#gotta update my resume

[voltrons]

it’s so weird to grieve for a decision you haven’t made yet but that is absolutely what i have been doing. anyhow, im job searching

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

I got a laptop

Now I can play stardew with my friends :3

[juuggg]

juggy needs a vacation

[goodboygustav]

A friend of mine who used to be my manager & assistant manager at FedEx Ground & Office has been working at a bank for a while now & is offering me a job again. And this time I really want to take it. It’ll be like 4 exits shorter than my current commute, & it’s $22/hr though he hasn’t fully told me everything the position entails. All I know is he told me it’s much slower and he just wants to look out for me. However the position won’t be available until like January so I have to survive Office through the holidays. But I think all the signs are there that it’s time for me to move on and do better for myself and my wife

I can’t really do retail or warehouse work anymore

[altruistic-meme]

ugh. have i ever complained here about how much i hate making resumes? bc i really truly do. 

[elizabro]

once again I am in the stage of life where I must apply. to jobs. I am staring into the abyss right now. as we speak

[talietikasero]

i applied for a new job and the worst they can do is say no

[marigoos]

Updated scam alert

So, as some of you guys know, I've received an ask from a known scammer a few weeks ago. Since I found their main post reblogged by 300 or so people, thinking they were helping a palestinian diabetic lady, I made a pinned post (this one) and warned everyone.

At some point this week, that account has been banned (or deleted), to my great dismay (the best vaccine against this kind of thing is letting victims know, since these scammers will just make new accounts); however, I found out that one of the names used in one of the many of his PayPal accounts has also been used in (as of today, 11/23) gladysconnoisseurpost thanks to this other post!

I already added that new piece of info in my old pinned (the one linked above in pink), and just today I received this ask on anon - worded very similarly to this other one that I got (off anon!) immediately after I called him out the first time.

So, in short: it's clear it's the same person again, there are sources to prove my point in the first link, there's one more here (el-shab-hussein saying it's a scam), thus I'm resuming my little hobby here.

IF YOU'VE BEEN MENTIONED IN THE REPLIES HERE:

-read the post in the first link. I'm basically doing the same thing, just with another post since it's about a different account and it could cause confusion

-I'd like you all to either delete your reblog of this scammer's post or edit it to include a warning to your followers

-if you're having a hard time tracking your reblog down (some date back to August), let me know and I'll help

-some of you reblogged it more than once, try to get them all (I tried to take note of those who did, if you have any doubts let me know)

-I did recognize some of your names from the last time - I'm sure you're all more knowledgeable now, it's just that it's the same scammer that contacted you multiple times, and I found an older instance. It's unlikely you falled for it once more after I warned you, so no worries. Still! Keeping up your reblog with no warning helps making it look more legitimate, so if you would kindly do me a favour and delete/edit this one too 🙏

-usual disclaimer that I transcribed all urls manually and I may have gotten something wrong. Hmu if you think I made a mistake, so I can contact the right person (or prove that it was in fact you)

-and again, no worries. You're all doing a good thing, you're not at fault for this piece of shit taking advantage of your good heart. Just be more wary next time :*

-I'm still gonna check for name changes, both on Tumblr and Paypal. Most recent on top

Oh, and let's not forget my List of Actually Verified Palestinian Fundraisers Who Contacted Me. Gotta uplift their voices too

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: please enjoy the first chapter!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“No, no, not the pink, red,” you cup your hand over your ear pod, “exactly what it says on the order sheet.” 

Were anyone to see you, sitting in the dirt, with a brush in hand, all alone, they might think you’re a bit out there. You, talking to the air, dusting off a clump of soil, orchestrating your own voice with the bristles. You dip your head as you focus on what the voice in your ear is saying. 

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you argue, “I put in the order weeks ago. A red bow. I have the receipt– I mean sure, pink or red doesn’t matter to me but it’s not my birthday.” 

“We’ll see what we can do,” the woman relents. It’s not exactly a triumph but as close to as you can hope. If it’s pink, you’ll just have to take the fall. The damn fondant will be devoured by the night’s end anyhow. 

You hang up with a double tap on the ear pod and your playlist resumes. You go back to trying to uncover the shape caked in layers of muck, turning the brush to chip away the rougher bits with the pointed tip. The work is tedious but it has to be. You can’t risk damaging the relic nestled inside. 

The abrupt chiming of your ringtone once more sounds through the bluetooth earpiece. You huff and hit the pod with the heel of your hand. You greet the call with only your name. 

“Are you still on site?” Your boss, Arturo asks. 

“Yep, still here,” you still your hand and twist your arm, pulling back the end of your glove to see your watch, “just a bit longer. You know I have that thing tonight.” 

“Uh, yes, I recall,” he says dully as you hear paper shuffling, “you got time to chat?” 

“Sure,” you keep the cluster of dirt and the brush in one hand and use your other to push yourself to your feet, “I just gotta catalogue this before I finish the day.” 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” he begins as you carefully walk between the cordoned off patches. The whole place is a maze of where and where not to step. You go into the tent and put down the half uncovered idol. It’s brittle, made of hide and yew, with a bit of bone. “Lucia is pregnant.” 

“Oh? That’s great,” you furrow your brow, wondering what that has to do with you. 

“Means she can’t travel for a while. She’s adverse to long term commitments at the moment so…” 

“So…” you trail off as you label the mound of dirt and make notes for the next day. 

“So, you want her assignment?” 

“Which one?” You peel off your gloves and shake off the excess filth. 

“Norway. It can be a bit dingy but the landscape is nice.” 

“Norway? For how long?” You close up the ledger and tuck it away on the shelf. You pass between the tables of artifacts as you pull out your phone. 

“Could be a while but I figured you never get to go very far. You’ve been pent up in-state for so long, you could use the vacation.” 

“Oh? Well, I…” you scroll through your phone and see the notifications. Emails confirming delivery, messages asking if everything is sorted. “I’d have to think about it…” 

It’s evasion more than indecision. You know you don’t want to go. You can’t go. Your whole life is here. You have an apartment and friends and… Steve. Your best friend.  

“Make sure you do think about it. It’s a great opportunity. Especially for a junior anthropologist. Lucia won’t be on leave forever.” 

“I know. I’ll think about it.” 

You hang up and pluck the earbud out. Ugh, you’re covered in dirt and dust. You don’t have time to go home and shower. You knew you wouldn’t. You have to be at the venue before everyone else. You can change there and try to wash up in the sink. Whatever, no one’s going to be looking at you anyway. It’s Peggy’s night. Yay. 

You lock the fence and tug one last time to make sure it’s secure. You drag your boots across the thinning grass to your car parked on a stretch of gravel. You drop inside and hit start. You connect to the bluetooth and get some tunes going. You buckle your seat belt as you check the mirrors. You’re probably going to have to speed there. 

You back out as the music blares from the speakers. It’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Why did you agree to this? Peggy doesn’t even like you. Oh, but she likes Steve. She is his girlfriend and you are only his best friend. You’re supportive. You keep your mouth shut and smile. 

Ugh. You squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. You know why you offered to help plan the surprise. You’re pathetic but you’re not delusional. It meant you got more time with him. There hasn’t been much of that since Peggy came along, not just the two of you. 

Classic, isn’t it? In love with your best friend. Friends since college. Friends forever, you vowed naively, thinking that forever would never come. Nothing lasts that long, you can only hope to outlast Peggy. 

And if you don’t, maybe this crush will finally run its course. 

💟

Red and white streamers decorate a long table set with trays. There’s a banner over it that reads ‘Happy Birthday, Peggy’, and a stack of gifts already forming in the corner. Guests drift in with anticipation as you hurry around to check off all the items on your list. 

You fix a small vase of flowers, trying to hide the droopy one in the back, and tug a wrinkle out of a tablecloth. You smile and wave at those who are early as you weave between them. You pull out your phone and lean it on the clipboard angle in the crook of your elbow. They’re on their way, okay. Keep it cool. 

As you come to the kitchen door, you nearly collide with someone else. Sam touches your arm gently as he keeps you from tripping backward. You gasp and hug the clipboard with a wobbly grin. 

“Hey,” you greet breathily, “you’re here.” 

You look down at the guest list and check him off. 

“Ah, figured I’d make an appearance,” he kids, “Rogers would take it pretty rough if his best pal wasn’t here.” 

“Please, don’t start that with Bucky again,” you warn as you point the pen in his direction, “the two of you, in fact, are seated separately.” 

“No fun!” He whines dramatically. 

You scrunch your lips at him and peer around. Yes, none of this has been fun. Caterers, servers, tables, space, food! Yes, you were going to check on the cake. Your sole squeaks as you twist sharply and go to slam your hand into the door. 

“Hey,” Sam blocks your way with his arm, “before you disappear, you’re still wearing your boots.” He points to your feet, “in case you’re wondering about the snail trail.” 

He sweeps his finger up in a gesture alluding to your previous path. You glance over at the dirt littered in your stead then down at your dusty boots. You sigh and hang your head back. 

“Fuck!” You snarl. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a broom,” he assures you, “while you take a breath. You need it.” 

“I can’t, Sam, they’re already on their way. I still have to get everyone in their place and… quiet,” you scowl, “ugh, this is gonna be so bad. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“So… why’d you do it?” He asks as he drags his hand away from the doorframe. You look at him and blink slowly. You shrug. 

“I’m a good friend,” you insist. 

He gives a skeptical hum and nods, “sure are,” he grumbles, “too good, if you ask me.” 

You throw up your hand before turning into the kitchen. You don’t have time to worry about him. Is he jealous that you’re helping Steve so much? Or does he know something else? You don’t let the seed sprout as you nearly cry out at the sight of the cake. 

A pink bow. Jeez. Of course. You check the cake off your list, nearly tearing through the paper. It’s better than nothing, even if Peggy never settles for less than the best. 

There’s no time to complain or send it back. Your phone vibrates again. Five minutes. Your heart is racing. Why? This isn’t even your party. You just want it to be perfect for Steve. You hate to disappoint him. Ever. 

You really shouldn’t care that much but you do. Like so many other things in your life. 

💟

The crowd can't keep quiet. There's a low buzz that ripples through the guests. A wave of anticipation that's spread like a deadly virus. 

You feel a nudge in your side and peek over as Bucky sends Sam a sneer and wriggles in place. Those two never let up. You hiss at them to quit and they look as guilty as a pair of unruly children. 

"He keeps tickling me," Bucky whispers. 

"No, I'm tryna fix his hair, look at this mess," Sam flicks a strand away from Bucky's cheek, "this is a nice event, Buck, not your living room." 

"Both of you," you warn.  

"You're bitching at me when Indiana Jones here brought the dig with her," Bucky mutters. 

You look down. Dammit. You still didn't change out of your boots. You roll your eyes. It's not about you. It's Steve's night. Er, Peggy's.  

You shake out your nerves and shake your head, "you two," you step behind Bucky and insert yourself between the men, "behave." 

"Yes, mom," Sam snickers as Bucky groans and tries to smooth the few shanks that have slipped free of his low ponytail. 

You exhale and give an exasperated look to the door. You really can't handle them on top of everything else. You just want this night to end already. All your hard work and you won't even get to enjoy any of it. 

"Everybody," Natasha hisses as she runs away from the doorway, "they're coming." 

The group quiets, as much as they can, a collective bated breath as you wait and listen. The lull is unbearable as the heat of the bodies around you pricks sweat down your neck and across your scalp. The door begins to open, almost as if in slow motion, and as the guest of honour is revealed, you cry out. 

"SURPRISE!" The eruption of the chorus has your head spinning as Peggy gives a melodramatic swoon, grabbing at Steve's arm as she leans on him heavily. 

She parts only to fan her eyes and squeal. "Oh my god, you guys!"  

She teeters on her heels as people holler happy birthday and her group of girlfriends flutter over to wrap her up in a cacophony of giggles and preening. You smile, a bittersweet twitch in your cheek as you watch her spin back to Steve and pull him into a kiss.  

You're happy for them really, proud to see all your effort come to fruition, but you just feel so hollow. For an instant, you think it should be you right there, gushing in glee over the celebration of another year, with Steve beside you.  

You gulp down the jealousy and wiggle your nose to ward away the tears. That's a stupid thought. If it hasn't happened in more than a decade, it's not going to happen now. 

💟

As the guests disperse into their own conversations, you finally manage to wade through to the happy couple. You approach with a small wave at Steve. He doesn't see you, he's watching Peggy as she chats with Natasha. 

"Hi," you call above the din, "so, you like it?" 

Steve turns to you, confusion stitching his forehead before he registers your questions. He nods and gives a smile, "it's amazing, you did so good!" 

The sparkle in his eyes, the perfect line of his jaw, the way he's looking at you, it makes your heart rend. You tilt your head and dig your toe into the floor bashfully, "thanks. I'm so happy to see it come together." 

"Um, the cake," he brings his index finger up, "I was hoping to bring it out soon." 

"Er, yeah, it's back in the kitchen. About that–" 

"Great," he claps your shoulder and brushes by you, "just gonna put the finishing touches on it." 

"Hm, what do you–" 

He's gone before you can finish your question. You deflate just a little, setting your feet flat as you sway aimlessly. The motion hooks Peggy's attention. You give a sheepish smile as you wring your hands. 

"Oh, uh, just came over to wish you a happy birthday," you chirp, "are you enjoying it?" 

"Ah, I didn't see you here, I thought maybe you were busy…" she gives a pointed look to your boots, "working." 

"Um, yeah, no," you fidget, "always happy to come support you two." 

"Where is Steve?" She gazes past you, shouldering by dismissively, "he was just…." 

Right. You nod and flit away in embarrassment. You can't say you ever got along with Peggy. Where you're accommodating, she's a bit too demanding. Different people, but you don't dislike her. You just don't mesh. Or perhaps it's just that you don't get what Steve sees in her. Especially when you're right there. 

Enough. This isn't about you or your stupid dumb heart. Just smile and go with it. 

The kitchen door swings open, a noise barely discernible above the hue, and the rattling wheels of a cart underline the steady drone. A lull washes over the crowd as they part. You move with the tide and face the sudden divide. 

A hush falls over the room as Steve pushes the cake across the floor. He stops before Peggy as she faces him, another feigned pout of surprise. He grins proudly at her as you stare curiously at the top of the cake. 

"Oh, pink?" She comments on the fondant bow as her eyes flick over to you. She quickly corrects herself an admires the double tiered dessert, "Steve, it's so pretty." 

You know she hates the colour. You recall the one time you wore a pink bow in your hair and she made a similar comment. Cute, she remarked in her roundabout way in her oh so sophisticated accent. 

You manufacture a smile and step closer as Steve beckons to the guest. Tension stills the air, almost paralyzing the crowd. You squint at the heart shaped box perched atop the bow. 

"Is this for me?" Peggy asks if it's not obvious. 

Steve nods, his cheeks tinting pink, as you notice how he wipes his palms on his pants. Peggy delicately takes the box from the pedestal of fondant and your ribs ache from the pounding of your heart. You curl your fingers until your nails dig into your skin as you watch him kneel beside her. 

She doesn't notice as she opens the box on its hinges. Her lips part and she stares at the contents. She looks over at Steve to find him on his knee and she claps her hand over her mouth. Her eyes gleam as she whimpers his name through her fingers. 

The scene hazes behind your tears as you stare wide eyed. Your ears ring as Steve's voice is dulled by your shock. 

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter," Steve's timbre warble just a bit, "will you make me the happiest man on earth?" 

You don't wait for her answer. You already know it. It's the very same you give in every outlandish dream you've ever had of your happy ending. You spin and storm through the crowd, blind with horror and self-pity. 

Surprise! Your whole world is crashing into pieces. 

[mountainsandmayhem]

🌊 Beach Babe 🌊

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: There’s no summary, this is just you and Marcus having a hot one night stand on the beach. It’s all corn, no plot

Content Warning: oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, praise kink (duh, have we met?), dirty talk

AN: This is my entry for the beautiful @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge. She is usually my beta but I wanted to surprise her so this is not beta read or proof read really, but it’s not like the internet is forever or anything haha. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Friendly reminder that I’m no longer doing a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for updates 🙂

“You can do it, baby. Yeah. Fuck, just relax your throat.” His voice is a heady whisper. You squeeze the meat of his upper thigh like he showed you and he pulls you off of him. Salvia and pre cum falling onto your tits, the triangle cups of your wet swimsuit are tucked underneath them, holding them high for the stranger that just had his dick pressing against the back of your throat.

His thumb reaches down and swipes across your swollen bottom lip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Let me know when you're ready for more.”

You haven’t even caught your breath yet and you’re already nodding your head, you’re not above begging if that’s what he wants. “More. Now. Please, I want more.”

His hands tangle back into your hair, he looks around the sand dunes and tall grasses that keep you somewhat protected to ensure you don’t have any visitors before he thrusts roughly into your mouth. You hold back a gag, closing your eyes and trying to breathe through your nose.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he whines softly when you push your tongue past your bottom lip to swipe your tongue along his balls. He yanks you off him and you gasp out, sucking in the cool salty air of the ocean just behind you.

“Fuck me,” you coo, pulling at the baby pink drawstrings that are holding up your bottoms. They fall to the soft sand with a wet smacking sound. His eyes fall to the apex of your thighs and he licks his lips hungrily.

“Get on all fours, now.” You smile at the rough commanding tone, spin your ass towards him and get on your hands and knees. He lets out a groan as you arch your back enticingly.

When Pike was assigned a new trainee in California he wasn’t overly thrilled about it. He had finally settled in DC after what he’d been through the last time he was in this state. However, ego aside, he was the best in the country at this job, and the training would only take a few weeks. The guy he was training had an impressive resume, he was probably more educated on art than Pike himself. He didn’t want to think about that now though, he’ll meet him tomorrow. Right now he wants to focus on this insatiable ball of need that was pushing her pert little ass out at him. He’s not sure what came over him when he saw you sitting in the sand, but he knew he would be fucking you before he left, and with the beach pretty much deserted as the sun started to set he made his move.

“I’m Elle,” you had said as you shook his hand, biting your bottom lip.

It wasn’t long after he said his name was Marcus that the two of you were ducking between the dunes and grass and he had his swollen cock rammed down your throat.

He lowers himself to the sand, tracing a thick finger through your folds, spreading your wetness. He swirls your clit and you cry out in pleasure, “Gotta be quiet for me, sweet girl.”

You nod and hum in agreement as he slips two fingers deep inside you. To stay quiet you focus on your breathing. Short, laboured breaths in and out, in and out. He twists his wrist to be palm down, watching the way your tiny pink entrance sucks at his fingers, the way your juices squeeze out, and then he curls his fingers forward and every nerve in your body tingles. Marcus has never had an issue finding that spot before.

You gasp, the salty air burning your lungs as you try to keep your noises to nothing but hushed whimpers. “Good girl. Stay quiet. That’s it.”

He picks up the pace, pushing and pushing on that spongy spot inside you before bringing his free hand around, his middle finger easily finding your swollen clit. Your arms buckle at the pleasure of it all, landing on your elbows, opening yourself up to him more. You bite the skin of your forearm as the pleasure starts to reach its peak.

“Come on, you can do it. I can feel how close you are. Squeezing my fingers so tight. Let go, baby, let go.”

Just as you start to come he pulls his fingers out and slams his rock hard cock inside of you. The welcome stretch has you coming harder than you ever have before, back arched like you’re in some sort of tantric yoga pose. His cock is so buried so deep that you can feel it pressing into your cervix. He doesn’t stop the tight circles of your clit as you clench around him tightly, body twitching and legs shaking at the feel of him.

You thought you were just going to have a relaxing evening on the beach, a nice way to celebrate the promotion you recently received at work. Truthfully, what better way to celebrate than being fucked into oblivion by a handsome stranger.

As your orgasm begins to morph into overstimulation you release you teeth from your forearm, deep red and purple marks left behind. You voice comes out breathy and you almost don’t recognize it as your own, “Fuck me now. Just fuck me. Please.”

“Not gonna last long,” he says as he pulls out to the tip and thrusts hard back into you.

“I don’t care, just fucking give it to me, Marcus.” His hands grip your hips tightly as he repeats the same motion. Pulling out torturously slow, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein of his heavy cock, before he slams back in.

“Ready?” He hums, his hips pressed firmly to your ass.

“Yesss,” you whisper.

He starts to really fuck you. Its fast and hard and with every thrust you can feel his dick swelling bigger. He bruises the walls of your slick pussy with the pace he’s setting, all while whispering praises about how good you are and how well you're taking him. “Should see how much this little pussy loves being stretched. She’s crying for me, baby.”

“Cum all over my back. I wanna feel it.” You moan.

“Fuckfuck - oh god, such a good girl for me.” He pulls out roughly, strings of your arousal and his pre cum keeping you connected temporarily before he grips his cock and pumps into his fist.

You look over your shoulder to watch him. He looks wrecked, his outgrown hair all messy, eyebrows fused together as he looks at your ass with glazed over eyes. With a shuddering breath he comes, coating your ass and back in warm white ropes of cum. He sits back on his heels and admires his painting. Smirking to himself he says, “Look like a work of art, baby.”

After a few calming breaths he grabs your swimsuit bottoms and wipes off his cum. “Stay here,” he says, slipping his red swimsuit back on and after a careful look around he jogs over the sand dune. You stay there, almost fully naked with your ass in the air waiting for him.

Marcus rinses the cum off your bottoms in the ocean and then jogs back to you. He helps you up and watches you put your swimsuit back on. As you grab your cover up from your bag he says, “Well, that was fun. Unexpected, but fun.”

“I agree,” you say, feeling your cheeks warm.

“I’m - umm, well I’m just visiting for a few weeks but if you wanted to see each other -“

You cut him off, “You don’t have to do that. It’s really ok if this was just a one time thing.”

He nods.

You grab your stuff and after you two smile at each other sweetly you turn to start to walk back to your condo.

“Elle,” he calls after you. You stop and turn to face him. “What if I don’t want this to be a one time thing?”

You laugh and shake your head. You call back, “Then you better be at the beach tomorrow around eight.”

When you wake in the morning you can still feel the dull ache of Marcus all over your body. The back of your throat, in between your thighs, the bite mark on your arm and the small bruises on your hips. He’s still everywhere and you relish in it.

You start your new job today, so after finding a long sleeve blouse to cover your teeth marks, and doing your best to look both professional and serious you head to your new office building.

You trace your fingers over the nameplate on your door. They’ve used your full name and you’ll have to ask them to update that to Elle, people always assume things when they see your full name.

You put your bag down and log into your computer just as you hear a soothing, deep and friendly voice travel down the hallway.

“Good morning. I’m looking for Elliot Hall. I’m supposed to be training him for the next few weeks.” Your spine stiffens. You know that voice.

No way. There’s no way.

The receptionist giggles, “Elliot is a female. Her office is second door on the right. She just got in.”

His shoes click on the hardwood of the hallway, each step closer has your heart racing. There’s a quiet knock on your open door and when you look up you lock eyes with Marcus.

[m0thxy]

pool boy at the vampire mansion. day 1. there’s some humans body in the water . I probably gotta clean that up lol. none of the vampires have tried to attack me yet so that’s pretty cool. if I don’t update you guys tomorrow they’ve probably killed me cus im shit at my job tbh I lied on my resume idk how to do my job lol not my problem though🙏 they pay me in dabloons

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Mike

Summary: A new intern is assigned to your department.

A/N: Mike is from Hellraiser: Hellworld. If you need an idea as to what his character is like, I highly recommend this gif set.

Warnings: Age gap (Reader is 10+years older than Mike). Power imbalance.

Part 2

Mike was brimming with excitement. His first internship, and it was paid! He's really looking forward to getting something on his resume that isn't family business stuff. When all your work is for your family's company, people tend to think it's strictly nepotism and not actual skill and work ethic. Sure, that is how he plans on climbing the corporate ladder to CIO, but you gotta have the skills so you can at least pretend you deserve the role.

The interview process wasn't as much of a breeze as he was expecting. His bosses, at least now they're his bosses, weren't as appreciative of his casual approach to the whole thing. It wasn't until he was able to show his technical skills that the interview started going well. It was a bit of painfully humbling experience that he doesn't want to go through again any time soon.

But now he's got the "job" and he's looking forward to those non-glamorous tasks Pine said they have saved for interns. To Mike it sounds like he can do a half-assed job while watching YouTube and no one will care because it's a crappy project to begin with.

Mr. Pine was in charge of distributing the interns around the company. While Mike was technically working IT, he'd be reporting to the person in charge of the overarching project. That's where you come in.

Jonathan introduced you to Mike and, though you easily picked up on the trust-fund-frat-kid vibes, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Pine and Syverson don't hire people who can't actually do the job so you'll give the kid a chance.

"Now, Mike, I believe Jonathan explained the basics of the job?"

"Yes, Ma'am. You're looking for an updated user interface for your employees? Making it more intuitive?"

"Correct," you smile. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. "Today we'll start you out with getting you comfortable and showing you the program we'd like you to update. Tomorrow there'll be a meeting so the employees can tell you what design updates would be helpful for them."

"A meeting?" Mike's eyes blink in confusion.

"Yes, because you cannot update the program to be more intuitive if you don't know how it's being used."

"Can't I just set up some prototypes and people can choose which they like best? I promise, they'll be happy with the results."

You cross your arms. There's that attitude I knew would show up. "Mike, you don't even know what we use that program for. How are you going to be able to figure out the most intuitive, optimal way for it to work?"

"I'm pretty smart," he cocks an eyebrow at you. "I've got some really good skills."

"Skill is not enough," you lecture. "You have to be able to actually deliver. My department needs an update that you will provide. And it will be based on their needs, not your perception of their needs. Understand?"

Mike scoffs but doesn't try to argue his case any further after seeing the look on your face. "You got it, Boss Lady," he sighs.

Part 2

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[revalition]

OCT 18 - ELECTROCHEMISTRY Go to party planet. Love and be loved by drugs.

.... (looks at calendar) yup definitely october 18th today, don't mind us. this didn't even take that long, I wish I could have done more for one of my fav boys. we were putting off a task we didn't want to do (update resume) which meant getting stuck doing nothing at all for 2 days :)))

tomorrow is full of stuff we dont want to do too so... might fall behind on skilltober a bit. it's ok. but it's almost 2am and we gotta be up at 8 so gonna stop rambling now!!! (much love from the main guy who runs this blog and echem!! we're both here!)

lotssss of stuff under the cut! of my wonderful guy!

fun facts:

- has a swear score of 9/10 (calculated by yours truly) second only to half light

- he damages volition only once and heals volition 10 times! that's also the most healing out of any of the skills

- this impolite guy never once says sorry or please. he does say thank you once (to idiot doom spiral for inviting them to party)

- calls you Harry 3 times, boy 7 times, son once, man 13 times (+ calls volition man twice lol), baby 13 times, darling once, buster once, sir once, chief once, buddy 2 times, brother twice, detective 3 times... he talks to you a lot! I'm sure I'm missing some too

- calls himself your mesolimbic reward pathway, your glands, receptors/GABA-receptors, your pleasure response/centres, your electrochemistry, your parasympathetic nervous system, your moral compass (uhm...), your brain (that's a bit presumptuous) again probably missing some

- the 30 screenshot limit is *evil* >:(

also, electrochemistry's name translates directly to electrochemistry in almost all the languages disco has been translated to (which is interesting on its own, electrochemistry is the study of the chemistry of electrons moving) except the chinese translation -- 食髓知味

I don't speak a word of chinese so forgive me if this is off but google translate directly translates it to "Eat the marrow to know the taste". Apparently it is an expression meaning that once you've had a taste of something (the marrow) you will want to have it again, and is used in a negative way.

it... describes echem's role in the game quite clearly. anyway this seemed way too cool to not share.

onto the quotes!

he's so sassy

true! true! tell him echem!

I love love love this one. echem recognizes joy. kim's joy!!

shhhhhh

volition only trying to rein in electrochem... he's all alone out here haha

so delightful, happy electrochem!!!

no 😭 why is he *like that* sometimes. rhetoric knows he's gonna suggest something stupid before echem even opens his mouth. actual idiot. this is a godly check too! he gets sooo stupid at high levels...

hitting this guy with a rolled up newspaper >:|

pleaseee volition make him stop talking. he's so bad. I know he's just doing what he knows, but he's doing it in a manipulative way

look how stupid he is <3 this is when you make the jump for your coat, while you're falling through the air...

alternate outcome!! this line is actually so sad ☹️ noooo... sweetie your precious friend is still there it's okay you'll be okay

electrochemistry making this horrible situation even worse! pleaseee dude not *THE EXPRESSION* I want to strangle him. volition fighting for his life out here

he wants to be famous <3

I didn't mean to put 3 quotes in a row of authority and echem getting along but here we are. echem just wants to buy stuff he doesn't know any better!

one millisecond before hurling the pétanque ball into the ocean... at least he had fun doing it

he praises you for pouring your alcohol on the ground to honour the people you and kim have killed in the line of duty. okay my dude...

YES shit on the kingdom of conscience! someone has to!

what is wrong with him? (affectionate)

these increasing difficulty electrochemistry checks... thanks for making everyone regret asking man. and regret ever leveling you up that high in the first place...

if you rejected the task to find a drink, echem doesn't want it!

echem turning down the opportunity to use the expression, and it's just cause he isn't interested... dying. dying here.

this is a classic and a favourite. I was like 3 minutes into the game when I got this and was like ohhh... what's with this guy. oh dear.

bad :( don't call him a *lamo* stupid skill. him referring to himself by his own name is funny, I don't think any of the others do that

idiot doom spiral cuts him off here. but electrochemistry is the only skill that talks about the basal ganglia (Ancient Reptilian Brain). After some research it looks like the mesolimbic pathway and basal ganglia are closely related, and certain structures are even shared between them. Which might explain why electrochemistry is more in tune with ancient reptilian brain than the other skills. There's actually a really similar thing with perception (smell) talking to limbic system, and the olfactory system and limbic system share pathways in the brain. fascinating. which then raises the question of if pre-martinaise harry knew these things -- knows what a mesolimbic pathway is, and an olfactory system and a basal ganglia, and then named them accordingly? or if it was something else...?

(hopefully this is right, I'm a programmer not a neuroscientist. if someone who actually knows about brains knows more please say something lol)

anyway. onto other quotes.

look at them, look at the idiots <3

he's so sarcastic. look at him, focusing on what really matters! good job buddy

he's gonna kill volition one of these days. also happened in my first playthrough lol, my very high electrochemistry meant I became very fond of volition very fast.

volition... volition beloved, trying to stop you. electrochemistry *lying*. I believe volition about the vow, shush. but also... it is sooo sad that he thinks you guys can't make it without speed :( it's clearly that thought process, that it's better to risk your own health and save as many people as you can, that got things to be as bad as they are... he's got so many issues.

anyway. I've never hit 30 screenshots so fast, yikes. I love this guy so much. I have *so* many thoughts about him... how his role in harry's life would change after being sober and clean for a while... he just wants you to be happy.

[swordofsun]

@scoobydoodean had been posting about 4x17 It's A Terrible Life and it's reminded me of one of my favorite overlooked bits in the episode and how it shows that Zachariah is just wrong about Dean.

Zachariah's whole theory with this little experiment is that Dean will choose hunting.

ZACHARIAH To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it.

But Dean has expressly denied hunting already at the end of the last act:

SAM Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be. DEAN No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo. SAM When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them? DEAN Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused— SAM Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital. DEAN Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on. SAM All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know—I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you. DEAN Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go. SAM leaves.

Sam tried to get Dean to drop everything and go hunting. They stopped a ghost! It was fun! They could do this, but Dean's not going to give up his life for it. Dean has no intention of turning his life upside down to start hunting and it's not until Zachariah lays out one of the most depressing 10 year plan ever:

ADLER Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go-getter. Carving your own way. DEAN Well, thanks. I try. ADLER I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week, lunch at your desk, but in eight to ten short years, that could be you. DEAN takes off his headset. DEAN Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um...but... DEAN passes the paper back. DEAN I am giving my notice.

He's already the director of marketing and sales and his career plan is 10 years of nothing but work to make VP of a division? Probably a small division? Everyone would quit with that laid out. Maybe not as directly as Dean does, but yeah, they'd be going home and revamping the resume. That's a dead end career path you'd have to bust your ass and give up your life for.

Hearing that and going "hmm, maybe I take some time and check out that hunting thing with that Wesson guy. He was less creepy once we started working on the haunting, for the most part" is actually a pretty normal thing to do.

And really Zachariah doesn't even give him the chance to go find Sam. Because there's actually a good chance Dean gets home and after thinking about it he just updates his resume and LinkedIn. He had to give Dean back his memories in that exact moment in order to try and leverage the situation to his advantage.

Zachariah stacked the deck and still barely managed to get Dean to quit his job. Dean wasn't running to hunting with open arms. He was, at best, looking at it as a more viable option than the shitty 10 year plan Mr. Adler just laid out. And Zachariah couldn't wait for him to actually choose hunting, he had to strike before Dean could second guess himself.

(Even Sam is making the choice between IT support call center or ghost hunting. This isn't hard.)

4x17 Transcript

[ahedderick]

Small Town Arts Scene

Sheesh. What's up with small towns?

Yesterday I got the local Arts Newsletter. The Studio Tour, which started last weekend and continues this coming one, was left off the newsletter entirely. This after it was posted last Wednesday, but way down at the bottom instead of (chronologically) at the top. So. That's kinda shitty. I think some of the Tour artists protested being at the bottom of the list, and leaving us off entirely was the AC's response. Yay. I feel so supported.

Also, there was this opportunity.

Which is . . right up my alley. I've had quite a few commissions for painting homes and buildings. I sit and swear quietly at the windows every single time, but I DO complete them. I'm just a little surprised that the response is supposed to go to the Arts Council instead of directly to a person at the credit union, and . . a resume? Not just a sample of past work, but a resume? For a simple painting commission? You've gotta be kidding me. In theory, I have a resume. Not sure if I can make myself pull it out an update it, though. My artwork and past reliability in completing same is all that matters here! Behold, the buildings I have painted!!

[f1daydreamers]

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: angst, lottssss of fluff cause u guys deserve some, lots of mentions of alcohol, basically a party lmao

A/N: I’ve got ideas for a mini-series with Lando and one-shots with Max but I need to finish this off before I get carried away elsewhere!! ALSO, super sorry for the late update but it’s been a hectic last few weeks with weddings (summers are BUSY) but yep, finally dialled down and ready to post!

Listen to 'Ho Hey' by The Lumineers during the dancing part, it's such a feel good song :')

Word Count: 3.4k words (12 mins reading time avg)

…

"Ow." You say monotonously as Lance rewraps the elastic bandage, then loosens it amidst your very nonchalant way of expressing agitation.

"The bruising's little better, you just gotta try and keep it straight." You nod, turning your attention to your sister who slid her chicken off of her fork by her teeth.

Lance turned to face his body forward again, tugging the sleeves of his blazer down. He watched as you directed your gaze towards your knee, carefully adjusting the bandage a couple of inches higher to prevent any itchiness.

"Can't believe you hurt it the day of the wedding." You shrug, fiddling with the hem of your dress and stretching your leg out, being careful as to not collide it with someone else's foot beneath the table.

"Just my luck," you settled on an answer and took a sip from your wine glass which desperately needed refilling if you wanted to let the thoughts of your damned knee waft out of your mind.

As if on cue, the waiter who was serving your group tonight popped open and poured a few inches of content from a fresh bottle into your glass. You refrained from asking him to hand you the entire thing. Once he'd began tending to someone else, you spared no moment in taking another sip, though this one was much longer than the previous one.

It didn't slip your notice how Lance leaned in, his words laced with a faint concern.

"You do know alcohol slows your healing down." You only give him a side eye, your lips touching the rim of the glass. Maybe you paused for a brief moment to register what he'd told you, but it didn't matter because you resumed consumption of the liquid seconds later.

He chuckled, shaking his head. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something else but his eyebrows raised in attention as his head whisked to meet your brother.

"Try some of the sushi mate," he prodded hospitably, but Lance brought a hand to his stomach, "I'm not a fan of it. I'm sure it's been well-made but I've tried it a few times in the past."

"Ah." He paused before your mum cut in, she was dabbing her napkin to either side of her lips. "Y/N, you should've told us. I would've asked for something else to be made." You really wanted to roll your eyes, she definitely wouldn't have. In fact, had she known, she probably would've asked for just seafood to be made.

"No harm done." Lance smiled, seeing the impatience with your mom already bubbling up evidently on your face. "Do you cook?" Your mother didn't stop there though as she recaptured his attention.

"I do sometimes, yes." His response took you by surprise, you'd never pegged him as the cooking type. Yet, the revelation only added to his allure in your mind.

"What, tea and toast?" She covered with a laugh though you knew it was a subtle dig, it didn't seem to occur to the man besides you as he only breathily laughed with her, assuming lightheartedness but there was nothing lighthearted about her.

"He can make plenty of things." You added, injecting a touch of seriousness into the conversation. Lance's eyes briefly flickered towards you, his eyebrows furrowing in a slight downward motion.

"Oh?" She sounded surprised, he was quick in interjecting to downplay the sudden admittance. "Y/N's hyping me up," he smiled then continued, "um no a-a couple of things sure. Just practical stuff."

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, noting his growing nervousness as he struggled to comprehend the atmosphere surrounding the conversation. You could sense the tension in the air, a feeling that lingered.

Releasing a sigh, you made a conscious effort to ease the growing awkwardness, forcing a smile as you lifted your gaze once again. "A man of many talents," you commented, aiming to lighten the mood.

Lance smiled at your compliment, remaining modest as he nodded appreciatively in your direction. It was evident that he was grateful you didn't let your mother's remarks affect your mood.

...

A few of the guests were beginning to leave the dinner table, the party now beginning to bleed on to the dance floor. You were slouched in your chair, going through your Instagram when Lance stood up.

"Where you going?" You asked him, though soon to be regretting it when his smile widened. "To dance. And you're coming with me."

Your eyes widen in horror, "I don't- no. I-" He doesn't let you finish your sentence, already tugging your hand up as you slide your phone flat on to the dinner table.

"My knee." You say in a matter-of-fact tone but you know it's not nearly as bad as it was earlier, the compression doing wonders for it.

Lance sees right through your lies because his grip on your hand doesn't loosen, "I'll be careful." You quickly join the assumption that he wanted to dance with you, not just have you up there to lessen his own embarrassment.

"I-" He tuts, "come on."

"Go have fun Y/N. It's not like this opportunity'll come 'round again." Your aunt wags her eyebrows suggestively, and Lance tilts his head towards her, wordlessly agreeing with the cheeky grin on his lips still very much prominent.

"You've definitely had more to drink than I have." He laughs, successfully helping you stand up and guiding you to the dance floor. He moved to the rhythm of the music, already grooving as he walked.

Suddenly, he tugged on your hand, causing you to turn towards him. Your eyes locked as his gaze swept over your body before returning to meet yours. With a playful smirk, he lifted your hand and drew you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist.

As the beat pulsated through the air, he began to shimmy his shoulders, a glint in his eyes. A smile adorned his lips when you instinctively started swaying your hips, matching his energy.

"I don't know where I belong, I don't know where I went wrong, but I can write a song," Lance sang along with the words, his voice as silky as butter. Oblivious to the effect he was having on you, he seamlessly continued on to the chorus, his energy contagious and captivating. You struggled to keep up with the whirlwind of feelings surging through your veins.

A genuine smile graced your lips as Lance playfully tried to engage you in the dance, guiding your arms and encouraging any movement. Laughter bubbles forth as he effortlessly twists you every which way. In the midst of the moment, the encounter with your mother fades into insignificance, and any lingering irritation dissipates.

You're overwhelmed with appreciation for the lengths your 'boyfriend' is willing to go to keep up an appearance.

Lance extends his arm, spinning you around before pulling you close, your bodies meeting. Your forearms align with his chest, and his hands firmly hold yours against his body as he continues to sing.

The lyrics escape his lips, "I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart," and in that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance that feels like pure magic.

You're already breathing a little heavier after the song had ended, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead but the man who'd constantly been spinning and twirling you around looked effortlessly handsome still. The perks of being fit, you supposed.

"I love this song." You listened a little closer then laughed when Lance began singing again, but messed up the lyrics a little.

"It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something stu- dumb to do." The note way off-key meant you couldn't help but chuckle, finding his imperfection endearing. Your head naturally found its place nestled in the dip of his collarbone as he joined in with your laughter.

Moments later, you lifted your head, resuming the dance with him. Once the chorus had begun, he quickly found his rhythm, the music guiding his movements flawlessly.

As the DJ continued to spin songs perfectly suited for a lively and exuberant wedding reception, a few guests eventually broke off from the floor to take a break or grab another drink.

However, you and Lance showed no signs of faltering. Fuelled by the atmosphere, you both remained in sync, undeterred by the fact that it'd been a while you'd been dancing. The music seemed to invigorate you, carrying you both through the night as you danced with unwavering enthusiasm, creating sparks of energy and joy on the dance floor.

As you settle onto a stool by the bar, your now sister-in-law taps you on the shoulder, holding a drink filled with clear liquid in her hand. Leaning down to ensure you hear her, she whispers, "you guys look great together."

Despite mustering a smile, a sour feeling comes over you. On one hand, it feels amazing that you and Lance have managed to convince everyone of your relationship, but you know it's not real. Your feelings for him are genuine, but he remains your colleague and friend — nothing more.

"I don't know how much it means coming from me, but he seems like a really good guy." You look up to meet her gaze, she tugs her dress closer to her legs to sit on the stool opposite you. "Can you tell my mom that?" She smiles, remaining cautious but you understood why. That is her mother-in-law now.

"I don't get the ex thing. The way you look at Lance, I don't know, you never looked at Thomas that way." She leans in to add convincingly, she was only dating your brother during the brief time you were seeing your ex, but the fact that she sees right through you makes you wonder just how obvious your attraction really is. To Lance especially.

You smile appreciatively nevertheless, at least someone's in your corner.

When you feel a presence come up behind you, you don't hold back a grimace when Thomas steps forward. You mouth 'save yourself' to your sister-in-law who chuckles, giving you a small hug before being whisked away by your brother, her husband, as he invites her to dance.

He takes her spot on the stool and you move to get up but he grabs your arm, "five minutes." You shrug his grip off of you and sit back down, pushing your stool a little back to maintain some distance. "Two."

"You're not serious about the F1 bloke, are ya?" You sigh, wiping the tip of your nose with your thumb to catch the tiny drop of sweat.

"I don't have to explain my life choices to you but just so you know, yes, I am serious about him." You state as if it should be clear, although maybe it was. In another reality far from this one, nobody would bring their partner to a family wedding unless they were truly committed to them.

"I know he's not your boyfriend, Y/N," Tom stares at you intently as he finishes his sentence, clearly anticipating any change in your demeanor or facial expression, causing you to suppress any visible reaction. But you're quite certain that your internal organs momentarily ceased functioning.

"What're you on about?" You question him.

He scoffs, as if you're just prolonging the inevitable truth. "At best, he's a friend. There's no way that dude's your boyfriend." You want to ask him how he caught on but didn't know how to word it so you chuckle instead, albeit a little nervously.

"You're funny." You say bitterly but Tom shrugs, a smirk on his lips, oozing confidence and surety in what he was saying as if he was aware this wasn't alcohol talking but the facts he'd built up since this weekend began.

"Come on. The air mattress in your bedroom, obviously has been slept in. On top of that, I haven't even seen you kiss the guy, just hugs and hand holding. People manage that with their mates."

You're beginning to get angry and you wonder if the two minutes you'd allowed him had grown to pass, "perving on my bedroom are we?" You suggest disgustingly through gritted teeth and Tom rolls his eyes, knowing you were stalling to gather a possible answer.

"I went to the bathroom, door was wide open. It's not like you tried to hide it." The smugness in his voice made you want to slap him but out of the corner of your eye, you saw your sister-in-law tap Lance's arm and point in your direction. You hid the relief washing over you, and swallowed your words.

"I couldn't give a shit about how you feel about my relationship." The anxiousness settling into the pit of your stomach caused you to feel a little nauseous.

"Mm-hmm, 'relationship'," he says, using air quotes with his fingers as he takes his hand off of his glass, followed by a playful wink directed at you. The feeling of nausea grows stronger, but you distract yourself when Lance places his hand on the small of your back.

Without wasting another moment, Tom leaves when Lance glares at him, leaving the two of you alone. He immediately redirects his attention towards you, his gaze fixed, wordlessly asking if you're okay.

"He knows," your voice shakes as you meet his eyes.

"Who?" He asks.

"Tom. He - figured it out. He knows we're not dating, he knows about the extra mattress in my room, he knows." You find yourself repeating, your mind in a frenzy as you whisper whatever you recall of the situation to the man currently hovering over you.

Your eyes glance behind Lance's body as you watch your ex go over to Kevin, interesting him in a conversation that you have no doubt is about his recent discovery.

"He's going to tell my brother, he's going to tell everyone-" You cut yourself off when Lance pushes his hand into your back, forcing you to meet his eyes again. Though this is not the time for it, the contact causes somersaults to erupt in your body.

"No he's not. He's not going to do anything, don't let him fuck with you." He reassures you, advising you to try and forget the encounter but it's all that is playing on your mind. You can't have him unwrap this entire weekend like a present waiting to be opened and showcased to everyone.

"Come on, it's the slow dance." You huff, finding right now a pretty stupid time to join your date for a dance. He sensed your hesitation, pulling you up by the hand much like he did a while ago.

"Isn't now a good as time as ever to convince everyone we are in love?"

You think about his question for a while then realise he had a point, you nod and let him guide you back to the dance floor, in a crowd full of many other couples doing the same thing.

You interlock your fingers around his neck, his hands finding their rightful places on either sides of your waist. You both begin to sway and you can see Tom standing just off of the floor, his eyes obviously trained on you and the F1 driver.

Lance looks down into your eyes to break your concentration, there was a subtle softness in them that you knew you could only claim as your own.

"What if he does tell everyone?" You whisper to him but he only smiles, contrasting you massively. One thing that differed between you was the lack of anxiousness in him and the load of it inside of you.

"A mattress can easily be explained, and he has nothing to prove that we're not dating." You swallow, remembering the other point Tom made in the short conversation.

"H-he said we haven't-" Lance's eyebrows furrow as your speech falters so you decide to rephrase it. "We only hug and stuff, to him couples do more than that."

"And to you?" You meet his lingering gaze, "what?"

His eyes fall to overlook your expression before catching your stare again, "what do you think couples do?" You subtly shrug when Lance tugs you closer to him. "I-I don't know. Traditional couple stuff." You curve around the obvious answer and he chuckles, nodding his head.

His eyes flicker to your lips and you could swear your heart skipped a beat, or maybe multiple beats. Your heart was fluttering vigorously within your chest, its rhythmic pounding so intense that you wondered if Lance could hear it if he focused hard enough.

You gazed at him, momentarily lost in admiration without any specific thoughts occupying your mind.

He observed you attentively, analysing you with deep contemplation. There was obviously something playing about his mind, but you couldn't decipher it, he'd never been one to read easily. He tucked in his bottom lip.

No words were exchanged but your chest was conveying more than enough, just as Lance's was. His emotions seemed to be a mix of nervousness, anxiety, and perhaps even panic. He couldn't understand why, this would only be a justifiable favour.

His gaze again shifted from your eyes to your lips, and the agitation in your body reached such a level that you felt your ribs may explode from the sheer feeling pent up inside of you. Raw emotions surged, unearthing feelings that perhaps you hadn't been sure about before. They were springing to life, blooming ever so confidently.

But so were you, every new sensation coursing through your veins made you feel alive, but frightened you too. It was powerful, overwhelming and a sensation that had never quite been matched with previous boyfriends.

You noticed the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. In response, you leaned in closer. You didn't want him to retreat from this proximity, despite the anxiousness gripping you.

You couldn't help but wonder the potential consequences that could arise. Any platonic friendship you'd built up until this point would be shattered. Lance sensed your distraction and squeezed your waist in response, "how's the knee doing?"

You sigh out an unsteady breath, "g-good." Your gaze was darting between his eyes, barely formulating a clear response to his question, obviously lacking confidence. You knew the song was only a couple of moments away from ending, though there was no countdown, everything felt perfect enough for it to happen now.

Your face began to warm up, "I-I'm not the only one who's having all these feelings, am I?" You asked ambiguously, half-fearing his response.

Lance knew exactly what you meant, it seemed a little inconclusive to make assumptions on such an open-ended question but the breathless look on your face and the glint in your eyes both served as hints.

"No," the ends of his lips curve slightly into a smile, only to serve as assurance that he wasn't answering for convenience but because he was telling the truth and he too was sick of having to hide it.

Lance moved maybe a centimetre or an inch closer to you, his proximity was so close that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, causing your eyelids to flutter. His hands slid slowly from either sides of your waist to your back, interlinking.

Your lips parted instinctively, your mind becoming clouded, and any trace of logic vanishing from your thoughts.

His bottom lip skimmed over your top one and you could've sworn your body had turned into jelly, you could feel him smile faintly before his mouth closed around yours. For a moment, neither you or Lance breathed.

Perhaps to give the other ample time to process this was really happening. A blush crept on to your cheeks, his lips began to move, enticing you to join him in an illusive dance.

You released a content sigh through your nose which only offered Lance more assurance, continuing to kiss you with eagerness you didn't know he had. You toyed with a few strands on the back of his head, gently tugging at his neck to urge him closer.

He hummed in response, happily complying with your unspoken command. You pulled away to catch your breath, he allowed you to step impossibly closer to him as people began curving you to go back to their seats as the next song began.

You took the minute you had to appreciate just how good he looked, his eyes light, his lips pink, and his fair skin glowing even under the DJ's overhead spotlights.

You met his lips again, remaining there for a few seconds before he moved against them, kissing you a few times. "God, you're amazing." He whispered when you detached for the final time, blushing but making no effort to conceal it anymore.

...

Part 7

Masterlist

Two more parts to go!

Taglist: @fantasticbouquetwitchsthings @topguncultleader @spicyclover @amirahart @softiecaro @alilstressyandlotdepressy @eugene-emt-roe @e-lisa-bettan @strolleclercs @jjsprobablywrong @carmelita-holland @flowerchild-96 @rd14 @honethatty12 @gaslysainz @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @secretlyangrymagazine @chiliwhore @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @vildetry-06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003 @honeyric3 @nikki01234 @purplephantomwolf @mindflay3r @ttzjune @xitsyaiizax @dylylylylyly @junhuilvrrr @f1-hyperfixation