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#the mistakes in question: trusting and trying to help someone who was supposed to love and protect *him*

ofjunemoment · 11 months

Text

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 <3

#jaemin x reader #nct jaemin smut #jaemin smut #jaemin fluff #nct jaemin x reader #nct scenarios #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #jaemin scenarios #jaemin hard hours #jaemin oneshot #nct dream oneshots #na jaemin smut

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 1 year

Text

A DC X DP IDEA #8 A Pair

Imagine dis…

It is always Damian having a secret twin, a presumed dead twin, or even a lost twin. But what about Tim Drake having a twin?

Tim Drake always asked himself why would his parents willingly avoid and neglect him by taking trips around the globe and being left alone frequently. When Jack Drake woke up briefly from his coma, Tim asked the man who would have been his father why would they neglect him, is it he is a mistake? Or it is something else.

Jack Drake looked at the painful eyes of his son and knowing that he doesn’t have much time, told him the truth.

The Drake family used to be between being rich and being in the middle class in Gotham. Both he and Janet were excited about the baby seeing that they were told that it would be twins. They got married early and when they went to the doctor to ask some questions about their planned pregnancy the doctor quickly shut down the idea as Janet’s tests revealed that she has severe infertility issues that make her chances of having kids near to zero. But that didn’t stop the two, after years of trying for a child, their prayers and efforts were answered a much more surprising is that they were having twins. They were excited about being careful and protective of them just when they were inside Janet’s womb, then the day of their birth came. They were happy and content as well feeling relief that both babies and mother survived the labor, two healthy boys greeted them loud and healthy. What they didn’t know there was someone lurking and waiting from the shadows. A longtime rival of the couple heard about their struggles in bearing children as well as the new addition, and as an act of revenge, he hired someone to take their child. What he didn’t know was that Ms. Drake gave birth to twins not a single child so when the hired kidnapper saw the last name of his target in the nursery, he didn’t even bother to look at the neighboring crib that contains the other child. Quickly snatching up the child and smuggling the newborn out of the hospital to be abandoned later in the middle somewhere in between the wildlife around him, to be left to die due to starvation or by wild animals.

Both of the new parents were devastated at the loss of their youngest, they tracked and put the man behind bars of the one who was responsible but when the Gotham police tried to interrogate him on what he had done to the newborn he just laughed manically and answered no question. They can’t even track down the supposed hired kidnapper. Seeing that they cannot stay any longer as they have another child to take care of. In the early years of Tim’s life, he was loved and cared for but the moment he started growing to an age where he can remember things both parents acted cold. As to one maybe if those around them saw how they acted maybe they would not even think or do a thing into harming him seeing that the company is growing by the time more rivals and enemies that might befall them but the fact that their remaining son will be safe they will do anything. Everyone in Gotham is corrupt in some way and they could not trust any hired security for him as rogues are running rampant and might not be enough for Tim.

It might be an F-ed up way, Jack confessed. But at the time they could not think straight as they didn’t have time to mourn for their other child and the fact that the remaining child they have was in constant danger just by having a growing company’s name as his last name.

Tim was shocked, he had prepared himself for any hurtful words to be thrown at him but the fact that he has a brother that was snatched away just hours after they were born was.

As Tim continue his silence Jack looked around at the hospital room he was in and immediately located his clothes and belonging that was folded up neatly in a corner, Jack forced himself to walk towards the pile of belongings to look for something.

Tim tried to help Jack but he turned around holding a tin that was meant to hold cigars, a tin that Tim noticed that his father Jack always carried with him. Jack opened the tin and inside lays a single picture of the twins. In the picture, both parents who are both tired and exhausted look at the camera with warm smiles that Tim barely remembers, are holding a single child each around their arms, with only blankets of ocean blue and sky blue separating the two babies. Tim remembered the ocean blue blanket tucked safely in the Drake mansion’s attic.

….

It has been a few years since Timothy Drake learned about his twin, He began keeping an eye out, from one state to another country for any sign or lead to his twin for him to have a proper burial.

No one in the Bat-family knew his conversation with Jack that day nor that he now has the tin that contains the single photo of the Drake family all in all looking happy. At first, he just made an initial background of the investigation that had taken place but seeing the happy faces of the Wayne family made him envious of the bond they have including Damian.

Now that learning of his supposed twin, he kept looking at his reflection. Would his supposed twin have the same interest as him? If he was here would they be polar opposites? Would they have clashing personalities or would they get along? These are the questions that kept swimming in his head ever since he noticed the Waynes.

Don’t get him wrong he was grateful to Bruce, as he made Tim realize his parents Jack and Janet are supposed to neglect him, looking at the present he just transferred from one form of neglect to another.

What he had done in his past life he may never know as all he ever wanted in life is to be loved and appreciated. To be acknowledged through his hard work, not chalking it up to him being a genius, it seems they have forgotten that hard work has always beaten a genius.

He may now have a family but Tim doesn’t know if they are better or worse than where he was before.

An instance Jason had tried to kill him multiple times not once he received an apology. He gets it. Being replaced by the man you once call father is painful but he tried multiple times to explain that he literally blackmailed Bruce for him to be Robin as Batman is getting more violent each passing day after his death and sooner or later he would have killed someone, and that is something Bruce would carry around like a boulder due to his guilt. He admired Robin; he was under the impression that he could never live the expectations of being Robin. He was just merely filling up the space when Batman found an official Robin. He could never replace Jason, at least Jason was picked and wanted by Bruce while Batman has no choice when it comes to Tim.

Dick tried to treat him like brothers would, but Tim always saw through his façade, Tim saw how Dick kept him at arm’s length. He gets it he was replacing his brother whom he knew and grow up with, but the fact he kept getting hurt by the fact, he lies to himself every night.

The way he gathers information they all assumed that to his insomnia, as well the way they come to him not to say hello or a hi but they needed something from him that needed his area of expertise.

Just like his biological father and mother who has the F-cked up way to cope and mourn their loss, it seems he has also inherited that particular bad habit to cope. Knowing that they go to him if they need information he began researching and investigating each crime, each suspicion as well as each piece of information, so that they go to him, just HIM for help.

If it weren’t for Alfred, he would have succumbed to hunger due to his research.

When Damian entered his life, he was more than happy to have a brother to care for.

Much to his horror, his new brother despise his very being and tried to kill him multiple times.

When Bruce was lost in the time stream nobody in their family knew how to manage a multi-billionaire company aside from Alfred, but due to his age as well he was left with no choice.

Dick was left to fill in the shoes of Batman and offered Damian as Robin.

Which hurt.

He has grown to his role as Robin, he created his own legacy on the title.

Dick started to be a partner to Batman as well creating a legacy. Known for his acrobatics as well as being the first one.

Jason became the second Robin, a Robin who was known for his recklessness, strength, and brashness.

Tim earned the acknowledgment of Ra Al Ghul aka the Demon’s Head, who is the greatest detective second to none other than Batman himself. Who had been trained by Lady Shiva herself? Who mastered a variety of weapons to a certain degree as well as being able to use them to their full potential?

The role of Robin was ripped away from him without a second thought from Dick.

Still, he made it through, creating another vigilante persona as well as managing the company so that they have a continuous supply of funds.

When he managed to get evidence that their father figure lived, he was ignored and forgotten. When he only, managed to save Bruce from the Time stream, not a single Thank you had come out of their mouths nor did an apology for ignoring him.

He continued this lifestyle, the continuous attempt of his life at those he likes to see as brothers to his life. Every time he defended himself, HE was the one scolded by either Bruce or Dick, they kept telling him to be the bigger man to be better. The amount of verbal abuse, calling him Inferior by Damián and Replacement by Jason added to the fact that Dick or Bruce never seemed to see no wrong with the two.

Unappreciated and unloved is he, he still considers them as his family someone he can call to have his back but after a night it all went downhill.

Another night another dinner, at the table he was being made fun of by both Jason and Damian, Bruce kept saying nothing as well as Dick. Other people namely Stephanie, Barbara, Cass, and Duke kept sending him worried glances as Alfred is glaring slightly at Bruce. An off-handed comment from Damian, as well as Jason about his birth father, made him snap.

He yelled at them.

His feelings, his anger, his resentment, his sadness, his stress.

How could this family sit idly at his treatment?

After yelling and having a breakdown in front of the table he quickly rushed towards his room and prepared to run.

Gathering his things as well erasing his very identity in the Bat computer as well erasing his tracks, he escaped at the night.

Using a car that he had stashed away he began to leave Gotham as he thinks it is time for him to start a new one.

As Tim was crossing the border, he was ambushed by the same man who had kidnapped his brother. He had escaped and once he was released, he was left with nothing, his wife and child gone from his former home. He decided to blame the late Drake for his misfortunes but the moment he learned about their demise his revenge went to the remaining Drake.

Tim knew he was better than this, crashing a car due to someone having spooked him was nothing but a rookie mistake. But the moment he laid eyes on the same man who took away his brother now inching to him with a knife in his hand his thoughts were not about Bruce and the others looking and finding him in a car crash but thoughts about his brother finally meeting him.

Lady Gotham heard his final moments before he was stabbed and had his throat slit. She wailed and mourned at her favorite knight, who used his inheritance for the betterment of the Gotham citizens who uses his skills to protect whom she favored by wrapping her shadows around him to give him a sense of comfort and to better hide him at the dangers of the night. Seeing that he never crossed the border she dared to summon her king to aid her knight.

…

Danny is enjoying his life he was accepted by his parents as Phantom, he had adopted Ellie as his daughter, and his sister is now able to go to college without the fear of him being rejected by their parents. His friends are going strong by each day, the ghost is now much more cooperative with the Amity citizens to fulfill their obsessions. Fruit loop had also changed into a new leaf and now tries to be a better godfather and father to Jazz, Danny, and Ellie. Dan had earned his parole and was now able to roam free as long there is someone to look at him.

But life is not all full of rainbows and unicorns.

GIW is now snatching up the locals' Amity Parkers as they are considered part of the Anti-Ecto entities as they have been contaminated in some way or another.

He is now King of the Infinite Realms as he had defeated the previous one in combat.

Seeing the aggressiveness of the GIW he transported the entire Amity Park to the Realms to protect ad create their own little island as part of the Realm. It didn’t take long for the locals to be used to their new appearance and abilities as they also have been noticing the way they act ever since the spike in ghost activity.

They are told to not leave for the mortal realm as they are still compromised. Removing Amity in both the map and record had been easy with the help of Technus and Tucker they manage to remove themselves and every database in the world.

Without any work to be presented the GIW was seen as a scam in the government branch and thus being removed from any form of funding as well as being dismissed and dissolved in the government.

It was one eventful day when he was summoned by one of his advisers. He was just merely signing paperwork when he felt someone summoning his rather sensing it was urgent he let himself be summoned to where he was.

There he saw Lady Gotham cradling a bloodied teen, the moment Danny laid his eyes on the teen his core lurched at the amount of protectiveness. As he kept pumping out his own ectoplasm to heal or even revive the said teen, he began to look at the teen’s details.

In his mind, he was wondering why would his core react such in a way but the moment he saw the teen's face his mind turn to a halt.

He saw his own face reflecting on the teen which would be impossible unless one of the previous clones that Vlad had made had escaped and got out of his mind control.

But he idly wonders how could this supposed clone of his have blood in him.

…

After the initial confusion and panic, both brothers were able to get the whole story.

The Fenton couple were surprised that they have forgotten to tell Danny that he is adopted and had saved him from starving in the middle of the forest.

Danny as well as the rest of the Fenton family wanted nothing more than to march toward where these Waynes were and rip them apart.

Tim on the other hand was both saddened at the fact this brother had died and hopeful that maybe just maybe he could have the family he ever dreamed of.

…

Turns out Tim was right, due to Danny trying to keep him alive by pumping pure ectoplasm aka the pits had turned him into a halfa whose core is equivalent to shadows due to Lady Gotham favoring him more.

The family dinners where he faced running and fighting food maybe work out for him but the number of memories, he stored from Danny trying to beat the hotdogs to submission to broccolis, peas, and carrots starting a civil war on his plate on who is the best vegetable there is.

He gained parents who are a bit of a screw loose but hey who says normal is sane.

He gained 2 older siblings and a younger sister which made his jaw drop.

Dan who is supposedly his twin in an alternate time where instead of being saved by Danny, Tim died and due to his grief and anger turned evil. Jazz whose mother hens Tim every second of the day and Dani/ Ellie who is twin brother’s clone turned daughter, who creates chaos in every sense.

He became Lady Gotham’s heir and champion that one day she may move on but she will pass down her brooch as it is the symbol of her authority as well her seat as one of the advisers of the King. It may be a few centuries or so before that fateful day so Tim has all the time to be a child once again as well as training to become the heir worthy of Lady Gotham.

When Tim asked who the King of the Infinite Realms all eyes turned to Danny as he nervously stated that he may have forgotten to tell Tim that particular detail.

Overall, Tim is safe and happy in this new life in his, with a new family that cares and loves him for just being him as well as being with his brother while he had missed, he never thought would miss in his entire life and afterlife.

…

It has been years since Tim had disappeared from the lives of the Wayne family and everything had gone downhill. Conner along with Cassie had flown from Metropolis and yelled at them for not being a good family to Tim. Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Damian are all silent and take the yells of anger silently as guilt in them keeps whispering to them about how they should have done better.

They held a funeral, an empty casket, filled with minuscule things of Tim had loved like his old hobby of photography that also held the pictures that he had taken. They held his old uniform as both Robin and Red Robin in the cave protected by the bullet, fire, water, and explosion-proof glass.

Bruce told himself that Tim was and never had been a replacement for Jason.

Dick regrated on not knowing Tim enough, and that he failed another brother of his.

Jason who too late saw Tim as a little brother who indulged his hobbies f reading works of literature that no one in his family found interesting enough to sit down and listen to.

Damian saw Tim another older brother who was there to relate to him during his time in the League. Share his stories about when he trained under Lady Shiva, as well as being his predecessor.

…

It is Tim’s 6th year anniversary of death when the boys had planned on going to a café that Tim frequently with. Their guilt did not disappear but grew with each passing day, the Batman as well the rest of his partners became more aggressive in handling crimes to the point even the rogues had been scared of facing them and would rather stay in Arkham, their last victim aka the Joker was beaten to near death by the Batman who had preached in not ending the Joker even though he had stuck out for the man when Red Hood had his hands on the Joker.

It was bright as Gotham could get and they could feel that the sun is mocking them about their brother’s death.

As they were sitting in one of the café’s booths as they saw a young man looking exactly like Tim. All eyes widened but looking at the stranger with more attention they saw a few details that Tim didn’t have.

Like faint freckles that were across the man’s face as well as the way, the young man’s hair is styled.

Carrying a large tray that holds two large coffees and a plate of assorted treats and pastries the stranger went to both a bit far yet they can still stay visual on the man.

What greeted them was not what they were expecting, on the supposed booth they saw a tall and healthy Tim on his phone, dressed in the simplest yet warm clothing they ever saw their brother in, the moment Tim saw his supposed look alike, helped him to take the large coffees off the tray and proceeded to chat as if they were old friends.

At that moment they didn’t care if the stranger look alike or the look in Tim’s eyes that screams fondness and joy towards this stranger, they only have one thing on their mind and that is their brother.

Tim!

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp #dp #Timothy Drake #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #ghost king danny #batman

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angelltheninth · 3 months

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I'm really interested in what Vaggie's deal is

I'm surprised that through 4 episodes the one that's still the most mysterious is Vaggie. We know a little bit about everyone else, except for Niffty, that little adorkable freak, but Vaggie? What's her deal? I mean besides being an ex-Exterminator cause a lot about her behavior and lines is just really interesting to me.

Obviously she loves Charlie and wants to make her dreams come true. But the way she worded it in the song made it seem like they shared that maybe? She said that it felt so good to be understood. So she could have been seeing the years of Exterminations and then she realized that someone, not just anyone but the Princess of Hell is like her, she shared her goals. Or it could be them both being outcasts, Charlie is pretty soft and sweet for Hell, and Vaggie might have been too fed up with taking orders to kill and started acting out of line for an Exterminator.

Given that she said the way she learned to trust is by "surviving" and her whole military talk with everyone else I think it's safe to say that her own training was brutal. There's also the fact that she threatened to hurt the Hotel gang if they didn't catch Angel Dust, and then threw everyone off the roof and into battle by force because "it was how she was taught" to trust people.

Which is pretty fucked up and even Charlie called her out on it and was surprised.

And that brings me to something else, it's possible that Charlie doesn't know that Vaggie was an Exterminator. When they're on the roof Vaggie says she's supposed to make Charlie's dream a reality, to protect her and to never fail her. That last one seemed particularly important and she follows it up with "If I can't help you what's the point of me?"

Before those words we had Charlie say "Vaggie you're not- you're not-" what? I'm assuming she meant to say a failure but then why hesitate? Maybe she wanted to say she wasn't like the rest of the Exterminators anymore? But if Charlie knew that why would she question Vaggie's way of trust exercises?

As soon as Charlie starts to try and comfort her girlfriend she stops her, which makes me think that Vaggie doesn't feel like she's worthy of Charlie unless she can prove it somehow. She doesn't even want to hear how she's making Charlie happy because in that moment she thought she was a failure. But as soon as Charlie is sad in the next episode Vaggie is ready to stay by her side until she feels better and later carries her to bed. She's willing to give comfort and love but seems very hesitant in getting it back.

It seems to go with what Husk said, Vaggie hates herself and so she judges others and doesn't trust them because her walls are constantly up. The only one she lets get to her is Charlie and even then there are barriers she still has up.

When she sings the lyrics, "When I saw your face you made me feel like a stranger in a brand new place." I think this is going back to her and Charlie's first meeting, where Vaggie went from seeing Hell as a horrible place to seeing there are those like Charlie there and that it really wasn't all bad. She fell to Hell and became a Sinner in a way, no longer there to kill but there to say, a place that she once knew now seen in a different light.

But the verse that really made me think she's actually hiding the fact that she was from Heaven is the line "There's so much that I wish I could say... I'll spend my life being your partner." At this point I'm not sure that Vaggie even fully trusts Charlie. Because why would she hide who she is from the one person who she should know won't judge her for past mistakes, whose dream it is to help people?

She needs to be sure redemption is possible, she needs to be sure that when she tells Charlie the truth that there is hope for her own redemption. No one ever ascended up but now we have at least 3 who fell, one is depressed as fuck, one has been missing for 7 years and the last hates herself and is unable to open up to her girlfriend without fear of rejection and her own failure.

None of these people seem to be in a good place right now.

#hazbin hotel #vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel theory

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pistatsia · 6 months

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Don Lorenzo: We all come from childhood (Part 1)

In fact, I have so many questions about Lorenzo that I'm just- I'm not ready to let him go. I love him so much. I really hope that someday we'll get a novel/chapter with him and Snuffy, because otherwise, the world would be too unfair.

He's good, caring, funny, the best, and generally-

Okay, this is where I'll stop and get to the point haha

(Here somewhere I'm looking too deep, somewhere I'm ignoring the farcical setting of Blue Lock. A lot here is based on my own experience (I also was thrown out of home by my parents when I was 13). Some things of course will be misinterpreted since the whole truth is known only by Kaneshiro-sensei. Also, consider the fact that most of the things described here are unconscious)

1. Relationships/Attachment

Lorenzo is a very loving and grateful person.

It is evident to anyone that his relationship with Snuffy is imbued with warmth and trust. Lorenzo genuinely loves him, he is willing to do anything for him.

Even his conversation with Barou is initiated in order to get him on Snuffy's side, going through all of his traumas and 'exposing himself' to Barou. Making himself vulnerable, because telling someone that you were once abandoned by your parents is like showing them that you have a flaw that made the most important people in your life disgusted with you. That you're wrong. It's like pointing at your chest and saying 'here's the heart, if you want to hurt me, hit me here'.

And he's doing all this to help Snuffy.

And it's obvious that Snuffy wouldn't have asked him to do that - it was Lorenzo's initiative. He loves him very much - even though Snuffy isn't perfect, and of course has made his mistakes (which you can't avoid when you're in your late twenties picking up a teenager off the street after a friend's suicide and career collapse). But that's something we'll get back to a little later.

Lorenzo doesn't pay attention to any of this - he doesn't care what else Snuffy could have given him. He's grateful for what Snuffy has already given him.

Speaking of his relationship with Barou, it's obvious that they both care for each other equally. Barou isn't rude to him (well, 'not rude' like classic Barou), he accepts him despite all the quirks (I'll come back to that too a bit later), and Lorenzo feels it. For him, Barou is a 'Snuffy' type of person, perfectly accepting and gentle, without the endless pull-push in affection. They're like a reference point that helps ground and gain confidence in the relationship with both of them.

Lorenzo is also quite open in his affections. He has a certain authority within the Ubers, giving them the command to "get to work". He doesn't avoid people or push them away in the fear of intimacy and the pain that follows, but reaches out to them himself. In doing so, he shows no visible fear of being rejected - on the contrary, he behaves as freely and even strangely as possible, without trying to adjust his behaviour to society's standards; behaviour that would make him 'his own'. Remember this moment, because it will be important a bit later.

He adores both Barou and Snuffy so much because they accept him without question. Like, you're like this, so what?

They accept him absolutely.

But why is that acceptance so important to Lorenzo?

2. Fear of abandonment.

I think it's redundant to say that having experienced this as a child, it's impossible to become a person with a completely healthy type of attachment. His parents, the people who brought him into this world, who were supposed to teach him how to live, feel and love, abandoned him in the street alone, leaving him to survive and starve. In doing so, apparently keeping his other two brothers for themselves. Lorenzo was the only one left behind. Can you imagine how a child feels after something like that? If they were kept and I was abandoned, I'm definitely broken, I'm disfigured on some primal level, I'm always worse.

I was already born wrong.

The fear of rejection is something that is 99% likely for Lorenzo to have.

Remember his motto: "Give me a job. Give me money. Give me love." What can a man whose most basic desire is love be afraid of? That he'll lose it.

Can you imagine what that does to the psyche? After such events, one can't help but question oneself. What did I do wrong? Why did things happen the way they did? If I had behaved differently, if I had stayed away from my parents, if I had been more obedient, would I have been kept?

Was it all my fault?

And he lived alone with these thoughts not for a day or two - but probably for years. He says that he lived this life already when he 'was little'. These thoughts may have been reinforced afterwards because he began to realize the moral wrongness of what he was doing to survive (stealing). The psyche can be very persistent in convincing us of bad things: you should have found another way, you let everyone down, Snuffy picked up someone who wasn't worth it.

Beyond that, as much as I like to portray Lorenzo and Snuffy as parent and child in my writing, it's likely that their relationship is more of a friendship. Even the graffiti caption in the moment where Snuffy picks him up says "who finds a friend finds a treasure".

Snuffy probably didn't live with Lorenzo for a long time - I think he picked him up, fulfilled his wishes, and then sent him to treatment and helped him with his football career. That's already a huge gift, and even more so for Lorenzo. They kept in contact, they saw each other often, they probably called each other.

But at the same time Snuffy was playing at a football club and winning trophies, which you can't do if you're not 100% invested. He was on constant travelling between countries and games. He just didn't have time to always be with Lorenzo - and it's likely that Snuffy (who wasn't given the "How to deal with a teenager abandoned by his parents and saved from starvation" manual) might not have thought about it. It would have been fine on his end. Why? Because Lorenzo, especially as a child, would not have shown him that anything was wrong - remembering the way his parents had thrown him out, he wouldn't have let it happen again. He wouldn't talk about his problems, he wouldn't impose, he'd do anything just to please. Just to be comfortable. Maybe even blaming himself for having those needs, because Snuffy already seemed to have done a hundred times more for him than he should have (from his point of view, of course).

He'd do anything to avoid causing trouble - only for not being left behind.

Imagine - getting someone's love, and not being able to feel it all the time? Constantly losing the only person who ever genuinely loved and cared for you and gave you a chance to start a new life, seeing him off on flights and likely for seasons to other clubs (it's not known how long Snuffy played for the Ubers, but it's likely he was under contract with them and then the club loaned him out to leagues in the countries where he wanted those trophies for Mick. Otherwise the chronology between Mick's death, Lorenzo's find and Blue Lock seems too compressed). It's in some ways even scarier than not feeling love at all ever. Because it's far worse to get love and then lose it again and again.

Even so, Snuffy showed him what it feels like to be loved. He gave him purpose and a new life. He gave him an understanding of that healthy basic need that Lorenzo is so eager to fill - the need for love.

But then we look at his behaviour and we have... questions. Why is Lorenzo so embarrassing? Why does he act so defiant? Why doesn't he adjust to others like, for example, Isagi and Hiori, who were also afraid of being alone? It would seem that if you're weird, you'll never be accepted. If you don't fit in, you won't be loved. Yes, we can say that he just still doesn't fit into social norms because he missed the moment of childhood adaptation to this world, and just doesn't know how to do it. But as the conversation with Barou shows, he is capable of being completely serious in the right moments. He consciously behaves the way he is, without holding back.

We can say that Snuffy showed him that he could be loved for nothing, for himself, whatever he was. But still, after experiencing so many rejections Lorenzo would either fixate on Snuffy alone (only he cares about me, and no one else) or still subconsciously withdraw into a passive role in human relationships. Again, making himself comfortable.

But why does he behave like this in spite of this - making jokes about money, meowing and barking (I'm sorry), not shying away from making jokes about rivals and acquaintances? Why is he so uncomfortable for them?

Because the best defence is offence.

Most likely, when he was a kid, Lorenzo did tried to adjust to his parents. And obviously, even if he succeeded, they still ended up abandoning him. His strategy didn't work, and then it probably didn't work while living on the streets either. He tried to secure his safety, to make sure of it, but then he was tossed out of it.

And that's been imprinted on his memory.

It's both a defence mechanism on his part and an unconscious demonstration of "here I am, this is how bad I am". He was already rejected when he tried to fit in - so why try now, especially when he has Snuffy?

Think of how pejoratively he talks about himself. How he smiles broadly when he talks about his tragic past. He's being deliberately defiant - yes, I believe only money has power in this world, yes, I was a street rat. Why does he say this, if in order to be accepted he has to hide his flaws? Yes, the past may be impossible to hide, but other things?

Because if he says it himself, and if he laughs about it himself, showing that he doesn't care, it won't hurt him so much when others will talk about it.

He literally shouts with his appearance - that's how I am! I'm ugly inside and out, I'm a mess, I'm wrong! I'm impossible to love!

Because if he shows it first, he can endure it when someone else says it.

Are you saying I only care about money, Mihya? Ha, and I already know, I've already said it myself!

In a relationship, Lorenzo is prepared in advance for the fact that sooner or later this, in his opinion, ugly and vile essence in him, because of which his parents abandoned him, will be recognised, and he will be rejected again. And sets himself up a safe base so that this time it won't be as painful for him as it once was with his parents.

He adores Barou and Snuffy so much precisely because they accept this ugly shell without question. Like, here you are, so what? Sure, he probably doubts them on bad days too, but they're still like stable lighthouses for him.

So we've covered why Lorenzo acts so openly and perhaps even defiantly. It's a perpetual test of boundaries and a way to protect himself from rejection - how much of this will you take from me? Are you sure you're okay with this? Think again. I'm uncomfortable for you. I will always be.

But there's one thing that doesn't fit with his behaviour, even with that said.

His "There's nothing in this world money can't buy."

He is obsessed with money, explicitly saying that everything in life can be bought with it (of course, this is not necessarily true - sometimes people lie about themselves as well). He judges players by their stakes, and even calls Raichi worthless. But it seems that the love he longs for this much cannot be bought. And Lorenzo is well aware of this - 'money' and 'love' go separately in his motto.

Dissonance, isn't it? Seems strange for a man like him.

So we move on to the next part of the analysis.

3. A price of the man.

I'm actually very interested in Lorenzo's real relationship with money. I'm sure that because of this terrible background he is quite impulsive (I'll tell you more about this in the second part of the analysis), and more specifically impulsive in his purchases. Even if we're talking about ordinary ones - buying a more expensive juice in a shop, choosing an ice cream not on sale, accidentally buying an adult public transport ticket instead of a youth one. Any expense perceived by the psyche as 'unnecessary' must be met with guilt - either suppressed and ignored, or vivid. Because the psyche has no switch between 'here' and 'then'. It's used to reacting to trigger events according to a certain script that once perhaps helped Lorenzo to survive by avoiding unnecessary expenses. Except now everything seems to be fine, right? Money's there.

But you can't explain it to yourself so easily.

Let's go back to Lorenzo's statements about money and his attitude to it. He quite logically, after such a life, believes that money solves many problems, if not all of them.

But this stance of his goes a little further than the prices of things and services.

Remember how he was introduced to us as a character? He remembers the price of every player, he mocks Raichi, he's sarcastic in response to Kaiser's claim.

He asks - Michel, if I defeat you, will I be worth more than you?

Lorenzo still believes that people have some mythical 'value' that he alone cannot grasp. His brothers were more valuable than he was. His parents' lives without him were more valuable than he was. Every person who passed him in the street was more valuable than him.

He believes that on his own he was worth nothing - and that's why he was abandoned.

Remember what he says about his little self? Good-for-nothing. But it's not true. Lorenzo was a kid who just couldn't do anything under those circumstances. He didn't need to be good for anything - he needed to grow up and be a happy little kid. And he was robbed of that.

But he still doesn't accept it, mocking it.

The whole Mr Worthless thing with Raichi is an obvious reference to himself. Because he too, from his point of view, was once worthless. I'm worthless, so I don't matter and I'm nothing.

But why is this 'worth' of his so important to Lorenzo, especially now, apart from those people?

Because little children have nothing but themselves, and can give nothing but themselves and their love. But Lorenzo knows that he-child was not enough. He was worthless. He was not loved for who he was. But his brothers were loved. They were 'valuable'.

And this belief remained sitting inside him at a very deep level.

And, believing that on his own he is not worth love and never will be, what can he do but think of a way to still get it?

The way out for him is to 'earn' that love.

In fact, though certainly not intentionally, Snuffy's words probably played a role here as well. A deal, salvation in exchange for a football playing.

This only strengthened these beliefs Lorenzo had about himself and about living with a system of people's 'value'.

Snuffy didn't just give him 'money, work and love'. He gave him a way to earn it all. He gave him a way to gain this mythical 'value' that would guarantee his safety - that he would not be abandoned.

On his own, he didn't deserve to be saved.

But what did deserve saving was his talent.

The only thing that Lorenzo thought was valuable about him.

Snuffy's whole philosophy with football - a job that you earn your value with and see it in the form of rates and rental prices - actually suits Lorenzo very well. Because he doesn't feel valuable on his own - only in relation to achievements. And so this semi-comedic treatment of others as money is actually a terrible reflection of his same treatment of himself.

The more he's worth (again, the scene with Kaiser and "will I be worth more than you") the safer he feels.

Lorenzo is sure that he will be abandoned as soon as he makes a mistake and loses his 'value'. And the only way to avoid that is to stay 'valuable'.

Yes, rationally he probably knows that Snuffy won't abandon him. That Ubers care about him. That he's no longer the helpless child he once was. That he can defend himself now.

But we have not just rational intelligence, we also have an emotional one. And the latter continues to throw out familiar beliefs about ourselves, formed from childhood and youth, to any trigger, and influence all our thoughts and actions.

And sometimes it is simply not possible to fight it alone.

#I love him so much that it's painful #how I'm supposed to live laugh love without him #character examination #blue lock analysis #bllk analysis #don lorenzo #marc snuffy #bllk #blue lock

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roo-bastmoon · 10 months

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Quickie (but important) thingies

I've got like 15 minutes in between CT scans so of course I'm on my phone checking on Jikook because the crazy obsession is baked into my DNA by now. Y'all caught me.

Good news: Jimin is linked back up on Spotify. Well done, ARMY, for raising the red flag high and helping get this fixed today!! Let's always have Jimin's and BTS' backs!

Interesting news: It seems that folks Shazamed JK's behind the scenes video and the song that came up is called H-Thirteen (I can't check because the hospital won't let me access YouTube links). Can anyone confirm?

youtube

Request: I'm totally not trying to gaslight, minimize, or police anyone's fandom experience. But it feels like folks are on a hair's trigger out here these days. I get it, especially when it comes to Jimin. He has suffered so many insults over the years.

But before we assume Jungkook is a thief or plagiarist, before we assume his music video will be raunchy, before we assume the worst of any member, could we just hold out a bit for more information? It is possible all these concept choices for Seven are an homage to Jimin and Face. (I'm going to especially think this is so, if the song in the background is number-coded to Jimin and Jikook.)

It seems to me that Jimin has always been Jungkook's inspiration--perhaps even his muse.

And I'm not saying we have to blindly trust or believe the best in everyone. (I mean, I do, but that's me.)

Honestly? I have no great love of Hybe at the moment. I have too many suspicions around all the things that happened after Jimin's Hot 100 #1. But the people who work there are just people; I'm sure most are good and some are jerks, just like anywhere.

The members are also human beings. And human beings are always works in progress.

So I just would like to ask that if something a tannie is doing seems alarming, we say "Hm, that seems alarming!" rather than scream with our whole chests that a member is actively trying to hurt or sabotage another member. Especially when we've had years and years of evidence that BTS really love and trust each other.

Look, every member has flaws; they will make mistakes--sometimes big ones, as they grow. And we have a right to criticize behaviors we don't like. But I guess because of my past family life, I am personally triggered whenever someone automatically assumes mal-intent without asking any questions or waiting for more info to come to light.

Not saying we have to love everyone, or we can't call a spade a spade. I guess I'm just recommending we give a little grace until we get the whole story. I see folks on the timeline who just love Jimin so much, who fear the worst because of the lack of transparency or explanations. My heart beats with you, but I encourage you to hold on a bit longer. Let's see what Jimin has to say about all this.

It's entirely possible that Jungkook saw the way Jimin's hard work and sexy style was amazing but unappreciated by the company and he decided to pay respect to that with his single because he knows he's got the social capital to insist on it.

It's possible that stylists and marketing teams think these looks are the hot, sexy, edgy trends for this year and went with it.

I suppose it's also technically possible that Jungkook decided to "rip off" Jimin's style... and go all-in on payola for radio (which isn't confirmed yet)... and also lean heavily into a straight-acting macho-man raunchy music video (again, not out yet) -- but until we are very sure of any of that, may I ask that we speculate instead of accuse?

If it turns out anyone did Jimin dirty, I promise you I will grab my torch and pitchfork and be second in line (behind Hobi) to rage. But for our own health as a community, and as individuals combatting our own stressors, could we... could we just hang in there and give ourselves some time to do our due diligence before we assume evil or selfish intentions? That's my request.

(Caveat: of course--your blogs, your rules. You get to say anything you want in your space and I will never police you. If I'm really worried about something you're saying or doing, I'll just ask you about it directly. But I won't shade you, I promise. I'm just gently asking us to withhold judgement until we figure out what actually is going on. I hope that sounds reasonable and not condescending. I truly do value different perspectives and would absolutely love to count every person in the Jikook tag as a friend, even if we wildly disagree on things. So please don't read this post as me trying to be harsh or holier than thou. I'm simply trying to say: let's judge based on what is, not on what appears to be true.)

Ah, time to put more dye in my veins. Got to go. Love to you all!

P.S. Jimin smiling so happily while killing it in TikTok challenges is panacea.

#jimin #jikook #jungkook #Youtube

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idolatrybarbie · 5 months

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lover, be sweet masterlist

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 1.8k | explicit - minor free zone!

summary: cuddles. guilt. the sensual caressing of plucked poultry. they don't make Pepto-Bismol for shame, do they?

warnings: references to and discussion of sex - hence the explicit rating, depression, loneliness, guilt & shame, angst, dissociation, citizen kane (1941) dir. orson welles, a few lighthearted moments but don't get your hopes up people, reader is described as slightly shorter than/the same height as marcus, very dramatic metaphors, very lightly edited, bea regresses to using writing as therapy again.

notes: hi - i am sad. this is a fic about me being sad. if you read it you might be able to figure out why i'm sad. i don't love creating from a place of sadness anymore but i am sick of talking about it to people that care about me and my girlfriend marcus pike is, like, right there. so this is me being sad. i am going to try to not write a fic like this again (sad for the fact that i am sad.) we'll see how successful that mission is. we out here.

It’s you who brings up the ‘M’ word. Well, two words: moving in. They come out of your mouth haphazardly one night. A long night of dinner and drinks with wonderful sex after.

It’s been six months. The question, what if me staying over was more…permanent? Marcus is silent for about thirty seconds before he simply kisses you, asking if he needs to start bringing boxes home from work. This is what makes you recoil emotionally, shaking your head as you say you’ve had too much wine. You fall asleep in his arms with your heart pounding and cold.

How are you supposed to tell Marcus that the last time you lived with someone you knew, it ended disastrously? Not just a shit roommate—lives ruined, emotional wounds that never quite healed. A friendship of almost a decade down the drain because the one person you trusted in the world couldn’t grow out of the role they’d locked themselves in. How do you tell him that your family only started treating you right when you moved hours away, that you need an allotted amount of time alone lest you turn into the worst person alive?

You’re over here three out of five nights of his work week. Marcus is the one person in the world you seem to never be able to get enough of. And yet you can’t help that lingering instinct, a stutter in your gut that births a brood of unwanted doubts and insecurities. You live alone. You like it like that. Liked it like that, maybe.

You’d like to move your dishes into the cabinet downstairs—the chipped set of Corelle that Marcus has eaten off of all but once, telling you the plates reminded him of the ones his mother had in Chile. You’d like to wake up with fresh underwear after showers with the man you love only a drawer pull away; his sheets to become your sheets, and yours his. Bender doesn’t like your couch as much as Marcus’ and you’ve been meaning to sell it anyway.

There is a life that could be lived here. A future within these red walls. But you won’t risk it. You will not make that mistake again. Some things are not meant to be shared, and maybe this is one of them. Better to be in solitude half the time with him than isolated all the time without.

But all this stays in the background. Marcus doesn’t bring it up again, doesn’t push. Part of you assumes that he’s forgotten—he drank a lot of wine that night too. Or perhaps he assumes your life has had enough change for a little while. The new job and all that comes with it.

After months of unemployment and steadily weaning yourself off of babysitting other people’s pets, you’ve found one. It’s not much—the pay or the pleasure in doing it—but it is something. You wake up at seven o’clock to be ready for eight and out of the house by quarter past. The drive to D.C. is busy, an increasingly miserable twenty-seven minute commute that everyone on the road slogs through together.

Marcus is happy for you. He’s happy you leave the house for some other reason than to visit him, and he likes to hear about your work day. The people are fine, nice even, and you tell him that. Neither he nor they can stave off the low mood that takes hold of you with every coming cold season, but you try not to focus on that.

Marcus is aware, but he doesn’t bring it up beyond a simple question of how you’re feeling sometimes. He gets warmer as the world outside does the opposite, softening beyond what you thought possible. Your boyfriend is a sourdough starter, not that you’re complaining. The sex you have is sweet and slow. Lovemaking might be the only appropriate turn of phrase. He can’t seem to stop saying it—the ‘L’ word—every time he’s inside of you.

Your dreams are an odd combination of the Palace of Versailles and Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane. A spotlight, a projector. The many versions of yourself, all of whom Marcus loves. The many versions of yourself, most of which you do not.

Mirrors. Lots of them. You’re grateful now when the shower steam makes the glass in Marcus’ bathroom sweat, sparing you from looking into another one. Being so walled off feels like lying to him. You can’t help it. Maybe it’s the intimacy of telling Marcus that’s getting to you. Might it be easier to stand at a pulpit and do a speech on how you feel? Direct. Factual even if the words aren’t confident.

Some Thursday night, three weeks after the ‘M’ word, you pull your car into the driveway beside your house…and sit. Headlights on, engine idle. Right now is the perfect time to freeze and stare out at the dust settled over the dashboard. You only move when knuckles rap on your window. Marcus, of course. His breath is as warm as his soul, fogging up the dirty glass.

You turn the car off, pulling the key from the ignition. He opens the door for you when you make a move to grab your bag.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is already laced with concern.

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. Just…thinking.”

Marcus glances at the empty driver’s seat. “In the car…with the engine running?”

“Got home a few minutes ago,” you say. You don’t know how long it’s been.

Marcus senses your fragile footing, redirecting the conversation. “Do you want to come over tonight?”

“I don’t know,” you say. The words are highlighted by a puff of white past your lips. “Been a long day.”

“I’m making roast chicken,” Marcus says, trying to entice you. “We can lay on the couch. I’ll give you a foot massage.” When he sees you aren’t biting, he adds, “We can watch Pacific Rim. Again.”

You smile as the slightest bit of fire sparks in your chest. “You’ve got a deal.”

Marcus waits at the front door as you collect Bender from your living room. Then he leads the way across the street, unlocking his own door and letting you in first. The cat in your arms leaps gracefully away, ready to find a new spot to nuzzle into.

After a hot shower alone, you feel more like a person. No length of time spent under the water is going to get rid of the guilt masquerading as hunger pains, though. Marcus is already working on dinner when you make your way downstairs. His waist apron hangs over his hips, crimson to match everything else; a thoughtless purchase on your part except for the mental image of him wearing it with that adorably taut face he makes when focusing.

Seeing that exact expression now as Marcus rubs margarine over the plucked, pink body of a whole chicken makes you laugh a little. He looks up at you, hearing the noise, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“You like what you see?” Marcus waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“The sensual caressing of dead poultry?”

He makes a face. “When you put it like that…”

“I speak the truth, the whole truth—”

“And nothing but the truth. You forget that you’re dating a man of the law, y’know.”

“How could I forget?” you ask, coming up behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you peer over the side of Marcus’ arm to watch him season the chicken with various spices on the counter. “You’re always here to protect me.”

“I’m glad you know that,” he says. “And I really mean always.”

Marcus can’t see the look of curious confusion that crosses your face. “Of course,” you mumble into his shoulder.

The chicken is placed on a baking pan lined with tinfoil before it disappears into the oven. Marcus washes his hands thoroughly, tossing everything into a sink of hot and soapy water before he finally embraces you. His hugs are a godsend. You melt into his arms and let yourself be held. Then, another twist of your organs. The feeling plagues you like heartburn, showing up at the worst of times. They don’t make Pepto-Bismol for shame, do they?

Marcus must feel you tense up, because he asks, “Alright. What’s wrong?”

Pulling back from the hug, he stares at you—the heat of a thousand carefully probing suns.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say. Clearly he doesn’t buy it, taking in the way your eyes are starting to water like the Potomac.

“Well that’s just not true. Honey, please just… I want to help you.”

“I can’t move in with you,” you whisper. The first tear falls when you blink, a warm trail falling slowly down your cheek.

Marcus tilts his head. “What?”

“I can’t move in with you,” you repeat a little louder. “I’m not—I can’t.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “If you’re not ready—”

“It’s not about being ready,” you say, pulling yourself from his grasp. “It’s about…I don’t know. I love you. And that’s huge, and the last time I lived with someone I loved it ruined my life. I can’t do that with this. With us. I won’t.”

Marcus gently calls your name as you turn away from him, hands steady against the granite countertop. You can’t look at him. You’ve told the man you love that you can’t take the next step of further knitting your lives together. Of starting anew as a pair. There is no timeline to feed him. No amount of months given will tide him over because there's no expiry date on this feeling of yours. It simply is; there was a time before it existed, but you’re almost certain there will be no after.

That crawling specter of loneliness hasn’t haunted you for six whole months, and you would like to keep it that way. Even if the knowledge that you’re missing minute details about Marcus in your time across the street kills you the slightest bit; even if you want to show him that you’re all in on this, what your boyfriend doesn’t know is that you are a nuclear reactor. The disaster happened a long time ago, but the ground is still poisoned. The air is teeming with radiation even if he’s been slowly sipping the water.

You say, “I don’t know when I’m going to be ready.” Not now, if ever. Breaking your own goddamn heart.

“That’s okay,” Marcus says. “There’s no rush on it. You could take a million years. I’m still going to be here.” He takes you back into his arms, cradling your head against his body.

This doesn’t fix anything—doesn’t fix you, but you don’t want Marcus to do that anyway. For now, this works. Right now this is okay.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x you #*lover be sweet #ppcu fanfiction #pedrostories

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stayinzencity · 1 month

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heroine’s manual S1 E3

GENRE: Romcom, Drama | love triangles, childhood friends, high school au | INSPIRED BY: Heroine Shikkaku (shoujo manga) | LENGTH: ~1.4K | RATING: Teen | WARNINGS: mentions of food, eating | PAIRINGS: Minho x MC (Reader), Minho x OC (Heather) | TAGLIST: @linoscence @elizabeth11moreno (ask to be added) | A/N: this chapter finally came out of the drafts after years thanks to @jisungsdaydreamer (and me accidentally posting part 5 first oops)

♡ previous episode

♡ return to main

THREE. Even if he rejects me, I won't give up so easily and allow someone else to steal my spot.

Inviting Heather to hang out is a mistake. Having your friends around doesn't make you feel any less of a third wheel. It’s Heather who’s supposed to be the odd one out amongst your group, yet somehow it feels like the rest of you are the ones intruding. You can't bear to witness the shy glances and gentle smiles Minho and Heather exchange.

You're trying to come up with an excuse to break them apart without being the bad guy, when a crash comes to your rescue.

"Ah. My bad," Jisung apologizes, looking down at the glass he'd accidently knocked over. He'd been sitting next to Heather, and while the glass was fortunately intact, water had spilled onto Heather's lap.

"Looks like you’re the victim of Jisung's idiocy today." Hyunjin hands her napkins, attempting to ease her through the awkwardness with his charming smile. He shoots Jisung a withering glare, getting a sheepish look and shrug in reply.

"I guess I should get going," Heather says. She rises from her seat in a hurry, but a hand over hers gives her a reason to wait.

Hyunjin.

Minho's expression is closer to amusement than jealousy, watching as his friend calls his girlfriend - by her actual name, not the nickname you've given her.

Maybe Hyunjin's crush hasn't disappeared yet. If he and Heather get together, then Minho would be yours again. Everything would fall perfectly in place.

"We don't live that far from each other. I'll take you home." Hyunjin pauses, turning to Minho who's sneaking cake onto Jisung's plate. "If that's fine with your boyfriend?"

"Whatever she wants," Minho says with a shrug. He doesn't seem to be worried about Hyunjin stealing away his girlfriend, which boosts your confidence in your own chances with him.

"Yeah," you enthusiastically agree, nodding your head. "Hyunjin's a nice guy. Have a wonderful evening!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes, scowling at you, instead of being grateful that you're helping him out. One day, he'll figure it out, and thank you.

You lean close to her so that only she - and Hyunjin, perhaps - can hear. "You might even fall for him instead of Minho."

Hyunjin scoffs at your words with an exaggerated eyeroll and drags Heather out the door before you can say anything else.

Seungmin leaves soon after them, muttering something about an assignment that you don't really bother paying attention to.

And then it's just Minho, Jisung and you.

"We should head home too," Minho says. He gets up from the table and grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. "It's movie night."

"Ah, right." Jisung sends you a wink, starting the next phase of your plan to set your story on track. "I've got some stuff I need to work on, so I'll have to trust you two to keep our tradition alive even if it’s not the same without me."

And then it was just Minho and you.

It's usually easy to forget Minho's girlfriends exist when they're not around. Often they fade into the background even when they are around.

Yet you find yourself alone with Minho, head in his lap, too distracted to actually watch the show that's playing on the TV. Too much on your mind to even enjoy this moment.

Minho's texting someone, wearing a smile as soft as the one he usually gives you before he wraps you in a hug.

The someone in question must be Heather. After all, who else could it be? The only real rival you've ever had when it came to Minho's affection and attention is Heather, right?

If there's no struggle, then it won't feel as special when you finally end up together. Heather isn't the heroine. That title belongs to you. You're the one that's always been with Minho. No one else knows him like you do- well, maybe Jisung does. That's a different story though.

If you're the heroine, then why do you feel like you're in second place? Are you falling into a background role in your own story? Could it be you're simply a side character in this tale?

Minho's fingers run through your hair, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You're the one here with him, not Heather. You're the heroine, not her. There's still hope.

“I like you,” you blurt. It's far from the confession you had planned, especially since you weren't even the one who was supposed to be saying the words first. Sometimes you need to improvise to get the perfect scenes, so it's ok. “I like you so much.”

Minho’s hand stops stroking your hair. He doesn’t take it away, so you don’t attempt to sit up. You want to be close to him, for as long as you can.

Any moment now, he'll admit his feelings for you and you'll be the one beside him instead of Heather.

You know that, but if somehow these are the last moments you’ll have with him, you want to remember them being pleasant. Besides, you don’t exactly want to look at his face right now. The aftermath of a confession is more mortifying than you imagined, especially when you haven't gotten an answer in return.

“I know,” he says.

And that’s it. He doesn't say anything else. And you don't have the courage to ask what your words meant to him.

The couple on screen breaks up and eventually makes up, but you don't even remember their names anymore. Tears fall from your eyes and you wipe them away.

"I can't watch this anymore," you manage to whisper. It's not the drama that has you crying. You know it, and you know Minho probably does too. "I'll head home."

Minho doesn't try to stop you as you leave. As tempting as it is to turn back, you're too afraid that Minho's eyes won't be watching you.

Seungmin once explained some physics cat theory. Put a cat in a box with poison, and it could be both alive or dead as long you don't open it. If you don't check, the cat might still be alive. Something like that.

In your imagination, Minho is woefully watching as you walk away.

After the confession, it's a little hard. Minho isn't actively avoiding you, except he kind of is. He has the perfect excuses, plus the universe seems to be on his side. It's natural for the hero of the story to have exceptional luck.

As the heroine, you don't seem to have the same advantage. If anything, there's just been obstacles to your perfect ending. The biggest one turning out to be Minho himself.

You thought you didn't have to do anything and everything would fall into place by itself. Then when you took a chance and confessed, you were turned down. But even if he doesn't feel the same way now, you can't give up yet. It hurt when you realized you weren't on the same page as him, but there's still time for him to catch up, right?

You run into him after class, and he has to catch you before you stumble to the floor. It's a scene straight out of the kind of anime you love to watch. A sign for you to take another chance, except Minho speaks before you can.

"No."

You haven't even said a word, and you’ve already been shot down. An arrow through your heart, but it seems cupid isn't on your side.

Are you that obvious? Could Minho read minds? Does he really not like you?

"What? I didn't even ask-"

"I won't go out with you."

Ah. Well. Minho hasn't told you that he doesn't like you, though you aren't sure if you could handle hearing those words straight from him.

"That wasn't what I was going to say," you lie. Your voice is strained, and you can't meet his eyes, so maybe it's not believable. But you can't admit the truth, can you? "I wanted to ask if you had any movie recommendations."

Minho raises an eyebrow. He's not fooled. Still he goes along with it and makes some suggestions. Not that you’re really paying attention to his words as much as how his voice sounds.

Minho. It's always been Minho.

And you were the constant in his life, at least until Heather showed up.

It's hard to admit that she might have stolen the role that was meant for you, but you can't move ahead without accepting that.

Turns out Minho isn't just on a different page. The title of the book doesn't match either.

You are lost, clueless of what lies ahead. There's one thing you're certain of though.

Even if you’re disqualified as a heroine, your only hero is Minho.

♡ season one guide

♡ next episode

♡ please leave a comment, reblog with tags or send an ask to let me know what you think!!

#skz fic #stray kids ff #skz fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids fiction #stray kids fluff #lee know drabble #lee know fluff #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #lee know series #stray kids series #skz series #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #skz ff

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okchijt · 5 months

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Can I request some Kashiko Murasaki dating headcanons?

Author's Note: Thank you so much Anon for the request! This is gonna be a tough one for sure but I think I'll manage! I'm surprised there is more than one sentence in her character Wiki so that definitely helped a lot lmao. And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!❤

General Kashiko Murasaki Romantic Headcanons

📱 Kashiko would be the type of girlfriend to pretend to her friends and everyone else's faces that you don't exist to her, but in private she's all over you. It would be one of does relationships where her image and popularity matter more to her than your relationship.

📱 As if to make up for the cold treatment she gives you at school, Kashiko brags nonstop to her friends about her supposed partner and how amazing they are to her. She'll make sure to always praise you to them whenever she sees you around, loudly exclaiming how much you mean to her and how perfect you are. Bragging about all of the dates you two go to and how much effort you make for her and how much of a better partner you are to her than the partners her friends have. Kashiko makes sure to show her friends and everyone around her how proud she is of her supposed relationship without involving you, and of course, everyone believes her! They've never seen or heard her supposed partner's name but it's Kashiko's word against theirs, so who cares!? Kashiko just hopes it pleases you just as much as it pleases her to praise you so openly to the whole school without exposing anything that she doesn't want to say.

📱 When in your presence, be that on dates or by just being next to you, Kashiko makes an effort to be nicer to the people around her who aren't just you. She may put on an act about not even knowing who you are in her friends' faces, but she always suitably tries to be nice about it if she can. Whenever she says something that she shouldn't have because it's rude and you nudge or criticize her for it she reluctantly but immediately tries to fix her mistake. It does take time and patience though, and as much as Kashiko pretends like she doesn't appreciate you trying to help her be better, she secretly does cause she can't believe you actually believe or love her enough to even try. The results are slowly showing though, she didn't scream at the lady in the store for taking too long to scan her items, so that's something at least!

📱 You are probably the only person to know the truth about Kashiko's secret. This shows that despite the way she treats you differently in public or private she trusts you a lot and that you matter to her immensely. She'd admit to you that she's actually mixed race as if it's something to be ashamed of and that she hopes you won't think less of her for it. Imagine Kashiko's surprise to you not even caring at all about this information, you'd brush it off as it's not a big deal at all and begin to ask her various questions about it and say how that explains a lot and how cool it is to know. Depending on how you word it or you react Kashiko may just start crying over hearing/seeing such overwhelming acceptance from you, something she's never received from anyone. She'll cling to you as if her life depends on it as she cries all of her years of pain away, just grateful to have someone who continues to love her despite this.

📱 Has a full album of pictures of just you on her phone, some with her, some without her, the point is she has a whole section dedicated to you on her phone. It ranges from the most aesthetic/model-like pictures to the most boring/uneventful pictures out there. Kashiko will basically grab any opportunity she can get to snap a picture of you no matter how you look or what you are doing, she just adores you so much that she can't help it! She gushes over each and every one of them, whining about how she can't show them off to her friends or even the world to see, she just wants to show you off but you both know she can't. But in a way that makes her love the pictures even more because they are only for her to see and enjoy, every time she's having a bad day, one look at one of those pictures instantly makes her whole week and she's smiling uncontrollably for the rest of the day.

📱 Kashiko's love language includes words of affirmation and physical touch! This is something most if not all of the bullies have in common. During school hours Kashiko pretends as if you don't exist, she will treat you coldly and act as if your very existence bothers her, but if you squint hard enough you can tell this treatment she gives you hurts her deep inside. That's why she's all over you as soon as you two are alone with no one around to discover your secret relationship. She'll nuzzle against you as she begs for forgiveness in the most childish way possible, making you question if she even means what she's saying. Despite this Kashiko does feel bad that she values her popularity more than you so she makes sure to shower you with as much love in private as she can. She'll be all over you, kissing you all over as she makes sure that she's always holding you in some way. She'll praise you for being such a good and patient partner with her and how she's so lucky to have someone as amazing and understanding as you. Just expect to never have time for yourself when you two are together, cause this girl is not letting you go till she makes sure all is forgiven and you're reminded of her love.

📱 As I've touched on slightly above, Kashiko's other love language is words of affirmation! And that means that you will be dropped into a world full of praise! And coming from someone as proud as her that means a lot! at least in her opinion, Kashiko will make sure to praise you any chance she gets, whether it's to your face or in conversation with her friends she's always saying how great you are and that you are the only person worthy of her love. She's also a natural flirt who can come up with a pick-up line on the fly without trying, that's how good she is. Surprisingly Kashiko knows what it's like to be insecure about something, so when she knows you're feeling down over something you may not like about yourself, she's quick to remind you that she only settles for the best, so whatever you're worried about is already perfect enough in her eyes so there is nothing to feel anxious about. But if you need a more tender reassuring then Kashiko will try to give it to you, it will be very awkward cause being vulnerable is something she's not used to, but she'll try to gently tell you how she will love you regardless as she kisses you all over your face for added reassurance.

📱 Although Kashiko is a big lover of PDA, she'll only ever partake in it in specific areas where she knows none of her friends hang out. Kashiko doesn't care if a random person from school catches you two, they are just a nobody, and no one will believe them, unlike if her friends catch her with someone not so popular. If she knows she's in a space where she constantly doesn't feel the need to check if anyone is watching then she's clinging to you like never before. Holding your hand tightly in hers, nuzzling her face against your arm, or just flat-out hugging you out of nowhere, not caring who watches. That said, PDA is only reserved during times when Kashiko is absolutely sure none of her friends will catch her, if you two are somewhere where her clique would usually be then she'll detach herself from you immediately, creating distance with you as she pretends she doesn't know you exist. But as soon as you two are in the clear she clings to you all over again as if nothing happened.

📱 Since your relationship is a secret, Kashiko makes sure to shower you with kisses every chance she gets. Sometimes during school hours if she's feeling desperate she'll pull you aside somewhere where no one will see and without a chance for you to react she'll already have her lips on yours. Kashiko's kisses are always passionate, desperate, and hungry, showing you how much she misses being in your presence, making sure to show you through the kiss how much she hates not being able to be public with you and how sorry she is for it. Kashiko's favorite spot to kiss you is your lips, it's no surprise really when you consider how little she gets to show you her love during school hours so she makes sure to make up for it on her favorite spot to kiss you. It's the most intimate place and it always gets the right message out to you about her feelings for you, therefore it's her favorite.

📱 Anything involving physical affection Kashiko lives for, so why would cuddles be any different!? Out of everything that I've mentioned, cuddles are Kashiko's guilty pleasure because it's the only time she can be the most intimate with you without worrying that anyone will catch you two in the act. I like to think Kashiko is a switch with a heavy preference for being the little spoon, she'll press herself tightly against you, wanting to be entangled in your arms as you shield her from the world. This is also her most vulnerable state and the only time you'll ever see her like that, it's when all of her fears and insecurities come to life. She will cry if you decide to reciprocate and whisper words of encouragement and reassurance into her ear, how everything she worries about you absolutely love and won't have it any other way, let me tell you she'll cling to you and will never want to let you go after that, she appreciates the gesture immensely, more then you'll ever know in fact. Kashiko is always warm, so cuddling during the summer is always a pain, especially because she can't go a single day without multiple cuddles. But during winter you cannot be more glad than to have a literal fireplace as a girlfriend!

📱 No matter if it's during school hours or not, Kashiko sees everyone as a threat even if the person in question is just a friend or someone that truly means no harm, Kashiko will always feel like she's competing over you with them. The worst is at school though, how is she supposed to make sure no one tries to steal you away from her when her reputation forces her to pretend like you don't even exist!? That being said she does step over the line just enough sometimes to make the point come across without endangering her image. As soon as the person gets on her nerves enough, be that touching you or their words become more flirty with each word then that's where Kashiko steps in. "Are you seriously interested in them? I didn't think anyone would be this desperate to date such a nobody!" Kashiko would mock with a laugh before walking past you two, knowing already that it was all it took to make the person back off out of fear of their image being worse by being with you. The worst part is that Kashiko knows it was wrong and cruel to say something like that, especially because she didn't mean it. There is no better option than you, and if it was anyone else she wouldn't have cared nearly enough to later catch you alone and cry all of her apologizes to you. She'll beg for your forgiveness as she showers you with praise and that she never meant those words, that she only said them to protect you, and that you mean everything to her. She'll shower you with love and affection as she holds you tightly against her, promising to make it up to you and that she'll always love you.

📱 Although Kashiko would prefer to go to a fancy restaurant with you for a date, she knows it'll risk her getting caught, so she settles for less fancy outings. Museums, arcades, aquariums, picnics or just staying home are the types of dates Kashiko doesn't have to worry about being caught at by her friends. Even though she hated the idea of some of these like the museum, she decided that if it's with you she doesn't mind. And it's true because each time you two go somewhere she would rather die than be caught going there alone, she always ends up having a blast because you make it fun and interesting for her. Staying-at-home dates are her favorite though, because you two get to reenact the idea of going to a restaurant by turning the dining area into a fancy enough space to make the fantasy come true. It's moments like these where Kashiko appreciates you the most, because despite everything she puts you through you still go all out and put up with her.

📱 Kashiko as a girlfriend is such a mixed bag it would really take a lot out of a person to even tolerate half the things she does. Between her being a horrible person to other people with no remours and her acting cold towards you during school hours, she does make sure to make up for it though in private. There is not a single day where you aren't reminded by her how much she loves you and that you are literally the most important person in her life because you know her secret and accept her regardless of it. Your dating life will basically have two sides to it, the cold nonexistent kind and the overflowing loving type of one, the question is, are you willing to put up with it for just a slice of paradise?

#yandere simulator #kashiko murasaki #yandere simulator x reader #kashiko murasaki x reader #yandere simulator x gender neutral reader #kashiko murasaki x gender neutral reader #yandere simulator kashiko murasaki #headcanons #x reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

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ltbarnes · 1 year

Text

Webs of Opacity

Summary: On the eve of the annual Stark Halloween party, you’ve managed to gulp down too much alcohol and tangled yourself into intricate webs of trouble. Even glittering fairies can’t escape the drama, and handsome 80’s film characters can’t always save them from sleazy boyfriends and hangovers.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Rogers!reader (adopted, of course), Steve Rogers x sister!reader, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff

Word count: 6k

Warnings: underage drinking, reader being very drunk, unconsented kissing, mild violence

A/N: This is a mess, I’m sorry. Started this last fall and rushed to get it done in time for this year. Also happy Halloween and over a week of Midnights being out. Couldn’t help myself from referencing it every other paragraph lol

Also if anyone has any scenarios or requests for my college series please please send them to me! Love your enthusiasm for my Stark U babies and want to keep writing for them

Masterlist

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Your shiny, entirely fake wings keep bumping into the ridiculous amount of people crammed into this room, and you're sure you have never apologized more times in your life than tonight. Wanda has assured you many times that, no, you should not take off your wings because you look—in her words—adorable. It was her idea, after all, to dress you up like a little flowery fairy for the Halloween party Tony has thrown tonight. She made your wings all fluttery and glittery, and the flowers in your hair sparkle every now and then. It feels like a childhood dream coming true.

"Spider-boy!" you call out over the loud music, jumping as you stretch your hand up in the air to alert the young man twenty feet away.

For a "quiet gathering" there sure are a lot of loud, drunk people here. Then again, it was your mistake to trust the promise of Stark when it came to a party.

Your jumping up and down is entirely unnecessary when you're trying to gain the attention of someone with a creepy sixth sense that allows them to just know everything happening around them. Peter already knew exactly where you were the moment you opened your mouth. It doesn't help that you're just a tiny, little bit of tipsy either.

He smiles a toothy grin as he pushes past the crowd towards you, showing glimpses of his Indiana Jones costume that's honestly a slightly surprising choice. He looks handsome though.

"Hi, Y/n!" he nearly shouts over the music, embracing you in a side hug as he takes a look at your outfit. "You're a fairy! It fits you so great, it's like you were meant to be one,” Peter exclaims happily while you chuckle lightheartedly.

"Thank you, it was Wanda's idea. Indiana Jones, huh?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in question. It's quite uncharacteristic. Last year he went as Nikola Tesla and nobody knew who he was supposed to be.

"Yeah, Tony said I had to go as something cooler this year. He'd disown me otherwise." Peter cringes while your head is thrown back in laughter.

"He told me I looked like a moth earlier," you answer with a grin on your lips, the remnants of your chuckles fading out.

"You look great, Y/n. Very sweet. Think Bucky's gonna get here any second and tell me to keep any 'punks' away from you," Peter tells you. You roll your eyes, though fondly.

"Hm, I bet he will," you hum. "Gotta send him back soon if he keeps that up. Both of them, for that sake."

You nod your head towards the blonde head sticking up in the bar crowd. Your brother is an overbearing mess that you would much rather let you be, instead of hovering protectively around your presence constantly. He seems to have eased up on his duties tonight, though, in honor of the holiday.

"I think it's good that—you know—they look out for you. There are a lot of bad guys out there," Peter says, scratching his head nervously like it would somehow offend you.

"Yeah, that's understandable. Though Steve and Bucky seem to think I'm still a kid." You scrunch your nose fondly.

"Well, you are. Kind of," Peter says. Your mouth hangs agape jokingly, with a silent scoff in answer.

"Oh, that's where we're going! You're only two years older, asshole," you say with a glare, taking a sip from the drink in your hand.

"Those two years make a world of difference." He smiles with a glint in his eyes. "Head off to college and then they'll see you as an adult, maybe."

"I'm going in January—stop looking at me like that!" you yell when he smirks, holding back a laugh. "I'm serious! Alright, okay, we're not playing nice tonight, are we?" You raise an eyebrow in question.

"Sure," he smiles. It falters just as quickly when you snatch the red solo cup out of his hand, gulping down the sweet and bitter liquid before crumpling the cup in your hands. "Hey!" Peter shouts. "You're not 21!"

"Neither are you." A victorious smile adorns your lips. You try not to show the distaste from the bitter liquid burning in your throat.

"In a few months!" Peter blushes and you fight the urge to coo at him because he gets shy over the most peculiar things.

"You're so cute, Parker," you tell him with a bop to his nose.

"Oh, piss off," he says and shakes his head.

"Learnt a new swear word? Impressive. College has really changed you."

"You're really annoying right know, you know that?"

You shake your head frantically, scrunching your nose simultaneously, and there's something different about you that Peter just noticed now.

"You're already drunk, aren't you?" he asks with realization dawning upon him. You gaze up at him with a mischievous glint and a gasp escapes him. "Y/n, Steve's gonna freak out on you!"

"He's never gonna find out. And I'm not drunk. I had three drinks earlier, 's fine," you say with a dismissive wave.

"Three drinks?" he breathes out in disbelief. "That's not little—hey! Hands off, asshole!" Peter interrupts the beginning of his speech to scare away the twenty-something with his hands on your hips.

"Dickhead," the guy mutters under his breath as he backs away. You turn around to meet Peter's eyes with a pout as the guy saunters off, a disappointed frown in between your brows.

"That guy was hot. You scared him away. You ruined my only chance," you pout.

You turn around again before Peter has the chance to answer, roaming your eyes around for the guy. With only a few seconds he's managed to land himself over by the bar, drink raised to his lips as he eyes you hungrily despite Peter's warnings. You smile, biting your lip with a newfound confidence you've never experienced. Yeah, definitely tipsy. Sober you would be hiding away in the cleaning closet by now.

"Well, yeah, he was—Y/n, hello?" Peter lays his hand on your shoulder, turning you around to meet his eyes again. "You know what? We're gonna go for a walk." He lays an arm around your shoulders, gently steering you away from the guy and into the crowd.

"Oh, where?" you ask, already forgotten the source of your previous pout. "Careful of my wings, Parker."

"It's a surprise," Peter says as he loosens his hold around your wings, glancing to see if they're alright. You stop talking almost instantly and for once he's happy to know some silence from you, because right now you can't seem to shut up and he's not used to spending time with your chipper-talkative version.

Peter pushes the two of you through the thick, sweaty crowd filled with lazy costumes and masterpieces alike, ranging from several layers thick to barely covering anything at all. He recognizes some of the people from the compound, some from his college that he doesn't even know how they got here, but most of them are complete strangers.

You send flirty glances and hellos over your shoulder to every guy you gain eye contact with. It's scary how fast the alcohol went to your brain, from being completely unnoticeable to half-drunk in a minute. Peter does not like the drunk you. Or he does, maybe, but not in a room filled with guys who just can't wait to get under your ridiculously cute dress. It's offensive really, how you can manage to look so excruciatingly innocent and hot at the same time. He'll curse out Wanda tomorrow.

The party is so packed with people that it takes ten minutes before he finds the ones he's looking for. Wanda and Natasha sip on their martinis in a ridiculously large couch, gossiping like a bunch of school girls as they shout encouragements at Sam and Tony on the dance floor. Peter sighs, nearly pushing you down on the couch next to Natasha before he slouches down himself.

"What do we have here, huh?" Natasha smirks and takes a small sip of her drink.

"She's drunk. I'm exhausted. Please take her off my hands," Peter says as he throws his head back on the couch. You let out a giggle, leaning against Natasha's shoulder.

"He's exaggerating," you say with your voice muffled by her shoulder.

"Okay, young lady. Drunk, huh?" Wanda asks, raising an eyebrow in question. Her perfectly red lips curl into a smile that shows she's not really upset about it.

"No," you mumble, scratching your nose with your manicured finger for the occasion. "Hiya, Auntie," you coo while curling up besides Natasha.

"Stop calling me Auntie," she mutters and gently pushes you off her shoulder.

"How's your boyfriend? Jake? No, John. Wait! Jack!" you fumble over your words. It might as well be any of the three names, because Natasha has been showing up with a new person on her arm every other month this year. You don't know what it is, really, but you guess you should be glad she's exploring her options.

"Jason," Natasha says through a roll of her eyes. The slightest hint of amusement can be found on her lips, but it's nothing that she shows to someone else. "And he's very much good, now stop asking. He's just getting drinks," she says and nods towards the bar.

"I like that guy," you exclaim excitedly. There's no doubt about your drunken state in this moment, because in no shape or form have you been as wounded up about any of Natasha's past partners.

"Hey, honey," Wanda catches your attention with a gentle hand on your arm, reaching across the sofa. "Where's your brother hiding? I can't imagine he would be very happy with you being drunk, no?" she asks.

"He can't know!" you exclaim with a whispered shout. "He's gonna kill me, please, Wanda."

Your eyes are blown wide open in fear. It's not that Steve would be mad—the disappointment is what you desperately want to evade. He gets that frown in between his eyebrows, puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head while looking down to the ground. Being on the receiving side of that is humiliating, on the verge of heartbreaking. You can't handle that tonight.

"I don't know, sweetheart..."

"Please, Wanda." There's tears gathering in your eyes, more so for dramatic effect than actual upset. You've slid down onto your knees in front of her, begging with your hands on her thighs.

"Oh god," Natasha mutters under her breath, setting down her drink on the table while indifferently glancing over to the bar where her boyfriend of the month resides.

She can't really handle this theatric version of you. There's a reason you're usually one of her favorites, despite your young age—your ability to be fucking quiet. Whoever gave you all that alcohol is on her damn hit list.

While she tunes out the conversation behind her, some kind of settlement is agreed upon where you, of course, get your way. No more alcohol, and Wanda won't tell your brother or Bucky what you have been up to.

When she stands up to leave, you're on your feet again. Now your attention has wandered over to Peter's costume, talking of how 'incredibly accurate to detail' it is despite being thrown together last minute by the college student. The only thing telling what he's dressed as is the hat paired with the old leather jacket.

A wet kiss is pressed to Natasha's cheek as soon as she joins Jason by the bar. His hand instantly finds her waist, pressing her into him tightly. His touch almost repulses her. He's too straightforward with his affection, so obvious in his quest to show her off.

"You look so goddamn sexy," he whispers into her ear. "Been thinking about what we talked about the other day."

Nat hums absentmindedly in answer, raising a finger swiftly to wave over the bartender.

"You know, having another p—"

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about," she interrupts him.

He brought it up about a week ago, and she only entertained the idea because she was bored. Jason is only a temporary occupation for her constant need to destress—there's no way in hell she's gonna adhere to his fantasy of having two girls sucking him off at the same time.

"She's not your real niece, no?" Jason asks suddenly, setting his gaze on your soft curves in that angelic dress framing your figure on the other side of the room.

Natasha's attention snaps from her drink to where his eyes are set. "You know she's not," she mutters as she takes a sip on her martini, suspiciously eyeing her boyfriend.

"I'm up for it," he says, nodding your way.

"Excuse me?" Natasha raises an eyebrow, gracefully setting down her glass on the counter.

"She's our girl, I have a feeling she is. You can ask her, can't you?" Jason smirks as he shamelessly keeps his stare on you. "Pretty little thing like that would be up for anything, wouldn't she?"

It takes exactly two seconds for Natasha to have a sharp fork pressed against Jason's side, just above one of his major arteries and restricting his breathing. A choked gurgle escapes his lips as Natasha's mouth lingers next to his ear.

"I know 72 different ways to break every bone in your body, and I can make 65 of them seem like an accident." Her smooth voice fills his ear. "Keep her name out of your mouth."

She keeps the fork pressed into his skin for a few seconds, just for extra measure, before she lets it go and Jason coughs violently as his hand flies up to his throat. Natasha takes another sip of her drink, glancing over the unsuspecting crowd with a roll of her eyes.

"I suggest you leave. Go clean up in the bathroom, you have a stain on your shirt," Natasha says before taking her drink and walking away.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

You squeeze yourself through the thick bathroom line, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while trying to avoid bumping into as many people as possible. You gave up on preserving your wings two drinks ago, because quite frankly you have forgotten them by now.

You might also have ignored your fellow elders' warnings of laying off the alcohol, choosing to indulge in whatever drink you could get your hands on for one evening only. It's a risky move, but it's something you can afford. You rarely stir up any trouble, if any at all. What fun is it if you remain predictable all the time?

The music blares through the floor, thumping along with the people jumping up and down against it. You're out of it in the most wonderful way, rid of your constant presence in your own mind, if even for just a short while. The consequences do not exist and neither does your conscience.

When a guy in his late twenties, or thirties, maybe even your age, grasps a hold of your hand and asks if you want to dance, you answer yes without any hesitation. Sweaty bodies spread their heat around, pushing up against you and the mysterious guy as you move against each other.

You barely know what you're doing. You're only following along, letting him control your movements close to his body. If you were more sober you would have seen how it could be more likened to grinding than dancing, but the weight of his hands on your hips feels grounding instead of unnerving.

"You look so fucking pretty," he says into your ear, muffled by the alcohol buzzing in your head and the music blaring over the speakers.

You throw your arms around his neck, looking up at him with what you think is a smile. You're trying, at least. "Thank—" Hiccup. "Thank you. You're pretty too," you say, even though you can barely make out his features in the darkness.

But you think he looks pretty. A hypothesis based on the way his hands feel on your skin. Hot may be a better word for it, but in your state of mind adjectives do not differ especially much from each other. That's why you let him drag you away from the crowd, pushing through drunk people until you find a relatively secluded corner of the floor.

The wall is cold against your heated skin, your back against it while the man's arms cage you in. The feeling of his lips trailing across your neck barely registers. It just feels nice, you think. Your eyes are fluttered close, back arching while you mumble indetectable words you can't even decipher yourself. You're so fucking drunk you won't even remember this moment in the morning.

That's the problem with you drinking tonight—your alcohol consumption has been so limited that you have no conception of whatever is much or not. You have no idea if it takes three or six drinks to get you affected. You have no idea what you are like on tequila or vodka, on Prosecco or red wine. So now, eight drinks later of so many different types you can't even remember which was which, you're out of it enough to barely remember your own name.

His wet lips against yours are a suffocating presence you would much rather be without. It's sloppy and rushed, not at all what you imagined kissing would be. You wince to yourself, pushing him away just an inch to run the back of your hand against your mouth.

And then he's suddenly gone. You could have sworn he stood right in front of you. It takes a good ten seconds before you find him on the floor, clutching his nose with an angry frown in between his eyebrows.

"What the fuck, man?!" he shouts, looking up at the guy who has a funny hat on his head and a heaving chest.

"Stay away from her," the guy seethes, suddenly taking a gentle hold of your arm.

You don't have it in you to protest. Maybe it's dangerous to follow whoever when they tell you to, but your moral compass is non-existent in this state.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" the guy asks you. You blink, staring at his face while trying to piece together his features. No words come out of your mouth. "Damnit," he sighs, shaking his head.

A woman comes up to him with rushed steps, agitated look on her face. "Is she alright, Peter?" She runs her eyes over your disheveled figure.

"She's completely out of it. Must have snuck in quite a lot of more drinks," he answers. "Your dickhead of a boyfriend is taken care of, by the way. Probably won't stir up anymore trouble now."

"I should have checked so he actually left. It was reckless to think he would leave her alone," she says with a stern face, cold gaze watching the exit.

"Wasn't your fault, Nat," Peter assures her. You sway in your stance, stumbling into his hold while he steadies his grip around you.

"She needs to lay down before she passes out. Get her a glass of water for me, will you?" Natasha commands.

Peter nods, giving you a concerned glance before reluctantly heading towards the bar. Your head comes to lean on Natasha's shoulder with a whine, letting her lead you wherever she's going. You're starting to feel dizzy and slightly nauseous, and you do not like it. If you had the energy to speak you would launch a heavy string of complaints.

"Come on now, darling. A few more steps," she says, taking on more of your weight.

Your face is buried into her shoulder. The only thing detectable from your blubbering is the whines, wordlessly pleading to take you away from wherever you are and rid you of the nausea.

Heavy glances are exchanged between Peter and Natasha as he pushes through the crowd, fingers clinging tightly onto the large glass in his hand.

"Here," he breathes out, reaching the glass towards her.

She takes it from his hands, tilting your chin up with her manicured fingers. "There you go, Y/n," she mumbles as you gulp down small sips of the liquid.

The music blares loudly throughout the large room, sweaty bodies packed tightly together. What you found exhilarating and exciting twenty minutes ago is now suffocating. It's the only thing you know as you barely stand on two feet amongst the crowd. If it weren't for Nat, you would be in a heap on the floor.

"Let's go." Natasha nods towards the exit, glancing over her shoulder as Peter trails shortly after.

You're barely awake, burrowing your face into the crook of her neck. Peter can smell the stale alcohol on your breath from where he walks just beside the two of you—fruity drinks and vodka and tequila and wine. It unnerves him to think that you might have ingested enough of the poison to make it dangerous.

The bitter night air is refreshing for anyone who's senses are at least partly alert. It's a blessing really, that tonight you only have the short walk from the party to your homes located just on the other side of the compound grounds.

The dewy grass is partially lit up by strobe lights placed along the lines of the premises, soaking Natasha's heels and Peter's loafers. Your bare arms prickle with the low temperature.

It feels like an awfully long journey for Peter as he walks along Natasha, halfway waking up enough from the haze to take on some of your weight as well. There's a thought or two of swinging you back home in just a few seconds, but there's not much for his web to hold onto out here. The anxiety creates shudders in his limbs and forces him to glance over to your figure every other second.

"She'll be fine, Peter," Natasha says without so much as sparing him a glance. "She's just drunk. It'll be over tomorrow."

But his anxiety doesn't ease, rightfully so, when your palm suddenly pushes against her chest with all the force you can muster in your state. You whine, sprawling your legs until they have no option but to release you.

"Wha—"

On your knees, bent over the small bushes meticulously trimmed by the nice gardeners, you throw your guts out with shudders wracking the whole of your body. Awful.

Natasha could have said 'I told you so', but people make dumb decisions while drunk and she already feels bad for you over what Jason did. "Oh, honey," she whispers to herself instead, taking a step forward to reach you.

But Peter's faster. Of course he is. The young man is kneeling down beside you, hand gently wrapping around your hair to pull it aside while the other rubs against your back.

Any other time, when alcohol isn't poisoning your blood, and you would have felt ashamed. You probably will be tomorrow. You would have reacted to Peter being the one to take care of you, especially after showing such irritation about your state earlier.

The grass is cold and wet against your knees, but it is a welcome relief from the heat plaguing your skin. You are almost certain there are tears making their way out of your eyes and you would positively murder someone for another glass of water.

Instead of gulping down another glass, like you want to, you close your eyes while breathing out deeply. The nausea slowly fades away with each second, the heat being replaced by dewy goosebumps on your skin, all the while clarity pushes itself past the alcohol-induced blur.

A raspy cough. A thick gulp, swallowing too much air at the same time but you force yourself to hold it in. "Did I just kiss someone?" you speak for the first time in an hour.

And Natasha nearly laughs, until she remembers the state you were in. You didn't kiss someone.

"No, Y/n," she says softly, glancing up at Peter with a hardened gaze that tells him to keep his mouth shut. "No, you didn't."

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It's dark, empty of anyone who usually resides in the living room. The lights flickered on one by one, lighting up the space too much for your liking when you stepped inside. A whine was all it took for Peter to turn them off again.

You've been discarded on the couch, legs stretched out over Nat’s thighs with a cold, wet towel laying on your face. Peter sits fiddling with his fingers just beside your head. It's quiet—thankfully—even though you feel much better than before.

"What time is it?" you ask after what must have been ten minutes of complete silence.

"It's, uh, ten past one," Peter stutters out, like he's surprised by the sound of your voice. In reality he just reacts this way each time you speak, but the circumstances have chipped on his resolve. He can't hide his shivers behind a cool facade anymore.

"Happy Halloween," you croak out, earning a quiet chuckle from him. He checks his phone to see the date on top of the screen. 31st October, indeed.

Honestly, Peter has been some kind of obsessed with you since he was sixteen and visited the compound for the first time. You and Steve were walking on the trail slinging around the grounds, deep into solemn conversation.

Peter should have been listening to the endless list of security policy Happy was lining up for him, but he just couldn't tear his eyes off of you. Not because you were beautiful—you are, but he couldn't really see your face in detail from that far away—but because there was someone else his age in the same situation as him. Then he found out you were just Steve's adopted little sister and was a bit disappointed over your lack of involvement with the Avengers.

For weeks he tried to understand why you were in this century too and if Captain America had kept you secret for a reason. Peter was too nervous to actually talk to you until Tony shut him out of some team meeting and you were the only other one in the living room. He saw you everyday after that.

But now he's living hours away at university and he hates that it feels like you're drifting apart and everything is happening without him knowing. You drinking and being interested in men and men being interested in you. He tries to keep the contact up—texts you everyday and calls you and sends messages to Steve or Bucky if you don't answer. For the things you won't tell him, the things he can't see.

He was so excited for tonight. Chose the Indiana Jones costume because Harrison Ford is cool and sexy in those movies and surely you must think that too? And damn it, when he saw you sparkle and shimmer as you walked into the room with your wings fluttering he almost fell to the ground. It was fun as long as you were sober enough to actually talk to him.

Peter's spent the last hour and a half so goddamn mad at Natasha's boyfriend. And of course he is jealous, it should have been him you were dancing with like that, but that man took advantage of your vulnerable state. You could barely stand up, let alone actually protest or give your consent. Peter doesn't know if that was your first kiss or not, but regardless he's mighty glad he knocked the guy out.

You've gone quiet again, and he almost thinks you have fallen asleep, but you peek out from under the towel when the door you all came in through is thrown open. Heavy boots clank against the floor and a frown adorns Steve Rogers', or Fred from Scooby Doo for the night, face when he and his best friend barges inside. It doesn't take long for them to catch sight of the couch occupied by a wide-eyed Peter, stoic Natasha and still kind of drunk Y/n.

"You're going to be the death of me, young lady," Steve speaks up, letting out a deep sigh once he's close enough to tower over your figure.

He got a run-through of the events by a slightly dramatic Asgardian god and an infinitely more concerned Wanda a few minutes ago. You had gotten black-out drunk and found yourself grinding against some punk in the crowd. That was forgivable, even though Steve would much rather you didn’t at this age. Then that fucking jerk shoved his tongue down your throat despite you barely being able to form words. Yeah, Jackson or Jacob or whatever his name was had a talk with Bucky before the two of them rushed over here.

With his hands on his hips and a shake of his head, Steve stands there for a second before kneeling down. Bucky has his arms crossed a few feet away like he still hasn't really decided wether he's pissed or just feels sorry for you.

"You okay, Y/n?" Steve asks you, a little softer. His palm has come to feel your forehead, even though you doubt fever is a common symptom of being hungover.

Peter is paralyzed beside him. He’s quite sure Steve knows how completely infatuated he is with you. Mostly because Peter accidentally, somehow, sent a voice message meant for Ned to Bucky. He must have shared that by now. What should I wear? Y/n is going to be there. Han Solo? Does she even like brunettes? Is she into blondes? Oh god, I’m helpless.

"No," you mutter in answer to your brother’s question. "This sucks. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Bucky snorts. "What did you even drink? Vodka?"

"No. I don't know. In the beginning it was just some screw-top rosé Peter's roommate brought," you tell him, scrunching your nose with the memory of the taste of it. "It tasted cheap."

"Oh, because you know things like that now, do you?" Bucky says, raising his eyebrows at you. "Can tell expensive wine from cheap-ass rosé?"

"Buck," Steve says before you even have the chance to answer. Chastises, maybe. "You're not 21 yet. Who gave all that alcohol to you?"

You turn your head away, pressing it into the pillow. Steve turns you back to him with a hand to your shoulder, giving you a pointed look that holds some level of amusement. He acts like God's righteous man, but he was a troublemaker in his youth. Tony would have a field day if he knew all the times Steve came home drunk at sixteen after drinking some musty home-made brandy.

"Peter?" Steve looks up at him when you choose not to answer, using alternative, dirty methods to get answers. Cheater. Your mouth falls open, looking over at both your brother and Peter with an offended glare.

The young man stutters, eyes glancing frantically between the two of you while trying to figure out who scares him the most. "I—uh, don't know. My roommate. Apparently. Natasha's boyf—ex?"

The playful tone dims into stern faces and clenched jaws as the villain of the evening is mentioned out loud. You're caught up deciphering the sudden switch in attitude for longer than you should have before solving the riddle. Natasha told you nothing happened, but unfortunately you have vague pictures of a man, her man, shoving his tongue into your mouth. Oh god.

You sink even further into the couch, if that's possible, shielding yourself from the undoubtably judgemental gazes shared in the room. Natasha's boyfriend cheated with you and you didn't even say anything.

"Don't hide from us, sweetheart," Steve says, brushing hair away from your face. "Hey, it's not your fault. That punk took advantage of you. You weren't in your right mind."

Your dickhead of a brother knows you too well. Can tell with just a glance when you're overthinking and analyzing and blaming yourself for problems that have nothing to do with you from the beginning.

"Calm down, birdie,” Nat says softly, earning your attention even though you want to crawl out of your skin. “That's not a conscious decision, when you're drunk like that. It wasn't your fault in the least. Fourty minutes ago you couldn't even stand straight.”

"I'm really sorry, Nat," you say, eyes flickering down to your legs draped over her lap.

"Stop it. That fucking dickhead thought it would be a good idea to tell me he wanted to have a threesome with you. I told him to stay away from you and leave, but he obviously didn't. Probably just to spite me."

"Threesome?" Steve chokes on his breath and the word comes out as more of a cough. He tightens his hold on your hand until you let out a wince, drawing a whispered ‘sorry’ from his lips.

“Me?” you breathe out, sitting up a little higher.

Peter pushes you down onto the pillow again not even a second later. He doesn’t want you to strain yourself. He’s also fucking pissed now because that man not only assaulted you, he also asked Natasha to have a threesome with you. A 19-year old.

“I’m sorry that he took advantage of you, Y/n. Not going to bring anymore of these assholes I keep dating.” Natasha sighs tiredly, letting her head fall back against the couch.

“That’s not your fault either, you know,” Bucky mutters, earning a pointed look from her that says more than her words can. A ‘thank you’ and ‘I know, dickhead’ simultaneously.

A comfortable silence spanning a dozen of seconds is shared between the five of you. It’s late and everyone is tired and what needed to be said has already been said. You’re fine after all and Natasha will be okay, if she isn’t already.

Peter shifts uncomfortably beside you, brushing against your hair and alerting you even more of his presence. He’s been so sweet to you tonight. He always has been. It guilts you now that you have taken his kindness for granted with time, but Peter cared for you the entire evening despite his teasing words.

You don’t know if it means something. Peter is good to everyone. And he has—MJ and him seem so close. They most likely spend all their time together now when they go the same college. Both geniuses. You don’t really have much to contribute except being the younger sister of America’s favorite hero and embarrassing yourself in a fairy costume on Halloween.

So you push the thought aside. Bury it deep and take in the rest of your surroundings. A quiet snort rests on your lips as you assess the brooding man who has finally seated himself down on an uncomfortable chair from the kitchen.

"Your costume is horrible, Bucky. You're not even dressed up,” you speak up, breaking the silence with a playful smile.

"Yes. I am," he mutters. "I have a mask."

"That does not count. You're wearing your normal clothes." You giggle while he rolls his eyes, earning a chuckle from you brother too. He’s glad to see you cheering up.

“What is considered a real costume then, sweets?” Bucky asks you, raising his eyebrows while pinpointing you with his ingenuine glare.

“I don’t know.” You look around, glancing over your brother’s attempt at a classic Fred, Natasha’s Dorothy, before landing on Indiana Jones. “Peter’s is good,” you mumble, heat spreading to your cheeks from nowhere. Why are you reacting this way?

“Yeah, sure lucky ‘bout that since he planned it all for you,” he mumbles under his breath. “Punk is head over heels.”

The breath escapes the two of you—you and Peter. Because Peter knows Bucky is right and you can’t believe what you just heard.

“What?” both you and Steve say simultaneously. Your brother has turned his entire body towards Peter.

You raise yourself up to a seat, glancing between Bucky and Peter. The latter’s eyes are wide open, lips parted. Guilty.

“Peter?” you ask him, so quietly he almost has to rely on the shape of your lips to hear what you said.

A clearing of his throat. Scratch on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, about that…”

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #peter parker x reader #steve rogers fluff #Steve Rogers sister #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #avengers Halloween

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lostinvasileios · 12 days

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Hello!

First of all, I wanted to say that I love your page! It’s very inspiring and feels like a safe space to me.

I saw that you’re willing to help beginners in their journey of worshiping, so I decided to ask for some. Thank you so much for it as well! And sorry for my big story tell.

So, my struggle is to find out who my deity is. I feel a call, I feel presence, but I have big struggle connecting hints and specifically finding out. Lately I discovered Dionysus and felt related and connected to his story and his character. He popped up in my mind himself. I didn’t knew much about him and never considered that I’ll be interested in worshipping him. I thought that if I’ll decide to go for Greek Gods, it will be Aphrodites, Ares, Poseidon, Apollo but never considered Dionysus until searched more about him

Several times asked for protection from archangel Michael (my mother is a big christian and it impacts me too from time to time) and still light up candles for him as thank yous.

I once asked for a hint to whose presence I feel and had a dream, there I saw a big blue eyes, dark curly haired young man. He was kindly, but jokingly laughing at me from the picture in the book. I wanted to draw him in my dream, but was scared to spoil his beauty. His robe colours was red and green. And instead of a hint, I got even more lost.

If there any ways I could find out if someone is really calling out to me (or it’s just a trickster messing with me) and who it is, I would be really grateful for help or any sort of advices.

Thank you very much again!

Hello there, bumblebee! 🪷 Thank you so much for the compliments, they mean the world to me. I'm so happy that you were able to find some solace/inspiration in my blog. ♡

Well, sweetheart, it seems to me like you've actually already conquered that. The struggle to find who your deity is. Dionysus is a very loud and proud type of god, and - this to me doesn't sound like a struggle to figure out who's trying to contact you, and more of a.... Do you trust it struggle.

Tricksters are very uncommon, especially since - well - I've never heard of one invading dreams. That'd have to be a very, very ballsy trickster. And, since you have the protection of Archangel Micheal on your side, I'd say you're all set, really.

One thing that really helped me out when it came to knowing who my deities were is listening to the emotions I got when asking myself that question.

The universe once told me: "You already know the answer. It just takes you to slow down and really listen to figure it out."

Your emotions hold so much value when it comes to deity work, I've come to learn over my time practicing. They're important! Your senses, your intuition, your gut feeling(s), ect. They want to help you out, but you need to allow them to speak. Does that make sense?

Learn from my mistake(s), lovebug. I often overlooked a lot of my deities because I didn't trust my own feelings, I didn't trust myself to be able to figure things out. When, in reality, I was the only one who could figure it out.

Your path is yours and the way your deities will present themselves is fully personalized for you specifically in one way or another. So, whatever you experience, is most likely the way you're supposed to in that moment.

For me, Dionysus also wasn't apart of my plan to work with when I first started out. I mainly wanted to work with Loki, Lucifer, Apollon, ect. But, um, Dionysus had other plans, haha. He will make himself known to those souls he holds sweet to him, or those who he desires to work with. Since you mentioned feeling connected with him, I'd say you have a possibility to have a very fruitful relationship with him.

He's one of my soul spouses, and, honestly - he's... A very dreamy deity to interact with and work with. He's the best. And those colors you said were in your dream are actually some of his identifier colors! Besides, even on the chance it wasn't him in the dream, you still have a very real chance of being connected with him in one way or another. Now, as you may or may not know, he, along every other spirit really, can have very fluid appearances.

If he changes his appearance, don't freak out - it doesn't mean anything was fake beforehand. It simply could mean something like you've gotten to a point where you can now comprehend this different aspect of them. For as big or as tiny as it may seem, it's a major accomplishment in my book!

I think one of the reasons why you're struggling to connect the hints, besides the things I've already stated, is the fact that - well - deity work is very complex. And very simple at the same time. It could be the chance you're getting multiple hints from multiple deities at a once-ish fashion. And it - yeah, it can be very confusing when they do that, lol.

There's also a chance the figure you saw in your dream was Apollon, he often has curls for me.

Either way, sugar - you're doing fine.

You've accomplished something amazing, I'm proud you even decided to ask for some help on this.

I hope I didn't drag this out too much, haha. Have some faith in yourself! Explore the possibilities and see which resonates the most with you and go with it. There's no harm in getting something wrong, there's no punishment for curiosity, and so on. You're doing great, bee.

#to: dionysus #witchcraft #witch advice #deities #deity work #deity witch #mother witch advice #dionysus #dionysus deity #deity advice #beginner witch #beginner witch tips

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altorav · 8 months

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ive been SQUEALING literally ever since i found ur neku art and neshiki art and everything neku djejdjwsjejd its so good omg i scrolled all the way through

i should probably ask a question so haha here we go

What did you think of NEO? Did you enjoy it? Any thoughts / criticism / wishes?

Thank you. I'm glad you like them.

As a standalone story Neo is great. I love Rindo and how relatable he is in his tendency to be stuck in analysis paralysis and flunking in his position as supposed leader as a result, and how he evenfually grew past that and learnt from his mistakes. He's an example of a realistic, non-exaggerated depiction of someone with anxiety and I appreciate that. Gameplay is quite fun and surprisingly complex with combos, eventhough it doesn't impress me as much as I did the first time I played the original DS twewy (it could be because of my age though, anything hardly impressed me nowadays) the supporting cast are colorful and great, though personally I think it suffers a bit with the issues a large cast usually brings.

My criticism of Neo mostly came from it being treated as 'supposedly' a follow up to A New Day (though to be fair, I just kept thinking how necessary A New Day was) anything that had to do with Neku is downright concerning and it wasn't exactly Neo's fault per se but more like A New Day being the way it was.

It's quite minor, but totally not a fan on how the story treated Rhyme and Shiki and the scene where Neku and Beat outright admitted they actively tried to not get them involved because they're just trying to protect the girls. Not saying it doesn't make sense for them to be overprotective, but as someone who spent a lot of time researching how female characters are often treated in media this scene ended up tainting my trust in neo's writers when it comes to their supposed knowledge on how to treat their female characters right. This scene made sense when it comes to Beat being overprotective towards Rhyme, but the moment they also brought up Shiki and treated her the same way is where I threw hands. The boys didn't even try to acknowledge that Shiki had proven herself to be a competent fighter in her own right and had fought alongside them before and how she might turn out to be a great help if only she wasn't currently busy, but nope they downright just dismissed her potential and thought it'd be too much for her. I know it's supposed to be well-meaning, but still left a very bad taste in my mouth given Shiki's screentime later ended up revolving a little too much around Neku. This scene alone had me a little anxious of any sort of story involving the original cast as a result (be it in a prequel or sequel) because it's kinda showcasing the writers' seeming dismissal to the girls' potentials as more proactive members of the story (the lack of acknowledgement to Shiki's prowess as a fighter is indicative of this given how easy it is to just include it)

Overall, Neo makes for a great game and story as a stand-alone, its attempts to be some sort of follow up (and supposedly a resolution) to the previous instalment on the other hand is where things get a little muddled and can't really say if they did a really great job at it.

#asks #also sorry for the little ramble in the middle I just felt like letting it out

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fuck-you-official · 1 month

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fuck you dad. fuck you for everything. fuck you for ruining my life. fuck you for being such a good respectable man when we all knew who you were. especially me and you. the both of us know that that facade is faker than the love you pretended to have for both me and mom. you only cared about yourself, and when something bad did actually happen to you, when your mother died and you expected us all to coddle you. the rest of them might've cared, but I didn't. not after the trauma you gave me at such a young age, i couldn't even process it and whether it was a dream or if you knew i wouldn't be able to differentiate that memory if it was real or not. id say fuck you to my mom for never noticing, but i've forgiven her. unlike you, she had something to grow and change from. you could only abuse the ones you love and say nothing or even deny it. she accepted her mistakes and knew she did something wrong but we all know that even if you did that for once in your life, who would ever forgive someone, even less someone they were supposed to love and trust, for ruining me and defiling me, selling my body out just to get yourself kicking. god save my mothers gut-wrenched soul for the fact that you manipulated her into making her believe every slippery lie that fell off your tongue, every excuse that you came up for yourself, every pin and pointing finger you threw at me to blame me. i love my mother so dearly, the fact that you would get angry at her for your own faults and whine like a man baby when she called you out on it makes me want you to take a nice visit to the ninth circle of hell. the years its taken me (and still taking me) to recover from your abuse. i can't ask for help easily, i can't speak up about my interests or thoughts without thinking of how people might think, i can barely stand in the same room next to an older man around your age without wanting to cry or shutdown. my mom can't even bring a man shes been talking to into the house without me shutting myself away and wanting him to leave. i love reading, but god forbid i try to imagine the image of big, rough, course hands without thinking that they were yours. you made me begin to form insecurities at the age of 6. i thought i was so ugly and weird because thats what daddy told me. you sexualized me so much, i began to question whether that was normal for most families. i asked friends at school, essentially asking "hey guys, does your dad tell you you're chest is growing in so well already or is that just me" and they were fucking concerned, and i didn't know better so i thought they were just judgemental. i thought everyone wrestled with their dad and tickled eachother and even did a little gropin here and there, hell everyone knows that tradition! /s

it's been 3 years since i moved. im forgetting your face, but im also forgetting my stepbrothers faces too. they were the one thing i loved about living there, i miss them both, and the fact you ruined my life to where i can never see them again makes me realize how much of a selfish prick you are. i hope all the fat in your body doesn't add fuel for the flames of hell you'll burn in. I've far moved on from the chapter of my life that had you in it, but are you ever really able to move on from an imprinted image in your mind that haunts you occasionally, reminding you why you're like this, telling you that you're the reason for both the cause and effect of your trauma? not really. when court decides to get off their ass and actually plan the court date for your charges, I will be there. and I'll be the last, sweet image you see before your soap dropping, bitch boy days in a cell. and when you die, ill cremate you so i can roll you into a joint and smoke you.

sincerely, the kid you never bothered to respect.

p.s wait till you find out how nicely they treat child predators in jail.

#vent post #ask to tag

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zatrinaxxx · 1 year

Text

ORDERS

¡AVATAR DE JAKE SULLY X FEM! NA'VI.

part 1, part 2 soon on my profile, I'll try to learn how to link it here.

✰[ You entered the battlegroup led by Jake Sully. And it didn't take long for him to realize that you're a born follower]✰

Warnings:jealous jake, opportunistic jake, and… I don't know what else to put. read at your own risk

🤍[ friendly reminder: My native language is not English, don't hesitate to tell me if you see any spelling mistake. As long as they're nice.]🤍

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

After the battle against the sky people, you decided to give up your position as an animal keeper in the village and joined the battle group.

Of course, at first it wasn't easy, you had less muscle mass than the females that belonged to the group and zero use of weapons, and although they were about to throw you out of the group because of your uselessness, something convinced the boss to keep you.

And it was not your improvement in the field of war, no, it was your great ability to listen and obey direct orders that convinced the great Toruk Makto to leave you, with the false promise that he would help improve your lack of training while the only thing What he was doing was selfishly preserving their interest.

Jake's interest in you dates back to the beginnings of his new life as a Navi It was at a time like any other, I was going straight to the tree of souls when you collided with it, murmuring a soft apology without looking into his eyes and continuing on your way.

he was captivated immediately coming to ask Tsutey and Neytiri insistently who you were and why I just saw you now. Receiving vague and inconclusive answers, he decided to leave the subject until there, wondering when he would take the courage to disappear from his system when he saw you.

until it happens, he sees you standing in the training row struggling to hold the bow in the most correct way possible and failing in the attempt and that's when he comes to you helping you in the same way that Neytiri helped him, trying to be as as close as possible to your environment making itself felt, but it didn't work, nothing did.

until one of the helpers arrives with the report that you will be kicked out of the group and he sees his opportunity, his opportunity to have you closer, to become someone you trust.

And he does it, little by little you are letting go of your shyness and that's when he notices it, no matter how absurd his request is, you do it without question, fulfilling his mandate to the letter and he loved it. but what he didn't love was how the new recruit has set his eyes on you and you do nothing to prevent him from doing it, giving him the sweet smiles that are supposed to be for him, saying good morning with that melodious voice that so much He likes it and worrying about the new one in everything that happened to him.

The straw that broke the camel's back for Jake was seeing how the new man put his hands on your shoulders, gently squeezing them, raising one of his hands to one of your braids which he pulled playfully. When I see your blush, I can't stand it, I walk furiously towards you, interrupting the friendly chat they were having.

-You! - faces the subject with an annoyed face- don't you have anything better to do? instead of flirting?

-Y-yes, sir- upon noticing the angry face of his boss, the boy Navi runs away without even muttering a goodbye. His eyes roll to the back of his head with a snort. Is that the type of man you're looking for? Not to be cocky or arrogant but… he's a thousand times better match than that brat.

-And you- he goes towards you with a growl- you come with me- he starts walking without any kind of warning and you practically run to be at his side.

-Is something wrong, Mr. Sully? - You gasp a little tired from practically running - Have I done something wrong? - He stops dead and you imitate him. I turned to see you and you can see the anger in his eyes.

-Is it your partner?- You frown, confused.

-What do you mean?-

-That Navi, is he your partner? did you mate with him?-

You didn't understand the reason for his question, he was practically your teacher or trainer within the battle group, but, outside of it, your personal life doesn't have to matter. But you don't know if it's because of the obvious anger in his voice or the confidence he you developed from being around the male these last few months but you respond.

-No sir, we're just friends- his expression relaxes slightly and with a nod he walks again.

-Okay, don't talk to him again-

-Cla-clear sir- and may Eywa forgive him if he says he didn't want to take you at that very moment, your obedience set him off and he didn't understand how the hell you can be so faithful and obedient, waiting for his orders like a little puppy that is lost without his master.

He's fucking in love.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

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pretty-toru · 9 months

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I like to think Gojo has had a few Dad Moments when it came to raising Mochi and I don’t mean him making dad jokes💀 (he likes and makes dad jokes and you can pry that from my cold dead hands) Yeah biologically he’s her uncle but he pretty much raised for almost her whole life so he definitely has a few stories of him nearly killing his niece by mistake, you’d think the stories would be about curses or people targeting his niece since he’s the strongest. But nope, most if not all of them involve him trying to help her with insomnia since it started getting worse as she got older or trying to take care of her whenever she got sick. But mostly with insomnia, bro gave her Benadryl since it can put you to sleep in 10-30 minutes as a side effect. It worked really really well at first, that was until one day she slept for an abnormal amount of time and caused him to freak out when no amount of shaking or prodding would wake her up. So he’s calling Geto and Shoko in a panic because his niece isn’t waking up, so they show up and try to figure out what was wrong with her. Then Gojo mentions how he gave her Benadryl to help her sleep and earned a good punch to the back of the head by Geto, with him and Shoko explaining how you’re not supposed to give allergy medicine to someone who doesn’t have allergies, especially a child. For whatever reason it just didn’t click in his head that maybe using medication incorrectly could cause problems. He was trying to help her temporarily sleep and nearly put her into a permanent one instead💀

I like to think he tried to help her in the past but after the Benadryl scare he just leaves her alone and lets her sleep when her body is ready to finally rest. He’ll make her some tea or give her warm milk, maybe even melatonin gummy (the gummy doesn’t help but it’s the thought that counts) but that’s as much as he’ll do to try to get her body to at least relax enough so that she can go to sleep a little sooner while they hang out and do whatever it is the Gojo’s do at night. They both have horrible sleeping schedules so he doesn’t bother waking her up, he probably asks Megumi to check on her when she doesn’t show up to class or if she hasn’t been out of her room for a bit. He might’ve nearly killed his niece a few times by mistake but he still loves her very much 🥰😭

Oh no, Gojo!! Let's just say this was an honest mistake on his part, like the Benadryl had the label "nighttime" and he mistook it for ZzzQuil and without thinking much he administered that to Mochi. That incident gave him a good scare though, and I feel like he doesn't fully trust himself afterwards and double checks everything with Shoko to avoid another repeat of that event. (You can tell he's always been taken care of his entire life, and was never much in the position to take care of another but he's learning).

And since Megumi came along, Gojo feels a little more comfortable leaving Mochi in his hands especially when he's aware how much the teen cares for her and he's also quite the busy man who can't always personally check up on her. Omg, actually if Megumi ever found out about how Gojo nearly unalived Mochi he would simply take over any and all care plans whenever she's sick or it's related to her insomnia otherwise he'll question his mentor's every move.

#ask answered #[💌 — anon]#🍡 : two gojos in a pod #tw: drugs #just in case!!

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marshmallowprotection · 2 years

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V route MC is so strong. So unlike me. I envy her mental strength. I would probably bawl my eyes out from being scared for Jihyun's life during day 7 and 10.

Sometimes I cry a lot. And it's not pretty. I am very anxious by nature. Sadly, I feel very similar to Rika in that sense which makes me think I would not be a very good match for V. But I love Jihyun so much. And this leads to my question:

What would he think if he found out that this strong person he saw during the fated 11 days is just as much of a scaredy cat as he is? That in fact this MC is not strong at all. That her calm facade was just an emergency mental state. What if he found out at day 11? When he woke up from the surgery and saw MC's eyes red from crying?

V has been faking it for years. He's been on the cusp of breaking down for God knows how long and the only reason people don't realize it is because he's lying through his teeth. He's not even very good at doing that because it's easy for his best friend to see that something isn't right. They still trust him when he says that nothing is wrong, but everybody can tell that he is losing everything slowly over time. It's overwhelming.

The most difficult thing that you can do is take the burden of everything on your shoulders thinking that you can do it all by yourself all the time.

He feels like he has to do everything he can to be strong. It's worn on him for God knows how long. It's hard to pretend you're strong when you're not really that way on the inside. He knows what this feels like like the back of his hand because it's the man that he's become.

Just because you're broken up on the inside doesn't mean that you can't be a strong person. He has to learn this the most difficult way possible. He thinks that strength is taking the burden off of everyone and putting it on yourself. He thinks that you need to lie through your teeth and make sure everyone thinks it's okay while you carry the burden of 100 arrows in your back. It took him until meeting you to realize that he could have asked for help a long time ago. He didn't have to suffer. Even though he was afraid of putting stress or strain on anybody else, it was okay for him to talk about it.

The thing he was afraid of for so long happening happened to him and the world didn't end.

You want to know the only reason why he was able to get through that? It was because you had a gentle hand. It wasn't because you were staring with him or because you told everybody off. It wasn't because you were this amazingly confident person that knew everything. It wasn't because you were somebody who knew what they were supposed to say when they were supposed to say it. It wasn't because you were somebody who everybody looked to as a pillar of light. He doesn't look at you that way.

He's not looking at you like somebody who can make no mistake and can do no wrong. You're human. You're just as human as he is. That's the lesson that he needed to learn.

He needed to learn that it was okay to make mistakes and that it was okay to be afraid. He didn't have to put up false pretenses all the time. He needed to be honest and say something when it became too much for him. That's all that he needed to do. That's something that you taught him. It's not that you're some courageous hero of a story. It's that you're a person that saw him in pain and empathized.

Why are you afraid that you're not good enough? You don't need to be on a pedestal and be someone who everybody looks to as a leader. All you have to do is be yourself. There's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect just the way you are. You feel your emotions strongly and that's not a vulnerability.

That's not a weakness.

If he's learned anything, it's that he should never suppress his tears. Seeing you being that open and vulnerable with him makes him feel like it's okay to do that for himself. You are the bravest and strongest person he knows because you're not hiding that. You're not trying to be something that would make you sick if you pretended long enough to be it. You’re you. You’re human. You remind him that it’s okay to be himself.

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #mysme #anon #mysticmessenger #mm #kim jihyun #v jihyun kim #jihyun kim #v mystic messenger #v mm #v mysme

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