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dreamsteddie · 2 days ago

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Can't Take My Eyes Off You

Written for the @stmarchmm day one prompt “courting rituals” | Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Courting Rituals, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington - Also on Ao3

Bat divider -@popmilky | Diamond divider - @inklore

Eddie knows he doesn’t have much going for him in terms of mating material.

Despite presenting as an Alpha early at age twelve, something that should have given him some kind of status in a town like Hawkins, there’s always been something about him that makes people turn their noses up at him, close doors in his face. He’s kind of wishy-washy when it comes to the things he’s not passionate about, he smells like wet pavement and cigarette smoke, and can’t for the life of him seem to graduate high school.

He also can’t grow a beard, can’t remember to separate the darks from the lights, can’t tie his shoes without using the bunny ears method, can’t hop in place and rub his tummy, can’t-

Well the point is, there are a lot of “can’t”s in his life and never a whole lot of “can”s

The one thing Eddie can do without a shadow of a doubt is pursue delusions of grandeur with a single-minded determination. No matter how hard this shit-hole town and all its designation-obsessed inhabitants have tried to beat him into the dirt over the years, he’s never let go of his dreams. Some day, he’s going to play songs for the entire goddamn planet, making millions of dollars off lyrics inspired by all the games and books that have gotten his head shoved in the Hawkin’s High toilets over the years, and Mayor Kline will have to give him a key to the city while Eddie Munson, town freak, gives him the middle finger.

And, if all the stars align and the Big Guy upstairs he doesn’t believe in does him several solids, he’ll be doing it with Steve Harrington standing by his side.

The guys think he’s crazy—Eddie thinks he’s crazy—but Eddie is determined to give his all into courting Steve Harrington before their shared senior year ends. He’s, by and large, the most eligible Omega in all of Hawkins, even with his recent breakup with Nancy Wheeler under his belt. No amount of ditching the popular crowd, adopting a bunch of children, and becoming best friends with band geek Robin Buckley has been enough to deter the Alphas of Hawkins High, even if some of them won’t admit it.

Eddie takes great pleasure in watching every failed courting offer. Steve has always been picky about who he lets take him out, but he hasn’t taken up a single Alpha’s offer since Nancy and the rejections are getting more brutal by the day. Eddie suspects it’s Robin’s influence and if that is the case he needs to thank her profusely because Eddie goes a little weak in the knees every time he sees Steve literally turn up his perfect nose at an offer.

So, the odds aren’t looking good. Steve is picky and Eddie is famously a poor, nobody freak, not the kind of guy with the resources to properly woo a guy like Steve, but what Eddie does have is a lot of passion and a strong desire to prove himself.

So Eddie has a capital P Plan.

“Hey Buckley,” Eddie says sliding up to the girl where she’s packing up at the bleachers after practice. She gives him a scrutinizing look and clearly finds him lacking, squinting her eyes at him like he’s a little bug landed on her shoulder. Irritating and suspicious. Which, rude. “I was wondering if a fine lady like yourself would happen to know what one Steve Harrington might be hoping for in a courting” Robin clearly wasn’t expecting him to come right out and ask, her blue eyes going wide.

“What the fuck, Munson!” She crows, clearly embarrassed by his lack of tact.

“What!?” He fires back, not understanding what the big deal is. He wants to court Steve and Robin is the best source of information on how to go about it.

“You can’t just ask that, you doofus,” she hisses, lavender scent going smokey like brush fire.

“Why not? I want to court him, like, publicly. Everyone’s gonna know in a couple weeks anyway. Shouldn’t you be glad you’re the first to know?” He huffs. He knows it’s not exactly the done thing to go around telling people you’re going to court someone. You’re supposed to be delicate. Hint at it and build up little courting gifts and don’t look anyone in the eye. It’s dumb as hell and Eddie wants no part of it. Besides, so far as Eddie has seen, that method hasn’t worked on Steve anyway. Eddie may as well go about this in his own way, which includes getting insider information.

Still clearly not impressed, Robin says “You? You want to court Steve? Resident anti-conformist, jock-hating, Eddie Munson wants to court Steve Harrington. Why?” Her tone is clearly disbelieving, which, again, rude.

“Uh, I mean, have you seen him with those kids? He’s wicked hot with that whole mom thing he’s got going on.” At that, Robin gags. “And, I mean, I know he’s a jock but he’s also an Omega and he pretty much said fuck it to Hawkin’s High when he presented and refused to give up his position as captain. That was super fucking metal,” he says all earnest.

“And I like the way he smells, like a fresh cinnamon roll. And we shared an English class once and he asked me about the doodle of a Beholder I worked on instead of taking notes. And I know I’m not exactly a prime Alpha but I don’t think that really matters. At least not to me. I want to kiss him and make sweet love to him and have babies with him and -” Robin cuts him off with a hand over his mouth.

“Ok, I get it. You like him.” She says that, but she’s still looking at him like she can’t figure him out. “Alright…I don’t know if I like you Eddie but I’ll throw you a bone. Just one, got it? And if you fuck it up, I’m not helping you again.” She says, waiting for him to nod before removing her hand from his mouth.

Eddie takes a deep, overdramatic breath in like he’s just breached water. “Got it.”

Robin takes a deep breath of her own. “Steve’s been propositioned for courting 19 times since he presented and he’s only said yes to one. One-off dates not included.” She hasn’t stopped looking him straight in the eye, making sure he pays attention. “Nancy gave him a set of handwritten notes for history because she noticed he was struggling. All the other Alphas got him fancy jewelry, useless house stuff, and generic valentine's day crap.” With that, she gives him one last, long look before grabbing her trumpet and leaving, the sound of metal clanging under her feet following in her wake.

“Thanks, Buckey!” He calls out, waving his hand wildly at her retreating back. She ignores him.

Well, no matter. He’s got a courting to plan.

The thing about courting when you have $3.45 to your name after rent and gas is that you have to get creative. Which isn’t a problem, Eddie breathes creativity. If he wasn't already “The Freak” he’s sure he would be Eddie “The Creative” Munson. Really, it has a nice ring to it.

The problem comes with making something with $3.45 that is also a worthy courting gift for Steve Harrington. Which, given Robin’s tip, might not be as big a concern as he would have thought. But even if Steve would be happy with a heartfelt love letter and those peanut butter brownies Eddie knows he likes, there’s a part of him that wants to blow every other Alpha and Beta that came before him completely out of the water. Maybe especially Nancy Wheeler.

Sue him, he wants to be the best.

Which leaves him with the option of a gesture. Eddie loves a gesture, but this one is going to require some help. Luckily, Eddie knows where every gang of geeks in Hawkin’s makes their dens, even if they’re not his gang of geeks. It comes with being Head Freak. It’s his responsibility, really.

Which is how he finds himself in the Hawkins Middle AV club room being stared down by a bunch of beady-eyed thirteen year olds on the verge of presenting. Jesus, these kids are intense.

“So yeah, that’s what I’m planning,” he finishes explaining. Would it kill them to look a little impressed? He’s pretty proud of it himself. Instead of sharing looks of awe, the six of them share looks of judgement between them, obviously having a silent conversation between them like some kind of hive mind. Eddie will never admit it makes him sweat a little bit.

“You want to ask to court Steve. Steve Harrington?” the tall, skinny one asks like he can’t believe it. Eddie doesn’t know if the disgust is for him or for the Omega. Either way, ouch.

“Yes,” he replies, sweating a little more. They all share more looks, the redhead in particular is looking at him like he’s gum stuck on the bottom of her shoes.

“Why?” The curly one asks, firm and more seriously than any kid that dorky looking should have any right to speak. Seriously, he looks like a poodle in a Star Wars shirt and a trucker hat. But, Eddie knows enough about Steve to know that these are his kids, his pups, and despite how much it chafes him to have people continually asking why he wants to court Steve, like it isn’t obvious, he knows these pups are just looking out for their pack Omega.

With a deep sigh, Eddie explains for the second time in less than a week, everything he loves about Steve Harrington. At the end of his speech, the pups stare at him for a long moment before simultaneously turning their back on him to form an honest to God huddle. Seriously, the hive mind thing is looking more and more likely. Maybe he should use this for a campaign. Very Children of the Corn.

While Eddie is lost in his musing, they seem to come to some kind of conclusion, breaking up and returning to one solid, unbreakable line. It’s the other girl, hair short and at that awkward growing out length that Eddie knows all too well that steps forward. All these kids are intense, but there’s something especially severe about her, something Eddie only half recognizes.

“We will help you,” she says, quiet and solemn.

This is going to fucking fantastic, Eddie thinks, wild grin splitting across his face.

It’s embarrassingly easy to sneak a band of six middle schoolers and one elementary schooler into the school after hours. The kids met him outside the building just at exactly 4:00 PM the Friday after their meeting in the AV room just as they planned. The addition of the feisty ten year old was unexpected, but she proved herself invaluable in charming the one teacher that stopped them on their way to the radio room, spinning some tale about being so excited for higher learning that they wanted to explore the high school. Eddie thinks Erica Sinclair should run the world.

The kids are a well oiled, if slightly annoying, machine. As soon as Eddie pops the door open they’re getting to work figuring out how the PA system works and how long the range is. Dustin and Lucas insist that they move the entire unit closer to the field, and Max and Will are quick to source a cart for the whole thing. In record time they’re all piling into the coaches office, the one with a clear view of the basketball court where the team is running their Friday drills. Honestly, it feels a little like they’re highjacking Eddie’s plan, but the smiles on their face and their puppy sweet excitement softens the blow a little.

“You ready?” The curly haired one, Dustin, asks while offering him the mic.

“I was born for this, Dusty,” he says, snatching the mic out of his hand and taking his place outside the main gym doors.

Despite what he said, Eddie is nervous. He shakes his hands and bounces in place, trying to shake it off. Before he’s ready, he hears the slightly crackly jazzy intro pouring through the speakers. He counts his beats, waiting for his que. He spent hours planning this, recording the background music with the band, turning the lyrics over and over in his head, even practicing his grand entrance. He’s as ready as he can be.

God, he hopes this works.

And there’s his que, that little pause in the music just enough time for him to push open the doors to the main gym with all his strength, relishing in the dramatic banging sound.

All eyes are on him. Steve’s eyes are on him.

You're just too good to be true,

Can't take my eyes off of you,

He sings as he walks. All the activity in the gym has come to a halt, everyone too confused and curious to stop it. He’s looking right at Steve, who turns his head like he’s expecting to see someone else behind him. He’s so cute, Eddie wants to eat him alive.

At long last love has arrived,

And I thank God I'm alive,

You're just too good to be true

Eddie knows he doesn’t have a lot of time, any moment now principle Higgins and his one security lackey are going to bust through the doors to find out who stole the announcement equipment. This is the moment, the one that needs to count. Eddie saunters right up to Steve like his heart isn’t trying to beat out of his chest and kneels down like a knight to their king. He takes his hand, and Steve lets him as he sings the next line looking right up into those beautiful hazel eyes.

Can't take my eyes off of you.

He turns the hand in his own over to expose the Omega’s wrist just as the music pauses and presses a soft, lingering kiss to the gland there. A courting kiss.

Almost like he planned it, the doors burst open a second time revealing the fuming face of Principle Higgins and his goon. He turns a manic grin Steve’s way just as the music picks back up, cutting straight to the chorus. He presses one last kiss to Steve’s wrist and takes in the way his pretty, pink lips are parted in disbelief, eyes wide and then he’s running.

I love you baby,

And if it's quite alright,

I need you baby,

To warm the lonely nights

Let it never be said that Eddie Munson, for all the ways he fails to be the ideal Alpha, doesn’t have a hell of a lot of stamina. He’s been a proud runner all his life, and he’s using it to his advantage today to put on a show. He’s singing and he’s running as Higgins and Officer Jerry chase his tail like they have any hope of catching him when he doesn’t want to be caught, when he can see the most beautiful boy in the world laughing at him in disbelief as he ducks and dodges around the court.

But even Eddie has his limits and, like he said, he planned this to a T. He can feel himself running out of breath but he refuses to call it before the climax. He’s stomping his way up the bleachers, making a show of going between the rows dancing like he’s in an old hollywood musical. Higgin’s is closing in, but there’s now way he’s getting caught. Not today. He puts in a burst of speed, leaving them in the dust and putting himself right at the top of the wooden stands, singing directly to Steve who is absolutely glowing on the court.

And let me love you,

Baby let me love you…

The music gives one last swell, the Corroded Coffin of two days ago pouring their heart out for the Eddie of today. The music comes to an abrupt halt, the gym very quickly filling with laughter and applause. The kids are screaming their heads off in the office, loud enough to draw Steve’s attention to where they can be seen through the large window. The joy and disbelief on Steve’s face makes all of this worth it, no matter what happens next.

Eddie wishes he could relish in it longer, but the goon squad is gaining ground fast and he has one last message to give before he hauls ass into the next phase of his plan. He starts inching his way toward the exit, not taking his eyes off Steve as he goes. He needs him to hear this.

“Steve Harrington, it would be the honor of my life to court you with the intention of mating. Meet me at the lake at seven if you’ll hear me out.” And with that, he’s gone. He wishes he could stay to see his reaction, but he’s out of time.

He pushes through the emergency exit to the sound of hollering and clapping, all he can do now is commence with phase two.

Phase two mainly consists of picking everything up from the trailer, changing into his nice clothes, and heading toward Lover’s Lake to set everything up.

Eddie thinks this is the most nerve wracking part of the whole plan. In many ways, the whole big performance was the easy part. Eddie loves to perform, eats up the attention like a cat laps up milk. This, the full bearing of his heart to the Omega he wants to spend his life with, is far scarier than anything else. Here in the back of his van, the paper hearts and pillar candles, hand-picked daisies and hand-made peanut butter brownies, leave him completely exposed.

He wonders if Steve will show up.

He wishes he didn’t set up so god damn early. The waiting is excruciating.

The Alpha paces around, adjusts the blankets on the bottom of the van and then decides they were better before, and checks his watch every half minute like it will make time move faster. He sits and watches the hands turn from 6:59 to 7:00. Maybe Steve won’t come. Maybe this was all for nothing and he’ll have to go back to school on Monday and pretend like he isn’t heartbroken.

His watch continues to tick. 7:03, 7:07, 7:10. He’s getting ready to pick it all back up when he hears the muffled sound of tires on soft dirt. Suddenly, his heart is in his throat as he watches the distinct headlights of his favorite Beamer turn into the clearing.

Eddie scrambles to his feet, he has a plan to carry out.

He watches, heart in his throat as Steve parks. Watches as the door opens and Steve emerges, a sweet, sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry I’m late.” Steve looks like a dream. He clearly went home and had a shower and a change of clothes. He’s wearing light wash jeans that hug his thighs and a soft looking, deep red sweater, the collar of a white dress shirt peeking out from underneath. He’s dressed up for Eddie.

There’s a long pause where Eddie forgets how to speak and Steve just stands there, clearly waiting for Eddie to make a move. Eddie comes back to himself all at one, shaking his head hard like a dog, making Steve let out a startled laugh. “What the hell?” He asks, not mean, but bemused.

“My deepest apologies my liege, I was simply stunned by your beauty,” he says with a half bow, extending his arm for Steve to take. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to Cafe Munson, the finest pop up restaurant this side of Indiana.” It’s goofy and a little ridiculous but Steve takes the offered arm with a little smile, sending a pleasant jolt through his body.

Eddie leads Steve toward the open back of the van, watching him intently as he takes it in. He gets to see as the Omega’s eyes go wide, mouth parting in a little gasp. When he turns to look at Eddie, he’s already looking back. “You did this for me?” He asks, wonder coloring his voice. All of a sudden Eddie feels a little shy, a little sheepish.

“I know it’s not much, I’m not exactly liquid at the moment, but I wanted to do something nice for you,” he says, unoccupied arm reaching up to tug a piece of hair over his mouth. Steve looks at him for a long moment before turning back to the van. There are blankets everywhere, pretty much every one from the house plus a couple he nicked from Gareth’s house after practice. The emergency pillar lights from the pantry give the space a soft glow, paper hearts hang from string from the metal roof, and a repurposed laundry basket full of tupperwares and miller lites sits in the center.

“It’s perfect” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help but believe him. Not when his scent is blooming, cinnamon roll sweet, right under Eddie’s nose.

Eddie leads him to the van, gives him his hand to help him into the back. He takes a moment to take it all in, Steve Harrington settling into a date with Eddie Munson. It’s his biggest dream come true.

He climbs in after the other boy and starts pulling out tupperwares. Steve has settled in to lean on the wall of pillows Eddie constructed for just this reason, pulling a blanket over the both of them when Eddie settles in next to him. Steve laughs with every overly dramatic introduction he makes for the food, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been this warm. Neither of them brings up why they’re here, the underlying meaning behind it all. They dance around it, laughing about the kids, Steve’s sports and Eddie’s games, the look on Principle Higgin’s face when he burst into the gym earlier that day. The whole place smells like cinnamon and smoke, Eddie doesn’t think there’s a better smell in the whole world.

They don’t say a thing about courting or mating or scents until they polish off their cold pasta, courtesy of Wayne, and Eddie pulls out the last tupperware from the bottom of the laundry basket. “And for dessert, may I have a drumroll please….” Steve rolls his eyes but smiles as he complies, drumming a little beat with fingers on the side of the van. Eddie pulls out the container with a flourish, “The finest peanut butter brownies $3.15 worth of ingredients from Melvald’s can get you.” He expects laughter, maybe some light teasing as Steve has been shown to enjoy throughout the night, but all he gets is silence.

He worries, for a moment, that he got it wrong. Maybe Steve doesn’t like peanut butter brownies. Jesus H Christ, maybe he’s allergic to peanuts and Eddie has just massively fucked this up. He’s getting ready to spiral and try to fix it when Steve speaks, voice soft in a way Eddie can’t place.

“Those are my favorites,” he says. When Eddie is brave enough to look at his face again, he’s met with wet, adoring eyes. Eddie doesn't know if anyone has ever looked at him like that before. Like he was something magical. Something special just for them.

Eddie clears his throat when Steve doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps staring at him like he’s waiting for something big. “Yeah, yeah I know,” he says, bracing himself for what comes next. “I uh, I saw you buy some at the club fair last year. You bought three of them and then came back for one more before they closed the booth.” It shouldn’t be such a big admission, but it feels like he’s just handed Steve his heart on a silver platter.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, turning toward him fully.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, sitting up so they’re eye to eye.

“What you said, on the basketball court, will you ask me again?” He’s looking at him with so much hope in his eyes, Eddie almost feels like he could choke on it. Instead, he focuses in on the perfect scent of the man next to him, breathes steadily in and out.

“It would be the honor of my life to court you with the intention of mating, Steve Harrington.” As he says it, he reaches into his pocket for his last offering, his hail mary pass, his death saving throw. It’s a silly thing, cost his last 30 cents at the stationary store, but he was listening to Robin on those bleachers that day. Knows that the gesture and the picnic are all well and good, but what Steve has been missing with all those other Alphas is someone who notices the small details and holds them close. Someone who cares about his C+ in History, someone who knows his favorite brownies are swirled with peanut butter.

Someone who notices that he lost his eraser last week and has been meaning to pick up a new one.

Eddie holds out his heart one last time, it’s shaped like a 30 cent eraser. White and covered with a paper band. The best one on the market.

Steve stares at the little eraser like it contains the answers to the universe, and then he’s plucking it, oh so gently, out of his hands and cradling it in his own. Eddie waits, the ball is completely in Steve’s court now, Eddie has played all his cards.

Suddenly, Steve scent starts to bloom, even more than it did when he first saw the van. The smell of sugar, cinnamon, and yeast so strong it makes Eddie feel light headed. Eddie gets a glimpse of the most beautiful smile in the world just before Steve is throwing his arm around his neck, nudging his way into his lap to notch his head right at Eddie’s scent gland. Eddie’s arms instinctually wrap around his back, keeping him close.

“Yes,” Steve says, the sound of it muffled by the soft skin of Eddie’s neck. Eddie squeezes him tight, knows he needs to ask, just to make sure but worried he’s hallucinating. Scared to believe he’s getting everything he’s ever wanted.

“Yes?” He asks, lips trembling where they’ve found their own place at Steve’s neck, wanting to be as close as possible, just in case.

“Yes.” And Steve is pulling back, which Eddie hates, and cupping his face in is hands. “It would be the honor of my life to accept your courting offer, Eddie Munson,” he says, sure and steady and full to the brim of hope.

“Holy shit.” Eddie can’t believe this is happening. Despite all the planing and the performing and the putting his heart on the line he never actually let himself think that this would happen. Never let himself think about how it would end.

Without much though Eddie barrels forward to bury his head back into the Omega’s neck, his Omega’s neck, peppering him with fervent little kisses until Steve is giggling so hard he tips them over into the pile of pillows behind him. Eddie is full to the brim with joy, happier than he’s ever been and all of a sudden he needs to move. Needs to let the whole world know what he’s got in the palm of his hands.

He jolts up with one last kiss to Steve’s cheek, managing a quick “be right back!” before he launching himself out of the van. He hears Steve calling out in confusion, but it quickly turns into more joyous laughter as Eddie steps out of the van and starts jumping in place, punching the air and whooping into the night sky.

“Fuck you Hawkins! I’m courting Steve Harrington! I’m on top of the God Damn world!” He gets in one last double bird in the general direction of Main Street before Steve is calling him back in.

“Ok, you’ve had your moment. Now get your ass back in here and kiss me for real, you dumb Alpha,” he says, laughter still caught in his throat. And really? Who is Eddie do deny a request like that?

So excited for MMM, guys! I won't be doing every day, but I will be doing at lest a couple of full one shots and some of my normal ramblings. (Also, this is the longest thing I've ever written that wasn't an academic paper and I am low key very proud of myself)

#March Mating Madness #steddie #omegaverse #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #dreamer speaks #fanfiction #robin buckley

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writing-for-marvel · 21 hours ago

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In Situ

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 8 | Series Masterlist

In Situ - meaning in the natural position (ie. Bucky’s place next to you)

Summary: You ask Bucky to accompany you to the hospital's fundraising gala.

Warnings: strictly 18+, unprotected soft loving sex, creampie, graphic depiction of gunshot wounds & significant bleeding to a major character, a bit of angst as they struggle to reveal their feelings, will we finally get an ‘I love you’??, certain ex-fling of Bucky’s makes an appearance, this part has a bit of everything, fluff, angst, smut all rolled into one; I will apologise in advance you have every right to hate me given the ending of this

Word count: a whopping 10.3k (buckle up)

A/N: this part is dedicated to the wonderful @treatbuckywkisses and @yenzys-lucky-charm, I haven’t updated this series in so long and I genuinely thought no one would care about it being incomplete but you both have left such sweet comments on the other parts that inspired me to continue with my vision for paramedic!bucky, so I hope you both enjoy my darling friends 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

It’s the start of a very long shift when the person you least want to encounter, Dr Thor Odinson, approaches you with a glowering expression which looks like the most accurate embodiment of ‘I would rather be anywhere else’.

You would rather quite literally be in any other room of the hospital than in trauma room 2 right now, but as your direct superior, you have to constantly take direction from the same man who tried to compete with Bucky for your affection, and then blacklisted you at work after you turned him down.

“Before you say no to this, I need you to know this is a requirement of your employment here and you cannot get out of it, no matter how much you might want to.” Thor states with the same amount of joy as if he were inviting you to a funeral. His hands fidget almost unconsciously with a sealed envelope as he speaks, before offering it to you with a firm, outstretched hand. “Believe me, I’ve already tried.”

You consider him for a moment, his eyes not quite meeting your examining gaze and nervously grinding his back teeth. Taking the envelope, you notice your name written in messy, scrawled handwriting on the front.

“Not sure why I wouldn’t want to, whatever you’re inviting me to sounds like the absolute time of my life.” You jest in an effort to diffuse the tension between you. Thor, however, doesn’t seem to find it funny as rather than a chuckle, you elicit the most forced eye roll you’ve seen in a while.

“It’s a fundraising gala, mostly for the research labs associated with the hospital, but part of the proceeds go to supporting patients without healthcare who otherwise would not afford our help.”

Though the thought of contributing to those of the community who are less fortunate, and find themselves in the unfortunately common situation of being in debt to a healthcare system which was designed to further cripple the already vulnerable, the lack of enthusiasm Thor is conveying during the conversation makes you wary of what important information you’re likely missing about the event.

“You’re allowed to bring a plus one.” He adds with a rising inflection, almost as if it’s a question rather than a statement.

Silence falls between you two, and for a moment you fully believe Thor is waiting for you to confirm whether you will be bringing Bucky as your date, which would just make this uncomfortable encounter even more awkward, but thankfully he speaks again before you need to say anything.

“You’ll be representing the ED, and more importantly the hospital, at this event. You and whomever you bring better be on your best behaviour, I don’t want to have to write you up again.” A smirk curves on your face as he walks away. Although there is a finality to his voice in which you know you won’t get out of this work event, Thor has reminded you of the very public display of affection Bucky showed you in the emergency room which had earned you an official warning from hospital HR.

A formal gala, with Bucky dressed up in a suit and you in the most alluring dress in your closet, could be the perfect place to earn a second warning.

* * *

The night of the Gala, Bucky knocks on your front door, feeling rather uncomfortable in this taut suit with the unnatural feeling of the shoulder pads compressing against his already broad shoulders.

He tries adjusting them as he waits, he wants to look his absolute best for you, to rival even a fraction of the radiance he’s sure you will exude tonight. But they feel even more out of place now he’s fiddled with them and regrets the decision until he hears the pattering of your footsteps behind the door.

“You have to close your eyes before you come in.” You call out to him in a playful voice, without opening the door. “I’m not ready yet.”

Bucky’s positive that in any state of undress or stage in the process of getting ready you are the most beautiful girl in the entire world, but a warmth spreads through his chest at the notion you’re wanting to look your best for him.

“Okay darling, they’re closed.” He plays along, knowing that when it comes down to it, he would do anything you ask him without contest because it’s for you.

Bucky hears the lock click as it opens and a small giggle, before the light pressure of a pair of lips on his.

“No peeking.” You request as you take his hand and lead him inside. Bucky knows your place like the back of his hand already and doesn’t need his eyes open to know that you take him towards the couch. “I’ll be right back, don’t you go anywhere.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” With each beat of Bucky’s heart his anticipation of seeing you only grows. He’s seen you in every way imaginable, naked and writhing for him, vulnerable with sickness, beaming with pride and joy, and yet every time he sees you he is continually flawed by how stunning you are in every scenario.

“Buck, you can open them.”

Bucky is simply lost for words. Never in all his life has he been in the presence of someone so utterly breathtaking. Looking at you now, practically radiating golden light, a brilliant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and your body looking downright heavenly in a form fitting dress which compliments the colour of your eyes, Bucky believes angels do actually exist.

“You are so beautiful.” He manages to stammer out once he’s picked his jaw up off the floor.

“Not as handsome as you in this suit.” You grip the lapels of his jacket to pull him even closer to you, straightening his tie in an action that overwhelms Bucky with a need to kiss you.

“What, this old thing?” He attempts to brush off your flattery, because next to you, there is positively no way anyone could compete with your beauty.

Bucky gulps the excessive saliva pooling in his mouth as his eyes roam your frame once again, because he can’t help but literally drool over how stunning you look - can’t believe that he gets to be the one who walks into the gala tonight with you on his arm.

The only other time he has felt this utterly floored by someone’s appearance was the first time he laid eyes on you as you strolled across the ER on that now historic day when he could not believe someone in scrubs and a lab coat could look so breathtakingly beautiful.

“You are genuinely the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

Bucky’s fearful that you won’t actually believe his statement, even though they are perhaps the most honest words that have ever left his lips. It’s no secret that before he met you, Bucky had enjoyed sleeping around - had entertained more than his fair share of attractive women in his bed, but after just one month officially as your boyfriend, becoming intimately familiar with your beautiful soul, he has zero doubts that you are the only woman he wants in that position for the remainder of his life.

You kiss him in the breath after he finishes speaking, in that luscious, sensual way that no one else has ever kissed him and evokes a warm, fuzzy, almost life-ruining devotion, dare he say love, in his chest.

“Let’s just stay here tonight.” Bucky mumbles against your lips, his hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress and slowly unzips to let the fabric fall from your décolletage.

He can feel you smile against his lips but then you bruise his heart by pulling away and saying “As much as I would prefer to spend the whole night naked here with you, I’ve already been told I cannot miss this event.”

However, they aren’t words which scare Bucky away from a challenge, he dives back into the kiss, the tip of his tongue tangling with yours. He thinks he has you convinced when your hands start playing with the hair at the nape of his neck - you know how much he likes it and do it constantly to turn him on, but then you pull back and Bucky sighs.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Only when it comes to you.” He responds with a chuckle. You’re the only woman who’s ever had him whipped before, and Bucky’s not sure you realise how powerful the hold you have over him is.

“I promise, all we have to do is last an hour at this thing, and then you can take me home and have your way with me.”

* * *

You walk into the Gala, which is already packed with hospital staff dressed to the nines, hand in hand with Bucky who, in your opinion, looks magnitudes more handsome than any of the other men all dressed in black suits.

You turn to him and he’s already looking at you with that sparkle in his eye, like you’re absolutely perfect, just as you are, and there is nothing about you he would ever dream of changing.

“What?” You ask when those twinkling eyes don’t look away, but instead study your features as if there’s words left unsaid on the tip of his tongue.

“Just imagining pulling you into one of the on-call rooms, tearing this dress off you and tasting every inch of you.” Bucky shifts his hand to rest on the small of your back, his breath warm against your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

“Well, we have done some of our best work in there.” Bucky hums in agreement, both of you taking a second to remember the first of many visits to the on-call room which left you with shaking legs, but was also the first time either of you acknowledged that your feelings were deeper than simply hooking up. “I think you need to grab us both a drink to quench that thirst of yours, James.”

You playfully slap his chest, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and then proceeding to rub your lipstick stain off, before pushing him along to get you a drink. He looks back at you as he walks away, almost bumping into the Chief of Surgery, apologising profusely with a guilty glance to you, before he shuffles off towards the bar.

While Bucky is busy with that task, you instead make your way over to the other side of the atrium to take a look at the items available for the hospital's silent auction. You have to chuckle to yourself looking at the prices listed on the bidding sheets - as if anyone with medical school debt could afford to pay for even one of the allusive holidays or artefacts they had obtained for the fundraiser.

But you suppose your job tonight isn’t to bid on the items themselves, but to shmooze the wealthy guests in attendance into bidding with their spare millions.

Searching out one of the items at the lower end of asking prices, you decide to put an almost embarrassing low bid on an all expenses paid weekend to Mexico, that you know someone will outbid you on, just to say you participated in the night without needing to lie through your teeth.

You stroll through the busy hall, keeping your eyes peeled for Bucky near the bar but it seems you’ve lost him in the packed crowd. It’s usually fairly easy to spot your tall, broad boyfriend, and your heart sinks a little that you’re forced to walk aimlessly around the event as everyone else is wrapped in conversation.

“Doctor, lovely to run into you like this.” You hear a voice you’ve heard before but cannot place from behind you. And though you can’t actually see their face, the tone of their voice contradicts their words - they don’t seem pleased to see you at all.

Turning around, a face that evokes prickly apprehension in your chest comes into view. She’s hauntingly beautiful, the type of beauty which artists spend hours trying to commit to canvas and which is just not attainable for regular people like yourself. She holds herself like she’s closing out a Victoria Secret fashion show and is fully aware of the enchanting effect she has on any man who sets eyes upon her.

“Jacqui… I didn’t know pharmacy staff were invited to this thing.” Even with her disagreeable inflection, you do your best to sound pleasant.

“Oh well you are when you’re heading up the department.” She boasts, with a little wobble of her head which you mostly think is to draw attention to her shiny, voluminous blonde hair.

So is she just here to rub her new job title in your face?

“Congratulations, I didn’t know you got promoted.” You try to sound genuine even though you really couldn’t give a shit.

“I saw you walk in with Barnes. Where did he scamper off to?” You are now actually very glad to not have found Bucky in the crowd earlier. Something about the way she is trying to control the curiosity in her voice, and that she was actively watching the two of you together, makes you cautious of her intentions.

“Not sure, I was just looking for him.”

There’s a long pause where both of you refuse to be the next one to speak. You just want this conversation to be over. But you aren’t that lucky.

“How long have you two been together now?” The inquiry is almost punctuated with sharp spite, and though you don’t want to indulge her line of questioning, there’s a voice in the back of your head that’s telling you you need to defend your Bucky from whatever that time is implying.

“A couple months.” Is the defensive response you retort - it’s technically correct, though you’ve only been official for a month of that.

“Months… how much can someone really change in a couple of months? There’s so many of us around the hospital he’s fucked. You really think he’s loyal to you?” You recoil at her words, not having expected the conversation to turn into whatever this was becoming, nor so soon into your small talk.

Where the fuck was this coming from?

“I trust him implicitly.” You attempt to control the absolute bewildered facial expression that’s trying it’s very best to overtake your features.

“Oh you poor, naive thing.” She says with a tone you use when delivering bad news to patients' families. “Men don’t change, they just hide their true nature from you. Wait a few months, he’ll be back to his fuckboy ways, guys like him can’t resist cheating. I guarantee it.”

Most men are like that, at least in your experience. But Bucky has never given you any cause to believe he would treat you like that. Just because he had a reputation of casually sleeping around before meeting you, doesn’t mean once he’s in a relationship he’ll be unfaithful.

You can’t imagine the sweet man who walked into your place tonight with his eyes closed, waiting for your consent to see you fully dolled up in your gown and then proceed to call you the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on, would ever cheat on you.

“You don’t know him like I do and have no right to speak about him like that.” You state firmly with a small humph. If you weren’t at an event packed with your colleagues, you’d slap her.

The look in her eyes appears like you’ve challenged her, but you don’t want to think about the connotations of that right now. Without saying goodbye, you turn on your heel, needing to get as far away from her as quickly as possible.

Rippling anxiety bubbles in your chest that in your experience only Bucky’s touch can soothe. You frantically search for him in the sea of black suits, trying to also keep half an eye out for Jacqui so you don’t accidentally run into her, but he is again nowhere to be found.

Where the hell is Bucky? Your mind practically screams as you bump into a strapping chest, but this one unfortunately belongs to the one and only Thor Odinson.

God, could he have worse timing?

You plaster on your best smile, trying your best to keep a calm facade as he introduces you to two older gentlemen he appears to be chaperoning for the night.

As wealthy and influential as they are, having made their billions from a tech empire started with a little trust fund from their families' generational wealth, you can’t find it in you to care at the minute. You just want to find Bucky. Need him to hold you until the tornado of anxiety dissipates in your chest.

But Thor doesn’t allow you to slip away unnoticed, instead he prompts you to talk up the work the team does in the emergency room, speaking about the people you save from all walks of life, from those without health insurance to the affluent who can afford the life saving medical procedures others fail to receive.

Knowing their donations tonight could mean the difference between many getting life saving medicine and not, you summon the will to engage in conversation, trying to push down the acidic bile bubbling in your stomach that had risen as result of your interaction with Jacqui.

The sharp taste remains on your tongue as you’re now caught in philanthropic discussion, silently cursing Thor who stands beside you for ever inviting you to this damn gala in the first place.

It’s at least fifteen minutes later when you finally excuse yourself from their presence, the two men having pulled out their cheque books, much to Thor’s delight, preparing to make generous contributions that would have the hospital naming wards after them.

You hate to think what trouble Jacqui could get up to in that time frame. But you don’t have to wait long to find out.

Finally, after searching near the whole hall for Bucky you find him. Goddess like Jacqui by his side.

She stands there, supermodel tall, blonde bouncy hair, beautiful, toned legs on display through the slit in her dress, a flirty smirk curving on her face, tucking strands of loose hair behind her ears like a schoolgirl with a crush.

The nerve of her, approaching Bucky at all, but especially after the words spoken between you earlier.

Just seeing them together, the most exquisitely gorgeous woman flirting with the man whom you love and confirmed less than half an hour ago to her you are in a relationship with, makes your insides tightly twist with jealousy, as if someone were wringing out a wet towel.

Half of your mind is telling you to stalk over there and possessively claim your man in front of everybody, but the other half, the insecure side which believes Bucky could do so much better than you, who would want someone as beautiful as Jacqui by his side, and which is currently winning the battle in your mind, wants to run off crying into the furthest corner of the hospital.

Coming to a compromise, your brain instead decides that being frozen in place, unable to look away like an impending car crash, is the best place for you to be. But that is also pure torture.

Bucky smiles, not quite his signature cocky smirk that never leaves his face when the two of you are together, but it’s definitely a smile nonetheless and your heart sinks through the pit of your stomach.

Men don’t change. He’ll be back to his fuckboy ways.

You’re not sure why you’re letting Jacqui’s words penetrate your mind, burrow into the deepest crevices and allow them to make a home there. You suspect it’s because at one point in time Bucky thought she was desirable enough to take home and do unexplainably filthy things with. Does he still have that same attraction for her?

What if you are just Bucky’s practice run at being in a relationship, the one who fixes him up, teaches him all the valuable lessons, only for him to leave you and be the perfect partner to someone else?

Practically paralysed in place as you watch their interaction, it feels like your heart has stopped beating all together when Jacqui strokes his arm. But buoyant relief comes near milliseconds later when Bucky brushes her off. That’s your man.

You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you distinctly see him mouth the words ‘I have a girlfriend’, which relieves some of the tension in your tightly wound heart.

Bucky frantically searches around the room, and appears to have found what he is looking for as his eyes settle on your face.

There’s a split second where the whole world stands still, everyone at the gala other than the two of you disappear and it’s like you’re standing right in front of him, regardless of the space separating you.

But when your mind catches up to all the drowning emotions swirling in your chest, an uncontrollable sob bubbles up your throat and tears sting your eyes. You’re not even upset with him, but the fear of what Jacqui had been planning on trying with him still manifests as a choking lump in your throat.

The physical distance between you throughout tonight has let doubt and hesitancy creep into the only small space in your heart Bucky’s affection has not yet touched. Jacqui planted the seed and it’s already bloomed into a large tree, branches crowding space in your tightening chest.

The last thing you remember seeing is Bucky taking a large stride towards you, before your hands fly to cover your mouth and you take off, walking as quickly as you can in your heels, to where you know the nearest on-call room is.

* * *

Prickling panic fills Bucky’s lungs.

Has he inadvertently just ruined the best thing in his life?

Jacqueline’s voice calls his name as he chases after you, watching as you weave between guests and make your way to the nearest exit, which only takes you deeper into the hospital.

He was naive enough to think Jacqueline’s intentions were innocent when she approached him for conversation, just two colleagues catching up at an event that neither of them were fully participating in, but he was sadly mistaken.

He’ll never make that blunder again.

Watching you shuffle into the nearest on-call room, Bucky takes it as a positive sign that he’s not the one you’re upset with, at least not completely, when you don’t slam the door in his face but instead leave it open knowing he’ll follow you inside.

Bucky stays by the doorframe for a split second, watching as you work to steady your breathing, hands wiping the corners of your eyes, but the overwhelming urge and the need to comfort you wins out and he can’t help but hastily rush to your side.

��Darling…” He starts to say but when you look at him with big, wide eyes that are filled with tears, his mind goes blank and all he can think about is holding you.

You turn into his chest, face nuzzled into his lapel, and his arms instinctively close around you.

It’s the little sob which escapes your lips that does Bucky in completely. He hates to see you upset, but never in the months of knowing you has he been privy to this amount of genuine distress. He’s seen some not so great days, shaking frustration, even teary eyed with sadness, but never breaking down weeping.

He would move heaven and earth to ensure you never feel this way again.

He places a feather light kiss to your hairline whispering, “I’m right here. Nothing can hurt you.”

Though it was not his intention, his words provoke more sobs to escape your throat and Bucky pulls you ever closer. He’s practically holding up your entire body weight, and decides you’ll probably be much more comfortable on the bed this on-call room provides.

Even seated, you cling to him like he’s your lifeline, and Bucky can’t ever imagine letting go. He’d drown if it meant holding you safely out of the rough, relentless rapids currently flooding your mind.

As a paramedic, he’s so used to taking action, launching into a crisis with the equipment to be able to provide aid, to prevent further suffering. But right now all you need is his presence, to be the anchor grounding you to this world as a reminder that you have someone in your corner fighting for your happiness.

He hates not being able to do more for you.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Bucky asks after minutes of comforting you without words.

God, you feel so stupid. Crying at a work function because one of your boyfriend's ex-flings decided to flirt with him.

But it’s more than that - it’s the disrespect, the fact that she seems so entitled to Bucky’s affection simply because at some point in his history he slept with her, regardless of if she hurts you along the way to get to him. Do all the women at the hospital look at you like you’re an inconsequential ant they can step on to get what they want?

It doesn’t help that she's also the most stunning, physical personification of a man’s wet dream you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not you Buck, it’s her.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just continues rubbing his large hand up and down your back, which tells you he’s confused by your statement. Perhaps you’re not making any sense in this outburst of emotion, you can barely keep your thoughts in a logical stream let alone expressing them eloquently.

“Jacqui, she… I told her we were together, she knew I was your girlfriend, and she still had the nerve to flirt with you.”

“I didn’t flirt back.” Bucky says defensively, and as much as you adore him, it’s making you frustrated having to spell it out for him how her actions have made you feel when your throat is aching from pure emotion.

You take a deep breath, allowing oxygen to diffuse into the deepest alveoli of your lungs, calming the constant stream of anxious thoughts, and letting you regain control of the tears falling from your eyes.

You lean your head on Bucky’s shoulder as he continues to rub your back. Why can’t the world just exist like this? Just the two of you in peaceful, quiet, solace. He kisses the top of your head and in that moment you know he’ll wait patiently, all night if that’s how long it takes, for you to explain how you’re feeling.

“I don’t know if it’s jealousy or insecurity. I genuinely don’t care how many women you were with before me Buck, it’s just a number, it doesn’t matter.” You sit up and look him in the eye, needing to convey just how vigorously you believe your statement. “It’s just… it's a soul crushing feeling that people in the hospital, people I have to work with every day, use the fact that you’ve slept with them to make me feel uncomfortable. That somehow because they know what you look like naked it diminishes our relationship and then they feel entitled to flirt with you and try and fuck you even though they know you’re dating me.”

The misery in Bucky’s eyes is almost tangible, and maybe it’s just an illusion from tears in your own, but seeing you hurting makes him start to cry too. His large hands engulf both of yours and his thumb strokes the backs of your hands resting comfortingly in your lap.

Previous partners have always brushed you off, gaslit you or raised their voice and called you crazy when you expressed an ounce of self-doubt or insecurity, but Bucky listens to each of your words with a determined focus, taking the weight of them on himself, as if they have just as much significance to him as they do to you.

“Darling, I’m so sorry Jaqueline made you feel that way. She had no right. But you need to know there is not a single woman on the face of this earth that could tempt me away from you, no matter how hard they try. No one has ever had me like you do.”

The panic beating of your heart starts to calm when Bucky places gentle kisses to your knuckles. His eyes brim with trepidation, as if he’s just realised how fragile relationships can be and he’s desperately trying to hold onto you, preventing you from ever letting go again.

“I can’t change my past, as much as I might want to, but all I know is you’re my future.” Tears trickle out of the corners of your eyes, but now the reason being due to happiness at Bucky’s sweet confession.

What did you ever do to deserve him?

“My life before I met you was dull, black and white reruns of the same shit each day. Since I met you, everything is in vivid colour. If I could go back in time and wait for you, I would. If I knew you were around the corner, there wouldn’t be any other women. But to me, you’re the only woman that matters. It’s so profoundly better with you because I-, because I care about you beyond comprehension. There were never any feelings with anyone else. You are the only person I have ever felt this way for. You have nothing to be insecure about or anyone to be jealous of, you’re the only woman in my eyes, and I-, you’re my everything.” For someone who constantly says he isn’t very good with words, Bucky always seems to know exactly what to say to make you fall even more in love with him. They are perfect words. Precisely what you need to hear from the man who has quickly become the reason for your being.

There’s a buoyancy in your chest as those familiar eyes, so blue you could drown in, examine your face for any non verbal cues of how you’ll react to his words.

“You really feel that way James?” You ready yourself, inadvertently grinding your teeth, waiting, hoping, wishing for him to say those three little words that will take your relationship to the next level.

But that hope pops like a bubble floating in the wind.

“Darling, I would never lie to you.” He punctuates with a kiss to your lips, slow and fervent, full of meaning. The look in his eye tells you he wants to reveal more, but it passes in a blink. “C’mon, let me take you home, and I’ll show you just how much I care.”

Bucky’s firm hold on your hand never leaves yours as he leads you back through the gala. You notice some glance at you, but all you’re focussed on is your boyfriend, his head held proudly high, not giving a damn what other hospital staff are whispering under their breaths.

* * *

Bucky slowly unzips the back of your dress, the material slowly falling away from your shoulders. A shiver runs down your spine as his lips kiss down the path of the zipper, starting between your shoulder blades, careful not to miss a single inch of skin as your dress bunches around your stomach and hips.

“You were the most beautiful woman there tonight. You’re the most beautiful woman in the whole world.” He whispers against your skin, in such a sure tone you can’t help but believe him. His hands roaming over the base of your spine before gently pulling your dress over your hips. “Can’t believe I got to be the man who walked in with you as my partner.”

Bucky turns you around to kiss you once you’re bare for him. The passion, zealousness of his lips feels like you’re drowning in a tender devotion he could not articulate with just words themselves.

You don’t need to break away from the kiss to push his jacket off, unbutton his shirt, nor unbuckle his belt. He’s as hard as a rock, standing at attention ready for you as soon as his trousers hit the floor.

“My darling girl…” He practically growls in your ear when you cup his balls with one hand as the other starts stroking him, using your thumb to spread the pearly bead of precum over his tip whilst placing kisses to his chest. “This will be a very short, one act play if you keep doing that.”

“I’ve barely touched you Buck.”

“Mmm, I know. That’s just how much you turn me on.” The signature smirk he shoots you turns your stomach to mush, and makes you feel like you’re the dazzling sun at the centre of his universe.

Bucky’s large hands pull you down on the bed, on top of him. He sits you on his thick thighs, tongue sweeping into your mouth, hands exploring your every curve.

You wish you could live in this moment forever, relishing in how much care Bucky holds you with, but still manages to make you feel like you’re the sexiest woman in the solar system.

It hits you square in the chest when his soothing, wide blue eyes look up at you with a familiar tenderness that gives life to butterflies in your stomach, that you would do anything for the man underneath you, the man you love.

“What do you want, darling?” Bucky asks between breaths as he sucks on your hard nipple, his tongue swirling, doing magical things that could make you cum just like this. “What do you need?” He adds, switching to your other breast, which makes it hard to control your stream of thoughts - but there is one thing at the forefront of your mind that you don’t have to consider to know you need desperately.

“You.”

He lets out a groan around your nipple and you suspect thrusts his hips up involuntarily, just to feel closer to you.

“I need you Buck.” You repeat, tucking your finger under his chin and bringing his lips up to tenderly touch yours, as the urge to kiss him overcomes you. If it were up to you, the remainder of your life would be spent with your lips locked with his.

“How?” His stubble scratches the tips of your fingers as you cup his face. The desire brimming in his eyes, the hunger to ravish every part of you, the yearning to have you so close to him you can’t tell where you end and he begins, leaves you breathless.

“Just like this, please.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but your imploring tone inspires Bucky on, not wanting to waste a single second more where the two of you are not joined.

Your forehead rests against his, his eyes boring into yours as he simultaneously uses one hand to assist you lifting yourself to hover over him, and the other to line his tip up to your dripping entrance.

An obscene sound from the back of your throat topples from your lips as you sink down on Bucky's cock. He doesn’t take his adoration filled eyes off you for a single second, even to blink, as he fills you up completely. A whine escapes his lips once you’re seated on his thighs, appreciating how your pussy is swallowing his entire, impressive length.

“You enjoy sitting on your throne?” You can tell he’s trying to tease, a mischievous twinkle in those deep blue eyes, but his voice quivers slightly, almost as if it’s strained, which you know him too well to realise is a dead giveaway for just how aroused he is.

How aroused he is by you.

That fact alone is enough for you to start grinding against him, hips moving back and forth, working up a rhythm that has you seeing stars and him groaning your name.

Both of his large, calloused hands are resting on your hips, helping you keep the tempo, making sure each rock of your hips results in your clit being stimulated against his pelvis. His lips find your collarbone, teeth scraping your delicate skin, the sensation of which clears your mind of any coherent teasing response you could have come up with.

“Fuck, look at you fucking yourself on me. You’re a fucking dream.” Bucky’s mouth is one of the most arousing parts of him, not only for what his lips and tongue can do to your body but also for the salacious words he speaks in that gravelly tone which turns you on just as much as his body does. “That’s it, fuck me darling, this cock is all yours.”

“Buck you’re so deep.” Is all you can think, all you can feel is how his length is nestled within you, how much he fills you up. You’re bursting because of how satiated you feel with him inside you, but Bucky’s musky, woody scent, as well as his warm, tender touch surrounds you from the outside, you feel like he’s everywhere all at once, and it brings you right to the brink of coming undone.

“Be a good girl and cum for me.” In this moment you want to give him everything you have, give him everything he’s asking for and more. His voice is gentle the next time he speaks, a murmur just for you, and matches the softness in his gaze. “It’s okay, I got you. Let go for me.”

Bucky sucks the pulse point on the side of your throat and it’s the complete end of you. You shudder, feeling safe caged in his arms as ecstasy fires up from the base of your spine through every neuron in your body, your toes curling, fingers scratching down Bucky's back - you can even taste it on the tip of your tongue as you scream his name.

Your legs shake uncontrollably, unable to continue your pattern of movement grinding down against him, but Bucky takes matters into his own hands by wrapping his arms around your waist and fucking up into you to prolong your high.

Once you’ve finally stopped seeing stars, your vision coming back into focus, all you can see is the adoration, pure captivation as he looks up at your sweaty form trying to catch your breath.

“That’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

No one’s ever looked at you like this before, as if you’re the only girl in the world, the only person that matters to them, the one who holds their fragile heart in the palm of your hands and trusts you not to break it.

A dangerous thought flashes through your mind - do you dare tell Bucky that you love him for the first time right now, in the middle of the throes of passion. You have always wanted to let him set the pace of the relationship - he was the one who wanted to take it slow, not rushing into anything, but you can tell by the blooming warmth spreading through your chest, you have never loved someone more than you love him right now.

Bucky reaches up and affectionately brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek, and before you can think twice about if you truly want to confess your devotion in this moment, he’s kissing you again.

Before you can even recognise what he’s doing, his toned arms have engulfed you in a tight embrace, and without pulling out of you, he flips you onto your back, making sure your head rests gently on one of your pillows. His body weight presses you deliciously into the mattress, it feels like being tucked in securely with a weighted blanket that just so happens to look like a Greek god.

“Need to feel you cum on my cock again, it’s so fucking addicting.” Bucky practically growls in your ear, his breathing heavy. His long chestnut hair falls into his eyes, but it doesn’t prevent him from gazing at you with a tangible combination of awe and lust.

The thrust of his hips is downright sinful. You feel the longing absence of each inch of him as he pulls out, only for him to split you apart again as his hips snap forward. Bucky starts out slow, his fingers intertwine with yours, forcing your hands above your head, but when he starts placing open mouthed kisses on the underside of your jaw, his strokes pick up momentum.

James Barnes has you in a trance, caged in by the sheer size of him, each languid, sensual thrust into you tightens the knot twisting into shape at the bottom of your belly.

He’s so breathtakingly beautiful, the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. As his shining pupils fixate on the pleasure contorting your face you ponder if he is possibly thinking the exact same way about you.

The moans dripping from his lips, mixed with grunted curses, along with the telltale crease in his forehead, and the fact that his teasing mouth can’t come up with anything coherent is evidence of how close he is. But you know Bucky’s generous heart better than anyone, perhaps even himself, and you are sure he’ll be determined not to cum before you.

One of his large hands continues to pin your wrists down as the other moves to wrap your legs tighter around his waist. Then he has the fucking audacity to rub the pads of his fingers over your clit in tight circles. You’re so done for.

“Bucky, oh fuck… yes, just like that.” You manage to stammer out, barely able to move with his weight pinning you beneath him, knowing your body is hurtling towards an inescapable, forceful orgasm, and all you can do is feel as Bucky plays your body like a fiddle.

“Please, need you to… I can’t last like this.” You can feel the desperate, animalistic timbre of his deep voice in your chest and his hot breath against your neck. “Darling please.”

And then you shatter.

Fracture into a million pieces, the fabric of reality tearing apart at the seams around you as euphoria flows through you like wind on the surface of water. Every single cell in your body feels like it’s been lit on fire, burning bright like a shooting star soaring through a galaxy assembled by your love for him.

Bucky speaks your name as a prayer, a vow, a promise. Over and over again. A reminder that you are who he is coming apart for.

It almost makes you dizzy how lost he is in the feel of you, how his hands spread you open as far as your legs will flex, but then you hear the wanton whimper as he spills his orgasm inside you and it’s almost enough to make you cum again.

As your heart rates slowly return to normal, Bucky lays down beside you, cupping your face tenderly as his tongue slips once again into your mouth. You would have thought given the display of passion just produced he’d have had his fill of physical affection, but he continues to surprise you.

Who would have guessed that Bucky ‘doesn’t go on second dates’ Barnes would now be clinging to you like a koala, not being able to get enough of your touch.

* * *

“Sweet dreams Buck.” You whisper in that tired, yet sickly sweet tone that Bucky associates with the contentment of falling asleep beside you.

”They’ll all be about you.” He responds with a delicate kiss to your forehead, fingers tracing gentle lines up and down the expanse of your back.

“Then I wish you nothing but dirty dreams.”

He rarely dreams of anything else nowadays, but it makes him smile nevertheless that your minds think in such similar ways.

You really are the girl of his dreams.

Even more than that, if there was an expression which captured just how significant you had become intertwined in his life after a relatively short period of time. His brain could not have concocted someone as perfect as you, even in his wildest fantasies.

He holds you close to him in the total darkness as your breathing slows, but there are too many thoughts racing through Bucky’s brain for him to fall asleep.

Tonight was perfect. Complete, utter perfection. Not that he expects any less of a night spent with you.

So why, even after building the courage all week ahead of the gala, (and if he was honest with himself, since the week he swapped to be on the night shift with you), had he yet to utter those three magic words?

Steve would say there was one final wall around Bucky’s heart he had yet to pull down for you, to reveal his deepest darkest vulnerability that he could barely admit to himself, let alone the flawless woman who consumed his every waking thought.

The insecurity he had been plagued with since he was fourteen years old and his father had wished death upon him.

The fear that he is innately unloveable.

Just because he loves you in a way that influences his every decision, impacts every aspect of his existence, and alters the chemistry of his brain, doesn’t mean you are as hauntingly consumed by devotion as he is.

And even though the rational part of his brain tries reminding him you would not have shown such patience and stuck around as he clumsily attempted to manoeuvre being in a relationship for the first time if you truly did not want to be with him, that nagging insecurity is always at the back of his mind like a fog that won’t clear, doubting whether after everything he has endured, if he is deserving of being loved the same way he adores you.

But at some point Bucky knows he needs to find the bravery to take that leap, even if your possible rejection would be his ultimate downfall.

“Darling?” Bucky whispers as quietly as he can into the still night air. You don’t stir, nor do you respond, which is exactly what he’s hoping for. “Darling, are you awake?” He questions slightly louder so that you couldn’t help but hear him considering his proximity.

You continue to rest peacefully, lips slightly parted and breathing steadily, which is precisely how you always appear when sleeping beside him, but given the gravity of what he is about to reveal to you, Bucky has to be absolutely positive you’re in a deep slumber.

“Chicken butt.” He says randomly, hoping that if you are feigning sleep this will cause a crack in your rather convincing facade. But to his delight, your expression doesn’t change in the slightest, no muscle in your face so much as flinches, and Bucky is finally convinced.

He takes a deep breath, readying himself even though he knows you’re unable to hear him.

“I love you.” Bucky confesses with a shaky breath, even though he is assured in his affection. Though you’re not conscious to receive his words, something about disclosing his most closely guarded secret to your beautiful face, finally admitting his profound feelings aloud, feels like an enormous step for him. Never in a million years did he think he could open his heart up far enough to allow space for these types of feelings to nestle within. “You are the most precious thing in my life. I’m never going to compromise what we have, never going to take you for granted. I’m going to love you and only you for every day I have left in this life and even when I’m no longer here, my soul will forever be yours.”

You provide no response, features stay perfectly still, breathing rate doesn’t change. Which is of course exactly the reaction he’s hoping for while you rest, but he can’t stop his mind from wondering what your reply might be if you were awake; if you’d profess the words back to him, or if instead you’d recoil, shying away possibly because Bucky was moving too quickly.

Nevertheless, Bucky knows better than most that life can be painfully short, everyone has their expiration date, and you need to tell the people in your life how much you care about them before it’s too late.

“I love you.” He repeats with a smile and a kiss to your bare shoulder. Though he is navigating the all consuming, anxiety riddled, life ruining feeling of falling in love for the first time, Bucky knows with absolute certainty that he would go through it all again, one hundred times over, if it meant getting to spend his life with you.

But now for the difficult part - he has to say those three life changing words when you’re actually awake to hear them.

* * *

When the irritating ringing of your alarm wakes you up the following morning, a wave of disappointment washes over you. The night before with Bucky had been nothing short of memorable; complete with overflowing emotion, devotion, and no hint of apprehension from the man who had previously told you himself he wanted to take the relationship slow.

It was the most tangible display of pure love you have ever beheld.

But now, you lay alone in a web of cold sheets, Bucky’s place beside you unnaturally empty. When he has an early shift, typically he wakes you before he leaves, and at the very least gives you a kiss on the forehead, if not a much more intimate show of affection. But today, you have no recollection of being woken, no memory of his pillow soft lips on yours.

You find it takes a much more determined effort to get out of bed without an energising kiss from your Bucky.

The gala is the talk of the hospital, those who did not receive an invite interrogating everyone who attended for all the latest gossip. You hear your and Bucky’s names dropped a couple times in passing conversation, but all that does is remind you of the night before, and Bucky proclaiming his devotion to you while extracting a pleasure from your body no one else has been able to produce.

Tonight, you promise yourself, those three small words that have been tugging at your mind for the last month, tonight you’ll tell Bucky.

His declaration of wanting to take your relationship slowly was all the way back before your second date, before you officially became his girlfriend, before you held him as his mother underwent life saving surgery, before you knew of his traumatic past, before he switched to the night shift just so he could see you more often, before last night where he told you you are his everything.

Regardless of if he says the words back, you need to tell him. Need him to know that he is the love of your life, that synapses in your brain have reformed so your train of thought always comes back to him, that he has rewritten the molecular code inscribed in your cells so that they crave him like water, drawing him in like osmosis.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your pager going off, calling an all hands on deck emergency.

The ER is a frenzy of nurses clearing trauma rooms, doctors discharging patients who have already been seen to and Dr Strange shouting at surgical staff to prepare the operating rooms.

“There was a shooting at the mall. Police and paramedics are on scene, but it sounds bad.” Wanda fills you in as you both wash your hands and put gloves on, getting ready for the volume of blood and carnage that comes with gunshot wounds.

Dr Strange gathers the emergency medicine team together to brief you all on what you’re about to face. His face is stoic, having treated too many disasters to even seem phased by the decimation of so many lives.

You have not mastered that, but you also like having your humanity, caring about people is what you do best.

“So far we know of eight victims being routed here. There will most likely be more. All G.S.Ws, five women, two men and a child, about eight. One of the men was a paramedic on scene.” The last sentence out of his mouth gives you pause.

A male paramedic was shot.

“A paramedic? Did they say who? Give a description?” All eyes turn to you and no one needs to say it aloud to know exactly what you’re thinking.

“No, that’s all the information we have at this time. They should only be a few minutes out.” You’ve never known Dr Strange to be very sympathetic, but the look he shoots at you is what you assume to be the most compassion he is capable of.

The nagging part of your brain that always finds a route to the most devastating scenario, no matter how unlikely, is screaming so loudly you cannot ignore it.

What if that paramedic is Bucky?

There would have to be thousands of paramedics in a city of this size, what would the chances actually be that Bucky is the one paramedic in critical danger at this very moment.

But the universe has always found a way to be cruel to you, with the exception of when it brought devilishly handsome Bucky Barnes into your life. But what could be more cruel than introducing you to unconditional love and then destroying your heart by taking it away just as swiftly?

Wanda, sensing your paralysing worry beside her, comfortingly strokes her hand up and down your upper arm. “He was working the morning shift today, his shift will be well and truly over. He shouldn’t have been working when the shooting happened.”

“Yeah… he was on morning shift today.” Reminding yourself how you woke up in bed alone. Your lips tremble as you attempt to talk yourself down from the ledge of sheer panic. But your best friend can tell this fact doesn’t convince you.

“Call him.” Wanda instructs with a level voice, only a small glisten in her pupils gives away that she too is worried for his safety.

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably as you locate his contact in your favourites, accidentally dialling your mum first before you see the picture you have of the two of you together set as his contact pop up as it starts ringing.

Time stands perfectly still, the bustling hospital which is always full of movement, the constant beeping of patients pulse oximeters, announcements sounding over the PA, it all goes dead silent and all you hear is the ring tone of a phone call which Bucky isn’t answering.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

It goes to voicemail, his voice filling your ears but it’s of no relief because it’s only a recording.

You press his contact again.

And again.

The fourth time you’re forced to listen to his infuriating voicemail, you leave a panicked message. “Bucky I’m so worried about you, please ring me back as soon as you get this. There’s been a shooting. Please, I need to hear your voice, hear that you’re alright. Please.”

You thought he’d pick up the phone and relieve you from this torment, but now knowing he hasn’t answered after multiple calls, you’re more convinced than ever it’s him that’s been shot.

“Wanda if it’s-”

“You can’t think like that.” But that's all you can think about. Your job, the duty you have to these patients who are en route to the hospital, none of that comes close to the need to know Bucky is unharmed.

The world starts moving in slow motion as the first of the patients arrives. Time runs like molasses, but the anxiety in your chest turns up one hundred fold, as if flashes of lightning strike your chest one after another.

A woman gets pushed in on a gurney, light brown hair stained with blood, and even from the sight of how the paramedic needs to hold her skull flap to her head to prevent her brain being exposed, you know she won’t make it as much as the surgeons will try to save her.

There’s a child, not much bigger than Sasha who you treated the day you first met Bucky, that gets pushed through next. In complete juxtaposition, she’s sitting up talking to paramedics, arm in a sling, but mostly looks unharmed.

And then you see it. The thing that flatlines your heart.

Chestnut hair and an EMT uniform.

You’d know those thick, wavy locks anywhere.

“Bucky!” You don’t even recognise your own voice with how much terror it is consumed with. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

In a flash you’re by his side, keeping pace as they wheel him deeper into the hospital, your lungs and throat scorching with distress.

You try not to break down seeing the sheer amount of blood, Bucky’s blood, soaking the gauze they are pressing into his shoulder wound, how pale and fragile he looks strapped down to the gurney. You’re an emergency medicine doctor, you’ve treated wounds like this before, confronted much more blood than this from a patient. But nothing in your training prepares you for observing your soulmate barely clinging to life, their claret staining your gloved fingers as you help maintain pressure, how cold his skin is to the touch, how his face looks almost serene even though these could be his final moments on earth, that he could be abandoning you for the warm embrace of death.

Not your Bucky. They can’t take your Bucky.

“Buck, can you hear me?” Your hand cups his cheek, and he’s as cold as ice. His eyes are shut so he can’t even look at you to give you one last chance to memorise the astonishingly blue irises which have been your source of solace since meeting him.

A mask covers his mouth and nose, delivering rescue breaths. You try to place a block in your mind to stop it from retrieving the medical knowledge you have spent years memorising - you don’t want to know how catastrophic a situation his body must be in to be needing rescue breaths.

“I love you, James. You hear me? I love you!” It almost ends your existence when he doesn’t answer, doesn’t even so much as flinch at your confession. You hope any part of him that is still alive inside the casing of his cold body manages to hear those words.

Dr Strange and Wanda have to physically restrain you from following the team treating Bucky and prevent you entering the operating theatre.

Dr Strange’s voice sounds like a hum, too far away to make sense of even though he’s pushing you away from the OR. All you’re focussed on is keeping your eyes on Bucky for as long as you can.

Is this the last time you will ever see him alive?

It’s only once he is out of sight, that your brain starts to catch up to the realisation of what has actually happened.

Bucky was shot. A bullet ripped through his skin, tearing muscle and fascia, lacerating his organs, possibly fatally wounding him.

Bullets are designed to kill. To end the life of the organism the gun barrel is aimed at. There is no mercy from a gunshot wound, you had seen too many to believe better.

A guttural cry forces its way out of your parched windpipe without you being able to prevent it, your kneecaps sting as you fall to the ground. Hot, large tears cascade onto your cheeks as Wanda’s arms engulf you.

Any second now, James Buchanan Barnes’ heart could be taking its final beat and you wouldn’t be any wiser. His lungs would stop breathing, preventing oxygen from binding to hemoglobin in his blood and reaching his brain. Everything else would shut down quickly from there.

One second he’d be here and the next he wouldn’t.

James Barnes simply wouldn’t exist anymore.

You had seen it too often, heard from bereaved family members time and time again how quickly it had all happened, but it wasn’t until this very moment that you understood the magnitude of that sentiment.

How could he go from telling you yesterday night that you were the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes on to now possibly his cold, lifeless body laying on an operating table with his soul having crossed over to the afterlife?

You’d never hear his voice again. Or his laugh.

Never see his dazzling sapphire eyes as they regard you with overwhelming affection.

Never feel that warm rapture blooming in your chest when he’d proclaim himself as yours and kiss you in the same breath.

He’ll never get to know you love him.

It feels as though you are tumbling wildly down into an abyss, waiting for the inevitable crash at the bottom that would either end this eternal suffering or that sudden jerk, the lurch as you wake up from this cruel nightmare.

Neither comes. You are fated to live in excruciating limbo, your lungs burning, as if you can’t take a breath until Bucky’s destiny has been sealed.

Oxygen would be the gift you’d allow yourself once your love was awake and talking again; cracking stupid jokes with his signature cocky smirk and flirting with you like you were on your first date again.

And if he were to pass into the next life, taking your heart with him, then you would simply refuse to take another breath until you were reunited with him once again.

Part 10 coming soon

Be added to the series taglist here

He’s Hazardous To My Health [Paramedic!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @lavenderpenumbra @crazyunsexycool @eralen @buckbuckyoongs @blackwidownat2814 @crayongirl-linz @ozwriterchick @desert-fern @misshale21 @chalesleclerc164 @rookthorne @janineb86 @emmabarnes @scarletbich @princezzjasmine @thebuckybarnesvault @doasyoudesireandlive @solitarioslilium @iamfandomwasted @tanyaspartak @pop-rocks-818 @Dumdidditydumdoo @missvelvetsstuff @kayden666 @amiimar @katheryn1 @safew0rd @kentokaze @thewackywriter @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @badasswlthafatass @loveoldmenlikelana @00cmh @pointless-girl @honeyglee @nerdxacid @ashhsage @prettylittlepluviophile @otomefromtheheart @sjsmith56 @mandijo17 @lokidokieokie @oceansandblackhearts @rebeccapineapple @soorwellystan @excusememrbarnes @lofaewrites @snapcapquartet @wishingwell-2 @aya-fay @lowkeysebby @redbarn1995 @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky

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doshi-sukiru · 2 days ago

Note

What are Optimus's feelings on Megatron's mask? Does he loathe it because he wants to see Megatron's face as they fight? Does it make it easier to hurt Megatron because he can't see the face of the bot he loved and lost? Does he feel amused by it because it reminds him of how much of a Megatronus fanboy D-16 was? Does he find a way to twist it as yet another way the high-guard is 'hurting' D-16 or trying to turn him against him?

It was a gradual descent from joy to annoyance and then anger of its existence.

At first, he found it cute that he and Megatron both had masks. It's like finding your friend matching you by wearing the same glasses- simple, but it did excite him a bit. He does enjoy how it's shaped to look similar to Megatronus's mask, and teased him a lot the first few times about it.

It doesn't take him long to find it bothersome. He no longer got to see the lovely face he always wanted to see during their 'encounters', and trying to look at the bust in his private room wasn't working as well as he hoped.

And when he spies on them one day, he sees Megatron's mask isn't on, and he's with Soundwave at the moment, who also seemed to have his mask off. The moment he shows himself to try and separate the two, he watches as both of them have their masks go up. While he doesn't care too much about Soundwave, seeing Megatron's mask go up like instinct pissed him off.

They were lovers in the past, like I mentioned, so while Optimus did assume their separation would make Megatron harder to talk with, he didn't expect Megatron to actively use a mask to keep himself separated from Optimus (metaphorically speaking). For Megatron, he didn't realize he was doing it when Optimus was nearby, just let it cover his face when he felt danger.

And yes, he did twist it into thinking that the reason Megatron covered his face was because of the high guard. He immediately assumed it was to make Megatron become someone he wasn't, someone that was apart from D-16 (Think like how Silco tried to make Jinx 'kill' Powder in arcane, with that water body). He hates that, because he knows 'Megatron' could never be the designation D-16 would pick for himself, at least not seriously. Seeing how it was like instinct for Megatron to pull the mask, Optimus believed Megatron was forced to learn it, and thought Megatron must have been losing sleep because of it too.

In reality? Megatronus had been teaching him to summon the mask when he felt any presence of danger, and in Megatron's defense Optimus was usually with other Autobots, some that Megatron knew were trying to kill him than capture him despite the Prime's orders. So his frame just reacted to OP like it was a general Autobot after a while.

The only time Optimus finally saw Megatron's face, they got separated from both of their factions on the surface. Their time alone however lasted a few orns before a quintesson attack left Megatron badly injured. When the Autobots found them first, Optimus had him get taken with them for medical treatment, leading to Megatron's second capture.

Hope that helps explain it!

#ask #maccadam #shattered glass #opmeg #megop #sg optimus prime #sg megatron #mask #slow descent to anger

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macapunoz · 2 days ago

Text

UNREQUITED CLUB ; choi seungcheol

summary it’s not good to resort to breaking hearts if you’re afraid to admit you’re still in love with someone else.

starring seungcheol x f! reader

genre angst，fluff (i might be lying)，unrequited love，mutual pining at some point (?)，uni au，reader does fashion designing

contains reader is kinda toxic，same thing with coups (they’re just both not good ppl)，breakups and leading ppl on，based on a true story。。。 sorry 97z

word count 6k ( thankyu sophi for proofreading ) | playlist bad religion by frank ocean, japanese denim by daniel caesar, secret door by arctic monkeys, all because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, fluorescent adolescent by arctic monkeys, green by 12bh, toxic till the end by rosé, first love by sondia

from rhin，this was originally gonna be a smau oneshot but i need to clear my penalties😭 (only 2k words left🗣️) anyways this fic is dedicated to my friend who doesnt have blr but her bias is scoups and she hates the dude cheol is based on😹😊🫰

You always thought you could do well with love. As a kid, you dreamed of marrying a prince after watching way too many princess movies. As you got older—going into middle school—your standards changed once you discovered a few dramas. A lot of them happened to have male lead CEOs, so you wanted a hot, rich man instead.

Eventually, those fantasies died down once you ended middle school. The boys you’ve encountered made you lower your standards and began to think that all boys were full of shit. But you figured you’d find better when you’re an adult. Sure, you’ve found at least some guys cute, but you knew way too much about them to never find yourself together with them.

It was only then that the first year of high school changed something in you. You knew a few older kids since you were family friends with them, and some of them had friends that would tag along. One of those friends happened to be Seungcheol. He was in tenth grade when you met him—just a year older than you. Always smiling and always said kind words.

From there, you’ve been crushing on him. You always thought he was different from all the other boys you’ve liked before. But you figured it was more of a you problem. You remember how you couldn’t even say a word to any guy you liked back then. However, talking to Seungcheol was a piece of cake. You two were close, and others always told you that they think he makes it obvious he likes you.

Back then, you wouldn’t dare to tell him how you felt. He was way out of your league, and you recall that he mentioned not being interested in dating. Plus, you liked it when you thought of him as a friend more than a crush. But like they say, the more you suppress the feelings, the stronger it gets.

Your feelings towards him lasted until his final year of high school. He was graduating soon, so you figured it was time to confess to him. You were hoping for a rejection, but he ended up reciprocating the feelings. Or, so you thought. Just a week before his graduation, he admitted to you that when he said he liked you, he meant it as friends.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, but all you could ever think of was how much he disappointed you. For a few days, you ghosted him, until the day before he graduated, he wanted to talk to you. Although he never liked you in that way, he still liked you as a friend. Neither of you wanted your friendship to be ruined all because of that.

You ended up attending his graduation, since you thought it would be mean not to show up to a friend’s important day. It was a bit sad though; you realized your final year of high school would feel a little bit empty. But you reassured yourself that you’d use that time to get over him, because he promised you that it’s okay if you still like him since getting over takes time.

So about doing well with love right now, you’re certain you’re ready for it. You hope you’re at least ready for it.

“I gave your number to Mingyu,” your friend brings up. You two were talking about the men in your biochemistry class, saying how they were either too old or too mid. There were only a few guys who weren’t too bad, and your friend gave your number to one of them.

“Mingyu? As in biochem Mingyu?” You quickly got up from lying down on her bed, looking dead into her eyes in case she was joking with you.

“Yes, that Mingyu. He’s been eyeing you for quite some time, so I told him I can get him with you.”

You wish you could tell her you’re not too sure about this. You have some mixed feelings; a part of you says to YOLO it, but another part is hesitating about it, and you’re not sure what is exactly stopping you. Mingyu is a nice guy, very nerdy, and tall. Lots of girls want him, but it turns out he wants you. What’s the worst that can happen?

A notification from an unknown number pops up on your phone. The message was from Mingyu, and he was asking you out to lunch some time. It took you a while to respond since you and your friend were getting giddy over it. But you ended up agreeing to have lunch with him.

The lunch date with him wasn’t too bad. He was super sweet when you two were conversing. He always kept complimenting you, and it made your heart skip a beat. He did it often, and your pounding heart began to feel sort of different. You weren’t feeling quite ecstatic, but you figured you were just nervous.

From there, you’ve gone on several dates with him, and at this point, you’re just waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. There’s no rush; he’s probably not ready, so you might as well wait for him. The more dates you go on with him, the more you’re hoping he doesn’t ask you. But on one date, he ends up asking you to be his girlfriend, and without thinking before speaking, you immediately say yes.

You never told anyone except your friend about the two of you being together, and you never found yourself with him during biochemistry. You weren’t too sure why you did that, but the relationship ended when you told him you couldn’t give him the same amount of love he gave you. That was only because you found yourself staring at Seungcheol for only two seconds. Your relationship with Mingyu lasted for only two months.

When you told your friend about the breakup, she was surprised that you didn’t cry about it. She kept pestering you to tell her why you broke up with him, only to get a vague response from you that you just felt bad. You weren’t sure if it was the pang of guilt for staring at Seungcheol or the fact that you didn’t actually like Mingyu, but you were sure it had to do something with Seungcheol.

“Hah, Cheol just sent me another stupid brain-rotted reel,” you say out loud to your friend, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while she does the same.

“Seungcheol? I thought you said you guys don’t text anymore." Your friend’s curiosity piqued right when you mentioned that name.

“No, no. We don’t text like that anymore, but we send reels here and there. He probably just does it to annoy me or infiltrate our DMs. The only time he ever texts me is when he’s waiting for me by the studio,” you tell her, not realising she never knew that you always meet up with him at the end of the day.

“He’s the one giving you rides on Tuesdays? I thought that was Mingyu.”

“Nope. Seungcheol takes the same route going to the dorms, so he offered to give me rides once a week.”

“Is that why you broke up with Mingyu?” Your friend’s question makes your eyes go wide. You close your phone and get up from resting on her headboard to look at her properly.

“I–” You don’t want to continue your words; it’s most likely something you wouldn’t want to hear, especially if it’s about Seungcheol. “I’m… starving. Let’s eat first and talk about that later,” you mutter, hoping she forgets about it later on.

You never ended up talking to her about that, and you hope she never brings it up.

Seungcheol places a cup of coffee on the table in front of you. You were resting your head on the table, but immediately lifted up when Seungcheol sat next to you. “You look like you were dying today, so I got you some energy.” You thank him for the drink and start downing it like you were parched for days.

He picks up your notebook and starts analyzing the draft you drew. “What’s this for?” He asks, pointing at the lazy sketch of a jacket.

“It’s for my fashion properties assignment. We have to make an outfit out of fabric given to us. Mine is leather, so I’ve been brainstorming how to make this jacket look cute but comfy. I already drew the skirt for it.”

“I think you can easily come up with something. Your designs are cool and leather looks hard to work with, but you’re always dedicated,” Seungcheol assures you, hoping you don’t crash out in front of him over this.

You scoff. “Hah, what do you know about fashion?” Pointing out his every-day lazy black hoodie and grey sweat pants combination.

“Okay, not everyone wants to wake up early and choose what to pair their tops with their bottoms! Some just pull out whatever they have,” he rolls his eyes.

“You would not survive fashion school,” you joke, making Seungcheol huff but grin. As much as he can be annoying and get annoyed by you, he’ll never take a joke seriously.

If only he knew how much he makes your day by his annoyance.

Life was calm. You were so close to finishing the leather jacket, only having to attach the pockets, but you decided to take a break and finish it another day. You still had to work on the skirt, but you had plenty of time—grateful that this project is due in six months.

While waiting in the mall for your friends to come back from the washroom, you were sitting down and sketching out a new design in your journal.

You were thinking of making a top for your friend since her birthday was coming up soon. She would definitely like a sweatshirt. Your name gets called out, turning your head in that direction, and you see your friends walk out the washroom.

The three of you walk around, thinking of what stores to check out. Jiwon brings up going to the shoe store nearby, so the two of you follow her. You roam around the store, looking at the different kinds of shoes. Platforms, Mary Janes, sneakers, boots, all kinds that were in your size and style.

“…Yo what the heck? I didn’t know you work here.” You overhear Jiwon. She was talking to one of the workers, most likely a friend of hers. He’s tall and kind of cute. His glasses sit on the top of his head, and you caught him glancing at you while talking to your friend.

You avert your eyes to the black loafers, picking it up as you examine them. Your other friend goes up to you and asks your opinion if she should get brown boots or black boots. After she tried both on, you told her to get the black pair since she already owns a brown one.

As you accompany your friend to the check-out, Jiwon goes up to you and says she needs to go buy some makeup after this. You looked at her friend, who was standing by the counter, catching him staring at you again. He quickly turns his head and walks away.

It only took a week later to meet Jiwon’s friend again at a café. You were sitting alone by the window and still sketching out the top for your friend, so focused that you didn’t notice someone was standing in front of you.

“Can I sit here?” He asks, making you look up. You nod and go back to sticking your head into your journal. He sits in the chair facing and starts a conversation. “You’re one of Jiwon’s friends, right?”

You put your pencil down and look at him. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Dokyeom,” he introduces himself with a smile, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

You shake his hand. “(Name).”

You got to know a lot about him and talked about how the both of you met Jiwon. He was her classmate since high school, and you met her in your fashion design courses. You ended up exchanging numbers, and the moment you left to go back home, you spammed your friend with multiple messages.

As usual, you laid on her bed while you yapped to her about him. It’s always been this way with every guy you both encounter since your high school days. You talked for a while, not even realising it was already midnight—at least it’s a weekend night.

You spoke to Dokyeom very often. Always texting during your lectures and even calling at night. Sometimes you would even call him while you were sewing. There was something familiar about him every time you talked, and it felt nice.

One time you were on call, he asked you about your ideal type. You never really had an ideal type, so you said common traits all your crushes had from the top of your head. “Someone tall, kind, and a cute smile too. I’d want them to be smart and productive as well.”

"So...me basically,” he jokes. You agreed without a thought and that conversation started your relationship with Dokyeom.

You really like him. He was kind and entertaining. He was always fun to your friends and was nice to everyone. He always took you out on dates and took you home. Unlike Mingyu, Dokyeom made sure that the world knew you were his.

He really loved you and wanted to show everyone that he did. And by every one, he meant every one. The news got to Seungcheol one day and it all just stopped. The daily brain-rotted reels he sends you ended up being three times a week.

He barely got a response from you to the reels, and you only reacted to the messages. He slowed them down and sent them to you once a week. The only time you responded to a reel he sent, he left your message on ‘seen’, and then stopped sending you reels.

It’s not that he hated you or anything. He just knew you had a boyfriend now, so he didn’t want to go against your relationship’s boundaries. He would still pick you up every Tuesday, but the car ride conversations were always about school now or sometimes silent. He never asked about Dokyeom, and you never brought him up.

Being distant with Seungcheol kind of hurt, but you knew you were just getting over him and Dokyeom was there to help you. Or so you thought. Somehow, there would be conversations you have with Dokyeom, and you would absentmindedly bring up Seungcheol.

The first time you did, he asked who he was, and he didn’t sound jealous, just curious. You explained that he was just an old crush from high school and that he was basically a distant friend to you now.

He got more curious about him so you showed him his profile once. He looked through his account and started saying how you downgraded so much, pointing out Seungcheol’s physique.

You didn’t want Dokyeom to be hurt, so you began assuring him that he was much better than Seungcheol. You admit that Seungcheol played you back in high school and that he’s not even all that. Ever since that, you would bring down Seungcheol.

You were convinced you disliked Seungcheol, but Dokyeom always thought otherwise. Even though you would talk badly about him, your boyfriend still listened to you talk about him.

“I think you still like him,” Dokyeom brings up while you were ranting about what Seungcheol did to you in your junior year of high school. You were taken aback and denied so quickly. “You talk about him more than me,” he mutters. You apologized and assured him that you care about him more than Seungcheol.

“You know it’s okay if you still like him,” he considered.

“No!” You retorted. “That’s just morally wrong! Why would I like another man while I’m in a relationship?! I don’t like him anymore, and I never will. I have you now, and you already make me happy.”

Dokyeom still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to see you angry again, so he just nodded and patted your head.

Another time you brought up Seungcheol was when Dokyeom asked you who your first love was. When you admitted it was Seungcheol, he already knew since you always talked about him. When you asked him who his first love was, all he did was point at you, and that already made you regret saying your answer.

I never will. You said that in hopes you won’t ruin your relationship because of an old crush. Why do you always find yourself talking about Seungcheol anyway? He did you so wrong, and you’re sure he doesn’t care about you. Why was he even your first love?!

A week later, you realized you were lying. After you told Seungcheol he doesn’t need to drop you off at your dorm anymore since Dokyeom could take you there, you ended up deleting his contact on your phone and unfollowing his Instagram. But after one car ride with your boyfriend, you thought about Seungcheol and what he really means to you. Dokyeom was right.

You went to Jiwon for advice about it, and she figured he would want you to admit it to him since all he wants is for you to be happy. That night, you confessed to Dokyeom that you still had feelings for Seungcheol, but it was only 1%—since 99% is for your boyfriend.

However, the more you saw Seungcheol, the feelings kept growing more. You never told Dokyeom, but you didn’t want to keep hurting him. On one random Monday afternoon, you met up with him at the same café you first met him and broke up with him on the spot. You never wanted to admit it was about Seungcheol, so all you told him was that you were just the problem in the relationship—which was true.

Your relationship with Dokyeom only lasted for six months, but for some reason, you felt relieved and free. It only took you a few days to realize that Dokyeom reminded you of Seungcheol, and you used him to fill that empty void since senior year. But no matter how loving Dokyeom was to you, you secretly hoped it was Seungcheol instead.

Guilt held onto you and convinced you that you were a bad person at this point. You knew you were going to die alone, but honestly, you’d rather have that than break someone’s heart again. Not only were you single—which you could care less about—you were still distant with Seungcheol.

You tried not to care, but every time you saw him on campus, it always hurt to think about how distant you two are. It got to a point where you walked past him and neither of you said hi. You figured he hated you until you once had a dream about him when you got a fever.

You were at a party, and all of a sudden Seungcheol’s friends made fun of you. You blamed it on him and left the party. The scene changed, and you were walking with your friend to your next lecture. As you walked down the halls, you noticed your mother’s friend was with someone, so you greeted her, not bothered by the fact that your “aunt” was at your university. That someone she was with ended up being Seungcheol. When he smiled and waved at you, you frowned and ignored him as you walked away.

You instantly jolted awake, sweating real bad as the headache you had earlier stopped. You looked at the time, 4:27. It’s Tuesday, and around this time, you would wait for Seungcheol to pick you up. You thought a lot about the dream and how you were so mean to him in that dream.

“I don’t want to hate him anymore,” you think to yourself. You open your phone to Instagram, look up his username, and immediately hit follow. Then you go to your contacts and type his number to remake his contact in your phone—still remembering his number and putting it in your phone like the first time you two exchanged numbers.

Right when he followed you back three minutes later, you sent him a message about how you don’t like the two of you becoming distant and wanting to start over as friends. He agrees, and you ask to see him over lunch.

The next day you met up with him for lunch, and he was still the same annoying Seungcheol: always watching brain-rotted reels while you two talk and always teasing you. It feels nice to have this back, and you’re glad the two of you are not going to be distant anymore. Well, you thought you two were on bad terms, but everyone, including him, never thought that. It should’ve hit you that he could never hate anyone, so what would make him hate you?

After that, you went to the design studio thinking about Seungcheol. You really do like being friends with him, and you’re sure you don’t like him romantically. You soon realized that you didn’t need to bring him down in order to get over him. Today made you realise why he’s your first love.

You finally finished the leather jacket and the skirt. You never realized how you never got to finish the outfit while you were with Dokyeom, but only being able to finish it when you were alone. The good part of being a single fashion designer is that you have a lot of time for yourself to design anything.

The bad part, though, is that people like you always make apparel for others but yourself. It took you a while to notice that the leather jacket was too oversized for the skirt. It’s a men’s jacket, and the measurements were for Seungcheol.

After handing in your design, you finally took some time to design something for yourself. Maybe some jeans or a cute sweater. Since Valentine's Day was coming up and you and your friends were invited to a party that day, you had an excuse to make a whole outfit for yourself.

You took several days brainstorming and sketching out what to wear, but you finally settled on something simple. Maybe you were too focused on creating your outfit that you didn’t realise Valentine’s Day was about love, and all of sudden all your friends had a date to the party.

“I can’t believe we’re the only ones without a date!” Your friend complains. “Even Jiwon is going with that red head guy!”

“Hey, we have each other. You should wear that top I made for you for your birthday.”

“I definitely will.”

The both of you lie down on her bed, except this time you’re not talking about guys. It’s not bad to not have a date, but you’ll be disgusted if you see your friends all over their dates.

“Hey, it’s kind of ironic how all our friends’ dates are all friends too. And they have three guys who still don’t have a date.”

“Yeah, no. Saerom tried setting me up with Junhui because she thought we’d be perfect for each other, but he keeps sending me cat photos. And didn’t he like everyone?”

“Yikes. I forgot his friend group is odd.” Right when you brought that up, you get a text from Minghao, Jun’s cousin. He asks you if you already have a date to the party, and you reply with a no. The only person from that friend group you can tolerate is Minghao. He’s pretty much normal, but he’s just a friend.

Minghao then asks you if you want to go with him to the party. “Oh, wow, Minghao is asking me out,” you say to your friend. “What should I say?”

“Yes! Are you crazy (Name)?”

“What about you, though?”

“I’ll be fine. I have Hayoung since she doesn’t want to go with anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to show up.”

“Still. Just go with him!”

You sigh and send him a thumbs up. A part of you only wants to do this for the fun of it, but another part of you doesn’t want to since you like being alone.

The day of the party rolls by, and you just finished up the dress you were making for it. All your friends agreed you were all going there together. You quickly made a few adjustments to your dress in the car, putting the pack of pins in your handbag. If there’s one thing you can’t go out in public without, it’s a sewing kit.

You arrive at the house where it was being held, and you see several people entering. When you all entered the house, your friends easily found their dates and you met up with Minghao.

You honestly just wanted to stay with your friend, so you stuck with her as Minghao followed behind with his friend. No matter how many times you wanted to be with your friend, your other friends and his friends always pushed you into Minghao’s arms and took pictures.

You felt that same pang of guilt when you were with Mingyu and Dokyeom. You know that feeling a bit too well, and all you want to do is leave the party with your friend. You eventually gave up and just stuck with Minghao for a while.

As you left him to go get a drink, you bumped into Seungcheol, who you thought doesn’t go to parties like these. "Hey, I thought your mom banned you from going to parties." He mentioned as you two walked to the kitchen.

“I thought you don’t go to parties? And my mom doesn't care anymore.”

“My friends convinced me to go here.” He picks up his phone, and his screen reveals ‘Mingyu’ as the person calling him, making your heart drop. He answers the call, hanging up seconds later. “Which, speaking of, are looking for me. I’ll see you around (Name)!” He walks the other way, and you leave the kitchen without a drink in your hand, only leaving with a pounding heart.

You went back to Minghao and told him you were going to go home with your friend, and you left him without giving him a chance to say goodbye. Honestly, you hope Seungcheol didn’t see you with him and hope that none of your friends upload those photos.

You looked for your friend and left the house together. Instead of going back to the dorms, you two just walked to the nearest convenience store to just hang out and calm down.

“So you don’t like Minghao?” Your friend asks as you look through the candies in the candy aisle of the store.

“I like him as a friend, just not in that way.” You confirmed, picking up a pack of gummy bears and following your friend to the drink aisle.

“I heard Saerom’s man was the one encouraging Minghao to ask you,” she points out.

“Junhui got pissed at me because I took his last person he was going to be with, like I kept telling him he can have his cousin!”

“What made you want to leave, by the way?”

You stayed silent as you watched her think of what beverage to buy. She looks back, waiting for an answer. “I think it’s because of me.”

She picks out an orange soda, and you two make your way to the cashier. “What do you mean?” She asks, in the middle of paying.

“I think I just like being single.” You two leave the store and sit down at a table right outside, placing your stuff on the table.

“And that’s okay. It’s not bad being single,” she assures, putting down the drink and holding your hand with one hand.

“I know it’s not. I just don’t do well with love; I keep hurting guys.”

“I can tell. I was there when Mingyu asked for your number, when Dokyeom said he was your ideal type, and when Minghao asked you out.”

You sigh and chuckle after. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m such a manipulator. I just led on three guys.”

“(Name) as much as I love you, that’s not something to be proud of.” You nod in response, repeatedly muttering a bunch of ‘I know’ to her. “You always keep saying it’s about you and your emotions. But have you ever considered it’s about Seungcheol?”

This is what your friend has wanted to discuss since your days with Mingyu. You knew your breakups were because of Seungcheol, but you never realized it wasn’t him, it was about him. That feeling in your heart you had earlier when you saw your ex’s name on his phone brings you back to freshman year.

You like Seungcheol.

“I think I still like Seungcheol,” you admit to your friend.

“All because you saw him earlier? Cause I saw you two talking in the kitchen,” she brings up about that little interaction that made you aware of your feelings.

“No. I think I always liked him, but I was in denial about it. Just think about it. I caught myself staring at Seungcheol while I was with Mingyu. Dokyeom told me I talk about him a lot. And well, Minghao never reminded me of him.”

“I figured. Whenever I asked you if you were going to be with your man, you were a bit soulless. No offence, but you were never excited when you talked about them. Now that I think about you, when you were with them, you never talked about them at all to us.”

You lowered your head, mentally slapping yourself for doing that. “It was so different from Seungcheol though. Every time you looked at Seungcheol and talked to him, it wasn’t the same with the others. I saw stars in your eyes. You didn’t like him; you were in love with him.”

Your friend is still holding onto your hand, ignoring the fact that you’re in the middle of having a heart to heart in front of a convenience store.

“(Name), I think all you needed was to be honest with yourself. It’s okay to love Seungcheol. No matter how many hearts you break, you’re not a bad person. It just shows how caring you are. You can still be friends with him even if all our friends hate him. Even though I think what he did to you back in junior year was so messed up, you were so strong to go through that heartbreak. You are amazing and loving, and I want you to tell that to yourself every day.”

With your free hand, you cover your eyes with it. Your friend gave you tissue paper from her bag, as she was quick to notice that you were tearing up. She moves herself closer and brings you into her arms.

“Choi Seungcheol is one lucky man to have you love him.”

You got your leather jacket and skirt back, getting a 98% on it. As long as you got over the nineties for it, you’re happy. You only lost a few points for making it a men’s jacket instead of a women’s jacket.

Since you got the jacket back, it would make sense to give it to Seungcheol since it’s clearly his size only. Your friendship with Seungcheol has been calm ever since that heart-to-heart with your friend. He still picks you up from the studio, but instead of taking you to your dorms, you two go on little side quests for fun.

The weather has been getting warmer, so you two would go wherever to hang around outside. He picked up a hobby of taking photos due to a friend of his gifting him a camera. So every time he would drop you off at the dormitory, he would take a picture of you in front of the building.

“Open your sweater so you can show off the new shirt you made,” he requests, looking at you through the lens as he watches you zip down your sweater. You made an unserious shirt, printing a picture of a sock monkey on it.

After hearing camera clicks, he puts the camera down. “Cute outfit,” he points out.

“And we need to work on your closet!” You tease.

He rolls his eyes and tells you good night, driving off when you tell him to rest well tonight. Right when you turn around, you face Jeonghan, who happens to be one of Seungcheol’s friends and lives on the floor above you.

“Wow, and Jisun said there was going on between you two,” he remarks. If there was anyone nosy about you two, it would be Jeonghan. According to Jisun, several guys—including Jeonghan—would ask about you and Seungcheol, some of whom she didn’t even know by name.

"Yeah, cause we’re friends,” you confirm, heading to the elevator as Jeonghan follows you in.

“I asked Seungcheol if he still likes you, and he said he likes you as a friend only.”

Even though you’re quite annoyed by him, you still manage to respond to that. “Well, he never had feelings for me, so he’s valid for that. Plus, I like it that way.”

“So you can’t be delusional anymore,” he jeers as the elevator comes to a stop on your floor. You step out of the elevator, hoping Jeonghan just minds his own business and stays in there.

“I like being his friend anyway, Yoon Jeonghan,” you mimic his tone as you watch the doors close in front of him.

You’re not wrong with your words, though. You love being friends with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol and you are on your usual side quests after he picks you up from the studio. This time there were bands performing at a nearby park, so you went there to chill. You brought the jacket, but held onto it considering he’s going to assume it’s yours.

As you picked a spot to sit down, there was already music and the sky was getting dark soon—before that, you two went to feast yourselves with cheap ramen and an unhealthy amount of soda.

You hand him the jacket without saying anything; he takes it with a puzzled expression displayed. “It’s the leather jacket I was designing a few months ago. I accidentally made it your size,” you speak up, smiling as you watch his perplexed expression turn into an ecstatic smile.

“Accidentally? Or did you intentionally make it for me?” He jokes as he puts it on, making you push his shoulder.

“This is going to be the last time I’ll ever make you something.” You snootily look away. He laughs and apologizes—always apologizing after he makes fun of you.

You two stayed silent as you swayed to the music. It’s calm and sweet. You could stay in this moment forever, nothing and no one to bother you. Right now could be a good time for Seungcheol to make another stupid joke, but he seems to be enjoying the music too.

This is what you need. Nothing romantic with him, but close to him. The sky was dark, and you pointed out the fairy lights hanging around the trees. Seungcheol lies down his head on the grass, now staring at the sky, as you follow along.

“Sky is too cloudy to see stars,” he mentions. You avert your eyes from the sky to him, turning your head to comfortably gaze at him. He was still looking up. You don’t expect him to look back; he never does. But you enjoy this, just intaking his unforgettable face.

“Thank you, (Name),” he mutters, “for coming here with me.”

You don’t respond right away, still listening to the music. “Of course, but I’m sorry,” you let out, now turning your head to gaze up at the sky again.

“Sorry for what?” He asks, your no-context apology makes him look at you now, watching you stare at the non-existing stars—just like his love for you.

“Still being in love with you.”

svt masterlist .ᐟ

#[ macaworkz ]#k-films #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #scoups x reader #scoups x you #seventeen x you #svt x you #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen angst #svt angst #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol

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wishfulsketching · 3 days ago

Note

I am becoming so obsessed with Julian!!! I don’t know what it is about him. He just has the demeanor of a terrified prey animal all the time and its so endearing!

You don’t have to answer this if it’s too spoiler-y, but I gotta ask: Did Julian build Sapphire and the big robot fellow? If so, which did he build first? It would probably be smart of him to stop after Sapphire took his hands. Though, I find it funny that he might’ve just… NOT learned his lesson and built an even bigger and more dangerous robot protect him lmao

Anyways, love your ocs!!! They’re so neat!

Thank you for asking about poor poor Julian!!! Yea, he is a very smart man who is also doomed to do stupid things thanks to him wanting to just see what he can do.

Sapphire was build first, they were an experimentation of "can you copy a human and put them into a machine". It was a success but also, not. They had planned it that the person kinda wakes up as a blank slate but can act as a human aka no need to code, you can just copy paste human "mechanics" into a bot. Sapphire woke up pissed off and very aware.

Julian is living his worst life but he also really really wants to build things and needs resources to do so. His boss is also an egomaniac who really wants to take over the government and the world before her brother does, so Julian is stuck.

His robot friend, full AI, sees his anguish and somehow grows its own personality and life goals. It's not stupid tho, it's keeping it's sentience a secret. For a while, at least. It really wants Julian to be able to relax

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LIKING MY SILLY LITTLE OC'S AOIUSDHAIH

Julian's design has changed along the years but his character really hasn't. He's always been a nervous wreck

#my art #sketchy sketch #answering stuff #my oc #original character #talking about stuff

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walnutcookie · 10 hours ago

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soooo, what’s this new stars from the mind AU you cooking? I saw it when I was zooming through the Dandy’s World tumblr search. It’s def another really cool aesthetic vibe type AU as I can see.

AHH I NEED TO KEEP WORKING ON SFTM... This AU is much less closed off, i dont care to keep it spoiler free like i do with tower of souls so uh. Im gonna be honest i dont feel like typing it all out rn, ill make more infodump posts later but for now here take my poorly articulated discord messages (copied and pasted/screenshotted)

so. In this au delilah does Weird fuckin experiments to make the cartoon characters that live in arthurs mind into real beings YAAAAYY

the toons work in a theater where they perform all the shows that arthurs always dreamed of!!! Its meant to be an educational place for kids of course heehee

there ARE TWISTEDS IN THIS AU unlike tower of souls.. need to design all of the characters and their twisted forms but the difference is that astro is the one to cause all of it this time

uhhm. if youve read my characterizations for arthur, delilah, dandy, and astro in tower of souls its important to note thats how i characterize them generally, i just talk about them in the context of tower of souls more because it makes the au more interesting to me. Theyre the same in this au and also my headcanons for regualr dandys world teehee

ive always liked to imagine that dandy caused the ichor incident in canon dw out of boredom because he thinks that things have gotten stale. and also because he wanted power, he wanted to turn the tables on creation and creator and basically just say "fuck you look at what I can do!!! i have so much power i can make us toons so much better" …. i hc that astro was like. Different path same result. if dandy hadnt done it first, astro would have done the same thing THEYRE FOILS TO EACH OTHER BUT THEYRE ALSO PARALLELS!!!! however astro is motivated by pure paranoia. Fear of the unknown like space… hes terrified of how powerless he feels, he doesnt like how little control he has in the universe and it makes him feel helpless, so he was planning to do the same thing dandy was also planning and cause everyone to turn twisted so he could be powerful enough to protect himself (and by extension his friends)

This au is the same way except astro did it first. obligatory astro antagonist au YAAAY!!!!! Hence why astro is big and scary <3 i still need to design twisted dandy

note that im still kind of building the AU so im not sure how the lore would go quite yet i just have a bunch of scrambled thoughts HELP

(cringe ahead beware)

and heres the designs again for those who havent seen them

#🎉 asks #🎉 rambles #stars from the mind au

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sirowsky-stories · 1 day ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have to send someone…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s get going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Was it another malfunction?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Definitely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. So… your place?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

@pedrostories @harriedandharassed

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

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redgoldsparks · 17 hours ago

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February Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut. You might notice the layout image looks different! I have switched to using the Storygraph wrap up :)

The Baker and The Bard by Fern Haught

A sweet, slight fantasy story focused on friendship. A baker and her friend, an aspiring bard, go on a little adventure into the forest looking for a specific type of mushroom. On the way they encounter some misunderstood magical creatures, a nonbinary fey, and only the smallest amounts of danger and conflict. The gentleness of the story makes it appropriate for, and I believe aimed at, a fairly young audience, definitely middle grade or early reader rather than YA.

I Shall Never Fall in Love by Hari Conner

This is a witty, well-written queer romance set in the mid-1800s, England. The story borrows heavily from Emma while still feeling like its own fresh tale, especially because of the inclusion of characters of color, queer characters, and a gender-nonconforming love interest. I was rooting for Eleanor and George all the way; both rooting for them to get together and also rooting for them to find the space to know themselves and express that authentically around the people they love! The art in this book is stunning, with beautiful colors, and so much thoughtful historical research went into the design of the houses, costumes, and world of these characters. Highly recommend, especially if you're a Jane Austen fan.

Conversations with People Who Hate Me written and read by Dylan Marron

I picked this book up after loving Dylan Marron's podcast The Redemption of Jar Jar Binks, a 6 episode miniseries that I find myself thinking about all the time. Unfortunately, I do think having listened to that already dented my experience of this book, because I already knew a chunk of the story from the podcast which made listening to the book feel a bit repetitive. However! I still finished and overall enjoyed Conversations with People Who Hate Me, which is about Marron's podcast of the same name, in which he called up folks who had left hateful comments on his youtube videos or facebook and just had a conversation with them. What prompted them to leave a hateful comment? What kind of values impacted how they saw the world? Might they change their mind if they had more evidence? Did they ever expect Dylan Marron to actually see their comment? (The answer to this last was almost always "no.") This is an interesting political moment to think about this project of deliberate, compassionate connection, and Marron is thoughtful about the privilege that allowed him the emotional bandwidth to pursue it.

You and Me, On Repeat by Mary Shyne

Time loop fans, rejoice! Mary Shyne has crafted a clever, gorgeous treasure box of a story. Part coming-of-age, part romance, part sci-fi, all heart. I was drawn in from the very first page, hooked with the stylish art and the intriguing premise. I fell so hard for Chris and Alicia and all of the stupidly teenage and deeply human choices that lead them into a pocket dimension of space-time. Who hasn't wanted a redo option on one of the most important days of their life? What would you do if trapped in a time loop of your high school graduation day? I left the book rooting for these two! I had the pleasure of reading this book early :) It's available for preorder now, or grab it from a bookstore in May 2025!

You Are a Sacred Place: Visual Poems for Living in Climate Crisis by Madeleine Jubilee Saito

Saito reached a hand into some of my very own darkest climate crisis-induced depressive thoughts and drew me gently back into the light. We are all part of this natural world, and we are meant to be here, and it is good that we are here. Those things can be hard to remember sometimes, but these delicate comics underline their truth. I also got to read this early - It comes out March 25, 2025, so you can reorder it now or find it in bookstores soon.

Hey Mary! by Andrew Wheeler and Rye Hickman

Saints and stories come to vivid life in this compassionate story of a young man learning to balance his sexuality and his faith. For any readers out there trying to find space in their Catholicism for their queerness, I hope this book can light the way. Another one I got to read ahead of it's release! It's out on April 15, so you can preorder or book for it in bookstores and libraries soon.

Akane-Banashi vol 1 by Yuki Suenaga, illustrated by Takamasa Moue translated by Stephan Paul

As a child, Akane watched her father fail out of a program dedicated to training rakugo, traditional Japanese storytellers. Now in high school, she is pursuing the same career under the same teacher. This book has a lot of familiar series-set up elements- a rival older student, a series of fellow trainees, a reluctant mentor- but unfortunate didn't deeply capture me. I'm unsure if I'll continue on with this series.

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat vol 4 by Sakaomi Yuzaki translated by Caleb Cook

THIS SERIES IS SO FREAKING CUTE! I love how it's diving into some of complicated and logistical realities of being queer in Japan. I also love how supportive the friend group is. Yuri fans you need to pick this up!

Beautyland by Marie-Helene Bertino

Adina is born in 1977 to a human mother on Earth; but she is not totally of this world. Some part of her is also an alien, attuned to a planet with a collective consciousness, far away in the stars. Through a lonely childhood in Philadelphia, Adina faxes notes and observations on human life to her far away family. She grows up as the child of a single, working class mother, with few friends, but a fierce commitment to live as her own singular self. I really enjoyed the light-handed prose, the short slice-of-life chapters, and the insightful look at what it feels like to grow up an outsider. Adina reminded me of myself; she reminded me of many of my other oddball, queer, trans, or asexual friends who have always felt out of step with the lives of those around us. It reminded me, yet again, that there is perhaps nothing more human than feeling like an alien among one's peers.

The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull read by Janina Edwards and Ron Butler

Set on St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands, this debut sci-fi novel wrestles with some big and weighty concepts. We are introduced to two families, neighbors, with their own interwoven concerns: a married couple struggling with relationship, a woman questioning her sexuality, a teen questioning her faith, a man yearning for more ambitious career and travel options in middle age. Then an alien ship arrives above the island and the book jumps forward 5 years in time to show how a powerful controlling presence has impacted the lives of everyone on the island. The Ynaa offered advanced medicines and technology to humans in exchange for staying for a time to do an unspecified type of research. But the co-existence is not peaceful: the Ynaa lash out with extreme violence over minor provocations. This tense situation cannot last. There was much to enjoy in this novel, and the audiobook was very well read by two narrators. I did think the final act suffered from some pacing issues, and a second time jump near the end worked much less well for me than the big time jump near the beginning. It was interesting to read this after having read Turnbull's second novel No Gods, No Masters which contains similar themes but with a much more complex story structure and much larger cast.

The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn’t A Guy At All vol 2 by Sumiko Arai

I'm obsessed with these little rock-n-roll lesbians. This series gives me some similar vibes as Nana except sweeter, sillier, and hopefully heading in a much less tragic direction! The art is to die for, I spent so long just looking at every page in awe. Makes me want to draw more comics!

Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo and Me by Ellen Forney

This comic has been on my TBR for a decade and I'm so glad I finally picked it up! Forney's cartooning is so clear, articulate and accessible; it really opened up a window for me into the experience of being bipolar. I loved the many creative visual metaphors, the inclusion of sketchbook pages, and the self-compassionate tone. I can see what this book set such an early high standard in the genre of comics memoirs!

Lone Women by Victor Lavalle read by Joniece Abbott-Pratt

In the opening scene, Adelaide Henry is spreading gasoline through the rooms of her childhood home in a farming valley in California in 1915, and over the bodies of her murdered parents. She leaves California with a rucksack and a steamer trunk, bound for Montana, where a woman alone can claim a plot of land. If she lives on it for at least three years and establishes a farm, she'll become the owner of the parcel. But can she really survive the harsh coming winter, the white supremacy of the nearby town, and the deadly family curse she's carrying? I really enjoyed the audiobook of this novel, but found myself pondering whether or not I felt like it fit into the horror genre, which is the primary genre tag on goodreads. Can a horror book have a happy ending? Is it horror is I don't feel like the narrative voice is trying to horrify me, rather show how marginalized woman can survive, even against extreme odds, by banding together? If I was shelving it I'd more likely to put this in historical fiction.

The Deep by Rivers Solomon, read by Daveed Diggs

Yetu is the historian for her underwater society, a group of deep sea merfolk who live in the depths of the Atlantic. She carries all of the memories, beautiful and painful, of their ancestors- pregnant women tossed overboard from ships during the years of slave trading. It is a great honor and a terrible burden to carry these memories, and Yetu thinks it might kill her to carry them alone. When an opportunity comes to leave the memories and her people behind, Yetu takes it. But who is she without her past and her people? I listened to this 4 hour novella on audio and enjoyed it a lot of a mythical alternate history.

The Hundred Years War on Palestine by Rashid Khalidi

"His Majesty's government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine..." -Lord Arthur Balfour, 1917, statement made on behalf of the British cabinet (page 24)

"For in Palestine we do not propose even to go through the form of consulting the wishes of the present inhabitants of the country... The Four Great Powers are committed to Zionism." -Lord Arthur Balfour, 1919, confidential memo to the British cabinet (page 37)

"'If you wish to colonize a land in which people are already living," [Ze'ev] Jabotinsky wrote in 1925, "you must find a garrison for the land, or find a benefactor who will provide a garrison on your behalf... Zionism is a colonizing venture, and therefore, it stands or falls on the question of armed forces.'" (page 51)

"In a cover letter to [President Woodrow] Wilson, the commissioners presciently warned that 'if the American government decided to support the establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine, they are committing the American people to the use of force in that area, since only by force can a Jewish state in Palestine be established or maintained.' The commission thereby accurately predicted the course of the subsequent century." (page 51-52)

This is an extremely well written, clear, concise book. The author draws extensively from primary source documents going back to 1895. His grandparents, his parents, and his immediate family lived through many of the events he outlines; he personally knew Yassar 'Arafat, long time leader of the PLO; he was an advisor to the negotiations between Israel and the PLO which began in Madrid in 1991 and ran (unsuccessfully) into 1993; he lived in Beirut through weeks of Israel bombardment in 1982; he and his father worked for the United Nations in the 1960s and sat through Security Council meetings on the Arab-Israeli conflict, including a meeting in which an intentional US political delay allowed Israel to make a preemptive attack on Syria. These personal anecdotes enliven what is overall a very grim history of broken treaties, broken promises, and conflict. I pulled the quotes because I want to be able to return to them later, to remind myself how clear it has been since the beginning that Britain and the US considered the Palestinian people necessary and acceptable sacrifices.

#books #reading #book reviews #comic book reviews #queer books

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nick-writes-stuff · 6 hours ago

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Devotion

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x injured!gn!reader

summary: After the glass stepping stones, there's only you, Thanos, and Nam-gyu left in the games. Tensions are high, and you are trying to stay alive with a serious injury. Luckily, Thanos is there to help you. (aka, a rewrite of the ending of the first season but with team thanos) ~ 2.7k words

warnings: canon-typical violence, reader is injured, talk of reader dying, mentions of drug use

a/n: i wanted to make this longer and include more lead up, but i have a different idea brewing that would overlap with it, so i figured it would be its own fic. i love writing with thanos, and i have another idea for him, and that will be the next one. i'm so excited about it. hope you enjoy!

You felt your ears ringing after the explosion of the glass bridges. You couldn't really think straight at the moment. You were still reeling over the fact you just witnessed Nam-gyu shoving Min-su into the last tile and to his subsequent death. He just killed your friend. A man who you thought was also his friend. But lately, you were questioning how much Nam-gyu actually cared about any of you. He did that with no hesitation. You hardly recognized him anymore.

The three of you were escorted through the complex stairwells in silence. Thanos and you were quiet due to shock, but Nam-gyu was silent because he didn't feel the need to defend his actions.

It wasn't until you were halfway to the dorms that you felt the dull ache radiating from your side. It throbbed with every step you took. The adrenaline was leaving your system, and as it did, the pain only grew. You didn't even try to see what was wrong yet. You didn't want to draw attention to it in front of the others.

The dorms were almost entirely empty, save for three beds against each of the walls other than the one with the main door.

“Dude, what the fuck were you thinking?” Thanos yelled, getting into Nam-gyu's face.

Nam-gyu shoved him back. “What? Did you want to die?” He yelled with just as much venom.

“There could have been another way.” Thanos insisted. It was weird to hear Thanos trying to save other people's lives in the games. During the first few games, he had been so willing to throw others into harm's way for his own gain.

But he changed a lot. Maybe it was partially because the lump sum he was going to receive was enough to cover his debt and then some. But he changed a lot because of you too. You made him feel a way he hadn't in a long time. With you, he found a genuine connection. A real friend. Maybe when you get out of here, he could find a chance for something more.

Nam-gyu scoffed at him. “The only other way was joining the rest of them at the bottom. We were going to run out of time.” He said. Thanos started to walk off to the other side of the room. Nam-gyu rolled his eyes. “You're welcome for saving your life, by the way!” He snapped.

Thanos whipped around, readying himself to confront him. “Are you fucking serious?”

You finally spoke up. “Can you two just stop?” You shouted, your voice cracking into a sob. That shut them up for a moment as they turned to you. Thanos's eyes were full of concern and Nam-gyu's hate. You were just overwhelmed. You just watched your friend die, your other two friends were in a screaming match, and you were beginning to feel the effect of your injury.

Before anyone else could speak, someone's voice rang out in the room. “Attention Players.”

You all turned to see a square guard alongside a few circle guards. Three of them were holding out a black box with a red ribbon. They were designed to look just like the coffins that eliminated players were thrown into. You didn't show how disgusted that made you.

“We would like to congratulate you for completing the penultimate game. We have new outfits for you to celebrate the occasion. Please change into them while we prepare for your dinner.” He said.

You exchanged glances with Thanos while Nam-gyu stepped forward to grab his outfit and head toward the bathrooms.

“We should probably take turns changing in the women's bathroom while the other keeps watch.” You suggested. You were nervous about Nam-gyu trying to harm either of you.

Thanos made a face. “You want me to go into the girls bathroom?” He asked, exaggerating his concern at the prospect.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, stop acting like a 12-year-old. It's just a room.” You said. Your tone was joking, but there was a sharpness that he hadn't expected. You made your way into the hall.

Thanos went in to change first. He figured it would be best to go first while Nam-gyu was also changing. That way he would likely take your place by the time Nam-gyu was leaving.

Nothing could have prepared you for seeing what was causing the pain in your stomach. A significant shard of glass was protruding from your abdomen. It wasn't bleeding that badly, but it had started to stain your sweatpants. You gasped at the sight, both out of pain and shock.

You didn't dare to move the glass. You knew it was likely stopping the bleeding somewhat. Luckily, they were having you change into black suits, so any bleeding would likely go unseen by the others. You changed as quickly as you could. You packed your old t-shirt around the glass and tied the drawstring of the sweatpants around your waist. You hoped it would maintain some pressure. You tried hard to muffle any sounds of pain that you made. You couldn't let them know about this. While you trusted Thanos, you were just too scared to let Nam-gyu know about it.

You left the bathroom without drawing attention to your injury. Thanos was waiting for you, and you tried to be discreet as you admired how he looked in a suit. How did you mess up this badly? This was no place to catch feelings.

You didn't know what you expected to walk back into, but an elaborate dinner table wasn't it. It was a luxury like none you all had ever seen before. There were three place settings at three tables arranged in a large triangle.

You'd never had a more tense meal than this. Nam-gyu was silent, but his glare toward you spoke volumes. You weren't even hungry. Your injury was too painful for you to even have an appetite. You ate what you could force down, knowing you hadn't eaten anything substantial in days.

You watched the guards come to clear the tables while you still sat there. Then you realized they left the steak knives sitting in front of each of you. Your blood turned to ice in your veins. Your breathing quickened, trying not to hyperventilate as you realized the amount of danger you were in.

You looked over to Thanos, locking eyes with him. You tried to mask your fear, but any facade you had was shattered when you saw the smirk on Nam-gyu's face as he picked up the knife. You grabbed your own knife with shaking hands and moved back to the bed closest to you.

You didn't want to take your eyes off of him, scared he would take any opportunity to kill you. Because he definitely would. You knew he didn't like you. He hated you. You changed Thanos. You made him soft. You took his eyes off the prize money. You made him think about leaving the drugs and the fame behind, and Nam-gyu despised you for it.

You saw through him. Nam-gyu only saw Thanos as a paycheck and a drug supplier. That's all. So when you got close to Thanos, you were threatening Nam-gyu's future. You were ruining his investment. He needed to get rid of you at all costs.

You don't know how long you sat on the bed in silence. Your back was against the headboard. You pulled your knees toward your chest. The hand opposite to your wound was pushing against your makeshift bandage to keep some pressure on it. Your other hand was gripping the steak knife tight enough that your knuckles were white. You squeezed the knife as a way to make sure you stayed awake. You couldn't risk falling asleep. You stared ahead of you, watching the man across from you intently.

You hadn't noticed that Thanos had made his way toward you since he had been in the bed out of your line of sight. “Hey, Y/N?” He said softly.

You flinched, moving away from him and holding the knife toward him momentarily. His eyes widened, and he put his hands up instinctively. “It's just me. Chill out.” He said, keeping his usual demeanor despite how odd it would seem to others. He knew he probably just startled you, but there was also a deep-seated fear that you actually thought he would hurt you.

You took a deep breath, ignoring the burning pain in your abdomen from the action. “Sorry.” You murmured, letting your grip on the knife relax. As a sign of good faith, he took his knife out of his pocket and dropped it at the foot of the bed. You looked over at him before doing the same.

“Mind if I sit with you?” He asked. You shook your head, moving to the side so he could sit next to you. Luckily he wasn't on the same side as your wound, so you didn't have to worry about him noticing it.

He sat beside you, fidgeting with the button on his suit jacket. After sitting in silence for a moment, you spoke. “I think he's gonna kill me.” You said quietly, keeping your eyes on Nam-gyu from across the room.

Thanos laughed, but you could hear the anger behind it. “I'd like to see him try.” He said. You didn't react positively to his attempt to lighten the mood.

You continued. “Right now we would have a majority to leave. If he gets rid of one of us, the game has to continue. He hates my guts, so it'll probably be me.” You said, voice hardly above a whisper.

He nudged you with his elbow, getting you to look up at him. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I promise.” He said. The sincerity before his words would normally give you butterflies, but now there was just a bitter irony knowing that you were already badly injured.

He sighed, staring at the man who he once considered a friend. “Honestly, I should just go and kill him now. That fucker deserves it.” He said, lowering his volume as he reached for the knife.

You grabbed his wrist before he could grab it. He looked over to you, trying to ignore the sparks he felt where you touched him. “Don't.” You said with a shake of your head. “Don't stoop to his level. You'll be no worse than him.”

He didn't think he cared about the moral justification, but he couldn't get himself to go against your plea. He leaned back again with a sigh.

You both sat in silence. You were starting to not feel well. You felt a bit queasy and lightheaded. But you just felt this overwhelming sense of dread. How were you going to continue the game? If you had to wait until tomorrow, who knows how much blood you would lose. Would you even be able to play most of the games?

You finally spoke again, keeping your voice low. “If I don't make it out of here-”

“Don't say that.” He interrupted, looking down at you with a stern gaze.

You shook your head. “No, just listen to me. I-”

“We're making it out of here together, okay? There's no need to talk like that.” He said.

You just looked up at him, trying to stop the tears from forming. “You don't understand, I-”

He rolled his eyes. “What else is there to understand? It's not going to happen.” He tried not to be short-tempered with you. He wasn't annoyed or angry with you. He was just scared. So scared at the prospect of losing you that he didn't want to even acknowledge the fact it could happen. You dying was out of the question entirely. Even if he had to die in your place.

You whimpered slightly as you took your hand off the wound on your side, showing him the crimson in the dim light. You couldn't form any words at the moment. What would you even say?

You could see the faintest hint of fear flicker across his face. “How? When, but-” He stammered, voice louder than he intended.

You shushed him harshly, looking back over to Nam-gyu who perked up at the noise. You turned back to Thanos. “He can't know.” You mouthed.

He seemed to disagree with you, but ultimately nodded in defeat. He knew it too. Nam-gyu would definitely take you out if he knew you were weak. “What happened?” He asked, keeping his voice at a whisper.

You placed your hand back into the wound with a grimace before speaking. “It's a shard of glass. From when the tiles exploded.” You whispered.

He looked shocked. “You mean it's still in there?” He asked in disbelief. The idea of it made him so uncomfortable.

You nodded. “It's keeping me alive right now. If I took it out, I would probably bleed out by morning.” Your voice trembled as you started to cry. The idea of talking about your own death was harrowing. You had done everything right here, but you were so close to dying like the rest. This wasn't supposed to happen. You won that game. Winners don't get hurt.

He noticed your anxiety spiking and wrapped his arm around you, hand gripping your forearm gently. “It's gonna be okay. All we have to do is make it through the night. Tomorrow we'll give them hell until they let us vote.” He said.

You shook your head. “I don't think there's gonna be another vote. They don't want this to end peacefully. They want a show.” You said, trying to keep your voice calm but your panic was showing through.

He shushed you softly, his thumb drawing gentle circles into your skin. “We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? For right now, you should get some rest.” He said.

You shook your head. “But what if he-”

“I'll keep watch. I won't let anything happen to you. I swear on my entire rap career.” He said, clearly playing up his bravado to make you laugh. Which you did laugh weakly.

He was entirely serious, though. He didn't think he even wanted to continue playing the part anymore. He was really only doing it for attention. He did have a passion for writing raps, but the whole stage act of Thanos and all the drugs were just to get people to like him. It worked for a time, but it was never fulfilling in the long-term because it wasn't real. They didn't really give a shit about him.

With you, though, it was different. He didn't have to fake anything when he was around you. He could drop the facade and be himself again. He didn't need to be something he wasn't. And the feeling of being accepted for himself was so addictive.

You looked up at him. “Can you talk about something? Anything really. I just need to calm down a bit.” You asked sheepishly, almost embarrassed for asking at all.

That flustered him more than he let on. People usually found him anything but calming, and the fact you felt so comfortable around him made him feel things he hadn't in a long time.

He started telling you about the place where he grew up. He glossed over the bad parts, focusing on telling you the places he would want to take you. He would take you to the diner that was the area's traditional first date location since it was nice but decently priced. There was the bar where he won his first rap battle. You could even go to meet his mother if you wanted. Surely she'd be happy he found someone like you. He finally wouldn't feel ashamed to visit her.

He eventually noticed your breathing had deepened, drifting off into sleep by his side. He watched you for a while, mesmerized by the fact that someone could trust him so much. He wanted to commit this to memory in case something would happen to you. He didn't want to accept that you could die, but he also wanted to make sure he would be able to have something if these godforsaken games took you away from him.

He kept himself awake by thinking up rap lyrics in his mind. About the situation, about his hatred of Nam-gyu, but mostly about you. How hard he fell for you. How beautiful he thought your smile was. How you brought back a piece of him he hadn't noticed was missing. Every rhyme was a display of his devotion to you. He was going to do right by you. He failed so many other people, but he refused to fail you. You both were making it out of here no matter what.

#squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game x you #choi su bong x reader #thanos x reader #thanos squid game #injured reader #nick writes stuff

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poweredbycoffee · 10 hours ago

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Ateez if you were marrying them

Hongjoong:

money is no object when he’s in love, the engagement ring is custom made with your input during the process and he insists upon taking you to dinner so he can propose afterward even though you know what’s coming

will hand over his credit card and tell you to have fun when you start dress shopping, fashion king that he is can’t help but ask what you looked at and suggests that if you can’t find what you want he knows a few designers

writes his own vows even though it takes him a week to figure out how to convey how much he loves you in a few sentences

gets a tattoo of your wedding date during your honeymoon because when it comes to commitment he’s all in on your future together

Seonghwa:

proposes while you’re on vacation together, sneaks a selfie of the two of you into one of his Instagram posts because he wants to show you off

who needs a wedding planner when your husband to be is this good at making things look elegant, wants you to be surrounded by your favorite flowers for the ceremony

most likely to have a destination wedding somewhere like Italy because he wants to be married in a place that will always remind him of you

saw Lego wedding cake toppers online and had to have them, saved them after the wedding and displays them with the rest of his collection

Yunho:

proposes on the balcony of your apartment the day he gets the ring because he cannot wait to show you that he got the one you’ve been dropping hints about for three months, the neighbors applaud when you say yes and he picks you up for a kiss

imo the only member who has his wedding at an actual church instead of the usual wedding hall because to him marriage is a spiritual commitment as well as an emotional one

wears a black or dark blue three piece suit instead of a tuxedo for the wedding because it’s more comfortable and has the added benefit of making you unable to take your eyes off him the entire time

you bet your ass he carries you into the hotel lobby in your wedding dress when you check in for your first night as husband and wife

Mingi:

so nervous when he proposes that you say yes the second he presents you with a ring so he doesn’t have to worry about flubbing his words when popping the question, he looks visibly relieved and utterly adorable

pays for a wedding planner so neither of you have to stress over the details

most likely to risk his life getting a peek at you in your dress before the ceremony because he can’t stand the suspense and wants to tell you as much as possible how pretty you are

works his ass off with help from Yunho to make sure his first dance with you as husband and wife is all you hoped it would be

San:

total romantic that he is, proposes at the same place where you first met

asked every last one of your friends and family members which engagement ring he should buy because he wanted it to be perfect, including the correct size so you could wear it right away

cries more than you do on your wedding day because he’s so happy he gets to spend the rest of his life with you

definitely a custom made designer tuxedo kind of guy, looks like a whole ass model waiting at the altar for you

Yeosang:

proposes to you in bed one morning where he’s had the ring hidden in his nightstand because he thinks public proposals are a bit too forceful, takes you out for breakfast after to celebrate

shyly asks if he can go dress shopping with you because he wants to be there seeing your face light up when you find your dream dress

loves when you tell him how handsome he is and feels confident enough to not cover his birthmark with makeup for the wedding pictures

most likely to have a civil ceremony so he can spend more on an amazing honeymoon for the two of you

Wooyoung:

brace yourself because this man will propose in public in front of a historic building to make sure it’s an unforgettable memory for you

he talked about wanting to so much that the other members had a bet going as to when he’d actually ask you(won by Jongho who guessed the shortest timeline)

throws the biggest reception of all the members by far, plenty of food and dancing into the night

sneaks you outside for making out once the party’s going so no one notices you’re both absent

Jongho:

proposes somewhere secluded like a park or a beach so he feels more at ease asking you and kissing you once you accept

has a small wedding, friends and family only, and pretends to protest when you try to feed him a bite of wedding cake but secretly likes it

surprises you during the reception with a song in Korean or English depending on your first language because it’s one of the ways he wants to show you he loves you

apologizes after if you cried because he would have felt bad for ruining your makeup but you made sure to wear waterproof mascara just in case, still brushes your tears away

#ateez #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez fic #kpop fic #ateez fluff #ateez imagines

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tokiro07 · 2 days ago

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Ichi the Witch ch.23 thoughts

[I'm Not Brutalized, But I Seem to Be Struck By You]

(Topics: character analysis - Gokuraku/Ichi/Kumugi, speculation - worldbuilding)

Confirmed! The new companion is, in fact, a man! And what a pretty man he is, too

I've always been a fan of those sorts of gauntlets and greaves, his hair has a lot of interesting things going on, the markings around his eyes are distinctive, and of course, as a freckle-haver myself, I'm quite impressed that Usazaki made those such a prominent part of his design

But before we dive into discussing our new best boy, though, I'd like to take a brief moment to talk about our previous one, Ichi, and his little uh...proposal for Kumugi

What'd He Mean By This?

It's immediately clear that Ichi doesn't actually have a firm grasp on the terms of the contract, as the literal first thing he does after learning that he's now indentured into Desscaras' servitude is draft his own copy of the contract and run to Kumugi, asking her to be his family too

What this tells us is that a) Ichi doesn't realize that he'd be endangering himself and Kumugi by doing this; b) he thinks that all it takes to forge a magical contract is a regular pen and paper; and c) his takeaway from that conversation with Desscaras was that they have, in fact, become family

Ichi is so excited by the prospect of having someone in his life who he knows won't leave him that he tries to apply it wherever he can, so naturally he goes to the only other friend he has, Kumugi. I won't suggest that this means that he feels anything romantic towards her, but he does value her and want her around. Even if he misunderstands the weight of what he asked, that misunderstanding in and of itself carries its own weight and implications, that he never wants Kumugi to leave him

Of course, from her perspective, he basically just waltzed in with a marriage license and said "let's get hitched." She doesn't have the context for what Ichi thinks that contract is for or even what it actually is in the first place. She saw paper and heard "family," and her imagination went wild. She does seem to appreciate that Ichi probably didn't know what he was saying, but that only leads to more confusion on her part: what did he think he was saying, and whatever it was, what prompted him to say it?

I wouldn't be at all surprised if Kumugi starts to develop feelings for Ichi over the course of the story, but I'm also not quite sure that I want that, at least not yet. This doesn't seem like a story that's built on romance, meaningful glances and women drinking from each other's glasses notwithstanding, so unless Nishi lays a lot of groundwork first, I just don't see Ichi settling down or anything

That said, if Family is meant to be a major recurring theme, perhaps tackling the topic of marriage would be helpful for developing that theme? Marriage is a contract, so perhaps a comparison could be drawn between marriage and the Mentor-Pupil Blood Contract? Like how much control one relinquishes or gains in a wedded relationship vs. how much is lost as a Pupil

We can probably explore that fine with the contract on its own, but it already doesn't seem quite as all-powerful as I expected

The Ol' Ball-and-Chain

As the gang arrives at Origumo's nest, Ichi prepares to mozy on in without hesitation, only to be pulled back by Desscaras who gives him a number of orders: "don't rush in, don't get cocky, don't eat stuff off the ground," all of which Ichi acquiesces to. This is presumably because he is under magical contract and can't defy any order from Desscaras, except there's one more that he doesn't seem bound to follow

After he says yes to the orders, Desscaras pulls a Makima and insists that the correct response isn't "yes," but "woof." However, Ichi emphatically and successfully refuses this order, even though she tries it two more times

This implies one of two things: 1) Desscaras' orders aren't absolute and there is some mitigating factor such as the reasonability of the request or relevance to the mentor-pupil relationship; or 2) that wasn't a serious order and the spell is powered by intent, so an "order' like that that's only meant for banter doesn't necessarily count

It's a minor detail and one that doesn't really need to be dwelled on, but it's a pretty immediate inconsistency that I think is worth at least considering in the event of future contradictions

I think the exact wording or specific circumstance is important to consider as well, as Ichi does manage to defy the order not to charge in unprepared after seeing Gokuraku's treatment of Oniguro. Does the context of already being in the nest negate the timing of the order? Does he have some reign to say "I'm not unprepared, so now I can charge in?" It seems strange that he's already able to resist the contract after such a big deal was made about it, so I'd really like an in-depth explanation on the mechanics

I don't expect we'll get it for a little while if we're not getting it now, but one that I think we will get an explanation for is Gokuraku's armor

Gauntlet Thrown, Gauntlet Picked Up

The clearest takeway from this chapter is that, whether or not there are men aside from Ichi in the world who can use magic, Gokuraku is not one of them

And yet, when he kisses his ring and declares "Synchro Rate 10%," he seems to be able to augment his strength at will. This gives the impression that the kiss is meant to activate the ability of his armor and that this strength comes from it rather than purely from himself

My question is how

That sounds pretty similar to the leg augmentation of Ichi's magic boots, but that requires that the user charge them with magical energy. Gokuraku can't be using magical energy on his armor because he doesn't have magic to use, but we don't have a clear alternate energy source in the story yet

Gokuraku is either here specifically to introduce that new energy or technology or to expand on the lore of how magical items work. Perhaps the armor already has magic imbued into it from another Witch and that's what Gokuraku is synchronizing with?

Or maybe he's actually incredibly strong naturally and he's adjusting his physical output to a smaller amount to account for the current situation? The kanji used is "tekigou" (適合), meaning "compatibility/adaptability/conformity," so I could go either way, but I think it's clear that Gokuraku's strength is being scaled to something, and I'd really like to know what

The idea of compatibility is particularly interesting here because that seems to be Gokuraku's goal: to find a Magik that he's compatible with, but there's something about him that's making it impossible

Swipe Left

Some of Gokuraku's dialogue ("what a silly little Magik you are" in English or speaking with heart emojis ♥) and his actions (kissing his ring, attacking with a playful forehead flick, etc.) gives a sort of whimsically flirtatious vibe. It's almost like he's looking for a partner or a soulmate and trying to convince the Magiks to love him

I don't know if that is his motivation, but I think with the theme of Family starting to develop, I'd say someone that's desperate to find love would be a perfect angle to analyze the theme from at this point

Even better for that analysis is the fact that, despite thinking that he's just doing his best, Gokuraku is actually disincentivizing the Magiks from wanting to be with him by being cruel to them. Gokuraku may be looking for love, but he's not actually trying to find it, he's trying to take it by force

Gokuraku is, for the time being, an abuser

He's a toxic man who refuses to listen to what anyone else says if it contradicts his opinions or desires. It can't possibly be that he's incapable of acquiring a Magik, it has to be that the Magiks are either lying or lazy. They either know exactly what they need to do and are being stingy, or they aren't willing to put in the same work as he is to figure out a way around it

He's deluded himself into thinking that "magic" can do anything, can break any rule that proves inconvenient to it, inconvenient to him. If there isn't currently a way for a man to acquire a Magik, then the Magik should be able to cast a spell on him that will allow him to

But magic simply doesn't work that way. A Magik only has one spell. Maybe they can use it in different and clever ways, but they aren't miracle workers. They can't change the rules of the world, no matter how much they want to

And that's unacceptable to Gokuraku. Maybe it's because accepting it would mean giving up on some kind of dream. Maybe it's because admitting he was wrong would make everything he did to all of those Magiks pointless, a colossal waste of time. It would make him the bad guy

And I think that's the problem. It's his unwillingness to accept other people's perspectives to overwrite his own, his refusal to be open to anyone outside of himself, that's keeping him from acquiring a Magik, at least on a symbolic level. I don't think having a change of heart will get him what he wants immediately, but I think the narrative is keeping him from his goal because he's allowed that goal to turn him into a monster. He is not fit for a relationship, to be family with anyone, so he doesn't get to be

It'll only be when he abandons his ego and his insistence on everything going his one, specific and unreasonable way that he'll find what he's actually looking for in a place he never looked. Once he ceases to be cruel to Magiks, he'll be able to open his heart to humans and find his family among them

But he has to change first

Necessary Evils

From this introduction, it seems like it will be difficult to make Gokuraku an ally. Not because he won't be willing, he's already endeared to Ichi, but because Ichi already doesn't like him

While Ichi does take pleasure in killing, he only kills because it's necessary for survival. It needs to be done anyway, so he might as well enjoy it. However, suffering isn't necessary for survival. There's no sense in hurting a rabbit, the goal is to kill and eat it; drawing out the process only makes it more likely that the rabbit will get away, and will waste precious energy that the rabbit is supposed to be refueling. A quick, painless death is the most beneficial for everyone involved

The World Hater doesn't seem to take pleasure in anything, they only kill because it's necessary for ridding the world of the things they hate. It needs to be done as a matter of course, so emotional investment isn't necessary. The death they bring hurts, and clearly a lot, but likely not for long. The goal is to kill them and be done with it; drawing out the process only gives humanity time to breed more to replace the ones that died. A quick death without concern for pain or pleasure is the most efficient for the World Hater

Gokuraku has no desire to kill Magiks, he wants to acquire their spells, he just needs to convince them to let him do so. They're unreasonable and won't give him what he's earned when he passes their trial, so he has to retaliate. It's not like they'll die, they won't even be so much as scarred! They'll walk away exactly the same as they were before, and they know it, so he's gotta get a bit extreme to really make his case. And hey, if he's gonna be there for a while, he might as well have fun with it! The goal is to make them give up the goods, and it's completely up to them how long that takes. He doesn't want to hurt them, they're making him hurt them; they're drawing out the process, and the longer it goes, the more painful he has to make it to convince them that giving him what he wants is the only way to make it stop

Gokuraku's approach shows a complete lack of respect for the Magiks or their lives. He thinks because they'll heal that he can do whatever he wants, completely ignorant of the psychological damage that they'll be left with, and how that will impact their immortal lives going forward. Worse, he revels in that ignorance, whistling while he humiliates and tortures them in creative ways

Ichi can't possibly accept that. His philosophy of Death for Death assumes the capacity to die, a dignified conclusion to a battle for survival. Nothing that Gokuraku is doing helps him to survive, and doesn't offer a way out for the victim to escape. The Magiks are not a threat to Gokuraku, and he doesn't live longer because of their suffering - Death for Death does not apply anywhere in this process

The gulf between Ichi's philosophy and Gokuraku's actions is so wide, it would be near impossible to reconcile their differences without forcing Gokuraku to grow. Somehow, Ichi needs to prove to him that what he's doing is causing real harm for absolutely no benefit, and he himself needs to be able to admit that he's wrong

I see this going one of two ways - either Gokuraku gives up hurting Magiks but is still clearly a deeply unhinged and sadistic individual in every other aspect of his life, OR he has to fight the urge to be sadistic and struggles with it for the remainder of his storyline. I'm not sure which would be more fun to see, but either way, I'm very compelled by his character already and I greatly look forward to seeing how he develops

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

#ichi the witch #madan no ichi #fouryearsandananime

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