the entire way though.

so he likes to fuck with people- he doesnt like permanent damage. that doesnt mean he doesnt occasionally want to cause permanent damage, such as in the life series, but he also often needs a reason to cause damage like losing lives or permadeath.

renchanting trap? scar wasn't doing his job properly as the only red life. tnt base trap? home no longer safe, revenge for pizza. killing jimmy and mumbo in last life? they provoked him and were reaping the consequences. killing bigb and ren in double life? they provoked him by (to his knowledge) being the cause of scar's death as a yellow life. no matter what death grian has personally called in the life series, either before or after it took place, you can find an instance of grian saying why he felt he needed to do it. and if the death is accidental, or accidental collateral damage, he tries to make up for it with his time and energy. (like with the physical objects.)

i see a lot of fics on ao3 with the tag "grian is an asshole in this one, sorry", and i dont normally read those, because those just leave a bad taste in my mouth- but i also see a lot of fics unintentionally write grian as more of a jerk because they forget he abides by honor. its not that grian isnt a murderer, its that he needs a reason to do it- or he'll excuse it after the fact with a reason. its not that grian isnt reckless with other people's lives, its that if he realizes the damage he causes is permanent he balks at doing it. its not that grian isnt an asshole, its that he likes to piss off people but wouldn't dream of purposefully damaging his friendships. grian, as a character, is defined by his willingness to push boundaries and his hesitance to cross the line. and far too often, people forget these two coexisting facts, and write grian as only being one or the other.

again, this is all mostly opinion and writing advice, and ive read fics where grian was ooc that i still enjoyed. but also sometimes you just look at a fandom and you're like "wow youre so valid but youre also wrong!" and occasionally i do be feeling that. in the end what matters is that the fic was fun to write, and the rant resulting from that is also fun to write. goodnight all,

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Hello 👋 Could we get some salty Matt? Perhaps he’s salty over Nick’s wife 👀? Thank you ☺️

Hi babes! Omg, I love salty Matt 😌 (and again, he always makes me write long ass shit 🤌. Sorry not sorry 😂). You’re welcome 💋 Written in Matt’s POV

HEAVILY UNEDITED - wrote this in one go

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @letsgivethisonemoreshot , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @damnnhausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @sldghmmr , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @blaquekittycat , @tahiri-veyla

Secured behind the dark lens of my sunglasses, I could finally do what my primal side begged me to - which was intently stare at her.

She was by the pool with the kids, being the judge for one of their nonsense games that had no actual rules but just served for children to show off and get praised by an adult. She cheered and clapped every time any of them did something remarkably boring that deserved no praise at all - but that still adults felt obliged to do.

The minute Nick got inside our parents house with her by his side, I did everything in my power to destroy their relationship. Now you see, this isn’t because I am mean or anything like that, it is just because my brother deserves someone better than her.

And even though I tried everything in my power to break them up, they were still together. Much to my dislike, those two were solid as a mountain and ten years of marriage and four kids later only served to make their love grow even more.

It’s disgusting. How could that even be possible? Me, God’s favorite christian and dad’s favorite kid - even though he won’t admit it - am here, with my marriage being held together by my work, because if it wasn’t for that Lord knows me and my wife would’ve murdered each other by now. My kids don’t acknowledge me as anything other than a stranger that sleeps in their house a handful of days of the month, and I’m certain that the last time I had sex was 2012.

While Nick is here, married to Satan’s mistress, with kids that love him to death while definitely getting that wonderful, mindblowing, balls tightening, breathtaking fuck whenever he’s home. Shit, the worst part is that I can’t even blame my brother! If she was my wife, I would also eagerly face a 14 hour flight home just so I could fuck her on top of the kitchen counter at 3 am.

The problem is, she’s not a good woman, you know? She’s the Devil with a pussy! A pussy that no wonder was fantastic since it has my brother faithful to it all of these years like a stupid lapdog. She was lascivious to say the least! With her short clothes that showed too much skin, her long nails that were not compatible with a respectful and faithful woman, wife or mother, her hair was always perfectly done, she was always in a warm and welcoming mood to everybody and she was always smelling so nice and luxurious. Nick once commented how she loves perfume so much that she even sprays some Versace on her so she can do the most common things like cooking and cleaning the house. Like, c’mon! Who the hell wears perfume - and expensive nonetheless - to do such mundane chores?!

This is unfair, completely unfair! Whenever Nick gets home he finds nice home cooked meals and pastries, kids that are eager to see him and a hot wife to perform the most nasty and sinful things to him while I get shit!.

I once overheard Nick and his wife on the phone talking about how much he missed having his dick sucked in the car before they went to school to pick up the kids or even the one time he fucked her in the backyard at 2 am, with her face pressed against the glass door. If that doesn’t scream cheap woman then I don’t know what does.

She wasn’t a bad person, meaning she’s a wonderful mom. Hell, I know even my own kids wished she was their mom. She’s loving and kind and needless to say everybody loves her. But for Christ’s sake, look at her clothes! Her pair of shorts stops just below her ass cheeks - making her more than generous backside stand out - while leaving her thick thighs on display, her crop top is so small that from my deck chair I can get glimpses of the soft valley of her breasts. The thoughts that roamed my mind are not pure in the slightest but can you blame me?

Just when I was thinking about sliding my dick between her tits, my kids had to go and let out these high pitched, excited screams to pull me away from wonderland while making me groan in annoyance. She cheered for them to get the ball inside the small basketball hoop on the pool, momentarily blocking my daydreams of fucking her on the couch.

Right after my kids scored a point, Nick hugged her from behind, pressing open mouth kisses on her neck before whispering something in her ear and slapping her ass playfully as he turned around to enter the kitchen.

Curiosity peaked its head out when I watched my sister-in-law follow my brother’s footsteps a few minutes after he entered the house.

*You smug, lucky bastard!* I thought to myself as I quickly made my way inside the living room, hiding behind a wall that divided the kitchen and living room apart. I stood still while I heard the dialogue between my brother and his wife.

“Nick, no” She giggled “Baby, someone can come in”

“Isn’t that the main reason why you followed me, though?” Nick chuckled back “We both know you love some risky sex”

“Baby, c’mon. The kids are awake” Everything in her voice told she didn’t mean a word she just said.

“That means we’ll have to be quick then”

It was at this moment I knew I couldn’t only hear it, no. I had to take a glimpse of what was happening. My eyes stared at my brother’s hands as he pushed her obscenely tight shorts down her thick thighs, Nick’s palms squeezed the generous flesh of her ass between his fingers, lowly grunting at the feeling “Fuck, this ass drives me crazy” The harsh slap that landed on her right cheek echoed through the kitchen. “Will you let me have it tonight, angel? Will you give this ass to me later? It’s been so long since I’ve fucked this tight ass”

Her content smile made my cock twitch in excitement, and I had to take a silent deep breath to stop the severe hard on that I could already feel starting to rise.

“I guess I could” She purred “If you promise me to make good use out of this pussy first” Her hand took Nick’s one before pressing it against her mound, cupping the perfectly trimmed hairs before two of his fingers parted her soft, full lips.

“You don’t even have to ask that, angel. You know I’ll take good care of my pussy before anything else”

“You gotta keep her satisfied” She giggled

“That’s my number one priority” Nick growled against her ear as he pulled her ear lobe between his teeth.

And that’s when I couldn’t keep looking at it anymore.

“What the fuck was that?” She gasped loudly after hearing the sound of glass breaking. Nick quickly helped her pull her shorts up her thighs while whispering “I don’t know. Hold on, I’m gonna check”.

Nick quickly made his way towards the living room just to find four portraits of him and his wife broken down on the floor.

The cracked pieces of glass were just a small representation of what I really wished to do to him and his marriage.

[santhropomorphy]

Hi!! Love your fics!! I hope this isnt an odd question, but I wanted to ask, since you've shipped hobmurphy/dreamling since before the tv series came out and the ship definitely has more attention now than it did before--have you noticed any differences in how the morpheus/hob dynamic was written/viewed by the fandom before the netflix show vs afterwards? anything about the ship that newer fans might overlook? im deathly curious about that evolution and thought it might be worth asking about :)

Aww, thank you for reaching out! I'm so glad you like my fics☺️

👀You wanna know the pre-show dreamling story? Oh boy, am I happy to talk about that! (no seriously, I vent about those dark ages to anybody willing or unwilling to listen)

So I'm not your oldest sandman fan, I read the comics about 2 years ago and started shipping dreamling/hobmurphy at the same time. I read Men of Good Fortune (dreamling's first issue) and left off shipping them like a maniac. Two guys meeting each other every hundred years, the slowly developing affection, the fucking break-up, the reconciliation at the end, I was HOOKED. So I looked on ao3 for fics...

In a 30 year old fandom, there were FOUR (4) dreamling fics. One of them an introspective drabble, and another one barely shippy, just a lead up to desire/dream... And all those fics were dated 2003, 2006 and 2010. On Tumblr? There were about 30 posts under the tag Hob Gadling, 3-4 of them shippy. There was ONE (1) fanart of dream and hob together. One!

As for the dreamling fandom? Nonexistent. I can count on one hand the number of people I could talk to who shipped them, and I raided the fucking internet... I was literally going around 5 different socials like an idiot, begging people to ship them with me! I nagged my beta (bless you, Roonie) to read the comics, so that I could have somebody to yell at about dreamling!

I wish I could tell you the difference between the shippy content now and back then but it would be a chore cause I was literally the only person actively creating said content (plus ThePlatypussPrincess whom I managed to rope into my agenda and nagged into writing a Glorious fic😘). Those few interactions about them I managed to have were all very similar to the dreamling conversations I have these days.

I think a lot of this was a product of the differences in the source material. I picked up on the dreamling ship fast because it was right up my alley with friends to lovers and slow build of trust and affection. But a lot of other people seemed to have missed that potential i guess which still baffles me. Then the bloody show came around and Hob and dream spent 8 whole minutes staring into each other's eyes, saving each other from Constantine and a million other things so glaringly obvious that there was no way for anybody to miss it. And I was left standing there in the corner like... PEOPLE, THE QUEER WAS ALWAYS THERE, IT JUST DIDN'T WHACK YOU OVER THE HEAD WITH A BAGUETTE!!

Okay I can try comparing differences I guess but those are just the result of the show's additions: there was no Hob jealous of Shakespeare and no Teacher!Hob. And dreamling all in all was perceived in 90% as platonic...

Fuck I'm getting depressed, anyway, the way this ship blew up after the show was fucking insane, I'm still recovering from it.

Hope this was coherent enough!