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littledykeblue · 2 days ago

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──𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄-𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄;

(college roommates! vi x reader): vi gets a little frisky at the drive in

wc: 3k | cw: kinda enemies to lovers, but like not really enemies, heavy petting, fingering (r!receiving), light degradation, car sex (in the bed of a truck) MINORS DNI.

note: vi, my beloved, simply had to be next up! also thank you guys for all the love on my first post!! kissing each and everyone of u telepathically <3

You wouldn’t exactly say you’re friends with your dorm mate.

Vi is loud, popular, and constantly flitting around campus like the social butterfly she was clearly born to be. Half the time, she's crashing at a friend’s—or a hookup’s—place, so it’s already pretty rare to see her on the regular.

If anything, you’d say life is easier when Vi’s not around. It’s nearly impossible to get any studying or homework done in her presence. And it’s not just the videos she insists on watching at what feels like full blast or the endless stream of calls she takes on speakerphone for reasons you still can’t comprehend.

It’s the doing push-ups shirtless in the middle of the room. It’s the rare (but no less horrifying) occasions she brings a girl back and thinks she’s being subtle about it. Worse than both? When she decides to talk to you.

She never picks a time when you’re actually free. Never cares if you're neck-deep in coursework. She’ll plop herself into your desk chair (or your bed, whichever’s unoccupied) and lob the most inane questions at you.

"You studying?" she asks, despite the open laptop in front of you and the mess of notes scattered across your comforter.

You glance up with a withering look, irritation already prickling at the edges of your patience. It’s not entirely her fault, but she’s definitely not helping.

"No, I just keep all this out for the fun of it." Your tone is dry, bordering on rude. Vi, as always, takes it in stride.

The corner of her mouth lifts, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Woah, firecracker. Somebody’s in a mood."

You hum noncommittally, trying to drag your focus back to the same damn paragraph you've been stuck on since she barged in. Vi, unsurprisingly, isn’t content to be ignored.

“Know what you need?” she says, standing and casually closing your laptop with two fingers. For one dark moment, you genuinely consider the logistics of getting away with murder.

“I seriously doubt you have any idea,” you snap, prying your laptop back open. “Don’t you have, like, a million other girls you could go bother?”

Vi shrugs, grinning like the question only flatters her. “Yeah, but none of them are you.”

A traitorous flutter sparks low in your stomach. Fuck her.

“Wow. That line usually work for you?”

“You think I’m using a line? I’m wounded.”

“Vi.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question only seems to delight her.

She pauses, pretending to think it over, longer than necessary, just to be annoying. “I was gonna catch a movie with my friend, but she bailed. Come with me.”

You consider, once again, pointing out that she has no shortage of people she could drag along. But something tells you it’d be an exercise in futility.

“Fine. If it gets you out of my face.”

“Wonderful. Catch ya later, roomie!” Vi hops to her feet, pretending like she’s going to shut your laptop again—laughing when you scramble to keep it open.

You watch her leave, resisting the urge to throw something at the door after it clicks shut. Once the whirlwind that is Vi is gone, the silence feels almost sacred. You manage to actually focus, knocking out a good chunk of your work during the blessed hours of reprieve.

It’s nearing seven when you get a text from Vi telling you to start getting ready.

You’d exchanged numbers strictly for practical reasons—shared dorm emergencies, class reminders, the occasional “come let me in.” Definitely not for this.

Still, you don’t argue. You’re not about to dress up either; it’s just a movie. The theater will be dark, and more importantly, this outing is purely transactional. You're earning yourself some peace. That’s the story you’re sticking to.

You stuff your phone, wallet, and keys into the pockets of your sweatpants and head out to meet her out front, just like she told you to.

Vi’s there, leaning against her truck, scrolling through her phone. You walk up and swat at the device—not hard enough to knock it from her hand, but just enough to make her fumble it.

“You’re so funny,” she says dryly, slipping it into her pocket. She opens the car door for you with an exaggerated flourish.

"I learned from the best."

"Aw, you think I'm the best?" Vi holds a hand to her chest and smiles wide.

You narrow your eyes at her. "The best at being annoying."

“I love this little back-and-forth we’ve got going,” she says as she closes the door behind you.

Vi rounds the car and slides into the driver’s seat like she’s done it a hundred times. Her grin flashes sideways.

“You ready?”

You buckle in, side-eyeing her with suspicion. “Yep.”

When Vi said “catch a movie,” you, perhaps foolishly, assumed she meant a regular theater. Popcorn. Reclining seats. A sticky floor or two.

Instead, she pulls into a drive-in.

The truck eases into a spot with the bed facing the massive screen. A few other cars are scattered around, but Vi finds a space tucked away from the nearest cluster.

She’s out of the driver’s seat in a flash, and before you can even reach for the handle, she’s at your side, swinging your door open. Weirdly date-like.

The two of you make your way to the back of the truck, and before you can climb in on your own, Vi’s hands settle at your waist. With little warning, she lifts you easily into the bed of the truck like it’s nothing.

Now you’re seated beside her, knees brushing, thighs nearly touching. You're close enough to feel the radiant warmth rolling off her body. The whole thing suddenly feels incredibly intimate. You’re not sure if Vi means for it to feel that way…and that’s maybe the worst part.

You barely have time to untangle the knot in your stomach before a breeze cuts through your sweatshirt, making you shiver. Of course, you hadn’t thought to bring a jacket.

Vi notices immediately. Without saying a word, she grabs a blanket from beside her and tosses it over your lap, casual as ever. You shift under it, trying to find a comfortable position—and in doing so, end up pressed flush against her.

It’s awkward, kind of. Your shoulders don’t sit quite right, and there’s only so much blanket. Vi adjusts first, lifting an arm and curling it around your shoulders. You follow instinctively, arm sliding behind her back so you can rest your head on her chest.

She’s warm. Unfairly so. You soak it in, entirely greedy.

You are trying to watch the movie. Honestly. But Vi’s fingertips are now tracing lazy, featherlight shapes along your shoulder, and it’s impossible to focus. Your heart taps out an anxious rhythm against your ribs.

Vi makes a comment about something on-screen—funny, probably—but you don’t catch it. You tilt your head, intending to ask her to repeat herself, only to realize her face is right there.

Close. Too close.

She’s beautiful, obviously. You’ve known that. But it’s a different kind of dangerous seeing her like this: soft smile on her lips, eyes dipping to your mouth, like she’s already halfway to deciding.

You quickly avert your gaze, suddenly and profoundly invested in the movie. The screen blurs slightly, but you commit yourself to pretending it’s the most riveting film you've ever seen. Still, you're sitting noticeably more tense than before, shoulders stiff, muscles locked, for the next thirty minutes.

“My arm’s falling asleep,” Vi murmurs. “Here, uh, sit like this.”

She doesn't wait for a response. Of course she doesn't. She starts manhandling you like it’s just a normal, everyday activity—like rearranging throw pillows. Within seconds, you’re guided to sit snugly between her legs, her hands steering you as though you belong there.

You sit up ramrod straight, carefully avoiding any real contact with her front because that would be insane. That would probably be the final nail in the coffin, so to speak.

Vi, apparently, did not get that memo.

Because it’s not long before her arms are curling around your waist, slow and deliberate, pulling you gently back until your spine meets her chest. “Sit back,” she says, voice a low hum in your ear, something warm and unplaceable blooming in your chest. "Can't see the screen past your giant head."

"You're one to talk," you bite back with none of your usual heat.

You let yourself relax, just a little. Her hands don’t leave your waist. They start tracing lazy, absentminded shapes, drifting higher in barely-there passes. One finger skims across your sternum, then lingers at the edge of something more. Brushing, just once, beneath the swell of your breast.

“Hey, Vi,” you murmur, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“I don’t know about you,” she replies, deadpan, her breath warm against the shell of your ear, “but I’m trying to touch your boobs, if I’m honest.” You feel her shrug behind you.

“Can I?”

“That usually work for you?” you ask, arching a brow even though she can’t see it.

Vi chuckles, low and smug, and you feel it vibrate right through your spine. God, of course that laugh is working on you right now.

“Works better when they can see me,” she says, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. “Puppy dog eyes’ll get you pretty far.”

You roll your eyes and reach down, placing your hands on top of hers. “I don’t think you’re supposed to admit you have puppy dog eyes. Takes away the charm.”

“You asked,” she says, laughing again. She sucks in a sharp breath as you guide her hands under your shirt. “Guess I don’t really need ‘em now.”

“Guess not,” you breathe, relaxing fully into her as her palms slide up, rough and warm.

She pushes under your bra with slow, sure hands, and you can feel her exhale against your neck.

Her fingers curve around your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in teasing little circles before she rolls them between her fingers, slow and deliberate.

You suck in a breath, shifting in her lap.

Her mouth finds your neck, lips brushing the skin just below your ear. She kisses you there, soft and warm, then again, a little lower, with just the ghost of teeth. Her hands are everywhere now — one pinching lightly, the other kneading and groping, and it’s taking everything in you to stay quiet under the thin blanket.

Then you feel her hand begin to drift, trailing down your stomach with aching patience, fingers brushing the waistband of your sweatpants.

She pulls her mouth away from your neck just long enough to ask, voice husky and careful: “This okay? I'd like a real answer, this time.”

You nod, a little too quickly, arching your back slightly into her hand. “Yeah. Yeah, you can.”

Vi presses a kiss to your jaw, a quiet thank you, before her hand slides past the waistband. Her other hand doesn’t stop working your nipple, thumb flicking it with practiced ease as her fingers dip lower.

You gasp softly, shifting your hips as her hand finds its way between your legs.

Vi exhales like she’s been waiting for this forever. “Gotta be quiet, baby. We don't wanna get caught,” she whispers, mouth back on your throat.

Vi’s fingers slide lower, finally dipping between your legs — but she doesn’t go deep. Just runs a single finger slowly through your folds, dragging slick up and down with maddening patience.

You twitch in her lap, breath catching. “Vi,” you whine.

“Shhh,” she hums, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Her finger brushes your clit barely and then circles it. Lazy, light, not nearly enough pressure to do anything but tease.

“God, come on—”

She laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Begging already?” she murmurs, lips ghosting over your ear. “Thought you liked acting like you hate me.”

You scoff, shifting your hips again, trying to chase more pressure. Her hand doesn’t budge. “You’re infuriating.”

Vi clicks her tongue, still circling, still maddeningly soft. “You’re always so mean to me, you know that?” she says, voice low and calm, like she’s not slowly unraveling you in the back of a truck. “Always rolling your eyes when I talk to you. Never smile when I say hi. Always got that nasty little attitude.”

Your jaw clenches. “You’re always interrupting my work—”

“Seriously? You still complaining?” Vi cuts in, and then she presses down on your clit, two fingers now moving in firm, tight circles.

Your breath stutters. Words die in your throat.

Vi grins, satisfied. “That shut you up.”

Your hands fly to her thighs, gripping tight, trying to ground yourself as she keeps the pace steady and devastating. Your head tips back against her shoulder, mouth open, eyes wide at the sudden rush of sensation.

She kisses your neck again. The pressure is firmer this time, tongue dragging over the skin before she sinks her teeth in just enough to leave a mark. She sucks there, slow and dark, her free hand sliding up to your chest again, palm curling around your breast as her other hand stays merciless on your clit.

“Lot of complaints,” she says against your throat, lips brushing over the new bruise. “For someone who clearly wants me to make them come.”

You gasp, legs trembling under the blanket. She’s right and she knows it. You hate how much she knows it.

But you’re past the point of arguing now. "That'd be nice," you say through clenched teeth, keeping down the sounds that threaten to spill from your mouth.

Vi keeps her fingers moving in those devastating, tight circles—not too fast, not too slow. Just enough to keep you on the edge, just enough to keep your thighs twitching and your breathing shallow.

"I bet it pisses you off that I've got you this wet," she murmurs, her voice thick with smug satisfaction. "And you act like you can't stand me. What's that about, huh?"

You groan under your breath, hips twitching again as she dips just low enough to press at your entrance, teasing it without pushing in.

She laughs softly, low in your ear. “Bet you were getting wet the second I touched you. Just too proud to admit it.”

You bite your lip and say nothing. You shift, lifting your legs and hooking them around the outside of Vi’s, knees wide, body fully open for her. Thank god she parked far enough away from any potential prying eyes.

Vi's breath stutters as her hand slips back between your legs, now with nothing in her way.

“Oh,” she whispers, a grin curling into her voice. “Look at you. Finally acting like you want it.”

You squirm, half in protest, half in need, and Vi presses two fingers inside in one smooth thrust. You gasp, body tightening, walls fluttering around her.

"Do you ever shut up?" You manage to say in spite of your wobbly voice.

She groans in your ear. “I think you like it when I talk. This pussy does, at least.”

You don’t mean to moan (not that loud, at least) but it punches out of you anyway, high and helpless.

Vi’s hand shoots up to the back of your neck, turning your face toward hers in the same second her mouth crashes over yours. Her kiss swallows the sound, all teeth and tongue and filthy satisfaction.

She fucks you with her fingers harder now, thrusts quick and precise, of her palm grinding against your clit. Her mouth stays on yours, swallowing every broken gasp, every hitched breath, every moan you can’t keep down.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she murmurs against your lips, her pace relentless. “So desperate for it. Can’t even pretend anymore, can you?”

All you can manage is a broken moan that vaguely resembles her name. Over and over again, breathless against her lips.

Your hands dig into her thighs for something to hold onto, nails biting through the fabric of her pants. Your hips lift into her, chasing every stroke, every drag of her palm. You’re close. So close your whole body is taut with the anticipation.

Vi feels it—has to—because her voice drops again, filthy and sweet at the same time. “C’mon, baby. I got you. Make a mess all over my fingers. You wanna come for me?”

You nod frantically into her mouth, legs trembling, body pulsing around her fingers. "Yes. Fuck. Please."

“That’s it,” she says, voice low and hot. “You're being so sweet for me. Go ahead, come.”

And you do.

It crashes through you, thighs quaking with the urge to press together, mouth going slack as your orgasm rips out of you. Vi keeps her hand moving through it, fingers working you through to the end while her mouth swallows the sound of your release.

When you finally go still, breathing hard, body limp, sweat cooling on your neck, Vi presses a final kiss to your lips and pulls back just enough to grin down at you.

“You gonna be nice to me now?” she asks, voice smug and breathless.

"Probably not."

Vi laughs as she eases her fingers out of you slowly, deliberately, dragging every last shiver from your overstimmed body.

She sucks her fingers clean, totally unbothered, and leans back against the bed of the truck like she didn’t just finger-fuck you in public.

You’re still catching your breath, chest rising and falling under the blanket, when Vi leans in and murmurs, “When we get back to the dorm, I’m gonna take my time with you.”

You blink, dazed, half-laughing. “Oh? You're thinking this wasn't the first and last time?”

She grins. “Nah. That was a warm-up. When we get back, I’m gonna have you naked and on your stomach, legs spread, begging. And I’m not gonna stop until I hear every pretty little sound you can make. Gonna keep going ‘til you’re sobbing into the pillow.”

You exhale sharply, lips twitching as you try not to let the flush crawl up your neck. “That so?”

“Mhm.” She nips at your jaw, just a little. “Might even let you come twice.”

You snort, leaning your head back against her shoulder. “And this is assuming I just lay there and let you do all those things?"

Vi tilts her head mockingly. “You literally just did.”

You glare at her, and she grins wider.

“Well,” you say, still breathless but trying to reclaim some ground, “you’ll have to earn your second chance. I can't be out here rewarding bad behavior, after all.”

Vi scoffs and shakes her head, laughing under her breath. “Unbelievable. You were just coming and whining on my fingers like a slut, and you’re still talking shit?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “Guess you’ll have to do a better job if you want to shut me up.”

Vi leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “Clearly. Don't worry, we'll fuck that attitude out of you yet.”

You shiver, despite the warmth of her hoodie and her body at your back.

“Can’t wait to see you try,” you murmur.

#𓆩♡𓆪 ─ blue is typing... .ᐟ #vi x reader #arcane #lesbian #vi arcane #vi smut #arcane fanfic #arcane smut #college vi #vi x you #🕷 ─ littledykeblue

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areislol · 6 months ago

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a hardworker

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

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

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

wc. 15.9-16k

blade — cold and reserved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ how cute...

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

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

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

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

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

✧ it drives kafka and silverwolf mad sometimes, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

jing yuan — big ol' softie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

gepard — sweet and protective

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

aventurine — the charismatic mentor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

dr. ratio — the genius overseer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ so, he began to play with it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sunday — the manager with a million excuses

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ “see what?” you asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ and of course, the other coworkers notice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

boothill — the wanted galaxy ranger with a secret identity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

phainon — the charming coworker (and your golden retriever)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ “mydei, you don’t have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

#hsr x reader #blade x reader #jing yuan x reader #gepard x reader #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #sunday x reader #argenti x reader #boothill x reader #mydei x reader #phainon x reader #—✧ · . honkaistarrail

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jamminvroomvroom · 4 months ago

Text

give me a reason.

LN x fem!reader

in which… ‘the one where’ lando needs to get his shit together, or lose the love of his life…

hi! it’s me! back again with angst, fluff and filth! i needed to get this the hell away from me bc i worked on it so long that it kinda stopped making sense so i fear this isn’t my best work oopsie! anyways, thanks for being the best bunch ever and pleaseeeeeee let me know what you think - likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside soooo you know what to do…

songs to set the vibes: hoax by t swizzle, no i’m not in love by tate mcrae, come over by noah kahan

warnings: 18+!! minors BEGONE! smut, angst!! but also fluff sooo..! friends to something worse to lovers, lando needs to be shot ngl, lando is so messy, max is yet again a victim, r loves wine a lot, alcohol use, swearing, lando has a bitchy gf (we hate her!) for a bit, r is just a girl, p in v, general sex acts, unprotected sex (sigh)

8.2k words

you’re perched at the edge of the booth watching. pietra plies you with drinks, knowing full well that it’s the only way you’re gonna make it through the evening. max sits beside her, an arm wrapped loosely around her shoulder as he glares at his best friend at the bar.

“he’s such an idiot.” max sighs, polishing off the rest of his drink in one. he knows he’s about to have his ear talked off about lando’s latest fling.

“such an idiot.” p scowls. you just laugh, reach for another shot of vodka.

“what do you guys expect?” you sneer, faking a smile as the bitter liquid warms your belly.

“you guys are meant to be together.” max states. p nods quickly, but pauses.

“not sure if he even deserves you though, baby.” she coos, squeezing your arm softly. you thank her with watery, bleary eyes.

lando’s on his way back over now, the pretty blonde he’d been chatting up for the last ten minutes tucked under his arm. that shuts you all up, but the cold air blasting out of the dimly lit booth could give lando and his mystery woman fatal hypothermia.

“guys, this is casey.” lando grins toothily, ushering you to move around in the booth so they can sit with you. you end up sat between pietra and casey, smushed uncomfortably into the sticky pleather. lando makes the introductions.

“my best friend max, his girlfriend pietra, and,” he clears his throat when his eyes fall on you. “and, um, my other friend.”

my other friend.

you didn’t think he could reach a new low.

“wow.” you hiccup, wriggling closer to pietra.

“i thought she was your best friend.” pietra narrows her eyes at lando, keeps her voice light and teasing.

casey is beautifully oblivious, sky blue eyes remaining firm on the racing driver at her side. you want to throttle them both.

“course. yeah.” he laughs it off awkwardly, before placing all of his attention on his latest conquest. it sounds harsh, sure it does, but you know lando and you know how he operates.

“i’m going. thank you,” you say directly and loudly to max and p, who are shuffling from the seats so you can get out of this prison of couples that you’d been so cruelly trapped in. “for a nice evening.”

you don’t bother to say goodbye to lando.

you spend the next morning crying into a cup of coffee, wrapped in three different blankets. deeply, devastatingly hungover.

you spend the afternoon that follows on the phone with max.

“it’ll be over in days, hun, don’t even worry about it. he’s probably trying to get her out of his place right now and can’t even remember her name.” max reassures, and while history would suggest him to be right, something inside of you twists with dread. “i don’t know what he’s playing at.”

“you told me that he… you said he liked me, max.” you groan, hot with embarrassment.

“he did! he does! he thinks you aren’t interested so- “

“i don’t wanna hear it max. i went to abu dhabi, flew in just to surprise him, to finally fucking tell him, and… well you know what happened.”

you’d walked into his hotel room and found him balls deep inside someone else.

needless to say, you weren’t convinced that he was as hopelessly, pathetically in love with you as max claimed him to be; as hopelessly, pathetically in love with you as you were with him.

“i know, i know, but he was hurting. doesn’t excuse the, uh, emotional warfare, but he doesn’t know how you feel.”

“well, at this rate, max, he never will.”

you’re stupid for being excited for the group dinner you’ve planned. everyone’s coming, max and p, martin, some of the boys and some of your girls. and lando. you haven’t seen him for a week, not since caseygate, and if you’re being earnest, you don’t really want to. at least he’ll be alone, you think. he doesn’t bring his hookups to group plans.

you think, and god laughs.

he’s the last to arrive, the same blonde with the same striking blue eyes tucked under the same stupid arm. you sink your glass of wine before they even get to the table, leg bouncing frantically against the chair. you swear you see pietras lips recoil into a snarl.

“did you know he was bringing her?” she hisses quietly to max, looking at you cautiously.

“obviously not!” max defends, nostrils flaring.

“sorry we’re late.” you hear from the head of the table. “everyone, this is casey.”

half an hour later, after having the magical story of their blossoming relationship shoved down your throat, you escape to the bathroom.

you’re fixing your lipgloss when the door swings open. in casey walks, complete with a hair flick and a tacky, expensive handbag.

“oh, i didn’t even realise you were here tonight.” she speaks, sickeningly false. “i thought i’d notice such a good friend of lando’s.”

you suck in a breath.

“i wouldn’t get too used to little old me.” you shrug, meeting her condescending grin with a better, badder one. “or lando, quite frankly. he’ll get bored soon.”

you leave her in the dust, only letting yourself shake with rage when you know she can’t see you. you bypass the table completely, shoot p a quick text that says you’re going home, and wait for the maître d' to hand you your coat. you wait outside the restaurant for your uber, glance back to see if anyone had even noticed you’d gone. by anyone, you mean one person, and one person only.

lando’s looking around the table, something vacant in his eyes. it’s perhaps the first time you’ve properly looked at him all night. there’s something withered and haunted in his eyes, even from so far away you can see it. he seems to be searching for something, something that he can’t place. someone.

you see that same tired face in your dreams that night, joined by a pretentious, condescending smile, taunting you while you toss and turn.

casey becomes such a constant that you’re shocked that lando eventually comes to a party without her. it’s pietra’s birthday, and max is throwing her a party at their apartment.

you’re there early to help max set up when lando walks in, better rested than the last time you’d seen him. he’s wearing a loose white button up and light wash jeans that sit just right, curls a crown atop his head.

“no casey?” max asks subtlety as him and lando hug. you make no move to greet him.

“nah, she had other plans.” he scratches his nose as he says it, and you know it’s a lie. it’s been his tell as long as you’ve known him.

max stares awkwardly between you both, gesturing his head wildly towards you when he knows you’re not looking. lando shrugs, frantic silent conversation transpiring between them until you turn around.

“fuck, forgot candles. silly me! be back in ten.” max doesn’t give you a chance to breathe before he’s darting out the door, jacket slung over his arm. you glare as he disappears out the door.

“you gonna talk to me?” lando questions, hands shoved deep in his pockets. he tries to sound light, nonchalant but it just comes off standoffish, an awkward reminder of just how much distance there is between you now, and how much there has been since he made it his personal mission to sleep with every woman he laid eyes on. except you.

“depends.” you reply flatly.

“on?” you can hear his footsteps against the hardwood floor, inching closer and closer. your hands shake as you untangle the balloons, pouring them out of the packet onto the table. you feel the heat of him before you see him, closing in on you. it’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him that you can anticipate each movement before he even makes it, your senses ultra heightened.

your breath shakes.

“on?” he presses, aware of just how stubborn you can be. “what’s going on with you?”

“nothing, lando. tired, busy, the usual. nothing crazy.” you attempt to shrug him off, but apparently he’s not done with you.

“then why can’t you look at me? did i do something?” he chokes out a laugh, a revelation of how uncomfortable he is.

you brave the sight of him, turning slowly until you’re face to face. he looks beautiful, freshly shaved, curls tamed back but not enough to stop them from hanging over his forehead to frame his face. just the way you like them.

“see? nothing wrong.” you smile tightly, wondering if he can see the effort it takes to make your face move for him, if he can see the tension coursing through your veins like electricity. he seems to scan your face, taking his time, before he sighs, hums like he’s finally satisfied.

“so you’ve been busy?” lando asks, trying to revert to your status quo, but you can’t bare the agony of pretending. “hardly seen you since, uh, abu dhabi.”

“yep.” you quip, disappear into the kitchen just as you hear max’s keys in the front door.

a few hours later everyone’s had too much to drink, and the party is in full swing. lando’s persisted more than you thought he’d bother to, and you’ve managed to exchange sentences made up of more than three words apiece. you’ve left your circle to get a drink, about to slip into the kitchen, but hushed whispers stop you from entering.

your blood runs cold when you realise that one set of frantic whispers belong to lando, the other to max. you feel that you should leave, come back when it’s all clear but something tugs on your heartstrings and ties you to the threshold of the room. maybe it’s the possibility for closure, or worse, hope.

“mate you called me basically crying, telling me how in love with her you are, and when she gets there, you’re fucking someone else! what the fuck do you want from her, man?” max spits.

“how the fuck was i supposed to know she was gonna show up?” lando retorts, an edge of desperation in his voice.

“the real question is: why would you sleep with someone if you feel that way about her? why are you fucking around? why are you with casey?”

“because i was hurt, max! she’s been going on all these dates, talking about guys she’s seeing and, what, i’m supposed to put my life on hold waiting for her to love me back? i can’t do it anymore. i can’t.” lando’s voice cracks at the end and you lean into the wall, unable to feel your legs.

“you could have told her, you idiot.” max is having none of the pity party, it seems, finally ready to knock some sense into your mutual best friend.

“and ruin everything? she clearly didn’t want to be with me.” lando argues. max sighs.

“if you actually think that, then you’re a lost cause, mate.” you hear what you assume is. sympathetic slap on the back.

“i’m doing fine with casey, i’m finally getting somewhere. jesus, i haven’t even slept with her yet.” lando whines. your heart stops on the other side of the door.

“so, it’s serious then? you and casey?” max asks, skeptical.

“it could be.” lando admits.

you put yourself out of your misery, loudly opening the door to the kitchen. you act aloof, surprised to see them, but the crease in your forehead is all max needs to see. he knows you heard at least some of it. fifteen years of friendship with him means he can read you like a book. fifteen years of friendship with lando has done nothing but break your heart.

“sorry, guys, didn’t know you were in here.” you feign nonchalance. “just need a drink.” you slide past lando, watching the way his back ripples with tension at the slight brush of your body against his. you let out a deflated breath, wrapping your hand around a cold can of god knows what. all you know is you need a drink, and you need to get out of this fucking kitchen.

you find pietra on the makeshift dance floor, join her and your friends to spin and twirl and forget about the man who’s stood in the corner doing nothing but watch you.

a week passes. lando’s wine drunk. you’re laying across one of his sofas, sharing with him, and max and p sit on the other sofa. you’re all giggling about nothing in particular, latest gossip, old anecdotes, random shit that no one’s sober enough to not laugh at. it feels like balance is being slowly restored, like the good old days before it all went sour.

“still can’t believe you did a whole lap of the ski lodge naked.” you tease lando, smirking at him from your end of the sofa. you nudge his thigh with your foot, and he grabs your ankle, thumbing over the sensitive skin.

“a dare is a dare.” he replies, grinning back at you, his gaze lingering even when max interjects.

“again, mate, no one fucking dared you to do that.” max shouts, and you all descend into laughter again.

“i did not need to see some of the things i saw that night.” p grimaces playfully, and you can’t help but flush at the memory of lando’s bare ass disappearing into the snow.

“agreed.” you say, drawing lando’s eyes back onto you.

“you know you loved it.” he raises an eyebrow at you, and you stare bashfully into the wine glass in your hand. you feel his hand squeeze, nails ghosting above your ankle, making you shiver.

“got an early morning tomorrow, fuck.” max groans. “better get going.”

you hug him and p goodbye, graciously offering to help lando tidy up a little as the couple leaves the driver’s london apartment for their own.

you’re carrying empty glasses into the kitchen when you spot it, and it stops you dead in your tracks. the same handbag that casey had carried into that bathroom all those weeks ago. your skin tingles, a phantom touch making you burn.

“so you and, uh, casey are getting serious, huh?” you mumble, finally making it into the open plan kitchen.

lando stands on the opposite side of the marble counter, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, disgustingly domestic.

for her, though. never for you.

“not sure.” he responds flippantly.

“must be, can’t remember the last time you kept a girl around this long.” your attempt at a joke falls flat, even though he’s still tipsy, flushed with alcohol.

“s’that supposed to mean?” lando asks, boyish and defensive.

“nothing, just… you haven’t really seemed in a relationship-y place.” you remark, trying to appear casual as you place the glasses on the countertop.

“i wasn’t but i realised i needed to get my shit together. haven’t even-“ he starts, but cuts himself off abruptly.

“haven’t what?” you press, finding a cloth to wipe the marble clean.

“don’t wanna make things weird by telling you that kinda stuff.”

“lando, you called me when you lost your virginity and couldn’t find your way out of her apartment building. commando. you can tell me.” you deadpan.

as much as you could do without a play by play of his newfound relationship and changed ways, he’s your friend first, and he seems like he needs a shoulder. it would be careless, cruel, even, to deny him of that.

“well, we haven’t, uh, you know.” he looks at you intensely.

“oh. still?”

lando looks at you strangely, wondering what on earth you mean by that, but you swoop in with a get out of jail card that stops him from figuring out you’d eavesdropped.

“i mean, haven’t you guys been together for like a month?” you continue.

“yeah but i guess i figured i should take it slower, deviate from my, uh, usual way.” he admits, scratching his neck.

“oh, that’s… nice.”

“not according to casey.” he mutters, slinging the tea towel across the counter, frustrated.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you enquire, avoiding eye contact.

“i don’t know, she’s just… she wants it and, fuck, i was trying to be a good fucking guy for once.” lando sighs, disheartened. his eyes are trained on you but you can’t meet his gaze, it would destroy you. “i spent so much time unhappy, wanting something i can’t have, so now i just… what would,” he inhales sharply, centring himself. “what would you want?”

“huh?” you squeak, daring to look at him. the room fades away in the intensity of his stare, his eyes boring into yours. the counter that separates you grounds you, stops you from dropping to your knees and begging him to love you.

“what would you want? how would you want that to be, your first time with someone?”

you stop breathing, curling your fingers around the cool marble.

“i… i don’t know.” you whisper.

“sorry, i knew this would be weird.” he rushes out.

“no, it’s not! well, yeah it is, but,” you inhale deeply. “if it were me, i guess i’d want you to… catch me off guard.” you murmur, leaning against the counter, the swirled marble cool against the bare sliver of skin that your ridden up t shirt exposes. “you know, with a really good kiss - soft at first, but the kind that… as it gets deeper, you know something so good is about to happen.”

lando stares at you, mouth hanging open as you speak softly, so earnestly, into the empty space between you. it seems like a million miles keeps you apart, and his eyes go wild, hungry, like he wants to crawl over the surface and pin you to it as he hangs on to your every word.

“i don’t really know,” you continue, trying to brush it all off, pretend that your entire body isn’t on fire, like you’re not itching for something that cannot be scratched. “but i suppose you’d pull me close, so i’m pressed up against you, and then it would get kind of sweaty, blurry… and then it’s just happening.”

lando seems to be bracing himself, holding position, a tension running through his body that wasn’t there before. he’s flushed, and if you squint, there’s a bead of sweat slowly dripping down his forehead, giving him away. your nails dig into your palms, a reboot to your system, and you shuffle backwards awkwardly, recoiling from the counter that keeps you from him.

“okay. uh, okay.” he whispers, nodding rapidly. “i’ll keep that it mind.”

“i’ll put the glasses away in the dining room.” you tell him hurriedly, grabbing the stems and hurtling out of the kitchen. when you reach his dining room, where the air seems to be much thinner, normal, you exhale shakily and book an uber.

“thought you would stay here.” lando strains when you tell him, watching you shrug your coat on.

“can’t tonight.” you reply, clipped.

“can we… can we get dinner this week maybe? just us?” lando pleads, doesn’t even try to hide the desperation in his voice.

“lando… i don’t think that’s a good idea.” you finally give up the ghost, looking him right in the eyes.

“why not?”

“you know why.”

he breathes your name, takes a step closer to you as you take a step back.

“no, i really don’t. why have you been so distant? i know what you saw in abu dhabi was weird but-“

“do you know why it was weird, lando? do you know how that made me feel?”

“no, because you haven’t said anything. tonight was the first night in months that you’ve seemed okay and now you’re being off again.”

“imagine finally thinking that the guy you’re in love with finally feels the same, only to walk in on him fucking some random person.” you bellow, tears slipping over your waterline. you breathe heavily, the admission taking tons off of your shoulders.

“what?” he gasps, jaw going slack.

“forget it.” you mumble, backing away towards the door. you can’t believe the relief you feel, exhausted from the pretending. you can’t even bring yourself to care about the repercussions.

“no, i- what the fuck did you just say?” lando’s eyebrows are drawn together tight, confused.

“you heard me.” your words are hushed, shy, laced with a tremble that makes his chest ache.

“i didn’t know.” is all he can say, staring at you with a desperation that makes you want to stay. you know better.

“it doesn’t matter now. you said yourself, you wanna be happy with her. so do it, go be happy with her.” you tell him, your lack of malice astounding.

“why can’t you fight for us?” he whispers, finally dares to go there.

“i did. abu dhabi. that was me fighting for you.” you scoff at his audacity. “why can’t you fight for us?”

“i didn’t know.” he repeats, voice going up an octave with annoyance. “imagine watching the girl you’ve been in love with for years go on dates, listen to her talk about the guys she’s seeing.” he hits back.

“maybe we’ve both made mistakes, lando, but i tried to put myself out there and got hurt. why would i do that to myself again?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. your heart pounds in your chest, flustered at his admission, as much as you try and hide it from him. it hits different to hear him say it to your face; it didn’t cut as deep when you’d heard it lingering outside max’s kitchen.

“if i thought for a second that you felt how i felt - how i still feel - none of this would have happened, abu dhabi, casey, none of it.”

“but now you’re with her and, great, that’s fine, i’m just not sure how to be your friend right now.”

“no, no, we’re not throwing that away. even if we can’t be together,” you both visibly deflate at the word. “i know it’s so fucking selfish but i can’t lose you like that too.”

“give me a reason, lando. because right now? you’ve already lost me.”

when you get into the uber, you’re sobbing, and you’re sure the poor man that had the misfortune of picking you up understands when he turns the radio up - taylor swift is playing - and smiles at you sadly.

he’s spinning aimlessly in his gaming chair when max finds him.

“what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” is all max has to say, looming in the doorway to lando’s office.

“what happened to a simple ‘hello’?” lando grumbles.

“you’ll get a simple hello when you stop being a dick.” max replies, matter of fact.

lando laughs bitterly in response.

“just tell me one thing. one thing that makes no fucking sense to me. why are you still with casey?”

“i don’t know if i ever really was.” lando observes, eyes vacant and tired. “she was a distraction and i’m an asshole.”

“well, at least you know.” max mutters under his breath. lando can’t even muster a glare his best friends way.

“i ended it about an hour ago.” lando starts. “she told me that she was gonna go public, call me a cheater, say that i used her as a pawn. don’t even get me started on what she was gonna say about…” lando trails off, can’t even say your name. he feels like he doesn’t deserve to.

“fuck.” max sighs, finally walking into the room. he takes a seat on the small sofa. “what are you gonna do?”

“spoke to my team. they’ll deal with her. told me that they all deserve a pay rise and i don’t disagree.”

“and what about…” max echos his friend, trailing off. he leans forward with anticipation.

“i don’t know, man. i love her but i know i don’t deserve her, not after all this. she deserves to be happy and all i seem to do is make her miserable.”

“mate, she wasn’t miserable because you were just friends. she was miserable because you were ignoring her, choosing randoms over her. you know that, right?” max says, finally something resembling gentle in his tone.

“if i couldn’t even be a good friend, how the fuck am i gonna be a good boyfriend?”

“figure it out, you knob. all this feeling sorry for yourself isn’t working out. be honest with her for once, tell her how you feel. it’s not rocket science, lando. she loves you more than you deserve, so pull yourself together and fucking show her that she is everything to you.”

the next week is spent working far too hard and sleeping far too little.

you don’t hear from him, and he doesn’t hear from you, but it’s how it should be. if there’s no distance, you’d have a whole set of problems on your hands, forced on you by a can of worms that needed to stay sealed. it’s better this way, you relentlessly tell yourself.

max and p bring you dinner the night things change.

“you sure i can’t convince you to come work at quadrant?” max prods, taking in the ridiculous amount of papers and spreadsheets that have taken over your living room. “wouldn’t be as intense as this.”

“for so many reasons: no.” you shoot him a look, one that says leave it alone. he nods, gets the hint, and drops onto the scrap of sofa that isn’t covered in paperwork.

“you’ve been sleeping though, yes?” pietra asks, eyebrows raised with concern. she knows how you get.

you hum in acknowledgment, avoiding eye contact as you plate the food they’ve brought. p sighs.

“have you spoken to him?” max finally asks, and you know it’s taken everything in him to not ask, in the short five minutes he’s been in your flat.

“max!” pietra hisses, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“c’mon, you knew i’d have to ask, especially considering he’s been a little bitch all week.” max defends.

“i haven’t. told him i needed space.” you shrug.

“how’s that working out for you?” max gestures to the mess that engulfs the room, swallows it whole. again, you shrug.

“fine.” you stress, digging in to the chinese food. max scoffs and you snort with a mouthful of noodles when pietra glares at him.

“well, he’s miserable, and you’re behaving like someone who’s gonna end up on a true crime documentary, so sue me for asking.” he scolds sarcastically.

“okay, you want the tea?” you roll your eyes. “he told me they hadn’t had sex. i gave him advice - against the better judgment of literally anyone ever, by the way - tried to leave and he fucking ambushed me. wanted to have dinner with me, as if he hasn’t been pushing me away for months, and then had the fucking audacity, max, to ask me why i won’t fight for us, for him - oh! and he still has a girlfriend! so, you know what, you got me, i’m not doing so great but,” you choke out a laugh, opening the box of prawn toast. “too fucking bad.”

“i promise you, this will pass and casey will be gone and then-“

“and then me and lando can go back to pretending and avoiding and hurting each other. can’t wait.”

max shakes his head in defeat, knows he has to let lando fix this himself. he has no chance of winning this one with you.

“eat your noodles.” is all he has left. pietra disappears into your kitchen, and returns with a bottle of wine.

you eat together, put on netflix, slumped into the sofa as you try and relax. you’re halfway through your first drink when your phone buzzes. assuming it’s your overbearing boss, who apparently doesn’t sleep either, you pick it up and quickly wish you hadn’t.

lando: can you come over

like now

if you can

please. please please please please

we broke up.

“holy shit.”

you sit up suddenly, scan the room for your bag and a jacket. you don’t care that you’re in old sweats, you just feel the need to move, to get to him before common sense kicks in.

“you good?” max asks.

“uh, i need to go, like right now. stay and finish the wine if you want, but i just need to go to-“

“lando?” max and p ask simultaneously, and you burn with embarrassment.

“i can’t even try and lie to you right now. is this pathetic?” you question.

“no! go!” max shouts, exasperated, standing to usher you out of your own apartment.

twenty minutes later, you knock on his door.

when it opens, he’s disheveled in a way that makes you hug him immediately, his touch disturbingly foreign, and you feel him sink into your hold. he pulls you inside, kicks the door shut, and doesn’t let you go.

“sofa?” you murmur into his hoodie. you feel him nod, and you part, pad towards the lounge as you shrug off your jacket.

“hi.” he says tiredly, as soon as you’re both sat.

“hey.” you coo back. your eyebrows are drawn together as you take him in, concern woven through your features. “sorry about casey.” lando scoffs.

“don’t be, don’t even know what i was thinking.”

“well, neither do i,” you retort. “but i’m still sorry. did it happen just before you texted?” you ask.

“no, a week ago.”

“a week ago?” you gasp. “but that would mean…”

“yeah. right after you left here. asked her to come over and ended it. she told me she was gonna go to the media with a whole load of shit, so i’ve been sorting things out.”

“i’m so sorry.” you whisper.

lando laughs.

“you’re sorry? god, you’re way too fucking good for me.” he scoffs, bitter with self deprecation. “i can’t believe you even came, to be honest.”

“course i came. i might be angry at you, but you- you wanted me to, so…”

“i don’t even know where to start. i’m just so sorry about the last few months. i thought i was losing you and it drove me insane, but i should have never, ever taken my shit out on you.”

“what do you mean? losing me?”

“the dates, the guys. god, it was awful of me but it killed me.”

“that was only because i didn’t think i had a chance.”

“well, if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t think i had a chance either.” he laughs. “so what you said about abu dhabi… was that why you came? to tell me?”

“yeah, kinda. after some… encouragement from a mutual friend, i was gonna tell you that i wanted us to be more.”

lando shifts closer, your thighs pressing together. you can feel his body heat, so warm and inviting, drawing you closer.

“more.” lando repeats, tasting it on his tongue, the weight of everything he’s ever wanted since he was sixteen and fell in love for the first time.

“yeah, and then it seemed like you didn’t want that.”

“you must know by now that i also want more.” he murmurs, fingertips brushing your forearm. you keen into the barely there touch that traces over your skin.

“i’d say that’s been implied, yeah.” you joke, searching his eyes. they’re hooded, swirling with an intensity that you never thought you’d experience with another person. “um, i heard you and max. the night of pietra’s birthday.” you admit.

“fuck,” he sighs, shoulders sagging. “i’m so sorry, i swear, i never meant to put you through any of this. ‘m so, so sorry.”

“i know you are.” you whisper, loaded with a sincerity that only you could give him. “but you can never, ever treat me like this lando. i mean it.”

“i need you to know that i never meant to hurt you.” he swallows down a lump in his throat, voice wobbling just enough for you to notice.

“i do, lando.” you grab his hand, squeeze it tight.

“what do you want from me now? anything you want, i promise - i’m yours.”

“i want us to try, to see where this goes. i think we owe it to ourselves to see.”

“i never thought i’d ever get a chance with you.” lando laughs softly, the hand on your arm travelling to ghost over your cheek.

“why?”

“because i don’t think there’s anyone on this planet that’s good enough for you.” he confesses, leaning in until your foreheads touch.

“i don’t think that’s true, at least not where you’re concerned.” you breathe.

“how are you real?” it’s barely a whisper, barely audible, but it hits your ears like an alarm.

“don’t go all existential on me now.”

“then what should i do?”

“kiss me.”

“doesn’t that go against your whole ‘catch me off guard’ philosophy?” he murmurs, one hand reaching up to cup your jaw. your foreheads are still pressed together, eyes roaming each others.

“you’ll have plenty of time to surprise me.” you whisper.

you take a second to admire one another, the proximity mingling your warm breaths. when your lips finally brush, it’s slow, tentative, silent exploration. he tilts your head so that he can kiss you deeper, fingers sliding from your cheek into your hair. you emit a quiet moan, open up for him so he can taste you, and the feeling of him licking into your mouth sends your mind utterly blank.

he’s all consuming, totally intoxicating, a fresh blend of mint and something so blatantly lando that you feel like you’re floating. you find his neck, threading your fingers through the short strands at the nape of his neck. you hear something from deep in his chest, feel the vibrations of the low rumble as he presses you even closer to him.

when you inevitably break apart for air, he looks dazed, grinning like a fool as he smoothes his hand through the loose strands of your hair that fall around your face.

“i’m sorry that took so long.” lando hums, leaning in to peck your lips again. you can’t help but smile into it, in a daze of your own.

“me too.” you manage between smiling dopily up at him.

“you’re so beautiful.” he coos, still entranced. “you wanna stay here tonight?”

you hesitate for a second. he notices, interlacing your fingers with his.

“for the record, um, she never did. i couldn’t have her that close.” he mumbles, looking down at your hands guiltily.

“why?”

“didn’t feel right. she wasn’t,” he inhales shakily and meets your gaze again, piercing you with hazy blue hues. “she wasn’t you. i think that’s the real reason that i couldn’t… you know, with her.”

“i’ll stay.” you whisper, nodding softly. it’s all you can formulate as a response.

“i can make up the guest room.” he says wearily, posing it as more of a question than a statement, putting out the feelers. you scowl, eyes sparkling with a mischievous danger that leaves lando’s mouth bone dry.

“don’t bother.”

the grey linen of his bed sheets are soft against your skin as you sink into his mattress, watching intently as he pads around his room. you can smell him everywhere, a tangy, fresh musk that you want to bottle up and keep forever. lando glows in the dim, warm light of his bedroom and you feel a pang of regret that it’s taken this long to get here, muddled with a sense of relief that finally, you’ve made it.

“‘m gonna take a quick shower, okay? make yourself comfortable.” lando says, pauses for a second to take in the sight of you in his bed.

“okay.” you smile softly, eyes heavy with sleep as you relax further into the cushions. you hear the water running, white noise that allows your thoughts to run wild. the slide of the shower door grabs your attention and you think of him under the spray of water, bronze skin damp, hair slicked back.

when will it be your turn to see him like that, you wonder, musings of him pressed against you, bare and firm, flitting through your wandering mind. you realise, then, that you have him; he’s yours. why delay the inevitable?

slowly, you rise from the mattress, breathing shakily as your shirt comes off. your sweats follow, a trail of your clothes leading to the en-suite door. you can hear him humming to himself, the echo barrelling through your shaking body. you’re frantic with tension, a tinge of embarrassment, but then you consider his beautiful words, his confessions of love, and banish the feeling of shame that threatens to ruin you before you’ve even started. you unhook your bra, shimmy out of your panties, and grip the door handle. it turns slowly, steam spilling out of the room immediately, yet you shiver with anticipation.

“room for one more?” you call, and he jumps, turning suddenly.

you can’t make him out clearly, the fog painted across the shower door concealing his lean frame, and it draws you in closer, anticipation swirling in your belly.

he responds by sliding the door open, and you join him under the hot water. his eyes stay firmly on yours, body opening up to invite you in, hold you close as the spray hits you. the heat loosens your muscles, and you sink into him.

“fuck.” you hear him whisper, more to himself than to you.

“hi.” you breathe.

“am i dreaming?” lando blinks, a slow smile spreading across his face as he not so subtlety rakes his eyes over your frame.

“no,” you purr. “i’m real. this is real.”

his hands find your waist and you loop your arms around his neck, the kiss he pulls you into heated with a slow burning passion that makes you ache.

“you’re so pretty.” he pants into your mouth, firm and desperate - so sincere that it shakes you to your core.

“you’re perfect.” you choke out, mesmerised, alight in his thick hands.

“let me show you,” he starts, pauses briefly to kiss you. “wanna worship you.”

his words make you chase him for a kiss that doesn’t come. instead, he turns you to face away from him, your back to his front. you feel the cool spread of shower gel against your back, calloused hands working it into your skin gently. your hair, heavy with water, is pushed over your shoulder and you turn your head just enough to find his lips. your mouths move with intent as he works the soap down your back and over your waist. it tickles and you keen into him, enough that he holds you tighter, angles your hips away from his.

“careful, baby.” he warns lowly, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“don’t wanna be careful.” you half moan, but he grips your hips even harder.

“not tonight, yeah? let me look after you. need you to know that i’m serious about this.” lando pants, his self restraint thin as it hits your ears. you smirk.

“you back on your ‘good guy’ bullshit?” you tease, throwing him a look over your shoulder. you catch sight of his lip caught between his teeth, wet curls matted against his forehead, and a wave of pure need washes over your body.

“for you? fuck yeah.” he manages, crouches down to lather soap down your legs. his hands roam your inner thighs, dangerously, painfully close to where you really need him to touch you, and you groan defeatedly.

“you’re horrible.” you sigh when he’s back to his full height, facing you once more. he flashes you a cheeky smile, fingertips smoothing over your arms.

“wanna get this right.” he shrugs.

“we could get it right - right here, right now.” you pout.

“patience.” lando cautions, rubbing over your sternum. he grazes over the underside of your breasts, daring to go even higher. you let out a broken sigh, shuddering at his incessant attention.

“asshole.”

“we already knew that about me, baby.” he winks. he maintains eye contact as he cups your breasts, massages them just enough to leave you wanting. his touch vanishes, then, and the elastic band of tension seems to snap. “rinse off, i’ll leave a towel for you.”

just like that, he’s gone.

you stretch like a cat across the mattress, the low sun sending the early light streaming through a devastating crack in the curtains. it leaves you disoriented - the sun never hits your own bedroom like that.

quickly, you remember you’re not in your own bed, partly because of the heavy arm that sprawls over your tired body, pinning you to the mattress. his breath hits your bare shoulder in heavy puffs that warm your skin, leaving your tingling as your curl further into the curve of his body. your movements nudge his head into the crook of your neck, his nose bumping the sensitive skin there and he stirs slightly, puckers his lips into a gentle kiss at the base of your throat.

you roll over, his arm weighing heavy against the curve of your waist the whole time. when you’re face to face, his eyes are still closed, unfairly long eyelashes dusting his cheekbones, but a smile is painted languidly across his lips. he looks so soft, boyish, perfectly unreal that you snuggle closer to him.

“go back to sleep.” he groans, hardly opening his mouth as if it’s too much work in his cosy state.

“not tired anymore.” you whisper into the slight space still left between you. your lips find his jaw, trailing across it until you find a sensitive spot just below his ear. he shivers, but he still doesn’t open his eyes. you smirk, tracing your tongue carefully over the definition of his jawline. you suck, bite down gently.

“really?” he murmurs, still smiling like a fool, only intensified by your movements. you hum in response.

“go back to sleep, baby.” you coo, sealing the hickey you’ve left with a delicate kiss, one that contradicts the harsh mark you’ve left.

“drives me insane hearing you call me that.” he sighs, almost pained. the newfound friction against your thigh explains why.

“does it, baby?” you murmur, right in his ear.

“roll over, honey. get comfortable for me.” is all he says in return. electricity shoots down your spine as you oblige, resuming your previous position.

“that’s it, c’mere.” lando rasps, sliding impossibly closer. you can feel the full length of his body pressed against yours, heat seeping from his bronze skin onto yours. your eyes flutter shut, a delicious buzz coursing through you as the anticipation grows.

you can feel where he’s hard, solid against the curve of your ass and you keen into him, arched into his front as much as you possibly can be. your thighs clench together, liquid heat pooling between them. your mouth hangs open as his hand grazes the outside of your thigh, smoothing over the thickness of them before he pulls them apart. his hand slots between them - a perfect fit - and he wastes no time grazing his knuckles over the damp cloth of your panties.

“lando.” you sigh, utterly content. it’s been a long time coming, but it already seems like it was worth the wait.

“you’re so wet for me already. you want me?” lando growls against the shell shell of your ear.

“touch me, baby.” you plead, pressing your ass harder against him. he hisses, thumbs hard at your clit in response.

you mewl, squeezing your thighs around his hand but he forces them apart, his arm tensing as he does. you grip it hard, nails digging into his forearm but he doesn’t relent. he rubs firm circles into the bundle of nerves over your panties, fingers dipping down to press into the wet patch quickly pooling in the lace.

“take them off.” you urge.

he quickly complies, fingertips grazing your hips as he slides the material off of your frame. as one hand settles back between your thighs, two deft fingers pinching your clit, his other snakes under the old mclaren t-shirt he’d leant you. he traces the pudges of your belly, scaling up, up, up, tickling across your ribs until he caresses the curve of your breast, his whole hand engulfing it. he plucks a nipple between his fingers at the same time he slides a digit between your folds, spreading your wetness around.

“feeling good for me, honey? do you know how sexy you are for me, making a mess, wearing my shirt?” lando muses, dangerously low. his voice is strained, a side affect of the hold your have on him, of how entranced he is by the way you writhe against him.

“so good.” you choke, rolling your hips to meet his hand. “need more.”

“more? is my girl greedy?” he taunts, circling your entrance with the tip of his finger.

“please?” you’re not above begging him. it does the trick.

you both moan at the way he stretches you around one finger, the single digit sliding deep. he grinds it into you, palm nudging against your clit with every move he makes. one finger becomes two and you gasp out his name, your hand finding his under the shirt, holding it to your chest. he squeezes your flesh, tweaking at your nipple until it’s hard between his fingers and your ass is grinding faster into his crotch. when he moves on to your other breast, you choke out a moan that tears through the both of you, the tension so thick in the room that it’s stifling.

“c’mon baby, i need you inside of me.” you beg, your voice a pathetic garbled whine, one that makes him falter and suck in a harsh breath.

“not sure you can take it, pretty girl. so tight just around my fingers.” lando challenges, slowing his fingers so that you can hear exactly what he’s doing to you. he curls them with every thrust, reaching a spot that temporarily leaves you blinded in the throes of his searing touch. “you’re gonna cum for me like this first, yeah? and then we’ll see if you can take me.”

“can’t- lando please just-“

he shushes you.

“you’re gonna let me give it to you, honey. you’re gonna take it all, because you’re a good girl, right?” his voice is so condescending, so commanding that it makes you throb around him, his fingers flexing harder and faster as he senses your lurking orgasm. “that’s it, honey, i can feel you. come on.” he urges.

your body spasms hard against his as it hits, any semblance of sleep shaken out of you as you fall apart. he holds you close, rides you through it - palm flat on your overstimulated clit while his fingers gently coax you over the edge. he’s hitting every spot, toying with every piece of you he can get his hands on. the hand alternating between your tits roams up to your neck squeezing briefly, just to tease, before he cups your jaw, turning your head enough so he can capture your lips in a feral kiss. it’s needy, full of greed as he swallows your cries of pleasure, keeps them all for himself.

when you go limp against him, the coils of tension finally loosening, he slips his fingers out slowly. you’re panting against his chest, descending back to reality, when you hear the telltale hum, a soft pop - he’s sucking his fingers clean.

“taste so fucking good.” he finally speaks, slick fingers pushing your shirt up your body and you manoeuvre it over your head. it’s tossed away, lost to the shadowy room.

“lando,” you hum. “i’m ready.”

it’s a plea that he can’t ignore, the duvet rustling around you. you feel him kick off his boxers and then he’s pressing his cock against the curve of your ass once more. its big, leaking already, and your mind goes completely and utterly blank.

“you feel so good against me.” he notes, dazed at the sensation of your bare flesh warm against his. “you sure?” he mumbles, pressing a firm kiss against the base of your neck, his hands working to reposition your legs so that he can slip into you.

“never been more sure in my life.” you promise, tingling with the anticipation.

he’s so close that you can feel the pulsing heat of him between your parted thighs. the head of him nudges over your clit and he drags himself up and down, coating his cock with your wetness. you’re frustrated - ready to flip the two of you over, fuck yourself full, but he beats you to it. the stretch of him makes you gasp, knuckles white as you grip the soft bedding. when his hips meet yours, he pauses, teeth sinking into your shoulder, utterly overwhelmed. you’re not doing much better, one hand snaking up behind you to find his curls, tugging softly on the messy strands. he likes it, groaning into the marks he’s leaving on your shoulder, lips trailing messily up your neck.

the sunlight streams harshly through the crack in the curtain, momentarily blinding you. it leaves you with only the feeling of him, a golden haze invading your other senses. he’s gripping your hip so hard that you’re certain that you’ll be able to map out each of his fingerprints after.

“can i move?” he rasps, punctuating his request with a delicate kiss just below your ear. you shiver, clenching around him tight, and he bucks into you inadvertently. it sends sparks shooting up and down your spine, an electric wave of pleasure that has your eyes fluttering shut.

“you better.” you implore.

“you’re fucking perfect around me.” he grunts, beginning to build a rhythm. it’s one that leaves you both breathless, brainless, unable to utter anything besides the relentless chants of each-others names, the needy wanton moans that neither of you can hide.

lando’s hands are everywhere, your hips, your ass, wrapped around your sternum to pull you back into him, plunging himself even deeper into you. you claw blindly at any part of him you can reach, braindead from the way he’s fucking you. you and him are like a tidal wave, surging closer and closer to shore after years of dormancy, of an aching, crushing build up. now, as it peaks, it could destroy you, wash you away and leaves you nothing. you know he won’t. you know by the way he’s holding you, by the soft whimpers he lets you hear, by the way he makes you feel more alive than you have in months.

“i’m so close.” your voice quivers, pleasure bleeding into the edges of your words.

“i’m gonna get you there, pretty girl. you’re so good for me.” he promises, one hand slipping between your thighs. he finds your clit, plays with it between his fingers. messy swirls combined with precise flicks make you shake “i can feel you, honey. can feel you holding back. let it all out for me.”

he sounds wrecked, like he’ll die if he can’t feel you let go around him. you feel the start of your orgasm crawling from the tips of your toes, up your legs, and into the fire pit of your belly.

“that’s it, give it to me.” lando whispers, his voice so far away, even though he’s right there, talking you through it with his lips pressing the shell of your ear.

“i love you, lando.”

with that, you shatter into a million pieces, convulsing around him, against him, trying to get impossibly closer to him as you simultaneously try and squirm away. he holds you close, barrelling into you with fast, deep rolls of his hips. each thrust taps into your special spot, stars clouding your vision, his name the only word on your lips, the only word that has ever existed.

“where do you want it?” he asks quickly, urgently anticipating his own end.

“inside of me.” you pant, delirious, but he’s not in the space to do any critical thinking - you love him! - so he takes your words at face value.

a guttural groan hits your ears like a sonic boom, his body tight and firm against your sweat slick back. he squeezes you tight as he fills you up, submitting totally to the heat of your core, to the intoxicating way you draw him in.

“i love you, too.” he mumbles into your shoulder, kisses the words into your flushed skin. “i always have.”

he flops onto his back, slipping out of you carefully first, a lazy smile on his face. his eyes are shut, angelic once more as if he hadn’t been whispering filth into your ear just a minute prior.

“we gotta do more of that.” lando laughs, blindly reaching out for you. you slip into his welcoming arms, draping yourself over his body.

“think i need a shower. maybe you can make up for leaving me in there last night.” you giggle, agreeing that, yes, you absolutely need to do more of that.

he hugs you closer, a kiss placed atop your forehead.

“you can have anything you want, honey.”

phew.

taglist.

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