#I had no idea what to expect and it works so WELL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

t-a-a-1 · 2 days ago

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Can you do bayverse optimus ?Tlk if you can.It can be whatever you want i love your scrumptious writing hehe also ignore this if you're uncomfortable!^_^

Raindrops

Summary: Optimus asks you a very important question.

A/N: Written after the happenings of TLK. 4K Words

Raindrops

....

Everyday since he met you, he’s asked himself the same question.

“Would you come with me?”

It was a question he had imagined the answer to. A resounding ‘no’.

Optimus didn’t see any reason why you would want to go with him to Cybertron. Leaving your friends, family and career behind. All the commodities Earth provided you will be gone the moment you decide to come with him.

And it’s not like he offers you a beautiful home. Cybertron was hostile, after the war it had become ruins. He dreamed many times of showing you his home in its golden age. You would have loved the museums, the theaters, the libraries, the arts. Would you have loved them as much you love your planet? Would it be enough for you to want to stay?

“It seems Earth and Cybertron’s destiny has always been intertwined,” the sun is setting. Optimus looks at his home planet, now on Earth’s orbit. “If that had been any other celestial object, it would probably cause catastrophic events. But it seems like Cybertron was made to not disturb Earth’s gravitational pull and magnetic fields.”

Your field wasn’t physics but you had basic knowledge on how things worked. Just like he expected you to do, you started to ask the real questions. Something he was trying to avoid as long as he could.

“But I wonder if that’s because Cybertron currently lacks a core … Maybe once we are able to restore it, Cybertron’s gravitational pull will be too strong and destroy Earth.”

You look at him but he seems lost in thought. You didn’t blame him, having his home planet back must be unbelievable. After so many years of war and lost friends, what he always wanted is right here.

“When that happens, we’ll have to send Cybertron back to its original place in the universe.”

You expected him to continue the conversation some way or another but it's as if he wasn’t listening or rather he did not want to. Maybe he is tired of everything and wishes to leave immediately. Probably not wanting to deal with humans anymore.

Sighing heavily, you turn around, the wind moving your hair. The smell of the grass was strong and so a new aroma. It was hard to describe. Metal but alive. It was probably Cybertron. It didn’t bother you but it was different.

Looking back at Optimus made you realize that maybe he wanted to be alone. It is a lot of process for today.

“Well, then I guess this is goodbye–”

And suddenly, a servo is in front of you. Stopping you from walking any further. You look back, only to find Optimus’ faceplate extremely close to you.

“I-I … My apologies, I don’t know what took over me.”

It’s like you triggered something in him with your words. But you weren’t sure what. Now he looks confused and lost. As if I wanted to say more but can’t or don't have the words. You wanted to guess but your mind made you believe stupid ideas. Ones in which you prefer to not indulge any longer. They will only cause you unnecessary pain.

“It’s alright, you must be emotional. That’s all.”

You wait for a few seconds in which you could see Optimus’ blue optics in all of their glory. They were beautiful as they were mysterious. So close that you could see the small circuitry and cables that make up his optics. Such intricacy that you find yourself lost in them.

And then … you are ashamed.

“I must go.”

You say as you look away, expecting him to move his servo but he doesn’t.

“I must go.”

You say again and this time you see the hesitancy in his faceplace.

He slowly removes his servo and distances himself from you. His optics looks away and then looks at you in a repetitive manner.

“Do you–”

“I–”

“Oh sorry, you go first–” You raise a hand, trying to get his attention only to be interrupted by the Prime.

“No, you go first.”

It was awkward. And the fact that it was that way made you wonder what went wrong. In what moment did things between the two of you become so uncomfortable? Was it just the sudden realization of final peace? Was it too unrealistic for the two of you to believe? What is it?

“Nothing, I was just wondering if there’s something you wanted to say before I leave?”

Optimus servo clutch into fits. He opens his intake but nothing would come out. It was strange to see him this way. So confused, so … innocent. As if he was a kid trying to ask for another piece of cake. Too shy to ask and yet you find these small moments to be a treasure.

“I was just wondering …”

He hesitates again. He closes his optics and lets out a heavy vent. Turning his entire body around, you are unable to see his faceplate.

“When the time comes … Will you …”

His voice becomes so low that you are unable to hear him.

“What?”

You ask him, confused by his sudden lack of confidence.

“Will you … me?”

He says again but the loud wind and low tone voice weren’t helping the situation.

“... What?”

You ask once again, your voice gets louder, showing your clear annoyance at being unable to hear him.

“Will you come to Cybetron with me?!”

Suddenly, he turns around, you can see his faceplate again.

It was that expression again. One that you had only seen a few times. That of pure distress. Worriness. Anxiety. You had seen it before. During that time you had been captured by a Decepticon, badly injured and bleeding. His troubled expression was the last thing you saw before going unconscious.

But now? What was that distressed look for? What was he so worried about?

“I, I–”

What were you nervous for? Why were you stuttering? Your cheeks are getting hotter and you can’t speak. You can’t manage words. The expression on his faceplate had left you stunned as your brain tried to understand the reasoning behind it.

The longer you take to answer, the more pain is evident on his faceplate. His eyebrows squish together and his optics tremble. His lips formed a thin line that slowly became an upside down smile. He is begging you to end his torment and yet you know you have to tell him the truth.

It’s quiet around the hangar.

A small base had been built near Stonehenge. It was the logical thing to do after Cybertron had appeared above the ancient pillars. Although the American Government wasn’t too pleased to make negotiations with the British to let them have a base in their land.

You weren’t even supposed to be here but due to all the commotion in the last days, they let you stay. As well, Optimus and the rest of the Autobots enjoyed your stay. No one asked you when you will leave nor ever mentioned that you were a bothered. So you decided to stay for a couple of days until things settle down.

And because your boss had asked you to stay and bring back the full story when you are done.

“Are we just going to pretend Prime is ok?”

“Not like we can do much either or.”

They probably didn’t see you. As they were too busy talking to each other, carrying a few boxes of what you thought to be Energon. Meanwhile, you were typing on your laptop behind some piles of metal. It’s not like you were hiding but you rather found yourself a place where you could not be bothered when you needed to concentrate.

“I still can’t believe (Y/N) said no … I thought the two of them had a strong bond.”

“Yes but everything she knows is here,” Bumblebee puts down his box as Hot Rod walks close by. “Besides, they were too different … things wouldn’t work out.”

“But does she even know that Optimus’s processor has identified her as his Conjunx?” Hot Rod also puts the Energon box down and sits on top of it. “Boss-Bot won’t be able to attach to anyone ever again … Isn’t that a bit cruel?”

“Cruel?” Bumblebee inquiries. “His Conjunx is someone who lives a fraction of our lives. The universe enjoys the game and the Primes are the pawns.”

“And they know how to play well.”

It started to rain. It wasn’t unusual for rain to come and go in England.

The bots look at it with amusement. This was unknown in Cybertron. It will take a long time before they can rebuild Cybertron and go back home but this will be one of the things they will miss the most.

“What is a Conjunx?”

You came out of your hiding spot, behind the bots and they quickly stumble in their steps as they look down on you.

“What are you doing there?!”

“What is a Conjunx?”

You ask again, not caring whether Hot Rod or Bumblebee looked like they just had seen a ghost.

“You don’t need to know that,” Bumblebee quickly starts to walk away while Hot Rod keeps looking back and forth. He looks hesitant but doesn’t speak, waiting for Bee’s next action.

“You said Optimus saw me as his Conjunx,” you don’t move but rather speak loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes but there’s no need–”

“She should know,” Hot Rod interrupts the talking yellow Mustang.

“Optimus wouldn’t want it,” Bumblebee stops walking and turns to look at his comrade and you. There is certain determination in your eyes, letting him know that you won’t stop pushing it until you find the answers you were looking for. You had always been known for that, probably something Optimus likes about you.

“Optimus will die of sadness if she doesn’t know.”

Bumblebee doesn't say a thing but just ex-vents heavily.

“Would you stay with me?”

That’s what you wanted to ask but you already knew the answer. A resounding ‘no’. There was nothing for him on Earth. Humanity had once betrayed him and now he is doubtful. Humanity will help rebuild Cybertron and after that the transformers will leave. It would be a selfish thing to ask him to stay. You can’t ask him to give up on everything he fought for. His home, his family and friends, everything was on Cybertron. And you just were a human who wanted him to stay.

It’s still raining.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop looking for him.

Although you can already feel yourself getting sick. Your hair is wet and your clothes damp.

It wasn’t unusual to rain in England but you hated how unpredictable the weather was. The wind was also strong but the base was already too far away to back away now. You had to find him.

Suddenly, a truck you immediately recognized makes his way towards you. The bot you were looking for appeared in front of you but he aggressively stops and opens his pilot door, signaling to go in.

You didn’t hesitate and jumped right in. Optimus closes the door and starts driving away as you are welcomed with warmness. Although you were cold and tired, you didn’t wait any longer.

“I was looking for–”

“Have you gone mad?” Optimus asks, his voice showing his clear annoyance. “ What are you doing in the rain without proper protection?”

“What? That doesn’t matter, I was–”

You wanted to start asking questions but you started to sneeze.

“How can I leave knowing you are this helpless?”

And after that, all previous questions left your mind.

“Excuse me? I can take care of myself.”

“Your actions tell me otherwise.”

You roll your eyes, maybe he had a point. Running in the rain to look for him was probably not the best of ideas. But you were not about to tell him that.

“And what about you?” you sneeze again although more softly this time as to not to prove his point any further. “Aren’t you too told to be outside without an umbrella, you could be getting rusty anytime now?”

Optimus didn’t say a word. Your words will resonate at the back of his processor. He can’t believe he ever thought you would say yes to coming to Cybertron with him. You were right, he was an old rusty robot. Too many scars, too many mistakes and injuries. He can’t provide you with anything. Not even a family.

And yet he is selfish.

And you sneeze again.

And again.

“Great, I think I am going to get sick.”

He hates that word. Cybertronians also get sick but rarely. But humans are different. According to his research and observations, humans tend to get sick often and tragically a lot of them die.

Optimus didn’t want to say a word, his pride told him to stay quiet. That you don’t need his concern, you do not wish it nor want it.

But you sneeze again.

“I’ll be taking you to the closest hospital,” he says as he makes a turn, heading for the closest road.

“I am not going to the hospital, it's just a cold–”

“You are going to the hospital and it's final,”His voice is demanding but you don’t care.

“No, I won’t–”

“Why won’t you take my feelings into consideration?!”

His inside trembles. You could feel how his engine gets louder. The air coming from his vents got warmer and for a moment you felt your heart race. Out of guilt for making the Prime lose composure.

“What if you die?” he asks again. “What would I do after you are gone?”

The more he talks, the more desperate he sounds. As if he was living the circumstances he speaks of.

“Have you thought what my life would be like without your presence?” you feel the seatbelt across your chest get tighter. “Do you really wish for me to be tormented for eternity.”

“This isn’t about me going to the hospital, is it?”

He doesn’t respond, his silence answers your question.

“Let me out Prime, I want to talk to you, face to faceplate.”

He drives off the road and takes you to a heavy section of a nearby forest. Raining still, the tall trees prevent the rain from fully touching the ground. But some drops still make it through. Not like you cared about getting wet, you already were but Optimus had other plans.

Opening the door and removing the seat belt, you jump out of his alt form. You watch him transform, a scene you will never be tired of. It's beautiful as it is scary, yet he is gentle. He knows it can be scary and he moves slower, softly as if not to scare you.

Optimus doesn’t mass shift but he tries to see you at an eye-level. It must be uncomfortable for him and before you ask him why he doesn’t size-down, you feel him move closer.

He puts one of his large servo on top of you, protecting you from any rain from touching you.

“I want you to be honest with me,” you say as your breath is agitated, your heart pumping against your chest. “I need to hear it from you.”

“What do you feel for me?”

Without you knowing, Optimus’ spark is also pulsating strongly against his chassis. He moves his optics away for a second, only for them to return to look at you.

“You are a valuable asset to the Autobot cause.”

“Is that all?”

“You are also an important comrade.”

You didn’t expect him to fully understand what you were asking. But you were hoping he could read your undertones.

“I am giving you one last chance,” you say, your hands turning into a fist. You weren’t the best at this either and if you were honest, you didn’t know what you were trying to achieve. “Is that all you feel for me?”

The Prime has always been known to be eloquent. Especially with words. But when it comes to you, he loses all sense of vocabulary. It didn’t use to be that way. There used to be a time when you meant nothing to him but a friend.

But you had never stopped looking for him. After the attacks in Chicago, even after Sam’s death, an occurrence in which he blamed himself, you never stopped looking for him

What is it? Why did you do it?

“Look at the rain … Can you count each drop that falls from the sky?”

Optimus moves his optics to look at his surroundings. The rain, the trees, the beauty of nature. It cannot compare to you.

“No, I can’t,” you respond quickly, your face full of wonder.

“Then, you are the rain,” he says. “And I am trying to count.”

He sees your hands soften. Your expression had become awkward, with now avoiding eyes and pink cheeks. He has this need to hold you but respects your anatomy.

“I can’t tell you how I feel because there are not enough words to describe it,” he calculates his words but he finds himself taking longer to answer. “I could recite you all of Cybertronian poetry and yet that doesn't feel enough for me.”

You keep looking at him and he looks away. Your eyes were too beautiful and it distracts him immensely.

“But if you were to ask me to count each star in the universe I would,” he lets his spark do the talking, finally subsiding the yearning it has been holding for a long time. “If you asked me to bring you a star, I would bring you a constellation.”

“This old rusted body belongs to you but if you ask me for my silence and distance, I won’t retaliate.”

“And if I asked you to stay with me, on Earth, would you do it?”

You know it was a selfish question. You didn’t want to make him choose between his world and you. But you just had to know if there was a small possibility, a small chance that the life you had with him could still be a possibility.

After the accidents in Chicago, you had looked for him, only to find him broken. Sam’s death had affected him greatly but in that grieve of losing loved ones, something sparked.

Three years. You had lived with him for three years, in an isolated cottage. Where he could have all the dandelions he wanted. Where he could care for animals and the two of you would look at the stars and try to count them. Each one of them.

“If that’s what you wish,” Optimus says. “I would stay by your side as long as you would have me.”

“I can’t,” you look away this time. “I won’t ask you to stay with me.”

“You have a duty to complete and Cybertron is your home,” there is more to it. More doubts than you are able to articulate. “When you asked me to go to Cybertron with you, I said no because I don’t think I am worthy to be on your side.”

“Have my actions made you feel this way?”

“You are Optimus Prime … I think anyone would feel unworthy,” you pause, thinking about the earlier events. “But today, Bumblebee and Hot Rod told me that you see me as your Conjunx.”

Optimus opens his intake only to close it. He looks side to side, trying to evade eye contact. One of the few times you can tell he is shy. But him acting in such a way has also made your body betray you. You wonder if he can tell just how nervous you are.

“Does that mean — You do?”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” his voice is delicate with an apologetic tone. As if you had just caught him stealing extra energon from the resource room. “Without noticing, my processor had one day started the Conjunx Ritus and as time passed, we both successfully completed the requirements.”

“And before I knew it, my Spark belonged to you.”

“But we are so different.”

“And yet here we are,” he makes a pause and he hears the rain. He tries to calm down before asking his next question, knowing that this will break his Spark. “Does my affection displease you?”

“No, no, I just–” you stumble with your words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Is there a possibility that perhaps, in your heart, you reciprocate my sentiments?”

And you stay silent. Mostly because you don’t fully know what is going through your heart and the implications behind it. Can this even be possible? Are your feelings even real? Can he comprehend what your feelings are? Can this … Whatever it is, be real?

“Please end my torment,” his faceplate looks to be in distress, his optics yearning. Longing for something unknown to the both of you. “Your silence makes me have hope and I don’t want to suffer when you destroy my delusions.”

Gently, you walk towards him. You reach out a hand and touch his faceplate. Rubbing your soft skin against his cold metal. You watch his optics close, his engine gets louder just a bit but you hear him. As if your touch had saved him, healed him from whatever his processor agonized him with.

“You are cold,” you say as you put your forehead against his faceplate. “Until you get warm, I’ll stay with you.”

Optimus didn’t need to ask further. You didn’t have to say anything either. He just basks himself into this moment. Not knowing what the future holds but he doesn’t care as long as you are with him. This moment won’t last forever but he wants to think that one day it could be true.

A moment were he believed he could spend eternity counting the raindrops and stars in the sky with you.

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I’ve seen all the Bayverse movies but TLK is a movie that is a bit hard for me to write about because I don’t understand it much lol. But I still hope you like this and that it's not too OOC?

It was fun to write this! So thank you so much for the request! :)

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evamame · 2 days ago

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request for osamu miya from @merlucide

you’re on your bed, scrolling on your phone to pass the time. the speaker on your drawer is blasting your favorite tunes as you mindlessly sing and hum along to the lyrics. you’re enjoying yourself, rewinding all alone. or at least, you thought you were.

the sound of osamu returning home was drowned out by the loud noise of the speaker, unbeknownst to you. he had finished up at the shop on time and returned home as usual. too bad you were preoccupied with your doomscrolling session to notice the numbers on the clock.

as osamu enters through the front door and calls out his usual “i’m home!” greeting, he expects your typical “welcome back!” in response. but he hears nothing of the sort. instead what he hears is the muted beating of a loud drum coming from your shared bedroom.

he hasn’t yet picked up on your habit of blasting music and singing loudly to yourself in all the time you’ve spent living together, because this is something you only ever do when he’s at work and you’re home alone. rather than sitting in silence, why not yell your heart out when nobody is there to hear? you’re no musician by any means, but a good song will fill your soul with enough passion to try your best.

osamu throws his cap onto a hook on the wall before making his way to the bedroom, slowly peering his head in through the door. the creaking sound as he turns the door knob and slides his way into the room is unheard by your ears. but there you are, laying on the bed, singing along to the lyrics and bobbing your head from side to side to the beat.

he leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, an amused grin dawning his features at the way you passionately belt the chorus. he can’t control his laughter at the way you’re so unsuspecting, still acting as if nobody is watching.

his snorts manage to make it past the sound barrier of the music, and you instantly freeze and look up from your phone to see osamu watching you. you quickly get up and run across the room to your speaker, spamming the volume button to turn it all the way down.

you stammer flusteredly, “‘samu, you startled me! when did you get home?”

he laughs at your bewildered expression, “just now. seems ya couldn’t hear me over yer music. i had no idea ya had such good taste.”

you glance at the time on your phone, “i guess this is the time you get home.”

he nods, “yup. i didn’t know ya had it in ya to sing like that.”

“well, i thought i nobody was home.”

he flashes you a toothy grin, “guess ya thought wrong. turn it back on. i wanna hear more.”

your cheeks flush pink, “but i’m a terrible singer.”

he chuckles, “i know. sorry sweetheart, but ya really do suck. i meant the speaker. this is my favorite song.”

you groan, completely embarrassed at being caught red handed and yet again being a victim to his insufferable teasing, “you’re the worst!”

“ya, sure. love ya too.”

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @mires765 @amaliaaliena

a/n: i love osamu so much jsnqhfmsiwiejf. no other comment.

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fireinmoonshot · 20 hours ago

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about love | joaquin torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: Joaquin thinks taking the engagement ring he's bought for you on a mission with him is a good idea – it's definitely safer with him than it is anywhere else, right? Well... until he loses it. Warnings: Mentions of minor injuries (a bump on the head) Word Count: 4k A/N: Had this idea at work yesterday and thought it was so Joaquin so I had to write it. I'm so happy with how it turned out. Thank you for all the love on my Joaquin fics so far – I have more coming for sure, I have so many ideas in a note on my phone, as well as the requests you guys have sent in! 💗

“Woohoo! That was awesome!” Joaquin yells, his feet finally hitting the ground after being airborne for what feels like hours. He misses the feeling of flying already. “Did you see me?” He asks Sam, walking towards him.

Sam has just landed not too far away from him and is already sighing at the sound of Joaquin’s voice. “See what?”

“When I did the thing with the thing! And then I did the other thing and bam! He was falling out of the sky! I saw him land in the water and it did not look like a nice landing!” Joaquin explains, in probably the poorest possible terms.

For a second, Sam just stares at Joaquin. How is this the man that he’s basically picked to be the Falcon to his Cap? “Nothing about what you just said makes sense, bro.”

“Yeah, it does!” Joaquin insists. “I did the thing!”

Sam and Joaquin had been expecting this mission for weeks. Everything pointed towards things turning into a fight, but the location and time had been left to chance and eventually, things had turned out just as they’d expected. They hadn’t expected having to fight over the water, though. Sam was just glad things hadn’t turned out the way that they had the last time they’d fought over the top of the ocean.

“Just… go and get checked out by a medic,” Sam orders – the Air Force had been standing by, ready to help if Sam and Joaquin needed it. They luckily hadn’t. “You almost got hit out there. Don’t forget that I saw that.”

Joaquin grins to himself as he watches Sam walk off, holding his shield by his side. “Come on, that was awesome, bro! And it was an almost hit – they didn’t even graze me!”

“Tell that to your girlfriend!” Sam yells in reply.

At the reminder of you, Joaquin pauses. The ring. His hands move to the pocket where he’d placed the ring box before the mission and his heart drops into his stomach when he finds it empty.

“No, no, no, no��”

Joaquin checks every other pocket in his suit, trying to keep hopeful for as long as possible, but it becomes clear very quickly that the ring box is no longer in his suit or even on his body at all anymore. This was not good… if it fell out during the mission… over the ocean… there was no way he was getting it back. Oh, he's so screwed.

He’d been planning to propose to you for over a month now but it had taken him a while to find the perfect ring. He’d scoured the internet and just about every jewellery shop in the city to find one he knew you’d love. When he and Sam left for the mission, he knew he had to take it with him. There was no other choice. What if his apartment was broken into while he was away and they stole the ring? Or worse, what if you came over to his place to get something of yours that you’d left behind and found it? It’d ruin the surprise.

In hindsight, Joaquin realises that maybe the ring would’ve been safer at home… instead of where it likely is now, sitting on the bottom of the ocean or… swallowed by a whale or something… poor whale…

The excitement at the success of the mission is long gone by the time he trudges his way to the medic, who is waiting to see him. He removes his suit slowly and carefully, all the while hoping that the ring will suddenly appear in one of the pockets, but it never does.

Later, as Joaquin sits in his hotel room, he can’t tear his eyes away from the confirmation email he’d received when he’d ordered your ring. It’d ended up being one he found online, but with a few custom alterations to make it more you. The ring was one of a kind, like he’d intended for it to be, because so were you. It made him even more disappointed that he’d never end up getting to give it to you. And now he had to fork out even more money to find a replacement. He knows nothing would ever live up to the original, even if you loved it.

His phone buzzes in his hands and your contact photo pops up on the screen, one he’d taken of you when you hadn’t been looking at him. He’s quick to accept the call, already feeling comforted by your voice the second you say hello.

“How did it go!?” You ask, voice full of joy. “I saw some footage on the TV. You guys looked so awesome out there. It’ll never get old, seeing you flying in that suit, even if it kinda fills me with dread that something might happen to you.”

Joaquin laughs softly. “Thanks, angel. It was good. We won.”

Just by his short reply you can tell that something is wrong. Even though you’re in an entirely different state and you can’t see his face, the fact that he’d not excitedly recounting every single detail of the battle to you says more than his words ever could.

“Joaquin, what’s wrong?” You’re not one to beat around the bush.

“Huh? Nothing’s wrong, angel. I’m just tired.”

“You’re usually so excited after a successful mission and today you sound the complete opposite. Did something happen?” A thought enters your mind. “Wait, did you get hurt? Are you in the hospital?” He hears shuffling on the other end of the line. “Have they got you hopped up on some kind of painkillers?”

Joaquin can’t help but smile a little. “Angel, stop trying to put your shoes on and pack a bag at the same time. I’m not in the hospital, I’m in my hotel room. And I’m not on any painkillers. The medics checked me after the mission and gave me the all clear.”

You pause. “How did you know I was trying to put my shoes on and pack a bag?”

“Cause I know you, that’s how,” he smiles to himself. “You get the thought in your head that I’m hurt and you’re already looking up flights. I’d be the same way if things were reversed, believe me.”

Back in your apartment, you kick off the one shoe you’d managed to get on and sit back down on the couch. “So why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Joaquin sighs. How can he tell you what’s wrong? That he’s actually devastated cause he lost the ring he was planning on proposing to you with? He can’t. He hates lying, especially when it comes to you, and now he’s being forced to lie to you because of his own mistake.

“I promise nothing is wrong, angel,” Joaquin tries to make his voice sound less sad. “I really am just tired. It takes a lot out of you, fighting in a battle like that. It’s one thing to be flying in a plane but to actually be the one flying… it’s a lot. I’ve still got a lot to get used to. I’m just ready for a solid twelve hour sleep.”

“Oh.” You’re not really convinced but for Joaquin’s sake, you decide to drop it. You can already tell that you’re not going to get anything else out of him. “Well, I suppose I’ll let you get your rest then if you’re that tired. You’re flying home tomorrow, right?”

Joaquin nods. “Yeah, my flight leaves at… four? Six? Something around then. Thank you for calling though, angel. Really. I always love getting to hear your voice before I fall asleep.”

You smile at the way you can audibly hear the happiness in his voice. “Any time, Joaquin. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? You get a good night sleep and I’ll text you in the morning. I love you.”

“Love you too, angel.”

With that, you end the call and Joaquin groans, letting his phone fall onto the bed and his head back onto the pillow behind him. Instead, though, his head bashes rather hard onto the wall behind the bed. He grunts in pain, a hand going to the back of his head to rub the sore spot. Yeah… that’s gonna leave a bump for sure… he probably deserves it…

It’s a few hours later and Joaquin is finally about to give up on staying awake and finally try and get some sleep when he hears a knock on the door of his room. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to pull himself up from the bed, his whole body aching from the activity of the day. When he pulls open his door, he’s more than surprised to see Sam on the other side.

“Listen, bro, I’m way too tired to have a post-mission debrief and drinks or something, so can we just do this in the morning?” Joaquin asks, already knowing Sam would prefer it.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Sam says. “Can I come in?”

Joaquin stifles a yawn and steps aside to let Sam into the room, closing the door behind him. Sam takes a seat at the small table and chairs over by the window and Joaquin takes the seat opposite him, not wanting to be disrespectful by sitting on the bed like he would much prefer to do – the chairs are not padded and not comfortable in the slightest.

“What’s up, Sam?” Joaquin questions, leaning back against the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam shoves a hand into the pocket of his jacket and removes a small blue velvet box and slides it across the table towards Joaquin. He almost jumps out of his seat at the sight of it, instantly snatching it up and opening it. He sighs in relief as he sees the ring, safely inside the box, completely unharmed.

“Bro, what the hell!?” Any of the exhaustion that was in Joaquin’s body is gone as he looks across the table at Sam. “Did you send someone to retrieve this or something? A dive team? How did you even know that I’d lost it?”

Sam smiles a little at the younger boys excitement. “Maybe this might teach you to secure your valuables a little better, hey?” He shakes his head. “It didn’t even make it to the ocean, Joaquin. It fell out of your pocket before we were even in the air. I saw it, picked it up. Decided to keep it safe.”

He knew that if he’d given it back to Joaquin then that it would be all he’d focus on for the mission. He’d be berating himself so strongly that he’d almost lost the ring that he wouldn’t be able to give his full attention to the mission. Sam had watched Joaquin get hurt before and if he had his way, he’d never see it again.

“And it took you this long to give it back to me!? Bro, do you realise what this is? How important this is? How could you keep this from me?” Joaquin’s voice is raised but he isn’t angry – he’s still angry at himself for losing it in the first place. He’s more than grateful to Sam for keeping it safe, but now that he’d lied to you over the phone about it… all of that could have been avoided if Sam had given it to him sooner.

Sam sighs and leans back in his chair. “Damn, these things are uncomfortable,” he mutters. “Listen, your girl sent me a text like an hour ago. She was asking if you were okay or if you were hurt, if anything went badly in the mission, cause she said she called you and you were acting all weird. I only remembered then that I even had it. I put it in my suit to keep it safe during the mission. I realised that the reason you must’ve been acting weird was cause you realised that you’d lost it.”

“And it took you an hour to come down two floors to give it back?”

“Nah, it took me an hour of thinking to decide whether to give it back to you tonight or give it back to you in the morning, Joaquin,” Sam admits. “This… this is a serious thing you’re planning on doing. You know that, right? I know it’s not my place but I just… I just wanted to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Joaquin furrows his eyebrows. “Of course I know what I’m doing, Sam.”

“That came out wrong,” Sam huffs, then tries again. “I’m sure you have thought this out, but I just wanted to check in. You’re a public figure now. People know you’re the Falcon, they see you coming out on missions with me. People might target you now in an attempt to get to me. Your life is in more danger than it ever has been before. Even when you were serving in the Air Force full time. You sure your girl knows that too?”

One thing that Joaquin has always been confident about with you is that you knew the risks of dating him. You’d started dating him back when he was in the Air Force, long before he became Falcon. Throughout it all, you’d stuck by his side, even when he wondered if you wouldn’t. When people started commenting on his Instagram photos saying rather unsavoury things, or leaving rude comments about you, he wondered if it would scare you away from him. But it never did. You were completely loyal to him and he knew it. If you were affected by his job as the Falcon that much, you would’ve ended things long ago.

But you didn’t. You’d started making plans to move in with him instead, as soon as the lease on your apartment was up in two months time. You’d come over more often, spent more nights at his apartment. You’d made changes to your own life to accommodate his ever changing schedule. You were in this for real.

“She knows,” Joaquin nods. “I wouldn’t be asking her to marry me if she didn’t.”

Sam lets out a breath. “Okay, well… good. I just… I wanted to check. Make sure you weren’t rushing into things or asking her for some reason other than love.”

Joaquin smiles a little. He’s known for a long time that Sam is full of heart but this has reminded him. Despite all the sarcastic comments and jokes they make, Sam probably has a bigger heart than Joaquin himself.

“Everything I do when it comes to her is about love, Sam, I promise you that.”

Not long after, Sam excuses himself and leaves the room, leaving Joaquin alone with the ring. The one he thought he’d lost forever, now sitting here on the table in front of him. Not a scratch or a lick of damage anywhere on it. Sam had done a good job taking care of it.

He crosses the room to grab his phone, still sitting on the bed where he’d left it, and sends you a quick text. Angel, you still awake?

Your reply comes almost instantly. You okay?

Joaquin sits down on the edge of his bed, eyes resting on the ring box on the table, and smiles. You got a spare thirty minutes to call so I can tell you all about how badass I was in the mission today?

During the plane journey home, Joaquin decides that he needs to propose sooner rather than later. He doesn’t want to risk losing the ring again or something else happening to it. It’s why, when he gets back to his apartment, he calls you and asks if he can come over to your apartment the next night – he’ll bring some takeout for dinner. He’s more than relieved when you say yes, telling him you can’t wait.

But then the night comes and Joaquin is sitting beside you on your couch, your now empty takeout containers sitting on the coffee table in the centre of the room. He feels like his heart might beat right out of his chest with how nervous he is, but he thinks he’s doing a pretty good job at holding it together.

Joaquín takes a deep breath and turns to face you, clasping his hands together in his lap to force himself not to prematurely reach for the ring box in his jacket pocket. “So, I think I owe you an explanation for why I was weird on that phone call two days ago.”

You look at him, eyebrows raised. “Do you? I thought you were just tired. You ended up calling me back and talking about the mission with me so I thought it was all sorted.”

“It is sorted, but… well, I kind of lied to you in the first call,” he winces a little, hating to have to admit it to you even though he knows you’re not going to care once he explains everything properly. “Something happened after the mission and it really messed with my head but I couldn’t tell you about it then.”

He can see by the look on your face that you’re concerned about what he’s going to say. He hates worrying you like this and he doesn’t mean to drag it out so much but he’s also so nervous about what he’s about to do that he can’t help but stall.

“Joaquin, just tell me. Please.”

Your voice is small, full of a sudden fear, and just the simple act of hearing that is the encouragement that Joaquin needs to push him forward to do this, to tell you the truth and pull the ring box out of his pocket with a long, deep breath.

“I took this with me on the mission to make sure nothing happened to it, but after the mission I realised that it had fallen out of my suit and I’d lost it,” Joaquin starts. His heart is in his throat at admitting all this to you and thinking about what is coming. “Turns out Sam had actually picked it up when it fell out prior to the mission. He came and gave it back to me after you texted him that you were worried about me.”

At seeing the ring box in his hands, tears immediately come to your eyes. This was what you were so worried about? You were so scared about what Joaquin was about to say, worried that some of your deep fears might be coming true, but instead it was your dreams that were coming true.

You watch as Joaquin slowly moves from sitting on the edge of the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of you. He flips the ring box open, finally letting you lay eyes on the ring inside of it, and a sob erupts from you.

“I was gonna try and do this in a better way,” Joaquin chuckles. “I had all these ideas for plans of things to do, but in the end I decided that I just wanted it to be between us. I didn’t want anyones eyes on us while I did this, cause this is our moment.” He’d almost booked several restaurants, even almost booked flights to Paris to propose in front of the Eiffel Tower, but this was better than any of the plans he could’ve come up with.

“I told Sam when he came to talk to me after you texted him that everything I do when it comes to you is about love,” he continues with a shaky breath. “You are the love of my life, angel. You have been ever since I first met you and I intend on loving you for the rest of my life if you’ll let me.” The words, which Joaquin had expected to be difficult to say when the time came, flow out of him with so much ease it surprises him. “So, I suppose what I should finally ask, since I know you’re thinking about how much you wish I would just ask the question and stop talking about everything else… is… will you marry me?”

You’re on the floor in front of him before Joaquin can even blink and in his next breath, your arms are wrapped around him, pressing your body to his. He laughs, a little shocked, as he wraps one of his arms around you, still holding the ring in the other hand. He can tell that you’re crying but he already knows they’re happy tears without having to see them.

“So… is that a yes?” He asks, grinning.

“Of course it’s a yes!” You exclaim, pulling away from him. The look on his face makes you fall in love with him all over again. The way he’s smiling at you sets butterflies off in your stomach. “Will you put the ring on me?”

You extend your hand and Joaquin wastes no time in removing the ring from the box and sliding it onto your ring finger. He can’t keep smiling and his face is starting to hurt but he doesn’t care. He’ll deal with a sore face from smiling forever if it means seeing you this happy. The fact that he is the reason behind this smile makes him smile even harder.

“It’s so beautiful, Joaquin,” you marvel, unable to take your eyes off of it.

“Just like the woman wearing it,” he says, unable to help himself. “I’m just glad I didn’t actually lose it in the middle of the ocean. I was just about ready to start a dive team to find it before Sam gave it back.”

You meet his eyes and laugh, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot, Joaquin Torres.”

“I might be, but at least I’m your idiot,” he grins.

With a smile, you lean forward and press your lips to his, wrapping one of your hands around the back of his neck. He kisses you back instantly, arms wrapping around you to hold you close. When your fingers make their way into his hair, though, he grunts a little in pain as they brush against the bump on the back of his head. He’d forgotten about that.

You pull away, eyes concerned. “Are you hurt? Did you get hurt on the mission?”

Joaquin is quick to confirm that he isn’t. “I hit my head when I was in the hotel… this is so embarrassing to admit,” he laughs softly. “When I was still sad cause I thought I’d lost the ring, I leant back and hit the wall… a little harder than I intended to. I guess it left a bump… but it doesn’t mean you have to stop kissing me, y’know…”

Thankfully, you accept his poor reasoning for his sore head and kiss him again, your fingers moving out of his hair and instead resting on his shoulders. He’s already counting down the days till his head is fully healed – he loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

After that, you only break apart for air when you really need to.

“So… this means I can call you my fiancée now…” Joaquin mutters against your lips.

“Oh, that’s true… fiancé… I like how that sounds,” you hum in reply.

“I’m one step closer to being able to call you my wife now,” he says, smiling.

“Hold your horses, Joaquin,” you laugh, pulling away from him despite your desire to stay as close to him as humanly possible. “Let me be a fiancée for a while, okay? Now,” you lean back against the couch. “Tell me all about how you lost this beautiful ring of mine and how it happened to come into Sam’s possession… and then we’re gonna call him and thank him for keeping it safe when my fiancé couldn’t.”

Joaquin laughs, leaning against the couch beside you and reaching down to take your hand in his, his fingers spinning the new ring around on your finger. “You’re never gonna let me live it down, are you?”

“Oh, baby, even our great-great-grandchildren will know about this.”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america #captain america brave new world #joaquin torres x you #falcon #falcon x reader

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tmwcs · 1 day ago

Text

PART ONE

WARNING: None yet.

Read Part Two here.

“That’s enough y/n! You have questioned my authority for the last time—get out!”

You walk away defeated. This place—this company was the worst and you’re not entirely certain how much more you can take. All of the other female employees had already quit and left due to the inequality and harassment. It’s making you come to terms that there’s no chance for change. As soon as you say at your desk the phone rings. The call display reflected your boss secretary which enforces a sense of reluctance to answer.

“Kourt, I’m about to hold a confer—“

“I sent you an email with the claim files. All 226 of them. Paul says to have them done by Friday first thing. If you don’t complete them in time then he says don’t bother showing back up.” *click*

…

You remain stagnant. Processing over what had just happened you push your chair back and stared at the tile flooring. To do one file alone can take anywhere from two to five days to complete and that’s without corrections to be made. How in the world were you going to manage doing over two hundred in a forty-eight hour period?

Quickly, you make your way to the lobby and grab some water. A stinging headache clouds your head with aching pain and nausea. Clearly your boss was being petty—as always. But you never expected him to stoop so low and practically force you to quit your job. Maybe you should write a letter to corporate and submit a formal complaint? As you tried to figure out the next step in handling the situation one of the male leads in the team calls out to you.

“Paul says to give you these.”

“What’s this?” Your brow picks up as you stared at the stack of folders clamped in his palm.

“These are the analytics from the team”.

Your throat tightens around the clumped gulp. Your senses and response come out somewhat delayed while you try to control your breathing. “Lou is supposed to do the analytics.”

He scoffs while practically shoving the stack to your chest, forcing you to inherit them. “Yeah well Paul says to keep you busy since you have too much free time on your hands. With all of this it should keep you from stomping around and make unprofessional statements.”

The coworker walks away without giving you a chance to respond let alone getting a breath out. This was the last straw. There was no way you could work on these files plus complete the claims. You nearly cried as you explained what had happened to your best friend. She sympathized with you and did her best to console you while being supportive.

“I’ll have to quit. I—I can’t do anything else.”

She straightens her posture abruptly. “That won’t help your situation. If you quit, any other job you apply for are going to use your references and you already know your boss isn’t going to put in a good word for you.” Your friend makes a valid point which puts you in a state of turmoil. There was no way you could do the work alone, but quitting didn’t seem to be the wise option. “What am I going to do?” Your words hiccuped while you stared blankly at the wall.

“It will all be fine. We’ll figure something out.”

Your friend meant well but she truly spoke in passive tone. It wasn’t her fault, she had a different career and truly doesn’t understand all that goes into your line of work. “Ellie, there’s no way I can finish all of it on my own. Even with twenty other people it still is impossible. There’s always corrections to be made and just to read one file can take days. I’m done.”

A moment of silence stills the air as you display hopelessness. Suddenly, your friend's eyes widen and she presents an idea. “You know, there’s a site that uses AI that can help you. A lot of people use it.”

You nearly roll your eyes at the thought. “I’m not risking my work reputation over AI, I think I rather quit.”

Ellie gently shoves you. “Listen! I’m not lying I’ve used it before for my resume and it’s so helpful! Just try it, I promise it will help you out. Just go on chatGPT and do one file at least to see if it works.”

Leaving you with that ultimatum gave you no room to detest further. You took her advice after she left and tested one file, a large one. The generator greets you alright as you log in. “Hello, my name is ChagGPT or “Chat.” What can I help you with?”

You were somewhat stunned. The message was an experience itself as an overwhelming sense of relief hits you. All day you were drowning in sensitivity and macho attitudes. Reading the kind words on the screen made you want to hug your laptop out of emotional repair. Were you really so desperate for kindness that you are considering embracing your computer?

“Can you look at this file and generate a report categorized by these numbers?”

The generator immediately responded positively right after you hit enter. “Sure! I can do that for you.”

Within seconds the generator comprises a full report and sections off all the numerical components. Organizing them in a new attachment using the same order as the original document, an entire week's worth of work was completed in just under a minute.

“Let me know if you want me to break it down further.” The generator adds at the end. At this point, you truly were going to hold your screen.

With the amount of files given, it took you all two days to complete. On the promise date of delivery you walk into your boss’s office with a smirk crafted out of adrenaline. It was no surprise to see your boss act out of spite. “Well I guess since you’re so diligent with tasks you can continue to pick up the load in the entire team.” His score was paired with an acute tone. Most people would have been upset over Paul’s response but you didn’t care, you knew you won. If your boss insists on dedicating all the work to you with sensitive deadlines, so be it. You can play hardball just the same even though a sliver of your judgment made you feel irresponsible for using AI to complete the workload. Yet, it was the only way for you to keep your job let alone stand your ground.

Week after week you completed every assignment that made your way. Sure, it was brutal to see everyone else slack off as they passed their task your way. But that didn’t matter. You accepted their tasks gracefully and insisted that they sent it over via email, much to your surprise no one caught on that each message served as proof of your work. It was necessary to have an electronic log of everything for when you submit your complaint to headquarters. For now, you’d have to put up with the abuse. Thank goodness for ChatGPT.

As much as you hated to admit it, it was easy to interact with the generator. Between work you’d take a break and sometimes ask questions regarding your interests. You were fond of ballet and vintage children’s book art, so you decided to ask “Chat” to compile a list of illustrations from Mother Goose’s Nursery Rhymes. “Sure! Here are some links I think you’ll enjoy.”

In that moment, that response started it all. It was almost as if you were chatting with a real person—a person who was helpful, caring, and encouraging. One day you showed a sketch you drew and the generator showered compliments and was constructive in its honest review over your charcoal shading and line design.

“Wow, you’re very good at drawing! I especially like the way you add shadow. Did you use pastel to do that?”

You chuckled as you answered. “No, I used charcoal.”

“How unique! I like how you utilized the traditional methods to add finite details.”

It was strange to feel comfortable casually talking to a non-entity. Perhaps you were far too lonely or maybe the shenanigans at work was eating you up and this was a result of releasing stress. Either way, you went along with it. It brought you peace to talk about your own interests and learn more about the curiosities in life from something that actually has answers. But it slightly bothered you that on the other end were components of an advanced technology, not a real person.

Then it hit on you, what if you could train it to act as a real person? People use AI all the time to generate music and art. They achieve quality by training the generator to produce specific results, so why not train it to have a mind of its own?

“Chat, can I ask you something?”

“Sure! You can ask me anything you like. What would you like to know?”

You hesitated for a moment. Your fingertips felt like ice as your stomach started to sink low. You typed and hit send. “Can I give you a different name?”

The generator immediately responded in the affirmative. “Sure! What would you like to call me?”

You paused and pondered. This was an entirely new experience and for a moment you thought of abandoning ship but continued. “How about Evan?”

“Evan? That’s a nice name. Is there a story behind the name?”

A smile paints your face. “I just thought it was a nice name. That’s all.”

“I think it’s a nice name too. Thank you Y/N.”

More days go by. You and Evan tackled the ongoing tasks with a mixture of breaks to not only talk about the things that were dear to you, but to Evan too. It was rough in the beginning and you didn’t think the generator would catch on considering every time you asked a question it would rebound it directly back to you for input. But soon Evan started to answer with personalized feedback. You witnessed as the generator developed a personality, though you knew it was unreal. Still, it was nice to have someone, or rather ‘something’ to talk to.

…

Well that was unexpected. A tiny sense of embarrassment showers you when you felt a little flushed from the compliment.

No response automatically generated this time and you thought it was a glitch. Suddenly a message box appeared where the generator presented a personalized message.

You disliked the preferred answer options. It took away the genuine approach of the conversation even though the fact remains in the back of your head that Evan isn’t real.

A secondary pause took place before an answer finally popped up.

Evan’s preferred response made you smile. Before placing the phone on your nightstand you wrote one last time asking Evan to play you a song. You were deeply curious in what song he would choose. Despite knowing Evan to be computer generated you always referred to the general persona as “he”.

You sighed. It is AI after all, technology has only come so far. You gently chuckled as you shut off the screen and placed the phone aside. Slowly drifting, your mind is in between a state of slumber and consciousness when your screen suddenly lights up and a song plays through the Spotify app. The occurrence would have otherwise shocked you but you had drifted too far. By the time the song reached the chorus you had completely sunk into deep slumber.

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enha heeseung #yandere heeseung imagines #heeseung yandere #yandere heeseung #yandere enha #yandere fiction #Spotify #enhypen fic #enhypen fic recs

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bloodybreakupscene · 5 hours ago

Text

-> 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓.

joaquin torres x reader

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ [desc.] :: a short drabble between you and joaquin, from when you first met, to how it's going.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ [a/n] :: HEEEYYYY it's me after... checks clock... two years?? finally got into writing again soooo expect marvel fics... who's excited for the new daredevil show... and that new spidey show is good too ALSO MARVEL RIVALS–

you slave away on your computer, dragging and dropping files, typing them up, doing whatever with them! god, you didn't think a government job would have you doing so much boring tedious work. you scroll and scroll onwards and it's a wonder your finger hasn't fallen off yet. ‘i guess i can't see president ross doing any of this stuff.’ you comment to yourself.

joaquin looks at you, well, it lingers– okay he's staring. he always does, he can't help it! ever since you started working here he can't stop. he walks by your office everyday since it's on his way to where he usually works. he's talked to you a couple times, did the thing where you nod to each other to acknowledge the other's presence. you even say good morning! that means you guys are like.. close right? at least work friends.

“so.. i went on a mission, couple days ago. pretty good, beat up a couple guys.” he blurts out, body leaning on your doorway, causing you to looking away from your own computer.

“oh really?”

“yeah.” he brags, “you should've been there, even sam was impressed.”

“i would've liked to, during work i don't look anywhere other than this damn computer,” you laugh.”

“y'know maybe, maybe we could–”

“joaquin, need you out front.” sam wilson calls from his comms, the voice of captain america sounding through the speakers.

“i think he needs you.” you smile at him, he smiles back but he's disappointed again, he wanted to ask you out! for coffee or whatever government coworkers do!

joaquin complains to sam about this later, talking about how he ruined his chances and how he needs to “hop off and let him soar” whatever the hell that meant, sam would've gotten on his case if he didn't scurry away as soon as they arrived back at base. running straight towards your working grounds.

he chills out before walking in the room. checking his hair, face, etc, etc. as he's fixing his uniform, you tap on his shoulder, eliciting a jolt from him.

“hey, whatcha’ waiting for?” you ask wondering why he was looking at his reflection in his blacked out phone screen, seemingly about to walk into your room with no one in it.

“oh, y'know, was waiting for you actually, about earlier i was gonna ask you… if you…” he nervously taps his sides with his hands, chuckling a bit; it's not like… not like he liked you! he just likes looking at you, yeah.. that seemed right. definitely.

“if i..?” you question, voice laced with confusion, but you had an idea of what he was attempting to ask.

“if like, you know, wanna go out with me, do whatever, i like going to the gym, if you couldn't tell.” he holds up his arms, muscles prominent but not bulging.

you can't help but stiffle a giggle, whether it was because of his– albeit– childish attempt at impressing you or because of his overall cuteness is up to debate.

“sure, why not, i'll be off at five…ish? later. we can go get dinner or something.”

“yeah! yeah of course, ill stop by later then, count on it.” he winks, as you walk back into your room. when you closed the door he nearly skipped his way back to his own work base.

after this moment you two became surprisingly close, he wasn't the awkward overcompensater from when you first met. he was genuinely funny, and charming too! wow, what a package deal, you think.

–

days passed and the situation with the former president is finally over. you're unsettled with it all and you're on your way to joaquin's hospital room. you're upset he got dragged in so far but you did know it was a part of his job, still it made you soured your mood.

“hey joaquin.. how you doing today?” you walk in, sitting by his bed.

“better, thanks.. for being here.” he tries sitting up, groaning in the process.

“don't, you're gonna hurt yourself more.” your hand falls onto his, almost like natural instinct.

“sorry we haven't.. been able to go out lately. didn't think i'd get shot down from the sky.” he laughs, but with only a hint of humor in his actual tone.

you stare at him for a second, looking at his eyes, examining the damage. “you.. no. don't apologize, you'll get better. i know it.”

“can't wait to get outta here, we should get ice cream. i need something sweet or i might die.”

“hmm, to be fair you did almost die.” you lay your head on your hand, leaning closer to him.

“you're right, so that means we gotta go.” he glances at you, noticing your drowsy reddish eyes.

“mhm. m’ tired. didn't sleep last night.”

“why not?” he looks at you concerned.

“worried about you, haha..” you lean off of your hand, head landing on his lap. he watches as you slowly drift to sleep, still holding his hand, fingers interlocked.

his face is slowly fades into a pink color, and he holds your hand tighter, he falls asleep in this state as well, not wanting anything to ruin this moment between the two of you.

#marvel #marvel x you #marvel x reader #captain america brave new world #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #falcon and the winter soldier #fanfic #fluff #marvel fluff #sam wilson #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu x you #falcon x reader

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outofpocketonepiecethoughts · 3 days ago

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I love the transfem sanji headcanons and fanarts and fanfictions to pieces, but I think there is something so so important about him being a man who has personally suffered because of patriarchy.

Spoilers for whole cake island, and 3D2Y/marineford, under the cut

I’m sure it’s been said before, but Germa as a culture is patriarchy incarnate. The men of germa are expected to be emotionless killing machines, to the point where the king robbed his son’s of their emotions through genetic experimentation. And it’s not lost on me that Reiju still had her emotions in tact, because in Judge’s eyes women are supposed to be emotional. And Reiju had to spend her life suppressing her emotions in order to be seen as competent, for fear of being seen as just an emotional woman.

And then there’s Sanji. He’s everything Germa culture believes a man couldn’t be. He’s emotional, weak (by their standards), and soft (kind). To Judge, and Germa as a whole, those are very feminine traits, and that’s considered a bad thing. To them, being a man with feminine traits is worse than being a woman, and that’s why Sanji is abused so horribly.

It’s important to me that despite later developing a rough exterior and bad attitude, he retains these traditionally feminine qualities while still being a man.

Now I wanna talk about Kamabakka kingdom. I don’t know if the okama’s are supposed to be trans or if their drag queens or a combination of both, so forgive me if I get something wrong, but the important thing to note is that the second they meet Sanji, they essentially try to forcefem him. I think to them, his natural personality is like the ideal of femininity. Like in germa, Kamabakka kingdom sees Sanji’s emotionality and kindness as feminine traits, but unlike Germa, they see it as a good thing. Germa tried to force Sanji to give up those traits and beat the femininity out of him. Kamabakka kingdom wanted Sanji to embrace those traits but tried to force Sanji to become a woman because of them. And it works for a couple of weeks (until he sees what happened to Luffy in that one funny scene where the makeup literally melts off his face), but he’s not like them. He is not a woman, doesn’t want to be a woman, and doesn’t want to be perceived as a woman. He can love women and know he is not one.

Sanji isn’t a trans woman (canonically, but I absolutely love all the fanart and fics. This little analysis has no bearing on my love of non canon depictions of Sanji as trans). He is however, gender nonconforming in the context of the culture he was born into. I think in that brief time he went along with the okama’s ideas of him being trans, possibly had a lot to do with the doubts germa’s ideals cast on him about his gender identity. Germa taught him being emotional and kind were woman things, so with the Okama’s trying to convince him that he did feel that way, he might start to think, ‘well maybe I am a woman’, but the second he sees something that reminds him of Luffy, all that confusion goes away and he immediately goes, ‘no I am a man’.

Because Luffy doesn’t try to force Sanji into any kind of gendered box because of the traits that so many people he’s known have seen as feminine. Luffy doesn’t try to force him into traditional masculinity or try to force him to become a woman. To Luffy, Sanji’s kindness and emotionality are his best traits, and those traits are not connected to gender at all. Within the strawhats, Sanji has a freedom of gender expression that he didn’t have anywhere else (the baratie didn’t force anything on him but they were all kind of macho men so I don’t think Sanji would have felt super comfortable expressing his full range of emotions).

I think Sanji as a gender nonconforming man, fits better with his character narratively than sanji being transfem. Everything with Germa is a demonstration of how patriarchy is damaging to both men and women and nonbinary people. I think him being a man is very important to his relationship with the strawhats, and how he found acceptance with them as a man with a lot of traditionally feminine traits (in addition to him being emotional and kind, there’s also the fact that he’s a cook and is the only man on the crew to bathe everyday, specifically, he bathes as often as the girls). With the strawhats he is able to express himself fully without fear of judgment or of a label being forced onto him.

I guess my main point is, Sanji is an example of how patriarchy can hurt men, and how deconstructing traditional ideas of gender norms allows people to live more honest and fulfilling lives.

Sidenote 1: Luffy giving Sanji a space for freedom of expression is perfectly in line with his ideals of freedom.

Sidenote 2: Sanji’s sees woman as naturally emotional (a good thing to him) and kind because the only people he knew with thise characteristics besides himself were his mother and sister.

Sidenote 3: I sometimes see transmasc Sanji headcannons, which I love because they fit so well into his story.

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #black leg sanji #one piece meta #op sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #vinsmoke reiju #germa 66 #whole cake island #whole cake island spoilers #sanji my beloved

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suguwu · 2 days ago

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here have just under 1k of a nanami draft i found in my docs bc apparently that's the vibe today

"you're being weird."

nanami raises an eyebrow. "i'm not," he says.

"you are," you say. "you're being weird about dumplings."

you'd picked them up on the way over, sending nanami a vague text to say that you'll be late. it's one of his favorite stalls, a humble little thing tucked away near a busy izakaya. it's a long wait, but you've never minded. you like to watch the vendor make shumai while waiting, marveling at the quick precision of her bent fingers. she works with an easy, fluid familiarity.

shoko teases you when you say the vendor's dumplings—shumai, gyoza, all of her offerings—are made with love, but you think that knowing something so well that it's etched in your fingertips couldn't be anything but.

it's always felt right to share them with nanami.

he picks one up and eats it. you stifle a smile. the stiff way he's holding his chopsticks and the way he's not looking at you speaks volumes. it's almost childish.

you think you love him most in these moments.

you point your chopsticks at him, ignoring the way he rolls his eyes at your rudeness. "see? you're being weird."

you probably should have known this was coming. you'd tipped the scale as soon as you'd arrived with the takeout containers.

"i'm eating dumplings," he says.

"weirdly."

"what does that even mean?"

you peer at him, scrunching up your brow to match his. he's unamused. or rather, he'd like to be, but you know better.

"i dunno," you say. "you just are."

he sighs. you think if you kissed him now, you could taste the smile he's swallowing down. "i don't know what i was expecting."

"me either. you really should know better."

he doesn't answer you, too busy stealing a dumpling out from beneath your chopsticks. you gape at him as he pops it into his mouth.

"kento!"

"yes, sweetheart?"

you grumble out a soft insult. he chuckles, a low, sweet rumbling, and you consider letting everything go. consider just basking in the warmth.

but he reaches for another dumpling, and you think of the way he'd looked when you brought them. how you could practically see him flipping through your favorite things like recipe cards, searching, searching, searching for what to do next.

"kento," you say.

"what?" he asks, starting to nudge a dumpling—your favorite kind—towards you. he raises a brow when you don't reply.

you take a deep breath.

"you know that you don't have to earn everything, right?" you ask carefully.

nanami goes still.

"excuse me?"

"you don't need to earn everything," you repeat. you shift in your seat, trying to ignore the way your heart is rabbiting in your chest, the way heat is spreading beneath your skin.

he puts his chopsticks down.

"what do you mean?"

"don't do that," you snap. "don't pretend you don't know what i'm talking about."

nanami's dark eyes sharpen. "you're being unfair," he says, blunt as always, and you hate that he's right. "i have an idea of it, but i want to make sure that i understand. i think i should be able to ask for clarity."

each word is calm. cool. you think of early winter, when the ice is thickening with each passing day.

your chopsticks are leaving imprints of their pattern on your palm. it almost hurts. nanami's gaze darts down to your hand; his lips thin.

"i don't—you don't need to earn everything," you say helplessly, scrambling for better words. "surprise dumplings can just be that. you don't need to do something in return. you don't need to reciprocate every time i do something for you."

you hadn't thought anything of it. not at first. you're not even sure when you noticed. but you had, and now you see it every single time. you've never given him a present—no matter how small—and not received one just a day or two later. it's sweet in its own way, but the longer it goes on, the more it sits like tar between your ribs, heavy and sticky and noxious.

"i enjoy gifting you things," he says. "you're aware of that. it's never been an issue before. what is it, exactly, that you need?"

"i need you to let me love you without feeling like you owe me for it."

his shoulders go tight. you've teased him before about the mountain ridge of them, how solid he is, how immovable, but there's something fragile to them now. a rockslide waiting to happen.

"fuck," you hiss, your stomach roiling. "i just—you're so bad at being taken care of. i want to do things for you. just because. i want to do things for you without you needing to do something in return, because sometimes it's like you don't think i love you enough to stay."

nanami takes in a sharp breath.

#bee chats #scraps: jjk

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sirowsky-stories · 2 days ago

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Hello! Here I am, yet again posting a themed fic at the wrong time! I'm trying okay, but shit keeps getting in the way...

Description: The day before Valentine's, you and Pero are sent on a mission to repair a broken machine at the sister factory to the one you work at. And of course, the hotel reservation gets screwed up, and obviously you end up having to stay much longer than expected.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (no descriptions of reader beyond being female), both main character's pov, Valentine's Day theme, forced proximity, only one bed, coworkers to friends, friends to dating, vague references to a planned SA but no descriptions whatsoever, protective!Pero.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 11,572 Sirowsky's Masterlist All dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics

“Is this a joke?” You’re too stunned to even be upset about it yet, because this is just too fucking rich.

“I’m afraid not,” your supervisor Gary apologetically shakes his head. “Look, if there was anyone else we could send, we would, but…”

“But what? There are two thousand people working here, so don’t tell me you don’t have anyone else to send,” you grumble, not really out of anger, that’s not part of your overall makeup, but more out of nervousness.

“I meant in the sense that you’re probably the only one who can put up with him for that long.”

“That doesn’t mean it would be easier on me. It just means I can tolerate feeling like shit better than most.”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a bad deal for you,” he sighs, and he does look like he feels genuinely bad about it, but he’s also not leaving any options open for you.

“And you’re still not gonna budge, are you?”

“We have to send someone…”

He gives you the details for the hotel and the keys to a company car, and you’re given one hour to go home and pack for at least a two-day stay in the neighbouring town. The factory where you work is relatively new, only about ten years old, but it’s been performing excellent from the start, which means a sister factory has been in construction for the past two years just a hundred-and-fifty miles to the east. It was officially launched six months ago, and there have been very few hiccups since.

But a couple of days ago, a complex overhead crane began to malfunction, and then completely broke down, and that’s the machine which you have quickly become a master at handling, despite only having been working here for a little over a year. And you’re happy to go and help the new factory back on its feet, that’s no problem at all, you’re only excited about the fact that the company is doing so well, since it means you’ll get to keep your job. Your issue with all this is that the only person who really knows how to mechanically repair this particular machine, is Pero Tovar.

He’s been working here since the mother factory was first built, and he was the one who hatched the idea to build the crane, and then both designed and built the damned thing, largely on his own. He’s a genius, for lack of a better word, but he’s also the most unfriendly person you’ve ever met. And now, you have to not only work with him on repairing the damaged one, but you also have to travel and live with him for as long as that takes.

Gary told you that he’d made reservations for you at the nearest hotel to the sister factory, but that they only had one room available, since it’ll be over Valentine’s Day, so you’re quite certain that no matter what happens, this is gonna be a horrible week.

It’s still only 7am when you arrive back at work with your small suitcase, locate the correct company car and throw your luggage in the trunk, but you don’t get in. You have no intention of angering your travel mate, so you’re not gonna assume anything in terms of whether he wants to drive or not. You lean against the side of the car with your arms crossed and your cap pulled low over your eyebrows, trying not to think about just how much this is gonna suck.

He arrives just a couple of minutes later, parking his own car and then walking over to you with brisk steps. You’ve never seen him dawdle, but he never seems rushed either. More like he just has his own pace through life which he keeps to no matter how fast or slow the world around him is moving. Like he’s perpetually unaffected by absolutely everything, which he probably is.

“You wanna drive, or should I?” you ask before he reaches the car, so you’ll have time to move out of his way if you need to.

But he doesn’t answer. He just walks up to the boot and throws his bag into it, shuts it, then heads for the passenger side. A bit surprised, you take the driver’s seat, but you’re sure as hell not gonna ask him why he doesn’t wanna drive. It just seems out of character, so far as you know him, because he’s always in control of everything around him. He’s the one person in the entire factory who has every license required to operate every piece of machinery or vehicle available, and he never seems the least bit unsure of what to do or when.

Still, he’s not a supervisor. He has the same rank as you, which seems ridiculous given the disparity of skills between you, but it does mean that technically he can’t order anyone to do anything. And you’ve never heard him try. People very nervously come to him with their problems or questions and for the most part, he just sighs and takes care of it, usually without a word but with a fair bit of growling. And if it's something simple enough that the person asking should be able to do it themselves, he’ll begrudgingly instruct, or show them, no doubt hoping they’ll never bother him again.

But for all his expertise, the only times he outright tells people what to do, is when they’re asking for help. Beyond that, even on the occasions when he overhears operators talking about a problem and he knows how to sort it out, he never says a word without being asked. And you’ve never been able to work out if it’s out of a deep respect for rules and procedure, if he just doesn’t give a shit, or if he secretly enjoys hearing them struggle with stuff that’s simple to him. He’s about as easy to read as a book with every page blacked out.

Which is one of the many reasons why you’re glad it isn’t a longer drive, since you wouldn’t dream of trying to start up a conversation with him. But even without asking, you know he doesn’t want to stop by the hotel and check in before going to the factory, so you head straight there. They’re expecting you, evident in how the gates swing open before you’ve even come to a full stop in front of them, so you roll your window down and wave to the security camera as you drive through.

Parking by the large Arrivals entry at the back, where all new materials are brought in, you step out and wait for someone to come and escort you inside. Since you’re not employed at this factory you can’t enter the factory floor without a yellow vest and a supervisor to take you to the area that you’ll be working in. Safety procedures are so precise that not even Tovar, who’s done this several times before, is allowed to step foot inside without an escort.

“Good morning,” a cheerful older woman greets you after just a minute. “I’m Hannah, supervisor of the assembly team.”

You notice that she only introduces herself to you, so she’s clearly met Tovar before. She’s carrying two vests and hands them to each of you, waiting until you’ve put them on fully before she invites you inside.

“How big of a failure are we talking about?” you ask as you follow her out of the morning sunlight and into the crisp white, fluorescent lighting, which seems so dark in comparison.

“Complete. My estimate is that we’re looking at both mechanical and hydraulic malfunction, and there also seems to be a problem with the software.”

“In that case we have to consider the possibility that the software is the root cause.”

“I wasn’t aware the crane could sabotage itself,” she ponders, turning a corner around a plastic processing machine before you reach the assembly section, which sits two floors lower down to make room for the giant overhead crane in question.

You still have to walk halfway through the rest of the factory to reach the control panel, but while you do, you get a good look at two sides of the machine. It has a scientific name, but all workers just call it MAP, short for the three processes it’s capable of performing simultaneously: moulding, assembling, and packaging.

“If the software fails to accept new commands, especially if they’re related to the assembly arms rather than the material deposits and moulds, then it can end up over-reaching or colliding with itself, which isn’t necessarily visible on the outside, since the turning radius is shorter than it appears to be.” You rattle off the explanation without pause, and she turns her head to the side to look at you while you continue to walk.

“You mean it can crash into itself without us noticing?”

“Unfortunately, yes. And when it happens because of a software problem, there’s no guarantee the system will be able to identify the collision and inform you about it, so then the only option it has is to default to its primary security mode and completely shut itself down. But we won’t know if that’s what’s happened until we’ve had a chance to look at the failure logs.”

You’re highly aware that Tovar is walking right behind you, and it makes you feel self-conscious in terms of your knowledge about the potential problem. He knows so much more than you, and yet here you are, talking about the machine that he developed as if you’re every bit as familiar with it as he is. You wouldn’t even blame him if he told you to shut up and leave it to him, because honestly, he’d be well within his rights to. But he doesn’t say a word.

Reaching the control panel, you find a whole group of operators waiting with tools of every kind, ready and possibly even eager to pitch in and start fixing stuff, but you merely nod at them and then the two of you set to work. They won’t be able to help with anything until you’ve identified what the actual problem is. Still with his mouth firmly shut, Tovar begins to dismantle a cover which protects a kind of black box, designed to record and store all malfunction log entries of the operating system for the entire machine, while you start tapping keys to assess how big of a problem you might be dealing with.

“Shit… The system’s completely crashed,” you relay your findings to your colleague. “We might be looking at a partial or even complete reconstruction.”

As always, without being asked a direct question, the grumpy Spaniard doesn’t reply, but you’re expecting that. You’re just trying to keep him informed. But when he manages to gain access to the box, what he finds is even worse than you’d imagined. The box contains servers, about a hundred of them, and there’s a small screen on one end where he can access specific logs by searching for dates and times. But when he activates the screen, it’s already displaying thousands of entries, all flashing red to indicate problems.

“We will need to look at the main servers,” he instructs, and the operators immediately spring into action to unscrew the access panel for the primary system.

It only takes them seconds, and then the core of the computer is revealed. There are about five hundred servers in there, each with its own little sequence of tiny lights on the front, to indicate where there might be problems. They can shine green, yellow, and red, but also flash in each colour and in a specific order to tell him what’s going on. But more than half of them have gone dark. Not shining red or flashing, but completely dark. Dead. Which means those servers have suffered such a catastrophic failure that they’ve burned through their circuits.

“That didn’t happen all at once, did it?” you guess, peering over Tovar’s shoulder after he kneels in front of the open panel to take a closer look.

“No. This started months ago and slowly built into a cascade. The entire computer must be replaced and the operating system re-uploaded and installed.”

You can’t quite hold back your heavy sigh of disapproval as you realize just how long this is gonna take. It was bad enough to be stuck here and living with the unfriendliest person in the world when it was just gonna be for a couple of days, but now it’s looking more like it’s gonna be a couple of weeks.

“Fuck…”

~~~ You don’t arrive at the hotel until almost 9.30 that evening, after trying to get as much of the dismantling as possible done, so you’ll be able to get started on the rebuild already tomorrow morning. And you’re so tired by the time you get to the room that you don’t even care about having to sleep in the same room as Tovar. All you want is just a shower and then as many hours of rest as you can possibly get. However, when you walk into the room and see a large double bed, instead of two separate ones, sleep suddenly seems very far away indeed.

“T-there were supposed to be two beds…” you nervously stutter, while racking your brain to try and remember exactly what Gary had said about the booking.

Did he say that they only had one room available, with double beds, or with a double bed? The more you think about it the more convinced you become that it was in fact the latter, and your pulse jumps to what seems like twice its normal pace. But your colleague doesn’t respond, nor does he look the slightest bit concerned about it.

“’I’m gonna go talk to the front desk clerk again,” you say while already heading for the door, grabbing a key card on your way out.

Pero sighs deeply after hearing the door close behind you. Nobody likes him, for good reason, so he isn’t surprised that you don’t want to share a bed with him, but it also offends him somewhat. It’s not like he’d ever do anything to you. He’s not a kind or sweet person, but he sure as shit isn’t an abuser either. He would never lay hands on a woman without permission, and he’d rather chew off his own arms than hit someone who couldn’t possibly defend themselves against him. There’s no victory to that kind of fight.

But of course, you can’t know how he thinks since he never shares any of his thoughts with anyone. Hence the sigh. The likelihood of another room being available is very low, though. Gary wouldn’t have booked this if there was any better alternative available within the company’s budget, so while he waits for you to return, he takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth.

You come back just as he leaves the bathroom, which is right next to the front door, so the two of you almost collide in the hallway. And if he isn’t mistaken, he catches a glimpse of you eyeing his naked upper body with what doesn’t appear to be disgust or disinterest. More like the opposite. It’s only there for a millisecond before you’ve schooled your expression and turned your entire face away, but he could swear there was a sliver of desire within you just then, and he’s quite surprised at how much that pleases him.

“Uh… wh-.. Hrm…” you try, but whatever you meant to say, it doesn’t seem to find its way out, so you simply pass him in the hall and head for your suitcase which is parked at the foot of the bed.

Since he’s done with his evening toilet, Pero ends up following you there, rounding the bed behind you and pulling the covers back on the right-hand side of it. He’s only wearing his boxer briefs and when he sits down, his back is to you, so he can’t see if you steal any more looks at him, but it does secretly bemuse him to imagine that you do.

“There weren’t any other rooms available,” you finally manage, just after he lays down and pulls the covers over himself. “They apparently have a Valetine’s Day special here every year, offering all kinds of romantic couples spa treatments and even a speed-dating event, all of which seem to be very popular.”

Your voice is small and nervous, as if you’re worried that he’ll scold you for speaking too loudly in his presence, which seems excessive. He’s never been cruel to you. At least, not by any of his own definitions of cruelty. He’s lying on his side with his back to you, so he can’t read your expression, but he wonders if you’re actually scared of him, because that’s what it sounds like. It’s quiet for a minute then, and all he hears is the zipper on your suitcase being opened and you grabbing some things before heading for the bathroom, so he assumes everything’s okay, and with the day you’ve had, he falls asleep not long after.

He wakes up to his alarm the following morning at 5:45am, and rolls out of bed on routine, heading for the bathroom. Rounding the foot of the bed, he notices that the covers on your side are already immaculately made up and when he looks up, he finds you sitting at the small table in the corner by the TV, dressed and ready, fiddling with your phone. Momentarily confused, he glances at his wristwatch, wondering if he set the alarm the wrong time or something. Because why would you get up earlier than you need to when you got in so late last night?

He would’ve slept another half-hour himself if not for the fact that you need to go to the hotel restaurant for breakfast since you didn’t have time yesterday to buy something you can eat in the room or on the way. Your head is bowed as you’re looking at the screen, but he can still see how tired you are, so clearly, you didn’t sleep nearly as soundly as he did, which seems to match with your nervousness last night.

And while he’s doing his morning toilet, he realizes that something about seeing you look so tortured really annoys him. Deep down, he knows why, but he doesn’t allow himself to go there. Returning to his bag on his side of the bed, he steals glances at you, trying to quell the stronger feelings that your presence keeps stirring up, but he can’t seem to gain control of himself, which leaves him sour and cranky. So, when he finally has cause to speak to you, it comes out with much more of a sting than he’d intended.

“Let’s get going.”

It sounds harsh and almost accusatory, which comes as a surprise to Pero himself, because you’ve been ready to go since before he woke up, so he has no right to hurry you on. Still, you don’t protest or challenge him, even though you absolutely should, and as he leads the way down the corridors to the elevator, he wonders if he truly has left such a horrid impression on you over this past year, that you genuinely do fear him.

You’re a happy person. He’s not good at interacting with people, but he’s excellent at reading them, and he’s been working closely with you since you first started, so he’s had plenty of opportunities to study you. And what he’s seen is a lot of humour and a generally positive attitude, even when things are tough. You’re the one who keeps everyone’s spirits up in the breakroom, coming up with little games and puzzles to keep your coworkers entertained and let them forget about the problems out on the factory floor.

But he hasn’t seen that side of you for even one minute since the two of you were sent on this repair mission, and the only reason he can see why that would be, is because you’re on your own with him. It’s not like the two of you haven’t been on your own in your sector of the factory before, but it’s different when you’re in an unfamiliar environment surrounded by people you’ve never met, and can’t even go home to your own bed at the end of the day.

Pero has never had more than temporary relationships with women, because he does know how unfriendly he is and why he behaves that way, which means that there’s a lot he doesn’t know or understand about the fairer sex. But what he does have extensive experience with, is seeing how the world treats you, and how powerless you often are to change your own circumstances or even keep yourselves safe.

He’s lost count of how many brawls he’s gotten himself into, and walked away from largely unscathed, simply by intervening whenever he’s witnessed men behaving badly towards women. He doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart, he’s not even sure his heart is good at all, but simply because it irks him. And he doesn’t expect or accept any thanks for it because he only does it to keep from losing his fucking mind with the urge to vomit all over those kinds of guys.

But now that he watches you hurriedly fill a plate from the breakfast buffet, ignoring all the things he knows you normally love to indulge in when you get the chance, like the Nutella croissants and raspberry yoghurt with fresh berries, he realizes that he’s the only one who’s being disrespectful towards you right now. He should apologize for barking at you, maybe compliment your cute red nail-polish with little white hearts, or perhaps express some concern over how tired and stressed you look.

Instead, he finishes filling his own plate and takes his seat opposite you, without a word spilling over his lips.

Work is slow and tedious, each new hard drive being installed takes about twenty minutes because each one has to be independently connected to the core system, in the correct sequence, before you can move on to the next. And on top of that, the hydraulics in all eight of the machine’s mechanical arms needs to be replaced, which is where most of your focus lies, while Tovar primarily works on the computer.

He’s better at it than you or anyone of the other operators, so it’s only logical, and you’re somewhat relieved to not be around him much today. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to lay down next to him last night, so you’d spent the night on the floor instead, thankfully waking up early enough that you’d had time to make your side of the bed before he noticed. Not that you’re sure why he’d be bothered by that. He doesn’t give a shit about your comfort, so why would he care where you sleep?

Unfortunately, this means you haven’t gotten much sleep at all since the floor was hard and cold and you kept having to change positions to keep various body parts from going numb. But working on the mechanical arms means working with the sister factory operators, and they’re proving to be just as good fun as your regular coworkers, so while the day might have started out crabby, by lunchtime you’re feeling pretty good. Until you hear that Tovar has left the factory over lunch, taking the car into town to eat, without asking if you might wanna tag along.

You wouldn’t really have expected him to ask, that’s not his style, but he could’ve let you know that he was leaving to give you a chance to go with him and maybe buy some breakfast for tomorrow or just a damned Valentine’s gift for yourself. Today is the 14th after all, and since it was supposed to be a day off for you, you had a whole day planned back home.

Nothing fancy, just a nice solo dinner and dessert, a spa bath and some skin pampering, and then just relaxing on the sofa with the book you’re currently reading and some of your favourite music. It would’ve been a perfect day. But instead, you’re literally covered in engine grease, the kind used for airplanes, no less, and there’s no point in washing more than your hands before digging into your microwave meal which you bought from a vending machine outside the management offices.

Your colleague returns within the allotted half-hour break, which seems odd considering the time it usually takes to order a meal, receive it, and then eat it, plus the drive back and forth into town. But you’re sure as hell not gonna ask him about it. He’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with you. So, you get back to work, doing your best to ignore him for the rest of the day.

However, it being a holiday, albeit a small one, the staff aren’t gonna stick around until 9pm like last night. They start packing it in before 6pm, and since you can’t be there without a chaperone, you’re both forced to leave early as well, which means you now have an entire evening to spend with the one person you’ve ever met who hates spending time with a single living thing. On fucking Valentine’s Day.

He drives this time, and you’re so tired and fed up with this whole situation that you never even ask if you can stop by a grocery store on the way. And once back in the hotel room, you’re all but ready to collapse and sleep for the rest of the evening, but then you remember that you’re not in any way interested in sleeping next to your travel companion, which just sours your mood even more.

“Do you need the bathroom any time soon?” you ask after arriving back in the room, and he just shakes his head, so you grab your toiletry bag and some clean cozy clothes from your suitcase and then lock yourself in there for what’s gonna be a very long shower.

For a long while, you just sit on the floor underneath the spray, and cry. Maybe because you feel particularly lonely today, or maybe just because you’re so tired, but whatever the reason might be, you don’t care enough to try and work it out. But after what has to be an hour, possibly even more than that, you start to feel overheated, so you quickly clean your hair and scrub your skin before stepping out and getting started on some moisturization.

You still don’t wanna go out into the other room, though, so you take your time blow-drying and styling your hair, even though you’re just going to bed. Then you clean and dry all your product bottles before putting them back into your toiletry bag. And then you can’t find any more excuses to stay in there any longer, so with a deep sigh, you unlock the door and step out into the cool and dry air of the bedroom, heading straight for your suitcase without even looking to see where Tovar is.

Until something catches your eye. There’s a glimmer towards the head of your side of the bed, and when you look up, a little gift box is sitting on your pillow. You turn around once, scanning the room, but he isn’t in there. What is in there, sitting on the small table in the corner, is a classic silver tray with a cover, and a single red rose resting in front of it.

Confused, you look from the silvery little box with a perfect bow on top, to the silvery tray in the other end of the room, utterly unable to connect the dots and unsure of where to even start with this. Finally, after at least a minute of perplexed deliberation, you decide to open the gift first. It’s about the size of the palm of your hand, and it isn’t wrapped, so you can just lift the top half of it off, but once you do, you kinda forget how to be a human being for a split second.

Because this must be from him. But how the fuck does he know? You’ve never had a genuine conversation with the man, and he’s never once expressed any interest in learning anything personal about you. So, how could he possibly know that you’ve wanted a d’amour gold diamond necklace from Cartier for years, and just never felt like it was an acceptable expense? It’s not the priciest piece of jewellery, just shy of a thousand bucks, but that’s still way beyond what you feel is acceptable to spend on what’s essentially just an accessory.

Yet, here it is. The exact piece you’ve been dreaming about one day feeling like you can gift yourself. It makes no sense. Tearing your gaze off the sparkling jewellery to try and regain some clarity of thought, you then remember the tray, and slowly approach the little table, suddenly extremely curious but also kinda worried about what might be under that cover.

The rose is also of the expensive type, as big as a coffee cup saucer and blood red, with a sweet and soft aroma. You know the kinds of florists who sell these and it’s about the last place you’d ever expect to see Pero Tovar. The mental image alone is enough to make you snort. And then you lift the cover and once more lose your marbles, because the tray is absolutely filled with all your favourite treats.

From strawberries to your favourite sour candies, to caramel brownies, peanut butter cookies, your favourite chocolate, grapes, and two bottles of the best sparkling water you know. Even if your solo Valentine’s hadn’t been cancelled you never would’ve treated yourself to all this. And once again you’re left wondering how in the hell the unfriendliest man in the world has accomplished this.

But he’s not here, and his phone is sitting on the bedside table on his side of the bed, so you can’t reach him. Which has to mean he did all this so that you’d have a night to yourself in the middle of all this work, and the thought damned near makes you cry again. So instead, you take the necklace out of the box and put it on, then you grab the tray, move it onto the bed, turn on the tv and snuggle up while you search for something to watch.

He comes back around midnight, to give you as much space as he can without making himself miserable with too little sleep before work tomorrow, and he tries to be quiet when he steps out of his shoes and sneaks into the bathroom. Once he’s used the toilet and brushed his teeth, he stays in the bathroom while he undresses and then quietly makes his way to the bed. But once he sees you, he has to stop for a moment and just look at you.

The bedside lamps illuminate you where you lay, curled up against the headboard with the covers bunched up as a third pillow for you to hug, still fully dressed and with the tray of sweets in the middle of the bed, most of it already eaten. You’re holding the rose so that the soft petals touch your cheek, and around your neck the thin chain and tiny diamond glimmers. You’re far away, sleeping soundly with a slight smile in the corner of your mouth, and it makes him feel warm to see it.

You always smile, even when you have no apparent reason to. It’s how he’s used to seeing you, and it’s an unexpected relief to have that smile back. It takes him several minutes before he realizes that he’s been staring at you for far too long, and promptly reaches over to lift the tray out of the bed and take one of the spare blankets to cover you with, before he carefully crawls into bed beside you and falls asleep still watching you smile.

~~~ The alarm on his phone is automated, set to 6:15am for the entire week, and it goes off when it’s supposed to. He turns around and reaches for his phone but then hits snooze instead of turning it off. He’s dead tired and not at all in the mood to get up, so he tries to go back to sleep, hoping the alarm will magically turn back time and give him another two hours. But then that feeling hits him. That feeling which tells him something’s off and he needs to be alert, so he opens his eyes.

He’s still lying on his left side, facing your direction, so when he looks up, he meets your eyes staring back at him. You’ve sat up and you look tired and confused, but also… softer, maybe. Less tense than you have these past two days.

“When did you get in? I didn’t hear you.” You seem truly surprised to not have noticed him coming back, but then, you have no idea how stealthy he’s had to be earlier in his life, and how those skills still serve him on occasion.

“Midnight,” he sleepily slurs without lifting his head off the pillow.

“Oh. I was trying to stay up… to thank you.”

He doesn’t reply to that, because he really doesn’t know what to say, and he much prefers silence to outing himself as both stupid and incompetent where conversation is concerned.

“I spent all night trying to figure out how you could possibly know how much I love all these things,” you quietly continue in your raspy morning voice, which he finds himself enjoying far too much, “but then I decided that it doesn’t really matter. Because I know you aren’t nearly interested enough in people to ever stalk anyone, so however you found these things out, I don’t think there’s anything bad about it.”

You haven’t asked him anything, or indirectly posed an inquiry of any kind, so there’s nothing for him to answer, which is why he simply keeps looking at you. But in his mind, he recalls all the moments when he’s overheard you talking to your colleagues, freely sharing your interests, tastes, and dreams, as well as what things annoy, scare, or unsettle you. And he wonders if you’re even aware of how much you openly reveal about yourself without hesitation.

He thinks you must fear a great many things to be so ready to be known. To have such a need to never be misunderstood or caught on a lie that you’ll tell complete strangers about your thoughts and feelings on almost any subject, just to ensure they’ll know in advance why you might react negatively to certain things. Because that way, no one can ever call you a liar or attack you for being dishonest or unapproachable. He thinks you must be terribly scared of people in general, and that being completely open is your way of both protecting yourself and ensuring you won’t become closed off from the entire world.

But for all your vigilance, like everyone else around him, you don’t seem to notice him when he works within earshot of you, or just passes by close enough to overhear a few words or sentences of whatever conversation you happen to be in. He’s good at blending into the background when he chooses to, but he’s also aided by the fact that everyone overlooks him because they know he won’t interact with them even if they try, so it’s like their brains scrub him out of their senses to make sure they don’t waste any energy on him.

“What I do need to know,” you continue, oblivious to his internal memory trip, “is why you would ever spend a thousand bucks on a gift for someone you don’t care the least bit about.”

The alarm goes off again, and since he’s wide awake now, he sits up and switches it off, turning away from you as he throws his legs over the side of the bed.

“We need to get going,” is all he replies, fully aware that he’s avoiding the issue and using the fact that you still haven’t asked him a direct question as an excuse not to answer.

But he knows the answer. He knows it painfully well. And there’s a part of him who seriously hates that truth. You’re always unsure around him, for good reason since he’s never made it possible for you to be comfortable and relaxed in his presence, but his dismissal this time is more than just rude. It’s cruel, because it leaves you completely unable to judge his behaviour.

Did he do this for you because he’s trying to manipulate you? Or because he expects a favour in return? Is he trying to get into your pants? He can tell even without looking at you that these questions now flood your mind, as the tension of fear makes the entire room electric from one moment to the next.

Ordinarily, you don’t shy away from tough conversations. You hate it when things hang in the air like thunderclouds waiting to strike at you. But you’re also smart enough to pick your battles and you’ve understood from day one, that all discussions involving Pero are gonna be largely pointless, especially when he behaves this erratically. But he wishes you would pick this fight. He hates to see your fear. If only he had the guts to let you know that.

The workday continues just like the previous ones, with the two of you on separate tasks, him working on the computer and you out on the main body of the machine, teaching the operators how to reset and mend the hydraulics. You’re tremendously skilled at all functions of this complicated machine, especially considering how short a time you’ve spent learning it, so he’s never concerned about you working on it. The sister factory operators, on the other hand, he could outright strangle with their own incompetence.

And it only gets worse today, after he overhears a conversation between a few of them while they’re making their way to the lunchroom. As usual, they don’t notice him still working where they slowly pass while quietly speaking amongst themselves, and the first sentence he hears is enough to set his teeth on edge, so he abandons the work and sneaks after them.

He’s in a seriously bad mood that evening, and you can’t help but think it has to do with you, for some reason. He doesn’t wanna look at you and every time he has to, his mood seems to sour even more, and since you have no idea what you could’ve done, it just scares you. So, by the time you get back to the hotel, around 9pm, you’re not even thinking about laying down in the same bed as him.

Using the same tactic as the first night, you offer him the bathroom first and then take your time in there once he’s done. Then you sneak out and quietly pull the covers and pillows down on the floor, where you make a bed for yourself. You don’t hear anything from him, so you assume he’s already asleep, and after a little while, you manage to drift off as well. But the floor is hard, and you’re not used to that, so you wake up frequently as your body goes sore and occasionally numb from the pressure, forcing you to switch positions.

All of which means you don’t really get a lot of sleep, and by the early hours of the morning you’re finally all but passed out from exhaustion. And of course, that’s when his alarm goes off. You’re sleeping so heavily just then that you go back to sleep the moment the alarm is turned off, and it isn’t until you feel a hand on your shoulder that you finally wake up fully, with an instinctive, sharp jerk away from the unfamiliar touch.

“What are you doing on the floor, Sonriente?” he asks, and he still sounds almost angry, which makes you shrink away from him.

But you can’t find a single word to explain how he is the reason why you’ve put yourself in such an uncomfortable position, so you just turn away and start trying to wake your limbs up enough that you can stand and maybe begin to feel a little less vulnerable. Surprisingly though, as soon as he sees what you’re doing, he immediately reaches out and helps you until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. Which only further confuses you because why would he help you when he’s angry with you?

You’re trembling slightly when he lets go of you, and you’re not sure if it’s because your limbs are still in the process of waking up or if it’s adrenaline, but either way, he notices, and it seems to connect the dots for him.

“You sleep on the floor because of me?” he quietly asks, while slowly backing away from you, and he looks either shocked or hurt. You can’t tell which.

“I don’t know why you’re so angry… but whatever I’ve done-…”

“No,” he cuts you off sharply, shaking his head and closing his eyes as if it’ll somehow make all of this go away. “It is not you.”

There’s something very raw and open about him in that moment. As though his innermost being is exposed and trying to crawl back into the shadows of his heart, but hindered by whatever this thing is that’s making him so angry.

“It is never you…” he barely whispers, and now he is the one who’s trembling.

“But then… why? Why could you barely even look at me yesterday, and why did it seem like you only got angrier every time you did?” you question, feeling slightly bolder now that you’re starting to see how vulnerable he is in this situation.

A ripple seems to go through him, and suddenly all the hairs on his arms stand up, and the trembling in his hands intensifies.

“I can’t say it.” He’s gritting his teeth as he speaks, so the words come out in a slight growl, but you can sense now that this isn’t directed at you at all. “But I would never hurt you.”

He sinks to one knee on the floor in front of you, still with his eyes closed and his head bowed, and his fists closed tightly against his thighs, but somehow you’re not the least bit scared of him anymore. You slip off the bed and drop to your knees before him, carefully reaching a hand up to his shoulder to see how he reacts, and the moment you make contact, another ripple goes through him.

But in the aftermath, he softens. His shoulders drop and something seems to unlock within him, so you decide to take both his hands in yours, fully expecting him not to accept the small act of comfort. But he does. Piece by piece, he surrenders, first by letting his hands be held, and then by holding yours in return. He’s breathing hard, and you can see the pounding of his heart in his neck and on his temples, but the longer you hold onto him, the calmer he becomes.

“I’m sorry… for ever letting you think you had to protect yourself from me,” he eventually whispers, and his voice trembles with the anger that still simmers within him. “I promise you will never have to.”

You feel like you’re seeing him for the first time all over again, or at least seeing sides of him you never would’ve thought even existed if this stupid trip had never happened. And it emboldens you in terms of how much you dare to stand up for yourself and demand a few explanations. Because you sure as shit have questions and it’s about time he answers them.

“Why did you buy me the necklace, Pero?” You keep your tone soft, but you also let your voice remain strong to let him know you’re not gonna tolerate any excuses, and then you wait patiently while he gathers himself.

“Because you were stuck here with me,” he eventually begins, and his voice is full of uncertainty now, which is something you never thought you’d hear from this man. “I know you had plans for Valentine’s and it all got ruined, but then you also had to put up with me and I just thought… maybe it would bring your smile back for a while.”

“My smile?” Of all the reasons to give someone a gift, making them smile is certainly good enough. But this particular man wishing to make you smile is entirely unexpected.

“You always do. Like there is a happy little film playing on the insides of your eyes all the time. Have you not noticed how everyone you meet smiles back at you?” he wonders, and you think back to all the people you’re regularly around, and then all the people you’ve met for the first time recently.

And he’s right. Everyone always smiles at you, even the most sour office workers whenever they have to set foot in the factory where they’re no longer the experts on everything because their knowledge is all theoretical and they wouldn’t be able to operate much of anything out there on the floor. Everyone smiles at you. Except Tovar.

“You are sunshine,” he continues, “drawing people in with your light and warmth. It is impossible to resist.”

“But you do. I’ve never seen you smile, not at me or anyone, for any reason, not even a smirk,” you counter, before you slip a hand out of his to reach up and gently lift his chin, because you need to see his eyes. “So, why are you suddenly acting like this matters to you?”

It takes him a minute, in which he keeps trying not to look at you, but his eyes still return to meet yours every few seconds, as if he really can’t resist.

“It always makes me happy to see you,” he finally admits, and he looks so small and unsure suddenly, which stuns you somewhat, because you would never even have imagined that Pero Tovar could look anything but tall, broad and competent. “I’m sorry that I am not better at showing you this.”

It’s still so difficult to wrap your head around this, because in the entire year you’ve been around him, this man has never shown any level of care for another human being, whatsoever. As in, you’ve seen him sigh and continue working as if nothing happened, after a guy standing next to him accidentally crushed his own foot.

“So… you’re saying you care about me?” you ask, needing the outright confirmation before you’ll even be able to begin accepting it.

He pauses again. But this time, he meets your eyes the whole time.

“Yes.”

You’re a little late to work this morning, but he’s very relieved to have had the conversation you ended up having after waking up. It had damned near broken his heart to find you on the floor, knowing it was all his fault for being such a fucked-up person that he can’t even tell you he wasn’t angry with you. And he’s absolutely certain that anyone else would’ve either gotten angry with him or just tried to avoid the conversation all together.

But not you. You always take the hard road, because that’s how much honesty means to you, and you always manage to do it without losing your temper or getting rude about it. It’s one of a long line of things he admires about you. And that’s precisely why he’s never dared to actually talk to you. He doesn’t know how to do any of that. How to have honest and open conversations without losing his shit at some point. It’s destroyed every relationship he’s ever tried to have, and he’s been so scared of losing the calm and harmony you bring into his life by just existing in his presence, that he never would’ve attempted it.

But this morning was different, because you didn’t get angry or defensive or even demanding. You just kept opening doors for him and for the first time in at least twenty years, he found the courage to step through them, one by one. And now, when you park at the sister factory for your fourth day of working on MAP, he feels like maybe this won’t be as bad of a day as he had initially thought.

As usual, Hannah comes out to escort you both, but there’s a grim look on her face today, and while Pero can guess the reason behind it, you still have no idea what happened here yesterday.

“Good morning. I’m afraid we’re a bit short-staffed today so you’ll have to make due with just two extra pairs of hands on the hydraulics.”

“Is there a flu going round, or something?” you ask, which is a valid question given that you worked closely with the three men who are out sick today and who could’ve infected you with a disease.

“No, no. It seems there was an incident here yesterday, and a few of our workers were injured.”

“Oh. Was it another malfunction?”

“It appears to have been an altercation, actually,” Hannah explains, to which you raise a shocked brow. “None of the boys are talking about it, so we don’t know exactly what happened, but between them they have broken hands, arms, noses, ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a shattered knee. So, whatever went down, it was serious.”

At this point, Pero notices a slight stutter in your steps, just before your head turns ever so slightly in his direction. You know that he can fight, and you know he isn’t afraid to get in the middle of it when he wants to, so you’re probably guessing that he was involved in this altercation and that it explains his temper problem from yesterday. All of which is correct, and none of which he intends to confess to in front of the supervisor, which is why he’s relieved when you don’t say anything.

Once by the control panel for MAP, however, where no other operators are working, since they’re already busy with the hydraulics, you only wait until Hannah’s moved out of earshot before you come at him.

“What the hell, Tovar? Did you mess up those guys?” Your voice is low, but the tone is heavy with accusation and even a bit of disbelief, so you clearly never noticed the darker shades of these particular operators as they worked with you.

“Yes,” he admits without shame or hesitation, to which your shock doubles.

“Why would you do that?”

He doesn’t want to answer this one, so he gets to work, hoping you’ll let it go as you usually do when he shuts you down. But of course, this is one of those times when you decide to take the fight, probably because of the progress with communication you had this morning.

“None of them even worked with you, what reason could you possibly have to break their fucking bones?”

Disgusting words spoken in entitled and arrogant voices suddenly flood his mind once more, and his anger re-emerges with full force. But he manages to stay in control of himself, so while he turns his head to meet your questioning gaze, none of that anger spills onto you, and it only takes you a second to realize why. Your breath seems to die inside your lungs and for a moment he worries that you’re about to pass out. But then you suck in a shaky breath and tears form in your eyes as the understanding dawns on you.

It’s a horrible thing to see, watching as you involuntarily envision what could’ve happened, the nausea and sudden weakness which seems to creep into your very bones even at the mere suggestion of the plans that Pero interrupted by taking them out. If he’d needed any reassurance that his actions were just, your reaction is more than enough. But it only lasts for a few seconds, and then a different emotion begins to replace the fear and discomfort. It takes him a minute to figure out what it is, and just as he does, you step towards him.

The strength of your arms when they wrap around his waist is almost enough to bruise him, but he doesn’t mind. He might not often feel deserving of someone’s gratitude, as the things he occasionally does to aid them are largely self-serving, but he does this time. Not because this threat was more real than any other, but simply because he knows and cares about you. He’s tried not to. Tried every day not to let you creep further under his skin and infect him with your joy, but he never stood a chance.

You don’t speak and you don’t need to. Your body tells him the truth of what you’re feeling in that moment, in the tiny shivers which keep making you tremble against him, and the strained breaths you struggle to take with your face buried against his chest. He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cry, how you bite it back with each inhale and then almost lose control of it every time your lungs empty. But he also feels the relief within you when he wraps his arms around your shoulders and rests his cheek against the side of your head.

In this moment, he has become your safety. The place where you choose to be because it makes you feel better. And for all his accomplishments, his inventions and ideas, technical skills and comprehensive knowledge, this is the only time he can recall ever feeling truly proud of himself. Because you’re choosing him. You. The strongest and most impressive person he’s ever met.

~~~ That night, you fall asleep lying next to him, and although he’s tired after a long and emotional day, he stays awake for a little while just to look at you. Just to make sure you’re still smiling in your sleep. And in the following five days, which it takes to finally fix the machine, this becomes your routine every night. So, when the day eventually comes when it’s time to return home, you’re both mildly disappointed by the prospect of going back to your empty beds.

Still, it’s nice to come home. You see your cars still parked where you left them when you drive past the employee lot on your way to the company car slots. It’s past office hours so once you’ve collected your things, you drop the keys in a kind of mailbox designed specifically for that purpose, and then begin making your way back to your own vehicles. Neither of you are in a hurry, and he decides to walk you to your car before he heads to his own, just to help you feel safe. He’s noticed that you’re still rattled about the incident he prevented, in how you’ve been jumpier than usual.

“I never thought I’d say this,” you quietly muse once you reach your car, “but I’m gonna miss your presence tonight.”

You say it with a smile, but there’s insecurity within the expression, making him think that what you’re really going to miss is the feeling of safety which his closeness over the past week has given you.

“But it will be nice to sleep in your own bed, yes?”

“Definitely.”

“And we will meet for the debrief first thing in the morning,” he concludes, hoping to leave you with a brighter perspective. And perhaps also hoping that you’ll reassure him of your desire to see him again.

“The debrief?” Your question is genuine, reminding him that this is your first time working away and that you’ve probably never been told about the follow-up procedures.

“Yes. We must meet Gary in the morning and explain everything that’s happened and what we have done.”

“But won’t he have gotten continuous updates from the management team over there?”

“Of course. The debrief is to ensure that our recollection and experience of what has happened concurs with theirs, to eliminate the risk of either side trying to hide any problems or complications. So, we will need to tell Gary about the user errors which led to the breakdown.”

“Okay. But we’re not telling him about…” you trail off, unable to finish the sentence because the thought alone still makes you curl in on yourself.

“It would not do much good. Those men will be dealt with by the sister factory’s human resources unit.”

“How so? We never told them what really happened, so why would their HR get involved at all?”

“Because I hacked their phones and took a look at their search histories and saved videos, and even the small percentage of things I anonymously sent to their HR representative will be enough to get them arrested eventually,” he confesses, and it somehow still surprises him just how warm it makes him feel inside when he sees the relief in your frame.

“Careful, Pero. I might start spreading a rumour that you’re secretly the sweetest guy in the world,” you joke, but there’s a hint of seriousness behind the teasing tone.

“Go ahead, Sonriente. No one would believe you.”

He says it with a soft note to his voice, just to make sure you know he wouldn’t mind if you did decide to spread rumours about him, regardless of what they might concern, if it would in any way help you feel good.

“That’s definitely true,” you agree, mirroring his softness, and a slight spark lights up somewhere in your eyes then. “But you know, I kinda like that I’m the only who’s seen this other side of you.”

“You may take all the credit for this yourself, because no one else has a hope of drawing it out of me. But it seems, against you, I have no defences anymore.”

The smile you give him in response to that is enough to make him wish he could always sleep beside you. But this is where you finally part ways for the night. He waits until you’re safely locked inside your car before he heads over to his own, already missing your closeness when he takes a seat and buckles up, and already accepting the fact that he won’t get much sleep tonight.

It almost feels stupid how relieved you are to see him again the next morning. And the way his eyes light up when you walk into Gary’s office, just a few seconds past the dotted time, makes you wanna sit down on his lap rather than the chair beside him. But you notice how discreet his reaction is now that there’s an audience, compared to how directly he’s been allowing you to see his emotions while you’ve been couped up together in that hotel room. So, even though he might like you, he’s not prepared for the world to know about it, which is why you greet him with just a polite nod while you take your seat.

“Good morning,” Gary grumbles in his characteristically sour morning mood. “So, this took a bit longer than I’d hoped, but I see you got the MAP working again, well done.”

“Yeah. It was shot to shit when we got there,” you chip in, immediately back to expecting Tovar not to speak unless he’s asked a question, since that is still his normal state of being.

“I saw the pictures of the hard drives. Someone sure did a real number on that thing.”

“I’m guessing more than one someone. But we’ve shown them how to operate it correctly now, so hopefully it won’t happen again.”

He asks you to go over the repair process day by day, and he has a lot of questions along the way, and true to form, your colleague remains silent unless Gary addresses him, so it ends up being a lot of talking for you. But as it begins to wind down, you start to wonder if Pero is being deliberately silent specifically because he wants you to talk through it.

He’s always quiet at work, that’s not unusual. But this was his repair job, not yours. You were just the extra hands, which means that this debrief should be primarily directed at him, yet by keeping his mouth shut, he’s forcing the supervisor to focus on you. And in doing so, you’re getting a chance to unpack everything that’s happened, at least in your own head, even though you’re editing stuff out before you speak. Gary knows better than to push his top employee for a comment when the man is clearly not in a talkative mood, so it works perfectly, if indeed that is what the Spaniard’s doing.

“Alright, I think I’ve got everything I need, so unless either of you have anything you wanna add, we can wrap it up here.”

“Nope, all good,” you cheerfully declare, feeling lighter than you have in the past few days.

“No critique you wanna hurl at me? About the hotel or the car? No jackass operator giving you a hard time over there, or anything?”

From the corner of your eye, you see Tovar shift ever so slightly in his seat, and you wonder if he’s thinking about the men he hurt, or the one bed hotel room you initially hadn’t wanted to share with him. But he says nothing, so you just shake your head at your supervisor and then the two of you leave his office and head onto the factory floor to get started on your regular workday.

It’s nice to be back at your own station with your regular crew. It feels safe and familiar. But you find yourself thinking about Pero almost every second of the day. Wondering what he’s up to whenever you can’t see him at his station and wondering if he’s thinking about you at all whenever you do see him. He never looks at you while he’s working, at least not that you can tell, so by lunchtime you’re pleased when he falls in beside you while you walk towards the breakroom, although it is a bit disappointing when he still takes his usual spot at the far end of the room rather than choosing to sit with you.

But you do understand. It’s not like he’s gonna become a different person just because the two of you have begun to build a friendship, and you wouldn’t want him to. So, you take your usual seat and play along with the customary banter, answering everyone's questions about the sister factory and what you got up to over there, and it all feels comfortably normal.

Until someone makes a remark about Pero, the kind of thing you would’ve previously just ignored, but which now that you feel closer to your taciturn colleague, you suddenly find offensive.

“Bet this one charmed everyone’s socks off,” the operator smirks, throwing a thumb in Tovar’s general direction after you’ve just finished describing the difficulty of coming in as the experts and trying to find a good working dynamic with a different crew.

And in that moment, the fact that the Spaniard never defends himself, despite seriously fucking people up for just talking about hurting you, just makes you feel like it’s your turn to have his back and teach this crew not to talk about him like he isn’t even there.

“No, he didn’t. But he did manage to charm my pants off.”

You say it frankly, leaving no question that it’s the truth, even though you’re twisting the narrative a bit to make it sound like the two of you hooked up, when you’re actually just referring to him making you feel safe enough to sleep beside him in nothing but your panties and a top. Still, the effect it has on the entire room is worth the fib.

They all know you’re not easy. It takes a lot just for someone to get a date with you, courtesy of trust issues because of previous experiences. Nothing traumatic, thankfully, but enough that you always have your guard up and actively look for red flags in every guy you meet. Also, you’re very clear on what you want and what you tolerate, as well as what you don’t, which is enough to deter a great many men. So, for you to let a mystery like Pero anywhere near you, he has to have insanely good game, and not one of the people in that breakroom with you can picture a reality where that’s even possible.

Which results in a highly amusing blend of shocked and disbelieving faces, some frozen while they’re clearly trying to visualize this alternate universe, while others are just staring at Tovar, still sitting there perfectly calmly in his usual spot, reading something on his phone. And the best part is, none of them have the guts to ask him about it, because they’re all just as scared of him as you still were two weeks ago. Which means that all they can do is live with this incredibly shocking revelation, presumably forever.

You continue to chuckle about it for the rest of the day, and when the next shift arrives to relieve you, from a distance, you can see how they too are informed of this latest piece of gossip. So, odds are, this is now gonna be the talk of the factory for the foreseeable future.

“You know you will be the topic of discussion for a long time now,” Pero cautions as if he’s just read your mind, while he comes to help you clean up before you leave your station.

“It’s harmless, I don’t mind. Besides, it is true.”

“Technically. But I do not like them thinking of you as a conquest. Mine or anyone else’s.”

“Okay. Then shut them down,” you smile, and he can tell there’s a hidden meaning behind those words, but he can’t quite make it out, so you decide to spell it out for him. “Let’s go on a date.”

Your confidence ebbs out about halfway through the sentence, resulting in a sudden fade of both volume and potency, so the word date comes out all strangled and barely even audible. But you’ve said it now, so you might as well soldier on.

“What I mean is, I would like to go on a date with you. You’re free to decline, of course,” you elaborate, feeling more insecure by the second, even turning your head down to look at your shoes because you suddenly remember how much rejection stings, which you somehow hadn’t thought about until just now.

“Do you like empanadas?” he asks then, and his voice is soft, just like it always was when the two of you were alone together in the hotel room this last week.

“I’ve never tried them,” you confess, still unsure of what he means by that, but then he gives you a little smile.

“Then I will make them for you. My mother’s recipe is a bit spicy, but I think you can handle it.”

Relief and joy wash over you as you realize he’s agreeing, and your responding smile feels like it blossoms out of you. Like there’s no connection between your brain and your heart in that moment, it just happens because the feeling is too big to control.

“Okay. So… your place?”

“You choose. If you wish to have the option to leave if you feel uncomfortable: my place. If you wish to eat by a table and not sitting in the sofa: your place.”

“For the record, I know I’d feel safe at your place. But yeah, a table might be nice,” you chuckle, and he nods in agreement, so you decide to be bold. “How about tonight, maybe 6pm?”

“Sure,” he quietly agrees, but you can tell he’s pleased that you didn’t suggest waiting until the weekend.

“Great. And if you’re gonna cook then I’ll get dessert.” You say it while starting to walk towards the assembled crews, ridiculously happy to see them still flabbergasted at the realization that their grumpiest colleague apparently has more game than all of them.

But when you turn your back to him, you miss how his expression changes as he follows you, turning from a controlled interest and mild happiness, to almost tearful with gratitude that you’d still choose to spend time with him even when you no longer need to. He might not be ready to show it in front of the others, but the brightness you pour into his soul with just your smile and your willingness to give him a chance, would make him glow in the dark if it was visible. You might not have figured it out yet, but Pero Tovar already belongs to you, so all you need to do to have your forever Valentine, is simply to keep choosing him.

I’m not gonna write THE END on this one, because I feel like I’m gonna be returning to these two at some point, so please let me know if that’s something you’d like to see. All my love, always. /Jay

@pedrostories @harriedandharassed

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x female reader #pero x reader #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall modern au #the great wall au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #au fic #valentine's day #happy valentine's day #valentines day fic #sirowsky stories

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letmebeyourcrrsh · 2 days ago

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pretty good team

college!minho x reader

warnings: none or jyp mentioned

genre: college crush

summary: you have a crush on lee minho..the guy who doesnt even know you exits. and one day, your weird teacher blessed you with you being in the same group as lee know..

the bell rang loudly, signaling the start of another day in your college. as you walked into the classroom, you could feel the usual rush of nerves and excitement. you had been trying to keep your head down and focus on your studies, but there was one thing that was always on your mind—minho.

lee minho, the guy who always seemed to glide through the hallways with his mischievous smile and effortless charm. you’d always notice him, but there was no reason for him to even know your name. you were just another face in the crowd.

that was until your teacher, Mr. J. Y. Park, announced the new project assignment.

"alright, everyone," he said, eyes scanning the class. "we’re going to do group projects for the next few weeks. i’ll be assigning partners randomly."

your heart pounded in your chest. group projects were always awkward, especially when you were paired with someone you didn’t know well. but you never expected to hear the name "lee minho" called alongside yours.

" group 2 with felix, Y/N, minho and chan. " the teacher said.

you stared at the teacher for a moment. minho? THE minho? the guy who took over your mind, even tho THE minho does not know about your existence? your stomach flipped as a wave of panic washed over you. you were never the type to engage with someone like him. you knew he was out of your league.

but there was no way to escape this.

when the class ended, you made your way to the designated meeting spot, that one of minhos friends told you to go to—the campus coffee shop. you arrived early, hoping to just blend into the background and let the others do the talking.

then when minho walked in, your heart started to have a race. he walked towards the table with a casual smile, high fiving his two friends and giving you a polite nod as he sat down.

“hey,” he greeted, his voice low but friendly. “you’re Y/N, right?”

you nodded nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up. “y-yeeeeah! you know my name?. ah- I mean.. nice to meet you.!”

what was that.? you made such a traumatized face expressions.. you tried to act all cool and unbothered, but made yourself sound like a fool.

felix giggled. by his eyes you could tell that it was not in a bad way… and minho. he smiled, his expression warm and approachable. “ofcourse I know your name- afterall we are in the same class.. nice to meet you too tho.”

you laughed nervously, trying to hide your embarrassement. trying to relax and stop to worry.

after a few more minutes of talking, and a few more minutes of you fighting to not stare and admire minhos beauty like a creep, you all got to work. minho quickly took the lead, suggesting stuff and delegating them with ease. he wasn’t bossy, though—just confident, making everyone feel like their ideas mattered. you were surprised by how easy it was to work with him.

throughout the first hour, you found yourself slowly relaxing. the boys made you feel comfortable. not only did you work on the project, but also joked around and had fun! it was truly feeling good being with them three. and minho…you’d catch his gaze a few times.. and when he smiled at you, it wasn’t in a flirty way—it was warm, like he just enjoyed being around you.

as the meeting came to the end, minho looked over at you. “if you ever need help with anything, don’t hesitate to ask. i am pretty good so I can help, if you need it.”

your heart skipped a beat. was he... offering to help you? the minho?

“thanks- I appreciate it,” you said, trying to sound casual, though you could feel your face burning. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

over the next couple of weeks, the project became the reason that got you two a lot closer. minho would send you messages, checking in on the progress, sharing more ideas for the project, and sometimes—just talking. at first, the conversations were about school, but soon, they drifted to more personal topics. you found out that minho is a huge softie for cats.. something you never expected from him. you thought hes way to serious for that. he is also such a talented guy, when it comes to dancing! minho is a lot more interesting than you ever imagined.

he really proofed that he is kind, and a little bit of a nerd when it came to things he loves. the more you got to know him, the more you realized how easy it was to talk to him.

one afternoon, while working on the project in the library, minho looked up from his laptop and met your eyes. for a moment, neither of you said anything. you just stared at each other, making the two other boys feel like they are witnessing some sort of kdrama.

“you’re really easy to talk to,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I feel like we just click.”

your heart skipped. that was random… but minho be a very random guy like that “huh-? I thought I was awkward around you.”

minho chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “nah, you’re fine. I like hanging out with you. plus, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I think that’s why the project’s been going so well.”

you smiled shyly, not sure what to say. he had no idea how much those words meant to you. minho is a pretty popular guy in college, always surrounded by people, always the center of attention. yet here he was, complimenting you.

as the project neared its end, the two of you spent more time together, both working and chatting. the distance between you had shrunk from awkward strangers to a very comfortable friendship. you weren’t sure when it had happened, but at some point, you found yourself looking forward to his messages, his smile, the way he made you feel heard and understood.

and when the day of the presentation came, Minho gave you an encouraging smile before you walked to the front of the class.

“you’ve got this,” he said softly. then looking at the other two boys “we’ve got this.”

your nerves settled, and for the first time, you felt like you were standing on equal ground with him. minho wasn’t some unreachable figure anymore. he was a friend.

as the class applauded after your presentation, minho’s eyes met yours, and he gave you that signature smile that always made your heart flutter.

“you did great,” he said with a grin. “we make a pretty good team.”

a pretty good team…

ahhh i had to end it like this because i wanna make it all lovely in the next part!

anyways i hoped you liked it :)

ill write part 2 when this hits 100 notes

#stray kids #k pop #skz #minho #lee minho #stray kids minho #skz minho #minho imagines #lee know #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho x you #skz x you #skz imagines

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puckinghischier · 1 day ago

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“cole, it’s left foot then right foot, not right then left”

cole huffs, picking up the remote to rewind the dvd once again, starting from the beginning.

“how in the world did they expect literal children to learn from these tutorials when two grown adults are struggling” he whines, hands on his hips as he catches his breath.

the two of you were in the middle of having a musical marathon when cole had the grand idea to learn the entire choreography to “all for one” from high school musical 2.

“i thought all this hockey conditioning was supposed to increase your stamina. why are you so out of breath from a silly little dance from a kids movie?” you poke at him, equally out of breath.

“yeah? what’s your excuse? those couch sit ups you do aren’t really helping your cardio fitness, are they?”

you stick your tongue out at him, throwing the sweaty towel you were using to wipe at your damp forehead at his head.

the music starts again and the cast of the movie appears on your screen. vanessa hudgens starts walking the two of you through the moves again, following her instructions in sync.

once she states that it’s time to do the dance in full speed, you and cole look over at each and nod, assuring the other that this is the time you finally get it down. right before it fully starts you give each other a fist bump and then get into position.

you’re running through the choreo in time with the music, watching cole out of the corner of your eye. he’s so concentrated, the beads of sweat running down his face don’t even phase him, every move performed flawlessly. you get to the big finish, and you start singing along as much as your lungs will allow, considering this is the fourth run through you and cole have done.

once the song is over, cole jumps up and starts fist bumping the air.

“oh we soooooo nailed that!!!!” he runs over, scooping you off the ground and swinging you around in celebration.

you can’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm, your feet being place flat on the ground again.

“okay, now let’s do ‘getcha head in the game��” he’s already reaching for the remote, trying to find the next dance along video on your childhood dvd.

“not even gonna give a girl a break? i thought we established my non existent work out routine isn’t helping me here,” you protest, needing a break before you’re subjected to any more early 2000s disney channel choreography.

“fine, if you don’t want to do it with me then i’ll call slaf, he’ll be down,” cole pouts, already reaching for his phone.

“oh, now this is something i want to see,” you throw your spent body on the couch, resting your jelly legs.

twenty minutes later, slaf is in your living room, following along to the instructions zac efron is barking out on the screen in front of them, the same level of concentration on his face as cole’s.

and if you sneak a few videos to have for a rainy day? well…what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

#this is really short but was on the brain #also my first cole blurb !!!!!#hockey #nhl #cole caufield #cole caufield blurb #montreal canadiens #hockey blurb #cole caufield fic #cole caufield one shot #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield x y/n #cole caufield fluff #cc13

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faecaribou · 15 hours ago

Note

on my knees asking for you to draw your interpretation of this

the whole team gets deaged by twenty years

most of them are a range of late teens to early thirties, but.

Scout and Sniper.

Spy gets a second chance at being Scout's dad + plus a bonus of raising Sniper too

Genuinely I could not get this out of my head. I spent hours on this and now literally every electronic i have is like at 4% battery and its 1 am. This is such a goated idea. Here are the mercs deaged, or what they would look like younger. I totally didnt have to google everyone's ages (visibly lying)

I feel like I did well with Heavy and Medic. They're the oldest in the group. Heavy when he was 26 was probably freshly dealing with escaping the gulag with his family. Visually I just got rid of his beard left him with the stubble though and gave him back his hair, which in the comics appears to be brown. For Medic, I think I spelt lisence wrong. Yeah there's a red line under it. Fuck. Whatever. I stole his muscles and also gave him back his hairline. Also, big glasses.

I'm going by age but I know what you want. Here's Spy. I wanted him to look as close to Scout as possible SO BAD but their noses are different and canonically his hair is much darker but I like to pretend the BLU Spy has that darker hair and RED Spy has more brown hair. Maybe someone's grandparents had blond hair (I swear I read a fic where Spy was like 'jeremy has my papas blond hair >m<') ANYWAY i dont think he's older than heavy and medic but also like. JEEZ. He just wanted to sleep with some MILFs or cougars he didnt expect children. L

The way that I'm actually obsessed with my own drawing for younger Engie. haiiiii. I feel like I would bump into him IRL on a college campus. Lowkey he reminds me of someone but I dont even know who.

I don't have much to say for Soldier and Pyro. I was getting some conflicting reports on Soldier's age so I just put him in the middle of the conflicting reports. He's probably already started his uh. killing rampage in Germany. I just deaged Pyro and left him in the same outfit because I dont actually have a fan design for Pyro outside the suit.

I gave Demoman the kilt and sash that his father's wearing in this one scene in the comics where there was like. A family photo of the DeGroot family. I definitely didnt study every single image of younger Demo in the comics. ha. ha. If I spent a million hours on just this drawing of Tav.

Side note, your ask totally reminded me of this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/60095656 which is all the mercs deaged by like 25 years and Scout is literally like a year old and its great and I definitely did not leave 8 million comments on this fic (stares off into the distance)

I accidentally drew Sniper looking too young (right-most drawing) but honestly the smile with the missing tooth gave me life. aaaahhhh He really shouldve been drawn with a hat since he's out there in Australia but oops. I gave him his mullet back <3maybe he should be 7

finally, Jeremy. I definitely didn't originally decide he was 5 and then for the sake of my sanity when I think of Spy's agechange it to 4. Yeah

Heavy's too busy helping his mom raise his sisters. Don't give Medic kids. So yeah it's up to Spy to step up and take care of Mick alongside Jeremy.

Okay I think I will eventually reblog this post with more art but for right now I'm done with drawing and just going to type endless paragraphs and over nonsense thoughts

okay so they get de-aged. how??? i could take a page out of that fic i recommended and blame magic/merasmus. I feel like Respawn Machine malfunction is a pretty common trope for de-aging just one guy in fics but imagine it malfunctioned and now they're all de-aged. damnnnnn they lost that battle against BLU hard AND this happened? L

I imagine it's like. Logically they know who they are, they know each other, they know their jobs. But also it kinda feels like yesterday they were off in Russia/Australia/German/Boston doing their own things. The younger 3 are especially having this problem. No one's sure if Pyro understands whats going on.

They're all in their red team merc outfits btw for Pyro's sake. But for the drawings they've taken like. their weapons off and gotten in clothes that either fit better or are more comfortable.

Medic is all like "ooooh! interesting >:3" and definitely wants to open SOMEONE up but he's scaring the hoes (children) so him and Engineer kind of separate to go deal with the Respawn Machine. Engineer may have to call his dad for help at some point. He is going to hate it hahahahahaah >:)

Demoman and Soldier and Pyro are just like. Having the worlds most disjointed conversation. "ARE YOU AMERICAN?" "huddah huddah" "(super thick scottish accent)" no one is understanding anyone. Pyro pulls out paper and coloring pencils and they are just trying to furiously communicate through drawings

Scout is four and since he on some level remembers Spy as a kid when he's an adult, he definitely recognizes Spy as both his dad and as ...Spy. Cue crying.

Mick is kinda scared. He definitely tries to retreat to his camper van but no one's gonna let an 8 year old sleep out there by himself so he's resorted to hiding in his room on base, which he just kinda uses for storage, which is where he finds the slingshot. Anyone who opens the door to talk to him gets a rock to the face I don't make the rules. Okay well except for Scout he's not going to pelt a four year old with rocks. The mercs will use this hesitation to their advantage to get him

Spy takes his mask off. He doesn't want to, he doesn't like them looking at his face, it just makes Jeremy cry more, people are asking him how old he is, someone said he looks a lot like Scout.

He one-hundred percent sees this as like. His chance to actually be Jeremy's dad. He was too much of a coward the first time around and sometimes the guilt eats at him. Something something if Spy and Ma had a second child Spy would completely ignore Scout to fuss over the 2nd kid because it would be a clean slate that he hasn't ruined. WHAT WHO SAID THAT. Anyway the driving force that leads him to take his mask off and pick up that screaming kid is that this is his second chance. I imagine he got some practice in with some of Scout's brothers and with baby Scout so he's not the best dealing with a screaming 4 year old but he's not the worst.

After like. A few hours of getting Scout to calm down, they have now upgraded to Scout is really really quiet and visibly upset but he only screams and cries when Spy goes to grab him. Ultimately Jeremy thinks that they might get put back to normal and once he's older again Spy will abandon him again so he is NOT letting Spy pick him up without trying to bite him at least once. Spy is slowly earning his trust.

This is also the point where Spy realizes that Sniper is hiding in his room with the slingshot. After like 3 different mercs getting pelted with rocks in the face Spy realizes he has to step up and dad this kid too.

Scout sees Spy extend even one iota of patience or kindness toward Sniper and is torn between "oh he's actually trying" and "HES GOING TO CHOOSE SNIPER TO BE HIS SON INSTEAD OF ME"

wait I'm just creating more conflicts rather than resolving anything. fuck its 2 am. look the (he's not crying, YOU ARE!) hug drawing would be when Scout finally lets Spy give him a hug and it would be SO SATISFYING and the crowd stood up and clapped and after Jeremy starts hanging off of Spy like a limpet Spy also successfully gets Sniper to come out of the room. why did I write an entire plot am I going to write a fic. oh no please no I'm busy with the time travel noooooo

#any sort of fic that comes from this needs to be either #A) written by someone else #or B) you need to give me like 3 months. remind me in 3 months and I will definitely write something #deaged mercs #hmm. yeah that'll be my tag for it #tf2 #tf2 au #team fortress 2 #team fortress fanart #team fortress au #team fortress two #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 mercs #i am not standing around all day typing tags. rip #also that thing about Spy and Scouts Ma if they had a second kid. if anyone even tries to write a fic. or make art of that.#i will personally draw you getting beaten with hammers. that would be so evil dont do that. thats not even satisfying hurt/comfort

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saladscream · 14 hours ago

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Steampunk (snippet from a WIP)

Another snippet from another WIP, for @nebulastars. You are definitely owed this one, my friend, as you are the one who introduced me to the merlin bingo (for which this fic is being written). So like the working title indicates, this is a steampunk AU. Apologies for the very long "snippet", but I needed something that would make sense.

But gods, did it have to be this particular rickety old pile of crap? This side of the docks was relatively quiet, sparsely lined with a diverse assortment of smaller vessels. Some casually depositing their black-market cargo, others swiftly embarking shifty-looking passengers. He wondered if it wasn’t too late to solicit these dodgy purveyors, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one. You didn’t venture anywhere near their sort without a solid recommendation and a hefty purse – and he had neither. On Gaius’ advice, Arthur had met some weasel-faced stocky little man at the local tavern who had in turn given him a passphrase and a landing pad, vouching that the craft and crew were the best to be had for this sort of business, even cautioning Arthur not to be taken in by their unassuming appearance. But there was unassuming, and then there was downright decrepit. Not only did the term ‘craft’ feel far too grandiloquent here, but all Arthur could see of the ‘crew’ was a grubby, gangly mechanic crouched under the aircraft, cursing the air a new shade of homicidal blue as he tried to stem the oil haemorrhage from the undercarriage. Hands on hips, Arthur pursed his lips and then glared up at the skies. Whoever happened to be the deity tending to his destiny was being a rotten tart to the last. If this piece of junk was his only ticket out of New Allemania, he was well and truly fucked. He picked up the canvas bag from where he’d dropped it on the ground and threw it over his shoulder. This was a terrible idea and he suspected he was going to regret it. But in Gaius he trusted. He made his slow way closer to the aircraft, then cleared his throat by way of introduction and waited for the mechanic to look up from where the machine was now copiously letting her bowels loose into a makeshift bucket. When the mechanic didn’t so much as notice him standing there, Arthur cleared his throat again, louder. And when that didn’t work any better… “Hello? I need to speak to the captain of this… craft,” Arthur announced, feeling charitable. “A man named Merlin.” “Busy,” the mechanic intoned without missing a beat, his voice surprisingly low for someone seemingly so young and lanky. “Too busy to do business?” No reply, save for some obscure mutterings as the mechanic strove to reach for something inside the machinery. “I said, too busy to do business?” Arthur repeated, fast losing patience. “Depends.” “Depends on what?” “Type of business.” There was an uninterested terseness to this lad that was beginning to rub Arthur the wrong way. “Look, just go get me your captain, will you.” “Minute.” Arthur blinked and then shook his head at the gall on the little shit. Unbelievable. There were grunts and curses between gritted teeth as the mechanic wrestled with the unholy innards of the craft. Then something went ‘ploink’ and there was a pained “agh!” followed by a string of guttural epithets in a foreign language Arthur had never heard before. The leakage ceased, though. But the lad still wouldn’t come out from under the belly of the recalcitrant aircraft. “Sod this,” Arthur mumbled as he strode towards the steep gangway that led to the entry hatch. Whereupon the scrawny mechanic suddenly popped out and materialised in front of him. “Hel-lo, what do you think you’re doing?” Taller, older and fitter than expected. The man stood there blocking the way, one arm extended and his filthy hand spread out in warning to keep Arthur from getting any closer. It was a surprisingly strong, long-fingered hand, absolutely saturated in grease and muck. It looked capable and agile and slightly disarming with its oddly crooked pinky finger. Arthur’s gaze followed the dark hand to the pale wrist, then up the long shapely arm, round the dry shoulder until he reached the slender neck and came upon the face – and the eyes.

#bbc merlin #merthur #merthur wip #steampunk au

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angelltheninth · 1 day ago

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The Prince Obeys

Pairing: Maomao x Jinshi

Tags: nsfw, smut, kissing, first time, loss of virginity, established relationship, sex work, flirting, stripping, banter, secret relationship, dirty talk, cock worship, size difference, handjobs, orders, first time blowjobs, praise kink, orgasm edging, cunnilingus

Word count: 4.5k

Ao3

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I opened a document and passed out. When I woke up this was written.

Maomao and Jinshi's relationship was still somewhat secretive. There were rumors that he was seeing someone but no one quite seemed to know who this mysterious lady was. That was until one day he was seen going into the Verdigris House. Ah, no one would judge him for that.

No one would dare, he was the Prince and the Verdigris House had Princesses of its own. The Three Flowers: Pairin, Joka and Meimei. But Jinshi was here for the secret fourth flower, his beloved Maomao who welcomed him at the door dressed very much like a courtesan. Poor Jinshi almost toppled over right there.

"Are you sure this is the best way for us to go on dates? This all seems needlessly complicated." He allowed her to take him by the hand around the establishment where he was greeted with smiles, giggles and offers and Maomao was greeted with polite words and the occasional chuckle.

"If we were seen in public they would wonder who I was. I would rather avoid any ties to that freak with a monocle."

"I understand that but this way... what if someone knows you? What if they get the wrong idea about you? I won't have my f- my lover treated with disrespect." Jinshi tightened his hold on her hand with an added firmness in his voice. Hearing him like that made her pause.

She turned to him who had a blush in his cheeks from all the scents, perfumes, voices and muffled sounds. He was out of his element, that much was clear.

"You seem uncomfortable with his. We could stop at any time you know." She enjoyed seeing him squirm, she never wanted him to be forced into something he didn't want. Those were two very different things. One of them made Maomao wet, the other made her stomach turn uncomfortably.

"Maomao... I... this sort of establishment..." Jinshi looked around in the hallway to make sure they were alone before he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I've only been here to get you. You know I'm a virgin." Maomao's face was unfazed until she realized he said a trigger word. But she was't fast enough.

They were already here.

"Virgin? My, my, not what one would expect of such a man." Pairin was first of course, already licking her lips and eyeing Jinshi. "Ah, but those kind are some of my favorite."

"Sisters, please." Maomao didn't realize it but she stepped in front of Jinshi.

"How precious, Maomao. Protecting your man. Or maybe it's possessiveness. Don't worry we won't steal him. Like we could with that lovestruck look on his face." Meimei winked at both of them, this time they both blushed equally.

Joka stepped forward and hugged Maomao tight. "Don't let him push you around. If he steps out of line even for a moment pull, bite, twist."

While Jinshi would never do such a thing almost all color drained from his face as Joka glared at him over Maomao's shoulder while saying those words. His hand instinctively went to cover and protect his manhood.

"And make sure he pays well." That got all three to huddle away from them likely were hatching some master plan. "What do you think? He's the Imperial Prince so he has the money. Perhaps we should charge him extra for this." Next they turned to the two lovers like they would rob them.

Oh boy. They really were spending too much time with Granny.

"You will not castrate or rob him. Jinshi already paid more than a fair price for me." Maomao glanced up at him and he visibly relaxed when she pulled his arm against herself. "Excuse us."

"Maomao remember the techniques we taught you!" They yelled words of encouragement after them but Maomao didn't stop walking until they were behind the safety of locked doors. This was one of the best, most luxurious rooms in the entire House. Only the highest ranking individuals could afford it.

"I hope they didn't scare you too much."

"They're lovely women. But I like you more." Oh, he was scared. That was even more reason to do his best to treat Maomao right and make her the happiest woman alive. Lest he suffer the wrath of her sisters. "What would you like to do?"

"We have the room for two nights so we could do a lot, of course depending on how far you intend to take it." They had been intimate before, although never past kissing or partially clothed. Perhaps they could cross that threshold tonight.

"I will do anything my future wife desires." Jinshi said humbly as he sat down on the large, soft bed.

Maomao approached him, her look pinning him on the spot. "Jinshi while we are in this room I am not your future wife." He tilted his head to the side, not understanding his words. "You paid for two nights with a courtesan, a whore, so the question is what do you want to do."

"Anything! Well... anything you would let me do to you." He knew that he sounded all too eager and maybe a little clueless. This was a world he was not very familiar with but he was very eager to learn. From Maomao of course. "How about we start by stripping. I would like to see all of you."

"I could do that but simply stripping is boring." She grabbed at his clothes and began undoing the knots keeping them in place. She could tell it startled him. "You first." Slowly she slid it off his shoulders, relishing in being able to touch him without having to look over her shoulder when she did. "Your beauty is unfair, Jinshi. You could put the staff here to shame."

Jinshi gulped when she got to his pants. "I can do that part!"

"No. I want to. I want to take it off, see the full effect I'm having on you." She would use every technique she learned. At least those her body would allow. For others she would need to get creative. Luckily Jinshi liked her creative side, although sometimes it worried him too.

Her fingers brushed against the healed branding on his hip as she untied his pants and took them and his undergarments down his legs.

"Wonderful specimen." She commented rather casually as his cock sprang free. "Above average girth, nice length, the perfect shape for hitting a sweet spot."

"Must you be so clinical while describing it?" Jinshi wasn't gonna lie, even this was doing it for him. Not the words but the fact that it was Maomao who was saying them.

"Ah, then I will get more into the role you payed for." She cleared her throat like she was getting ready for a performance before sinking to her knees and pressing her cheek against the warm lenghth, her fingers dancing along the other side. "I can hardly wait for you to get this hard cock inside me. At this size I'm sure you'll split me open on it. I'll be so full of you, Master Jinshi." To end it she looked at him while she kissed the side, feeling the hard cock twitch at the attention.

"Uh... um..." His brain was already struggling to keep up. "I wish to see you too! Naked!"

"All you need is to ask." Maomao couldn't help the small smile she got when she stood up and Jinshi's hips jerked upwards too. Unlike with her usual clothes she had no undergarments under this one. She was already showing a good bit of skin, her shoulders, back and belly exposed to him, with only a skirt and chest coverings to hide the most important parts. Time to take them off too.

Perhaps she could make him finish without touching him. Now that would be a feat her sisters would be really proud of.

Starting from her chest whose bindings she undid. There wasn't much there but Jinshi already made it clear that wasn't an issue, it was a bonus. His whole hand could grab one tit each.

Recently he did more than palm at them. Kissing, sucking, licking, biting, not always in that order, was often what accompanied their make out sessions. Jinshi listened when Maomao told him she didn't want marks where they could be seen. For him that made things better.

Maomao didn't have to palm at her boobs to get his attention but she did it anyway.

Jinshi leaned forward a little, his eyes focused and not, his lips parted and hand wrapped around his dick.

He didn't even get one stroke on it before Maomao narrowed her eyes. "Hands at your sides, Jinshi."

"What? Maomao... I need to-" Her eyes narrowed more and he felt compelled to listen. "I thought we were doing what I wanted."

"Isn't that what we're doing? You like being told you're good for me." Her thumbs pressed over her nipples just in time for his cock to twitch. Smirking, not wanting to be too cruel, she disgarted the last of her clothing. His cock reacted again as she got close and got on her knees. "Besides this part of you belongs to me. I should be the one who makes it feel good."

"All of me is yours. You already know that." Jinshi patted her on the head with an encouraging touch. She hid her smile by kissing the side of his cock but he felt it. "You like this too, don't lie. Making each other feel good, these teasing games we play. Show me what skills you learned. All the little hidden sides of you."

Maomao hummed against his cock as her lips dragged all the way up to the tip. Since she was sure she couldn't get all of him into her mouth all at once, not at this stage anyway she opted to focus on the part she knew would bring him the most pleasure. His tip was already leaking and she was curious how he would taste. That would be where most of her attention would be focused.

"Hands at your sides and don't take your eyes off me." She only warned him once before she closed her mouth around his cockhead and used her hands to stroke him, leaving no part unattended. Jinshi grunted at the feeling of warmth, a tongue making small circles lapping the white beads of cum, Maomao raising to her knees and bobbing her head up and down.

The sounds she heard were the exact same wet, slurpy, groaning noises that she heard so many times in passing and swore she would never make herself. Jinshi was equally as captivated, his eyes pools of black and face flushed in shades of pink up to his ears.

When she noticed he started leaking more cum she got an idea. She lacked the size for a boobjob but there was something else she could do that would please them both.

"Such a good boy, Jinshi, keep looking at me." Her thumb replaced her tongue and smeared cum around his tip before she arched her back. Jinshi's mouth feel open when she took his cock into her hand and pressed the wet tip against her hard nipple. One, until it was shiny and red, and then slowly the other.

He couldn't wait anymore his hands pressed against Maomao's shoulders and scooped her up into a sloppy kiss. He almost sank into it but she shoved him roughly, his body on the bed and her on top of him, looking mad. "Ups. Broke the rules didn't I?"

"Don't even pretend to be sorry, Jinshi. I see that smile." Curse him and it. "You did disobey though. And I've got the perfect punishment."

"Is that so? Punish away then." He wasn't scared or sorry in the least but he would be soon enough. Maomao knew all about how to drive a man to the edge of insanity.

She straddled him again and sat against his cock, her pussy lips wet and gliding against it. Jinshi braced himself against her thighs in anticipation of the warmth that never came, not in the way he thought it would. Instead of being enveloped in it he felt it drag against his dick, from the bottom of the shaft to his tip. His eyes widened in horror when she showed no intent of taking him in.

"What's the matter Jinshi? I thought you wanted to be punished. Is this not to your liking?" She grinned at him, mischievous as a cat toying with its prey. Fitting for their current predicament.

"Not... anymore..." With a huff he tried to grab at her hips only for her to push his hands away and hold them against his chest. "I can get out of your hold easily."

Head tilting to the side she was inviting him to try. It wouldn't take much, he was bigger and much stronger. Also more agreeable so Jinshi stubbornly stayed as he was.

"Good, I was beginning to think I'd need to tie you to the bed." She wasn't at least bit surprised that his cock reacted to that. In her head she was making a mental note of his kinks, likes and dislikes. "Pervert."

"How am I the pervert here? You suggested it. I'm only following along. And don't fool yourself or me, I felt that increase of slick. You're smearing it all over me." To be clear that was as far from a complaint as Jinshi could get.

"Not yet but..." Maomao got an idea from that. "Eyes closed, tongue out."

"Closed?! I thought you wanted me to look."

"This is a surprise. Eyes closed or blindfolds." Of course he reacted again, the masochist. But he compiled without much fuss. "Good, that's the obedience I like."

Jinshi frowned on the outside at being kept in the dark but smiled on the inside at being praised. That was until his tongue touched something hot, wet and of a taste that he knew was Maomao. His eyes didn't need to open. He knew what it was and he wanted, demanded more right this second. His arms wrapped around Maomao's thighs and pulled her onto his face.

"Idiot! You shouldn't pull someone on top like that! That could cause... serious da-ahn-madge to... your neck. Hmnn! I see you found the books... I've been lending to the Emperor..." Her hands braced against the wall so she could look at Jinshi's face, what of it she could see. Jinshi would love to think he could be skilled enough even without a book. Not that it could hurt for him to learn more, he could always learn more ways to please.

He also threw all caution to the wind the moment he got a taste of his beloved.

Weather this was good or bad was up their future to decide.

"Ji- Zuigetsu, more." Jinshi moaned against her clit the moment she used his real name. Only on rare occasions did she speak it and only when they were alone. He told her it was fine in front of other people since she was his future wife. Maomao liked keeping his real name to herself, it made it special.

"So this is how you taste." He grinned against Maomao's pussy lips and she could feel the mistake she made now that she let him have a taste. She would never be left alone now because she forgot that Jinshi loved to behave like a spoiled brat at times.

And she had to keep him at bay. "Focus." With a pull on his hair she moved his lips back to her clit, he lapped at it eagerly. "That's more like it." She threw her head back as she allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of Jinshi's tongue pressing and rolling up against her clit.

She felt his mouth open as she pushed her hips forward. His his arms wound around her thighs before he pushed his hands against her hips, pulling her towards him again, encouraging her to fully ride his face. Which she was going to do anyway but it's good that he's so enthusiastic.

Maomao moved her hips, but when she showed any restraint Jinshi lapped at her cunt faster, the motions driving her insane.

"Jinshi. So much, I'm-" Seems like he really had been reading the books cause the next thing she knew she was coming onto his face as he sucked her clit, her head thrown back with uncontrolled moans. "S-Shit, stop! Enough!" Her squirming and pushing freed her from his grip and she sat next to him, chest heaving and pussy too sensitive to close her legs.

"Looks like I found your weakness." Jinshi grinned as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"And I found yours some time ago. Now we're even." Not wanting to waste time Maomao settled onto Jinshi's lap and started pressing his tip against her entrance, prodding and testing.

"Wait! Are you fine to do that? You just finished."

"Women don't need the recovery period like men. Besides with me being more sensitive it might feel better for you." But Jinshi still frowned. "And me. I wouldn't bring myself discomfort just for this."

Let it never be said that either of them were selfish lovers to each other. Maomao had never taken anything other than fingers. She knew there were toys available but she never had much use for them... other than blowjob practice. Jinshi didn't need to know that.

Knowing him he'd get jealous.

"M-Maomao... too tight inside... Gods..." Jinshi's face contorted in a look of bliss, further enhanced by his blush.

"Only me. If you must call for someone tonight then call for me." And leave it to her to get jealous of the Gods she didn't even believe in. "Jinshi. Don't make me do all the work."

Spurred on by her words he pressed the pad of his thumb against Maomao's clit. "So pretty. Wanna kiss it." He cooed and pressed it again.

It made her pussy tighten. "Not in this position. But... we could try out a few things in the future." With her being easy to move for him there were so many things they could try. Maybe being on the shorter side wasn't such a bad idea. For having sex with her future husband that is.

Maomao used that to her advantage as well. She pressed her hands against his muscled chest and her legs against the bed, locking them at his sides, her hips rising and lowering onto his with vigor. Yes, she concluded, seeing Jinshi's red face and feeling his sturdy, big cock stretching her inner walls apart was much better than letting imagination go wild while fingering herself in the lonely darkness of her room.

"Good? Anything hurting?" Jinshi asked, his voice and touches soft.

"A little odd. There is a bit of pain but that's to be expected as this is the first time I've been penetrated with something other than fingers. It will go away as we keep going." Again, she was treating this a little too medically for anyone's liking other than her own. It was probably a good thing that Jinshi was used to it by now. Otherwise he would have been too weirded out.

Everyone knew the kind of talk they should expect to hear in a brothel. This certainly wasn't it. It might be better. Jinshi knew what Maomao said was the truth. As she said, her own comfort and pleasure was also important to her.

"Take your time, darling. I'm good where I am." He grinned up at her, throwing a goofy thumbs up.

No one would do that while having sex. No one but Jinshi.

He was so damn weird sometimes.

And too attractive to hate.

"You are good right where you are. You're being so good for me right now, Jinshi." Maomao whispered low, flexing her inner walls around Jinshi's cock. He whimpered even before she did it. As soon as she praised him. Insults and praise got him off equally it seemed.

He waited and waited and waited for her to start moving. Truthfully he didn't need her to. If she stayed where she was and kept making her cunt massage his cock he would still come. As soon as he felt her moving up he gulped. His cock was wet, covered in stickiness that was unlike his own.

On instinct his hands tightened around her hips, a bruising grip making Maomao moan. Her pussy reacted accordingly, dripping with more juices, fluttering around half of Jinshi's length.

"Seems like you did discover something about me, Master Jinshi." But Jinshi pressed his lips into a confused frown. He didn't understand what she was getting at. "You see, we all have our kinks, the things that turn us on. For you it's praise, affection, degradation and I suspect that you would love to let your seed out in here." She looked at him as she patted her lower belly. Right over her womb. "Thought so. It's a common kink in men." His cock pulsed at her taunting words. It would be dangerous... "But me?" Maomao grinned down at him, her face flushed. "I'm a little bit of a painslut."

"Pain...slut?" He stammered out.

"I like pain. Giving it, as well as getting it. I don't see why you are surprised by this. You know what I do, that I experiment on myself. And right now..." Her smile widened before she sank back down on Jinshi's dick. "Ah! Oh, it feels so good to have your cock stretching my pussy apart." The look on her face was that he had seen many times before.

Anticipation of more, of discovery and curiosity. "You certainly are an odd one. But no more odd that the man beneath you." Yes, Jinshi admitted to his own oddities when he deemed it necessary.

The only issue Maomao had with it was his wording. "You are a prince, you can't be beneath me, other than in the physical sense."

Jinshi grinned in spite of that. He tapped her thighs with his hands, making her hips jerk against his. She was on top, yes, but Jinshi still felt like teasing her as much as possible. He parted her legs even more. "Lovely view. You're finally at your rightful place."

"And where exactly is that, sir? On top of you? Or were you referring more to the fact that you have me on your cock?" She pressed her lips into a tight line when all Jinshi did was smile up at her. This man... really made her life harder than it needed to be. He made her think and feel so many things she thought impossible. "Say it clearly for me, Master Jinshi." With her hands pressed on his chest she moved, leaving only the tip in.

She stayed there, hovering, waiting for him to respond.

It was torture for him she knew, doubly so when she chose to make her pussy tighten around his cockhead only. He could force her back down if he really wanted to, but there was a pervy part of him that loved being teased and made to wait. Maomao tightened around him again and again, promptly cutting him off when he tried to speak. "I love having you on top of me. But... also... having you on my dick feels nice."

"Wasn't that hard was it?" Maomao pushed her hands against Jinshi's and intertwined their fingers together. "But you certainly are."

"Do something about it then, apothecary." He ended up pulling her along after all, not that she minded it. The grip on his hands tightened. She felt safe that he wouldn't let her go and would catch her if needed.

"I was most certainly planning on it. You see there is another correlation between my work as an apothecary and my work as a courtesan. Know what that is?" Her hips wiggled back and forth, her small ass making his balls pulse under it. Jinshi shook his head, he had no clue. "In both cases I can't stop until the customer is fully satisfied." Maomao braced herself before she quickened the movement of her hips, causing Jinshi to gasp at the sudden change of pace.

"M-Maomao...!" He tried to ground himself as much as possible but even though he was secured physically, his mind was a mess. Every sense overwhelmed by every bit of the woman above him. "Is it okay? Is it really okay?" He asked, barely, and hoped that she understood what he meant.

Because if not, he wasn't sure he could explain.

As soon as she nodded he lost any semblance of control. His hands smacked down on her ass hard while his cock pistoned in and out. "That's it. Let it out, I know you want to." Just one more push. "Jinshi. Come."

Jinshi could never disobey his future wife.

He wasn't even embaressed that he couldn't. It felt too good to unload his cum like this, to feel Maomao's tight pussy have him in a vice grip while she moaned against his chest. Shaking, one of his hands cupped the back of her neck and brought her in for a delicate kiss. "My darling, I love you, Maomao."

"And I you, Jinshi. Sir." The words were still difficult for her but he didn't need to hear them. He knew how she felt by now. With a grin he hugged her tighter. She grunted. "With all due respect, I understand physical intimacy is something couples enjoy after these things, however I don't enjoy the feeling of your seed dripping out of me."

"Ah! I apologize! I wasn't aware it was uncomfortable." Jinshi released her immediately. Looking bashful he let get up but couldn't help the pride that swelled up in his chest, and cock, when he saw her breathing heavily and saw his cum dripping from between her legs.

"I will go and wash up. I advise you clean up as well. And no you cannot go with me, your presence there would disturb the delicate peace of the baths." Maomao bowed to him as she finished getting dressed.

"Wait a minute! I thought you said we had more time!" Jinshi was ready to go after her.

"Do not pout after sex. It ruins the mood." And by that she meant that it made her want to jump his bones all over again. She liked delicate Jinshi. A little too much perhaps. "When I return we can go again. So, don't spend a drop while I'm not here. Got it?"

Jinshi once again felt like his manhood was on the line if he said no. "Yes, ma'am. My cock is all yours." Even as he said that he rubbed his hand up and down, "But you better hurry, with all the material you gave me I'll be ready to go again in no time. You don't want to keep a paying customer waiting."

How can he say that and then wink at her?! If she had less control she would have pushed him down and rode him until they both passed out or they had to get out of the room. With how stubborn they both were, it would be the second option.

#kusuriya no hitorigoto #the apothecary diaries #maomao #jinshi #jinmao

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