#also million dollar question - what did he get them???

[sophsun1]

Charmed – 3.15: Just Harried

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ Chauffeur .

❥ old!manlogan x fem!reader

summary: mean old logan can’t help but to push the best thing away in his life. and you can’t help but to let go of your worst.

❥ tags: stubbornness, age gap (readers in her late 20s), reader is a mutant, old man logan having a wet dream, car sex, riding, creampies, possibly pregnancy, reader is very rich and established, brat taming, reader’s boyfriend is an ASSHOLE, logan is an asshole but that’s nothing new, etc…

note: we all wanna ride, old man logan. also, stepping away from jjk for a bit. wc: 4.9k

Everyday was the same when you got into the car. There was a smile on your face and you greeted him, even if you didn’t get a response most of the time—you still treated him with kindness. He was your driver after all and you were trusting him with your life.

“45th and Madison, please.” You placed your purse into your lap and buckled up as he pulled off from your house, keeping his eyes on the road.

“How was your night Logan? Get any rest?” You stared at the side of his face, taking in his rugged features. “Good.” Was all he grunted, hands gripping the steering wheel as he navigated the busy streets of New York. You didn’t bother to question him anymore, not wanting to piss him off on this beautiful morning.

The car ride was silent on the way to your company, the only thing that couldn’t be heard was the soft hum of the car and the sound of the air conditioner blowing its cool air. And when he pulled up to your job, you opened your mouth to speak, “thanks, and here—.” you leaned over and handled him an envelope full of money, the scent of cigars and cologne invading your nostrils; making you swoon.

He muttered a thanks and you quickly got out of the car, “I’ll text you what time to pick me up! Later Logan~” You waved and smiled, watching the old man pull off into the nearby traffic—before you entered the double doors to your million dollar company.

You were one of the top businesswomen in the world, employing the most mutants and paying them fairly. You started this company when you were just a teen, not seeing any jobs for mutants when you were growing up—so you decided to make that change. You wanted a safe place for mutants to be able to work in, something like your mentor; Charles Xavier wanted.

You had to do it for your people, especially when the whole world was against you all.

Even though you were a multimillionaire and you owned a license, you didn’t have time to drive yourself around. You hired Logan after a friend recommended him. They praised him for everything that he did for them, he was more than a driver, and when got the chance to meet him in person—you were sold.

You grew very fond of the older man as time passed. He plagued your mind as you worked, his face clouding your thoughts while you were in important meetings—driving you insane. It was clear as day that you had a crush on him, however despite how you felt; you knew he would never think of you like the way you thought of him.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight? Wear that red dress that makes you look like a fucking supermodel?” The voice of your business partner and boyfriend broke you out of your daze, while the two of you ate lunch in the high-end lounge your company acquired.

Eric, was a guy you met at a press conference that supported you when you wanted to have more mutants employed and treated as normal in the world, when the public was against your kind. He was intelligent and an all around amazing person, and when he asked you out one day—the two of you immediately hit it off. You were happy to have him…..but there was something you didn’t like. He would put himself first before you.

He did this a couple of times, putting him and his buddies before you; and you called him out on it—but he always apologized and told you it wouldn’t happen again. Liar.

“Will it just be us this time? Last time it was me and your frat brothers. And I hate that night, you left me all alone.” You pouted and he chuckled before leaning over to kiss your lips. “It’ll just be us this time, I promi—hold that thought,” his phone started to ring and he quickly pulled it out; talking to whoever was on the other end. You sighed and continued munching on your food, before you headed back to your office; alone.

Logan was already outside of your office when you finally exited your company’s building. You hopped into the truck and he pulled off once you buckled up, heading into the direction of your house. “How was your day Logan?” You looked at him through the mirror, studying those hazel eyes of his, which connected onto yours as he answered you.

“Good.” You smiled and relaxed into your seat, enjoying the ride back home. “Oh, Eric’s and I are going out to eat. You can come inside while I get ready, it shouldn’t take long.” You beamed and he tensed up in his seat. You couldn’t see it, but Logan rolled his eyes and gripped the steering wheel at the mention of your boyfriend. He wasn’t fond of him, thought the guy was an asshole from the moment he met him. He felt like you deserved better, he knew you did.

But, who was he to judge? He was no saint himself.

After he pulled up to your house and the two of you entered, you were immediately greeted by your calico—Persia. She purred and rubbed against your leg before she spotted the tall man a few steps behind you. The cat inched over to him and sniffed his pants leg, before she rubbed herself against him; purring once more. Logan grunted and you smiled, reaching down to rub the soft furred animal, “she’s never don’t that before, she usually hisses at strangers. she must really like you.”

As you stepped deeper into your house, putting down your things and slowly stripping out of your work clothes, before turning to the grumpy old man standing at your front door, “He wants me to meet him there. I’m going to get ready, in the meantime are you hungry? Food’s in the fridge.”

“I’m good.” His voice was gruff and his face was blank, when he connected eyes with you, moving away from your cat. You unbuttoned the last black button to your matching button up, leaving you in your deep green matching underwear set—causing him to look away. “I have a huge liquor cabinet, help yourself.”

He watched as you ascended up the stairs before shaking his head and entering your kitchen. He admired your boldness, comfortable enough to undress in front of him, but he felt like he didn’t deserve to see you like that. No one did. Especially that fucked face motherfucka, Eric.

Logan took a look at your cabinet, impressed with your collection of wines, cognacs and other strong liquids; but he was more impressed to see this thirty year aged whiskey you had. Hibiki Whiskey, his favorite. He smiled to himself and grabbed it along with a glass, pouring a nice bit into it; before downing it—the smoothness flowing down his throat beautifully.

He sat on your couch, sipping on the dark liquor, while taking a look around your house. He found comfort in the decor, your home felt….safe. Something he hadn’t felt in ages. It was so safe that he couldn’t help but drift off into sleep, something he hardly did lately.

He must’ve been sleeping for a while, deep into his dream; this one a little different from the one’s he usually had about you.. You had frequented his dream world on occasion when he did sleep. Your warm smile was something he saw on a daily basis; when you were cooking for him or sometimes the two of you appeared in a field of flowers—your smile overshadowed the sun. But, this one was a lot different. You were on top, riding him.

Everything felt and looked so realistic. The same emerald green set you wore was glued to your body. The panties were pulled to the side, your essence sticking to them and his cock; while you bounced. Your body looked so beautiful and he knew he shouldn’t be dreaming about you like this, but he couldn’t help himself—especially when you turned around; face contorted in sheer arousal. And then he lost it, when you opened up your mouth and moaned his name.

“Logan~” fuck, he could feel you clench down on him, as you brought your ass down on him again—moaning his name once more. But this time you were louder, repeating his name over and over again; his tired hazel eyes shooting open, staring at your own. You were standing in front of him, wearing a beautiful ruby red dress; which clung to your body and accentuated your curves, smiling at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But, I need your help zipping up my dress—please~.” He nodded, shifting in his spot to hide the boner that was poking through his black corduroy pants—reaching over to help zip you up. His rough fingers melted into your soft skin, as he held his hand on your upper back for support; his mind going right back to his dream. Fuck, he was going to hell for dreaming about you like that.

You looked beautiful, standing a little taller than usual—thanks to your gold heels that matched your jewelry. You decided to curl your natural hair, which framed your soft made-up face. He could stare at you all day.

“Thanks. I’m ready to go!” And there you go with that smile, that slowly melted his cold heart.

You waited outside of the restaurant in the car, waiting for Eric to show up. It had been ten minutes since you arrived and he still wasn’t there, wasn’t answering his phone either. Your gut told you to leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to it—you were hoping he would show up. So, to get your mind off of him, you sparked a conversation up with Logan.

“Hey Logan, tell me about yourself. What do you do besides driving?” He clenched his teeth and kept a grip on the car’s steering wheel.

“Nothing.”

“Really? I heard you were a bodyguard and a hitman. What was that—“ He turned around and glared at you, cutting you off as he spoke. “Listen. I’m not one of your fucking girlfriends you sit and gossip with. Got it?” His voice was deep and scary, while his eyes told a different story. However, you nodded and looked away, blinking back the tears that wanted to leave your own.

Then, your phone rang and you immediately answered. On the other end of the line was Eric, apologizing about not showing up and begging for the two of you to reschedule. You swallowed the lump in your throat and told him that it was alright, saying you were tired anyways; before hanging up and slumping into your seat. “Take me home.” Was all that you could muster up to say, before a stream of tears cascaded down your face—ruining your makeup.

The car ride was silent, besides the sounds of your sobs—which slowly broke the old man. He kept glancing at you through the mirror, feeling like a dick because he played a part in your sadness too. But, an apart of him felt angry, he wanted to kick Eric’s ass for standing you up. How could he not see what was right in front of him?

As the car halted in front of your house, you immediately got out, slamming the door behind you before you sped walked to the front door—not looking back—too embarrassed to speak to him. And one he saw that you were safely inside, he drove off and headed into the direction of the nearby bar—ready to drink the night away.

This was one of the worst nights ever and neither of you would forget it.

The following days were like a blur for you. You hadn’t been to work for a week, taking some time off to try and understand your mental.

That day played in your mind over and over, you were hurt twice that night. But, the look on Logan’s face haunted you. You could tell there was more behind those eyes, besides all that anger, something else laid behind them—and you wanted to know more. No matter how much he tried to push you away.

Currently, you were sitting on your couch with Persia by your side, eating ice cream and watching whatever was on tv—ignoring the spam calls from Eric; when you were startled by a loud pound on your front door. You looked at the door then at Persia, fists clenched as your powers started to surge; before you started to creep towards the door. You swung it open, ready to pummel whoever was on the other side, until you saw who was standing on your porch.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped, looking at the older man who was covered in blood and holding onto his arm. “Logan! What the hell happened?” You asked, helping him into your home and shutting the door afterwards—to hide him from any nosey neighbors; before you ushered him into your downstairs bathroom. He sat down on the toilet with a clang, before he started to remove his clothes; with your help.

“Whose blood is this?” You asked, putting his bloody beater into the hammer behind you before inspecting his scarred face. “Most of it was someone else’s. Don’t worry, I’ll heal.” He moved away from your touch, but you immediately pulled him back; your eyes piercing him.

“I know, but until your healing factor kicks in, im gonna help. And i'm not asking.” He chuckled and nodded his head, before you used your powers on him—stopping the blood from leaking out until his own power’s kicked in. One of his thick eyebrows raised in confusion, before you answered him.

“Blood manipulation. Now let’s put that shoulder back in place. Here, bite down on this.” You handed him a washcloth, but he declined.

“Just do it, princess. I can take it.” He reassured and you stared at him for a moment, before whispering an ‘okay’. Without warning, you gripped his arm and pushed it back into his socket, making him yell out in pain—his claws unsheathing in the process.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You apologized, making him shake his head in response. His claws retracted and he pulled you in by your waist—his body heat warming you as you stood next to him. His hazel eyes searched all over your face, lingering on your plump lips before backing up to your soft irises, “need a drink, right now.”

The two of you sat in your kitchen, sharing a bottle of ten year old cognac, while Logan shared stories about what he did—answering your question from last week. “I also take care of Charles….Charles Xavier.” You swallowed the smooth liquor, before responding.

“Oh, I knew that already.” He raised an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing. “He accidentally called on your phone, thinking I was Taco Bell, until I spoke with him. He’s a funny guy, I’ve always imagined he was……I was a big fan of his when I was younger.” There was some silence, as he thought about the Professor and his current state.

You got up from your spot and put your glass in the sink, done drinking for night, before going into the fridge for a snack—until his deep voice made you stop moving. “Look, princess….about the other night—“

“It’s fine. No need to apologize.”

“No, but I need to. I was a jerk and you just wanted to get to know me. So, I'm sorry.” He was now standing in front of you, towering over you, still shirtless from earlier. Your eyes trailed over his hairy, toned abs, before you looked up at his beautiful rugged face—pressing your thighs together as you felt that familiar pulsing between your legs. You nodded and turned on your heels to leave, but his rough hands pulled you back; making you stumble, before he caught you.

“What happened to you and what’s his face?” He spoke and you snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of Eric. “He’s an asshole, who likes to waste my time.“

Logan clenched his teeth, feeling himself get upset at the mere thought of him mistreating you. “Dick can’t see what the hell he has right in front of him?” You blushed, and bit your bottom lip, your smaller hands reaching up to toy with his platinum dog tags. “Neither can you.”

He froze and you stopped moving, eyes slowly looking up at his, until he leaned down and pulled you in a wet, sloppy kiss. His hands immediately went down to your ass, squeezing the soft fat through your tiny black shorts; something he thought doing for a while now. You squealed when he picked you up and placed you onto the countertop behind you, never breaking his lips from yours. Despite being an old man, he still had the same strength he did when he was younger.

He kissed down from your lips to your chest that was hidden behind your hot pink beater, nipples standing at attention. He circled the imprint of them with his tongue, making you moan out, before he made his way down to your clothed cunt; your arousal plaguing his nose.

“Knew you wanted this since earlier, could smell her calling out for me~” He swiped his tongue over your clothed slit, slick already staining the dark fabric. He pulled the shorts down with ease, hazel eyes growing darker as he was met face to face with your bare cunt; your essence making your puffy lips glisten.

“Shit.” He cursed, loving the sight of your pretty pussy dripping just for him, he couldn’t help but to dive in and enjoy the meal you had set right in front of him. The sensation of his beard and his tongue rubbing against you, made you moan out; back arching off of the counter and your hands tugging on his salt n pepper colored hair—grinding against his face.

He worked wonders on your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, forcing more and more of your sweet translucent arousal from your aching hole; building up your orgasm. Logan spat against your soaked cunt, using his fingers to rub it all over soft lips; before pushing a thick finger into your hole—making you yell out a series of curse words.

“Gonna cum—f-fuck! Just like that Logan!” He continued to lap up your juice and pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them—making them punch your spot over and over; making you gush all over him. The grip you had on his hair was tight as you came, but he ignored it and continued to draw out your orgasm; before pulling away and pressing his wet lips against yours.

The kiss was sloppy, filled with nothing but hunger as you licked every inch of his wet face, tasting yourself; a low hum leaving his lips. And as your hand reached down to feel the bulge in his pants, he pulled away—making you whimper. But, when he backed further away and wouldn’t look at you, you noticed something was wrong.

“Logan?” You started, slipping off the counter, legs wobbling as you stood and walked over to him; only for him to back away once more.

“Gotta go. This was a mistake.” And before you could protest, he made a beeline to your front door, opening it and shutting it behind him; not bothering to grab his shirt or turning to look at you.

What the actual fuck?

You returned back to work the following day. Logan dropped you off of course, but he barely acknowledged you—evident he didn’t want to talk about what happened yesterday. But, you needed to talk about it, wondering what made him stop. Surely he didn’t think you would just be alright with him eating your pussy and making you cum, and not feel something about him?

However, you would deal with the grumpy old man later. Today, you had to face the asshole of the year, Eric. You left the car with a simple ‘bye’ to Logan, before taking the elevator ride up to your office’s floor, trying to push yesterday’s events out of your mind.

Your baby blue heels clicked on the wooden floor as you sashayed down the walk way, making heads turn and people cheer; excited for your return. However as you approached your office, you were stopped by your assistant, who had a look of worry on their face.

“What’s the matter?” You questioned, looking at your office before going back to your assistant. They gulped and prepared themselves to tell you what lies in your office.

“Mr. Eric’s in there...and he’s not alone. He’s with another—“ you cut them off and storm past them, opening the wooden door, eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of you. Your boyfriend was balls deep into your new intern, having her bent over your crisp white desk.

The sound of the door slamming shut startled them and the girl screamed, scrambling to pull her skirt down, while apologizing to you frantically. You held up your finger and shushed her, motioning to the door so she could leave. And once she did, you immediately sauntered over to the guilty male—body temperature increasing by the second.

“How long?” You questioned, your tone flat and emotionless. He stuttered, but then he looked down and looked back up—a devious smirk on his face.

“A good couple of months now. Why’d you think i pushed for you to hire her? What, did you think I’d actually love someone like you?” He chuckled, circling around you, while you raised an eyebrow. “And what does that mean? Someone like me?”

“Your kind! A fucking mutant! I’ve been using you from the beginning, I just wanted to get my hands on this company—have you mutants under my control. Starting with you—“ You set him flying back with a punch to his cheek, making him fly through the door; knocking it down.

All you saw was red as you marched over to him, your employees shocked at what was going down, but none of them dared to step in. “This….this is what I expected from you people! Pure chaos and violence.” He smirked, blood pooling from his mouth as he spewed his hate.

Using your powers, you were able to make more blood flow out of him; making a wound in his lung—which caused him to cough up some more blood. And as you raised your fist to punch him once more, your wrist was caught—stopping your movements. You turned to see Logan, his hazel eyes begging for you to stop.

He smelled danger when he was on his way up to your office, since you had forgotten your phone in the car he wanted to bring it to you. Only to be met with you about to kill a man.

“He’s had enough. Let him go.” You knew better than to protest, so you used your powers to close the internal wound on Eric; calming yourself down as Logan pulled you back into his arms. “Get him out of here, he’s fired!”

You were fuming in the car. Angry was an understatement, you were pissed. You were humiliated. You were hurt. Logan couldn’t stop checking on you through the rear view mirror, until he decided to pull over to the side of the road—putting the car in park. He hopped out of the car and opened up your side door, nodding for you to get out.

“Logan—what are you—“

“Let it out. It helps to let everything out.” You squinted and chuckled. How ironic of him to try and help you not keep things bottled inside.

“You can’t be fucking serious! You of all people, trying to give advice on their feelings? You’re the fucking king of keeping things in!” You stepped closer to him, but he didn’t budge, letting you get it all out of your system.

“You pushed me away from the beginning! Then you come in my fucking house like a wounded dog and then on top of it all—you made me have the best orgasm of my life and let me fall in love with you! Who does that!” Hot tears rolled down your pretty face, while you poked into his broad chest with each word.

You were right. He did push you away. He couldn’t open his heart, his stubbornness would allow him. But, he couldn’t let his past haunt his future, not anymore. So, he decided right then and there to finally open up and let you in.

Logan pulled you in close, the smell of his cologne and the cigar he smoked earlier was soothing; it warmed you—which made it easier for you to accept his kiss. All of that anger washed over you while your tongues danced with one another. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck; while gripping your hips and picking you up—making his way over to the car and placing you in the seats, laying you on your back.

He wasted no time and tugged off your clothes, your grey dress falling to the floor; along with your panties and bra. He stepped back, taking a moment to bask in your glory. You were beautiful and he was going to cherish this moment forever.

His slacks dropped to his ankles and you watched with lidded eyes as he pulled his cock out, making them widen. “Knew you were huge~” you said, your slick pooled and dribbled down your crack, making the black leather seats glisten underneath you.

Logan grabbed his girth, rubbing against your swollen clit; eliciting moans from your sweet lips—coating himself in your fluids. Angling himself at your entrance, he pushed himself in; stretching you as he eased himself in.

“Good—…..girl. That’s it, princess—take all of it” He grunted, praising you as you were able to take all of him in one go. You winced, his tip pressing into your cervix, making you inch away from him—only to be pulled back in. He wanted you to sit there and take it. He was going to give you exactly what you wanted. Some dick.

He held your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist, as he began to move inside of you—his strokes were deep and powerful; making your eyes roll back and your lids flutter. The more he moved, the more you grew aroused—making you a moaning mess while he fucked the shit out of you.

You clung to him with each stroke, making the older male grunt. Your tits bounced and clashed against each other as the two of you moved, hypnotizing Logan. He leaned down and plopped one of them into his mouth, sucking on your nipples like it was a peppermint. You moaned out, hands clawing at the back of the seat right next to you—pleasure too intense for you.

He was fucking you so good, splitting your pussy open with each movement; orgasm rising inside of you. “Please! Logan, I'm gonna cum! Wait—slow down—fuck!” He ignored your pleas, his pace increasing by the second. Who knew that this old man could have that much stamina?

Continuing to make a mess out of your pussy, he continued to rub against your g-spot—making your orgasm course through you. You clung to him and clenched around him sporadically, creaming all over him. He growled, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him—but you pulled out, causing him to groan.

“Sit. Wanna ride you.”

His hands clung to your waist, helping you bounce on his dick—filling you up completely. You gripped his shoulder for support, as the car rocked with your movements. The sound of your pussy and the clapping of your ass against him, made him feral and he couldn’t help but to grip your ass—hard, pushing you further down on him.

“Fuck, princess. Where do you want it?”

“Inside! Deep inside of me.” You didn’t care what would come afterwards. You just didn’t want him to stop fucking you. Logan pressed another kiss to your lips, rough hands smacking your ass as you moved wildly—walls getting ready to milk him dry. And with a few more hard bounces, he spurted deep inside of you, inner walls being painted a nice shade of white.

Rocking your hips against him, another orgasm made your body shake; cheeks jiggling against him as you came—moaning his name repeatedly.

The two of you stayed like that, his cock softening inside of you, while he continued to bottom out—before he pulled out, tip hitting your ass. You kissed him once more, content with how the night ended; finally with the man you deserved to be with.

“I love you….promise to not push me away?”

He smiled, the first time you saw it on his face, and nodded.

“I love you too.”

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim Drake deserves a vacation from WE, honestly i have no idea about business, but i don't think 95% of the fandom has any idea of what a CEO does either so it's okay. after almost 2 years as the CEO of WE, Tim can finally say that the company is at a point where there's nothing he needs to do and it will still thrive, so he finally decides to take a vacation, and since Bruce still hasn't moved a single step to return as CEO no matter how many times Tim implied, if not outright told him to take back the position, he decides to kill two birds with one stone and make Bruce take the position back, by publicly spending the biggest amount possible in this vacation.

But that's where the first issue appears, despite being rich since he was born, Tim never spent that much money needlessly, Brucie used to spend money on the models he was dating before he became known as a single father, but there's no way that Tim could trust some random models, and he has a boyfriend, so that's out.

But he does have very handsome/beautiful friends that can and have followed him to hell, so surely they wouldn't mind fake dating him and his bf, and who doesn't like spending money, so he called Kon, Bart and Cass to meet with Bernard and he explained his plan, they accepted it way easier than Tim thought and so the vacation began, Tim doubted Bruce last more than a day before taking the company back once the whole world saw Tim Drake on a vacation spending thousands of dollars on his 'harem'.

Two months later the plan failed successfully.

first things first, the vacation was great and it only took Tim 3 weeks before he realized he never told the others that the polycule was fake so they went in this vacation thinking that Tim just decided they should all date and didn't even argue because they're used to Tim being right about pretty much anything, the hardest sell was Bernard and even then it was really fast for him to accept once he saw them and when he saw how much they loved Tim, so by the end Tim was well rested and gained two boyfriends and a girlfriend.

Second thing, all of Tim's partners have rock solid morals*, so when Tim said he wanted them to spend thousands of dollars they all assumed Tim was offering to donate for their charities of choice, so by the end of the vacation Tim donated millions to charities, founded at least 10 new charities, began a 5-year plan to end world hunger, and was awarded a nobel Peace prize.

Third thing, Bruce did indeed try to take over two days into Tim's vacation, the board all laughed as if Brucie had said a funny joke, he played it off but Lucius called Alfred later, Bruce then realized that Tim is too loved by Gotham and WE for him to justify taking the company from him, besides that Tim made sure that the company was safe from takeover and bribes, so even if he wanted to there's no way for Bruce to buy the board members, the final nail on his coffin was that Alfred grounded him once he heard from Lucius, Bruce tried to argue that he was too old to be grounded so he was grounded for twice as long.

In the end despite still being CEO, Tim was happy and well rested, even if he's surprised that Bruce genuinely didn't want to be CEO anymore, he thought for sure Bruce would ask him for the position back.

meanwhile Bruce spent the entire 2 months he was grounded for playing mental 3d chess to plan on how to get the company back, but he didn't even consider asking Tim to be CEO again, so he just brooded the whole time.

Absolutely fabulous. My favorite part is how YJ doesn't even question Tim being all like, "Yeah. We should all date for one of my plans."

They heard that and figured dating each other and Bernard is probably in their best interests since Tim declared it so. Obviously. This is Tim.

They are also not opposed to it either. Again. This is Tim. They may not yet be sold on Bernard, but Tim's reassured them it's fine (Tim was trying to tell them that Bernard is okay with the fake dating and he's sure they would get along great). [It also doesn't help that Tim's reasonings were: "You're all very attractive and I trust you"]

The best part is that Tim reassured them five separate times that they do not have to go through with it. YJ and Bernard thought he was just trying to make sure everyone was on board with trying to date each other. Tim just didn't want anyone to be uncomfortable fake dating.

I would absolutely love to see how this goes down.

Bart, Kon, Cassie, and Bernard are all flirting with each other and Tim. Tim, meanwhile, is sitting there all like, "Wow! They are acting so well! I'm so glad I can count on my friends (and boyfriend)!"

He's an idiot (affectionate).

He's also an idiot cause they've had many many discussions on boundaries and such with him (they also had a few without him due to Tim being the original tie between YJ and Bernard).

The best part would be if Bernard and the others figure it out before Tim. This thus turns into everyone else trying woo Tim into the concept. Bernard, as the official boyfriend, leads the charge. They are also very very careful to check what Tim thinks about polyamory and his comfort levels.

Anyways, let's cover the other sections (I got a bit distracted).

I have no clue what a CEO does but, in my biased opinion, Tim definitely does way more than he's required to. All he needs to do is go to a few meetings, review paperwork, and make decisions regarding the direction of the company/investors. He loves the R&D and charity (not sure the official name) departments too much, though.

He does get involved in other departments as well. It's not his favorite task, but Tim reviews employee contracts when they renew and employee benefits to ensure employees are getting well-above what's considered "fair" or "legal" (4 month parental leave, paid guaranteed lunch breaks, Rogue insurance coverage, double national requirements for sicktime [this is Gotham], medical bills assistance, daycare options, etc). This is why WE loves him.

Tim doesn't want to work as a CEO, but he does love seeing how much he can help others through his civilian work (and learning that he doesn't need to be Robin to save people).

Bruce was laughed out of the office, and Mr. Fox (I love him so much. He deserves all of my respect) was justified in ratting him out to Alfred.

Maybe when Tim returns the two of them start working together so Bruce is more involved with his company (behind the scenes but not in a way that steps on Tim's toes or undermines his authority).

[atrwriting]

selfish - frank castle x reader

hey y'all back in action with another porn no plot one shot

all i'm saying is,,, they knew who their target audience was with this (or are we just all mentally ill?)

summary: frank shows you what it means to be a real, selfish man.

informal warnings: frank is the selfish man in this, but I was the selfish woman writing this. couldn't get this out of my head as I started season two of the punisher, and frankly (haha get it -- sorry) after this scene you wouldn't be able to either

as always, the actual warnings: vulnerable frank, #sadboihrs for both the reader and frank, smut, porn no plot, choking, dirty talk, and ROUGH frank

anyway... selfish:

“what’s your type?”

the million dollar question. the one that you had been troubling yourself over for years.

“my type?” you repeated, eyeing the man who asked you. “or my pattern?”

he tilted his head in curiosity. “both.”

you chuckled. “my pattern… well, they’re usually useless. man babies.”

it was his turn to chuckle. “you like taking care of them, yeah?”

you shrugged. “i love taking care of people, but not men that de-age into babies as time goes on. did you know a guy i dated asked me how to boil water once?”

“you’re joking,” he took a swig of his beer, eyeing you. “no way that’s true. made that up.”

“i wish,” you laughed, rubbing a hand over your face. “i’m also not making it up that i stayed with him two years after that.”

“sounds like your fault.”

you nodded. “the pattern made me realize what my real type is.”

“what?”

“it’s corny.”

“say it.”

a smirk attempted to appear on your lips, but you pushed it back down. “i don’t like selfless men.”

he let out a laugh in disbelief at that. “you and every other chick.”

you chuckled too. “i heard this an analogy once… if you’re falling over a cliff, would you want your person to save you? or someone else about to fall on another side of the cliff?”

he stopped talking then, listening intently.

you kept going. “obviously, i’d want the other person saved… but in my head, when i’m all alone and there’s no one that has to be saved… sometimes it’s nice to think that someone would be so selfish that they would save me over doing what’s right.”

“you could live with that though?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, a bit of judgement lacing his words.

you shrugged. “never been the person that was saved, so i’m really not sure. it’s not that i want to be saved or anything — that’s super fucking corny. but man, a fucking masculine man, putting you over other things? deciding that in that moment, you’re what matters to him? i spend all my days being selfless, putting myself in danger so other people are saved… and i’m tired.” you took a swig of your drink. “i’m really fucking tired.”

“why don’t you save yourself, then?”

“for the same reason you’re here,” you sighed. “when have we ever been selfish, frank?”

he laughed at that, but almost scoffed. “i don’t do anything i do for anyone but me.”

you swallowed then, clenching your jaw. “so many people have wronged you… but you’ve only done what you’ve done because of how people have wronged those you loved. hate to break it to you… but you’re as selfless as anyone could be.”

he folded his lips underneath his teeth and stared aimlessly off into the distance. there were bags under his dark eyes, and no amount of sleep or beer would ever take them away. the man would never know peace, and your heart broke at that. however, it was nice to know someone was going down the rabbit hole with you.

“i don’t think i’m selfless,” he finally spoke after a bit.

you raised an eyebrow at him, calling his bluff.

“i did the things i did because my family was what was most important to me,” he admitted. “that’s selfish.”

you swished his words around in your mouth a little, and decided he was right. the spin on your words made you nod, agreeing with him. “i see your point.”

“so, what?” he asked. “you want a man that would choose you over innocent people?”

you huffed, standing. “i know you know that i never said that. i’m saying that in the back of my mind, it would be nice, just once, for a selfish man to decide that i’m all he wanted. it would be nice to know that i don’t always have to carry the weight on only my shoulders.”

he didn’t say anything then, staying planted on his seat on the floor. he twisted the bottle in his hands and listened to you.

“if i’m being honest with myself…” you began, swallowing your heavy statement. “i would prefer if they saved the innocents, but only so i could die, as i probably would falling in that situation, with a clear conscience. all i’m saying is… it’s a heavy fucking burden always doing things so i don’t feel guilty.”

you walked away then, not muttering a goodbye. frank didn’t say anything either. you heard him raise the bottle to his lips once more before you shut your bedroom door behind you.

it would be an hour or so before you heard a gentle knock on your door. there was no yelling or screaming outside, so you were grateful to hear there was no imminent danger present. in your tiny pajamas, you answered the door to find none other than frank. he was leaning against a wall in the hallway that led to your door, only a couple feet from you.

he didn’t say anything when you came face to face with him. he just stared at you, placing all of his focus on your confused face. it would be a few moments of silence before he finally stepped closer to you, and placed a calloused hand on your face.

you froze. frank castle never touched you, especially in that way.

“wanna know my type?”

you stared at him and swallowed thickly. your lips parted to whisper, “sure.”

“an escape,” he whispered back. “i know what you meant by always having the dark cloud of duty hanging above your head, ready to kill any moment of peace you happen to get your damned hands on. i’ve done everything i’ve ever done for the people i loved, and i know the only way for me to experience any fuckin’ joy is with another person.”

his dark eyes held your gaze, and you soon grew lost in them and his words. you swiped your tongue across your lips and stepped closer. you could feel frank’s breath on your chin, but you couldn’t breathe. his scent, his stare, and his fucking words were more intoxicating than any alcohol you had before.

“you want an escape, frank?” you softly asked, eyes darting to his lips.

“i do,” he stated, before he lowered his head and kissed you.

his free hand immediately came up to the other side od your face and pressed against your cheek. there, he held you in the palms of his hands as you rested your hands on his thick, muscled chest. his lips were dry and cracked, but you didn’t care. the fire that brewed from his affection was enough to fill any of the cold, dark, and lonely places inside of you and you greedily drank from anything he offered.

“you want someone to want you, darlin’?” he asked in between kisses.

you hummed in agreement, not wanting to break apart your kiss for anything — even words.

“can’t get you out of my head, sweetheart,” he spoke, dipping his tongue into your mouth. “need to feel those long legs around me.”

you whimpered at his words, letting his tongue dance with yours. you could taste the heineken on his tongue and savored every bit. “please, frank… i need to feel you so badly.”

“i’ve got you, darlin’.” he picked you up by the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around him. the pads of frank’s finger tips dug into your flesh and a warmth spread throughout you. “those fuckin’ legs.”

you would’ve giggled, but you were too consumed with the very touch of frank to even care. you pulled at his shirt and threw it over his head, sad to break the kiss for even a second. you immediately went to his neck and began to nip at the thick skin, causing a growl to rumble in the deepest parts of his rib cage.

“y’drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he grunted. “sweetest fuckin’ kisses.”

“oh, frank…” you moaned against his neck before he threw you onto the bed. you turned over onto your back to face him. he locked eyes with you as he stood over you, muscles naturally flexed as he undid his belt. your mouth watered at the sight of the fucking man before you, taking off his belt for only you. the way his shoulders, pectorals, and arms worked in the dim light of your room… that man would be the death of you. you hissed, “you’re such a tease.”

he smirked at that, throwing the belt somewhere in the distance. “think you’ve just never been with a real man before,” he replied, before engulfing you into another kiss.

frank’s hand dipped into your shorts and immediately went for your slit. your body fucking sang at finally being touched the way you needed to be as you arched your back into frank, his chest pressed against yours. when frank began to run rough circles around your clit, nothing could hold back your moans or him swallowing them whole.

“only took off my belt, and this is how wet you get?” he asked, biting down on your neck. his long, thick middle finger dipped inside of you as his thumb worked at your clit. he tapped against your upper wall and you keened into his touch, whimpering his name. “now i know it’s the men before me. barely doing a fuckin’ thing and i’ve got you like this.”

you nodded pathetically, just wanting him to continue. “it feels so good,” you gasped, bucking your hips into his hand. “please, please — don’t stop, frank.”

he leaned over and pressed his chest against yours before his lips found your neck once more. his kisses were wet and sloppy, and there was nothing better than feeling the weight of a strong man above you working at your needy pussy. his rough movements against your sensitive skin were sending you into a frenzy as if nothing mattered in the world besides frank — your world started and ended there. your body felt hot — steaming from everything this man was doing for you with barely any effort. your whimpers and gasps fueled frank’s movements as if he couldn’t get enough of them.

“such a good girl f’me,” he said before he bit down on your neck and kissed the spot. “y’get so worked up, i want to see what it’s like when you fall apart.”

“i’m so close, frank…” your voice was hoarse and full of lust, and you were about to break any moment.

“that’s it, baby, yeah,” he spoke, slipping a second finger inside of you. “cum all over these fingers baby. let me taste you after.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck —!”

your world came crashing down onto you. your strength was no match for frank’s, but with the way your back arched and body curled into him, your chests both rose off the bed. he wrapped a strong arm underneath the curve of your back as you fucking sobbed his name, holding you to him and supporting your weight.

“that’s it, darlin’,” he grunted against your ear. “yeah — that’s it. keep cumming for me, fuck…”

your hands grabbed at his thick biceps and you grew lost in his movements against the most sensitive parts of you that never ceased. your hips were rolling in circles with his fingers and your vision went hazy.

“so beautiful like this f’me,” he groaned. “might be mean and not let you stop.”

“fuck, frank,” you cried, whimpering for him. your body fell limp against his arm, and he lowered your bodies back down to the bed. during your comedown, frank kissed at your neck as his free hand ran up and down your body. his other hand continued to rub against your pussy and it was driving you fucking crazy. “let me ride you — please.”

your voice was full of desperation, and frank smirked down at you. he slipped his fingers out of you and rolled off of you onto the bed. you tugged his pants down to his thighs, not wanting to waste any time. you were so greedy, but he didn’t care. he smirked as he watched you pull down your tiny shorts. you straddled him, pressing his chest to yours, as you sank down onto his thick cock.

“my fucking god —“ you gasped, your pussy stretching around him.

frank immediately grabbed your throat and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. he placed the tips of his fingers in his mouth, and tasted your juices that remained on his skin. there you were, impaled on his cock, hovering over him as you watched the most sensual thing you had ever seen him do. his dark eyes were locked on yours, but your lips parted as you watched him taste you. only a smirk remained on his lips.

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he spoke. “now show me how she rides me.”

he roughly pushed you upwards so you stood up straight. the angle made a whimper leave your lips, as he was now fully inside of you and the deepest anyone has ever been. you planted a limp hand on his stomach, and began to roll your hips against his.

his calloused hands found your hips as he threw his head back against the bed. the tendons in his neck were on full display as he stretched his head back as far as he could. the pleasure he felt was spreading all throughout his body, and he couldn’t help but go taut at the feeling. you watched his mouth fall agape and his eyes close as a moan pushed passed his lips.

the pads of his fingers dug into your hips and pushed you forward and back. even his fingers were strong and had control over you, and you couldn’t help but willingly give everything over to him. your whines filled the room, getting lost in your own pleasure with him. there was nothing like the sight of being thrown into vulnerable pleasure with the man under you, succumbing to your touch.

“fuckin’ god —“ he moaned, raising his head back up to keep his eyes locked on where your bodies connected. “never felt so fuckin’ good.”

his hoarse voice caused you to move faster as you ground your hips against his. his hands were rough and desperate as they pulled you up, down, back and forth — until you didn’t know which way was anything. all you knew were the directions of frank’s hands, and you followed in suit as he dragged you down another road of ecstasy.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he groaned. “never enough for her, huh? needs more, even after what i did?”

“yes, yes,” you whimpered pathetically. “your cock feels so good, frank. so fucking good.”

“yeah, darlin’, that’s it,” he grunted, brown scrunching together. “such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”

“fuck, frank — don’t say that,” you cried loudly, biting your lip. “feels too good when you say that — i can’t cum yet.”

he immediately reached for your neck and pulled you down to him. you gasped at his rough touch, but your hips never stopped. he bent his knees so your ass could bounce off of them, giving you more leverage. his cock curled deeper into you, hitting your cervix.

“oh my — god —“ you sobbed so close to his lips.

“nah, baby, that’s not how this works — you’re gonna take everything fuckin’ i give you,” he grunted. “i know y’want to be a good girl f’me, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you were incoherent at this point, ready to tell frank anything he wanted to hear as he bucked his hips into yours. “frank, i’m so close — how —“

“love a needy pussy like this,” he spoke, pulling you closer by the throat for a kiss. “you gonna be good to me? you gonna cum around my cock?”

“fuck, yes —“ you sobbed. “i want you to cum with me, baby, fill me up.”

that set him off. he rolled both of you over before you even knew what was happening. he had you pressed against the bed, hand still around your throat. you grabbed at his arm, loving having the feeling of his strong muscles hold you down. you wrapped your legs around his back as he threw his hips into you. over, and over, he drove himself inside you.

“dirty fuckin’ girl,” he growled, biting down on the skin of where your neck and shoulder met.

that was it. that was how you crumbled a second time for frank that evening.

you fucking wailed his name.

you grabbed at every part of him you could, struggling to hold on for dear life. your body shook with convulsions as your pussy tightened around him, locking his cock in place. nothing could stop his strong hips as they continued to rut into you — riding out your second orgasm of that evening.

you fell back against the bed, fucked out and gasping for air pathetically. frank pressed several kisses to your neck before he stood up on his knees, leaving your weak body below him. you pushed yourself to your elbows with whatever strength you could muster. frank grabbed you by the hips and you watched him slam his hips into yours.

you watched his forehead scrunch as his mouth fell agape. his chin was almost tucked to his neck as his eyes never left where his cock fucked into you.

“use me just like that, baby,” you cried. “i want your cum inside me.”

his strong, trim body went taut as his orgasm hit him, and you watched hungrily as the man before you fell vulnerable to the only pleasure he could allow himself these days. you watched as his conscious mind slipped further and further into the sensation until every ounce of stress and exhaustion left his face. you couldn’t help but bite your lip in pride and satisfaction — knowing that you will never see a more beautiful sight like frank castle using your body to get off.

you fucking loved selfish men.

----

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN NOW EVERYONE GO WATCH THIS SCENE -L xox

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Academic economists get big payouts when they help monopolists beat antitrust

After 40 years of rampant corporate crime, there's a new sheriff in town: Jonathan Kanter was appointed by Biden to run the DOJ Antitrust Divisoon, and he's overseen 170 "significant antitrust actions" in the past 2.5 years, culminating in a court case where Google was ruled to be an illegal monopolist:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/07/revealed-preferences/#extinguish-v-improve

Kanter's work is both extraordinary and par for the course. As Kanter said in a recent keynote for the Fordham Law Competition Law Institute’s 51st Annual Conference on International Antitrust Law and Policy, we're witnessing an epochal, global resurgence of antitrust:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/speech/assistant-attorney-general-jonathan-kanter-delivers-remarks-fordham-competition-law-0

Kanter's incredible enforcement track record isn't just part of a national trend – his colleagues in the FTC, CFPB and other agencies have also been pursuing an antitrust agenda not seen in generations – but also a worldwide trend. Antitrust enforcers in Canada, the UK, the EU, South Korea, Australia, Japan and even China are all taking aim at smashing corporate monopolies. Not only are they racking up impressive victories against these giant corporations, they're stealing the companies' swagger. After all, the point of enforcement isn't just to punish wrongdoing, but also to deter wrongdoing by others.

Until recently, companies hurled themselves into illegal schemes (mergers, predatory pricing, tying, refusals to deal, etc) without fear or hesitation. Now, many of these habitual offenders are breaking the habit, giving up before they've even tried. Take Wiz, a startup that turned down Google's record-shattering $23b buyout offer, understanding that the attempt would draw more antitrust scrutiny than it was worth:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/wiz-turns-down-23-billion-022926296.html

As welcome as this antitrust renaissance is, it prompts an important question: why didn't we enforce antitrust law for the 40 years between Reagan and Biden?

That's what Kanter addresses the majority of his remarks to. The short answer is: crooked academic economists took bribes from monopolists and would-be monopolists to falsify their research on the impacts of monopolists, and made millions (literally – one guy made over $100m at this) testifying that monopolies were good and efficient.

After all, governments aren't just there to enforce rules – they have to make the rules first, and do to that, they need to understand how the world works, so they can understand how to fix the places where it's broken. That's where experts come in, filling regulators' dockets and juries' ears with truthful, factual testimony about their research. Experts can still be wrong, of course, but when the system works well, they're only wrong by accident.

The system doesn't work well. Back in the 1950s, the tobacco industry was threatened by the growing scientific consensus that smoking caused cancer. Industry scientists confirmed this finding. In response, the industry paid statisticians, doctors and scientists to produce deceptive research reports and testimony about the tobacco/cancer link.

The point of this work wasn't necessarily to convince people that tobacco was safe – rather, it was to create the sense that the safety of tobacco was a fundamentally unanswerable question. "Experts disagree," and you're not qualified to figure out who's right and who's wrong, so just stop trying to figure it out and light up.

In other words, Big Tobacco's cancer denial playbook wasn't so much an attack on "the truth" as it was an attack on epistemology – the system by which we figure out what is true and what isn't. The tactic was devastatingly effective. Not only did it allow the tobacco giants to kill millions of people with impunity, it allowed them to reap billions of dollars by doing so.

Since then, epistemology has been under sustained assault. By the 1970s, Big Oil knew that its products would render the Earth unfit for human habitation, and they hired the same companies that had abetted Big Tobacco's mass murder to provide cover for their own slow-motion, planetary scale killing spree.

Time and again, big business has used assaults on epistemology to provide cover for unthinkable crimes. This has given rise to today's epistemological crisis, in which we don't merely disagree about what is true, but (far more importantly) disagree about how the truth can be known:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/25/black-boxes/#when-you-know-you-know

Ask a conspiratorialist why they believe in Qanon or Hatians in Springfield eating pets, and you'll get an extremely vibes-based answer – fundamentally, they believe it because it feels true. As the old saying goes, you can't reason someone out of a belief they didn't reason their way into.

This assault on reason itself is at the core of Kanter's critique. He starts off by listing three cases in which academic economists allowed themselves to be corrupted by the monopolies they studied:

George Mason University tricked an international antitrust enforcer into attending a training seminar that they believed to be affiliated with the US government. It was actually sponsored by the very companies that enforcer was scrutnizing, and featured a parade of "experts" who asserted that these companies were great, actually.

An academic from GMU – which receives substantial tech industry funding – signed an amicus brief opposing an enforcement action against their funders. The academic also presented a defense of these funders to the OECD, all while posing as a neutral academic and not disclosing their funding sources.

An ex-GMU economist, Joshua Wright, submitted a study defending Qualcomm against the FTC, without disclosing that he'd been paid to do so. Wright has elevated undisclosed conflicts of interest to an art form:

https://www.wsj.com/us-news/law/google-lawyer-secret-weapon-joshua-wright-c98d5a31

Kanter is at pains to point out that these three examples aren't exceptional. The economics profession – whose core tenet is "incentive matter" – has made it standard practice for individual researchers and their academic institutions to take massive sums from giant corporations. Incredibly, they insist that this has nothing to do with their support of monopolies as "efficient."

Academic centers often serve as money-laundries for monopolist funders; researchers can evade disclosure requirements when they publish in journals or testify in court, saying only that they work for some esteemed university, without noting that the university is utterly dependent on money from the companies they're defending.

Now, Kanter is a lawyer, not an academic, and that means that his job is to advocate for positions, and he's at pains to say that he's got nothing but respect for ideological advocacy. What he's objecting to is partisan advocacy dressed up as impartial expertise.

For Kanter, mixing advocacy with expertise doesn't create expert advocacy – it obliterates expertise, as least when it comes to making good policy. This mixing has created a "crisis of expertise…a pervasive breakdown in the distinction between expertise and advocacy in competition policy."

The point of an independent academia, enshrined in the American Association of University Professors' charter, is to "advance knowledge by the unrestricted research and unfettered discussion of impartial investigators." We need an independent academy, because "to be of use to the legislator or the administrator, [an academic] must enjoy their complete confidence in the disinterestedness of [his or her] conclusions."

It's hard to overstate just how much money economists can make by defending monopolies. Writing for The American Prospect, Robert Kuttner gives the rate at $1,000/hour. Monopoly's top defenders make unimaginable sums, like U Chicago's Dennis Carlton, who's brought in over $100m in consulting fees:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-09-24-economists-as-apologists/

The hidden cost of all of this is epistemological consensus. As Tim Harford writes in his 2021 book The Data Detective, the truth can be known through research and peer-review:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/04/how-to-truth/#harford

But when experts deliberately seek to undermine the idea of expertise, they cast laypeople into an epistemological void. We know these questions are important, but we can't trust our corrupted expert institutions. That leaves us with urgent questions – and no answers. That's a terrifying state to be in, and it makes you easy pickings for authoritarian grifters and conspiratorial swindlers.

Seen in this light, Kanter's antitrust work is even more important. In attacking corporate power itself, he is going after the machine that funds this nihilism-inducing corruption machine.

This week, Tor Books published SPILL, a new, free LITTLE BROTHER novella about oil pipelines and indigenous landback!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/25/epistemological-chaos/#incentives-matter

Image: Ron Cogswell (modified) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:George.Mason.University.Arlington.Campus.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Chapter 5

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @sirenetheblogger @a13x15a5133p @abcdontbotherme @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags were not working, I'm sorry if yours did not work!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Previous Part: Chapter Four

Next Part: Chapter Six

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: I haven’t gotten to Idia’s or Diasomnia’s chapter yet, so please forgive me if the characters seem ooc.

Note 3: Of course Jade and Floyd get the most screen time.

—----------------------------------

Today you had not one, not two, but three exhibits to cover. The aquarium, reptile exhibit, and the panther and albino tiger exhibit were all on your list today. You decided to cover them in that order.

The man who ran the aquarium gave you the three meals without a second glance, walking briskly through the door as soon as you had picked up the fish sandwiches. What a friendly guy.

You walked through the keeper’s entrance, situated above the aquarium tank for easy access to the halflings inside. You looked down through the blue water and couldn’t see any movement or signs of life at all.

“Um… hello! Meal time!” You called. 

No response.

You kneeled at the side of the tank and splashed your fingers in the water a little, still calling out “meal time”. Just as you were about to give up, a curious head popped out of the water.

It was one of the eel halflings- you could tell by the razor sharp teeth and the golden eye staring lazily up at you.

“Want a sandwich?” You asked, holding out a fish sandwich to the eel.

He nodded and held out a hand. You were fascinated by the webbed, clawed fingers that reached out to you. You must have stared too long because the eel let out a confused chirp, wondering why his sandwich was taking so long.

You handed his meal to him and watched as he dug in. 

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Floyd! Floyd!” The eel yelled out his name excitedly, as though he had answered a million dollar question. You laughed.

“Nice to meet you, Floyd. I heard you have a brother?”

Floyd nodded and dove under the water. You cringed at the thought of soggy bread, but figured it probably didn’t bother a sea creature. 

Floyd resurfaced moments later, tearing at his sandwich with his sharp teeth. This time, however, he was not alone. Peeking above the water so only the top of his head and eyes could be seen, was a halfling that looked just like Floyd. 

There were a few differences, such as the side his golden eye was on and the side his bangs parted, but the main difference was his expression. He had a different feel to him than Floyd. While Floyd’s face was relaxed and playful, this one was wary and studied you intently in a way that made you feel bare.

“What’s your name?” You asked. The eel did not answer, but Floyd was quick to supply the answer for him.

“Jaaaade,” Floyd told you, a playful smile spreading across his face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jade,” you said to the quiet eel halfling. He narrowed his eyes in response, studying you even more intently.

You held out a sandwich for him to take. There was a minute where he stared at the food, before a clawed hand gingerly plucked it from your hands. He disappeared under the water.

“There’s one sandwich left… Oh, right! There’s an octopus halfling in the tank too! Could you get him for me, Floyd?” 

Floyd let out a chirp and tilted his head in confusion. You realized you had just dumped a ton of words on the poor halfling.

“Could you get the octopus?” You asked gently.

Floyd chirped again and dove under the water. He came back up looking very proud of himself as he dragged Jade to the surface by his arm.

“No, not Jade…” you tried not to let your frustration show, “The octopus.”

Floyd stared at you uncomprehendingly. 

Jade rolled his eyes, “She wants Azul.” You were surprised by how easily he said the words, as though he were fluent in english. And maybe he was- only time would tell, you supposed.

“Azul!” Floyd gasped, diving under the water again.

This time, when he surfaced, it was alone. You were about to ask Jade to get the octopus halfling, when a handsome face broke the surface. You were surprised by how different from the twins he looked, with his white hair and blue eyes. He also regarded you with apprehension, as though you may hurt him.

“Hello there,” you said softly, “I have a sandwich for you.”

He approached you slowly, and you did your best to stay completely still so as not to scare him off. Finally, he reached out a slender hand and took the sandwich from you. With him as close as he was, you could see black tentacles through the water. He noticed you looking and blushed a light blue, before shooting under the water and disappearing from sight.

Was he embarrassed by his tentacles? You waved away the thought. Surely that was impossible.

“I have to go, guys, but I’ll be back later,” you promised. Jade’s expression did not change, but Floyd dramatically threw himself against the side of the tank and said, “Awwwww…”

You giggled and waved goodbye, a little unnerved by how the twins’ eyes followed you on your entire walk to the door.

Next, the reptile exhibit.

The keeper there was a bit more friendly. He handed you the burgers that were to be fed to the inhabitants and wished you a good day.

There were only two tanks in the heated building, which was modeled to look like a brown cave. You went for the tank on the right first, slipping through the keeper’s door and surveying your surroundings. The giant boa constrictor in the middle of the enclosure turned to face you, and you were surprised by the friendly face you were met with.

The boa constrictor was human from the waist-up and snake from the waist-down. He had ruby eyes that sparkled with interest as he approached you quickly. He smiled widely, almost innocently, and revealed the long, hollow snake fangs in his mouth- a stark contrast from his friendly demeanor.

“Who are you?” The boa constrictor asked.

“I’m (Y/n), and you are?”

“Kalim!” The boa constrictor answered with a closed-eyed smile. He regarded the burgers curiously, “Rat burgers?”

“Oh, is that what’s in them?” You asked, feeling a little green at the thought of eating one of those. You held one out to Kalim and he took it with another big smile.

“Jamil! Wake up!” He stuck his hand into a fake bush and pulled on another snake’s tail. To your horror, the viper you had seen a few days ago came slithering out, seething silently.

Great. An angry, venomous viper. I’m going to die. You shook the negative thoughts from your head and held out a burger, desperately praying he wasn’t going to strike and poison you.

His eyes softened and he took the burger from you gently.

“Thank you. Did you say ‘thank you’, Kalim?” Like a few of the other halflings, Jamil was surprisingly fluent, although he struggled over some of the words.

Kalim’s eyes widened, “Oh! Thank you, (Y/n)!”

You laughed at his enthusiasm, “No problem, you two.”

As you waved goodbye, Kalim’s tail wrapped around your ankle. Surprised, you said, “I’ll be back later.” Reluctantly, Kalim withdrew his tail.

You headed to the other cage. As you approached, something bright blue skittered under a large bush. Curious, you entered through the keeper’s door.

“I’ve got a burger for you,” you called out.

“Ugh…” a dreary voice reached your ears, “A burger again? That’s snake food. Do they even know how to take care of a lizard?”

You poked your head around a particularly large bush and spotted the inhabitant of the tank you were in. He had pale skin with electric blue hair, scales, and tail, curled up in the corner, glaring at you.

“I’m sorry, that’s all I have for you today,” you apologized. The lizard appeared to be another halfling that was fluent in English. You were surprised by how many there were.

“You are new,” the lizard stated.

“Yes, I’m (Y/n). I’m a researcher,” you explained.

The lizard nodded, “I’ll eat the burger.”

You handed it to him, “Thank you, I’m sorry you don’t like burgers. What’s your name?”

He was quiet for a few moments, before replying, “Idia.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Idia,” you said. You gave him a wave goodbye and he looked surprised.

“You’re leaving already?” He asked.

“I’ll be back soon!” You promised.

Idia nodded, then curled back up, “I like being alone anyways.”

You waved goodbye again, but it was not returned. You headed out of his exhibit and out of the reptile house. The next place to go was the panther and white tiger exhibit.

The fresh air hit your face as you traveled to the next exhibit. You felt the same nervousness as when you went into the lion and hyena area- the fear of predators much stronger than you. The meals were left on a table for you to take (more burgers), but no zookeeper was in sight. Some of the keepers here really were not friendly…

As soon as you opened the door, you were met with both of the albino tigers. You stiffened as one of them turned to you with a stern expression. The other tiger, you noted, was fast asleep. 

“You are not the keeper!” The awake tiger yelled, “Trespasser! Trespasser!”

“No, no! I’m filling in for today,” you soothed, “See, I have your burgers.”

That seemed to satisfy him, because he sat down with a thump, tail twitching. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, handing him a burger.

“Sebek,” he said importantly, sitting up proudly.

You turned to the sleeping tiger and gently called out, “Hey, can you wake up for a second? I have your dinner.”

The tiger did not stir. Sebek leaned over and gave him a nudge. The tiger startled awake, blinking blearily around.

At first, you were a little nervous. What if this tiger would be angry that you disturbed his sleep? 

However, the tiger showed no signs of hostility, calmly approaching you and taking a burger.

“He’s Silver,” Sebek introduced him. The sleepy tiger, Silver, nodded absently as he began to eat.

“Nice to meet you both!” You said enthusiastically. They did not return the enthusiasm.

You took the other two burgers and walked through the underbrush, leaving the pair to their meal. You wondered where the panthers were.

“Hello,” a pleasant voice said.

You looked around but could not find the owner of the voice. “Up here,” he said.

You looked up and were shocked to see a panther halfling hanging upside down on a tree branch.

“How…?” You asked, stunned.

He let out a soft laugh and let himself fall to the ground, twisting in midair to land on his feet. He held out his hand, “I take other burger to Malleus.”

“Oh, I was looking forward to meeting everyone…” You said uncertainly.

Lilia looked surprised, “Researcher?”

“Yes, I’m a researcher.”

Lilia smiled, “Follow.”

You followed him as he walked through the forest. Before long, you both had ended up in a clearing. A tall panther halfling lounged on a rock, his eyes lighting up with curiosity as you approached.

“I brought you a burger,” you said cheerfully, holding out said burger.

The halfling stood up and it was only then that you noticed the horns jutting out of his head behind his ears. Suddenly, you realized why the black-and-pink haired panther had tried to spare you a meeting with him.

Halflings with horns, other than goat and ram halflings, were known to be able to produce magic. Strong magic.

A thrill of fear ran through you, but you held your ground. He didn’t seem to be hostile, so you wouldn’t show your hesitation.

“Thank you,” he said, voice smooth and rumbling.

You nodded, eyes fixated on his oddly-shaped black horns. The other panther took a bite of his burger and, as if he were copying him, Malleus quickly took his burger from your hand and dug in.

“I’ll be back soon, it was nice to meet you both,” you said gently, giving them a wave. It was only after you had closed the exhibit door that you realized you hadn’t gotten the pink-and-black haired panther’s name. 

You pulled out your notebook. You’d get everyone’s names downpat soon enough. It was time to begin your observations.

[hai7ani]

WHAT TYPA GIRLS DO YOU LIKE? haitani rindou

nsfw (suggestive)

it's late into the night when rindou sleepily topples over your body in bed.

you welcome him into your embrace, lazily throwing the thick blanket to cover your bodies, creating a warm and snuggly atmosphere in bed, and god, you swear you could hear soft purrs coming from the big, big man who's currently on the verge of falling asleep on top of you.

"long day?" one of your hands reach up to tangle your fingers around his purple locks and he simply hums in response. a strong arm wraps itself around your waist and the other moves to peel away your phone and throw it aside. "go to sleep."

with me, he wants to say.

i know, you want to reply.

rindou thinks it's so romantic to fall asleep together.

a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you move around in his arms to get comfortable, with a simple question floating around in your mind and its words on the tip of your tongue while you think about how to approach your very sleepy husband with the topic.

just when you were about to open your mouth, rindou's deep voice fills your dimly lit bedroom. "whatcha thinkin' bout?" his words were slightly muffled, probably due to his entire face being mushed into your chest and he's seriously about to fall asleep, and yet you still heard him loud and clear. and that's what you like most about him; after years of being together, he's always managed to read you like an open book, so you two have rarely ever struggled with communication because rindou always knows what you want and what you want to say and only aims to understand your point instead of belittling and arguing (and vice versa). in this case, he knows there's something you want to ask.

"just thinkin’,” you softly reply. he hums for you to continue, and you do.

"what typa girls do you like?" and it's just a mindless, silly question, really. you weren't jealous or insecure or anything, nah. rindou has never made you feel any way like that; you were only curious and extremely ready to tease him for whatever he answers to your silly little question, and you also would have never expected your husband to react the way he does.

rindou places himself on both his elbows, his face hovering on top of yours and your big glossy eyes stare up at him. a few strands of his mullet tickles your jaw and you simply move them away by combing and tucking his hair back. rindou's got his million dollar smirk plastered on his lips while he's slowly inching closer to you, and you can't help but let a shy smile grow on yours.

"why?" he teases, and you can feel his hot breath fanning over your cupid's bow. you manage to stutter out a response, "jus' askin', s'all."

breathing irregular and bpm increasing rapidly, how silly.

he leaves a small peck on the corner on your lips and you start to flush - your cheeks' a bright red - still seemingly affected by his antics after years of being together. "if i tell ya, what do i get in return?"

you pretend to ponder.

"hmm, probably a kiss or something, dunno."

rindou purses his lips, "that don't seem fair enough." ". . . how about two kisses?" he raises an eyebrow. "fine, five." "deal."

slowly, you feel many, many rough and calloused fingers slide up your body under the thin camisole you don as he eases his body between your legs, face resting in the crook of your neck.

"so . . . ?"

"i like girls who asks dumb questions and are like, crazy fuckin' hot. like you."

you bite your lip and giggle, lightly scratching your freshly done acrylics against his broad back that only you get to touch and feel and he sighs comfortably. he always does this, you think - how he never fails in making you feel like you're on top of the world. (he is your world, and you want to be on top of him right now.)

"yeah? what else?"

"’n i like girls who suck at mario kart too." he says, referring to how he'd beat you in a game of mario kart earlier (you did not win a single cup) and couldn't stop making fun of you for a good twenty minutes. "hey! now that's mean." rindou feels a hand swat him on the back and he laughs into your neck, "you're such a sore loser, baby." he kisses your collarbone and you pout harder, "it's not that i suck, yer' jus' too good at it." he says nothing more and starts rubbing your hips affectionately, softly inhaling your sweet scent. you used his body wash today, he realises.

"anyway . . . here's your reward." nonetheless, you were happy enough with his answers, moving to kiss him five times as you promised but he stops you by cupping two large palms on your warm cheeks, squeezing a little. "before that . . .” his gaze moves down to your glossy, puckered lips before meeting your eyes again. "what typa guys do you like?" you see the growing bit of lust hiding behind those beautiful, dreamy purple orbs and you're starting to see where this is leading to.

"if i tell ya, what do i get in return?" you decide to be bold and mimic his choice of words. he only smirks, staring deep back into your eyes with now a loving gaze, "i’ll love you forever."

your eyes widened just a bit, shocked at how he just openly stated his affection for you (he rarely does that, but when he does . . . oh boy, you get so shy), and rindou feels his palms on your cheeks get warmer with each millisecond that you don't answer. but you're quick to pull yourself together, not wanting to back down from this harmless bicker which you started, so you reach for his face with both hands and pull him down for a quick smooch.

"i really like guys who are fit. ya know, like those strong 'n really buff guys at the gym. you should take some pointers, actually." with a scrunch of a nose, you make sure to emphasise on the last sentence, knowing how much of a gym bro your husband is and how much of a reaction you're gonna get from him.

rindou raises his eyebrows after reluctantly pulling away from your lips, "i'm not buff enough fa' ya?"

you shrug, "could be a little more buffer."

now you've done it.

he nibbles on your earlobe and you gasp softly, "well, ya see . . . i've got hip day tomorrow," he pecks the sensitive spot just below your ears, "but i could always do it ahead of schedule." and he says that all while gripping your left thigh to hook it around his waist in a swift motion and good gracious, could you feel his growing hard on rubbing against your core. you let out a soft whimper and push your head back deeper into the pillow beneath you.

rindou kisses your temple and whispers carefully,

"gonna help me with it? i sure love a good exercise."

a moan escapes you.

"yeah-"

and another.

"-whatever you need, rin."

he sucks purples onto your neck.

"good, now lemme love ya forever, baby."

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading ≽ܫ≼

[sidekick-hero]

It's finally here, my entry for the @steddiesummerexchange. This is a gift for my dear friend @starryeyedjanai - I was so delighted when I found out you were my giftee 💜💜💜 Your prompt 'Steve can't get his inheritance until he marries someone' really tested me and took me out of my writing comfort zone. I hope you like it and that I did your prompt justice! Special shout out to the best beta in the whole world, @acasualcrossfade 💜🙏

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3 - the fic is finished and has 4 chapters, the last one will drop June 24

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 1 (5.6k) under the cut

"Rob! Robbie!" Steve yells as he walks into their two-bedroom apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. "Robin Juniper Buckley, where are you?"

He hears the telltale clatter of dishes and sure enough, he finds his roommate and best friend in their tiny kitchen washing the dishes. It's his turn to do them, but his schedule has been hell this week. He's been spending so much time at the firehouse cooking for a crew of five to twelve perpetually hungry firemen and women that the thought of cleaning up their kitchen at home has made him want to cry.

"I'm here doing the dishes, because if I didn't, we could have proven Darwin's theories right here in our kitchen." Despite the scolding words, she doesn't look particularly angry at him, and he figures he'll be forgiven in no time. She knows he's been working himself into the ground lately, pulling double shifts whenever his boss will let him. Living in Chicago is expensive enough, but Steve also has to think about Max's education. There's no way his little sister can't live up to her full potential just because their parents are assholes who stopped caring about their children the second they turned out not to be the perfect son and daughter Richard and Emily Harrington wanted them to be.

He walks up to her and hugs her sideways, resting his head on her shoulder for a moment as he mumbles, "'m sorry, Robs. I'll make it up to you."

She sighs, and he knows he's already forgiven. "I know you will. It's okay. Not like I forgot to do something once or twice."

He leans back to look at her for full effect, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, like when you started dating Chrissy and were so busy having sex that you barely left your room or her apartment?"

Robin swats at him with the towel slung over her shoulder, but there's a smile on her face at the memory.

"Okay, now that we've established that you're jealous that I have an incredibly sexy and wonderful girlfriend," Robin says, ignoring his indignant Oi!, "do you want to tell me why you stormed in here yelling out my full name, which I've clearly forbidden you to use except in emergencies?"

Her question brings back the excitement that propelled him from the grocery store to her apartment in record time, and reminds him of the news he's been dying to share with her in person, rather than by phone or text message. He needs to see her reaction firsthand.

Taking hold of Robin's shoulders, he locks eyes with her azure gaze, unable to contain the grin that splits his face in two. "She’s gone!"

Robin blinks in confusion, prompting him to clarify. "Grandma Harrington, she's kicked the bucket, bit the dust, you name it."

A puzzled expression lingers on Robin's face momentarily before realization dawns. "No way! She... really?"

Unable to contain his excitement, Steve gives her a gentle shake. "Yes, really. Grandma Harrington finally called it quits."

They look at each other, their grins widening until they both look like madmen. Steve is aware that all of this is probably a highly inappropriate way to react to the death of a human being, but Eleanor Harrington had been the worst human being Steve or Robin had ever had the displeasure of meeting in their lives.

She had visited her son and daughter-in-law infrequently over the years, never giving them much warning when she was coming over and occupying one of their guest rooms for the unforeseeable future. More than once, Steve had come home to find her sitting at the kitchen table or on the sofa, staring at him with her judgmental gaze, disappointed in him before he even crossed the threshold. Any friend who had the misfortune to accompany him was ordered to sit with her and be interrogated, always found wanting as her grandson's companion. Everyone was beneath a Harrington, even Tommy, even though his father was a lawyer. ‘Too many freckles and that awful grin’ was one reason, ‘I don't like the way he looks at you, Steven, too greedy’ was another.

Robin, who had become a permanent fixture in Steve’s life after becoming his project partner in one of their shared classes his junior year, hadn’t fared any better. To this day, Steve has no idea how Grandma Harrington found out that Robin was queer, because at that point Robin hadn't even been out to her parents, only Steve. But when she did, she had spit at Robin. Steve had lost it then, too angry, too hurt to think rationally. He had thrown caution to the wind and come out to her, too, even though the thought of liking boys was still new to him, something he was still trying on to see how it would fit.

He doesn't even know what he expected to get out of it. Certainly not acceptance or even approval, no matter how much a part of him still craved that from his family. The only thing he got was her calling them both horrible names and saying such cruel things that Steve had to hold Robin and wipe away her tears afterwards.

That episode alone was reason enough for Steve to hate the old woman. Never mind that she had raised his father to be a bigoted, heartless man who had never learned what it meant to truly love anyone, not even his own son or daughter.

When their faces begin to ache from smiling, Robin shrugs casually, as though dismissing the significance of the moment. But Steve knows better. He knows the weight of hurt and resentment they both carry because of that woman.

"Rest in peace, I suppose," Robin remarks with an air of detachment, and Steve can only offer a noncommittal hum in response, realizing that any words he might speak would only add to the inappropriate nature of their conversation.

"Alright, so what does this mean for you, Steve?" Robin asks, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Is this going to change how you deal with your family?" She pauses briefly before adding, "And what about your inheritance?"

Steve offers a slight shrug, his expression turning pensive. "I'm not entirely sure yet, Robs," he begins, his tone serious despite the lingering excitement from their earlier celebration. "I mean, I guess it means I don't have to deal with her anymore, which is definitely a relief. But as for the rest of the family, I don't know. They've never been particularly warm or welcoming to me, you know that. I mean, you’ve been there when they wanted to send me to a psychiatrist to help me get over being queer. I doubt they've changed much since then."

Robin nods in understanding, recalling the numerous tales Steve had shared about his family's cold demeanor and their refusal to accept him for who he is. She reaches out, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I mean, you know she was loaded. So yeah, there is an inheritance, but -" Steve continues, his gaze distant as he contemplates the implications. "There's a condition in Grandma Harrington's will. I can only inherit if I marry someone.”

Robin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Marry? Seriously? That seems archaic, unfair, and downright manipulative."

Steve lets out a wry chuckle. "Tell me about it. Grandma always did enjoy her control games. It's probably her way of trying to mold me into the perfect, straight grandson."

"You've got to be kidding me! Seriously? You... what, have to marry some woman so you can be the perfectly acceptable heterosexual son and grandson your family always wanted? Fuck off!" Despite the heavy topic, Steve can't help but smile at Robin's outrage on his behalf. He could always count on her. After all, she was there to pick up the pieces when his parents told him in no uncertain terms to either learn to be straight or leave.

He left and lived with the Buckleys until Robin graduated and they moved to Chicago together. It was the best decision he could have made, even if it still hurts some days.

For a moment, they both fall silent, each lost in their thoughts. Then Robin squeezes his hand again. "We'll figure it out, Steve. We always do. And hey, maybe this is the perfect opportunity to really stick it to them."

"What do you mean?"

A devilish grin spreads across Robin's face. "Tell me, does her will say that you have to marry someone, or that you have to marry a woman to get your inheritance?"

Oh.

Oh.

Steve looks at Robin, his eyes wide with sudden understanding. “You’re a genius, Buckley,” he says, grinning. “I think it’s time for us to pay my attorney a visit.”

Turns out Robin is right. It seems that Grandma Harrington wrote her will at a time when gay marriage was still illegal in most states, and never thought to change it after the courts made it legal in Indiana and Illinois in 2014.

Steve's lawyer, who he honestly couldn't afford if it wasn't for the fact that she was an old family friend, agreed to help him pro bono just to give his bigoted parents the middle finger, as her sister was a lesbian. She said that the requirements of the will would be met if Steve married a woman as well as a man. As long as it was a legally recognized marriage, he would get close to half a million dollars. Enough to pay for Max's education, the rest of Robin's student loans, and maybe even a small house here in Chicago for him and Max once she was done with college and wanted to live with him until she was ready to be on her own.

The only problem was that Steve didn't have anyone to marry, woman or man.

His last serious relationship had been in high school, for crying out loud. Not for lack of trying. Steve loved love, but love apparently didn't love Steve back. Robin insists that's because he's sabotaging himself. She thinks deep down he's afraid of getting hurt again, so he only falls for people who a) he can't have or b) are a terrible match outside the bedroom.

She might have a point, he thinks in his more introspective moments. He has no shortage of options, and he always finds someone to hook up with, but he rarely makes it past the second date.

"Maybe you could hire someone?" Robin suggests, sipping her Dirty Shirley. After seeing John for some legal advice, they had gone straight to their favorite bar to hold a strategic summit over drinks.

So far, they have only made it to the drinking part.

Sighing deeply, Steve considers the idea for a second before shaking his head vehemently. "No way. I'm not paying some stranger to marry me. It's probably illegal anyway, and it sounds a lot like prostitution."

He knows it's the wrong thing to say when Robin raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "And what, Steven, is wrong with prostitution?"

"Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with it. A job like any other job,” he hastily assures her.

His answer seems to satisfy her and he knows she's right. It's just that sometimes the things he's been raised to believe, thanks to his extremely conservative parents, are hard to leave behind. They have a tendency to bubble back to the surface when he least expects it.

"That's what I thought. But I get it, it feels wrong to pay someone to marry you."

"Exactly. And I mean, it's about trust. Who guarantees that they won't double-cross me somehow and run off with all the money? I can't risk that."

He looks over at his best friend, his platonic soul mate, whom he trusts with his life and, more importantly, his little sister's life. Right now, he thinks, there’s only one person he could imagine being married to.

"How about we get married?"

He regrets it as soon as he asks.

Not because he thinks Robin wouldn’t do it, but because of the two of them, she is the one in a loving, stable relationship that could very well end in marriage one day. It's unfair of him to put her in a situation where she feels like she has to choose between Steve and Chrissy.

Worst of all, he knows she still wants to say yes to him. He can see it in the soft, sad way she looks at him. They both know they'll spend the rest of their lives together anyway. The simple truth of both their lives is that they would do anything for each other, walk through fire, face any horror the world could throw at them, just to see each other happy. And it's not like they couldn't get a divorce later, so Robin could still marry Chrissy, sure. But it would take something from her.

"Steve, I -"

"No, wait, don't answer that. It was a stupid idea, I shouldn't -"

"It's not stupid, it's just -"

As they talk over each other, their voices clash until they both instinctively reach over, silencing each other with a hand over their mouths at the same time. Their wide-eyed surprise quickly gives way to laughter as they realize the absurdity of the situation.

Steve is the first to recover from their fit of laughter, quickly sobering up to reassure Robin in a mild voice. "Seriously, Robs, I shouldn't have asked you to do this because it puts you in a shitty position. I know how much you love Chrissy and it wouldn't be fair to either of you. Especially when the two of you could finally get legally married. I don't want to take that away from you and make you agree to a fake heterosexual marriage like it was the 80's."

She looks at him with her big blue eyes, impossibly soft, and takes his hand in hers.

"Steve," she begins, her voice as gentle as her gaze, "thank you. For getting it, I mean. It wouldn't be all fake, though. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But you're right, I'm not in love with you and you're not in love with me. And we both deserve to marry someone we feel that way about. In a perfect world, we would. I mean, I don't even know if Chrissy would ever want to marry me, but," Robin stops here, her eyes widening in sudden realization. "Oh my God, Steve!" Robin cries out in excitement and wonder, her reaction clearly colored by the strong cocktails their favorite bar always provided, before her voice becomes softer again, but no less wondrous. "I really want to marry her. I want to marry Chrissy so badly, Steve, I can't believe I didn't know.”

"And I can't believe you're realizing this after I asked you to marry me. Way to keep a guy's ego in check," Steve jokes with a big grin on his face. It's less news to him than it is to Robin, to be honest. Ever since Robin stumbled into their apartment with a piece of paper in her hand with a number on it, gushing about the gorgeous woman she had just met at the bookstore where she works, Steve knew his best friend was completely smitten with Chrissy Cunningham. That was four years ago, and they are still going strong, obviously madly in love.

She throws her arms around him and says, "I'm sorry," not sounding sorry at all, still giddy with her newfound realization. "I'll make it up to you. I actually might have an idea how we can get you your inheritance and still stick it to Grandma Harrington."

"I sense a but."

"But I can't guarantee it'll work."

"And..."

"And you might not like it at first, but honestly, it's genius, you just have to trust me. And if it really doesn't work out, then we'll get married and you'll pay for my 'I'm-sorry-I-love-you-please-stay-with-me-even-though-I'm-fake-marrying-my-best-friend' vacation with Chrissy. And the divorce."

Maybe it's the three beers he's already had, or maybe it's the fact that Robin would actually marry him just to help him out that makes him agree. He's sure he'll regret it along the way, but maybe he should take a leap of faith. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't. No way to find out but to try.

Drunk Steve is clearly an optimist.

"I feel like I'm going to regret this, but all right. What's your plan?"

Robin grins mischievously, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she leans back, holding Steve at arm's length.

"Steve Harrington, you won't regret this, I promise," she declares, her tone brimming with confidence.

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly, unable to suppress a chuckle at Robin's enthusiasm. "I'll hold you to that, Robin. But seriously, when do I get to know the master plan?"

Robin's grin widens, but then she sobers slightly, a hint of seriousness creeping into her expression. "I need to talk to Chrissy first. It's... complicated. But I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, I promise."

Steve nods, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension swirling inside him. "Okay, fine. Just... don't keep me waiting too long, okay? I've had enough surprises for one night."

Robin reaches out, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I won't, Steve. Trust me, this is going to work out. You'll see."

Despite his lingering doubts, Steve can't help but be swayed by Robin's unwavering confidence. With a nod, he squeezes her hand back, a silent agreement passing between them. Whatever Robin's plan entails, he knows his best friend has his back. And maybe, hopefully, they'll come out on top after all.

Drunk Steve should not be allowed to make any decisions, sober Steve decides.

Because he instantly regrets trusting Robin's secretive plan as soon as he steps into their apartment a week later, only to find not just Robin, but also her girlfriend Chrissy and Chrissy's best friend and roommate Eddie lounging in their living room.

All eyes turn towards him as he enters.

Robin's expression is the most transparent. Though the furrow between her brows is subtle, her lip-chewing and rhythmic tapping betray her worry, likely anticipating his reaction to whatever scheme they've concocted.

Chrissy, on the other hand, wears a radiant smile, her bubbly demeanor suggesting she's delighted about something. Yet, Steve can't shake the feeling that her enthusiasm might spell trouble. While he adores Chrissy and cherishes her friendship almost as much as he does Robin’s, he's well aware of her propensity for stirring up mischief.

Their shared history stretches back almost as far as hers and Robin's. It's a tradition for Robin and him to introduce their second dates to each other, one of their many platonic soulmate privileges. Steve often wonders if this practice inadvertently sabotages any chances of a third date, but he's unwilling to compromise on the importance of his friendship with Robin.

In any case, if someone can't accept his slightly unconventional bond with his best friend, they're probably not the right fit for him anyway.

Eddie's expression proves the most enigmatic. He appears utterly deer-in-the-headlights, his wide brown eyes resembling those of a startled doe. His usually pale complexion now seems even more ghostly. Steve notices how Eddie's fingers have been incessantly tousling his hair, rendering his dark curls resembling more of a chaotic bird's nest. Steve recognizes this as one of Eddie's nervous ticks, alongside fidgeting and rambling. His suspicions of Eddie's unease appear justified as Eddie avoids meeting Steve's gaze, opting instead to stare down at his hands, absently toying with his rings.

Something is going on and Steve has a sinking feeling that he won't like it.

"Um, hi?" He offers tentatively, his gaze flitting between Robin, Chrissy, and the nervously fidgeting Eddie. "Am I missing something here? Is this an early birthday surprise? Because if it is, I hate to break it to you, but my birthday's not for another nine months."

Before Robin can respond, Eddie interjects, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Hey, Steve! Yeah, it's been a while, hasn't it? Nah, no birthday party, man. We definitely know when your birthday is!"

"We do?" Chrissy chimes in with a playful grin, clearly jesting, as Steve knows she's the one who meticulously keeps track of important dates in their circle.

Eddie, caught off guard by Chrissy's banter, stumbles over his words. "Uh, yeah, of course! February 23rd. Remember that baseball-themed cake from last year? I almost dropped it on the icy ground!"

Steve remembers it too, mostly because he was so chuffed to learn that in order to save his cake, Eddie had taken the fall instead, choosing to land on his admittedly not very well padded backside so that the cake could live. He had been unable to sit properly at their little gathering all evening. Steve had felt sorry for him, but also fond in the face of Eddie's sacrifice for him.

"It's so good to see you, Steve. You look great today, that shirt really makes your eyes pop. Doesn't it, Eddie?" Chrissy gushes, nudging Eddie's side as he just stares at Steve in a way that makes Steve worry that he's about to go into cardiac arrest.

Eddie's mouth opens and closes like a fish. "Um..."

"Okay, what's going on, Robin?" Steve turns to the only person who doesn't act like she's on drugs or caught red-handed at a crime scene. Or both.

Robin, bless her soul, doesn't beat around the bush. "I told you I had a plan. This," and she points to Eddie of all people, "is my plan."

"That's Eddie," Steve states the obvious, but he feels he can't be blamed. Nothing makes sense, so he's glad for every single thing he knows. Then the rest of her statement sinks in.

Blinking at her, his eyes wide, he says the first thing that comes to mind. "You can't be serious!"

There's no way she's saying what he thinks she's saying. Because right now it looks like her plan to help him get his inheritance involves marrying Eddie. Which, no. No, no, no, no. Not Eddie. Maybe she means some other plan that Steve has forgotten. Like Eddie helping him with Dustin's birthday surprise, which sounded much more likely than -

"I told you he didn't want to marry me," Eddie's voice sounds loud in the stunned silence after Steve's reaction. "This was a stupid idea, I don't even know what I was thinking." Then, addressing Steve with his eyes somewhere to Steve's right, "Listen, man, I'm sorry. I totally get it, no hard feelings, okay? I wouldn't want to marry me either."

The wry chuckle doesn't sit well with Steve, nor does the way Eddie still refuses to meet his eyes, or the fact that he's started walking toward their front door. Before he can think about it, his hand wraps around Eddie's arm as he passes Steve on his way out.

"Eddie, wait." Eddie does, looking at Steve's hand wrapped around his forearm. Steve's grip isn't tight, so Eddie could easily break free, but he doesn't. He just looks, quietly waiting. Still not meeting Steve's eyes.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I was just surprised, okay? A little warning would have been nice." The last part is mostly for Robin, who at least does look contrite at his words.

"It's fine, Steve, really. Don't worry about it. Now, if you'll excuse me. Places to be, things to do, see you when I see you, you know the drill."

Steve could let him go, maybe should let him go, because Eddie is obviously embarrassed and the whole situation has gone south anyway. But Eddie doesn't sound fine, and Steve feels terrible about his lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. Something that is usually Robin's specialty.

So instead of letting Eddie walk out of the apartment, Steve steps in front of him to block his way. "Eddie, please wait. I really didn't mean it the way you think I did, you have to believe me. You're a catch, okay? Anybody would be lucky to marry you."

And okay, wow, he didn't mean to say that, but it's the truth.

"You really mean that?" Eddie asks, pulling a strand of hair in front of his mouth. It looks incredibly cute and Steve wants to kill Robin for putting him in this position. She had said that he would not like her plan and that should have been reason enough for him to stop her. Because now he's between a rock and a hard place.

Either he lies and lets Eddie walk away thinking he's not good enough to be married, even if it is a scam to get his grandmother's inheritance. Or he tells the truth and risks getting his heart broken or their friendship ruined.

Because the thing is, Steve means every word. Steve has had a crush on Eddie for years. He's been able to keep those feelings in check because he and Eddie never spend time alone together. It's always group hangouts, or Eddie being there when he and Robin visit Chrissy, or Eddie joining them when they meet at their apartment. It also helps that Eddie keeps his distance from him. Sure, he's nice enough to Steve, but every time Steve tried to get close to the other man, his efforts were rebuked until he got the memo and stopped trying.

Before he can come to a decision, Robin steps in.

“I’m sorry we’re springing this on you, Steve. I could’ve prepared this a little bit better but Chrissy and I were so excited that we found the perfect solution, we couldn’t wait any longer.”

“And this is the perfect solution,” Chrissy jumps in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Tell him Robin!”

Infected by Chrissy's enthusiasm, Robin’s voice carries an equally excited note. “You said it yourself, you’d need someone we can trust. And you trust Eddie, don’t you?”

Steve can feel Eddie’s eyes on him. “Of course I do.” He doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath next to him at his decisive tone. Eddie’s a great guy, him rejecting Steve’s advances doesn’t change that.

Of course he trusts him because Eddie never gave him any reason not to.

But he remembers the stories Chrissy told them to explain why Eddie was a little wary of Steve. Apparently, Eddie didn't have it easy growing up. Chrissy wouldn't go into details because it's Eddie's story to tell, but she did mention that people used to treat Eddie like a criminal, a fuckup, trailer trash. Especially the jocks and rich kids at their high school, so since Steve was kind of both, Eddie had been wary of him.

So much so that Steve had overheard Eddie asking Chrissy once, early in her relationship with Robin, why Robin kept bringing that rich asshole jock over all the time. The words had hurt, but Chrissy's explanation had softened the blow. Still, he'd stopped trying to flirt with Eddie after that because he'd figured that even if Eddie came to accept him, he'd never be interested in going out with someone who reminded him so much of all the bullies in high school who had made his life a living hell.

All of which makes it easy to see how Steve's implicit trust could come as such a surprise to him. Which still kind of stings, because Steve had hoped that the last four years had shown Eddie that Steve was not what Eddie expected him to be just because he grew up rich and popular and into sports.

Before he can get lost in his thoughts about Eddie and what he has to do to earn Eddie's trust the way Eddie has his, Chrissy chimes in again, raising a finger. "So you trust Eddie. That's like the most important thing. Second," she raises another finger, making a playful peace sign in their direction, "Eddie's single. Not like Robin."

Ah, okay, Steve can see why Chrissy is so excited about her and Robin's 'plan'.

"'m sorry, Chrissy, for proposing to your girlfriend," Steve sheepishly apologizes, giving her a crooked smile, which she returns with a sunny one of her own.

"No hard feelings. I get it, believe me. Being with Robin means being stuck with you. Just like Robin is stuck with Eddie. Which is the third reason why this is a great idea," she adds, raising another finger. "We all spend a lot of time together already. Nothing really needs to change."

Aside from the fact that Steve secretly wishes things could change between him and Eddie, he's not so sure that's true. But to argue her point would mean revealing more about his feelings than he's comfortable with, so he lets it slide for now.

Objectively, Steve knows they're right. If he didn't still feel... something for Eddie, he probably wouldn't even hesitate. Because yes, he trusts Eddie not to screw him over, and he's also a close acquaintance who's been teetering on the edge of being a real friend for years. But he's also the reason Steve had to leave last year's Friendsgiving party early because Eddie showed up with some guy who couldn't keep his sleazy hands off of him. It drove Steve crazy to see someone else have what he wanted so badly.

In the end, it is the thought of being able to give Max all the chances she deserves that finally makes him look back at Eddie.

"And you're sure you want to do this? Fake marry me, I mean. Because, Eddie... I can't tell you how much I appreciate you being willing to do this to help me out, but... you don't have to do this, okay? It's not your mess or your fucked up family, it's mine."

Finally, Eddie is looking back at him, meeting his eyes.

"I do. Wanna do this, I mean. I know I don't have to, but -" Here Eddie pauses, apparently searching for the right words. After a few seconds he breathes a sigh and continues. "Look, for once, I love the idea of sticking it to an old homophobic hag, so that's a big incentive. Also, I was actually hoping you could help me out as well. Because there's this amazing record store that's for sale, but the bank refuses to give me a loan unless I have some kind of collateral. So I'm kind of hoping that being married will sway them."

At Steve's surprised look, Eddie hastens to add, "I don't want your money! That's for you and Max. Just the fact that I'm married to someone with money will probably be enough. And we can totally do a prenup or something like that."

Eddie sounds anxious, like he's afraid he's said something wrong, when in fact he's doing Steve a huge favor and asking for something incredibly small in return. Steve thinks he can't be blamed at this point, he just has to touch Eddie. So he does, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, Eddie. Really. Of course we can go to your bank and convince them to give you the loan. It's the least I can do to thank you."

It feels good to be holding Eddie like this, even more so when, after a moment's hesitation, Eddie hugs him back. Even though they've known each other for years, Steve can count the times they've done this on one hand. It's never lasted this long either, and Steve can't suppress his disappointment when Robin interrupts the quiet moment by clapping her hands excitedly, causing Eddie to pull away.

"Oh, I'm so glad we worked it out. Go us!"

Chrissy, just as excited, jumps up and down next to Robin. "I'm so happy for you guys! We can totally help you plan the wedding. It's going to be great, I know it."

Steve and Eddie look at each other in growing confusion.

"Chris," Eddie begins, his voice careful. He's clearly more experienced in dealing with an overly excited Chrissy, so Steve lets him take the lead. "You do realize that Steve and I are only getting married on paper, right? I don't think -"

"You can still have a wedding!" Chrissy interrupts, clearly not deterred by anything silly like pragmatism or logic. "It's still a special day, and you deserve to celebrate it with your friends and family."

Before Steve can say anything - what, he has no idea - Robin jumps in on the ‘you should have a real wedding’ party.

"Besides, it has to look real, right? Why wouldn't you have a real wedding if you were getting married? Everyone would wonder. It's just easier to pull out all the stops and make it look as real as possible so no one will question it."

And that... actually made a lot of sense. Goddammit.

Looking at Eddie with an apologetic look on his face, Steve says, "I guess she's right," and shrugs his shoulders in a ‘I wish she wasn't, but what can you do’ kind of way. Eddie, to his credit, just sighs and nods, accepting his fate with as much grace as he can. He glances at Chrissy, who is almost vibrating.

"Fine. Chris, do you want to help us plan a wedding?"

She actually squeals. "Yes, yes, yes!" Then she rushes over and pulls them into a group hug.

Steve, looking over Chrissy's head at Robin, opens his arm. "Come here, Buckley." It's all the invitation Robin needs to join their celebratory hug.

For just this moment, Steve allows himself to feel as if this is all real, him and Eddie announcing their wedding and their two best friends in the whole world sharing in their happiness. It's a nice feeling, and when he leans his head on Robin's shoulder and looks at Eddie, he finds him looking back with the same soft smile on his face as the one Steve thinks must be on his own.

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 15

Summary: things are no good.

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit. Dead dove do not eat

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit dark content, kidnapping, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of stealing money, degradation (not for sexual play), spitting, hitting, pinching, slapping, restraining, mocking, blood, human auction, forced removal of IUD, realization of voyeurism, sexual recordings without knowledge, dark imagery 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.4K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Rage. Blinding hot rage that boils every ounce of his blood. Hating himself doesn’t even cover it. Leaving you the way he did as a broken shell of the woman that he first met. You had shown resilience to his impossible needs. You had fallen so hard, and he still withheld how he truly felt for you.

The threat was enough to not just chill him all the way to the core of his being, but the video — whoever it was had caught him. Caught exactly what you meant to him on video. Words he had never spoken in years, and they had the evidence. Coupled with the threat of not only you, but Bucky’s Shy Violet. His unborn son. And Steve could not be responsible for that much pain.

Steve can barely see as he flees the hotel he left you in. A crumpled mess. A true depiction of the barren wasteland he left your heart. People don’t love as deeply as you did, and have someone rip it out with scars that may never heal. He’s an example of that. And he did it to the only person who he had ever truly been in love with.

He meant every word to you this morning, even the ones you would never hear. Why did this person, this entity hate him so much that he would threaten three people that had no part in this scheme? He had to tell Bucky. He also had to be able to visually see, and he can’t put anything into words except the red hot coils of desire to burn down the world.

Questioning if what he did was the right answer. He was told they knew his weakness, and you would be removed from his life. He beat them to it. He took away the person that they knew was his the one that would destroy him. But who? Who hated him that much to want to destroy him? Clearly it was competition but there was only one person, or people that were competitive with Steve.

“Sam?” The other man sighs. Hearing Steve's voice as wrecked as it was didn’t take much to realize what the idiot had done. “Who’s watching her?”

“You put Loki outside. Told him to watch her for a few weeks. Said that you figured she would move on. But you’re a fucking idiot.”

“They,” he yanks the steering wheel to the side of the road, throwing his car into park before pressing his palms into his eyes, and wills the tears to not spill over his lashes, “They were going to kill her and Bucky’s Shy, and…your family.”

“Figured as much. I told Nat to get the kids to the safe house. Just like you should have done with Dove. With her and Bucky there everyone would have been safe. You’re too fucking irrational. You don’t think. You should have discussed with me, and we could have came up with a plan. But you didn’t like that I heard what you said,” Steve pulls at wads of his hair, and he slams his fist on the steering wheel. “Love doesn’t make you weak.”

“I told you that you didn’t hear anything,” still in this world of denial and wanting to protect his ego. His pride? Protect anything but the person he truly cared about. You.

“You love her. You’re a coward that couldn’t even tell her to her fucking face. Is a million dollars really going to make up for what you did? You’re the problem here, Steve. She was the solution. Go back. Go get her, and I’ll take her to the safe house. I’ll leave Nat and Bucky with the kids, and Shy, and we will figure out what the fuck is going on,” Steve shakes his head. You hated him. He made sure to make you feel worthless to him, and hope that one day you could move on.

The thought of another man touching your flesh sears into his mind. Thinking this dumbass could ever hold you and love you the way he did. It was a toxic love, but he found serenity in your bright glow. The devil came to find his goddess of spring. The link that kept his underground hell blooming into the most beautiful chaotic garden.

Every morning he could see the sun shining on your face like you were the beacon, and it was trying to find you. But instead, Steve did. He tried to dim every bit of your light, and instead you changed him. And how did he repay you? He left you, his beautiful goddess, a void. Gave you every opportunity to turn into the darkness that he helped flourish. Instead, you were making him lighter.

You had a link to the depravity of his world that was Lark, and one wrong move and you would become a demon to addiction. A beautiful woman lively turned into a servant for drugs and the underbelly that he helped create. Try and be noble all he wants, he still sold a lie to users. He catered to the whims of one of the most powerful things in the world. Addiction.

“Sam,” he says as he starts to turn the car around. “I made a mistake.”

“Get your girl. I’m calling Bucky. We’ll keep her safe, and we finish this once and for all. It’s time,” without hesitation and very little thought Steve knows exactly where the threat came from. Peggy. The one who set this all off to begin with. No doubt a woman who thought she had broken Steve would be infuriated that he had managed to actually fall this time. The purest form of love. Childlike. He was in fact so in love with you it hurt him.

Pained every inch of his inky skin. He was only trying to let his Dove out of her cage, and let her fly alone. He was no longer the cage that kept you trapped. He was made pure again, and was a dove right along with you. He wasn’t meant to set you free, he was meant to fly out of his own cage with you.

He fucked up. He knows you may never forgive him for this whiplash, but if it meant that you were going to keep your life, that was the burden he would have to bear. He would carry the weight of that on his back for the rest of eternity as long as he knew you were alive and well. He had to. Because he was in love.

You don’t cry. You barely blink. Couldn’t even move to clean yourself off as per his request. That towel lays haphazardly on his spilt cum, and you stare up at the ceiling trying to make this a nightmare. He was a liar. That wasn’t Steve, and as much as you wanted to cut etches of his story off his skin, you wanted him to hold you even more.

It is a bizarre feeling to hate and need the same person. Time has no meaning on this bed. Earlier today you saw him for the man he used to be before Peggy tried to destroy him. And then he burned that man at the stake as he became the monster you first met. The lord of the underworld, and he brought you down into his depths, but maybe it was all one sided.

Watching as the room spins around you in a humiliating and dizzying haze. It’s why he couldn’t look at you. He has fought and fought his true feelings, and because he couldn’t accept them he had to remove the seed that was sprouting in his heart. The seed that was changing winter into spring and you saw lightness and color that once resided inside of his soul.

You hate him. And still, you’re in love with him, and you need him to hold you and tell you that wasn’t him. That he was sorry, and he was so in love with you and he was done fighting, and you doubt that moment will ever come. If you could close your eyes and never wake up that would be the most fitting. You didn’t want to see anything anymore.

“Dove?” Your eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling, and you swear there’s a pattern to the odd appearance of it. Dots that you feel are just the stars, and they’re covering you in a warm blanket. As warm as the fuzz that is thrown over your body.

“Sissy, how much money did he leave you?” Your blinks start to slow down, and you hope that they’ll eventually close forever so you don’t have this sickening feeling in your stomach. “I’m going to take this and invest in — things, yeah. You don’t need it. You’ve got your school you can bounce back on, okay?”

If there is one thing you wished it was that Steve could have quit fighting the inevitable. That he would have just admitted the feelings he had for you, and the two of you could run away. Money and power are just as dark of an addiction as the drugs he sold. And he was letting his addiction win.

“Won’t you let me get you dressed. You don’t want to leave here naked. And — he didn’t love you. That mess on your stomach is how he treats the girls he threw away at the club. Used their warm flesh to fill a need, and then…”

“You’re lying,” your eyes finally focus on your sister, and you turn and look away from her quickly. She no longer was the vibrant older sister you once knew. Either Steve had been lying about your addiction and usage, or she had found another supplier. “What happened to you?”

“You should look in the mirror,” you didn’t want to look at your face. You’d look like a bird with clipped wings that could no longer fly because that’s just what you feel like. “Get dressed.”

“What are you doing with the money?” You inquire. But she doesn’t respond just goes towards your bag, and opens up one. Tossing over a dress, and you finally take stock of what’s going on. Sitting up in the bed so see her clinging to the bag with cash in it. The stupor you were once in now is a dull pain of the past hour. “Lark?”

The door opens up to your room, and scramble to cover yourself. You know him. “Dovey, it’s time for you to go. He’s been waiting on you,” tears flood out your eyes as you shake your head. “You really want him to see you with Steve’s cum on your stomach. Your pussy fucked out, and tits hanging out? Now,” he clicks his tongue, snapping a finger at Lark, and your sister scurries out of the hotel room.

“It’s just you and me,” grabbing at your foot, he pulls you down to him and you kick and scream. Biting every time his hands touch you. Your reason to fight became apparent because whatever is wrong is worse than the empty gut you have now. “He threw you away!”

“Fuck you!”

“Keep fighting me, and it’s you that’s going to be fucked,” clearing his throat your room is flooded with men, and they all close in on you, struggling to hold on to your body before with one snap, you go into blackness. A darker world than you have ever ventured to. A world where things will never be the same. Left and broken, now stolen and restored. Fight is still there.

Steve sprints to your bedroom, racing through every part of it. Knowing without seeing physically that you’re gone. His hands pick up and throw everything in its path. Destroying the room just like he destroyed you. The luggage with clothes is still here, but the suitcase with money was gone.

Lifting up the mattress he flips it over, standing in the fucking room that was devoid of you. You were gone, and he can’t shake the feeling that you were taken. Stolen from this room, and from — he can’t even say himself anymore. Because he left you. You weren’t his to steal. He fucked up.

Chest heaving as his mind races on where you could be. He has an idea of who took you and it sickens him. He sees what Lark has become. Rumlow was the worst kind of drug dealer, because he dealt in more than just drugs, he dealt in women.

“Steve.”

“I fucked up,” he turns around. Eyes pleading at Bucky. “Why are you here?”

“Sam’s with the girls. I’m risking my life and the chance to see my future son because I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You fucked up, but I can’t let you wonder your what ifs or wonder where she is. I can’t let you lose the love of your life,” Steve shakes his head, the anger turning into the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. As the last of his humanity is wrenched from his fingers. “Why can’t you say it? Does she mean that little to you?”

“She means more than any amount fucking words, Bucky. She means everything. Shy and Ember were threatened. Nat and the girls, and a lot don’t even know that Sam and Nat are together and have kids. Why do they want her?”

“They’re trying to make your kingdom crumble. The dark lord of the seedy underbelly. Ruled by fear and power. For a drug lord you had some morals, if that’s what you want to call it. And there’s…”

“Peggy,” Steve gulps, glancing around the room that is as messy as his head. Disheveled in every crevice. He has to clear his mind if he’s ever going to find you.

“I want you to make me a promise,” Steve nods. Taking a few deep breaths to center himself. It ends now. He won’t hold back. It’s time to burn the world down to save you. Rumlow’s entire organization will disintegrate. He doesn’t even care where the two of you end up. He needs to know you’re alive, and living the life you want. And he hopes you still can find a place to put him in it.

“If we find Dove, I need you to tell her exactly how you feel, you coward. Quit waiting until the girl falls asleep before you say it.”

“Deal.”

“Let’s go save a dove.”

You could look at Steve trying to destroy you as a good thing. There’s a numbness that courses through your veins, or maybe it’s just a sleepy fog since the moment he walked out that door. Staring at the sleeping form of the man that tattooed you while your arms are restrained above your head, you wonder how you slipped this far into this world of darkness. Your will to fight dormant and resting. Now you observe. Paying attention to everything while you remember every bit of this moment. Something eventually had to help.

You don’t hate Steve. In fact the reason he did what he did seems to be to avoid this bullshit right here. Protecting you from whatever this hell is, but he failed. He let the wrong one watch you. And your own sister somehow played a part. You’d cuss him for the fool that he is when he comes to rescue you. And then allow your exhaustion and anger to rain down him with a fury that is hibernating.

Your eyes start to droop a bit. The adrenaline and heart shattering moments hitting a climax so high that your body is spent. There is no time for fear, and no time for anger. It’s survival. Steve would find you, and you would kick him in his perfect balls for ever hurting you. Even though the idea of him throwing that door open to save you like a scarred Prince Charming was looking damn fine, you can’t ignore what he did.

“How long has it been?” A sickeningly sweet voice walks into the room, and her beady eyes look you up and down. “What is she wearing?”

“Whatever I could put on her. You said you didn’t want Rumlow to see her the way I found her. You’re still so concerned with him leaving you for someone else?” His head bounces to the side with the force of the smack she connects to his face. “Why else do you need her covered?”

“I don’t need to see what cunt Steve’s been shagging. Pretending that she was the only one while he was fucking Rumlow’s whores at the club,” you roll your eyes, but refuse to comment. Sam kept tabs on Steve, and even told you he’s never seen him so much as glance at another woman. Her tactics of wearing you down were futile. You couldn’t sink any lower. The bottom has already been reached and all in a few short hours.

“You’ve been fucking like rabbits, and he still hasn’t fucked a baby in you?” You spit on her, gaining a slap against your own cheek. Her red painted nail wipes of your saliva from her face before she embarrassingly rubs it on your face.

“That’s rich coming from a double crossing bitch. You can only smack me when I can’t fight back?”

“You’re a bitchy one, aren’t ya? So tell me, sweet princess, how have you remained without a bastard?”

“It’s called birth control, you idiot.”

“One I need to cut out of your arm? Or rip it out from between your legs? Or do you trust the pill?” What the fuck was this woman getting off on? You aren’t even sure what her fucking problem was, or why it concerned you so much. “Rumlow has suffered with his business, while Steve flourishes. He needs to be destroyed, but I much prefer slow torture,” her fingernails connect to your arm, and she uses far too much pressure to slide all over the delicate skin of your arms before her eyes zone in on your lower body.

”Remove it.”

“What the fuck? No!”

“Stick another fucking needle in her neck and remove it,” she is psychotic. More than Steve could have ever realized. “You know your pretty sister? Yeah, it was easy to break her spirit. It’s funny what money and drugs can get people to do. What would destroy Steve? To see you broken from another human. To see you as a ghost of who you were. A zombie that he can’t even recognize. You know how many people are willing to bid for Steve’s precious Dove? Use your body to work out their frustrations on their biggest competition. Your sister sold you out for money and drugs, but the good thing is she is no longer being pimped out. But you — Steve will never want you again. Remove it. She can be someone else’s problem.”

Her stilettos click out of your room, and Loki stands up to walk closer to you. You flail, screaming out obscenities and no towards him. Having very little room to get any leverage over him. They were all fucking mental. “No! Don’t touch me.”

”It’ll only sting for a minute. You keep getting stuck with this, you’re going to have a bigger problem,” his voice is cloying in your ear as he grabs your face. Coming closer to you with a needle before it drives into your body.

“No! No! Please, no!” Another wave of blackness. Falling into an oblivion of a dark void that has no end in sight. Whispering out, “No,” one more time, and crying because no one can hear you. Being stripped away from the only salvation you knew, and now becoming the exact opposite of what Steve desired the most in you. Untouched. She wanted to sell you, auction you off while Steve can either be searching for you, or pretending you never existed.

You just want to go home. Home to the cabin, and pretend that he was coming home to you. Hold onto happy moments while your humanity is ripped from you. You hate her.

Your head lulls back on your shoulders, and the dingy light of the room tries to filter through the darkness, and you try to grasp it. Hoping that light can save your soul from the monster Peggy was forcing you to become. You hate her.

He didn’t like it. He hated it. Hated that you were ever put in this position, and he had himself more to blame than anyone. The very thought of something going wrong just wasn’t an option. He didn’t need anything to go wrong. He needed you. He needs to know that you are okay, and you were free to live a life.

The thoughts of you choosing a life that didn’t include him was on his mind, but he couldn’t think of that. Everything had to be perfectly planned out. He knew that Peggy was a vindictive bitch, while Rumlow was a pathetic one. He assumes that they’re hoping for an appearance by him.

It wasn’t a secret what they were doing. Everyone knew they were putting you up for auction. The reception went from an absolutely no because they knew Steve’s vengeance would be grisly to the ones that were drooling and licking their jowls at a chance to fuck Steve over. But retaliation would happen. To all of them. There would be a retribution on every single person that participates in the selling of you.

Every last one of them will get the fiery death of his dreams, and if you wanted to facilitate he would let you watch as they all burn. He failed in the one thing he promised above all else and that was to protect you. He’d make it up. He would get you. Or he would watch it all burn.

—

There’s moments in your life where you freeze up. Your body goes into autopilot, and you’re just there. Going through the motions. While your body is numb to every poke, prod, and movement by someone else. Your mind is on high alert. Listening to every door open. Absorbing every conversation. Your eyes take stock of all that is around you. Memorize every face as you dream about their demise.

You knew there would come a time when you had to identify people because you still hadn’t given up hope that Steve would keep his promise. Rumlow was a boastful idiot and he was letting everyone know who he was going to have up on that stage. Steve would hear about it, and you didn’t doubt that he would have fun in taking care of everything.

That’s not to say that you didn’t want to add another scar on Steve’s body, and you wanted to scratch him, and maul his perfect face, but you need him to wrap those stupid beefy arms around you and carry you out of this disgusting place. You know if you allow your mind to go into the dark places that you would lose all hope, and you’d never stop crying. Or worse become the devil Peggy was trying to make you.

You didn’t even speak to them when they’d ask you questions. You’d just stare at them blankly as they pinched, slapped, and pushed you around. You wouldn’t allow yourself to let them break you. Not yet. When this is all over you could have those moments of clarity, but right now it’s just to survive. And that meant focusing on everything.

You even knew it took Loki exactly thirty-four steps to get to the chair that set outside of your cage. And another forty-two steps to get to the door. You knew that he was the biggest coward of all, and needed to hide behind a more powerful man. Scheming and lying through his teeth while he collects secrets and information as his own form of currency.

He was loathsome. Peggy was the worst bitch you had ever met in your life. A woman who didn’t want Steve, and also couldn’t bare to see him happy with another woman. The kind of woman whose ego got in the way of the bigger picture. While Rumlow was describable he had bigger reasons for doing this. Peggy’s reasons didn’t go past needing to make Steve feel emasculated.

Disgusting woman, all dolled up for a pretty picture. Steve wasn’t a hero, but he could admit it. She wants to act like there was a moral high ground that she was part of, and still involved with another drug lord. That man just didn’t ask questions. You’d come to learn that Steve did, and that’s why Peggy had to ruin him.

“Are you still sore?” It is a stupid question when your arms were always extended above your head, the fact that she made people remove something so personal from you. Sore didn’t even begin to describe it. “You still mad at me, princess? And if you fucking spit on me again…”

You roll your eyes up to meet her, a sinister smile tugging at your mouth. “Ghastly woman. It’s what you deserve. You can pay for Steve’s sins. They always do,” another one of her tactics is to make you think you were nothing but a fleshlight to Steve. But you knew better. “Do you know how many girls that he has made become a sex worker? Rumor has it he filmed porn right in the club.”

Blah blah blah. You did actually talk to Steve. You also listened. It’s something she didn’t do well. Cocky little bitches never wanted to be the quiet little girls that people think aren’t threatening. Like you. She sees a weak submissive bird. You weren’t weak, and you weren’t dumb. You had more knowledge than she could even fathom about the ongoings of Steve’s enterprise. And there’s one thing she forgets, those sex workers Steve employed had a choice. She had removed yours.

“Are you going to play your game of not talking again?” Smirking, you roll your eyes before concentrating on her shoes. You weren’t going to give her the respect to look her in her face. “You’re such a spoiled child. Did your daddy Steve not spank you enough?”

“Nope,” Steve was not your daddy. He was your Captain.

“You do speak,” god, she’s a pompous twat. If she was closer you would spit on her, just for telling you not to.

“I don’t make it habit of talking to trollops,” with a painted red nail, she slaps you across the face, and your mouth fills with the pungent taste of metal. You gather it in your mouth, waiting. She is already getting closer to you.

“You fucking bitch. I will enjoy seeing you sold, and I will revel in the ways that they use your body to fuck over Steve. And that man never cared for you. You were just warm wet flesh,” one step too close to you, and you let her feel the blood she brought with her slap. The red paints her neck such a brilliant color and you chuckle, “You were just a whore to him. Let him fuck you raw. Intimately. Wanna see?”

Spinning on her heels, she snaps a finger at Loki, “I want Steve fucking her stupid on a loop. Let her watch every moment that was ever a lie. Break her fucking spirit, so she knows Steve never loved her. He couldn’t. Because he loved me, and will always look for a replacement. But there's only one me,” if only she knew that the love that Steve felt for her was nothing compared to how he felt about you. You knew it. He told you.

The sound of his voice stings as the monitor is lit up with the two of you. Precious moments stolen, and there is no telling how many people had seen this. You keep your eyes on Steve, more than you ever did while he was pumping into you. Steve never said the words, but he also couldn’t act. The way he stares at you with so much passion and love, versus the anger he had when he broke up with you. Such a lying coward.

You sniffle, refusing to let any tears cloud your vision or run down your face. You were becoming immune to the physical pain, but seeing a private beautiful moment with Steve hurts so deeply. Even the way he paints your skin with his fingers after making love. Yeah, Steve fucked you and would fuck you hard, but what you just witnessed was sweet. Almost like the first time.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Loki staring at you, and you twist your head to gaze back quickly, causing him to flinch. “When you came to our home…”

“It was just a place for him to hide you and fuck you. Don’t make it seem so domestic.”

“Was this your plan all along? Fuck Steve over?” He shrugs his shoulders, moving to turn back around after making a face with Steve’s grunts on the television. “He’ll enjoy torturing you.”

“You think very highly of yourself. Where were you at when I found you? Broken, naked, and used on a bed. Let’s not forget the money your sister stole from you. What do you think she’s going to do with that much money? Face it, Dovey, everyone around you used you and then left you. Steve for your tight cunt, and your sister for money. You’re better off this way.”

“Don’t call me that,” you wouldn’t let him win. Lark’s involvement is the most painful. Your therapist long ago told you drugs changed people. But inside of that body was still your sister. Somewhere.

“Don’t cry, Dove,” he mocks you as a single tear falls from your face. There’s no sincerity in his voice. And you want him to suffer from your own hands. “I finally know what it sounds like,” and you can’t wait to hear him plead for his pathetic life. His time will come.

You gulp as someone pulls on your leash. Fitted with a dog collar, and lingerie. You stare out blankly at the crowd as words about who you are and what the bidding starts off as begins. Faceless people litter a small crowd, and raised paddles keep being held up.

You try and focus on all their faces, see who is bidding the highest, and it is a zoo. Going so fast it makes you dizzy, and you sway on your heels. The price goes too high for average schmucks, and it seems it is a war between two people.

Both the man and woman are masked, and gloved, and neither have Steve’s features. You feel yourself for the first time slipping into despair. Feeling he didn’t actually care at all, and this is the result. Being sold like cattle.

“Two million,” the man say with finality, and the woman shakes her hand, refusing to pay that much. He left you. You really were worthless to him. Played in his stupid games.

“Sold to Mr. Wolf. Come collect your new pet,” the masked man stands up without a word. Pulling the leash from your handler before scooping up in his arms. Vacant. There’s nothing left. Steve left you to rot.

“I’ve got her,” he says into your ear, and it’s a weird sensation, causing goose pimples to arise on your skin. You didn’t have any idea why he was talking to you. You just need to forget the life you once came from.

The harsh light of the outside stings your eyes, and you start to regress in your body. The fight is finally over, and you just are in disbelief. “We’re out of the building. Clint, lock it down. Steve, I’m taking her to the safe house.”

“Steve?” Your body starts to tremble as the tears you have held in for far too long pours out.

“Shh, Dovey. I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re going someplace safe, but Steve and a few others are burning this down. “Do you know if Peggy was in there?”

“She was bidding,” your words are whispered and confused, using a hand to squeeze on his metal arm, “Bucky?”

“I’ve got you. I gotta get you away,” he places you into the car, buckling you up before he gets in the seat himself. “We’re outta here. Send them right back to hell. Dove, were there any other girls up for auction?” You shake your head no, starting to curl into a ball. Your arms are still so stiff and sore. “She was all. You’ve got free range, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth curls into a gruesome grin. Eyes blazing as he heads towards the building, “Peggy is mine. Fucking bitch.”

Next

Masterlist

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[fuck-customers]

Kind of a fuck customers but also a satisfying story at the same time.

My role in the call center I work in involves taking specifically corporate calls, which means I spend all day talking to “business professionals” (and I use that term loosely) including CEOs. As you can imagine, over 90% of these CEOs are the scum of the earth and the most entitled assfaces on the planet.

A week or so ago, I took a call and went through my usual routine of greeting the cardholder and then began going over verification questions. Since we’re A.) a bank and B.) a bank that handles corporate and government credit cards, we take security seriously and require a caller to be able to verify 3 pieces of information based on what the person responsible for their credit cards put on the account. If they don’t pass, we refer them to their company to get the right details.

So as I’m doing this, the guy on the phone is getting increasingly irritated as he keeps getting the security questions wrong. I’m calm and professional the entire time but firm. Eventually I run out of things to verify with him and tell him that we won’t be able to assist and that he needs to contact his administrator. This is apparently where I went wrong.

“LADY I AM THE ADMINISTRATOR!!” He screeches. Ok, great. I look him up and that’s true but there’s a second admin listed, so I ask him to check in with him. He then yells “THERE IS NO OTHER ADMIN! I’M THE CEO OF THIS COMPANY FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!”

I apologize and tell him while that may be true, he still got his security questions wrong and needs to reach out to his account coordinator then. This man then proceeds to scream at me for the next minute or so saying how we’re an awful bank, how he’s had problems with us for years, blah blah and how we have the worst customer service ever. Keep in mind, I’ve been nice and empathetic this entire time but also I’m not gonna lose my fucking job just because a guy in a suit doesn’t know his shit. I give him the email to his account coordinator and stress again that he needs to talk to them. Then this exchange happens:

Him: “So let me get this straight. You are saying you are REFUSING and UNWILLING to help me, right?

Me: “No, actually I’d love to help you, however we have these security procedures in place for yours and your company’s protection and cannot make exceptions for anyone.”

Him: “This is fucking UNBELIEVABLE! I’ve HAD IT with this bank!!”

Me: “Ok, I’m sorry to hear that. Anything else I can do for you before we disconnect?”

Him: “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? I NEED YOUR NAME. NOW.”

Me: *gives my first name and spells it for him even though it’s a very basic 4 letter name because I’m a bitch*

Him: YOUR LAST NAME.

Me: “We don’t give out anything but our first name for the safety of our employees.”

Him: *insert that condescending, pissed off chuckle middle aged men do when they’re mad here* “Well I’ll tell you what (My Name), when I close this account and pull my MILLIONS OF DOLLARS out of (bank name) and they ask me why, I’ll make sure to tell them that it’s (My Name)’s fault. And I will see to it that you won’t be able to get another job outside of the minimum wage fast food job or whatever you had before this. How does that sound?”

Me: “Sounds great. Now seeing as how this conversation is no longer productive or professional and threats are being made, I’ll be terminating the call, have a nice day.”

Him: “DO NOT HANG UP O-“

Me: *click*

And that’s how making rich, powerful men rage-cry became my new favorite hobby. Thankfully, I haven’t gotten any feedback on that call; not that I would, seeing as how I did my job exactly how I was supposed to. Anyways I hope I’m his 13th reason. ❤️

Posted by admin Rodney.

[strniohoeee]

Hidden In The Shadows

Part 2 Here

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Following a lesson about this town that seemed to suddenly vanish, Y/N is intrigued to figure out what truly happened. However she might’ve bitten off more than she can chew….

Warnings⚠️: Nothing crazy, talks of/explanations of a cult, creepy rural town. This was from a Drabble about matt based on a type of horror movie he’d be done by @gamermattsgf she’s wifey and I had to adapt this into an imagine😫 @st7rnioiossblog

Song for imagine: Oblivion- Grimes

I never walk about after dark

It’s my point of view

Cause someone could break your neck

Coming up behind you

Always coming and you’d never have a clue

Moving out of my hometown wasn’t on my bingo cards for this year and moving out of my hometown for a research project was 1000 percent not on my bingo cards. Yet somehow I was packed up and on the road within three months of starting my project.

I’ve always had a weird niche for all things history, but especially history that just seems to vanish into thin air. I began to become extremely interested in towns that are no longer on the map due to poverty, weather change or even these people becoming hunters and gathers. Packing up and moving out in an instant. It all started in my senior year of college. I was studying geography at my local four year college in my hometown of Nevada.

Honestly I hated college all the long hours, all the homework and also having a full time job on top of that, but I had a full ride so I decided to suck it up. My very last year I had some space for a filler class that got me extra credits so I landed on the study of United States Lands focusing on increase and decrease of population throughout the recent centuries.

Personally I thought the class was going to suck, but to my surprise my professor was amazing. Towards the end of my final semester we began to learn about Pleasant Town Oklahoma. A once booming town immediately vanished off the face of the earth.

“Now class you may be asking yourself why was this town so rich? And I’m here to tell you it’s because the mayor at the time in the year 1915 had connections with our president. They hid money, fabrics, food and all types of expensive items within this small town” Mr Wayne stated

“I mean with hiding all this stuff how did they become so wealthy?” One guy had asked, my eyes darting to him

“They were being paid off for hiding these things, however the money was dirty money, so they created many businesses to get the cash flow moving. From one store to one man’s pocket to the next and then next thing you know that dirty money is in George's hand who lives in Virginia! It was all an amazing scheme, very smart. But as you can see it didn’t last long nor did it end well” He had stated as he clicked the laptop to show the next slide shown on the board

“Within three years of this operation this small town alone was bringing in about $100,000 a month which is over $2 million dollars in today's money. So then you ask yourself how does such a rich state with so much money just disappear? And all the money too?” He states scratching his chin

“So Professor Wayne….what exactly happened to them?” I asked after raising my hand

“No one really knows” he states uncrossing his arms and leaning off the desk

“I mean there has to be a reason right? That’s a lot of money to just disappear” I state as I jot down notes

“Well here’s the other thing, there are many rumors dating back to the creation of Oklahoma which was 1907. Sources have stated that Pleasant Town is evil and I’m talking demonic evil. People have said the reason the cash flow never stopped was because they were all a cult and seemingly used one another as sacrifice.” He stated clearing his throat

“Sacrifice?” I questioned raising my eyebrow

“Well yes! In many cultures it is stated if you do a blood sacrifice for the devil and/or sell your soul then your wishes shall come true. Their wishes were to stay wealthy. This came with problems however” he says as he sits down at his desk

The whole class was on the edge of their seats waiting for him to go on.

“Many of these men had short arms and deep pockets. Making it very easy for one man to kill the next out of greed” Wayne goes on

“And didn’t they get caught? I mean the president wouldn’t allow that” one classmate states

“Very true! The town was very small, only about 80 people now if 10 people suddenly die many eyebrows are raised. For a while they covered up the stories claiming a sickness like smallpox. The mayor decided to bring animals claiming this would make them richer since they produce meat, eggs and milk. Now he wasn’t wrong, but the animals were used in these blood sacrifices to hide their tracks” he says nodding his head

“God these people were ahead of their time” I blurt out and crossed my arms over their chest

“Oh they were, but that might’ve costed them their fortunes and their town” Professor Wayne states

“So that’s it? They just left? And what now?” I asked him

“It’s stated that they just separated, leaving most of the money to the whole state of Oklahoma. Afraid the president was after them or maybe they danced with the devil for too long and ended up paying the price” he states bluntly

“And the price is?” I asked him

“Death” he says frowning a bit which caused a chill to run up my spine

“But this is all speculation. About 30 years later Pleasant Town was rebuilt and supposedly none of that cult stuff was brought to that town. And till this day it’s still up and running. I believe the population is only about 200-250 people max?” He says rubbing his chin in thought

“I mean that’s just sad… we’ll never know the truth” I said to him shutting my notebook

“I mean you could always go and visit, spend the summer there. See what it’s like……anybody up for a challenge” he says laughing as the class shudders in fear and averts their eyes to the floor

I mean I was super interested in this lost town with such a dark history that suddenly reappeared 30 years after weird cult shit was happening. I could always take the summer off from work since I graduate in May….. take a road trip to Pleasant Town Oklahoma. Find the real history and report back to Professor Wayne.

My thoughts were interrupted when the bell rang and he bid his goodbyes to the class. Everyone was quick on their feet out of the door, but I stood back very interested in talking to him.

I trotted over to his desk as he shut his laptop, stuffing it into his book bag. His eyes darting up once he felt my presence

“Ahh Ms. Y/L/N…. You seemed very intrigued with today's lesson, planning a weekend getaway?” He asked me playfully

“Funny that you mention it because I was thinking more of a whole summer get away” I stated

“A whole summer?” He says brows lifting immediately

“I’m really interested in this town. I mean a mayor in on cult rituals to bring tons of cash in and the president not having a clue? And then they just vanished? This is like a movie sir” I state as I ramble on

“I mean it’s all just speculations Y/N” he says smiling at me

“I know sir, but is there any way I can get your research on this town so I can study it a bit more? I plan on building a whole case for this and figuring it out” I pleaded

“You’re really interested in this aren’t you?” He asks opening his bag up

“I really am Professor Wayne” I say back

“Here, but listen this is a tight knit community. Don’t go digging your nose where it doesn’t belong. Tread lightly this isn’t your turf, okay? In a town like that with such a small population and a dark history, you don’t want any enemies” he says handing me the folder titled “Pleasant Town”

“Yes, and thank you sir” I stated nodding my head

After that I finished my final semester two months later in May. Between work and classes I built up more of a file on this town jumping from a folder to two binders stacked with information.

Two days after my graduation I did some research on the town. This place had no hotels, no motels and for sure no air bnbs. That’s where I ran into my first problem, attempting to find a place to stay.

Searching on Zillow I had found a house for rent. In the middle of nowhere. One gravel road and corn fields. From the pictures it did seem there were few houses across and next to it, so I figured that was perfect. I'd make friends with neighbors.

I mean the house was decent for the area. Seemed to be a two bedroom two bathroom house. The bedrooms upstairs, one bathroom down stairs and one upstairs. Had a pretty average sized kitchen in the back of the house, a dining room to the right of the front door, a living room to the left of the front door, the stairs faced the front door, and then there were small hallways that lead to the kitchen. And there was a basement that seemed small, well kept and empty. It sucks to say I actually liked the place

My second problem began when I called the realtor a very old southern man by the name of Beaufort Smithson. I dialed him that morning and from the moment he heard my accent he seemed to turn a cold shoulder.

“Please sir” I pleaded with him

“Listen ma’am you sound young and not from these parts. What bring someone like you around this small town” he states deeply

“Well I’m from Nevada and it’s just so crazy here and I’ve been looking to stay somewhere a few states away that’s quiet and small” I state

“But you’re looking to rent from June 1st to August 31st…. We do 7 month rentals” he says bluntly

“Well I want to see it I like it first” I say lying through my teeth

“Can’t you see from the pictures if you like it or not” he says sucking on his tobacco tucked in his lip

“I can have the full rent for those three months ready for you in cash” I state desperately

“In cash you say” he says as I hear his chair squeak from underneath him

God these people really were money hungry till this day…

“Yes sir $800 a month for 3 months I can get you that $2,400 in cash June 1st” I state

“Well little lady you have yourself a deal. Now get yourself a pen and paper and jot this down. June 1st 12 in the afternoon we’re going to meet at the gas station in Pleasant Town” he states spitting his tobacco into a styrofoam cup

“Uhhh what gas station is that sir?” I ask as the pen dangled in my hand

“Sweetie we only got one gas station down yonder….you can’t miss it” he says chuckling

“Right…. Well thank you Mr. Smithson, my names Y/N Y/L/N, and I’ll be seeing you on June 1st” I state

“Well alright darling see you then” he says chuckling

“Oh by the way I look like-“ but I was cut off

“Oh trust me I’ll know what you look like…..safe travels” he whispers before hanging the phone up on me

That phone call made me slightly regret my choices of spending my summer with some shit kickers than on the Las Vegas strip…..

I spent the last two and a half weeks packing, purchasing what I know I won’t find in Oklahoma and doing more research.

I think I was on page 4,000 on google before I found a new article with information I hadn’t seen before. I placed my plate of pizza down as my eyes scanned the laptop screen quickly.

It was a newspaper clipping dating back to the year 1953. Only 70 years ago…. Interesting. The title stated “Farm owner questioned in the massive slaying of all his animals” my brows furrowed.

There’s no possible way that 70 years ago these cult killings continued? But my fingers scrolled down further as I began to whisper

“Confused and angry farm owner, Thomas Sturniolo was seen today yelling at cops as he was taken out of his small Pleasant Town home. After all his farm animals died and weird things happened around town he was suspected of killing his animals in a weird cult-like way. Demanding he be let loose, and that the town was crazy and out to get him because he is the wealthiest farmer. Insisting his competition killed his livestock and not him.”

My eyes couldn’t believe what I was reading…this was pretty recent honestly. This was happening around the time my grandparents were young children… I printed those news clippings out along with many other clippings of his arrest, his release and his disappearance…..

Adding them to my binder as I finished my pizza. This was so insane to me, and this would make a great conversation with professor Wayne after my studies.

I opened up my email and decided to email my professor.

Hello Professor Wayne! I hope your summer treats you well. In about three days I am off to study the lost town of Pleasant Town Oklahoma. That folder of information you gave me has grown into two large binders, and I found more information today. Down below you’ll find links to news articles dating back to the 50’s about weird cult animal killings! I think you’d find it fascinating! I’d like to update you here and there through my three month stay, and then maybe when I get back we can discuss all my findings over lunch! Thank you for your time! Hope to talk to you soon. -Sincerely, Y/N Y/L/N

Two days later I was all packed up into my car. About four large luggage and two duffel bags…. I was well prepared to say the least. Saying bye to my family and friends I began my venture to Pleasant Town.

My venture was a full day, and I made sure I counted for gas breaks, nap breaks and food breaks to make sure I got to Mr. Smithson at 12 on the dot.

June 1st 11:25 am- 35 min ETA Pleasant Town Gas Station

I was coming across the entrance to the town. I was jamming out to SZA, bobbing my head I looked over to my right smiling as I read the sign

“Welcome to Helltown….once you get in you’ll never get out!” It read

My smiled dropped, I snatched my sunglasses off my face and turned the radio down….. a cold sweat began to form on my back as I looked in the rear view mirror

What the fuck was that? I was becoming increasingly anxious and wondered if I just made the worst mistake of my life. I rubbed my lips together in anxiety as I gripped onto the steering wheel harder.

I chose to shake it off, there has to be a logical explanation for this I thought to myself. Putting my sunglasses back on, I turned my music up a little bit and continued down the silent road.

My map told me 1 minute, and slowly I pulled up to a very old and very dusty gas station. Coming to a stop as the gravel left a smoke trail ahead of my car.

I put the car in park and hopped out, stretching my back and cracking my neck. Suddenly an old man hopped out of his large red truck. Spitting tobacco on the ground as he waddled over

“You, young lady must be Y/N?” He asks as he sucks the tobacco

“Yes sir I am” I state as I smile and place my hand out to shake his

Looking down as he smacks his lips, he firmly shakes my hands.

“Good to met ya, welcome to Pleasant Town” he states coughing

“Thank you Mr. Smithson” I state smiling once again

“Well uhh” he states smiling at me

“Oh right” I say, eyes going wide as I walk over to the passenger side. Grabbing the envelope with all the money in it.

“Here you go, $2,400 cash” I state handing the envelope over to him

He grabs the envelope and takes the money out, beginning to count it

“300,400,500-“ he says flying through the money

“Uhh what’s with the welcome sign saying welcome to Helltown? Once you get in you’ll never get out?” I ask pointing over my shoulder

He immediately stops counting, sucks his teeth and looks up at me through his lashes

“Idiot teenagers who have nothing better to do than destroy property that isn’t theirs” he states as he goes back to counting

“Oh…” I state rocking back and forth on my heels

“Alright it’s all here! Thank you sweetheart. I’ll drive you to your house just follow behind me” he states stuffing the money back in the envelope

“Thank you sir” I state as he turns and walks back to his truck

I hop in mine and wait for him to go, following closely behind him I take in the surroundings. Trees, dirty roads, corn fields, farm houses, large stacks of hay and pretty decent sized homes. They were just super outdated.

It was only about a 15 minute drive, but man it felt like forever. I’d hate to get stuck with no gas on a road like this.

Pulling up to the house he pulls onto the gravel driveway as I do too. We both hop out and we walk towards the house. We walk up the steps and wait on the front porch as he digs around for the keys.

Looking around I take in the surroundings, there’s quite a bit of farms around here…. My thoughts are interrupted when he finds the keys and opens the door. Allowing me to walk in first

“I had my crew clean up the place for you” he states shutting the door

“Oh, do you own a cleaning company?” I ask looking at him

“No.. I get these young boys out here to do what needs to be done around these parts” he states bluntly

“Oh the young teenagers who mess around” I say laughing

“No, I send those boys to work the corn fields…. The older men do the hard work round here. The cleaning, the lifting, the shootin” he says sucking the tobacco

“Shooting?” I ask as I turn to face him

“Yup they shoot the ones for my man down under” he states looking me dead in my eyes

“What?” I ask as I began to get nervous

“Oh I’m sorry sweetheart I must be confusing you, you see my dad loved to hunt but he’s too old now and lives in my basement. He has me send out the young men to shoot for him and bring him back some animals” he states chuckling

“Ohhhh yeah” I say laughing awkwardly

“Well young lady this is your home now” he says handing me the keys.

“Thank you” I say meekly

“You got your dining room, living room, and kitchen all down here fully furnished as you can see. Bathroom down here one upstairs and both bedrooms upstairs. Oh uhh I’d suggest food shopping early in the day, you don’t want to be out late at night around here….that is due to the wild animals of course like bears and coyotes” he states looking at me

“Of course” I say nodding politely

“Make sure you lock your doors at night. Especially the back door….. animals in the kitchen are never a good thing” he says turning around to head to the front door

“Got it” I state

“And uhhh we’re a family here….youre house is my home….or whatever the saying is….my house is your house….ah you know what I mean” he says shaking his head

We bid our goodbye and I watched him drive off. My hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. This whole conversation was making me nervous and uneasy. One other thing I realized was I’d be having no WiFi here. However my phone had 5G and the service wasn’t awful here shockingly….. I immediately sent an email back to Professor Wayne

“Just got here! The house is actually super nice. It's very historical and artsy. The realtor is a total creep though. His name is Beaufort so that explains a lot! He said some weird things and made weird analogies. Making it seem like beyond the naked eye there’s more to this town…. I’ll keep you posted”

I hit send and slid my phone back into my pocket. I placed the keys in my front pocket and walked outside. The warm sun kissed my skin as I squinted. Walking over to my car I popped the trunk and began to take my luggage’s out.

Suddenly I felt like there were eyes on me. The way the area got super quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. I looked over my shoulder in the least scared way possible. There was nobody there. I rubbed my forehead and let out a breath.

“Y/N relax” I whispered to myself as I took my last luggage out

However unbeknownst to Y/N, she was in fact being watched. A young man on the second floor of his parents house. He stood in his room peering at the young woman through his sheer curtains.

His gaze was dull as he stared out the window, sweat trickled down his forehead, his mouth hung open slightly and his breathing became deep. His fingers swirled and tugged at his red flannel.

She was like out of a movie. He had never seen a woman like that down here. Those are the ones his mom warned him about. The type who didn’t like boys like him, the type he should….hate. However when he looked at her he couldn’t hate her….she seemed precious….precious just like his horse Bertha.

“Young Man! What did I tell you about standing at that window” he heard from behind him, he jilted and turned around

“I’m sorry mama…I wasn’t doin nuffin” he states as he looks at her

“It is not polite to stare at people you aren’t a child anymore. You don’t do that” she says to him

“I wasn’t looking I swear” he says with pleading eyes

“Well you go on now. Your father and I are leaving for the afternoon” she says to the boy

After his mom leaves he pears out his window again. The young woman had stopped to talk on the phone. He was so fascinated by her he simply couldn’t look away.

I hung up the phone after saying bye to my mom and pulled out my second luggage. Rolling it into my house and coming back out to get my third luggage. I huffed out a breath of air and wiped the sweat off my forehead

I leaned over to get the third luggage but it was stuck on something. I sucked my teeth and began to tug on the handle harder.

“Need a hand ma’am?” I heard from behind me

“OH SHIT” I yelled turning around and grabbing my heart

“Oh im sorry darling I didn’t mean to scare you” the young man states backing up a bit

“No it’s okay, I’m new to town so I’m a bit jumpy” I state shaking my head

“My apologies for sneaking up behind you, may I help you?” He asks looking at my trunk

“Yeah please that would be great” I say smiling as I tried to control my breathing

The young man grabs both of my luggages for me and I grab my duffel bags. We walk to the house and he leads the way to my other two luggage’s.

“Thank you so much” I say placing my bags on the couch

“My pleasure sweetheart” he says nodding his head

“I’m Y/N” I say sticking my hand out

“I’m Matthew, but I go by Matt” he says wiping his forehead with the inside of his shirt. The shirt lifted just enough for me to get a perfect view of his lower stomach.

Damn…why were the shit kickers in a creepy town always so hot…. I guess the movies aren’t wrong..

“Well Matt thank you once again, can I offer you some water?” I ask him

“Water would be nice” he says smiling a bright smile

We walked to the kitchen and I found some old glasses left behind. I rinsed it with water and then gave him some water from the sink.

He drank the full cup, allowing the water to dribble down his chin and to his neck. My gaze ever so slightly following the head of water.

“So, what brings you to this part of town darling?” He asks, his accent so thick I couldn’t even focus

“I come from a busy town and I’ve always wanted to move to a small rural area. Pleasant Town seemed just right” I state licking my lips

“Once you see what this towns like you’ll go running for the hills” he says smirking darkly

“What do you mean by that?” I asked clearing my throat

“Well we hunt, we drink beer til we’re piss drunk and race in old cars for fun, we sneak into farms at night and tip over the sleeping cows…. Amongst many other things” he states handing the glass back over to me

“Oh that’s nothing compared to where I’m from” I say placing the glass in the sink

“And that is?” He asks crossing his legs as he leaned against the wall

“Las Vegas Nevada” I state nodding

“Never been” he states

“You should visit one day” I say

“If I ever leave this town” he states swallowing thickly

“If you ever leave?” I question once again

“Well you know this place is home I don’t know how I’d do in a big place like that” he says smiling at me

“I suppose you guys are pretty far behind on a lot” I say giggling

“Oh trust me aren’t we all” he says kicking himself off the wall

“Well uh thank you so much Matt I don’t mean to keep you” I say to him as I begin to walk out the kitchen

“Oh no worries darlin” he says as he follows behind me his thick cowboy boots hitting the wood in all the right places

He opened my front door and began to head out

“I’ll see you around neighbor” I state to him

“See you around, oh and if you ever feel like there’s eyes on you….that's because there is….you know small town haha we can’t escape each other” he says coldly before adding a laugh at the end

“Right…right” I state smiling at him and blinking quickly

I watch him walk across the street and head into the home. I lock my car doors and shut my front door. Locking the door before walking to the kitchen back door, locking that one as well.

I spent the rest of the day sweeping up, cleaning and setting up my room. I hadn’t realized how late it gotten or how hungry I was till my stomach growling woke me up from a small Power Nap.

I got up and realized it was 8pm, I wasn’t sure what food stores would be open, but it was worth the try. Ignoring the warning not to go out at night I grabbed my house keys and car keys.

Locking the front door, I got into my car. Turning it on I put it in reverse. I looked over my right shoulder and when I went to look over my left Matt was there and had banged on my window.

I jumped out of my skin and hit the breaks. Rolling my window down I was breathing heavy

“Sorry sweetie” he says as he looks down at me

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked him genuinely curious

“Oh me? No no, but you, you shouldn’t be out at this hour” he states

“It’s 8pm though?” I say furrowing my brows

“Yeah well the bears and coyotes come out this time” he says tapping the hood of my car

“I’m just running to the local store” I say

“You shouldn’t be out at this hour” he says again a bit firmer

“Umm okay” I say to him, remember what Professor Wayne said “no enemies this isn’t my turf”

I placed the car back in park and got out. Shutting the door and locking it I looked at Matt, a shot gun in his right hand as my eyes darted up.

“Don’t worry darling this ain’t nothing special. I use this to hunt” he says to me as he moves the gun back a bit

“For uhh Mr. Smithson’s dad?” I ask as my eyes slowly track up to his

“Oh no I do a different type of hunting for him” he says clearing his throat

“Do you now” I say rocking on my heels

“I get the animals causing issues for us here, the ones eating up all our crops. We can’t have those round these parts” he states chuckling

“Yeah…yeah bad for business. I’m going to head in for the night then” I say pointing behind myself

“Well alright now! You have a great night” he says in a whisper while offering me a smile

I smile back before turning in my heels and heading back into the house. Locking the door immediately as I run up the stairs.

I decided to shower and eat some leftover snacks. By this point it was midnight and I decided to brush my teeth so I could lay down for the night.

Shutting the bathroom light off I walk into my dark room using the brightness of my screen to lead me to my bed. Shutting my bedroom door behind me I trot over to my bed. However something in my peripheral view catches my eye.

Through the little dent in the Venetian blinds I see a light on in the house across the street from me. Slowly walking over to the window I peak out the small dent and look across the street.

All I can see is the silhouette of a skinny man with a shotgun in hand standing at the window. Almost like he’s staring out the window….

Suddenly he slides out of view and the light goes out, but I stay looking and I get an uneasy feeling. It’s like he’s still by the window…hiding in the shadows…watching….waiting….

I scared myself by doing this, so I backed away from the window and decided to lay down. Listening to my heart thump in my ears as I focused on controlling my breathing. My mind was racing because I was so nervous about this town and whether or not I made the right decision…..

I attempted to clear my mind and doze off to sleep. I knew I had a full day of adventures the following day especially since I needed to find a supermarket of some sort here!

The End…. For now

Alright guys I know I’ve been GONE, but it feels good to be back! I hope you enjoyed this part. Can’t wait to start working on part 2 shortly 🤭🖤 we’re at 2,009 followers! I love yall soooo much 🥺

-J💅🏽

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 6)

Word Count - 3k

Summary - TF 141 has regrouped at their safe house, and in the past two weeks they have been of trying to figure out their next move. Doc and Ghost finally have a little talk about their night together.

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn

A/N - hi

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3  ❤︎ Part 3.5  ❤︎ Part 4 ❤︎ Part 5 ❤︎ Part 7

Masterlist   

The two of you were back in the garage the next morning. Ghost getting up significantly earlier than you did; leaving you to wake up alone and slightly chilled from the morning air. 

There was also a delicious ache between your legs that wasn’t normally there. 

Ghost was servicing one of the armoured vehicles to make sure it was ready to go when the squad needed to move. It’s matte tan painting normally nothing significant but you couldn’t help but feel some sort of familiarity with the vehicle. While taking stock of your medical supplies you stared at the lettering on the side of the vehicle trying to pinpoint where you had seen it before. 

“Riley,” you called out, eyes still locked on the bolded lettering on the side of the hood. He paused what he was doing to look up at you. With narrowed eyes, you said, “Why do I feel like I’ve read about this ATV before?” You recalled reading about a vehicle being swiped from a convoy a few months ago in one of the weekly newsletters the military put out. 

“Uhh,” you could’ve sworn there was a slight blush underneath that mask, “Yeah, we stole it. Wasn’t our intent at first, but figured it would be a waste of an opportunity if we returned it.”  

You made your way to the stool beside him, “‘We’ as in?”

“Soap and I…” he thought for a second, searching for the right word, “commandeered it on our way into an active combat zone. In the report, we said it was a hostile.” he shrugged. Everything here was stolen, sure, but it was mostly little things like rations and ammo; which he had mentioned took forever to compile. The other vehicle was just a modified truck. This was an Oshkosh MPAP; equipped with a turret, and bulletproof windows, and was worth a million dollars.

And these goons just took it.   

Despite his seemingly nonchalance demeanour, there was clear pride in the set of his shoulders. You also knew he and Soap chuckled about it on their way here to stash it.   

“What did Price have to say about it?” you inspected the manual for the ATV to see all it came with. There was a hesitance from him and you lifted a brow at him, “What will Price have to say about it?” you reworded the question, getting the sense that Price doesn’t know. 

“I doubt he’ll even notice,” Simon set back to work, reaching for something and tightening it with a wrench. 

The rest of the squad arrived later in the morning and Price undoubtedly noticed. In fact, he pointed right at it, eyebrows raised but didn’t say a word. 

Soap pretended to be just as shocked, “How did this get in here?” 

Ghost did a good job of redirecting everyone’s attention, “We’ve got almost a week's worth of food reserves.”

Gaz swung his gear over his shoulder heading towards the makeshift barracks, “You leave any hot water for us?” he asked Ghost. 

“Nope,” he shot back dryly, failing to mention there was never any hot water to begin with. He shoved a finger in Soap’s direction, “You better get in there next. I can smell you.” 

“It’s a musk,” Soap retorted, feigning offence.  

“Go stand downwind of me,” Ghost strained as he looked an ammo crate into one of the trucks.  

You couldn’t smell Soap from where you sat but you were sure every one of them smelt like a little ripe from all the traveling. They looked weary from it. 

A strange feeling of unspoken uneasiness hung overhead all of you. Everyone was purposefully avoiding the obvious fact that we didn’t have a solid plan.    

When Gaz returned from his shower, he had a strange look on his face. A mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He had pulled a a pack of cigarettes from his pocket throwing them to Soap, “You win,” he said bitterly. 

“Really?” Soap caught the pack, immediately putting one in his mouth. He turned to Ghost, “You’ve just made me a very happy man.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ghost looked genuinely confused. He glanced at you with questioning eyes, wondering if you had any insight into their exchange.

You offered him a subtle shrug.  

Price was talking quietly with Laswell outside the garage. With dark bags weighing down his eyes, accompanied by a frown, Price looked uncharacteristically tired. Knowing him, he probably didn’t get the best sleep last night. It was us against the world right now, and since he was our captain every single one of us was looking to him for direction. It was a lot of pressure for one man. But there was a good reason he was Captain. He was level-headed and experienced. This probably wasn’t the first time he found himself in this situation either. This was just another Wednesday for him. For all of them. 

Except you. 

You don’t belong on a task force like this. You weren’t even sure you were meant for the medic life anymore. Lord knew you couldn’t save anyone when it mattered. 

Your teeth sank into your lip as you pondered your life choices so far. The hair on the back of your neck began to tingle and when you looked up to see Ghost watching you from across the room. His eyes revealed nothing before he dragged his attention back to Soap.               

Price called for a meeting after everyone was a little more settled in, “We’ll need to lie low for the next few weeks. Keep our footprint to a minimum,” Price took a seat on the bench next to you, swiping a hand down his face, “Laswell said that the brasses have been keeping it tight-lipped about our situation. So either they don’t know and someone is working on this alone or they do know and don’t want it getting out,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Which one is worse? I don’t know.” 

If they do know we risk giving ourselves away by trying to make contact. This was going to be a waiting game. 

We were in this alone and the thought of the world being completely oblivious to our disappearance was frightening. The idea of your family never knowing what happened to you left just as fast as it came. 

“Until we come up with a plan?” Gaz sneered, his eyes hardening making it evident it was hardly a question. 

“How long will that take?” You asked, your knee bouncing in a clear show of anxiety. 

Laswell cleared her throat, eyes peeking over the laptop she was sitting in front of, “I’ve got a few contacts on US soil who are doing some internal investigations. I won’t be able to exchange information with them as often as I’d like but they’re good at what they do,” She assured, this usually perfect braid falling loose down her shoulder. “I trust that they’ll be able to find some leads.”

“How long with that take?” Ghost repeated your question.

Laswell huffed, “I have no idea.” 

“Let’s aim for a few weeks at the very least,” Price said, lifting a fresh unlit cigar to his mouth. 

“We’ve only got a week’s worth of food,” you exchanged a look with Ghost, who was already looking at you, his dark eyes unreadable. Before the rest of the team got here he had donned his mask, making it all the harder to gauge what exactly he was thinking. 

“Ahh,” Laswell flipped her laptop to face the rest of us. You leaned forward and squinted at the bright screen with multiple windows pulled up, “There’s a little townlet three hours from here with no military presence. We can go into town to stock up when the time arrives.”

Two weeks. Two whole weeks passed and Laswells weren’t any closer to finding out who Specter was, and everyone was getting antsy. She did, however, discover that we have all been flagged as deserters. 

Price and Gaz were out doing recon every morning, and every time they came back with the same news. Which was no news.  

You and Ghost had gone into the little town Laswell aforementioned nearly every day since that first week. You spent most of your time at one of the schools there. It was a symbiotic relationship where you were providing medical services wherever you were needed in exchange for more medical supplies. All the while Ghost went off on his own sometimes coming back with food other times with information on the movements of the military. “For your safety” he wasn’t able to tell you who exactly he was meeting with for this information. 

You were cleaning the wound of a smaller child, her dark hair and wide glassy eyes flitting to everything that moved. Considering how her wound looked a week ago she was healing well. In a few more days there will be nothing left but a pink scar. You couldn’t understand each other because of a language barrier but there was mutual respect between you two. She couldn’t have been older than 10 but her eyes showed she had seen more than her years. Her eyes would sometimes glaze over and would stare far beyond what you could see. Her mouth would loosen and she would murmur to herself. A prayer, you were later told by a woman who spoke English. It was unsettling to see someone so young so grown. 

That’s what growing up in a warzone will do to you. You chastised yourself, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Here,” you secured her bandage showing off your work to her. Her delicate hand grazed it, her face void of emotion. With a slight bow of her head, she left. You watched as she disappeared back out the school door. 

You felt someone take a seat beside you, her identity easily discerned by her scent of pepper and rosemary. “Her mother would have been so devastated to see her like this,” she spoke softly, her accent almost undetectable. She was one of the teachers at the school, and also the one who let you use her classroom as a makeshift station when she didn’t have any classes. 

She seemed like a great teacher, artwork and previous school projects lined her classroom walls. 

It didn’t go unnoticed that she was using the past tense. Your mouth opened and closed as you fought to find the right words, “She’s too young,” too young for this kind of life. Too young to be seeing death. Too young to be this broken. 

“Is anyone ever old enough?” She began helping you pack your supplies, offering you a new medical kit for today’s services, “We are having trouble getting shipments in so this is going to be the last time we’ll be able to pay you back.” 

You tilted your head at her, “What do you mean by troubles?”    

She smoothed out the wrinkles from her shirt, “They’ve put up checkpoints at every roading leading in and out of eastern borders. It is almost impossible to get transport trucks through,” Her blue eyes had grown tired in the last few days.

You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. If there is anything I can do to repay you, anything at all, let me know.”

She smiled and shook her head, “You’ve done more than enough,” she leaves you to turn her attention to a group of students coming in for her next class. 

Ghost returned to the school a few hours earlier than he usually did, his pace hurried, “Grab your stuff. We’re getting out of here,” he panted like he’d run the entire way back to the school but he was already moving to pack your supplies back into your pack. 

You looked up at him, eyebrows knitting together, “What’s wrong?” 

“A convoy was sighted three hundred kilometres to the east,” he didn’t wait for your reply before he slung ur pack over his shoulder and strode for the door, “And they aren’t insurgents.” 

Which means they’re American. And they couldn’t know we were here. They would take us all back in, and the last thing we wanted was to be getting into gunfights with our own. 

Ghost opened your door for you, “Get in.” 

You gave him a side glance before stepping up into the truck and letting him slam it shut behind you. Apart from the sound of the rocky road underneath the wheels and the whir of the engine the ride back was silent. You watched out your window, turning thoughts over in your head, debating whether the conversation you’ve been wanting to have with him but never the time, was worth it. 

Since that first night, nothing more has happened between you too. There hasn’t been the time for a conversation about it. Let alone actual sex. Still, a conversation needed to be had at some point. You wanted to know what he was thinking. He was always difficult to read and never shared his thoughts and feelings with anyone.  

“What’s on your mind?” Ghost spoke first, sensing your hesitation, his eyes flickering between you and the road. 

“A lot,” you tried laughing but it came out more like a sigh, then shrugged, “I guess mostly…about that night,” you started off.

His eyes widened before he quickly turned to face the road again, “Go on.” 

“We haven’t discussed it, or… haven’t really had the time to explore what it means. If it does mean anything. Don’t get me wrong,” you caught yourself, “There really isn’t a worse time for something like this,” it wasn’t like things had grown awkward between the two of you in the last few weeks, but you weren’t sure how you were supposed to be feeling. Or how he was feeling. Doubt had crept into the corners of your mind in the last few weeks. 

Maybe it was just a distraction for him. 

Your breakfast soured in your stomach at the idea.      

The clouds overhead began to turn a sombre grey, bringing with it the threats of a storm. 

Beside you, he’d grown impossibly still. His shoulders were taut with discomfort, “If you’re going to say it was a mistake just do us both a favour and say it.” 

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, “Was it–” you swallowed, “Was it a mistake for you?” 

“No,” he spoke with conviction, “No, it wasn’t.” 

Just as fast as the air left your lungs, they were filled, “Ohh,” you released a sigh, your head falling back onto the seat. 

“Once we get ourselves out of this we can talk about it all you want, but–”

“But, now isn’t a good time,” you finished for him, agreeing with the statement.  

“I don’t want you to think I used you like some sex-crazed caveman,” he shifted, the light of the day dwindling as we rolled down the road, the shadows from the trees creeping closer and closer to the truck. 

“I dont…” you started but he was already pulling the truck over to the side of the road. 

“I need you to know that the moment we get back to society that this,” he unbuckled his seatbelt and gestured between the two of you, “Isn’t going to end. I care for you but I need you to stay alive. So, I’m deciding for us to put things on hold because neither of us needs the distraction. It wasn’t a mistake. Do I wish I had waited until I was able to fuck you in a real bed? Kinda.” 

The first few drops of rain splattered onto the windshield, fat and heavy. 

He released the strap on his bulletproof vest to his chest and reached for my hand, “Feel this,” he brought my hand, dwarfed in his, to his racing heart. The heat radiated off his body, “That is what you do to me. Every time you look at me, or speak, or enter a room. I feel like I  can’t breathe around you. I’m terrified of you, and the possibilities that come with you,” he squeezed your hand, and he took in a shuttering breath, “And when you look at me like that,” his voice dropped and his eyes searched yours before bringing your hand lower, where you felt his member hardening. 

Your cheeks heated and you felt your own heart quicken its pace. 

The sounds of the rain became a rhythmic beat as it began to downpour, and without the windshield wipers to wipe away the downfall it was nearly impossible to see to the outside. 

He let out a low, agonizing sound when you gave him an experimental squeeze 

His attention flicked to the clock on the dash, his eyes darkening, “If I had been a smart man I wouldn’t have told Price we were leaving early. So if we take much longer it’ll raise questions,” he pulled away from you, slowly, like it was taking every sane part of him to do so, “And I’m sure you don’t want that.” 

You shook your head. You did not want to talk with Price about your extracurriculars. 

He took one last look at you, “Fuck sake,” he lifted the bottom half of his mask and pulled your lips to his. It was a chaste, desperate, open-mouth kiss. One where his hands dipped your head back to gain better access. His thumbs cradled your jaw, his fingers curling in your hair. 

It was just like the last time you kissed him. He was all fire and heat. He was explosive. 

When he finally pulled back, his lips were wet and rosy, his eyes half-lidded, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere?” he said lowly. 

You couldn’t help the sheepish smile, “I’m here.”  

His Foresight - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx ❤︎@mymommmy ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums ❤︎  @xheera​  ❤︎ @lockleywife​ ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae  

[writingstoraes]

is he? 💍

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine/social media au

notes: not proofread nor revised so please expect errors! lmk what you think <3 also lmk if u wanna be included in my taglist!

about: charles takes you on a rather spectacular trip to amsterdam, one of your dream destinations, and you decide to poke fun at him joking whether he was going to propose or not.

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, lilymhe, yukitsunoda0511, and 104,678 others

yourusername life update! charles said he's taking me to amsterdam to kick off his break from racing now that the season has wrapped up <3

the million dollar question... is he proposing or did he just plan a trip to my dream destination spontaneously?

charles_leclerc Before I answer anything, you pack terribly, mon ange (said with love 🥰)

yourusername u have guts to tell me that as if we haven't seen that C2 challenge with Carlos

charles_leclerc Hey I was under pressure! I pack just fine!

carlossainz55 No Charles you suck at packing, its a good thing you're a great driver

ilovecharles ok but charles didnt say no... is he actually proposing?????

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, lilymhe, kellypiquet, and 150,678 others

yourusername part 2 of this saga: is charles proposing or did he just willingly accompany me to my nail appointment before the trip? is he proposing or did i just get the urge to try on and pack several "fancy" dresses?

pierregasly You know what Y/N, you are onto something

ferrarilover OH MYGODHHHH DO U KNOW SOMETHING PIERRE

charles_leclerc Pierre 🤦‍♂️

sainz55cs Oh he knows something we dont

yourusername

liked by pascale_leclerc, arthurleclerc, carlossainz55, and 102,567 others

yourusername you guys this is getting suspicious... is charles proposing or did he just buy me a ton of tulips, took me here conveniently before sunset, and said we'd only eat these as snacks because we are having a candlelit dinner in the evening?

(ps. amsterdam is beyond beautiful i am in awe i love you charles thanks for taking me here 😘)

charles_leclerc Or maybe I am just a wonderful boyfriend, mon amour

charlesmyfavedriver CHARLES PLAYING VICTIM I CANT

landonorris Seems suspicious but okay

danielricciardo Okay now Y/N really has got me curious if Charles is going to propose or not

carlossainz55 Tell me about it, mate! Isa turned her notifications on for them 🤦‍♂️

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, pierregasly, lewishamilton, and 1,567,902 others

charles_leclerc To answer everyone's question, yes I did propose. Looking forward to spending forever with you, yourusername ❤️ You are undoubtedly one of the best things that have ever happened to me. You own me - body, heart, and soul.

(P.S. Sorry you didn't get to wear your dress amour, it was unexpectedly cold and I did not want you to shiver!)

yourusername i was honestly just joking i didnt expect you to actually propose 😭 you always find ways to surprise me, baby! excited to be your wife 🤍

lewishamilton Wow congratulations, Y/N and Charles! One of the best couple I know 🤍

pierregasly MY MAN you finally did it! Cheers, mate!

charles_leclerc You almost blew my cover, Pierre

pierregasly What are best friends for? 😊

scuderiaferrari Congratulations to our favorite couple! We wish you a great life ahead. ❤️

pascale_leclerc Welcome to the family, Y/N! You have always been my favorite 😘

arthurleclerc What????

carlossainz55 Best wishes, Charles and Y/N! Am I best man yet?

pierregasly Not on my watch you're not

ferrarilover23 WHEN DO I GET A LOVE LIKE THIS

tagging: @slytherheign thanks for keeping up w me spamming you while im making this :))

notes: aaaa my second one! how do you guys like it so far? pls lmk what u think! these are so fun to make but im running out of ideas already 😭

[pumpkinbxtch]

hey queen bean!!! 💛 i wanna start off saying i’m so glad we’re moots HEHEHE <333 i was also hoping if i could request a leo blurb or oneshot maybe like,, a quince night with him?? like maybe he got invited and the reader is like his plus one??

I WENT TO A QUINCE ONCE OF ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS AND IT WAS THE BEST PARTY IVE EVER BEEN TO i think about it to this DAYYY. LIKE THE FOOD?? delish. THE DANCING OH MY GOSH I WAS DANCING ALL NIGHT

okay i’ll stop rambling 🤲 hope we interact more!!!

sunkisses, sunni! ☼ *. mwuah!

quinceañera night ✧⁠*⁠。

— leo valdez x fem!reader

warnings: language

a/n: Hello, Sunni! I'm also happy that we are mutual, I assure you that sometimes you won't get me out of your comments, lol. Here is this little blurb (I don't know how it turned out, I always write this before, but I hope it's okay 😮‍💨) I love when these things are mixed together because I'm Mexican so, it's my things ig. I'm going to stop rambling too, I hope you like it. 😭 mwuahh.

You were pissed, like, really pissed.

But Leo had invited you to that party, and between your pride and letting him go with someone else? NEVER. So, you ended up with him at the entrance of the party hall, fixing your heels.

The way Leo acted like a total gentleman with you killed you, annoyed you, frustrated you, because he wasn't yours, and you weren't his. That annoyance squeezed your guts, and you bit your lip uncomfortably.

Pretending not to care about not labeling your relationship or that everything could stay the same for a thousand years just to avoid suffocating him with the question was so hard. But you couldn't help but live with the constant fear that someone better than you would snatch away the person you loved the most.

— Ready — he said, giving your heel buckle a final check. He was at your feet with that beaming smile, the way his curls fell from his forehead should be illegal for the way it made your stomach flutter. — Does it feel okay?

You huffed and lightly pushed him with the tip of your shoe, making him lose balance momentarily as you stood up. Leo let out a charming laugh that made warmth spread to your cheeks. You were about to turn around to slap him hard and then kiss him.

He trotted to catch up with you and offered his arm.

— Señorita? —he raised an eyebrow.

— Leo

And you hooked onto him. Even though that had already happened, right?

Oh, damn. YOU NEVER HAD MORE FUN AT A PARTY.

— Let's go, let's have some fun — he sang in your ear. You looked him directly in the eyes, and he winked at you. Leo was already lively on his own, but you had never seen him like this, jumping around and giving playful smiles. He was having a good time, and for both of your sakes, you wanted to enjoy the party too.

Indeed, Leo was actually too happy because he was showing you a side of him that wasn't easy to reveal, not because he had issues with it, but simply because you can't find easily people who enjoy pozole, celebrate quinceañeras, or any festivities the way they did.

— Here — you saw him run from a few meters away to your table and extend a fruit skewered on a stick. You raised an eyebrow for an explanation.

— Jicaleta.

"Jica- what?" but oh, Zeus, it was delicious. You never thought a Jicama on a stick with chili would be such a delicacy.

Leo sat back down next to you and nudged your shoulder to get your attention. The expression on your face wouldn't have changed for a million dollars; the sparkle in your eyes was enough to have him giving you one of those looks that you knew meant trouble, so you decided to ignore it.

—What are you looking at? — You huffed, and before you could fully look away, he cupped your cheek to stop you.

— At you — cooed. He brushed off tiny sugar remnants from the corner of your lips. Those tiny crystals stayed on his thumb, and instead of wiping them on a napkin, he brought them to his mouth, tasting a bit of that sweet flavor. In an attempt to hide your nervousness, you furrowed your brow and wrinkled your nose.

—Ew.

Leo rolled his eyes.

— Oh, come on — he scoffed and kissed you softly. With his plush lips on yours, for a moment, you needed nothing more than this moment.

"The grill is open. You can order your tacos, and there's also barbecue."

But Leo seemed to need more food. And he got up, pulling you by the hand towards the forming line.

— Okay, okay. Try them — you groaned.

— Leo, I've already tried the tacos. I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary. — He repeatedly shook his head, so abrupt that you feared for his neck.

— No, linda — he took a taco from his own plate and held it up like a religious act; you could almost see some heavenly light surrounding the food, but it was probably just the party lights. — This is a real taco, not those sold with hard tortillas!

If only you could keep track of how many times you rolled your eyes. Nevertheless, the person playing an undefined role in your life (who called himself Leo) extended the food for you to try, and you took a bite.

The exquisite flavor made you cover your mouth and raise your eyebrows in surprise.

— Fuck — you said with your mouth full. Leo smiled triumphantly and kissed your cheek.

— I told you. Now, squeeze some lemon on it, squeeze some lemon on it!

Definitely, the most peculiar part for you was when the birthday girl started dancing with her chambelanes¹.

— Why is she dancing to us if it's her birthday?

Leo chuckled, still wrapping his arm around your shoulders and his head slightly resting on yours as you admired the girl changing outfits about five times and dancing various music genres in less than 10 minutes.

“Mordida²! Mordida! Mordida!"

Once again, you looked at him for an explanation. You applauded along with the rhythm but didn't understand why the quinceañera looked so nervous and complained at times.

—She has to take a bite of the cake.

You contorted your face in confusion and looked at her closely. Once the girl leaned slightly over the cake, her brother, mother, and father smashed it onto her, regardless of whether she choked. You felt slightly sorry for her until you saw that amidst all the icing and cream, she was also smiling and laughing brightly.

— Does she know that will be recorded? — you asked, looking at the cameraman who was also smiling at the scene.

— She knows — Leo took your hand and kissed your knuckles. Once again, that knot formed in your stomach, and you discreetly pulled your hand away. Slowly but surely, you were getting tired of his deliberate touch; you liked it, but you couldn't ignore your feelings.

It seemed that the elaborate itinerary of the quinceañera had ended, and only enjoyment remained; people were already on the dance floor or chatting animatedly at the tables while some kids ran around with candies in their hands. You were truly having a good time, and you liked learning more about this side of Leo.

— And? — he leaned towards you, and you leaned back.

— I'm having fun — you admitted and grabbed one of those candies on the centerpieces; it was called "tamborcito," it was so small that it was endearing that it was just a lump of sugar and chili, delicious.

The brunette leaned closer to you, searching your eyes, but you weren't in the mood for that kind of game.

Watching couples dance, kiss, and share a moment of celebration created a bittersweet feeling in you; you longed for something you didn't have. His hand found yours, and when you finally met his eyes, there was hardness in your gaze, the same hardness that pricked Leo's chest, giving him the sensation that something was not right, but what could it be?

— I'm going to the bathroom — you said, snatching the opportunity to avoid his questions. He watched you walk away and sank into his chair, letting out a loud groan. "The way she makes me nervous should be illegal," he thought.

Same thoughts, no communication.

You fixed your makeup a bit, wiped the excess sweat from your forehead, and adjusted your dress. You were glad you didn't have to be selling a wound or planning strategies; you were just a girl with a guy. As you dried your hands, you laughed sarcastically. If only you were his girl; you barely wanted to walk back to him.

You watched Leo from the bathrooms as he seemed to nod his head to the rhythm of the music; he looked so cute that it made you throw a little tantrum, taking advantage that no one saw you.

— Hi — a guy said beside you. You jumped, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.

In the end, he asked you to dance.

Yes. Not Leo, that guy, and you thought, "screw it, why not?"

The guy smiled widely when you took his hand. If your UNDEFINED relationship with Leo would serve you anything, what better than to take advantage with a cute guy.

Meanwhile, Leo was starting to get impatient. How long could you take in the bathroom? He got up from the table with the intention of looking for you, but seeing you dance on the dance floor made his soul sink to his feet. And dances are VERY different at a quinceañera; sure, there's everything, but DANCING was a very different matter. Leo wouldn't have worried if it had been a cumbia or salsa, but bachata? the way that guy held you by the hips and led you while dancing drove him crazy.

His blood began to boil, and he tried to calm himself to avoid losing control over his powers to prevent himself from igniting. He made his way towards you, dodging people and apologizing until a click in his head made him stop in his tracks. With what right would he snatch you from the arms of that man? If he just remembered friends with benefits were famous because exactly, there was nothing to explain to the other.

Moreover, he observed your face, with a huge smile and your eyes focused on not messing up the next step. The colorful lights illuminated your face beautifully. He clenched his fist and returned to his place.

You hadn't stopped dancing with the guy; he was kind and taught you patiently.

You pouted as you walked through the garden of the hall and saw Leo kicking a rock with the tip of his shoe. There was the problem; no matter how attentive he had been or how good a match he seemed, he wasn't him.

Your friend's shoulders brushed against the branches of a bush, and he abruptly stopped.

— Did you have fun?— he asked with a certain acidity in his voice; you knew what he was getting at, but you didn't want to give it importance.

— Tons — you balanced on one foot as you unfastened your shoe. Leo just nodded with his gaze fixed on the bush as he caressed the foliage with his index finger.

You rolled your eyes and dropped the heel to the ground to unfasten the other one.

— Why that face, Leo? — It wasn't your intention to sound so mocking, but you couldn't help but feel a certain pleasure in his jealousy. He gave you a scowling look and huffed.

— I'm not making any face — he tore off the leaf and burned it in his hands. Jealousy was eating him alive.

— If you say so — you pulled a piece of paper from the bag hidden in your dress and smiled.

The guy tore another branch forcefully when he saw you smile and extended his hand, taking the piece of paper from you.

— Hey!

— Did he give you his number?

— And what if he did?

He inhaled loudly and felt pathetic. It was true. He returned it to you, still annoyed, and sat on the edge of the planter as you finished taking off your shoe. Both palms resting on his cheeks with that grumpy expression.

— I have something to say — he said once three seconds had passed, which for him felt like an eternity. You rolled your eyes again and put your hand on your hip, dropping the other heel. You were already barefoot on the pavement.

— What?

— I like you.

You softened your expression, replacing it with one of confusion.

— What?

— I like you, I love you — Leo looked up and gave you a flat, resigned smile.

— Like... what?

Leo scratched the back of his neck and straightened up.

— I like you, I love you, let's be boyfriend and girlfriend.

He thought it had been a great way to declare his feelings, but instead, you crumpled the piece of paper with the guy's number and threw it at his face, poking his left eye.

— Auch!

— Dumbass

And you held back a sob. It was so unfair. He seemed to read your thoughts and stood up.

— Okay, okay, okay. Wait, don't look — he took you by the shoulders and turned you around so you faced away. You heard the leaves rustle and some twigs snap; when he reappeared in your sight, he had his hair tousled and some bougainvillea branches in his hand. His eyes pleading and nibbling lightly on his lips. — Can we finally be together and stop with the nonsense once and for all because I can't stand seeing you with someone else, and besides, you're my best friend? Come on, say yesss

You couldn't hold that serious image for long. You threw yourself into his arms and kissed him on the cheek, for the first time confident.

— You're an idiot.

— I'll take that as a yes.

You nodded frantically and kissed him, this time on the lips, with such force that your red lipstick left a mark on him.

— Damn, finally — Leo celebrated and lifted you in a bridal style, making you scream with happiness. He leaned down with you to tangle the straps of your heels on his fingers and set off towards the car. — I'll take you home.

You raised both arms as if you were on a roller coaster. smiled ecstatically, with flushed cheeks. — Take me home!

¹ chambelanes: are the dancers who the quinceañera, usually they're a mix of family, professionals and the boyfriend.

² mordida: bite

[saccharinesunsetretired]

Wilbur Soot’s Guide to Side Hustles | camboy!Simpbur x camgirl!reader | Part One

My first ever series on this blog yayayayay! Also first time writing Simpbur. No fucking clue when the next chapter will be up though. Could be next week. Could be a month. Life contains many mysteries.

Summary: Wilbur has had a long line of obsessions in his time. In a desperate attempt to get the attention he craves, he starts making content online. When he encounters you at a party full of other creators...well, he's never been good at staying away from things that draw him in, and you may very well be his undoing.

Warnings/Tags: sub!Simpbur, dom!reader. Unrealistic sex/depictions of sex work (although I did try), smut, pegging, general simpbur creepiness, discussions of virignity/consent, low self-esteem and insecurity problems, unhealthy attitudes toward sex. Reader is AFAB and a woman

Word Count: 11.3k

MINORS DNI - BLOGS WITHOUT AN AGE INDICATOR GET BLOCKED, NO EXCEPTIONS

“Hey, creep.” 

Wilbur blinked and looked up from his math textbook. Standing right in front of him was a girl from his English course, a girl he’d had a crush on for years. They had never actually spoken. Instead, he’d done what he did best—watched from afar and stayed out of it. For a moment, despite her harshness, he just stared, basking in her attention. 

She laughed, and her friends laughed from a few desks away as they looked on. “Do you know how to speak?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” he said. He could feel his cheeks burning. “What’s, um…what’s up?”

“‘What’s up’?” The girl laughed again. “I’ve seen you hovering near my locker, you fucking pervert.”

Wilbur froze. “I-I wasn’t—“

“Oh, you weren’t?” She leaned against a nearby desk. “Who’s been leaving me notes, then?”

Wilbur wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole. He had been leaving notes. And admittedly, yes, some of them were creepier than others. The notes ranged from Good luck on midterms :) to You looked so hot in class today. And despite Wilbur’s general lack of self-awareness, he recognized how this looked. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll stop.”

“If you don’t, I’m reporting you,” she replied. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Got it.” Wilbur had never felt more embarrassed. The other students began to whisper. He could feel a million eyes on him—well, what felt like a million, at least. “I’m so, so sorry.” He stared at his desk as his eyes stung.

“Good.” The girl stood there for another few moments. “It’s a waste,” she said. “You could almost be cute, if you weren’t such a freak.”

Present Day

You could almost be cute if you weren’t such a freak.

Wilbur remembered that, because of course he did. It was the closest he ever got to someone returning his affections. Yes, he knew it was pathetic, but that shred of affirmation went a long way.

He started bettering himself. It started with better hygiene, not wearing clothes multiple days in a row, properly washing his hair. His parents had been bothering him to do that for ages, anyway. He dressed better, tried to socialize. That last point didn’t go too well. He got bullied to the point that he ended up switching schools and had to deal with the fact that at least a bit of it was warranted.

He never saw that crush of his ever again. He developed new ones, new fixations. He didn’t leave notes, though, or stalk anyone or do anything to arouse suspicion. He promised himself that he could be normal, that he would be normal.

Well, perhaps he’d intentionally switched classes a few times to “keep an eye on” some of the people he became fixated on. But was that such a big deal?

And then university came. Loans, what felt like a million dollars in debt. One night, the result of a drunken decision, he filmed himself getting off. On an even more questionable drunken decision, he posted it online to some internet forum he had only heard of in passing. The second he remembered it the next day (after recovering physically a bit from his previous drinking binge), he was absolutely mortified.  And yet, to his immense surprise, people liked it. It wasn’t any sort of viral sensation, of course, but he had a decent number of comments when he woke up in the morning. At first, he was put off by the vulgarity of it, but then, he realized that this was how he could get the high that he’d always craved—attention. 

He started working on it. Filming videos, uploading photos. Pretty soon, he had an OnlyFans account going. His content was mostly solo stuff, webcam livestreams and private chats with his more dedicated followers. To his surprise, he started making decent money. It was nice to have something to help relieve some of the university debt. Plus, the validation was nice, even if it was only in praise of his body.

Besides, he had long given up the idea of anybody loving him for anything other than that.

Online, his persona was more submissive. It was easier for him, not having to fake confidence that he didn’t have. Instead, he could let himself moan as loud as he wanted, let the microphone pick up every small gasp and whine as he got himself off either with his hands or one of the million toys that he’d purchased since starting the job. The needier he looked, the better.

Then, he found the confidence to do his first collaboration. The benefits of moving to a larger area for university were plenty, but one of the biggest benefits turned out to be the fact that he was far from the only sex worker in the city. He lost his virginity to a girl on a livestream, although she didn’t know it was his first time. At least, she pretended not to know. Wilbur got the feeling that she could tell. Either way, it had made good content. In fact, it had been so profitable that she had invited him to a small gathering of some other creators—sex workers of all types.

And that was how he ended up holding a can of cheap beer in the corner of a party. It was at someone’s apartment, someone he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. The music was far too loud, the conversation too overwhelming. For a moment, Wilbur was sixteen again, sitting at his desk and wanting to disappear.

At least, until you walked in. You, dressed to the nines for a simple house party. For a moment, he locked eyes with you, and he nearly forgot how to breathe. He looked away first, too intimidated, too afraid. However, he watched out of the corner of his eye as you walked into the kitchen to greet the host of the party and grab a drink. 

When you reentered the living room, Wilbur’s eyes immediately went back to you. Suddenly, it was as if nobody else was there. He could feel it creeping up on him again, the beginning of an obsession.

Be normal, he reminded himself. Don’t be a creep.

He watched as you greeted almost everyone at the party, flawlessly interacting with the guests. Clearly, you knew your way around. Eventually, you made your way over to Wilbur. He took a sip of his beer to try and appear casual, only to choke slightly.

“Shit, didn’t mean to startle you,” you said, chuckling. “You alright?” You leaned against the wall right beside him, so close that he could smell your shampoo. Or maybe it was perfume. He couldn’t tell, and honestly didn’t care to discern the difference. 

“Fine,” Wilbur replied. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. You caught me mid-sip.”

“My bad, stranger.” You offered your hand. “I’m Y/N. And you’re Wilbur, right? Allison told me about you.”

Wilbur hesitantly shook your hand before pulling his own hand away suspiciously quick. “Right, yeah,” Wilbur replied. “We did a livestream earlier.”

“I heard. Apparently it was a hit.” You briefly glanced at your phone before tucking it back in your pocket. “And you’re new on the scene…?”

“Yeah, pretty new.” Wilbur shrugged, trying to play it cool and relax his nerves. “That was my first non-solo livestream.” And my first time having sex ever his mind reminded him. Because people only want you if they can profit. 

He shook the thought away as you spoke again. “Damn. Pretty good for your first time, then.” You grinned at him. “Most people don’t get this kind of attention so quickly.”

“It’s…definitely been a surprise to me,” Wilbur agreed. A tense silence passed between you and Wilbur. “So…you also do the whole…camgirl thing?” He thought that he’d heard of you in passing, but before, he’d had no reason to look you up.

“Yeah! Two years and going. Still doing mostly solo stuff, but trying to branch out a little,” you replied. “It can be difficult to know who to trust in this industry, who genuinely has your best interests at heart and who is taking advantage.”

“I bet.” Wilbur set his beer aside. It wasn’t that good, anyway. “Do you like it?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes yes. Other times no. Depends on how creepy people are that day.” 

Wilbur laughed, nodding in agreement. He watched you as you took a sip of your own drink, some sort of cocktail. “But you make good money?” he asked. His frenzied mind attempted to come up with some flirtatious lines, but nothing else left his mouth. Considering how cringy all the lines were, it was for the better.

“Decent money,” you replied. “And you?”

“Decent money.”

“Cool.” Wilbur felt slightly uneasy as you eyed him up and down. “Hand me your phone,” you said after a moment.

Wilbur blinked. “Why?” he asked. Despite his questioning, he unlocked his phone and handed it over without complaint.

“So I can give you my number,” you replied. You began entering your contact information. “Not to be too forward, but the main reason I came to this party was just to network. Like I said, I’m branching out, and it seems that you’re doing the same.” You handed his phone back. “Maybe we could collab.”

Wilbur felt his heart hammering in his chest. The room felt like it was spinning, and considering he’d only had half a beer, he definitely couldn’t blame it on alcohol. “Oh. Um…you sure?”

You smirked. “You seem harmless enough, Wil. Besides, we can talk a bit beforehand, get to know each other a little. I’d rather not fuck someone without knowing a bit about them.”

“Fair.” Wilbur very shakily tucked his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. He noticed you starting to leave. “We’ll be in touch, then?” he asked.

You winked. “You can count on it.” Only a moment later, you disappeared into the crowd.

Wilbur left the party immediately after. He saw no point in staying if he couldn’t talk with you more. Even after that sliver of conversation, everyone else at the party seemed even more dull than before. He got into the back of a taxi, trying (and failing) to make his brain go quiet.

All he could think about was your skin under the multicolored lights at the party, the sound of your laugh, the brightness of your smile. He checked his phone, and all he could think about was the fact that your hands had touched it less than fifteen minutes prior. And maybe, just maybe, if he played his cards right he would get to touch you for real.

He imagined your hands on him, fingers curled around his cock. Nobody had ever given him a handjob before, but he (for better or worse) had always had a vivid imagination. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the window of the cab as he imagined it, your fingers on him. He tried to imagine every detail, the texture of your fingertips, the tone of voice you would use as you praised him.

By the time the taxi dropped him off outside his apartment building, he was achingly hard. He made it to his studio apartment, took off his coat and shoes, and immediately sat on his bed. He opened his laptop and searched for your name.

Sure enough, he found your OnlyFans, as well as the few free teaser clips that you’d uploaded elsewhere. There you were, a vibrator on your clit in one clip, your fingers teasing your own nipples as you moaned for the camera.

He slammed the laptop shut. No, he told himself. No more obsessions. If you manage to make this work, all she’ll be to you is a colleague, a coworker. 

Don’t be a creep.

He got out of bed and made it to the bathroom, where he stripped, tossed his clothes in the hamper, and turned on the shower. A cold shower would do the trick, he figured. Admittedly, he’d never actually tried the method, but it was the best he could think of. He could scrub away all thoughts of you, get rid of his hard-on, and call it a night.

He shivered as the cold water hit him. It felt fucking awful, cold water on his skin when all he wanted was warmth, but he toughed it out, waiting for his “problem” to resolve itself.

But it was no use. All he could think about was the sound of you moaning in that video, gorgeous lips parted, legs spread. He couldn’t help but wish he could hear you moan for real, not the fake sort of moans that are exaggerated for the camera. 

He gave up after a while and got out, wrapping his lower body in a towel as he did a walk of shame back to his bed. He sat on the towel and reopened his laptop.

He found your OnlyFans page, and without thinking, he subscribed. He wasn’t sure if you could see his username if he used his official account, so he made another guest account. You were worth the inconvenience. He started to scroll. He saw a clip of you and Allison, you grinding against her thigh. Another clip showed you edging yourself into oblivion, cheeks flushed, eyes watering. That was the clip he finally settled on. 

He edged himself along with the video, stopping whenever you stopped. If your hand stopped moving, so would his. In his mind, it felt almost like mutual masturbation, like you were really there doing this with him. He imagined you watching him, murmuring praise to him. 

It wasn’t often that he got off without toys, not because he couldn’t, but because he was almost always filming his orgasms, and thus toys were usually involved. Despite not having any added vibration or stimulation, he came harder simply from touching himself while watching your videos than he had in months. 

He laid there afterward, his own cum on his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut. You’re absolutely hopeless, he told himself.

And yet, he couldn’t stop now. Not when you were so close. 

It took Wilbur three days to work up the courage to text you, and from then on, conversation flowed naturally. At first, it was small talk about the industry—which people did you know, how many parties had you been to, what sort of content were you interested in making, and on and on and on. Wilbur was honest, admitting his lack of experience in the world of sex work, although he didn’t admit his lack of sexual experience in general. If he did, he might scare you off or make you hesitant, and he didn’t want that.

Conversation then turned to more personal matters. Still surface level, yes, but less detached than talks of industry and networking. He learned that you were a camgirl on the side, using the funds to add to the money you made from waitressing as you saved up. He also learned your favorite restaurant in the city (which he offered to take you to sometime, delighted when you accepted the offer) as well as your favorite bands, books, movies…all the surface-level questions he could hope to get answers for. 

To his dismay, two weeks of texts went by without you mentioning possibly meeting up to film together. Just when he thought that was off the table and this would only amount to friendship, his phone buzzed as he was working on an essay. He picked it up, assuming it would be either one of his parents or a spam call, and grinned when he saw your name. You were requesting a FaceTime call, so he quickly smoothed his hair before answering.

“Hey!” you said cheerfully. Wilbur was so relieved to see your face, not just on your OnlyFans, but you, you choosing for him to see you. You looked like you were fresh out of the shower, and he realized quickly that you weren’t wearing a shirt. He couldn’t see anything below your shoulders, but the realization still had him speechless for a moment before he regained his composure.

“Hi!” he said back with equal cheerfulness. “How’re you?” He flicked on another light in his apartment so that you could see him better.

“Good,” you replied. A moment of silence passed. “Listen, are you free Saturday?”

“Yeah, why?” The truth was, Wilbur wasn’t free Saturday. He was in a study group for an upcoming exam, but at that moment, he decided that he didn’t give a shit. He would happily flunk an exam if it meant getting to spend more time with you. He had only seen you in person once, and only for a tiny moment in time, and all he had thought about since then was getting more. 

“I have a business idea,” you said. Wilbur watched as you sat down on a couch at what must be your apartment. He caught a glimpse of the top of a towel wrapped around your torso, and although this thought made him slightly disgusted with himself, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Still, his disappointment only lasted a second once your words sunk in.

“A business idea?” He immediately perked up. “What is it?” His mind went wild with possibilities. A livestream? Some short clips? A whole homemade porn film? 

“So…your online persona is more on the submissive side, right?” you asked.

Wilbur’s brows furrowed. “How did you know?” Although the two of you had talked about the industry, bonded over creeps on the internet and the like, the details of your content had gone mostly undiscussed. 

He noticed the rather sheepish expression on your face. “I may have done some research,” you admitted. “Is that weird?”

His heart skipped a beat, and he had to fight to keep himself calm. You had done research on him? That meant you had definitely seen some of his content, and not only that, but seeing his content made you more interested. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared. If it were anybody else, he wouldn’t have cared, but you? You, the subject of his obsession (he’d finally admitted to himself that’s what it was), the person he thought of every night before going to bed, thought he was desirable? Maybe not desirable, but at least worthy of seeing, worthy of working with. That was enough.

“It’s not weird!” he reassured you. “I…I may have done the same.” He did not tell you that he had a whole folder on his laptop that was only clips of you, that he’d labeled each video, that he’d gotten himself off to every single one. He definitely didn’t tell you that while filming himself the day prior, he’d been thinking of you the entire time. No, that was too much. That was creepy, that was obsession…but based on your admission, he figured a bit of the truth couldn’t hurt.

Thankfully, you reacted positively. “Thank god,” you said, laughing softly. “I thought you’d think I was a pervert.”

“No! No, of course not,” he said quickly. “I would never.” He settled his back against the headboard of his bed. “So, anyway, what was the idea?”

“Well, as I was saying,” you continued, “your persona is more on the submissive side. I portray myself as more dominant. Very convenient for us, no?” Wilbur nodded along as you spoke. “I was wondering…” You trailed off. “I can be forward with you, yeah?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer it that way.”

“Great! How do you feel about getting pegged?” A moment of silence passed as Wilbur’s brain completely short-circuited. He didn’t realize how long he’d been quiet until you spoke again. “Okay, uh…maybe I was too blunt.” He heard your awkward laugh through the phone.

“No! No, not too blunt at all. I’m fine with it,” he replied. “Yeah, no, that sounds great.” He tried to hide the nervous undertone to his voice. Using toys on himself is one thing; being on the receiving end of someone else’s movements is another. “I’d be down for that.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You were quiet for a moment, there.”

“Yeah! Yes, I’m completely sure,” Wilbur replied. “You want to, um, livestream that? Or are we just filming…?”

“Just filming,” you replied. “Having sex live is way more complicated. This way, we can try a couple different angles to see what looks best on camera.”

“Right.” Wilbur took a deep breath. “That sounds good. You said Saturday?”

“Saturday, yeah,” you responded. “And I was thinking we do it at my place. No offense, I’m sure your setup is nice, but I’ve been in the game a bit longer. I’ve probably got nicer gear.”

“That’s great. Sounds good.” Wilbur’s nerves kicked up a few more notches. He was going to embarrass himself, he just knew it. He was going to walk in, immediately get hard just looking at your setup (which was already somewhat familiar to him) and look like a loser. He tried to shove that thought away.

Thankfully, it seemed that you sensed his discomfort. “Listen, uh…I know that you’ve only done something like this once,” you said. “If you ever change your mind, you can leave. I won’t judge you for that, even if we’re in the middle of filming. Consent rules don’t magically go away when there are cameras rolling.” 

Wilbur’s heart thumped in his chest. You were smiling warmly at him over FaceTime, and he wanted nothing more than to be there with you. His thoughts weren’t sexual, at least not in the moment. 

His mind wandered. When was the last time he’d been held by somebody? He’d never once been held by somebody who liked him romantically. He wasn’t sure that anyone outside his family had ever so much as hugged him. The thought made him dizzy. “Thank you,” he managed to say.

“Don’t thank me. It’s basic decency.” You continued smiling at him. “Oh, we don’t have a time set. Does one work?”

“One is fine,” Wilbur replied. “I’m totally cool with one.”

“Sounds good. Saturday at one, then,” you said. “Be ready to film.”

“I’ll be ready,” Wilbur promised. He just hoped that it was a promise he could keep.

He spent the rest of the week panicking. He shoved himself into schoolwork, studying, finishing up the essay that you had distracted him from. On Saturday morning, he woke up, shaved, took a shower, blow-dried his hair and got dressed. He knew that the clothes would be coming off, but he tried to dress somewhat nice anyway. He figured that even his nicest jeans and a button-up would be fine. He kept reminding himself that a business encounter was all this interaction would be.

Around noon, he got a text from you: 

Hey ;) ready to film?

He quickly replied. 

Born ready. Send your address?

The next message contained your address. He took a deep breath, brushed his teeth (for the third time that day) and set off. He left his apartment, got into his car, and started driving.

He put on a playlist on the way there, one he had made containing music from your favorite bands. He kept constantly checking himself in the mirror to the point where he realized he would hit something if he didn’t stop. He was an absolute wreck of nerves.

He pulled into the apartment parking lot and got out of his car. He walked into the building, took the elevator…

And there was your door. He stepped toward it and hesitantly knocked three times. The wait was agonizing. He stood outside the door for a minute before you opened it.

“Sorry!” you said. “I was in the middle of getting the lighting set up. Come in!”

“No worries.” He followed you inside. Your apartment was immaculately clean, with enough decorations to add character without being overwhelming. He followed you down the short hallway to your bedroom.

Sure enough, it took a lot to keep himself calm the second he stepped through the door. The whole place smelled like you, and it was enough to make him lightheaded. He looked at the setup, and it was honestly impressive. You had a professional-level camera setup, multiple lights, and cameras at various angles. “This is…wow,” he said. “You know your shit.”

“I’m a professional.” You winked at him as you adjusted the angle on one of the cameras. “Okay, so…a bit unconventional, but we’re going to do a test of sorts to make sure that the angles on the cameras are correct. Is that alright?”

Wilbur shrugged. “As you said, you’re the professional. I’ll let you call the shots.” He had no idea what a “test” would entail, but he wasn’t about to question it. He stood off to the side, watching you as you worked. Your white tank top left absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

“Great.” You adjusted one of the lights, lowering it slightly. “What do you think? Too bright in here?”

Come to think of it, it was a little blinding. “Maybe a bit softer,” Wilbur suggested.

“Good idea.” You nodded in agreement and dimmed the lights. “Better?”

“Better.” Wilbur took a few deep breaths. “We good to go?” 

“Good to go.” You sat on the bed, examining the angles from your sitting point, clearly trying to decide if they were any good. “Yeah, definitely good to go.”

“Okay, then.” Wilbur stood there awkwardly. “What, um, what do I do?”

“Like I said, I want to test the angles before we start actually filming.” Wilbur watched as you pressed record on all the cameras. “I figure we just experiment with a few positions, see how the camera captures it. You can stay dressed if you want—-like I said, this is just a test.”

“Alright,” Wilbur murmured. He sat on the bed and nearly froze when you cupped his cheek. His face was so close to yours that he could barely breathe.

“You still okay with this?” you asked, searching him for any sign of hesitation. He nodded. This was terrifying, but the thought of walking away was even scarier. “Good.” Mere seconds later, you pressed your lips to his.

It took him a second to kiss back, but once he started, he never wanted to stop. Your lips were soft against his, just testing the waters at first. He had no idea where to put his hands, but he didn’t have to think about it for long, as you quickly pushed him onto his back. He made a small noise as you got on top of him and continued kissing him.

Wilbur didn’t consider himself a good kisser. It wasn’t like he had much experience. The kisses became rushed and sloppy, and just as he started to settle into the rhythm, you were getting off of him and checking the camera footage. He sat there, dazed, as you made your way around the edge of the bed, checking what the cameras picked up. You were explaining something about the process, something about lighting and shadow and…whatever else, Wilbur wasn’t listening. He could still taste you, still feel your lips against his.

He only snapped back to reality when you approached the side of the bed again. “You still okay with the pegging thing?” you asked.

“Yes,” he breathed out. He could feel how hard he was, the slight friction against his jeans, but he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. Who cared if this was just for work, just for content? He was about to have you, and having you in any capacity was better than not having you at all. 

“Alright, then.” He watched as you opened a nearby dresser. “I have a couple things that you can choose from…” You pulled out a box and set it on the edge of the bed. He scooted closer as you opened it, his throat catching at the array of items. “These are all the toys I have that are compatible with the harness,” you explained. “I’d rather us not start filming until the main event, so to speak. We can get you all prepped before that.”

He nodded, breath catching in his throat. “Sounds good,” he choked out. He glanced over the collection of toys. Some of them were definitely too big for him, so he avoided them. His eyes finally landed on a pink dildo, just slightly bigger than the one he’d used in a recent clip. “That one, maybe?” He pointed.

“Good choice,” you said. “Just got this one.” You picked it out of the box and laid it on the bed. Wilbur’s eyes stayed on you as he watched you gather more stuff—-the strap-on harness, some lube, a buttplug. You went about it with the precision of a doctor gathering medical supplies. It was both hot and slightly unnerving.

“Do we have everything?” Wilbur asked. He shifted slightly, both to get comfortable and because it was difficult to sit still when he was so close to you. 

“Yep! We’re set.” You sat back down on the bed close to him. He shuddered as you rested your hand on his thigh. “Still okay?”

“Still okay,” Wilbur confirmed. He closed his eyes as you leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back, less sloppy this time, less desperate. He wanted to be able to contain himself, at least a little. He didn’t know what you’d think of him if he appeared too needy.

Your gentle hands pushed him backward, and he laid down on your soft mattress, eyes unfocused as he looked up at you. He pulled you in for another kiss, and whined as your tongue found his. The sound was pathetic in his mind, but it seemed to spur you on further. He gasped as you grinded against him. Even though it was only the tiniest bit of friction, it was one of the best things he’d ever felt. His hands wandered to your waist, sliding under your tank top. It was the boldest thing Wilbur had done so far, and he was more than pleased when you leaned further into his touch. 

A moment later, your lips left his. He frowned for only a split second before realizing why. When he opened his eyes, your hands were brushing against his as you took off your tank top, leaving absolutely nothing underneath.

He stared. He couldn’t help it. He wanted so badly to touch all of it—-your stomach, your bare waist, your chest. It was almost too much. His cheeks went red as he heard you laugh softly. “Enjoying the view?” you teased.

“Oh! Um…sorry,” he said sheepishly. He forced his eyes upward, and when he did, he locked eyes with you. To his surprise, there was no sign of disgust or embarrassment on your face, only amusement. “You’re just gorgeous. Couldn’t help it.” 

“Of course I am. How else would I have gotten this job?” You smirked down at him, and he managed to laugh despite his nerves. “In all seriousness,” you said, “thank you. You’re pretty good-looking yourself.”

It was one of the more tame comments he’d gotten in recent times, but it was by far the best. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice coming out as a squeak. Before he could apologize for that, you were kissing him again. Your hands found the buttons of his shirt, and he helped you take it off without hesitation. His mind went blank as your hands wandered his skin, tracing the lines of his abdomen and chest. He returned the favor, letting his hands wander a little. He held back, not squeezing or grasping, just lightly touching. 

You slid out of your shorts, and Wilbur fumbled with the button of his jeans. Once he undid that, you got his zipper for him. You lifted yourself up for a moment so that Wilbur could remove his jeans. He shivered as his bare skin met the cool air of your room, then frowned as you got off of him. “We should get you ready,” you said. He nodded, finally removing his boxers.

He let them fall to the side of the bed, leaving him completely exposed. He could feel how hot his cheeks were, but you didn’t seem to be judging him for it. In fact, you were focused instead on putting lube on your fingers, occasionally glancing at Wilbur. He shivered, parted his legs without you asking. He laid there for a moment, staring at your ceiling, trying to calm himself. He only had a moment before you were back, settled down beside him. “You ready?” he heard you ask. He could only nod in response. 

He felt a finger press inside of him, and he sighed. His eyes closed, his lips parted, and he let himself revel in the feeling. For once, he had someone else’s fingers, someone else’s touch. Of course, only one finger wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a perfect start. He moaned quietly as you moved your finger in and out, slowly, almost teasingly. He spread his legs further for you, and you scooted closer. At one point, your finger curled just enough that it brushed against his prostate, and the moan that he let out was downright desperate. He clasped his hand over his mouth, only for you to move it away. “Where’s the fun in that?” you murmured. He couldn’t even process your words before you brushed his prostate again, and he nearly moaned even louder.

“More?” he questioned. “Please?” 

“Since you asked so nicely…” You slid in another finger and he whined. It was then that a thought occurred to him.

When he used his own fingers or his own toys, he never properly prepped himself. Not ever. It always hurt a little bit, since for him, he was always doing it just for the camera. It made him realize how much he neglected himself when it came to his job, never truly considering his own boundaries or what felt good to him. And yet, here you were, and it didn’t hurt with you at all. Even though this was just for work, just for content, you were being more considerate and gentle with him than he was with himself. He made a mental note to thank you later.

In the meantime, your fingers curled against his prostate, and he let himself moan and whine, gripping at the sheets and breathing heavily. He let his mind go empty, let himself fully relax, let himself be yours even if only for a moment in time. He felt it as you switched between brushing against his prostate and prepping his hole, gently stretching your fingers to spread him a little wider each time. “This feel okay?” you asked. 

Wilbur nodded, unable to speak properly. You continued your movements, and Wilbur continued his moans. Your fingers were gone all too soon. Wilbur gasped a few times and forced his hazy vision to focus. “All good?” he asked, a little concerned. He watched as you wiped your hand off with a wet wipe before tossing the wipe in a bedside trash can.

“All good,” you replied. “You feeling ready? I grabbed a plug just in case you wanted to use that for more prep, but if you’re feeling good, I say we go for it.”

“I’m good to just go for it,” Wilbur said. To his surprise, his voice was a lot more steady than it had been. Something about your presence was calming, even in a situation like this that Wilbur had no experience with. He watched as you got the harness ready and strapped it on. Okay, maybe the dildo was a little bigger than he’d originally thought, but he would be fine. He hoped. “Thank you for, um, helping me get ready.”

“Why wouldn’t I help? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said. You finished putting on the harness before coating the strap in more lube than was probably necessary, just for good measure. “The nice thing about not working for some big porn company is that we get to do things in our own time. We’re not rushing to fit some director’s schedule.” 

Wilbur nodded. “Right.” He’d heard varying things about being in professional pornos from various people in the industry. Experiences ranged from incredibly negative to incredibly positive, depending on the company, the director and any number of other factors. Wilbur was grateful to be making enough money on his own to make this venture worth his while. It was nice not having to risk mistreatment. “Still. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He watched as you pressed “record” on each of the cameras. You turned back to him, your expression focused, methodical. “Ready?”

Wilbur nodded. “Ready. Um…safeword?” He definitely didn’t plan on using it, but it was always better to be safe.

“Is the stoplight system good with you?” Wilbur nodded. He’d never used it, but he knew what it was. “Perfect,” you replied. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.” You smirked, and Wilbur grinned back. All the nerves were gone, replaced with excitement and focus. The cameras were rolling. Time to put on a show.

Wilbur wiggled his hips slightly, getting comfortable as well as a bit closer to you. He glanced at one of the cameras and shifted a little so that it would catch his facial expressions better. His eyes quickly went back to you. He felt your hands on his thighs. “You gonna be good for me?” you asked, your voice a little louder than it had been earlier. He figured it was just for the cameras.

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said, slightly exaggerating the tremble in his voice. From the look in your eyes, you approved. “I-I’ll be good for you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.” 

“Yeah?” Your hands ran up and down his thighs, causing him to tremble and shiver. “Then be a good boy, and tell me what you want.”

“I want…I want you to fuck me,” he said. He realized then that he was being too quiet for the cameras to pick up, but thankfully, you saved the scene.

“A little louder, sweetheart. I couldn’t hear you.” 

“Fuck me,” Wilbur said, a little louder. “Please.” Despite the fact that it was just an act, he knew that the way you called him sweetheart would be playing on repeat in his head for weeks to come, if not months. His obsession was certainly deep enough for that.

“Good boy.” He felt the tip of the strap press into him, and he gasped. “Aw, already too much?” You asked teasingly.

He shook his head frantically. “No. Not—-not enough. Need more. Please…” He tried to scoot closer to you, to get more, but you shook your head.

“You only get what I give you. Understood?” He nodded. “Good boy.” You continued pressing the strap into him, painfully slow, giving him a chance to adjust to the size of it.

He whined, trying not to arch his back or move too much. Instead, his hands gripped at the sheets. He tilted his head to the side a little bit, right in the view of the camera to show off his face contorted with pleasure. His viewers always liked that; he figured that yours might as well. “Fuck,” he gasped out. “You’re so…so big…”

“Too much for you? Or are you gonna be good and take it?” You pushed the rest of the way in, and despite feeling fuller than he’d ever felt, not an ounce of pain came with it. Wilbur was grateful for that.

“I can be good,” Wilbur promised. “I can take it. I swear I can be good and take it.” He whined as you shifted your hips a little, and his hands went to grasp at your back. “Please. Please start moving. I need—-I need you.” Not even Wilbur could tell at this point where the genuinity ended and the act began. 

You grinned. “You’ve been good so far. I feel like you’ve earned a reward.” You started shifting your hips, slow but deep thrusts that had him reeling. You weren’t quite getting his prostate, and he suspected that it was on purpose, you wanting to draw this out longer for the cameras. 

Wilbur tilted his head back slightly. His eyes fell half-closed, and he peeked out at you from beneath his lashes. He let his lips remain parted. He suppressed his moans, opting instead for gasps and grunts. It would make better content, he figured, if he could start small and build up to it. It was taking a lot of effort to hold back.

“More?” he asked meekly, trying to make his voice loud enough for the cameras, yet quiet enough to keep up the submissive appearance. Although, he supposed it was more than an appearance. With some time, practice and confidence, maybe he’d be able to play a different role. For now, this is what it was. His body trembled slightly with the nerves and the sensations. 

“Hm? What was that?” Your movements slowed down a little, much to Wilbur’s dismay. “Did you just ask something of me without saying please?” You leaned down, your face hovering inches from his. “You remember when I told you that you only get what I give you, right?”

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” He sighed as you ruffled his hair, his brown eyes wide and gazing up at you full of desperation. “I promise.”

“Then say please,” you replied. “You can say please, can’t you, baby?” 

Wilbur nods, a sharp, jerky movement. “C-can I please have more?” he asks. 

“More what?” you asked innocently. Your hips continued rocking back and forth, so languidly that it was frustrating. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

“I-I want it harder,” Wilbur replied. “F-faster. Please? Please, I need it.” With every passing moment, Wilbur became less and less aware of the cameras picking up his every move. If he focused hard enough, he could pretend that this wasn’t all an act. It was a dangerous game, pretending that way, but as time passed, he cared less and less. 

“I guess I can give you what you want,” you said nonchalantly. “If you promise to be good.” Your movements picked up speed, hips thrusting slightly faster but just as shallowly. You weren’t thrusting all the way to the hilt, but Wilbur did his best to be patient despite wanting it desperately. 

“I promise,” he panted out. “Please. I’ll be good.” 

“Good boy,” you cooed. Wilbur felt a shiver go down his spine, and his shivers immediately turned to gasps as your thrusts got harder, faster, more forceful. He tried to tilt his hips a little, make you brush against his prostate, but you refused to comply, still avoiding the spot entirely. He let out a whine, high-pitched and needy. It was almost embarrassing, but based on the way you only smirked wider and picked up the pace, it was clear that you weren’t about to judge him for it.

Wilbur let himself get a little louder. He was tempted to cup your face, to run his fingers gently along your sides. He almost did before remembering that this wasn’t real. You didn’t love him. This was just sex. His second time ever, with someone he’d been crushing on obsessively, and none of it was even real. Despite how good he felt physically, he started to feel like shit mentally. The thoughts combined with your movements caused him to tear up a little bit, much to his embarrassment. He felt his eyes burn a little, and he glanced away from your face, trying to hide it.

It was no use. You saw. “Color?” you asked softly, too quiet for the cameras to pick up properly. Your eyes held a somewhat concerned expression. Immediately, Wilbur felt bad for upsetting you. 

“Green,” he replied easily. “I’m okay. Promise.” He even managed a small smile. 

You nodded, the worry slowly melting from your face. He moaned as your movements picked up speed again, and then whined as you finally, finally, hit his prostate. His moans got increasingly loud as you continued hitting that spot with every thrust of your hips, burying yourself inside of him to the hilt of your strap. He looked down between his legs as best he could, watching you move in and out of him. He could only look for a moment before having to tilt his head back and whine once again.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “So desperate for my cock, huh?” 

“Y-yes.” Wilbur gripped the sheets with one hand and your shoulder with the other. “Please, please, please don’t stop.” His voice came out sounding whiny and pathetic, wobbling with every word. 

“You’re doing so good,” you replied. “Taking me so well.” Wilbur moaned once more as you gripped his hips, using the hold as leverage to help you thrust harder. 

He could feel himself getting close. He noticed how much pre-cum he was leaking, small drops of it dripping down his cock. “S-so close,” he whined. His hand subconsciously went to his length, but you quickly pulled his hand away.

“Not without my permission,” you chided him. He gasped as you continued your movements.

“Please,” he said desperately. “Please, I need…fuck, I need you to touch me. Please.” 

You grinned and wrapped a hand around his cock, slowly pumping him up and down. He let out an embarrassingly loud moan. After just a few movements of your hand, his hips were twitching. He let out a series of swears and pleas, his words nearly incoherent as he finished, cum coating your hand and his stomach. You murmured soft words of praise, but he could barely register them. 

His vision was hazy as you stopped moving. He gasped for air, panting. He felt numb and overstimulated all at once. His hand that was gripping the sheets slowly loosened its grip, and he let his hand fall from your side. “Thank you,” he murmured. His throat felt scratchy and dry. 

“You were such a good boy,” you said, running a hand down his hip to his thigh. You pulled out, and he gasped at the feeling. You leaned in close to him, your faces inches apart. “We’ll have to do this again sometime, yeah?” He nodded eagerly before you pulled away. 

He watched as you turned off the cameras, and he finally let himself relax, laying down fully on the bed. His gaze went from you to the ceiling before he closed his eyes. He needed a break, a few moments to collect himself, to come back to reality. His eyes still burned, and he let a few tears escape down his cheeks. How could something so pleasurable also be so painful? 

He laid there for a few moments, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes, trying to will the tears away. He couldn’t get over the thought that this wasn’t enough, that he needed more of you, and he needed it to be real. It was as if all his years of loneliness were catching up to him at once. Every night that he wished someone would hold him, every day that he’d spent pining after people who would never love him back…not to mention the constant self-loathing that came from the small amount of self awareness that he had, the awareness that he was a creep who nobody could ever love. 

Wilbur heard you as you took off the harness before walking over to his side. “You alright?” you asked. Your voice was soft, concerned. “Was I too rough with you? Do you want some water, or maybe something to eat?” 

Wilbur opened his eyes and sat up a bit. “Um…water would be good. And no, you weren’t too rough with me.” He wiped his tears off his cheeks and managed a smile. “You were a lot less rough with me than I am with myself, honestly.”

You grinned back at him. “Okay, I’ll get you some water. If you want to clean yourself up, the bathroom is to the right of the entrance to my room. There are washcloths in the drawer under the sink.”

“Thanks,” he said. Some warm water to help wipe the sweat off him sounded almost magical. “I’ll go do that.” He slowly got off the bed, feeling a little shaky. Your kindness and the sweet sound of your voice had taken away some of his pain, but the loneliness lingered in his mind like an ever-present itch that he couldn’t reach the source of.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” you called after him. He went into the bathroom and closed the door. 

He used the bathroom, cleaned himself up, and was about to head back to your room when something caught his eye. You had a laundry hamper in the bathroom, and on top of the pile of laundry, nearly blended in with the surrounding fabric, was a pair of black underwear.

He immediately beat himself up for even thinking about taking it…but god, it was tempting. He would have something of you always, something you’d touched. More than just touched. He could keep it in his room, with his things, a little souvenir. 

The only other souvenir he’d ever kept was from the girl he was obsessed with in high school. She had once torn out a page of notes and dropped them in the trash can, and he had fished it out and kept it. Of course, he’d thrown it out after she’d called him out for being a creep. 

Never had he had something like this. But he quickly realized that, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t take it. He was naked, so it wasn’t like there was a pocket to hide it in. 

He pushed away the disappointment and left the bathroom. It was better this way, better that he not have the opportunity to do what he wanted. Despite knowing that it was for the best, he couldn’t help but feel upset by it. 

He re-entered your room, where you were sitting on the bed. You’d changed out the duvet, and there was a glass of water on the nightstand for him. You were dressed again in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he felt more exposed than ever. You turned when you heard him enter, and immediately, he was given a smile. “Feeling better?”

Wilbur nodded and smiled back. “Much better, thanks.” He glanced around and saw his clothing on the floor. “I’m just gonna…”

Your eyes flitted to the pile of his clothes. “Right. Good idea.” You then glanced at the dresser in the corner of your room. “Hold on, I have something you can wear instead of that uncomfortable button-up you were wearing.”

Wilbur was about to protest and say that the button-up was fine (despite the fact that it was cheap and a little itchy in reality), but he quickly shut his mouth and worked on getting his jeans and boxers on. If you had something for him to wear, something that was yours, that would be a dream come true. He watched you as you shuffled through a drawer. 

“Here it is,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. He saw as you picked up a t-shirt, one that was definitely too big for you. “I have this extra shirt. I accidentally ordered a few sizes too big, so you can have it if you want.” You tossed it over to Wilbur, and he caught it.

It was a band t-shirt. Wilbur recognized the band as one of your favorites. “Are you sure?” he asked. The material was soft in his hands, and Wilbur swore that it smelled like you. 

“Yeah, I’m never going to wear it. It’s yours.” 

Wilbur held it like it was precious. He examined it before sliding it on. It fit him well, not too loose but not too tight. He looked over at you and immediately noticed that you were looking right back at him. “It fits really well,” Wilbur said. “Thank you. This is much better than my other shirt.”

“No kidding,” you replied. “That thing felt like it was awful to wear.” You paused. “Plus, you look good in it.” 

Wilbur could hardly believe it. You had complimented his appearance twice. In one day. “Thanks,” he said, his voice slightly shaky. “I, um, appreciate it.” He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and sat down in order to steady himself. He took a sip, immediately feeling refreshed. He hadn’t realized how dry his throat felt.

“Anytime.” You sat beside him on the bed. “Can I…ask you something serious?”

Wilbur put down the glass and turned his full attention to you. He saw the slight concern in your expression, and his small smile quickly faded. “Sure. What’s up?”

You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him. “Are you okay? I know that you said you were alright, but you seem a little shaken up still. I’m just a bit worried.”

He sighed, trying to figure out what to say. On the one hand, he could be honest. At least, a little bit honest. You didn’t need to know the full truth. On the other hand, he could insist that he was fine. He worked through the options in his mind, and settled on a half-truth.

“I, uh, have never been pegged before,” he said. “This was my first time. I think I just got a little overwhelmed is all.” He paused, and when he saw your expression grow more concerned, quickly added, “But I’m fine! Really, you were great. You didn’t do anything wrong, and it was a good first time. A great first time.” He could feel his cheeks get slightly hot, but he did his best to stay relaxed.

You looked surprised, your eyes slightly wide. “You…you got pegged for the first time, just now, on camera?” You shook your head, a barely noticeable movement. “That’s…brave. I’ve never done something for the first time on camera.”

“Yeah…yeah, I probably should’ve prepared beforehand,” Wilbur said. “But I just figured…it’s not like I’ve never done anything anal on my own. I figured it would be fine, and it was.”

“But you looked upset,” you said.

“Just overwhelmed,” Wilbur replied. “I promise it’s okay.” The last thing he wanted to do was deter you by making you feel bad. Besides, it really wasn’t your fault. 

“Wilbur…” You looked away, pausing as if considering what to say. “Allison showed me a short clip the other day of that video you two filmed, and…and I don’t know if it was just an act, but I got the feeling that you were very new to what you were doing.” You looked back at him, and he felt the intense desire to disappear, to change the subject, because how could he admit how little experience he had without being intensely embarrassed? “Was that…did you ever have sex before that?”

Once again, Wilbur had the choice between honesty or a lie. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he wanted to try for more with you—more than just friendship, and definitely more than business partners. The terrifying thing was this: if he wanted that, truly wanted that, then he would have to be honest with you at some point.

“...No,” Wilbur said, barely audible. He avoided eye contact. “I was, um, too nervous to tell her that it was my first time. I wanted to do a collab, so I just didn’t say anything.” He fidgeted with his fingers, trying to distract himself. “I…maybe I was wrong to do that. I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, I just didn’t want to wait around for things to happen for real, because I need the money now, not later, and…and it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen anytime soon, so…” He shrugged, hoping that the explanation was enough.

“And…and was it good?” you asked. “Like, was it a good first time for you? Did you enjoy it?”

Wilbur thought back to it. Allison was nice, sure. She was amenable, very understanding when it came to the fact that Wilbur was new in the industry. And yeah, Wilbur had finished that first time with her, but when he really thought about it, he couldn’t say it was enjoyable. It wasn’t enjoyable, being with somebody he had no connection with. It wasn’t enjoyable knowing that this incredibly vulnerable moment of his life was being livestreamed in real time, and it definitely wasn’t enjoyable that his first time was done for profit rather than for the experience, for the fun.

“I mean, does anyone enjoy their first times?” Wilbur managed to dodge the question, but his eyes still didn’t meet yours.

“Yeah! Well…I don’t know. They’re generally not good in the sense of being physically pleasurable, but they don’t have to be awful,” you said. “I just…I can’t imagine doing that in front of a camera, streamed live like that. And it sounds to me like you did it because you didn’t feel like you had any other choice.”

Wilbur finally looked up at you, scared of a reprimand, scared of your judgment. But all he saw in your expression was worry and kindness. “I…I’ve just never really had the opportunity,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been in a proper relationship. I kissed a girl, like, once in high school, but that was it. And then not again until Allison. I just wanted to get it over with, to feel…I don’t know. Normal, I guess. Desirable. Like…like someone wanted me.”

The second the words came out, Wilbur was mortified. He’d never told anyone any of this, and the fact that he’d told you of all people, the second time he’d ever spoken to you in person, made him wish he could turn back time and erase this entire conversation. 

He felt you gently take his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said, “that things didn’t turn out the way you would have liked.”

Wilbur looked down at his hand, gently wrapped in yours, and he gave it a small squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said. “It wasn’t awful.”

“Still,” you said. “It sucks.”

“It does suck.” He watched as you let go of his hand, hiding his disappointment. “Anyway, um…I’m sorry to unload all that on you,” he said, his self awareness returning to him.

“It’s fine, Wil. We’re friends, and I wouldn't have said what I said if I wasn’t prepared for a response,” you said. “Really, it’s okay.” 

He could hear the softness in your voice, the hint of concern. It nearly made him cry again, just knowing that somebody cared about him at all. “Thank you,” he said. “I…I really appreciate it.” The words felt so tame in comparison to what he wanted to say, but all the words he could think of seemed too much. He couldn’t believe that you’d referred to him as a friend, that you wanted to continue associating with him. It seemed too good to be true.

One thing was certain: it would take a lot of willpower to make this obsession go away, and Wilbur wasn’t sure he had it in him to let you go. 

To Wilbur’s absolute delight, his time with you didn’t end there. After filming, he stayed for dinner. He ate pizza with you on your couch, watching a cheesy 80s movie and making fun of the special effects. Admittedly, he watched you far more than he watched the film, and he felt shivers every time you looked his way.

Over the course of the next week, he messaged you every day. Sometimes, it was because he messaged first, and other times, you were the one to reach out. He forced himself to exercise some restraint, to not be too eager. You made it difficult. Many of the texts were about the video, you giving Wilbur updates on the editing progress. At the end of the week, it went live. Wilbur was notified by your message:

Done! Let’s see how this goes

Wilbur grinned, swallowing back all the anxiety that he felt. What if it was bad? What if people didn’t like it? What if his inexperience showed on camera? 

He shoved it all down and sent a reply.

Sweet

After a moment, he was struck both by how boring his last message was and how great of an opportunity this presented him with. 

Want to celebrate tonight? Drinks on me?

He waited anxiously for a reply. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed with no response, until finally, your name appeared on his screen. 

How about that bar a block from my place? You know the one?

Wilbur did, in fact, know the one. He’d passed it on the drive to your apartment. 

I know it. Send the address and I’ll be there

Eight?

He smiled.

Eight sounds perfect :)

Once again, he couldn’t believe his luck. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, combed his hair. He left early to make sure that he was there in time and that you wouldn’t be stuck waiting for him. The cab ride to the bar felt like it took a million years, and when he got there, you were sitting at the bar waiting for him.

The bar was packed. There was music blasting over the speakers, some pop song that Wilbur couldn’t place, though he’d heard it over the radio a million times. He sat beside you at the bar. “Hey!” he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. 

You greeted him with equal enthusiasm. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” he said, grinning. He could already feel his cheeks get warm, although whether it was from the crowded bar or his proximity to you, he couldn’t tell. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Only about five minutes,” you replied. “But I got here early. Still waiting for the bartender.”

“Perfect.” Wilbur glanced at his surroundings. The scene reminded him of when he’d first met you. It was hard to believe that it had been less than a month. “Is the video doing well?” It was too early to draw many conclusions, of course, but he was curious.

“Holy shit, you have no idea,” you said, grinning. “People love the video. Already, I’m getting messages asking for more of it.” You seemed proud of yourself, and Wilbur couldn’t blame you. You’d done most of the work, after all. 

He could feel his heart pounding. People loved it, which meant that you would probably want to do it again. More time spent with you, more excuses to see you…it all sounded perfect. “So when is part two?” Wilbur asks. “If people love it, I mean…we should probably get to filming more material, right?”

Your smile faltered, and his heart immediately sank. Of course. Of course it was all too good to be true, too perfect to be real. He should have known better. When you finally spoke, Wilbur was already bracing himself for rejection. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said. Before Wilbur could say anything, you continued. “Not because I don’t like you, okay? I…I won’t lie, it was fun. I’m just…”

“You can be honest,” Wilbur said, so quietly that he could barely be heard over the sounds of chatter and music. “If you don’t like me and don’t want to do it again, that’s okay. I get it.” He knew that he sounded pathetic and self-deprecating, but he had no clue what else to say. 

“Wil, I just said that it wasn’t because I don’t like you,” you said. “Please take my word for it.” Wilbur nodded, slightly embarrassed. “The reason I don’t want to film more is because I’m a little worried about you.”

Oh. In a way, that was a relief to hear. It meant that you didn’t dislike him. On the other hand, he was terrified. Did you see him as pathetic? He wouldn’t blame you, but it was still a blow to his ego. “...Why?” he finally asked.

“I just…” You sighed. “You were literally crying, Wil. It was concerning. And I’m not saying that you did anything wrong, because you didn’t, I just think that…” You laughed, a short, nervous sound. “Fuck, I don’t know how to phrase this without sounding insensitive.”

Wilbur froze. You were going to call him a creep, pathetic, a loser. He just knew it. “Just say it,” he said, his voice trembling.

“You have some things to sort out,” you said finally. “This type of job can ruin you if you don’t have the self-esteem to handle it. I’ve seen it before. People go into it feeling like shit about themselves, and then all the validation they get is purely sexual, and it fucks with them when they don’t get that validation anymore. It can be hard to separate your sense of self from your sex appeal, you know? But you have to.”

Wilbur took a deep breath. That was somehow worse than anything he’d anticipated you saying. He wasn’t a creep in your eyes, maybe, but he was broken. He had low self-esteem. You saw him as something to be pitied, and that was a hard pill to swallow. He kept opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He finally gave up. “Okay,” he said finally. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

You went quiet. It was only until the bartender showed up that you spoke again, ordering some drink that Wilbur couldn’t make out the name of due to being lost in his own thoughts. When you asked him what he wanted, he replied with water. He didn’t feel like drinking anymore. 

After the bartender left, Wilbur felt your eyes on him. “Yeah?” he questioned. “What?”

“Did you actually listen to what I said?”

“What? Yeah, of course I did.” 

“Wilbur…”

“I get it,” Wilbur said quickly. “I know that I’m…that I’ve based my whole life around this, and I know that it’s concerning, and I get it. But what else am I supposed to do?”

“Take a break,” you suggested.

“I need the money.”

“Okay, well, go back to solo content for a bit. Because I think you need a moment to think things through.”

It didn’t sound so bad, actually, going back to doing things alone for a while. As long as he still had you in some capacity, maybe it would turn out okay. “Alright,” he said. “I could do that.”

“Good.” You thanked the bartender as he handed you your drink before turning back to Wilbur. “I think it would be good for you.” 

“Probably,” he admitted. He sipped his water, trying to enjoy your presence despite the war of emotions he had going on. It took him a moment for him to ask the question that he wanted to ask. “...Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“No,” you replied immediately. “I just think you need some time off.”

He accepted the answer, but there was one more thing he needed to ask. “I’m sorry if this is…weird,” he said carefully. “But I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date sometime. Like, a proper date, not…”

“An amateur porn filming session?” 

“Right. That.” Wilbur felt his hands trembling. “Um…we could go out to dinner sometime. Wherever you want.” He felt dizzy, his breathing shallow and his heart pounding way too fast. “If you want to.”

You took an agonizingly slow sip of your drink. “I’d like that,” you said finally. You smiled at him, and it was like everything falling into place. Wilbur could breathe. You hadn’t rejected him. 

And soon enough, he would have you, one way or another.

[intermittent-showers]

My opinion of the sOciAl mEdiA hAbiTs oF ThE cAsT aNd cReW oF 911 - using "logic."

Kenny and Co. posted a controversial video joking about casting couches and clearly shows Ryan "getting the role" for his "performance." This was coming off of that podcast Ryan did for Lab & Lecture.

Now, I think it's important to mention the podcast, seeing as a big portion of the interview discussed Ryan's role in The Boy Next Door, which Ryan starred in with Jennifer Lopez and there were rumors about the two of them being together. [X]

And I'm sure the cast and even the crew poked at him (friendly) about it, thus it being fresh in their minds. (I am not defending them just stating my thought process regarding their thought process).

I also want to shift towards the actual podcast itself. It was done now, meaning Ryan is well into his role as Eddie, and yet Ryan was never asked that million dollar Buddie question. And that's strange because this podcast is new, Ryan's episode was only S1e8 for the podcast. Now I ask you, if you're an up and coming podcast looking for traction, why wouldn't you gear it towards those fans? Why wouldn't you bait when a majority of the twitter journalists live to bait.

Could be because Ryan is friends with the guy. The interview was very "bro-y." But it could also be that the Podcaster wasn't allowed to ask about it. Cause 911 was discussed. Instead of talking and the one topic that would guarantee clicks and views, instead they talked about Ryan's boundaries and how he won't do certain things.

Inch resting... yet, moving on.

Then Ryan suddenly gets on twitter the same day that the casting couch video was posted. Which really made no sense to me except for obviously a distraction from that video, but then I thought about it for a few days and I think I might have a reason for it.

I don't think any of the cast really pay attention to comments. I hope they don't for their own mental health. But I do think the comments on that casting couch video were brought to their attention. And I think it started a discussion amongst the trio.

Kenny isn't really a social media expert (lol) so I'm assuming he doesn't even know wtf twitter is.

Oliver will never set foot on that app ever again so he wasn't about to go look.

But Ryan... well, Ryan's been on a heterosexual Eddie Campaign since the 5th episode of season 7. So I believe he wanted to see what was happening.

Type in "Ryan Guzman" on Twitter, and all you'll see is "Buddie this" "Buddie that" Eddie Diaz is unfrosting" etc etc. Nothing about the character of Eddie, that Ryan is happy to portray mind you, is being discussed.

And that has to be annoying. It has to be upsetting and even a bit gross.

I feel as if this discovery sparked a conversation. Not that they haven't discussed the Buddie of it all before but I think Ryan probably asked, "Am I not being clear enough?" "Am I leading people on?"

What do you do when your talent genuinely has these questions?

You contact the people who know statistics for the show. The PR team.

And they look into it, seeing all the weird ass takes and Wizard of Oz theories. That combined with the Olympics, they posted this to the 911 on ABC page:

1. They could have used any variations of the award ceremony for this post but they chose to include all of them.

2. The busy bees they are referring to are the fans... not the characters. They're saying the fans have been busy making theories of S8. They've seen them so they added the tornado emoji to say, "we see your theories and they're fun but completely off track." They have to be poking fun because if those fan theories were remotely close, they'd post something to distract from them, not shed more light.

So I believe the cast and crew enjoy reading the crazy theories. I think it's something they've started doing in between takes to pass the time.

So when Ryan posted that tiktok to his Instagram story, it was another example of him having a laugh at the completely wrong theories.

Only positive for these things is that thanks to most of fandom going off the rails, I'm confident we're going to see something this week that will be Tevan related.

So, thank you! Keep the delusional takes coming!