#but it's so funny.... like hey. guy who had zero privacy for four years & has severe paranoïa oh weird why did autocorrect give me the

[intertexts]

sorry for complaining so much about my current situation however it's kind of like my personally tailored saw trap or something

[sparkleofpizza]

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 1/?

Hey guys, how are you doing? I have been working on this story for a while now and decided to finally post it, I am currently still writing the next parts because I decided to change a few ideas I had previously, but this is mainly just me giving Tim Drake some love and incorporating a bit of my love for Arrow too. Hope you guys like it and feel free to request me anything if you'd like, I write for the batboys, Wally and Conner. 

Requested: no

Warnings: some swearing

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the Cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake.

Word count: 2.228

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

The Wayne manor was silent that day, Bruce had everyone prepared for the arrival of a guest. The four boys were pissed off as why they had to make sure their rooms were organized, it was not like the guest would sleep in there. Dick and Jason didn't even live there anymore, but they gave up on arguing after one pointed look from Alfred.

When the doorbell finally rung, the boys were all too busy playing around in the cave - somewhere they found out they would have privacy, after all there was no way the guest would get there. So they weren’t there to greet you as you found your way around the house, after being greeted by Bruce and Alfred, letting them take your bags to the room you’d be staying at and showing you around.

You ended up standing in front of the clock, you knew pretty well what that clock meant, your brother had told you about that. You had a vague idea that the boys would be there - you really wanted to meet all of them - but didn’t want to intrude, this wasn’t your house after all and Bruce was already being nice enough to let you stay over while your brother was away in some business. So you went back to your room, deciding to meet them when was the right time.

And it actually didn’t take long for you to run into one of them. You collided with a huge body, making you land in your butt as you looked up to see none other than Jason Todd. He started down at you.

“Who are you?” He asked, frowning "Are you the guest Bruce told us about?"

“Hello to you too, Jason.” You rolled your eyes at the boys antics, pushing yourself up “It’s nice to see you again.”

He started at you for a few seconds before realization drowned on him. You are Y/N Queen, Oliver’s young sister and Roy’s ‘sister’ as well. He hasn’t seen you such a long time he almost didn’t recognize you.

“Y/N?!” He questioned, too surprised, patting your shoulder “Oh, it’s good to see you again. You look so different from the last time I saw you.”

“That’s because the last time you saw me I was sixteen.” You smirked up at him “Which means you’re getting a bit old.”

He narrowed his eyes at you “You’re like eighteen now or something?”

“Nineteen, actually.”

He nodded, leading you downstairs to the kitchen “Well, you’re still underage so you still have to respect me and do what I say.”

“When have I ever done something people tell me to do? I literally went after a serial killer on my own when I was fifteen just because Ollie told me to stay out of it.”

Jason nodded his head, remembering Roy complaining about something like that. He didn’t pay much attention at the story at the time because he thought it was boring and he had better things to think of, such as his revenge on Bruce, but now it seemed amusing a small girl like you trying something like that. He made a mental note to ask you more details about it later.

“I hope none of you are doing anything imprudent, we have a visitor and that would be really bad looking for you all.” Jason exclaimed, entering the kitchen with you by his side 

His three brothers were sitting on the counter, fighting over the last cookie Alfred had made earlier. Their heads shot up in curiosity trying to find out who was there with their brother. Hoping it wouldn't be the mysterious guest.

You stood still, pushing some hair from your face and offering them a friendly smile. Oliver has told you about them, even Roy filled you in on who they were, you’ve seen pictures of them, after all they were Bruce’s Wayne kids, but damn, you didn’t expect them to be this good looking in person. 

“Todd, who’s this?” A small boy questioned, holding up a knife to point at you

You chuckled at that “I’m y/n, it’s really nice to meet you. Maybe you should let go of that knife, kids shouldn’t hold things that can hurt them.”

“I’m not a kid!” He yelled 

His brothers laughed at his face, Tim already taking a liking into you. If you got to bother Damian in less than five minutes into conversation than you were cool. Dick though you were funny and Jason smiled proudly just because he knew you before everyone else.

“This are my brothers, Dick, Tim and Damian.” Jason introduced them to you 

You smiled once again, taking a sit across from where they were. 

“So...” Dick started “Y/n, when did you and Jason get together?”

“What? You think we’re dating?” You almost gagged, taking a look at the boy beside you. From all the stories you heard about him from Roy, you were 110% sure that you’d never be able to feel something more for him “We’re not together.” You chuckled at the end

Jason narrowed his eyes “Y/n is the guest Bruce told us about, but hold on a second... Why did you sound so disgusted?”

“Because anyone would be disgusted if someone thought they were dating you, Todd.” Damian rolled his eyes, earning a few laughs from his brother and you, and a death glare from Jason

“Roy just tells me so much shit about you, and you guys are glued. It would be like dating Roy, totally weird.”

“Oh, you’re friends with Roy?” Tim asked, leaning in a bit, curious about how much you knew about them all

You smiled directly at him, flipping some hair from your face. He stared at you for a while, mouth slightly open before quickly shutting it close. You were so pretty and what a perfect smile you have. 

“Yeah, I’ve known him almost my whole life.” You replied, frowning a bit, thinking back into old memories of when things went down hill, but quickly smiled again at boy in front of you “So I know plenty about all of you.” 

That gave him the answer he needed. You knew about their nightly activities, which was better than having to lie all the time. Not like he was expecting to have you around all the time, you were just staying for a while. But he wouldn’t mind staring at your gorgeous e/c eyes, and pretty conquer smile. 

Dick’s eyes went wide, looking at his brother and than at you. An idea already popping on his mind, if you weren’t dating Jason, maybe that meant you weren’t dating anyone, since you stated you also weren’t dating Roy. Big chances of you being single. Watching you and Tim interact made him want to play match maker, oh he was desperate to play match maker.

“How old are you, y/n?” He blurted out loudly 

“I’m nineteen, why?”

“Oh! Nothing! Just curiosity. Did you know Tim is twenty-one? Only two years older than you! Funny, right?”

You nodded, biting your lower lip to prevent yourself from laughing. Dick didn’t know how to be discreet.

It had been a couple of days since you’ve been at the manor and you noticed a couple of things:

1. Damian was a very hard person to socialize with, he was very judging and didn’t seem to enjoy your presence at all.

2. Jason was everything Roy told you about him, and that was kind of creepy.

3. Dick was definitely trying to play cupid, asking you random questions out of the blue and then stating facts about Tim.

4. Tim had a very weird sleeping pattern, was coffee addicted and the nicest to talk out of the four of them. 

You tried to live your days as normally as possible, but nothing normal is really normal in this family. You thought it was ok their vigilant routine, your brother was one as well, but weren’t they extreme sometimes?! No wonder Oliver said Bruce was uptight. They show zero emotions. 

You tried not to get in their way, not really bothering them when they were busy with patrol and cases. You figured your time of the day should be during the night, when the would be out of the manor and on the streets fighting crime. 

Going down to the kitchen to get some coffee, maybe something to eat and then you could silently laugh while watching Brooklyn 99. What you didn’t expect was to run into Tim during that.

He was pouring down coffee on his mug when you appeared on the doorway. He glanced up, smiling once he saw you.

“Did I wake you up?” He questioned, leaning down on the counter 

“No.” You shook your head, smiling back at him “I came to get some coffee. Shouldn't you be on patrol?" 

"It is my day off." Tim replied, watching you as he took a sip of his coffee

"So then... Can't sleep?"

“I normally don’t sleep. What about you?”

You arched your brows at that, pouring some hot coffee in a mug for you. Who normally doesn’t sleep?

“Just wanted to watch some Netflix in the quite of the night.” You shrugged “What do you normally do since you don’t sleep?”

"I just work on some cases."

That seemed unlikely. How could someone stay up all night just working on some cases? He certainly did other things, maybe he had a secret girlfriend and he would sneak her into his room at night and that's just what he told everyone he was doing? Working on some cases.

"But you do that all night? I doubt it's healthy. Don't you like have a secret girlfriend you're sneaking in and you just don't want anyone to find out about?"

Tim laughed at your statement, shaking his head. 

"I don't have any secret girlfriend or a real girlfriend for the matter. I like working at night. You could help me sometime, if you'd like?" A dust pink took over his cheeks, maybe he crossed the line by asking you join him in his room in the middle of the night, but you smiled at him 

"I'd love to help you on some cases. Shall we start now?"

He nodded, grabbing your hand and pulling you in towards his room. You smiled at the touch of your palms, his hand was way bigger than yours, but you liked how it felt against your skin. His fingers were cold. You could get used to holding hands with him, it felt nice.

You entered his room, looking at the place around you and seeing how it had so much of him in it. It smelled like coffee and his cologne, a nice combination. He closed the door behind you, leading you to his desk.

"So, what do you want me to help you with?" You questioned, leaning on the desk and staring at him 

He took a moment to admire you. Your face free of makeup, some natural redness on the skin that made you look cute, your hair down on your shoulders, and your comfy pijamas. 

"Have you ever worked on a case before?" You nodded, making him look at you with surprise. You smirked before he kept on talking "I'm trying to track down some of these weapon buyers, there's supposed to be a sale soon, but I can't point out the location yet."

"What are our leads?"

Tim smiled, showing you all the evidence he got before splitting up the job and the both of you starting to work. You sat on his bed with a laptop and he sat beside you with his own. Both clicking at the keyboard, trying to find new clues to find out the place of the weapon sale before it's too late. 

At some point of the night, you had decided to take a small break. Laying on your side, looking at Tim while he worked and holding a small conversation with him. But then you were too quiet and when he looked at you again, you had fallen asleep, holding on his shirt sleeve. 

He closed his laptop, carefully placing it on his night stand, trying not to disrupt you, and lied down himself. He tried to put some distance between your bodies, but you shifted only getting closer to him once you missed his body warmth, and he found himself trapped when you plopped a leg over his thighs. His cheeks turned red and he was really glad you were asleep so you wouldn't be able to see how flustered he was right now. 

Eventually, during the night, Tim wrapped his arms around you as your head was placed on top of his chest. And that's how Alfred found the both of you in the morning, having checked your room to wake you up for breakfast and being frighted to find an empty bed. 

"What you're staring at, Alfred?" Dick asked, waking past him on the hallway only to squeaky like a little kid once he saw you two asleep holding each other "I knew it! I knew they'd end up together!"

He grabbed his phone, snapping a couple of pictures before being rushed out of there by Alfred. Tim deserved some sleep, and the both of you looked too adorable together to be disturbed like that. 

[hermannsthumb]

From horny twitter: Hermann writes a very very detailed review of a vibrator online

not sfw below cut!!!!!!!!!!! 

----------------------------

Now, usually, Newt doesn’t mess around when he’s on the clock, because that’d be very unprofessional of him and that’s totally not who he is, but he’s in a little bit of a rut with his current project and could use the distraction. Online shopping is his favorite go-to distraction these days: he can lose himself in size charts and color options and hunts for coupon codes and forget, even for a few minutes, that the end of the world is accelerating towards them at an intimidating rate. Plus, he can write off half his shit as work-related expenses. Win-win. Though maybe not this particular search.

Newt has a pretty reliable arsenal of sex toys he’s used on rotation since he packed up and shipped across the world for the PPDC, but the ten-year warranty vibe he’s used since PhD #3 (and his favorite of the bunch) finally crapped out on him last week after a historically intense fight with Hermann got him historically wound up. Eleven years ain’t bad. After testing out a different charger, poking around in the wiring, and even going so far as to zap it a few times with some sorta-stolen drift tech to see if it stirred any life back into it, he finally decided it was time to just mourn, move on, and buy a new one. (Even if, unfortunately, his particular favorite model was discontinued when the company’s factory was destroyed in a kaiju attack and they never quite managed to recover. More casualties of the war.)

The sex toy market is truthfully booming during the apocalypse. It makes sense, Newt guesses—anything for a distraction. Personally, for Newt, orgasms tend to dampen his own existential dread, even if it’s just for a few minutes. He scrolls idly through a few Top Ten For 2023 listicles on various sex magazine websites to see if anything jumps out at him (some of the recommended toys are dildos he already has, and vibes that are a little beyond his k-sci paycheck), just hoping for something to jump out at him. Apparently he missed out on a limited-edition run of jaeger and kaiju-themed vibes and dildos that came out in early January, which he’s honestly a little pissed about—he’s the top expert on kaiju biology, god damn it! Didn’t anyone want to consult with him about their hypothetical junk? Accuracy matters.

“It’s all off,” Newt mutters grumpily as he examines a 360 view of one of the kaiju dildos. Trespasser. “It’s not even the right color. Fucking amateurs. Did they even try?”

“What are you doing?” Hermann says.

Newt slams his laptop shut. Hermann decided to cut his lunch break short today, apparently. “Shopping,” he says.

“You sounded awfully angry about something, is all,” Hermann says. He clacks over to his half of the lab and shrugs off his big parka, then pauses. “Do you need to...talk about it?”

“No,” Newt says.

Hermann breathes out in obvious relief. “Good,” he says.

He takes his usual spot at his chalkboard and resumes his calculating. Newt re-opens his laptop and scrolls away from Trespasser before he can make himself angry over anatomical inaccuracies again. The jaeger vibes from the collection are pretty cool, actually; the designs are a lot cleaner, and their artistic license is a lot more forgivable. The highest-rated of the set is one obviously (but not enough to invoke copyright infringement, if that can even exist for a jaeger) modeled off of Coyote Tango, with like, a million different settings, and an astronomical cost to match. Newt eyes it enviously. He could be shoving that up his ass right now if he’d just signed up for a stupid email list last year.

He follows the link to Amazon to read through some of the reviews enviously, too. Life-changing; best money ever spent; warranty lasts a lifetime. Ten stars across the board. Sold out, obviously. No idea when it’ll be back in stock. He could get the Striker Eureka model for twice the original cost as when it came out, if he wanted, but the idea of constantly having to associate the twenty-something punk Hansen kid with his intimate affairs makes him shudder.

A nine-star review for the Coyote Tango model from someone named MathLover69 is the only one to make Newt really pause, on account of how absolutely insane it is.

I saved quite a few paychecks to purchase this vibrator, and though the cost is steep, I must say it is absolutely worth it. As opposed to my normal vibrator (here another vibe is linked, and Newt’s eyebrows jump at that price, too), which has only five settings, an admittedly bulky body, and average battery life, the CT2023 has a generous ten, a sleeker design, and charges fully in a matter of minutes. The orgasms I have experienced while using it are higher in quality (and more numerous) than any resulting previously from masturbation, though I have not tried beyond setting six yet. It also works wonders for stress relief. (I have an incredibly irritating colleague, and nothing calms me down so much as a quick round with the CT2023 after a spat with him.)

The body is versatile enough to be either inserted into one’s—

Newt feels heat rise to his cheeks in spite of himself, and he skims the second paragraph of MathLover69’s review to get the gist of it—that there are, uh, plenty of ways to utilize the vibe, that it’s discreet and small enough to wear to work (if you were inclined to do so, as MathLover69 implies he might’ve been) and that when combined with the Yamarashi dildo, the pleasurable experience increased tenfold. Talk about oversharing. Jeez.

My only complaint would be that the design is a poor approximation of the real Coyote Tango, and for that I’ve docked a star. I would recommend this product.

“This guy is a total nut,” Newt says to himself.

“Hm?” Hermann says.

Newt considers the implications of showing Hermann the vibrator listing: Hermann will know he was shopping for sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys during working hours a mere ten feet away from him. Embarrassing, but on the other hand, MathLover69’s review is too funny to not share with someone else. “Hey, Hermann,” Newt says, angling his laptop towards Hermann. “Look. Who comments shit like this?”

Hermann descends his ladder carefully and inches up behind Newt’s shoulder, squinting at his laptop screen. He immediately turns bright red. Newt must’ve offended his Victorian sensibilities with the mere suggestion of self-abuse. “Oh,” he says. “Er.”

“Way TMI,” Newt says. “Listen to this line. ‘With the Yamarashi toy inserted into one’s mouth, and the CT2023 inserted up one’s—'”

“Well, how else is one meant to review a masturbatory aid?” Hermann snaps, surprising Newt. He looks oddly flustered. “Details can be—er—helpful. Can’t they?”

“Sure, dude,” Newt snorts. “Except they’re obviously just screwing with people. They literally have a 69 in their username.” He taps at the MathLover69, and doesn’t mention—on behalf of Hermann’s delicate mathematician feelings—that the MathLover part is obviously meant as a joke too.

“Well,” Hermann says. “Perhaps it’s just his—er, their birthdate.”

Newt turns around to stare at Hermann, taking in his red cheeks, his red ears, and the gaze he’s fixed steadily on his shoes. It’s all Newt can do to not to gape at him. “Hermann, you’re kidding,” he says. “Right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hermann says.

“You didn’t,” Newt says.

“I,” Hermann stammers. “Well—”

“I didn’t even know you—”

“That I what?” Hermann says.

Newt gives a half-shrug. Hermann doesn’t seem the type to engage in any sort of vice, let alone this kind. And especially not with the type of sex toys he apparently gravitates towards. (If Newt was a little bolder, and had a little less shame and care for hygiene, he might ask to check out the Yamarashi, because anatomical inaccuracies aside, wow that sounds awesome.) “I mean, you know,” Newt says. “You’re kinda you. No offense.”

Hermann takes offense. “I am human,” he says. “I am allowed to masturbate, Newton, and I was merely attempting to educate other customers about the—product—with my thoroughness.” He adds, awkwardly, “My review was voted very helpful, as you can see.”

“Okay,” Newt says with a grin. “I get it. Sorry.”

Hermann marches back over to his side of the lab with a scowl. Newt waits until he’s sure Hermann’s not watching him, and is too distracted by muttering angrily under his breath, to bookmark MathLover69’s page of reviews.

It turns out (as Newt revisits the page later that night, in the privacy of his bunk) Hermann buys and reviews a truly staggering amount of dildos and sex toys, and on top of that, has absolutely zero filter behind the wall of anonymity. It’s to the extent that some of his reviews read like goddamn sexts.

It took me three occasions to successfully work myself up to taking in the entire length…

My orgasm was so pleasurable I alarmed my colleague with the noise I made, who believed me to have injured myself…

The highest vibration setting is a bit of a disappointment…

These are excellent for double penetration…

It also turns out Hermann is a veritable sex fiend. Or at least a masturbation fiend. Judging by his reviews alone, Hermann’s purchased more than a dozen different toys in the past three years alone. That’s four a year. One every three months. That’s not even including buttplugs, which (according to other reviews) he sometimes just wears into the lab (“work”) for the hell of it, which Newt isn’t even going to think about right now. How the hell has Hermann kept this much of his life under wraps? When the hell does he have time to jerk off as much as he apparently does? No wonder they never seem to have any fucking funding; all of Hermann’s paychecks are funneled directly into his—well.

Newt recalls the faux-injury incident Hermann mentioned in a comment with mild embarrassment. No wonder Hermann had been so weird and flushed when he opened his door, and made excuses to say bye to him so quickly—Newt just caught him (oh, boy) immediately following the best orgasm of his life. Well, mild embarrassment, and a little more than mild arousal. What Newt would’ve given to have been there five minutes earlier, to watch Hermann in the act of the best orgasm of his life, to maybe even be the one to cause it…

What Newt would give to use Hermann’s fancy-shmancy vibrator on him, or literally anything from his giant masturbatory arsenal. Or even just watch him use it on himself. Hermann’s just so damned buttoned-up and uptight—it’s all about the contradictions. Juxtapositions. Newt unzips his jeans and sticks his hand down his boxers. “Stupid Hermann,” he moans, as he begins to bring himself off to the image of Hermann with that stupid kaiju dildo down his throat and that stupid jaeger vibe up his ass. Negotiator of peace between the two? Stupid joke, stupid Hermann. Or maybe he’s picturing Hermann showing up to the lab, all plugged up and loose from using a different vibe on himself that morning. Or maybe Hermann pushing two dildos into himself at once. How the hell can he even manage that? Ass his size— “Oh, goddamn it,” Newt moans again, and comes all over his hand.

Whatever. It’s not like Hermann’s ever going to find out about this.

[drosophilase]

fic: Yoda, Yuletide, and You

Title: Yoda, Yuletide, and You

Author: @drosophilase

Gifted to: @djchika as part of the @crisscolfergiftexchange 2017

Original prompt: “We made the mutual decision to go to this party separately and when I arrived there was this asshole flirting with you and I’m trying not to make it obvious that I’m seething with jealousy but it’s really difficult”

Ratings/Warning: Teen; allusions to sex (non-explicit), boss/employee relationship

Read on AO3!

Sorry this is two days late, thank you for the gracious extension and Merry Christmas Deej!  Thank you so much for all you did to arrange this exchange <3

--

It had started, as most great love stories do, with a Yoda figurine on the corner of Chris's desk. "That green figurine, I like," croaked a terrible Yoda impersonation from the twenty-fifth (ok, just fifth) person Chris had interviewed that day. Darren Criss, his application said.

Chris raised an eyebrow. Giving interviews for a job at a nerd pop culture online news source, Chris thought he had heard it all. This guy is the first to be bold enough to do such a confident and terrible impersonation. Chris touches Yoda's pointy ear. "From my sister. She's determined to get me the entire Star Wars Funko Pop set over the next 20 Christmases and birthdays." He doesn't comment aloud on the terrible Yoda voice, but he does write a little Y in the corner of Darren's resume.

"That's so cool, man, it's awesome that your family knows what you love. I have a ton of Pops but I can't ever seem to finish a set. There's just too many other things I like. I just put my Chewie next to my Harley Quinn and go with it." There's a sort of sparkle in his eye, glowing gold in the sunlight filtering through Chris's office blinds.

Chris sets the resume aside (he'd already noted this one for the qualifications - degree in Theatre from Michigan University, four years on the Michigan Daily staff with one as senior editor. Proficiency in Final Cut and a few credits in web series and local theatre productions. Currently working in local news media and writing a blog on the Star Wars Extended Universe on the side. Even before he walked in looking like a dream, Chris was hooked). "Suicide Squad Harley or Batman: The Animated Series Harley?"

Darren scoffs, the black curls over his forehead bouncing. "Animated Series, dude. Hands fucking down. I try to forget that Suicide Squad ever existed. It's hard to be a DC boy these days."

Chris cracks a smile. "That's why the girls - well, Patty Jenkins, really - are going to save us all. Haven't you seen Wonder Woman?"

"If I've learned one thing in my time in this industry, no one ever listens to women when they should. You're right though, if they let Patty work she's going to do the whole damn thing."

"If only Ben Affleck could do his civic duty and disappear from the earth, I'd feel better about it."

Darren laughs with his whole body, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Dude, yes. Just go softly into that dark night."

Chris cocks his head. "You didn't just make that pun, oh my god."

Darren smiles. "You didn't notice 'witty wordplay' under my skills? It's like in my top 3 best attributes."

Chris wishes he had the power to cancel the rest of his day's appointments and just end the day with Darren's interview. Instead, he takes the scant three minutes he has until the next interview to smile absently back at Yoda and make another note on the resume.

1. Wordplay

2. Smile

3. -Ass- Experience

The great thing about PopNow's building is the super cool collaborative open floor plan with lots of coworking tables, glass doors, and zero fucking privacy. Chris had always cringed sitting at the long tables, having to work face-to-face with someone else's computers and get distracted every time they got up to go to the bathroom. Honestly, half his drive to move up to staff editor was to get one of the more private (loosely) offices around the edges of the room with a single desk and a wall to stare at instead of a strange coworker.

Being promoted to division head of PopNow Nerd was Chris's ultimate dream (private office, final say on all published material, sitting in on meetings with creative directors and sometimes, investors. The control freak inside of Chris was fucking delighted). That is, until 3 months later when PopNow shifted their entire focus and all their resources to video reporting. Luckily, they weren't completely cutting out the website or articles that Chris joined the company to write. And, Chris was getting a lot more flexibility to hire new talent and explore new realms of reporting. And thank fucking god, Chris never had to be in front of the camera.

He knew he had to change with the times quick, though. He had writers - he just needed producers. And, after a quick poll of the office didn't yield many nerds willing to get in front of a camera (who would’ve thought), some on-air personalities.

Enter: Darren Criss.

The first day Darren’s new hosted series “Heroes and Zeroes” went live with an episode rating Disney villains on some complicated ranking system based on hotness, degree of evil, and personal style, the PopNow Nerd Facebook page gained like 5,000 followers.  Darren’s video instantly became their most watched.

And the comments, well—Chris’s cheeks reddened just thinking about them. A bashful Darren appeared at Chris’s door two hours after the video went live, one hand buried in the shorter hair at the base of his neck. “So… I think people like it?”

Chris raised his eyebrows, looking over his glasses where he had the comments section open on his own computer. Girls and guys alike were tagging their friends just to point out how hot Darren is. With him there draped casually in his door frame, Chris would have to agree. “I would say yes, they do.”

Darren laughs an embarrassed sort of huff, looks down at his feet. Chris can tell that though he might be humbled by the success of the video, Darren is definitely feeling proud of himself.

“Actually,” Chris continued, “maybe you should reply to a few of them. Start building some rapport with the fans.  Couldn’t hurt, and the higher-ups really want to see viewer engagement.”

The next day the Facebook page following had grown again by the thousands.  Suspicious, Chris scrolled to Darren’s video again. The views just kept going up.  And Darren himself was in the comments section, cheekily replying to a few of them.

Brittany Smith Oh my god, @Ashley did you watch this? I don’t even know what he said, I just keep staring at his hands for some reason

Darren Criss Next time pay attention to my face, we pay the makeup department a lot to cover up my lizard skin! ;)

Chris had one hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  Darren was fucking funny. As if Chris didn’t have enough problems drooling over him already in production meetings, writing pitches, and the million times a day he stops by Chris’s office with just “one quick question.”

Chris glanced out his glass office doors to Darren’s desk (the one he has a perfect view of if he just pretends to work at his computer but instead looks right past his monitor out to the main office, no Chris didn’t put him there on purpose the desk was just open). And Darren’s comically large hot pink headphones, and Darren’s brow furrowed as he works hard at something on his computer, and Darren himself chewing on his lip and tugging on a curl and oh, god—

Chris has got it so bad.

“Fuck,” Chris says quietly, taking off his glasses to rub his tired eyes. He should have known better.

--

The crush stays mostly on lock down for almost two weeks.  Chris is like, acutely aware every time Darren walks near his office door (inconvenient, since he has to walk that way for the bathroom, the breakroom, and pretty much everything else) and he gets flustered during staff meetings when Darren starts smiling at him.

And then, of fucking course, there’s Lea.

“Who is this Darren again? You’ve said his name like ten times in the last five minutes.”

Chris swallows hard and tries to keep his tone casual. “Just one of the on-air personalities we hired.  He’s a good writer too, when we can keep him focused.  The best idea man we have, after me of course.  He’s been working here for like three months.  I swear I told you about him. Curly black hair, stupidly big brown eyes?”

Lea gasps. “Christopher Fucking Colfer. Do you have a crush?”

Chris instantly feels his face burning.  “You know Karyn Colfer would never give me such an unsightly middle name.  Jesus, Lea, I don’t know… He’s just a great guy. We get along well.  He’s my employee, for fuck’s sake.”

Lea scoffs. “That’s the highest praise I’ve heard you give another human in the entire time I’ve known you. You definitely like him.”

She’s always so infuriatingly good at pointing out the one thing Chris is trying to pretend doesn’t exist. “Yeah I… guess I do.”

She hums, sympathetic.  “It’s been a long time since you’ve embraced another human being, Christopher.  Maybe try leaning in this time instead of running away. It might do you some good.”

Eager to not hear yet another long-spun tail about her and her fiancé’s meet-cute, recent cohabitation, or extensive wedding planning, Chris says quickly, “Okay, yeah. Lean in. I’ll try that.”

“Just talk to him! You’re very charming, in your own way. He willingly works at PopNow Nerd, for Christ’s sake, just talk about your elaborate Halloween costume for next week, he’ll love that.”

Chris can’t argue with that.

--

“Lean in,” Chris murmurs to himself as he sees Darren get up for his second coffee and first trip to Chris’s desk right around the usual time, 9:20.

“Hey Chris,” Darren says, rapping on the open glass door twice.  Chris looks up from pretending he’s engrossed in end-of-year reports and not sweating into his hoodie.  “Quick question, to settle a debate: Richard Harris or Michael Gambon as Dumbledore? Must cite sources.”

Chris smiles. “Michael Gambon, without a doubt.  I loved the look of Richard Harris, don’t get me wrong, but Order of the Phoenix Dumbledore, tracking down horcruxes Dumbledore, was not frail. Richard Harris could have never pulled off standing up to the Ministry and escaping with Fawkes, no way.”

Darren cocked his head.  “So not what I would have thought you would say.  And honestly, you’ve almost sold me on Gambon.  I’m one of those who can’t overlook the didjupuyurnameinthegobletofire debacle but you have excellent points. Always surprising me, Chris.”

Was that… flirting? It was so hard to tell because Darren was so easily entrancing like this just all the time, but something about the way he said Chris’s name made him think it was different.

Darren had already half-turned to go but Chris calls him back, saying his name.  Darren turns around, eyebrows quirked.  This was deviating from their normal routine, Chris knew.  He tries to calm his pounding heart.  Lean in.

“You know, the real casting tragedy in the Potter series was how old James and Lilly were. Like, alright yes, the ‘mother’s eyes’ thing was absolutely shot to hell. But how are they going to tell us James and Lilly died at literally 21 years old and cast middle-aged actors?”

Darren smiles.  “Dude, yes. They fucked up the ages of everyone in the Order of the Phoenix except for like, Tonks. And maybe they got away with Lupin since he would be more weathered. But casting mid-50s actors for characters barely pushing 35? It totally takes away the resonance of these young people fighting for the future of the world.”

He sits in one of the chairs Chris has arranged along the side of the wall (PopNow has a thing about the formality of sitting with a desk between them) and Chris should move to go sit next to him but it feels like this new thing is a bubble that he might burst at any second if he moved the wrong way.

Darren leaves twenty minutes later to go back to his desk, his empty coffee-stained Vader mug forgotten on the floor.

Chris smiles as he catches Darren eye through the glass.  He’ll be back in an hour or two.

--

By the time mid-November rolls around, it seems that Chris and Darren’s quick coffee run questions have turned into thrice-daily chats have turned into… something.  It’s started to become a running joke at staff meetings, that Chris and Darren are usually more ChrisandDarren these days.  Chris ran into Darren once at his favorite lunch Chinese spot, and then he suggested another lunch spot for tacos and Darren suggested they go together, and now lunch is just always assumed to be theirs.  Even when Chris had to work three days straight through lunch to meet the deadline on proposals for the next quarter, Darren showed up every day with cashew chicken, disappearing when Chris was stressed or offering alien conspiracy theories when Chris needed a break.

That was the thing about Darren, he was always just there. As soon as Chris opened the figurative door by starting a conversation, Darren blew the whole fucking thing open and made himself at home.  It was hard to remember work before Darren.

It doesn’t dawn on Chris that they really haven’t seen each other outside of work until he overhears a few other producers and writers making plans to get drinks after work the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.  Chris doesn’t think anything of it—he never wanted to get drinks with anyone in the office before, and he figured no one wanted to drink with their boss anyway.

So he’s pretty floored when he clearly hears Darren (speaking in his still-loud “low voice”) ask Denise if Chris is invited.

Chris doesn’t even try to hear the answer (it’s no, Chris knows) as he reels.  He can see Darren outside of work.  Darren maybe wants to see Chris outside of work.  Chris would have a reason to go somewhere other than home to his cat.  He had never thought of it before but now Chris really, really wanted to be invited out to drinks. By Darren, that is.

Darren stops by his office (fifth time that day) with his coat over his arm and bag slung over his shoulder on his way out.  “Happy Thanksgiving, Chris.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, he automatically replies.  “Headed down to Republic with Denise and Lars and everyone?”  Chris says it just to see how Darren will react.

Darren winces and looks sheepish.  “You heard about that, huh? Yeah it seems like it’s just a writers’ thing, sorry about that, I didn’t decide that it would be exclusive.”

“No, yeah, it’s totally okay,” Chris says, waving his hand.  “I wouldn’t want to like, intrude on the group anyways.  Frankly, there’s few people in this office I’d want to see outside of these stupid glass walls.”

Darren pouts, put-upon. “I hope I made your short list.”

Chris knows his ears are red-tipped but he swallows and forces himself to say, “Duh. You’re like, the whole list.”

Something comes over Darren’s face.  He’s more beautiful than Chris has ever seen.  “Yeah? You’re at the top of mine. Maybe after the holiday we can compare lists.  Have a good Thanksgiving, Chris.”

“Y-yeah, you too,” Chris manages to say, half-strangled, awkwardly waving as Darren turns and leaves.

Holy shit, Darren may have just asked him on a date.

--

There are three things Chris learns on the Friday a week after Thanksgiving weekend.

It is most definitely a date, Darren’s preferred drink is a whiskey sour, and he is the best kisser Chris has ever known.

“I thought maybe you only wanted to hear more on my nuanced analysis of Star Trek captains,” Chris teases after they break apart just inside his front door.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I love your analysis,” Darren says breathily from where he’s kissing Chris’s jaw.  “It’s just that I also love the way your arms look in your tee shirts and your butt looks in your jeans and that your lips are so damn kissable.”

Chris thrills as Darren stretches up to kiss him again, basically on his tiptoes.  How is someone who appreciates all those things even real?  Chris runs his hands along Darren’s shoulders, grips his elbows, squeezes his waist.  Darren slips his tongue into Chris’s mouth and Chris reflexively grabs Darren’s perfect ass.  Oh, he’s real all right.

“That’s awfully fresh, Mr. Colfer,” Darren says breathily even as he pulls Chris in, walking backwards.  “Don’t you think that’s better suited for the bedroom?”

Later, Chris’s best shirt is maybe ruined and Darren is sleepy and soft and come-dumb, draped across Chris’s chest (he’s a cuddler, as Chris should have guessed).

“Give me five minutes and I’ll get up I promise,” Darren mostly mumbles as he rubs his face into Chris’s belly.

“Mmhmm,” Chris replies skeptically, sinking a hand into Darren’s curls and tracing his thumb over the sweat gathered at his temples.  “I really don’t mind.”

Darren groans, low and long.  “I have like, a thing about my hair being played with, dude. Once you start I’m always going to beg you to keep going.”

Chris smiles wickedly, pulling his fingers slowly through the soft strands and listening to Darren’s responses.  “I could be okay with that.”

--

Chris thinks they’re totally rocking the first day back at work giving off very “we definitely didn’t have sex last night, no way, thanks for asking” vibes. Until a very concerned Eileen stops by his office after their afternoon meeting.

“This is definitely not my business Chris, but you know I care deeply about the balance of the workplace ecosystem, so I’m going to meddle just this once.  Are you and Darren—”

Chris immediately opens his mouth, panicked, “Oh uh, no, I—”

“—Mad at each other?”

Chris stops mid-sentence.  “Wait, what?”

Eileen is unfazed, as usual. “You definitely snubbed him during that planning meeting and he’s only stopped by your office once today instead of the usual six.  I count on you two to keep meetings fun and productive. He makes you less cranky. I don’t know what you did, but fix it.”

She leaves before Chris can put words together.  Well, that wasn’t what he expected.

Eileen apparently thinks we’re fighting.

Maybe we went too hard in the other direction.

O M G. She’s so nosy. Our coworkers are way too perceptive.

There’s only one way I want you hard. This ain’t it

Fuck. Why are my office walls made of glass?

That’s hot, Colfer. Feed your cat and come by my place tonight.

…Was that a euphemism?

--

Pre-Darren, holiday parties at the office were to be endured and survived.  Chris would show up for the shortest time he could, drink two vodka sodas, talk to ten people, and get the fuck out. Now in the Age of Darren, Chris is actually brushing his hair and putting thought into his outfit and humming Christmas carols on the train.

Almost one month into their relationship feels way too new to tell all of PopNow, let alone just their department. (Chris had gone to HR with the intent to file their relationship but his hypothetical questions were met with vehemence that superiors could not date subordinates. So Chris had slunk out of there and didn’t mention it to Darren in case ignoring it meant it wouldn’t exist.) They’re arriving to the company holiday party separately and meeting oh-so-casually by the Christmas tree, avoiding all mistletoe and any game that might lead to awkward kissing with anyone.  They are totally (almost) masters of acting totally normal at work, they can handle this.

What Chris can’t handle is the blonde with godawful dark roots and nose ring practically pushing her breasts into Darren’s face.  At 20 freaking degrees outside there’s no need to wear a sweater that low-cut.  Darren, Chris begrudgingly credits, is looking unwaveringly at her face.  But this girl is hardcore flirting, hip cocked and chewing on the stirrer in her pink drink.

Chris knows he’s being ridiculous but at the same time, he can’t stop. She touches his shoulder for a second and Chris downs a shot.  She laughs way too loudly and Chris crushes a cookie into crumbs.  He tunes out the droning anecdote from some guy in accounting and instead vividly daydreams, replaying in his mind the past weekend spending a full 48 hours locked in Chris’s apartment.

Chris was so wrong to think that he could keep it together for this entire party. Darren is just so damn charming and every single person who works at PopNow is gravitating towards him. Chris understands the feeling, but the possessive jealous lizard brain just wants to take.

He spots an opening as Darren is trying to physically move away from a man who is whispering in Darren’s ear every other sentence.  Hell no.

Chris steps between them deftly, delighting at the way Darren’s face absolutely lights up. “Chris, hi. Thank god.”

“So sorry to steal him away, but Darren there’s someone I want you to meet,” Chris apologizes to the guy in a rush, grabbing Darren by the elbow and leading him away.

“Thank god,” Darren says again from behind him as Chris weaves through the crowds. “That guy was like a level 5 creeper. I’ve been looking for you for half an hour and just couldn’t disentangle myself from these people who all want to talk about my videos.  Which is flattering, I guess? But they’re like, strangers. I’m just trying to get buzzed and play that piano in the corner and start a Christmas carol sing-along.  Wait, this is the bathroom…”

“Yes, it is,” Chris says, leading Darren into the single room family bathroom and following quickly, locking the door.

He presses Darren against the door and kisses him hard, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.  “That was torture,” Chris whispers, tugging on Darren’s earlobe with his teeth.

“Colfer, were you j-jealous?” Darren chokes out, head lolling back as Chris moves down to kiss his neck.  He wants to leave a visible mark. He settles for one right below Darren’s collar, right in the hollow of his shoulder. Darren moans, cradling Chris’s head. “Fuck.”

“Maybe I was,” Chris admits, pulling back and pushing stray hairs off his forehead.  “That one girl was just so blatant, it was awful. And I couldn’t do or say anything! Maybe I should ask for a department transfer. Or find another job, I…”

Darren is wide-eyed. “Are you trying to abandon me?”

Chris shakes his head. “God, no, it’s just some ban on superiors dating their employees, I didn’t want to tell you before….”

“What about superiors dating their equals?  Would that be okay?” Darren asks, a mischievous smile curling the corner of his mouth.

“Uh yeah, I think so,” Chris says, confused.  “I don’t see why not?”

“Good,” Darren says, full-out grinning now.  “Because Rebecca called me into her office today. Honestly I thought I had to be getting reprimanded or something, but she promoted me. Well it’s not totally official yet, but next week they’re creating new Video Editor-in-Chief positions in some departments. Equal with the department head. A new team-leading thing to further focus on video content.  And the job in Nerd is mine.  She said she heard I work great with my department head and I had to agree.”

Chris reels.  “Holy shit. I knew Rebecca had asked me about you, but I didn’t know why. Holy shit!  Darren, that is amazing.  You are amazing.  I am so proud of you.”

Darren’s eyes practically disappear, he’s smiling so hard.  “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.  I guess we don’t have to hide in this bathroom anymore…?” Even as he says it, Darren rubs a hand right over Chris’s crotch. Chris sucks in a loud breath.

“We don’t have to, but maybe we should for this part.”

--

Three whiskey sours in and with no prodding, Darren hops behind the piano and leads a rousing chorus of the promised Christmas carols, Broadway songs, and Disney hits.  Four vodka sodas in and Chris is pulled into a clumsy duet of Baby It’s Cold Outside after he makes everyone in the area hold both hands up so he knows no one is recording.  There’s no way this won’t end up in the Monday morning email thread, but tipsy, warm and fuzzy Chris is okay with that.

It’s the best company holiday party he’s ever been to. Which on the surface makes no sense—it’s in the same venue, with the same cheesy decorations, the same too-strong drinks and the same terrible ornament exchange.  But this year, the Christmas tree seems taller and fuller and more beautiful than ever. And this year, the bartender is wearing a Santa hat and smiling and singing along.  And even though an ornament exchange game with no stealing or trading allowed is a totally lame game, Chris somehow gets a Yoda ornament. He gasps, looking up at Darren, who is just across from him.  Darren has that shit-eating grin, toasting his glass to Chris as he takes another sip. He remembered.

And then Chris realizes that it wasn’t the party that had changed, it was him. And it was Darren. Because of Darren.  Even the most dreaded event of the year has Chris laughing, smiling, relaxing, even feeling the joy of the Christmas spirit.

He blames Darren and his magic that when someone comes up to them shrieking mistletoe! and dangling a bunch over their heads, Chris doesn’t laugh it off.  He looks at Darren, closer than the careful distance they’ve been keeping all night, and is hit with the full force of his sparkling brown eyes. You’re beautiful, Chris thinks, and grabs Darren’s lapel before he can think too hard.

Darren is dazed when they pull apart, the mistletoe bearer long-gone.  “Merry Christmas,” Chris says so fondly, brushing his thumb over the spot hidden under Darren’s shirt.

“Merry Christmas,” Darren says, taking Chris’s hand and holding it tight, laced with his.