#Very happy to share what I know with the kind people out there

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

hi, hope you're doing great !! feel free to ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable !! i would love to see a simon x neurodivergent!reader, maybe she's blunt because she doesn't really get social cues, quiet when happy (it's when she starts talking that something is wrong LOL). anyway i'm projecting ahah love your writing, have a great day love !!!

Tell Me Without Saying It

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Neurodivergent!Reader

Warnings: Sensory overload, emotional dysregulation (non-violent), swearing, misunderstandings, implied neurodivergence, protective Simon, soft comfort themes

Author's Note: Thank you so much for trusting me with this idea. As someone who relates deeply to a reader like this, this was written with so much love and understanding. You are not too much. You are not hard to love. We all have different experiences in this way of life but what matters is that you’re enough and you deserve love.

Summary: You're not always easy to read, but Simon’s learned how to speak your language. Silence means comfort—unless it doesn’t. When you spiral after a sensory overload, he knows just what to do.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The first thing Simon noticed when he got home was that the house was too quiet.

Which didn’t mean much to anyone else. Most people wanted noise to signal life: laughter, a TV humming, the click of a phone being scrolled through. But Simon? He knew the real signs. The real warnings.

Like the silence you made when something was wrong.

Because when you were happy, you didn’t talk much. You just… were. Curled up in your spot on the couch with your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, sipping your drink slowly, not saying much—maybe just humming, blinking slow and content like a cat in sunlight. That was your language. Peace was stillness. Quiet was safety.

But this kind of silence?

This was tension.

He kicked off his boots, set them neatly by the door. No keys jingling. No TV on. No scent of candles or your soft humming or even the tap of your fingers on your phone screen. Just… nothing.

“Love?” he called out softly, dropping his duffel by the stairs.

No answer.

His shoulders stiffened.

Then came the sound—subtle, but there. A quiet thud from the bedroom. Followed by the unmistakable scrape of something hitting the floor and a shaky breath. Not yours. Not really. Yours were always so measured. This one was clipped. Erratic.

He moved without thinking.

——

The door to your shared bedroom was cracked open. And there you were.

On the floor. Not collapsed—you never lost control—but very deliberately sitting in the corner, your knees tucked up to your chest, eyes glassy and jaw clenched hard like you were forcing it shut.

The room was a little messy. Drawers pulled open. A hoodie half-flung across the bed like you’d tried it on and hated how it felt. Socks mismatched on your feet. Your water bottle tipped on its side, leaking onto a notebook.

Simon took in every detail in half a second and dropped to a crouch beside you.

You didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak.

But your fingers twitched once when he got close. He saw that. So he didn’t touch you. Just sat down against the wall beside you, giving you exactly 7 inches of space.

Enough to breathe.

Not enough to be alone.

Your voice, when it came, was hoarse and clipped. “I don’t know why it’s happening. I was fine. And then I wasn’t. Nothing happened. But everything feels like it’s moving too fast, and I hate all my clothes and I can’t fucking—”

You broke off. Bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. Looked away.

Simon nodded slowly. “Alright,” he murmured. “I believe you.”

You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Then don’t.”

You flinched, maybe expecting a follow-up. A suggestion. A fix.

But Simon didn’t offer one.

He just sat beside you, quiet. Breathing slow. Letting you match his rhythm if you needed to.

Three minutes passed like that.

Then you whispered, “My shirt felt wrong and then my pants felt worse and I hate that I care but it makes my skin crawl and I tried to change but I didn’t want to change because I liked what I picked this morning but now it feels like someone else picked it for me and I don’t know why I care but I do.”

Simon turned his head just a little, just enough to look at you without crowding.

“I know that feeling.”

You glanced at him, skeptical. “You do not.”

“I do,” he said softly. “Got that way after missions. Couldn’t wear anything tight. Couldn’t be inside sometimes. Felt like my skin was screaming. Couldn’t explain it. Just wanted it all off me. Like I’d been put in someone else’s body.”

You blinked. Your expression cracked.

“…Exactly.”

Simon reached down slowly, brushed his knuckles against the floor. Still didn’t touch you.

“Okay if I get you something soft to wear?”

You nodded, hesitant.

He stood up, moved through the room carefully, like someone walking in a church. Quiet. Respectful.

He found your favorite hoodie—the oversized one with the sleeves that hung past your hands and the tag you’d already cut off—and your soft cotton joggers. No elastic waist. No tightness. Just you.

He brought them back and set them down beside you gently.

You looked at them. Then at him.

“Can you turn around?” you asked.

He turned without hesitation.

Behind him, he heard the rustle of fabric. The shuffle of movement. A tiny, whispered sigh of relief.

And then, after a few seconds: “You can look now.”

You weren’t crying. You didn’t cry often. But your eyes were puffy and your breathing was still uneven.

Simon dropped back down beside you.

“I don’t want to explain myself every time this happens,” you muttered suddenly. “I’m tired. I just want it to be. And not feel guilty about it.”

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” he said, voice like rough velvet. “Not even me.”

You looked at him sharply, like you were waiting for a catch. But there wasn’t one. Just Simon, steady and quiet, his big frame curled beside you like a dog waiting patiently for the storm to pass.

“I don’t know how to be soft,” you admitted. “I don’t know how to sugarcoat. I say things and people think I’m rude or cold or robotic but I’m just—me. This is what love looks like for me. It’s quiet and blunt and weird. And I’m scared you’ll get tired of that.”

Simon turned fully to face you then, gaze sharp, intense in that way that could shake a lesser person to their bones. But you didn’t flinch. You just held your ground, even in your moment of overwhelm.

“I fell in love with you because of that,” he said firmly. “Not in spite of it.”

Your throat bobbed.

Simon leaned in just a little, eyes locked on yours.

“You don’t sugarcoat,” he said, almost fond now. “You say exactly what you mean. You’re never fake. You’re quiet when you’re happy and loud when you’re hurting. That’s how I know what matters.”

You were quiet again, but this time… soft. The air around you shifted.

Simon reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away.

You didn’t.

He cupped the side of your face, thumb stroking along your jaw.

“Don’t need you to be soft, love,” he murmured. “Need you to be real. That’s who I’m staying for.”

A long pause.

Then, finally—finally—you leaned into him. Tentative at first, then full. Tucked your head under his chin. Let your hands bunch into his hoodie.

He held you. No rocking. No shushing. Just his arms, firm and solid and safe.

After a while, you spoke again. “Thank you.”

Simon rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Anytime,” he said. “Every time.”

——

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[gayspacepiratesss]

Hiiii friends I made a thing!!! 💕 An illustrated mini-fic, to be precise.

The art part isn't quite finished but I think the last three illustrations might take me longer and I wanted to share what I have so far. There are six color plates now and eventually I hope I'll have nine. I'll do a separate art post when they're all finished for folks who aren't as interested in the story!

I wrote this because I was thinking about trauma, and Neve's love for Docktown, and how two people who take too much responsibility for things might try and fail to help each other. About how breaking out of regret prisons isn't something most of us get to do just once, but over and over again: new chapters in the same old story. Plot twists that get a little better each time, if we're lucky.

I think Neve and Rook are lucky, but you be the judge of that. 💕

***

Red-eye

In which Neve gives new meaning to the phrase "Cry it out" and Rook fights gravity with exactly the amount of success you might expect.

Content note: Some mild hurt/comfort, references to blood, angst, and many feelingsy illustrations.

-~-

The veins are starting to fade, but her eyes are still red. Staring herself down in the mirror, Neve Gallus can't honestly tell if it's the Blight or sheer exhaustion that makes it impossible to recognize her own face.

The days since Elgar'nan's fall have been hard for a happy ending: the work of digging friends from the rubble, patching injuries and broken bridges, burying or burning the dead.

Neve's gaze flickers past her reflection towards the slight, sleeping figure on the sofa behind her.

Rook has been there for all of it. Minrathous, Treviso, Arlathan. First to volunteer, last to leave at night. She's never been afraid of heavy lifting.

You showed up. You always do.

...but where am I?

In Dock Town, the ocean always made her feel like she could breathe. Here, the blue light of the aquarium is drowning her again. Cold shadows run restless across her face, almost dancing with the black traces etched into her skin.

She slips out the door alone. Again.

-~-

"Again?"

Rook sags against the wooden railing opposite Hal's fish stall, her shoulders tight even as her face falls.

The older man squints sympathetically. His hands scale the day's catch with expert automatic movements, but his eyes stay with her. "Earlier this morning," he confirms. "Same time, same story."

Every day for the past month. Early, late, in between. As soon as there was a moment they might talk, Neve disappeared. If Eann "Rook" Aldwir had ever been the praying kind, now—not the fall of Minrathous or the rise of the Evanuris—would have been the moment she was on her knees.

I would burn worlds for you, but I couldn't pull you back when it mattered.

What have I saved if I didn't save Neve Gallus?

She runs a hand through her hair, putting on a rosy face to match, and forces a grin she doesn't quite feel. "Ah, well. It's been hard for everyone, but..."

"... mmhm." Hal nods. "Time is what the city needs, maybe. Time, and they'll remember..." his voice fades. Suddenly he is very busy with the mackerel.

... that she loves them. That she always loved them. That she never—she didn't—

"It was Elgar'nan and Ghilan'ain—" Rook can't quite hide her frustration.

"I know." Hal chops a fishhead slightly too aggressively. "They'll know."

But does she know?

From the street, a shout as ropes go up to raise new scaffolding—there's work to do on some of the dockside apartments, newly in danger of tumbling into the sea.

Eann buys a fresh skewer and sinks her teeth in. "If oo fee er--" she ventures, mouth full, eyes already on the next task.

"I'll send her your way," Hal finishes.

But he won't. They both know.

-~-

They both know. Everyone knows. Neve Gallus, protector of Docktown—until she destroyed it.

She takes a long drag from her pipe, staring across the city from her perch above the Lamplighter—one of the only buildings to go unscathed by the massive tentacles of Blight that she, personally, had directed. The elegant cruelty of Elgar'nan's choice wasn't lost on her—if anybody knew how to target Minrathous' weak points. If anybody knew the city's secrets. Set her against the place she loved best and watch it fall.

In the moment, it had been a pleasure.

How do you come back from that?

When Treviso had been ravaged by the Blight, her heart broke for Lucanis—but her relief for her own people had blunted the pain. She remembers the moment Rook showed up on the field, one step behind Neve and Tarquin, one step ahead of the dragon. She remembers her own disbelief: "You came."

Eann had never looked smaller than she did against that burning-black sky, her skin—so pale it was almost blue in a certain light—flushed and uneven, jaw set against her fear. And Neve had never loved her more—a thought she had shoved down immediately, fiercely, completely, as she skewered a nearby Venatori with ice.

They won that day. Parts of it, anyway.

And when Minrathous did fall, it was Neve's fault. Not Rook's.

-~-

"Not Rook's!" Elek Tavor has brought his Threads. He shoos Eann away from the complex dance of ladders and platforms they're erecting to shore up the dockfront. "That's your job, nughead! I need her here!"

Gang members and locals set shoulders together against the weight of newly-cut stone and crumbling Blight, clearing the one from the ruined apartments and storefronts to make room for the other. They look like a training montage or an inspirational poster—if training smelled like clotted blood, and inspiration felt like vertigo.

He winks at her from over a pulley, tossing her a safety harness and a length of rope. "You're too good for us gutter rats."

She straps in, eyeing the higher floors. The corruption still needs clearing before they can fully assess the damage. It's not especially stable, but she'd rather risk her skin than someone else's. "Better a rat with wings, huh?"

"Better you than me."

She doesn't argue. Instead, she climbs -- reaching hand over hand for a better view. The city shrinks and shifts as she pulls herself above it. The Cobbled Swan blends into the paper seller stalls and merchant alleys, already in business again with whatever scraps they each could scavenge. The sea's slate mood gives way to a smudge of sky and stone, reflecting up the cliffs across the channel.

I know you're there.

Tucked somewhere among those caves and crawlspaces is a detective with a shattered heart, blowing smoke rings and tearing herself to shreds. Rook has watched her disappear, slowly but surely, with every day of "recovery." To rebuild something is to see what was broken, to go over the damage in fine detail. To catalogue every blow. But for Neve, it is cataloging her own sins, her own failures, in a neat series of boxes to be checked and confirmed with evidence. For Rook, it has been watching that soft face flinch and flatten with each victory, each moment of hope, as though it were a nail in her heart's coffin.

But Neve still comes to the city for solace. She can't help herself. And so Eann haunts Minrathous, signing up for tasks that don't really need her, checking in on the people she knows Neve loves. Looking for answers in The Case of the Blighted Dream. The Broken Detective. Docktown's Ghost.

She has tried to be patient. So. Patient. But sometimes the most ungenerous part of her thinks, I broke out of my prison. To find you. To have this.

Now I'm losing you to yours.

Distracted by the weight of her thoughts, Rook barely notices when the stone she reaches for crumbles in her hand—until it pulls the harness anchor with it, the whole wall of the second story giving way. There is a sharp jerk, and she is falling—

Falling?

Falling.

But even as her heart freezes in her throat, it is still pulling her across the water. Even as she braces for the impact, her eyes are still half-scanning the cliffside for a tell-tale flash of teal, a smudge of smoke.

-~-

Smoke.

Neve squints suddenly, her pipe drooping between slack fingers. Smoke? By the docks?

No. Dust.

Something is falling.

But the channel is not wide, and she realizes with growing horror that she can hear the sound not just of stone, blight, beams crumbling, but also voices. Shrieking, wavering. "Look out!" "Back up!" "Clear it OUT—"

And then: "Rook!"

Someone is falling.

Rook.

A blinding, burning fear bites into her chest. The pipe clatters to the ground. If she was drowning before, she is choking now, clawing her way to the surface of a dream she has been walking in for weeks. Trading pains of the past for a present that sears her lungs and surges down her spine.

Mages cannot fly, but all that is left of Neve in that alcove as she bolts through passageways and across rooftops is a pipe's worth of tobacco and the shadow of a thought, echoing like a stone dropped in a dry well.

Wait for me. Wait.

-~-

“Wait.” Eann coughs wetly, throat clogging with dust and something unpleasantly, unexpectedly—oh. Blood. Well. She drags herself up on one elbow, waving Elek and the others back slightly, hissing as the movement sends a shock of pain through her body. “Wait, dammit! I’m not—”

“You’re not what?”

Time turns to sludge as familiar brown eyes meet hers, topped by brows knitted together in fury and fear. “Not hurt? Not climbing walls alone?”

Neve kneels beside the shaking elf, hands already moving, telling Eann’s blood to stay inside her body, her bones to know themselves under the weight of stone for seconds rather than minutes. It’s no small feat, and she is immediately sweating. They both are. “Not the Maker's own damned idiot?”

In spite of herself, Rook laughs. Weakly, painfully. “No,” she wheezes. “I am that.”

Neve’s eyes flash and then flood, tears of rage meeting her perspiration as she gingerly eases one hand under Eann’s head, using the other to clear what stone she can. “What were you thinking?”

It hurts to think. It hurts to breathe. But to Rook’s surprise, it hurts more to look up into eyes that are actually seeing her for the first time since the fight for Minrathous. A face that is furious but not masked. She coughs again, her own eyes burning, unsure if her chest is seizing from the weight of stone or just the love of Neve Gallus. “I—”

You look for lost things. Well, I look for you.

“They need you,” she finds herself choking furiously. “I was thinking they need you, and you’re not here, and I—am—so until you come back from your fucking pity party—ow—”

Neve is already on her knees. She can’t fall further. But the red spilling across the stones is more than time can stop, and she knows she needs to do something—quickly.

Eyes on me, Rook. Stay with me.

“Me?” Her rage is half for show, until it isn’t. And her heart is beating half a step too fast, and half too slow. “You think they need me? Look at me! Look at this.”

If it wasn’t for Neve, the stone would be as sturdy as it ever was in Minrathous. Hal’s fish would come out of the water in nets, not dredged from the surface with glassy eyes. She ripped through the Cobbled Swan, she crushed the lean-tos and shacks of the alleyways to little more than crumbs. She is the reason her tiny, tidy apartment stands in ruins and the cats go hungry. Docktown would be better off if it had never known Neve Gallus to begin with.

Rook screams. It is partly words. “I need you!”

And Neve is ripping her best coat into ribbons because she can’t slow time and send people for bandages, for medics—and there is.

No.

Time.

But she feels her face go numb, and her hands are shaking, and her burning red eyes fly up to meet that fierce, clear gaze. She wants to answer, but she has no answer.

Stay with me.

“What was the point—of all that—if—” Rook’s face is flushed, but Neve thinks flushed is better than pale, better than empty, better than gone. She uses the tiniest push of frost magic to calm the angry red of bones and flesh forced out of place. To stop the swelling before it starts. Almost mechanically, she wraps strips of her dragon coat around Rook’s arm and chest, shattering rocks with one hand as her other shields that stupidly precious rose-crowned skull from further damage.

“—if it didn't bring you back?” Eann rasps.

Neve is shaking so hard now that she can’t bind the fabric properly. She’s not sure it matters. “Bring me back for what?! So that I could—I would—” What can she do, anyway? She’s no healer. If Emmrich were here—or Harding—but they aren’t. And I am going to lose you, and I am going to deserve it. “So I could watch you die?”

Sharp, ragged sobs. “So you could be here—with us—” It’s not easy to cry and suffocate all at once, but Eann is making it work. “Not alone—with everything—”

The black traces of Blight on Neve’s skin mingle with sweat and stone, forming a filigree mask across her face. She feels her grip on the air, on the time around her start to slide.

Not yet. “Rook—”

Eann reaches up with her one free hand. Presses Neve’s forehead to her own, Blight and all. Her body is looser now, heavier—she, too, is struggling to keep control. Sound leaks through the barrier around them. Is someone… shouting?

Her eyes are closed. Her energy directed only towards the point where her skin touches Neve’s.

“Stay. With me,” she whispers. Please.

And Neve Gallus, despite her best efforts, is out of time. She winds her fingers through that rosy hair, and lets a deep, heavy sound tear through her throat. Not knowing, not caring what it is.

I’m here.

Around them, into sound and color and light, the city explodes.

-~-

The city explodes. Scraps of sound and light fracture through Rook’s mind, almost artful—a pastiche of pain and motion with occasional splatters of blessed black unconsciousness. Emmrich is there, then Maevaris. The Lighthouse might feature at some point. Definitely there is blood. So much blood. Then black again. And then—

Ow.

Teal-tipped fingers are laced around her hand. The bedspread beneath them is clean. The hands are not.

“There you are.” Neve has not slept in a long time. Her voice catches. “Oh. I—”

I almost missed you. Missed this.

Where was I?

Rook reaches to cup her fingers around the detective’s cheek. Instinctively, Neve presses closer, lifting her shoulder to cradle the gesture.

“You showed up.” Eann finds that smiling hurts more than she expected. She doesn’t care. “You always do.”

Neve lets out a half-laugh, half-sob. “I could have made better time.”

The light plays across her face, still silt-stained and shadowed. Eann rubs some of the dirt away with her thumb, wincing at the not-yet-mended motion of various body parts, ignoring them in favor of something far more pressing. Then she stops. “Your eyes. Neve…”

A flash of something like fear. “Oh, they must be awful—”

“No.” Eann pulls the detective closer. She kisses the eyelids, the cheekbones, the saltworn freckles. The dusted brows. Beneath the dirt, there is only the warm brown of these features she knows so well. Beneath the exhaustion, there are only shades of caramel and acorn and leather in those bright, faltering eyes.

Holding the other woman's rueful, aching, anxious face between her palms, she inspects it with great seriousness. Her own blue gaze holds steady beneath a vaguely crinkled brow.

“Neve, the Blight—it’s… gone.”

And this time Neve doesn’t need a mirror to look for her own face. To recognize herself. Something more like a laugh than like a sob curls through her throat and hangs in the air between them, weightless. “Is that so? Maybe you knocked it out of me.”

“Knocked it out of you!” Rook’s wheeze is its own commentary. “Remind me not to pick a fight with a pile of rocks anytime soon.”

“Maybe just pick fights with me, for a while.”

“Mm.” Rook still hasn’t let Neve go. Their noses bump together. “I don’t only want to fight with you…”

“Later.” Neve pushes back, smirking gently. A promise, not a refusal. “You did very nearly lose that last one. But I’ll be here.”

“What happened—” Eann is serious now, her hair falling earnestly into her eyes. “Neve. It happened to everyone. And I know—it was awful. But we can’t—I can’t—”

Not without you.

Neve pushes the hair out of Rook’s face. “I’ll be here.”

This time, when she shuts the door, it isn’t on her way out.

[unrelatedwaffle]

i think a lot about this but my thoughts are rambly. i went to many schools growing up for various reasons, so i've experienced a wider range of public school systems than the average american (still a very small n!).

I think I lucked out in high school and the curriculum was challenging and the teachers generally tried to teach critical thinking. But this wasn't necessarily the case in earlier grades, and I definitely did my fair share of whining that I was forced to learn things I would "never use." I remember often feeling frustrated that I had to take classes that didn't interest me, and wished I could unschool or fast forward to college where I could just do only the subjects I liked. I didn't always enjoy class and hated homework and essays. I found it hard to connect the drudgery to knowledge formation at the time.

But as an adult with some advanced degrees and the experience of switching careers into a field I did not naturally excel in, where I was a complete noob who had to learn in a semi-vocational program, I see the value of fundamentals, of "boring" drills or reetitive exercises, and how you really can't do ANYTHING interesting until you get the very basics down. Learning to add and subtract, or algebra, or even calculus, are prerequisites for getting to any sort of math that feels meaningful or exciting. Kind of in the same way that you can't read a French novel without learning verb tenses, or you can't play a great game of tennis without working on your swing.

I remember a German lab instructor in college scoffing at the Americans for wanting learning to be fun. "Learning is not fun, it is serious," he said. Maybe some of it is attitude and culture, the desire to be entertained into knowledge instead of viewing it as mental training, not always stimulating but steadily progressing towards greater and greater feats.

In Japan, when you are a novice at anything, your teachers or mentors make you do painfully boring things like practice the same small cha cha step over and over until it is absolutely perfect before you are allowed to do something more complicated. It seems absurd if you are used to kind of winging it or skipping steps you don't feel like doing so you can do the most interesting stuff. I don't know, I think there can be a happy middle. I think there are ways to make repetitive and rote learning a little more fun (gamification, rewards, progress charts), and lots of work to be done showing students how what they are learning is relevant to a larger picture.

(The podcast Chalk Talk talks a lot about these themes, focused on math education, but the general principle is the same across subjects. And Sold a Story shows how fucked things get when you disrespect the fundamentals of reading).

Kids need to learn through play, and also through imitation. An apprenticeship model works extremely well for human learning, but is expensive and labor intensive to implement. See the books The Gardener and the Carpenter and Bullshit Jobs for more on these themes.

I don't know how to fix everything. I hope people can find a way to retain their natural curiosity even if school is not designed to let students follow their core interests at all times. I think it's a good life skill to know how to do things that are important but not exciting sometimes.

So there's a post going around that I'm not going to engage with because my point is entirely different than what the discussion is covering there...

It's this thread: https://www.tumblr.com/galileosballs/783607164314976256/some-of-the-responses-to-this-have-been-in

(I will not be weighing in on that thread)

Here's the thing about schooling and Kids These Days from the elementary to the college level using generative AI (which is Bad for many reasons; I am not defending it):

School (for the purposes of this discussion, public school in the US because that's the only kind of schooling I personally have extensive experience with) is not designed to promote learning.

Lamentations about the ethics of the students who do this, about how this is devaluating education, about how it's frightening that future doctors etc are cheesing their way through medical school with AI all have their eyes on a particular symptom of a much, much bigger and deeper problem. That problem is ULTIMATELY capitalism, but on the way there it's about pedagogy.

I, from the perspective of not having been beholden to school for many years, can confidently say that I did not learn a single fucking thing in school between fourth grade (age 9; I learned how to do long division) and college (age 18, learned a lot of different things, absolutely none of them particularly relevant to any paid work I've ever had). School was a six to eight hour time sink (plus however long homework took) in my day that actively got in the way of me learning things WHILE piling a bunch of stress and trauma onto me that I had to spend years recovering from.

School, in the US, is designed from the ground up to train children into compliant workers. It's about showing up on time, being willing to follow arbitrary and often unfair rules, doing as one is told by figures of authority, and giving the desired answers to direct questions (while asking as few clarifying questions as possible). Curiosity and creativity are actively punished by public school.

"Does saying things that are true and that you know are true only matter when someone is giving you a little prize for it?" Literally yes, that his how the system is built. Under capitalism, there is no motivation to say true things that are true that you know are true. It is likely, in fact, to get you punished! If you want to change that behavior, YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE SYSTEM THAT PRODUCES IT.

This quote, in particular, seems to miss the point hugely:

"Some of the responses to this have been, in essence, "well, it's not our fault for being raised in a bad educational system that prioritizes grades over comprehension". And you're right, it's not your fault.

But you freely admit the system is bad. That it values the wrong things.

So why do you limit yourself to only achieving what it values? Do you not aspire to be better than a system you know is wrong? Don't you want to change the world?" with a post script of "the system is bad and that fact absolves me of moral responsibility to be a good person” is CEO rhetoric frankly"

It should be noted that absolutely no one in the thread has espoused a belief that 'hat fact absolves me of moral responsibility' - they are all talking about ways that the system is rotten from the ground up and needs to be dismantled and rebuilt. Many, many people reblogging the chain are ascribing malice/excuse-making to people who are merely correctly identifying the problem. Explanations are not excuses; sorry that someone taught you that at some point.

No one in that thread has said "I use AI, and think that it's a good and laudable thing to do!" - that is not a position that anyone seems to be holding.

There are a lot of people in that thread who are indignant that anyone is going to college who isn't deeply invested in learning, as if that's the goal that sends people to academia.

We do not live in a world that rewards learning. We live in a world that awards the possession of credentials.

We do not live in a world where people pursue careers because they are inherently important and meaningful to them - they pursue them because they want to survive under capitalism. Most people are not going into healthcare, for example, because they genuinely want to help heal people who are sick or injured; they're doing it because it's a stable career that generated a livable income. I say this as a person who works in healthcare and deals with others working in the field.

"If you're using AI to get through your education you've not fucking earned your qualifications. That AI did."

No one has ever 'earned their qualifications' re: possession of a college degree. They have merely shown a capacity and willingness to jump through the required hoops.

Do you think that you can shame people into not using shortcuts?

I want readers to look at this thread:

which has a much more coherent idea of what the problem is and what can be done about it. I want readers to look into pedagogy; check out these old-ass videos:

And just... just go watch every Ted Talk by Sugata Mitra.

I think we as a society need to be far more honest in what the goals we have are and how they're best achieved. Most of the jobs that people end up spending their lives doing should not be asking for college degrees. Most people do not want or need to go to college. Most people in college, in school at all, are there under duress and the threat of destitution.

I really want people to reblog and reply to this with thier own thoughts - I know that's no longer vogue on tumblr, but I am trying really hard to bring it back. No, the replies will NOT be opened. Fucking reblog it.

[t1meslayer]

hey! i’ve been reading a handful of ur fanfics (which r rlly gud btw!) and i was wondering how you were able to resize and edit the text like this

and also like this

i’d be rlly interested to know because i’m unsure if it’s even possible through normal means on ao3!

Hey hey! I'm very glad you're enjoying my work <3

Thanks so much for taking the time to give me a read!!!

The text editing stuff is actually a basic function on AO3, you can do it too! When you're looking at the text editing/posting page, you'll see at the top that you can utilize "plain text with limited HTML"

Clicking the question mark icon there shows you all of the HTML functions that are available, with a basic explanation for how to apply them in your text:

The TL;DR is when you've picked one you want, you can start that section of text with the HTML signifier in diamond brackets <like this>, and then end that section with diamond brackets using a forward slash </like this>

(Be sure to include the ending set of brackets otherwise you'll accidentally make the entire rest of your story in italics or somethin - not speaking from experience I swear)

However, I found a "story" posted in 2015 that was particularly helpful with visualizing the major elements. It's called "A Complete Guide to 'Limited HTML' on AO3" by CodenameCarrot. In particular, this highlighted stuff like being able to do sub- and superscript text using <sub> and <sup> that I used (I think) to great effect in my Pokemon Scarvi piece "Paradiso" - where a lot of my experimentation happened under the guise of nightmare bs.

The way I made text look almost like the "Chat" option here on Tumblr was through "Special Types of Text."

They all produce the same result when published on AO3, but I personally use <tt>.

I've also been messing with image embedding like the text message thread in "Peaks and Caverns" and my Author's Notes in "Stone-Cold Lovers (ch. 3)," there should be more of that coming in pieces that I'm writing now! I learned a good practice for how to do so from the 2014 piece "Super Awesome Learning How to Embed Place" by leftennant.

Tbh I've been a bit surprised at how many people have asked me about this text editing stuff in my comments, because it's one of the first things I noticed is available compared to, say, fanfiction.net. I like that you can use the basic tools of the service to tailor your stores to a vision in even small ways, so I've even been testing things like pseudo-graphic design like recreating RIAA record plaques using just HTML features on my Splatoon fic "By Moonlight":

Hopefully these explainer pieces can help you out with it too!! They're the only things I currently have bookmarked on my AO3 'cause I refer back to them so often.

[hinamie]

in spite of everything, I had fun <3

[novelconcepts]

i don't make resolutions, but if i did

it would be to finish this fic

(and to be kind to myself for however long it takes to actually do so)

[gatheryepens]

So I did something new today…

[spookyboywhump]

How would you recommend someone who's been here awhile as a whump blogger get more... engagement? I will post ask games and get virtually no ask or such. :( when I first started I had crazy engagement but now it's just gone. Makes me feel a little bad like I did something wrong? Aaa I'm sorry xx

Ahahaa anon this is an interesting ask to get at an interesting time. I’m going to do my best to help and give advice with what I’ve been wanting to try out as this is something that I have been thinking about a lot lately as well. I’m going to put this below a cut as I often feel. Weird talking about things regarding engagement and I understand some people don’t like those conversations but y know it is what it is

Let me start off with, I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong friend! I have noticed engagement has gone down a lot lately, not just in myself but in blogs that I follow that were VERY active and got lots of engagement back when they first started posting, and while they’re still very active and absolutely fantastic and talented writers, they still aren’t getting the attention they used to. I want to add a quick disclaimer that I understand engagement and attention is not everything, that we are supposed to create for ourselves, we are not simply content machines here to please an audience but also. When you go from having constant engagement with your work to what feels like none, it does feel a little discouraging, if not a lot discouraging and leave you wondering what changed. I think that’s normal. While we should create with ourselves in mind, it’s also just human nature to want to connect and interact with others who also enjoy our creations!

Onto the next thing, I have a few theories as to why engagement in general may have gone down. Obviously, I don’t know who you are or what your specific situation is so these may not apply! But they are things I think about when I think about this

Personally, I joined as a whump blog in 2019 and gained a bit of a following RIGHT before Covid lockdowns. Around this time a lot of people were home, a lot of people had way more time to write, to read, to interact with each other, I recall this time as being very active for everybody, between the Whump community online and whump discord servers, nobody had anywhere to go or anything else to do so we were all online indulging in what may have been a new hobby and new and exciting space for some people.

Following that, Covid lockdowns ended. People went back to work, back to school, and suddenly a lot of us just. Can’t be as active as we used to. This community seems to be full of neurodivergent people, I imagine a lot of us are struggling to balance school/work, household responsibilities, and our hobbies and things like writing or keeping up with our favorite series may fall to the side unfortunately. People graduated high school, started college, started jobs, these will take up a lot of time so I’m not really surprised to see a decrease in general activity.

So just like those things mean a lot less people are likely to be active as much as they used to, it may also mean you aren’t as active as you used to be. Again, I don’t know your situation personally, but I went back to work in February of 2021 and since then I have written. Less and less. It’s actually kind of depressing when I see time stamps on things and realize how little I wrote at all in 2022 because work was such a drain on me and even now, I struggle to have the time, energy, and inspiration all at the same time to write when I have other things that need to be done as well. My own engagement has gone down significantly since when I first started, so I understand exactly what your talking about, I post about my oc’s constantly but I struggle to really write and it’s very rare to get asks about them the way that I used to (that’s not to say it never happens and I love seeing the ones I do get in my inbox but I have noticed a change that I don’t think is exactly significant to just myself)

(Split this up cuz it was too long for one lmao) I mostly assume it’s due to less people being active as per the reasons mentioned above, there are names I used to see often that have since disappeared and I think about often, but also I know it’s partly on me because I just. Don’t write as much as I used to. People engaged when I had writing for them to engage with. I don’t have that very often any more so they don’t have anything to work with. That’s understandable. I often find myself getting in a mood where I’ve convinced myself everyone has lost interest and if I’m being completely honest that poll I posted was to see if something I was wondering about was correct because I have always noticed a slight uptick in asks or requests regarding one OC but unfortunately I still write primarily for myself and that one OC just. Isn’t the one I want to focus on all the time and I worried I was failing a lot of people by focusing on what I liked.

Anyways that’s all to say. I understand what you mean and this has also been on my mind a lot lately. But I’ve also been thinking about what to do about it.

For one thing, for the same reasons I don’t write as much as I used to, I also don’t read as much as I used to, I miss connecting with other people over THEIR work as well. That doesn’t always mean they’ll be into my stuff, they don’t have to be! I love that they’re creating at all and I want to enjoy it and engage with them over their creations as well! Of course I understand we shouldn’t be interacting just in the hopes it’ll draw attention to ourselves, but it’s also the natural outcome of things. If we aren’t able to reach out to others, they likely won’t reach out to us or look into what we’re doing. There’s quite a few of us, it’s easy to miss some really awesome blogs and really awesome work just because we end up in our own little circles.

Posting your writing or art or whatever it may be regularly, especially being sure to put it in the Whump community tags allows for more people to keep up with it or new people to find and support you and potentially garner new interest if you feel like people have lost interest in what you make. Personally, my goal with doing whumptober is to start writing and posting somewhat regularly again, in a way that more and new people may see it. This is also something I need to fix up but having a good master list is great for people who are new and want to catch up!

And not to sound like hopelessly optimistic but like. Don’t give up. And focus on creating with yourself in mind. You didn’t do something wrong, things have just changed, I forgot to mention this above as it just came to me but I remembered tumblr started doing that thing where you need an account to send anon asks which will have axed a lot of people who were lurking without an account and didn’t want to make one. I know it feels disheartening and discouraging because we want people to enjoy our work but the only way to get that is to keep working. Your work still has value even if people aren’t engaging the way they used to and I’m sure that it’s great! The people who love it the same as you do will find it I’m sure, and I’m wishing you the best of luck!

[areislol]

a hardworker

pairings. blade, jing yuan, gepard, aventurine, sunday, dr ratio, argenti, boothill, phainon, mydei x gn! reader

warnings. office job! au, reverse harem, slightly suggestive for some, fluff, use of brainrot, use of y/n but mainly [your name] etc, mydei and phainon MIGHT be ooc. 3.0 hsr story quest spoiler (quote) for mydei

a/n. when will i see all these handsome men in a corporate/office au from hoyoverse ;(

wc. 15.9-16k

blade — cold and reserved.

✧ genuinely why would you do this to yourself.. why would YOU initate a conversation with him? are you asking for him to form a friendship with you and possibly even maybe a relationship?!?!

✧ when you first got the job you were set to his level, he wasn't your mentor or anything, and at first he didn't even notice you, you seemed like a worker here just like the rest of them except you seemed too giddy. yeah you definitely haven't worked here for a couple of years.

✧ only when jing yuan, your first friend at work, introduced you to him did he first meet you.

✧ "blade! meet your new co-worker. i would've shown you them earlier but it was my duty to help them settle down and get to know everyone.. their name's y/n!"

✧ ".... hello." he greeted you (can you even call that a warm welcome?), his voice gruff and almost dead-like. maybe he was angry? you waved at him, offering a small smile. jing yuan looked at you with a smile. "blade isn't the one for talks. oh, follow me, i'll show you where the printers are."

✧ you waved goodbye to him once again before turning away and following jing yuan. blade didn't think much about that once returning to his desk and typing away on his desktop. but for some odd reason that small gesture (the wave) you gave him was stuck in his mind.

✧ he did not enjoy that very much, but as long as it didn't affect his working it didn't matter to him.

✧ after that he would see you more often, and you would always wave hello and goodbye to him even if he didn't do the same. he found your happiness quite weird and bothersome. you're in a working place, there's no room to goof around or be too happy, just focusing on work is the only thing you need to think about. (blade's a workaholic but he denies that all the time)

✧ you would spark small conversations with blade when waiting in line in the shared work cafeteria. "how was your day today?" "how's the report marking going?" "what are your thoughts on my report? i know it's too early to be asking but i'm just really nervous you know... oh! and-" sigh.

✧ just a simple yet deep sigh said more than enough to you. and you immediately shut your lips, thinking that you were irritating him too much (truth was you kind of were, all he wanted to do was eat and get back to work but don't worry, he warms up to you sooner or later!) and he obviously notices this.

✧ yet another deep and low sigh. "i'll listen to you once we are seated down." ?!?! "wait! you mean.. you're invititing me to sit with you?" you beamed, you're forming a friendship with your co-worker after all! "don't get the wrong idea.. i just don't want to waste time standing here and not get my food."

✧ oh but you definitely got the wrong idea. not that it mattered to you though. after that whole day and the many days that were to come people were looking at the both of you weird. (the fact that blade ate alone, not when he was with his other co-workers like kafka or silverwolf was a bit sad to you but he didn't seem to mind)

✧ "blade's eating with someone? wow." "never in my life would i ever think that he would ever invite someone to eat with him!" "do you think he's crushing?" you tried your best to ignore those comments, focusing on the food instead.

✧ "don't worry too much about the comments. if it really bothers you i can go talk to them. i'd rather sit in no awkwardness whatsoever than awkwardness."

✧ blade knows how much those gossips and rumours can have a toll on their position, if word ever got out (WITH PROOF) that two co-workers, or worse, worker and manager were sleeping together or anything related with relationships they'd for sure be fired.

✧ and he would risk it all to make sure that he still had his job. as well as yours of course.

✧ the two of you would grow closer, closer to the point that he would even buy you your favourite drink in the morning before you arrived (yes, he wakes up extra early to buy some snacks for you too), when kafka asks why, he shrugs. "i don't know, i have time."

✧ !!! he helps you with overnight work, if you have to stay overtime, willingly or unwillingly he will ALWAYS be with you. no matter how much you protest that he go home and rest he would always win the argument and stay with you. besides, that just means he gets to spend time with you without anyone pestering him!

✧ there are times that you would fall asleep during work. if it was during the day to afternoon he would quickly tap you on your shoulder and walk away like he totally didn't just make you jump from your seat as you look left and right, dazed and confused.

✧ how cute...

✧ you proudly stated that he has now "been promoted to being my best friend", blade only rolled his eyes and looked away, pretending not to care. but you knew that he cared, quite hard to not notice the faint smile growing on his lips after all.

✧ everyone notices how different blade had become after meeting you. although still non-chalant to others he seems to be more happier and enlightened when you're with him. no one dares say a word about it though thanks to his intimidation.

✧ speaking about how scary he looks, he was quite surprised that you didn't mind how introverted and "scary" he was, if anything you'd laugh and say how he was so "hilarious" ?!?! what's so hiliarious about the way i talk and look?!!? but nonetheless, you seemed to have broken a small amount of his barrier.

✧ always gives his close friends death glares when they're about to mention something about him to you. "oh yeah, i remember that one time bladie said that you were-....oh, seems like somebody wants me to be quiet, nevermind it then." anod no matter how hard you try to bribe her to spill it, she refuses. saying that "you will know one day" ... whatever that means.

✧ not to mention how oblivious you are to his actions. oh, he remembered your favourite meals of the day? isn't he such a lovely friend! he has a whole notes dedicated to everything i've said before—my likes and dislikes, places i'd like to visit, my favourite restaurant, my favourite animal, my favourite thing to do at work.. and etc etc? he's just so observant! a quality you need in this work place.

✧ it drives kafka and silverwolf mad sometimes, really.

✧ he's really protective of you, and he knows you can stick up for yourself but he feels the need to protect you anyway. blade always sticks up to you if someone from the higher positions pick on you, even if he's the same position as you. gosh, you really admire him so much!

✧ "are you alright? they didn't do anything to you, did they?" his eyes scanned your face and body, making sure you were fine. "i'm fine blade, but wow! seeing you like that is so cool! and i actually saw them shiver and..." blade never questions why you talk to much (lies, he has before in the past but now he just sighs and pretends to ignore you but really he's listening to every word.)

✧ sometimes invites you out for a drinking celebration. oh you don't drink! drink water there then. you can't go? fine, he'll just reschedule it then.

✧ although he acts all tough and that he hates you, in reality, he really likes you. when did the feelings come? probably when you really paid attention to him and just continued to talk to him every. single. day. sure, he was annoyed for the most part. but as time flew, he grew closer to you. and he hated the fact that he couldn't say anything about it. he couldn't risk getting him or you fired.

✧ as blade gets to know you better, he finds himself admiring your strength and he begins to see them not just as a coworker, but as someone he genuinely enjoys spending time with, someone he looks forward to seeing every day.

✧ (is he cooked? yes. does he care? no.)

✧ he often finds himself glancing at you as you're working, doesn't help that your desk is right in front of you as you share a desk. and god, everytime your manager pairs you and him together in a duo project or even in a group project he will never EVER disagree with your ideas. even if you might be a wee bit wrong about your ideas.

✧ everyone notices how bias he is towards you, does he care? no, if anything they're just jealous that he loves you and not them!

✧ (can i also mention when he refused to unbraid a small section of his hair that you braided?)

✧ but once the realisation catches up to him that damn, he really does like you, it changes his whole personality and perspective on you and his life. now that he's conscious he can't ever stop the way his heart flutters and races 100x faster, he can only hope that you don't notice the delicate pink hue rushing to his cheeks.

✧ "do you have a fever?" "yes." "oh.. feel better then! don't come to work or you might get me sick!" you joked, turning your back towards him as you continued to chat with your friends. if only you knew...

✧ if only you knew how infatuated he was with you. how in love he was with you. and the fact that he knows that there are other people crushing on you too, although he can't blame them, it's infuriating having to compete for your love and attention.

✧ one day he'll confess, and when he does he knows he won't care if the both of you get fired, he has enough money and connections to build a new and better company.

jing yuan — big ol' softie

✧ the first guy to actually crush on you. love at first sight at its finest.

✧ jing yuan finds himself drawn to you for several reasons. firstly, he admires your intelligence and work ethic. your always diligent and thorough in your work, he is attracted to those who work hard after all as he too, is a hardworker. not only that but he appreciates their kindness and compassion towards their coworkers, always willing to lend a helping hand or offer support when needed.

✧ it's a rarity to even find a co-worker who is actually kind and not just doing it to get a raise so, to him, you're a one of a kind.

✧ it's really no surprise that he was assigned to help you out during the first month to keep you steady as that's usually his favourite thing to do and with no one else offering to take this position the boss obviously had no choice but to make jing yuan have a mini side job.

✧ jing yuan is the first person to befriend you when you join the company, and it’s hard not to be drawn to his calm, approachable demeanor. you later learn that while he has a reputation for being incredibly competent, he also tends to “forget” small tasks, like refilling the coffee machine, leaving others to wonder how he manages to get away with it.

✧ you quickly become the exception to that rule. jing yuan, who usually delegates or “forgets,” is surprisingly attentive when it comes to you. need advice on an overly complex report? he’s already simplifying it for you. stuck on the company’s labyrinthine processes? he walks you through them patiently, occasionally cracking a joke to ease your nerves.

✧ “ah, the new recruit,” he says, leaning casually against your desk. “looks like they’ve put you near my territory. lucky you.” you laugh nervously, not sure if he’s joking, but his easy tone makes you feel less like the ‘newbie’ everyone’s been whispering about.

✧ you’re quick to bombard him with questions—everything from “how do you access the shared drive?” to “do people really have to clock in at 9:00 on the dot?” he answers every one of them with a mixture of patience and amusement. “no, you won’t get fired if you clock in at 9:01. but, you know, maybe don’t make it a habit,” he teases, smirking when you dramatically sigh in relief.

✧ your enthusiasm doesn’t seem to faze him. in fact, jing yuan seems oddly entertained by it. “you’re really diving into this, huh?” he comments one afternoon after you’ve spent ten minutes animatedly talking about ideas for an upcoming project. “i like it. keep that energy up. it’s refreshing.”

✧ during your first team meeting, you’re the one nervously jotting down notes while everyone else looks half-asleep. jing yuan catches your eye and mouths, “relax.” later, when you mention how intimidating some of the senior staff seem, he chuckles. “trust me, they’re all bark and no bite. well, most of them,” he adds with a wink, making you giggle.

✧ you’re eager to prove yourself, and it doesn’t take long for jing yuan to notice. one evening, he finds you still at your desk long after most people have left. “burning the midnight oil already?” he asks, resting an elbow on the cubicle wall. “you know, you don’t have to impress anyone by working yourself to death.” you smile sheepishly. “i just want to get it right.” his gaze softens. “you will. but pace yourself, alright? it’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

✧ your bubbly nature sometimes catches him off guard. one day, after explaining a particularly tedious workflow to you, you beam at him and say, “thanks, jing yuan! i don’t know what i’d do without you!” he blinks, momentarily stunned, before responding with a soft laugh. “well, i can’t have my star pupil struggling, can i?”

✧ when you suggest grabbing coffee as a thank-you for his help, he raises an eyebrow. “you’re thanking me for doing my job?” you nod enthusiastically, and he shakes his head, amused. “alright, but only if you let me pick the place. i know a spot that has the best pastries.” true to his word, the café he takes you to becomes your go-to hangout, with jing yuan jokingly claiming you owe him for introducing you to such “top-tier coffee.”

✧ one day, as you’re working through a tricky task, you mutter, “ugh, i feel so bad having to ask you for help again.” jing yuan leans over your desk, resting his chin in his hand. “you know, you’re the only person i don’t mind helping. must be that irresistible charm of yours,” he says with a grin. you roll your eyes playfully, but your cheeks warm at the compliment.

✧ while your coworkers are quick to brush off office rumors, they don’t miss how jing yuan lingers at your desk longer than necessary. he’s always "checking in" on how you're adjusting to the job, yet somehow, you notice he’s not quite this attentive with others. a little too friendly, perhaps?

✧ it’s no surprise to you that he was assigned to mentor you during your first month. jing yuan has a knack for making newcomers feel at ease, but there’s something different in the way he handles your concerns. he listens intently, offers solutions tailored to you, and follows up—something even HR doesn’t always do.

✧ what you don’t realise is that the moment jing yuan met you, he found himself curious about the way you carried yourself. your mix of determination and a slight hint of nervous energy intrigued him. he admired your persistence when others might have faltered under the pressure of a new job.

✧ despite his effortless charm, you’re oblivious to the subtle shifts in his behavior. jing yuan often uses work as an excuse to spend time with you. "this project is pretty important," he says, dragging over a chair and sitting beside you, "mind if i double-check it with you?" you don’t notice the way his lips twitch into a smile every time you nod eagerly.

✧ somewhere along the line, jing yuan finds himself going out of his way for you. it starts small—a coffee cup on your desk when he notices you didn’t get breakfast, an offer to review your presentation slides when you’re up against a deadline. before long, he’s scheduling lunch meetings just to hear about your day.

✧ his easygoing nature becomes a source of comfort for you. whenever office drama or work stress gets overwhelming, jing yuan’s the one who steps in, distracting you with his laid-back humour or a casual, “don’t let it get to you. you’re doing great, really.”

✧ over time, you realise he’s not just your mentor but also your anchor in the chaotic world of corporate life. what you don’t know is that he’s quietly hoping you’ll notice he’s looking out for you for reasons that go far beyond professional courtesy.

✧ slowly but surely, your dynamic shifts. you’re still the bubbly, eager-to-learn newbie, but now you feel a little braver, knowing jing yuan has your back. and though he’ll never admit it outright, he finds himself looking forward to your questions, your chatter, and the way you light up the office with your energy. if he’s a little extra attentive with you, well… that’s just part of being a good mentor. right?

gepard — sweet and protective

✧ gepard is the picture-perfect coworker: diligent, reliable, and polite to a fault. when you first meet him, you’re struck by how serious he seems, his posture impossibly straight as he shakes your hand and welcomes you to the team. “if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” he says with a formal nod. you’re convinced he’s all business—until you catch him fumbling with his coffee cup later, spilling just enough to make him flush bright red.

✧ you’re quick to ask him questions about the company, your tasks, and even the cafeteria menu. “what’s the safest option for lunch?” you ask with a dramatic whisper. he blinks at you, a little thrown by your energy, before responding earnestly. “i��� guess the chicken wraps? but i think the soup is underrated.” you burst into laughter, and the corner of his mouth quirks up, like he’s not used to this kind of enthusiasm but doesn’t entirely mind it.

✧ despite his composed exterior, gepard always seems to hover near your desk, especially when you’re struggling. one afternoon, as you stare at a particularly confusing spreadsheet, he appears with a quiet, “do you need help with that?” you nod gratefully, and he spends the next half hour walking you through every detail, his voice calm and reassuring. “you’re actually really good at explaining this stuff,” you tell him, smiling. his ears turn pink. “i-it’s nothing, really.”

✧ you notice how seriously he takes his role in the office. whenever something goes wrong—an error in a report, a system crash—gepard is the first to step in and fix it, even if it’s not his responsibility. “you’re like the office knight in shining armor,” you joke one day. he looks embarrassed but manages a small smile. “i just want to make sure everything runs smoothly. it’s… important to me.”

✧ your bubbly personality catches him off guard more often than not. once, during a team lunch, you’re chattering about a funny story from your weekend, and he’s so focused on listening that he almost forgets to eat. “gepard, are you okay?” you ask, noticing his untouched plate. he snaps out of it, flustered. “y-yeah! i was just… um, distracted.” you tilt your head, confused, while your other coworkers (AHEM blade) stare at the poor man, absolutely fuming.

✧ gepard is protective of you in the sweetest way. when he overhears someone being a little too critical of your work, he’s quick to step in with a firm but polite, “actually, i think they’ve been doing an excellent job.” later, you thank him, and he brushes it off. “you deserve the credit,” he says simply, but the way he avoids your gaze suggests there’s more to it than that.

✧ you once offered to grab coffee for the team, only for gepard to insist on going with you. “it’s not safe to carry that many cups alone,” he explains, dead serious. you can’t help but laugh. “gepard, it’s just coffee.” “still,” he replies, already holding the door open for you.

✧ over time, you start to notice the little things he does for you. like how he always saves you a seat in meetings, or how he’s quick to hand you an umbrella on rainy days without you even asking. when you tease him about being overprotective, he stammers, “i’m just looking out for you!” but the faint smile on his face gives him away.

✧ you’ve quickly become the sunshine to his steady presence, and though he’d never admit it, gepard finds your energy infectious. you make the office feel a little brighter, and if he’s a little more eager to help you than anyone else, well, that’s just part of being a good coworker. right?

✧ gepard is the embodiment of dependability in the workplace, and it shows in the way he’s always ready to step in and help you, no matter how small or big the problem. the first time the office printer acts up on you, he’s at your side almost instantly. “it’s been temperamental lately,” he says, rolling up his sleeves like he’s about to go into battle. after a few moments of fiddling, the printer finally whirs back to life. “you saved me!” you exclaim, clasping your hands together in gratitude. he chuckles softly, his cheeks tinged pink. “it’s nothing. really.”

✧ then there was the time you accidentally printed 100 copies instead of 10, and the sound of endless paper spewing from the machine had you frozen in horror. before you could panic, gepard was already by your side. “don’t worry, we’ll fix it,” he said reassuringly, diving in to cancel the job. when that didn’t work, he started stacking the printed pages into neat piles with a calm efficiency that made you wonder if he’d done this before. “i’ll help you sort these later,” he added, his tone as steady as ever.

✧ he seems to have a radar for when you’re in over your head. one afternoon, as you’re juggling a coffee in one hand and a precariously tall stack of files in the other, gepard appears out of nowhere. “here, let me,” he says, gently taking the files from you before you can protest. “you shouldn’t have to carry all this by yourself.” you laugh, trying to lighten the moment. “what would i do without you?” he smiles softly, looking down at the files. “hopefully, we won’t have to find out.”

✧ gepard’s helpfulness doesn’t stop at office tasks. when you mention in passing that you’re not sure how to navigate the maze of departments to get a signature, he volunteers immediately. “i know the process can be confusing. i’ll go with you,” he says, grabbing his jacket. as he leads you through the building, he chats casually about the different teams, making you feel less like a lost newbie and more like you belong.

✧ you’re not sure how he does it, but gepard always seems to know when you’re overwhelmed. once, when you were swamped with deadlines and barely had time to breathe, he showed up at your desk with a cup of tea and a small snack. “you’ve been working hard,” he said, placing them in front of you. “take a five-minute break. it’ll help.” you looked at him, wide-eyed. “you didn’t have to do this.” he smiled, a little sheepishly. “maybe not, but i wanted to.”

✧ even when it’s not his responsibility, gepard goes above and beyond to ensure your day goes smoothly. during a team presentation, you realized with dread that you’d forgotten to print one of the key slides. before you could spiral into panic, gepard leaned over and whispered, “send it to me. i’ll print it right now.” and just like that, he slipped out quietly and returned minutes later with the missing slide, handing it to you with a reassuring nod.

✧ his support isn’t just limited to big emergencies. if your chair squeaks too much, he’ll find the tools to fix it. if your computer crashes, he’s the first to suggest calling IT—right after he tries troubleshooting it himself. once, you jokingly called him your “office superhero,” and though he tried to brush it off, the faint smile on his face betrayed how much the compliment meant to him.

✧ you notice that his help always comes with kindness, never judgment. when you accidentally spilled coffee on your desk (and a little on his papers), you were mortified, apologizing profusely. but gepard just waved it off with a gentle smile. “it’s fine, really. these can be reprinted. are you okay?” he immediately helped clean up the mess, even going to grab extra napkins.

✧ over time, you start to rely on him more than you probably should, but gepard never seems to mind. “you’re always there to save me,” you say one day, half-joking. he looks at you earnestly and replies, “it’s not about saving you. i just… like being someone you can count on.” and with that, you realise that gepard’s helpfulness isn’t just part of his nature—it’s his way of showing how much he cares.

✧ gepard isn’t just the kind of coworker who’ll drop everything to help you fix a printer jam or sort out your endless copies—he’s also the first person to break the unspoken office rule about keeping things strictly professional. one friday afternoon, after a particularly gruelling week, he approaches your desk with an almost shy smile. “hey, uh… i was wondering. do you want to grab a drink after work? there’s a nice bar nearby, and i thought it might be a good way to unwind.”

✧ you blink in surprise, caught off guard. “really? like… just us?” his ears turn a little pink as he scratches the back of his neck. “yeah. if you’re okay with that, of course. no pressure.” the sheer sincerity in his voice makes it impossible to say no, and you find yourself nodding eagerly. “i’d love that!”

✧ true to his word—because of course gepard always follows through—the two of you end up at a cozy little bar just a block from the office. it’s nothing fancy, but the warm lighting and relaxed vibe immediately make you feel at ease. gepard orders a simple drink and waits patiently while you deliberate over the menu. when you finally pick something, he chuckles. “you looked more stressed about that than our last meeting.” you roll your eyes playfully. “priorities, gepard!”

✧ the first outing sets the tone for many more. every couple of weeks, one of you will casually suggest, “bar after work?” and it becomes a tradition neither of you wants to break. at first, your conversations are light—complaining about difficult clients, swapping funny stories about coworkers, and sharing tips on surviving the corporate grind. but as the outings continue, the topics grow deeper.

✧ one night, after your second round, you find yourself telling him about your dreams, your fears, and even your insecurities about fitting in at work. gepard listens intently, his drink forgotten as he leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “you don’t need to prove anything to anyone,” he says firmly. “you’re doing amazing, and anyone who doesn’t see that is blind.” his words stick with you, and you can’t help but feel grateful to have someone like him in your corner.

✧ gepard, too, opens up little by little. he shares stories about his family, his love for structure and responsibility, and the occasional self-doubt that even he experiences. “sometimes, i worry I’m too serious,” he admits one night, twirling his glass idly. you laugh, shaking your head. “serious? sure. but you’re also one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. don’t sell yourself short.” his face softens, and for a moment, you think you see a hint of vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor.

✧ your bar outings become something you both look forward to, a rare chance to let your guards down in a world that demands so much of you. you learn that gepard has a surprisingly good sense of humor—dry, but sharp—and he learns that your endless optimism isn’t just an act; it’s something you genuinely try to cultivate.

✧ one evening, as you’re both laughing over a shared memory of a particularly chaotic office event, you tease, “you know, i think these bar nights are the only reason i’ve stayed sane at work.” gepard smirks, raising his glass. “then here’s to many more.”

✧ over time, it becomes clear that these nights aren’t just about escaping work stress—they’re about the connection you’ve built. whether it’s celebrating a big win at work, venting about a bad day, or simply enjoying each other’s company, your bar outings are a reminder that amidst the chaos of corporate life, you’ve found something truly special: a dependable coworker, a trusted friend, and maybe, just maybe, the start of something more.

aventurine — the charismatic mentor

✧ when you first start at your new job, aventurine is the one everyone warns you about—not in a bad way, but with a tone that implies he’s… a lot. “you’ll know him when you see him,” one coworker says cryptically, and you don’t have to wait long to understand what they mean. he’s the kind of guy who strides into the office like he owns the place, his voice carrying over the low hum of workplace chatter as he greets everyone with a cheeky grin.

✧ the first time you meet him, he flashes you a dazzling smile and introduces himself with a confident, “aventurine—best-looking guy on this floor, and probably the most fun. you must be the new recruit?” you can’t help but laugh, instantly charmed despite his cocky demeanor. “i guess that’s me. and i’ll take your word on the ‘most fun’ part.” he winks. “oh, you’ll see soon enough.”

✧ despite his playful nature, aventurine turns out to be surprisingly helpful. when you’re struggling to make sense of a particularly confusing project, he swings by your desk and casually leans against it. “having trouble? let me guess, no one explained this properly, right?” you nod sheepishly, and he rolls his eyes. “classic. don’t worry, i’ve got you.” within minutes, he’s broken down the task into simple, manageable steps, his explanations peppered with jokes that somehow make the whole ordeal less daunting.

✧ aventurine has a knack for making you feel like you belong, even when you’re doubting yourself. “you’re doing better than i did when i first started,” he tells you one afternoon, his tone uncharacteristically sincere. “i was a mess. couldn’t even figure out the coffee machine.” you laugh, but his words stick with you, a reminder that even someone as confident as him had a learning curve.

✧ he’s also the first to pull you out of your shell during team outings. “c’mon, you’re not skipping karaoke night!” he declares one friday, dragging you along with an arm slung over your shoulder. “it’s tradition. plus, i need a duet partner.” despite your protests, you end up belting out a cheesy pop song with him, and by the end of the night, you’re laughing so hard your sides hurt.

✧ aventurine has a way of turning mundane workdays into something exciting. when the office printer breaks for the third time in a week, he stages a mock funeral for it, complete with a dramatic speech that leaves the whole team in stitches. when a boring meeting threatens to put everyone to sleep, he subtly slides a doodle of a cat in sunglasses across the table to you. “this is your future if you nail that presentation,” he whispers, making you snort into your notebook.

✧ he’s also fiercely protective in his own way. when a coworker tries to pass off your ideas as their own during a meeting, aventurine doesn’t hesitate to call them out. “actually, that was their suggestion,” he says smoothly, gesturing toward you. “and a brilliant one at that.” later, you thank him, and he waves it off with a grin. “what kind of mentor would i be if i didn’t have your back?”

✧ one day, he surprises you by asking, “so, any plans after work?” when you shake your head, he grins. “perfect. there’s this great spot nearby. they’ve got amazing food, and you, my friend, need a break.” true to his word, he takes you to a vibrant little café where you spend hours chatting about everything from work to your favorite movies. it’s the first of many after-hours hangouts, each one making you appreciate his depth and kindness even more.

✧ beneath all the bravado, aventurine is someone who genuinely cares about the people around him. whether he’s helping you polish a report at the last minute, cracking jokes to lighten the mood, or giving you a pep talk before a big presentation, he’s always there, reminding you that you’re not alone in the chaos of corporate life.

✧ “you know,” you tell him one day, “for someone who’s always goofing around, you’re actually really reliable.” he smirks, leaning back in his chair. “don’t ruin my image now. but… thanks. that means a lot.” and with that, you realise that aventurine isn’t just your charismatic mentor—he’s become a friend you can count on, no matter what.

✧ aventurine prides himself on being your go-to guy at work. he’s the one who explains tricky processes with flair, spices up boring meetings with his wit, and knows just how to cheer you up after a stressful day. so when dr. ratio starts swooping in, stealing your attention with his more clinical, straight-to-the-point explanations, aventurine feels his grip on his self-proclaimed “favorite coworker” status slipping—and he’s not happy about it.

✧ it all starts innocently enough. you’re struggling to understand a particularly dense section of a report, and aventurine is mid-way through one of his animated (and slightly roundabout) explanations when dr. ratio casually slides in. “actually, if you approach it like this…” he says, swiftly breaking down the problem with a few concise sentences. you light up, nodding enthusiastically. “oh! that makes so much sense! thanks, dr. ratio!”

✧ aventurine freezes, his grin faltering for a split second before he recovers. “yeah, exactly what i was saying,” he interjects, trying to reclaim the spotlight. but you’re too focused on scribbling down notes to notice the way aventurine’s golden eyes narrow at dr. ratio, silently promising retribution.

✧ it becomes a pattern. whenever dr. ratio happens to be around, he somehow manages to insert himself into your conversations with aventurine, offering insights that leave you marveling at his intelligence. aventurine, meanwhile, stands to the side, arms crossed and jaw tight, shooting death glares at dr. ratio that could probably melt steel.

✧ the worst part? you don’t notice a thing. you’re too busy soaking up all the advice and nodding along to dr. ratio’s calm, methodical tone. aventurine, on the other hand, is practically vibrating with barely-contained annoyance. “you know,” he mutters one day after dr. ratio walks away, “some people just love to show off.” you blink, confused. “who? dr. ratio? i think he’s just really smart.” aventurine forces a smile, but inside, he’s screaming.

✧ one afternoon, the tension reaches a boiling point. you’re sitting at your desk, completely engrossed in a conversation with dr. ratio about a new project. aventurine strolls by, intending to invite you out for coffee, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees the two of you. his usual swagger is replaced by a scowl as he watches dr. ratio lean slightly closer, pointing something out on your screen.

✧ aventurine clears his throat loudly, making both of you jump. “am i interrupting something?” he asks, his tone deceptively light. you shake your head, smiling. “nope! dr. ratio was just explaining this part of the project to me. it’s so fascinating, isn’t it?” aventurine’s eye twitches, but he plasters on a grin. “oh, sure. fascinating.”

✧ later, when it’s just the two of you, aventurine finally snaps. “you know, you don’t have to go to dr. ratio for everything. i’m pretty good at explaining stuff too, you know.” you tilt your head, surprised. “i know that! you’re amazing at it. i just thought you were busy earlier.” his annoyance melts a little at your words, though he still grumbles under his breath. “busy? never too busy for you.”

✧ despite his jealousy, aventurine never confronts dr. ratio directly—he’s too proud for that. instead, he doubles down on being the most fun, supportive, and reliable person in your work life. he’ll swoop in with snacks during long meetings, crack jokes that make you laugh until your sides hurt, and even stay late to help you finish projects, all while keeping a careful eye on dr. ratio.

✧ over time, you start to notice aventurine’s subtle protectiveness. when dr. ratio tries to monopolize your time, aventurine always finds a way to insert himself into the conversation, usually with a teasing remark or a playful jab. “don’t let him bore you to death,” he’ll say, flashing you a grin. “you deserve better.”

✧ eventually, you realize what’s been going on all along. one day, after yet another instance of aventurine shooting daggers at dr. ratio, you turn to him with a knowing smile. “you’re jealous, aren’t you?” his eyes widen, and he quickly denies it. “jealous? me? pfft, no way.” but the way he avoids your gaze and rubs the back of his neck gives him away.

✧ you laugh, reaching out to nudge his arm. “you’re ridiculous, you know that? i go to you for way more than just explanations. you’re my favourite coworker, aventurine.” his expression softens, a genuine smile replacing his usual smirk. “yeah, well… don’t forget it.” and with that, the tension finally dissolves, leaving the two of you closer than ever.

✧ aventurine isn’t one to do things halfway. when he decides to show his appreciation for you, he does it in the most aventurine way possible: by showering you with gifts that make the entire office green with envy.

✧ it starts with little things—a fancy pen that writes smoother than anything you’ve ever used, a sleek notebook with your initials embossed in gold, a bouquet of your favorite flowers that mysteriously appears on your desk one morning. “just thought you deserved something nice,” he says with a wink when you thank him, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

✧ but as time goes on, the gifts become more elaborate. one day, he surprises you with a delicate necklace featuring a gemstone that perfectly matches his eye color. “it reminded me of you,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “and, well… maybe a little of me too.” you can’t help but blush as you accept it, marveling at how the intricate design seems to mirror his signature style.

✧ aventurine has a knack for picking out accessories that are not only stunning but also distinctly him. bracelets with gold accents that resemble his attire, earrings that match the vibrant green of his signature scarf, even a brooch shaped like a starburst—a subtle nod to his larger-than-life personality. “now you’ll always have a piece of me with you,” he says with a grin, and you’re left wondering if he’s secretly a romantic underneath all that bravado.

✧ when your coworkers start noticing the gifts, they can’t help but comment. “wow, someone’s got a secret admirer,” one of them teases, eyeing the elegant watch aventurine gave you last week. you laugh it off, but aventurine, overhearing, leans in with a smug smile. “not so secret,” he quips, earning a round of laughter—and more than a few jealous looks.

✧ his generosity doesn’t stop at physical gifts. when you’re stressed about a big project, aventurine clears his schedule to help you out, staying late to go over every detail until you feel confident. “you’re gonna nail this,” he says firmly, sliding a cup of your favorite coffee across the desk. “and when you do, drinks are on me.”

✧ true to his word, he takes you to your favorite bar after work to celebrate your victories. “this is on me too,” he insists, waving off your protests as he orders the fanciest cocktail on the menu. as the night goes on, you realize these outings have become a tradition—a way for the two of you to unwind and talk about everything from work drama to your wildest dreams.

✧ aventurine’s gifts aren’t just about showing off; they’re his way of making sure you know how much he values you. whether it’s a luxurious piece of jewelry or a simple trinket that made him think of you, each one carries a piece of his heart.

✧ “you know you don’t have to do all this, right?” you tell him one day, fiddling with the bracelet he gave you. “i already know you care.” his usual playful smirk softens into something more genuine. “i know. but you deserve the best, and if I can give you that? well, why wouldn’t i?”

✧ at the end of the day, it’s not the gifts themselves that mean the most—it’s the thought behind them. every time you catch a glimpse of the necklace around your neck or the bracelet on your wrist, you’re reminded of aventurine’s unwavering support and affection. and, in a way, it feels like you’re carrying a little piece of him with you wherever you go.

dr. ratio — the genius overseer

✧ from the moment you joined the team, dr. ratio’s reputation preceded him. whispers of his brilliance—and his sharp tongue—circulated the office like wildfire. it wasn’t long before you experienced both firsthand.

✧ the first time you complimented him, his reaction was… unexpected. “wow, you’re so smart!” you exclaimed, eyes wide with genuine admiration after he solved a technical issue in under a minute. dr. ratio merely adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. “of course i am,” he replied, as if your praise was stating the obvious.

✧ despite his aloof demeanor, you couldn’t help but marvel at his intelligence. every time he unraveled a complex problem or presented an innovative solution, you were the first to pipe up with, “you’re a genius!” while your coworkers rolled their eyes, dr. ratio seemed to tolerate your praise—perhaps even enjoy it, though he’d never admit it outright.

✧ that said, his brilliance came with a side of harshness. when someone made a mistake, he didn’t hesitate to point it out with clinical precision. “this is wrong,” he’d say, his tone icy. “fix it. now.” your coworkers often avoided his gaze, but you? you took his criticisms in stride, knowing they were meant to make you better.

✧ “you’re lucky you’re not scared of him,” a coworker whispered one day after dr. ratio had finished reprimanding someone. you laughed nervously. “who says i’m not? he’s terrifying!”

✧ and terrifying he was—especially when he loomed over your desk. his towering height made it impossible not to feel a little intimidated as he peered down at your work. “is that how you were taught to do it?” he’d ask, his voice low and authoritative. you’d stammer out an apology, and he’d sigh, leaning closer to correct your mistakes.

✧ yet, beneath the intimidation, you noticed a certain… softness. while his scoldings were sharp, his corrections were always thorough. he didn’t just tell you what was wrong; he made sure you understood how to fix it. “i expect better from you,” he’d say, his tone firm but not unkind. “and you’re capable of it. don’t prove me wrong.”

✧ over time, you realized his harshness came from a place of high standards, not malice. “he’s only hard on the people he thinks have potential,” one coworker explained. “if he’s scolding you, it means he believes in you.”

✧ one day, after a particularly long lecture on proper procedures, you couldn’t help but tease him. “you’re like a strict professor, you know that?” he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “and you’re like a student who needs constant supervision.” you laughed, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

✧ despite his stern exterior, dr. ratio had his moments of unexpected kindness. when you stayed late to finish a project, he silently placed a cup of coffee on your desk. “you’ll need this,” he said simply before walking away.

✧ as much as he scared your coworkers, you found yourself growing more comfortable around him. his intelligence was something you admired, and his harsh critiques pushed you to improve. even when he loomed over your desk or scolded you for mistakes, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for his guidance.

✧ one day, after you finished a particularly challenging task, he stopped by your desk, his expression unreadable as always. “you did well,” he said, his voice softer than usual. your heart skipped a beat at the rare compliment. “thanks,” you replied, grinning. “but i couldn’t have done it without your help. you’re amazing, dr. ratio.”

✧ he didn’t respond immediately, but you could’ve sworn you saw a faint blush dust his cheeks as he turned away. “just keep it up,” he said, walking off. and in that moment, you realized that beneath all the harshness, dr. ratio truly cared about your growth—and maybe, just maybe, he was a little proud of you too.

✧ while dr. ratio’s reputation for brilliance and harsh criticism was well known, there was one thing many coworkers didn’t realize: if anyone dared to undermine you or make you feel less than capable, dr. ratio would swoop in with an icy calm that sent shivers down the spines of anyone within earshot.

✧ it all starts with a minor incident. one day, a coworker takes it upon themselves to “correct” your work in front of others, loudly pointing out a small mistake. “i’m not sure you’re doing this right,” they say condescendingly, not even bothering to offer a solution. you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, your confidence crumbling under the weight of their words.

✧ before you can even gather your thoughts, dr. ratio’s sharp gaze flicks toward the scene. “excuse me,” he says, his voice low and controlled, but with an unmistakable edge. the room falls silent as he rises from his desk, towering over the unfortunate coworker who dared to question you. “i believe you have something you’d like to say to [your name],” he continues, his tone cool but lethal.

✧ the coworker, visibly startled, stammers. “i… i just wanted to—”

✧ “no,” dr. ratio cuts them off. “what you wanted was to publicly embarrass [your name], correct? well, i won’t allow that.” his eyes narrow as he glares at them, sending a clear message that no one would challenge you while he was around.

✧ you watch, amazed, as the coworker mumbles an apology, their face flushed with humiliation. but dr. ratio isn’t done yet. he gives them one final, cold look. “you’re to report to my office immediately. we’ll discuss your conduct in private.”

✧ as the coworker slinks off to dr. ratio’s office, you can’t help but feel a surge of gratitude. sure, dr. ratio could be terrifying, but in this moment, he’s undeniably protective of you. you’re certain that if anyone else had been in your shoes, the situation would’ve played out differently—but not with dr. ratio.

✧ the next time you see that coworker, they’re quieter, avoiding eye contact with you. dr. ratio, however, acts as if nothing has happened, but you can sense a subtle shift in his behavior. when he comes over to check your work, there’s no condescension in his tone, only careful consideration. “let’s go over this,” he says, guiding you through the task with a calm, authoritative precision.

✧ as days go on, you realize this isn’t a one-time occurrence. dr. ratio is relentless in his protection of your work. if anyone dares to make you feel “dumb” or tries to undermine you in front of others, dr. ratio will handle it. his harsh scolding of other coworkers may be intimidating, but to you, it feels like a shield.

✧ “i don’t tolerate incompetence,” he once says in passing, his voice colder than usual. “but more importantly, i don’t tolerate anyone belittling a colleague who is working hard to improve. understand?”

✧ you nod fervently, unable to hide the warmth spreading through you at his words. no matter how intimidating he may be, dr. ratio has become your quiet protector—ensuring that no one ever makes you feel less than the capable, intelligent worker you are.

✧ the following week, when another coworker tries to mock your mistake, dr. ratio steps in before you can even react. “i suggest you follow up on your work with a bit more precision next time,” he says to them, his tone deceptively calm. “and perhaps remember that our colleague doesn’t need to be scrutinized by everyone in the room.”

✧ as the coworkers exchange nervous glances, you feel a sense of pride bubble up inside you. dr. ratio may be harsh and unapproachable at times, but in the moments that matter, he’s on your side—and you can’t help but be grateful for the silent bond you share.

✧ later, as you finish up a project together, dr. ratio’s usual criticism comes, but this time, it’s followed by a rare, approving nod. “better,” he says, and there’s a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “keep it up.”

✧ and in that moment, you realise that even though he scares most of the office with his sharp critiques and towering presence, dr. ratio has your back—always.

✧ dr. ratio’s intelligence wasn’t just limited to his work. he had an uncanny ability to read people, and when it came to aventurine’s jealousy, he wasn’t the least bit oblivious.

✧ it started with the subtle glances. aventurine would stare, just a little too long, whenever you and dr. ratio interacted, his eyes narrowing with quiet irritation. at first, dr. ratio didn’t pay it much attention—he had far too many things to focus on, after all. but after a few more incidents, something clicked in his mind.

✧ “you’re so smart, dr. ratio,” you said one day, obliviously smiling at him as he walked over to check your work. you were so absorbed in your task that you didn’t even notice aventurine’s glaring stare from across the room.

✧ but dr. ratio did. and rather than being irritated or bothered, he found the whole situation rather amusing.

✧ so, he began to play with it.

✧ whenever aventurine’s eyes lingered too long on you, dr. ratio would intentionally lean closer to you, his posture taking on a subtly possessive stance as he guided your hand to the right spot on your work. his gaze, however, would never leave aventurine’s direction, knowing full well it would drive him mad.

✧ “this is the correct formula, isn’t it?” dr. ratio asked, his voice soft, but his eyes locked on aventurine’s, daring him to do something. “just double-checking,” he continued, as you nodded, a little confused by his sudden intensity.

✧ aventurine’s face would turn red with frustration, and he’d shift uncomfortably, unwilling to approach or interfere directly, knowing well that dr. ratio’s calculating eyes never missed a thing.

✧ dr. ratio thrived in this silent game, even going as far as casually dropping his hand near yours when discussing a task, his fingers brushing against your palm just enough to make the tension rise. “ah, i see now,” he’d say, all innocence, glancing back at you. “you’re quite good at this, [your name].”

✧ to anyone else, it would seem like a normal work interaction, but to aventurine? it was pure agony.

✧ sometimes, dr. ratio would even take things a step further. when the entire team had gathered in the break room, he’d make it a point to stand so close to you that your shoulders almost touched, making sure aventurine caught every second of it. “you’re looking a bit pale today, [your name],” dr. ratio would comment casually, his tone overly sweet as he brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

✧ and aventurine’s patience would wear thin. the moment he saw dr. ratio’s hand linger near you, his sharp green eyes would flash with irritation, and he’d make his exit, mumbling something about “not having time for childish games” under his breath.

✧ dr. ratio’s amusement never seemed to fade. he’d always smirk, watching aventurine retreat, but his actions grew bolder with every passing day, each one designed to push aventurine’s buttons even more.

✧ “are you sure you’re okay, [your name]?” he’d ask again, this time purposefully leaning over you, so his presence loomed even more. “you look a little... off today.”

✧ by now, your confusion was palpable, but dr. ratio simply enjoyed watching the spectacle unfold. when aventurine would inevitably storm away, clearly flustered and annoyed, he’d chuckle to himself, his eyes glinting with the satisfaction of having gotten under his rival’s skin.

✧ one day, after an especially bold move from dr. ratio, aventurine finally snapped. “enough!” he growled, walking over to dr. ratio’s desk, his face red with fury. “stop flaunting your—your proximity like that!”

✧ dr. ratio simply tilted his head, acting entirely oblivious to the situation, though his smirk never wavered. “proximity?” he repeated. “i’m just making sure [your name] is doing their work correctly. i’d expect you to do the same.”

✧ aventurine glared at him, his body tensing, before turning on his heel, muttering something about needing air. dr. ratio leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the tension he’d just stirred.

✧ “he’s so easy to rile up,” dr. ratio mused aloud, glancing at you as he picked up his pen. “don’t you think, [your name]?”

✧ you blinked at him, still unsure of what had just happened, but dr. ratio simply smiled, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a game well played. “don’t worry about it,” he said, a touch of humor in his voice. “just focus on your work. i’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

✧ and though you were still a bit confused, you couldn’t deny the strange thrill that seemed to linger in the air whenever dr. ratio and aventurine crossed paths.

sunday — the manager with a million excuses

✧ sunday isn’t your manager, not technically. he’s from another department, but that doesn’t stop him from finding ways to stop by your desk almost every day. it’s become such a regular occurrence that your coworkers have started joking about it.

✧ “what is it today, sunday?” you teased, smiling as he strolled up to your desk, a stack of papers in hand.

✧ “just need you to review these,” he said smoothly, setting them down in front of you. “you’ve got a good eye for detail, and I trust your judgment.”

✧ you couldn’t help but laugh. “shouldn’t someone in your own department be doing this?”

✧ “maybe,” he admitted, his lips twitching into a small smile. “but none of them are as good as you.”

✧ sunday has a way with words—polished, professional, but somehow carrying a warmth that makes you feel special. whether it’s complimenting your work ethic or praising your attention to detail, he always leaves you blushing and flustered.

✧ your coworkers often shoot you knowing looks whenever sunday appears. “he’s here again,” one of them whispered one day, nudging you as sunday made his way over, a confident stride in his step.

✧ “what’s he want now?” you muttered under your breath, though you couldn’t hide the small smile forming on your lips.

✧ “just thought you might want to take a look at these reports,” he said casually, as if he didn’t visit you almost every day with some excuse or another.

✧ “sunday, i think you’re running out of reasons to come over here,” you joked, flipping through the papers he’d handed you.

✧ “am i?” he asked, leaning slightly on your desk. his icy blue eyes held a teasing glint. “maybe I just enjoy your company.”

✧ he always makes sure to keep things light, even when the office gets hectic. one time, you were buried in work, your desk a mess of papers and files.

✧ “looks like you could use some help,” sunday said, appearing out of nowhere with a calm smile.

✧ “from you? don’t you have your own department to worry about?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

✧ “delegated,” he replied smoothly, already rolling up his sleeves. “besides, what kind of gentleman would I be if I left you like this?”

✧ he spent the next hour helping you sort through everything, his efficiency and calm demeanor a stark contrast to your frazzled state.

✧ sunday is the type of guy who knows how to command a room, but when he’s around you, there’s a softer, more personal side to him.

✧ “you know, you really don’t have to keep coming over here,” you said one day, unable to hide your smile.

✧ “and miss out on seeing your reaction every time?” he teased, his grin widening. “i think not.”

✧ though his visits might seem casual, there’s no denying the way he always seems to linger just a little longer than necessary, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

✧ “by the way,” he added as he handed you yet another stack of papers, “great work on that last report. i knew i could count on you.”

✧ and just like that, he was off, leaving you flustered and wondering if he’d ever run out of excuses—or if maybe, just maybe, he didn’t really need one to see you.

✧ as if sunday’s frequent visits to your desk weren’t enough, his sister robin somehow ends up knowing all about you. turns out, sunday talks about you to her a lot.

✧ “so, you’re the famous [your name],” robin said one day when she stopped by your department. her tone was casual, but her knowing smile made your cheeks heat up instantly.

✧ “f-famous?” you stammered, looking between her and sunday, who was standing just a few feet away, pretending to read over a document like he wasn’t paying attention.

✧ “oh, you know,” robin said with a gentle smile, “my brother just can’t stop talking about you. he’s always going on about how talented you are, how hardworking, how—”

✧ “robin,” sunday interrupted, his voice firm but his ears unmistakably red. “don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

✧ “what? i’m just making conversation,” robin replied innocently, though the smirk on her face said otherwise.

✧ unbeknownst to you, robin had taken it upon herself to play matchmaker. she’d started casually suggesting plans that conveniently involved the two of you spending more time together.

✧ “hey, [your name], you should join us for coffee after work,” robin said one day, popping into your office with sunday trailing behind her. “my treat!”

✧ “oh, i wouldn’t want to intrude,” you said, but robin waved off your protests with a grin.

✧ “nonsense. it’ll be fun!” she insisted, already dragging her brother along.

✧ during the outing, robin would subtly steer the conversation towards sunday, dropping little hints about how amazing he was.

✧ “you know, sunday’s always been the responsible one,” she said, leaning back with a sly smile. “he’s the kind of guy who’d move mountains for someone he cares about.”

✧ “robin,” sunday muttered, his voice low and warning, but his blush betrayed his usual calm demeanor.

✧ “it’s true!” robin said cheerfully, ignoring her brother’s glare.

✧ "he can cook as well, amazingly too. he's also great with numbers and smart, oh and he takes a lot of responsibility! i'm sure you can tell how great he is at taking care of others, right?"

✧ despite her best efforts, you remained blissfully unaware of her matchmaking attempts. to you, robin was just a sweet, friendly woman who clearly adored her brother—and maybe teased him a little too much.

✧ one time, robin went the extra mile and set up an impromptu lunch for you and sunday. she’d made an excuse about being busy and left you two alone at the café she’d picked.

✧ “well, this is... unexpected,” you said, glancing at sunday as the two of you sat across from each other.

✧ “she’s... persistent,” sunday admitted, a small, almost sheepish smile playing on his lips.

✧ even then, you didn’t think too much of it, chalking it up to robin just being robin. but sunday couldn’t help but glance at you, his gaze softening as you chatted away, completely oblivious to the fact that his sister had orchestrated the whole thing.

✧ “you’re lucky to have such a caring sister,” you said at one point, smiling warmly.

✧ “yeah,” sunday agreed, though his eyes never left you. “i am.”

✧ robin wasn’t subtle in her matchmaking efforts, but you somehow remained completely in the dark, much to her amusement. “you really don’t see it, do you?” she asked one day, pulling you aside during a break.

✧ “see what?” you asked, confused.

✧ “nothing,” robin said with a chuckle, shaking her head. “just... take care of my brother, okay?”

✧ her words lingered in your mind, but you brushed them off, not realizing the deeper meaning behind them—or the fond way sunday looked at you whenever you weren’t paying attention.

argenti — your go-to-manager and lifesaver (as well as a charming gentleman)

✧ argenti is the epitome of a gentleman, and he makes sure you know it every single day. no matter the task, he finds a way to compliment you, his words dripping with genuine admiration that always catches you off guard.

✧ whether it’s a passing glance or a quiet conversation, argenti never misses a chance to let you know how much he appreciates you—your intelligence, your kindness, your hard work. “you really have such an eye for detail, [your name],” he says with a charming smile, “it’s not something most people have. truly impressive.”

✧ his compliments are always warm, never forced, and his tone is soft and respectful. but for someone who’s so effortless in his flattery, it always sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. you can never get used to it, and every time, you find yourself stammering slightly.

✧ "oh, um, thank you, argenti," you say, trying to hide the blush that’s spreading across your face. “i—i didn’t expect you to notice.”

✧ argenti, of course, flashes his signature grin, a little mischievous but still incredibly sweet. "how could i not notice such brilliance?" he says smoothly, his eyes twinkling with an affectionate glint.

✧ the effect is immediate: your face turns an even deeper shade of red, and your heart flutters a little faster. it’s not just the words themselves but the way he delivers them—gentle and sincere, like he’s truly honored to be in your presence.

✧ and of course, the other coworkers notice.

✧ they’re not blind, and they’re certainly not immune to argenti’s charm. every time he compliments you, they can’t help but exchange looks of jealousy, some of them even rolling their eyes or scoffing when they see how naturally it comes to him.

✧ “again with the compliments?” one of your coworkers mutters under their breath, crossing their arms. “what is it with him? he barely even looks at anyone else like that.”

✧ another coworker leans in, whispering to the first, “doesn’t he know how hard it is to compete with that kind of charm? i mean, seriously, he’s all but swooning over [your name].”

✧ but argenti is completely unaware—or rather, he’s too focused on you to care about anyone else.

✧ “you really do brighten up the room when you walk in, [your name],” he says one day, his voice warm as he opens the door for you. his eyes lock with yours as you step through, the genuine admiration in them making your stomach flutter.

✧ you stutter a response, flustered and unsure how to handle all the attention. “thank you… argenti. i—I’m just trying to do my best.”

✧ “and it shows,” he responds with a wink, his hand lightly brushing your shoulder as you walk past him. the movement is casual but somehow meaningful, and you can practically feel the jealousy brewing in the air as the others watch from the corner of the room.

✧ it doesn’t help that argenti is always so attentive, so gentle, and so charming. whether it’s offering to carry your files or holding the door open for you, he goes out of his way to make sure you feel special in a way that’s completely sincere.

✧ “if you ever need help with anything, just ask,” he says with a soft chuckle as he notices you looking over a particularly complicated report. “you shouldn’t have to struggle on your own, especially when you have someone like me around.”

✧ you try to brush off the compliment, but it’s impossible not to blush every time. “argenti, you really don’t have to go out of your way…”

✧ “it’s no trouble at all,” he insists with a smile, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary. "besides, i enjoy being in your company."

✧ his words make your heart race, and before you know it, you’re completely lost in the warmth of his attention. but it’s not just you who notices the effect argenti has on you—everyone else can see it too, and it’s driving them crazy.

✧ “i swear, if i hear one more compliment from him, i’m going to lose it,” one of your coworkers mutters, clearly annoyed. “why does he always have to be so perfect with [your name]?”

✧ “it’s not like that,” another coworker defends half-heartedly, but the bitterness in their voice betrays their true feelings. “he’s just… a natural, i guess. but still.”

✧ it’s clear that argenti’s effortless charm is driving some of them to frustration, but he pays no mind to the growing jealousy around him. to him, complimenting you is just second nature—because he genuinely wants to make you feel good about yourself.

✧ “you’re quite a remarkable person, [your name],” argenti says with a soft, sincere smile one afternoon, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “and i don’t just mean in your work. i mean, in everything.”

✧ once again, your face goes crimson, and your heart flutters as he meets your gaze. no matter how much the others might grumble, it’s clear that you’re the one argenti sees as special, and you can’t help but feel incredibly lucky for it.

✧ with argenti, you know that his compliments are genuine, and in a world full of competition and rivalry, that’s something that feels truly rare.

✧ argenti holds a higher-up management position at work, which keeps him quite busy during office hours. he’s responsible for overseeing a lot of tasks and projects, which means he’s often pulled in different directions, but that doesn’t stop him from being a supportive presence in your work life.

✧ before work, though, he’s your go-to guy. whether it’s giving you advice on a tricky report, making sure you’re prepared for the day, or just offering a kind word, argenti always finds time for you.

✧ one day, you forget your ID at home, and argenti is the first to notice. without hesitation, he hands you his ID, saying, “don’t worry about it. use mine for both of us today.”

✧ you’re taken aback by his kindness, and it makes your heart flutter. “argenti, you really don’t have to…”

✧ “it’s no trouble at all,” he replies with a soft smile, his warm tone making you feel instantly at ease. “i don’t mind. you’ve helped me plenty of times before, so it’s the least i can do.”

✧ during work, argenti is often preoccupied with his management duties, but that doesn’t stop him from offering you encouragement whenever he has the chance. sometimes, when you run into a tough situation, he’ll sneak over to your desk and offer a quick suggestion, always ensuring that you’re doing okay without interrupting your flow.

✧ “need a hand with that?” he’ll ask with a gentle smile, his eyes meeting yours in a way that lets you know he’s got your back, no matter how busy he is.

✧ while he’s busy with his own responsibilities, argenti always makes you feel like a priority, and you often find yourself grateful for how attentive he is, even when his schedule is packed. his support is a constant, and it’s clear that he genuinely cares about your success and well-being.

✧ the others often notice the way argenti looks out for you, and there’s a bit of jealousy in the air. “how does [your name] get all that help?” they’ll mutter under their breath when they see him helping you. but argenti pays no mind. he’s just doing what comes naturally to him—looking out for you in the way he knows best.

✧ with argenti, you never feel alone in the workplace. whether it’s before work, during a hectic day, or even in the small moments when you need a hand, he’s always there to lend support, and it’s one of the things that makes him stand out in the office.

boothill — the wanted galaxy ranger with a secret identity

✧ boothill works with you at the corporate office, though he’s not quite what he seems. by day, he’s a charming and somewhat mysterious coworker who sticks to his role, but by night, he’s the notorious galaxy ranger on the run, wanted for his exploits across the city. no one knows this side of him—except you.

✧ he’s the kind of guy who keeps to himself at work but is always helpful in subtle ways. he’ll swing by your desk to hand you a file you didn’t know you needed or quietly offer advice when he sees you struggling with a project. but there’s something off about him—something that makes you sense there’s more to his story.

✧ “you’ve been working hard lately,” he says one day as he slides a cup of coffee onto your desk. “make sure you don’t burn yourself out.”

✧ you can’t help but smile at his thoughtful gesture, but there’s a certain sadness in his eyes, like he’s carrying a heavy burden.

✧ “thanks, boothill. i appreciate it,” you reply, wondering why he seems so tired lately. he rarely stays late at the office, and when he does, he’s always in and out, never really engaging with anyone.

✧ it’s not until one night, after work hours, that you stumble across his secret. you’re staying late to finish a project when you hear strange noises coming from the office’s loading dock. curious, you peek through the window and spot boothill in a heated conversation with a few shady-looking figures.

✧ “keep it down, will you?” boothill growls, clearly agitated. “i don’t have time for this. i’ve got things to do.”

✧ you watch in shock as one of the figures pulls out a holographic wanted poster with boothill’s face on it. “you think we’re just going to let you get away with your little stunts, ranger?” the figure sneers.

✧ boothill’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his composure. “you’ll have to catch me first.”

✧ before you can react, boothill spots you through the window and waves you over. “it’s not what it looks like,” he says, his voice calm but with an edge to it. “just some personal business. nothing to worry about.”

✧ you’re stunned, your mind racing with the implications of what you’ve just seen. “boothill… you’re…”

✧ he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “well to cut things short i’ve got a bounty on my head from some folks who want to catch me. but don’t worry, i won’t drag you into this.”

✧ you’re speechless for a moment, trying to process the fact that your seemingly quiet coworker is a fugitive. but even as you try to wrap your mind around it, you realize you’re not afraid of him. if anything, you’re intrigued.

✧ “you’ve been helping me all this time, and you’re wanted?” you ask, incredulity in your voice. “why?”

✧ boothill looks down, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “guess i’m not all bad, huh? maybe i’m just trying to lay low, do some good when i can. don’t worry about it, though. it’s my mess to clean up.”

✧ from that point on, you can’t help but keep an eye on him. the more you observe, the more you see how much boothill is not the criminal the posters paint him to be. he’s protective of his coworkers, always putting others first when it counts, and secretly, he’s a man with a heart of gold under that tough exterior.

✧ one day, as you’re wrapping up a meeting, boothill slides you a note under the table. “let’s meet up after work. i’ll tell you more. don’t bring anyone else.”

✧ you agree, meeting him at a nearby bar after hours where you learn more about his past and the reasons behind his fugitive status. the more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s a man of honor caught up in a dangerous game—and you’re lucky to be the one person he trusts.

✧ "you know," boothill says quietly, looking over his shoulder as if checking for any prying eyes, "this whole office thing? it’s not as boring as i thought. i kind of like it here... even if i’m not exactly cut out for the nine-to-five life."

✧ with boothill, you never know when the next adventure will come knocking at the door, but you do know one thing: he’s not just a wanted fugitive. he’s someone who genuinely cares, and no matter what happens, you’ll stand by him.

✧ boothill’s protective nature comes through loud and clear in the workplace. while he usually keeps a low profile, he’s always observant of those around him, especially when it comes to you. if any coworker becomes too familiar or crosses boundaries, boothill is there in an instant, his usually calm demeanour shifting into something more serious.

✧ “you’ve been working late again,” he says casually as he leans against the side of your desk, but his eyes are sharp. “you okay?”

✧ you glance up, a little startled by his sudden presence. “yeah, just wrapping things up. why?”

✧ boothill leans in slightly, his tone low but firm. “there was a guy—looked like he was hanging around your desk too much. kept lingering.”

✧ your brows furrow in confusion. “wait, really? I didn’t even notice.”

✧ boothill gives you a small smile, his hand resting casually on his hip. “exactly. but I did. if someone’s making you uncomfortable, you tell me. I won’t let anyone mess with you.”

✧ from then on, boothill becomes your unofficial office protector. whenever you’re at work late, he’ll quietly keep an eye on things, checking in on you without making it obvious. if any coworker begins to act suspiciously or crosses boundaries, boothill steps in, handling it swiftly and effectively.

✧ “excuse me, you’ve been lingering around [your name]’s desk,” boothill says one day, addressing a particularly nosy coworker. “if you’ve got something to say, say it now, but keep your distance.”

✧ the coworker stumbles over his words, visibly uneasy under boothill’s intense gaze. “I—just trying to ask about the report,” he mutters, but boothill isn’t buying it.

✧ “then talk to me. don’t waste [your name]’s time. she doesn’t need to deal with you.”

✧ word quickly spreads in the office about boothill’s protective nature. though his reputation precedes him, no one dares to challenge him after witnessing how swiftly he handles situations. he’s known as someone not to cross—not because of fear, but because of his quiet authority and clear boundaries.

✧ one evening, as you’re working late again, a group of coworkers decides to invite you to a casual after-hours hangout at a nearby bar. before you can even answer, boothill approaches with a polite smile but a firm tone.

✧ “she’s busy tonight,” he says, cutting off any attempts to sway you. “she’ll join next time. but tonight, she’s got things to finish up.”

✧ you blink in surprise. “boothill, I wasn’t even thinking of going.”

✧ “just letting you know. no need to explain.” his gaze lingers just long enough to make it clear he’s watching out for you.

✧ as you and boothill spend more time together, you realize his protective instincts extend beyond work. whether it’s an annoying project deadline or a pushy coworker, boothill is there to shield you, often without you even noticing.

✧ “you don’t have to keep looking out for me,” you tell him one day, touched by his constant vigilance.

✧ boothill offers a small, self-deprecating grin. “it’s kind of my thing. protecting people, especially you. besides, someone’s gotta make sure you’re not getting into trouble around here.”

✧ with boothill around, the office feels safer in more ways than one. not only is he highly capable, but he’s also incredibly attentive, ensuring that no one crosses lines and keeping you from dealing with unnecessary stress. in a place where boundaries can be blurred, boothill stands firm, protecting you in a way that is both subtle and powerful.

✧ and despite his feelings for you, he is aware that he's not the only one vying for their affection. he knows that he'll have to compete against other coworkers who also have their sights set on you. they all work hard to stand out from the competition, showcasing their best qualities and going above and beyond to make you feel special.

phainon — the charming coworker (and your golden retriever)

✧ phainon is the new guy in the office, and at first glance, he seems like a kind, helpful person who’s always willing to lend a hand. you quickly learn that he’s got a unique balance between being genuinely helpful and teasingly snarky, which throws people off—especially because it’s hard to tell when he’s joking or being sincere.

✧ one day, when you’re struggling with a report that’s due the next day, phainon swings by your desk with a half-smile and a twinkle in his eye. “you look like you’ve been wrestling with that thing for hours. don’t tell me you're going to miss the deadline?”

✧ you sigh, running your hand through your hair. “I’m trying, but it’s just not coming together.”

✧ phainon leans over your desk, looking at the screen. “it’s not rocket science, you know,” he says, his voice light but with a teasing edge. “just break it into smaller chunks, maybe that’ll help you focus.”

✧ you glance up, half-expecting him to follow up with some kind of sarcastic remark, but instead, he just gives you a knowing look and steps back. “don’t stress. you’ll get it done, no problem.”

✧ you blink, surprised by his supportive tone. “thanks, phainon. I didn’t think you were, like, the motivational type.”

✧ phainon shrugs nonchalantly, his expression neutral but his smile hinting at something mischievous. “what can I say? I’ve got layers. don’t always go by the first impression. but seriously, get that report done.”

✧ though his words often have a teasing tone, you can tell he’s genuinely trying to help. he doesn’t linger too long and doesn’t push when you ask for space, but you find yourself trusting his advice more than you’d expect.

✧ phainon has this way of dishing out advice with a sarcastic twist that somehow makes everything seem lighter, even when the workload is overwhelming. his comments, though snarky, never feel malicious—just playful and oddly comforting.

✧ “you know,” he says one day while you’re working on something else, “if you stare at the same thing long enough, it’ll probably start staring back. but hey, that’s just my unrequested wisdom for today.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh, which catches the attention of a few other coworkers. “you’re weird, phainon.”

✧ he grins widely. “that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.”

✧ one thing you quickly realize about phainon is that he’s always ready with a snarky remark when others need a little cheering up. when some of your coworkers are getting bogged down with tasks or stressed about deadlines, phainon swoops in with just the right kind of comment to lift their spirits.

✧ “looks like the project’s giving you a headache, huh?” he says one day to a colleague, who looks ready to pull their hair out. “you know, the desk chairs are actually pretty comfy for napping if you get too tired. just sayin’.”

✧ at first, people assume phainon’s just being dismissive or rude, but it’s clear he’s actually trying to inject a little humor into a stressful situation. even if he’s not the most obvious cheerleader, his presence has a calming effect on everyone around him.

✧ when it’s your turn to be stressed or overworked, phainon steps in without being asked, offering support in his own unique way. “you look like you could use a break,” he says, showing up at your desk with a cup of coffee. “thought I’d make your life a little easier. I know you’ve been working non-stop.”

✧ you give him a grateful smile, surprised by the gesture. “thanks, phainon. you’re not as bad as you act, you know that?”

✧ “hey, I’m a ray of sunshine when I need to be,” he says, winking. “don’t get too used to it, though.”

✧ over time, you start to realize that phainon’s teasing remarks and seemingly neutral tone are just his way of showing he cares. he’s not overly sentimental or loud about it, but when it counts, he’s always there to lend a hand, a witty remark, or some much-needed comic relief.

✧ if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just a guy who liked to stir the pot with a few sarcastic jabs—but underneath it all, phainon is one of the most reliable coworkers you could ask for, with a heart that’s just as layered as his personality.

✧ at first glance, phainon might seem like the cool, snarky guy who’s always ready with a clever remark. his white hair and icy blue eyes give him an air of mystery, making him stand out in the office. but what most don’t see immediately is his protective side, the one that shows itself when you need it the most.

✧ one day, as you’re rushing to catch a meeting and navigating a crowded hallway, you trip over your own feet, completely losing your balance. before you can even blink, phainon is right there, his arm slipping around your waist to keep you steady, his grip firm yet gentle.

✧ “you alright?” he asks, his voice calm, though there’s a slight edge of concern underneath.

✧ you blink up at him, still in a daze from the near-fall. “uh, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

✧ phainon’s icy blue eyes flicker with a softness that isn’t often seen in his usual teasing demeanor. “be careful next time. don’t need you hurting yourself over something so simple.”

✧ you chuckle nervously, straightening up. “I didn’t even see that coming.”

✧ he doesn’t let go of your waist immediately, though, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary as if making sure you’re fully steady again. when he finally pulls away, there’s a faint, teasing smile on his lips. “you’re welcome. I’m here to make sure you don’t do something silly, like break your neck over your own two feet.”

✧ the fact that phainon is so quick to react in situations like these makes you realise that beneath his cool and sarcastic exterior, there’s genuine care for the people around him—especially you.

✧ even in the office, when you’re dealing with a particularly difficult task or a stressful moment, phainon is always there to offer support, though he does it in his own unique way.

✧ “need a hand?” he’ll ask, his voice cool but kind, his usual teasing replaced by a rare sincerity.

✧ when you’re struggling to juggle multiple tasks, he’ll pop by your desk, lean in just a little too close, and offer you some advice in a tone that could easily be mistaken for a snarky comment, but you can tell it’s his way of offering help.

✧ “you know, multitasking is a bit overrated. try focusing on one thing at a time, and maybe you’ll actually get it right.”

✧ you know he’s trying to lighten the mood, and his icy demeanor has a way of making everything feel less heavy.

✧ there’s also something about the way phainon carries himself that makes you feel safe, like he’s always looking out for you in a quiet, understated way. it’s not the loud, attention-grabbing kind of protectiveness; instead, it’s the kind where you know he’s there when you need him, without needing to be reminded.

✧ one day, after a particularly long day at work, you’re heading to your car when you notice a strange figure lurking near the parking lot. the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and instinctively, you reach for your phone to call security.

✧ before you can make the call, phainon appears out of nowhere, his icy blue eyes sharp and focused as he stands by your side. his mere presence is enough to make the stranger hesitate.

✧ “everything alright?” phainon asks smoothly, his tone calm, but the intensity in his eyes says it all.

✧ the stranger looks at phainon, clearly intimidated by his towering presence and the cool authority in his voice. without a word, they turn and leave, their posture tense as they quickly walk away.

✧ you blink in surprise as phainon turns to you, his gaze softening just a little. “don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

✧ there’s something about the way he says it, so sure and calm, that makes you feel safe. you realize that no matter how cold or snarky he might seem, phainon would do anything to protect you, whether it’s from a near fall or an unknown threat lurking in the shadows.

✧ as time goes on, you begin to notice more of his small protective gestures—like when he makes sure you’re not walking alone late at night or when he steps in to smooth things over when coworkers are making you feel uncomfortable.

✧ it’s clear that phainon may seem like the golden retriever in your team, teasing coworker on the outside, but in reality, he’s a true protector with a heart of gold, always watching out for you in his own way. whether it’s offering a steady arm when you stumble or quietly ensuring your safety.

✧ and when you call him "your hero" jokingly you fail to notice how his cheeks grow reader by each second. because in all seriousness phainon would love to be your hero, your prince.

mydei — the fiery troublemaker (who undeniably has a soft spot for you)

✧ mydei is the loud, brash coworker everyone knows not to mess with. his sharp tongue and hard-spoken nature make him stand out in the office, and he’s got a reputation for causing a little trouble here and there. but what most people don’t expect is how fiercely protective he is—especially when it comes to you.

✧ you also see him around phainon a lot, they seem close despite the small bickering every now and then (and their lingering gazes fixated on someone), often times mydei even asks for you to join him and phainon at break in the cafeteria, and sometimes you have to turn them down, already planning to sit with blade and/or jing yuan.

✧ does it frustrate him? slightly yeah. but can he do anything about it? well technically yes, he can. but blade? that guy's TOUGH. if he were to try to persuade or even threaten blade he's 100% sure it'll turn into a catfight or something. and if they were to say it was because of you? your reputation and career would be over.

✧ and he can't have that. not when he's finally interested in someone after those boring corporate years.

✧ one time, a higher-up tried to dump extra work on you at the last minute, and before you could even process what was happening, mydei stepped in. he loomed over the poor soul with a smirk that could send shivers down anyone’s spine.

✧ “do as they say,” he growled, his tone low and dangerous. “otherwise… I’ll turn you into iron dust with my bare hands.”

✧ the sheer intimidation radiating off him was enough to make the higher-up back off immediately, stammering out an apology before practically running out of the room. you were left blinking in surprise as mydei turned back to you, his expression softening just a little.

✧ “you good?” he asked, crossing his arms as if daring anyone else to mess with you.

✧ you nodded, still a bit stunned. “yeah, thanks… but maybe next time, don’t threaten to, uh, turn someone into iron dust?”

✧ he let out a gruff laugh, shrugging. “hey, it worked, didn’t it? no one messes with my team. especially not you.”

✧ despite his rough exterior, mydei has a soft spot for you that he tries (and fails) to hide. whether it’s grabbing an extra coffee for you in the morning or making sure no one overloads you with tasks, he’s always looking out for you in his own gruff way.

✧ when you’re overwhelmed with work, mydei doesn’t hesitate to step in. “give me some of that,” he says, already pulling a stack of papers off your desk.

✧ “mydei, you don’t have to—”

✧ “stop talking and let me help,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “you’re not doing this alone, alright?”

✧ his protectiveness extends beyond just work. one time, a creepy coworker kept hovering around your desk, making you uncomfortable. mydei noticed immediately and didn’t hesitate to intervene.

✧ “you got something to do, or are you just here to bother people?” he said, his voice sharp and cutting. the creep quickly made themselves scarce, and mydei shot you a reassuring look.

✧ “don’t let idiots like that bother you,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “if anyone gives you trouble, you come to me, got it?”

✧ you can’t help but admire how effortlessly he handles situations like that, even if his methods are a bit… unconventional.

✧ mydei’s protective nature isn’t just about threats and intimidation, though. he genuinely cares about your well-being, even if he’s not the best at expressing it.

✧ “you look tired,” he says one day, frowning as he watches you rub your temples. “when was the last time you ate?”

✧ “i’m fine, mydei,” you assure him, but he’s already walking off to grab you something from the break room.

✧ “no arguments,” he calls over his shoulder. “you’re not working yourself into the ground on my watch.”

✧ while some people might find his rough edges intimidating, you’ve come to see the softer side of him—the one that’s fiercely loyal and always ready to stand up for the people he cares about.

✧ even when he’s causing a bit of trouble or throwing out wild threats, you know it’s all because he wants to protect you. mydei might be a troublemaker, but he’s your troublemaker, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

✧ mydei’s reputation in the office is practically legendary. no one dares to cross him—his hard-spoken, no-nonsense demeanour makes it crystal clear that he’s not someone to mess with. coworkers usually avoid his gaze, and when he speaks, even the boldest among them stutter and apologise before scurrying off like frightened mice.

✧ you’ve seen it happen countless times, like the day a supervisor tried to overload you with tasks. before you could even muster a response, mydei was there, leaning casually against the supervisor’s desk with a dangerous smirk.

✧ “are you deaf?” he said, his voice calm but laced with an unmistakable edge. “they said they’re busy. unless you want me to turn you into iron dust with my bare hands, I suggest you listen.”

✧ the supervisor’s face turned pale, and they stammered out a hasty apology before retreating so quickly they almost tripped over their own feet. you blinked at mydei, half in awe and half in disbelief.

✧ “you really don’t have to threaten everyone,” you said, trying not to laugh.

✧ he shrugged, grinning. “it’s effective, isn’t it?”

✧ despite his rough methods, there’s no denying that mydei’s protectiveness is unmatched. if anyone even thinks about overworking you or making you feel uncomfortable, he’s there in an instant, ready to handle the situation.

✧ one time, you accidentally spilled coffee on some important paperwork, and a coworker started to berate you for being careless. mydei appeared out of nowhere, his arms crossed and his glare cutting through the tension like a knife.

✧ “you got a problem?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

✧ the coworker froze, their face going pale. “n-no, of course not! it’s fine, really!” they stammered before practically sprinting away.

✧ you turned to mydei, feeling equal parts grateful and flustered. “you didn’t have to scare them off like that.”

✧ he smirked, tapping the side of your desk. “you’re too nice. someone’s gotta put these idiots in their place.”

✧ mydei’s presence is so commanding that even the most confident employees think twice before crossing him. yet with you, he softens in ways that surprise even himself.

✧ when you’re stressed or tired, he notices right away. “you’ve been working too hard,” he says, frowning as he watches you rub your temples. “take a break before I make you.”

✧ he’s also fiercely protective of your time. if someone tries to drag you into unnecessary meetings or pile on extra work, mydei steps in without hesitation.

✧ “their plate’s already full,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “find someone else.”

✧ no one ever argues with him—at least, not for long. the workers usually nod nervously, mutter apologies, and retreat as quickly as they can.

✧ mydei’s protectiveness extends to the little things, too. if you forget your lunch or need help carrying something heavy, he’s there, grumbling about how you need to take better care of yourself but still helping you without question.

✧ “you’re lucky I’m here,” he says, handing you a lunch he picked up from the break room. “what would you do without me?”

✧ his gruff words might sound teasing, but the warmth in his actions speaks volumes.

✧ also if you didn't know, he is notorious for his messy uniform. his tie is always loose, his shirt untucked at the corners, and his blazer perpetually wrinkled, like he just rolled out of bed and strolled into work. it’s the kind of look that would get anyone else reprimanded daily—but somehow, mydei pulls it off effortlessly. in fact, it’s part of his charm.

✧ you can’t help but notice how many coworkers—especially the women—sneak glances at him when he walks by. he’s the kind of guy who looks annoyingly good no matter what, his roguish appearance only adding to his already intimidating charisma.

✧ “you’re going to get written up again,” you tease one morning, pointing at his untied tie.

✧ he grins, leaning casually against your desk. “let them try,” he says, completely unbothered. “besides, I don’t see you complaining.”

✧ you roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way his confidence makes your cheeks warm. “i’m just saying—it wouldn’t hurt to look a little more… professional.”

✧ “professional, huh?” he leans in slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “you offering to fix it for me?”

✧ flustered, you wave him off. “fix it yourself, mydei!”

✧ despite his rebellious attitude, he never fails to catch the attention of the higher-ups, who often call him out for his appearance.

✧ “mydei, your uniform is unacceptable,” his supervisor scolds during a meeting.

✧ he shrugs, adjusting his loose tie just enough to feign compliance. “it’s a tie, not a noose. I like to breathe.”

✧ you stifle a laugh as his coworkers exchange nervous glances. no one dares to challenge him further, knowing how quickly he can turn the situation in his favor.

✧ when he’s not stirring up trouble with his uniform, mydei’s protective streak shines through in unexpected ways. one time, you tripped over a loose cable and nearly fell, but his reflexes were faster than you could believe.

✧ “careful,” he muttered, his arm firmly around your waist to steady you. his usual smirk softened for a moment as he looked down at you. “you trying to give me a heart attack?”

✧ your heart raced as you nodded sheepishly. “thanks, mydei…”

✧ “anytime,” he said, releasing you reluctantly. his hand lingered for a second longer than necessary, but neither of you acknowledged it.

✧ while his uniform might be a constant source of reprimands, his messy, laid-back style somehow adds to his charm. you can’t help but think that even if he cleaned up his act, he’d still be the same mydei—fiery, protective, and always ready to have your back.

✧ and as much as you’d never admit it out loud, you don’t mind the loose tie or the wrinkled blazer. it’s just… him. and he wouldn’t be mydei without it.

✧ mydei’s appearance is nothing short of striking, and the red marks that stretch from his chest to his arms and even onto the side of his face make him impossible to miss. they’re bold, fiery streaks that seem to mirror his personality—unapologetic and intense. coworkers whisper about them, but no one dares to ask him about their meaning, not when his fiery glare can send chills down anyone’s spine.

✧ “doesn’t it bother you?” you asked him one day, your curiosity getting the better of you as you gestured to the marks.

✧ he looked at you, one eyebrow raised. “bother me? they’re part of me,” he said simply, shrugging. “why, do they bother you?”

✧ “no, of course not!” you said quickly, feeling your cheeks warm. “i think they’re… cool.”

✧ his lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile. “good. wouldn’t want to scare you off.”

✧ those red marks only add to the aura of danger and confidence he carries with him. his uniform might be a mess, but the way he owns it—combined with his sharp, handsome features—draws attention wherever he goes.

✧ his coworkers (especially the women) steal glances at him all the time, though no one dares to approach him directly.

✧ “mydei, you’re like a walking distraction,” you teased one day, noticing the stares he was getting.

✧ he smirked, leaning closer to you. “jealous?”

✧ “hardly!” you shot back, crossing your arms.

✧ “good,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes glinting with something more. “because I don’t care about them.”

✧ his protectiveness of you is unmatched. whenever someone so much as looks at you the wrong way, mydei’s fiery temper flares up.

✧ one time, a particularly rude coworker made a snide comment about your work. before you could respond, mydei was there, looming over them with his arms crossed. the red marks on his face seemed to glow faintly under the fluorescent lights, making him look even more intimidating.

✧ “care to repeat that?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

✧ the coworker stammered, their face pale. “n-no, it’s fine! just a joke!”

✧ “thought so,” mydei said, his tone cold as ice. “don’t let it happen again.”

✧ when you almost tripped over a stack of files one day, his reflexes kicked in instantly. his arm shot out to wrap around your waist, keeping you steady.

✧ “you okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of distress.

✧ “yeah, thanks,” you said, your heart racing.

✧ his hand lingered on your waist for a moment before he stepped back, his usual smirk returning. “you need to be more careful. i can’t always be around to catch you.”

✧ whether it’s scaring off creeps or helping you with tasks, mydei’s protectiveness is constant. but it’s the moments where his fiery exterior softens, where his actions speak louder than his words, that truly make your heart flutter.

✧ and those red marks, the ones that make him look like a warrior straight out of legend? they’re a reminder of who he is—bold, fearless, and always ready to stand by your side. (oh and btw you're the only one who's allowed to call him mydeimos)

note: i did not expect to write 15.9k on this why did i do this to myself.

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[formulaonecrumbs]

making space for you 🧡

Lando Norris x gf!reader (though gender isn’t specified and reader is set as a model idk)

summary: Lando Norris wants his girlfriend to move in but doesn’t have the nerve to ask directly, so he starts dropping subtle (and not-so-subtle) hints. She starts catching on.

warnings: none that i can think of. it’s just pure tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N: FIRST WRITTEN FIIICC RAAHHH!!! i’ve had this in my drafts (off tumblr) for weeks. i don’t put my writing many places so this is special 😇 i hope y’all don’t hate it because i kind of love it errmmmm ANYWAYS enjoy! happy reading 🫶 p.s. can one of y’all give me prompts, i’m so lost rn. my asks are always open ♡︎ LOVE U BABIES MWAH 💋

Lando was acting suspicious again.

Not in a cheating way. No—he was still very much the golden retriever boyfriend who texted goodnight with a heart and a photo of his feet hanging off the hotel bed. But suspicious in the “I’m clearly hiding something but I think I’m being slick about it” kind of way.

You first noticed it when you came back from Milan. You’d just wrapped a runway show and all you wanted was to crawl into Lando’s ridiculously oversized bed and not speak to another human for at least twelve hours.

Instead, you walked into his closet to steal one his hoodies, as you usually did, and found your clothes—folded. Color-coded. Already in there.

“You reorganize now?” you asked, raising a brow as he leaned against the doorframe, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grinned. “It’s practical.”

“Is it?”

“You’re here, like, half the time,” he shrugged. “Makes sense.”

“Except I have a place five minutes from here.”

“Which you barely use.”

He wasn’t wrong. Still. Weird.

—————————————————————————

The next time, it was the bathroom.

A whole drawer. Toothbrush, hairbrush, your favorite moisturizer, that one serum you can never find in the UK—he’d somehow gotten it shipped from Paris. Though, he was Lando Norris, you should’ve expected it.

You squinted at him when you found it.

He shrugged again. “I know your skin freaks out if you switch products. Thought I’d help.”

“I could’ve brought it myself.”

“Yeah, but this way, you don’t have to.” His grin widened. “Aren’t I the best boyfriend ever?”

“You’re something,” you muttered, though your cheeks flushed all the same.

—————————————————————————

But then there were his socks in your designated drawer. Your shampoo replaced by full-sized bottles of his favorites. His phone charger always “accidentally” ending up in your purse. A second key to his flat mysteriously showing up in your handbag, like it walked there itself.

You weren’t dumb. He was doing something. Slowly. Subtly.

But he wouldn’t say it.

Not once did the words “move in” pass his lips. You knew because you’d started counting how many days he danced around it.

Seventeen.

Seventeen days of hints and nudges and one very suspicious IKEA receipt.

So naturally, you decided to make him squirm.

—————————————————————————

“Baby,” you called one afternoon, holding up a pair of his boxers from your laundry basket. “Why is your underwear here?”

Lando peeked up from his phone, lying on the sofa with his feet draped over the armrest. “We share laundry now. Efficient, no?”

“You’re not even here half the week.”

He smirked. “Yet my socks keep ending up in your drawer. Funny, that.”

“Funny…” You narrowed your eyes. “You planning on invading more drawers, Mr. Norris?”

“Just testing the waters,” he said smoothly, like it wasn’t a completely weird thing to say.

You sat beside him, kicking his legs off so you could steal his spot. “You know, normal people ask their girlfriends to move in with them.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. It’s this crazy concept called communication. You should try it.”

Lando turned his head, giving you that boyish smile—the one that got him out of trouble and into most people’s hearts. “And if I were to ask you… what would you say?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether I get full control of the bathroom cabinet or not.”

“You already have it!”

“Then maybe I’d say yes.”

He grinned, looking relieved. “So, hypothetically… if I didn’t want to ask because it’s terrifying and what if you say no and break my poor fragile heart—”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“—hypothetically, would it be okay if I just kept sneakily merging our lives until one day you wake up and realize we already live together?”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “That’s literally what you’re doing.”

“Subtlety is a skill.”

“No, it’s avoidance.”

He poked your knee. “It’s a love language.”

“Yours is physical touch and being annoying.”

“And yours is pretending you don’t like when I’m annoying.”

You smiled then, small and soft. The look in your eyes not less amused, but now accompanied by complete fondness and love. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” he said, full of himself.

You nudged his shoulder. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

He blinked. “Do what?”

“Move in.”

His mouth dropped open for a second. “Wait—you’re serious?”

You shrugged. “You said it, didn’t you? I already basically live here. Might as well make it official.”

Lando stared, like he didn’t believe you. “You want to move in with me? Like… permanently?”

“I’ve tolerated your snoring for over a year. I think I can handle the rest.”

He laughed, pulling you into his arms, half crushing you in a hug, peppering every inch of your face with kisses. “You have no idea how happy you just made me.”

“I think I do,” you said against his chest. “You’ve been plotting this since December.”

“Okay, maybe I’ve had a Pinterest board since November—don’t judge.”

You groaned. “Oh my god. You’re ridiculous.”

“I just wanted it to feel like home. Like ours. Not just mine.”

You pulled back to look at him, my expression softened. It always seemed soften with him. “It already does, Lando.”

His eyes softened, voice gentler. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because I already ordered us a matching towel set.”

You laughed into his hoodie, shaking your head.

Of course he did.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Supposed Distraction

Pairing: College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: It’s Bucky’s birthday and you and your friends are planning a surprise party. That leaves you with the task to distract him while the others prepare.

Prompt 1: “I think we need to talk.”

Prompt 2: “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Prompt 3: “Kiss me.”

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: friends to lovers; reader is embarrassed and rather terrible at attempting to distract Bucky; Bucky is smug; Bucky is worried; Sam and Steve are idiots; feels; pining; tension; Bucky is a sweetheart

Author’s Note: This is another entry for the lovely cinema themed writing challenge by @elixirfromthestars ♡ I hope you’re not getting tired of me participating, my dear, but I couldn’t help it. Especially since you were the one inspiring me to write this about college!bucky. I'll have to thank you for that!! Hope you enjoy! ♡

Masterlist

You always knock four times.

It’s instinctive at this point, muscle memory more than conscious thought. You don’t even remember when or how it started, but it's always fours knocks.

The door swings open within seconds, revealing Bucky’s easy and bright grin. He leans against the frame, arms crossed over his broad chest, hair slightly tousled, perhaps from running his hands through it. God, he looks great.

“Hey, doll,” he greets, voice warm. “You’re early.”

You arch a brow, stepping past him when he shifts to let you in. “It’s your birthday, Buck. What kind of friend would I be if I left you alone, huh?”

Bucky exhales a short sigh, but his smile stays in place. “Told you, it’s not a big deal.”

“‘Course it is, Buck,” you argue, almost indignant at the thought. Because if anyone deserves a day where people get to celebrate him, it’s James Buchanan Barnes.

But he doesn’t make much of his birthday. He doesn’t like attention when he hasn’t earned it.

It’s why he loves the mound, standing there under stadium lights with all eyes on him, but loathes things like this - birthdays, personal praise, anything that forces him into a spotlight just for existing. You suppose that’s just part of who he is.

You saw him earlier, in university. You shared one class today. He walked in a few minutes late, baseball cap pulled low, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

You had been waiting for him, barely able to contain your excitement as you nearly launched yourself at him in the hallway with a cheerful happy birthday, Bucky!

He had only blinked, slightly startled at your enthusiasm before huffing out a laugh when you crushed him in a tight hug. But he hadn’t complained, only chuckled softly, winding his arms around you and pressing his hands to your back, waiting for you to be the first to pull away again.

You told him he'd receive his present later the day with a grin and Bucky only rolled his eyes with a fond smile, letting you have your moment.

But what Bucky doesn’t know is that there is a surprise party awaiting him later, planned by you and your shared group of friends - because somebody has to make sure that today doesn’t pass like it is just another day.

Sam’s apartment is the only logical choice, given that his roommate dropped out and no one had rushed to fill the space yet. That means lots of room, plus an open invitation to make a mess.

The only issue is that Sam’s apartment is directly across the hall from Bucky and Steve’s.

Which means you have been assigned a very specific task - keep Bucky in his apartment until it’s time.

Not that you had much say in the matter. The moment the question came up about who would be the one distracting him that long, every pair of eyes landed on you.

You are his best friend, but - and that’s how you see it - so is everyone else. Still, they seemed to believe that you could hold his attention for long enough, that you could keep him engaged enough not to notice the shuffle of footsteps and suspicious voices beyond his door. That it would be you who he doesn’t mind having around, lingering in his space.

Honestly, you didn’t argue.

There is not a reason as to why you should. Any excuse to spend time with Bucky is a good one.

After all, you love the guy. But that’s a problem for another day.

You drop your bag on the worn-out armchair by the window, the same spot you always claim when you are here.

Bucky’s jacket is slung over the back of the chair, and the second your bag lands on it, the scent of his cologne drifts up - clean, something woodsy, something him. It distracts you for a second, but then you turn to face him again.

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans after closing the door again.

“Where’s Steve?” you ask casually, like you don’t already know he is across the hall, making sure everything is set up for the surprise. But you don’t know what he told Bucky.

“He said somethin’ about running some drills with the rookies, helping out the coach, or whatever,” Bucky answers, tilting his head in that unconcerned way. He slowly makes his way toward you. “Guess one of them nearly took his own damn head off trying to hit a curveball.”

One of your brows lifts amused. “And Steve’s the guy to fix that?”

Bucky smirks. “Well, y’know how he is. Someone fucks up a throw, suddenly he’s gotta be the one to teach ‘em how to do it right.” He shakes his head, like the whole thing is ridiculous.

“Yeah, sounds like Steve,” you state, trying to suppress a knowing smile.

You lean your hip against the kitchen counter, arms loosely crossed, trying to keep it casual. The apartment is small, with the kitchen bleeding into the living space, a single couch, and a coffee table taking up a lot of the room. You love it.

“So, what do you feel like doing?” You tip your head toward him. “You’re the birthday boy, you get to decide.”

Bucky scoffs, lips curling, finding your antics amusing. But then, he actually seems to consider it. His hands slip from his pockets, arms crossing as he leans back slightly against the table. His gaze falls to the window. Sunlight spills in, casting golden lines across the floor and making your hair gleam.

“You wanna go get some ice cream or somethin’?” he suggests. “It’s warm out.”

You blink, caught off guard. Bucky isn’t usually the one to propose going out. It takes a little coaxing most days, a push to get him moving and leave his apartment to meet your group of friends somewhere outside. You wonder what he would have said if anyone else were the one distracting him.

But you can’t take him up on it. Because you can’t let him leave and potentially find out.

“Uh-no,” you say, a little too quickly, a little too firmly.

Bucky’s brows lift, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. “No?” He huffs a laugh, shifting his weight onto one foot, arms still folded. His voice takes on that slow, teasing drawl. “You just asked me what I wanna do, doll. Thought I got to decide? Y’know, birthday and all that.”

You just started this distracting thing and you are already messing up. Great.

You scramble for a way to walk it back, to keep him here without making it obvious. “Yeah, you know, I just-” You glance around as if the answer is hidden somewhere in the room. “Why don’t we stay inside?”

Bucky watches you, eyes narrowing just slightly, trying to puzzle you out. He doesn’t look suspicious. But there is a curiosity in it.

“Why?” he drags the word out, tilting his head. “Something wrong with ice cream? We could also go get some tacos maybe-”

“No! Nothing’s wrong with ice cream.” You force a laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “I just figured we could chill here for a bit.” You bite your lip, then continue. “We could bake you a cake?”

You would love to face-palm yourself right now.

Why would you even say that?

There will be plenty of cake at the party. Cake that’s already been ordered, picked out, baked yourself, and waiting across the hall. And yet, here you are, offering something completely unnecessary, completely ridiculous.

God, you are terrible at this.

Bucky’s blue eyes are on you, considering, lips parting, about to say something.

Panic rises.

“Or not,” you blurt, stepping forward too fast, too sudden, hands coming up in a vague, dismissive gesture. “Yeah, maybe not. That’s dumb. Forget I said anything.”

You shift where you stand, fingers twitching at your sides. You don’t get nervous around Bucky - at least, not like this. But something hot and uncomfortable starts to creep up the back of your neck.

A slow smirk pulls at Bucky’s mouth as he watches you with so much amusement in his eyes, enjoying whatever the hell this is turning into.

“You alright over there, doll?” he asks, voice warm, teasing.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He tilts his head, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “Cause you’re actin’ a little funny.”

You open your mouth, a retort or something like it ready, but Bucky suddenly leans in just a fraction, gaze sweeping over your face like he is searching for something. And yeah shit, you need to shut this down. Now. Or you’ll be a hot mess on the floor.

“Just forget it.” You shrug and then move away from him, toward the fridge, suddenly very interested in whatever’s inside. “You want something to drink?”

You don’t look back at him immediately, don’t give him a chance to see the way you feel your face warm up. Instead, you grab two small bottles of orange juice, shoving one in his direction as a distraction.

Bucky takes it easily, but that amused smirk does not waver a tiny bit. He is still watching you.

Bucky is no idiot. And if you’re not careful, he’s going to catch on fast.

You twist the cap of the bottle a little forcefully, the plastic groaning in your grip. The cold of it seeps into your palm, but it’s not enough to steady the way your heart is beating a little too fast. Taking a sip of the juice, you try to swallow past the lump in your throat.

He has always been observant. Even more so when it comes to you. You wish, just this once, that he'd be a little more dense.

“You gonna tell me what’s up with you today?” he asks, voice colored with curiosity, dipping just enough into concern that you flinch internally.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

It’s defensive, but all it does is amuse him. His lips curve, his brows shoot high, the lines on his forehead creasing in exaggerated surprise.

Leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, his own bottle loosely held in one hand, he tips his head back and studies you. “That how we’re playin’ it, huh?”

You shrug, taking another sip of your juice, using the movement as an excuse to break eye contact. But you know it does not deter him.

Bucky makes a thoughtful noise, shifting his weight. “Y’know,” he drones out, tone lazy but eyes sharp and smirk sly. “Usually when people get all cagey like this, it means they’re hidin’ something.”

You shoot him a hopefully flat look. “Wow, Barnes. That’s some real detective work. You want to get a notepad? Maybe a magnifying glass?”

His smirk widens. He seems thoroughly entertained. You don’t like it.

“Depends,” he teases, leaning in just a fraction. “Do I need ‘em?”

Your pulse spikes. Bastard.

With an obvious eye roll that unfortunately lacks the conviction you tried to portray, you cross the room, shoulders set, and let yourself drop into the armchair where your bag still rests with a heavy thud. The cushions soften the impact. Trying to feign the usual comfort you feel sitting here, you tuck one leg under the other, leaning back. Your hands tighten around the still cold bottle of juice.

Bucky doesn’t move right away. He is still standing by the counter, bottle in hand, eyes never leaving you.

“Do you want to watch something?” you ask, reaching for the remote, already trying to steer this back into safe waters.

Bucky exhales through his nose, humor lining the corners of his eyes. His stance is easy and relaxed, but he looks at you like he knows something is off.

“Is this me deciding?” he muses, voice smooth. “Or are you just gonna tell me no again?”

There is no accusation in his tone, just that familiar Brooklyn drawl that makes everything sound like an inside joke.

He finally moves, dragging his body toward the couch. He doesn’t plop down like you did. He settles himself with intent and leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his entire focus trained on you like you are the most interesting thing in the room.

You swallow.

“You’ll get to decide,” you promise, trying for nonchalance.

Bucky glances at the dark TV screen, then back at you.

“Nah,” he claims. “Let’s talk.”

Your stomach drops.

Bucky never lets things go when he is curious. You see the spark in his eyes, the glint of amusement, the way the corners of his mouth twitch with that smirk. He knows you are acting weird. Maybe he doesn’t know why, but he sure as hell knows something is up and he is going to dig.

You inhale deeply, fighting the urge to groan. But all you do is force a casual shrug, stretching your arms over your head before letting them drop back into your lap. “What do you want to talk about?”

Your fingers fidget with the label on the bottle, a nervous little movement you don’t mean to make. Bucky’s gaze flickers down to your hands and you freeze, immediately stilling them, letting the bottle rest in your lap and shoving your hands between your thighs.

His eyes snap back to yours, lips curving up.

“You,” he says simply.

You roll your eyes, feigning playful annoyance, because if you don’t, you might actually combust on the spot. “Oh, come on,” you scoff.

For the next few minutes, you actually manage to let a conversation drift to normal things. The familiar back-and-forth. You talk about classes, you being annoyed at that one professor who has a habit of trailing off mid-lecture, forgetting what he is actually supposed to talk about. Bucky tells you about his brutal morning training session that left half the team groaning like old men.

You bring up his next baseball game, the one you won’t be able to make because of an assignment, and Bucky whines.

He doesn’t just complain a little but rather goes on about it for minutes on end. Arms flailing, huffing dramatically, groaning like you just told him his dog died.

“You could just skip,” he protests, lounging back into the couch.

“I can’t just skip, Bucky.”

“But I need my lucky charm,” he laments, throwing his head back against the cushion as if this is some great tragedy.

You roll your eyes but there is warmth rising in your chest. “I’m sorry, Buck. But I did come to all your games last month.”

“Yeah, which is why you owe me,” Bucky retorts, sitting up again, gesturing with his hands. “I hit a homer 'cause you were there. What if I suck without you?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” you laugh, but Bucky grumbles under his breath, not quite over it.

It starts to feel normal. Easy. You begin to believe that you might actually pull this off. That you can keep him here, keep him occupied, long enough for your friends across the hall to finish setting up.

But then a loud thump echoes from the hallway.

Your spine goes rigid.

Bucky’s head snaps up, his grin replaced with a furrowed brow.

Another thud.

Yeah, so, that was that.

You fumble for your phone and type out a quick text to Sam.

Y: What are you guys doing out there?

The reply comes almost immediately.

S: Just keep Barnes inside.

You would love to curse loudly right now. Because thank you for nothing, Sam.

Bucky is already standing.

“What are you doing?” you ask, standing up as well, your voice perhaps a little sharper than usual.

Bucky glances at you briefly. There is a tiny bit of concern in his eyes. “There’s something goin’ on out there.” He gestures toward the door. “Think I should check. Might be Miss Nelly.”

Something clenches in your gut.

Miss Nelly, the sweet older woman who lives next door to him and Steve. The one they always help carry groceries up the stairs. The one who has trouble with her hip sometimes. If Bucky thinks she might have fallen, or perhaps tried to carry something on her own, of course, he wants to check.

But that is not what is happening out there.

You rush to step between him and the door. “Let me check.”

Bucky shakes his head. “You wait here, doll. I’ll be back in a sec-”

But you don’t let him finish.

You throw the door open and basically slam it shut behind you before he can follow.

Yes, that was perhaps a little rude. Yes, that will probably only make him more suspicious. Yes, you could have come up with something better. But you certainly did not have the time to think about what exactly.

Right outside, Sam and Steve are standing there - in front of the open door to Sam's apartment where a chair lays with its backside on the floor - wide-eyed, looking about as guilty as two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

You would have laughed at the sight if not for the fact that you just slammed Bucky’s own apartment door basically in his face without an explanation.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” you hiss, voice low, exasperated.

Sam lifts his hands in a calm down gesture. “Listen-”

“No, you listen,” you snap, whisper-shouting, barely resisting the urge to grab them by their collars and shake them. “He’s two seconds away from walking out that door.”

Steve grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “We, uh, we miscalculated.”

“Miscalculated?” you repeat, eyes narrowing.

They both exchange a glance.

You sigh in frustration. “Where’s Nat?”

“Out with Bruce getting drinks,” Steve answers, folding his arms. “Wanda, Clint, and Laura are inside, decorating.”

“Look,” Sam starts, raising a brow. “We’re bustin’ our asses for this dickhead, and you’re the one who came up with the whole thing in the first place.”

“That’s not-”

“So you gotta do your part. Go back in and stall him some more” A grin spreads across his face and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t know - offer him a good time.”

Your eyes narrow, hands on your hips. “Sam.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head, but there is an unmistakable smirk tugging at his lips.

You glare at them both, spinning on your heel before they can make this worse, yanking the door open and stepping back inside the apartment.

Bucky is exactly where you left him.

Arms crossed. Eyebrows raised. Lips parted slightly, caught between confusion and suspicion.

He is wearing that what the hell was that expression.

You swallow and shut the door more forcefully than necessary, the sound echoing slightly.

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just fixes you with a stare so focused, so piecing, seemingly able to look right through you. It makes you shift where you stand, suddenly hyper-aware of every nervous tick in your body.

“Alright,” he starts slowly, carefully, eyes falling to the door before turning back to you. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Not Miss Nelly,” you quip, attempting a light and assuring tone.

It does not work.

Bucky still doesn’t blink. His jaw works. He doesn’t buy a damn thing you’re trying to sell him.

“No, doll.” His voice is lower now, thoughtful, putting together a puzzle in his head. “What’s going on with you?”

You try to press down the lump in your throat.

��You’re actin’ real weird.” His words aren’t harsh, not even accusing. Just observant.

He cocks his head slightly.

Why did the others think you could withstand the way his eyes root you to the spot without flopping down to the ground as a puddle.

You are so screwed.

You push yourself out of the conversation, walking over to the armchair again and trying to find something to keep you busy while plopping down.

“It’s nothing, Bucky.”

Your fingers curl around the juice bottle, bringing it to your lips, but the cold liquid doesn’t do much to cool the heat crawling up your spine. Your thumb works at the label, picking at the paper until it peels away in small, curling strips.

Bucky blows out a breath, rubbing a hand down his face before slowly making his way over to you.

Crouching in front of you, he braces his forearms on his knees, his eyes intently locked onto you.

The sudden closeness forces you to suck in a breath and your fingers tighten around the bottle in your hands.

His expression shifts again, humor creeping into the smirk on his mouth. “Doll,” he starts, voice light, amused. His hands slide up to rest on either side of your chair, effectively caging you in. “Did you plan somethin’ for me?”

Shit.

Your next inhale is a little hesitant. The air thickens. “No.” It sounds too stiff.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. He is smirking so wide. Enjoying this so much, the way you squirm in your seat before him.

You push forward, shaking your head. “No, Buck. I did not.”

“You sure?” He almost laughs.

“Yes, I just-” You are floundering, drowning in your own words. How can you save this now?

“I’m nervous.” Well, at least that’s not a lie.

Bucky’s expression softens immediately, his amusement fading into something quieter. He straightens up, tilting his head tenderly. His full attention is on you.

A gentle crease in his brows forms. “Why are you nervous, sweetheart?” His voice is softer now, lower.

And guilt hits you.

How do you get out of this?

But, hell, he is so close, too close. His eyes are so blue, too blue. His gaze is so intense, too intense. You are feeling hot, too hot - your brain isn’t working, it’s overheating, and your mouth is suddenly moving.

“Because.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. “Because I think we need to talk.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

The entirety of Bucky shifts and you just want the ground to eat you up right this second.

Because now he looks so worried. So genuinely concerned.

You feel yourself start to sweat. Where is this going? Why can’t you stop this? Why did you even start it?

Bucky’s face drops to a frown so deep, lines are forming. A hand of his moves, palm landing lightly on your knee.

“We can talk, doll.” His voice is even softer now, barely above a murmur. “Is something wrong? You alright?”

You just stare at him.

Your heart is hammering.

What the hell are you doing?

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your fingers keep worrying at the torn label, peeling off strips that crumple beneath your fingertips. It’s the only thing you want to focus on right now with Bucky’s proximity and his intense gaze.

But then his hands replace the bottle and he grasps your fingers, wrapping around them and stilling their fidgeting.

Something electric rushes through your veins so quickly, you couldn’t catch it if you tried.

This is getting way too serious.

Too intimate in a way that sends your pulse skittering up your throat.

You feel like a deer caught in headlights, your body tensing up, lungs forgetting how to work properly. Because this is veering dangerously off course, heading straight for a conversation you’re not sure you’re ready to have. You never thought you’d ever be ready.

But you started this. You walked straight into it with your own words, and there is no backing out now. So you might as well be honest now.

No time like the present.

Bucky must feel the way your hands begin to tremble in his hold, because he adjusts again, shifting closer, his knees pressing against the base of your chair. His thumbs trace over the backs of your hands. His frown deepens.

Why does he have to be so worried? It would make things so much easier if he remained casual and easy. But really, that’s how Bucky always is. Worrying so fast when it comes to you. You can’t really blame this on him now, can you?

His voice drops lower, soft as a whisper. “What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes are full and searching. “Talk to me.”

Air hitches, stalling between your ribs before pushing forward in a rather trembling exhale. Your lungs barely feel full. Your eyes dart away from his, searching the room, the floor, anywhere but him.

“Did I upset you? Is it something I did-”

“No!” you rush out, hastily. “No, you didn’t do anything, Buck.” God, now he even goes that far. This is bad.

Bucky softens a tiny fraction, but he keeps sweeping his eyes over your face, latching on the details, trying to study you, trying to read what this is about. “You can tell me, doll. Always. Whatever it is,” he coos so sweetly, and it makes you want to cry.

How do you even start this?

You open your mouth. You’re certainly not ready to climb the whole mountain, but perhaps you can try a small hill.

“Do you-” You swallow, trying to sound as if you are simply reminiscing. “Do you remember that time after your game last year when it started pouring the second we left the stadium?”

Bucky blinks at the sudden turn. Confusion enters his features but the worry only deepens. “What?”

You push forward, gaze fixed on the arm of your chair as if it might give you the courage you need. “You gave me your jersey, even though I already had a jacket and you were the one soaking wet-”

Bucky’s brows pull further together, his head shaking slowly, not knowing what to do with your words. “Doll-”

“You walked me all the way back to my apartment.” Your voice turns quieter as if you are speaking more to yourself than him. Perhaps you are. Saying those things out loud makes them seem so much more important. “And then you got sick for three days.”

His hands squeeze yours gently. “I mean- Yeah, I remember.” Confusion also settles in his tone. “But what’s that got to do with-”

“I don’t know,” you cut in quickly. “I just-” You exhale a deep sigh. “I think about that a lot.”

Bucky says your name like it is something delicate. Something that might slip away if he is not careful.

“Look at me, please.”

You try, but it’s hard.

It means staring into those impossibly blue eyes that see too much, that strip you bare without even trying, that try to coax something out of you, you didn’t even plan on letting go.

But you force yourself to lift your gaze and it is worse than you expected.

He is watching you with an intensity that makes you stop breathing. His stormy eyes are so full of concern, so desperate to understand what is going on in your head, searching every inch of your face.

His lips are parted slightly. His breathing is sharper. Uneven.

“What’s going on, hm?” he coaxes, so softly, so full of patience you don’t deserve. “What’s this about? You still feelin’ guilty?”

Your heart plummets like a stone.

“Doll, there’s no need to, alright?” His hands squeeze yours, grounding, reassuring. “We talked about this.”

God, why does he have to be so good?

His voice is so warm. Warm like sunlight, like home. It makes the sting behind your eyes grow stronger.

You don’t want to cry.

You don’t want to feel this way. Don’t want to ruin his fucking birthday like this. This is getting so out of hand right now, but what should you do? You are so tangled up in trying to figure out what to say, things you are too much of a coward to finally admit out loud.

Bucky notices your struggles. He sees them. Plain on your face. His thumbs brush over your skin in careful strokes. “And you took such good care of me.” His tone lightens, trying to pull you out of whatever hole you’re sinking into. “Remember that part?”

You nod, swallowing and swallowing but the clump of emotions stays stuck in your throat. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out flat, like you are detached from it. “I do. Sorry for bringing it up.”

Bucky’s lips press together, and then he sighs so deeply, his chest rises and falls profoundly.

“Doll,” he murmurs, straightening up, arms beside you tensing as though he is holding himself back from doing something. “That’s not what you wanted to talk about.”

He’s right.

“Darlin’, please,” he urges, and god, the way that word falls from his lips makes you shudder. His voice is barely above a whisper now, full of something genuine, something tender, something that makes him sound like he wishes you would just talk to him, and it makes you want to shrink down to something he can’t see anymore. “What is it?”

You could lie. Again.

You could laugh it off, steer the conversation away, keep pretending.

You could drag this out further until the others are ready, leaving him worried and slightly upset.

You could tell him the truth about the party.

Or you could finally come clean about the feelings you have held in your heart for so long. Feelings for your best friend.

Drawing in a breath, you straighten slightly. Your hands, still held in his, still shaking, squeeze back. His eyes never waver from your face, tracing the contours of your features.

You clear your throat, but it doesn’t help much. “Uhm,” you croak. “I- I wanted- I need to tell you something.”

His fingers twitch around yours. His features fall into a deep concentration. He doesn’t rush you. Just watches. Waits.

And god, his eyes are pools you never learned to swim in.

You look away, at the wall behind him. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, I guess. But-” You inhale a quivering breath. “But I was afraid. Because I don’t know how you���ll react.”

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His chest rises and falls deeply, almost mechanically. There is something almost spellbound in the way he stares at you, completely locked in, completely yours. The only sign that he has heard you is the subtle press of his fingers against yours.

His head dips in a nod for you to go on.

You wet your lips. “I, uhm-”

But then something catches your attention.

The door to Bucky’s and Steve’s apartment opens.

Painstakingly slow.

You stiffen.

Bucky is still so enamored with what you were saying, he doesn’t seem to notice at first. His back is to the door.

You see heads peeking through the small gap, cautious, bodies frozen in an awkward crouch as if that makes them less noticeable.

Steve and Sam.

They are trying to slip in without a sound, their movements so unbelievably slow, exaggerated. They resemble cartoon characters sneaking through a heist.

Sam motions at you wildly, gesturing at Bucky, at himself, at the hallway, mouthing something like distract him! Keep him busy.

They almost make it, but Bucky catches the small reaction of you, the surprise. His senses are too tuned in to every little thing about you and with his brows knit together, he shifts to glance over his shoulder.

You don’t think about anything.

Your hands rip from his, and before he can turn fully, before he can see those two idiots, you grab his face.

Bucky jolts, startled, his breath hitching audibly. His skin is warm beneath your palms, the sharp angle of his jaw fitting perfectly against your hands. His wide eyes snap back to you, dumbfounded, searching.

He blinks at you. Then blinks again. Then simply stares.

His lips part slightly, breath brushing over your skin.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

This is close. Too close. Closer than you’ve ever been. Well, but not closer than you’ve let yourself imagine. But having him here in reality is something else entirely.

Sam throws you a thumbs up over Bucky’s head and a wiggle of his brows and the both of them disappear from sight into the hallway.

But you just made this worse.

And you are still holding his face between your hands.

Bucky’s lashes flicker, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t fight it. Just stares at you like you’ve done something earth-shattering, like you’ve just rewritten every unspoken rule between you in a single, desperate motion.

Your pulse is a drum against your throat.

You see Bucky’s pulse thunder in his neck.

But he doesn’t move. You don’t move either.

He doesn’t breathe. You don’t know if you do.

He watches you. You watch him back.

“Doll?” Bucky practically breathes the question.

You swallow hard. Opening your mouth doesn’t help with finding words, so you shut it again. Slowly, you pull your hands away from his face.

But Bucky still doesn’t move.

His breath is still broken, his lips still parted, his brows still slightly drawn, stuck somewhere between surprise and something so deep, you’d be falling endlessly.

He is leaning in just the slightest bit, as though his body hasn’t quite caught up with his mind, not even realizing he is doing it.

And you hate the way your chest aches at the look in his eyes.

There is so much all at once and the more you stare, the harder it gets.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, dropping your gaze.

But there is movement in your peripheral.

Steve and Sam are creeping back out of the hallway, lugging something that looks like Bucky’s speaker system from his room.

And god help you, they are still moving at a snail’s pace, their motions so exaggerated, so painfully slow and obvious that you want to scream. You grit your teeth.

Fortunately, Bucky is still just staring at you, stunned.

The two are just about to reach the door, so close to getting through this ridiculous charade, when Sam’s end of the box bumps against the shoe shelf.

The sound isn’t loud, but it’s enough. Enough for Bucky’s head to instinctively turn toward the noise. Enough for his body to shift just slightly.

Your brain short-circuits.

Like completely.

Totally.

Lacking any sense.

Not only do you pull his face back.

You pull it in.

“Kiss me,” you blurt, and it’s not soft, not sweet, not anything carefully planted - it’s desperate, panicked.

Bucky’s whole face just goes wide, pure shock filtering out anything else.

Another bump.

You’re not sure Bucky even heard it, but your lips crash onto his with urgency.

Bucky freezes.

And when you say freeze, you mean freeze.

Every muscle in his body turns to stone. His hands flex before going rigid, floating in the air. His breath stalls. His spine goes straight, and the grunt he lets out - so low and gravelly, caught deep in his throat - reverberates into your mouth.

But behind him, Steve and Sam go as still. Dead silent.

You can feel them watching, their eyes practically bulging out of their skulls.

For a full few seconds, nothing happens.

But then, there is a shift. You don’t see it, but you know it. The way their disbelief turns into something smug - something amused and downright delighted. You feel the way Sam’s mouth probably stretches into that toothy and knowing, cocky-ass grin. You feel the way Steve simply looks happy.

You don’t pull away.

Instead, you wave one frantic hand behind Bucky’s back, motioning wildly, trying to get them to move.

You open an eye to see them still staring, Steve blinking rapidly, Sam grinning like a fool, nudging Steve.

But then, finally, they start creeping out of the room again.

They are gone now.

Bucky still isn’t moving.

He’s not breathing.

He’s not reacting.

And the tension stretches so tight, you swear the air could snap in half.

Because this isn’t just a distraction anymore.

This isn’t just a cover-up.

Your lips are still on Bucky’s.

Your hands are still gripping his face.

And his are trembling where they hover near your knees, as if he wants to touch you, wants to move, but his brain is still struggling to catch up with what is happening.

Then the tension snaps.

Bucky exhales against you.

It’s not just a breath - it’s a surrender. A sharp and shuddering exhale that stirs against your lips, warm and tentative, as if he is trying to feel what is happening, trying to understand the shape of this moment.

His hands flex and twitch against your legs, but he is hesitant, as if waiting for something, waiting for you to pull back, waiting for this to be some kind of mistake.

But you don’t pull back.

You don’t want to pull back.

And that’s when he melts.

He sinks into the kiss, his body softening, folding inward toward you. His fingers slide up your legs, brushing tenderly against the fabric of your pants before settling on your hips, cautious, like he doesn’t want to break the moment, doesn’t want to take too much.

Then, his lips move. It’s a slow, searching motion, testing the waters, trying to figure you out. His mouth is warm, his lips so much softer than you imagined. And hell, did you imagine.

He makes a sound - low and unsure, a hum deep in his throat that vibrates against your lips. His movements are careful, almost disbelieving. Like he is afraid this will disappear if he lets himself want it too much.

But then something changes.

Your nails lightly run over his neck, thumbs over his jawline.

And you feel the exact second the hesitation snaps.

He pulls you in.

His hands tighten, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you forward to the edge of the seat, into his chest, his grip growing needy, desperate. He seems to have been starving for this, like something in him has just broken loose.

The kiss turns deeper, heavier, a push and pull of breath and movement. He kisses you with searching urgency, trying to memorize the exact shape of your mouth, the way you feel pressed against him, the way you taste.

His lips part, just for a moment, and then he dares to press in a little more, tilting his head, fitting his mouth more firmly against yours.

He makes another sound - this time rougher, needier - a groan that slips through the space between you.

You can feel the want in the way he kisses you, in the way he angles his head to take more, to taste more, and damn if it does not overwhelm you.

The way his fingers tighten their hold, his thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, needing to feel your warmth.

And the way he breathes you in, each exhale shaky, each inhale sharper, like he is drunk on this, on you.

Your hands find purchase in his hair, fingers tangling in the strands at the nape of his neck, and the second you pull just so slightly, he makes a sound.

A gravelly noise that shoots straight through you, heat curling at the base of your spine.

He is kissing you like he can’t help it anymore. As if he has been waiting for this exact moment, for you, for so long that he’s past the point of fighting it.

You thought he’d pull away. You thought he’d startle and demand an explanation, eyes sharp with suspicion, voice laced with confusion. But he doesn’t.

His lips only press more firmly against yours, his nose sweeping against your cheek, his chest rising and falling unevenly, breathing erratic as if he is just as lost in this as you are.

Your heart is hammering so violently in your chest, you think he must hear it, must feel it where your body is pressed to his. Your hands are slightly trembling, sliding to curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him. Because you have to hold on. You have to anchor before you fall, before you slip too deep into the intoxicating pull of him and lose all sense of self.

But maybe you already have.

Because he is kissing you as though he’s afraid this is a dream, testing the edges of reality with every careful, exploring movement of his tongue and lips.

He tastes like something warm, something safe, something like the orange juice you two have been drinking, something wholly Bucky. Every press of his lips, every brush of his tongue against yours, is stealing a coherent thought from your mind.

This was supposed to be a distraction. This was supposed to be a lie.

But hell, it’s not.

It’s everything you’ve ever wished for.

When you pull away, both breathless and panting, his forehead stays against yours.

Your pulse is so fast, so fluttering, and you know he can feel it, the way it thrums in your chest, in your throat, in the slight tremor of your fingers still curled loosely in his shirt.

His hot and shuddering exhale fans over your lips and it’s maddening how much you want to taste them again, how much you want to fall right back into him.

You open your eyes.

His are already on you, so close, so intent, so devastatingly blue that they don’t help at all in trying to regain a healthy breathing rate. There is something in them, something soft and devoted, something awed, like he can’t quite believe you are real, that this is real.

A shiver works its way down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its way and Bucky sees it. He feels it. His grin widens, slow and boyish almost, something that makes him look young and light, like something is lifted off his shoulders.

Your name is a breath that leaves his lips with the kind of care reserved for wishes made on falling stars.

It sends another shudder through you, and his grin turns brilliantly wide.

“That the present you were talkin’ about earlier?” he breathes, voice still hoarse, still dazed.

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. Smiling. Grinning. Like a fool. God, you can’t stop. It’s lifting your cheeks and making you feel giddy in a way you haven’t felt in so long.

“No,” you whisper back, voice airy.

“Don’t matter,” Bucky’s voice is full of affection, of something certain. His hands slide up, one cupping your jaw, thumb skimming over your cheek, the other finding the nape of your neck, fingers weaving into your hair. Holding you there. Holding you close. “Best damn present I’ve ever gotten.”

His tone is so sincere, so full of adoration, that your breath turns upside down, and you can’t do anything but feel the way butterflies are dancing in your stomach.

Heat floods your face and Bucky’s fingers flex against your skin, his smile turning impossibly brighter.

His eyes are shining with something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in them before. It’s breathtaking. It’s promising. It’s worshipful.

It’s everything.

You guess you owe him a little bit of an explanation.

There is guilt pooling in the hesitation before you speak. “Buck?” you start, voice quiet.

“Yeah, baby?” he drawls, and the way the new nickname rolls from his tongue so seamlessly makes your next inhale shatter midway, breaking into uneven pieces. You almost feel like choking.

His voice is so full of warmth, so soft, so fond. He is smiling at you and his eyes are sparkling as if you’ve just handed him the world. He is kneeling in front of you, patient and content, as though he’s got all the time in the world if it means spending it with you.

Something dizzying rushes through your veins, sparking at the base of your spine. You have to take a moment, a single, shaky pause to shove the giddiness down for later, to not let it explore the wide landscape of your heart and mind.

You clear your throat, shifting slightly in your seat, still at the edge of the armchair. Your chest almost brushing against Bucky’s. “I, uh- I do have something planned for you.”

Bucky is beaming. His amusement spills over into something so brilliant and blinding. His entire face lights up, so open, so full of adoration that it makes a feeling of pure bliss explode in your chest, sending delightful shivers down to your toes and hell, you don’t think you can handle it.

“Oh, do you?” he muses, dragging the words out slow and teasing. There is something beneath the syrupy sweetness. Something like mischief. His brows raise, eyes glinting, his lips twitch, and you know he is about to be a menace.

Tilting his head, Bucky feigns deep thought, but his eyes stay on you at all times. “Would that involve two idiots tryna sneak around behind my back?”

You blink at him.

Bucky’s grin turns wolfish and he bites his lip to suppress a laugh.

“You were actin’ all off from the beginning, doll. Knew somethin’ was up,” he states, voice a little softer, until he turns on his playful teasing voice again. “Flawless execution, sweetheart. Didn’t notice a damn thing.”

Groaning loudly, you press your hands to your face and Bucky lets the laugh out. It’s full-bodied and wholehearted. His chest shakes, his shoulders lift, his body tilts into it. And it’s such a good sound, such a lovely sound, so rich and free. It makes your own lips curl despite the frustration of the ruined surprise.

Bucky reaches up to gently pry your hands away from your face. His grip lingers, thumbs tracing over your knuckles, his touch so easy and natural.

His expression gives way to something soft. He bites his lip again, before bringing your hands up and kissing them softly, twinkling bright blue eyes trained on you and the deep flush that spreads along your cheeks.

Perhaps Bucky Barnes finally has a reason to start celebrating his birthday.

“But oh baby! Your smile.. Felt like warm sunshine after a heavy storm.. Overdose of it, is still not enough for me..”

- Zankhana

[igotanidea]

Bait: Jason Todd x reader

aka: the one when Jason's family is using you to renew relationship with him

She certainly did not expect to see a huge bouquet sitting on top of her desk on rainy Friday morning.

And definitely did not want them.

Cause if there was one thing sure in the world it was that those flowers couldn’t have been a gift from Jason.

And if not from Jason this meant she had a secret admirer.

And since she was a taken and very in love woman, a man creeping on her could turn into a big problem, especially considering the fact that she was taken by no one else but Red Hood, who wasn;t a big fan of sharing.

“Y/N! Look, those came for you, this morning.”

“Uh. I see.” She muttered, trying to act unfazed by the excited squeals of her office bestie. How could she be so happy about it? And what the hell was her definition of morning if it was barely 8.30 am?

“You look like you’re mad about it.”

“I’m not mad about it-“

“Then what is it about?” God save Y/N from the office gossip and curious coworkers.

“Nothing. Nothing, it’s nothing.” She put a smile that was equally as big as it was fake, hoping it would be enough to nip this ridiculous conversation in the bud. “I got a lot of work, you know. How about we talk during the lunch break, how does that sound? Good? Great, see you later then!” Before anyone managed to chip in and threw their opinion into the newest office sensation Y/N closed the door to her room, using the unusual force of will power into not locking them. This place definitely didn’t have enough men on board, cause as much as she was a fan of women and their greatest cheerleader a firm full of girls could turn into a hen house at times.

Only after taking a few inhales and exhales did she begin the inspection of the gift, created from her favorite plants.

Hence – the person who sent it must have known her.

She started counting in her mind the amount of people who were close enough to dare to gather such knowledge, successfully limiting it to about 5 individuals.

Second clue was wrapping paper. The kind that only one flower shop in this silly city used. A very expensive one, hence someone truly must have put an effort into this.

And that made her narrow her suspect circle to three people.

But the final tell tale was a card, sticking innocently from the bottom. A teeny tiny note as if someone who endowed her hoped the recipient wouldn’t notice it.

Ha! Good try, but not when it came to Y/N. Honestly, living with Red Hood made her not as vigilant, as almost paranoid and sensitive to every detail.

Back to the gift card.

Two words. Two completely harmless words that under any other circumstances would mean absolutely nothing.

Thank you.

Oh hell no!

***

“Hello?”

“Dick! What the hell!?”

“Hello Y/N. So good to hear you too, how’s your day going?”

“Don’t try to placate me!”

“I swear you became so aggressive since living with Jason-“

“What the hell?!” she cried out again, circling the desk and the flowers as if it was a predator only waiting for the right opportunity to pounce at her, not that he could see it through the phone.

“I take it, you got my gift?”

“Oh, I got your  gift, all right. Thank you! I’m not doing you any favors, wing! I merely managed to get Jason to talk to you about-“

“Which was a small miracle by itself and I figured it would be nice to –“

“- to what? To freaking bribe me!?”

“Bribe you?!” Dick gasped, acting dramatically even through the phone “I’m hurt, Y/N. It’s nothing more but a token of my gratitude.” She could almost see his shit-eating grin through the phone.”

“It’s a freaking bribe, Dick!”

“It’s a token of gratitude!”

“Oh yeah? And what will you ask in return? Cause I know for sure I am being used to get to Jason. And that’s both betrayal to Jay and – “

“I would never use my favorite sister-in-law to – “

“I am not your sister in law!”

“Yet.” He cut her off with a hint of humor in voice. “But since we’re already speak I’ve been thinking that maybe you could – “

“Oh, what? What? Dick? I cannot hear you! I’m entering the tunnel – I’m – losing – the – connection….”

She hated using such a lame excuse to hang up on her boyfriend’s older brother but clearly, using any rational argument against Dick Grayson while in his playful attitude was completely futile. And a loss of energy, that she didn’t have in abundance.

But once again, she was starting to realize that forming a relationship with Jason was equal to getting into a mess of connections with his entire (huge) family.

***

She should have left those flowers in the office and that mistake became painfully clear the second the crossed the threshold of her and Jason’s apartment. There were no logical arguments against doing otherwise, besides the fact that it was upcoming weekend and no one would water thema and they would turn into dry sticks on Monday and since Dick bought them for her it would be a waste of money and –

Yeah, yeah, women logic.

Though, men’s logic was working in quite different, mysterious ways….

“Jay? I’m home! Something smells nice in here!”

Coat ended up in the wardrobe, shoes on the shelf, bag on the hanger and without much thinking she followed her nose to the kitchen, eyes landing on her boyfriend in that silly no bitchin in my kitchin apron, bustling about.

“Hi princess.” Obviously, he didn’t even have to turn around to sense her presence. “How was work today?”

“Like a sledgehammer. I swear, sometimes I feel like strangling half of the people there.”

“Do you need help with that violent activity?” he grinned and finally spun to face her, heading for a kiss on the forehead when his sharp gaze laser focused on the thing she was still holding in her hands. Laser gaze that turned from playful and loving to accusatory and cunning in a second. And regardless of how amazingly swiftly Jason was switching between his two personas, such transformation also send a shiver down her spine.

Not a nice kind of tremble.

“Y/n?”

“Um…”

“You got something to say to me?”

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear-“

“Princess.”

“I can explain!”

“Good. Good, sweetheart, because explanation is all I’m asking about.” Jason grinned, but it was the grin of Red Hood, who was expecting a low blow, right into the groin.

He stepped closer, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to carelessly toss the bouquet somewhere far away.

“I can’t remember buying them.” He pointed out, now sneaking the other arm on her, effectively but subtly preventing her potential escape.

“Hm? Oh no, you didn’t. In fact you haven’t bought me flowers since my birthday last year and – “

“nun-uh. Back to the point, Y/N.” he smiled again “where did you get them? Who did you get it from?”

“It’s not what you think!” She struggled against his grip.

“You have no idea what I think, love.”

“I’m not cheating on you!”

“I know.”

“Then what’s with the squeezing and hugging and – “

“Can’t a guy hold his girlfriend after a long day apart?”

“Since when are you so cuddly all of a sudden?!”

“Since some fucker is clearly trying to flirt with my woman!”

Oh…

He called her his woman. Not a girlfriend, not a girl, not any other sweet yet infantile word of affection.

His woman.

Making their entire relationship seem way more serious than –

Still being enraged and holding her captive until getting the info he wanted.

And that made her get back to reality from the cloud nine she was floating on.

“Who was it baby?” he whispered, leaning to nuzzle into her neck.

“No one!”

“Mhh. Don’t think so.” His lips moved upwards and to her ear. “You are protecting someone, I can tell. If it makes you feel any better, I can promise I won’t do any permanent damage. Just a broken leg or an arm as a reminder to keep a court mandated restraining order….”

“I take it you’re the presiding judge in this case?”

“Of course…” he kissed her briefly, rubbing soothing circles on her waist. “But cross my heart, no shooting, bleeding out or spine twisting.”

“Those are your arguments to convince me?”

“I can kiss you senseless and make you feel so high you’d babble it, but figured it was nice to try and ask.”

“Huh! Lucky me.” She scoffed.

Of course she could just tell him, but that would probably cause an interstate scandal and a very heated argument in a Wayne family.

If only Jason knew the scope of conspiracy against him-

She spaced out for a moment and those few seconds were used by Jason to take a look at the flowers on the floor and quickly get into the same conclusion about the donor she had earlier at the office.

“I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“What? NO! What happened to the no permanent damage!?”

“This is not permanent damage! This is terminal damage!” Jason yelled, grabbing his jacket and keys.

“And where is the difference in – Jason!? Jason! Where the hell are you—Oh my god….”

 ***

Living with Red hood under one roof was sure as hell far from peaceful, but never in her wildest dreams she wouldn’t think that it would get to such an extreme as chasing her biker boyfriend thought Gotham In a car.

***

“Where the hell is he?!” Jason busted through the door of Wayne Manor, acting like his usual self.

“Jason, what-“ Bruce looked up from his newspaper, displeased but not surprised by the commotion.

“I swear to God, when I get my hands on him-“

“Jason!” Y/N busted through the doors a few minutes later, and her appearance made quite a noticeable effect.

“Y/N.” Something akin to a smile bloomed on papa Wayne's face, getting as far as making him stand up and approach her. “So good to see you.”

“Yeah, um – nice to –“

“Listen, I’ve been thinking about something-“

“Yeah? You were?” she stuttered, looking above Bruce’s shoulder, helplessly observing Jason and Dick strangling, pushing and pulling, acting like two mad wrestlers in front of camera, much to Batman’s obliviousness. “Um… Bruce-“ her efforts to put his attention to the display of violence behind him came to nothing.

“Later. Now, I know you’ve been struggling to gather finances for your post-grad-“

“What? The hell you know that? Did you run a background check on me!?”

“And I was thinking I could loan you the amount –“ he skillfully omitted her question getting right to the point.

“L-loan me-?”

“Look, there’s no shame in asking your family for help. It’s natural.” Y/N could not believe the words Bruce was aiming her way. Family help? How could he be such a freaking hypocrite? When was his effing family help when Jason was struggling?

“Uh…” she groaned in total shock, while Dick and Jason were now running around the Manor, like a two five year olds playing chase, making so much noise it was getting almost hilarious that Bruce chose not to hear it.

“And I was hoping to see you and Jason at dinner on Saturday? And maybe next Saturday? And maybe every Saturday?”

Was that hope in Bruce’s voice?

“Over my dead body!” Jason’s yelling tore into the conversation and finally Bruce sighed, acting almost forced to intervene.

And the fact that his two sons were laying on the ground, one being half-choked the other flat on his back with the first on top of him made zero impression.

“Those are not funny words to use, Jason.”

“Those are when I say it.” Jason smirked almost vindictively.

“Get off Dick, Jason.”

“Like hell I am going to get off him.”

“I don’t know what I did!” Dick whined theatrically

“Don’t give me bullshit, Grayson! You bought her flowers!”

“As if it was the first time—AAH!”

It took the combined efforts of Y/N, Bruce and even Alfred (who had a miraculous talent of showing up when most needed) to stop Jason from knocking out Dick’s teeth.

“You!” he hissed, throwing his hands around, before grabbing onto Y/N and pulling her into his chest. “You are all a bunch of mentals! Using my girl to get to me! She’s not your fucking toy!” he held her even closer as if she was a precious baby, unaware of being treated like a pawn and having to be protected at all cost. “I swear if she wasn’t here I would –“

“Father, what is all that noise?”  Damian was standing on top of the stairs, looking down at everyone, both metaphorically and literally.

“We have guests.” Bruce stated with a flat tone.

“Oh, Y/L/N, good. I got those books you were looking for and –“

***

-        and she was forbidden to ever contact any of his family members ever again. 

[shinhyunjin]

── .✦ fan service.

⟢ pairing: bang chan x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, idolverse, friends to lovers (kind of)

⟢ word count: 2.3k

⟢ summary: when you and chan were expected to do tons of fan service because of how much your fans loved your interactions, it was only fair to take a little advantage of it at times.

⟢ author’s note: helloo, this is a request from @cant-see-sam, who asked for “something where she gets protective over one of her younger members and chan is just like one the corner giggling and kicking his feet” hehe. i don’t know if this is close to what you had in mind, but i enjoyed writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it<3

“Loverboy’s staring again” your second to oldest member, Kyungmi, let you know with a smirk.

She didn’t need to mention who was staring at you for you to know it was Chan, and you loved the thought of it so much that you found yourself fighting the smile that threatened with curving up the corners of your mouth.

“Don’t call him that” you murmured.

“He is, though” she pushed it, looking over your shoulder to the idol she was shamelessly throwing under the bus. “All he can see from over there is your back, yet he’s been stealing glances every two minutes”.

“Kyungie…” you warned her, carefully looking around and making sure there were no cameras pointing at your table—thankfully, there weren’t any. “There are cameras everywhere,” you reminded her regardless. “Be careful with what you say”.

She shrugged, lying back on her chair as her eyes went to the Award’s stage in front, which was now filled with staff members rushing from one side to the other as they prepared it for the next group to perform.

“There’s nothing interesting happening over here right now, they won’t bother filming us just yet”.

“Still…” you leaned back on your chair as well. “There are fans in the venue”.

“And they love your interactions with him!”

Rolling your eyes at her cynical excitement, you remained quiet—her words being far too truthful for you to even try and deny them.

Openly being friends with an idol of the opposite sex was always a hit or miss—people either loved it and asked for more interactions, or they hated it and wanted you to stay as far away from each other as possible.

Luckily for you and Chan, his fans, as well as yours, had loved your friendship ever since he first mentioned you in one of his weekly lives back in the day.

He didn’t think much of it when he did, as he had mentioned a handful of other idols before. He simply read a comment asking if he got along with the girl group that had recently debuted under JYPE—that being your group—and his genuine answer ended up with him bringing you up; mentioning how out of all the members he was the closest to you, since you were the leader and, as a very inexperienced one who wanted to do her best, you used to turn to him for advice.

That simple mention of your name was all it took for the fans to go wild, asking for more and more interactions between the two of you as the time went on, to the point the company itself would make sure to put the two of you together for dance challenges, variety shows, special stages, and whatnot.

It was fan service at its finest—until it was not.

You were both human, at the end of the day. It didn’t take long for the two of you to discover how much you had in common, and the chemistry you shared was so strong that it was impossible to ignore. And so, what started with your company forcing you together for clout, ended up with the two of you becoming closer than they expected.

What started with casual corridor conversations soon turned into daily chats over texts and casual video calls, where you would talk about anything but work, and you would find yourself blushing over his dorky—yet smooth as hell—way with words.

Just like that, although most of your interactions in front of the cameras were planned by the company in order to make your fandoms happy and increase your groups’ popularity, sometimes even taking it one step further by telling you what to do or say, since both you and Chan were quite private and definitely needed a push or two to act in front of everyone the same way you did when the cameras were off, it came a point when you simply let loose.

Fan service or not, whether it seemed too much to the viewers or not, you started to act just as close as you were regardless of there being cameras pointing at you or not.

A dream for many, as not all idols got to publicly interact with each other without having either rumours or hate spreading all over.

Unfortunately for you, however, sometime along the way of your forced proximity, bickering turned into flirting and friendly smiles turned into heart eyes—each day making it harder for both of you to hide your growing feelings from the media.

That seemed to be the case for Chan that night, as he found his eyes being drawn to you every couple of minutes. But what else was he supposed to do when your table was right next to theirs, and his seat gave him the perfect view of you? Well, the perfect view of your back, but still of you nevertheless.

And, well, you weren’t doing any better either, for you found yourself turning around to look at him after Kyungmi stole another glance his way and smirked over how amusing the situation was to her. Your eyes locked with him immediately, feeling your heart flutter and laughing under your breath when he tried to play it cool by looking at the stage instead.

You had already caught him red handed, though, and you could only feel relief and shyness altogether when it was confirmed to you that Kyungmi wasn’t just making it up for the sake of teasing you.

“Maybe we should invite him to sit with us,” Kyungmi proposed. “The fans would love that”.

“Stop” you laughed this time, hiding your face in your hands for a moment before you watched everyone get off the stage, as the next performance was apparently about to start. “Should I call the girls to rush back here? I think Aespa is coming up and Yumi really wanted to watch them”.

Kyungmi shook her head no, gesturing towards their empty seats. “The dorks left their phones here. I’m sure Yumi’s already dragging Soomin over here, though”.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Yumi announced a little out of breath, reaching your side as if on cue.

“The line to the restroom was so long,” Soomin whined, not wasting another second to slump down on her seat next to you. “I thought we wouldn’t make it back in time”.

“But we did, right?” The youngest asked, going around the table to her seat. “Aespa hasn’t performed yet?”

“No, th—”

Your words were caught in your throat when, just as Yumi was about to sit down, a staff member pulled her chair and took it with him.

She managed to catch her balance in time not to fall to the ground—with some help from Soomin, who had instinctively held onto her upper arm rather forcefully—, but watching her lost eyes as they followed the man and the idea of her having fallen down because of his careless action, were enough for you to call him out before he could leave.

“Excuse me, she was using that” you tried to sound as polite as you could, considering how you had to raise your voice in order for him to hear you from across the table.

He turned to you with an annoyed semblance, and you could already tell this wouldn’t be a pleasant exchange. “She wasn’t sitting on it”.

“But she was about to,” you argued. “That seat was assigned to us, can you please give it back to her?”

“Another group is missing a chair and I have instructions to take one to them”.

“Well, can’t you look f—”

“Y/N…” Yumi tried to ease the situation, carefully speaking up. “I’m okay, I’ll just go look for another one”.

Her words were like fuel to the guy in front, who took that as his chance to get out of there and trotted away from you before you could utter another word.

With a defeated sigh as you watched him leave, and with a visibly upset Yumi who was just left standing there as she had nothing to sit down on now, you stood up.

“Yumi, come here” you motioned towards your seat, pulling the chair back for her to sit down on instead.

“I’m okay, really” she shyly tried to reassure you the moment she realised what you were doing—still, she went up to you like you told her. “I’ll go look for a spare one”.

“Come on now, you’re way too shy for that” you smiled softly, receiving a genuine smile from her in return—both your heads turning to the stage when the lights went down and the performance she was looking up to the most began. “Let’s just enjoy the show for now and I’ll go look for a chair afterwards”.

Yumi’s smile now parted her lips, brightly showing her teeth as she agreed with you, and quietly thanking you before she took the seat you were offering her.

Placing your hands on her shoulders and quickly getting too immersed in the show taking place before you, you were completely unaware of the guy that was looking at you from afar, and how he needed to bring a hand up to his mouth and fake out a cough, in order to play it cool and—poorly—hide the big smile that was beginning to part his lips.

“What happened?” Felix asked him with furrowed eyebrows, leaning closer to his leader since the music currently playing made it hard to hear.

“She’s so cute” Chan answered, allowing his smile to take over yet still hiding his mouth under his hand.

Felix smiled, shaking his head and looking over to you, as he did not need his leader to mention your name for him to know he was talking about you.

“Did we just watch the same scene play out before us a minute ago?” He teased him. “Yumi literally got her seat taken from her and you’re laughing”.

“I’m not laughing about that,” Chan corrected him. He was mad about the whole situation, of course. “I just think Y/N’s cute when she gets all protective”.

“More like you think she’s cute all the time”.

“Whatever,” Chan rolled his eyes, knowing there was no winning this fight, for he could not cover the sun with a finger. “Can you go give my chair to her? I’ll go look for a spare one for myself”.

“Look who’s being all protective now,” Felix chuckled. “I mean, I could go up to her and give her your chair, but I’m sure everyone would take it the wrong way”.

“People might take it the wrong way if I do, too…”

“Everyone thinks you’re just friends, they’ll love the fan service”.

“We are just friends, though…”

Felix laughed—the sound of it overpowering the one coming from the stage. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ll look for a spare seat, you go give your friend your chair” he proposed with a taunting smirk. “I don’t think she’ll take it as a platonic gesture, though”.

Chan shook his head in defeat, resting against the back of his chair and focusing on the performance taking place on the stage instead.

God, he wished you wouldn’t take it as a platonic gesture. It was hard to draw the line when your interactions were expected to be merely friendly.

As soon as the performance ended and the lights were back on, he channeled the courage he had been earning up for the last minute and stood up, grabbing his chair and bringing it with him all the way to your table.

He could feel your members’ eyes focus on him the moment he reached it, yet you were too focused gushing about the show with Yumi to even notice him standing right behind you.

So, with a small tap on your shoulder, he brought your attention to him.

“Um…” he hesitated when you turned around and your eyes met his, feeling his confidence abandon him as it hit him just how much more beautiful you looked up-close. “Here”.

Feeling your piercing stare on him as he placed the chair on the space Kyungmi had just made for it by sliding her chair to the side, he couldn’t ignore the goosebumps on his skin. And when you were still far from saying anything after he rested his hands on the back of your new seat, he couldn’t help the breathy, nervous laugh that escaped his lips.

“Don’t tell me you actually wanted to stand for the rest of the Awards and I brought a chair over here for nothing”.

“N-No, um… thank you” you breathed out, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. “I didn’t think there were any seats left”.

“There weren’t” he laughed.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t make me say it and just take the chair” he felt his cheeks burn.

Feeling your face heat up like only he could make it, you decided to take it easy on him and not push for an answer. Instead, you smiled at him and nodded before you took the seat he was offering—feeling your heart race all over again when you did and he gently pushed you closer to the table.

You looked up to him with a smile, covering your mouth just in case before you said, “You just went a little too overboard with the fan service there, don’t you think?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down at you with a smile. “It stopped being fan service a long time ago now, didn’t it?”

Hearing your members giggle, and turning around to see his members shaking their heads as they looked at him with amused grins, Chan realised that maybe this particular interaction would be hard to defend as a platonic one.

The image of the heart eyes you were looking at him with right before he went back to his table, though, was enough for him not to worry about a thing and to be over the moon for the rest of the night.

Fan service came in many ways, after all. He just got lucky enough to be able to court the person he had feelings for while at it.

[sa2sugu]

....hi everyone......... i know that some of you already know about this but i have a bl comic that is currently being published on lezhin. it's called "처음의 여름" or "a first of summers". it's explicit and i'd be really happy if anyone who is interested in this type of thing or my art gives it a read.

you can read the english version at: https://www.lezhinus.com/en/comic/first_summer

(or the korean version here if you're into that): https://lezhin.com/ko/comic/first_of_summers

you can also follow me on twitter: https://x.com/pppanghouse

i have gotten many messages asking me if i was the one behind a first of summers (because apparently my art style is very recognizable i can't hide from you guys!!), and i've been ignoring them for months (sorry, everyone) because i was never fully proud of the work that i was putting out there. i still don't think i am at a point where i can confidently promote my work like a normal person would because me and shame are like this -> 🫂. but i am working on getting better at managing my shame and making this post is a step towards that goal. in a way, i felt more reluctant to post about it here because i see the connections i've made on tumblr as real tangible friendships rather than parasocial ones so it's even more embarrassing.

as a lover of yaoi, slice of life and queer media, i tried to make something that i personally would like to read, in an art style that i would have found inspirational when i started digital art. here are some panels that i am kind of proud of ahh hee hee

to be honest it feels very very weird to "make a story" and "share it with people", because i've never done something like this before and having to offer my personal themes and internal symbols to people in the hopes that some of you may resonate with them feels like i'm running down the street with my whole ass out in the open. idk how people do this.

also, i know a lot of you consume media illegally and i know that i alone can't stop you from doing that. which is why i'm all the more thankful to anyone who chooses to support me by buying the chapters on the official websites. i'm slowly learning that this (working on stories and drawing) might be something i want to keep doing and get better at, so i'm so deeply grateful to those who make that possible for me by supporting me financially. it always feels super nice when people show appreciation for my art and recommend it to other people and talk about it.

anyways, so that's me. i have a lot more to say but this post has already gotten long enough, and none of it includes any information on what the comic is about lol so here's a short synopsis: hyeonseon is a 40yo divorced salaryman who, after having a bit of a midlife crisis about where he is at in life, decides to learn electric guitar. his teacher, yeoreum (which means summer) is a 24yo college student who is also having a bit of a crisis of his own aaaand falls for the older dude. uhhhh and as i said it's explicit they are fucking it oppa homo style, and it does deal with themes related to age gaps but please don't come for meeeee!!!!!!!! i tried to make it tasteful and chose to work with age gaps because i had something to say about the concept of adulthood/life, also i enjoy a dude who's a little old getting dicked down by a younger lad what do you want me to say, damn......

if you have any nice things to say about my work then weeheee please go ahead, thank you

[traveler-at-heart]

Undercover

Summary: Natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

-----

It’s mortifying.

As you lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, the moment replays in your head over and over and over again. How you wish you had an off switch for your brain.

This is supposed to be an undercover mission, and yet you can’t keep your true feelings hidden from Natasha.

Undercover as a married couple, no less.

Today, while you were sitting in the living room of your “newlywed home”, reading a book, Natasha approached you. Her hand rested on your shoulder.

“I’m going out for a run” she had said. You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“I’ll start dinner now”

And it wasn’t until you heard the door shut, that you snapped out of it.

You didn’t have to pretend inside the house. There was absolutely no reason for you to kiss any part of her like that, no one was watching.

Your cheeks flushed and your palms began to sweat. Feeling stupid and exposed, you tried to cook dinner, finding it hard to focus on what to do.

If Natasha noticed the slightly burned meatloaf, she didn’t comment on it. Even as you downed your wine quickly and poured yourself more, she remained stoic and acted as usual.

The night went by in a blurr and now you’re staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Natasha is in the study, doing surveillance and thank God, because sharing a bed after what you did today?

Impossible.

How do I get myself in these situations?

—

“The Maggia” Fury said, looking around the room. There were only five people there, which told you this was an important mission. “What do you know about it?”

“Family of criminals, from Europe, mostly Italy. Loose alliance at that, each family just stays out of the other’s way” you casually said. Hell, you could go on and on about them for much longer.

“Someone does their homework” Fury nodded.

“Show off” Natasha leaned forward, whispering in your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried your best to hide it.

You feared your best wasn’t very good.

“Their operations consist mostly of loan sharking, narcotics and prostituion” Maria continued. “But, we recently recieved intel that the family in New Jersey is playing something more dangerous”

“Potentially, HYDRA and the smuggling of Trinium”

“What’s Trinium?” Rogers, who had been following in silenece, finally intervened.

“Incredibly rare element and highly explosive if exposed to a special charge”

Of course, it was always about blowing something up.

“We’ve located the leaders of the Jersey family. You two will be sent immediately to start the undercover mission, as the timeline indicates that the purchase will happen in less than three months. Sorry for not getting you a gift, but your wedding was done in such a rush” Fury slid down the files towards you and Natasha.

You took it and were about to hand it to Steve, since he was sitting behind you, but Fury just chuckled, shaking his head no.

Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to not laugh at your shocked expression, while you turned to look at Natasha with wide eyes.

“Oh, darling, I’ll make you so very happy!”

—

Just your luck, Natasha decides to stay and work from home on Friday. Your plans of eating junk food and wasting away watching reality tv to feel better after your slip up are down the drain.

Instead, you are out gardening. It’s part of the cover, you insisted since you moved. What kind of person would not make an effort to improve their house? One they were planning on living in for years to come.

And truly, you had outdone yourself. In the month you’d spent here, the grass went from dry to green, all kinds of flowers blooming thanks to your hard work and the knowledge provided by years of helping your mother.

It doesn’t matter if the sun is burning your skin or sweat is dripping down your back, you absolutely cannot spend the morning inside the house with the woman who you have a crush on, and who probably knows your true feelings now, thanks to that stupid, stupid…

“Hey” her voice snaps you back to reality, looking up to meet her green eyes, soft and gentle.

“Hi” you reply from your place in the ground, wiping your forehead. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been at it for hours now, and it’s getting too hot. Come get some rest”

“It’s fine, I just need to…”

She calls your name, more of a plea than a warning not to argue with her and you sigh, standing up. As you go up the porch, she hands over a glass of cold lemonade and you take it, realising that you were very much in need of some refreshments.

“What are you doing?” you mutter when you put the glass down, and she takes her hands in yours.

“You’ve been acting strange since yesterday”

“Natasha”

“Did you act on instinct?” she asks, her lips inches from yours.

“Y-yes”

“That’s what a good agent does. You act natural. It’s not something you put any effort in. You don’t drop the cover under any circumstance”

She is throwing you a life line, a gracious way to salvage some of your dignity -if you have any left, that is- because you both know, you are not that good of an agent.

“She’s walking towards the house” Natasha warns, your back to the street. You don’t look behind you, allowing the redhead to pull you into a heated kiss that steals your breath.

“Hey, neighbors”

You turn around, Natasha’s hand falling to your lower back. Waving at Beatrice Costa, the both of you fake smiles. It’s still hard to believe this regular looking woman is leading a criminal organization next to her husband.

“Your garden is looking spectacular!” she admires.

“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll stop by to give you some flowers when the hydrengeas bloom”

“As long as your wife doesn’t get jealous” the woman jokes, and you feel Natasha’s hand snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against her front.

“She does” the redhead says in a teasing manner, making your neighbor/suspect laugh.

“Anyways, I came to invite you two over for dinner tomorrow. To thank you for last week”

“Oh, it was no bother, really” you say, smiling.

“I insist. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds great” you nod, and once she says her goodbyes, Natasha turns you around in her arms, still not letting go of your waist.

“See? It’s working. You’re doing great. Nobody questions us” she eases your nerves over what happened yesterday.

Nobody questions you because you are really in love with her, that’s the truth.

“What are you doing?” you say, your breath hitching when she leans over, about to kiss you.

“She’s still around” Natasha says, letting you close the distance to meet her lips.

By the time she drags you back inside, so you can have lunch, the only thought in your head is the feel of her lips in yours.

—

It had been a simple ruse, so simple that it was a wonder it worked.

Natasha made sure Beatrice’s car would malfunction. She always parked outside, and you made sure to be Natasha’s lookout as she drained the battery.

Morning came, and true to her routine, the woman was ready to leave home when the luxurious Mercedes Benz refused to turn on. It just so happened that you were running by, and as any good neighbor would do, offered to help.

What a coincidence, your wife knew enough about cars to fix the issue and send the woman on her merry way.

Beatrice was too polite and too rich to waste the opportunity to thank you -and flaunt her wealth- so next morning she stopped by with a tiramisu from the most expensive bakery in town, to thank you both.

And fuck, it was good tiramisu.

Now, she would greet you and Natasha when either one of you would run past her house (part of your intelligence operations).

Four weeks after the start of the mission, and it had finally paid off, as you received an invitation into the lion’s den.

“So, what’s our game plan here?” you say, looking over yourself in the vanity mirror.

“Enjoy the evening” Natasha says, smiling at your reflection.

“What?” you turn to look at her, confused. “We’re gonna be inside their house. We could bug it”

“Their phones are tapped. That’s all we need. And the man’s computer. But maybe I’ll excuse myself and break into his study”

“That’s too dangerous” you protest. Even if they act like normal people, they’re life long criminals with an extensive network. And you don’t feel prepared to take over anything if Natasha’s compromised. “Could you not?”

“If you have any idea on how to hack into their financial system, sure”

You huff, annoyed at her bored tone. As if she’s not risking herself over something that can be done a million other ways.

“Nat, I don’t want anything bad happening to you. We’ll find another way, ok?” you insist, putting on your heels.

“Ok, darling” she nods, as a spouse would do to calm their crazy wife and you glare, but take your win.

Without another word, you prepare to leave the room, when you feel her arms around your middle.

“What are you…?”

“Clothing tag was out” she says, fixing your sweater. “There. Perfect”

Her words, accompanied by a squeeze to your stomach make your head fuzzy. Clearing your throat, you nod and go down the stairs, picking up a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

“Trust me” you say when Natasha gives you an inquiring look. “Ready to go?”

“After you, sweetheart”

As you walk down the street to the Costa residence, Natasha takes your hand, running her thumb over the back of it. She might sense your nerves, or is apologizing for before. Either way, you keep a light conversation until she knocks on your suspect’s door, her arm firmly around your waist.

“Welcome!” Beatrice says, ushering you into her home. It’s elegant and big, but not too flashy or pretentious. “And what do we have here?”

“Just a little gift. It’s actually one of the bottles we got from our honeymoon” you take the lead, your hand in Natasha’s as you navigate the luxurious home all the way to the dining room.

“Oh, this is close to the place where my family is from originally”

Oh, what a shock. It’s not like you know everything there is about the Maggia, along with the history of the Gulf of Naples.

While Beatrice goes to the kitchen to check on the food -made by their staff, of course- Natasha looks around the room. You know that inquiring look, as she evaluates every threat and possible complication should you be compromised.

To help her ease into the environment, you take her hand in yours, feeling less exposed because you’re in front of other people who should believe your relationship is real. The mission is the only way you can justify your desire to feel Natasha’s touch.

By the time Beatrice comes back, Alessandro is right behind her and he introduces himself. His clothes scream old money, and the watch on his wrist screams fucking loaded of ilegal money as well.

“This wine is magnificent” he comments when you sit down and begin to eat.

“Le Lune del Vesuvio” you say, looking at Natasha across the table. “We spent our honeymoon in Italy and I just had to drag Nat to Pompeii for a tour”

“Are you familiar with the region?” Alessandro asks and you nod, having practiced everything.

“Yes, I did my dissertation on cultural identity in Pompeii”

“She’s a genius, my wife” Natasha says with a smile, impressed at how much detail you’re putting on everything to keep them engaged.

“Well, Beatrice’s family, the Fortunatos are from the same area. The Costas are from Sicily. So we are very happy to hear that you know it so well”

“How did you two meet?” Beatrice pivots, and Natasha is happy to answer.

“I was working on a client’s divorce settlement and needed an art expert. Y/N was the only one with the knowledge to help our lawfirm. A divorce brought us together” she says, looking at you with a smile.

Such a romantic.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Well, not for the divorced couple. But not everyone can get a happy ending, I suppose” Beatrice says.

It’s your turn to ask the usual questions and Natasha acts surpirsed, following up the way any normal person would, as if you don’t know every single detail about their lives and criminal record already.

When the conversation pivots to Alessandro, you perk up. This has proven to be the hardest part of the mission, as he keeps a tight leash on all their financial records through obscure third parties.

“You know, I also teach some finance classes. Would you be open to giving a lecture on art appraising? I think it’s an interesting market” he turns to you.

“That would be interesting” you say, groaning internally. Now you’re gonna have to actually work on a presentation, for fuck’s sake. Nobody told you you were gonna be quizzed to this extent during the mission.

Natasha hides her smile with the glass of wine, and you kick her under the table. Her smile fades just a little, but you can still see the teasing in her eyes.

She’s having too much fun with this.

—

The next morning you wake up to a note from Natasha. She’s picking up a “special” package, which means she’s coordinating with Maria the next stage of the mission.

You’re surprised to find a bouquet of flowers adorning the dining table.

Natasha is doing her share of the mission and you have to focus on yours, which is the fucking presentation. There better not be a Q&A session or you’ll lose your damn mind.

Moving to the study that also works as a surveillance room, you pull out your computer and begin to work. To be fair, you enjoy art enough to know more about it than the regular person. You had also been in contact with appraisers and auction houses back in your Interpol days, as you tracked ilegal art dealers.

For obvious reasons, you can’t mention that bit.

You’ve been working for a couple of hours when you hear the front door open, Natasha hurrying up the steps.

“Hey” she says with a frown.

“Everything ok?”

“You didn’t answer my text. Have you even taken a break to eat?” she puts down a heavy box in front of you.

“Sorry, I was preparing for the lecture”

“I got you your favorite food for lunch. And did you see the bouquet?” Natasha insists.

“Uh, I did… but is there a reason for…?”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Is it our fake first date anniversary, baby?” you tease, leaning forward. Natasha’s so worked up it's almost comical.

“Y/N, it’s your birthday”

“What?!” you turn to look at the calendar. “Holy crap, how could I have forgotten my own birthday?”

You are so focused on the mission, this completely slipped your mind. What were you supposed to do any way? Being undercover meant cutting off contact with the rest of the world. The timing sucks, but work is your priority right now.

“Work on that thing tomorrow. You should be resting and having a special day”

“Nat, it’s fine. It won’t be the first or last birthday that I’m stuck at work” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

“Please?” she reaches for your hand, and the gesture is so gentle that your heart skips a beat. Natasha is very serious about taking the day off.

“Ok” you nod, and the hint of a smile can be seen on her face as you take her hand. She gets plates for the both of you and even agrees to watch Project Runway, which she loathes and you love. Without either one of you noticing, you end up across the couch, your legs on her lap.

“Our dinner reservation is at seven” she says, her hand going up and down your thigh.

“Dinner?”

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take you to dinner?” Natasha smiles, making you blush.

“Well, no one really knows it’s my birthday, so…”

You leave out the most obvious part of how her logic is flawed: you are not even married.

“I know it’s your birthday. Come on. Just let me spoil you once?”

You clear your throat and nod, afraid that if you speak, your voice will give away how much those words affect you. Natasha telling you she wants to spoil you?

That alone is the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten.

—

It’s honestly a lot more than you could have asked for. The restaurant is beautiful, the food is amazing, and Natasha is looking at you in that special way that makes you feel so happy and confused at the same time.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn you saw love in her beautiful emerald eyes.

“How’s your food?”

“Here” you take a forkful of your pasta and offer it to her.

“Really good. Almost as good as the one we had in… where was it? Naples?” Natasha teases, and you smile.

“That’s the city. The whole region is actually really beautiful… maybe I should take some of that time off and travel again” you ponder, thinking about how life has been all about work for the past years.

“Where would you go? Aside from Naples?”

“Sorrento, Lecce, maybe Positano. I don’t know, I guess I’d spend it around the south, just because the food is that good” you sigh, dreamily.

“How come you know so much about it?” Natasha inquires, smiling softly.

“My parents owned a house, because my grandparents were from Salerno. So we’d all spent every summer there, until they sold the property” you explain, letting the waiter take your empty plate. The memory of hot days, cold water and delicious food comes back to you, coupled with the places you’d visit, driving everywhere with your family.

“So, maybe you were destined to be on this mission” Natasha says, smiling.

“I don’t know if destined or it was Fury messing with me” you slip up, hurrying to take a sip of your wine. He had teased you endlessly about your crush on Natasha, and he was probably laughing his ass off as he prepared your identities.

“Whatever it was, I’m happy we’re in this together” Natasha admits, smiling to you.

“Me too” you agree in a low voice. Then, you look at her and smile mischeviously. “So, since it’s my birthday, can we get a nice dessert?”

“I’m already on it” Natasha raises her hand, the man bringing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle. “Make a wish”

What could you possibly wish for? You wanted to spend time with Natasha, get to know her, have her look at you the way she was doing right now.

Your wish was granted already. Still, you smile, and lean forward to blow out the candle.

—

“Maybe this is a bad idea”

Natasha is hovering. Hovering and following you and asking all kinds of questions while you prepare your bag.

“It’s gonna be fine” you say, again.

“It’s too risky”

“All I have to do is place this phone next to his computer” you lift the device that Maria sent. “And we’ll have access to his files”

“What if he notices?”

“I better run fast then” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “I’m a SHIELD agent, not a history nerd with no fighting skills”

“Except you are a history nerd” she mutters and you turn to glare at her.

“You know what, Romanoff”

“Can I at least drive you there?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on your side. Does she think you’ll screw up the mission? Or is she actually worried about you? Either way, she looks conflicted and there’s no reason to not give her some peace of mind.

“Alright”

On the way to the lecture, you review your notes, missing the way Natasha smiles at the things you’re saying about the subjective value of art and how it has changed throughout history.

Such a nerd.

“I’ll be in a cafe monitoring everything. Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up”

“Yes, darling wife” you say with a slightly mocking tone, the same way you always call her your wife in public, but with no one else around.

As you exit the car and walk towards the university, Natasha calls for you.

“I didn’t get to wish you good luck” she explains, pulling you close and kissing you softly. “Good luck”

“T-thanks” you say, out of breath.

Natasha nods, letting you walk as if she didn’t just do the sweetest thing in the world.

You try not to think about how much you’ll miss this when the mission’s over.

But now you have to stay focused.

Alessandro waves his hand in the air, and you walk towards him with a smile.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this”

“It’s not a problem, really”

It totally is, you criminal motherfucker.

“Oh, I forgot my laptop, could I use yours? I have the deck on a flash drive”

Alessandro hesitates for a second, but his mask slips back to place instantly. If you really were a regular person, you never would have noticed his concern.

It means he keeps everything hidden there.

“Sure. Let me just…” he quickly types his password, and you look around the classroom, pulling out the phone and placing it on the table next to his computer. “All set”

“Thank you”

As the slideshow is projected in the auditorium, you look around the room, feeling more confident.

“So, how much would you guys pay for a banana taped to a wall?”

—

“I’m telling you, he keeps everything there” you say to Natasha, browsing through the device. “There’s some encryption, though”

“My expertise”

“Show off”

“Let’s get something to eat” she changes the subject.

“You don’t wanna go back home and check if it’s working?”

“I think a few hours won’t make a difference. We won’t be long, detka”

You think Fury would disagree, but she’s calling you detka and your gayness outweights your sense of duty.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything you want”

“Pizza”

“Anything but pizza” she says, making a face and you laugh.

“Natasha!”

“Sushi” she proposes.

“Fine, sushi it is”

The evening is spent talking about everything but the mission, and by the time you’re driving back home, all you want to do is get in bed and sleep.

“Where are you going?” you ask when Natasha walks to the study.

“You did your part, now I have to work” she explains with a smile.

“Fine” you close the door to the bedroom, joining her in the study. “Either way you’re gonna wake me up when you come back to bed. Might as well help you now”

“Sure” she says, even though you know next to nothing about code and hacking.

While she works on the computer, you look at the window, yawning and stretching in the couch.

Natasha finds out that Pluto is the banking organization they use for their covert operations. To access the accounts she needs a code-string of numbers.

“How many numbers?” you ask, half asleep.

“Six”

“Not coordinates. Could be dates. Most of them like to write down the dates of their oldest founders' tombstones anywhere they can, like a fucking tramp stamp” you joke, falling asleep. “Get into the database and try those”

“Maybe…” Natasha begins to say, but when she turns around you’re snoring.

And what does she know, you are right, the key to the algorithm is based on tombstones’ dates. Talk about morbid.

“Nerd” Natasha says affectionately. Deciding it is enough work for the day, she closes the laptop, helping you up to your shared bedroom.

Truth is, she’s not ready to finish this mission.

—

The end is near, you both can tell. With the encryption finished and the communications that you have intercepted, SHIELD has enough to arrest them.

According to the conversations you recorded, the exchange is set to happen two weeks from today. So you have two more weeks of fake domestic bliss. And then back to being just colleagues.

“I’ll be home as soon as I have a response” Natasha says.

“See you later” you say from your spot in the couch.

“No good luck kiss?” she jokes, referring to the time she said goodbye to you before the lecture.

But you’re not messing around when you stand up and place a chaste kiss on her cheek. If these are the last two weeks you get to do this without being questioned, you’ll make the most of them.

“Be safe”

“You too” she smiles, squeezing your hand.

The sun is setting, but you don’t feel like cooking anything or watching television. Instead, you decide to go out for a run, passing by the Costa mansion out of curiosity.

“Hey, neighbor” Beatrice greets with her signature wave. She often looks like royalty waving at the commoners. “Want some refreshments?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just out for a short run”

“Come on, you could use some rest! I’d love to hear how the presentation went”

Feeling cornered, you nod, stepping foot inside her mansion. Beatrice has a glass of lemonade ready, which surprises you, but you take it and sip slowly.

Damn, even her lemonade tastes amazing.

“Heard those students were fascinated by your presentation” she encourages you to speak, and you nod, the movement making you a bit fuzzy.

“It was fun… yeah”

“Everything ok?” Beatrice comes close to inspect your face, and you try to step back. Your leg gives in, so you end up on the floor.

“I’m not sure…”

It isn’t until the very last second you understand the woman drugged you.

—

Everything is upside down or so you feel as you struggle to open your eyes.

“See? I told you she’d be fine”

“Oh, shut it. We’ve been waiting for hours” a man says and you blink several times. Their names come back to you slowly.

The mission.

Was your cover blown?

“Y/N, dear, I do apologize. My wife may have overdone it with the clonazepam” Alessandro says. You try to move, but your hands are tied behind your back. “Yes, about that. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you here for long. We just really need to use your connections in the art world to smuggle a tiny, tiny thing”

Good news (for you). The cover is safe.

Bad news (for them). Natasha is gonna kill them.

It looks like you’re in an abandoned warehouse, and judging by the sound, it’s close to the river.

“Yeah, uh… look. I don’t know how to say this, but you’d be better off crossing the border, whichever one. South, north”

“I’m not following” Beatrice says.

“Well, I’m afraid Natasha’s gonna kill you when she finds you two” you grimace, almost feeling sorry for them. They truly don’t know what’s coming.

“No offense, but I think a Maggia family will be more than safe from…”

“The Black Widow?” you say, with a smug smile.

“Bullshit” Beatrice snaps, pulling you by the hair. “Stop the nonesense and help us out. Or we’ll send you home to your loving wife in a body bag”

There’s a loud crash outside of the warehouse, and a widow bite is shot close to Beatrice’s foot as a warning.

“Hands off my girl” Natasha says, gun raised and pointing at Alessandro. “You ok, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Sorry for missing dinner”

“It’s fine. We’ll heat it up when we get home” Natasha jokes. With a nod, you throw yourself to the floor, shattering the chair. Beatrice throws a couple of punches, and she’s quite the fighter.

While Natasha is engaged in battle with Alessandro, the woman escapes and you’re following close behind. The drug is still in your system, and you can tell by the way your steps are a little clumsy.

Beatrice leads you to the edge of the river and you catch up to her out of breath.

“It’s over” you say, hearing Natasha step right behind you.

“Cap’s got the other one. Let’s bring this one in” she says, walking past you. She fails to see the gun that Beatrice is hiding, and you push Natasha out of the way. The bullet passes between you both and you launch your body against Beatrice, knocking her down.

Still, your diziness makes you lose your footing and you fall to the river.

“Rogers, Hill!” Natasha calls over comms, borderline hysterical. “Someone come in”

“I’m here, Romanoff” Tony says, flying over the redhead.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Tony’s suit scans the river and finds you.

“She’s ok, I’m getting her out now. Handcuff our suspect there”

Natasha turns to glare at Beatrice, punching her so hard she’s knocked out.

“Bitch” Natasha says, handcuffing her.

Maria approaches to make sure Natasha doesn’t kill Beatrice, while the redhead sprints towards the spot where Tony drops you off.

“Are you ok? What hurts?”

“J-just cold” you mutter, holding on to her hands.

“Let’s take her to the Medbay. Romanoff, stay so you can lead the rest of the mission” Steve says.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Natasha screams so loud that every agent on the scene turns to look at her. “I’m going with her to the hospital, I don’t give a crap about your mission, Rogers”

“Tasha, I’m fine” you insist, but enjoy the way she pulls you against her, her hands on your lower back. Natasha kisses the top of your head, leading you to a car that will drive you to SHIELD’s medical facility.

Fury turns to look at Hill, amused.

“Remember our little bet?”

Maria rolls her eyes, annoyed. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill and reluctantly hands it to her boss.

“So not fair”

—

Bruised ribs, a potential cold from your night swim and a minor concussion. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Natasha seems to disagree, which is why she pushes to postpone the mission debriefing.

“You need to rest” is all she says.

Back in your old room, you shower, enjoying the hot water and clean clothes. Natasha is still sitting on your bed when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep without you” she confesses shyly, which makes you smile.

“Me neither”

“I thought I lost you”

“I got lucky. Those two idiots actually thought I was an art dealer” you chuckle.

“You’re a very convincing art nerd” Natasha teases, and you want to pull back but she grabs you by the waist. “I wish I still had two more weeks”

“It doesn’t have to be just two weeks” you say, running your hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pretend to be with you, Natasha. I want to be with you, for real”

“Yeah?” she looks up at you, a guarded expression on her face.

Instead of answering, you lean forward, kissing her softly until she pulls you to straddle her lap.

“You know, we never consumated our marriage”

“Seems like we should get on with it” you laugh as she flips you over, making you lie on your back.

“Just as long as you don’t fake an orgasm” she jokes, kissing every inch of your body.

“Promise I won’t”

Your reality turns out better than any undercover mission could ever be.

[elleandstufff]

Being Thanos's Sugar Baby/Trophy Wife... ⁀➴♡

Headcanons about being Thanos’s sugar baby/trophy wife! Hope you all had a great Valentine’s Day! <3

Sugar Daddy!Thanos x fem!sugar baby/trophy wife reader

Warnings: Sugar baby to trophy wife to lovers (is this a trope?), sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamic, no squid game au, jealousy and a lil possessiveness, a little angst but a lot of fluff, idiots in love, addiction, smut, breeding kink, dom!Thanos, eventual domesticity, having babies, he’s just so baby daddy coded, okay? 2k words

About halfway through I completely lose the plot and these become shameless domesticity headcanons because I literally cannot help myself. 

Read part two here!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

♡ Okay, let’s pretend he is actually a huge rapper and never got into the crypto scams, so he has a lot of money! 

♡ You’re a bartender at one of the clubs he frequents. He flirts with you quite often, but you think it’s just him messing around!

♡ Little did you know, he’s had his eye on you for quite some time. He always keeps an eye on you while you’re bartending, making sure that no guys get too handsy with you. If someone does, he takes them outside and gives them a black eye. They’ll never bother you again, that’s for sure. 

♡ One night while you’re closing up, he sees you counting your pitiful tips for the night with a big sigh. He knows there’s no way you can survive comfortably on them :( 

♡ He finally decides to approach you with the proposal he's had on his mind for a while. 

♡ At first you think he’s joking. He wants you to be his sugar baby? You didn’t even know people actually did stuff like that! 

♡ When you realize he’s serious, you’re unsure. You have been struggling financially for a while and he’s super hot, but what would people think… 

♡ He doesn’t need an answer right away. He tells you to think about, and he’s ecstatic when a few weeks later you accept his offer <3

♡ He has you quit your job right away and move into his massive apartment. It’s really weird for you to be living in such a large house, but he’s happy to not have to be alone in his mansion anymore. 

♡ He makes it clear right away that he wants you to call him Su-bong. You’re not just anyone, you’re his girl.

♡ You introduce him to your friends and family early on, but you don’t tell them of the arrangement between you two, obviously. They’re all surprised to see you with someone high profile so suddenly, but they really like him! They can tell you’re being taken care of. 

♡ Going public is scarier, especially because he has some diehard fans, but the response is positive! Everyone thinks you’re really cute together. 

♡ You start sharing a bed with him right away, but he doesn’t pressure you into having sex until you’re ready. 

♡ But when you are ready… this man can’t keep it in his pants. 

♡ Sex in literally every position imaginable. He has a sex positions book on his coffee table (the only book he’ll ever read), and every night the two of you try out a new one. Once you run out, you make new ones up, of course! 

♡ This man does not wear condoms and cannot/will not pull out, so you have to make sure you’re on some heavy duty birth control. Realistically he wants you pregnant as soon as possible, but he knows the two of you aren’t ready yet. 

♡ It’s very important to him that you finish too. Part of being a sugar daddy is taking care of his baby, and that includes sexually! 

♡ You’re always so willing to get on your knees for him and empty his balls, especially if he’s had a long day. He takes such good care of you, so you’re always happy to thank him.

♡ He always affectionately calls you his cocksleeve and then bursts out laughing (which, of course, causes you to laugh too).

♡ He buys you all kinds of sexy lingerie, but anything purple is his favorite! He prefers that you wear either lingerie around the house or his t-shirts. He loves when you wear his clothes because they’re so big on you, and he finds it adorable <3 

♡ He is super protective (borderline possessive) when you two are out in public. He does not like it when dudes talk to you. He makes it very obvious who you belong to by constantly having his hands on you. 

♡ He also gets you a silver Thanos necklace, and you never take it off.

♡ Very early on (let’s be real–probably too early), he buys you a big diamond ring and asks you to be his trophy wife. You’re secretly truly in love with him outside of your arrangement, so you say yes. You’re so sad that you’re only together because of your arrangement :( But what you don’t know is that he’s been in love with you since day one <3

♡ After being married for a little while, you finally reach the boiling point for your feelings. With teary eyes you tell him you can’t do this anymore, and he feels truly sick. Once you explain yourself, that you can’t keep going because you love him and you can’t fake it, he’s relieved. He tells you he’s loved you all along. Why else do you think he asked you to agree to your little arrangement? <3

♡ The two of you confessing to each other encourages him to get clean for good. He used drugs for so long to numb himself, then to distract himself because he thought you didn’t feel the same way. He wants to prove to you that he can be a better version of himself. It’s not easy, but you’re there to support him in his journey. 

♡ Once you’re both ready, you gladly agree to give him a couple kids! 

♡ He takes getting you pregnant very seriously. He tracks your ovulation and fucks you over and over again during your fertile window. Folds you into the best position for the job (breeding press obvi) and puts a pillow under your hips for good measure. 

♡ He’s super happy when you take a test and it’s positive, but he already knew it was going to be <3

♡ He’s very protective over you while pregnant (even more so than before, if that’s even possible). 

♡ He doesn’t let you do anything while you’re pregnant. He just wants you to focus on carrying his baby! So he hires a maid to clean the house and even a chef to cook for you!

♡ He makes sure to come to every single one of your ultrasound appointments, even if it interferes with interviews or performances he already had scheduled. They’ll just have to get over it. He carries one of the ultrasound pictures around in his wallet too. He just can't get enough of looking at the masterpiece the two of you created.

♡ He doesn’t have you do many public appearances while pregnant, but he loves it when you do. You’re so pretty while pregnant, and it gives him just another reason to show you off (and show who you belong to). 

♡ This might sound weird, but he loves making love to you while you’re pregnant. There’s something special to him about being so gentle and bonding with you while you carry his baby. 

♡ When you go into labor he’s actually terrified—shaking, hyperventilating, the whole nine yards. But once he realizes how scared/stressed/in pain you are he steps up for you. 

♡ Once your baby is here, he tells you over and over again how good you did! He also thanks you repeatedly for giving him a family. 

♡ He hides it from you, but once you fall asleep he definitely cries as he looks at the sweet baby girl the two of you made. 

♡ You’re the best and prettiest mom around, and he adores watching you take care of your daughter. 

♡ He loves it so much, in fact, that before you know it you’re pregnant again. Oopsies!

♡ He’s much more lenient with your second pregnancy, only because he has to be. You already have another baby to take care of, so it’s not like you can sit around all day like he wishes you could. He still hires people to help out with the house so you can focus on your babies–the one you already have and the one in your tummy. 

♡ He loves coming home to see you with your fifteen-month-old propped on your hip and your tummy already swollen again. He would take your daughter from you and hand over your favorite take out that he brought home. 

♡ The two of you are thrilled when your little family is complete with another baby girl of course! 

♡ He’s honestly not the best when it comes to diaper changes or other baby care activities, but he does try to help you out as best as he can. 

♡ But… he is the best at having fun with your kiddos! No one can make your babies laugh like he can!

♡ When your girls are really little, they definitely think that your name is Honey or Sweetheart because that’s exclusively what your husband calls you. 

♡ He would alter his career to focus more on recording and producing, so that he can spend more time with his girls. 

♡ When you’re sad because your girls get a little bit older and are gone more with playdates and preschool, he would give you another baby because he’s just so sweet! And totally has nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to get you pregnant again. 

♡ After your third baby girl he knows it’s time to stop. He doesn’t want to push your body too far <3 

♡ He is definitely the type of dad to just walk in on Christmas morning with a puppy that he did not discuss with you beforehand. But you can’t be mad because your daughters are so happy and you’ve always wanted to have a puppy too!

♡ He would also do it more than once, so that you end up with two dogs, a cat, and something random like a rabbit or lizard. But you like having a lively house <3

♡ On Mother’s Day, you would spend the whole day with him, and your girls, and his mom too because she’s also a mom :) He would call in a fancy catering order so neither you nor his mom have to lift a finger. At the end of the night, he would send the girls to go stay the night at Grandma’s house so he can make you happy all night long ;) 

♡ Speaking of sex… he’s clearly the dominant one. He always wants to be on top and in control because it’s his job to make you feel good! 

♡ But… on special occasions like his birthday or your anniversary or Father’s Day he would have you ride him. He would think it was so cute watching you try your hardest to please both of you. He would watch for a while with his arms crossed behind his head as you frustratedly struggle to get yourself off–after all, you’re not used to this.  Eventually he decides you’ve had enough, and he’ll flip you over and take you to pound town. 

♡ He always finds new adventures or places for you all to go. Cool restaurants, theme parks, beach houses, you name it and he's going to take his family there.

♡ He'll take you on day trips or weekend trips sometimes, so that the two of you can have some alone time without being away from your babies for too long.

♡ Overall, he is a great husband and father in his own ways. Is he good at doing the dishes? No. Is he good at knowing what to do when one of your kids is sick? Also no. But he makes up for it in other ways by always providing for all of you, being fun, and trying his best. 

♡ You’re so happy to have your little family <3 Who would have thought all of this would come from saying yes to being a rapper’s sugar baby? 

Read part two here!

｡ ₊ Masterlist ₊ ｡