#anyways... I know what I'm thinking about tonight

[redeemingvillains]

with one glance - mattheo riddle

summary: a picture's worth a thousand words, and just one manages to say everything you've desperately tried to keep hidden from mattheo.

word count: 4k

a/n: fluff, fluffy, fluffiest, fluff fluff. i'm giggling over it! 🌻

“I did it! I passed!” Pansy shouted as she burst through the common room door.

Mattheo’s eyes tracked her as she marched over to the couches and plopped the folder in her hand on the table in front of him with a flourish.

“And not just passed, top marks!” she said smugly.

He rolled his eyes at her as she spun on her heels and pranced towards the girls dormitory.

“I’m going to tell YN! Drinks on me tonight!” she shouted, her voice echoing as it faded down the stone hallway.

He focused his attention back on the book in his lap, but then his eye caught the folder on the table, and the corners of the pictures that stuck out from it, and his leg began to bounce as his fingers fiddled with the corner of the page he was on.

He glanced back to make sure Pansy was gone.

And then he reached for the folder.

❀ Two weeks earlier ❀

Rain pattered against the windowpanes in the library as you sighed and turned the page of your history of magic textbook, taking a large sip of your coffee. Across from you Pansy’s head lulled in her propped-up hand before she finally surrendered, laying her head on her equally large muggle studies tome.

“If I don’t find something to do my end of term project on I’m going to fail and I am not retaking this class; I don’t even know why we have to study muggles, I mean really…” she said, her voice muffled by the pages.

Theo and Mattheo laughed quietly on either side of you and you smiled at her as she picked her head back up and began flipping through the pages again.

A few moments passed and you refocused your attention, the sound around you dulled to murmurs, the quiet turning of pages, the pattering rain, and the scratch of Mattheo’s quill.

“Ok wait, that’s adorable” Pansy laughed, something between mocking and sincerity in her expression as your eyes flickered up, sure that at this rate you wouldn’t get any studying done.

“What?” you appeased her.

“This chapter’s all about weddings and such and, look, they have this cute little concept of taking pictures for their betrothal– engagement, whatever they call it.”

She turned her book and your eyes skated over a myriad of pictures of couples who were clearly hopelessly in love, ogling over each other, here at the beach, there in a field of flowers.

“That’s sweet” you acknowledged, smiling.

Theo leaned over and let out an unsatisfied grunt.

Mattheo’s attention didn’t waiver from his homework but Lorenzo leaned over him, craning to see.

“What’s the point?” he asked. “Sitting there staring at each other when you’ll take a thousand pictures at the wedding anyway? Their pictures don’t even move.”

You looked up in time to see Pansy roll her eyes before she glanced back down at the page, fingers tracing it and you could see a familiar glint in her eye.

“That’s what I’ll do, I’ll do a little engagement photoshoot. I love photography anyway, it makes sense.”

You nodded assuredly, thinking of the prints that littered the walls of your dorm, of each other, of your friends; your mind wandered to your favorite, intentionally plastered amidst the rest so as not to stand out, of the dark haired boy beside you, your best friend, his curls ruffled as he smiled wide and then stuck his tongue out, a loop you spent more time than you cared to admit staring at.

You smiled thinking about it and willed yourself not to look at him as your cheeks flushed, betraying you.

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Hmm?” you hummed.

“You’ll help? You’ll do it with me?”

“I’m neither engaged nor a muggle, Pansy.”

“No but you’d be sooo perfect, please? And we’ll get someone to do it with you, obviously—"

“—Stare into her eyes in a field of flowers? Steal a sneaky kiss?” Lorenzo said, his hand shooting in the air. “My weekend’s free.”

You laughed and Mattheo’s attention was dragged from his parchment as he sat back and stared at Lorenzo.

“What?” Lorenzo said defensively at his dark gaze. “Surely you’re not going to do it?”

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed.

“Your whole aura doesn’t really give ‘prancing through the flowers’, mate.”

“And yours does?” Theo clarified.

Lorenzo sat back and gestured at himself in defense like the response was obvious.

“I was made for the camera.”

The two of them continued to bicker in whispers back and forth as you watched them and tried to contain your laughter.

“I’ll do it” Mattheo said, just loud enough to be heard over them.

Your head turned quickly to him in surprise.

Lorenzo wasn’t wrong. Mattheo was more than a little stoic, a bit of a closed book, but it was one of your favorite things about him, because you knew when he laughed, when he smiled, when he let his guard down around you, it really meant something.

Pansy glanced to you and him and back again, her smile growing wider.

“Perfect!” she said enthusiastically.

“Don’t come crying to me when you have a roll full of scowls” Lorenzo muttered.

That Saturday you woke to an idyllic late spring morning. The storms had cleared to welcome a perfect blue sky and even though you were tingling with nerves you couldn’t deny your excitement. You dressed in a simple white sundress, let your hair fall naturally and added just a touch of makeup; Pansy had wanted to lean into the whole outdoorsy theme, so you opted to keep things simple.

You wandered outside and just past greenhouse you could see two figures at edge of a large field of wildflowers near the forest and ran to catch up with them.

“Hi! Sorry! I’m here!” you said, a bit flustered.

“No worries!” Pansy said, and she continued talking, but you’d caught Mattheo’s eye as he turned to face you and his face broke into a smile that you knew all too well to be genuine happiness as his eyes traced you.

You smiled back as you looked up at him, appreciating the way his white top clung to his arms, the way the sun was glinting off his chestnut hair, averting your gaze quickly when you felt a familiar heat creeping in your cheeks. When did you think having a fake romantic photoshoot with the friend you were unfailingly in love was a good idea?

“…So yeah just go on then” Pansy said as she gestured to the field and then began fiddling with her muggle camera.

You both looked back at her, your bewilderment clear.

“Gonna need a bit more than that, Pans” Mattheo clarified, his voice scratchy in an early-morning way that had your toes curling in the long grass.

She glanced up and sighed, placing a hand on her hip.

“Just take her hand and walk” she instructed, shooing you off.

He looked back at you, eyebrows raised, and reached out his palm. You placed yours in his warm grasp and fell into step with him as he began to walk into the field.

But you didn’t make it three steps.

“You’re meant to be getting married, can you please intertwine your fingers, Riddle, and get a little closer” Pansy yelled.

His hand shifted without pause as he wrapped his fingers in yours, squeezing tightly as he gently pulled you into his side.

“So bossy” he muttered and you laughed, the moment breaking the intense nerves you’d had that you sensed he could feel as he squeezed your hand again.

“Alright, stop there, turn and face each other” Pansy instructed from a distance.

Your feet slowed hesitantly and you could hear the snap snap snap of her camera as you turned to face him and felt like your whole body was your heartbeat, like you could feel your nerves in the tips of your fingers as you looked up at him. He reached for your other hand, holding them both. You glanced down at the gesture before looking up at him and he winked, causing you to smile, to laugh again.

“Hey” he said quietly as your eyes met his. “I know there are loads of guys out there, but try to act a little happy you’re marrying me. For Pansy’s sake” he joked and your eyes grew wide at that.

“I’m not – I’m happy!” you said, unable to articulate why you were so nervous, realizing it was coming across as something else entirely.

“Why don’t we do a couple sitting then?” Pansy said.

“So artsy” you replied, turning to her.

She pointed adamantly.

“Ok! Ok!” you said, dropping down, your dress fanning you as Mattheo sat beside you.

“Closer.”

You sighed and scooched closer, terrified to meet his eyes again.

“Just go ahead and talk to each other or something.”

Mattheo seemed completely at ease and didn’t seem to have any problem staring at you and you felt like he could see through your soul.

Finally, you met his eye, gathering yourself.

“Why’d you agree to do this?” you asked quietly as the camera clicked, releasing the question that has been on your mind since he’d volunteered.

Because I wouldn’t dare let anyone else do this with you, he thought.

He shrugged.

“No plans.”

You pushed his chest playfully and he grasped your hand.

“Perfect! So cute!” Pansy said.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t an act.

Mattheo leaned in and you stopped breathing altogether, certain he was going to kiss you, but then he reached for a wildflower, plucking it before looking back at you and thoughtfully tucking it behind your ear.

“Swoon!” you heard Pansy mutter, her camera clicking away.

“Smooth, Riddle” you said, your voice wobbly as his hand lingered against your cheek.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t an act.

“Alright, don’t kill me—” Pansy said, her voice dragging you away from the look in his eyes, and the feeling of his fingers against your cheek.

“—But is there a way you could like—" she motioned her hands like she wanted you to get closer. Short of crawling into his lap, closer wasn’t an option. You looked up at her, an eyebrow arched.

“Pans?”

“Maybe just make it look like, you know, like you’re going to kiss her, but if I stand here,” she said, moving away from the sun and kneeling down, “we can just make it look that way.”

Both of you paused, looking at her.

“Pleeaasee? I’ll be forever grateful.”

You turned to see him already looking at you.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable—”

“—It’s fine” you said, probably far too quickly. His lip twitched in a grin.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

It seemed an odd question, but you nodded, of course you did.

In a moment he reached for your hips and pulled you on top of him, the weight of you nearly toppling him over as your arms wound around his neck and his wound around you, holding you steady to him.

Pansy’s camera went wild like it was trying to keep in time with your pulse as you settled on his lap. You could feel his warm breath, his lips inches, centimeters from yours. He moved and pressed his forehead to yours and Pansy had some incredibly happy comment about it, but the world and all of your senses were reduced to just you and him, to how tightly he was holding you, to the smell of his cologne, mixed with wildflowers, like evergreen and summer, to the smell of the winterfresh gum that he favored and the look in his eyes, an unfailing sincerity there that had been there all morning, that was reducing you to a puddle. And then he smiled, the same smile in the polaroid that hung next to your bed, the same one you fell asleep looking at and woke up to every morning…

“Now she’s happy” he whispered, and you realized you were wearing a huge smile of your own.

A heartbeat, two.

Your hands moved to hold his face, to steady yourself, and you knew you couldn’t stay here a second longer without kissing him. But you also knew that kissing him would betray three years of friendship, and feelings that, if not voiced by now, clearly were not reciprocated.

His hand ran up your back and you felt him pull you against him and all you could think was how well he was selling it.

“Matty” you whispered, a plea, a beg, unsure whether you were begging him to keep going or to stop, though you were sure you’d never wanted anything more than this.

“M’gonna kiss you” he said finally.

He said hastily, leaving no time for a reply and then he was pulling you into him fully, his lips drawing yours to his and you couldn’t help the way your body relaxed and sank into him, the way your fingers threaded into his hair, the way you let out a tiny noise you’d never made before as his lips moved over yours like you’d done it all your life, unable to understand how this was the least nervous you’d been all day, because it felt right.

You kissed him back with the passion of three years of thinking about it, not leaving a single thing on the table, because there’d never be another moment to parade it like this again as you wound your tongue into his mouth, flicked his and his grip on your waist felt bruising in reply before he pulled away, fast.

“Fucking fuck” he hissed, holding you at a distance from him as he tried to catch his breath.

“S-sorry!” you replied, trying to catch your breath, to clear your clouded mind, hazy with him as you touched your fingers to your lips, already swollen from his kiss.

“No, do not, don’t apologize—"

Pansy cleared her throat.

And you both turned to see her not even bothering to point the camera, her face gobsmacked.

“Think I got what I need, then.”

“Right!” you said, shifting as Mattheo reluctantly helped you off his lap and you both stood and walked to meet her.

He casually intertwined his fingers in yours, and you held his hand tightly without realizing it. You didn’t let go until you entered the castle.

By the time you were back to the common room, the façade of the morning fell, and with it came a wave of uncertainty, of regret.

Mattheo slid onto the couch with your friends and you made your way, head down, to your room as Pansy followed quickly after you.

She was unusually quiet as she set her camera down and sank into her chair, watching you as you moved about the room, fussing, folding laundry, tying your hair up only to let it down again.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

Your movements faltered and you sighed.

“M’fine” you said quietly.

“That was …”

“Yeah. Well... I hope you do really well on your project.”

She knew you were being genuine, she knew you meant it, and that made her feel even worse than she already did, because even though you'd never voiced it, she knew exactly how much Mattheo meant to you.

“It looked real, YN. I mean the way he was looking at you all morning” she tried, reaching for her camera.

You shook your head.

“I don’t – it’s not like that” you said, shaking your head as she offered the camera to you. “Please. He was doing us a favor, plain as.”

You moved to bathroom and closed the door, and Pansy stared at the camera, flipping through the pictures for a long time.

Mattheo lay in bed that night and all he could think was how fucking stupid he’d been.

The second you’d come back to the common room you’d been off, and the rest of the day you’d kept him at an arms’ length. He’d pushed way too far when he kissed you, and clearly it’d made you uncomfortable.

… But the way you looked at him… The feeling of the warmth of your body against him, your fingers in his hair, the way you’d whispered his name…. he’d thought…

It didn’t matter.

Clearly he’d read the signs all wrong. And even that perfect fucking kiss wasn’t worth it because now you wouldn’t even look at him. He shoved his head in his pillow and groaned.

❀ Present ❀

Mattheo had been reading and re-reading the same sentence when Pansy burst into the common room, going on about her project.

He hadn’t forgotten about it, couldn’t forget the way you’d looked surrounded by that field of flowers in your white dress. It shouldn’t have done to him what it did but for the life of him he couldn’t stop thinking about it, the way you’d looked at him, the way the wind rustled your hair, the soft cotton of your dress, the feeling of your fingers in his, your weight in his lap, your fingers in his hair, your tongue... it plagued him. But he had forgotten completely about Pansy, about the project, about the pictures.

So when she left he reached for the folder with eager hands and six polaroids fell out alongside a scrap of parchment.

He flipped the pictures over and his heart stilled to a muffled beat.

The photos didn’t move, but in a way it made them more ethereal, like you were frozen in time, like had a piece of you, a moment that would never be the same again.

Him, with his fingers in your hair, tucking a flower there, how you’d teased him that it was for show, when it so clearly wasn’t.

Your tangled hands.

You in the summer sun glowing like a fucking angel. He refused to put that one back, holding it close to his chest instead.

Two others caught his eye. One of him, alone, clearly listening to something you were saying off camera, he stared at it and realized he looked like a lovesick puppy, like just how down bad he was might well have been written across his forehead. Am I that obvious? he thought.

But the last one.

It was one he didn’t even remember taking, both of you hand in hand, his back was to the camera but your expression was clear, you were glowing, you were looking at him like he hung the damn moon and stars, your eyes sparkled, and he loved it. He loved you he thought.

He looked back and forth between your expression and his and he replayed how you’d looked that day in his mind.

Why’d you agree to do this? you’d asked, like you didn’t already know.

Smooth, Riddle you’d said, begging him to tell you it wasn’t an act, though he couldn't find the words to.

And it was like he was solving a puzzle he’d been working on for three years; all the times you’d shied away from his gaze, the times you’d turned down dates with other guys or laid your head on his shoulder, it was always exactly what he’d thought it was, exactly what he wanted it to be.

He reached for the piece of parchment then, eyes scanning it quickly as he smiled, grabbing it alongside the polaroids before following quickly in Pansy’s footsteps.

Your door was open and he could hear your voices echoing as he moved to stand in the doorframe. You were seated cross-legged on your bed, textbooks open in front of you as Pansy chatted to you, walking around the room.

You looked up at him, surprise evident on your face; you’d been keeping your distance and until now he’d been respecting it.

“Oh” you said simply.

Pansy turned to see him, glancing at the messy bundle of pictures in his hands, and the expression on his face as he stared wide eyed at her best friend.

“Ha, yup, I’ll give you two a minute” she said as she brushed by him.

“Pans!” you whispered after her as you scrambled to your feet.

“Can I talk to you, please?” he asked.

“…Sure” you said hesitantly, not meeting his gaze as you leaned against your bed, eyes darting to your feet, unsure if you could ever look in his eyes again and see anything but his expression after you’d kissed, something you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life chasing.

He rubbed the back of his head and looked down at the pictures in his hands.

“Remember when you asked me why I offered to do Pansy’s project with you?”

Your eyes flitted up as his chosen topic of conversation.

“Yeah” you said quietly.

“Well – it’s… I thought – when she said – I mean for the longest time I…” he muttered. “Fucking hell. Here” he said, moving to your bed and dumping the polaroids there.

You glanced up at him before focusing your attention on the pictures.

You pulled one then another towards you, turning them so you could see them, analyzing them quietly, your fingers tracing over the frames, and stopping to rest on the one of you looking at him, the same one that had told him everything he needed to know, the answer to every question he’d asked himself for years clear on your face.

Your cheeks heated. Gods I look smitten, you thought and you felt your whole body blush.

In response he pulled the one of him next to it, the one where he was looking off camera at you, totally and completely enthralled and you bit your lip to keep from crying because you still weren’t sure what he was trying to say. We’re really good actors? Something more? And then he pulled the piece of parchment out of his pocket and spread it next to them. It was a note from Pansy’s professor.

Excellent, Pansy. Your talent with the camera is exceptional and you captured the essence of this milestone moment clearly. These two? They remind me of Mihri Hatun, ‘At one glance I loved you with a thousand hearts’. Beautiful!

You read the words and you felt a tingle throughout your body as the small hairs on your arm stood at attention and you looked up at him again.

“At first, I offered to do it because I didn’t like the idea of Enzo drooling all over you. But, selfishly? I wanted to know what it’d feel like, to pretend, for a while, that I could be something more than a friend to you, that you could look at me that way. But…” he looked back at the picture of you, “you kinda are looking at me that way. And Merlin, if you could put ‘down bad loverboy on a poster that picture of me would be it.’

You laughed despite the sincerity of the moment.

“And that kiss, I didn’t mean– didn’t intend for it to be like that… but you kinda kissed me like you didn’t mind…”

“I didn’t. I don’t. I didn’t think—” You tried to form a coherent thought but couldn’t as your eyes drifted back down to the picture of him looking at you, feeling the way it permeated you, warmed you.

He reached for your other hand, tangling your fingers in his. And he tugged, emboldened now by what he knew as he reached a hand to cup your face and then dipped his head, pausing for a second, maybe just to be 100% sure that this was what you wanted as his lips ghosted yours.

You tiptoed yourself to him, pressing your lips to his. His arms encircled you eagerly and lifted you up to him as you wound your legs around his waist and you smiled and laughed against his lips.

“I’ve been looking at you like that for the last three years, YN. M’glad you finally noticed.”

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts @revesephemeres

[dameronspector]

Challengers: Avengers Edition (Part 3)

Pairings: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Stark!Reader (Established Relationship); Bob Reynolds x Fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: Sam decides to sue, Sam and Bucky are being angsty for no reason, Bob finally talks to Yelena and Bucky, you get invited to a gala and and Joaquin is a lil upset.

Warnings: Fuff, Banter, Angst, Cameos, Joaquin loves Reader a LOT, Joaquin being a cutie, Poor Bob suffers :(,CAUTION: Mentions of Bob’s Addiction, Drugs and Mental Illnesses, Graphic discussion of Bob's withdrawals from drugs and his past, the Void demeans Bob, I am NOT romanticizing pre!serum Bob. He is depicted to have an unhealthy/codependent attachment and that is NOT romantic. Valentina is a piece of shit, SO much Yearning and Longing from Bob, SamBucky are dads and cough best friends, Jealous!Joaquin, Jealous!Bob, Reader is oblivious as hell because she has eyes for Joaquin only, Reader is mentioned to have hair long enough to be let down loose, thats all i think! Let me know if i should add something else!

Also, sorry if the timeline is a lil confusing :(

AN: just watched Ironheart, you guys, PLS WATCH THE SHOW! its sooo good and riri my girl is just amazing! please support dominique! <3

"So...we're definitely suing."

Sam announced as he entered the living area, where all of you were lounging around.

Kamala and Kate were sitting on the bean bags, huddled over a laptop as they watched a show, Scott was scavenging in the pantry for something to eat, Carol had decided to busy herself with digging up some more dirt on Valentina, sitting at the dining table, while Joaquin laid his head on your lap, your soft hand buried in his curls, other hand holding a book. His eyes were closed, hands folded on his chest, light snores leaving his mouth.

All of you, minus Joaquin, looked up in shock.

"What...do you mean?", you asked nervously.

Sam rubbed his eyes.

"Well, they're not ready to expose her themselves. He said their hands are under a rock and that they really cannot do anythin'."

You bit your tongue to avoid blurting out that you and Joaquin knew this already.

"What's next?", Kate asked.

"We'll contact our lawyers right away. I'm not letting that woman think ahead of us for even a second. I've talked to Jennifer already, said she'll meet me tonight. Carol, you're comin' with me", he sighed.

Carol simply nodded her head.

"I feel like I'm getting a deja vu", Scott quipped with his mouth stuffed with Oreos.

"Did Mr. Stark and Steve fight like this, (Name)?", Kamala asked you in curiosity, side eyeing Sam nervously.

You looked at Sam who shook his head in dejection.

"Yes, but worse, because they wouldn't hear each other out", you answered her lowly. Sam sighed.

"Alright, It's nearing 6, so you", he pointed at Kamala, "need to get back, before your mom calls us all."

Kamala’s eyes widened before she pulled up Kate, and they left in a hurry, throwing a quick ‘Bye’ over their shoulders. Carol was staying back because she had to go meet Jennifer with Sam, while Scott left shortly as he had a date with Hope.

Now that the base was empty, you decided to finally have a talk with Sam.

You watched him walk around the sofa and join Carol at the dining table, discussing something with her. Dog-earing your book, you laid it on the couch next to you, gently lifting Joaquin’s head off your lap and putting a pillow under him. His eyebrows scrunched up a little before he curled on his side, crossing his arms sighing sleepily.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before standing up and approaching Sam.

“Guys?”

He turned around, frowning at the nervous look on your face, “Yeah?”

“Um-Carol, I’m so sorry, but I need to talk to Sam about something. Would you mind if I steal him for sometime?”, you requested her, not wanting to make her feel left out.

She smiled, “Yeah, of course. Please, go ahead. I need to read this file anyways.”

Sam and you walked over to his personal office, where he stared at you like he’d already read your mind.

“Spit it out, Stark”, he quipped, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You looked at him and covered your face with your hands.

“You’re gonna hate me”, you groaned.

“What?”, Sam stood up straight.

You removed your hands from your face and put them on your hips instead, chewing on the inside of your cheek before spilling everything.

“Uh-Joaquin and I went to the Tower yesterday.”

Sam paused, his eyes wide in disbelief, “You did what?”

“…yeah”, you grimaced.

And Sam spiralled, just a little, out of worry for you two, his eyes wide and face slack.

“Kid, I told y’all not to do this one thing, specifically. What goes on- why did ya’ll even go there? And did anybody see you? Hold on, did Valen-”

“Hey, relax. Nobody saw us, I promise, Sam. We went through the launch pad, so, no security or media people saw us. And no, Valentina wasn’t there either, so don’t worry”, you consoled him.

Sam rubbed a hand down his face, “That doesn’t make it any better, what if they use this against us? What if they’re all going to provoke Valentina against us? This changes everything about the case and now the two of you are caught in the between-”

“Sam-Sam!”, you called him out loudly, holding his flailing hands in yours to ground him.

“I know, we don’t know the team properly, but I swear, they all want Valentina to fall, just as much as we do.”

Sam frowned, “What?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what Bucky told you but he’s right, they’re all lost. She’s holding them hostage and manipulating the Bob guy, who was responsible for the whole black out thing”, you squeezed his hands earnestly.

“That’s…yeah, he did say that. What else do you know? You talked to all of ‘em?”, he murmured.

You released his hands and tugged your cardigan sleeves over your hands.

“Most of it was just her manipulating and threatening to expose them. She’d reintroduce all the omitted information from their files, that could turn them into convicted criminals again, if they disobeyed her.”

You swallowed thickly before continuing, “And this Bob guy…Sam, he’s got a heavy past. Drug addict along with a long history of mental illness. Which is why he’s been so unstable and she’s been using him as a weapon. That blackout thing? That was due to a depressive episode that Valentina forced onto him”, you solemnly relayed the information to Sam, who just frowned harder.

“Has she lost her damn mind? She should be put behind the bars for abetting someone, add the scammy stuff later”, he muttered in disbelief.

You pursed your lips, “I know. She’s a fucking leech.”

Sam furrowed his brows. He couldn’t believe this woman had the audacity to groom a mentally ill person to be an indestructible weapon and worsen their condition.

“And no, we didn’t get to talk to them properly, but they seemed pretty over it. Bucky said he’ll talk to them. Did he tell you anything about it?”

Sam snorted humourlessly, “It was just a whole lotta ‘I don’t know, man’, ‘I’m sorry, Sam’, ‘I can’t do anything except wait’”.

That tracks. He’d said the same to you.

“Yeah. He said the same to us. Honestly, you guys are worse than my dad and Steve”, you huffed.

“Excuse me?”, Sam quirked an eyebrow.

“At least those two fought and yelled at each other. You guys don’t even do that. It’s just endless pining and yearning”, you quipped, pretending to look at your nails.

Sam sputtered, “Wh-Wait. No. That’s not what’s happening-”

“Okay, okay, Cap. I got you”, you chuckled, choosing to go easy on the man. Sam glared at you, his face could radiate steam if it could, because he was positively flustered.

“Alright, listen. Here’s what we’re doing next. We have to get the team on our side first. Build the rapport and trust, and then, make them testify against Valentina. She’s holding them hostage anyways, so it’s not like we are lying about it”, you suggested.

Sam nodded solemnly, “Yeah. I was thinkin’ of meeting the rest but I dunno how, without raising a few eyebrows.”

You folded your arms across your chest, “Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure something out. Valentina loves the whole parade. She will probably arrange a gala or a party for the team so that all the big shots visit her.”

“You think she’ll invite us?”, he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m sure she will. She wants you to see all of this, rub it in our faces and all that crap. But before that happens, we need to file this case, Sam.”

He nodded, “Yeah, of course. Gonna insist Jennifer and might even meet up with Murdock. We need all hands on deck.”

“That’s good”, you nodded before perking up, “Would you mind, if I suggested you to meet up with her at a different place?”

Sam frowned, “I mean, no, but why?”

You chewed on your lip, “I don’t trust her. At all. If you’re gonna meet at a bustling place, she’s probably gonna keep an eye on you. You’d have to take a trip but, it’s important.”

“Yeah, okay, go on.”

“So, dad had this hide out kinda thing. In Virginia. It’s fully surveilled with high tech security, I’ll manage it myself and FRIDAY has access, too. It’s better if all the meetings related to this case take place there. I don’t want you, Jennifer or Carol risking your own assets or lives for this.”

“That makes sense, yeah. Sure”, Sam nodded.

“I’ll send a car to pick up Jennifer. You guys will be okay?”, you inquired.

“No no, we’re good. Virginia’s not that far from here and I know a route, so we’ll be fine. Thanks, kid”, Sam patted your shoulder, a soft smile tugging at lips because he couldn’t help but see your father in you. They had their differences, but Tony Stark was always the first in line to help his team.

You flashed him a sincere smile before turning serious again, glossy eyes looking up at him with so much trust.

“Sam, if there’s any two people, in this whole world who can get through this, it’s you and Buck. You’re not like my dad or Steve. What you have is special. You’re each other’s family. It doesn’t matter that you’re the leaders of two different teams, the two of you will always, always find a way. Please remember that. We need you two to come together for this. And it will happen if you guys just..talk.”

Sam tilted his head, eyes shining with longing and something else.

“I asked Bucky the same, and now I’m asking you the same thing. Promise me, that the two of you will fix this, together”, you croaked.

Sam looked at you for a moment before brushing his hand across your back soothingly, a wet smile spreading on his lips.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I promise.”

You exchanged sad smiles, bringing up a hand to wipe your eyes when there was a knock on the door to the office.

“Bet it’s your clingy boyfriend”, Sam teased.

You snorted, wiping your eyes on your sleeves before Sam walked over to the door, revealing a half awake Joaquin, his hair was mussed with sleep and plaid shirt wrinkled from the tossing and turning.

He looked so warm and cosy, it took everything in you to not tackle him in a hug.

“Good morning, sunshine”, Sam boomed, wrapping an arm around Joaquin’s shoulders and hiding you from his view.

You pursed your lips to stop yourself from laughing out loud.

“Hi….where’s-where’s (Name)”, his sleepy voice cracked as he spoke, a hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“She went back at her apartment, man. Said she’d let you sleep for sometime”, Sam teased further. He knew exactly how Joaquin would get clingy and snappy after he woke up and how he’d relax only if you were with him.

That seemed to have snapped him out of his sleep, his back suddenly straightened up in attention, a sad little pout tugging his lips down. As if someone stole his candy.

“Wait, she left? Without me? I was supposed to drop her home, bro. We were gonna go on a grocery run and I was gonna help her with dinner, and I—”

You giggled loudly, both of the men whipped their heads behind to look at you.

Sam in amusement, Joaquin in disbelief.

And then Joaquin grumbled, Sam shaking his shoulders while cackling.

“Oh man, you’re so whipped. I’m never letting you live that down, by the way. You should’ve seen your face!”, Sam wheezed, leaning against Joaquin, who was still grumbling, a whine leaving his mouth.

“Stop it. You guys are the worst”, he groaned loudly and rubbed his face with his hands. You pouted.

“Alright. Alright. I gotta go. You guys can stay if you wanna. It’s too late to go back, anyways. (Name), please look into picking up Jennifer, yeah?”, Sam instructed and squeezed Joaquin’s shoulders.

You nodded and Sam murmured a ‘Bye’ to Joaquin, before leaving.

Joaquin scrunched his nose before bee lining towards you, strong arms going around your waist and head buried in your neck. Letting a smile pull at your cheeks, you bring your arms around his back, smoothing your palms over the wide expanse, feeling his muscles move underneath them as your head leaned against his temple.

“Good nap?”, you asked quietly.

His warm breath hit your chest, soft curls tickling your jaw as he nodded in affirmation.

“Missed you though. Why’d you leave me alone”, you could practically hear the pout in his scratchy voice. You sighed.

“Sorry, baby bird. I needed to tell Sam about everything that happened yesterday.”

That got his attention, pulling back from your neck to look at you, arms still caging you in his embrace, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Oh, damn. How’d it go?”

You busied yourself with straightening his collar while filling him in.

“Well, Bucky called him. Said the same things he said to us. They must’ve had a disagreement because the first thing Sam said after the call, was that we’re definitely suing. So he’s gone to meet Jennifer Walters right now, with Carol. I decided to tell him everything before he found out from someone else.”

Joaquin’s eyes widened, “Please tell me he’s not grounding us.”

You huffed a laugh, rubbing his chest soothingly, “No, I handled it and told him that we had it in control.”

Joaquin breathed a sigh of relief, before you continued.

“So now we gotta wait till Valentina announces a gala or a party or something, which she will definitely do because-”,

“She’s an attention seeker”, Joaquin deadpanned, squeezing your waist, jaw clenched in annoyance.

You snorted, “Exactly. And she’ll definitely invite us, or Sam, at least. I’ve requested him to keep in contact with Bucky and sort out whatever they’ve got going on. We need all of them on our side, and to testify against that woman. Sam has agreed to all of this, thankfully.”

Joaquin smiled in relief.

“That’s good. You’re good. You’re so smart, baby”, he praised, brown eyes oozing with love and pride.

You blushed, ducking your head to avoid his intense eye contact, “Shut up.”

Joaquin laughed and pulled you closer, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead, enveloping you in a warm hug, both of you unaware of the storm brewing back at the Tower.

-

Yesterday

Bucky and Yelena speed walked towards Bob’s room, the only place where he could be in their absence.

The conference had taken longer than expected, all of them were a cranky and tired mess by the second half. Now they just couldn’t even bear to see each other’s faces or talk to anybody.

But Yelena reminded him of Bob. The events that took place during the day, your arrival, Bucky’s emotional conversation with you and Joaquin, and Bob’s sudden attraction to you, and they immediately got to work, leaving behind the other three to quickly check on the golden boy, who was still in his room, they assumed.

They exchanged a worried look before Yelena opened the door carefully, making sure to make minimal noise so as to not freak the boy out.

The room was dark. The only light that came in, was the moonlight, coating the room in a dark blue hue, highlighting a large lump on the bed, curled up in a fetal position.

For a second, they worried that the Void was out again, both of their hearts thundering against their ribs. Bucky slowly made his way towards the side table, flicking on the lamp that perched on it.

The lamp coated the room in a golden glow, finally shedding some light on the large form resting atop the bed—Bob. Just Bob. No jet black shadow covering him.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Yelena rounded the corner and sat on the opposite side, observing Bob’s sleeping face closely.

“Just asleep”, Yelena murmured, making Bucky unclench his fists.

“Should we wake him up?”, he rasped.

Yelena thought about it for a moment, before nodding hesitantly.

“Yeah. It’s been a while since we left, anyway. If we don’t talk now, we’re gonna keep delaying it and he’ll keep avoiding it.”

Bucky pursed his lips before nodding in approval, letting her do the job of waking Bob up.

Yelena gently placed her hand on his shoulder, shaking him carefully like she was handling a bomb waiting to go off.

“Bob? Wake up, c’mon”, she shook his arm.

A breath left his nose, eyebrows twitching before he suddenly jerked, eyes whipping open in a sudden manner.

Yelena jumped, raising her hands in a surrender manner, Bucky made himself more visible to Bob so as to not scare him further.

“It’s okay, it’s just us. Yelena and Bucky. You’re okay”, Yelena’s raspy voice soothed him.

Bob blinked a few times before sitting up, hands rubbing his eyes to clear his vision of the bleariness. He swallowed thickly, trying to forget the very realistic memory he’d had of you, before clearing his throat.

“H-hey guys. You’re back. That’s..that’s nice. What’s the time?”

“It’s past 9pm, kid. Did you have dinner?”, Bucky asked softly, his voice coated in concern.

Bob furrowed his brows, “9 pm? Damn, I-I don’t know when I dozed off…and no, I didn’t have dinner yet”, he sheepishly admitted, hands playing with the edges of his sleeve.

Honestly, he was still out of it. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, half expecting to have an episode but surprisingly his body had fallen into a slumber.

“That’s okay. We’ll order somethin’ for you”, Yelena offered, exchanging a look with Bucky, who was already ordering some burgers and fries for Bob, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Oh. That’s nice of you. Thank you”, Bob gave them one of his crooked smiles, one that was teetering between a frown and a smile.

Yelena gave him a tight lipped smile before deciding to ask away.

“Bob, we need to talk.”

He tensed up, eyebrows shooting up in fear, a few strands of brown curls framing his eyes, “Wait, what-what did I do? Did the-did the other guy show up again? I’m sorry, it’s just, not been a good day and I-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. It’s nothing like that”, Bucky placated, a hand held out to stop Bob’s ramblings.

Bob’s mouth fell open in disbelief, glassy eyes switching between the two figures in front of him.

“So-what is it..?”, he asked hesitantly.

Yelena gave him a sympathetic look, deciding to ask him directly in that straight forward way she does, “Bob…what happened with (Name)? Why were you acting so…weird?”

Bob froze. Blood rushed to his ears as everything came running back to him. Your face. Your voice. His sudden possessiveness. His jealousy towards Joaquin.

You and Joaquin together.

Bob clenched his jaw, leaning away from Yelena and averting his gaze from both of the assassins in shame and anger—towards himself and towards the situation.

“Nothing”, he simply murmured, closing his eyes tightly to get rid of the voices and images of Joaquin’s hands on you.

Yelena frowned, Bucky shook his head.

“It’s not nothing. You were practically staring holes into Joaquin, I saw your eyes glow golden as well. You looked at her like-like she’s some kinda ghost. Or a god. And you’ve been asleep for what? Almost 8-9 hours? Don’t lie, kid”, Bucky conceded firmly, his voice taking the shape of a tired and worried father.

At hearing Joaquin’s name, Bob’s jaw clenched tighter, somehow. That same green monster clawing his way up his throat.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like he wasn’t being a dick to me”, he scoffed, looking at Bucky incredulously, a strange attitude overtaking him.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow while Yelena’s mouth fell open.

“This! You’re being aggressive, again! What’s with this attitude, Reynolds?”, she cried out, folding her hands across her chest.

Bob narrowed his eyes, those golden tendrils shimmering behind his irises again, “So I shouldn’t defend myself when someone’s being an asshole to me?”

Her eyes widened, looking at Bucky for help, who just scoffed in disbelief.

“Not when you’re ogling said person’s girlfriend like he wasn’t standing in front of you. Not when you’re poking at him for simply standing next to his girlfriend, Bob.”

That struck Bob straight, wincing as if the jab had hit him directly in the chest, shrinking into his skin once again, blue eyes focused onto his fingers picking the skin around his nails in nervousness.

He knew he was acting strange. He knew he was provoking Joaquin for no reason. And he knew he had no right to feel so possessive over you. All of it was wrong and shameful.

But he just couldn’t help it.

Not when you were no less than a god, as Bucky had mentioned, to him.

As damaged as he was, he had feelings too. Real, raw, human feelings.

“S-sorry. I just…I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. Really sorry”, he whispered with his eyes shut tightly, making him see stars behind his lids as his hands kept picking at each other.

“See? You’ve once again managed to ruin everything….”

That voice was back again. Bob shook his head in denial.

Concerned, Yelena put her hands on his fidgeting ones, separating them before holding them tightly to ground him.

“It’s okay, Bob. We want to help you. But we can’t if you don’t tell us what’s happening. Is there something you’d like to share?”, she gently prodded, bending slightly to look at him.

He still wouldn’t meet her eyes, lips quivering with the sob he was holding in.

Bucky sighed sadly, “Bob…do you like (Name)? If that’s the case, then, I’m sorry to tell you but, she’s already-”

A few tears escaped Bob’s eyes, face scrunched up in pain before he decided to correct Bucky, unable to hold it in any longer.

"You don't get it", he whispered, cutting off Bucky, who paused.

"What do you mean?", Yelena asked from his right, a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder.

They were going to find out someday. It’s not like he wasn’t obvious or anything.

“…I love her”, he finally answered, his voice a weak and tired variant of itself.

The room was suddenly too quiet. Bob swore he could hear the rustle of the mattress and the traffic below. Bucky's mouth hung open as he stared at Bob blankly and Yelena decided to break the silence by blurting out, "What?"

Bob winced again, removing his hands from Yelena's grip.

"That's-you don't even know her, Bob. You just met her. That's not possible", Bucky reasoned, a frown tugging at his already stressed face, the lines next to his eyes more prominent due to the low light in the room.

Bob's jaw ticked, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth as he mulled over Bucky's words. Even though he was right, he didn't know how you were an anchor for Bob. How he'd decided to get his shit together after learning about you. How Angela would convince him to get better by talking about you and your philanthropy. How he'd seen all of your speeches and talks on his friend's borrowed computer and on Angela's TV, who purposefully set it to your interviews when he would stumble into her shop.

Did he know you personally? No.

Had you changed his life? Yeah. In more than one way.

When he had nobody who stuck around in his life, your face and voice was a constant. You were The (Name) Stark, with a face as radiant as the sun, who was incredibly resilient and courageous and with a heart made of gold, and yeah, you didn't even deserve someone like him. But he was sure that if he ever tried to talk to you, just as a friend, you'd never disappoint him like the others did. The others who left him when it got tougher.

Maybe he was being parasocial. But how would he know the answers to his questions, if nobody gave him a chance to even talk to you? Even a 'thank you' would suffice, he thought. But he couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you any longer. Even being in your orbit was nothing short of an honor for him.

"You don't get it, Bucky. She's-she's saved me. When I had no one, I had her voice to keep me grounded. Even before reaching the lab, I had borrowed a phone, from someone. I used to listen to her speeches every day. On repeat. I'd throw it aside when the withdrawals would start. But I'd feel this...this hole in my chest, craving her voice just as badly as the drugs. And sometimes...sometimes I'd cry my eyes out while I withered on the ground. But my earphones would always play her voice", Bob's voice cracked as he confessed.

Bucky and Yelena were stunned into silence.

The fact that Bob was aware of you before coming here. And unknowingly, you'd played a vital part in his life and where he was today, was so shocking that Bucky stared at Bob's tearful face dumbly while Yelena felt her own eyes water, head turned towards the side to hide her tears.

"I told myself, if I get to meet her, I'm thanking her. For just…being there, even if she wasn’t there physically. For her speeches and work. But...when I saw her, in person today...I realised that...it wasn't just a stupid crush or-or some weird codependent attachment. Her entire energy, the way she holds herself, it's so powerful. I-I haven't been with someone in a long time", he scoffed humourlessly, "Not that anybody wanted a fuckin' mess like me. But, maybe that's why I sort of, fell hard for her. She's been the only constant in my life for the past 5 years."

Bob wiped his tears with his sleeves, nose tinged red and eyes swollen.

"That's why I was also being an asshole to...to Joaquin. The whole 'I know her longer than he does' shit. Even though, as Bucky said, I don't know her, technically", he croaked shamefully, red dusting his cheeks.

Yelena sniffled and Bucky opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unable to take in all of this.

It was a lot. He's getting too old for a love triangle in his own family. And his heart also breaks for Bob. If you and Joaquin weren't, quite literally, each other's soulmates, then maybe it would've worked out. You'd get along with Bob just fine.

But that wasn't the case, and now there were two separate teams as well, so Bucky wasn't sure how to handle this without further breaking Bob's heart.

Because Bucky was sure that Joaquin, being as stubborn and steadfast he was, was absolutely not going to let Bob try anything. Let alone talk to you. Especially not after the intense show down between the two men. Bucky almost groaned at the fact that this was just going to worsen the situation between the teams even more.

Letting out a big sigh, he sat down in front of Bob, elbows braced against his knees as he carefully chose his words.

"Look, Bob...I understand. You knowingly or unknowingly imprinted on her, and you were so used to being the only one who listened to her, that you feel a little disoriented now that your bubble is burst. I get that. But...", he sighed again, "Kid, it's just, not gonna be easy, I'm not gonna lie to you. At least, not as peacefully as you're hoping for it to go. Joaquin is...he's very protective of her and vice versa. And they're literally made for each other."

Bob clenched his jaw harder, the lump in his throat making it harder to swallow. Why was Bucky cutting a deeper wound into his already broken heart?

"So, whatever you do, don't go around picking a fight with him unnecessarily. We're already in a sensitive situation, yeah?", Bucky softly added, trying to be as gentle as he could be.

Bob's vision blurred with tears before he nodded tersely, bringing a hand up to wipe at his eyes and push back his curls.

"Bob", Yelena's scratchy voice brought his attention back to her. He looked up at her hesitantly. Her eyes were bloodshot.

"We know this will be difficult for you. Maybe in ways that is beyond our understanding. But, please, for your sake, talk to me or Bucky next time. Or...maybe we can start your therapy sessions soon? If that's okay with you?", she offered carefully, eyes trained on his every move.

Bob bit his lip, mulling over her words. Therapy didn't sound that bad, honestly. At least, he'd use all the free time to work on himself instead of withering away.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. I-I can go to therapy", he admitted, nodding in agreement.

Yelena let out a sigh of relief and Bucky gave him a rare, kind smile, one that Bob had only ever seen on the super soldier's face when he was with you.

The thought almost made him smile. You had a way around making people comfortable.

"I'll talk to my therapist. She might recommend someone fit for you. You can take a trial session and the rest is your decision. That okay?", Bucky suggested.

"Yes. That's okay. Thanks, guys", Bob finally gave them a weak smile, cheeks glistening with tear tracks under the yellow light of the lamp.

Maybe, Bob could get over this. And he prayed he wouldn't see you anytime sooner, either.

-

Minutes after he'd finished his meal, Valentina had called for an emergency meeting. At 11 pm.

Why? Because that attention seeker had decided that she wanted to throw a Gala for the team. 'For the team' was just an excuse, she just wanted to show off. Show off her wealth, show off her so called team and her nonexistent efforts and how she's the new 'saviour' of the American people.

It was all a load of crap, honestly.

But she wanted to host a Gala and she was going to host it by the end of this week. And guess whom she wanted needed to attend this gala?

Sam Wilson. And you.

"We're not doing this", Bucky seethed, fists clenched tightly in anger. He still hadn't talked to Sam, like he'd promised you. And now, Valentina wanted to do this?

He couldn't imagine how betrayed Sam would feel, if he found out that Bucky had purposefully kept information from him. As if he wasn't on thin fucking ice already.

Valentina smirked, "Listen up, Barnes. I don't remember asking for your permission. It's my money. My team. I can do whatever the hell I want to."

Bucky clenched his jaw, the rest of the team glared at Valentina, except Bob, who had a faraway look in his eyes.

"Anyways, there's gonna be investors, shareholders, some of the richest people in attendance, including a real Captain America and our resident billionaire Stark heir. You guys better behave and keep up my reputation, hm?", she announced absently while flicking through her Ipad, Mel looking at her in confusion.

John scowled at the Captain America jab, Alexei's eyes kept jumping between Bucky's tensed body and Valentina's unbothered one like he was at a tennis match, Ava and Yelena exchanged glances before Yelena looked at Bob, who was restlessly moving around in his seat, itching to correct Valentina on her comment on you.

Yelena grabbed his arm firmly, tersely shaking her head 'no'. Bob bit the inside of his cheek to keep quiet.

"And oh, don't you dare invite them on my behalf, Bucky. We will be drafting a sweet and sophisticated invite, okay?", she gave him a sickly sweet smile. Bucky sneered.

"I'm not listenin' to-"

"You want me to release that footage from 10 years ago? Where you almost killed your best friend, who was also Captain America, on that helicarrier?", she narrowed her eyes.

Bucky froze, his vibranium arm whirring from how tightly he was clenching his fists, a mist covering his eyes.

Valentina smiled in victory.

"That's what I thought. Anyways! We'll keep you updated on the group chat. You'll get a phone soon, Robert, do stay active on the chat. Don't miss any texts and we'll have stylists over to give you all a makeover. I don't trust you all to turn up decently", she grimaced.

John yawned while Alexei was already napping on the desk, burly body leaned over his arms entirely, snores leaving his mouth. Valentina rolled her eyes at this.

"Yeah, fine, Jesus. You're dismissed", she waved them off, walking out of the room with Mel in tow.

"It would take one swipe. That's all. Then she'll be gone", Ava casually mentioned.

"Count me in on that. Anyways, I'm heading to bed. I don't have the energy for this", John announced before yawning loudly, trudging away to his room.

Bucky, Yelena and Bob didn't move from their spots, at all. A strange silence and tension seizing their body as they exchanged worrying looks.

Ava noticed, quirking an eyebrow, "What's going on with the three of you?"

Bucky cleared his throat, "Nothin'. Just...fed up with her", he referred to Valentina.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't really like social interactions, so", Bob laughed nervously.

Yelena simply hummed in thought. Ava narrowed her eyes in doubt.

"Uh- I'm going to sleep. Yep. I'm really tired. Yelena, you should wake up Alexei", Bucky coughed, quickly making his way outside, Bob following closely, while Yelena shook Alexei awake and walked out of the room hastily, leaving behind a perplexed Ava, who was not going to live peacefully until she finds out what's up with these three.

So, basically, Bob was not getting over this anytime soon.

Because you would definitely attend the event. And you'd be with The Captain America this time. Just the thought of being around you, dressed in fancy clothes, with the Cap next to you, was enough to make him hyperventilate.

All he could do was pray for a miracle. And that he didn't have one of his extremely high episodes.

But, god, he'd lying if he said that he wasn't excited to see you again.

-

It was the weekend, Sam had surprisingly decided to take a day off, you and Joaquin joining him for lunch at a staple restaurant, catching up with the recruitment process and other life updates over some pasta and drinks.

Sam, was currently telling you all about Riri Williams and her suits, how she'd worked under Princess Shuri and how she just needed some exposure to update her suit.

"I'd love to meet her", you admitted while taking a sip of your cola. The fact that she had benefitted from your dad's grant at MIT and hearing about her potential and intelligence was enough to encourage you to meet her.

Sam gave you a smile, exchanging a look with Joaquin, who was sitting on your right with his shoulder nudging you every now and then.

"I knew you'd say that. Great, I'll ask her to-", he cut himself off as your phones went off at the same time with a text notification.

Furrowing your brows, you looked down at your screen, an unknown number flashed on top of the chat bubble. Joaquin spared a glance at you phone before leaning over to look at Sam's.

"Wait. Is that the same number?", he murmured, cross checking once more.

Frowning, you opened the message and read it out loud for the two of them:

Valentina Allegra De Fontaine and OXE Group invites you for a Gala night to celebrate the New Avengers! Saturday, 7:00 pm, The Watchtower, Manhattan, New York Dress code: Formal PS: Please do not carry any suits or weapons. Invitation limited to you and Sam, exclusively. - Mel Vishwanathan, Secretary to Miss De Fontaine.

"Holy shit", Joaquin cursed.

"Did you get the same text?", you foolishly asked Sam. Sam quickly opened the message and sighed.

"Yep. Copy and paste."

You scoffed, "Knew this was gonna happen. She's too smart for her own good", fiddling with your phone for a moment, furiously typing away.

"How do we know this isn't a trap?", Joaquin asked in curiosity.

You turned your phone to show it to him, "Because it's up on LinkedIn. This is basically an investment and sponsorship event, alright."

Joaquin read the post, which had over 130k likes already, his eyebrows raised in surprise before he passed it to Sam, who whistled lowly.

"Damn. Look at all these people glazin' her up. There's gonna be media and shit too, it'll be a pain in the ass. We'll never get to talk to any of 'em", he shook his head.

You pursed your lips in thought, "Maybe. Not if we separate, though. You take three, I'll take three", you continued before he cut you off, "And you're taking Bucky. I don't care how, but the two of you are talking. That's it."

Sam narrowed his eyes, "You bossin' me around, Stark?"

"That's right, Wilson. This is the only way how a Stark and Captain America team up can work out, remember?", you teased him.

The two of you stared each other down before erupting in giggles.

"Alright, alright, I will. But the moment he's being immature, I'm callin' you in", he proposes.

"I got you, I promise. But he loves you too much to brood for longer, Sammy", you gave him a knowing smile. Sam coughed to hide his.

Next to you, Joaquin was way too quiet. Silently observing the entire conversation with a distant look in his eyes. You quieted down, nudging him to get his attention.

"You good, babe?", your voice took on a soft lilt that it did, whenever you talked to Joaquin. Sam watched him closely.

"Yeah. Just, I'm not invited", Joaquin muttered with thinly veiled irritation, his brows creased, brown eyes looking like pitiful pools of honey as he looked at you knowingly.

You paused, a flash clip of the events that transpired at the Tower playing in your mind, causing you to close your eyes in realisation.

Of course he was apprehensive about this. This meant you'd be around Bob again, and you'd be alone this time, since Sam would be busy with the task at hand.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "I didn't know you wanted to attend Valentina's gala so bad, Joaquin", he joked lightly. He observed your tensed body and Joaquin's clenched jaw, neither of you responding to his joke and that's when he knew there was more to it.

"Okay, one of you better tell me what's goin' on? I feel like I missed a few chapters?", he asked with narrowed eyes.

You glanced at Joaquin, who was still brooding, before letting out a sigh, "Well. Y'know, the Bob guy in their team?"

Sam furrowed his brows in confusion, "Blackout guy? Yeah, Why?"

Joaquin let out a humourless chuckle, "Yeah, he has a damn crush on my girlfriend. That's what happened."

"Joaquin..", you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Oh, and, he was trying to challenge me or some shit, bro. His eyes were all golden and stuff, as if I was being a hindrance for touching my girlfriend, like, have some class, Jesus", he seethed, getting worked up again.

"And you know what, Sam? He was lookin' at her like I do. Fuckin' stars in his eyes and shit. I can't-"

"Okay, okay. Relax, bird boy. Drink some water", Sam cut him off, an amused smile on his face.

Joaquin almost pouted, leaning back into the seat like a grumpy toddler. You pursed your lips. This was going to be really difficult.

"Guys, c'mon, it can't be that serious. We're not in high school! It's just stupid crush, I bet. And Joaquin, you can stop pouting, it's not exactly her fault that she's a star!", Sam laughed, trying to reason with him. You gave a wary smile at his joke before turning serious again.

"I truly hope it's just a crush. It's going to be a mess to deal with, otherwise..."

Sam gave you a close lipped smile, "Nothing's gonna happen. We'll figure somethin' out if it escalates, yeah?"

"Not before I handle him myself", Joaquin grumbled his breath.

Your eyes widened and you whipped your head around, "Jay, what the hell?"

Sam scoffed, "Easy, tiger. No need to go guns ablazin'. Unless you want another timeout", he warned Joaquin, arms folded across his chest, like a father scolding his son.

That sobered him up. Joaquin sat up straight, glancing at you and Sam briefly, feet scuffing against the floor in embarassment.

"Okay. I'm sorry", he murmured in shame, turning to the side to press a kiss to your shoulder, a soft "'M sorry, baby", spoken into the fabric of your shirt.

You softened up, rubbing a hand down his back. A smile tugged at Sam's lips.

"We'll put you in our comms so that you don't freak out, okay?", Sam suggested. Joaquin nodded in agreement, a hand coming up to rest on your thigh, free hand absently twirling the pasta around his fork.

"Alright, we should inform the team as well. And...maybe I'll call Buck. Let him know beforehand about our plan. That okay?", he asked you.

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll gather some discreet comms that'll stay concealed", you agreed.

"Good", he lowered his voice before continuing, "Also, Shulkie has suggested not to tell them about the entire case just yet. Just to request them to testify. If they ask anything further, we've to ask them to meet personally."

Shulkie was a code name for Jennifer Walters in public, you'd decided.

"Yep, got it, Cap", you affirmed.

"Alright, I need to bounce. I have a meeting with Leila. You guys will be okay?", he glanced at Joaquin, before looking at you knowingly.

Joaquin and you gave him close lipped smiles, Sam taking his leave before clearing the tab. He always treated you two like you were kids on a summer vacation.

You stared at Joaquin's sulking face, hyperfocused on his plate. He did look cute when he was jealous.

"Stop lookin' at me", he grumbled, the natural light filtering through the window making his skin glow, his curls were loose today, falling in ringlets on his forehead and his arms flexed in that gray t shirt he was wearing.

Although his pouting made him look like a chipmunk who had stuffed too many nuts into his cheeks. The thought made you giggle. His nose scrunched up in embarassment.

"Whaaaat, babe, stop", he whined, closing his eyes.

You wordlessly shifted closer, a hand cradling his chin, lips pressed to his cheek lovingly and free arm slinked around his neck.

"You're too cute when you're jealous", you mumbled into his skin and he finally hugged you back, leaning his head into your touch.

He hummed, "I love you, you know that right?", his lips moved against your hair as he spoke.

"Yeah. I know", you reassured, rubbing his shoulder gently, a frown tugging at your lips as you tried your best to hide the sense of dread filling your stomach at the thought of going to the Tower again.

-

Part 4

AN: please let me know if it's still making sense and like and reblog!❤️

taglist: @hearts4barnes @msfirth @spideybrie @parkersjoy @joaquinsgf @wolflikesstuff @frvv @99buttowski @eggyboyoart @superchatnoir07 @wierdlyinlike @peachyrue-777 @makinurbed @abc1234y @ba-space-geek @elyi-o @ph-1isagod @missbrekker @patheticgirl127 @lookitsgrim @spinstertheuncommon @bcystar @yelenaseyeliner @dormammuiivecometo @justeveeeee @lilajoy-ily @spvctor @magikdarkholme @babyreads @paintballkid711 @urfavestan @wyvernthekriger @monselxo @hoe-in-theory-not-practice @sunflower-0180 @marispunk @sadslasher13 @melaninqueen04

Sorry if I forgot anyone or reply if u wanna be removed from/added to the taglist!

[ladykailitha]

Three Cheers for Toby the Tiger Part 4

Thank you so much for all the love this story has been getting. I'm excited to see where this story going and it's nearing the end.

In this we have the results of the mischief, Steve flirting with Eddie, and everyone thinking they're cute.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

It turned out that anyone could be ejected from the game.

Eddie sat in the hall outside the other school’s gymnasium, costume half off, and tied around his waist, the head off, and his arms crossed as he slouched against the wall.

Principal Higgins came out of the gym with a sigh. “May I ask why you chose to use the opposing team’s captain as target practice?”

Eddie tilted his chin up and said, “He deserved it for going after Harrington the way he did. If anyone should be ejected from the game, it’s him.”

“I saw the play, Munson,” Higgins said, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It was a valid play.”

“Not if they knew Harrington had a concussion and was only there to keep the school from having to drop out of the tournament all together,” Eddie said coolly.

Higgins paled.

“Yeah,” Eddie groused. “I don’t know much about the game, but even I know that’s straight up bullshit.”

“You can’t possibly believe that they are trying to deliberately hurt Harrington!” Higgins bellowed, his voice bordering on outright panic.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said with a half shrug, looking away, “how good do you think the team’s chances are without him?”

Higgins gulped. “Right. You have been sufficiently chastised. I will speak to Coach Rowland about what we can do with Harrington in the meantime.”

Eddie sat up straight and looked up at him, curiously. “I’m not going to be punished?”

“I have berated you for a long time and have gotten your express word that it won’t happen again,” Higgins said with a straight face.

Eddie blinked at him for a moment and then realization spread over his features. “Oh. Yes, sir. I have been thoroughly reprimanded and promise to not throw balls at assholes.”

Principal Higgins cracked a smile for the first time. “See that you don’t.” He turned on his heel and then paused. “And for record, Munson next time try a little harder to make it look like an accident, yes?”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Aye, aye, Captain!”

~

As they were getting back onto the buses that would take them back to Hawkins, Eddie spotted Harrington. He watched as he said something to Coach Rowland and then trot over to the cheer bus.

“Hey, Eddie?” he said a little breathy and all pinked cheeked.

He turned to him. “Hey.” He raised an eyebrow as he watched Steve get even redder.

“I just wanted to thank you for the assist tonight,” he said with a small smile. “Even Coach thinks they were aiming to get me injured for the season. He’s not a hundred percent sure they know about the concussion. But they know that if I’m gone, the team doesn’t have enough players to compete.”

“Hey,” Eddie said with a half shrug, “no worries. I had fun testing the limits of the refs tonight. If another team tries it, I’ll be a little more subtle.” He held up his forefinger and thumb close together.

Steve laughed. “Yeah? You going to tackle them to ground next time?”

“If it was football, I’m sure I could get away with it,” Eddie said with a snort. “Unless you basketball guys are holding out on me and you guys can tackle each other too?”

“God, I wish,” Steve said shaking his head. “It would make fouling the other guy way more fun.”

“Tough luck on that one, man,” Eddie said tilting his head to the side. “But then if you were playing something with a lot more contact they wouldn’t let you out on the court...field? Giant rectangle thingy.”

Steve laughed. “Actually you’d be surprised. They’d just hide the concussion better and send me out anyway. Got make sure the team wins!” He shook hands like they had invisible pompoms in them. “Go team!”

Eddie blinked at him. “That’s horrific.”

“Don’t act like it’s not the same in cheer,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve seen them do stunts that would be illegal in any other sport, but because it’s girls and not actually considered a sport, it’s all okay, right?”

Eddie stopped for a moment and cocked his head to the side. He thought about Chrissy’s ankle and Eleanor’s stalker.

“When you’re right, you really hit it on the nose,” he said with a huff. “Any word on what’s going to be happening with you for the rest of the season?”

Steve shook his head. “I just hope it’s not letting Tommy and Billy off the bench, because I think that would really suck.”

“You and me both.”

~

Thankfully Billy and Tommy stayed on the bench at the next game but it seemed like Coach Rowland had come up with a different strategy.

Steve still went out for the tip off, because he was the best at it, but immediately after he would get the ball, Coach would call a time out and sub Carver in. Then in the final minute of each quarter Steve would be out of the court, playing his heart out.

There was only once that game were Eddie thought that a player on the opposing team had fouled Steve deliberately as he didn’t even have the ball.

Eddie made his life hell for the rest of the game, always acting innocent. It gave Eddie great pleasure when the player was ejected from the game for getting in his face.

After the game, Principal Higgins just patted Eddie on the shoulder and murmured, “Good job.”

Steve came jogging up to him as they were filing into buses again. “You know with a throw like that you’d make a hell of a pitcher.”

Eddie chuckled. “I’ll leave the throwing balls around on the reg to the jocks, I like mine right where they are, thanks!”

Steve let out a strangled noise before dissolving into giggles. “I’ll have to remember that one next time!” He winked.

Eddie about swallowed his tongue. Because there was no way Steve Harrington was flirting with him.

“Anyway,” Steve said, running his fingers through his hair, “I just wanted to thank you for going after that jerkwad tonight. You managed to convince Coach Rowland that they are trying to take me out.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Eddie said solemnly. “I hope this means he’ll take it more seriously now.”

“Oh he is,” Steve said in wide-eyed earnestness. “So yeah, I just wanted to say thanks.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” Eddie said shoving his hair in front of his face. “It’s nice to be appreciated once in a while.”

“If any of the guys give you flack for the mascot thing,” Steve said, blush rising on his cheeks, “just let me know and I’ll sort them out.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Eddie said, dropping the strand of hair. “I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

Steve patted him on the shoulder. “I know you are, but I like taking care of people. I’ll see you around, Munson.” And then he turned on his heel and walked back to his bus.

Megan wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Looks like someone’s got a crush!” she teased.

Eddie looked at her in opened-mouth shock. “I do not have a crush on Steve Harrington! You take that back, missy!”

She cackled and then hopped up the stairs of their bus, her ponytail swishing. She grabbed the railing and looked back at him with a grin. “I didn’t say you had a crush, Eddie.” She winked at him and then disappeared into the big yellow monstrosity.

Eddie turned to Coach Miller, pointing the direction Steve had gone. “Can you believe that?”

Coach Miller looked at him for a moment. “Do you mean that can I believe Harrington has a crush on you or that can I believe that Steve came all the way over here to thank you?”

Eddie’s mouth worked for a moment or two without sound coming out before he snapped his jaw shut with a click. He gulped. “Both?”

She stared him straight in the eye. “Yes. Now get on the god damned bus.”

Eddie let out a noise that he would absolutely deny was a squeak and hurried up the stairs to enter the bus. He scrambled down the aisle to sit next to Eleanor.

“Do you think Harrington has a crush on me?” he asked, chewing on his thumbnail.

Eleanor blinked at him for a moment. “Well hello to you, too.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “There is no time for niceties when both Megan and Coach think he’s coming over to flirt with me when he comes over to thank me.”

“Ah,” Eleanor said with a grimace. “Yeah, I mean if he liked boys that’s exactly what it looks like. but that’s a pretty big if, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said relaxing against the seat. “Yeah. It’s a pretty big if that the hottest guy in school would have a big, ole gay crush, let alone for the freak of Hawkins High!”

She nudged his arm with her elbow. “Though it does sound like you might have a crush on him,” she teased, sing-song.

“Eleanor Rigby Morris!” he protested. “You take that back!”

Eleanor cackled. “Not my middle name, you dork! But I’m serious! You rant and rave about the guy, but you never really call him out or bully him like you do other players on either the basketball or football teams.”

Eddie slouched into the seat and crossed his arms. “You and Jeff have been conspiring again. He thinks I have a crush on Harrington, too.”

“Jeff’s the hot black kid, right?” Eleanor said cocking her head to the side, finger on the side her face.

Eddie straightened up and looked at her with wide eyes and a slow smile spreading over his face. “Oh, this is juicier than Harrington having a crush on poor little me. Do you have a crush on my best friend, Eleanor?”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, eyes wide.

“Ooh, you do!” he cackled gleefully, clapping his hands. “You have the hots for my very nerdy best friend.”

Eleanor turned bright pink and ducked her head. “He’s sweet. He holds the door open for me in our math class every day and helps me out when Mr. Mundy is too busy.”

“And much better choice then meathead Kyle!” Eddie crowed. “I approve!”

She pushed him out of the seat, him cackling all the way down. “That’s not hard. The bar is literally on the floor.”

“Munson!” Coach Miller barked. “Get your ass off the floor! I’m not going to be the one scraping your face off the windshield if Frank has to break suddenly!”

“Aye, aye!” Eddie said with a sardonic salute.

He scrambled back to the seat and glared at Eleanor for getting him into trouble. He stuck out his hand, “Truce? I won’t tease you about Jeff if you don’t tease me about Harrington?”

She looked at his hand for a moment before she shook it. “Truce!”

~

Tag List: FOUR SLOTS REMAINING

1- @niniel-karenine @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@tartarusknight @gloomysoup @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @oopsallgender @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

@disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gutterflower77

8- @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss @steddieislife @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale

9- @mags6422 @wheneverfeasible @blackpanzy @the-fantastical-asexual @stedestielfrattficlover

10- @themoonagainstmers

[thelawfulchaotic]

o mister lawyer of the internet do you have anything to teach us what do we say to a lawyer (or what do we do when we get one) how do you know if a lawyer is good or bad, and how much does it affect us what happens to the lawyer when you lose, or win -a very naive anon who wants more information

It is madam lawyer, I gotta slap my pronouns around here somewhere. (Ms./Mrs. feel bogus after you get called Madam Counselor enough times.)

Absolutely nothing happens to the lawyer. No matter how my clients cases go, I'm leaving the courthouse the same way I walked in, and I'm going to go sleep in a comfortable bed tonight in my safe home. Some people who try to be public defenders can't handle this, knowing that their clients are suffering while they aren't. Truth is, I need the sleep and the comfort and the safety to come through for the next client and the next and the next. I do my best not even to think about active work problems while at home (I think about them anyway).

If you get a lawyer, especially an appointed lawyer, CALL THEM. Do not wait for them to call you, because they have piles of cases and plenty to do. Don't be scared to be a little annoying, because they work for you. Leave a few messages, if they have administrative staff then make an appointment and show up for it. Best way to get a lawyer's attention is to be right in front of them when their schedule says to pay attention to you.

Whether a lawyer is good or bad will absolutely change everything. Lazy idiot attorneys just move their clients towards pleas. Energetic attorneys who litigate issues get a reputation for it, and they get better offers.

How you know a lawyer is good or bad is a pretty hard question to answer. There are a lot of things that make a lawyer good: they could be intensely well-researched, they could have an impeccable reputation that causes judges to listen to them when they make arguments, they could be from a locally-famous lawyer-judge-politician family which again causes judges to listen, they could be empathetic and good with client counseling. There are a ton of ways to be a good lawyer, and a ton of styles for being a good lawyer.

In general, a good lawyer will make you feel better after the interview than you did before. You'll have a good idea what the possible consequences could be and what the vague shape of some paths forward might be. You'll feel empowered in the sense that you'll know at least the important decisions are in your hands.

But those things are pretty easy to tell in the moment. Some more subtle red and.green flags that you might not know to look for are:

The lawyer pauses to look something up: GREEN FLAG. It's easy to mistake this for a red flag (lawyer doesn't know what they're doing!) but this is a sign of caution and thoroughness. Lawyers have to remember a lot, and the best know that they don't know everything.

The lawyer promises you results: RED FLAG. The lawyer is not in charge of the outcome and doesn't get to make the call. Weird shit happens in court all the time. No one making promises about the overall outcome can be trusted.

Lawyer won't give you a straight answer to your fucking question: completely neutral flag. Some questions don't have straight answers and lawyers love to say "maybe."

The lawyer makes some remark about the tendencies of the particular judge/prosecutor: most likely green flag. That lawyer is paying attention to their court and how it does things.

Lawyer is impatient and hard to connect with. Neutral flag. One of the most impatient attorneys with trouble with attorney/client relationships in the office is one of our best trial attorneys, and they get a lot fewer complaints after they win.

Shitty suit: Neutral flag. They should look put together, yes, but what a pain in the ass to put together a whole wardrobe of suits, much less GOOD suits.

Hitting on you: extremely red flag and possible ethical violation.

The rest is pretty easy to figure out on the fly.

As for what to tell them... confidentiality is absolutely real and very serious. The lawyer is not allowed to tell anyone else what you tell them. But some lawyers have different styles on what they ask. I'd say follow their cue, answer what they ask, but don't bury the lede, make sure to tell them the most crucial details. Bring documentation of stuff: text messages, screenshots, even diary entries. ER discharge notes. School transcripts. Whatever. Lawyers love documentation.

Honestly, I have so many great public defenders hanging around this blog, y'all can probably add some good stuff.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

Dead Dove (Do Not Eat)

- Hozier x Fem!Reader

Summary: You, Andrew, and the band get together and play a drinking game involving fanfiction. what could go wrong?

Tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, drunken confessions, drunken kissing, no use of Y/N, FIC DOES NOT CONTAIN DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT CONTENT, it was just a title i swear, written for fem!reader but could be gender neutral

Word Count: 3139

Author's Note: THEY CALL ME A CHIROPRACTOR THE WAY I'M BACK‼️‼️‼️ like for realsies. i know i keep coming back like once a month and saying "i'm back" but i mean it now. anyways! i wanted to thank @cervidaewasteland and @sillycartoonhozier for coming up with this concept, as well as @deprivedmusicaljunkie and @uprightpillar for betareading!!! hope you enjoy because this is lowkey a crackfic. also yes i know the format of the texting is weird, tumblr hates me

read on ao3!

as always, fic under the cut :3

Touring with your best friend since your late teens was genuinely a dream come true. The moment Andrew first offered you a spot in the band, over ten years ago when his debut album was released, you’d said yes. Your love of music (combined with your looming crush on Andrew) made the job as easy as breathing. You wouldn't trade this job for anything, no matter how routine being on the road might get.

Another concert wrapped up. Another mostly flawless performance (Andrew flubbed the words to Cherry Wine, but what else was new). Another stay at a hotel that you never would've picked if you had the choice. And most importantly, another bed with too-soft pillows that was calling your name. That was, until Larissa called it first. You turned to look at her from down the hallway, pausing as she sped up to meet you. Once she reached you, you continued your pace towards your hotel room.

"The band’s gonna go to Andrew's room, have a little celebration since we don't have to hit the road until the morning. Are you coming?" She walked beside you as she explained. You could hear the eagerness in her voice at the possibility of your presence. However, at the moment you were much more enthralled with the idea of getting a good night's sleep.

"I think I’ll have to pass. I'm pretty tired, I —" your sentence was cut off by a yawn, like your body was proving your point. "I might just turn in for the night.”

"Please? We're playing your favorite game!"

You stopped in your tracks upon hearing the teasing of your favorite pastime on tour: an admittedly juvenile game that the band had dubbed “Fanfiction Book Club”. One member of the band would find some outrageous fanfiction written about Andrew — usually one written with grammar mistakes and plot holes galore — and take turns reading it aloud. You laugh, you drink. More often than not, it resulted in tour buses full of hangovers the next day, but you never regretted a second of it.

Your favorite part was the fact that it made Andrew squirm. It was consensual, of course; half of the time playing the game was his idea, and you were sure that tonight was no different. He seemed to enjoy it as much as anyone else, laughing and blushing and sometimes even muttering an That's actually a good line.

"Hmm... oh, alright. I'll be there in a few minutes, just let me get changed so I'm not still in my concert attire.” You finally gave in, gesturing to your all-gray outfit left over from the performance less than an hour ago. Larissa didn't seem to care when you showed up, her eyes gleaming with excitement the second you agreed. You said farewell for now and rushed back over to your hotel room, texting Andrew on the way there.

Hey. U ready to read some teenage girl’s flawless writing about u?

This is what i was born to do

Of course I’m ready.

I’ll bet you € 20 they misuse Gaeilge

I’ll bet you €30 there’s only

one bed

You got changed into a much more comfortable outfit, a simple old t-shirt and some shorts, something you knew you'd soon change out of. It seemed that by the time you entered, all the other members of the band had already arrived, and you took the only empty spot. All squished into Andrew's hotel room, you were all sitting in a makeshift circle, going across the floor and onto his bed. Everyone already had a drink in hand, and feeling a little left out, you went to grab a can from the room’s mini-fridge. Andrew was already sitting in front of it, ready to distribute drinks to those who asked. He handed your drink to you instead, and you wanted to kick yourself over the fact that your heart fluttered when your hands brushed.

You quickly scanned the room, noticing the only empty space to sit was between Alex and Melissa. Sitting criss-crossed on the carpeted floor between the two, you watched as Alex stood up from his spot, commencing the events of the night.

“Welcome to Fanfiction Book Club, my fellow musicians. I found tonight's selection on the modern day Library of Alexandria: Wattpad.”

Alex was almost always the ringleader, being an absolute menace and finding the fanfiction. Andrew supplied the drinks and the hangout space. Everyone else brought their spirits. Everyone had their small habits to make the reading more enjoyable. Deepening their voice drastically whenever they had to read for Andrew. Making sure to pronounce every spelling error just as it's spelled. Giving “Y/N” the most outrageous name possible, so that Andrew was about to go on a date with “William Shakespeare”.

The story of the night featured the main character being Andrew's backup singer who was a decade younger than him. They hated each other at first, but after a night in which they shared a hotel bed (you owed Andrew that money later), feelings were beginning to be reconsidered. The band especially had fun with tonight's pick, with jokes ranging from cradle snatching to HR violations. Andrew laughed along with them, taking everything in stride and even taking quite a few drinks of his own. The phone got passed around, and you had made your way through more than one drink already from the sheer amount of fun you were having.

Andrew seemed especially flustered when the phone got around to you. You read out loud about how the main character had confessed her undying love for Andrew in a rainstorm, despite only knowing the man two months. Her pining couldn't even compare to yours, you thought as you read. Two months versus almost two decades. Unfortunately, there was also a pang of discomfort you could feel, as some of the words you were reading aloud actually resonated with your situation. It almost gave you shivers to read someone describe how “in love” a character was with Andrew, and express thoughts that had crossed your mind daily. I love your smile. Your eyes are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Your kindness is overpowering. How dare words on a screen — likely written at two in the morning by someone with nothing better to do — relate to your situation so deeply.

You were able to keep it together and not laugh, likely thanks to your comparison between the fanfic’s story and your own. You passed the phone back to Alex, who was much more inebriated than he was at the beginning of the game. By the time his phone got back to him, his words were slurring.

"Everybody listen! Here's where it gets good," Alex yelled, effectively shushing the room and capturing everyone's attention. You leaned over his shoulder, trying to get a sneak peek at the next few words as Alex read them. You couldn't resist a laugh as Alex read. "'Andrew leaned in, and as his lips met yours, he kissed you with the burning passion of a thousand suns—' Oh my god," Alex read before being stopped by his own chuckles. Poor man couldn't even finish the sentence. When your gaze jutted over to Andrew, he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He had thrown the hood of his zip-up over his head, like his thought process was if you all couldn't see him, he couldn't feel the shame. Alex had no aversion to making Andrew cringe like this, and a shit-eating grin was plastered on his face as he read out the next segment.

“‘You never would have known it, but Andrew could touch a woman just how she wanted to be touched, and look at her like the way she's always wanted to be looked at.’ Want to teach me your ways, there, Andy?”

“That's kinda hot, actually,” you joked, turning to Melissa as you took a voluntary sip of your drink. Andrew coughed, followed by dropping the hood and taking a deep breath. This caught your attention; you assumed he had just had a moment where he was choking on his drink. You raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Are you alright? He held up a thumbs up to reassure you, using his head to nod back towards Kellen, whose turn it was.

“Okay, here we go. ‘Your kissing quickened, until eventually his large hands were…’ oh, I don't think I can read that aloud,” Kellen said. He flashed the cellphone screen to Alex, who scanned the words on the screen, his eyes getting cartoonishly wide at the contents.

“And then they start having sex, so that, my friends,” he said, snatching up his phone from Kellen’s hands, “— is where we have to cut the story off.” This was met with groans, everyone upset that the game had come to a close.

“Additionally, if we go any further we run the risk of Andy turning the same shade as a stop sign,” Alex teased, gesturing to Andy who, true to Alex’s word, had now turned a bright shade of red. Eventually, the group conceded and began to leave the room, congratulating each other and laughing on their way out, sometimes mumbling a witty remark.

“Same time next week?” Rory asked as he left, followed by an agreement from Andrew. His exit meant you were the only two people left in the room. In the moment, you decided to make yourself at home, sitting at the foot of his bed and plopping your back onto the mattress.

“So… that was… quite the story, huh?” you said, stretching your arms out before crossing them over your chest. Andrew chuckled, nodding as he walked over and sat down beside you.

“Tell me about it. That had the grammar of someone who’s never heard the words ‘spell check’ before.”

"Plus, the way they wrote about you? It was like some... some cheesy BookTok romance novel."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You scoffed, accompanied by an eye roll. Maybe it was his ego, or his intoxicated state, but he really couldn't see how absurd those words were.

"C'mon, Andrew. 'Kissed you with the burning passion of a thousand suns'? Be for real. You would not kiss like that," you explained. Your sentence dissolved into a chuckle towards the end, likely because you had been made more giggly thanks to the alcohol in your system. Your laughs subsided when he asked you a question that was without a doubt a result of the alcohol in his system.

"Wanna put that to the test?"

You laughed again — now from nerves and not from amusement — and shook your head in disbelief. Did he actually just say that? Fully sitting up now, a confused look came across your face.

"Andrew, what do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that you keep saying those descriptions are inaccurate. You don't know that.”

Could he really not see that those words were completely asinine?

“You really believe you… what was the line… ‘touch a woman just how she wants to be touched’ and all that crap?”

“Well, y’know, any man would like to believe that. Won't know until you try,” he said with a nonchalance to it that made you almost angry. It felt like a life or death decision was being thrown into your lap, and he couldn't care less.

You thought for a moment, weighing your options. It was just one kiss. Just to prove some stupid point. If anything more happened, it would be blamed on the alcohol. Even the worse outcome to saying ‘yes’ still meant you got to kiss the man you had been longing for. What did you have to lose?

“Fine, Andrew. You can kiss me.”

He nearly lunged at you, grabbing the sides of your face and smashing his lips into yours. You felt a jolt down your spine at the sudden sensation, kissing him back.

Holy shit, he really was kissing you with the passion of a thousand suns.

Kissing Andrew, your best friend as well as your boss, was, to put it lightly, playing with fire. There was something about his lips on yours that felt like burning. You were more than willing to step into the fire and let it consume you.

His tongue ran across your bottom lip, asking you for permission to enter, which you happily gave. His tongue explored your mouth, hungry to memorize every inch of you that was available. You relished in the feeling of his touch, letting him pull you closer. He grabbed onto your hips, your lips still interlocked as your hands made their way to his untamed curls. Trapping his legs between yours, you accepted as he pulled you into his lap and let you straddle him. A soft moan escaped you as you felt Andrew's sudden grasp of your ass, and you wanted to do something in return, but you came to a realization.

Andrew probably thinks there's no feelings involved.

As much as it pained you to do it, you leaned back, pulling away from the kiss.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait.”

Andrew blinked up at you, his lips now red and slightly swollen. If you didn't know any better, you’d say he looked a little worried.

“What's the matter? Did I not meet your expectations?”

“No, no. It was great, but,” you watched his lips curve into a cheeky smile. Grabbing the sides of his face was the only way you could get him to focus. “Andrew, wipe that smirk off your face. I’m trying to be serious here.

“I’m sorry, but it's hard to be serious in this position,” he replied as you looked down at him (for the first time, thanks to your height difference now being reversed). You paused in hopes of taking a mental picture of the image to save it in your psyche forever.

“Yeah, well, try your best.”

A sigh left you. Your brain tried to articulate how to tell him what you needed to get off your chest. Thanks to the alcohol, even when you did speak, it came out much more simplified than you had hoped.

“Okay. I like you. I really like you, and I have for a while. I feel so stupid for saying it, but I do. I couldn't let this continue without letting you know that.”

To your shock, Andrew's reaction to your confession was to… burst into laughter. It felt as though your heart could escape your chest at any moment, the nerves now hitting you all at once. Hastily, you said your thoughts out loud.

“You're laughing. Oh no, you're laughing. Shit, I’m an idiot, aren't I?”

“No, no, you're not, I promise,” Andrew replied, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, composing himself before meeting your gaze with a new sincerity in his eyes. “I’m only laughing because I’ve felt the exact same way. Also for a long time. Just never knew when the right time to tell you was. And tonight… the opportunity just arose.”

You gave him a calculating look, like you were trying to make everything make sense in your head.

“So we’ve both liked each other for close to a decade, just said nothing about it for years, basically wallowing in our own self pities, until you decided you had enough liquid courage in your system to finally hit on me? Because of a fanfiction?”

Andrew exhaled, giving you a defeated nod after essentially he had been called out.

“Sounds about right."

The situation was almost comical. Really comical, actually, and you now understood why Andrew’s first instinct was to laugh. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as you laughed into his hoodie. Of course he had liked you the whole time, how could you have been so oblivious? Once you fully composed yourself, you pulled away, shaking your head in disappointment. “God, what a couple of idiots we are.”

“A right pair of knobheads.”

Andrew smiled up at you, a dumb grin like an idea had popped into his head. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.

“I wanted to ask you this when we were much more sober, but I guess no time like the present, right?” Letting out a small sigh, he continued. You could see his cheeks flush again, like whatever he was going to say would make him more flustered than the fact that you were sitting in his lap. “Would… ehm… would you want to go out sometime? I don't need an answer now, if you want to just let me-”

“Yes. Yes, please. I would want nothing more than to go on a date with you.”

The goofiest grin spread across Andrew's face. You couldn't help but think he was adorable.

“Grand. I don't know what I would've done if you said no.”

“Shoving me off of you would've been the best option.”

“Yeah, probably.”

You both laughed together once again, before your giggles where cut off by a yawn. Seemed that the tiredness you were feeling before the whole ordeal was beginning to catch up to you.

“I guess that's a sign I should retire to my bed chambers, huh?” You lifted yourself off of him, moving so that you were now merely sitting next to him. Looking over at Andrew, you could tell he had an idea forming.

“Maybe you could just… sleep here tonight? No one needs to know, and if they question anything, I’ll just say you passed out and I didn't want to wake you.”

Another way your night began to overlap with fanfiction: there was only one bed. Sharing a bed with Andrew was an offer you simply couldn't refuse. You nodded.

“Let's get comfortable, then,” you mumbled, shimmying back until you took up one side of the bed. Andrew maneuvered himself backwards to get comfortable. You watched him lay down, both of you on opposite sides of the bed. Buried underneath the covers, you gazed at him as he did the same; he looked perfect. He raised an eyebrow at your staring and gestured for you to come closer. If you nodded any quicker, your head would’ve fallen off. You let the both of you get fully comfortable with one another, shifting to find the best position to cuddle in for the night. Once you found a way, Andrew made it work. He enveloped you, holding you to his chest with one arm and cradling your face with the other. You placed a hand on top of his.

“I always did like when they mentioned how big your hands are,” you murmured jokingly, your eyes already fluttering. In reply, Andrew rolled his eyes before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Good night,” he whispered.

“Good night, Andy,” you responded.

You had never felt more at peace.

[claramelooo]

CHECKMATE (15/20)

Hey, my boos!

We are getting at the final chapter....I know I know! Actually, I'm trying to write the perfect ending but my routine is so crazy! I'm thinking to stop for few days to organize it, and then, back.

Anyway! I'll let you know, okay?

Enjoy it!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warnings: angst.

Pairing: Governor! Agatha Harkness x Fem Reader

Summary: Agatha finds your behavior strange.

Skewer

noun

a tactic where a more valuable piece (like a king, queen, or rook) is attacked, and when it moves to defend itself, a less valuable piece behind it is exposed and can be captured. It's essentially the opposite of a pin, where the less valuable piece is in front.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee was the same. Strong, bitter, and persistent. Thanos loved making coffee. It was one of his small daily gestures, a ritual that seemed like affection.

“Do you have a meeting today?” He’d ask, still in expensive cotton pajamas, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.

“I do, at the Chamber.”

Silence would follow, broken only by the soft clinking of a spoon against a mug.

“Don’t you think you’re getting too involved in all this? Politics is… dirty.”

She pretended not to hear, took a sip. “That’s exactly why.”

Thanos gave her a small, measured smile. The kind that always came before a perfectly crafted phrase.

“I just think it’s too much exposure. It changes people, Agatha.”

She smiled back. Because smiling was easier than arguing. Because he never yelled, never laid a hand on her. And yet, every word felt like an invisible clamp pinning down her wings.

Their house in the Hamptons was beautiful. Classic, quiet, and immaculate. She used to run her fingers along the golden frames in the hallway, where his diplomas were displayed.

Economics at Oxford. MBA at Yale—where he’d been her mentor during undergrad, and how they met—and a smaller frame with her name on it, from a speech she gave at Harvard.

A speech Thanos had read and rewritten three times before letting her take the stage.

“It’s not about censorship, love. It’s just a matter of tone. You tend to sound… aggressive when you talk about the system, and no one likes aggressive women.”

That night, Agatha didn’t sleep.

She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember when exactly she started being tamed. When she had been boxed up and commanded.

On their wedding anniversary, Thanos took her to a French restaurant, all candlelight and background piano.

A toast to love!

He gave her a gift: a pearl necklace. 

And she gave a speech. Polished and empty.

On the way home, in the car, Thanos placed his hand on her leg.

“See? When you want to, you know how to behave. Everyone loved you tonight.”

She never wore the necklace.

Years later, she could still remember the taste of that wine. The scent of his skin. The impenetrable silence that filled the house.

And how, on the outside, everything looked perfect. 

The businessman and his wife. The philanthropy. The meetings. The smiling photos at gala dinners with his investors.

And a woman slowly disappearing inside herself.

[...]

The bathroom mirror was fogged up, steam curling up the tiled walls. Agatha braced her hands on the cold marble sink. Her reflection looked younger today or maybe just more real.

Her body still pulsed with what had happened a few hours earlier.

The tight stall.The bass thumping through the walls. The taste of your kiss. The muffled moans against your neck.

She closed her eyes.

God, that had been wrong.

So wrong.

Inappropriate, reckless, impossible.

And yet...

She thought of you.

So young.

But it wasn’t just your age. You were movement, impulse. Raw, generous desire.

You gave yourself like someone who had never learned to hold back, like someone who hadn’t been broken into small enough pieces to fear pleasure yet.

And that… that destroyed her, because she wanted to break you.

Wasn’t it wrong?

Yes.

Of course it was.

But... maybe not that wrong.

What happened in that bed, in that stall, it wasn’t casual. You touched her with hunger, with reverence, with a kind of freedom Agatha thought she had buried under layers of power, fear, and duty.

Freedom.

The word echoed with a summer taste.

Being with you was like an unexpected breeze on a stifling afternoon. A light, cool, rebellious wind. The kind that enters without asking, slams windows, sends papers flying, and makes curtains flutter like freed ghosts.

You were that.

An impossible wind.

And Agatha…

She’d spent her whole life closing windows.

She sighed, bracing herself on the sink, and remembered the word:

Mommy.

You always called her that, like it meant nothing. Or maybe it did?

It didn’t matter.

Because the effect was immediate and consuming.

It wasn’t just erotic, no—although it was, searing and incandescent to her. It was what it said about how you saw her.

With surrender, with trust, and need.

Agatha shuddered.

She felt exposed, yes. But also… adored. As if, for one night, she’d stepped out of her armor, as if someone had seen something in her beyond strategy and control.

You saw her. Whole. And still… you wanted her.

You were so sweet you might have been naive. There was a wild insolence in you, a thirst that never apologized.

You wanted the world and you wanted her. Even with her contradictions, her sharpness, her fears and mistakes.

And for some reason... that didn’t scare her.

Not like it should.

You were intense, generous, unfiltered, and maybe— just maybe—The best thing that had happened to her in seventeen years.

She straightened slowly, running her fingers through the wet dark strands falling over her shoulders. The robe touched her skin with silent tenderness.

She took a deep breath.

Maybe she wasn’t the kind of woman who deserved love, maybe she wasn’t the kind who knew how to love, but for now… maybe she could allow herself.

After all, even the most powerful king was once just a pawn trying to cross the board.

When Agatha stepped out of the shower with her hair still damp, skin warm under the cotton robe, she didn’t expect to find the bed so quiet.

You were there, lying on your side, one knee bent, sleeping deeply on the messy sheets.

She stopped, just watched you.

You breathed slowly, long strands falling across your cheek. Moonlight slipped through the cracks in the curtain, sketching soft shapes across your face.

So young.

So confident. 

and yet… so, so reckless.

She sat down beside you but didn’t dare touch. She just stayed there, watching over you like someone guarding something precious and fleeting.

That night, she slept beside you without armor. 

And dreamed of freedom.

In the morning, the shift was obvious.

You woke up first. Spoke little, almost distant. Irritation shimmered in your eyes, even though you tried to hide it.

Agatha furrowed her brow, confused. But she slipped the armor back on and didn’t ask.

Like every dream, your days of peace had ended.

The car drove in silence back toward Seattle.

She gripped the wheel with one hand, the other resting on her thigh in anxious stillness.

You stared out the window. Silent, closed off and inaccessible.

“Is everything okay?” She asked in the gentlest tone she knew, though it still came out stiff, almost automatic.

You just nodded.

“You can drop me three blocks before campus.”

Just like this. Dry and unaffectionate.

“Alright.”

And when the car stopped, you murmured a thank-you far too soft to reach her fully.

She didn’t reply with words. Just nodded, feeling her heart crack with a silence so heavy it ached in her bones.

She shouldn’t be this shaken. It was just sex. Just youth —in the purest sense of the word. Just a detour in the middle of a war.

But why…

Why did it feel so wrong to leave you there?

Hours later, back at her house, the longing ached in the most unexpected corners of her body.

Where was her good girl? That one who smiled with her eyes and obeyed with her body?

Where had she gone?

“Mom?”

Nicky’s voice snapped her out of it.

She smiled, drained.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

He walked in slowly, his eyes too perceptive for someone so young. He noticed the small suitcase and the fatigue on her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied too quickly. “I went to Oregon. Some company matters to sort out...”

Even to her own ears, the excuse sounded hollow.

She loved her son, with every cell in her body. But holding a real conversation with him—one that didn’t involve numbers, deadlines, or expectations—felt like trying to grasp something that always slipped through her fingers.

Still, she tried. As she always did, even if it was already too late.

She stepped closer and took his hands gently, as if trying to touch something that no longer belonged to her.

“Tell me, sweetheart… how are things? The SATs are coming up and—”

“Mom, please.”

He sighed, eyes shifting away—impatient, yes, but there was something else.

A deeper fatigue. 

An old disappointment.

“Can we, just this once, not talk about that?”

Agatha froze.

“About what…?”

“This. School. College. Career. How I always have to be perfect. How you only—”

He stopped himself, swallowing hard, like choosing between speaking and not hurting her.

“What is it, Nicky?” Her voice came out smaller, frightened. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just… sometimes it feels like you know me as a resume, not as a son.”

The words landed like a punch to the stomach.

He went on, calmer now, but cruel in his honesty.

“When I was little, we used to go to the park. You made picnics, you’d run with me. You laughed, mom!”

His eyes were shimmering with tears.

“Now I don’t even know what you like to do in your free time. I don’t even know if you have free time.”

Agatha felt her chest collapse inward.

“Sweetheart, I…”

What could she say?

That she was trying? That she’d spent years walking invisible tightropes just to keep everything running? That loving the right way always seemed to slip from her grasp?

He shook his head, disappointed.

“You keep asking what I want to be, but have you ever stopped to ask what you’ve become?”

Silence.

A brutal pause in time.

He let go of her hands with care. It wasn’t violent or cruel. It was just… final and that hurt more.

Agatha stood there, fingers still curled in empty air, as if she were still holding the five-year-old who used to run through fields with scraped knees and an easy smile.

But he was gone.

“I’m sorry…” she said, but he was already walking out the door.

And just like that, everything was loneliness again.

[...]

Dinner had been set for 7 PM sharp, but Agatha arrived at 7:10. Evanora had taught her well: Men should wait.

Tony Stark was already at the table of an upscale restaurant in downtown Seattle, a nearly untouched glass of white wine in front of him.

When he saw her, he smiled like an ad campaign — standing with the practiced charm of a seasoned flirt.

“Agatha Harkness,” he said, taking her hand as if she were rare porcelain. “You look stunning.”

She looked him dead in the eye, then withdrew her hand and casually wiped it on her dress.

“Spare me the bullshit, Tony. Let’s get to the point. Tell me what you want.”

She sat down without ceremony, crossing her legs with surgical precision.

He gave a low chuckle, settling into his seat with the smugness of a man who thought he was in control.

“What I want?” He twisted the ring on his finger, pretending to think. “I want you… submissive.”

Agatha laughed. It was loud, unexpected and a little terrifying.

“Submissive?” She repeated, leaning over the table, eyes gleaming. “Oh, Stark… how many years have you been dreaming about that?”

“Since you wore that blue pantsuit in the Senate. Almost gave me a heart attack.”

She smiled, but now it was pure ice.

“Shame it didn’t finish the job.”

Tony laughed, but there was a sharpness under the surface.

“No need to pretend you’re still some saint in heels. We’ve all sold something to get where we are. I’m just offering a better price.”

She leaned back in her chair, studying him like one would examine a dissected animal.

“You’re pathetic.”

He opened the black folder beside his plate with a theatrical snap.

“And you’re predictable.”

She saw them.

Photos.

Full color.

Too sharp. Too clear.

Her, at your dorm room door—that night when she couldn’t think of anything but you. You, stepping into her car wearing that purple sweater, still smelling like Cuir de Beluga—Agatha could still smell it. Your faces much too close to be professional.

She froze.

Tony turned the first image toward her and smiled like a snake.

“Didn’t know our golden woman had a thing for little girls.”

Agatha’s face remained impassive, but her hand gripped the glass so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“You’re bluffing.” She said quietly.

“Am I?”

He pushed more photos her way.

“You think the public will understand? A powerful fifty-year-old woman with a college girl in her lap? It all sounds very… nineties. And look…” he pointed at one photo. “this one’s right in front of her dorm. Underage or not, the headlines write themselves.”

Agatha didn’t respond immediately.

She took a deep breath and picked up one of the photos, examining it closely.

Tony seemed to savor the silence.

“You could end all this with a nod, Agatha. Be reasonable. Back my campaign. Step down with dignity, and maybe… I’ll offer you a role. Something symbolic. Decorative. Pretty. Like you.”

God, he was so repulsive.

Her stomach turned. The wine threatened to rise.

Agatha looked at him.

For a second, something in her face faltered. A muscle in her jaw, a tremble in her lower lip.

But she didn’t break.

Not there.

Agatha would never break in front of a man.

She gathered the photos one by one, each motion calculated and precise.

“Are you finished?” She asked, emotionless.

“For now.” He replied, smug.

She stood.

Her dress skirt was immaculate. Her posture, flawless. But there was a shadow in her eyes, a crack only the very observant would see.

Tony thought he’d won.

And maybe… for the first time in a long while, Agatha wasn’t sure he was wrong.

~*~

Can I kill Tony?

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqlz @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights @dingdongthetail @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @milfovers4 @jaylie-bee @holystrangersalad @chlondykebar @natashashill @harknessshi @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @ahintofchaos @lowlyjelly @xblinkx2 @rmaximoff @loveshineslikethesky

[little-lolaaa]

Mafia Boss!Chris Sturniolo × Stripper!Reader Pt. 2!

(I'm bad at warnings, so I apologize for anything I miss)

Warnings!! - pet names, sexual behavior, cussing, invasion of privacy, possible stalker(debunked), I can't think of anything else...

!!NOT PROOFREAD!!

I hated myself for accepting the money. I honestly wanted nothing more than to throw myself in front of a bus because of it. I went to work the next day and asked my manager who the guy was the requested the private from me.

"Oh! That was Chris, he said he loved the way you danced. Why?"

"Just curious, thanks, baby." I smiled softly. Walking back to my station to get ready for my shift, I kept thinking about him. Why did he send me the money? Was it even him? What if he's here again tonight?

I thought about every possible thing that could run through my mind before I started my performance. How old is he? What does he do? How did he get my bank information? Is he some crazy stalker? Stalkers can't look like cute and carry that much money in cash around can they???

I quickly pushed the thoughts away with a sip of an energy drink. I talked with some of the girls about the money and Chris, but they weren't really helpful. They told me to just ask for more money or try and get him 'wrapped around my finger'.

I mean- it wouldn't be bad to have him around my finger and at my mercy, but that's not who I am. I don't wanna use people for their money. Especially not someone I only met a few nights ago.

12:36 A.M.

I just finished my performance and started setting up my private rooms for customers. I cleaned up the tables, wiped off the couches/chairs and the stage. I also added some small finishing touches like candles to really set the mood.

My first private was a guy named Mack. He was a regular who paid a little bit more than I asked for. Always made sure to give a generous tip.

Jake was my second, I'd seen him around the club a few times, but this was my first private with him, so I made sure to give him an unforgettable experience.

By the time my 4th private came around, I was tired, sweaty, exhausted, and out of breath, but I pushed through and gave the client a performance.

I sat at the edge of the stage and waited for my final customer to come in. When I heard the door open, I stood up, my legs wobbling slightly from the constant dancing, and I got ready to give another dance. "No need ma, just sit down and relax. You deserve it"

His voice cut through the air like a sharp blade through paper. Jackass. Or chris, but none the less – jackass. "I hope you know I get paid to dance. Not sit around and be lazy." I snapped back. "And who's paying you?"

"..." I just rolled my eyes, not wanting to answer his stupid question.

"Exactly. Now, I'm paying you. Which means if I say you don' have to dance, you ain't gonna dance f'me alrigh' ma?" I stared at him, skeptical at first, but reluctantly sighed and sat down again. "Do you want anything to drink?" He asked softly, pulling out his phone. "No, no I'm okay. I'm not allowed to drink on the job anyway"

"Sodas ma, energy drinks, whatever floats your boat." he glanced up at me, waiting for my response. "Uhh-...I'll just have a water. Thank you.." I glanced around nervously. "Alright" he looked back down at his phone, typed something out, and then put it away again.

"Sooo..." I stated awkwardly.

"Do you like working here?" He spoke softly. "Uhh- yea- yea no- I mean- yea I like working here I- I yea- Uhh-"

"Relax, Ma. No need to be nervous, ok?" He reassured gently. "Yea, no- yea, sorry, I just- jesus, it's been a minute since I've actually sat down to take a breath." I let out a heavy sigh. "Water should be here soon, don't worry"

"I uhh- yea I like working here- I uhh..I meet a lot of new people, except the pervs, obviously, and uhhmm- the girls are nice. Love the girls and my manager, Lisa, she's amazing. I like to dance too, I really like to dance, actually." I admitted quietly.

"Yea? What do you like about dancing?" He leaned forward a bit, seemingly intrigued.

"I don't know how to explain it really - it's just something about getting to move my body around freely without any restrictions. I also like dancing even more now because I get to make money off of it, too. I've always liked dancing, too. It really helped me relieve stress and relax my body while simultaneously stretching and becoming more 'aware' I guess?? Of my surroundings? I don't know how to describe it really"

I tried my best to explain why I liked dancing to him, but without going on an hour long rant, it made my explanation seem stupid or really hard to understand. He just nodded along like he understood my explanation without actually understanding it.

"Aren't you gonna ask me about the money?"

His voice cut through walls.

"....why?" I asked softly. "Why did you send the money? And how did you get my information?"

"I'm a Mafia boss. The other night when I saw your dance, I went home after the private and dug up some of your information. I know I invaded your privacy, and I do apologize for that. My name is Christopher Sturniolo, but you can call me Chris, ok?"

"...Okay..." I muttered under my breath. "Did I..." Honestly, the first thing I thought of when he said he was a Mafia Boss was that he was gonna kill me. That's what Mafia men do, right? "Are you gonna kill me?.."

"What?-" He laughed. Actually laughed. In my face. "Kill you?- wha- no no no!- No, sweetheart, no, I'm not gonna kill you."

I let out a sigh of relief, almost sobbing. "Jesus fuck!- Holy shit I thought I done something so bad that got the fucking mafia involved! Fuck dude!" I laughed nervously. "No, ma, you didn't do anything. Apart from making me so hard the other night. Nothing terrible."

"Don't fucking do that man. Holy shit!- I thought I was gonna fuckin' die tonight" I rubbed my face a bit and finally relaxed.

"I wanna take you out. On a date." He said blankly. "What-"

"You heard me. I wanna take you out on a date. Somewhere nice. Fancy if you want"

I stared blankly at him, confused and shocked. "I'm not- uh- I'm sorry??" I laughed nervously. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't make this harder than it needs to be, ok?" He reached into his pocket slowly. Holding my gaze.

I froze, thinking he was gonna pull out a gun or threaten my life.

Instead, he pulled out a business card with his name and number on it.

"Just think about it, ok? Give me a call, and I'll have someone pick you up when you're ready." I just nodded softly and picked up the card, examine it a bit before folding it and tucking it away into my tiny bralette(??).

"Why are you dressed so casual?..the other night you were in a- a suit.." He glanced down at his outfit. He was wearing a pair of black sweats, a grey jersey-like-sweater with a red 72 embroidered on the front, white airforces, a red backward cap, and a silver chain on his wrist.

"I like to stay casual outside of work. The suit is normally for business transactions or meet-ups with other businesses." He leaned back against the couch again. Man spreading like a slut.

"You were wearing a suit the other night.." I spoke quietly, testing the waters.

"The other night didn't concern you, so don't push." His eyes flashed from calm to cold in a heartbeat. "Jeez- I was just stating a fact.." I rolled my eyes. But something about his defensive attitude made me more curious.

The door opened quietly, and a man in a suit came in with the water. He set it down on the table and left quickly.

"There's your water." He grabbed it and tossed it to me. I caught it but not without almost dropping it. I held onto it for a moment, glancing between him and the bottle. "Are you trying to poison me?" I asked half jokingly. "Want me to try it first?" He asked, already getting up and walking over to take the water. "I- I wasn't saying you were I was just-" Before I could finish my sentence, he took the drink, unscrewed the cap, and took a few big gulps before handing it back to me.

"Now drink." He demanded harshly.

I rolled my eyes but reluctantly took a small sip. "Good girl.." He praised softly, watching me intensely. "Go home for tonight. Think about my offer and then get back to me."

He patted my head like I was a toddler before leaving the room without another word.

"The fuck is his problem?" I said quietly to myself, rolling my eyes before taking another sip of the water.

I went home around 3 in the morning, wanting to finish my entire shift, and then took a quick and hot shower to wash off all the stress.

I stared at the card he handed me earlier, memorizing the business number like I needed it to live.

Should I call him??

(EEEEE! SO SCARED TO POST THIS😣😣😣😣)

[ghoastixx]

omfg IMAGINE lestat cleaning and dressing up fledgling reader😭cooing softly and telling his fledgling how cute they look.

To build up confidence (Lestat with his new fledgling)

Author's note: You don't even understand, I screamed when I saw this. I BELIEVE THERE IS NOT ENOUGH FLEDGLING APPRECIATION IN FICS!!!! Like yes, let me believe I am a vampire's new favorite little fledgling, thank you. Thank you so incredibly much for this request. Since you did not specify on gender, I am going to write reader as gender neutral, but if I do end up describing body type or whatever, it may lead more towards male (yes I know Lestat is Bi, sue me.) I am almost done with 'The Vampire Lestat' book so a good bit from that is mentioned here. Thank you again! Lots of love!

(I had to look up what 'cyrano de bergerac' was when writing this and I fear it is now going to be my new reading material...)

-Ri

Things to look out for: Degradation, blood (obviously), not really being seen as an independent adult anymore (It's not forced infantilization I swear it's different,) Honest to god Lestat is his own warning, bashing on American theater (I'm in American theater,) I imagine the production is Rocky Horror Picture Show, I just feel like it's right.

God, aren't you just adorably pathetic? That is the first thing your maker thinks about you. Of course, first glances can be deceiving.

American theater is so intriguing, no? Some of these shows just lack elegance and real, true, talent. But, that is sometimes the point, right? Lestat did not have high hopes for this little...production. If anything, he only came out of curiosity and a sort of nostalgia. Something about the little hole in the wall theater reminded him of his own uprising with the traveling performers, or perhaps even what used to be his own little theater in Paris. Of course, his own theater had been...nicer than this little... honestly could you even call it a theater?

He wasn't sure why he was so picky tonight, this was a thrill, no? A rush! Something that was not perfect, and of course, sometimes art was not meant to be perfect. After all, it's not like this was 'Cyrano de Bergerac' anyways. It was meant to be silly, a little something new for him to admire... But this? This is honestly not what he expected... and he was upset.

There was no true talent on this stage, no time put into this at all, no respect. Lestat honestly was debating getting up and leaving, but then he heard this voice, and he was stopped.

God, aren't you adorably pathetic?

Why you were not a lead in this production, was baffling to Lestat. You could act far better than majority of the mortals he had watched grace the stage this night, but your voice is what caught his attention. That voice. It was so...strained. Your voice was strained. The best part? You knew.

You had so much confidence, standing up on that stage, doing your part, but all Lestat had to do was take one look at you, and he almost had to giggle at how fast your thoughts were going.

"shitshitshitshitGODIsoundlikeshittonightohmygodismymiconwhattheFU-"

He was impressed, you were aware of how tired your voice was, how this little theater was doing nothing but ruining your chances at performing for the finer people, yet you were still having fun. How curious... So, like any respectful patron...he found himself knocking on the door to the dressing room...and offering you voice lessons...

Normally whenever he got this far, he would embarrass the musical offender by showing just how much more sophisticated in the arts he was than them and then using them as a blood bag, sparing the world of their miserable vocal range. He found himself amused as this little human stood in front of him, wiping their makeup off, hair pulled back, a tee shirt and sweatpants already thrown on, as they questioned his motives with offense.

"Look man, I know I didn't really sound good tonight, but that doesn't give you any right to come in here and-" Lestat cut you off by explaining exactly what was wrong with your voice and exactly how he planned to fix it.

As the piano sang under his fingers, your voice, now less tired and looser with the help of some honey, wafted from your chords. Everytime he would stop and say you were wrong, you took the note, thanking him. It seemed whoever had been working with you on the music for this show had done a miserable job... You actually sounded much better with the tips you were being given... this wasn't the affect that he wanted. He debated just killing you right then and there, but then you said something and he almost stopped playing.

"I really appreciate you taking time out of your night to help me out, I didn't even know what I was doing wrong. You really helped me out. You play beautifully... You think you can help me out with this song?" Perhaps it was amusement or maybe pity for this kid, but Lestat became their vocal coach, and favorable patron.

Months went by and Lestat watched his pet project grow through the shows in this little muggy theater. Almost every lead roll you could've possibly wanted had become yours, flowers so many you were almost out of vases, and other patrons begging you to come to their theater, it was all a dream come true! Throughout all of this, you stayed faithful to Lestat, seeking him out for help, constantly looking to repay this 'debt' that you felt you owed him, which he thought was adorable. You gave him free tickets to the shows and the satisfaction of how well you were doing on stage, how marvelous you were to watch, and the thrill of watching mortals question your relationship to the man, often reffering to him as your 'rich uncle' and some even questioning if he was your father and you a nepotism child. He had grown fond of you, thinking this endearing, he couldn't help but wonder what you would be like when he finally sunk his teeth into you, wrapped his claws around you, and showed you just how much more potential you had.

It was so warm out tonight, his little human was so miserable it was amusing, they were basically using Lestat as their personal cooler, leaning up against his side as they finished going over lines for the next distracting show they were going to audition for. Lestat had been growing impatient, he often found himself growing lonely when the little nuisance had to go home, how lonesome his big old house had become, and tonight was no exception to this.

"Lestat, are you listening to me?" They sat up against him, tilting their head, awaiting response.

"You could have far better, ma colombe," He felt annoyance rise in his throat when they scoffed, almost a laugh.

"I could have better? Yeah right, look at me 'stat, you ain't getting much better out of this."

"I could give you better, everything you've ever wanted, and you doubt me." Their frown fell as his tone was practically laced with seriousness, they sat up completely, looking at him.

"Lestat, you know I appreciate everything that you do and have already done for me, you don't have to do anymore, you already do to much," It was his turn to scoff,

"Too much? You could have so much more and you say this is too much? Are you dense or just stupidly naive?" They just shook their head, they had long ago become used to Lestat's petty insults. He looked at the human when he felt their warm hands lay over his cold ones, and that's when he realized what he truly wanted. "I'm a vampire."

"What."

It took half an hour to calm his human down, to explain everything to them, to get them to believe. They were sitting in front of him on the table, curled into themselves like a frightened child, but they made no move to escape, nodding, a bit pale. Lestat stood up a bit so that he was eye level with them, moving his hand up to cup their cheek gently.

"Please understand, mon cher, I am not going to hurt you. I want to see you thrive under my guidance,"

"You want to make me into a vampire too." He smiled at how blunt his little human was, how adorable they were.

"I am giving you a choice, mon cher, you can leave now and never come back and pray I never see you on your own again, or you can stay here with me and have everything you could possibly want and more, including bigger and better stages."

They looked down at their lap, hesitating, which worried Lestat just a bit, but one look into their head made him beyond satisfied. "My pet, if you just want to stay here with me for me, that's fine too." All it took was for his human to nod, and their fate was sealed.

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

Lestat was enthralled as he looked at the creation, his creation, gathering their bearings in front of him. The turning had been strenuous for his little fledgling, but it proved efficient and was finally over, their human body had just died, and his blood now flowed through their shaky body. They perked up at the sound of Lestat's laughs, brows furrowed in a morbid concentration. It sounded like music to them, a gorgeous sound they could listen to forever.

"Mon bébé, look at you," He cooed, stepping towards them. Their hair was all messy, their own internal inneards on their face, hands, and shirt. Their face was smeared with blood and their eyes a new striking color, he kneeled down in front of them, a smile of pure admiration on his face. "such a messy eater, non?" He teased, licking his thumb and pressing it against his fledglings cheek, wiping some of the blood off. His fledgling turned their head, he clicked his tongue. "Now now, no need to fuss, little one. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

He scooped up his little fledgling, melting as they held onto him, nuzzling into his neck. Lestat helped his new fledgling change into a soft pair of clothes he had, already planning what their new wardrobe would become, and started to wipe his face and hands off with a wet cloth.

"My little one, look at you...you're so cute, so precious..." His little fledgling looked up at him with this new-found innocence in their eyes, like Lestat held the world, pressing themselves against their maker's every touch. Lestat could've died, he knew he would be wrapped around this little one's finger now. "Mon bébé, always so good for me, non? My sweet little fledgling, if I'd have known you'd be so precious I would have turned you ages ago..." He pressed a gentle kiss to his fledglings forehead, he began to brush out their hair.

"Oh my darling, how my stage will love you."

[randomusingsofalovesickgirl]

EPISODE 05 (PT. 1): TOO MUCH AIN'T ENOUGH

🎶 soft spot by keshi 🎶 too much ain't enough by arthur hill 🎶 i'm yours by alessia cara 🎶 dive by olivia dean

You can’t remember how you ever pulled so many all-nighters back in high school—because right now, you’d trade your soul for a pillow and six uninterrupted hours of sleep.

Tonight’s challenge—the Night Watch— has everyone on edge. There’s a timer that can’t ever hit zero, but no one knows when they’ll be ‘shifted’ to reset it, so sleeping isn’t really an option. Judging by how tired you already feel, you know if the challenge dangles any sleep or caffeine temptations in front of you tonight, you’ll cave in a heartbeat.

George and Jason were up first, and you trust them completely. So while you’re confident they’ll nail any challenge and resist temptation, you can’t help but wonder what they’re actually up to out there.

“I so need an energy drink right now,” PK groans for what feels like the hundredth time.

Eventually, everyone caves and tells him to just get one. Of course, half the group tags along for their own fix — so you can only pray the prize fund doesn’t drop as badly as it did yesterday.

That leaves you and Milli sprawled on the hallway loveseat, while Cinna and DDG keep themselves awake with endless table tennis in the living room.

Milli pokes your arm, her legs draped across your lap. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

You yawn. “Probably the Charity Match.”

She glances around dramatically—almost conspiratorially—then scoots closer. She’s clearly been dying to bring this up. “So. You two seem… cosy.”

You try, weakly, to change the subject. “Do you reckon it’s too late to—”

“Nope,” Milli cuts in, eyes gleaming. “You’re not dodging this. Spill.”

Mental note: tell George you told Milli. But honestly, you know it’s fine. He was the first to tell her everything anyway. 

So you spill. Everything—from sneaking onto the rooftop to crawling back into bed. By the end, Milli squeals and nearly falls off the loveseat.

“That’s why you’ve been so lovey-dovey!” She whacks you with a throw pillow in delight.

“Shh! Is it that obvious?” you hiss, face burning. “Can we not—”

She just shakes her head, grinning like the devil she is. “Not obvious. Just… different. I don’t think anyone else notices. But we are not changing the topic. This is gold.”

You groan and tip your head back.

“You two are so cute.” She pokes your shoulder. Her voice softens. “But… are you okay? How do you feel about all this?”

You fiddle with the squiggly pink stress ball in your lap. “I don’t know. We want to try. But we’re trying to keep it private with, well—” You wave a hand at the cameras. “All this. It’s not exactly the place for normal… or to give it a fair shot.”

Milli hums thoughtfully, then pulls you into a tight hug. “You two will be fine. He’s been obsessed with you since way before you two fucked.”

You freeze. “Don’t say it like that,” you mumble, burying your face into a cushion. 

She cackles. “What else should I call it? You did!”

Now you’re mortified, but giggling, too. “Can you not—at least call it something else? It sounds so—”

Milli lifts an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “You two… canoodled.”

Your dramatic groan of “I hate you” only makes her laugh harder as she hugs you tighter. “You love me. But you love him more. And he loves you most.”

Before you can even argue—because love is a big word and now you’re not even sure you can say it to him anymore (even after all your careless, platonic ‘I love you’s over the years)—two voices holler from the challenge room, charging down the hallway in search of the next unlucky pair.

“Whitney! Mya!” 

Jason and George blur past you, their shouts instantly sending Whitney and Mya sprinting off, even though you have no idea where they were hiding before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sorry, I’m stealing her today,” Milli practically sang, refusing to move her legs from your lap as George approached the loveseat.

“That’s fine by me.” George shrugged, his grin unfading as he perched on the armrest just behind you. He probably guessed that Milli knew everything by now, but you were still caught off guard when he pressed an unmistakably obvious kiss to the top of your head.

Milli’s grin turned downright wicked when your cheeks slowly flushed—and even wider when George leaned in for a quick peck on your lips as you turned to face him.

“Hi, darling,” George winked, voice dripping with cockiness. But before you could answer, Jason, Cinna, DDG, and PK tumbled in, loudly dissecting what had just gone down in the challenge room.

So instead, you shot George a playful glare and instinctively rested the back of your head against his thigh. His arm slipped around your shoulders, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on your skin—grounding you, comforting you amidst the chaos. You caught Milli smirking beside you.

“What did you two get up to?” Cinna asked, tilting her chin towards George and Jason, as she pried about what being on Night Shift actually entails. 

Jason replied, trying to sound serious, “We didn’t have a temptation. We just talked about women. Name a hundred women in four minutes.”

You flicked your eyebrows up at George, who brushed off Jason’s comment with a joke. “Just blokes being blokes, talking about girls.”

“Did you mention any of us?” Cinna pressed, her grin sharp.

Jason pointed straight at you. “First name out of George’s mouth was hers.” He nodded toward you—and as his eyes flicked over you two curled up together, it all dawned on him. It didn’t hurt that he’d half-interrogated George during the task, anyway. 

At the confession, George went pink.

“Sweet,” you teased, although you lifted your head from George’s lap to dodge any more suspicious looks—and to steer the spotlight away from you both. “I wonder what the next challenges will be like.”

PK snorted. “Oh, they’ll be evil. Bet on it.”

Cinna elbowed him. “It’s only evil because you’d fall for anything.”

PK groaned dramatically, collapsing onto the other loveseat facing you and Milli. “Well, right now, I’m just tempted by sleep.”

Jason dropped onto an empty beanbag, eyeing PK like he was a ticking time bomb. “So we all agree we’re losing money the second PK’s on shift?”

A chorus of mocking agreement and laughter rippled through the hallway as Cinna flopped down beside Jason. PK muttered, “No faith, no faith.” 

Cinna clapped her hands, getting everyone’s attention. “Nobody lies down! The second you do, you’re out—and then we all pay for it.”

PK scowled but grudgingly sat up straight. “Yes, Mum.”

Jason flicked PK’s foot. “Drink your Coke and hush.”

Cinna squinted at you and George, eyes narrowing mischievously. “You two look suspiciously cosy. One of you will knock out first. Guaranteed.”

You didn’t hesitate. You jabbed a finger at George. “Him. Absolute deadweight once he’s lying down.”

George raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “Me? Never.”

Jason perked up, eyes glinting with mischief. Permission granted to doodle on the first sleeper?”

You leaned back against George’s leg again, smirking up at him. “Just hope the marker sticks through the puddle of drool.”

The group roared with laughter as George slapped a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oi! I’m a very elegant sleeper, thank you very much.”

You pressed against his knee with your hand. “You drooled on my arm last night, elegant my arse.” (He hadn’t—but his jokingly offended face made the lie worth it.)

Milli shrieked, laughing, “Expose him!”

George bent down, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper—but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Careful, or I’ll tell them what you do when you sleep.”

Your eyes widened in horror, leaning into the bit. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Jason perked up, intrigued and gossip hungry. “Wait, wait, wait, what’s her sleep habit?”

George’s smirk was diabolical. “She—”

You slapped your hand over his mouth, half laughing, half dying inside, unsure what George would come up with. “Nope! Lies! Unnecessary! Moving on.”

He mumbled something into your palm, chuckling and then licked your palm. You squealed as PK deadpanned, “Swear to God, whatever this tension is, it’s keeping the whole house awake. Just shag and be done with it.”

Milli hurled a pillow at PK’s head—and for that, you silently vowed to owe her for life.

“Shut up!” she barked. “Focus—we’re playing a game so nobody here falls asleep.” 

Cinna shot her hand up like an eager schoolkid. “I nominate Twenty Questions!”

Everyone groaned and grumbled at the ‘childish’ game, but agreed. George’s voice is sickeningly sweet, “Ladies first, lov— mate.” He caught himself at the last second. “On a scale of one to ten, how annoying am I?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, a ten. No question. I absolutely despise you.”

He squeezed your shoulder, smug and unbothered, and winked. “No, you don’t. You just haven’t had enough of me yet.”

And, truth be told—you really hadn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since George returned from his first shift, you’ve been stuck to him like glue. 

The group game dissolved the moment PK was called for his shift; everyone scattering and rotating in and out, some pacing the halls to kill time, some sneaking over priced snacks from the shop, some slipping away to nap and pray they don’t get caught. But George didn’t stray from you. He never has. He clings to you as if once he goes, the fragile little bubble you created will pop. 

Now, five shifts in, two things have already drained your prize money. One: PK’s solo shift. Although he insists that he didn’t cave into the barbershop temptation, you can’t fully believe him–even though you desperately want to. He hasn’t earned that trust yet. The second was Whitney and Mya missing the shift change notification altogether, leaving Cinna and Milli scrambling to their positions, officially bringing the timer to zero for the first time. 

Since then, you and George have somehow migrated to an allegedly noncompetitive game of table tennis.

“To eleven?” You clarify, as George bounces in celebration of his tenth point.

George’s grin is downright wicked as he gets ready to serve the ball. Within seconds, the sharp smack of the paddle launching the ball towards you bounced off the walls. It skims past you before you can even blink. 

Sure, the other games you guys were playing in the group were much fairer–especially since George has skilled up in table tennis since being here, having challenged everyone into one-on-one matches by now. But nothing made you happier than seeing George light up like this, with his smug little smile and little victory dance that always makes you giggle, no matter how many times you see it. 

“You know,” you say, scooping up the ball from where it bounced under the table–your official defeat, sealed. “You’re very lucky Jason fell asleep first.”

“Mmm?” George hums, sauntering over. Your back bumps the table edge and your breath catches as he cages you in, hands resting on either side. “Why’s that?”

“I would’ve drawn all over you,” you tease, voice unsteady with how close he suddenly feels. It feels foolish with how easy he makes you feel flustered.  

“Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What would you have drawn, huh?”

You both know what’s coming—he sees it in the guilty little twist of your lips, the gleam in your eye when you’re about to say something ridiculous.

“A cock,” you deadpan—in perfect sync with him. The moment hangs for a heartbeat before you both crack up. You fold forward, laughter muffled into his shoulder.

He wraps you up instantly. And you feel foolish with how fast you sink into it. Right now, he’s not shy about being soft with you. Everyone’s scattered, and the only people who might catch you are Milli and Cinna, who already know about it all and he’s assuming they’re too busy chatting to monitor the security camera. 

“I would’ve given you a moustache,” he murmurs against your temple, then plants a dramatic, smacking kiss on the side of your head.

The hum of the cameras and murmurs fade into a distant buzz, leaving only the steady rhythm of your breaths in sync. For a moment, it’s just you and him; no producers, no cameras, no audience. Just the bubble you built and how easy it feels to hide here with him.

Since knowing him, he’s always been your refuge. At first just your best friend—the one who brought you medicine when you were sick, stayed up when you couldn’t sleep, sent you memes just to make you smile. 

For so long, that was enough. But now, he’s still that safe place… and something so much more. And for the first time since you admitted it to each other, you’ve let yourself fully believe he wants this just as much as you do—even if some part of you thinks this is too good to be true. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Mya and DDG came bursting out of the challenge room, hollering your names with guilty looks plastered across their faces, you were about eighty percent sure they’d taken their temptation. Their lateness and those too-wide grins gave it away. But you didn’t dwell on it—there was no use in getting distracted now.

It was your first shift, and you couldn’t risk being late. Not after all the hits to the prize fund already, now including Jason failing his solo challenge, and now their obvious slip.

So, you and George shot up from the beanbags you’d been sitting with Farah, Milli, and Cinna, and sprinted towards the challenge rooms. You silently thanked George for insisting you sit close by, predicting that you’d probably be shifted soon. (And of course, he was right.)

George punched in the code just before the timer hit zero while  you pulled on one of the security vests. You sank into the chair, scanning the wall of monitors: every corner of Inside laid bare on cheap CCTV feeds. It was basically a fact of the show that the cameras were always there, the microphones were always recording–after all, it’s what you signed up for. But seeing everything all at once in front you felt exposing, almost violating. 

For a moment, the only sound was the low hum of the monitors.

“So, just us, huh?” George smirked, sliding his hands behind your chair. He gripped the armrests, tugging you closer until your knees were slotted between his. His blue eyes flicked to your mouth, lingering like he couldn’t help it. “No cameras, no eyes…”

You glanced around all the security footage on the screen: capturing Mya and Whitney at the shops, Jason napping, Milli and Cinna gossiping. It was a brazen reminder of the fact you were getting filmed, in every room, even here. 

“We’re definitely being watched,” you snorted softly, motioning towards the cameras aimed at you to film the challenge. 

He waved it off. “We’ll ask the lads to edit it out later.” 

Maybe George himself was your real temptation. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in and kissed him—just a soft, fleeting press. His hand found your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek like he was memorizing it, and the kiss deepened without warning—hungry, warm, reckless for just a breath longer than it should have been.

When you pulled away, his eyes were right there–sharp blue, locked on you with a soft smile playing at his mouth. You smiled back, and had to fight back the desire to lean in once more–to get one more taste, to let yourself fall completely. 

You almost did. But your gaze flicked to the blinking monitors—red lights, a thousand eyes—and the moment shrank back into your chest, tucked away for later. If everything goes well, you’ll have the outside—maybe the rest of your lives—for that.

Suddenly, the monitor beeped to life, tearing you both back to reality. A shelf popped open simultaneously. 

“Blindfolded Obstacles,” George read aloud, voice low but amused. “You two have been close friends for years now,”  He side-eyed you, a teasing glint in his blue eyes. He paused for an effect, leaning closer so only you could hear: “Bit of an understatement, yeah?” 

You tried not to smile, but failed. 

“It’s time to put your communication to the test,” He continued reading. You both exchanged a glance—recently, communication hadn’t been your strongest suit. “One of you will be blindfolded, and the other must guide them through the obstacle course using only verbal directions. You can’t leave the room until you grab the key from the other side, and the timer won’t continue until you do the challenge.”

You swallowed, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves mixed with anticipation. The challenge felt personal, almost like a test of everything simmering between you two. And you can’t get out of this room until you do this challenge. 

“Do you want to be blindfolded or me?” George asked softly, taking the blindfold from the shelf that popped open. Written on the black fabric was Inside, and the instruction to put it on before you leave the security room.

Wordlessly, you reached out for it–knowing you weren’t the best talker. He chuckled, “So, you trust me, yeah?” 

You nodded. You might doubt a lot of things in this house, but him? You’d trust with the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After barely completing the task (with more laughter and bickering than actual strategy), you caught PK’s name flickering on the monitor just in time. The two of you sprinted out the room, calling for him and trying to find where on the Inside he could be located. ��

The second PK stood up from the beanbag he’d been dozing on to relieve you from your shift, you and George turned to look at each other and both let out a breath you hadn't realised you were holding. Neither of you spoke, just exchanged a look that said: thank god that’s over. 

Silently, you decided to slip away from the buzz of the living room, saying goodbye to Whitney and Mya who sat near the sleeping PK. Instead, you moved to the bedroom area–the one space everyone was avoiding so they wouldn’t accidentally fall into deep sleep and cost the group more money. 

Here, the muffled chatter and laughter faded behind closed doors. All you could hear was the hum of the air conditioner and your own heartbeat slowing back to normal. 

George dropped down onto the bed you two unofficially shared, excusing the fact you haven’t separated your beds yet to being ‘too lazy’. He leaned back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, and tugged you down beside him without a word. 

You melted into his side instantly, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you closer until your head settled on his collarbone. He felt warm, as he always had. You breathed him in: leftover cologne, a fruity body soap, and sweet shampoo from the quick shower he’d taken earlier in the day. 

And it struck you. The two of you have been in similar positions hundreds of times, but friend’s don’t do this. Maybe you two had never really ever been just friends at all. 

“I’m knackered,” George murmured, voice rasped. He laced his fingers through yours where your hand rested on your thigh, his thumb tracing soothing circles into your palm. 

You chuckled, nudging his ankle with your foot. “Big words from the man who spent half that challenge looking unbearably smug.”

He turned to face you, his lips moving against the side of your face, revealing a small grin. “Funny—coming from someone who couldn’t even see my face.”

“George. I know every version of that face by now.”

He laughed under his breath, the sound vibrating in his chest where your cheek now rested. “I can’t wait to get out of here,” he whispered, voice suddenly softer. “Just… back to normal. Or, well, whatever our new version of normal is gonna be. Watching shitty movies on your couch, our monthly pub nights, stealing your food, winding the lads up, a drive-through run at three in the morning. No cameras. No alarms. Just us. Can’t wait to have you to myself out there, to have you be mine, and to be just us.” 

Your heart flipped at how easy he made it sound. Just us. Like it was always meant to be. 

“That sounds perfect,” you breathed, eyes half-closed, sleep feeling so tempting right now. 

He chuckled, brushing his lips against your temple. “Though, I’ll kinda miss the excuse to ignore my phone for days.”

A small laugh escaped you. “We can make it a thing. A date. Once a month—no phones, no distractions.” The word date still tasted new on your tongue, like it didn’t quite fit you two yet—but George’s grin told you he didn’t mind at all.

“Deal.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Silence settled over you both then. Not heavy or suffocating, but the kind that comes when you’re so close and so sure of someone.

His hand found yours again, your fingers instinctively interlocking. You could feel sleep tugging at you, warmth pooling in your chest at how easy it felt to rest like this—like it had always been this simple.

And you wished— fiercely, foolishly, maybe even hopelessly—that life would never dare make it more complicated than this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When PK called only you into the challenge, you thought that the solo night shift might actually be a break–a chance to breathe, to decompress, to finally gather all your thoughts. 

But it’s harder than you expected. Not because you’re tired, but because of the silence.

No George. No banter. No one to keep you from spiraling. Just you, the hum of the monitors, and your voice echoing into the quiet—narrating bite-sized thoughts for whatever poor soul ends up watching this later on Netflix.

And the waiting. God, the waiting.

PK and Jason’s solo shift sounded like they were thrown into a challenge almost immediately. Yours, however, has so far been a long, slow wait. Almost as if production forgot about you. Or worse, like they’re stalling. Debating whether to give you a task. Testing how long they can let your thoughts unravel before stepping in.

So, you sat there, spinning in your chair–watching the scattered corners of Insider across the various CCTV feeds, trying to desperately fight off sleep. 

You catch a glimpse of PK and Whitney sneaking off to the shop for sweets. But your gaze lingers on one feed: George, still exactly where you left him. He’s sitting with Milli, Cinna, Jason, and Farah—his arm resting loosely over the empty space where you were. His posture is tired, soft, like how he always is when it’s just the two of you. You felt a pang in your chest as you wished you could just go to him and curl up next to him, with no audience. 

And it hits you.

You’re in a relationship with George.

Like… an actual relationship. How’s it all going to change? 

It doesn’t feel official, not really—not with all the cameras and challenges and prize money hanging over your heads. You haven’t had the chance to settle into it. To just be together. But still, it’s real. And it makes your chest tighten in a way that’s both sweet and painful.

You watch him rise, smile easy and familiar, tugging Milli toward the table tennis table. He’s obsessed with that thing. You can’t help but smile too, the grin on his face being infectious even through the shitty CCTV. 

A loud buzz soon shatters the silence. 

Your name flashes across the monitor in bold, urgent letters.

TEMPTATION

The screen glitches—static crackling through the speakers—before cutting to footage you’ve never seen. Not from tonight. Earlier, maybe. The vanity room. George. Milli. Cinna.

George slumped forward, voice heavy and low. Tired.  “I messed up.” 

Your heart sank. What was he talking about? 

“So, you regret it?” Cinna’s voice was serious, probing. 

You stare at the screen, frozen. This has to be edited. Spliced. Manipulated. Maybe the producers cut it to look worse than it was—standard reality TV drama. But… this is Sidemen. They wouldn’t do that to you and George. Right?

“It wasn’t worth it.” George admitted quietly, his voice barely audible on the microphone. “Maybe we made a massive mistake. And it’s so frustrating how she always just…runs away. You know what, if I could go back in time, I'd undo that night.”  Milli shifts beside him. Her voice breaks. “George–,” 

The screen goes black.

Your breath catches. Your whole body stills.

You know how reality TV works. You know how easy it is to twist things, to stitch together sentences out of context. But knowing doesn’t stop the words from sinking like stone.

It wasn’t worth it. He said. He’d undo that night. 

You try to breathe. To find something to anchor to. But it’s always been George, or well, at least it felt like it.  

George has always been the thing that steadied you. The one constant.

You can’t even remember what you did before you knew him. How your life was like before he came into your life.

So your chest aches, your head spins, and you try to deny that George didn’t say those words. 

But it was. You could see him clearly on the screen. Caught in 4k. Or well, shitty CCTV. 

Did you trust him blindly? How could you have let yourself fall so foolishly?  

Not after everything.

Was that real? Or was this? Maybe he changed his mind. 

The screen flashes again, merciless.

TEMPTATION — HEAR THE FULL CONVERSATION FOR 30K

Your throat tightens. You could listen. You could get the whole story. 

But what if the rest hurts more than this already does?

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you do always run. Maybe that’s the only way to protect yourself from getting crushed like this again.

You stare at the screen a second longer, then shut your eyes.

You don’t need to hear more.

You’ve already heard too much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist

@rubyskies@edgyficuselastica@gmontaguesbitch@sundarksposts@canyouseethesainz@lovingaphroditesworld@maggie-readss@liz140569@lmaowhathaha @moofilms @lalisasrealwife@courtjjade@bowielovesyou@raekensluver @cuntessaii @theresglittleronthefloor@isabelle-2934@smzyyx@wroetominter @madforgeorge @megan-jane02@lottiewills@cheesystylesig@suspicious-stain-in-spain@kneelforloki@wherethezoes-at@clarkey4life@madsclarkey@footballfangirly @steffqvz

[effy-writes]

Gojo: Aphrodisiac p.2 (smut)

notes: continuation of nanami p1. oral and fingering receiving, kinda short, 1.5k words

summery: nanami had to take ino somewhere and couldn't bring you. so who else is going to help you out? gojo

________

Nanami has been "helping out" for 3 months now. He took off his gloves that was covered in your juices before throwing it away. He wanted this little situation to be as professional as possible so he switched to non latex gloves. It doesn't feel as good as his bare fingers, but it gets the job done. You're thinking to yourself he does this so there's no strings attached, but he never said those words.

"I'm leaving tonight with Ino and won't be back until Thursday."

You pulled up your underwear and frantically stood up, "Three days?!"

"I know your concerns, I'm sure you can find somebody to help you."

"But I don't want anyone else! I only trust you to...you know. I just don't want to be taken advantage of."

Nanami relaxed, "I'm glad you can trust me. You can try asking Yuta or Gojo."

"Gojo!? Hell no he's too freaky for me."

"Yuta?"

"Absolutely not. I don't want Rika to freak out."

"That's understandable. Last resort you could pleasure yourself. I know it's not enough but you're going to have to find solutions. You can't always rely on me." Nanami adjusted his tie, still feeling flustered and embarrassed of these conversations with you.

"Fine. I'll ask Gojo."

"Well that settles it."

"What if he says no?"

Nanami chuckled, "I doubt it. Are you ready to train now?"

Doubts it?! "Yeah...would it be possible for you to ask Gojo? I really don't want to ask him myself."

"I suppose, but wouldn't it be more reasonable if you come along with me to ask him?"

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "I guess. Can we just ask him now so I can get this embarrassment over with?"

"I don't see why not. I can ask him to meet us."

"Greattt," You said with sarcasm, in which Nanami didn't react to it.

~~~

"Ah Y/n! So nice to see you again!" Gojo had his arms out.

The first time you and Gojo met was still very much the same awkwardness you had with Nanami, the only difference is that Gojo was not embarrassed at all. He knows all about your unfortunate situation from before.

"Yeah, same here."

"You okay?" Gojo laughed, "You look nervous."

Nanami replied for you, "You're aware the situation of Y/n and I correct?"

"The one where-"

"Yes," He cut him off, "I will be out of town and Y/n needs someone to help her."

"Aw so you're asking me! I feel honored." Gojo turned his head towards you.

"You're literally my last resort, don't feel honored."

"Feisty!" He laughed, "Let's see what Nanami has been teaching you."

~~

"Nice apartment," Gojo looked at all of the decorations you had up. Some included pictures of different plants, a circle mirror, little lucky cat sitting in a bookshelf, stuff that he wasn't exactly expecting.

You chewed on your thumb nail, trying to gather the words of what's about to happen and how you would like for it to happen. Nanami was always so professional about this. Wears gloves, making you wear a long skirt so it's not too sexual, not talking about the details afterwards, how the hell is Gojo going to do it?

"Alright," Gojo clapped his hands, "What's the details?"

"Um...usually Nanami lets me sit on the couch and I wear a long skirt and he wears non-latex gloves to keep it professional."

"I don't have gloves, but wouldn't it feel better anyway that I don't wear gloves?"

"Yeah, but don't be too crazy while doing it. I hate that I have to do this."

"Relax," He walked closer, towering over you with a smirk, saying in a low tone, almost seductive voice, "I'll be gentle."

With a red tint face you took a step back, "Nanami makes me wear a skirt so do you want to do that?"

"Its all up to you. To be honest I was shocked that he would do this. The guy is too uptight!" He laughed, "He must really like you."

"That's definitely not it, he just felt bad for me."

Gojo faked pout, "Well that's sad isn't it?"

"Can we go ahead and get this over with?"

"Fine, fine. You gonna switch into that pilgrim skirt?"

"No because I really want to get this over with. Can you turn around?"

"I'm gonna be fingering and eating you out anyway, why does it matter?"

"Eating out!? Oh no, we are not doing that. Nanami usually fingers me and that's it, I don't want any other stuff."

"Oh come on! I haven't gotten any complaints yet. Plus who knows! It might help you more."

He might be right about this.

You pondered on that before finally agreeing, "Fine, let's do it. Turn around still so I can undress."

"If that'll make you feel better. I'm gonna be all up in there anyway." He laughed while turning around.

"Ew, don't say it like that." You tugged off your pants and underwear and tucked it inbetween the couch cushions before sitting down, nervously tapping your foot. You still wish it was Nanami, his hands so big and gentle, not making a big deal out of this situation. Sometimes he'll look up to make sure you're enjoying it. Even when his fingers are pumping in and out before curling them, he'll still ask you if this is what you want, what you find more pleasurable, if he needs to speed up or slow down, but he always starts off as slow and gentle because his fingers are so big and thick.

Now you're really missing Nanami.

But he's also too serious and professional at times. You want him to touch you more, kiss, talk sexy, but no, he sees it more of a business thing. You still cum no matter what, but fuck, you need Nanami.

"Ready," You finally had the courage. Sure, you could back out at any time but you have to do this stupid shit that you started.

Your thighs tightly pressed together, too embarrassed to spread them out but because of Gojo smirking with crossed arms your pussy became wetter, dying for it to get touched.

Gojo got on his knees as he placed his hand on them, "You this nervous with Nanami?"

You nod, "At first yeah."

Gojo rested his head on your knees and you assumed he was looking up at you because of his blindfold. "What can I do to make this more enjoyable for you, hm?"

"To shut your mouth."

He chuckled, "Gonna try my best." Gojo pushed your thighs out, staring at that pussy wet with natural lubricant. His lips slightly parted, the most beautiful pussy his eyes ever laid on. He's telling himself that Nanami is missing out. Oh he's going to be mad.

Gojo pushes two long fingers inside, definitely different than from Nanami who was slow at it and followed your instructions.

Your hips jerked up with a small moan escaping at the sudden stretch. He pumped them in and out, smirking to himself, before curling his fingers.

He brought his head closer to your pussy, hot breath breathing on it before his tongue ran along against your slit.

You covered your mouth with your hand, forgetting how good it feels to be ate out instead of being just fingered (with no sexual tension) for 3 months now. You grind your pussy against his face, making Gojo chuckle a bit. "Feels good, huh?" He said in a low, seductive voice before finally swirling his tongue on your clit

"Mpf!" You moaned out into your hand, using your other hand to grope your clothed tit, something you would never do with Nanami.

Gojo began sucking on the swollen clit, his fingers still curling to hit that spot. You uncovered your mouth, using that hand to tangle into Gojo's soft hair. For once, it does feel nice to fully relax getting ate out and fingered, not worrying about how professional this has to be.

Gojo looked up at you with a wicked grin, "You this touchy with Nanami?"

"N..No," You gasped as he finger fucked you faster.

"I feel honored," He said before latching himself on your clit again. You were getting closer, breathing becoming more ragged, hips buckling against his face.

"Ffffuck, I'm about to..." You never came this fast from Nanami.

Gojo nodded, feeling his dick tighten in his pants.

Seconds later your orgasm hit, way more powerful than with Nanami. Gojo still didn't back away, he wanted you to ride out your orgasm until you're quiet and twitching.

Once that being achievable, he leaned his head up while sliding his coated fingers out.

"Wow," You mumbled as your legs twitched.

Gojo wiped his fingers on your couch without you noticing before picking up your pants and underwear to hand them to you. "Make sure to tell Nanami we kept it professional."

"Will do. I'm sure he'll go on a 5 minute rant if he finds out what really happened." You slid up your underwear and pants, "Thanks for that, it actually felt nice."

"Told you I never got any complaints."

[wardenbloom]

Zayne: Within Grasp (Part 4)

Reader x Zayne

Self-aware; ongoing series (Here's the link to chapter one if you haven't started it yet!)

Part 4: Landing a job is easy if you're handsome

"Are you ready for the presentation later?" Your co-worker, Missy, asked.

You sighed and typed in the finishing touches of your powerpoint presentation, adding more designs and layout.

"I do not understand why I have to present this. Can't they wait?" You frowned and stared at your screen. "The last time I checked, I am not in a managerial position."

"Haha!" Missy laughed and gently patted your back. "He's still on leave and the presentation can't be delayed as per the management." She shrugged. "Who knows, you might get the promotion if you pull it off." She winked then went back to her desk.

I honestly just want to go home. I wonder how Zayne is faring with his job hunt... I told him not to push himself too much since he's still adjusting in this world...

"Now eyes up." The gay make up artist instructed Zayne while he applied a thin layer of foundation on his face and he followed as other people tended to his hands, wardrobe, and hair.

Zayne found himself being recruited (on commission basis) by a start up company that needed a model for their product. He mumbled to himself as if memorizing various words or lines.

After his make over, the employees crowded around him.

"Woah... you did well with his make up..." The photographer said while he changed the lens of his camera. Beside him was the videographer who adjusted the angle of the camera.

"I didn't do much to his face, though." The makeup artist said while cleaning up his area. "His face has a good structure... Like it was manually sculpted by god himself!!" He exaggerated.

"Thank you..." Zayne said and nodded.

Around him was a photo studio with complete equipment and he was asked to do various poses while the employees watched in awe. The shutter of the cameras are not new to him, after all, way back in Linkon City, he gets a lot of appearances on TVs, informative videos and the like.

Meanwhile, you started presenting the report from last month. In front of you were your superiors who asked questions on the Return of Investment regarding the marketing strategy you pitched to them and got approved.

"Yes sir, I understand." You smiled. "You see, here, the trend tends to go higher, albeit slow, the sales will definitely exceed if we continue on promoting this way."

"Further, compared to other marketing platforms, the ads on this..."

You continued on answering their queries and presenting the rest of the report. After an hour, they mentioned their expectations for the next quarter and finally let you off.

They better raise my damn salary at this point. I was not supposed to do that.

You took a deep breath and sat on your office chair and sighed loudly.

"I HEARD YOU DID A GOOD JOB!!" Missy happily sat beside you.

"I should. After all, I'm doing all the work our boss should've done." You sighed again. "At this point, I should get his salary too... Scheduling a leave at the start of the month... despicable!" You frowned.

"Haha, I'm sure they're still on a honeymoon phase since he just got married the other week." Missy tried to cheer you up and be a voice of reason. "Anyway, you should email him to remind him about what happened and also ask him to treat you out for an expensive lunch when he gets back."

"Right... I should do that..." You forced a smile and Missy went back to his work station.

After being beaten up with workload, you decided clean your cubicle and go home on time. You opened your phone and checked if there's any messages from Zayne.

Zayne

"What time are you going home tonight?"

Sent by: Zayne

"I'm actually packing up right now."

Sent by: You

"I see"

Sent by: Zayne

"You're going home early too?"

Sent by: You

"I think so, yes. I'll see you at home."

Sent by: Zayne

You heart felt giddy upon sending him a text. It used to be automated chats and scheduled calls and posts from the game but now... It is real. You can't help but smile and be excited to get home to see him.

Ding!!

The elevator rang and you made your way inside it and upon reaching the ground floor, you noticed an unusual amount of murmurs and gossips around you.

"Oh wow I think he's a model!" A woman said to her friend while looking at the reception table.

"You should've asked for his photo..." The other replied.

Curious, you looked at the direction where people were staring and saw Zayne talking to the receptionist. Your heart skipped a beat while looking at him. The man who once was out of your reach is actually here with you now, breathing and alive.

You slowly approached him and you can't help but noticed that he looks more handsome than usual!

"Zayne! What are you doing here?" You asked. He glanced at you for a bit then looked back at the reception. "It looks like she's here now. Thank you."

He finally looked at you again and smiled. "I was hoping to surprise you today. He held his hand out to you, gesturing to hand him your bag.

"Oh! Well, you have surprised me, doctor Zayne." You casually replied to hide the fact that your heart is pounding since the moment you saw him earlier and handed him you bag.

He gently hung it on his shoulder and with his free hand, opened his palm and you held his hand.

"Did something happen? You look more handsome than usual... and your hair... it's pushed back..." You asked while looking up at him as the two of you walked along the city streets.

The sky slowly became darker, indicating night time, and the streetlights were lit. Suddenly, you noticed that his face was more... happy than you usually see in game.

He looks happier for some reason... did he land a good job today?

"Let's just say that I made a bit of money on commission today." He replied.

"On commission?" You tilted your head. "I see. Commission-based jobs usually do not require or need identification, just your output."

He nodded.

"Your make up looks good on you." You grinned. "Did you land a modelling job

"Yes." He smiled. "They were nice people too. I told them I didn't have much money but they still took care of me, even fed me before we did the shooting."

That's nice... At least his first employer is a good person.

"I'm happy for you, Zayne. That's great." You childishly smiled and he gazed at you.

You're always happy for other people... You never changed in every universe.

He thought and squeezed your hand.

"Thank you." He replied. "Do you want to eat outside or at home? I'll cook for you." He asked and you shook your head.

"Let's just eat at home. I'll cook for you to celebrate your first salary!" You happily said.

"Shouldn't we spend my first salary for the celebration?" He chuckled.

"No! You should save that first so you could land a job with stable income! Then your first salary from your stable income work would be our celebration funds." You explained and hugged his arm.

"I see. Alright, let's go home."

Once you reached home, you rushed to the kitchen to prepare the ingredients for tonight's celebration while Zayne placed your bag in your room then washed his face. After, he joined you in the kitchen and helped you in cooking. You had him wear a frilly pink apron while you wore an apron with duck prints. You giggled while tying the ribbon behind Zayne's apron and he let you.

After cooking dumplings, fried chicken, stir-fry beef, and rice, he placed down the dishes on the table then you two started eating.

"What kind of product did you promote anyway?" You asked while munching on the fried chicken.

Oohhhh this is good!!

"Its a secret. I signed a contract." He replied.

"Oh. I see. It must be something top secret or something." You giggled.

You then talked about your day and he listened intently. Nodding when you said you felt happy about today's reports and how you handled the question from your superiors.

"You did well." He replied and patted your head. "I'm proud of you."

He said those words gently and it brought you comfort. After a week of stress from the corporate pressure, you felt at ease while you were with him.

A week after, you sat on the couch and opened the television to watch the news. Zayne was still out job hunting so you decided to just stay at home and maybe catch up with what was happening in the world.

Commercial came up and you noticed that it was a commercial that you've never seen before.

Oh? A new commercial?

You thought as you watched. It was a story of a salary man who's been going to work everyday --

WAIT???!! IS THAT?? IS THAT ZAYNE!??!?!

Your eyes widened as you saw him in the commercial. Continuing, it was about a salary man who's been going to work everyday. He found a feral stray cat who's been living under his porch. Everyday, he places cat food for it until the stray cat became familiar with him, enough for him to give it cat treats. Eventually, he adopted the cat and the cat became healthy and fat.

Eventually, the cat went blind and Zayne became older but the cat, even though he was blind, he could still smell the trusty cat food Zayne's been feeding it ever since.

It was a cat food commercial.

You found yourself tearing up with how the commercial narrated the relationship between an owner and a pet.

Zayne suddenly arrived home, finding you in tears after you watched the commercial he starred in.

"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME IT WAS A HEARTFELT COMMERCIAL!! I THOUGHT THEY JUST TOOK PHOTOS HUHU" You wiped your tears with a towel.

"Oh, did they broadcast it already? It was a nice commercial. The cat was friendly too." Zayne smiled then showed you a plastic bag with take out food. "Let's eat."

<< Chapter 3

>> Chapter 5

[silversinfinity]

Oh nooooo, it would be such a shame if that happened!!!!!! Whatever would I do if we both went out and got sick and had to recover together??!?!!?!? Oh noooooo, my day would be so ruined 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩 we'd be forced to rest and share in each other's body heat in the coziest way, oh darnnnn 😔😔😔😔😔😔

[licorishh]

double ?? upload ???? yeaaaahh i've gotten FASTERRrr for whatever that's worth so complementary blyla because guess what i miss them too (nobody was surprised by that)

[fiona-fififi]

...

[fratboykate]

Papi, are you alive? Thunderbolts trailer leaked and we got Hailee back from the dead (and there's the movie with Andrew and Florence and its KYAU coded as fuck) Kate and Yelena content galor this week. PLEASE COME BACK. We've been deprived for a year. It's been jail for too long. Grace us with Kate x Yelena content again. Pretty please.

*taps mic* Is this thing on?

[tilly-tittle]

... so, there's been a few changes since i last talked about my interpretation of his last will--

i went a little overboard trying to match the style to the comics so... yeah... *wipes eyes* even when he thinks he's about to die, he cares more about Pointblank and Sureshot not feeling bad about it.

They will feel bad, of course, but Crosshairs did his best to make peace before death.

Oh I'm gonna think about this all night now what have you done

my poor heart TwT

to go from trying to write Rodimus trying and failing to not seem awkward to this is so jarring-