#new monitor new keyboard my desk is getting so much love

[primdaisy]

yay got my first mechanical keyboard! been on a hunt for 2 years now and i believe ive found the perfect one for me <3

[navybrat817]

He's wondering when you're gonna stop doing your boring work and do him instead

Of course, he is. 😏

Clocking Out

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky makes it difficult for you to get any work done.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied smutty times, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning)

A/N: Late submission for Week 7 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents ! Prompt - "Who's this?". ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. But thanks to @rookthorne for the inspiration. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You narrowed your eyes in concentration on your laptop screen, the clicking of your keyboard the only sound in your in-home office. You typically worked with some kind of background noise, whether it be music or even the television at a low volume. It helped the day go by faster. At some point though, Bucky ventured in and shut your playlist off to ask some random question.

"Who's this?" he asked as he shoved his phone in your face and blocked your view of the monitor. "And what is FYP? What the hell does that mean?"

You had to giggle after a moment. Your boyfriend had a habit of interrupting you while you worked to get some form of attention. It happened more times than you could count and you were lucky you got any work done at all when he was home. He told you in passing that after being alone for so long that he wanted to soak up every moment he could with you. 

I can't get mad when he puts it that way. 

"It means 'For You Page' and I have no clue who that is," you answered, gently pushing his hand away so you could get back to typing. "Why are you on TikTok, old man?"

"Why are you?" he asked, taking a seat on the loveseat near your desk. "Is this what you look at to get inspiration for your smut or whatever it is that you call it?"

"Hey!" you said, pushing away from your desk to turn and face him. "I write stories, thank you very much. Some of them just happen to include smut and there is nothing wrong with that."

Bucky had an all too smug expression on his face when he leaned back against the cushion and widened his massive thighs. He took up almost the entire two-seater sofa with his size. The gorgeous bastard finished up his workout earlier and didn't bother getting fully dressed after his shower. Just a new pair of sweatpants and no shirt, his long hair still slightly damp and daring you to run his fingers through it.

Showing off his broad torso like a harlot. 

"Sorry. You're right. You do tell stories and they are wonderful," he said, holding up his hands on surrender. His steel blue eyes had a hint of playfulness as he nodded to your laptop. "You almost done with your 'porn with plot' or should I come back later?"

You rolled your eyes as you spun away from him and pulled yourself back to your desk. "You're impossible. Turn my music back on and go back to watching TikTok videos."

"Or you could take a break and ride me," he suggested so casually your fingers froze on the keyboard. "Give you the motivation you need to finish."

With a defiant lift of your chin, you went back to typing. You did like his idea and it wouldn't be the first time you stopped writing to have Bucky pull an orgasm or two from you. The only reason you got a bigger desk was so he could fit under it. The image of him nearly getting stuck under your old desk brought a smile to your face. 

It also caused a tingling sensation between your legs when you remembered just how deep he stabbed his tongue into your aching pussy. 

"You can't ignore me, doll. Look at you. Already distracted and shifting in your chair," he said, his voice low. He knew exactly how it affected you. "So get over here."

Nope. His thick cock can wait for me to take a ride. 

"Bet you're not even working," he accused. It wasn't true. There were words on the screen. "You're typing just to look busy when we both know you're getting your seat wet through your clothes."

"Don't you have work to do yourself?" you asked incredulously, refusing to look over at him. If you did, you'd go right to him and he'd win. Both of you would win, but that wasn't the point. He cut into your work time when you couldn't cut into his.

It's not like I can show up in the middle of a mission and demand to suck his cock. 

"If by 'work' you mean your delicious cunt, yeah. I have a lot of work to do," he said. The unsubtle man he was, you knew he was about two seconds away from taking himself out and stroking his perfect cock. Anyone who said perfection didn't exist hadn't slept with Bucky Barnes. "I'll do overtime and you can pay me in orgasms."

Your head fell back against your chair with a groan. "Where is your off switch?"

"No off switch around you, doll. Only an on switch. You're lucky I don't knock stuff off the end tables since I'm practically a walking hard-on around you."

The sincerity in his statement had you beaming and laughing all at once. You wondered if something in the serum sent his libido into overdrive or if it was you who brought that side of him out. It did wonders for your self-esteem because no matter how you looked, he gazed at you as if you were the most beautiful creature to grace this planet. 

A small break wouldn't hurt. 

"If I step away for a few minutes," you began as you stared at the ceiling. "You have to transcribe the next few paragraphs for me so I can lay down and recover."

"Deal," he said, leaning over and gripping the chair handle to turn you toward him. "But I'm warning you. If you dirty talk, I'm gonna get hard all over again and we'll be right back where we started."

"It can't be any worse than the time you had me in your lap," you said as you lifted your head. He couldn't stop himself from running his hands along your body or kissing your neck. And that was before he had you warm his cock. "Don't look so smug. You owe me an orgasm."

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked. 

Lucky for you, Bucky always delivered on his promises. 

We can't resist Bucky, can we? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lionhanie]

han taesan ; back 2 u (part one)

you can’t help but find yourself coming back to taesan everytime

this is part one of my series, back 2 u! read the previous part here!

fuckboy!taesan x fem!reader, college au

...featuring! BFFS jaehyun + woonhak, fuckboy leehan (AND he's taesan's roommate), and lovely roomies sungho + riwoo <3

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, alcohol mention and usage, party mentions, TAESAN IS A BIG FLIRT, reader lowkey doesn't like him lol

a/n: fuckboy taesan i won;t U so bad .. . .. </3

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

You would’ve never expected yourself to be involved with Han Taesan, well-known on campus equally for his pretty face and his ability to have someone new under his arm every week. Your school wasn’t necessarily huge, but it was impressive to think that most students had some inkling about who Han Taesan was.

His existence frustrated you deeply, actually. There wasn't any actual reason to hate him per se, but it was aggravating to think that some people just have so much going for them. Not only was he undeniably attractive to anyone who had eyes, he was also known for his unmistakable musical talent and a captivating charm that drew people in immediately. It’s almost comical the way you could be minding your business in class only to overhear a group of girls a couple seats over talking about how handsome Taesan was at a party last weekend or who his most recent fling could be.

Despite everything you’ve heard people say concerning him, you found it hard to believe he was such a player. Sure, he may have some good looks, but he looks… Innocent, in a way. Harmless.

The first time you’d interacted was in the library. You’ve noticed him in there on various occasions while you were working, but never paid much mind to it, given that he’d only look around the bookshelves for a couple minutes before seeing himself out. Taesan was standing right in front of the library’s help desk, where you worked for a couple hours in between classes. “By any chance, would I be able to check out this book?” He’s holding it out to you, and you’re surprised to find that he’s renting out one of your favorite novels. 

“Yup, I’m just going to need your name and student ID. You can only get it for four days at a time, but you’re free to come back and renew the book if you need more time with it,” You type away at the keyboard in front of you, opening up the form you needed to fill out for book rentals. “That’s a good book, by the way.” Your small talk is unnecessary, but your job was too boring not to make conversation with the few people that actually used your services. 

“Yeah, I’ve been eyeing it for a while,” He’s smiling as he takes his card out from the back of his phone case, sliding it to you on the counter. “Ah, my name is Han Taesan. And here’s my ID.” Picking it up, you notice that the name he’d just given you didn’t match the one on his ID. Han Dongmin? You were almost sure this was Taesan, though. Sensing your confusion, he chuckles as he moves to explain the mismatching names. “Most people know me as Taesan, not Dongmin. It’s just a nickname, really. Does it matter what name I use to check out the book?” He tilts his head as he looks back up at you, waiting for your response. 

“No, not really. It’ll be linked to your ID anyways, so it should be fine.” You scan his ID on the card reader next to you, allowing you to finish up the form splayed out on the monitor. Taesan drums his fingers on the counter, glancing around the near-empty library; he’s humming the melody to a song you don’t know. “You’re all set, Dongmin.” You slide his receipt and a piece of paper telling him when he needs to return the book under the cover before giving it back to him. 

He’s caught off-guard at hearing his real name come from your mouth, but he flashes you a grin regardless. “Have we met somewhere before…” Taesan’s sentence trails off until he notices the name tag pinned to your shirt, “...Y/N?” 

This time, you’re the one caught off-guard. “Sorry, is it better for me to call you Taesan?” You question. He’s probably only striking up a conversation because he doesn’t like people calling him by his real name— that probably explains why people call him Taesan instead. “And no, I don’t think we have.”

“Nah, keep calling me Dongmin. It sounds nice coming from you.” He’s leaning on the counter now, close enough for you to notice the luxurious-smelling cologne coming off of him. “You’ll be one of the few people who call me that, you know.” His comment makes you roll your eyes playfully, scoffing at the way he’s making it sound like a special honor for you to be able to call him that. “Are you free this weekend?” 

The clicking of your keyboard stops as you finally look at him properly, feeling slightly bashful at the sudden question paired with his intense stare. “...Why do you ask?”  Your initial perceptions of Taesan quickly dissolve, as you now realize that this is the type of person he really is. Looks really can be deceiving. He smirks at the expression on your face, happy with himself knowing he has such an effect on someone he just met.

He slides his phone over to you, just like he had done with his student ID just moments ago. You take a peek at it, curious about its contents, only to see a blank “New Contact” screen waiting for you. “Number?” He asks for a girl’s number… Like this? It irritates you to think that he’s probably used this exact sequence numerous times without fail, and now he’s here using it on you while you’re at work.

Hesitating briefly, you pick up the phone and type in your info— You hate how easily you give in to him, almost wishing you played a bit harder to get, but it’s hard to say no to the handsome face of Han Taesan directly asking you for your number. “I’ll text you, yeah?” 

“Okay,” You reply, completely baffled at the interaction that just unfolded all in the span of less than ten minutes. Taesan slips his phone into his pocket and tucks the book he rented under his arm, giving you a small smile as he steps away from the desk. As you watch him walk out the sliding doors, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Next to you, your phone screen lights up. 

4 new messages from “Unknown Number”! it’s dongmin [address] come saturday if ur free, starts at 10 i’d love to talk to u again, y/n :-) 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Just this once, you’re grateful that Han Taesan is so widely known, because it was surprisingly easy to find friends who were already planning on attending Saturday’s party. You were at ease knowing you’d at least have Riwoo and Sungho to fall back on if the nerves suddenly took over. 

You wish you could say that you debated on not coming, but that’d be a complete lie, because you’re currently standing in the middle of Riwoo and Sungho’s shared apartment throwing back shots to pregame. “It’s been a while since you came out with us Y/N! What’s the occasion?” Sungho randomly interrogates you while refilling the empty shot glasses on the counter. 

Biting your lip, you contemplate your response: Should you lie and say you just felt like partying this weekend? You’re well aware of the fact that the pair of roommates in front of you are friends with Taesan… So it wouldn’t be weird to mention him now, right? But then again, his parties are huge. Chances are, he invites random strangers to them all the time, so there’s no need for you to act like your interaction at the library was anything special— You’re about to answer when your phone screen flashes on the kitchen island.

 

2 new messages from “Han Dongmin”! i’ll see u later ya? ik u won’t leave me hanging again y/n ;P 

The notification exhilarates you. Was he looking forward to seeing you tonight? It annoys you slightly to think that Taesan knew you’d show up, even if you’d never confirmed the matter. “Ah… I didn’t know you were friends with Taesan, Y/N!” Riwoo reads the text off your phone from over your shoulder as he moves to pick up one of the shots Sungho just poured. Guess he chose the answer to your internal turmoil for you. “Now that I think of it, how come we’ve never gone to any of his parties together before?” 

Mirroring his actions, you take a glass for yourself and finish it in one clean gulp, wincing at the burn it sends down your throat. “Hm, I don’t think I’d call us friends. He asked for my number at the library the other day.” You correct him, explaining the encounter you shared with Taesan two days prior. 

Being the last to take their shot, Sungho hums in understanding across from you. You can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to actually get to know the kind of person Han Taesan is; Would he maintain the tension with his flirty remarks? Or is he just a normal college student that doesn’t actually live up to the reputation he’s made for himself around campus? 

“So, Y/N, do you think he’s hot?” Sungho blurts out, making you choke on your spit. Riwoo giggles from beside you, patting your back as you finish your coughing fit. “I mean, we don’t care if you think he is. Taesan’s a handsome guy. Hell, half the student population probably thinks so too!” Sungho’s contagious laughter fills the kitchen, making you and Riwoo laugh along with him. 

“Well duh, why wouldn’t I think he’s hot?” There’s a smile on your face as you admit your attraction to the boy in question. Han Taesan is definitely intriguing. The alcohol feels like it’s finally made its way through your system, the room feeling a bit warmer than it was earlier. The three of you didn’t drink much; just enough to give you a little more courage to go to the party without feeling too nervous. You take a glance at the clock on their microwave: 10:43PM. “Shouldn’t we get going?”

taglist: @minwrlds @luna2nite @taesancore @taesanmoon @helpsplease @taylorluvation (send an ask / comment if you want to be added hehe)

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[fizzybin]

Let go

Warnings: mention's of self harm and suicide, not being able to handle emotions, hypnosis, vox is a slight asshole (what's new?), fantasy of being an a mere object as an escape

Angst??

Wc: 1.3k

Inspired by @hazbinfallinginaspiral Be a doll au

a/n: I really love this AU it's honestly one of my favorites, and the creator of this AU is a wonderful writer so please check him out! (ʰᵒᵖᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ)

slightly proof read</3

Exhaustion seeped into your bones, leaving you drained and weary. You were so done, done with the constant turmoil of your emotions, done with the self-inflicted pain that seemed to be a never-ending cycle. You were done with feeling everything so intensely, wishing for just a moment of emptiness. Your friends would come to you, complaining about feeling numb and empty, and you would nod along, offering supportive words and trying to cheer them up. But deep down, all you could think was how much you wished you were like them, free from the overwhelming weight of emotions. It felt as if a dark fog had settled over your mind and heart, making it hard to see through the haze.

Living with constant and overwhelming emotions was a never-ending battle. Every day, every hour, every moment was filled with intense feelings that you couldn't control. When sadness overtook you, it felt like you wanted to end your life. And when anger consumed you, it felt like you could do anything, even kill someone. The anxiety was crippling, making every breath feel like a struggle. And when happiness did manage to break through, it was so intense that it almost scared you. It was exhausting, and god forbid your emotions mixed together.

This place was supposed to be hell, but it didn't feel like the fire and brimstone you had imagined. It was a different kind of hell, one that seemed almost bearable yet still suffocating. Was this punishment truly deserved by anyone? The question echoed in my mind as you tried to make sense of things.

You were abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by the loud slam of Vox's office door. His heavy footsteps echoed through the monitor room as he made his way to his desk, shooting you an irritable glance as he sat down. You remained silent and stayed on the couch where you had been sitting. The sound of his keyboard clicking filled the tense silence, punctuated by occasional frustrated sighs and mutters.

You went back into your thought’s noticing he didn’t need or want anything from you. You were trying to think of a way you didn’t have to feel anything, but you couldn’t think of anything.

“Doll?” Vox's voice broke through your thoughts once again. Your eyes widened as a light bulb seemed to go off above your head. That was it - a doll. Dolls don't feel emotions, they simply exist and are content with being used whenever their owner decides to play with them. And Vox, with his hypnotic powers, could easily give you what you were searching for. After all, he already owned your soul and treated you like a prized possession. Surely, he wouldn't mind having you as his own living doll.

Vox snapped his fingers trying to get you to listen to him “are you even listing to me?? I just asked you to go get me coffee damnit.” he sounded more annoyed but you were still sitting on the couch thinking of your idea of just being a doll

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sharpness in Vox's voice. Slowly, you rose from the couch, your mind still swirling with thoughts of becoming his doll. As you made your way to the door, a plan began to form in your mind. If you could convince Vox to use his powers on you, perhaps you could finally find the peace you had been yearning for.

Returning with a steaming mug of coffee, you handed it to Vox and watched as he took a sip, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. This was your chance. Taking a deep breath, you spoke up.

As you approached Vox's desk. He was hunched over his work, completely engrossed in whatever task he was focused on. you cleared your throat and spoke his name, the words tumbling out a bit louder than you intended. He snapped his head up, dark eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at you over the rim of his mug. "What?" he snapped back, taking another sip of his coffee before setting it down with a thud on the table.

“i- well I've been thinking…” You said slowly hoping to say what you were thinking of clearly “I…well you always tell me I'm too emotional and stuff…and I know I am-” vox cut you off before you could continue

“…if this is another apology just shut up already I dont want to hear it, Im busy so if your not preposing something be quiet and make yourself useful.”

You paused, feeling a surge of frustration at Vox's dismissive attitude. Gathering your thoughts, you straightened your posture and locked eyes with him, determination shining through the depths of your gaze. "No, this isn't an apology," you stated firmly, your voice unwavering. "I'm proposing something. I want you to use your powers on me." Vox raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your unexpected request. "Explain," he commanded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. Taking a deep breath “I dont want to feel my emotions anymore…do you think you could use your hypnosis and take them away…? make me like a doll almost? Just like I already do what you want…I just dont want the emotion’s that come with it”

Vox just looked at you, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he sighed “so let me get this right…you want to be a mindless doll? no emotions, no thoughts. Just completely obedient?” you nodded “yes..”

“I can work with that”

He stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as he moved. He walked towards you, standing right in front of you, and you couldn't help but notice his intense gaze. It was as if he was analyzing every aspect of your being, trying to understand your motive.

"Are you sure about this?" he finally asked, his voice low and authoritative.

You nodded again, your eyes steady as you met his. "I'm sure," you replied, your voice barely audible.

He drew in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with determination. You couldn't help but notice the fire in his eyes, the unyielding confidence that radiated from them. As he reached out to grip your chin, you felt a shiver run down your spine. He commanded your attention, silently communicating through the tap of his finger on the left side of his screen. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. The once familiar red in his eyes had transformed into a mesmerizing swirl of black, drawing you under his command

"You will become nothing more than a lifeless puppet, devoid of all emotion and thought. Your existence will revolve solely around my every command. You are utterly powerless without me, and every command I give is your entire purpose for existence."

Your mind began to blur, the world around you becoming hazy and indistinct. Vox's words echoed in your ears, sinking deep into the core of your being. It felt as though a heavy fog was descending upon your consciousness, shrouding your thoughts and emotions in a thick veil of nothingness. The last remnants of your turbulent feelings slipped away, leaving behind a vast emptiness that seemed to stretch into eternity.

As Vox continued to exert his hypnotic power over you, a sense of calm washed over your once tumultuous soul. It was a strange sensation, this newfound peace that settled within you. You could no longer feel the weight of your emotions bearing down on you, nor the constant turmoil that had plagued your every waking moment. Instead, there was only stillness, a profound silence that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

You stood there before Vox, a blank canvas awaiting his every brushstroke. Your eyes reflected nothing but obedience, your mind devoid of any resistance.

“Good Doll, Just let go”

[oleander-nin]

A/N, not important: I hope y'all like this because I sure don't! Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: stress

Words: 1156

Prompt(s) requested: 11(Calming down) & 20("I'm glad you're the one I fell in love with. I'd be lost without you.")

Summary: Donnie's stressed so you try to help him out

Bad thing after bad thing happened today. I grumble curses under my breath as we head home, scratching at the new wounds I gained during the fight. Stupid Hypno and his stupid magic rings. I hold my staff closer to my chest, my hands wringing the wood as I walk. Leo was loud as always, his words ringing through the air and piercing my ears. I glare at him when he tries to put his hand on my shoulder, pulling back. I just wanted to go home. I had so many projects I needed to finish. SHELLDON needed his next upgrade, my jetpack battle shell was busted from a previous fight, and Raph had broken yet another phone. My face pulls into a grimace. I had so many things to do.

I slide down the ladder into the sewers, walking the familiar path back to the lair. I keep my eyes forward, ignoring my brothers and their loud antics. My shoulders hunch, my hands still clenched tightly to my staff. The world felt too small, every little sound shooting into my head like little bullets. I grit my teeth and speed up a bit, trying to get to my lab. I needed to be in my lab.

I ignore my brother's cries for me to wait up, speed walking into the lair and to my lab. I  crash into my chair, letting myself sit for a moment. Stupid battle interrupting everything. I exhale slowly as I turn to my computer. I let the monitor start up, my body jittering. My leg bounces at a constant rhythm, a metronome to the song of my silence. I grip the mouse tightly, moving the small icon back and forth across my screen as everything starts up. 

It was too slow, everything was too slow. I needed to be done already, I had so much to do. I open up my code files, scanning through them. The usually soothing process of coding was putting me more on edge, my skin crawling as I type.

I slam my fist down on the desk as another error code pops up, my teeth grinding together. I slump back in my chair, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes. I couldn’t tell why nothing was working. By all accounts, it should be. The lines were precise and each segment was correct. But the code still refused to run.

I sat there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. I grit my teeth, my hands gripping the arm of my chair tightly. Nothing was working today. Was it my fault?

My eyes glide to the door as it hisses open. I watch (Y/n) walk in, their face pulled tight in concern. Of course it was. Mikey probably sent them.

I turn back to my computer, hunching over the keyboard as I grumble under my breath. I didn’t need anyone to ‘check up’ on me. I was fine. The world was just too loud right now. I continue to watch them out of the corner of my eye. They walk past me and into my room, messing with something on my bed. I turn my head, watching them openly now. What were they doing? They didn’t even say anything. My eyes continue to be trained on them as they come back out, one of my weighted blankets hanging over their shoulder. Oh. 

They cross the room and hold the comfort item out to me, my eyes flicking between them and the blanket. I sigh, my shoulders falling. I take the blanket and swing it over my shoulders, sinking into the comforting weight of the fabric. (Y/n) hooks the chair they usually use with their ankle, dragging it over before falling into it. They lean back, spinning slightly as their toes push the chair back and forth. Their eyes shift to meet mine and I hold their gaze for a moment. The air in the lab was still, neither of us speaking. My body is still tense and I curl up in my chair. I spin my chair around so I'm no longer facing the code I was working on. If I saw another error code, I was certain I’d break something.

“You’re upset.” They remark, unhelpfully. I look at them, unimpressed.

“Impeccable deduction skills, Sherlock.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

They hum softly, their arms stretching above their head as they pop their back. I watch them for a moment, shifting in my chair. We both continue to sit in silence, my frustration growing. It wasn’t fair. 

“I just don’t understand!” My voice surprises both of us. I don’t meet their eyes, gesturing wildly at the computer. “Nothing I do is working! It’s not fair! I’m a genius, so why can’t I figure this out!”

“Probably because you’re tired.” Their voice is soft, encasing my buzzing head in a blanket of words. It was a much nicer sound than the rumbling air vents throughout the lair. I shake my head. No, no. I wasn’t tired, I couldn’t be tired. There was so much to do. I needed to get it all done.

“I’ll sleep later, I just… Can you go make me some more coffee? I need to get this done.” My voice was more pleading than I wanted it to be. I scowl at myself, I wasn't supposed to let things like this show. Everything was falling around me and I couldn’t stop it.

“Coffee isn’t going to help, Don.” I shrug, turning back to my computer. I dismiss the error codes, looking back over the lines of code. I would be fine if I could just figure this out. I send a command to SHELLDON for my coffee instead.

I vaguely notice their head looking at my code, my body shifting slightly so they can see it better. The tightness in my chest was still there, but their presence was helping slightly. I start scrolling through my code again, looking for what caused the error.

“Are you using Python?” I glance at them before nodding. This specific project needed this language to achieve what was required the easiest. “Line one oh eight has ‘def’ capitalized.”

I blank for a moment, my mouse moving to the line. They were right. I fix the mistake before continuing to scroll through the code, slower this time. We both look through the code for more bugs together. (Y/n) points out some more flaws and I fix them. We reach the bottom of the code and my body tenses. I run the command, watching the screen load for a moment. I hold my breath. No errors pop up. It worked.

A huge sigh of relief leaves me as I push myself away from my desk, my head hanging down. I look at (Y/n), smiling. "I'm glad you're the one I fell in love with. I'd be lost without you."

[philaet0s]

Celebrity/Social Media AU - Part 12

Previous Part: Part 11

Next Part: Part 13

So, what happened on August 4th? ;)

Simon

I’m not surprised when Baz approaches me and says he has something he wants to show me. He’s been eyeing me weirdly all day. I knew he was hiding something…

I follow him to his study. It’s one of the nicest rooms in our flat, and definitely the one I spend the least time in. He never truly forbade me from coming here, even when he’s away on tour, but everything about that room is so… Baz. It’s his place. It’d feel wrong intruding on it. 

Still, I always love having a chance to come inside it. One of the walls is completely covered by bookshelves, that are so full I’m surprised they still hold up. There are books piled on tops of other books everywhere, and yet, somehow, he still always has room for new ones, without ever getting rid of any of them. The wall that is opposite the door has a large window that lets in tons of natural light and that. On a summer evening such as this, the setting sun paints the room in golden hues.

Against the last wall, there is a vinyl shelf, as full as Baz’s bookshelf, and topped with a record player that cost a fortune. There’s also a desk, with a monitor, tower, and very good speakers. And Baz’s macbook. Because in spite of the other equipment, he remains faithful to the laptop that got him through uni. It’s his longest relationship, I might get jealous one day.

Obviously, all of Baz’s stuff is wonderful, and some people would probably delight in the selection of books and vinyls, but my favourite element in this room is absolutely none of that. It’s the couch in the middle of it. A gorgeous piece of furniture, in dark green velvet, and the most comfortable sofa ever. Baz knows how much I love it so he bought the same one for our living room, but somehow, it’s different.

Naturally, the first thing I do when coming inside the room is sprawl on the couch. It makes Baz smile.

“So,” I say. “What did you want to show me?”

“It’s on my computer,” he explains, as he bends over his desk chair to type something on the keyboard. “I’ve reworked the song I played for you on your birthday.”

I perk up.

“Oh? And we’re listening to it here, not at the studio?”

“I don’t feel like going all the way to the studio, if I’m honest. Don’t want to change out of my inside clothes,” he says with a chuckle.

I give him a long, appreciative look. His inside clothes are a simple t-shirt, too large for him, and an old pair of football shorts. I love when he wears his football shorts. They make his legs look even longer. They make his arse look phenomenal too but sadly the shirt hides that.

I get up from the couch and walk behind him until I can put my arms around his waist. I lean down to kiss his shoulder. 

“Fair. I don’t really want to leave the house either, to be honest.”

“We’re so boring. And lazy.”

“You’re on a world tour and I wake up at 3 every morning to go to work, we’re allowed to be a bit lazy.”

“Hm, you’re right. Ah, there it is.”

He clicks on a file named ‘Point of View (After Midnight Version)’. I hadn’t even asked the title of the song last time… 

He straightens his back, so I line my body up with his and press my cheek between his shoulder blades to hold him close. 

The beginning of the song is the same, I think. I’ve only heard it once over a month ago so I don’t remember it very well, but I’m not hearing anything particularly striking.

Until…

One of my hands flies up to my mouth. I gasp.

“Baz.”

His index finger is tapping on the desk. Not for the rhythm, this time. He’s nervous.

“I can’t believe… Fuck. That’s… so hot,” I whisper, as obscene sounds continue to play as background vocals for the chorus. It’s subtle, an echo, but it can definitely be heard. 

That has to be something he got from what he… recorded when we were at the studio. Jesus.

He pauses the song. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or if you’d think it was… too much.”

I shake my head vigorously. He can’t see me but he must feel it.

“It’s not too much. I mean. It is. But in a good way. A really good way, darling. I… I love it,” I say, tightening my arms around him to let him know I’m truly not mad. 

My cheeks are burning. He used a recording of us fucking as background vocals for one of his songs. A song he wrote just for me. 

“We sound so… Do you still have the recording?”

He shifts in my arms to look at me. He’s cocking his damn eyebrow. He has no business looking hot like that.

“Why?”

“Why do you think? I want to listen to it.”

“You want to listen to…”

“Us fucking? Yes, Basilton, of course I do. You can’t be having all the fun.”

He laughs, softly, and oh God, that sound is just as good as those he put on his song.

“I still have it, yes.”

“Good.”

I let go of him and step back. I need a moment to cool down before he plays the recording. I’m not going to cool down with him in my arms. I rub my hands along the side of my thighs and take a breath. I can’t fucking believe him. How can he still surprise me?

“I found it. If you still want to…”

“Yes.”

When I look at him, I notice that he’s flushing. Embarrassment or arousal, I couldn’t say.

He presses play. I will myself to stay away from him, as tempting as it is to hold him again. 

I close my eyes and listen.

He forwards the recording. How many times did he listen to it to know when to forward it? When it starts playing again, I hear him. Familiar sounds that bring a smile to my lips. They sound different, though. The pitch of his voice is always a little different in recordings, and the sounds are at the same time more distant and more clear than when he’s making them live.

It’s also strange hearing Baz moaning when I’m standing in a middle of a room, fully clothed, and not in bed with him. Strange but not unpleasant. I can focus on it more. 

The strangest part, however, is hearing myself. That’s not something I usually focus on at all. It’s slightly embarrassing. I prefer the sounds Baz makes. They’re hotter. I wonder if he thinks the opposite. Hearing myself really does make me experience it from his ‘point of view’...

It’s a surprisingly long recording. If you’d asked me, then I probably would have told you I didn’t last more than 5 minutes –I hadn’t seen him in a while. After a bit, as enjoyable as it is, I get a little bored, so I open my eyes and look at Baz. That should keep me entertained for a minute.

His butt is on the edge of his desk but he’s not properly sitting down on it, his feet still firmly planted on the floor. His hands are holding the desk on either side of his body. His eyes are closed and his head low. It bobs as he listens to the recording. To us.

He’s hard.

Watching him is not nearly enough.

I close the distance between us. I know he’s heard me, but he doesn’t open his eyes. I slide my hands up his thighs until I can close my hands around his hips. I slot my body between his legs and pull him closer.

He opens his eyes. His pupils are wide.

“Simon,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry, so different from the loud, uncontrolled sounds he’s making on the recording.

“I want to hear you for real.”

[lowkeyclueless5137]

Surveillance duty au :D

Y'all voted for it and here it is✨

The first twst horror au I ever did~

And it's Florid flavour too! :D

Naturally, this is the starter of a funny headcanon I had around, who made a cameo in a few works of mine too. So keep in mind that this is a very old au. Maybe you'll find sum Easter eggs to one of my latest ones. :3

Anyhow! A few trigger warnings right off the batch and then we can properly start this bandwagon. :v

We have trigger warnings for: Blood, gore and body horror!

This is a horror au after all... So ya know... Gotta keep the flair✨

Now onto the explanation!

In here, our lovely Riddle is a logics and psychology teacher at Night Raven Highschool (NRH for short). The reason he's a teacher is because of his love of learning and helping others learn. His mother was against the idea, which ended up with her disowning him. Therefore Riddle changed his name from Weinachts to Rosehearts, a way to cut ties completely with his mom.

And that would've been it, if that woman didn't insist to keep reminding him how much of a failure he became: a poor paying job, living alone and with little to no respect from other people. Well... 2 out of the 3 were wrong at least. Riddle did have a decent salary and he was very respected amongst other people.

But, at the start of a new school year, Riddle finally is a homeroom teacher. He has a class to be in charge of! He was looking forward to it... Until the actual class proved to be menaces.

One day, pretty early into the year, the Nightshift guard of the school called in for some family business. Therefore that night he couldn't cover. And Crowley assigns Riddle to take the said place instead. Trey, a volunteer teacher, also offers to go along Riddle and help him out.

It's also important to describe the security room layout for now: a small room, with a desk on which a monitor and a weird keyboard with very specific buttons are. On the side there is a couch and at one of it's ends, a mini-refrigerator is put. It's small, with tile floor and plain walls.

And the whole shift starts. Trey is the one who goes first on the surveillance duty. The old man instructed them how to use the set-up: see an anomaly and report it using the buttons for place and type. He also gave them a warning: when the screen flashes a message, avoid the camera on the said place and use the report button for 'special case'. Also do NOT ever get out during the shift. That door has to stay locked at all costs during the night. :v

Naturally, Riddle thought all of those was bullshit. He did find Trey's small paranoia to be a response caused by the lack of sleep, so he offers at one point to switch, so he could grade the tests at the desk and Trey could get some rest. The latter does admit that he's a bit shaken up, but he also blames it on a lack of sleep.

The problem is that Riddle was only focusing on the grading tests. Sometimes he switches in between cameras, in case he catches some vandal trying to sneak in or something like that.

That's why, when the special warning arrives for the gym camera, Riddle didn't even pay attention and accidentally switched to it, which resulted in a long static.

And an inhumane, scaly hand, with long claws, sticking out of it and grabbing Riddle's arm. Naturally, out of the spook, the redhead jerked his hand, thus getting it scratched and all bloody. In all of that panic, Riddle falls off the chair, waking up Trey and starting a chain reaction of panicking :'3

So Trey first barricades the door with the couch, before he tries to tend to Riddle's bleeding arm and figure out what the hell was going on. Something was coming and banging on the door, trying to force their way inside.

And they do manage, much to the horror of the 2 men. Riddle already was too sleep deprived and in pain to process things. All he knows is that Trey was knocked down on the floor and that the thing grabbed him before he passed out.

When they do wake up, it's morning and everything was just like new. The only signs that something did happen was the bruises Riddle and Trey had from falling on the hard floor. No more arm wound and the security room was impeccably clean too.

So the 2 tried to reason that maybe all this lack of sleep and relying only on coffee did mess a bit with their head last night.

But the first night the guard returned, in the morning the poor man was found horrified and quit from the job, while on a hall wall, a message was smudged in red paint, saying 'see you next lesson :)'. Of course, the whole student body was rustling with rumors and scary stories about 'the prom ghost', a legend among the school about a, presumably, dead kid attending a prom of the school, despite never being a student or having any records whatsoever. They started to go nuts about it and swarm the library to ask for the yearbook albums from previous years.

Riddle was trying to have a quiet and nice homeroom when his students asked him if he used to be a student here. Naturally, the latter was seeing this as innocent curiosity and maybe he thought he could set a nice example for them, by sharing some of his own high-school experience, but nope... These lil shits wanted to know if Riddle's prom was the one where the school myth came to be.

Unfortunately it was right, but Riddle tried to reassure that it was just some vandal that sneaked in for a party and nothing more.

Riddle was more than tired about this. Give him a break, man. U-Ub

So, seeing that the redhead was once offered for the Nightshift duty, Crowley assigns Riddle again! Yay! :D

And being done with that 'creepy message', Riddle was more than determined to stay up all night and catch the vandal.

How? The forbidden brew, ofc: 7 different energy drinks, pure coffee and that ice-ice baby. How he's not dead is a mystery to many. :'3

So Riddle does the job his own way. He finds a very simple explanation for anything and anything one would consider 'unnatural'. Weird noises? Some windows are shabby and outside is raining. Objects in weird spots? Students didn't place them back. Things falling off? Either someone put them wrong or Crowley needs to invest in better shelves. He walks across the halls with literally no bother just to go get his papers or something, then returns to the security room and minds his business peacefully.

And this ignorant bliss is what has Riddle face to face with the actual creature in front of him, pretty annoyed that Riddle brushed him off so easily.

Riddle's absolutely not having it. He tells the guy that he should 'drop the weird costume and get a real job' other than terrorise the night guards, before he calls the cops for breaking and entering. Like... He's fully convinced that this was just some random bored guy who decided to dress up as a monster and scare the living shit out of people at unholy hours.

And while half of it was true, the latter is not having it. He does inquire if Riddle remembers him. Of course the redhead remembered him. He was his partner to prom, after Riddle's highschool crush humiliated him in there. Of course he would remember that traumatising night. He wished he didn't, but that's how it is. The next year it would be that sweet 10 year reunion after all. Riddle was dreading it a bit, but alas, he finally addresses to the creature by its name: Floyd.

And Floyd is happy his 'goldfishie' remembers him, but is disappointed that the latter doesn't believe in magic and supranatural forces.

He does tell Riddle that he's special. He has magic of his own lingering inside, but it's all shoved in tight and hard to reach. Riddle does call it bullshit, but Floyd insists that last night, he saw it in his blood.

This, naturally has Riddle ghosting his arm where the scratch was supposed to be. He still refused to believe that happened. Not when the real evidence say otherwise, but Floyd does tell that he didn't intend on harming him so when Riddle yanked his hand in fear, he couldn't release his claws in time and thus the nasty wound.

Now a bit curious about where this whole bandwagon is going, Riddle does inquire to ask what's so special about his blood. The answer was simple: it reacts to magic. Normal blood doesn't react to magic, but Riddle's changed color and even evaporated when Floyd tried to heal his wound back up.

So the nasty bruise on the arm is actually stains from the said blood and Floyd doesn't know if it washes off or not.

Riddle does have a field trip that night, as Floyd is demonstrating spells he could do and casually talking about his kind and all that. The latter was welcomed in the security room, with 1 condition: don't tamper with anything. Naturally, the said creature didn't want to have no gain out of it, so for as long as Crowley has Riddle on Nightshift, the latter will have to welcome him in here and hang around. Floyd only seized the couch and there he sat all night, bothering Riddle and eventually getting the redhead to sleep.

One thing that Floyd mentioned off-hand was that, since Riddle had contact with magic now, most likely his own magic will start to creak out. That thing stuck with the redhead even the next day. And it was the perfect explanation for all the little odd things that happened that day: lights flickering when he got really annoyed, pens or papers slightly moving towards his hand when he wanted to grab one and even doors closing behind him without Riddle necessarily moving them.

At the Nightshift duty, Floyd seems very eager to see the latter's magic in action. Riddle does ask if he didn't pay attention during the day, but Floyd admits that, during the day, he sleeps.

Still, Riddle was fascinated by the said magic. By how it was so logic-breaking yet felt so natural. Of course, since Floyd was the reason behind the anomalies, the cameras were checked once in a while to see if vandals would try to sneak in the school. Other than that, Riddle went to sleep pretty early and left the rest to Floyd for handling.

And with a bit of time, the redhead was getting used to this new routine. He even brought in a blanket and a few pillows from home to make the couch more comfy, or some snacks to put in the refrigerator for both him and Floyd to eat. Riddle also learned how to control that little bit of magic that he had, so sometime he would use it to skip over some mundane things.

Riddle also couldn't help but ask Floyd what he's going to do when a new guard does get appointed. Floyd tho, happily responds that he already took care of it and that Riddle shouldn't 'beat his pretty head' with it too much. Just focus on your job and things will go smoothly.

In a few days, Crowley calls up Riddle to discuss about the Nightshift and how he managed to hire a new guard. So he asks Riddle to show him how the gist works at first.

Guess who the guard is?

That's right, Floyd is our Nightshift guard. Riddle is baffled at this, asking how the hell did Floyd even get hired, not to mention how he didn't get reported for bearing no actual legal identity!

The answer is simple: 1. Floyd does have legal documents (forged, ofc) about his existence. 2. Crowley accepted him, because on his 'CV' it was written: willing to work for any price.

Crowley's paying him 10 bucks an hour :'3

Riddle is very concerned about the payment, but Floyd reassures that he already lives in here. And his 'living expenses' are also paid by Crow man. :v

Besides, unlike normal humans, creatures of the night such as Floyd, have a whole other system of living. Once he gets himself free, he's simply going to return to his kind and live there.

Surprisingly, Riddle seems a bit bummed out by the news that, eventually, Floyd would break the seal and leave. The latter tho, offers for Riddle to come with him. He had magic and his blood indicated that there was something more inside him. There's no reason not to run away together. They could go and find a little safe colony far away to live peacefully together. Riddle shuts down the idea, saying that, unfortunately, he can't leave. He loves his job, his quiet life and he doesn't want to abandon his life long friends. Floyd may be bound to not leave this place because of a magic seal, but Riddle's bound to not leave this place because of his bonds and responsibilities.

Still, the 2 share a small kiss that night. Kind of a small milestone in their pretty odd relationship.

And things start to go well! Floyd puts a little effort to stay awake in the morning, to exchange a few sweet eyes with Riddle, while the latter would sometimes stay a bit over the program or leave for Floyd small treats to have on his job. Little things that make them both very happy and fuzzy inside.

Naturally, the students saw that and started to rumor in between them that the ice-cold heart of the tyrant teacher was melted by the intimidating guard.

But, all things nice must end at one point. U-U9

The staff did receive a notice of a maintenance visit from an authorised service upon the school systems. And Floyd was absolutely horrified about it. Riddle was sure he never saw the latter so panicked about something. So he does decide to stay over with him a bit, to calm down his nerves.

Floyd tho, hesitantly gets down from his neck a pendant. Riddle knew about the pendant being important for the latter, but he never got an answer as to why. And neither now is he getting one, since Floyd put it over the redhead's neck and told him to return it only after the inspection is clear. And if Riddle hears any suspicious voice, to please ignore it since the pendant might try to play with him.

Riddle was absolutely ready to call the latter nuts, but he knew better than to question magic things. So he promised the latter that he will keep the pendant safe before Floyd tucked him to sleep.

The next day, naturally Riddle was a bit on edge, but things went surprisingly quiet. At home tho, is when the latter started to feel like something was watching him. He tried to brush it off, but it kept pestering him.

Until he looked in his mirror, where his reflection was replaced with a silhouette made out of shadows. The said being was happy they finally got noticed, claiming that they were a manifestation of Riddle's powers, the last one of them.

Riddle was trying to ignore it, just as Floyd told him to, but the said little silhouette was a tease cranked up to 100. They did tell Riddle that first he manifested a bit of power and now, that he had the crown of the abyss, he could get out to light the rest. Naturally, the latter brushed it off, saying that it's saying blasphemy, but to prove the point, the shadow shows to Riddle how the pendant could turn into a pretty crown, then back into that small stone. They do tease that Floyd certainly hid that one from him, that he didn't tell Riddle, hoping to keep all that power to himself.

Of course, the latter denies it again. If Floyd had that much power at his disposal, he would've been free from the seal by now. The shadow goes to say that things aren't that easy with seals and that the second Floyd does get free, he'll dispose of Riddle in an instant. The pendant would be Riddle's only line of defense if he refuses to give it away as he promised.

The shadow did hit some pretty low points. Points which made Riddle to try and ignore it alongside Floyd. Both were 2 different sides and Riddle didn't know which one to pick. He was an adult, goddamnit! Yet here he was, feeling like a clueless child. He hated it, so he found out the best way was to tune it all out.

This doesn't fly by Floyd. With the inspection over, he knew Riddle had to keep his promise to him and return the pendant. So he insists for the latter to stay over the program and give it back. By that point, Riddle himself realised that if he gives the pendant back to Floyd, then that annoying shadow would stop bothering him, so he was more than eager to get rid of it from his neck.

But before he passes back the pendant, Riddle does have to ask one thing: why didn't Floyd tell him that it was a crown all along? That question makes Floyd to immediately switch his mood, now demanding that he gets back the pendant. It's not some silly game anymore and he is very much not playing anything. Riddle will get his answers after the pendant is back at Floyd.

That's when our lil shitty shadow comes into action, taking the pendant before Floyd could. The latter is genuinely scared of seeing the said silhouette and at this point Riddle knows that he shouldn't have even given the shadow a benefit of the doubt. But it was too late as the said 3rd thing declared. As Riddle's 2nd magic manifestations, it is its right to want the redhead more powerful than ever. And Floyd was their obstacle, denying Riddle of his right at power.

And that's when the shadow tries to shove the pendant gem down Riddle's throat. Seeing that, Floyd tries to also fight the silhouette, but it was too strong. It had enough time to draw from Riddle's magic by instigating doubt in the redhead and thus prolonging the time the pendant was with him.

In the end, Riddle does swallow the gem and the shadow happily disappears.

Both adults are scared, but Floyd was downright horrified, saying that he doesn't know when it will kick in or if Riddle would even survive it. This also scares Riddle since 'wdym IF I survive it?!'. He just swallowed a fucking stone that used to be a crown?! And Floyd isn't making things any better by also telling him that 'hey, you might blow up from the inside around now!'.

Unfortunately, that 'kick in' Happens right that moment, when Riddle is overcome by pain. His whole body felt like it was on glass and nails and he could only cry out in pain. Floyd couldn't do much, only hug him as best as he could and whisper sweet nothings and apologies to the latter. Thankfully, Riddle passes out before he could hit the half mark of the said transformation. And Floyd just stays like that with him, too afraid to even move an inch in any direction.

When Riddle wakes up, he realises 2 things.

1. His vision was much more clearer now

2. He had a weird craving to eat something

Floyd is insanely happy that the latter was alive. One cannot express how relieved he was when se saw the latter opening his eyes. It finally explained why Riddle had magic in the first place to begin with! Riddle tho, bursts that little happy bubble of the latter, by asking what in the world happend. So Floyd summons a mirror and helps the latter up.

And Riddle sees for the first time, just what kind of creature he became.

He had his body stained in ink at the end of the limbs and over his upper face, in a gradient, long claws, 2 pairs of wings, long pointy ears, sharp teeth and eyes with no iris or pupils. The crown he saw initially was now made out of thick horns on his head, while the big gem it initially had was coming out of his chest, even glowing slightly in a beating heart rhythm. His clothes were replaced by a skintight suit, having an opening at the chest area to show the said gem, with big and sleek heels and a very intricate armour-like corset as a sort of belt.

Naturally, Riddle's absolutely horrified. But he felt powerful. He felt invincible, like he could make the world bow down to him by a mere snap of a finger. And his body felt light, comfortable, but his mind was screaming at him that it was wrong. He just became a much worse creature than he could've ever imagined.

And Floyd finally clears it out for him: He wasn't sealed by just random chance. There is an organisation tasked with hunting and eradicating creatures of his kind. Initially, Floyd fled from the sea along his brother and other mers, under Azul's guidance. The latter said that their abyss crown found a new vessel for its godly dark power, so they should follow it and serve their new leader, in exchange for protection. Azul made a decoy crown that he holds onto, while Floyd received the real deal, turned into a pendant. Unfortunately, the said organisation made traps for magic creatures, out of surveillance systems. And when Floyd was trying to follow a lead of the pendant, he got trapped inside. He didn't think Riddle would be chosen. Nor did he think that he would swallow it instead of just putting it on his head like every ruler previously did.

Riddle, worried, asks what happens now that he swallowed it. Like... It's apart of him. The gem is literally his heart now. Floyd is just as clueless as him, but all he knows is that he and all the other magical creatures surely felt the awakening. So he has to serve Riddle in exchange for protection. That was how things were supposed to go.

Riddle tho, insists that he doesn't want Floyd to serve him. In fact, he didn't want any of this. He wants to be a normal human, living a quiet life. But now, he's stuck as this darkness elderich diety! Like there has to be some way to hide it at least.

Thankfully, it was. Floyd did show Riddle that night how he hid his monster nature from Crowley and the public when he works as a guard. And Riddle learns how to appear fully human for the night.

The next day, Riddle realises just what that craving to eat was all about.

He had to give a few tests today and every time, he seemed to feed off students's fear and dread. Or any emotion for the matter. Those made him feel full and even skip lunch for the matter. But nothing satisfied more the craving than Floyd. And it wasn't any negative emotion from him, rather the effort and love he put in helping his beloved goldfishie adapt, was what satisfied Riddle beyond words. Floyd did know that previous rulers did feed on their subjects's emotional energy, but he really didn't expect Riddle to like his emotions as a superior meal than the others.

Still, things couldn't be peaceful for once.

Because on one night, someone actually tries to sneak into the school, while Riddle was trying to get used to his new body, mostly by walking across the halls with Floyd by his side.

That someone were the first years form Riddle's class. And when they both make the corner and come face to face, it's a screaming match. :'3

The first years, naturally go 'Oh shit! A monster!', while Riddle goes 'Oh Shit! Those are my students!'. Floyd just finds this thing hilarious. Still, out of the group, Deuce is the one who bows down immediately, apologising for not stopping these 'poor mind humans' from disturbing 'you majesty'.

It's revealed 2 things:

1. Deuce is a winged night creature who did figure out that Riddle was his ruler now.

2. The boring ass logics teacher is now a darkness deity. :'3

Riddle was feeling so screwed, so he made these mfs swear they won't say a thing about this to anyone. And the group agreed out of natural fear of getting a much worse fate if they don't comply. :'3

It was also only fair for Jack and Sebek to come forth and admit that they were also apart of the supranatural side. Sebek was a half Fae, whole Jack was a were-wolf.

Only Ace and Epel are dumb hoomans. :'3

But! The first years come in handy as extra hands to help break the seal. So Floyd was free! Yay! :D

Because he had nowhere else to go, Riddle takes Floyd at his house to live for now while he had no job to tend to. This also made them hang out in weekends now. :3

Now that he was free, Floyd's new objective was to find his initial colony. And ofc, he insisted that Riddle has to come with him. If it wasn't for the recent changes, Riddle would've still refused him, but now he will certainly be on the watchlist of this organisation that hunts the supranatural. And he is expected to be some all powerful wise leader.

He felt like a clueless kid again, Which is one thing Riddle hates.

So, much to Floyd's surprise, the redhead tries to hit the books. He's training and meditating a lot, all in hopes of understanding the powers he just acquired. It's not easy, but so it's Riddle's pettiness. He did accidentally kill some of his plants in pretty brutal ways, but alas, he learned to heal them back somewhat. :'3

Once Floyd does get ahold of Azul and by extension the rest of the people under his lead, the 2 have to set out to go after him. Riddle is very hesitant about it, since he never had to leave out of town until now. Yes, he went to college, but that was it.

And his planned leave doesn't fly unnoticed.

Trey is pretty worried when he hears that Riddle plans a leave for a few good days(since the place Azul was at wasn't actually far). So he does ask the redhead if something happened. Indeed, something did happen, but Riddle didn't really know if he should tell his friend or not, so he opted to simply avoid Trey, lest he won't have a confrontation.

Crowley is not very happy that these 2 got to leave at the same time, still, he reassigns Trey back on the Nightshift duty, since he was there at least once. That's the perfect excuse for Riddle to 'show Trey around' since 'a few things changed since last time'.

Trey almost has a heart attack upon the news being told to him... That's for sure. :'3

This time around, Riddle does explain to the latter that the first years might get in from time to time, mostly to help around. Just be nice to them and it's all good. For now Floyd was at home, resting a bit, so Riddle could take his place as the Nightshift guide.

As for Trey... Sure he was horrified at first, but once the initial shock went away, he was simply just worried. Worried for his buddy's safety. He doesn't doubt that Riddle is a smart individual, but this is a situation in which anyone could crack under pressure. He's worried about what would happen if Riddle did break under the pressure too, especially since he's both a powerful creature and on the watchlist of an organisation tasked to kill his kind.

Still Trey has no other option than to say goodbye to his friend and tend to the Nightshift duty in a somewhat peace. Or whatever you call it when 5 teens with mischievous tendencies are breaking into the school to bother you. :'3

So Riddle and Floyd go on with their little road. It was oddly quiet and that only helped make the redhead's nerves stretch more.

But they do find a small restaurant, run by none other than Azul!

Upon seeing Floyd, Azul's hugging the latter, glad that he's alive and well. But after the whole situation gets explained to him, he's absolutely livid. Of course, he firstly pays his respects to Riddle, who assures him that there's no need for honorifics, then he shows the 2 what he's been up as of late.

See, Azul worked to establish his restaurant and have the others of their kind work here or at another branch he has. He met Idia and Malleus, both who are helping the unemployed creatures by taking them under their own organisations: Idia with STIX and Malleus to work in his Kingdom away from the human reach.

Unfortunately Jade, Floyd's brother, was caught by the organisation when they tried to flee to another place one time. Azul felt horrible delivering the news to Floyd, but there was still a tiny bit of hope there. Jade could still be alive for all they knew.

Floyd was done and over with this organisation bullshit. Now that they had their 'leader', they could finally strike back against those mfs that shooed them from their homes for so long. By now Riddle made peace with the fact that he'll have to get rid of that organisation if he ever wanted a chance to return to a somewhat peaceful life. And he did make his wish clear to Azul: he wants that organisation gone so that, after it, Riddle could live a peaceful life as a teacher. He never wanted any of this, but that doesn't mean he won't get involved in attempting to fix this injustice.

so the night creatures start to gather up. Only a few stood behind with the children, while the others were getting ready for war. They heard their 'leader''s wish and they were more than happy with it. In fact they were ecstatic about getting back at the thing that terrorised them for generations.

This is also when we meet Malleus and Idia. Malleus was kind enough to lend some of his Fae troupes, since this organisation also targeted his kind, while Idia provided inside information and revealed the fact that hostages are indeed taken, so there was a fair chance Jade was there too.

So the big battle does commence at the main headquarters of the organisation. There was absolute bloodshed there. Yet Riddle simply followed after Floyd, using his own learned spells from time to time to protect those on their side or push out of their way the enemies.

Fortunately, Jade was alive.

Unfortunately that was also a trap.

The second Floyd tried to reach his brother, he got blocked in the tank with Jade, both unable to leave. Riddle wanted to release both of them, but he gets stopped midway by someone.

And that someone was his own mother.

See... She was a doctor... Giving credit where's due... But Mrs Weinachts (since Riddle changed his name after getting disowned) also worked for the organisation, by analysing the biology of the said creatures. Jade was supposed to be dissected, but when he showed a weird behaviour (when Riddle swallowed the gem), it was figured that he has to be kept alive and be studied upon patterns. And sure enough, it predicted this attack.

Now she can't recognise Riddle at all, due to him being in his creature form, but the latter sure knows who she is and the shock is too much for him. He realises that, most certainly, if he didn't follow his own desires, he would've ended up here. Now everyone was fighting for their life and freedom here. His dear Floyd was captured and his own mother, who disowned him and haunts him with his 'failures' threatened to kill the 2 eel mers if Riddle doesn't throw in the towel.

Trey's fears were good founded, because they did happen. Riddle did crack under all the pressure, which ended up with the whole place crumbling down under his unattended power. And naturally, this ends with the supranatural beings winning. They cheer together and celebrate.

But Floyd finds Riddle in a sort of trance, looking at his hands smeared with some blood as he was processing the events that just happened. When he does realise it, he breaks down crying that he killed his own mother. Sure, she abandoned him once adulthood came, but still she was his mother. And he killed her!

And the worst part about it was that it felt good. It felt good to feed on her desperation for survival. Riddle was ashamed of it, of the monster he became. He just wants back home, back to his peaceful and quiet life.

And his wish gets fulfilled.

The rest of the creatures already established proper lives in hiding. Sure, some returned to solitarity in far to reach lands, while others integrated better amongst the humans. Riddle did make it clear that, unless it's a situation similar to how the organisation they just defeated, he won't step up to lead them. They don't need a leader to follow mindlessly around, when they could have their own lives how they want.

So, in the end, we do return to the same old routine Riddle used to have. But now he lives together with Floyd and still comes in terms with every new discovery about his powers.

And that would be for the main plot :D

I was thinking that after this big one, if it were to follow, it would be some small adventures where we meet the rest of the twst Bois and see what they are up to.

For example: Kalim is a museum owner and Jamil is a Naga sorcerer that was trapped in stone for many years, thus he wasn't aware of the changes in society and everything. That was to be discovered on a field trip to the said museum and all that. :v

So for now... I guess I'll leave the rest to y'all to theorise and ask what do you think about the rest of the Bois. For some I really have 0 idea what they could be, so suggestions are welcomed :3

Until next time! Buh bye! :D

[dr-demi-bee]

Writing Interview Tag Game!

Thanks for the tag @lastlight-inn! 🥰

When did you start writing?

TBH, that's hard to pin down! I was drawing clumsy comics with story lines as early as 4th grade (so like 9 or 10ish?) - and I've always had a thing for telling stories. I don't think I started earnestly writing until maybe 12. But I know for sure I was writing in middle school, and was well and truly into it in high school. There was a brief once-upon-a-time I thought about going that way for a career (but I also considered being an artist or musician ha).

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

So, I find I often write a lot darker than I read. Broadly speaking, I read a lot of fantasy, sci-fi, and some non-fiction. But I write predominantly fantasy. I've dabbled in sci-fi, but I find it a lot harder (perhaps because I'm quite picky about science accuracy).

But thematically, I much prefer to read romances and lighter hearted drama. I think my writing might lean a bit darker than I typically consume (more focus on harsh/traumatic topics).

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Ahhh this is so hard to answer. I've not had anyone really compare my work to others (at least not by name). I don't try to copy anyone's style, but I definitely am influenced by many.

If I have to pick some - Oliver Sacks, Tolkien, and GRRM.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Well! I have several!

My main office is in an open loft in the second floor of my house - past the railings are large picture windows that look out into my woods and let in a lot of natural light. I've got an L shaped desk stocked with supplies/notebooks/snacks. It looks like the kind of organized chaos one expects with ADHD.

On the left hand is an easel for painting/drawing, and on the right hand is my dual monitor set up (slightly lofted). My space is covered in cute knickknacks and things my husband has made for me. He's a wood worker, so there's lots of cute little things - including a little ghost and a miniature zen garden. I also have an owl skull and spine. My keyboard/mouse/mat and wrist pads are all space themed, as is the desktop (not that you can ever see it.) Beside my desk is my behemoth, very colorful PC tower I built myself (named Eureka).

I also have a yoga laptop that doubles as my writing on the go platform and drawing tablet (named Epiphany). I'll take it downstairs to write on my armchair, or into one of the bedrooms for some more quiet and soft surfaces. And I also take it with me on trips. Had a nice period on vacation at the beach where I got to write in a rocking chair on the porch looking out at the ocean. Ahh... (take me back :sob:)

Very occasionally I will write on my phone. But this is mostly just for notes and short form RP sort of writing.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

So aside from becoming obsessed with something (e.g. media or my own imagined world) usually I get my ideas via listening to music or taking a shower.

Or, inevitably, whenever I'm doing something else that doesn't give me time to write. I wrote several chapters of my novel while writing my dissertation... procrasti-writing.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

On the positive side: found family, loving through pain, helping each other to heal, platonic love.

On the less positive side: the effects of trauma, the way danger and stress hurts our bodies and our minds. Fighting through adversity and oppression. Chronic pain/conditions.

I'm not super surprised by either of these, really - they're all a big part my scientific life too. Before I left clinical practice I primarily helped individuals recover from trauma and addiction - and that involved a lot of working on finding self worth. My research was all devoted to studying stress and cognition - and I tried to pioneer new work on intrusive cognitions. I think this probably comes out heavily in my writing for fun, too.

What is your reason for writing?

Fun, mostly. Catharsis. And a bit of dissociating, I suppose. I've always just kind of had the urge to spew stories out into the world, even if it's just for me. I also write to connect with others.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Ohhhh, any comment makes me incredibly happy. If someone says they like something specific I am over the moon. I'm especially thrilled to hear anyone connecting with or caring about my OC characters.

When another writer I really admire or respect gives me a comment or praise (like @alpydk or @sorceresssundries) my little heart feels ready to burst! Recently had the absolute delight of having friends read and react in real time to some of my work and gooood grief is that ever motivating. (@crimson-and-lavender and @lastlight-inn I'm looking at you lol)

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I want to be approachable and interesting as a person. I hope people want to read my work or even collab.

I want my writing to be novel, engaging, and exciting. I want to subvert their expectations, but also tell them a story that's approachable and will resonate with them.

Mostly I want my writing to make others feel (good).

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

The longer I've been writing things - honestly, I think it's patience. Being willing to change ideas, move them around, or even abandon them if need be. It took a long time to be okay with those things.

How do you feel about your own writing?

Oh, we have a love hate relationship. I know I can be a bit...verbose. But I also find my own writing pretty fun and interesting. I know I've done a pretty good job if I enjoy re-reading it.

Tagging some lovely mooots with affectionate no-pressure boops: @abysskeeper, @feedthepheasants, and an open tag for any other lovelies that want to!

[sailxrmxrs]

hello i really love your writing! if you're taking requests, i've been thinking about the infinite blue boys in a typical office setting with the MC and what that would be like? thank you!!~

this has been sat in my inbox for SO LONG I AM SO SORRY TO THE PERSON WHO REQUESTED THIS SDKFDGS but!! better later than never right??? right?????? anyway now is the perfect time to finally get around to this bc my brain has been so occupied lately playing sympathy kiss so office based otome is right at the forefront of my mind hehe. it's like it was meant to be. ALSO thank u so much!! i don't think too much about what i write after it's been posted so i forget people actually look at it sometimes sksjfkf TY FOR REQUESTING THIS WAS LOVELY TO THINK ABOUT also incredibly funny looking at the last post of me being like 'i want to get back to writing more regularly!!' as if i didn't slink back into the shadows again for four months this was also the first thing i've written since getting my new keyboard which is really taking some getting used to especially with nails dsklfsg still, enjoy office time gamers o7

♡ leo ♡

Leo definitely seems like the type to bring the energy to his office department, especially on a Monday morning when everyone wants nothing more than to have had just one more day to spend at home before work started all over again for another week. He'd be the only one with a spring in his step as he went about his morning, filling his water bottle, getting situated at his desk. Speaking of his desk, Leo's workspace would be the definition or organised chaos. Post-it notes are scattered across the bottom of his monitor, there's a pile of loose sheets covered in haphazard notes scrawled across them, and there are definitely more than a few pens with no ink left strewn across the desk. They also happen to be mixed in with perfectly usable pens so Leo would have to scramble for a pen when someone from another department came to brief him on a project he was working on. Every time, without fail, he is grabbing pens and scribbling on a notepad until he finds one that works enough to make notes clear enough for him to reference later on. You ask each time why he doesn't just go through and throw away the empty pens to which Leo jokingly scoffs about how he finds the right pens first time every time. He does not.

He's very much the epitome of a work best friend. Someone who will text you on the weekend like 'I know we spend every day sat next to each other but can we hang out together pls'. He enjoys your company okay!! You are very fun and he wants you to know that!! Will find himself getting into a bit of trouble for getting distracted talking about weekend plans with you but can you blame him? It's a Friday afternoon and his brain has logged off. Unfortunately for Leo, despite his brain having logged off, his computer is very much logged in so he has to force himself to keep going for that last stretch of hours between him and the weekend. Will whine and complain to you about how Fridays should be half days which, given Leo's usual demeanour at the start of the week, is an amusing shift in tone. Cut to a couple of hours later and Leo is shutting down his computer the second the clock ticks over to 5pm. He'll swing his chair around to face you, staring you down until you finally close everything down to get ready to leave. Think puppy watching and waiting for you to take them on a walk. Sometimes if you have plans for the Friday evening, he'll offer to pick you up on the way to work to save you the drive too. Also because it gives him an excuse for being late like oh no there was just so much traffic leaving their place I definitely did not stop for coffee on the way here not at all!! He absolutely did but don't worry he didn't forget to pick up your favourite order too~

I think Leo would be a really good motivator in the office too. If a day was going particularly bad, or if a really busy period struck he would be the perfect person to help keep your mood in balance. He's very encouraging for you to step away from your desk. Take a break, have a drink, maybe get a little snack to energise yourself. But he doesn't do it to distract you nor does he overstep any boundaries. He will offhandedly comment on how hard you've been working and make a gentle suggestion that a break is needed. He'd also offer to lend a hand if there was anything particularly pressing that was weighing you down. Try and say no. Try it. Never works. Leo's always happy to help because he knows you would do the same for him and have previously done so in the past when he was newer to the job and hadn't quite gotten his bearings yet. He makes the long days pass by quicker. Truly the best person to work with.

♡ milo ♡

Milo is absolutely that one coworker who keeps to himself a lot and develops this really cool and mysterious reputation. No one really knows what he does for work and no one ever asks him either because they're a little too intimidated to talk to him. It's not that he's had any particularly bad run-ins with anyone else in the office but more so that he no one really knows a whole lot about him. Any conversations about his weekend plans or what he did the evening prior are met with the most normal responses someone could muster. He's going grocery shopping, he's visiting family, he stayed in last night to watch tv. No one knows anything about his life outside of work and no one's bumped into him anywhere but in the office. The only reason people don't speculate that he lives there is because they see him drive in and park in the same spot at the same time each morning. Him keeping to himself isn't really an antisocial thing, but more so that he's there to work so would rather just get on with whatever he has to do with minimal distractions. He's an efficient man and doesn't like people stealing his attention away from any sort of deadline.

Then along comes this slight change in the office layout and suddenly your desk has been moved directly next to his. Surprise had left you stunned for a moment when Milo greeted you that first morning before sitting down and getting himself set up for the working day. He still never offered much conversation, just the usual 'good morning' and 'have a good evening' as you both left the office. It wasn't until you both stayed behind a little late one Friday evening to finish some paperwork before the weekend and he'd stricken up a conversation while walking back to your cars. It was mostly small talk, nothing of too much substance, but it was far more than he gave anyone else. If you ask, he simply answers that until the clock hits around 5pm, he's at work. Once he's left the office building, he's just normal Milo again. It's his way of separating work and his personal life. Honestly, his work/life balance is enviable.

Over time, as you grow closer, he'll start to chat more during office hours. Asking what you thought of a recent episode of a show, if you'd seen the news about an upcoming game. And your closeness wouldn't go unnoticed. You'll get coworkers whispering to you on your lunch break asking to share some information since they'd barely seen Milo speak with anyone else so openly before. You'd always politely decline, telling them he never really shared anything special and it was mostly just work related things—a white lie, of course, but what they didn't know didn't hurt them. Milo would appreciate it too, often voicing his complaints about the busybodies in the office not so subtly whispering about him. He didn't care too much about their speculations of him until they started dragging you into it too. Grumpy Milo grumbling into his coffee cup asking why they cared so much anyway. Who cares who he speaks to at work (He cares. But he won't tell you that).

♡ rory ♡

Rory at any given moment in time will take the opportunity to complain about something that has happened in the office that day. Whether it's someone not submitting documents on time or somebody emailing him with any extra set of tasks on top of his already stacked workload, he will be sending you a string of messages to blow off some steam. The first time it'd happened, you were sitting in the break room enjoying your lunch when Rory slumped into the chair next to you and signed so heavily you thought something terrible had happened and he was barely keeping himself together. As it had turned out, a new intern had done something without running it by anyone else first and caused a particularly big problem. One that Rory's manager decided would be his responsibility to resolve before the day's end. As well as meet his own deadlines for the same evening. To say he was stressed was an understatement. So Rory had taken solace in your quiet presence and let out his frustrations. Once he'd gotten it all out of his system, he apologised for the outburst and introduced himself, realising the two of you had never actually spoken before. He then offered to lend a listening ear for your own work annoyances, attentively taking it all in while you spoke. Once your lunch break came to an end, you exchanged contacts with the promise that you could be each other's dedicated work therapist whenever someone or something had pissed you off.

From that point on, you'd receive the odd message here and there throughout the day from Rory with the latest complaint. At first, it was just a way to get the annoyances off your chests but as time went on, conversations started to meander and before long you were becoming closer and closer. You didn't see each other much while working—only ever in passing if you needed to deliver a document to a different department or if there was a meeting you needed to attend. Your texts were your main point of contact with Rory until he suggested you start coordinating your lunch breaks so that you could actually hang out face-to-face rather than via text message. Coworkers would definitely start to speculate how and why these two individuals from completely different departments became friends or if there was something more to the relationship. Especially considering Rory, much like Milo, was more reserved and didn't really show much of an effort to become friends with the people he worked with. He was amicable enough but kept the colleague boundary up like a wall. Except with you, anyway.

I think Rory would want to extend your work friendship beyond office hours and would start wanting to text you later in the evening but is so nervous to come across as being too forward. He likes to act as though he's a very nonchalant person but he really isn't at all. Especially not where you are concerned. So you'd definitely need to be the one to nudge and initiate more of a friendship between you both. It wouldn't take much. All you'd need to do was text him one Saturday morning and mention how you were planning for a bookshop trip and as if he wanted to come along. He texts back almost instantly with a big 'YES' followed immediately by a 'glad you've finally recognised my superior taste in books' purely to save face for how eager he must have seemed. Would come into the office on the Monday with red cheeks once he saw you in the staff car park and try to sound as normal as possible commenting on how he had a good weekend. For his own sanity, just go along with it. He begs.

♡ alexei ♡

Alexei is the new starter who doesn't have a whole lot of office experience under his belt. He's bright eyed and eager to learn on the job but is also somewhat nervous to make mistakes or ask too many questions. It takes him a little while to settle in and feel fully comfortable with his surroundings but once he does, Alexei starts to really flourish. Once he knows you're happy to answer all of his questions and won't scold him for not understanding something straight way, he will come to you with an entire monologue of queries he wants to clarify. Literally rambles this long stream of consciousness before reaching the end of his list and looking at you all expectantly for your response. Listens so intently while he's perched on his desk chair, scribbling down notes as you run through everything he'd asked. Then turns back to his computer screen with a 'thank you' and then doesn't say another word for like two hours. He'll just be typing and clicking away with this intense focus until you have to tap on his shoulder and remind him to take a break from the screen for a few minutes. Will struggle to pull himself away for breaks because once he's in the zone he is IN. He only really likes stepping away from his desk when he has reached a good stopping point and he absolutely hates leaving a task partially finished.

I don't think Alexei would be a super social person at work. It wouldn't be for any particular reason other than the thought didn't really occur to him? He prefers to take his breaks at his desk because his chair is comfortable enough so the only people he really talks to on the regular are the people he works with directly. Being new, he hasn't had much of a reason to visit the other departments nor has he been brought on to any big projects that would have him meeting and working with anyone else around the office. Even after he's been there for a little while, he's reached a point where he feels awkward introducing himself because he's not exactly new anymore but he also doesn't know a lot of names. Whenever there's an office party or holiday event, Alexei will turn and whisper to you asking who that was or to remind him of a name. He could have had a good ten minute conversation with someone who and not had a single clue as to what their name was. It makes for some funny encounters, especially if it's someone not well liked within the office. They'd strike up a conversation just for Alexei to clearly not know who they are. We love to see it.

After Alexei has been working in the office for a few months and has gotten nicely settled in his job, I can see him being really welcoming to a new starter. In the same way you answered all his questions and helped him along with his training, Alexei would do the same for the new person. He might come across a little too excited with how forthcoming he is with explanations or offers to help out with anything they're struggling with but it's clear that he means well. He's just a little enthusiastic!! Would also start to add little decorations on his desk. He doesn't do anything too special, but he might have a tiny figurine of a jellyfish sat under his monitor and would have themed notepads and matching pens to go with them. If he's going to spend most of his day there, he wants it to feel like it's his personal little corner.

♡ brooklyn ♡

Brooklyn is the high ranking manager CEO businessman who is also one of the most likable people around the office. Despite him always being seen in his signature suits and ties with some sort of important document in hand at any given moment, he was genuinely pleased to speak with anyone working there. He has his moments of being the stern business type, particularly when in stressful meetings to discuss the company's performance for the quarter and their targets for the next quarter. Overall, however, he remains a generally calming presence. If you were his assistant, he'd try to alleviate as much of the pressure of the role as he could. He knew he was a painfully busy man and that you had no end of meetings to schedule, companies to contact for collaborations and partnerships. There was never really an end to your workload for which he felt a tad guilty. Anytime you entered his private office, reeling off the schedule for the afternoon or informing him of a visitor who had arrived to meet with him, Brooklyn is offering to make you a cup of tea or coffee no matter how many times you insist that that's your job, not his. He never listens.

I think he'd take a lot of interest in you as a person too, not wanting there to be this distinct barrier of boss and employee. He would much rather you both felt you stood on equal ground. That mindset had gotten him into some mild altercations in meetings when other company executives had made some sort of snide comment regarding your involvement in the discussions. Brooklyn wasn't going to stand for one of his most trusted and hardworking colleagues to be taken for granted. The strained tension never left the boardroom until a few minutes after the meeting ended and Brooklyn stormed out looking angrier than you'd ever seen him. Would be silent as he poured himself a cup of tea and then give you this serious talk about how if that were to ever happen without him around report it to him immediately. His expression was much sterner that you'd experienced from all your time working directly with Brooklyn, but it was evident that it came from a place of respect. And he explained as much as he leaned against his desk, pinching the spot between his brows as if the encounter had given him a headache.

There had never been any repeat instances following that afternoon, though you had overheard some whispers about the incident. Mostly from people surprised to hear that Brooklyn had raised his voice. Anytime you commented on it while presenting him with new paperwork, Brooklyn would adjust his tie awkwardly, face heating at the lack of composure he'd now exposed to the office. He took pride in coming across in a well-presented and calm manner so this one lapse of his self-restraint made him feel a touch embarrassed each time he was reminded of the event; in those moments he seemed less like the important business figure and more like a close friend you could playfully tease in passing moments between the busy hours. It was a comfortable and welcomed dynamic for the both of you.

♡ tobias ♡

Tobias is without a doubt the office socialite. He's always popping his head into the different departments with a request or to catch up after the weekend. He reminds me of someone I work with who is incredibly easy going and is friends with basically everyone in the office. Tobias can have a tendency to cause disruptions in that his voice will carry in an office room and he doesn't really realise how much of a distraction his presence can be sometimes. He doesn't mean to pull people away from anything important! But he also can't really help himself when it's the middle of the week and he's got all kinds of work adjacent stories to be shared. Will perch himself on your desk and start rambling away about something, not really noticing if you were paying him your full attention or not. It's only after he asks you a question and you noncommittally answer with a vague 'yes' that he'll start whining about how you're not listening to him. As much as we'd like to chat, some of us have work to do, Tobias. When you question him about his own work, Tobias will conveniently remember he needs to be somewhere else, dodging the question entirely and scampering away to a different department. There is usually a shaking of heads that follows after Tobias whenever he dashes off somewhere else—it's always from a place of endearing acceptance.

I can see Tobias being involved in the marketing side of a business. Definitely the one to organise big events and staff parties. He needs someone to rein him in though because some of his ideas aren't quite workplace or coworker friendly. He hears office party and thinks hell yeah time to go wild go crazy but no Tobias please the last time that happened you broke multiple office chairs we can't afford to keep replacing them every time. Would enlist you for help too because you're his favourite person to bother at work. Whether you humour him and play along or tell him to, light heartedly, leave you alone, Tobias will find his way to your desk for some quality catchup time. What do you mean it's Monday and you're busy? He needs to tell you about this movie he saw on Saturday that he thinks should be the theme of the next work event. He's also the type to bring food to your desk too. Will sometimes just buy lunch for you and pry your hands away from your keyboard so that he can slide a salad or pot of pasta into your grasp. Tobias takes lunch breaks very seriously. He'll also get treats for people in the office too! Buys little cakes or chocolates just because. This is part of the reason why everyone likes him so much; can't say no to a man who keeps you well fed.

Despite poking fun at Tobias being a bit more lax around the office, I think he genuinely would be full of solid ideas and he does feel pretty passionate about certain aspects of the job too. His work/life balance isn't perfect in that he tends to prioritise life a little more than he should sometimes but there's little harm in it. He's a very good person to be around if you're the type to get a bit too wrapped up in working. Tobias is NOT letting you overwork yourself. Not on his watch!! He's a surprisingly perceptive person and can very easily tell when you're stressed or not getting as much sleep as you should. Will take it upon himself to text you at the weekend to hang out and have a movie night with him. That way he can make sure you're relaxing and not spending your limited time off working your brain. Will steal your phone directly from your hands if you're staring too hard, eyebrows furrowed, and will replace it with a snack and gently remind you that it's the weekend time not work time. He has his uses sometimes.

[ra-scheln]

Writing Interview Tag Game

The lovely @kimberbohwrites tagged me – thank you so much!

When did you start writing?

I don’t remember a time before stories. Partially it might have been due to my environment, that I had to escape somehow – even if I could only retreat into my own mind and the worlds I could make up there. They weren’t really finished narratives, I was mostly into making up worlds that my friends would add characters to, and we would draw comics around the stories that developed from that .

Although that stopped when I was around fifteen or sixteen. The abuse at home kept escalating with my growing independence, and I couldn’t maintain the connection to myself necessary for true creativity and the willful ignorance regarding what was happening to me I had developed to protect myself. There is no writing or other piece of art from my time, because I just stopped being able to do it.

Stories I need to live, said ignorance I needed to survive, so it had to take precedence.

Ten years later or so, I’ve been reclaiming my own perception of events with, among other things, half a decade of therapy now. I can touch my own ideas again without them slipping through my hands.

BG3 is it’s own special joy here – it’s the first fandom I’ve really written for, recently, and that’s mostly thanks to the writer friends I’ve found through it (my pedipalps <3).

Are there different themes or genres that you enjoy reading than what you write?

Outside of fanfic, yes! I read a lot of classic stuff – Thomas Mann, Michail Bulgakow, Oscar Wilde are the last few authors I read in that department. Fiction-wise, I enjoy things that explore the more ambiguous sides of human emotion, or generally darker and more serious stuff – Das Parfüm by Patrick Süskind (The perfume) for example, although that’s something I also write about. I’d also count Accabadora by Michaela Murgia amongst that, though that’s also a historically inspired and socio-critical. Tbh I mostly read nonfiction though, Roberto Saviano’s works on the Ndragheta and other organised crime are currently back on my mind.

In fanfic, I’m pretty stuck in my tastes as far as themes go, but there are some characters that don’t inspire me to write, but that I like reading about – Rolan for example (though I might have something cooking for him), or Halsin.

Can you tell me about your writing space?

I often lug my laptop to the university library or onto my balcony, but I’ve also recently treated myself to new desk equipment – so I’ve started using it more, now that I have a second monitor, a nice mechanical keyboard and a chair that doesn’t kill my back.

One thing about my writing space though – it has to be spotless. I can’t deal with crumbs on my table or unfolded laundry lying around.

This all goes for writing itself. My ideas I mostly write down by hand in my notebook, wherever I am in that moment.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I don’t. I either have something to say and then I sit down and say it, or I don’t. Your mind also needs to lie fallow every now and then.

If the words aren’t flowing when the ideas themselves are there, it’s usually because something else is taking up my attention. Be it any kind of mess (as I said…) or something I’m avoiding in other areas of my life, that has to be taken care of first.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing?

Some are fairly common in fanfic – trauma, the aftermath of sexual abuse etc. I think some of my other patterns are characters that are neither good nor bad, the need to accept yourself and what you’ve done even if others may not forgive you, and love that is built, not found.

What is your reason for writing?

The words have to go somewhere, or I start to get restless.

In seriousness, I also think that stories are a chance to explore the things that often don’t have room in daily life. Especially fiction that doesn’t have to perform well, like fanfics, can leave the kind of room for the regular human messiness to breathe.

Is there any kind of specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I haven’t published a lot yet and I haven’t received that many comments yet; So it’s hard to say. But so far I can say that whenever I can feel that my writing touched someone and they take the time to share that with me it stays with me for a long time, and keeps me motivated to keep sharing my stuff.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I haven’t thought about that yet much, and the idea of someone developing a parasocial relationship makes me want to crawl out of my skin, but uh… I think I’d like my writing to feel safe to people? Not necessarily in the sense that they won’t encounter difficult themes and injustices in it, but that the darker themes I explore are handled in an informed and tasteful way.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I think my compassion with my characters and their actions. Nuance, in general, seems to be my thing as well – I don’t do black and white.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I’m a bit frustrated that my fictional writing is all in English, currently. It’s neither my first nor my fourth language, and it’s not my favourite language to read in either.

Aside from that… I’m growing fond of my own style, now that I’ve found my voice, sort of. My sense of humour is starting to shine through, which is also nice!

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

So far, what I want to write and say takes precedence. I do, of course, think about the “how” of writing – how style and vocabulary can help me get my ideas across. Who knows, I could try taking requests, that might be fun.

Tagging: @dutifullylazybread @blackjackkent @invinciblerodent @faerielli and @lewdisescariot

EDIT: AND @forget-me-maybe!!! As well als @cactusmisslittle

[justimajin]

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 14

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ 5.6k / Office AU (lowkey E2L vibes) 

↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

↠ Warnings: some swearing, workplace bullying

GIF credit.

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, October 3 (series masterpost here)

The office is quiet in the morning.

There’s the soft sound of typing against keyboards, as well as chairs squeaking through the silence. Occasionally, there’s a phone call or two ringing, employee’s leaving and entering while chattering to one another. 

His eyes sway back and forth, hands fidgeting with the seam of his light blue shirt.

“Uh…excuse me–“ A man brushes by him without a second glance and he grimaces, looking around, “Um, Miss–?”

The woman brushes by him as well, too occupied with the time on her watch. He lets out a gentle sigh, shoulders cowering.

“Hey, did you need some help?”

His irises widen at the sound of a voice coming from the long line of cubicles. There’s a young man with dark hair and dressed in a suit seated at one of the desks, staring at him with furrowed brows and away from the plethora of files displayed on his screen.

“Uh, yes!” He steps forward, “I’m trying to look for the Manager.”

“Oh, he should be in the office towards the hallway on the left.” He gestures, but the man before him fidgets.

He points with unease, “Wait, to the left…?”

“Here.” He warmly smiles, doe eyes slightly crinkling as he gets out of his seat. “Follow me.”

A sigh of relief leaves his pouty lips, and he trails after the employee, eyes curiously darting around. The office he was employed in sure is busy, he notes.

“It’s right over here.” The man stands in front of the door, pointing towards it. “You should find the Manager inside.”

“Thank you so much!” He beams and the man chuckles, giving him a small wave.

“It’s no problem.”

Once he departs, he spins around and knocks against the door, waiting until he hears a faint ‘come in’ to enter.

“Hello.” He greets, “I’m the employee that just got hired.”

“Ah…” The elder man before him notes, stroking his beard. “Jaehyun, was it?”

“Jimin.” He politely corrects. “My name is Park Jimin.”

“Ah yes, yes, Jimin.” He repeats, “You were hired as a Customer Service Representative, yes?”

He nods, “It’s good you got here early. Your cubicle should be on the left-hand side, next to where the vending machines are.” The man states, “It’s important you review all of our protocols and codes of conduct before you begin.”

He hands him a few papers to look over before turning back to his work. After a few moments, the papers are filled out and Jimin stands up, returning them back.

The Manager hums in approval and continues, “You’re going to be responsible for many tasks, namely talking to any of our customers that have been having issues with the product. There’s also efforts being made to increase the productivity of our customer service, so remember to take initiative in this product launch.”

Jimin widely grins with a simple response, “Yes, Sir.”

With that, he’s escorted towards his single cubicle amongst other ones. A bright look gleams in his eyes, and he makes sure of greeting everyone with a kind smile as he makes his way to his work station.

Plopping down, he turns on his monitor and glances around as it boots up. There’s a handful of employee’s next to him and he turns right to the one next to him.

“Hi!” He chirps. “My name is Jimin and I’m new here.”

The orange-haired man hums, barely looking in his direction. “Hi.”

His brows furrow, but he persists, “What’s your name?”

“Sandeul.”

“Hi, Sandeul! It’s nice to meet you.” He tilts his head, “How long have you been working here?”

“Seven years.”

His eyes widen, “That’s a long time.”

“It is.”

The conversation is blatantly dry, dissolving from the man’s monotone answers. Yet Jimin continues to smile.

He awkwardly chuckles, turning back to his now gleaming monitor, “Well, I hope we can get to know each other.”

Sandeul hums, his hand still squished against his face as he lifelessly stares at his screen. Jimin decides to focus on his work, quickly running through the programs on his monitor and then briefing himself on any recent customer complaints he can assist with.

Sure enough, the phone rings, and he answers with a sweet tone to his voice.

***

The office is just as he expected.

It’s busy with dips in productivity, be it with the repetitive routine or the long hours stretching out. For the most part, his job does have some interactive elements, namely working directly one on one with customers and attempting to appease any of their inquiries or complaints. He tries his absolute hardest to resolve issues promptly in a kind manner, even with customers become pressed for time or persist in contacting him several times. Yet, it dwindles within his expectation, his job actually serving up the role he signed up for.

But of course, there are some bumps along the way.

“They’re have been many repercussions from the last product launch, in fact–“

Jimin crosses his legs, placing his hands against his knees. His Manager continues to explain current problems arising from the product as he keeps his eyes trained ahead. It was after all, his first meeting in the department, and he forecasted the usual – a breakdown of the current situation followed up with a discussion.

Thoughts swim around in his mind once his Manager finishes up, and he takes the chance to pitch some of them forward.

“I think that–“

A woman next to him speaks up, “The issues surrounding the last model should have already been solved with the current one.”

He hesitantly smiles, “Right, but if we–“ 

Another man vouches, “Not quite, it seems our customer complaints have only doubled.”

His eyes spark, “Customer loyalty could be a good–“

“What about customer loyalty? Shouldn’t we work on focusing on that?”

His shoulders slump down, the conversation carrying on with ease as if he wasn’t even there. His Manager hums at the opinions being presented forward, stroking his beard.

“That should be our primary focus… are there any suggestions on increasing the brand’s loyalty with this product launch?”

Within mere seconds, more opinions and ideas are being thrown left and right, most of which Jimin can barely keep track of. He’s instead still caught up with desperately trying to break through, his voice somehow disappearing amongst the sea of others.

Yet somewhere in between, he’s granted a silver of a chance.

“I think changing the Marketing of the product would be profitable!”

He clears his throat at the sight of many eyes turning to him, ignoring the sweat collecting at his temples and continuing. “Issues with customer complaints in the last product stemmed from dissatisfaction with functionality, so it would be a good opportunity to rebrand this new product in a different way.”

When only dead silence greets him back, he fidgets in his seat, running a hand through his hand.

“That’s a great suggestion.” His pupils snap up to his own surprise, seeing the faint smile on his Manager’s face.

He sheepishly smiles, “T-Thank you.”

The meeting progresses with the idea in mind and methods of rebranding for optimal customer satisfaction arise. To even more disbelief on his end, Jimin finds his Manager asking him more questions in the midst of facilitating the discussion, an opportunity he doesn’t wait to snatch up. He ignores the multiple eyes lingering on his form, choosing to instead be ecstatic in providing an opinion.

It’s all he can truthfully ask for – that his presence isn’t ignored and his enthusiasm can reign through. But he doesn’t notice that the eyes looking at him aren’t full of admiration.

In fact, many of them brim with disdain.

***

It’s missing.

He peers around frantically with rounded eyes, scattering papers around on his desk. Even with his abrupt actions, a line of worry mars his forehead when with no aid, is he able to find it.

It’s missing.

The file his Manager gave him.

It’s gone.

The color drains completely from his features and the sheer panic sets in. The file he was given was important – having contained confidential customer information that was only supposed to be for his eyes.

Now it’s gone and he had no clue on what to do.

“Jimin.” The authoritative voice calling out his name sends a haunting chill down his spine.

He turns and catches sight of his Manager, “Does there seem to be a problem?”

“Uh, no!” He quickly clarifies, a nervous laugh leaving him, “I’m just trying to see if there’s a USB port near here.”

“It should be right there.” The man points adjacent to his monitor, where the port is in an obvious manner.

“Ah, yes! I mustn’t have noticed.”

“Well, just pay more attention to your surroundings.” He furiously nods, “And Jimin–“

He freezes, looking at the man with wide pupils, “Yes?”

His Manager gives him a half-smile, “Good job with the report you sent me, I was quite impressed.”

“Oh, thank you….” Although his features flush with the sudden compliment, he’s over the moon at hearing the positive feedback.

His Manager shifts, telling him to keep up the good work before leaving. Jimin watches with a soft smile, but the moment the man disappears from his radar, he’s back to scavenging around his work area in a frenzy.

After a couple of minutes pass by, he takes a step back and stares at his desk. Letting out an exasperated sigh, his irises oscillate, noticing the person sitting right next to his cubicle.

There’s a spark to his eyes, “Sandeul, did you see any paperwork here at my desk?”

The employee barely moves his head. “No.” 

Jimin is baffled, “Really?”

He hums and Jimin runs a shaky hand through his hair. Since he’s failed in searching for the contents, he decides it would be better to retrace his own steps, going back to the locations he was at before he returned to his work station.

Quickening his steps, he chews down on his bottom lip. He peers back and forth, inquiring as many people as he can for assistance, but to his avail – he’s met with only confused and clueless faces.

Following the anxious hunt and pursuit after employee’s for his paperwork, it’s roughly close to an hour’s time when he finally manages to relocate them. However, the location he finds them leaves him a bit unsettled.

Jimin reaches down, picking them up from the trash can with a deep grimace.

***

Jimin is many things.

Kind. Soft-spoken. A reassuring presence. All traits he’s always been well-known for.

But among these, cluelessness can be loosely present as well.

To be fair, Jimin knows. He knows that sometimes he can be clueless, that there were moments where his mind would naturally drift or his head would be in the clouds, that he can make very simple mistakes despite being able to complete very complex tasks and that he can misplace, even without meaning to.

But that acknowledgment can only go so far.

More things of his begin to go missing. It’s like he’s blinks and there’s something he needs that just disappears – be it files or supplies. He starts with brushing them off, assuming it was just his own mistake.

However, his kindness is stretched, pushed up against until it ultimately crumbles.

“What is this?”

There hasn’t quite been a time when he’s seen his Manager look so furious, his brows tightly furrows and jaw clenched. In his hand, he holds one of the reports that Jimin worked on – one that contains inaccurate and faulty numbers.

Jimin stares in complete bewilderment, knowing that his cluelessness wasn’t enough to throw off an entire report.

“I–“ 

“If I hadn’t double checked it, then I would have had a false report.” His manager states, “Just like the one you submitted two weeks ago.”

Jimin’s eyes enlarge. Not only did he mess up this report, the last one was faulty as well?

His profuse apologies don’t seem to work, his Manager opting out to proclaim that he’s very disappointed instead. Jimin ends up leaving after a couple of moments, but he does so with an incredibly heavy heart.

Although his gaze does remain down casted, his mind churns, attempting to pinpoint what exactly went wrong.

This couldn’t all be him…there must be something else causing all these errors.

But what could–

“Did you see the look on his face?”

“Of course I did, how can you miss out on something like that?!”

He freezes in his steps, a sense of dread striking him.

“He thinks he’s all that, doesn’t he?”

“I’d love to see him just try to be Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes now.”

His breathing sharply escalates and his head snaps up, noticing a hoard of employee’s from his department walking by that he isn’t familiar with.

Yet to his mortification, there's an individual he recognizes. 

It’s the same person that’s sat beside him every morning, the very one that he’s always greeted with a smile. 

***

It’s childish.

It’s truly childish to him. Something he would think children would do, not grown adults working in a professional environment.

But just like children, pessimistic emotions run unprecedented and he has to suffer the wrath.

“He looks like a sad puppy.”

“I guess that’s what happens when you’re not sucking up to Manager Lee’s ass anymore.”

“Now poor Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes is just like the rest of us.”

He tries his hardest to ignore the voices, even when they don’t attempt to hide theirs. He pulls on a smile, greeting everyone kindly even though he knows the thoughts that are masked behind their own smiles. He tries so hard – attempting to get by with sheer focus and hard work, but eventually the office becomes a place he doesn’t even want to be at anymore.

Jimin lets out a deep exhale, staring hollowly at his coffee on the table in the break room. He squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment, knowing he was supposed to be eating lunch but having his appetite long lost after hearing some murmurs coming from this same room.

He wonders if he should just throw the coffee out and get back to work, wanting to leave as soon as possible the longer he just sits there.

But when he rises from his seat, the door across him opens.

“Oh.” A familiar voice calls out, “It’s you again.”

Jimin blinks, the man who helped him find the Manager’s office on his first day appearing before him. His doe eyes crinkle, taken by genuine surprise to see him sitting in the room.

A loped-sided smile crosses him, “Hello…”

“Why so glum?” He lets out a light chuckle, pulling out the chair in front of Jimin. His dark hair is swept to the side today, and he’s adorned in a white dress shirt and blue tie.

“I-It’s nothing…” Jimin laughs it off, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” He widely grins. “I didn’t catch your name last time.”

“My name is Park Jimin.”

The man reaches out his hand, “Jeon Jungkook.”

Jimin takes his hand and shakes it, “You work in Customer Service too, right? I think I’ve seen you walk by a couple of times.”

He nods, “It was my first day here when you helped me.”

“I guessed as much.” Jungkook smiles, “Say, if you’re on break right now, do you want to come with me to grab some lunch?”

“Lunch…?” Jimin wonders, taken aback from the suggestion. But Jungkook is already rising onto his feet, gesturing to the door.

“Yeah, come on.”

Jimin slowly stands up but for a moment, he falters. Although the former was kind enough to help him out last time, he doesn’t know Jungkook very well, and based on everything else going on with him, he wonders if this lunch offer is an excuse for something much worse.

“You okay there, Park?”

His eyes snap up, voice growing small, “Uh, yes! Lead the way…”

The corner of his mouth tugs up and Jungkook turns, but as Jimin follows, he can’t help the uncertain feeling churning in the pit of his stomach.

***

Jungkook ends up taking him to a small shop across from their building, a place the man quotes – ‘serves the best sandwiches he’s ever eaten in his entire life’.

Despite the unusual situation, Jimin manages to crack a smile at that.

“I’m telling you, I used to work at a restaurant and half the food there was awful,” He positions his sandwich in front of Jimin’s face, looking at it with awe-filled eyes. “–but this? Freaking amazing.”

Jimin softly grins, “I think you’re more passionate about food than our office.”

“I worked with food for a long time.” Jungkook leans back in his chair with a shrug, “Plus it doesn’t help that our office is more like a gossip hub than a workplace.”

Jimin nearly chokes on his food, staring at the man before in disbelief. Jungkook on the other hand, remains occupied with munching down on his sandwich.

“I-I beg your pardon…?” He sputters out.

“What? You didn’t know?” Jungkook blinks, mouth full of food, “The rumors that go around in the department? People talking behind each other’s backs?” He lets out a chuckle, “It’s kind of childish, if you ask me.”

Jimin falters, “Right…”

Jungkook raises a brow at his tone, but continues to eat his sandwich. He eventually finishes his food, checking the clock in the store as he wipes his hands with a napkin.

“We should get heading back soon.” He points to Jimin’s half-eaten food, “Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’ll just eat later…I haven’t had much of an appetite.” He responds, already collecting the wrappers to throw out.

Jungkook hums and aids him quickly with the process, and it’s not long before the two of them are stepping out of the shop. Jimin walks alongside him in the direction of their building, but there’s a thought that persistently lingers in the back of his mind.

It’s risky – he knows that, but he can’t seem to keep it down.

“H-Hypothetically…” Jungkook whirls his head around, slowing his steps, “If someone was being gossiped about, hypothetically–“ He pitches in again, “W-What would they do?”

“Hypothetically?” Jungkook adds with a raised brow.

“Hypothetically.” He repeats, “Since you know…what our office is like and all….”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply staring at him instead.

“It depends.” He clears his throat, “Typically, rumours can be anything and it’s just employee’s circulating around information, but if it’s targeted towards someone–” His eyes grow stern, “That would be a problem.” 

“I see….” Jimin hums, brows drawn together in deep thought.

“And what about….having suspicions your work’s been tinkered with?” He blinks, “Hypothetically, of course!”

“Wait, what?” Jungkook sharply inhales and whispers, “Someone sabotaged your work?!”

Jimin’s eyes grow wide and Jungkook shakes his head, planting a hand against his temples and squeezing his eyes shut. “Ah sorry, hypothetically – ugh.” 

A sigh leaves him and he looks up, “Look, I’m really sorry, but we can’t go with your scenario anymore–“ There’s remorse written all over his features, “Another employee messing up your work is a big deal.”

Jungkook attempts to explain it further for him to identify any signs. He talks about how something like that doesn’t cut it in the workplace and that having others talk behind his back is a complete recipe that there is a problem. Jimin nods to his words, but eventually he notices that Jimin only seems to look at him more frightened by the second.

“–in conclusion, I think you should go to Human Resources about this.” 

Jimin tilts his head, “Human Resources?”

“Yeah, you could talk to one of them and they’ll help you out.” Jungkook frowns, “Do you have any evidence for this?”

He exhales, “No, but I’m sure there’s something wrong with my work. I’m not the kind to make so many mistakes.”

“And regardless, there’s still the gossip issue…” Jungkook mutters under his breath. His eyes light up and he checks his watch. “Tell you what, we still have some time so I think I can quickly introduce you.”

“Introduce me?”

He smiles, “Let’s just say I’m a little close to one of their workers.”

***

A knock resonates against the door.

Hoseok lets out a groan, stretching out his limbs as he gets up. He’s spent the last couple of hours going through some complaints from employees with a Manager down at Research and Development – a task that makes him desperately want to run down to the break room for a coffee. But alas, it seems like there’s going to be another task plopped onto his plate.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he paints on a smile and opens the door with a cherry tone, “Hi, can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, take a nap please.” Jungkook reprimands and Hoseok’s eyes widen.

“Jungkook?”

He grins. “In the flesh.”

Hoseok’s entire mood seems to do a complete one-eighty. “What are you doing standing outside?! Come on in!”

Jungkook lets out a giggle and looks behind himself, to which Hoseok peers in confusion.

There’s a man with dark hair and glasses that he doesn’t recognize, standing sheepishly as he enters the room.

“This is Park Jimin.” He introduces. “He works with me in Customer Service. I brought him here because he would like to speak to you about a concern.”

“Of course!” Hoseok turns to him, “I’m Jung Hoseok, a HR personnel.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jimin greets and Hoseok gestures for him to sit down at his office. Jungkook turns to the door, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’m going to head back now.” He informs Jimin.

“Come around more often, will you?” Hoseok remarks, “I barely see you even though we’re in the same building now!”

“Sure.” Jungkook chuckles, giving them both a small wave before closing the door.

Hoseok brightly smiles, turning his attention to Jimin. “Alright, what seems to be the problem?”

“Um, well…” Jimin scratches the back of his head, “I’ve been having some issues…with my coworkers.”

“I see.” Hoseok clicks a pen open in front of his notepad and Jimin falters, “Oh, this is just my personal use, but regardless, all information here is kept confidential.”

Jimin hums, form relaxing, “I was recently hired and I’ve noticed some problems here and there…”

He goes on to explain it all – about how it started with his work being disrupted, to the point where he was beginning to foster suspicions around him, to how the rumours began and he heard horrible things about himself that made him mortified. He also adds in that he potentially does suspect someone, but then–

“I-I don’t have evidence…” He reminisces, “I should have collected some before I came here, but I was just so–“

“Hey it’s alright, Jimin.” Hoseok smiles, “It’s quite literally my job to make sure things run here smoothly and if that isn’t the case, then there’s all the more reason to come and talk to me.”

He nods, “–but moving forward, I need to ask you some questions. You said that you saw multiple mistakes in your work that couldn’t have been made by you. Has your Manager noticed this?”

“He was upset by them, but he didn’t say anything else…”

“So he hasn’t seen much of your work to determine the disruption… I’ll have to find a copy and go over it myself.” Jimin watches as Hoseok scribbles down on his notepad, “What about these rumours? Where did you hear these?”

“Near my work area, beside the break room….everywhere, really.”

Hoseok hums, finishing off his scribbling before spinning his chair around and grabbing some files.

He faces Jimin with intent, “You mentioned you think it’s someone – who?”

Jimin gnaws down on his lip, but after a moment he sighs and fesses up. “Sandeul.”

“Kim Sandeul?” Hoseok asks in astonishment.

“Yes….?”

Hoseok chuckles underneath his breath, “So he’s still working here…”

Jimin watches as Hoseok goes through multiple files, a smile working its way onto his features.

After a moment passes, he glances up.

“Just for your kind information,” He begins, “There’s been issues with Sandeul in the past. He was notoriously involved with two employees that were actually fired for spreading malicious rumours about others.”

Jimin’s mouth falls agape. “I-I…”

“Once I go over those reports you gave to your Manager and check in more on Sandeul, we can get to the bottom of this. But for now–“

Hoseok does a gesture that seals his lips and Jimin nods with a bright smile, feeling ten times more relieved.

“Thank you, Hoseok. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem at all.” He gets up and heads towards the door as Jimin trails after him. “If you encounter anything else, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

Jimin gives him a nod before gratefully thanking him again, to which Hoseok brushes off with a smile.

***

“How did it go?”

Jimin lifts his head in surprise to see Jungkook leaning against his cubicle. He was luckily able to get more work done this time around, packing up his belongings for the end of the work day.

“Pretty good,” Jimin reminisces with a smile, putting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “He asked me a couple of questions and then said he would get back to me.”

Jungkook grins, “That’s great!”

Jimin chuckles under his breath, following the man to the elevator, “I want to thank you for the help. A situation like this…is delicate.”

Jungkook hums as the elevator doors close. “A lot of people don’t realize that there’s consequences for their actions, especially in a workplace.” He explains, “A situation like this is hard, but it’s not difficult to recognize it as creating a hostile environment for the person involved.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook leans closer, murmuring under his breath, “I should mention though, be careful with whom you approach. Sometimes Human Resources can overlook things.”

His brows furrow, “But Hoseok took it seriously.”

“That’s because I know and trust Hoseok. He doesn’t brush things under the carpet for the sake of maintaining the company’s image.” He points out, “For him, if there’s something wrong happening, then there’s actually something wrong happening, if you know what I mean.”

Jimin slowly nods, not realizing that it mattered who he talked to. His former workplace was considerably different in that aspect, no treading down thin lines needed.

It makes him even more grateful that he has someone like Jungkook working in his department.

“Oh sweet.” His head spins around, noticing Jungkook looking at his phone. He glances up, a bright smile to his features. “Hey, do you have any plans after work?”

Jimin shakes his head, “I don’t.”

“Do you wanna come with me?” He waves around the phone in his hand, “Some of my friends from the company are meeting up to hang out.”

“Oh…” His eyes widen, having not really acquainted with anyone in his department except for Jungkook. “A-Are you sure? It won’t be weird?”

“Of course not.” Jungkook brushes off and the elevator doors open, “Come on, they’re all great people.”

Jimin softly smiles, “Okay.”

He exits the elevator, quickly making space for those entering the elevator at the bottom floor. As he trails after Jungkook, there’s a million thoughts racing in his mind, mainly a mixture of curiosity and nervousness surrounding meeting others at the company after his experience of those in his own department.

But when Jungkook turns around the corner, he notices a group standing together, giant smiles stretched on their faces. One of them he recognizes as Hoseok – the HR personnel that assisted him.

“Oh! You invited Jimin along?” He wonders, greeting him with a joyful wave that Jimin returns with a meek smile.

Jungkook shrugs, “Yeah, I thought it’d be fun.”

“Finally you decide to get drinks with us.” Another man says, one with russet hair and sharp eyes, Jimin notes.

“Oh come on, hyung! I promised, didn’t I?” Jungkook whines and Jimin is left in awe at the ease he speaks with them, as if he’s known them for years.

“Hi, you’re Jimin, right?” A deep voice beckons. He turns to see a man with cameral hair and a soft smile staring at him.

He nods furiously with wide eyes and the man kindly reaches his hand out.

“I’m Taehyung, it’s nice to meet you.”

As Jimin takes his hand, he overhears the others making plans to leave.

“Wait!” Hoseok shouts, “Y/N’s not here yet!”

Jungkook frowns. “What? She should have been done by now!”

“We should just wait then.” The man with russet hair mutters.

“It’ll be a great chance to get to know Jimin!” Taehyung suggests, much to the latter’s timid smile.

“You’re right!” Jungkook ushers, quickly introducing him to everyone and echoing back their histories. Jimin is left getting his attention drawn back and forth – whether it was someone wanting to know about his work to simply welcoming him to the office in a sincere manner.

It makes a smile unconsciously tug on the corner of his lips, for he finally has the epiphany that perhaps working in this office wasn’t such a bad thing.

He takes long strides down the hallway.

There’s a small report in his hands that he’s required to submit to the head of the Operations Department, but after he’s finished with the task, he’s done for the day and can go home.

Jin stands in front of the office door, staring down at the paperwork he holds.

He deeply inhales.

The Operations Department was the last one he needed training from. After this, he would have completed his time at the company as an intern.

Which can only mean…

His eyes stray over to the thick plaque in front of him, a title written in bold large letters. When a lump begins to form in his throat, he snaps his gaze away, knocking against the door with a polite smile.

The head of the department greets him as usual, taking his report with interest.

“Great work, Seokjin.” The man chimes, slipping the report away into a file, “Nothing less than what I would expect from the future CEO.”

He plasters on a grin, “Right…”

After exchanging a goodbye with the man he’s been working under for a while, he departs back to his work area to pack up his things and head home for the day. There’s a handful of employee’s walking by him, all giving him smiles and waves as they depart as well.

He reaches his cubicle within a matter of moments, snapping from his daze to glance around from his belongings. He locates them with relative ease, but there’s a certain bright package stationed to the corner of his desk and next to his monitor that has his brows knitting together.

He picks it up, thrown off a bit from the translucent red material. It’s not packaged together like a delivery that had just arrived, rather it seems decorative and compared to everything else on his desk, stands out greatly.

Placing his bag to the side, he tugs at the paper, carefully peeling away the meticulously placed pieces of tapes keeping it all together. As he removes them, the paper unfolds and reveals a cardboard box.

He opens the top of it, scanning the contents inside. To his surprise, there’s pieces of paper in it and a–

“A ladle?” He exclaims in astonishment, staring at the kitchen utensil with wide eyes. In fact, there’s more utensils as well, all contained within the box like a set.

“What on earth?” He mumbles, placing the utensils down and yanking the pieces of paper out.

To his surprise, there’s a collection of coupons for restaurants, ranging from different ones in the area.

Upon seeing them, his confusion is simply magnified. As he flips through them and scans the different restaurant names, a white sheet catches his sight.

He takes it out right away, noticing some writing scribbled on it.

Wanted to thank you for helping me find Yuna. I thought the coupons would be useful for your restaurant obsession and you could use the tools for your cooking (a lot better than I can, I’ll admit).

  ~ Y/N

He blinks.

“Y/N?” Glancing back and forth at the contents, it all suddenly makes sense now. You knew where he would be working and decided to leave him a gift for his efforts.

A huge smile breaks out onto his features and he chuckles underneath his breath, observing the collection of items once again. He can only imagine you attempting to figure out what to get him, only to realize that he wouldn’t hesitate to use coupons and mind extra supply for his cooking.

Something you’ve even taken the courtesy to admit that he’s better at.

It’s not far to say he’s impressed at the least with the generous gift. Lifting his head, he quickly packs his bag for the day alongside your gift, holding it in his hands as he heads for the Sales and Finances Department with a grin.

It only takes him a few moments to locate you, but he notices that you’re in the midst of talking to a co-worker inside one of the meeting rooms. He peers wide-eyed through the glass, wondering if he chose a wrong time to come by.

However, as if on instinct, you pause your co-worker from speaking and turn around with furrowed brows. Your gazes lock and your irises widen with his appearance, but then Jin raises a familiar red wrapping material in his hands with a giant smile.

He watches as your eyes instantly light up, the corners of your mouth fondly upturning.

[muffinbeliever]

Neighborly Love [02]

Pairing: Coworker!Dean Winchester x Coworker!Reader

Word Count: 1131

Warnings: nothing ? trauma dumping lol but nothing that we didnt know already

Summary: Coworker!AU– Dean Winchester is the newbie around the office, and also your new cubicle neighbor. You have him all figured out from the start: a jerk, or so you think. It doesn’t help that he won’t stop flirting with you. Will Dean be able to convince you otherwise? 

A/N: oop hey guys *shyly tucks hair behind my ears* its been a while huh i was recently reminded that i actually told someone that id be posting the second chapter in december 2022 so we all know how that turned out... but anyways the only thing i can think of is #the hoes are gonna LOVE this have no fear y'all mother is here to feed you with a light chapter of lunch fluff

Masterlist | Neighborly Love Masterlist

You had just finished the fourth page of your project report, starting to double check for mistakes, when Dean cleared his throat. A quick glance showed him standing by the partition, his jacket hanging from his arm and an expectant look on his face. 

“Huh?” You asked, confused. You continued to proofread while you waited for his reply, your eyebrows furrowing as you tried to reword an awkward sentence. 

“I asked if you wanna get lunch,” he said. Your fingers hovered frozen over the keyboard. 

“Lunch?” You repeated, finally turning in your chair to face him properly. 

“Yeah, you know, the meal between breakfast and dinner? Eaten around midday? We get an hour off work? Which is right about now?” He teased, his green eyes twinkling with playfulness. 

“I know what lunch is.” You pretended to be annoyed to hide your amusement. “I was just processing the thought of lunch with you.” 

“Ouch,” he joked. “And here I was, doing a good deed by inviting you to lunch so you wouldn’t think of your breakup.” 

“Well, I wasn’t thinking about the breakup until right now,” you groaned. You had been so preoccupied with your report, you hadn’t given your breakup a single thought, but now, you had a whole hour to do nothing but that. 

“Then we’ll just have to go to lunch to take your mind off it,” he responded with a smirk. You debated continuing your work instead, but gave Dean’s offer a second thought.

“Beats work, I guess.” 

You saved your work and turned off the monitor before grabbing your purse. Your eyes swept the desk as you rose from the chair, and you had one arm in your jacket when you saw his grin. 

“What?” You asked, a little wary of his response.

“Nothing.” He was unsuccessful in feigning nonchalance. You gave him a pointed look.

“I…” He trailed off as he collected his thoughts. “I just think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’m hoping this lunch will be better,” he admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck and his eyes were averted, hinting towards his nervousness. You were thrown off by his truthfulness, but after a moment, you were surprised to find that you agreed.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. The grin he returned conveyed his relief, and you swore the air felt a little lighter. “Come on, then. Part of inviting me to lunch is actually going.”

“Alright,” he chucked. “Where should we go? Lady’s choice.” 

The diner across the street was nothing special, but it was close and fast– two things you appreciated. The hostess seated the two of you upon arrival, and within five minutes, your orders were taken.

“So, Y/N Y/L/N, tell me about yourself,” Dean said, after the waitress set down your drinks. 

“There’s not much to tell,” you warned. 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug. “When you’re an only child and both of your parents are on-call surgeons, it’s kinda lonely and boring. I read a lot as a kid and focused on school. I always went to class and ran for student-body president. Don’t get me wrong, though, I had a social life and friends. I dated a couple of boys and fooled around with a couple more, but nothing wild. And then I went to college, but that wasn’t anything wild either.”

You were quiet for a moment, giving yourself time before continuing. 

“I met Zach during the second half of junior year. We were in the same class and, I don’t know, I guess we kinda just clicked. We got coffee a couple of times and worked on a couple of projects together. Even after the semester was over, we kept in contact and eventually he asked me out and we started dating. After graduation, I got this job and he took an offer at a tech company two hours away.” 

A familiar lump began to form in your throat. “It’s been a year since then, and I thought things were going fine between us, but clearly they weren’t. And I–” 

Your vision blurred from the tears brimming your eyes. You took a deep breath. Dean offered the glass in front of you, and you sipped at it while the waitress set down your plates. Your mouth watered at the sight of the cheeseburger in front of you. 

“Anyways, enough about me,” you said, once the waitress had left. “What about you?” 

Dean shrugged in response. 

As you ate, he talked about the house fire that took his mother when he was four, leaving his dad to take care of him and his younger brother, Sam, who was only six-months-old at the time. He shared how his dad turned to alcohol after the tragedy, and how it was the cause of the car accident that killed him ten years later. Bobby, a close family friend without kids of his own, adopted the brothers right after. Dean struggled through high school and vowed to never set foot on a school campus again once he graduated. He lived at Bobby’s until Sam finished high school, working as a mechanic at Bobby’s body shop. From there, Dean bounced around, taking the odd job here and there.

You listened to his story with rapt attention, admiring his animated gestures and shining eyes as he talked about Sam, who was now in his last year of college. The brothers had remained close over the years, despite their physical distance.

“Eventually, after working so many different jobs, I had gained experience that employers valued– at least, enough to overlook my lack of college degree– and I ended up here,” he concluded with a shrug. He was relaxed against the cushion of the booth, reaching out his hand to swipe a french fry through ketchup. His fingers drummed on the table while he chewed. 

“Thanks for sharing that with me,” you said softly, offering him a small smile. His fingers stopped their tapping.

“Thanks for taking me up on lunch,” He responded, just as softly. His forearms rested against the table as he subtly leaned closer, mirroring you. The sunlight hit him at the perfect angle, revealing the flecks of gold amongst his vivid green eyes and the smaller, fainter freckles dusting his cheekbones. Your breath hitched at the sight.

The corners of his mouth slowly raised to a smile– the movement catching your attention. Your gaze lowered to his lips and you found yourself wondering if they were as soft as they looked. 

“Like what you see?” He was parroting his first words to her using the same, smooth flirtatious tone that had irritated every nerve in your body yesterday, but today, you found you didn’t mind it one bit.

Taglist: @akshi8278 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @lanea-1 @slamminmine @bluedragonflylady @cevans-winchester @bakugouswh0r3 @muhahaha303 @allaroundjejje

[liiilyevans]

Singer/Band AU

Part 4. Peep under the cut for a surprise.

When Harry heard his phone ding and read the message, the first word out of his mouth was 'shit.' He wasn't anywhere near ready to host a guest. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. After quickly buzzing the front desk and asking them to let Ron's little sister in, Harry quickly snatched his old plaid blanket off the loveseat and raced back to his bedroom to throw it on the bed. Then he closed the door. She didn't need to see what a mess his room was.

Not that his work space was any better.

He and Ron still lived in a little flat just outside of Dover. They'd looked for other places now that they could both afford it, but nothing had ever come of their search. Ron wanted to be close to his family, and Harry was not about to leave this flat as long as his best friend wanted to room with him. He figured that he only had so much time left before Ron and Hermione moved in together, shagged til she got pregnant, and popped out two point five kids.

The front room was one half living room and kitchen and one half studio. His keyboard was stuck in the corner across from the door while his guitar rack, sporting only three guitars currently, sat to the right of it. On the left side was his desk, cluttered with lyrics ideas, his desktop and two monitors, and what seemed to be a week old sandwich. Quickly, Harry snatched that and dumped it into the trash. The rest of his equipment was to the left of the desk; two mic stands and two microphones, headphones hung over the mic stand, a seat for when he played guitar, some cables running to his computer, and a partition to keep the acoustics sounding crisp when he sang or played.

Besides his desk, his studio area was mostly clean. The rest of the flat on the other hand was a mess.

Hurriedly, he scooped the trash off the counter and shoved it into the already full trash can. Then he grabbed the blue blanket sitting on the old love seat and quickly folded it, his aunt's voice shrilly ringing in his ears about making the place presentable. Everything still looked old and splotchy and like something you'd expect to see from someone who was just getting started in the music industry, not someone who'd been working at for four years and was successful.

That was when Harry heard the knock on his door.

After brushing his hands off on his sweatpants, which he realized he should have changed out of if he didn't want to look like a bum, he pulled the door open. Ginny Weasley was standing there looking up at the top of his door frame, probably at his and Ron's initials Hagrid had carved when he thought that they were moving out. Hagrid must have thought that if he put those there the boys couldn't leave.

Her eyes fell to his then, and Harry deeply regretted not putting more effort into his appearance. She was wearing denim shorts with a striped shirt tucked into the waistband. She also had an oversized denim jacket on. Her hair, similar to Ron's but not quite as orange, was pulled into a ponytail, allowing Harry to get a full look at the constellation of freckles across her nose and checks and her big brown eyes. He hadn't expected her to be this pretty.

"Hi," she said easily. "I'm assuming you're my brother's roommate and not a dumb thief who decided to open the door of the flat he's robbing."

If Harry hadn't been so shocked by her statement, he would have laughed.

"Yeah, I'm Harry," he said, stepping aside to let her in. Nervously, he ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Nice flat," she said before dropping her bag into the only chair he and Ron had. Her eyes immediately snagged on the equipment on the other side of the room, and Harry immediately felt self-conscious, a remnant he'd tried to smash from his childhood. Realistically, he knew that she was the one who should be nervous since he'd been doing this for a while, and she was relatively new to all this. However, none of the people he'd worked with had been in his flat before.

This was his personal space where he decompressed, where he knew that he could write trashy lyrics that didn't have to be perfect because no one was going to see them. It was home and only two people had shared that with him. When Ron mentioned his sister, Harry figured it would be alright to let her in here since she was his best friend's sister, but now, he felt exposed.

"Do you mind?" she asked, pointing to his acoustic Martin.

And, yes, Harry very much did mind, but something in the tilt of her head reminded him of Ron and so he shook his head no.

Ginny beamed and picked up the guitar. Harry thought it was about the brightest smile he had ever seen. After sitting down on his playing stool, she started to strum out a rhythm, which Harry quickly realized was to The Woods. He was slightly impressed that she had been able to pick up the chords just from listening to the audio recording he'd sent her.

"It's supposed to be a G there instead of an F sharp," he said when he heard the slight turn in what she was playing. A easy mistake to make if you were only playing by ear.

Ginny easily corrected herself and continued to strum, unbothered that she'd gotten something wrong. Harry wondered if she was just that confident or if she took criticism well. After a few more run throughs, Ginny stopped playing and offered the guitar to him. Thankfully, Harry took it, relief filling his chest and uncoiling his shoulders.

"Are you going to be this awkward the whole time?" she asked, her nose scrunching up.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to be this sassy the whole time?"

"I prefer sarcastic," Ginny said. "Sassy's a little demeaning, don't you think?"

Harry didn't have an answer for that. Instead, he just strummed his guitar for a few moments before he picked up where Ginny had left off.

"So, how does this work?" she asked.

"What?" Harry said absently, still trying to work out the ending melody.

"This whole collaboration thing," she said. "I've never really done this before." She said it casually like she was learning to swim or something equally as trivial. "I've only ever played with a band before and they've offered suggestions, but I've never sat down and written with someone."

"Who worked on your EP then?" Once it was out of his mouth, he realized how it sounded; like she couldn't have possibly written it herself. Shit.

"I did," she said, her eyes blazing. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Harry winced. "That came out wrong." He stopped strumming and leaned across her to grab the lyrics he'd been working on. The smell of honeysuckle filled his nose. "These are the lyrics I've been working on." He handed them to her then grabbed a pen and handed her that as well. "Feel free to mark them up."

He moved over to the loveseat to put some distance between himself and the redhead, who looked like she still might throttle him. While she looked over the lyrics, he started to strum out the melody again. He could hear her quietly humming as she nodded her head along to the beat.

"Maybe replace 'what' with 'the things'," she said. "I feel like that's more concrete." Then she opened her mouth and sang the line. "There ain't no language for the things I've seen." Her voice was gritty and textured, just like Harry remembered it from her concert. She wasn't a smooth singer, though he was certain she could sing the notes clearly and cleanly if she wanted to. Her voice had character.

"I like that," he said. "Mark it up." She seemed surprised, but began to cross out and write in her change. She probably wouldn't have looked so surprised if she knew he kept all his first drafts on his computer and that version was just a copy.

"This next part," she said, pointing about halfway down the page. "Is this a verse?"

"Chorus," he said, changing the to the chorus melody.

She hummed. "Maybe speed that up?"

And so they went, back and forth, Ginny asking questions and Harry answering anything she asked about the song. When they were done, Harry was fairly confident that they were close to being able to record a demo. Ginny was standing up and stretching when Ron came in, dunking under the doorway.

"What the fuck?" Ron said, his eyes widening as they landed on his sister.

"Nice to see you, too, Ronald," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't know you were coming over," he said. "Have you been working on music?"

"No, just our making out skills," Ginny said.

Ron sputtered, his ears turning red.

This time Harry did laugh at her humor.

She grabbed her bag and waved. "See you later, Harry."

[chaotic-on-main]

Summer Event! 💕

Matcha Green Tea Ice Cream,

Kitchen Sink option but make it a surprise!

Thank you for being so understanding & sweet, I get really anxious if you can't tell haha. You're a dear💕✨

Order up!! One matcha green tea cone with everything but the kitchen sink for Eri!!

Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairings ➼ janitor!Levi Ackerman x fem!people-pleaser!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ modernAU, meet-cute(kinda?), familial trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff, accidental therapy (for me), corporate ick

☾ Author's Note ➼ Hi Eri!! Thank you so much for sending this request in. I was a little worried with the whole "make it a surprise" because I struggle with lack of structure BUT I'm so proud of how this came out. I couldn't stop writing, as you can see. This might be a little self-indulgent and I hope I got the emotions right since I struggle with them. I just want Levi to call me out on my shit, okay?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! love you k bye *smooches*

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.6k (oops)

“Hi, you’re the new hire right? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Carol from a few rows down. Listen, I hate to do this to you since you’re so new but you’re the only one I can ask. Would you be able to do the data entry on the Sina job? I can’t stay past closing tonight due to my set plans and unfortunately it’s due tomorrow morning. Could you help me out? I’ll pay you back!”

The voice of your overly excited brunette coworker reverberates through your skull as you type away at your desk, the bright light of your monitor biting at your eyes just like the migraine you feel in the back of your head. You had a feeling that this is not the first time the people in the office have picked on the newcomers, and you bet it wouldn’t be the last. You chalk it up the fact that you were still in the office past seven in the evening doing someone else’s work because they dropped the stack of papers on your desk before you could say anything back, but you knew better. Damn your pathological people pleasing tendencies.

Your chair squeaks as you lean back in it, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you sigh heavily. It’s a handful of days into your first week and you’re already daydreaming about your next vacation. An office job was not your first go to, but as all struggling artists do, you needed this job to supplement your income until your art took off – if that ever happened.

Thoughts of how much longer you’d have to be here swirl through your mind when you’re interrupted by a loud thunk a few cubicles down. It startles you so much that you jump up as your eyes shoot open, hand over your heart in an attempt to calm it. You weren’t aware of anyone else in the building so you can’t help but think there might be a mass murderer just feet away from you. Steeling your resolve, you push yourself up from your chair and carefully peek over the half wall to see what had made that noise.

At first you don’t see anything as your eyes adjust from seeing nothing to the semi-lit office floor from the setting sun and dimmed overheads. Down the row, you see the back of a man in what you assume to be a gray janitor’s suit. An undercut peeks between short raven locks, neck lines sharp giving away to a clean cut. It doesn’t seem like he notices you’re there as his attention is focused on the waste basket in front of him.

You sit back down slowly, heaving a heavy sigh from relief that it was indeed not a mass murderer – well, that you know of. He didn’t seem threatening from far away at least. Your hands hover on the keyboard as you do your best to blink away the tired. Only a few more pages now, you reassure yourself.

An hour later, miraculously you find yourself down to the last page. The miscellaneous words and numbers swim off the page as you force yourself to focus. With the promise of a late night treat, you finally make it down to the last line. Just as you’re about to hit ‘enter’, something kicks the back of your chair causing you to yelp loudly and slam down on the keys harder than you meant.

“What are you still doing here?” A deep voice grumbles from behind you, making your ears twitch at the sudden volume difference. You twist around in your chair to see who the voice belongs to and you’re surprised to see it coming from the janitor you saw earlier. What’s even more surprising is how young he looks, and handsome to boot - despite the look he’s giving you. Stark gray-blue lidded eyes stare down at you as he scowls, eyebrows pinched together. He doesn’t look pleased.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m working on some…” Your voice falters when his expression turns into annoyance.

“You’re in my way.” He simply states as he leans against a vacuum you only now notice sitting under his arm. Was your focus so strong that you completely missed the sounds of him cleaning around you?

“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me get out of your way then.” You say timidly, pushing yourself out of the chair. You’re face to face with him at standing height, even in your work heels. This was a very intimidating man despite his short stature.

“I’m not going to clean with you breathing down my neck.” He grumbles, eyes narrowing at you like you asked him the most offensive question known to man. Your lips part as you struggle to find your words, but nothing comes out as you find yourself low-key panicking.

“I c-can just-”

“Just finish what you’re working on, I’ll just come back.” He rolls his eyes before walking away, leaving you and the vacuum illuminated by your computer screen. You ball your hands in fists to keep them from shaking.

Exhaling a weak breath, you sit back down and force yourself to focus on the last line of data instead of the glowering expression of your office’s janitor.

.

You slam your forehead into the vinyl coating of your desk, not hard enough to leave a bruise but enough to hear the echoes of contact through the whole floor. It’s nearing seven at night again and you’re still in office catching up on yet another coworker’s workload.

When they asked what plans you had tonight, you didn’t think that saying you were going home to watch TV would bite you in the ass. If you were completely honest, you had quietly hoped they might be asking if you wanted to go out for drinks with them. After all, they were the only ones that had really talked to you in the past few weeks but you’re starting to wonder if they were just trying to butter you up to get you to say yes to their requests.

Who were you kidding though, you would have said yes anyways because the word ‘no’ didn’t exist in your vocabulary. You wish you weren’t so aware of that fact because not only are you stressed out, you’re full of self loathing. A groan escapes your lips.

“Still doing other people’s work?” You hear a familiar voice grumble from behind.

After lifting your head up from the cool desk, you swivel around in your chair to see the janitor – this time in dark blue. A white handkerchief wraps around his face, covering his mouth and nose so that all you see are his tired eyes. A same-colored bandana adorns his head with some of his bangs falling into his eyes. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from asking what the point of the bandana was if it didn’t keep his hair out of his face.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, partly from not using it for so long but also because of the steady unfriendly feeling radiating off him. He raises an eyebrow at you as you stare up at him almost dumbfounded.

“I- who said I was doing other people’s work?” You finally make out, voice trembling.

“You’re new, right? The office goons do that to every newbie that comes in.” He folds his arms over his chest and you see that his sleeves are rolled up to show his toned forearms, muscles popping up from the position they’re in. Your eyes flicker back up to his, blinking slowly.

“I’m sure but they needed the help, so...”

“Because they would rather slack off than do any work. They’re taking advantage of you and you’re falling for it? You’re an adult, right?” There isn’t malice in his words but they still sting.

“Of course I am! I work here, don’t I?” Your eyes widen in emphasis, sweeping your hands around you.

“Tch, that doesn’t make you an adult. I’ve been here for years and I’ve seen my fair share of children.” His scowl reappears at those words. You’ve never met someone so grumpy.

You close your mouth at that, not sure what else to say. He clicks his tongue and flips a small towel over his shoulder. Turning on his heel, he sets off down the aisle without another word, the sounds of his heavy boots getting quieter.

You don’t get done until 10:30 that night. On your way out, you pass by the janitor who was currently on the inside of the board meeting glass walls, wiping them down with what you suppose is glass cleaner. His eyes meet yours as you walk by and you offer a small wave and smile even though his short words still sting. You think he’s going to ignore you but instead, he gives you a curt nod.

.

The janitor’s words swim through your mind the next time you’re asked to stay behind to help out. You spent the last couple of weeks doing your best practicing in the shower on setting boundaries with your coworkers but when the person who came to you next was your supervisor, how could you say no.

You were in the middle of packing your bag while lost in thought of your weekend plans when she came to you. You’re thinking you might stop by the evening market by the river before heading home with some food from the local vendors when a finger taps on your shoulder followed by your name coming out in a honey-laced voice.

“Hey, I just wanted to stop by and commend you on being such a team player in the last month. It’s something we find rare in someone as young as you and of course we’re grateful.” Your red-haired boss beams down at you while she talks. The feeling of ice pricks in your veins at what you know was coming next.

“I’m really sorry to come to you so last minute and on a Friday no less, but because of your wonderful work ethic, you’re the only one I can trust to complete The Warrior Project. It’s been extremely slow going and we need it done by Monday. Do you think you can stay behind and help us out?” She offers you an apologetic smile, eyes boring into yours with sincerity.

You wished you could have said no but the words died before they made it out of your mouth, instead agreeing meekly with a fake smile.

So now here you sit at your desk with the dying rays of light rising higher against the back walls as the sun sets, fingers flying across the keyboard. You suppose you’ll have to stop by the late night convenience store on the way home for some dinner; your face scrunches up at the thought of your very limited choices.

“If you type any harder, you’ll break it.” You don’t bother to turn around at the voice, knowing damn well who it was.

“I’m sure they’ll get me another one. They need me to finish this, after all.” You mutter the last part under your breath. The smell of something sweet and tangy hits your nose and on contact, your stomach rumbles loudly.

Swiveling in your chair, you’re met with the janitor who’s simultaneously holding a feather duster as well as a bag of what looks like Chinese take-out. Your eyes widen at the sight, bouncing back and forth between the objects in his hand.

“Are you here to eat or dust?” You ask, finally looking up to his face. There’s no expression on his pretty face. You still haven’t gotten over how stunning he was, with his pointed nose and pouty bottom lip. Today he has his janitor uniform half on, the sleeves of the suit tied around his waist so that it’s only pants. Tucked in is a black t-shirt that shows more of his muscular arms. He’s not ripped by any means but it’s very obvious he exercises on his time off.

“I’m here to dust. This is for you to eat.” He says dryly, shoving the bag in your direction. Once again, you find your words stolen as you stare at the brown paper bag that sits curled in his pale fingers. Your eyes shift back and forth between his face and the food.

“F-for me? Why?”

“Whenever I see you here late, you never eat. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I eat when I get home.” You retort back softly. A late night meal for you consists of a single serving bag of chips and whatever looked edible at the convenience store – but you wouldn’t tell him that.

“Just eat it.” He pushes it forward to you again, the warm smells of food wafting past your nose. It smelled like heaven.

“I- no. I can’t take that, it’s yours!” You wave your hands in front of your chest in a dismissive manner. A dark eyebrow shoots up his face.

“So she can say no.” He reaches over you and places the paper bag down on your desk. Along with the smells of delicious food, the scent of clean laundry and musky pine tickles your nose. It’s a very pleasant combination, and one you were not expecting. “Eat it, throw it away, I don’t care.” He says casually before turning around and walking off. Your hand reaches out in an attempt to stop him, but he’s long gone.

Twisting your chair around, you eye the paper bag for a moment before finally caving. Your stomach is about to eat itself and he had paid for it, so you don’t want to waste it. Why he would care enough about you to order food is a mystery, though.

Upon opening the contents, you’re greeted with a small foil dish with a plastic covering holding what you believe is orange chicken. A little white box off to the side contains sticky rice and in the little plastic package next to it holds some spring rolls – all still steaming hot and smelling wonderful.

You spend the next half hour scarfing down your dinner while thinking about how you’d pay the janitor back. The flush that started creeping up your cheeks at the end of your encounter with him stays even when you go to bed late that night.

.

The week after, you intentionally slow down on your daily work so that you had a reason to stay late and finish it. But much to your dismay, you don’t see the janitor anywhere. You’d leave each night a little embarrassed at yourself for being so excited for someone you’ve talked to a handful of times, but to your benefit you had a reason for your madness.

Finally, you gather enough courage to peep your head over your half-wall and grab your coworker’s attention – whose attention was on a mobile game in his hands and not on the spreadsheets in front of his face.

“Ryan?” You whisper-shout down. Your brunette coworker’s eyes shoot up to yours, almost in a panic.

“What? Is the boss lady making her rounds?” He asks back. You sweep your eyes around the office floor and finally find your supervisor who was currently in a meeting with other board members.

“She’s busy, you’re fine. I actually had a question?” You didn’t realize how soft you were speaking until he stood up to meet you, towering a good foot above you with his ear down to you.

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you knew when the janitor might be back? I haven’t seen him in a few days.” You subconsciously start picking at your nails – a nervous habit.

Ryan stares at you as he processes your words before throwing his head back in bellowing laughter. You’re quick to shush him and duck your head down from the glares aimed your way at such a loud disturbance.

“Not so loud!!” You whisper-shout again.

“I’m sorry, I’m just curious why you want to know? He doesn’t like anyone, and no one likes him.” He shrugs his shoulders. You so badly want to tell him to shut up and that you like him, but instead you settle on trying to get him to answer your question.

“Well, what’s his schedule?” You narrow your eyes in hopes of getting the message across that you were serious.

“Well, that’s the thing, he’s always working. Sometimes even on the weekends. From what I heard, his cleaning routes are the same every week. He doesn’t get to our floor until late in the week. He has a thing for cleaning, so I heard, and that’s why there’s only one janitor contracted. He’s so weird.” Ryan rolls his eyes as he rests his chin against the top of the wall.

“What’s his name?”

“Why do you care so much about the janitor?” It’s Ryan’s turn to narrow his eyes to you. You’re asking too many questions and he’s getting far too nosy about your business. It’s best to retreat for now.

“Uh, it’s nothing. Thank you.” You squeak before plopping yourself down at your chair and pretending to click around on your word documents until you no longer feel the pierce of your coworker’s stare.

So he’s always here, you think. You’re just missing him on your way down. You bite back a smile as you glance down to the clock at the bottom corner of your screen. The time reads 4:37pm and it’s a Thursday which meant that he would be around your floor this evening. Perfect. Your eyes sweep over to your bag in your excitement.

In the time it takes for you to wait for the gray-blue eyed janitor, you’ve finished half of the next day’s work. A part of you starts to wonder if he isn’t coming tonight, that it may be tomorrow instead, and weirdly you find yourself hoping one of your coworkers would ask you to help them out again so that you had a reason to stay.

“That’s so stupid.” You say out loud as you stir sugar into the black tea you had spent the last 5 minutes steeping. You’re standing in the office break room, lost in thought.

“I’m sure the mug doesn’t feel that way.” That voice makes your heart flutter, and you bite back the smile that threatens to curve into your face. Instead, you pinch your lips together and turn around.

The janitor is there alright, uniform zipped up tight as he holds a spray bottle and a rag. He’s leaning against the doorframe of the break room, arms folded across his chest. His black hair falls into his face, almost kissing the corners of his heavy-lidded eyes as they watch you intently.

“Ah, there you are!” You exclaim, pointing your spoon at him.

“Here I am.”

“I have something to give you as payback for dinner last week.” You muse, grinning at him. His eyes widened briefly before going back to normal.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I’m grateful for it, dummy.” Carefully, you place your spoon next to your mug and walk towards him until you’re face to face. It takes him a moment to realize you were waiting for him to move, and carefully he backs away so that you have room to escape.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You order before dashing off to your cubicle.

When you come back with the gift in hand, you see that the janitor hadn’t moved an inch. His intimidating eyes follow you as you stop in front of him, slightly breathless from speed walking back. An eyebrow raises at you as he waits for you to catch your breath.

“I-ah. Okay. So. I made these for you. I ended up having to make a fresh batch because I didn’t see you for a bit and I didn’t want to feed you stale cookies so. Anyways, here. Thank you for feeding me last week.” You beam up at him as you hold your hands out to show him your gift.

It’s a small plastic bag wrapped with a pastel bow. The contents of the bag include bite sized cookies that you spent all last night remaking in hopes you would see him again. They’re pale yellow in color, dusted with a light coat of cane sugar. His eyes widen again at your gesture, this time staying big as they stare at the bag in your hand like its gold.

“You… made these for me?” His voice is low.

“I did! I don’t know if you like sweets but these are my mother’s recipe and her cookies were never that sweet. Pretty much the sweetness comes from the sugar on top. The rest are just buttery goodness.” You gush as you stare off in thought, the happy memories of your mom making these cookies for you flooding your brain.

When your eyes fall back to the raven-haired man, you’re almost tempted to run away in embarrassment. His neutral expression stares back at you and you take a small step back.

“I’m sorry, this is probably weird. You don’t have to take them actually. In fact, I’ll just le-“

“No, you’re fine. I uh, I appreciate it.” He quickly reaches out and grabs the bag, the sound of crinkling plastic taking up space in the nearly empty mess room. You offer him a small smile, grateful that he accepted the gift. His eyes trail past you and onto the kitchen counter behind you. He purses his lips as he thinks but finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Pour that disgusting excuse for a tea out and follow me. Bring the mug.” He says tersely before turning on his heels and out the door. You blink hard a few times as your brain processes his words but quickly you find yourself dumping out the tea and chasing after him down the cubicle aisles.

Soon, you’re sitting on the ground with the janitor as he pours steaming amber liquid from the thermos he pulled out of his cleaning cart just mere moments ago. It splashes into the bottom of your mug and fills it quickly, then he hands it over to you as he starts speaking.

“So are you a workaholic or…” He gives you a side eye.

“I should be asking you that. I’ve been told you work practically every day, even on weekends.” You hold the mug by the handle as you stare down into the cup. “Is this…?”

“It’s tea and no I didn’t poison it.”

“What was wrong with the tea I had?”

“Stale tea leaves don’t make for a good cup of tea.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No, I’m not a workaholic. I like to clean, and I get paid for it. Plus, I’m left alone. Usually.” He grumbles the last part, but you don’t detect any hostility in his voice.

“Well, I’m not either. A-a workaholic, I mean.”

“No, I suppose not. Just a people pleaser then?” His statement makes you splutter on the tea you had just sipped on. Despite it going almost everywhere, the bitter taste of the dark leaves bite at your taste buds. It’s unsweetened and you can’t keep the slight look of distaste off your face. Luckily, it’s covered up by the glare you shoot his way.

You don’t say anything back at that, knowing any denial would have been a lie but you didn’t want to confirm it either. However, you can’t hold back the annoyance that simmers in your chest at such a presumptuous statement, from someone you hardly know, no less.

“Beats being disliked by everyone.” You mutter finally, setting your mug on the floor next to you. Your eyes drift to the floor-to-ceiling window you were both sitting in front of. The last dreg of golden sunlight warms your face as you stare out into the bustling city as they prepare for the evening.

“You say that like it should bother me.”

“Shouldn’t it though?”

“Why would it?”

“Don’t you want people to like you?” You whisper softly, dragging your gaze over to his face. There’s no readable expression on his face as he sips his tea out of the top of his thermos lid. He’s holding it in a way you’ve never seen before – long fingers gripping the metal from the top rim and tilting it back into his mouth.

“I don’t give a shit if they like me or not.” He says finally as he gives you a side eye.

You’re not sure if your surprise at his callous attitude is warranted or not. Your interactions with him have been few and far in between but that night he got you dinner, you thought maybe he was a little more caring than that.

“Why do you care if people like you anyway?” He leans back on a hand, his other cradling his cup.

“I just- well. I don’t know.” You say simply. You do know.

“I read this thing about people-pleasers. It said that they’re great manipulators. They bend and break just so that others tolerate and like them, pretending to be something they’re not. Are you trying to get something out of it?”

Your eyes snap to his, feeling the heat behind your stare at his insinuation. Where did he get off calling you a manipulator? A pretender? Despite the subtle rage dancing in your eyes, you give him a smile and push yourself off the ground, grabbing your mug on your way up.

“Thank you for the tea. I really must be going now.” You say politely, voice coming out higher than you meant.

“Tch.” Is all you get back.

With that, you turn on your heel and head back to the break room to pour your tea out and rinse the mug, leaving it out on the rack to dry. You’re quick to gather your things before practically running down the aisles to the elevator, down to the front door, and towards home. A lump in your throat stays even after your shower and still when you lie down for the night.

.

After your last encounter with the janitor, you find that you’re rushing home as soon as you can. You aren’t necessarily mad at him for telling you a hard truth, but the rumination of having someone being annoyed at you doesn’t go away.

Your evasive tactics work for a while. Your office was in between projects and jobs so no one had come to you for help for anything. But of course that didn’t stay that way for long and your luck would run out as it always had as the quarter was about to close. Your supervisor came to you early on a rainy Tuesday morning to tell you that some freak accident had happened to the last reports which made the data you spent days organizing completely disappear.

You don’t know what was more frustrating: the fact that your hard work from the last week had completely vanished or the fact that no one in the office offered to give a helping hand when you needed it the most.

Your supervisor apologized and said the entries needed to be done by the next morning so they could be submitted in time for the quarter review. With a forced smile and false-positive voice, you agreed and got started on it right away.

This was about 12 hours ago.

The only thing that brings you solace is the knowledge that the janitor was not due for your floor for a couple days so at least you could work on it without worrying about running into him. And thankfully for you since you were semi-prepared for being held back, you ordered pizza for dinner before the front doors locked for the evening.

For some reason, you find yourself sitting on the floor in the same spot you had shared bitter tea with the janitor. You’re lying on your back with your phone hovering as you scroll on it mindlessly, a more than half filled pizza box next to you with the lid propped open slightly. There’s a vacation photo that pops up from one of your acquaintances that makes your chest tighten from envy.

“You’re in my way, brat.” A voice from above rings out. It startles you so much that your fingers loosen on your phone, and it comes smacking into your face with a loud slap. Your eyes scrunch shut from the stinging pain radiating from your nose as you groan softly.

You sit up from your position, making sure to grab your phone before it falls on the ground, and turn to narrow your eyes at the perpetually scowling janitor. You hear a subtle pop in your back as you do.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice comes out more accusatory than you meant, and you end up clearing your throat before giving him a forced smile.

“I’m working. That’s more than I can say for you.”

“You’re not supposed to be on this floor today.”

“Says who?” An eyebrow quirks at your statement.

The words die on your tongue because even you knew that one person’s word was not enough to be reliable. You reach over to close the pizza box and gather your things to leave. He doesn’t say anything and only stares while you push yourself up onto your feet.

“I’ll just get out of your way, then.” You mumble, bending down to grab the pizza box in one hand and your empty cup in the other. As you brush past him, you can’t help but wonder if he’s still mad at you, though you can’t logically find a reason why he would be mad in the first place. And if he was, then what did you do? These thoughts are jarred as a vibration in your back pocket alerts you to a notification. Upon more buzzes and the start of your soft ringtone, you realize it’s a phone call.

Stepping over to the nearest desk, you set your stuff down and pull out your phone. On the screen is the caller ID for your mom, her faux-happy face staring straight at you as the lights around it pulse. You don’t fight the grimace that etches into your features. Hitting the green button, you regret it immediately.

“Hi mom!” You exclaim, forcing another smile on your lips.

“There you are! I really thought you had died on us.”

“Of course, I’m not dead. Just busy!” You state happily, turning around to face the windows again. A relieved sigh escapes when you notice the janitor is no longer standing where he was.

“You should call us more. You know I was talking to our neighbor about you recently! Remember Donna and her kids? Apparently her youngest just got engaged. And it got me thinking…” Your mother’s words trail off as your eyes glaze over. Your pulse is steadily picking up speed with every word, and you grip the edge of the desk tightly to keep yourself grounded.

“Anyways, both of your sisters are coming to visit with their little families. When are you planning to come by? It would be nice to have everyone home again. Maybe this time with a man on your arm?”

“Oh, I don’t know, mom. I just started here, so getting the time off will be a little hard to do right away. But I will ask my supervisor, and see? I want to see everyone too.” Your voice wavers a little as the muscles in your face start to hurt from your smile.

“Your grandmother is asking about you, you know. I had to come up with some excuse about why you’re so far away, and single no less.”

“I’m working on it. I’ll give her a call soon.” Tears prick in the corners of your eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you are, honey. Oh, your little sister is calling, I need to go. Please call us more!” And just like that, the line goes silent as she hangs up.

“I’ll call tomorrow, I guess.” You whisper down at the blank screen. Setting your phone down, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes to get rid of the wetness that threatens to overflow. You practically feel your heart beating right out of your chest as your mom’s words float around your head.

“I see where it comes from now.” The janitor’s deep voice comes from the right of you. When you pull your hands away to look at him, he’s holding out a steaming mug to you. Hesitantly, you take it. The color of the liquid is lighter in color and smells slightly floral. A mile’s difference from the last thing he shared with you.

“Where what comes from?” You mutter before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s hot but not unbearably so. The taste is gentle and has a touch of sweetness to it. It’s pleasant, and not something you were expecting.

“Your people-pleasing tendencies.” He leans against the half wall next to him as he eyes you.

“Please do enlighten me, as I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” You reply back in a monotone voice. You were tired in more ways than one. Slaving away at this project that you were only 80% done with. Staying late, lack of sleep, and now your mother calling. You were tired and you can’t mask anymore.

“Let me guess.” He raises his hand and taps a finger against his chin in thought. “Middle child. Your parents always apologized for what you lacked. Always felt like you had to put in extra effort to be seen and walking on eggshells so that when you are seen, no one pulls away. You’re starving for real, positive attention.” Again, none of his words come out malicious but they really sting. This man hardly knows you and yet he’s spreading your entire childhood out like it was nothing.

You’re tired.

“Yeah. Exactly that. And it’s infuriating. Not to drag on my sisters because they’re doing their best and they have the same parents I have but it’s like…” You take another sip of the honey liquid before continuing, feeling the heat of not only the tea but also anger burning in your chest. Your eyes drift back to the front window.

“I can’t stop myself from doing above and beyond on the off chance I might be liked and appreciated. I’m putting in all this hard work and still it doesn’t matter. I’m just so tired.”

The sun is all but gone and is replaced by the city lights that illuminate the indigo sky above. The janitor stays quiet through all of this as he takes in your words. You’ve never told anyone any of this before, and part of you feels liberated. The other part feels guilty for putting something so heavy on someone who probably doesn’t even care.

“So, what if it doesn’t matter? Why are you putting so many expectations on yourself? You’re just one person.” He stands up from the wall and walks around it so that he’s face to face with you. His arms are folded across his chest again as he eyes you warily before continuing.

“I spend everyday cleaning after you shits and no one sees that. And yet, what I do matters because otherwise this place would be a shithole. You do not have to bend over backwards so people can see your accomplishments, they still exist whether they see it or not. But, say they approve of your help, then what?”

“What do-” Your fingers grip tight on the handle of your mug.

“They say thank you for doing what they asked you to do, then what? Do you keep up with their demands?”

“If I have to.”

“And what do you gain from that outside of exhaustion?”

You want to lie so bad. You want to say that you get a lot of enjoyment from making others happy. That you gain happiness for making others smile because you did what they ask of you. But you realize that putting yourself out there for the sake of others is wearing you down. And you aren’t actually happy.

“I don’t.” Your voice cracks and when you blink next, your sight is blurry.

“That’s what I’m saying. You bend and you bend for these short bursts of attention but you don’t need it. The only thing that should matter to you is your wellbeing. The rest comes after.” His voice retains the same dryness as it had before, but there’s an unmistaken lilt of tenderness.

You look away from his gaze and wipe the corners of your eyes with the back of your hand as you take a shaky breath.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much about me?” You offer him a small smile to hopefully deter any ill will that statement could bring up.

“Tch, don’t get me wrong, you’re still annoying. But, I can’t stand watching people tear themselves down for the sake of others. You’re here to live for yourself, not for them.” His steely eyes roll to the ceiling before landing back on you.

“Right. Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” You smile at him, a genuine one that squeezes your eyes closed. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, even if your words are a little rough.” He huffs at that then nods curtly, tapping his foot on the ground.

“On that note, I need to-“

“Will you stay with me?” Your words come out faster than you can stop yourself. A sudden burst of warmth blooms into your face. “I-I mean, if you want. I just have this pizza left and-“

“Do you want me to stay?” He stares hard at you as he reads your reaction. You have a feeling he’s testing you.

Do you want that?

Yes, you do.

“Please stay?”

He considers you for a moment before relaxing, his arms falling to his sides.

“Okay.”

Once again, you find yourself on the floor with the janitor, knees tucked into your chest as you’re lost in thought. He sits a few feet away, slowly chewing on a just heated up piece of pizza while he stares out into the night. Your eyes never leave his face, watching the way his long eyelashes tickle his cheekbones and the way his hair falls in his face. You notice the dark circles that bruise the underside of his eyes.

“Do you ever take time off?” You ask softly.

“I never needed to.”

“You look really tired.”

“That’s just my face.” You laugh at that and he gives you a side eye. He wasn’t expecting that from you.

“Where would you go if you ever took time off?” You ask despite the fact he might ignore you as he didn’t seem the type to indulge such stupid questions, but he surprises you.

“Home.” He says without skipping a beat.

“Home? Really? Are you not home that often that you miss it more or something?”

“It’s quiet and all of my things are there. Where else would I go?” He stares at you with a perturbed expression. His dry voice adds to his comment and you find it very endearing. You think you see his lip twitch, but it might have been your imagination.

“What about you?”

Leaning back on your hands, you stretch your legs out with a soft groan and stare out the window. By this time, it’s well into 9pm and you still have work to do. But with the janitor staring at you, you find yourself pushing the thought of work away for now.

“Don’t laugh. But I really want to experience a day in that park off of Centennial. I heard it’s really nice in the afternoon because of the trees and little river that cuts through it. I would love to just sit out on a blanket and draw for a bit.” You say wistfully. You can already feel the heat of the sun against your skin.

“You’re an artist?”

“Yeah, struggling and starving as most are. But I draw when I can.”

He hums softly. “That sounds like a good day.” He says, wiping his hands on the towel that was tied to his utility belt around his waist.

You beam over to him at that. You again think to yourself of why people don’t like him. He was blunt and a little tactless, but he was caring and empathetic. Something you wouldn’t see from the outside. You liked him for just being himself with you.

Realization dawns on you at what his words meant earlier. Just being you was enough. You matter.

“Thank you.” You say simply, a toothy grin pointed his way.

.

A month passes and you find yourself steadily settling more into your job. You haven’t seen the janitor much since that one night. When you got home after that conversation, you made a promise you would only do things that you wanted to do for the sake of yourself and not others. The next time your coworker came to you for help, you were able to put your foot down and tell them no. Your voice and hands shook the whole time, but since then you haven’t been bothered. Unfortunately, you helped your supervisor when asked but you are proud of the progress that you made with your boundaries.

And now, here you are on a blanket in Centennial Park on a Thursday, lying on your stomach with your sketchbook propped open in front as you pop grapes into your mouth. There’s dark charcoal smudged along the side of your hands but you can’t find yourself caring as you finish a hooded eye with a flourish. It’s a nice day with a light breeze that helps keep you cool and soft music flows through your ears from your earphones, quiet enough so that you can be aware of your surroundings.

You’ve been at the park for so long that you’re almost done with your drawing and you’re thinking you should have brought a book to read when something kicks your foot. It makes you jump and your head twists behind you to see who or what it was. You assume it’s a child that kicked their ball too far as that happened earlier, but instead you scrunch your eyes to make sense of the figure in front of you.

Your eyes trail up to find it's a man dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt, with a pair of oversized headphones circling his neck and sunglasses covering his eyes. The shades are dark but you can only assume he’s staring down at you. In his hands are two hot to-go cups.

“Can I help you?” You ask up to the mystery man, not hiding the annoyance in your tone.

“So she does take a day off. It’s nice to see you away from the computer screen.” The voice is familiar and you find yourself scrambling up to your feet, staring at him hard. He’s the same height as you and you notice his lips are all too familiar. They’re the same ones belonging to the drawing you just finished.

“You’re the janitor! What are you doing here?” Your annoyance quickly changes into surprise.

“Took the day off and I’m meeting a friend.” He raises one of the cups which you assume must be his friend’s. “And you can just call me Levi, by the way.” He grumbles the last bit. You only now realize you never asked for his name in any of the interactions you’ve had with him. Your face flares in embarrassment.

“I- yeah. I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me to have never asked.” You tell him your name as well but he just nods.

“I know who you are, and it’s fine.” He shrugs, tone dry as ever.

“You know my name? But how?” You don’t remember telling him your name. Nor has he ever been around to hear it be said. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You have a plaque on your desk.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fair.” You run a hand through your hair as you laugh at that. You don’t notice the way his eyes flicker from your sweet face to the sketch behind you on the ground. He huffs softly at that.

“Well, I can’t keep them waiting so. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmurs before turning on his heel in the opposite direction.

“Wait, Levi!” You yell, taking a few steps towards him. His head tilts back in your direction so that you see his blue-gray eyes side-eying you from behind his sunglasses.

“What?”

“Would you like to get some tea with me sometime?” You ask quickly. Your voice wavers slightly with anxiety as you shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Are you sure you don’t have other people’s work to complete first?” You laugh at that.

“No. I don’t think that will be a problem.” The sides of his mouth twitches.

“Then sure. Only if you bring your mom’s cookies again.” He raises his cup at you before turning his back to you and walking down the hill.

You sit back down with a grin, staring down at your finished sketch of Levi leaning against the doorframe of the break room.

Doing things for yourself has never felt so good.

I'm adding my taglist to this bc I'm actually quite proud of this one?

-> taglist: @averysmolbear @humanitys-strongest-bamf @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @romantichomicide95 @sckerman @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @nube55 @svftackerman

The link to my taglist is in my pinned post on my blog!!

[acaseforpencils]

Gustavo Magalhães.

Bio: My name is Gustavo Magalhães and I am a Brazilian illustrator/cartoonist. I live in Caçapava, a small town in São Paulo state. I have worked as an illustrator since 2013.

As an editorial Illustrator, I've been published by The New Yorker, Golf Digest, Forbes, The New Republic, GQ Magazine among others. The first time I was commissioned by The New Yorker was in 2021, for "The Critics" session on a portrait of Sandra Oh" for her new show at the time, "The Chair," which aired on Netflix.

Sketch, refinement, finished piece.

I also have a web comic strip called "Curb Talk." It's published  twice a week in a classic Comic Strip format.

Lately, I am a Senior Illustrator at a Studio called "Fried Design Company ,'' in Springfield, Missouri. But I work from Brazil.

AOIKTYE Procreate Keyboard for Ipad / Apple Pencil / Ipad Pro

Mac Mini / Asus Proart PA248QV Monitor / Huion Kanvas Plus 22 Display

Tools of choice: My process of work is mixed, I like to sketch the first thumbs and sometimes more advanced pieces on paper and "ink" / color them using digital tools. It's been 5 years that more than 90% of my final pieces are done in digital, and along that period I discovered that I'm a person that likes to do a significant amount of tests while inking, and digital tools help me a lot in that.

Lately, I've been trying to achieve an inking process that I could do both on paper and on digital, that way I could do my pieces however I feel on that day, and my comic strip has been a good place for this test field, and I'm enjoying that mix very much.

Pentel .09 Mechanical Pencil / Staedtler Water Brush / Staedtler Pig LIner 0.3 / Royal Talens No. 2 Brush

If you were asking me "You are on a desert island and can bring just one setup with you," I'd say I would bring my iPad. It allows me to sketch with an "analogic feel," where it's important to feel that you are actually crafting something. But it also gives me all the testing possibilities the digital work has.

Huion Display pen Battery Free Pen PW517

Tool I wish I could use better: Coloring in general, but mostly painting. It's always a struggle to translate what I have in mind to the final piece. And there are some aspects of texture and rendering that you can only get in analogical tools like gouache, oil, watercolor. Of course there are excellent artists that do those digitally, but there are certain aspects that you need a physical touch to achieve and I have never done anything like that. Maybe one day.

Tool I wish existed: A chair + desk set that automatically corrects your bad posture whenever your body is hurting or sitting in the wrong way. I hate having lower back and wrist pains while working, haha!

Tricks: One thing I brought from the full analogical days is an adaptation of the "drawing from your shoulder thing." Personally, I found it very hard to do, so I use a bandana on my pen hand, and use the other hand to pool this and drag. This is a thing that helps me a lot when drawing straight lines with a handmade feel, instead of just using shapes in Photoshop or any digital tool for precise lines.

Misc: "Go easy on yourself and have fun!" I never thought I could work with illustration. I spent almost a decade working in the aircraft industry (half of it doing freelance illustration jobs for local bands and brands) and the factory mentality lever left my mind, just now (after 10 years as an illustrator, 7 as my main activity), I'm recovering the passion that I had as a young doodling kid. Everyone sees artistic careers as this romantic thing, but it's always a struggle (at least for me) to face your passion as an obligation day to day, and make this trade of time and love for money. So after several years going hard on myself I am finally learning how to be lighter and having more fun and joy in my work.

(Outro/Editor's note: I asked Gustavo if he would care to discuss how working in the aircraft industry affected his work as an illustrator):

I think the biggest influence I got from this industry was the routine and how to deal with work. Artists naturally tend to be less rigid in the aspect of routine because of the nature of creativity, and I think that having almost a decade working in another industry in a more conservative environment helped me in how to take it more serious in all aspects, from my day to day process, to how to treat my clients and deadlines.

That's basically the biggest influence and learning I got from this period. How to understand that the work isn't just the drawing and thinking, but everything that happens behind it, from the clothing choice I pick to work at home, from the time management I need to have in order to balance all simultaneous projects I have.

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[kenni-woodard]

I am really just typing right now as an excuse to use the keyboard my parents got me for Christmas 😂. Trying to feel it out.

It's way cuter than the other one I had at least, but I do think at some point I will want to get an actual mechanical keyboard. This MageGee Keyboard + Mouse thingy is alright for now. I'll need an extender for the mouse chord just because of my desk's layout. But other than that, it's giving me all the vibes I want for this space.

Rambling below.

My mind is reeling from my dad's unwelcome comment about how I have "too much stuff" as though it doesn't look like this because I am housing a whole extra family 🤣. My office (which is one of the rooms he was basing his commentary on) has been moved from the biggest room in the house to the smallest. So yeah, it'll look pretty cramped. I'm still sorting things out. Or trying to, at least. Honestly don't think I'm making much progress. But I will keep trying.

Anyway, I kind of don't feel like going to mom and dad's today. If it weren't New Year's Eve, I probably wouldn't. I'd stay at home and spend some time in my little office. I love it in here. I kind of want to get a different monitor stand, though (and maybe a different monitor but that's not as important). The one my poor monitor is on now is a little bit too small.

Only thing I don't really like about this keyboard is that the spacebar makes squeaky noises ;_;