#post ROT fix-up

[avocado62524]

[corellianhounds]

I know we (rightfully) give Attack of the Clones a lot of grief for Obi-Wan just being able to show up unannounced and for him to just be given the literal biggest state secrets possibly of the entire war, in addition to how this cloning operation has been going on for like a decade without anyone knowing anything or any documentation crossing Mace Windu’s desk, but considering Sifo Dyas or Dooku or whoever was able to somehow erase an entire planet from (allegedly) every known bit of data collection or documentation, it could be argued that maybe Dyas and Dooku were just master forgers and had fake correspondence and reports going between them and the Kaminoans for over a decade now.

It’s not that far of a leap to say they got their hands on some heavily encrypted software on some very expensive computers and were able to imitate different speech patterns and documents and handwriting and official stamps or even holograms and holocalls. As far as the Kaminoans know, all of their contacts are fully aware and in the know about this clone army (because as far as they know, Sifo Dyas is alive and had to have been in communication recently)— When Obi-Wan shows up, it just happened to be at the exact time Dooku was the one supposed to be there in person himself that day. The Kaminoans did greet him as Master Jedi and said he was expected.

Obviously that could have only worked in the movie if Dooku had shown up and we saw him having to keep his cool/sneak around when some other Kaminoans tell him his “assistant” has already arrived, would you like us to escort you to him?

Internally Dooku’s thinking “WHOMST??” but externally he’s keeping his chill while searching the Force for whoever else might be— is that OBI-WAN KENOBI??

It’s soooooo tasty for Qui-Gon’s master and Qui-Gon’s apprentice to meet under these circumstances. Both of them know the other shouldn’t be there right now. They’re both having to play it cool in front of the Kaminoans, and this is even besides the fact Kenobi was there to find the bounty hunter assassin in the first place.

“I didn’t think you… were still as active in the Order,” Obi-Wan says slowly and diplomatically, knowing for a FACT that Dooku left the Order a long time ago.

“I… retired from active service,” Dooku says, equally diplomatically. “I act as a… consultant from time to time.”

“It’s soooo funny how I’ve never heard anything about that or this clone army the Jedi ordered,” Obi-Wan says, making direct eye contact with Dooku and probably trying to read his mind (to no avail). “The one they ordered ten years ago before there was ever any thought of the Jedi being actively involved on the frontlines of what isn’t a declared war. What would the Jedi want with a military in the first place?”

“How old are you, young one?” Dooku deflects in that fake kindly condescending grandfatherly voice. “How long have you been on the Council— Oh you’re just a Kniiiiight, that’s right, okay I see. How interesting. How much information are you actually privilege to, Obi-Wan?”

And this is all happening even before Obi-Wan Nancy Drew’d his way to Jango Fett’s private quarters!

Obi-Wan KNOWS he can’t go rogue right now when he’s that far from his ship on a city surrounded by an ocean and a literal army of clones soldiers (of that one super efficient bounty hunter, whenever it is he finds that out) all apparently under the command (?) of someone who definitely definitely super should not be speaking or doing or ordering anything under the name of the Jedi Order.

Count Dooku (who he doesn’t even know is a Sith yet) could very easily accuse him of being an impostor and have him detained or attacked or killed on sight. Zam Wessel was already established to be a shapeshifter in this movie, so it’s not outside the realm of possibility for Obi-Wan to not be who he says he is (which is kinda true?? since he WASN’T the Jedi ambassador for the Temple there to pick up his to-go order of a quarter-million identical men, with a million more on the way??). The Kaminoans might not even know much else about Jedi and Sith aesthetics besides “Wears robes” so if Dooku pulled a red lightsaber it might not even faze them, since he’d be able to provide more information and correspondence proving he’s the ‘actual’ Jedi anyway

Like can you imagine a fight breaking out not just between Kenobi and Jango, but a team-up of Jango and Dooku against Kenobi? That would have jumpstarted some of this clone army business a lot earlier in the movie and actually addressed what should have been the biggest conspiracy, coverup, and militaristic move of the MILLENNIUM

[sluckythewizard]

'I wont cry for you, I wont crucify the things you do. I wont cry for you, see, when you're gone, I'll still be BLOODY MARY'

[the-punforgiven]

What the fuck do you mean it's already Friday

[fivewholeminutes]

thanks to that one masked collective i have finally ventured into the digital art territory and i'm making this everyone else's problem now

[hercarisntyours]

late but 6 years ago herstory was made with this trailer

[saturday-byte]

Wip !!

The traditional art struggle of ruining it with the lineart

[chibishortdeath]

I cannot explain how often I think about this part of the Simon’s Quest story. Ough I wanna try to explain every tiny line of this in detail, but I can’t think of words rn aaa, so I’m gonna dump random disjointed thoughts in the tags for now.

I’m putting the links to the English translations of the first two games’ Japanese manuals because their stories are so much cooler than what the western releases got. The second I get everything I can or have thought about this guy together I’m doing in depth story and character analysis for some silly whip man NES games tho—

[serenit-teas]

This post includes minor spoilers regarding the final boss for Lies of P, please scroll over if you’d rather not take the chance <:)

It’s late and I can just tell that my thought process and writing won’t be coherent but I finally reached the nameless puppet and I felt compelled to share my silly little Lies of P thought of the night💙

So you know how before the game released there was that rumor going around that P was 6’3, but once the game came out and the models could really be analyzed it was revealed that he was much shorter than what people thought he was going to be?? Well idk if it’s just me or the way the angles or camera are working in the fight but the nameless puppet seems to be MUCH taller than P. This could simply be a throwaway design choice by Geppetto, a genuine estimate of Carlos height at this age after so many years, so he’d be at a better advantage when fighting/defending himself, so on and so forth, it could be for a number of reasons, but considering that the nameless puppet is more or less meant to be Carlo reborn adds some interesting thought to it all!

And as a fun little side note, think about the specter as well! If I do remember correctly he’s also taller than P, and while there isn’t confirmation of the identity of the specter the two main theories are that it’s either Carlos spirit or a P from the future! Maybe Carlo really is as tall as the nameless puppet, or maybe after reaching peak humanity and just like with his voice and hair, P continues to grow and become his own person! (Or maybe P just begs Venigni and Eugenie to make adjustments to his body and make him taller idk or care, but the concept is fun!)

It’s just a fun lil random thought that’s been pinging around ever since I made my way to the nameless puppet, and I couldn’t help but want to write a post about it! ^^ <- <-(I am a madwoman rambling I see a sliver of evidence that supports tall 6’3 P and I go lunging for it😳 ofc there is nothing wrong with loving short P he is a sweetie pie no matter what I am just!!! Deranged and ready to gnaw on canon like it’s a jaw breaker)

[absentlyabbie]

on the cat post: barn cat thoughts?

i understand the rationale and practical applications, and i grind my teeth about it less if they're at least spayed/neutered and given proper, regular vet care, but if that cat is just allowed/able to wander freely it's gonna have a shitty and likely very short life, on top of the negative impact it will have on the local environment beyond the barn's pest control issue.

i'm in no way an expert, but it's hard to imagine there's not some alternative that, while it may not seem cheaper, doesn't cost a life.

[javierduffy]

guy who has thoughts but never the right words 💔

[vanishintoyou]

the way this is all pointless and hopeless and i am gonna end up as a disappointment. whatever

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I post about house stuff there’s always some well meaning people and the occasional vindictive shit head who thinks we didn’t have our home inspected before we bought it.

We did. It passed the private inspection we paid for in order to get our mortgage and two inspections done by the city.

The problem with my house is that it was owned by a landlord who did all kinds of illegal and sketchy shit to maximize capacity and resale value but also would require you to take down walls to find. And for those of you unaware, they don’t let you walk around with a saw and cut holes to inspect behind the drywall.

The shithead hid things behind fake walls. Literally. He put a bunch of chemicals and paints into a crawl space then drywalled over it. There is drywall on top of drywall (or there was before we took it down). He put carpet over the asbestos tiles—which is technically fine. It’s safer to seal asbestos away than remove it… except he also covered the drain for the house so the basement floods and then the carpet rots and in turn starts breaking down the asbestos tiles, making them into a hazard. He built the basement himself so that the drywall was sitting on the concrete slab—something we couldn’t see without removing the trim—causing them to wick moisture from the floor and rot until we had black mold everywhere.

The electric parts that were visible were all up to code, but again, anything that could be hidden was done so, hiding shit like a dishwasher that had been hot wired into the wall through a light plate fixture under the sink. Or the 240v socket that used to power an electric stove which had been pulled through the floorboard to power the tumble dryer. (Or the gas stove that we swapped for electric because it kept trying to kill us and then we realized he’d run a gas pipe from the water heater to power it. The plumber swore a lot about that one when he finally realized that one.)

Plumbing all looked good until you realized some of the new pipes were just pvc cut to go around the old lead pipes. Something you couldn’t see unless you got up close and personal during the inspection, and we’re talking up on a ladder jiggling the pipes around which is also generally something don’t let you do. Not to the extent we would have needed to.

The man was unhinged. And there’s very little we can do about it because we signed an “as is” thing on our mortgage thinking most of the repairs we’d need to do would be minor. Only to find out the house which looked fairly modern and well kept on the surface was actually a fucking Saw trap. And now because of all the shit we’ve uncovered, we have to fix it before we can sell it because no one in their right mind will buy a house with declared asbestos—even predatory developers hesitate on that one.

So if we’ve got to fix this place up, we’ll fix it up for us because god knows, even if we managed to sell this place, we can’t afford the mortgage rates right now. (And while yes, apartments are an option, they make my MCAS a lot less stable because you can’t control the shit your neighbors use, nevermind things like a shared laundry facility where everyone wants to smell like “a spring summer breeze” that to me smells like death by fragrance induced anaphylaxis.)

So yes, we’re stuck with this place. For now. A place we had inspected multiple times and were still let down by the reality that people hide things and will do so in the most imaginative ways possible if it means they can make a profit.

The furnace dying the instant we moved in wasn’t a good sign, but shit happens. That’s home ownership. The gas leaks we had last week? Also home ownership. It had passed yearly inspections up until now. Appliances break down and require maintenance, especially gas ones. In an ideal world we would have gotten another five years out of the furnace, but alas, it chose death so we had to yeet it.

So, yeah, if you’re the shithead currently going off in my inbox about “stupid people winning stupid prizes” I’ll take that apology now.

[pisswizard420]

Notorious huckster dick harden strikes again with the “what if we gambled our way out of this issue” and succeeded much to nobody’s surprise

[squipa]

“i guess i’m stuck forever by the glue, oh, and you”

aka— how jason loves you (acts of service) ⭒

———

jason todd doesn’t know how to love you. he’s been constantly cast aside, beaten down, grown up seeing how the only real parental figures in his life stare at romantic interests with lust and not purest love. he never learned where to press tender kisses or when to whisper sweet nothings, so the unfettered affection that overwhelms him presses so hard against his chest he can feel an aching heart bulging painfully against his skin.

yet, in the center of his being, nestled right under his left ventricle and between the most delicate of his ribs, there is a little boy terrified of losing the only woman he’s ever been capable of loving, the only person capable of loving him.

so he works— day and night, doing all that he can to ensure that this overwhelming fear, a horror that shakes him body and soul, can never come to fruition. before you could even realize you liked him, he never left your apartment, fixing things you hadn’t even realized were broken. your sink, your fridge, your heater— you threw out the little magnets with the numbers of plumbers and electricians, because jason took care of your crumbling home like it was his.

there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. not a line he would fail to cross if you looked up at him with those tired doe eyes that pierce his once unbreachable walls and bewitch him entirely.

he can’t quite say he loves you. it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done and he doesn’t know why. he’s said it twice under normal circumstances, six times if you count intoxication and near death experiences— which he does not. he does love you, without question or doubt, he’s so in love with you it hurts him. he just fails at every attempt to articulate it. he wishes he could tell you every day when you wake up, every night before you fall asleep, and every moment in between— but he just can’t. he’s scared that real ‘i love you’s’ will sour into fake ones and tender goodnight kisses will rot into resentment, so he avoids them entirely.

but he shows you. maybe he doesn’t know that he’s supposed to open every door or cover bare shoulders with his jacket, but he knows how to make himself indispensable. he knows you hate coming home to an empty fridge so he makes sure you won’t. he takes care of your car before you were even aware of an issue— oil changes, flat tires, and anything beyond the norm and he makes sure you never have to pay a penny of it.

and the dates you go on— they’re perfectly planned, itineraries crafted with doting hands and warm intentions. he doesn’t go all out very often, he’s more inclined to spend his evenings at home with you in his arms, but on anniversaries, or your birthday? it’s elaborate and enchanting— fantastic really is the only word proper enough in grandeur to describe it. candlelit homemade dinners and gifts that, while never expensive or over the top, are so thoughtful you tear up every time.

yes, while he is an undeniably clumsy lover, a man who was never given the tools to show just how much he is capable of, jason todd loves you too much to ever let go. it is in no way malicious the way he traps you in a rose colored box, making sure you feel loved and cared for and safer in his arms than anywhere else.

———

1. trying out new things with formatting!! i’d love feedback on it if you like this style more than my previous one!!

2. soooo sorry i haven’t posted in awhile. this week has been HELL. ap testing. graduation around the corner. hours at the vet. flat tire. fanfic writer curse is REAL. i meant to post this like a year ago & i just could not finish it. sorry it’s so short too i’m just exhausted :( hope y’all enjoyed!!!!!!

[miyadollie]

R/CRUSHES : HOW DO I TALK TO MY OFFICE CRUSH ? sillyguy0813 says : dude just borrow a stapler

★ STARRING office worker lee jeno x fem reader ( ft. best friend jaemin ) ★ WORD COUNT 2.6k + 3OO bonus ★ CONTAINS co-workers to dating, fluff !! lee jeno being a cutie, jaemin is a menace to society, workplace romance, ★ MIYA SAYS 💗 this is my first time TRYING to write a long fic :3 pls give me any constructive criticism and feedback thank uu 🧘🏼‍♀️ . update : wow i absolutely dislike my writing here but its been rotting in drafts too long and i gave up on fixing this TT

it starts with a stapler.

one you’re not even sure belongs to you. maybe you bought it once during a sale, or someone left it at your desk during a particularly chaotic week, and it stayed. quietly claimed as yours.

the moment wasn't love at first sight, no grand declaration of love with bouquets or fireworks. just a quiet tuesday morning, your inbox overflowing, the boss increasing your headache by preponing your deadlines, the coffee machine on its last breath and the fluorescent lights above flickering slightly like they, too, were tired of this job. and then there’s him.

lee jeno. clean-cut. soft-spoken. the kind of guy who always says “excuse me” when passing behind you, even when there’s plenty of space. always dressed a little too well for your casual office. not flashy—never that—but tidy, crisp. thoughtful. one cubicle down, diagonal from yours. he’s been here a while. a familiar face in the sea of semi-familiar ones. you’ve never really talked but only ever exchanged the kind of polite nods reserved for coworkers who share nothing but recycled air and a breakroom.

until today. “could you pass the stapler?” you look up, startled slightly by the voice.

he’s leaning just slightly over the low partition separating your desks, eyes trained on the corner of your workspace where your lonely black stapler sits. he gives you a smile. not flashy. not flirtatious. just—nice. warm. gentle. you blink once. then reach for it. “thanks,” he says. you nod. he returns to his screen. that’s it. except… it isn’t. because the next day, he borrows a pen. the day after that, post-its. then tape. then scissors. always returning everything. always smiling. always saying thank you like he means it. and now you’re wondering. is this flirting? some kind of extremely office-safe, hr-friendly version of it? or are you just painfully, embarrassingly overthinking it? or maybe did you have an unspoken crush on him? not that you can be blamed. - lee jeno is attractive. undeniably so. you’ve seen him once—just once—rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down in the middle of summer, and you swear you forgot how to form a coherent sentence for ten straight minutes. defined forearms. slim but strong hands. that razor-sharp jawline, often tilted thoughtfully while reading something on his screen. dark lashes. deep voice. a gym guy, apparently—you overheard it once when he mentioned it to jaemin (you weren’t eavesdropping, you just… have really good ears). you haven’t initiated anything. neither has he. but those tiny moments? the ones that make your heart skip? they’re adding up

────

FRIDAY | 4:30 PM

“soo… still down to try that new restaurant?” jaemin asks one afternoon, casually leaning on your desk during lunch with a fresh iced americano in hand—probably his fifth for the day. “obviously,” you reply, eyes lighting up. “people have been absolutely glazing it online. thanks for getting us a table!” he grins. “see you at 9 then.” just as he turns, he spins back around like a cartoon character. “oh, also—jeno’s coming. hope that’s cool?” you freeze. your face says i’m fine, but your body language screams mayday. “y-yeah. sure. totally chill,” you manage. “coolcoolcoolcool,” you say, immediately turning your head towards your computer, and then you see your reflection on the blank empty screen. you were blushing. hard. jaemin smirks knowingly as he walks off. of course he knows. he always knows. after all, he’s the mastermind who told jeno to borrow your stapler in the first place. ────

8:55 PM

the restaurant is low-lit and warm, the kind of place where the wood-paneled walls muffle outside noise, and everything feels just a little more intimate than it should. you arrive five minutes early. out of habit, mostly. or nerves. you’re not sure which. jaemin’s already there, somehow sipping an iced americano even here, scrolling through his phone while pretending not to notice your presence with a dramatic sigh. “i told you 9:00,” he says, without looking up. “it’s 8:55.” “still early.” he glances at you now, then raises an eyebrow. “cute top.” you ignore his antics, he’s just trying to get a reaction out of you. typical jaemin. your heart is already thudding too loudly, because jeno walks in right after. black shirt, sleeves rolled up. clean slacks. a bit of cologne, subtle but warm. his hair’s tousled slightly, and his eyes light up just a little when they land on you. “hey,” he says, with that soft smile. you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just smile back, scooting over so he can sit across from you. the conversation is light, easy. mostly thanks to jaemin, who fills every awkward silence with a joke, a story, an embarrassing anecdote about your office. jaemin and jeno were friends in school, you get to know that night, they were benchmates. jaemin always chose jeno as his partner for every game, every lab, and jeno just liked his company, so he stood with him always. jaemin talks about you to jeno too—how you both were first day interns and hit it off over a conversation about which seventeen album is truly the best. but every now and then, you catch jeno looking at you. not staring. not even for long. just—looking. like he’s seeing something he's trying very hard not to see too obviously. “so,” jaemin says mid-way through dessert, smirking at you over his spoon, “funny how you two never end up talking at work.” you nearly choke. jeno shifts in his seat. “like, what’s with all the stapler borrowing, huh? no small talk?” you glare at him. he grins. “i’m just saying. feels like there’s some unspoken office tension.” jeno lets out a quiet laugh. and then, after a beat—he looks at you. “i guess i just… wanted a reason to talk,” he says, voice soft. and your breath catches. your heart is thudding again. you manage a smile, small and shy. trying not to mess up words or blabber out something nonsensical. “i noticed,” you reply. the space between you feels full, suddenly. full of every little interaction. every thank-you. every passing smile. jaemin stretches obnoxiously. “well, look at the time! i’ve got a meeting with my bed in ten.” you roll your eyes. “you’re so obvious.” he shrugs. “you’re welcome.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind. leaving you and jeno, two half-finished desserts, and a quiet restaurant glowing gold in the late-night hush. “i can walk you home,” he says, gently. not pushing. just offering. and something in you says yes. to the walk. to this night. to the maybe that’s been building between you both. ────

10:45 PM

the night is cool, with a breeze just strong enough to lift the corners of your coat and make you tuck your hands into your sleeves. the restaurant’s warm glow fades behind you, replaced by the hush of quiet streets and dimly lit sidewalks. jeno walks beside you, hands in his pockets, his steps matching yours. neither of you says anything at first. the silence isn’t awkward. it’s... full. full of unspoken things. of nerves and glances and the way your arms brush every few seconds and both of you pretend not to notice. “jaemin talks too much,” jeno says eventually, voice low. you laugh softly. “it’s his specialty.” he hums in agreement, then adds, “he wasn’t wrong, though.” you glance at him, catching the way his eyes flicker to yours and then away again, like he’s testing the water, like he’s afraid of saying too much too fast. “i... didn’t really need the stapler that day.” your breath catches. “oh,” you manage, and you’re smiling now. you can’t help it. “i just... i guess i liked the idea of you looking at me. talking to me.” he pauses. “even if it was just a stapler.” you stop walking, just for a moment. jeno turns, realizing you’re no longer beside him. there’s a streetlight above him, casting shadows across his face and soft highlights in his hair. “you could’ve just said hi,” you whisper. he steps closer. barely. but enough to make the air between you buzz. “i know,” he murmurs. “i wanted to. every day. but you always looked so focused. and i didn’t want to ruin that.” your heart is a mess of drumbeats and warmth. “you wouldn’t have.” silence again. then he says, barely audible, “could i maybe get your number... just for office related stuff, of course.” you nod, because your voice has already betrayed you too many times tonight. a soft smile tugs at his lips. the quiet kind. the kind you know he saves for only a few people. he walks you all the way to your apartment. and when he says goodbye, it’s not a hug. not a kiss. just a quiet “goodnight” and a look that lingers longer than it should. but your heart knows. it knows everything. ────

SATURDAY | 9:00 AM

the next day, the office is just waking up. it always feels colder in the morning—half because of the ac blasting too early, half because everyone’s too busy chasing caffeine to talk. desks are still half-empty. monitors glow. the printer sputters. someone sneezes. a mug clinks. you step in, trying to hide the stupid smile that’s been stuck to your face since last night. your coat is too warm for indoors but your hands are cold, so you hold your coffee tighter. and then you see it. your desk. something’s different. sitting neatly on top of your keyboard is a brand-new stapler. blue, shiny, absolutely unnecessary. you freeze. right beside it, a yellow post-it. his handwriting. neat. almost too neat. “thought you could use one that wasn’t cursed.     —jeno :)” you almost laugh. it’s such a him thing to do—dry humor disguised as helpfulness. but your heart? it’s fluttering like it’s stuck in a romcom scene, an angelic choir singing along in tandem. you reach out and pick up the stapler.you didn’t even need one nor were you going to use one. but you want to keep this one forever. cherish it. maybe even pass it on as an heirloom.

just then, you hear someone clear their throat. “new office romance i should know about?” you don’t even need to turn around. jaemin. of course. loud, nosy, iced-americano jaemin. “shut up,” you say instantly, trying to sound bored. your cheeks are already heating up. but he walks past you, grinning like the devil, a bounce in his step like he’s in on the joke you’re still figuring out. and then—your gaze drifts. to the cubicle across. there he is. jeno. typing. or pretending to. his posture is the same—back straight, eyes on the screen—but his fingers are still on the home row keys, just gliding about. and when he feels your eyes, he glances up. It's brief, barely a second. but he smiles. like last night wasn’t just dinner. like it meant something.

a few hours later, a message pops up.

jeno lee “did the new one pass inspection?”

you “it’s still under review by the council. but i think they approve ;)”

jeno lee “let me know if it jams. i’ll personally fix it.”

you smile. a full smile this time. the kind that makes you reach for your coffee, lean back in your chair, and breathe in like something in your world has shifted.

jeno 💗 “what’s your go-to coffee order?”

you “anything except that poison jaemin drinks every day. ‘i like my coffee as dark as my soul’ ahh guy.”

jeno 💗 “haha.” “noted.”

the next morning there’s a cup of coffee on your desk, with yet another post-it note. “it’s the new specialty at a cafe near my place. i thought you’d like it :)”

that was truly the best coffee you had ever tasted. and maybe he started getting it for you every day. ────

WEDNESDAY | 9:00 PM

it's another day at the office. rain taps gently on the windows, a soft drumbeat to the silence of overworked employees and abandoned coffee mugs. you’re still at your desk & so is he. the fluorescent lights overhead are dimmer than usual, humming low like they’re tired too. you stretch your back, glancing at the clock. 9:04 pm. “still here?” comes his voice. you look up to see jeno leaning on the edge of his cubicle wall, sleeves rolled up, tie a little loosened. “so are you,” you shoot back. he smiles. “want company for the walk back?” you nod before your brain catches up.

the streetlights blur against the wet pavement, reflecting like oil paint smudged across the road. jeno’s shoulder brushes yours every few seconds—neither of you move away. he talks about the weird way jaemin eats ramen. you laugh. you tell him about your favorite childhood cartoon. he says he watched it too, and suddenly it’s three blocks later and you’re still talking. at a red light, you both stop. he glances down at you. you glance up. it’s a pause so charged you swear the rain quiets. “...you looked really pretty today,” he says suddenly. his voice isn’t confident or smooth—he says it like a secret. you don’t respond right away. just tuck your hair behind your ear, your face heating. he notices. the light turns green and you simply walk on. on reaching your apartment building you stop at the steps. he’s still holding the umbrella. you don’t say anything. he doesn’t either. there’s that moment again—that pause like the world might tilt if either of you moves. “i’m really glad you came to dinner that night,” he finally says, voice quieter than before. “been wanting to talk to you properly for months.” you blink. “...really?” jeno chuckles. “you had the office’s only decent stapler. of course i had to make a move.” you laugh—nervous and shy and full of everything you’ve been holding back. he takes a step closer. just one. not too much. “but also,” he adds, and this time his voice is a little more sure, “i like you. not just the lunch break, passing-notes kind. the kind where i want to sit and mindlessly watch silly romcoms with you, the kind where i want to walk you home every day and make sure you had dinner. the kind where - " he goes on. but words fall on deaf ears. you feel your heart clench, sweet and sharp. you’re about to respond when— “...so, if you’re okay with it,” he continues, scratching the back of his neck, “can i officially take you out sometime? like, not just coffee machine and post-it flirting. a real date.” you blink. once. twice. your face is warm. your chest feels like it’s glowing. “...yes.” you don’t even hesitate. his smile is soft. wide. genuine. and when he hands you the umbrella and waves goodnight, walking back with his hands in his pockets and a quiet bounce in his step. you think, maybe this started with a stapler. but it’s gonna end with something a lot more permanent. ──── BONUS : FEW WEEKS LATER | 2:00 PM

you, jeno, and jaemin were perched on the edge of the rooftop, paper lunchboxes balanced on your laps, chinese takeout - courtesy of jeno. the breeze is nice, the sky a little overcast, and jaemin's halfway through an enthusiastic rant about the company’s new vending machine layout.

“and like .. why did they move the green tea to the bottom row? what kind of criminal.. oh, thanks man.” he says as jeno hands him a napkin mid-rant, like muscle memory.

you say while giggling, “you guys are like an old married couple.”

jeno chokes on his rice. you pat his back helpfullly , still giggling.

jaemin just shrugs. “what can i say? i raised him well.”

jeno glares at him. mouthing ' stop. talking.' he knew jaemin could slip up any moment. for he always did.

jaemin does not stop talking.

“i mean, not to brag, but if it weren’t for me, he’d still be hovering awkwardly near your desk pretending he needed your stapler.”

you blink. “wait. what?”

jeno drops his chopsticks.

jaemin freezes. realizes.

“oh..." he mutters.

your jaw drops. “waitwaitwait. you told him to borrow my stapler?”

“in my defense,” jaemin says, holding up both hands, “i was just trying to save him from dying of heart failure every time you walked past. it was either that or fake a paper jam crisis.”

jeno is silent. fully hiding behind his lunchbox now.

you slowly turn to him. “is this true?”

“…maybe,” he mumbles.

you snort, trying to hold in your laughter. “oh my god. so all this time..”

“don’t act like it wasn’t genius!” jaemin interrupts. “you’re welcome, by the way. this whole slow-burn coffee shop romcom office love story? all me.”

jeno groans. “can i push him off the roof.”

you lean into jeno’s shoulder, grinning. “you should’ve just said hi.”

he sighs. “i wanted to. but every time i tried, you were always typing so fast. and glaring at your screen like it personally insulted your ancestors.”

you snort. “fair.”

jaemin raises his water bottle. “to true love, born from borrowing office supplies.”

jeno snatches it from him and takes a sip without asking. you think that’s revenge enough. read more ❤︎ please like, reblog and let me know your reviews (๑>◡<๑) this work is a piece of fiction and is not intended to reflect the real personalities, actions, or beliefs of the individuals portrayed. the idols mentioned are used purely as fictional characters for storytelling purposes. no harm, disrespect, or objectification is intended. everything written here is entirely imaginative and not based on real-life events or relationships.