#Digital Business Card Management

[district11crm]

Best Digital Business Card Management - MyMeishi

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[the-stardust-thread]

It would be very appreciated as a small store owner🙏🙏🙏

[edel-mf]

Discover the smart features that empower businesses to manage expenses effortlessly using RazorpayX Corporate Cards. From enhanced security and vendor payment automation to seamless integration with accounting systems, this video demonstrates how our solution can drive better financial control. For more details, visit razorpay.com/x/corporate-cards.

[imdnews1]

ICICI Bank शेतकऱ्यांसाठी: आर्थिक उन्नतीसाठी उपयुक्त योजना आणि सेवा

शेतकऱ्यांसाठी आर्थिक विकास साधण्याच्या उद्देशाने ICICI Bank ने विविध उपयुक्त योजना आणल्या आहेत. या योजनांमुळे शेतकऱ्यांना आर्थिक सहाय्य मिळते आणि त्यांच्या शेती व्यवसायात सुधारणा होते. या लेखात ICICI बँकेच्या योजनांची माहिती देऊन, त्याचा उपयोग ग्रामीण भागातील शेतकऱ्यांसाठी कसा होतो हे समजून घेऊ.

[payblogs]

DARK SMS - DRAGON+

In today’s fast-paced digital landscape, maintaining privacy and security while communicating is more important than ever. Introducing DarkSMS, a cutting-edge virtual SMS platform designed to streamline your messaging experience without compromising your personal information. With our innovative virtual number service, users can receive SMS messages securely and anonymously, eliminating the risks associated with sharing private phone numbers. Whether you’re signing up for online services, verifying accounts, or simply looking to keep your communication confidential, DarkSMS has got you covered. 

Virtual SMS

Virtual SMS refers to the messaging service that enables users to send and receive text messages through a virtual phone number rather than a traditional mobile line. This service is particularly useful for individuals and businesses looking to maintain privacy while communicating or verifying accounts.

One of the key advantages of using virtual sms is the ability to receive SMS without revealing your personal phone number. This is especially beneficial for online transactions, sign-ups for apps, or any situation where you might need to provide a phone number but want to protect your privacy.

Furthermore, virtual numbers can be easily managed from a web-based platform, allowing users to organize and store messages effectively. Many service providers offer features such as message forwarding, where received SMS messages can be redirected to your email or other platforms, ensuring you never miss an important notification.

In addition to privacy and convenience, virtual SMS services are often cost-effective. They eliminate the need for extra SIM cards or mobile contracts, allowing users to only pay for the services they actually use. This flexibility makes virtual number services highly attractive for startups and individuals working from remote locations.

As businesses increasingly adopt digital communication strategies, integrating virtual SMS into their operations can enhance customer interaction and improve engagement through instant messaging capabilities.

Virtual Number Service

A virtual number service offers a practical solution for individuals and businesses looking to maintain privacy while receiving communications. By using a virtual number, you can receive SMS messages without exposing your personal phone number. This feature is especially useful for those engaged in online transactions, such as e-commerce, as it safeguards against unwanted spam and protects your identity.

One of the key advantages of a virtual number service is its capability to function seamlessly alongside your primary phone line. Users can receive messages from various platforms effectively, whether it's for verification purposes, two-factor authentication, or simply keeping in touch with clients. The convenience of managing multiple numbers through a single device cannot be overstated.

With options to select numbers from different geographic locations, this service caters to users looking to establish a local presence in different markets. Moreover, these numbers can be set up quickly and easily, providing instant access to receive SMS without lengthy contracts or commitments.

To optimize your experience with virtual SMS and virtual number services, consider features like call forwarding, voicemail, and the ability to choose your own number. Such functionality enhances user experience by offering flexibility in communication while maintaining professional boundaries.

Ultimately, investing in a virtual number service can significantly enhance your business's communication strategy, allowing you to receive SMS reliably while focusing on building relationships with your clients.

Receive SMS

Receiving SMS through a virtual number is a convenient service that allows users to get text messages without needing a physical SIM card. This is particularly beneficial for individuals and businesses looking for privacy or those who wish to avoid exposing their personal phone numbers.

The process is straightforward: once you obtain a virtual number through a reliable virtual number service, you can start receiving sms messages. This service is essential for various reasons, including:

  Account verification codes: Many online platforms use SMS to send verification codes. A virtual number allows you to receive these codes securely.

  Business communications: Companies can use virtual SMS to receive client inquiries or feedback without revealing their primary contact numbers.

  Privacy protection: By receiving SMS through a virtual number, users can protect their personal phone numbers from spam and unwanted solicitation.

Moreover, the get SMS feature of a virtual number service ensures that you don’t miss any important messages, even if you are on the move. Messages are often stored digitally, which means you can access them anytime and anywhere.

In summary, the ability to receive SMS through a virtual number enhances both privacy and accessibility, making it a valuable tool for users in various contexts.

Get SMS

Getting SMS messages through a virtual number service has become increasingly popular due to its convenience and versatility. Whether you need to receive texts for verification purposes or want to maintain privacy while communicating, virtual SMS provides a robust solution.

With a virtual number, you can easily get sms from anywhere in the world without needing a physical SIM card. This feature is particularly beneficial for businesses that require secure communication with clients or customers, as it ensures that sensitive information remains confidential.

Here are some advantages of using a virtual number to get SMS:

Privacy Protection: Using a virtual number helps keep your personal phone number private.

Accessibility: You can receive SMS messages on multiple devices, including tablets and laptops.

Cost-Effective: Virtual SMS services typically come with lower costs than traditional SMS plans.

Global Reach: You can get SMS messages from international numbers without incurring roaming fees.

Easy Setup: Setting up a virtual number to receive SMS is straightforward and often takes just a few minutes.

In summary, leveraging a virtual number service for SMS communication allows you to manage your messages efficiently while maintaining privacy, enhancing accessibility, and reducing costs. This is particularly useful for both personal and business communications, making it a smart choice for anyone looking to streamline their SMS functions.

[deliciousangelfestival]

FINAL LAP - B. Barnes | 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female reader

Summary: She starts her dream job at SPEED, a top PR company for sports events, only to find out her boss is Bucky Barnes—the same guy she once accidentally injured in college.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I published my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Your heart still buzzed with excitement as you stepped through the glass doors of SPEED. It was your first day — finally. You had found out you were accepted last Friday, and ever since, you could barely sit still.

Today was Monday. Game day.

You walked up to the front desk, your shoes tapping lightly against the marble floor. Behind the counter, the receptionist looked up with a friendly smile. You offered a small, slightly sheepish grin and handed over the letter you clutched in your hands.

"Hi! I’m a new employee. I don’t have my ID card yet," you explained, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

The receptionist nodded immediately, typing something quickly into her computer before pressing a button under the desk. A soft beep sounded, and the access gate unlocked.

"12th floor," she said, gesturing toward the elevators.

"Thank you," you said, a little breathless, flashing her a grateful smile.

As the elevator doors slid closed, you let out a slow, deep breath, willing your excitement (and nerves) to settle.

When the elevator dinged open at the 12th floor, the first thing you saw was the giant silver logo mounted on the wall: SPEED — sleek, bold, confident. Just like the company itself.

You felt a rush of pride. You had dreamed about working here since your final year of college, inspired by your love for sports — especially running — and the buzz of live events. It was why you studied Public Relations and Business in the first place.

"Morning! You're early," a familiar voice called out.

You turned to see Natasha approaching, her heels clicking lightly on the polished floor. She wore a smart blazer over jeans and had a coffee in hand. You instantly recognized her — she was the HR manager who had interviewed you online.

"Have to make a good impression," you replied with a slightly nervous laugh, smoothing down your blazer.

Natasha grinned, waving off your nerves. "Chill out. We love new kids around here." She gave you a playful nudge with her elbow, then gestured for you to follow her. "Come on, let’s get you set up."

She led you through the open office — a lively space with pops of color, trophies on shelves, and people already busy at their desks. She stopped at a table near the windows, dropping off a small box of starter supplies.

"You'll be working with Sam," she said, glancing at her sleek digital watch. "He should be here in... 3… 2—"

“♪ Wake me up before you go-go… ♪”

Someone's voice floated down the hallway, slightly off-key but full of energy.

You turned just as a tall guy with a wild head of curls and a worn denim jacket slid into view, dance-walking as he sang along to the music blasting from his earbuds.

Sam.

He caught sight of Natasha — and you — and dramatically yanked out one earbud.

"Hey!" he grinned, jogging the last few steps. "New blood?"

Natasha smirked. "This is Y/N. She’s joining your team."

Sam held out a hand without hesitation, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to SPEED, rookie. Hope you can keep up."

You shook his hand, laughing. "I'll try my best."

"That's the spirit," Sam said with an approving nod. "Come on, I’ll show you the ropes — or at least where the good snacks are hidden."

The rest of the morning flowed surprisingly easily. Your tasks were manageable, and everyone around you — from the senior staff to the interns — went out of their way to be patient and helpful. You never once felt out of place.

Instead of drowning in information, you found yourself actually smiling as you learned new things.

You were focused on your screen, typing notes, when you heard Natasha's teasing voice from across the office.

"You're late," she called.

A beat.

"I know," a guy’s voice answered, full of laughter. "At least I broke another record."

That voice… it sounded strangely familiar.

You furrowed your brow and glanced at your watch — it was already 11 a.m. Seriously, who even dared to stroll into the office this late?

You were about to sneak a look at the source when Sam suddenly called out, "Come on! I'll show you where the storage is."

Whatever curiosity you had instantly slipped from your mind. You grabbed your notepad and hurried after Sam.

He led you down a hallway lined with posters of past events — marathons, soccer tournaments, cycling championships. Finally, he stopped in front of a door labeled "Storage."

"This," Sam said, pushing the door open with a flourish, "is where we keep all the good stuff — supplies, merch, and sometimes, leftover medals from events."

He walked you around the space, explaining what was where and what you'd need most often. You listened carefully, occasionally nodding and asking questions, trying to absorb everything.

After a few minutes, Sam clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's head back. We’re having lunch together in the cafeteria.

Welcome party for you."

You blinked. "What? For me? You guys don’t have to—"

"It’s tradition," Sam cut you off, grinning. "We like to eat together at lunch, not at night."

You smiled at that. "That's really nice. So everyone can go home and rest early."

Sam snorted, shaking his head. "Of course not. So we can hit the gym."

"Oh." You laughed. Everyone here was athletic. Even lunchtime had a purpose.

Just then, Sam’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen and nodded. "Yup. Let’s go back. They said the food’s ready."

The moment you walked back with Sam toward the cafeteria, the nerves hit you like a wave.

Oh no. That meant... introductions. Again.

You tugged lightly at the hem of your blazer, trying to steady your breathing.

When you both entered the cafeteria, it felt like every pair of eyes turned to you.

You instinctively straightened your posture, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights.

But the atmosphere quickly softened.

People waved, smiled, called out casual greetings. It wasn’t tense or awkward — it was warm, almost like a big family gathering.

You wandered a little, weaving through tables filled with colorful platters and food stations, until you spotted Natasha stacking some tacos onto her plate.

You made your way over. "Everyone here is really nice," you said, voice a little in awe.

"Told you," Natasha said, smiling without looking up.

You watched her build a taco with almost suspicious expertise. "This idea’s really great, y’know. Welcoming the newcomer."

Natasha chuckled. "Yeah, it was mine."

"I told you, it was a great idea," said a tall man standing beside her, casually stuffing a donut into his mouth.

That voice.

Your stomach flipped.

You stepped closer, squinting a little, before pointing at him without thinking. "You!"

The man smirked, still chewing. His smirk only grew wider when he saw the recognition (and horror) dawning on your face.

Natasha glanced between you two, curious. "Wait — you guys know each other?"

You and the tall man answered at the same time:

"He's my senior from college," you said quickly.

"She broke my leg," he said, still smirking.

Natasha gasped, nearly dropping her taco. You, meanwhile, slapped a hand over your face. "It was a misunderstanding!"

Sam, of course, couldn’t resist sliding into the conversation, grinning wide. "Ooh, this is gonna be good. So what exactly did you do that broke our boss’s leg?"

You froze.

"...Boss?" you echoed, your voice a whisper.

The man, your college senior, laughed softly and leaned casually against the taco station. "Don’t tell me you had no idea who owns the company you’re working for. You're still the same."

You stared at him, utterly mortified.

No, you genuinely had no idea.

You were drawn to SPEED because of the incredible projects they managed — not because you had stalked their leadership.

Not once did you check who the founder was.

But now that you really looked at him — the strong build, the confident posture, the easy authority — the same narcissist.

Bucky Barnes.

Your mouth went dry.

Your eyes darted down instinctively to his leg. "It... doesn’t still hurt, right?" you asked weakly.

Bucky chuckled — low, warm, and amused. "Nah. Healed a long time ago."

Still, your ears burned with embarrassment.

It was your first day on the job, and your new boss was already mentioning how you were the reason he spent six weeks on crutches.

This wasn’t exactly the grand entrance you imagined for yourself.

But — like you told Natasha — it really was a misunderstanding!

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♀️👟🎽

Flashback

Four Years Ago

The green yard was buzzing with excitement, filled with young people who couldn’t wait to start their college life. Laughter, chatter, and the rustling of luggage wheels filled the air as students moved about, wide-eyed and eager. Some clutched campus maps, others already wore university hoodies, proud to belong.

Among the crowd, a number of parents had come along, helping their children settle into their new homes. Some struggled up the dorm steps with heavy boxes, others fussed over making the beds just right, smoothing out sheets with trembling hands as if reluctant to let go. It was a bittersweet day — a day of firsts and goodbyes.

Just like them, your parents were there with you, standing near the entrance of your dorm room, looking a little lost. Your mom kept adjusting the corner of your pillow, while your dad lingered by the door, arms crossed tightly over his chest, like he was trying to hold himself back.

"You sure you want to live on campus today? You could stay at the hotel with us," your mom asked, her voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, smiling bravely. "No. I want to stay here."

Your dad, ever the protective one, grumbled under his breath, "I wish your cousin Steve would be here."

Steve, your older cousin, was supposed to be your lifeline here — already two semesters ahead at this university, he had been a big reason your parents even agreed to let you study so far from home. But just weeks before your freshman year started, Steve had been accepted into a study exchange program abroad for one semester.

You didn’t mind. Honestly, you were excited.

This was your chance — to step out of the cocoon you had always lived in, to stretch your wings without someone hovering nearby. For once, you wanted to find your own way.

Still, your parents clearly struggled to let go. Your mom wiped her eyes quickly when she thought you weren't looking. Your dad shifted awkwardly, pretending to check his phone.

"Mom, Dad," you said gently, stepping closer to them, "I'm fine. Besides, Auntie's house is nearby if anything happens."

Your mom nodded, blinking away tears. She reached out and pulled you into a tight hug. "Can’t believe my baby is growing up."

You hugged her back just as tightly, feeling the lump rise in your own throat. "I’ll be alright. Thank you for coming here with me."

You spent a little more time with them, helping your dad find his way back to the hotel on the GPS, laughing when your mom tried to stuff one more set of snacks into your already full closet, before finally walking them to their car. As you waved them off, your heart squeezed, but excitement soon drowned out the sadness.

As soon as they left, you turned back toward campus, your steps lighter. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and something electric — possibility.

This is it.

You were finally here, in the university you had dreamed about for years.

There was one thing you were especially looking forward to — joining the Running Community Club. The university was famous for it. Their team had not only dominated local marathons but had competed — and won — internationally. It wasn’t just a club. It was a legacy.

You wandered through the campus, past colorful booths and groups of students calling out offers to join everything from theater to debate. Your heart skipped when you finally spotted the booth you were looking for — The Horizon Running Club — under a giant banner flapping proudly in the breeze.

But it seemed you were late.

A long line had already formed in front of the booth, most of them girls, clutching applications excitedly. You caught snippets of conversation — giggles, whispers, excited chatter about someone named Bucky Barnes.

You knew that name.

Bucky Barnes was practically a legend here. He had broken a state record last semester and had been featured on the news — and all over your cousin Steve’s social media. Steve had practically posted Bucky’s winning sprint in slow motion.

As you got in line, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out quickly and saw a text from Steve:

"Hey, I just got Wi-Fi. Still registering for a new SIM card. Congrats on officially becoming a University Student!"

You smiled, thumbs moving fast to reply:

"What time is it over there?"

A few seconds later:

"3 a.m. Have you found the running booth?"

"Yup."

"I bet there’s a lot of people who want to join. Are you sure you want this? Our club only looks for people who are really committed."

"I am."

"Well, no turning back now. I'll text my friend Bucky about you. You have my full recommendation."

"Thank you for being the best cousin in the world!"

There was a long pause before he finally replied:

"...."

You waited, staring at the screen, but no more messages came.

It seemed like he had lost Wi-Fi access again.

Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you stepped forward as the line moved.

You couldn't help but feel your heartbeat pick up — excitement and nerves battling in your chest.

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

At the running club booth, the members were clearly exhausted. After hours of registration and interviews, their energy was running low. They were growing tired of hearing the same reasons from hopeful candidates—everyone wanted to join for the same old reasons: to improve their time, get healthier, or follow the latest trend. But this club wasn't just about enthusiasm; it was about commitment.

They only wanted serious runners, people who could balance their training with their academic responsibilities. This was why their club was so respected by the faculty, including the dean. Most of the members managed to juggle their schoolwork and practice sessions without fail, setting an example for the entire university.

One member, Milo, looked especially drained. His face was flushed, and his shoulders slumped as he leaned against the booth, scribbling down notes. "We have a lot of people who want to join," he muttered, exhaustion in his voice. "But most of them have the same reason."

He glanced over at his friend, who was busy taking photos with a group of fresh-faced students. "Not my fault they're impressed with my time," Bucky replied with a cocky grin, his hands still holding the camera. "But it's easier to eliminate them. If their reason is just to improve their time and health, we’ll probably let them in."

Milo sighed deeply, rubbing a hand across his face. "If Steve was here, he wouldn’t say the same thing. He’d probably... well, he'd have a different view on this." Milo couldn't help but think that the beginnings of this club had been a bit narcissistic, especially with the attention Bucky was getting.

When your turn came, you handed over your registration paper, only to be met with a question that you hadn't anticipated.

"Hi, thank you for wanting to join this club. May I know why you want to join?" Milo asked, looking up at you with a tired but kind smile.

You blinked, taken aback. You had expected the registration process to be quick, just handing in your paperwork and moving on. But here you were, caught off guard. You turned your gaze to the person standing beside Milo.

You hesitated for a second, then met Bucky’s eyes. He was watching you, his arms crossed and a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Something about his gaze made you feel both nervous and challenged at the same time. You squared your shoulders and looked back at Milo, answering confidently, "I want to beat his record time."

The words hung in the air, and everyone nearby seemed to stop and listen. There was a moment of silence, and then Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your boldness. He leaned in slightly, his smirk widening into something almost competitive.

"Welcome to the club," Bucky said, his voice dripping with a mix of respect and challenge.

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃

Extra:

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Steve was standing in a crowded immigration line at the airport, exhausted but relieved to have finally landed. He quickly pulled out his phone and typed a message to Bucky:

"Yoo... just landed. By the way, my cousin wants to join the running club. She's perfect for it. Her 5K record time is 15 minutes. Her name's Y/N L/N."

He hit send.

The message showed "Sending..." for a moment.

Not thinking much of it, Steve slipped his phone into his pocket and moved forward to check in with immigration, completely unaware that his text had 'Not Delivered.'

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@mostlymarvelgirl

@scott-loki-barnes

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@kjah97

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My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing is FREE on Kindle for a few days. Check it out!Link for Arrogant Ex-HusbandAmazon.comLink for Dad I Can't Let You GoAmazon.com: Dad, I Can't Let You Go eBook : Bing, Alina C.: Kindle Store

[theambitiouswoman]

Wealth Building: Money Topics You Should Learn About If You Want To Make More Money

Budgeting: This means keeping track of how much money you have and how you spend it. It helps you save money and plan for your needs.

Investing: This is like putting your money to work so it can grow over time. It's like planting seeds to grow a money tree.

Saving: Saving is when you put some money aside for later. It's like keeping some of your treats for another day.

Debt Management: This is about handling money you owe to others, like loans or credit cards. You want to pay it back without owing too much.

Credit Scores: Think of this like a report card for your money habits. It helps others decide if they can trust you with money.

Taxation: Taxes are like a fee you pay to the government. You need to understand how they work and how to pay them correctly.

Retirement Planning: This is making sure you have enough money to live comfortably when you're older and no longer working.

Estate Planning: This is like making a plan for your stuff and money after you're no longer here.

Insurance: It's like paying for protection. You give some money to an insurance company, and they help you if something bad happens.

Investment Options: These are different ways to make your money grow, like buying parts of companies or putting money in a savings account.

Financial Markets: These are places where people buy and sell things like stocks and bonds. It can affect your investments.

Risk Management: This is about being careful with your money and making smart choices to avoid losing it.

Passive Income: This is money you get without having to work for it, like rent from a property you own.

Entrepreneurship: It's like starting your own business. You create something and try to make money from it.

Behavioral Finance: This is about understanding how your feelings and thoughts can affect how you use money. You want to make good choices even when you feel worried or excited.

Financial Goals: These are like wishes for your money. You need a plan to make them come true.

Financial Tools and Apps: These are like helpers on your phone or computer that can make it easier to manage your money.

Real Estate: This is about buying and owning property, like a house or land, to make money.

Asset Protection: It's about keeping your money safe from problems or people who want to take it.

Philanthropy: This means giving money to help others, like donating to charities or causes you care about.

Compounding Interest: This is like a money snowball. When you save or invest your money, it can grow over time. As it grows, you earn even more money on the money you already earned.

Credit Cards: When you borrow money or use a credit card to buy things, you need to show you can pay it back on time. This helps you build a good reputation with money. The better your reputation, the easier it is to borrow more money when you need it.

Alternate Currencies: These are like different kinds of money that aren't like the coins and bills you're used to like Crypto. It's digital money that's not controlled by a government. Some people use it for online shopping, and others think of it as a way to invest, like buying special tokens for a game.

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to ?? | fame au p2 | p1 p3 p4 p5 interlude p6

The picture itself is not incriminating.

In the five years since Eddie’s wet dog apology they have been cordial to each other. Eddie seemed to have finally grown up. Finally got the hint. He doesn’t bug Steve after that night. He stays in his lane.

After a few years it’s a nod at a charity event. A half-smile at the town’s trendy new restaurant. A card when Steve gets an Emmy nod for his HBO series. Steve tries to not mind it. Tries to not let it get under his skin. He doesn’t send Eddie anything when he gets his Grammy.

LA is a small town. Eddie moved back once he finished his first tour. Steve does his best to keep his circle separate but LA is a small town. He nearly ends up at Eddie’s 30th after his coworker tries to drag him to some “rager in Loz Feliz.”

Sometimes, after another break up leaves him feeling shit-all, Steve drives past their dingy old place in West Hollywood. Tries to picture the version of the story where Eddie wasn’t eaten by his monster ego. Lets himself imagine them happy. Lets himself cry over it again. Like it happened yesterday instead of a decade ago.

But then he blinks and it’s been twelve years and yeah, maybe he hasn’t felt home like he did with Eddie, maybe no one else has fit him quite so right. But maybe he was just young and everything felt bigger then.

He feels weirdly at peace about it all. It’s not forgiveness, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to stomach that, but it is acceptance. It took a long time to scar but it's finally just a faded pink line. He’s happy.

And then the photo starts to circulate.

The picture itself is not incriminating.

It’s their old WeHo apartment. Eddie’s hopped on the grimy kitchen counter, acoustic guitar in hand. He’s smiling at Steve and Steve is leaned against the wall and he’s smiling back. And it’s Them. And Steve thinks they’ve never looked so young.

He doesn’t know who took the photo. Maybe Robin or Nancy or Jon. They visited a lot in that first year.

He doesn’t know how it ended up digitized, posted to a random pop culture subreddit.

What he does know is that he and Eddie have never publicly acknowledged each other.

The internet treats the picture like a cute little chachki in the first few days. A buzzpop factoid #67. It’s “Did you know Tommy Lee Jones and Al Gore were college roommates?”

But then news outlets were picking it up. And Eddie was halfway through promoting his third album.

They’re dead lucky the picture is not incriminating.

Steve’s still not technically out– he’s had quiet relationships with men but his team preferred a starlet on his arm at the carpets.

Eddie’s out the way a rockstar is. He’d fuck anything as long as it made him a pervert.

Their teams move fast.

The official story is that they’d both moved to LA to pursue their careers. They roomed together because they knew each other from their small town. Then Steve booked his show and Eddie moved to London and they lost touch.

Eddie repeats it on talk show after talk show. He lies and says they’re still friendly now, but their schedules keep them both so busy. They haven’t caught up in a while. He goes wistful when he says it. Steve tries not to feel downright bitter. It does quiet the chatter down.

In November, his manager tells him he’s presenting at the Golden Globes. The studio had asked him specifically, still under contract to promote their animated movie. He agrees cause he needs eyes on the tiny indie he'd finally gotten made.

In December, he finds out who he’s presenting with.

Steve throws a fit. It’s uncharacteristic. It’s not at all in line with the nice-guy persona he’s spent years cultivating. But they’ve managed to get this far without him actually having to talk to the guy. He doesn’t ever want to have to talk to Eddie Munson again.

His manager lures him off the ledge. It’s too late to change the line-up. He's put in years of work to get his movie made. She reminds him that it’s Hollywood. Everyone has to deal with this shit. Not worth blowing it all up because he can’t handle 30 minutes with his ex.

So Steve plays nice but Eddie skips out on rehearsal. Of fucking course. Twelve years and he’s still so predictable.

Steve reads the teleprompter next to a random PA and decides then and there to say Fuck Healing. He did that. And now he’s being punished. Again. He’s fucking pissed.

He’s pissed that the photo got out. He’s pissed at whoever leaked it. He’s pissed enough to convince himself it was Eddie. He’s pissed Eddie’s shouldering his way back into his life even if it wasn’t him.

And yeah, he’s still fucking pissed that Eddie left in the first place.

Steve first sees him on the carpet. It’s from a distance, and he’s determined to keep it that way for as long as possible. He wishes Eddie dashed for the real thing too, but he knows his ego couldn’t take the blow. Eddie Munson loves attention too much.

Eddie looks great, cause he’s a celebrity & it’s a 10-person job to make him look great.

Eddie looks great cause he’s always looked great. Even when his hair was all frizz and his hygiene habits were questionable at best. And Steve hates him but his dick has never gotten the memo.

Steve deals with it by drinking a lot. It’s the Globes! He sits at his table and smiles and they give him alcohol and he drinks it. It’s stupid and it’s reckless and it’s the only thing that’s gonna get him through this torture. So he picks at his ugly velvet suit and he drinks.

The wranglers grab them 20 minutes before they’re set to present. It’s earlier than usual but Munson’s been known to dash.

They’re sitting on opposite couches in the green room. Eddie’s vibrating. Leg jittering nonstop. Steve’s starting to feel woozy. They’re not talking.

After five minutes, Eddie clicks his tongue and gets up. “Gonna take a leak.” His wrangler starts after him. “Follow me and I cut off your dick.”

Steve looks at the kid, weighing tearily whether his job was more important than his penis, “I’ll- I'll make sure he’s back on time.”

Steve stumbles riled down the hall, opens the door with a slam, “You leak the photo, Munson?”

Eddie’s already washing his hands. Steve catches his reflection in the mirror. He looks weirdly hurt.

“Steve,” Eddie says his name so... sad, “C’mon, man. I- I wouldn’t do that.”

Steve laughs cold, puts his hands in his suit pockets. “Sure, yeah, man. You’d just disappear for seven years. Come back with some horseshit apology because you finally got what you wanted. Cause your ego could finally handle being around me. But sure. You wouldn’t do that.”

Eddie steps back into the wall, looks at Steve with those watery brown eyes. They’re framed by crows feet now. “Steve, I–”

Steve boxes him in, makes it so he can’t slip away this time, “You know there was a week there where I thought you'd fucking died.”

He feels like a live wire. He feels every awful thing he’s felt for a dozen years bubble to the surface.

“Mike Wheeler told me where you went. Mike. Wheeler. I thought you were dead in a ditch, you asshole. Thought I’d lost you forever. But no. You just skipped town– Skipped town because I loved you and you fucking hated me.”

He doesn’t know when grabbed a fist into Eddie’s shirt. He wants to tear it. It’s probably insured.

“Stevie,” Eddie’s blubbering. Their faces are close enough that Steve can see his lip quivering. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Now Steve really wants to laugh. Baby. It’s such garbage. Total bullshit.

“I wish you’d died. It would’ve hurt less.” He says it dry, with his big wide movie-star smile. Then he spits, bullseye on Eddie’s cheek, “I fucking hate you.”

It’s so strange to see Eddie up close after all this time. He’s blurry in the memories but so vivid here, so harsh. Makeup cracking into nicotine wrinkles. Different. A mask of the person Steve knew.

He breathes, “I know.”

----

Eddie's tongue still tastes the same.

[reveryfics]

Tony Stark request,

Him and rival male reader? Similar childhood situations, but reader owns a significantly "larger" company/corp.

I love the idea that reader is a (one of the only) Shield funders, so Tony has to be decent.

Power/ability wise, reader either has none (like how Tony just has his suits), or maybe readers father was a major Shield funder, so reader is an enhanced?

If anything specific, this is based off an OC of mine. "Lockjaw". Imagine Cable (x-men), but some rich guy. That's him.

Rival's Gambit

Tony Stark x Male Reader

Summary: Tony gets invited to his rivals latest launch party.

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long, I was trying to think of how exactly to write this.

TW: None?

The invitation arrived on thick, embossed card stock, a stark contrast to Tony's usual digital notifications. It was for the launch party of his supposed "rival," a tech magnate whose name had been plastered across every tech blog and business magazine for the past year. The event promised to unveil a revolutionary advancement, something that, according to the hype, would "redefine the future." Tony scoffed, but a nagging curiosity, coupled with Pepper's subtle encouragement and the tabloid buzz speculating on his attendance, finally nudged him towards a reluctant "yes."

The party was a spectacle of excess, a dizzying display of wealth and technological prowess that dwarfed even Tony's most extravagant events. The venue, a newly constructed skyscraper, boasted holographic displays that shifted and morphed, creating an immersive, if slightly overwhelming, experience. Tony, despite his initial reluctance, played the part of the charming billionaire, offering witty banter and forced smiles to the endless stream of attendees and press who approached him. He felt like a caged animal, every word scrutinized, every gesture interpreted.

He spotted you across the room, a figure of quiet composure amidst the chaos. You gracefully excused yourself from a conversation, your movements fluid and deliberate, and made your way towards him.

"Glad you could make it, Tony," you said, a genuine smile gracing your lips. You tilted your wine glass slightly, the ruby liquid catching the light.

"Wouldn't miss it," Tony replied, his smile a practiced, albeit strained, expression. He was acutely aware of the undercurrent of tension, the unspoken rivalry that the media had so gleefully amplified.

After a few more obligatory rounds of mingling, you managed to corner Tony, just as he was contemplating a strategic retreat. "I'd like to show you something," you said, your voice low and inviting. "In my lab."

Tony hesitated. The idea of venturing into your personal space, a space where you presumably developed the very technology he was supposed to be competing against, was both intriguing and unsettling. But the glint in your eyes, a mixture of challenge and something else he couldn't quite decipher, piqued his interest. And, of course, he was fully aware that the ever-present paparazzi were capturing every moment, a fact that added a layer of theatricality to the encounter.

Your lab was a stark contrast to the opulent party venue. It was a space of focused energy, filled with the hum of machinery and the glow of holographic displays. Tony's eyes widened as he spotted a familiar suit, or rather, the skeletal framework of one, in various stages of completion. It was unmistakably an intriguing design, but with subtle, yet significant, modifications.

You leaned against a workbench, gesturing towards your latest suit. "Unlike you, Tony," you said, a hint of amusement in your voice, "I prefer to keep my identity a secret."

Tony chuckled. "So, you're 'Lockjaw'?" he asked, referring to the enigmatic vigilante that had been making headlines, their identity shrouded in mystery. "Never would've guessed."

The conversation flowed easily, surprisingly so. You discussed your design philosophy, your approach to technology, and your motivations. Tony found himself drawn into the conversation, realizing that beneath the facade of rivalry, you shared a fundamental passion for innovation. As the conversation deepened, you both shared stories of your childhoods, revealing a surprising amount of similarities, a shared experience of being precocious and driven, of seeing the world in a different way.

Eventually, Tony leaned against the desk next to you, a genuine smile replacing the forced one. "You know," he admitted, "I was wrong about you."

You laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "That must have been difficult for a man like you to admit."

A moment of comfortable silence settled between you. Then, you spoke, your voice soft but firm. "Tony, I've been thinking... would you consider working with me?" You paused, your gaze meeting his. "I believe we could do something great together."

Tony's eyebrows rose. He considered the offer, weighing the potential benefits and the inevitable media frenzy. "I'll think about it," he said, a playful grin spreading across his face. "But I'd like to discuss it over dinner."

"Tony Stark asking me on a date?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Tony shrugged, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Got to keep the press on their toes, don't we?"

[district11crm]

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[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Products & Services Worth The Splurge

Fashion:

A great couple of bras in black/nude (your best skin-toned shade)

Comfortable, breathable, and seamless underwear

Outerwear (Coats, jackets, blazers)

The perfect pair of jeans

An LBD that works from day to night

Comfortable, sturdy, sleek, and timeless footwear (a versatile black boot, a black heel, white sneaker, and a black flat/loafer/sandal)

A timeless and versatile crossbody or shoulder bag (a larger one for the daytime/work or school and a smaller one for nighttime/events)

One or two well-made classic jewelry item(s)

A conversation-starting item or accessory

Beauty:

Sunscreen

Any skincare/skin cosmetic products that are game-changers for you

A quality hair brush, comb, and hair towel

Your signature scent

A quality razor/hair removal product

Vitamin C/Retinol serums

Reliable hair tools and sturdy nail tools

A quality hair heat protectant/scalp cleansing or conditioning spray

Makeup brushes and beauty tool cleaners

Home:

Lamps/lighting

Couch/desk chair

Everything for your bed: Bed frame, mattress/sheets/pillows, etc.

Knives

Dishwasher-safe and microwave-safe dishes & cups you love

A full-length mirror

Vacuum

Storage solutions/cedar blocks or moth balls

Quality holders for everything: Paper towels, shower storage, hooks, mailbox/key bowls

Name brand paper products/household cleaners

Electric toothbrush & Waterpik

Sound-proof headphones/Airpods

MacBook Air

Health & Wellness:

High-quality lettuce and/or sprouts

Organic frozen fruits and vegetables (if fresh is too pricey)

BPA-free canned goods

Potassium bromate & glyphosate-free grain products

Snacks free of artificial colors

Quality coffee

An at-home massage tool/heating pad

Fur products for skin/hair removal

Vitamin C/Retinol serums

Quality running shoes

Anything that goes near your vulva or into the vagina: Sex toys, lube, condoms, toy cleaners, pads/tampons/menstrual cups, cleansing wipes, etc.

A yoga mat, resistance band, and a pair of small ankle weights

Spotify subscription

Books and audiobooks

Services:

Therapy

A top-tier haircut

House cleaning (even if it's only once every couple of months)

Top-tier hair removal/brow maintenance services of your choice

Best doctors, dentists, OB/GYN, and dermatologists you can get

At least one personal training/styling session in your life

Professional/Social:

Ownership of the domain for your full legal/professional name and/or business name

A CPA/bookkeeper/fiduciary financial advisor

Automation workflow/content management system software

A lawyer for contract review/LLC services

Personalized stationery/"Thank You" cards

Memorable client gifting for the holidays/milestone successes

Niche skill-based certifications (Google, AWS, Hubspot, etc.) or courses made by trusted professionals in your field

Subscriptions in world-leading and industry-authority digital publications

[the-spam-specialist]

Fluff? Pomni and Caine fluff you say? Well I have some options!

Pomni is usually the one to ask Caine for a hug, but what if Caine really wants one so he's giving the biggest puppy dog eyes he can like "please? please ask? please ask now?" Hugging ensues.

Or

2. Caine has all of the suggestion cards out again as he thinks over what should be the adventure tomorrow. Pomni sits in on the side and the two brainstorm together.

choose wisely.

Ayo hold up, I've been holding onto a Caine puppy-eyes scenario for a hot minute. Now I finally get to use it!

He's Certainly Persistent

Caine is feeling affectionate and wants a hug from his good friend and favorite jester, Pomni! But she's too busy reading. Guess it was time to break out the big guns!

Characters: Caine, Pomni

Word Count: 500-ish

The digital circus lounge was, surprisingly, quite cozy today. Sunlight, or what passed for it in this strange digital realm, streamed through the nonexistent windows, casting warm, if slightly pixelated, light across the plushy, mismatched furniture. Pomni, perched on an overstuffed armchair that seemed to swallow her whole, was attempting to read a book. Attempting being the operative word, because Caine was currently hovering a few feet away, his denture-head tilted at an unnerving angle.

“Pomni,” Caine said, his voice bubbling with his usual boundless enthusiasm. “Pomni, Pomni, Pomni!”

Pomni kept her eyes firmly glued to the page, though the words were blurring into meaningless shapes. “Yes, Caine?” she asked, trying to inject a sense of nonchalance into her tone that she definitely did not feel. It was hard to be nonchalant when a pair of large, cartoonish eyes were intensely staring at you.

“Hug?” Caine chirped, holding out his arms in an imploring gesture. His eyeballs, already large, seemed to widen further.

Pomni offered a small smile of pity. “Caine,” she sighed, lowering her book slightly. “Not now, okay? I’m trying to read.”

Caine didn’t seem to register the ‘not now’ part. He just locked onto the ‘hug’ part of his request. His upper jaw, surprisingly mobile, seemed to droop slightly in what Pomni could only interpret as sad puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeeease, Pomni? A nice, big, friendly hug?”

Pomni snorted, a laugh bubbling up despite herself. “Stop looking at me like that! You’re…you’re all eyeballs!”

If anything, Caine seemed to take this as encouragement. His eyes dilated even wider, becoming comically large. He blinked slowly, deliberately, the epitome of digital puppy-dog eyes. Pomni turned away, trying to refocus on her book, but it was no use. She could practically feel his gaze boring into the side of her head.

Caine then floated to the other side of her armchair, positioning himself squarely in her line of sight, those gigantic eyes unwavering. She huffed and looked away again. Undeterred, Caine zipped to the front of her chair, bobbing slightly.

Pomni was forced to look at those puppy eyes again. She hated how she could actually feel herself wavering. She tried to swat him away, “Stoooop.”

But Caine was on a mission. He kept flitting around, always managing to be right where she looked, those ridiculous eyes pleading for affection. Finally, on an impulse, Pomni reached out and, with a swift motion, clamped Caine's jaws shut, effectively shutting his mouth and obscuring his eyes behind his teeth.

There was a moment of muffled silence. Then, a disconcerting gritting sound echoed through the lounge as Caine’s eyes clipped right through his head and continued staring at Pomni.

Pomni stared, then burst out laughing. Uncontrollable, giggling laughter that shook her whole body. “Okay, okay! You win!”

She opened her arms, offering him the hug he so desperately craved. Caine squealed with delight, a noise that was surprisingly high-pitched coming from the AI, and launched himself into her embrace. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, letting out a little hum of contentment. 

“Thank you, Pomni!” he mumbled into her shoulder, his voice muffled but genuinely happy.

Pomni hugged him back, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. He might be a chaotic, sometimes unsettling, AI ringmaster with questionable memory functions and a head made of dentures, but he was also her friend. And sometimes, a hug from a friend, even a very…unique friend, was exactly what you needed in this digital world. 

[underhousearrestblog]

Lost In Translation | Pedro Pascal

(summary) a drunk confession makes things weird between you and Pedro

(warnings) an age gap (oh the horror)

(pairings) Pedro Pascal x reader

(genre/ tropes) angst, lemon-y fluff, miscommunication, mutual pining, friends to lovers

(word count) 7.7k

(also) Pedro’s point of view (of sorts) is in Italics

(also) minors, scram (I’m kidding. Kinda. I was reading these types of things when I was twelve. I’m not the one to advise anything. Just, please, don’t interact. Better for my conscience and your digital footprint.)

(also) damn – I’m actually doing something here now... a step up from my usual one-post-per-six-months activity...

HAPPY READING!

Things around you blurred, people’s faces were distorted and music was giving you a headache. You lost count how many drinks you had about an hour ago and now you were regretting having any.

Your friends – who were more work acquaintances than friends – had ditched you, you had no car that you wouldn’t be able to operate in this condition anyway and not enough money to call a cab. All you had were a very revealing dress with a deep cut up your right thigh and a phone with around twenty percent charge left.

You stepped outside. Evening air did some but still not enough good for you to feel confident enough to walk those two and a half kilometers to your apartment building. Especially not in these knee-high boots. You would probably end up murdered. Or murdering yourself by accidentally stepping in front of a car. Either way, in a ditch.

You checked over you contacts for anyone who would pick up a phone and pick you up at the club at this ungodly hour. Since you had moved, most of your contacts were pretty much useless for this type of shit.

You pulled out your wallet. There were several business cards that you had gotten since you had started to work as a PR manager for The Last Of Us production team. Your eyes scanned over some of the names. Nico Parker. You weren’t sure she even got her license yet. Bella Ramsey. You knew for a fact she didn’t have a car.

Pedro Pascal.

Shit.

Well, from a purely objective stance, he was the best choice. He could pick you up and he didn’t give creepy vibes so technically you should be fine.

The problem was – he probably didn’t even know who you were. You had been on, like, two lunches with him with purely professional intentions. There had been more people from both the cast and the PR team and, even though you had spoken to him one-on-one multiple times, he had these types of conversations every day.

Worst he could do was say no.

To be fair, he could theoretically also cuss you out.

Or look at an unknown number and not even pick up.

Before you let your mind talk itself out of it, your fingers typed in his number and called.

It was quite chilly, now that you were out in dark alley with only your stripper dress on. It was pretty but god was it doing a shit job at keeping you warm.

The phone was calling and after the very first ring, you started to doubt yourself.

Maybe it would be less embarrassing if you just called your boss? Sure, she would know you indulged in an occasional living of your life but she was a woman and maybe would be more sympathetic than most of the men you worked with...

Two-

- Y/N? – unprepared for Pedro to actually pick up, you startled.

Your brain was foggy from all the alcohol and your body was still trying to decipher the sudden temperature drop so it took you several seconds to even put words together.

- Hey, are you alright? – it was actually him.

He really picked up at a quarter to midnight.

How did he know who was calling?

- Hey, Pedro, - up until this point you had used the formal “Mr. Pascal” just like everybody in your team but now it would feel weird. – So I have a bit of a... situation?

What was the term for getting drunk and placing all your trust in people that you had met two weeks ago?

- Are you alright? – he sounded worried. – Where are you?

Not wanting to appear nervous yourself, you tried to put on a smile, hoping it would make your voice sound lighter and careless.

- I’m at the... – you looked over your shoulder at the sign in front of the club, - Sensual Vibes, - you cringed at the name.

He definitely thinks you’re at a strip club.

- It’s a bar downtown. And I’m kinda drunk and I don’t really have any money, and my asshole friends left, and I’m also kinda col-

- Do you need me to pick you up? – he didn’t sound mad.

If anything – he sounded almost careful. As if he didn’t want to push any boundaries by insisting.

You were silent for a second.

Why was it so hard for you to ask for help when it was clear you desperately needed it?

Fucking pride.

You can cringe in shame tomorrow when you haven’t been murdered trying to walk home drunk...

- Yeah, - you said quietly before adding, - but it’s totally fine if you can’t. I’m sure two kilometers of walking will be fine if I can get off these stripper shoes-

- I’ll be there in twenty, - he said in a voice that left no arguments. – Go back inside. I’ll come in and get you.

- Who was that? – Oscar asked, stuffing the leftover pizza back into the box.

- Y/N, - Pedro put away his phone and went to get his car keys.

- Y/N? Who the fuc-

His hand stopped halfway to close the lid.

- Oh shit, - Oscar laughed, turning towards his friend. – Is that the girl from the PR team? It’s that Y/N?

Pedro didn’t answer and went to get his jacket. Oscar, in true friend fashion, followed him into the hallway, while teasing:

- Is that the same girl who still calls you Mr. Pascal even though you corrected her, like, thousand times?

Pedro just rolled his eyes.

This wasn’t exactly new. Oscar had never really met you – at least, in person – though there was abundance of information regarding you given by his friend every time Pedro had a drop of alcohol in his system.

- You know, if you weren’t so famous, I’d think she actually didn’t even know your first name by how much she uses the surname... – Oscar went back to pick up the leftover pizza, before turning back and looking at his friend suspiciously. – Are you sure she meant to call you? I mean, if she called you by your name, the call might have been meant for another Pedro. All I’m saying is-

Pedro threw him a dark look and turned to leave. Could that be true? You never really called him by his name and he was almost one hundred percent sure you didn’t even have his number...

- Lock up before you leave, - Pedro murmured before opening the door.

You were drunk and alone so, either way, you’ll have to make peace with it.

Once Pedro had ended the call, all you could do was blankly stare at the screen. To be fair, you were very intoxicated so... could you had hallucinated this whole conversation?

Either way – waiting inside was probably the best choice here...

You dropped down on a sofa in the foyer. You felt a headache coming on.

God, this is gonna be embarrassing...

After fifteen minutes of waiting and contemplating about leaving on your own, a hand lightly touched your shoulder, making you startle yet again. You had been way too focused on a painting on the wall to notice anybody approaching.

- Pedro? – your eyebrows shot up as if you were surprised that the person who you had called had actually shown up.

- Were you waiting for someone else? – there was a note in his voice you couldn’t quite decipher and your foggy mind refused to cooperate.

- N-no, - you stammered out. – I just wasn’t sure you would actually show up...

Now was his turn to look surprised. He opened his mouth to say something but, when you lightly swayed on your feet, he quickly put an arm around your shoulders to steady you.

When he lightly pressed his palm on the skin between your shoulder blades, a small shiver ran through your body, making you look up at him. He had probably seen or feel you shiver and had interpreted that as you being cold which was technically true. He pulled off his jacket that looked way too big for you.

You were by no means model-thin but the jacket was oversized on him so it looked like it would end up around your knees.

You shook your head.

- I’m not taking your jacket after you drove all this w-

- Don’t argue, - was all he said before lifting your arm, pulling the sleeve over it and then repeating the same on the other side. – And it’s still longer than that pretty thing you call a dress, - his eyes ran over your half-naked body.

Not in a leering way. But he did gulp when his eyes touched on the slit across your thigh.

Great, there’s no getting this out of memory, he chastised himself for enjoying and savoring you while you were very clearly drunk.

Shit, he’s probably uncomfortable, was all you could think about.

His car was pleasantly warm. You managed to climb in on your own but when it came to the seatbelt, you fingers still lacked focus and were stiff. After two unsuccessful attempts at connecting the two parts, Pedro gently peeled your fingers from the belt, reached over and buckled you in himself.

Before he could step back, you placed your hand on his bicep to stop him. The touch itself was innocent enough but you felt your skin lightly tingling as if you had touched a wire with low charge.

Pedro’s eyes followed you to where your skin had touched his. All he could do was stare at your fingers around his arm.

- Shit, sorry, - you decided he was probably uncomfortable and withdrew your hand, - sorry, I didn’t mean-

- It’s fine-

- I just wanted to say thank you, - your gaze held his. – I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.

There was something intoxicating in doing favors for you. He would’ve driven to pick up any of the women he knew if they were drunk and alone but your trust in him made him a bit delirious.

He wanted you to call him if you ever needed to get home drunk but he also wanted to drive you to a meaningless appointment and pick you up after work.

- It’s fine, - he swallowed before stepping back. – You’re welcome.

He could hear Oscar’s teasing voice in his head, telling him how absurdly romantic it was for him to simp after a girl who probably read his number off a business card when hers had been cataloged in his phone since day one. He probably could recall it from memory at this point.

Pedro closed the door on your side and walked around to get into the driver’s seat. He tried to take in some of the chilling evening air before getting in.

- ... and my friend said just go up to him and ask him out, - he heard you say once he got in, - but every time I looked at his pretty face I chicked out... – you hiccuped, - chic... chickened out! And then-

Your words were slurred and half-coherent.

Pedro started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and then threw a glance at you.

- Who were you trying to ask out?

- I wasn’t trying... And he wouldn’t come anyway...

Alcohol had made you braver and in a stupid attempt to rip your own band-aid off, you turned towards Pedro and whispered in an almost broken voice:

- Would you go on a date with me?

You needed his answer. Tomorrow was gonna be shameful but you could, at least, write this off as a drunken mistake. You had finally done it, you had finally gathered all your courage and taken a step-

But it was the way you had said it. With the accent on the word ‘you’. All Pedro heard was your confession about liking another man and how busy he was, and now you looked at him with glossy eyes and it made him wonder if this stupid man you were talking about had said something to make you insecure. You had just confessed about your crush and needed confirmation that other men – smarter men – would still date you.

But knowing that you trusted him enough to take you home drunk, he knew he couldn’t just confess about wanting you for himself. That was a dick move used by every false male friend around the world.

- I... – you watched his throat work, as he was putting words together, then he ripped his gaze away from where you sat in his car, in his jacket, for the first time ever giving him your undivided attention. – I think you’re amazing and any man would be lu-

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. His figure got distorted through the rapidly increasing moisture.

You are amazing.

Any man would be lucky to date you.

Not me though.

Last one wasn’t said out loud but, in your defense, it was usually never spelled out when a person was rejecting someone.

This was a rejection speech.

He was giving you a rejection speech!

You lifted your hand to silence him. He immediately did and you looked out through the window on your side.

- Please, don’t, - your voice broke at the end. – I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

It was said and done.

You had asked and he had rejected you. Work’s gonna be a bitch but PR, thankfully, was a team effort so you could probably take meetings with another member of the cast and make one of your colleague meet with Pedro. Eventually, your stupid little feelings would stop hurting and you would move on.

Eventually.

Until then you probably should avoid Pedro every chance you got.

It was said and done.

Even drunk, you had realized his incurable crush on you and in a very “I’m well-versed in public relations” manner had put an end to his confession. What was it that you had said? I respect you way too much...

Respect you way too much to outright say “no”.

You had a crush on a man you worked with. Probably someone your age. Probably someone who’s life wasn’t constantly dissected on every media platform.

You were a real pretty girl so even if you never gathered the courage to take the first step, that man you talked about would probably do it for you. He would be stupid not to.

Which meant that at some point you would be seen on set, laughing and kissing some other man who probably had no idea for how long you had lusted after him. And Pedro knew that if your crush forgot what he’s got, he would be way too tempted to teach him a lesson or two about not throwing away life’s biggest treasures.

Maybe even way too tempted to put the fear of god into that man. To threaten to never dare to break your pretty little heart.

But you had good taste in most things. And the man you were talking about asking out was probably good. More than good. He probably was respectful in public and would make you scream his name in private. Buy you a nice dress and later rip it off your body. Pick you up to take you places and then wait patiently for you to come back to him.

You deserved the best. And you were probably way too good for that boy you liked. Granted, Pedro thought you were way too good for basically everyone, including himself, but he also wasn’t one of those men that would pass on an amazing woman all because “she’s too good for him”.

Nah. He knew he would greedily accept your love and lust if only you offered. He might have thought you were too good for him but he also knew there were many things he could provide for you. He was successful, had money, a stable job, he was mature and wouldn’t play any games. Besides, he was damn near sure he loved you and even with you reciprocating just half of that love and affection, it still would be perfect.

- What’s your add-

Once he looked over to where you were watching him just a minute ago, Pedro found you fast asleep with your head pressed against the window. His jacket, way too big for you, had fallen down your shoulder, revealing that distractingly little napkin you bravely called a dress.

Shit.

This was definitely not good.

If he had to bring you back to his home, he knew he would see ghosts of you every time he stepped inside his own house. And that would be bad. Right now you were already everywhere at work, he couldn’t afford to let you make yourself at home in his private space too. Damage would take months to undo.

He contemplated waking you up but even then there would be no guarantee that you would even remember where you lived in this condition.

Pedro started driving towards his own home slower than necessary, hoping you would wake up at some point and give him your address.

All he could hope for was that Oscar had already left because, otherwise, Pedro would never hear the end of this...

Shitshitshit.

Your head was hurting even before you opened your eyes. That was never a good thing. Once you did, you were met with a semi-dark room that was vaguely lit by a small lamp left on on the nightstand.

Where the fuck where you?

This looked way too homey to be a hotel and way too impersonal to be someone’s bedroom. You lifted the thick blanket that was draped over you to check out if you weren’t missing any clothes. Or some more important things, like body parts.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion when you were met with the same light blue dress you had worn at the club with just more wrinkles in it now. All you were missing where the boots that you saw placed by the bed.

You checked the small alarm clock on the nightstand.

5:06 AM.

It was early.

On a day off, you probably wouldn’t have woken up this early but your body had most likely dealt with the alcohol in your system and had woken up naturally once you had sobered up.

Then you noticed the small note placed next to the clock.

I’m not sure how much you remember but I picked you up from a club. You didn’t give me an address before passing out, so I brought you home with me. You’re in my guest bedroom. I’m in the one down the hall. I got you some aspirin and water. And some clothes.

Pedro.

There was something else written on the paper but it was scribbled out. You lifted the note and placed it before the small lamp, letting the light shine through.

Cute dress.

You smiled, however that smile lasted for exactly one second before you remembered the conversation in the car. You had asked Pedro on a date. He had given you the “there’s more fish in the sea” speech.

God.

You had excused your bravery with “you can live today and be embarrassed tomorrow” but now, when tomorrow was finally here, you weren’t sure it was actually worth it.

Thank god you didn’t work closely with Pedro because this would be ten times more awkward if you were an actress.

You quickly changed into the clothes Pedro had left for you. It was a white t-shirt with something spelled in a foreign language you didn’t understand. The shirt reached down to your knees and covered more than your dress had. You could technically leave in just the t-shirt but your sudden sobriety would probably result in you freezing to death so you decided to wear sweatpants as well. You rolled up the ends of the pants that were too long, threw a glance in the mirror and decided that you looked presentable enough.

Once you left the guest room with the dress still in your hand, you tried to find out if Pedro had already woken up. It seemed unlikely. It was very early.

And that seemed to be the truth, as none of the lights were on in neither the kitchen nor the living room. Or in the hallway.

Thank god the key was still in the door and you didn’t have to wake him up to unlock the door. You carefully tiptoed through the hallway and sneaked out through the front door, leaving nothing but a vague scent of your perfume and a note on the living room table.

Thank you. Truly. You have no idea how grateful I am. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

That’s exactly how Pedro found your note three hours later when he woke up. Note had no name. Apparently, you didn’t assume he rescued women every night and didn’t think he would mix you up with someone else.

As if he ever could.

He was quite grateful to have missed you, in case you remembered how he had come onto you in the car. He didn’t want a pitying glance and you saying sorry, as if you had anything to be sorry about.

Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

Pedro let out a bitter laugh. That’s what you sign at the bottom of a work email, in hopes the recipient never truly reaches out for anything. You just felt like you owed him.

three weeks later

Pedro felt somebody brush a makeup brush over his temple to add some last touches before the filming started. People were running around, adding and taking down some props. Camera crew were doing some last check-ups. And in what Pedro thought was a torturosly ironic touch to an already important scene that caused some nerves to resurface, you were there.

In fairness, you weren’t here on your own and by your own wish. Some people of the PR and social media management teams were here, hoping to take some photos of behind the scenes for marketing.

And they were all pretty irrelevant because his eyes didn’t leave you for one second.

Pedro, Bella and some of the others were placed good ten meters from where you were standing by the door of the room that seemed to shrink every second. You were either unaware of his intense gaze or simply ignored it.

Pedro didn’t know which one would piss him off more.

There weren’t many things that didn’t irritate him these days. Oscar had started to call it Y/N withdrawal. As if he was an addict. A junkie who’s been cut off from his favorite drug of choice.

At first, Pedro was understanding. You probably felt weird you had clocked him liking you and wanted space. Fine. He would be an asshole not to give you space. Then he called you but the call always went to voicemail. On week two he had the first PR dinner since ‘the incident’ and when you didn’t show and had sent one of your assistants in your place, it only soured Pedro’s mood. The assistant had lied about you not feeling well but when you were still nowhere to be seen on the next meeting – and the next – he knew it was an excuse.

You were making excuses.

Week three took the crown when at one of the advertisement meetings that was mandatory for all cast and production team members, you had apparently ‘had a doctor’s appointment’.

Now he was pissed at the whole world and especially himself for fucking this up. You were a smart girl and he should’ve expected you to put two and two together that night. And, in addition, he was just a tiny bit pissed at you for not giving him a chance to apologize.

When you excused yourself and went into the kitchen, Pedro quickly stood up.

- Sorry, - he murmured to the makeup artist. – I’ll be right back.

Filming was set to start in ten minutes.

That was all he needed to say the things that needed to be said.

You were facing the open fridge when Pedro walked in. You read something that was written on the side of what looked like a protein shake.

You looked good. There were no signs of tiredness in your eyes. No sluggish movements. No yawning.

That was good, Pedro tried to tell himself.

Would it hurt for you to be a little affected that he was absent from your life for three whole weeks?

Then his eyes caught a thin bracelet around your wrist. It was shiny and had a minimalistic heart charm on it.

Pedro recalled Oscar once mentioning getting something similar to his wife because “the only time women wear heart jewelry is if it’s gifted by a man who’s interested”.

It was quite a big assumption that the bracelet was, one, a gift, two, from a man, and three, that it was the same moron you wanted to date. And yet it only fueled Pedro’s irrational jealousy and anger.

He let go of the door and it fell shut with a loud bang.

You jumped.

- It’s really unprofessional, you know, - Pedro accused. – This behavior of yours lately.

It only took a second for you to go from a startled look to a glare. You put the drink back in the fridge and shut the door. Loudly.

How matching.

- Excuse you? – you pushed back.

- I get that you’re avoiding me and that’s fine but you also have a job to do, - he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. – You’ve missed several PR meetings and allowed your underage intern to replace you.

You chuckled under your breath and looked away.

So that’s what this was about...

- So you feel a bit neglected because an intern – highly skilled, might I add, - was attending a few of the meetings? Is he not good enough for you?

Pedro looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

- I don’t care if he’s as useless as a toddler – don’t change the subject!

You blew away a strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

God you looked hot angry.

When you tried to side-step him and leave, Pedro followed your movements until his back hit the door, leaving you without an escape. He leaned against it, wrapped his right palm around his left wrist and looked down at you.

- You’re avoiding me, - he was glaring at you.

You glared back.

- No shit.

Pedro had expected more resistance. Or more excuses. He definitely expected you to look at him with a confused stare and say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’. Now that you had done none of that, it felt a bit weird to “confront” you because you had had every right to avoid him.

- I’m just making sure you don’t get a write-up for skipping work, - even though the words were genuine, the tone was rude and you recoiled.

You looked up at him as if he’d slapped you.

- Are you threatening to snitch on me for skipping few meetings?

His eyes widened.

Shit.

- That’s not wh-

- Fuck you.

Now he looked like you had slapped him.

This was going downhill and fast. He had never accused anybody of bad work ethics and you had never cursed at someone for essentially doing nothing wrong, really.

You had spent three weeks, trying to soothe your ego. But rejection still stung. And, for the first time in your life, your personal feelings had affected your professional life. There was no excuse for that.

So you exhaled, counted to ten, got to five and decided to push your emotions down. You didn’t actually believe that Pedro would ever attempt anything to harm your career but he was still a big star and, would somebody come across this very unprofessional conversation, your future job opportunities might be in jeopardy.

- Listen, I’m sorry, okay? – you said, then quickly added. – For missing those meetings.

You didn’t want to voice that you were also apologizing for taking rejection badly.

Even though, you were.

- Won’t happen again.

His eyes softened.

- I’m sorry too, okay? – he lifted his hand to place it on your shoulder or upper arm but decided against it in the last second and let it fall back against his side.

You laughed. Genuinely.

- What are you sorry for?

- For what I said in the car, - he explained.

Your eyes returned to the startled expression that they were in when he first came in. You had wanted to avoid that night but he had brought it up voluntarily. He could see your prey-like expression and shook his head:

- I didn’t mean... – he got quiet for a second. – That would be a lie. I did mean it. But I think I could’ve worded it better. Maybe. Or explained it to you when you were sober...

I didn’t mean... That would be a lie. I did mean it.

His words, even though soft and placating, still grazed your heart like a knife.

You could respect him for not leading you on.

Leading someone on was still worse than letting somebody down gently.

Be a big girl and accept defeat like a champ, you motivated yourself.

- That’s fine. It didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t mean anything.

You had realized he liked you, damn near loved you, and it didn’t mean anything.

His love meant nothing.

Pedro swallowed and nodded. When you gestured towards the door that he was still blocking, he stepped aside, letting you leave.

- Did you feel harassed by me? – he asked before you left.

You laughed. But when you realized he was dead-ass serious, your smile fell.

- What?

- In my car. That night. Did you feel harassed by me?

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Even though it was absurd for him to ask this, you felt warmth engulf your heart.

He’s making sure you didn’t feel unsafe with him...

God.

He’s gonna make a great partner to someone someday...

- God no, - you grinned, trying to put him at ease.

- You sure? – he asked.

- Of course, - you gave him a bittersweet smile. – How could I have felt harassed? Nothing happened.

Nothing happened, as in, I asked you out and you turned me down, simple as that.

Nothing happened, as in, you figured I liked you and that realization meant nothing, I still mean nothing to you.

When week four rolled in, things had went back to normal. The weird kind of normal. The professional kind of normal. You were present in all PR meetings you needed to attend, Pedro went out of his way to treat you like a friend.

He had started bringing these weird mini cupcakes from around where he was living. Every meeting, he would show up and give them out to all, usually five or six, attending persons. He would never skip you, giving you exactly the same amount of pleasantries, sweets and eye contact as to every other person from the cast and PR teams. It was as if he had timed your interactions to make sure you felt identical to everybody else here.

You translated his actions as he’s making sure to drive home the point of “I treat everybody like this, don’t make this weird, you’re not special in that sense”.

He translated his actions as making sure you saw that even after you rejected him, he still wouldn’t be passive-aggressive towards you and wouldn’t exclude you from anything.

“Don’t make things weird” had become a motto for both of you, at this point. This was exactly why Pedro had advised Oscar to also invite you to the party he was throwing in honor of ending the shooting of one of Oscar’s movies. Even though Pedro knew you would show up all dolled up and, most likely, with a plus one, as suggested the invitation.

And “don’t make things weird” was exactly why you had accepted, even though the last time you had attended a formal function, it had ended with you at a club and with no ride or money.

You had showed up in a black sleeveless dress that reached your knees. Pedro had had exactly one drink and he was using the hell out of it as an excuse why he couldn’t – and wouldn’t – take his eyes off you. The dress was simple and maybe exactly because of that your own beauty shone through more than usual when there was nothing to distract people from it.

Then you turned towards the small home bar and his eyes slid over your frame, landing on the dress’ very deep slit. This time it was on the behind of your dress’ skirt.

You and the fucking slits. Making every piece of clothing look like it was designed specifically for you...

- Thank god moods are not contagious because this would be the saddest happy event ever, - Oscar’s hand landed on his friend’s shoulder, as he followed Pedro’s gaze down to where you were standing.

Pedro unintentionally moved to block you from his friend’s eyes which came as a surprise to both. It was very clear that Oscar had no negative or positive intentions regarding you so it was even more weird when Pedro felt small pang of jealousy when he saw the bottle of wine you had gifted Oscar for hosting the party.

Oscar raised his eyebrows, amused.

As if asking, really?

You, on the other hand, were doing everything to avoid Pedro that evening. He looked good. He looked so handsome even though he was one of the very few men here who had chosen to wear a sweater instead of a suit or a dress shirt. You definitely needed a distraction and given how it had ended with drinking last time you got drunk, you avoided alcohol like it was the plague, only drinking virgin cocktails.

The biggest problem with avoiding someone is that that person is living in your head rent free, in order for you to be where they are not. Which meant that before you avoid them in a room, you have to check specifically for them. The biggest support for you in this was the fact that Pedro seemed to avoid you as well, so it was quite easy to keep your distance.

- Is there a guest I’m not aware of? – Oscar humored lightly. – Or are you stalked by someone?

Only the ghost of your best friend.

You smiled, shook your head and asked a few questions about the movie to whose ending this function was dedicated to. After some time he excused himself and said to go look for his wife but before he left, Oscar casually threw out:

- I’m sorry things are weird between you and Pedro right now, - he seemed apologetic.

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Pedro had clearly told him about what had happened.

It was already embarrassing enough for you to realize that Pedro had been sober that night and remembered every word your drunk self had confessed. And, to add insult to injury, the rejection still kinda stung. But he had clearly told everything to another man. And that one made you even more upset because you knew Oscar by reputation only but that reputation was quite good. So he probably felt sympathy for your little groupie act by asking out someone clearly out of your league.

You averted your eyes. How many other people knew?

- Look, he’s a grown ass man, he’ll be fine, - Oscar put his hand on your shoulder in a pacifying manner. – It’s just that this was his longest crush ever so it will take more time than usual...

Because you actively tried to block out his voice, the words didn’t register at first. And, once they did, they still didn’t make much sense.

- But it will-

- What did you just say?

Your tone was harsh and it made Oscar do a double-take.

- I... I’m not trying to pressure you into anything by what I said about being his longest crush, if that’s what you meant. I promise.

Your eyes searched his face for any signs of amusement or humor... or confusion. When you didn’t find any, you put down your drink and turned your full attention towards him.

- What did he tell you happened that night?

Oscar looked at you like you were a child asking to explain the alphabet.

- I’m not sure I should-

- He clearly told you something! – you raised your voice – not loud enough to be heard by everyone but enough to make some of the closest people turn heads.

Oscar nodded:

- All he told me was you figured out he liked you. And you don’t like him back, - Oscar used the tone he probably used with his kids. – And that’s fine. You have every r-

- What kind of fairy tale did he fed you? – your first thought was that Pedro had lied to his friend.

But why would he ever do that? What could he possibly get out of telling people you were the one who rejected him? Letting someone down wasn’t a crime and it didn’t make you a bad person.

- He rejected me! I straight up asked him out and he gave me the whole speech about there being men who would be oh so lucky to date me. And then he kept on friend-zoning me for a month just for funsies. Making sure I knew my place was with all the other people who worked for him!

When you turned to leave – and maybe give that free alcohol a shot or two – Oscar unceremoniously grabbed your upper arm and turned you back.

- That can’t be true, Y/N! You were the one drunk! Are you sure you remember everything okay?

You rolled your eyes, trying to pull your arm away.

- I was drunk, not stupid! I know rejection when I receive one!

Oscar’s grasp wasn’t hurting you or anything but it probably looked like you were fighting from afar, at this point.

- Look, Y/N, calm down, - he lowered his voice so other people wouldn’t hear a thing. – All he told me was that you had confessed liking someone you worked with, and-

- And who do you think that someone from work is, genius?

You could almost hear gears turning in Oscar’s head.

- So... When he said that you had asked if... When you were wondering if he would date you, it wasn’t because...

You waited.

- ... it wasn’t because you were insecure about nobody being interested in you?

- Why would I give a shit if other people were interested in me?

It was a good thing you were sober because it was taking a good amount of time to understand this even sober. Your eyes widened when you finally put the pieces together.

The way Pedro looked almost crushed when you had interrupted him to silence him in the car.

Please don’t. I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

Could he had mistaken it for rejection?

You silencing him out of respect so you didn’t have to tell him you didn’t want to date him? Did he thought that you were thinking his ego couldn’t handle being rejected by someone who was not rich or famous?

Shit.

You tried to find his pink sweater somewhere in the crowd. He couldn’t have gone home already, could he? You had relatively little knowledge of the layout of Oscar’s house so your best shot was to run into Pedro somewhere.

Your wish manifested a bit too literally, when you roughly rounded a corner and ran straight into someone.

Pedro’s fingers wrapped around your upper arm in the same manner Oscar’s hand had just mere seconds ago. Just to drive home the point of your attraction to him, a small shot of electricity shot through your arm whereas nothing even similar had happened when his friend had touched your arm.

- Careful, - he steadied you and then removed his hand.

When you looked up, you noticed that he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You thought you had gotten over this awkwardness...

Guess not.

With music still sounding throughout the house, you looked around, grabbed the front of his sweater and pushed him into one of the many guest bedrooms here. Once you closed and locked the door, you turned towards Pedro who was looking a bit thrown out of the boat.

For one moment, nobody said anything. Then you pushed down the dress that had ridden up your thighs while you were frantically looking for him throughout the house, and stepped closer to him.

The height difference was always a turn on for you but right now it did nothing but annoy.

- Sit down, - you commanded.

He took a step back and sat down on the bed.

When he looked up at you, you realized that you probably shouldn’t have asked him to do that. Your foggy brain finally decided to give you back few of the memories missing from that night month ago.

When he had gently lowered you onto the bed and you had finally woken up just in time to see him drop down on his knees to take off your boots. Out of concern, he had looked up at you with a very similar expression as he was having right now. With his lids lowered, eyes dark and pupils dilated.

When his brows furrowed in confusion, unaware of your flashbacks, you snapped out of it.

- Why does Oscar think I rejected you in your car that night? – you demanded before you lost your courage.

Pedro looked away.

You had had a long day at work today and still most of your energy had went into dodging Pedro at every corner, trying to not even look at him, while simultaneously keeping an eye on him at all times to not accidentally get close. Your patience had worn out long before you got here.

You unceremoniously grabbed his chin and turned his head back towards you.

- Look, I’m sorry I told him, - Pedro raised his eyes to meet yours. – I needed to tell someone and you were avoiding me and refused to even look at me!

You shook your head and tried to step back before he grabbed your hand in both of his.

- I’m sorry.

- What are you even sorry for? – you ripped your hand from his. – For lying?

When all he did was stare up at your in confusion, you took a step back to keep some distance.

- Do you get pity points or something for act-

Pedro stood up and you lost any advantage you had due to height. When he advanced towards you and you still stepped back, he caught your wrist, refusing to let you leave.

- Stop running from me! – he demanded. – Talk to me!

Fine.

- Fine, - you still tugged on your arm and he still didn’t let go so at some point you had to give up on it and leave your hand in his grasp.

- Tell me why you were avoiding me for a month, - he used a painfully soft tone as if afraid you would run at the very first sign of confrontation.

You were silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to sound like a mature adult.

- I guess... – you sighed and decided to just get over it. – I was hurt that you weren’t interested in me when I asked you out that night after you picked me up. I was butt hurt and it wasn’t fair to you because you have ever-

You didn’t get to finish when he closed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. You would’ve pulled back by surprise if not for Pedro’s hand cupping the back of you neck.

Your heart seemed to simultaneously skip a beat and stop altogether. After the initial shock, you slid your hand into Pedro’s hair and lightly pulled him back by it.

Amusement danced in his eyes with a light shake of his head.

- To think we could’ve done this weeks ago, - he laughed.

You felt a bit giddy inside, still not really comprehending every piece of this misunderstanding but, in your defense, it probably had been quite hard to catch any love signals that night when you were wasted.

- You want me to ask you out again? – you proposed.

- Nah, - he shook his head. -  I’ll do the honors, - he cleared his throat. – You’re going on a date with me.

You cocked your head.

- Are you asking or telling?

- I assumed you were a sure thing, drunk words being sober thoughts and all that...

This felt a bit too good to be true but you weren’t going to question it. Once you both left the guest room, with Pedro’s hand still wrapped around yours, and turned the corner to return to the party, you found Oscar leaning against the wall in the hallway with a drink in his hand and an amused look in his eyes.

- No freaky business under my roof, - he gave his friend with a stern look. – That’s like the only rule I have.

Only when his eyes found your intervened hands, he chuckled under his breath.

- Love must be hard when you’re both idiots, huh?

[ririsdelusionalcorner]

Idia with a cosplayer SO

How did it start (Idia):

○We all know how invested Idia is when it comes to the series he enjoys so it would only be natural that he followed accounts that post content for those series.

○He most likely found his future SO account due to this fact. They were cosplaying a more niche series that he had been hyperfocused on so he had never hit the follow button faster.

○This would have spiraled into him becoming one of their biggest supporters. Always interacting with posts, sending anonymous messages, going to fan meets mostly digitally but sometimes in person when he was brave enough

○I would say he'd even have either drawn fanart for them, or made some type of merch, we'll say a Keychain in this case to give to them during the one time he was brave enough to go to a fan meeting in person.

How did it evolve:

○Imagine Idia's shock finding out his favorite cosplayer was attending NRC and is in the same dorm as him. When he's the Housewarden!

○Idia almost thought it was his eyes tricking him but the sight of a familiar Keychain used as a phone charm made him realize it was real.

○Was Idia going to approach them? Absolutely not, but to his horror delight they ended up joining the board gaming club.

○Things were made worse when they recognized him. How is someone supposed to react when their favorite cosplayer remembers them. Idia almost short circuited that's for sure.

○Idia didn't pursue a friendship with them but they pursued one with him.

○Idia almost thought he was living in a dating Sim at this point. And he was the capture target. His future SO was relentless. Always going to his dorm, dragging him out when they weren't busy with class, building a friendship with Ortho, working on their cosplans in his dorm, listening when he talked about his interests/sharing their own. Anything and everything they could do they did.

○And eventually one day they approached him with a request. They wanted him to cosplay with them for their next event....that is cosplay a couple. To say Idia.exe stopped working was an understatement. He tried to cover his embarrassment by jokingly asking if they were asking him out and he got a serious yes. He almost fainted on the spot but managed to agree.

As a couple:

○From then on it wasn't just his SO who was a famous cosplayer he became one himself to his horror. Their fans were now his fans and he just had to suck it up and accept his fate.

○Couples cosplays are a must! But only from series they both genuinely like. He'll be super embarrassed if you're going to cons in cosplay together but He'll suck it up for you. For private photoshoots he's a little more comfortable but is still embarrassed when his SO posts them.

○His dorm wasn't just his own anymore. It was shared with his SO. You could clearly see they practically lived there.

○Cute gaming sessions, and by that I mean him gaming and his SO working on a project and commentating.

○Friday movie nights are a must. If he doesn't get time to just sit with his SO in his arms binge watching series he'll combust

○Designated bag holder Idia is real. He's the bf walking around the con with all of his SO stuff and he doesn't complain one bit. Why would he when his partner is cosplaying one of his favs and looks so genuinely happy to be interacting with fans

○Idia takes the best photos btw. Both in cosplay and out of cosplay he's always prepared. He'll use drones, go out of his way to get the best angles and even edit the photos himself If his SO asks. He's their number 1 supporter

○Idia will fight to pay for things. Need fabric? You know his card information. At a con and see some merch you want? Here's his card grab anything you want, and actually get multiple of some of the keychains or pins so he could match with you. Basically if you want something you'll get it. He has the money to spare and it's more meaningful if he spends it on you.

○He's a pro at making props. With his technical skills he's making props that actually do the same things that they do in their individual series

○He's very interested in the creation of cosplays as a whole but cannot sew whatsoever so he sticks to what he knows and just enjoys watching his SO work.

Notes from Riri:

You will never have a more supportive Bf than Idia istg. Sorry if this isn't like an actual fic I just wanted to get this out of my head. But lmk if you like content like this and my asks are always open! I'm not a pro at writing but hey I'm here to be delusional so that's what I'll be

[cavydude]

Hey everyone guess what's back?

To celebrate the one-year anniversary of the remaster, we (the fine folks over at the Baten Kaitos fan Discord) are bringing back Spiriter Week! And now it's bigger than ever: we're going multi-platform!

So mark you calendars for September 15th-21st!!!

Wait, what's this now? Back in ye olde golden age of Tumblr, we used to have an annual thing we called Spiriter Week, a week-long celebration of our favorite card-game RPGs.

What do you mean, "multiplatform"? Due to fandom no longer being fully (or even mostly) within the confines of one website, we figured it'd be a good idea to have folks participate wherever they want to. Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, or wherever. Still have a Pillowfort? Go crazy there too.

Ok, how do I participate? It's super easy- just post something Baten Kaitos related every day. Could be a fic, art, videos, whatever. Wherever you're posting it, use the tag #Spiriter Week I am not blessed with creative prowess Neither am I we're all just bullshitting Doesn't have to be anything skillful like art or writing. Could be fan theories, a personal anecdote, ranking your favorite xyz or even a haiku. Like this example I stole borrowed from No's original post:

Holoholo bird All my apples are rotten Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

This sounds great but I'm super busy there's no way I can post every day. Again, same here friend. No worries, even just one or two during the week is fine. Let's face it, we've all aged a number of years since these were last a thing and life has a way of stockpiling responsibilities.

On what authority are you organizing this? Alright ya got me I'm just some rando with a Gibari pfp. But come on, why not have some fun and build some hype around these games we love?

That's a nice banner where'd you get it? Damn right! Credit goes to No, who still had the old banner and managed to change some digits :D

How can we follow for updates? Here on Tumblr, I (and of course anyone else who wants to say something on the topic) will be posting in the #Spiriter Week tag. Some major updates might also be posted in the baten kaitos tag but I don't wanna spam it too much.

But yeah, that should cover most of the major stuff, feel free to reach out with any questions!

[tialiea]

I haven’t forgotten about my choso fanfic. I just got over a nasty cold and writers block is beating my ass. BUTTTT here’s a preview 😁

You're a junior in college trying to make ends meet while working at the university café. A socially inept guy with messy hair and bloodshot eyes has caught your interest, especially with his daily order of a large black brew. Could one night at a Halloween party turn this blossoming friendship into something more?

“Okay, that'll be 13.68 ma’am,” you said as you rang up the last customer of the day. After they leave, you let out a weary sigh as your manager starts to take the registers to count.

“ Since we have leftover muffins you're free to take one. I know walking that long way to your apartment makes you famished. “ She says with a knowing look.

Just then the door chimes. “ I'm sorry, we're closed. Your manager begins to say.

As you look up, you see a boy who looks to be your age. His eyes are droopy, his hair disheveled, and looking like he has quite literally woken up out of bed. “Um, I’m sorry. I just wanted to order a black coffee.” He says, his voice is surprisingly deep but soft.

You glance at your manager before replying, “We haven't even started cleaning up yet. I could whip up that coffee for you real quick “ Your manager glares at you but then sighs giving silent approval as she goes to the back.

“ Thank you, you're a lifesaver,” said the boy.

So, what’s your name?” you replied while getting a coffee cup. “Choso, and you?” he said, getting out his wallet.

“ it's y/n,” you said with a slight smile, returning your attention to the coffee machine.

As you began to fix his drink, Choso couldn't help but admire you.

Long black boho locs cascading down your back, pretty green frames covering your eyes, acrylics with intricate designs on your fingers, and the cafe lighting hitting your face just right displaying the pretty brown lipstick you decided to put on for the day.

“ Choso.” You said, raising your voice slightly, to pull him out of his daydream. “ Here’s your coffee,” you said softly side-eyeing him. “ Sorry,” just got distracted a bit, how much do I owe you?” Choso asked. “It’s on me, “ you replied already ringing his order up.

Choso couldn’t help but notice the radiant expression on your face before he shook his head in disagreement . “ I can’t possibly let you pay for it since I kept you guys in here over time.” He said bringing his card to the reader.

It was hard not to notice his painted digits as they moved toward the counter.

“It’s fine, my treat to you. I couldn’t help but notice you looked a little distraught. Is exam season getting to you? “ You said with a worried expression.

Choso bashfully scratched his neck before finally agreeing and putting away his wallet into his black cargo jeans. “ Yes and no. I spent all night editing a gaming video. And I have a night class in like an hour or so. “

“ Oh so you’re a gamer,” you said raising your eyebrows.

“ Yes, is that a problem? “ he asked earnestly

“Oh, none at all! I play games myself - when I’m not busy with internships, work, and studying that is”

“Wait really, what’s your favorite at the moment?” Choso asked, sipping his coffee.

“I would say Resident Evil 8 to be specific,” you said with a grin and a tilt of your head.

Before Choso could respond, your manager came back out front. “I’m sure you two can finish your conversation another day. We have to close up shop." She stated with a tight-lipped smile, finally attempting to take registers into the break room again.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” you said untying your apron and grabbing your muffin from the display.

“Likewise, y/n. See you around sometime.”

Choso uttered making his way out of the cafe, and boldly smiling back at you with a twinkle in his tired eyes.