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rogersideup · 2 years

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The Senses of Steve

Taste

Series masterlist

Previous part: Smell

Summary: With no one around, and nothing but a head massage to occupy your mind, you finally felt like you knew where you belonged.

Word count: 14,580

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

Authors note: Hi besties! We’ve finally made it to the end :,) this chapter is currently un-edited because I wanted to push it out without you guys having to wait another day. I’ll be back to edit it and add proper content warnings tomorrow. Thank you for all your love and support on the series and dealing with the mistakes if you’re seeing this before the edit. I appreciate you all sm <3

"Here!" Steve announced as he walked into the room and placed a glass of freshly made iced coffee onto your vanity from behind you. "Drink this, coffee usually relaxes you, right?"

Your hair was up in a high messy bun and your makeup was only halfway done. You definitely looked a little crazy, but you kept telling yourself to trust the process. At some point you'd look like the best version of yourself, but right now... "Thank you, Baby." You smiled, dropping your eyeshadow brush from your hand to pick up the coffee.

He was right, vanilla cold brew was one of the most comforting tastes in the world to you. You drank it every morning without fail, sometimes you'd go for a second cup mid-day as a pick me up. Through good days and bad, you could always count on a good cup of coffee to wrap your senses up in a big hug and comfort you through any chaos life threw your way. One sip in and your nerves were slightly calmed, not enough to stop overthinking everything about the night ahead.

"Your dress is almost done being ironed, I'll grab it since I have to go get my suit anyways." He told you with kind eyes looking into yours through the mirror. "How are you feeling?"

His big warm hands gripped your shoulders, rubbing and squeezing away at the muscles to try and ease the anxiety. Tonight was a big deal, all of the avengers were asked to partake in an after award ceremony for the bravest men and women in the military. As a team you would smile, shake hands, and thank those for the sacrifices they've made after they were awarded with titles of great honor. Some people work decades for titles like these.

That in itself wasn't the issue, if it was just that you would have no problem attending.

The problem was that a few avengers let it slip that you would be receiving your own award tonight. The highest award the nation had to offer for gallantry, the Medal of Honor, all because you ran into that building with that bomb.

Oh, and your mom was going to be there receiving her own award.

Said mom you haven't spoken to since eighteen years old. Doesn't know anything about your life Mom.

"I don't understand why I need an award for doing what I signed up for." You huffed. "Oh you did the bare minimum? Here's a shiny medal!" you mocked, finding any and all ways to not show up tonight.

"What you did was not the bare minimum." Steve giggled at your antics. "You deserve the award, and you deserve to accept it." He kissed your cheek. "Stop deprecating the value just because you don't want to go. This is a big deal, we're going to celebrate our brave girl accordingly."

"Steve?" You questioned, he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better view of his favorite face in the mirror.

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember the year 1941?" You asked rhetorically.

"No, not at all." He shook his head with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, so you don't remember when you stood up the United States Senator in a room full of reporters and 10 members of the Parliament by not accepting your Medal of Honor?"

"Doesn't ring a bell" Steve giggled.

"Huh" You contemplated his lie.

"What can I do to make this easier?"

"Promise me we can leave right after it's over?" You begged.

"Promise." He agreed.

"Yeah? And what if the senator comes up to you and is like 'oh! Captain Rogers! It's so nice to see you! Let's have a fourteen hour long conversation about the political climate of our country that's so boring our partners are going to want to gauge their eyeballs out!' Hmm? Then what?" You challenged, earning more laughter from Steve.

"I'd say, sorry Mister Senator. My beautiful girl just got her Medal of Honor and has very important business to attend, I hope you have a wonderful night." He assured you.

A groan full of nothing but pure dread slipped past your lips as you slumped forward letting your elbows hit the vanity and your head fall into your hands.

"Baby, it'll be fine." His serious voice came out.

"I don't want to see my Mom." You complained fully understanding that you probably sounded pathetic to him. "I don't want to see my Mom, I don't want you to have to see my Mom, I don't want to hear anything she has to say, I don't want to have to fake a smile for a crowd as she walks across the stage we're on, I don't want to shake her hand, I don't want pleasantries, professional courtesy, and small talk where she pretends to care about anything I've been up to just because I'm an avenger now."

"What are the chances this is going to go poorly?" He asked.

"90 percent" You mumbled.

"That's a 10 percent chance that it'll go well." He raised. "We've made miracles happen with less than that, yeah?"

"I think the only thing worse than seeing her again going poorly is it going well. I don't want that." You lifted your head. "I don't want anything to do with her."

"Okay." Steve nodded in understanding, pressing a series of gentle kisses to your shoulder. "Then take it for what it is, okay? One night. Just a couple hours where you have to coexist in a room with someone who's a stranger now. You shake her hand once, you smile for the photo. Then when the time is right, you accept your award from all of us, we shower your in all the love and pride we could possibly give you, then we sneak out have some fun at the private after party, and the two of us will go to bed peacefully and completely relieved that the night is over."

"You missed a huge part" You reminded him. "Socializing, mingling. We're always expected to mingle."

"And I'll be with you the whole night" He grinned. "If she approaches, I'll do whatever I can to get you away. I'll make sure nothing terrible happens."

"How do you feel about tonight?" You questioned, trying to check in on his mind.

"Fine. Not too keen on meeting someone who caused you so much pain but getting to celebrate you outweighs all of that."

"You're too sweet for your own good, you know that, Rogers?" Your eyes closed and your face scrunched up with delightful giggles as he purposefully placed feather light kisses in the crook of your neck to tickle you.

"Remember how you got your dress altered?" Steve asked.

"Uh huh?"

"Took all that pretty fabric off the bottom cause it was too long for you." He smiled, still looking at you in the mirror. "I had them turn some of the extra fabric into a pocket square for my suit so we can match. Doesn't that make you like... a million times more excited to go?"

"A milliondy-trilliondy times more excited." Your smile stretched from ear to ear.

"It's going to be so great. Everyone in the room will know that the prettiest, bravest girl at the event is all mine cause I get to carry a little piece of your dress in my pocket."

"You're so sweet, I'd be lost without you." His arms wrapped around you from behind, and squeezed you generously.

"I'm the lucky one" The smile in his voice was apparent. "I'm going to the store really quick with Bucky, when I get back I'll bring your dress."

"Thank you" You appreciated his warmth for the last few moments with a big deep breath, lifting your hand up behind you and placing it on his cheek. The little hairs growing along his jawline were longer than you've ever seen or felt them since meeting him, it made you smile knowing he was feeling far too lazy to shave.

"Don't worry, I'll get rid of this thing on my face before tonight." He read your mind.

"I wasn't worried." You opened your eyes to read his expression. "I think you pull it off nicely."

"You know how much I hate shaving" Steve pouted.

"So why not grow a beard?" You questioned with a tiny bit of skeptical confidence.

"I don't think people want Captain America to be anything but clean cut." He admitted.

"I think Steve should be whoever he wants to be, and Cap is just going to have to be okay with that." You smiled as he nudged his cheek further into your hand. "You're perfectly capable of saving the world with a handful of hair on your face."

"I'll take that into consideration, beautiful." Steve giggled and kissed your hair once more. "I'll be back soon."

"Okay, have fun with your boyfriend!"

"I will" He laughed. "I love you, you're going to be fine."

"I love you too."

Steve came back about an hour later with your dress when you were finally done with your makeup and just finishing up your hair with a final run through of hairspray to keep all your hard work in place.

The both of you get dressed together and you couldn't help but to be endlessly thankful for him in those moments. He was helpful from cracking jokes to ease your mind, making you laugh as he cursed his three piece suit for being so confusing and having too many buttons, down to helping you zip up your dress and insisting on buckling the straps of your heels.

When you were both fully dressed, perfumed, and styled to the public's standard you took one final look at each other. Your shaky hands reached to straighten out the dark teal colored satin pocket square made of your dress, and centered his tie one last time before his hands caught yours.

He kissed the back of each one and professed that you were the prettiest girl he's ever seen, and in true Steve fashion, admitted that you were, in fact, so pretty that you still made him nervous.

Your love was so sickeningly sweet that the only thoughts that filled your head as you walked down to the event was questions of how you got to be so lucky, and what you could've possibly done to earn the life you had. The life where you were an avenger, and your boyfriend was quite literally the superhero of your dreams.

The same superhero tale that was told to you as a kid, the very one you dreamed would sweep you off your feet and provide you with the love you desperately needed and craved when you laid awake at night as a teenager, wondering what you did to deserve a dead father and a mother who didn't love you.

You had him now. You felt proud that you didn't need him to complete you. That teenager angst of two half's coming together to make a whole had been thrown out the window and been replaced with something so much healthier, and safer. You and your knight and shining armor were two wholes that enjoyed the luxury of love and affection. You could only hope that your growth shined through your posture and glowed through your skin with a golden, glimmering sheen.

You grew exponentially faster and larger than life since the last time your mother saw you. All you wanted now was for her to see it with her own eyes, and drink in the harsh reality that you were whole without her. Though not by choice, you were whole without your father. You are whole without your superhero, but a little extra shiny and radiant with him by your side.

You stepped through the large double doors into the luxurious and lively event room, a nostalgic wave of emotion overtook. It felt like parent open house night in elementary school, that after school event where your parents come to see your classroom, meet your teachers, and see some physical proof of your hard work.

This time your artwork didn't hang on bulletin walls with your name signed at the bottom with glitter glue, you weren't reading your poetry to classmates and their parents, your teacher wasn't praising you for being a joy to have around and a good example for your peers.

You couldn't help but to wonder if she felt the same- if your mother had grown and changed in your years of not speaking. Perhaps she bloomed and blossomed the same way you did, the harsh reality of life turning you both into diamonds. Maybe she was whole without you too, maybe she found the half of herself she lost with the passing of your father. There was a chance she was golden and glimmering, shining brightly with radiant wisps.

Steve pulled you out of your thoughts by squeezing your hand with excitement as he recognized a handful of friendly faces he hadn't gotten a chance to see in a while. You shared that joy with him when you finally worked up the nerve to look around the room too and being met with a whole bunch of old colleagues, mentors, and commanding officers you were more than happy to introduce to Steve.

Most of them reunited with you through kind words, congratulations, and praises higher than you thought you deserved. You accepted them modestly, mostly because if you didn't Steve would fight you tooth and nail until you did, then invited them to the private after party in the private sector of the compound.

If you didn't invite people to your own after party, then Tony would be the one to fight you.

As more familiar faces approached to reconnect, you soon found yourself in a bubble of love. The smile on your face never dissipated and laughter began to slip out as if you had nothing to be worried about in the first place.

The room continued to fill and more people began to take their seats in time for the ceremony to start. The Avengers were expected on the stage the whole time to take pictures and congratulate those who received their medals, so before they started their work, she wanted to loosen up a bit and start the night off right.

Steve was having a conversation with a group of people you didn't recognize, so you made a brave choice. When the moment was right as to not interrupt anyone, you let go of his hand and placed it on his upper arm to grab his attention. He leaned over a bit to hear you more clearly in the crowded room. "I'm going to grab a drink really quick, I'll meet you on the stage okay?"

His eyes became concerned and he continued leaning down to speak quietly in your ear. "You want me to come with you?"

"It's okay, Honey, it'll be fast." You reassured him. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'll have what you're having" he grinned and sent you off with a quick kiss to the crown of your head.

"Okay, I'll see you up there" His actions brought a smile to your face as you walked up to the bartender.

You waited in line before placing an order for two drinks, and as you waited for them, a hand landed on the curve of your waist.

"I made a promise to stay with you all night, I can't break it." Steve reminded you.

"Well I'm feeling better than I thought I would so it's perfectly okay if you do." You let him pull you close into his side, his big hand was keeping you warm.

"Is she here yet?" He questioned.

"Haven't seen her" You shook your head.

"Right now I think I might be more nervous than you are, I keep looking for features of your face in every person I talk to wondering if it might be her."

"Well, I've always been told I look more like my dad anyways." The bartender handed her the two drinks, she grabbed them both with a polite thank you and handed one to Steve. "these should help."

"Do you think she knows we're together?" He asked, trying to further understand the situation at hand like he was plotting the best way to fight a battle.

"Look at us" You giggled with a slight snort between your first and second sip. "Matching bracelets, matching outfits, I think the whole world knows we're together."

"...and that article was published in tmz last week" he thought out loud. "I'm just trying to figure out if she would approach me."

"Maybe." You shrugged. "But her opinion of you means shit to me."

Steve took a long sip of his drink, silently praying he would experience a miracle and maybe feel even a slight buzz from the alcohol. "I've never met any of your family before, even if you don't care I still feel like I care."

"Steve" Your hand found its way to his chest. "Everyone you've met tonight, the team, literally the people we both live with and see every single day are more like my family than my mother is. You have met my family, and news flash, they all love you. Everyone loves you. I love you."

"So if she hates me?" He asked.

"You get to join the club! She hates me too" You smiled, Steve bit the inside of his cheeks to try and hold back a laugh at your statement before shaking his head. "You're so handsome."

"You're deflecting" he raised an eyebrow.

"No I'm not" you denied. "I'm simply distracted by your beauty."

"You know, I've been thinking about what you said earlier." Steve let you know.

"Oh no, I say a lot of things all day long."

"I think Cap is okay with trying a beard"

"But you just shaved like an hour ago" You pouted.

"Steve shaved what an hour ago?!" Natasha's voice rang from behind the two of you.

Steve scoffed like a disappointed dad at her innuendo. "My face."

"I'm trying to get him to grown a beard."

"You missed a spot" She reached up and poked his chin, naturally he looked down at where her finger was pointing and she took the chance to drag it up his face to annoy him like two children in the elementary school playground. "Ha-ha made you look" she taunted.

You let out another adorable half snort as you laughed at the banter.

"You're so lucky we're in a room full of people right now or I'd be chasing you around the compound." Steve stated.

"So scary" you lied and over exaggerated your words, throwing your hands up in defense to hype up Steve's words. "Natasha, I'd be scared if I were you."

"Yup. I'm terrified." She said flatly. "Anyways, I was told you needed to get your freshly shaved face up on that stage. You too, teal dress."

"Sure thing" Steve nodded, and offered you his arm to walk over together.

The two of you followed Natasha since the three of you needed to get to the same place anyways.

You took your spot between Steve and Sam, anxiously playing with the straw in your cocktail as you felt eyes on you from all over the room. Once the guest speaker started, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes down on your feet to avoid meeting the gazes. Sam caught on to your nervousness, and in attempts to ease your mind he subtly put his arm around you.

He grabbed Steve's wrist and booted his arm off of you, just to take the formerly occupied spot and pull you into his side. Steve looked over at him and quickly shot a questionable sad puppy dog face, and Sam used his free hand to motion for him to relax.

"See this woman in the front? Blonde hair black dress. I saw her trip over her own heel in the parking lot earlier." Sam whispered in your ear. "And the guy next to her, blue suit, tried to catch her but ended up falling on his butt."

You tried to contain the laughter as to not draw attention to yourselves, trying your hardest to uphold the Avengers respectful and professional reputation. To get him back, you gently nudged him with your elbow and stepped away from his hold.

Focusing on the speaker made time fly so fast, before you knew it they were presenting you with your medal. Since you weren't technically in the military anymore, and the avengers held a special place in the hearts of the nation, an exception was made and rules were changed so that the team were the ones to present the medal to you at this ceremony completely separate from the rest.

Tony was able to say some remarkably kind words about you before placing it around your neck, surrounded by the very team who you thought all deserved it more than you did. They were the ones who assisted you in that very moment, the only difference between them and you was being in the right place at the right time.

As it was placed around your neck, you had no choice but to look straight into the crowd of people who were clapping for you. Unexpectedly, someone stood from their seat.

It caused a ripple of everyone else following the lead, and before you knew it everyone was standing. You wish you could tell them to stay seated, you wish you could hand the medal right back to where it came from, but you were stuck.

Your eyes were now glued on the woman who stood first for you. Your own flesh and blood, aged a couple years, grey streaks littering the hair color you once knew, standing and clapping for you with a smile full of pride smeared across her face.

Maybe she did change, but your teenage defenses came flooding in and your felt yourself become small. You shrunk inwards, prepared to tiptoe quietly as to not mess up the smile on her face that was always so fast to disappear at the smallest of accidental disappointments. The chances of her getting better were slim, but the chances that she was smiling and clapping for you, her precious daughter, was all a show for her own peers in the section around her was larger than your life itself.

Steve sensed your drop in confidence the very moment it happened, and followed your gaze. When he saw her he didn't even need to ask for confirmation, because although you denied your similarities, he found a woman who shared your smile and nose.

Unsuspectingly, you started receiving hugs and congratulations from each avenger. When Steve left a quick kiss on your cheek and pulled you in for his turn, you took the chance while you had it.

"She's here." You told him quietly, pretending as though he was congratulating you again for the millionth time that day alone.

"I know, I see her." Steve let you know. "Are you okay?"

"Yep" you had to keep it short and sweet to stay inconspicuous.

You managed to hold it together regardless of your personal feelings. Steve was right, there was so much love and happiness to be spread around tonight surrounded by your colleagues that you managed to bite your tongue and swallow away the bitter taste her presence left in your mouth.

When it was her turn to shake hands and take pictures with the team, they all did you a solid by taking up all the available space surrounding her. You managed to get away with a disingenuous smile at the very end corner of the group photo you knew she was probably dying to post on social media to show off your success.

The same success she had no part in nurturing, no reason to be proud of.

Years of your professional life was spent perfecting a handshake that was firm enough to show confidence, and soft enough to come across as friendly. She got your absolute worst, a single shake with a flimsy grip.

Petty? Maybe. Immature? Possibly. But you made it through a night you were dreading for months, so you were just proud of yourself for getting through it.

The moment the event was over and your professional engagement was no longer required, all of the Avengers were ushered off the stage and into the back halls to go straight to the private after party.

As insisted, you were going to have a fun time and nobody was going to take any excuse as a valid reason to not let loose. The moment you made it into the room where the party was, Tony placed a shot in your hand, and you immediately took it.

The vodka shooting down your throat pulled your mind away from the icky feeling that lingered in your soul. Your medal was taken off your neck by staff you'd trust with your life and was placed in a safe locked box in your room.

Music started, heels came off, and more people arrived to fill all the empty and quiet places with nothing but love.

Bucky and Sam grabbed you mid conversation with your old commanding officer and you were flung over Sam's shoulder. More shots, so much dancing with whoever could get their hands on you.

Every once in a while you'd look around to find Steve, and he was always somewhere around the room being pulled in a million directions talking to someone new with a big smile on his face. He seemed to be having just as good of a time as you were.

A few hours and a few shots went by before you needed a break from the high energy on the dance floor, so you grabbed a water and sat at the bar next to a friend you were happy to catch up with.

You swore you chatted her up without a care in the world, fifteen minutes felt like three hours. She got up to go to the bathroom and you chugged down the rest of your water before another person approached you.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a place like this all by herself?" Steve spoke smoothly like he was in an old time movie.

"Well you see, I'm not one to frequent a place like this, but it was dark and stormy out. I needed a warm place to go." You went along with the joke, your eyes did glance out the window to make sure it was, in fact, dark and stormy out. It was probably getting late but you had no concept of the time at the moment.

"Well, did you find it?" He questioned.

"Find what?"

"A warm place to hideaway from the storm?"

"Well, I certainly found a handsome fella to occupy my time while I wait for it to pass. With a face like that I outta' come around here more often." You shamelessly flirted with your own boyfriend.

"You found just the right man, Miss. You know, a beautiful dame in a dress like that in this part of town is quite dangerous. I'm going to have to beat everyone away with a stick." He smirked.

"Yeah? What would I have done without you?" You bat your eyelashes.

"Who knows." He shrugged.

"And what would those people have done to me?"

"They wouldn't appreciate you the same way I do." He shook his head.

You stepped closer to him and he took the chance to put his hand on the small of your back to keep you close. Feeling quite possessive of your sweet soldier, you claimed him too with a hand on his chest as you leaned in to make it a little more provocative.

"So, what would you like to do to me?" You blinked slowly.

His mouth dropped and cheeks flushed as you started pushing his buttons in a room full of people closest to you.

"Seems like you're not such a nice girl after all." He shook his head, eyebrows still raised and cheeks stippled with shades of pink.

He looked so cute like that.

"Never said I was, Captain." You instigated once more, definitely a little too drunk for your own good.

"Okay that's it" Steve laughed. "You're in for it now."

"No I'm not." You denied in a fit of giggles as you started taking big backwards steps towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" He questioned, taking large playful steps towards you. "You can talk the talk but can't walk the walk?"

"Oh you wanna walk the walk right now? In front of all of these people?" You questioned, getting ready to run. "Never knew you were such a... voyeur."

"Baby, you're bad." Steve laughed as you turned around to face forward and squeaked out a drunken giggle, running barefoot through people trying to lose him.

He followed as fast as he could to the best of his abilities until he saw you run right out of the party ballroom into the more calm and quiet compound hallway.

With no people in his way now, he was able to pick up his speed and catch you from behind the second you let your guard down. His arms around your torso allowed him to pick you up and twirl you around causing another eruption of laughter.

He couldn't help but to laugh at your chaos and take on your contagious smile when he spun you around once more to face him.

"If I'm so bad then why'd you run after me?" You laughed, very gently play punching him.

He did a very good job at blocking your punches just as gently as you threw them at him.

"You're so bad" he repeated, shaking his head once again. "And when you walk around looking like this?! Truly a danger to my health and well-being"

"I feel like you brought this upon yourself." You threw the tiniest of punches to his shoulder, but his hand caught your wrist. "Who let you think that Captain America in a three piece suit was legal? Hmm? You're killing people, Stevie."

"You're so drunk" Steve laugh rang out.

"You're not drunk enough" You bantered.

"I tried to match you, but it's not working."

"Well obviously you're not trying hard enough!"

"Have you eaten anything in the past few hours?" He asked, poking your sides to instigate your childish laughter.

"You're so pretty, I'm going to eat you" You caught his arm the same way he caught yours a few seconds ago, and took a big ol' pretend bite right out of his bicep.

"Maybe you need more water" He rubbed the part of his covered arm that you pretended to bite, unable to wipe the stupid smile off his face.

"Bucky!" You exclaimed as Bucky walked out into the hall.

"Are you trying to eat him?" Bucky asked. "I came to rescue Steve from the cannibal in the hallway."

"You can't blame me, he looks and smells so yummy." You defended yourself, lifting Steves arm up to Bucky. "You want a taste?"

"I'm good." Bucky laughed, grabbing Steve's arm and placing it back down to his side.

"More for me" you shrugged.

"Sam and Nat wanted to know if you would take another shot with them?" Bucky asked what he actually intended to come all that way for.

"I don't know if that's such a great idea, big guy over here thinks I should be eating more food and drinking more water." You shook your head with a smile.

Bucky gasped and wrapped his arms around you from the side, cradling your head in his metal hand. "Steven! You're trying to sober her up? On her big night? You monster!"

"She tried to eat me!" He defended himself, hands up in defense, cheeks starting to feel sore.

"He sucks" Bucky rocked you back and forth. "Another shot?" He asked again.

"Will you hold my hair back while I puke?" You questioned right back.

Bucky released you and stepped away. "Sorry, not my job. Steve can help you out with that"

"I'm trying to prevent that" Steve defended the situation.

"I don't know who I'm supposed to trust anymore!" You said dramatically. "You both wouldn't hold my hair back for me, that's so mean"

"I didn't say that" Steve denied.

"Bucky, I don't think Steve would love me if I was a worm" You told the other soldier.

"I'm sorry, Doll. I would love you if you were a worm even if he didn't." Bucky played along.

"If you were a what?" Steve questioned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"A worm, Steven." Bucky scoffed. "If she turned into a worm, would you still love her? Really, it's a simple question."

"Baby, if you turned into a worm I'd make you the worm house of your dreams and take care of you." Steve claimed your statement to be false.

"Ha! ...and Bucky wouldn't even hold my hair back."

"Which is exactly why you're my girl and not his." Steve proudly claimed you, following Bucky's actions and claiming you in his own arms after seeing you wrapped up with his best friend.

"Hey, give her back!" Bucky pouted.

"Nope, all mine" Steve denied as you laughed in his hold.

"I guess I should tell Sam and Nat no more sho-" Bucky started, but was cut off.

"Chameleon?" A fourth voice made you freeze in place, and the nickname you haven't been called since childhood made your once happy heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

You didn't want to look, you didn't want Steve to let you go, and you hoped that it was an odd coincidence from a stranger trying to pass through the halls.

Unfortunately, life doesn't always work that way. Steve slowly let you out of his arms, immediately fixing his tie and pressing down his suit jacket while standing tall.

Bucky cleared his throat, "Yeah, uh, I'm going to go find Sam and Natasha." He turned on his heels and walked right back into the event.

Steve didn't really know what to do in that moment, but you knew that you felt stone cold sober now and you wished you could go back to three minutes ago when you were having a blast annoying the soldiers.

"Captain Rogers, honor to meet you." Your mom appeared in front of you, reaching her hand out to shake his for a second time tonight.

For the first time ever, you saw Steve in a moment of being rendered speechless. He didn't know how to respond, if it was appropriate to congratulate her on success in the military, or if he should be yelling at her for being unauthorized in a high security building approaching a private event with no invitation.

He shook it, and opened his mouth hoping that something, literally anything would come out. Instead, she spoke once again.

"You two seem to be comfortable with each other!" She enthused. You knew where this was headed, and you immediately wanted to cry. "And my gosh, my little chameleon, you've become not so little anymore. I hardly recognized you, you've grown into yourself so well... an avenger? Wow."

"Is that so hard to believe?" You questioned, speaking your first words to her since 18 years old.

"Do you remember that photo of you that your dad took when you were 8 years old? The one where you were running around the back yard with a plastic Captain America shield?"

"Mom" You warned, already feeling embarrassed enough to want to fall through the floor.

"I still hear that tiny voice screaming loud enough for all the neighbors to hear that you were going to save the day. And here you are." She looked from you, to Steve, then back at you with judgmental eyes. "Yeah. It's a little hard to believe."

There was no super hero in the grand scheme of the entire multiverse that could come and save you from being belittled in front of Steve. You knew he couldn't cut in unless she was being downright disruptive, and he couldn't leave and live with himself for breaking a promise to you.

"And why is that?" You shrunk into yourself and glued your eyes to the floor, suddenly remembering your bare feet.

You were no longer glowing or radiant, you didn't feel quite as big as you did all those years away from her. You knew now what she saw, a drunken disappointment in the hallway, an imposter, a mess with no shoes taking advantage the only man who could fill the broken void of your childhood.

But you never thought of Steve that way, and certainly that's not why you fell in love with him. Standing in front of her and next to him, you had never felt so insecure.

Did you subconsciously fall into the lap of this relationship to heal parts of yourself that therapy couldn't? Was it weird or morally wrong to be romantically involved with Steve? Did you trap him with a sob story and make him feel too bad to leave?

Holy shit. Did you have do defend this behavior and your relationship in front of your mother?

Maybe it was time to retire this career and start a new one somewhere else. Something small and simple, maybe a barista in an independently owned coffee shop, or a florist spending your day with your nose deep in the flowers.

"I guess when you were a kid you were just so focused on yourself and so... heartless... it's hard to imagine you living a life revolved around selflessness and empathy." She spoke so casually you almost accepted those words as true.

You could hear Steve take in a big breath, he squirmed in place, visibly uncomfortable with the situation and upset by her words.

"Heartless" you repeated quietly. The room spun around you but you weren't sure if that was the anxiety or the alcohol. "Selfish. How? How are those the only two words you could think of to describe me when all I did with my life before adulthood was take care of you?"

"Take care of me?" She scoffed. "You know how hard I had to work every day to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head?"

"That's the bare minimum you sign up to do when having a kid." You mumbled.

"After all these years I thought that maybe you would've changed your mind about me being some sort of villain."

"You've done nothing to change my mind. No apologies, no effort to mend our relationship..."

"Maybe it'll take you having your own kids to understand how hard it is to be a mother." She cut you off. "But seeing as you can't treat your own flesh and blood with respect, you aren't fit to be one yet."

"I think you've mistaken this event as an open house, and I think you're here way past your allotted time." You finally spoke up.

"And this continuing to be your behavior even under today's circumstances and in front of one of the most respected men in the world is disappointing." Her voice got louder to undermine the fact that yours did too. "Imagine explaining this to your 8 year old self. What would she think? I know your father would be disappointed at best."

"What exactly are you here for, ma'am?" Steve instantly snapped when she tried to weaponize his very existence using her dead father.

Your vocal cords were tied tightly into a knot, nothing could come out, you could barely breathe, and a single tear fell down your cheek. In attempts to not let her win, you wiped it away as quickly as you could.

"I wanted a chance to congratulate my daughter, but I'm not so sure she deserves that anymore." She spat venom at you. "You know, a flashy title and a medal around your neck means nothing without a family to love you."

"She does have a family that loves her, they're all in that room right now." Steve proudly wrapped his arm around you and pointed to the party. "There's a reason why you aren't allowed in there, so I suggest you leave. Especially because I'm sure your commanding officer would be disappointed to hear that you're continuing this dishonorable behavior in front of one of the most respected and remarkable women in the world."

You couldn't even help the sob that escaped the back of your throat before covering your mouth with your hand and hiding your face into his side. He could've used his own title and authority to scare her off, but instead he picked you up off the floor she held you down on and placed you on a pedestal above her head.

She tried to make you feel small, perhaps that's how she always saw you, but Steve always thought you were larger than life. His actions and words continued to prove that in every difficult situation.

He was always so soft and kind around you that you forgot that he even had such a stern and commanding bone in his body.

"She is my daughter." You mother stood her ground.

"You do not own her. Leave." Steve practically growled.

The silence was loud as she scoffed and walked off with a stomp in her feet, hands balled into fists.

Steve left you for a moment to tell the nearest security to escort her out and make sure she actually exited the premises this time, and by the time he got back and placed his hands on your shoulders to console you, he was nothing but soft again.

Your hands hid your face, too embarrassed to even speak to him at the moment. Overwhelmed, ashamed, consumed by anxiety on the brink of a panic attack, you couldn't step foot in that room again.

Not with tears streaking your mascara and the hem of your dress bunching against the floor due to your lack of heels.

Steve felt his heart squeezing in his chest when you couldn't even open your eyes to look at his face, he could only imagine you were feeling belittled and embarrassed. He would do anything to take that weight off your shoulders, make sure you knew that you had nothing to be ashamed of, but no words would break through the barrier you had to build in order to protect yourself.

You needed your own time and space to break that down, and you would. You were brave enough to do so. Just not right now, not when you desperately needed a bulletproof casing to keep all of the harsh words and criticism out of your mind.

"Baby" Steve's hands traveled from your shoulders up your neck and onto your own hands that hid your face. "You're okay, I love you. It's okay"

"I have to go" Your voice shook.

"That's okay" His thumbs ran along the backside of your hands. "I know you need some alone time, but would you like me to walk you home or are you going to be okay getting back on your own?"

"I'm fine." You inhaled deeply and rubbed your face once more before dropping your hands and crossing your arms over your chest tightly. "I'll be fine."

"Alright" Steve kissed the top of you head. "I'll come check on you in a bit."

It was hard for him to let you walk away by yourself when all he wanted to do was make sure you got home okay and tuck you in tightly under your blankets, but letting you go alone was what you needed in that moment so he forced himself to take that step back.

He walked back in that room and explained the situation to Tony and Bucky, and stayed a little while longer acquainting himself to all the important people in your life who loved you so deeply.

About an hour and a half later, it was well into the middle of the night and guests started leaving so he took the opportunity to sneak out and contemplate his next move on the walk back.

He didn't want to bother you or make you feel pressured into being around him if you still felt defensive, but the thought of you sleeping in a cold bed alone all night when you were already so sad made him want to cry a little bit.

He decided that the best thing to do was to change out of his formal wear and into some sweats before going into your room to check on you. Maybe some extra comfort would be beneficial to the both of you.

Unlocking his bedroom door and stepping through, he kicked off his shoes and ran a hand through his styled hair before noticing the lump under the covers of his bed. It made his heart beat a little faster before it melted into a puddle.

He changed into sweatpants and a hoodie as quickly as he could, as he brushed his teeth he took note of how you turned off the soundproofing to hear the rain putter against the roof and floor to ceiling windows.

Once he was ready to submit to the night, he walked over to the side of his bed you were sleeping on. Normally it was his side, but he could tell you planted yourself there for a reason, and who was he to disturb that?

He kneeled next to the bed, and only when he tucked your hair behind your ear did he notice that you were sound asleep.

All the makeup you worked so hard on was gone without a trace, your eyes were swollen and your nose was stained pink. Although you were sad, he couldn't help but to smile. He thought you looked just as beautiful this way.

Realizing he didn't want to wake you, he planted a feather light kiss to your head before walking back to the other side to slide in next to you.

Though he tried his hardest, you woke up to slowly being engulfed by your favorite strong arms, and pulled against your favorite warm body. You shuffled backwards a bit to meet the front of his body with the back of yours, one of your hands intertwined with one of his while the other held onto his forearm that was keeping you safe and secure. You brought the back of his hand to your mouth before kissing it and tucking it into your chest close to your heart.

"I'm sorry" you sleepily mumbled, feeling a pang of physical pain as he held you so tenderly.

"I'm not allowing you to apologize for something that's not your fault." Steve denied. "None of that has ever been your fault."

"You shouldn't have had to hear that, or see me like that. So, I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be." Steve settled, his chin nuzzling into the top of your head. "I'm sorry you've been treated like that for so much of your life. You deserved so much better."

"I'm not allowing you to apologize for something that's not your fault" You repeated his words. "Thank you for sticking up for me, that's the first time anyone has ever spoken up to her."

"Anytime, Princess." He squeezed your hand. "I hope you know that you aren't the one your father would be disappointed in."

You nodded, feeling the tears rush back to your eyes. If you speak another word they would flood the gates and flow until you got yourself to sleep again.

"He would be proud, so so proud of you. I'm proud of you. Everyone in their right minds is proud of you, and the world owes you an un-payable debt."

"I didn't even do anything that special" Your voice accidentally jumped an octave higher in your losing battle against your tears.

"Yes you did, and I'll shout it from the rooftops until you understand." He squeezed you a little tighter. "I think the whole world of you. No matter what your role, daughter, avenger, friend, girlfriend, maybe even mom one day if you want to be, you hit the ball out of the park. You exceed all expectations, and if someone can't see that, that's on them. That's not on you. I'm the luckiest man in the universe to have the privilege of loving you."

"I love you so much" You told him, squeezing your eyes shut to try and stop the tears.

"I love you too." He calmly exhaled. "Are you feeling okay? Do you need a snack or some water?"

"I'm okay, I think I just need to sleep." You slowly flipped onto your other side to face him.

"Okay." He let you dig your face into his chest as he held you tightly in his arms to hide you away from the world that had hurt you tonight. "Wake me up if you need me, alright? Sweet dreams, sweet girl.

"Sleep tight." You mumbled into his chest.

He woke up pretty late the next morning given that everyone had been awake until 2am the previous night. The sun was shining aggressively bright through the large windows and hitting his eyes, he could hear birds chirping and the hustle and bustle of whatever was going on outside. You weren't with him in bed, but he could hear the sounds of cookware in the kitchen, the unusual whirl of the mixer being used.

He got up and stretched, not even bothered to fix his hair before dragging his feet all the way to the common area that was oddly empty except for you.

You could hear him coming, the shuffling socks on the hardwood was a dead giveaway. He stopped and looked around before blinking slowly at you in confusion.

"Where is everyone?" He questioned sleepily, sitting down on a stool at the island and letting his head and back slump forward onto his elbows.

"Deployed." You answered, measuring out powdered sugar to add to the butter and vanilla in the mixer.

"Really?"

"Yep" you popped the P dramatically. "Literally everyone but us two got put on emergency last night around 4. They must've heard what happened and decided to cut us some slack, we have the whole place to ourselves." You grinned with amusement.

Your dimpled cheeks were so refreshing to his worried and busy mind.

"Hmmm" he hummed, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander for a while.

After a few minutes, you placed a cup of coffee in front of him just how he liked it before rubbing his back and kissing the adorable blonde mess on top of his head. "Still sleepy?"

"I'm getting old, baby. I stay up late for one night and I feel like I have to sleep for two days to recover." He complained, perking up at the smell of coffee.

"Well, you can sleep all day if you want and nobody is here to make fun of you for it." You noted, stopping the mixer once your frosting was nice and smooth.

"Sounds so nice" Steve yawned after taking down some coffee and letting his head fall again.

As you put the frosting into a piping bag with a metal tip on it, you mind couldn't escape last night. You were trying your very hardest to disregard all the weird thoughts your mom planted into your head, especially the ones about your relationship with Steve.

You never questioned the dynamic before, no one has ever brought it up, but now you were clouded and fogged by worry.

A morning alone with him should feel domestic and happy, a small glimpse into what the future could hold if you chose that for yourselves.

Rain falling outside, both of you bundled up in your coziest clothes, your extra lazy boyfriend falling asleep slumped over the island with a hot cup of coffee, homemade cupcakes that were begging for some frosting.

People would kill for moments like these, and you couldn't even enjoy it through your racing heart and even faster mind. Your mom made you question your intentions with your sweet boy with one single glance, and now you couldn't help but to feel like he deserved better all over again.

You should've been brave and stood up for yourself. You should've told her how you really felt, aired out all your dirty laundry, screamed it from the top of your lungs, but instead you mumbled and muttered and cried.

Brave, mighty, strong, none of those words seemed to suit you. Maybe this really wasn't the job for you, and that feeling of uncertainty you had the first few weeks here was more of a gut feeling you weren't cut out for this.

You mindlessly piped frosting onto the cupcakes and got halfway through the dozen before Steve's head popped up in realization and pouted.

"You're baking?" He asked.

"Mhm" you nodded quietly, eyes fixed on the cupcake you were working on.

"Not feeling very talkative?"

"Just a little tired, that's all." You tried to convince him you were okay as to not inconvenience him any more than you already have.

He didn't do much in response to that, and it made your heart sink. You fully convinced yourself that he had given up on you.

You officially annoyed him and pushed jokes too far while you were drunk last night, you shouldn't have let Bucky hug you the way he did, maybe you should've found a different color dress that matched your complexion a little better.

"Oh my god!" You squeaked in surprise when you were lifted up and placed sat on the counter. "What the heck, man?!"

Piping bag still in hand, cupcakes pushed out of the way, Steve stood between your legs. You didn't even notice him get up or hear him coming.

"I love you, do you not understand that?" Steve questioned with all the seriousness in the world dropping from his tone.

"I'm confused" You cocked your head to the side.

He took the bag of frosting out of your hand and placed it on the counter. "You only bake when you're sad. I can tell your mind is running away from you, and you're shutting me out."

"I didn't mean to shut you out" you admitted sadly, your gut already telling you what's coming.

"You don't have to lie to me and say that you're tired instead of saying what's actually wrong. You know I can tell the difference."

"I'm sorry, I- it's just tha-" you scrambled to try and explain what what going on in your head. "I'm trying to process. That's all."

"You still won't even look at me." Steve told you, coming your hair through his fingers. "Why?"

You made it a point to look at his face, and all you saw was golden honey, the sweet angel who you've grown to love with all your heart.

You sighed and slumped.

"You can tell me the truth" he reminded you sweetly.

"My mom takes my self esteem and crushes it into tiny little pieces" You let the words leave your mouth. "Right now, I'm trying to convince myself that everything my brain is telling me is a lie and that I deserve to be here with you."

"Look at me" He grabbed hold of your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to direct your head back up. When you looked him in the eyes, he continued speaking. "I love you. All of you. Everything about you. If you need me to say that a billion times to believe it, I'll do it."

"Do you want a cupcake?" You offered, picking up a frosted one off the counter.

"I love you"

"There's no sprinkles yet but I can put some one really quick"

"I love you"

"It's vanilla cake with american buttercream" you started unwrapping it.

"I love you"

"I know you like cream cheese frosting but we were out of cream cheese so this was the best I could do."

"I love you"

"Steve" You complained.

"Hmm?" His hand rubbed your thigh while the other remained on your back.

"Will you please eat this cupcake before I lose my mind?" You pleated.

He took it from your hands and put it to your mouth prompting to take a bite first, and once you did he took one too.

"Oh my god" he thew his head back. "So fucking good. Another reason why I love you so much."

"Steve"

"What?"

"I love you" You told him.

"I know you do" He set the other half of the cupcake down, taking note that he would definitely finish it later. "Quite honestly, I'm a little offended that you don't know that I love you. Means I'm not doing my job right."

"I know you do, you're doing your job very well." You told him, he pulled you forward so he could touch just a little more of you.

"But?" He raised an eyebrow.

"But... how I'm feeling right now is not your fault. You shouldn't feel a responsibility to fix it. I'll be okay, I just need some time."

"Can I have more frosting please?" Steve asked politely.

Too wrapped up in your own mind to verbally respond, you grabbed the piping bag next to you, and squeezed some onto his finger that he had held out and waiting.

He quickly smeared the frosting onto the tip of your nose before his cheeks turned pink and a laugh escaped.

"Oh you suck" You but the inside of your cheek to try and contain the smile you didn't want him to know you had. "Jokes on you, you didn't even get to eat anymore frosting. Let me help you out with that"

You squeezed the bag as hard as you could over his lips, he turned his head to try and get away but it ended up smearing all the way up the left side of his cheek.

His mouth hung open for a moment in surprise before swiping it off his face and into his mouth.

"Just as delicious when I eat it off my face" He stated, then boldly licked it off the tip of your nose. "And yours"

"You're crazy" You said while wiping your nose with the back of your hand with joy that seemed to be breaking through the thick barrier of sadness. "And still so handsome, even with frosting face"

"Yeah?" A lopsided smile poked through.

"Yeah"

Steve grabbed the sides of your face before going in for a steady kiss, lengthy and impassioned. Just his lips alone were telling you everything you needed to know, like he was speaking to you through through physical touch. Just when you started to feel like you needed to catch your breath, he pulled away and let his forehead settle on yours.

"However you feel, however she makes you feel is not your fault." He whispered against your lips. "But what I'm never going to let her do is dictate the way you feel about yourself, and let her get into your head about the way I feel about you."

In a moment of lust and desperation to not have to process the hard emotions that came with the words he was speaking to you, you initiated another buttercream flavored kiss. Vanilla and sugar tasted oh so sweet on his tongue as his hands traveled down to your hips. Once again, the unfortunate human need to breath to survive got in the way of your plans to shut him up.

"I've never doubted your ability to keep up. You are your own toughest critic. I've never met anyone more capable of being here and being mine." He continued, planting a few quick pecks to your silky smooth lips. "I thank the universe for you every day, and I love you."

"Damn it, Steve." You dramatically flailed your arms before running your hands up his back. "How do you always know what to say and do to make any situation better? How are you this perfect?"

It started becoming a little hard to speak between kisses, and even though you were now glued to his front and latched onto him like a koala, you still couldn't seem to get close enough.

"I just thi-"

"Will you stop for a second and just keep kissing me?" You spoke against his lips. "I can't get enough of you."

"Yes ma'am" He nodded with shades of pink quickly stippling across his cheeks before following strict orders.

Passing time was a concept that completely dissipated as the two of you entangled yourself. Seconds, minutes, hours, none of it mattered. Not when your mouths tasted like cupcakes and your bodies were so warm to contrast the winter rain hitting the windows.

Your hands were never shy to roam and dance around his incredible body, you loved gliding your hands over all the smooth bumps and ridges of muscle. As you snuck your hands up the back of his hoodie, they found their rightful place on his shoulder blades. He physically shivered and you could feel goosebumps raise on his skin causing both of you to giggle into each others kiss.

"You know the good part of the whole team being gone is that we get to eat all the cupcakes by ourselves" Steve spoke again now that he found a natural break in the heat of the moment.

"I'm sure you'll have no issue accomplishing that" You agreed with him.

"And you know the other good part of the whole team being gone?"

"Hmm?" You questioned.

"I get to take my time with you." He kissed the very corner of you jaw right under your ear. "Savor every square inch of you" working his way down your neck, he made it to your collar bones. "You get to be as loud as you need, and I get to take you right here, right now."

His words got you worked up embarrassingly fast. The crimson headache flooded all of your logical reasoning, and every single part of your body was aching to get him closer, take him deeper, crawl into him. It was intoxicating.

"People eat on this counter, baby" You tried reasoning with him, though you were a little more than excited for what was about to come.

"I'll clean it" He pulled your sweater over your head just to be visibly annoyed by your tank top underneath. Attaching your mouths in a steamy kiss dialed up a thousand degrees, more worry filled your head.

"The cameras" You wined feeling like there were too many obstacles in the way. "What if someone hears us?"

He had never been this risky or adventurous before, it had your head spinning and your center throbbing with need. "Friday" Steve called out to the artificial intelligence controlling the building while working off his own sweatshirt.

"How may I assist you, Captain?" She responded just as he got it over his head and tossed it on the floor.

"Turn on private sector soundproofing, and turn off visual and audio recording" He had to practically pry you off of him as you started making advances on him, your hands wandered down the front of his stomach while you kissed his shoulders in attempts to get his pants off.

He caught your wrists in his hands and shook his head before attaching your lips together hungrily as Friday assisted in the necessary steps before the two of you could shed more layers.

"Request complete."

"This isn't about me, so don't even try it." He informed you, voice husky with arousal. "I want you to feel how loved you are, so all I want you to do is relax, feel good, and take it. Okay?"

"That seems a little unfa-" He cut you off by attaching your lips and grabbing the bottom of you tank top to pull over your head.

"Okay?" He asked again once you were in sweatpants and a bra. It was less of a question and more of a demand.

"Okay" You released a shaky breath and a semi-nervous nod.

No matter how many times you found yourself in this position with him, you never found yourself to be less nervous about it. He always made you feel comfortable, cared for and so so good, but he was just so incredibly beautiful and commanding.

It was like ravenous butterflies exploding out of your stomach, and flooding upwards into your racing heart, tingly lips, swarming in your brain. Just looking at his blown out pupils and fast breathing made you feel needy and restless until you got exactly what your body needed.

He pulled your body closer once more, kissing you as one hand unhooked the back of your bra and the other held the back of you head steady. You shrugged it off and he tossed it onto the floor.

Steve couldn't help the satisfaction as you began to take off your own pants for him, so quick to trust him and allow him to make you feel good that you did the work to get him exactly where you needed him as fast as you could. All while his hands massaged your boobs, nipples between his thumb and forefingers, and his lips sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck that always left you whimpering.

"You looked so beautiful last night" he stated as his hands made their way to your hips, they squeezed gently before they removed the last remaining piece of fabric from your body leaving you completely bare for him. "I thought, wow how could anything be more beautiful than my girl right now? Then I woke up and saw you, and somehow I'm having those same thoughts all over again."

He kissed slowly down your body while pulling you forward to the very edge of the counter, and just as his lips made it to your lower belly, he stood back up and kissed your lips. He used his own body to encourage you to lay back onto your elbows as his hands massaged you thighs, they squeezed and moved in appreciation, celebrating how strong and soft they were. A risky movement occasionally sent a finger too close to where you needed him, and when his mouth attached to you right nipple, you almost saw stars.

Steve pulled his favorite sound out of you, tiny whimpers traveled from your throat, into his ears and right to his dick. Pleasuring you was his greatest form of gratification, nothing made him harder more than knowing you felt good.

"Baby" You complained, obvious need dripping from your voice.

"What's wrong, honey?" He pouted at your whine, almost mocking you.

"You're such a tease"

"We've got all day" He devilishly grinned, more fingers grazing your center. "So much time"

You felt so needy, throbbing beyond comprehension you couldn't even help yourself. You needed something, anything. "Please" you begged.

"How would you like me to please you?" He asked, just the idea of getting to choose made you let out a little noise.

Steve knew that you were completely oblivious to the way your hips were subtly rocking back and forth to try any feel anything at all, your thighs squeezed together to try and create friction. He wasn't having that, so he spread your legs apart and stood between them again so you physically couldn't close them.

"Something, anything" Your head spun.

"I just love you so much that I want to kiss every inch of you." He justified his actions. Holding onto your wrist, he kissed all the way down your upper arm to the back of your hand. Grabbing the piping bag once more, he squeezed frosting onto your two dominant fingers before shoving them into his mouth to lick it off and letting them linger while he coated them the best he could. You were speechless and so turned on that you we're convinced the pressure in your pussy would make you explode if you didn’t do anything about it soon.

"I want you to love yourself as much as I love you" He popped your fingers out of his mouth and guided your hand downward, making you touch yourself. "And since you're feeling too desperate to let me warship you the way that I want, you're going to practice some self love."

You couldn't even control yourself as you ran your fingers through your folds before adding pressure and drawing little circles around your overly sensitive clit. Letting out a moan, you couldn't believe how good you felt. All of this behavior was so new to Steve, it was naughtier and dirtier than your very private and vanilla prince ever let on. The whole scenario added to your pleasure as your mind ran laps around how hot it was.

"There you go" he sighed, finally feeling like you could both have exactly what you wanted.

Usually you'd feel a little self conscious under anyone's watchful eye, let-alone someone who looked like Steve, but his eyes were telling you that he wanted to devour you whole.

More moans continued to slip out past your mouth as you pleasured yourself in front of him, and he massaged, nipped and sucked anywhere he could get access to.

"How does that feel, princess?" He questioned, kissing you before you even got the chance to answer. "You making yourself feel good?"

"Mhm" You moaned out something close to a response.

"You look so pretty like this" He spoke into the shell of your ear. "Is this what you do when we're away from each other?"

"Yeah" you squeaked. “Miss you too much when you’re gone”

"When you send me all those naughty pictures when you know damn well there's nothing I can do to help myself?" He teased. "It's even more beautiful in person- watching you get off and I'm not even doing anything to help."

"Steve, please" You moaned, his words carried you a lot further than you'd like to admit.

"Nuhuh. Nope" He denied. "I'm not even going to think about touching your pussy until you give yourself all the love you need. Make yourself cum, then I'll consider."

New mission in mind, you started working towards your goal. Slipping in two fingers, one after the other while continuing to play with your bud made that fire in your belly burn even brighter.

Steve could tell you were getting closer, all he could do was prey that you'd climax soon because he's never wanted to please someone more than in this moment. You just looked so helpless, but that was something you'd have to get through all on your own.

"Besides, I'm enjoying the show a little too much to put an end to it yet." He smiled.

Although he was putting on a front, he wasn't a complete asshole and he still wanted you to feel his love stemming through every moment your bare skin was under his hands, so he continued to play with your nipples to deliver as much gratification as he could without touching you where he vowed not to.

More moans flowed and each one was louder and more worked up than the next, that pressure kept building and that fire kept burning hotter and hotter but it never snapped.

Thoroughly frustrated, you babbled out what you think was along the lines of "ugh,baby, I can't. I can't- please"

"Yes you can" Steve reassured you. "Come on, sweetheart, make yourself cum."

You thrusted your fingers in and out of your hole a little faster, rubbed your clit a little harder, and felt all the more frustrated.

"You make such pretty sounds, my love." He cooed in your ear. "We've got so much time, why do you want to cum so fast? Hmm?"

"I want you to fuck me" You cried out.

"Wow, all this just for me?" He asked. "Can't even imagine how pretty you'll sound when I finally touch you."

The pressure built and built...

"I've never wanted to make love to you more than I do right here, right now. Cum for me, let me make you feel good honey." He whispered.

His lips met yours once more then...

Snap.

You gasped and moaned a little louder than usual, Steve smiled against you.

"There she is!" He exclaimed proudly as you painted and tried to catch your breath. "How was that?"

"So dirty." You finally giggled, feeling a million pounds lighter with release. “I love it when you’re naughty like this.”

“You left me no choice” Steve tucked your hair behind your ear. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, I feel great” You nodded with a tired attempt at a smile.

“Yeah? You wanna keep going?” He questioned searching for a genuine response. “This is all about you, my love.”

His genuine concern for your well-being during sex always made you want him even more.

“Please.” You nodded before reaching your hands around his neck and pulling his bare torso against you and attaching your lips. All you wanted in that moment was to feel his skin on yours.

“Need a break?” He offered.

“Steve”

“I love the way you say my name” He admitted, kissing your nose.

“Will you please just fuck me?”

“I will” He reassured you. “…eventually.”

You closed your eyes and accepted that you would get what you wanted with time.

“But for now, I have other plans.” He stood up to his full height, never allowing his hands to remain still against your skin. “Just relax”

“It’s a little hard to relax with you between my legs” You admitted.

“That sounds like a personal problem” he stated before sinking to his knees, and his hands finally making it to your pussy. His thumb very gently started working your clit again until he felt like you were ready to take his fingers. After sliding one in and curving it slightly upwards, your beautiful sounds came back to warm his soul. “Poor baby, you’re so wet.”

“Wonder how that happened” You sassed, eyes remaining closed to try and allow yourself to actually relax and concentrate on the sensation he was providing to your body.

With no warning, his thumb disappeared and was replaced by his mouth. His tongue explored for a few moments before his lips attached and started sucking and licking your bud.

It pulled a heavenly moan and you rocked your hips before falling back onto your elbows, your fingers lacing in his hair. Steve’s head popped up in a small moment of concern.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, hands roaming the curves of your hips.

“God no- that felt so good” You shook your head, opening your eyes to look at him. “Keep going.”

“Okay, let me know if something hurts” He said, you knew he was always scared of not knowing his own strength accidentally hurting you. This conversation happened a minimum of once per every sexual interaction you two had.

"Darling... I'm not made of sugar" You reassured, caressing his head in your hands.

"You sure do taste like it" He retorted before attaching his mouth again.

His mouth was so warm creating a lovely contrast between the cold marble counter you laid on and his fingers made good work of that spongy spot inside your hole that he loved to call his best friend.

“Holy shit” You gasped, trying to bring back lost air from your lungs. “Oh fuck, yes, right there, keep going” you exclaimed as his mouth deliciously worked your clit in tandem with his fingers. That fire came back and burned bright with a vengeance.

You tried your hardest to keep your hips still, but the feeling was so overwhelming you couldn’t even control your movements.

Steve loved it when you started riding his face because he knew he was doing his job right. He was rewarded with your fluttering walls gripping onto his fingers, you dripped down his chin and coated his mouth deliciously.

“C-an you even breatmmmmm holy fuck” You cried out.

Quite honestly, he could’ve cum in his pants just from the noises you made alone. If he wasn’t so entranced by the taste of you on his tongue, and focused on making your mind think of nothing but him and his mouth he would’ve told you that he didn’t need to breathe, and that he could always catch his breath after he died of suffocation.

If that’s how he left this world, he would have gone a happy man.

“Right there, right there” You moaned out, completely unsure of how he even knew how to make you feel this good in the first place. “Just like that”

Since he was a smart man, he kept doing exactly what he was doing. His mouth continued licking and sucking as his fingers remained at the same pace.

As you panted and babbled out words and sounds that no longer made sense, he couldn’t help but to focus on the way you tightened around his fingers. You were so warm and wet his cock was twitching desperately in his pants, impatiently waiting for its own turn to please you.

Apparently, his mind ran so far away from him that he didn’t even notice the way you shuttered and bucked your hips right before your second orgasm crashed over you so hard that your legs shook and you couldn’t even squeak out a sound if you tried.

It pulled his mind right back to you, and he continued the motions with his tongue, licking up every last drop until your head lulled to the side and your body went limp.

You managed to produce a few pathetic whimpers as he continued going, it was becoming a little too sensitive to bare so grabbed his face and pulled him up. “Okay, okay, holy shit”

“Wanna taste?” He asked before hungrily attaching your lips.

It was intoxicating what he did to you. Your body felt limp and spent as if you could sleep for two weeks without a single care, yet when he attached his soggy face to yours and the taste of buttercream was replaced with your own essence, you found the energy to sit yourself up and kiss him until you were the one suffocating.

You reached for the band of his sweatpants, and he was two steps ahead of you trying to kick them off without having to remove his grip on your body.

Pulling them down for him, he was able to step out of them while keeping his mind and body focused on making out with you. You did the same with his boxers, and when his dick sprang free all you wanted was to take it into you hands.

It was his turn to gasp as you reached between your bodies to stroke him. He was hard as a rock, already twitching and leaking out in anticipation.

Just looking at it had you gushing all over again, completely unable to grasp how you could possibly be the one making him so pathetically hard without a single touch.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He questioned, taking himself into his own hand and pumping while you spread your legs in anticipation.

You nodded and gulped down a mouthful of drool, just wishing he would let you taste it but you knew that wouldn’t slide in this very moment. “Please, let me feel you.” Your arms found their way around his neck.

“You sure?” He checked in one last time just to make sure.

“Are you going to make me do it myself?” You asked desperately, only moments away from sticking it in for him.

“I’m all yours” He told you before stepping towards you one last time to close any distance, then slowly slid in the tip.

Watching your face warp with pleasure was the most beautiful sight and it gave him the butterflies every single time. As he kept slowly pushing his length into you, it felt better than a physical connection. It was always more than that.

It felt like intertwining your souls, becoming one being together. And when he was fully sheathed, he never failed to be incredibly loved by you. You gave him so much of yourself, so much of your body, so much of your trust that he felt a responsibility to do the only thing he could- make you feel just as loved in return.

No matter how hard he had to fight the urge to move, he always waited until you moved first. His eyes squeezed shut and his mouth parted as you gave him the physical green light to start rocking his hips.

He started slow until he could feel your body relax around him, then he thrusted faster. “There you go, you’re taking me so well Honey”

You felt absolutely ethereal, letting go of every single thought that wasn’t Steve in that very moment.

As he continued to thrust into you, he laid you back util you were fully laying on the counter with your legs crossed around his back. He leaned over you and cradled his hands under your head to hold you close and make sure you were comfortable.

He kissed you passionately, sweeter than sugar as your hand roamed his back and the other squeezed the back of his neck.

You moaned into each other’s mouths as he found that sweet spot inside of you once more, and your mind went completely numb. He detached your lips but kept his face close to maintain eye contact.

“You’re absolutely decadent, my sweet Angel” he panted, and although his thrusts were slower than his normal pace, it felt overwhelmingly good. He was conveying his message perfectly, this was nothing but making love. “Nobody could ever make me feel the way you do, you know that?”

He continued hitting your sweet spot over and over again, making your eyes squeeze shut and your waist curve up off the counter.

“Open your eyes, sweetie, let me see your face”

You listened to his words, and he smiled when he saw your eyes again. His face was full of pleasure, and the thought of him feeling just as good as you were made your walls squeeze tightly around him.

“Holy shit, baby.” His head dropped into the crook of your neck as he savored your warmth, but it quickly popped back up again to look at you. “I love you so fucking much”

“I love you too” You moaned, running your fingers through his messy hair.

His thrusts turned into deep, long strokes that had you seeing stars.

“Oh my god, oh my- jesus” you gasped, fluttering around him.

“You feel so fucking good” he cried out. “Only you. You are the only one who could ever make me feel like this. Do you understand how incredible you are?”

You whimpered some more, holding onto him for dear life, “Steve-“

“I know, baby.” He kissed you, and when he attached his lips to your mouth he felt you fluttering even more.

So, he kept kissing you and trying to hang onto the pressure building in his own stomach as his balls twitched with every thrust.

You two stayed like that for a while, holding each other in your arms, kissing until you couldn’t breath, basking in the pleasure of each others bodies while he tried to fuck the very concept of your own greatness into your hard head.

Nothing but the sounds of moans, breathing, and skin slapping filled the room while you opened your eyes and looked up at him again.

Your heart skipped a beat or two as the realization of what he’s been trying to tell you finally sank in. Tears filled your eyes as you really looked at his sweet face, and his love clouded all of your senses.

You looked deeply into his blue eyes that held nothing but admiration for you, they were turned slightly upwards, desperate to make sure you understood the gravity of his true feelings. He touched your body in all the right places to make you feel all the right things, but at the same time he touched your heart and connected your souls. You could hear verbal affirmation of your effects on him. Heavy breathing, heavenly moans, and constant declarations of love. He genuinely meant and believed in every single one of them. The smell of his fresh cologne and your bodies mingling filled your nose, with the occasional whiff of vanilla cupcakes. But you were okay with that, vanilla always reminded you of him. When you tasted the product of your sacred love on his lips, it all seemed to make sense. You loved him, and he loved you back.

It really was that pure. It really was that simple.

So when there was physical evidence that you finally understood his point, and you made love to him so decadently, the efforts of his love washed over you once again.

A big physical release, along with a big mental release of all the self doubt you had been harboring since the moment you met him in that hallway.

His love spilled into you as the euphoria set in your brain, and you held him as close as you could. Sitting up as his movements became still, your arms locked him in tight, and your face shoved into the crook of his neck.

He left little kisses on your shoulder as he pulled out. He could’ve been speaking words to you, but you didn’t hear them. All you cared about was soaking in this moment.

Especially when he picked you up in his strong arms and you wrapped around him like a koala. He brought you into his room and got the two of you snuggled up in his bed for maximum comfort.

He could always clean the two of you up later, and the clothes on the kitchen floor weren’t going to run away if he didn’t immediately retrieve them, but right now was a moment that needed to be savored.

The two of you caught your breath together amongst the soft blankets against your bare skin.

Your arms squeezed him nice and tight before your body went limp against him. Snuggled up to his side with your head on his shoulder, legs tangled, your hand on his chest and his hand playing with your hair.

You intertwined your free hands, they rested comfortably on his stomach and your eyes focused on the matching friendship bracelets that have seen better days.

With no one around, and nothing but a head massage to occupy your mind, you finally felt like you knew where you belonged.

It was a place where you didn’t have to change yourself as a defense mechanism like a chameleon.

You didn’t have to put yourself under so much pressure that you shifted into something completely different like carbon into a diamond.

You didn’t need to save the world and all the people in it to prove your worth.

You were already worthy.

You belonged with Steve.

“I love you” You told him sleepily and spent.

“I love you too” You mumbled back, kissing the top of your head.

He smiled knowing that this time, you genuinely believed him.

440 notes · View notes

companyknowledgenews · 8 days

Text

ISG boss apologises to staff in late night email - Information Important Web https://www.merchant-business.com/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/?feed_id=206238&_unique_id=66edece3d1efc #GLOBAL - BLOGGER BLOGGER Here is the email in full:“Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct.“This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in this way. We had a managed plan to tell you what was happening on Monday once we had more clarity, but news has leaked at the filing stage – and that is why I am writing to you tonight.“Before I go into any more explanation, I want everyone to know that – contrary to the press reports – you will be paid on Monday as normal. I appreciate this is only a small comfort against a context of uncertainty for you all in terms of what happens next.“You are owed an explanation of what has been happening over recent months. I know there has been speculation and rumour for some time, and we have tried everything to save ISG from this situation. And know there must have felt a lack of communication.“The truth is that every communication we have done has been leaked to the press by a very small minority, which has not been helpful as we have worked to rescue ISG. And that is why we have been very cautious in the past couple of months.“By way of background, the Group’s trading and cash performance has been impacted by legacy issues relating to the large loss-making contracts secured in between 2018 and 2020 (primarily in the Residential, Logistics & Distribution sectors as well as some Data Centre projects).“Trading out these projects has had a significant effect on our liquidity. So even though we have been profitable this year, our legacy has led us to a point where we have been unable to continue trading.“I want you to know there have been significant efforts made to secure a sale of the Group over many months. While there has been speculation for some weeks now, I can confirm that it was not possible to conclude a sale, as the purchaser could not satisfy the funding needed to recapitalise the business. Cathexis also looked at refinancing the company in recent months but has been unable to execute.“We also looked at selling individual business units to third parties but again, we have not been able to conclude these negotiations in the timescale.“This has left us no option but to file for administration. Again, I am so sorry to have to share this news“I know all of you will still hold onto what is important at this time, whether that is ensuring we keep people safe, supporting colleagues, or managing clients and subcontractorsIf you are site based• Sites will not open tomorrow. You are not required to come to site• We will be standing subcontractors down and there will be a controlled process for them to recover plant and tools once the administrators are formally in place. They will be notified when that is possible• Sites must be left secure and safe at all times.If you are office based• Offices will be closed.• You will be notified when you can come and collect your things.• Some individuals will be admitted should there be a requirement from the administrators for them to do so.“Once again, I am so sorry to have to share this news. Thank you for all your support as an employee.“The next step will be the appointment of the administrator and we will be in touch soon about what this means and how you can get the information you will need looking ahead.”ISG staff thank the EnquirerHere’s an email we received this morning from an ISG worker:HiI just wanted to reach out to say thank you for your service,As an ISG employee the last number of months have been far from fun and since the first announcement was made in early July the only information ISG staff have had access to has come from publications such as yours.I always expected to be told about

my change in employment status by the trade press and as far as I’m concerned the sooner people know the better – there are a lot of people that need to look for jobs and every day counts. ISG’s plan to wait until Monday to communicate to staff feels very inappropriate.The internal statement that was issued late last night is calling the publication of the administration a “leak” – very interesting choice of words considering it’s publicly available information. In my view that statement provides real insight on the utter contempt with which the ISG board have treated clients, staff and the supply chain in recent months.It is very sad news indeed but I’ve wanted to reach out to you for some time and at least now I feel free to do so.Again, thanks for keeping ISG staff informed when even the most basic of communication has been stark in its absence internally.“Chief executive Zoe Price said announcement was due Monday but news leaked out early…”Source Link: https://www.constructionenquirer.com/2024/09/20/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/ http://109.70.148.72/~merchant29/6network/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/skynews-shaun-bailey-tory-partygate_6192581.jpg Here is the email in full: “Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct. “This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in … Read More

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bravecompanynews · 8 days

Text

ISG boss apologises to staff in late night email - Information Important Web - #GLOBAL https://www.merchant-business.com/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/?feed_id=206237&_unique_id=66edece2d23c9 Here is the email in full:“Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct.“This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in this way. We had a managed plan to tell you what was happening on Monday once we had more clarity, but news has leaked at the filing stage – and that is why I am writing to you tonight.“Before I go into any more explanation, I want everyone to know that – contrary to the press reports – you will be paid on Monday as normal. I appreciate this is only a small comfort against a context of uncertainty for you all in terms of what happens next.“You are owed an explanation of what has been happening over recent months. I know there has been speculation and rumour for some time, and we have tried everything to save ISG from this situation. And know there must have felt a lack of communication.“The truth is that every communication we have done has been leaked to the press by a very small minority, which has not been helpful as we have worked to rescue ISG. And that is why we have been very cautious in the past couple of months.“By way of background, the Group’s trading and cash performance has been impacted by legacy issues relating to the large loss-making contracts secured in between 2018 and 2020 (primarily in the Residential, Logistics & Distribution sectors as well as some Data Centre projects).“Trading out these projects has had a significant effect on our liquidity. So even though we have been profitable this year, our legacy has led us to a point where we have been unable to continue trading.“I want you to know there have been significant efforts made to secure a sale of the Group over many months. While there has been speculation for some weeks now, I can confirm that it was not possible to conclude a sale, as the purchaser could not satisfy the funding needed to recapitalise the business. Cathexis also looked at refinancing the company in recent months but has been unable to execute.“We also looked at selling individual business units to third parties but again, we have not been able to conclude these negotiations in the timescale.“This has left us no option but to file for administration. Again, I am so sorry to have to share this news“I know all of you will still hold onto what is important at this time, whether that is ensuring we keep people safe, supporting colleagues, or managing clients and subcontractorsIf you are site based• Sites will not open tomorrow. You are not required to come to site• We will be standing subcontractors down and there will be a controlled process for them to recover plant and tools once the administrators are formally in place. They will be notified when that is possible• Sites must be left secure and safe at all times.If you are office based• Offices will be closed.• You will be notified when you can come and collect your things.• Some individuals will be admitted should there be a requirement from the administrators for them to do so.“Once again, I am so sorry to have to share this news. Thank you for all your support as an employee.“The next step will be the appointment of the administrator and we will be in touch soon about what this means and how you can get the information you will need looking ahead.”ISG staff thank the EnquirerHere’s an email we received this morning from an ISG worker:HiI just wanted to reach out to say thank you for your service,As an ISG employee the last number of months have been far from fun and since the first announcement was made in early July the only information ISG staff have had access to has come from publications such as yours.I always expected to be told about my change in employment

status by the trade press and as far as I’m concerned the sooner people know the better – there are a lot of people that need to look for jobs and every day counts. ISG’s plan to wait until Monday to communicate to staff feels very inappropriate.The internal statement that was issued late last night is calling the publication of the administration a “leak” – very interesting choice of words considering it’s publicly available information. In my view that statement provides real insight on the utter contempt with which the ISG board have treated clients, staff and the supply chain in recent months.It is very sad news indeed but I’ve wanted to reach out to you for some time and at least now I feel free to do so.Again, thanks for keeping ISG staff informed when even the most basic of communication has been stark in its absence internally.“Chief executive Zoe Price said announcement was due Monday but news leaked out early…”Source Link: https://www.constructionenquirer.com/2024/09/20/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/ http://109.70.148.72/~merchant29/6network/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/skynews-shaun-bailey-tory-partygate_6192581.jpg BLOGGER - #GLOBAL

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boldcompanynews · 8 days

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ISG boss apologises to staff in late night email - Information Important Web - BLOGGER https://www.merchant-business.com/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/?feed_id=206236&_unique_id=66edece178d3a Here is the email in full:“Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct.“This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in this way. We had a managed plan to tell you what was happening on Monday once we had more clarity, but news has leaked at the filing stage – and that is why I am writing to you tonight.“Before I go into any more explanation, I want everyone to know that – contrary to the press reports – you will be paid on Monday as normal. I appreciate this is only a small comfort against a context of uncertainty for you all in terms of what happens next.“You are owed an explanation of what has been happening over recent months. I know there has been speculation and rumour for some time, and we have tried everything to save ISG from this situation. And know there must have felt a lack of communication.“The truth is that every communication we have done has been leaked to the press by a very small minority, which has not been helpful as we have worked to rescue ISG. And that is why we have been very cautious in the past couple of months.“By way of background, the Group’s trading and cash performance has been impacted by legacy issues relating to the large loss-making contracts secured in between 2018 and 2020 (primarily in the Residential, Logistics & Distribution sectors as well as some Data Centre projects).“Trading out these projects has had a significant effect on our liquidity. So even though we have been profitable this year, our legacy has led us to a point where we have been unable to continue trading.“I want you to know there have been significant efforts made to secure a sale of the Group over many months. While there has been speculation for some weeks now, I can confirm that it was not possible to conclude a sale, as the purchaser could not satisfy the funding needed to recapitalise the business. Cathexis also looked at refinancing the company in recent months but has been unable to execute.“We also looked at selling individual business units to third parties but again, we have not been able to conclude these negotiations in the timescale.“This has left us no option but to file for administration. Again, I am so sorry to have to share this news“I know all of you will still hold onto what is important at this time, whether that is ensuring we keep people safe, supporting colleagues, or managing clients and subcontractorsIf you are site based• Sites will not open tomorrow. You are not required to come to site• We will be standing subcontractors down and there will be a controlled process for them to recover plant and tools once the administrators are formally in place. They will be notified when that is possible• Sites must be left secure and safe at all times.If you are office based• Offices will be closed.• You will be notified when you can come and collect your things.• Some individuals will be admitted should there be a requirement from the administrators for them to do so.“Once again, I am so sorry to have to share this news. Thank you for all your support as an employee.“The next step will be the appointment of the administrator and we will be in touch soon about what this means and how you can get the information you will need looking ahead.”ISG staff thank the EnquirerHere’s an email we received this morning from an ISG worker:HiI just wanted to reach out to say thank you for your service,As an ISG employee the last number of months have been far from fun and since the first announcement was made in early July the only information ISG staff have had access to has come from publications such as yours.I always expected to be told about my change in employment

0 notes

technologycompanynews · 8 days

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ISG boss apologises to staff in late night email - Information Important Web - BLOGGER https://www.merchant-business.com/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/?feed_id=206235&_unique_id=66edece023373 Here is the email in full:“Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct.“This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in this way. We had a managed plan to tell you what was happening on Monday once we had more clarity, but news has leaked at the filing stage – and that is why I am writing to you tonight.“Before I go into any more explanation, I want everyone to know that – contrary to the press reports – you will be paid on Monday as normal. I appreciate this is only a small comfort against a context of uncertainty for you all in terms of what happens next.“You are owed an explanation of what has been happening over recent months. I know there has been speculation and rumour for some time, and we have tried everything to save ISG from this situation. And know there must have felt a lack of communication.“The truth is that every communication we have done has been leaked to the press by a very small minority, which has not been helpful as we have worked to rescue ISG. And that is why we have been very cautious in the past couple of months.“By way of background, the Group’s trading and cash performance has been impacted by legacy issues relating to the large loss-making contracts secured in between 2018 and 2020 (primarily in the Residential, Logistics & Distribution sectors as well as some Data Centre projects).“Trading out these projects has had a significant effect on our liquidity. So even though we have been profitable this year, our legacy has led us to a point where we have been unable to continue trading.“I want you to know there have been significant efforts made to secure a sale of the Group over many months. While there has been speculation for some weeks now, I can confirm that it was not possible to conclude a sale, as the purchaser could not satisfy the funding needed to recapitalise the business. Cathexis also looked at refinancing the company in recent months but has been unable to execute.“We also looked at selling individual business units to third parties but again, we have not been able to conclude these negotiations in the timescale.“This has left us no option but to file for administration. Again, I am so sorry to have to share this news“I know all of you will still hold onto what is important at this time, whether that is ensuring we keep people safe, supporting colleagues, or managing clients and subcontractorsIf you are site based• Sites will not open tomorrow. You are not required to come to site• We will be standing subcontractors down and there will be a controlled process for them to recover plant and tools once the administrators are formally in place. They will be notified when that is possible• Sites must be left secure and safe at all times.If you are office based• Offices will be closed.• You will be notified when you can come and collect your things.• Some individuals will be admitted should there be a requirement from the administrators for them to do so.“Once again, I am so sorry to have to share this news. Thank you for all your support as an employee.“The next step will be the appointment of the administrator and we will be in touch soon about what this means and how you can get the information you will need looking ahead.”ISG staff thank the EnquirerHere’s an email we received this morning from an ISG worker:HiI just wanted to reach out to say thank you for your service,As an ISG employee the last number of months have been far from fun and since the first announcement was made in early July the only information ISG staff have had access to has come from publications such as yours.I always expected to be told about my change in employment

0 notes

onlinecompanynews · 8 days

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ISG boss apologises to staff in late night email - Information Important Web https://www.merchant-business.com/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/?feed_id=206234&_unique_id=66edebc500a77 ... BLOGGER - #GLOBAL Here is the email in full:“Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct.“This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in this way. We had a managed plan to tell you what was happening on Monday once we had more clarity, but news has leaked at the filing stage – and that is why I am writing to you tonight.“Before I go into any more explanation, I want everyone to know that – contrary to the press reports – you will be paid on Monday as normal. I appreciate this is only a small comfort against a context of uncertainty for you all in terms of what happens next.“You are owed an explanation of what has been happening over recent months. I know there has been speculation and rumour for some time, and we have tried everything to save ISG from this situation. And know there must have felt a lack of communication.“The truth is that every communication we have done has been leaked to the press by a very small minority, which has not been helpful as we have worked to rescue ISG. And that is why we have been very cautious in the past couple of months.“By way of background, the Group’s trading and cash performance has been impacted by legacy issues relating to the large loss-making contracts secured in between 2018 and 2020 (primarily in the Residential, Logistics & Distribution sectors as well as some Data Centre projects).“Trading out these projects has had a significant effect on our liquidity. So even though we have been profitable this year, our legacy has led us to a point where we have been unable to continue trading.“I want you to know there have been significant efforts made to secure a sale of the Group over many months. While there has been speculation for some weeks now, I can confirm that it was not possible to conclude a sale, as the purchaser could not satisfy the funding needed to recapitalise the business. Cathexis also looked at refinancing the company in recent months but has been unable to execute.“We also looked at selling individual business units to third parties but again, we have not been able to conclude these negotiations in the timescale.“This has left us no option but to file for administration. Again, I am so sorry to have to share this news“I know all of you will still hold onto what is important at this time, whether that is ensuring we keep people safe, supporting colleagues, or managing clients and subcontractorsIf you are site based• Sites will not open tomorrow. You are not required to come to site• We will be standing subcontractors down and there will be a controlled process for them to recover plant and tools once the administrators are formally in place. They will be notified when that is possible• Sites must be left secure and safe at all times.If you are office based• Offices will be closed.• You will be notified when you can come and collect your things.• Some individuals will be admitted should there be a requirement from the administrators for them to do so.“Once again, I am so sorry to have to share this news. Thank you for all your support as an employee.“The next step will be the appointment of the administrator and we will be in touch soon about what this means and how you can get the information you will need looking ahead.”ISG staff thank the EnquirerHere’s an email we received this morning from an ISG worker:HiI just wanted to reach out to say thank you for your service,As an ISG employee the last number of months have been far from fun and since the first announcement was made in early July the only information ISG staff have had access to has come from publications such as yours.I always expected to be told about my

change in employment status by the trade press and as far as I’m concerned the sooner people know the better – there are a lot of people that need to look for jobs and every day counts. ISG’s plan to wait until Monday to communicate to staff feels very inappropriate.The internal statement that was issued late last night is calling the publication of the administration a “leak” – very interesting choice of words considering it’s publicly available information. In my view that statement provides real insight on the utter contempt with which the ISG board have treated clients, staff and the supply chain in recent months.It is very sad news indeed but I’ve wanted to reach out to you for some time and at least now I feel free to do so.Again, thanks for keeping ISG staff informed when even the most basic of communication has been stark in its absence internally.“Chief executive Zoe Price said announcement was due Monday but news leaked out early…”Source Link: https://www.constructionenquirer.com/2024/09/20/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/ http://109.70.148.72/~merchant29/6network/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/skynews-shaun-bailey-tory-partygate_6192581.jpg #GLOBAL - BLOGGER Here is the email in full: “Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct. “This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in … Read More

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internetcompanynews · 8 days

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ISG boss apologises to staff in late night email - Information Important Web - BLOGGER https://www.merchant-business.com/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/?feed_id=206233&_unique_id=66edebc3b4024 Here is the email in full:“Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct.“This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in this way. We had a managed plan to tell you what was happening on Monday once we had more clarity, but news has leaked at the filing stage – and that is why I am writing to you tonight.“Before I go into any more explanation, I want everyone to know that – contrary to the press reports – you will be paid on Monday as normal. I appreciate this is only a small comfort against a context of uncertainty for you all in terms of what happens next.“You are owed an explanation of what has been happening over recent months. I know there has been speculation and rumour for some time, and we have tried everything to save ISG from this situation. And know there must have felt a lack of communication.“The truth is that every communication we have done has been leaked to the press by a very small minority, which has not been helpful as we have worked to rescue ISG. And that is why we have been very cautious in the past couple of months.“By way of background, the Group’s trading and cash performance has been impacted by legacy issues relating to the large loss-making contracts secured in between 2018 and 2020 (primarily in the Residential, Logistics & Distribution sectors as well as some Data Centre projects).“Trading out these projects has had a significant effect on our liquidity. So even though we have been profitable this year, our legacy has led us to a point where we have been unable to continue trading.“I want you to know there have been significant efforts made to secure a sale of the Group over many months. While there has been speculation for some weeks now, I can confirm that it was not possible to conclude a sale, as the purchaser could not satisfy the funding needed to recapitalise the business. Cathexis also looked at refinancing the company in recent months but has been unable to execute.“We also looked at selling individual business units to third parties but again, we have not been able to conclude these negotiations in the timescale.“This has left us no option but to file for administration. Again, I am so sorry to have to share this news“I know all of you will still hold onto what is important at this time, whether that is ensuring we keep people safe, supporting colleagues, or managing clients and subcontractorsIf you are site based• Sites will not open tomorrow. You are not required to come to site• We will be standing subcontractors down and there will be a controlled process for them to recover plant and tools once the administrators are formally in place. They will be notified when that is possible• Sites must be left secure and safe at all times.If you are office based• Offices will be closed.• You will be notified when you can come and collect your things.• Some individuals will be admitted should there be a requirement from the administrators for them to do so.“Once again, I am so sorry to have to share this news. Thank you for all your support as an employee.“The next step will be the appointment of the administrator and we will be in touch soon about what this means and how you can get the information you will need looking ahead.”ISG staff thank the EnquirerHere’s an email we received this morning from an ISG worker:HiI just wanted to reach out to say thank you for your service,As an ISG employee the last number of months have been far from fun and since the first announcement was made in early July the only information ISG staff have had access to has come from publications such as yours.I always expected to be told about my change in employment

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formidablecompanynews · 8 days

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ISG boss apologises to staff in late night email - Information Important Web https://www.merchant-business.com/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/?feed_id=206232&_unique_id=66edebc1d4472 #GLOBAL - BLOGGER BLOGGER Here is the email in full:“Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct.“This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in this way. We had a managed plan to tell you what was happening on Monday once we had more clarity, but news has leaked at the filing stage – and that is why I am writing to you tonight.“Before I go into any more explanation, I want everyone to know that – contrary to the press reports – you will be paid on Monday as normal. I appreciate this is only a small comfort against a context of uncertainty for you all in terms of what happens next.“You are owed an explanation of what has been happening over recent months. I know there has been speculation and rumour for some time, and we have tried everything to save ISG from this situation. And know there must have felt a lack of communication.“The truth is that every communication we have done has been leaked to the press by a very small minority, which has not been helpful as we have worked to rescue ISG. And that is why we have been very cautious in the past couple of months.“By way of background, the Group’s trading and cash performance has been impacted by legacy issues relating to the large loss-making contracts secured in between 2018 and 2020 (primarily in the Residential, Logistics & Distribution sectors as well as some Data Centre projects).“Trading out these projects has had a significant effect on our liquidity. So even though we have been profitable this year, our legacy has led us to a point where we have been unable to continue trading.“I want you to know there have been significant efforts made to secure a sale of the Group over many months. While there has been speculation for some weeks now, I can confirm that it was not possible to conclude a sale, as the purchaser could not satisfy the funding needed to recapitalise the business. Cathexis also looked at refinancing the company in recent months but has been unable to execute.“We also looked at selling individual business units to third parties but again, we have not been able to conclude these negotiations in the timescale.“This has left us no option but to file for administration. Again, I am so sorry to have to share this news“I know all of you will still hold onto what is important at this time, whether that is ensuring we keep people safe, supporting colleagues, or managing clients and subcontractorsIf you are site based• Sites will not open tomorrow. You are not required to come to site• We will be standing subcontractors down and there will be a controlled process for them to recover plant and tools once the administrators are formally in place. They will be notified when that is possible• Sites must be left secure and safe at all times.If you are office based• Offices will be closed.• You will be notified when you can come and collect your things.• Some individuals will be admitted should there be a requirement from the administrators for them to do so.“Once again, I am so sorry to have to share this news. Thank you for all your support as an employee.“The next step will be the appointment of the administrator and we will be in touch soon about what this means and how you can get the information you will need looking ahead.”ISG staff thank the EnquirerHere’s an email we received this morning from an ISG worker:HiI just wanted to reach out to say thank you for your service,As an ISG employee the last number of months have been far from fun and since the first announcement was made in early July the only information ISG staff have had access to has come from publications such as yours.I always expected to be told about

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smartcompanynewsweb · 8 days

Text

ISG boss apologises to staff in late night email - Information Important Web - #GLOBAL https://www.merchant-business.com/isg-boss-apologises-to-staff-in-late-night-email/?feed_id=206231&_unique_id=66edebbdb1a12 Here is the email in full:“Some of you may have seen reports in the media that ISG has filed for administration here in the UK. With sadness, I can confirm that this is factually correct.“This was not the way I wanted you to find out and the news should not have leaked in this way. We had a managed plan to tell you what was happening on Monday once we had more clarity, but news has leaked at the filing stage – and that is why I am writing to you tonight.“Before I go into any more explanation, I want everyone to know that – contrary to the press reports – you will be paid on Monday as normal. I appreciate this is only a small comfort against a context of uncertainty for you all in terms of what happens next.“You are owed an explanation of what has been happening over recent months. I know there has been speculation and rumour for some time, and we have tried everything to save ISG from this situation. And know there must have felt a lack of communication.“The truth is that every communication we have done has been leaked to the press by a very small minority, which has not been helpful as we have worked to rescue ISG. And that is why we have been very cautious in the past couple of months.“By way of background, the Group’s trading and cash performance has been impacted by legacy issues relating to the large loss-making contracts secured in between 2018 and 2020 (primarily in the Residential, Logistics & Distribution sectors as well as some Data Centre projects).“Trading out these projects has had a significant effect on our liquidity. So even though we have been profitable this year, our legacy has led us to a point where we have been unable to continue trading.“I want you to know there have been significant efforts made to secure a sale of the Group over many months. While there has been speculation for some weeks now, I can confirm that it was not possible to conclude a sale, as the purchaser could not satisfy the funding needed to recapitalise the business. Cathexis also looked at refinancing the company in recent months but has been unable to execute.“We also looked at selling individual business units to third parties but again, we have not been able to conclude these negotiations in the timescale.“This has left us no option but to file for administration. Again, I am so sorry to have to share this news“I know all of you will still hold onto what is important at this time, whether that is ensuring we keep people safe, supporting colleagues, or managing clients and subcontractorsIf you are site based• Sites will not open tomorrow. You are not required to come to site• We will be standing subcontractors down and there will be a controlled process for them to recover plant and tools once the administrators are formally in place. They will be notified when that is possible• Sites must be left secure and safe at all times.If you are office based• Offices will be closed.• You will be notified when you can come and collect your things.• Some individuals will be admitted should there be a requirement from the administrators for them to do so.“Once again, I am so sorry to have to share this news. Thank you for all your support as an employee.“The next step will be the appointment of the administrator and we will be in touch soon about what this means and how you can get the information you will need looking ahead.”ISG staff thank the EnquirerHere’s an email we received this morning from an ISG worker:HiI just wanted to reach out to say thank you for your service,As an ISG employee the last number of months have been far from fun and since the first announcement was made in early July the only information ISG staff have had access to has come from publications such as yours.I always expected to be told about my change in employment

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f1 · 2 years

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F1 definitely has to take budget cap seriously says Hamilton ahead of FIA ruling | 2022 Singapore Grand Prix

Lewis Hamilton has given his backing to the FIA as it prepares to reveal its assessment of Formula 1 teams’ finances for the first time. The governing body of motorsport is due to issue certificates of compliance to the 10 teams which participated in the 2021 F1 season to confirm they complied with its $145 million cap on spending – with certain exceptions. Its ruling is expected tomorrow. Over the Singapore Grand Prix weekend speculation mounted that two teams may be found not to have complied with the rules. Multiple reports before the weekend began claimed Red Bull, whose driver Max Verstappen beat Hamilton to last year’s world championship by eight points, is one of those teams. While FIA F1 Financial Regulations allow for points to be confiscated in the event of a breach, among other penalties, Hamilton said he is “not really giving much attention” to the recent developments. “It’s all whispers at the moment,” said the seven-times world champion. He stressed he trusts the FIA, under president Mohammed Ben Sulayem, will make the correct decision if any team has violated F1’s financial rules. “I’m proud of my team for the diligence that they’ve done to run to the rules,” said Hamilton. “And I honestly have full confidence in Mohammed in the way that he’s conducted himself to this point and in terms of being strict and being clear with the rules.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free However he pointed out a violation of the budget cap could hand a team a performance advantage. “The rules are rules and for those sort of things, which can lead to real alterations in terms of car performance, those sorts of things, we definitely have to take it seriously,” he said. “But as I said, I don’t know if it’s true or not so we’ll see.” Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff was drawn into a war of words with his opposite number at Red Bull, Christian Horner, over the reports. Horner questioned how a rival team could have learned details of their submissions to the FIA. “How on earth do they have this information, where do they have this knowledge?” he said. “The FIA have even stated they haven’t even completed their process.” The Red Bull team principal accused rivals of spreading rumours as “an underhand tactic that’s been employed to detract from perhaps a lack of performance this year.” However Wolff pointed out the process leading to tomorrow’s expected announcement has been in motion for months. Teams were required to submit data on last year’s expenditure in March. “This is not just a moment in time where suddenly you discover a breach or not,” he said. “The audits have been going on for a long time, every team has collaborated with the FIA. They’ve been discussing forward and backwards about how the interpretations go. So it’s over many months, but you come to certain conclusions.” “I have no reason to doubt that the FIA will not 100% act following their own governance and their own regulations, because they know how important that is going forward,” he added. “We are all aware that regulations, whether it’s technical or sporting and now financial regulations have to be regulated, policed in the right way and we just need to adhere. “So there’s 100% confidence in the process and the FIA and that’s why everything else is just noise.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free 2022 Singapore Grand Prix Browse all 2022 Singapore Grand Prix articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net

#F1 #F1 ‘definitely has to take budget cap seriously’ says Hamilton ahead of FIA ruling | 2022 Singapore Grand Prix #Formula 1

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milla984 · 3 years

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Merry Christmas, Dr. Reid

Summary: just some Xmas fluff, because I needed it

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Category: fluff

TW/CW: brief mention of opioids abuse, anxiety disorders and depression

Word Count: 1.9k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“Thank you for doing this.”

Spencer’s voice broke a little as he gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles almost turned white. “I had no right to ask—”

“You didn’t even need to ask. I knew something was wrong the minute I picked up the phone,” you replied, well conscious of the terrible state he was in.

He let out a deep sigh and muttered under his breath. “And I’m supposed to be the expert.”

“We’re friends. I don’t need profiling skills to figure out what’s going on,” you reassured, worried about the circles around his eyes that looked darker than ever. “How is she doing?”

“I— I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it, not yet. If I say it out loud…”

“It becomes real,” you added, and he gave a small nod in silent agreement.

Diana wasn’t doing good at Bennington. Her mental condition had begun to deteriorate at an alarming rate and two days before her caregivers had been forced to restrain her. That’s when you had received a call from Spencer, asking you to fly to Las Vegas - which meant only one thing: he’d been considering using Dilaudid again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know this is just a cognitive bias. My emotional mind is trying to dismiss any mention of her dementia because I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do to help her,” he blurted out, pain and guilt seeping through his words.

You leaned towards him and put a hand on his right shoulder. “You know you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, right? You don’t have to come up with a solution today, or tomorrow… and definitely not on your own.”

Spencer still wasn’t a huge fan of unexpected physical contact, even though he had a propensity to tolerate reasonable amounts of affection shown by the members of the team from time to time. He quickly turned his head to meet your glance, then his eyes went back to the road. “Sorry you had to miss Christmas with your family.”

“For Pete’s sake, Reid,” you cried out, somewhat frustrated at this point, “I told you, I wasn’t planning on going anyway.”

“Because of—” he tried to ask, but you cut him off mid-sentence.

“Yes,” you snapped, only to regret doing it less than a split second later.

Your inner demons had resurfaced weeks before, apparently triggered by a moment in your life when you almost felt safe and secure in a bubble of temporary happiness you’d created for yourself; Spencer had been the one showing up at your door for no apparent reason, several times, with a tin can full of homemade chocolate chip cookies under one arm (courtesy of Penelope, of course) and an impressive selection of Gothic novels stashed in his leather bag.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you admitted, feeling a bit ashamed of your own reaction. “I just don’t feel like spending a whole week pretending everything’s fine, but I don’t think they should know the truth either.”

“Mood disorders and anxiety disorders are extremely common among individuals with an elevated IQ. About 20% of the highest ranking members of Mensa reported having been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder and nearly 27% had been diagnosed with a mood disorder such as major depression or bipolar disorder,” he rambled, and for a solid minute after his short lecture you both kept staring at the Strip as a mutual confirmation you knew all too well how mental health could be affected by one’s intellect.

“Changing the topic of this conversation,” you said, when the awkward silence grew unbearable, “show me what Vegas boys like to do to loosen up. A quick trip to the Bellagio, maybe?”

Spencer snorted and shook his head, his soft curls bouncing in the process. “Uh, actually the only thing I can enjoy at the Bellagio is their fountain show. My card-counting ability is frowned upon, to say the least, so I’ve been banned from casinos, here. And in Pahrump. And Laughlin,” he explained. His disgruntled expression soon turned into a confused one, as you put a hand over your mouth and laughed at the thought. “What’s so funny?”

“They’re running a business based on a series of calculated equations and algorithms which are clearly meant to favor the house, but they cannot handle your knowledge in the field of statistics and math. You can beat them at their own game without even cheating,” you smirked, “you’re a wild one.”

He smirked in return. “Glad you noticed. In fact, I might have a wild idea about what to do in Vegas on Christmas evening.”

“This isn’t at all what I had in mind. I just thought we could try their Verbena cocktail,” he whined half an hour later while he struggled with the laces of his rental boots. “In retrospect, I can safely say coming here was a terrible idea.”

You straightened yourself up and shrugged. “I second that.”

“Then give me a number of valid reasons why we’re still doing it...?” he replied, standing up with his ankles wobblier than a cup of his beloved Jell-O.

“One: it’s out of your comfort zone,” you said before leading the way to the skating rink along a removable metallic ramp.

He clutched the handrail and walked slowly in the same direction. “Drinking is out of my comfort zone, too! Can we stick to the original plan so I don’t end up breaking my neck?!”

“Two,” you counted, lowering your voice to make sure only Spencer could hear you over the loud music, “you’ve been issued a firearm by the Government and you’re granted National Security clearances. This is just solidified water, show it who’s the boss.”

“May I point out none of these sounded reasonable enough?” he said, still holding onto the handrail. Then he paused for a few moments. “Are you sure you’ve done this before?”

You took one small step on the ice and waited for your knees to adjust to the slick surface in order to maintain your balance. Luckily your legs only needed a bit of patience to remember how to glide on one foot, so you felt brave enough to take a second and third step, moving towards the railing.

“I used to do it every winter, with my cousins, until I turned eleven and got too cool to waste my time on childish activities, I guess,” you answered, offering him your hand as he stepped foot onto the ice as well.

Spencer hesitated for a split second before grasping your wrist and you were forced to hold him by both hands in an upright position to prevent him from going down like a sack of potatoes. “Meaning the last time you actually ice skated was in 199—” he started to estimate, but you gave him a light smack as a reminder that he was in no position to take any further risks.

“Don’t push it, wunderkind!” you warned him, while a group of teenagers brushed past you in a swift motion.

Spencer stared at the frozen water under his feet. “Funny of you to say, because in the analysis of ice skating according to physics laws one of the fundamental forces to take into consideration is sliding friction, which has to be negligible to zero in order to make the phenomenon possible.”

“Also, it’s a fairly common misconception that ice is slippery under an ice skate because the pressure exerted along the blade lowers the melting temperature of the surface and creates a thin layer of water,” he added, taking baby steps on his own with his boots slightly bent inwards.

“I think most people believe we can skate on ice just because it’s slippery. Nothing more than that.”

“Well, it’s not wrong. Water molecules on the ice surface don’t have other molecules above them to keep them in place so they vibrate more and remain in a liquid state even at very low temperatures. And the notion that ice has an intrinsic liquid layer is an old concept, it was first proposed by Faraday in 1850,” he said, then he raised his head and realized you were both halfway through the perimeter of the rink, now. “Wait, am I rambling again?!”

You shrugged, fighting the urge to remind him his rambling didn’t bother you at all. “Looks like it helps.”

“Really …?” he questioned, but a sudden movement behind your back caught you by surprise: a couple of skaters came out of nowhere, pushing you forward with a startled ‘oooofff’ before you could even react - let alone maneuver Spencer out of your way. He nearly went flying over the railing and wrapped his arms around your waist in a desperate attempt to keep his balance, so that you found yourself pressed against his chest.

“You okay?” he managed to articulate between giggles.

You puffed, trying to catch your breath. “Lesson learned: never turn your back to the rink. How ‘bout you?”

“I’m fine,” he giggled again, the sound of his laugh bringing your ears joy and the delicate scent of his aftershave giving you butterflies in your stomach.

You couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t letting go of your coat. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! It really is just a matter of physics, I’d like to try again,” he replied, “after a short break, maybe.”

Reluctantly, you anchored yourself to the railing with your left arm and put some distance between the two of you. “Alright.”

Spencer remained silent for a while, looking around: the pool on the rooftop of The Cosmopolitan served as an ice rink during the holiday season, illuminated by cold blue spotlights and neon which reflected on the giant palm plants placed all around the balustrade. On the opposite side, the Paris Las Vegas Hotel and Casino and Planet Hollywood Resort towered above the nearest buildings.

“Now that I think about it, I’ve lived in Vegas for so many years and I’ve never been up here until today,” he observed, “it’s definitely overpriced, overcrowded, the music’s too loud… but I’m happy we’re doing this.”

“I’m happy you’re happy,” you responded, then you proceeded to gently nudge him with your elbow. “And by the way, Penelope got me a little something. Thank you, I love it.”

He looked at you with a puzzled look on his face and you bit your lower lip, amazed at the audacity - that was a lying frown and he wasn’t going to get away with it so easily. “Wilde’s Salome, illustrated by Aubrey Beardsley?! Someone pointed her in the right direction.”

Spencer cracked a timid smile. “I know how you feel about Art Nouveau.”

“And I know we said no presents, still…” you replied while you searched your pockets for a small, bean-shaped plush tied with a purple ribbon. “Merry Christmas, Dr. Reid.”

His microexpressions confirmed he was genuinely surprised this time. “An orthomyxovirus?!” he asked, holding it on his palm.

You nodded. “Commonly known as ‘the flu’, yes.”

“This must be the world’s cutest parasite,” he laughed, “it’s adorable.”

“Harmless, too. It can’t be transferred with a handshake,” you remarked as you offered him your hand again while you skated away from the railing. “Let’s put your physics laws into practice.”

Spencer smiled and held tight, almost as if his whole life depended on it. “Did you know that ice formed by water behaves strangely at lower temperatures and higher pressures? H₂O is basically a simple molecule, two hydrogen atoms connected to a central oxygen atom in a V-shape, but when it freezes into ice the molecules line up in a hexagonal pattern and this is why snowflakes all have a six-sided design.”

You smiled back, with a new consciousness blossoming in your heart: you were falling hard and fast for Dr. Spencer Reid.

In case you are wondering... yes, GIANTmicrobes actually sells plushies shaped like viruses, germs, bacteria and organs!

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x reader cm #dr spencer reid x reader #cm #criminalminds #spencer reid fic #reid x reader #dr spencer reid #Dr Reid #criminal minds #christmas fluff #christmas romance #ice skating #my gifs #milla writes stuff

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cower-before-power · 3 years

Text

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon. “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles. “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey @chaotic-nick @manjiroarchiviste

#meet cute collab #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman imagine #levi x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader

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ashasmonsters · 3 years

Text

The Middle Prince

Male reader x Male Tiefling (Amon)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: Detailed wet dreams, alcohol

Words: 8k

Note: Some MLM goodness for Pride Month! This took me longer than I intended, but only because I wrote it way too long and had to break it up into parts! Expect more in this series.

The dreams started assailing you a little over a month ago. During the first week, you couldn't remember anything. You would awake in your bedchamber covered in sweat and panting as if you had just finished a sparring session. These nights, a name danced on the tip of your tongue, escaping just as you attempted to sound it out and make it real. Confused and alone you would promptly go back to sleep after flipping over your pillow. As time passed, the dreams grew both in intensity and clarity. Though still more mysterious than normal dreams, little details here and there coalesced in your waking memory: a soft touch followed by a rough one, the smell of lavender, your fingernails gliding over shallow ridges, the color of aquamarine gemstones. These dreams visited you every night without fail.

The determinations made by the court oneiromancers were limited in scope. After spending the night in the care of one such dream diviner, they found these dreams to be coming from somewhere else. The dreams were not your own, at least not fully. Beyond this, they had no more revelations. Anything more was conjecture; one stated that if magick was involved, it was either massively strong, thus able to conceal its origin, or so fleeting and ephemeral that even the oneiromancers couldn't trace it.

Your father's concern waxed but mostly waned. Perhaps if you were the eldest crown prince instead of the middle one, the answer would have been willed into existence by his command. He simply asked that the oneiromancers track your condition and report any findings to him, but no more than once each week. Though dismayed that little was being done to solve this mystery, you were used to being far from priority. Even years ago when an attempt on your life left one of your legs still and unresponsive, a leg brace allowing you to stand at public appearances was issued and the problem was declared solved. You vividly remembered the look on the assassin's face when he realized he had accidentally struck third in the line of succession rather than first. His reaction was not dissimilar from your father's when you mentioned your dreams: a mildly amused but primarily disappointed visage. The spot where the dagger had pierced your spine no longer ached but your discontent was as raw and fresh as the day the realization struck.

With the oneiromancers essentially told to only report something unquestionably threatening to your life or the family's honor, you shared very little with them. Several times you had dismissed them with little more than a hand wave. None of them ever protested. To their knowledge, no new developments within these dreams came to light. It was just another little curiosity that came with the court.

To their knowledge, anyway. In truth, there had been a quite substantial development that you withheld from them.

The night air was cool and crisp. From your bedchamber's veranda, you let the gentle sound of the garden's fountains below soothe your nerves. This had become your regular nighttime ritual; your last chance to feel relaxed and cool before waking up overheated and frantic. You enjoyed the last of it before sliding under the sheets and waiting for the dream to visit you.

This was the clearest dream to date. The scattered sensations and feelings from prior episodes came into focus: the touches came from smooth, tender hands, the smell of lavender from purple cups of herbal tea. Your fingers played over short, filed horns. That bold aquamarine color like a burning emerald belonged to a pair of eyes, their pupils narrow and catlike. The overall plot of the dream remained unknown to you. What came next, however, was new. Very new.

A pair of hands caressed your body as whatever clothing you had dissolved into the air. Your mind reeled from the realization of what was happening, yet you were relaxed all the same. Though surprised, you didn't wish for it to stop. Even as the tender hands had you at their mercy, one playfully pinching a nipple as the other reached lower in between your legs, you welcomed their touch without knowing why. You just did. It felt right. The hand between your legs started confidently stroking your shaft; making you moan. Their touch was expertly coordinated as if they knew everything about you. Not long after, the building pressure within you was too much to bear, then...

"AMON!" You cried out, the name that had eluded you all those nights finally woven from syllables into a complete utterance. You were no longer dreaming, your own hands reflexively covering your mouth in a futile attempt to take back the exclamation. In the dead of night like this, you most certainly alerted someone.

"My Prince, are you alright?" Your chief courtier, Petra, had burst through your bedchamber door. Guards with polearms at the ready had her back.

"I'm alright," you caught your breath, "it's the dream again. No cause for alarm." As usual, you bore a sheen of sweat and your heart was thundering in your ears.

"You've never called out like that before," Petra noted, not yet dropping her guard.

"I called out?" You lied, wincing as you felt something viscid and slimy on your groin under your dressing gown. Deep embarrassment came to the forefront of your mind, your face helpless to hide it. "Bring me my washbasin, please," you quickly uttered.

"At once, my Prince." Petra left the room as the guards resumed their posts. You peeled back your dressing gown to inspect the damage by moonlight. It was worse than you thought. Undoubtedly this gown would have to be thrown out. You groaned, disappointed in your own body for betraying you like this.

"Your washbasin, Prince." Petra returned and you hurriedly covered yourself up again. The moonlight was too dim, or perhaps she pretended not to see, but she was soon at your bedside without pause, brandishing a sponge and towel.

"I can do this myself," you said, taking the implements from her. She looked at you with intent to interrogate.

"Prince, if there have been changes with your dreams, you must inform the oneiromancers."

"No need," you said, eager to fully clean yourself. "You are dismissed, Petra."

Petra held her tongue. Her eyes told you she only did so because she was eager to return to bed. When she departed your bedchamber and closed the door, you finally discarded the soiled gown and did your best to cleanse yourself of your nocturnal emission. You donned a new gown and welcomed an ordinary slumber.

When morning came, so did Petra and a bevy of assistant courtiers. From the accoutrements they wielded you identified them as the "fashion corps," your nickname for the hairdressers, wardrobers, clothiers, and makeup artists whose arrival portended a formal event you were required to attend. As the squad of aesthetes communicated amongst each other, Petra drew you a bath. While the tub filled, she came to your side and took your shoulder on hers to help you hobble into the bathing chamber.

"What's the occasion, Petra?" You unfolded a privacy screen, dividing your bathing chamber in half. As you stripped and entered the balmy water, you heard Petra pull up a chair on the other side of the screen.

"The biannual alliance gala, Prince."

"The alliance gala?" You asked. Your appearance had not been required at one for quite some time. "Why me?"

"Your father has requested that the entire court attend. From what I've heard, there is quite the number of fiefdoms and baronies joining the kingdom at this one."

"Grand." You sighed and resigned yourself into the water until it met your chin. You imagined the great hall of the palace, teeming with strangers from far-off lands all speaking in such meaningless platitudes that they needed alcohol in hand to tolerate it.

"If it makes you feel any better, Prince, most of the night depends on your elder brother and your father. You have the freedom to do whatever you like once your father's opening speech is concluded," Petra said with a mild tone.

It didn't make you feel better. Your father built a kingdom that, apparently, smaller domains were scrambling to join. Your elder brother was the crown prince with hordes of suitors seeking his heart. Even your elder sister, with no direct claim to the crown, was quite sought after. Then there was you, with permission to get as drunk as you like at the gala. You seriously considered exercising that privilege.

Your ruminations were interrupted by the clatter of hammered metal and leather straps from beyond the screen.

"I've got your brace ready, Prince. Let me know when you're dry," Petra said. You reluctantly finished scrubbing and soaping yourself before heaving your body onto the lip of the bath and toweling off. Sat there, damp with dripping hair and a towel round your waist, you permitted Petra to attach the brace to you. She respectfully averted her eyes as she affixed the contraption to your immobilized leg. With it attached, you traded comfort for the ability to limp and stand unassisted.

Next came the gauntlet of clothing, hair styling, and makeup that the fashion corps employed. Even for today, which was merely a rehearsal for the true event tomorrow, they gave no mercy. They encircled you and passed you around as they worked like a knight being suited by his squires. The process was grueling. Your hair was tugged and the breeches squeezed your brace into your leg. With the freedom to choose your own clothes removed from you, there was no choice but to deal with the feeling of metal biting at your skin.

Bound in the tight, ceremonial clothing, Petra took your arm for the long walk to the great hall. It was full of palace staff and buzzing like a beehive. The ceiling, high as a cathedral's, let in beams of sunlight through its many massive windows. Tables were being arranged with the intent to give each attending guest a view of the stage: the stage where your father and elder brother would be giving their opening speeches tomorrow. The two of them were behind a podium, your brother reading a piece of parchment over your father's shoulder. Behind them towards the back of the stage was a row of ornate seats; not quite thrones but just as uncomfortable. Your elder sister met your gaze as she sat on one. She beckoned you over.

"That will be your seat for the rehearsal, Prince," Petra said.

"Rehearsal for sitting?" You quipped, walking towards your seat anyway. Resistance was futile no matter how silly this all was.

"I'll undo your hair and get you into more comfortable clothes as soon as I can, Prince," Petra said apologetically. "Bear with it. I must attend to the other staff now."

With that, Petra disappeared into the crowd of scrambling staff arranging the great hall into order. You limped to your seat, your brace clicking all the while.

"You look excellent, little brother," your sister said. She was attempting to alleviate your sour mood, but she still hadn't figured out how. Neither had you.

"I look like an idiot. And my leg is killing me," you snapped.

Your sister merely sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her hair, in a high bun, bumped the bejeweled headrest and made her curse.

"You used to love these events when you were smaller. You had perfected waving to the crowd before you learned to talk," she said.

"That was a long time ago. Things were different; I was naive, none of us had official duties, the assassination attempt hadn't happened, I wasn't bedeviled by these dreams... mother was alive." You cast your gaze downward, examining your buckled leather shoes. You heard her sigh.

"Not all change has to be bad. And to be fair, you still don't have any official duties to worry about." She placed a hand on your shoulder.

"That's a polite way of saying I'm useless." You looked up at your father and elder brother. They were discussing something about their speeches, annotating and marking the parchment before them. A small audience of pages stood in front of the stage, listening to them run through portions of their speeches. They hadn't yet paid you any heed.

"It's a blunt way of saying you're free," your sister said firmly. "Every week I'm fielding suitors from all over the world, and not one of them has proven to be anything but repulsive. I'm terrified that one day strategy and diplomacy will land me with someone like them."

Your eyes widened at her open disdain for the matters of the court.

"I'm sorry," you said, reconstructing your vision of who your sister truly was. "I had no idea you felt that way... I thought—"

"You thought I was traipsing about with handsome men from far-off lands every day?" She smirked.

"...yes." You blushed.

"Hah! I wish!" Your sister flinched at her own exclamation, then relaxed when she realized the monarch and the crown prince hadn't noticed. "But you don't have to wish for that. You're free to traipse with whomever you please."

You blushed harder. Turning away from your sister, you saw your brother and father finishing up their speech revisions. On cue, Petra emerged from the throng of staff to conclude this "rehearsal."

"Looks like Petra's coming to get you," your sister noted. "I know you'll be free to retire to your bedchambers as soon as the speeches are over, but I want you to try and enjoy yourself tomorrow night. It's what I would do if I could." She gave you one final smile before getting up from her seat.

"I will," you said, finally cracking a tiny smile in return. Petra had your arm soon after.

"Your presence is no longer required, Prince." Petra helped you up. "Shall I take you back to your chambers?"

"Yes, please," you said, giving your sister a thankful glance. She returned a similar expression as Petra whisked you away.

When you had finally returned to your chambers and changed into less constrictive clothing, you asked Petra to stay awhile to converse. Your sister's advice had forced you to re-evaluate your approach to the gala. Your priorities had shifted just as much as your notions of her personality had.

"You mentioned there were many newcomers to the kingdom? Quite a few tables were being set up in the great hall," you quizzed Petra.

"Yes, from what I've gathered, it's expected to be the largest event we've hosted all year. We're expecting guests from as far as Ankara and Nubia," she answered matter-of-factly. Perhaps she was a little proud, too.

"Are there any specific guests I should know about?" You asked with the grace of a war elephant. Courtship had crossed your mind for the first time mere minutes ago. "Anyone of high repute?"

Petra picked up on your clumsy intent immediately. She knew you too well.

"Prince, it would be quicker to list the attendees not worth approaching than those with stellar accolades. If it were me..." she drew in air through her teeth as if expecting to be reprimanded, "I would consider tomorrow's gala an excellent time to court someone."

"I'll try to take that advice to heart, Petra," you said.

"I'm pleased, Prince. Your matters are your own, but if I may speak unequivocally..."

"Speak your mind." You gave her permission. She hesitated, then sighed.

"You strike me as lonely, Prince. Ever since the Queen passed, your social life has suffered." Petra paused again, considering her words carefully. "You deserve love of that measure once more, whether from a partner or a good friend."

"Thank you," you sighed as if she had given you permission to use your heart. "I appreciate the advice, Petra."

"Of course, Prince." She glanced out the window towards the setting sun. "I recommend you retire early tonight to be invigorated tomorrow, lest the dreams strike again."

You nodded.

"They will." You avoided her eyes as you remembered what happened last time. "Have a washbasin ready. For the, erm, sweat."

"Of course, Prince," Petra said, her face remaining unmoved. You didn't bother trying to discern whether she was oblivious to last night's gown-soiling or if she merely extended you the courtesy of pretending. "I'll leave you be. Get some rest."

You watched her exit your chambers without another word, finally exhaling the breath you held. The idea of having to clean yourself up again was hardly appealing. Standing on the veranda and enjoying the cool night air was only prolonging the inevitable.

The aforementioned inevitable reared its troublesome head as soon as you surrendered to sleep. Your consciousness materialized somewhere, a location unidentifiable but still more detailed than you had ever encountered before. You glimpsed kaleidoscopic carpets, hammered brass, and vines growing freely about the place.

"Welcome back." A man's voice like sweet honey floated through the warm air.

"I missed you." The words left your mouth without you knowing them. You were merely an observer to your own actions. "Amon."

"My sweet prince." Lips on your knuckles. The smell of lavender tea. "Tea?"

"No thanks. We must keep this quick," you uttered again, breathless and surrendering to a desire that was both yours and unknown to you.

"Tut, tut. What's gotten into you, my prince? I've never seen you so impatient," the voice teased. Your head spun.

"I need my energy," you gasped, something warm and wet lapping at your member. "For tomorrow." The ministrations paused.

"Of course. Tomorrow will be very special indeed." The tongue on your shaft resumed, making you squirm. You reached out into the nothingness, your fingers grasping at frayed carpet tassels. Your other hand reached in between your legs and found a head of hair. You grasped a smooth horn that curved neatly behind an ear. It bobbed up and down at a tantalizing pace.

"Amon, I... I shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what?" Another pause in the pleasure. You caught your breath. Those eyes again, burning into yours with the hue of warm ocean waters. "Say no to me, my prince. I implore you to try."

Caught in the stare you were helpless. You quivered with need, your manhood twitching and drooling. Only a high whine left your lips.

"Thought so."

You shot up in bed, crying out and spasming. Once more you had spilled yourself into your gown, your entire body slick with sweat. As a small victory, your cries remained nondescript rather than referential to this "Amon." In the dream, you had felt a sweet warmth in your breast each time you spoke to him and even warmer when he responded. In your waking memory, this name was empty. There was no connection and no feeling of belonging. If you hadn't heard your own voice leave your mouth in the dream, you would have had no way of knowing those experiences were your own. Your dreaming memory and conscious recollection were severed, at odds with one another. What did he mean when he said tomorrow would be special? Did he know about the gala? You didn't know how much you knew.

"The washbasin, Prince," Petra uttered as she carried it into your chambers. She stowed it at your bedside. "Shall I leave you like before?"

"Yes, please... but would it trouble you to return afterward?"

"Not at all, Prince. I'll return at your word." She slipped out of the room. You took the opportunity to cleanse yourself of the evidence before permitting Petra to return.

“Petra, would it be possible to acquire a guest list for the gala?” You asked.

“Possible, yes. However, it will be quite long without any qualifiers. As I mentioned previously, this is one of the largest events of the year.”

You considered simply asking her if the name Amon was among the attendees, but Petra would likely alert the oneiromancers and in turn, your father. You doubted anything would happen at all if she did, but this was a matter you wanted to confront on your own. Like all other decisions made for you at your father’s behest, your own interests would unquestionably be cast aside if he decided to involve himself.

“I’d like to know the first names of all the male guests scheduled to attend,” you said. Petra raised an eyebrow.

“That doesn’t narrow it down much, Prince,” Petra answered. The sweet, honeyed voice from your dream remained in your mind. It was the voice of a young man, one likely of your age.

“Only the male guests around my age, then,” you specified. Petra raised her other eyebrow, making her expression one of surprise rather than skepticism.

“Ah. That kind of list. I see...” Your cheeks burned; though you didn’t know where this inquiry would take you, you also felt the conclusion Petra came to was not wholly inaccurate. “Shall I make, erm, other arrangements as well?”

“Arrangements?” you asked. It was Petra’s turn to blush.

“The standard things... extra pillows, oils, skins—”

“Yes, of course, Petra,” you cut her off, not wishing for her to extend the list of amenities any further. Searching for a suitor was a favorable charade. If nothing else, if this search for the mysterious Amon proved fruitless, then you would at least have the means, motive, and opportunity to bed somebody... if you had the audacity. The look on Petra's face said she didn't think so.

"I’ll have the list and the... goods brought in before sun-up,” Petra said. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, Petra, that will suffice.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Morning arrived and so did Petra's promises; the chief courtier herself was nowhere to be found, but a neatly transcribed list of names and a box tied with a bow sat atop a chaise lounge when you awoke. You already knew what waited inside the box, so you went for the list. Though only containing the names of guests that fit your qualifiers, the parchment was both long and double-sided. Your eyes began to tire just as they fell across what you were looking for:

Amon II - Eparch of Nobatian Lower Makuria and Alodia

You were puzzled. Makuria and Elodia were names you hadn't heard since you were tutored. Even your father's kingdom with its diplomats venturing far and wide rarely mentioned them. You only knew they were small kingdoms far away from this one. There was not one but two oceans between here and there, they spoke a language no tutor in the palace taught, and both titles of "Nobatian" and "Eparch" were unknown to you.

Then the fashion corps arrived. You dropped the parchment and pondered the new information as they manhandled you into the appearance they had crafted for you yesterday. Perhaps due to more practiced hands or being lost in your thoughts, the process seemed to go much faster than previously. You almost didn't believe it when they told you they were finished, but the shifted sun and your appearance in the mirror confirmed that the gala would soon begin. Your hair was fashioned into an unnatural shape, your face was dusted with powder, and your clothes were so form-fitting that you appeared sewn into them. The bulge of the leg brace through your breeches peeked out at the ankle; the leggings were so tight that your overcoat preserved more of your modesty than they did.

With Petra absent and likely scrambling to put last-minute touches on the gala, you walked to the great hall with the assistance of the fashion corps, who likewise made hasty repairs to your appearance as your gait jostled things out of place. When you arrived, the great hall was even busier than at the rehearsal. It seemed there was a member of palace staff for each seat at every table, all of them fastidiously arranging cutlery, plates, decorative vases, placemats, and myriad other things you didn't know the names for.

“Little brother!” You turned your head and spotted your elder sister within a parade of her own fashion corps regiment. She waved at you from one of the great hall’s entrances.

“Sister,” you responded with a nod, your own cavalcade parting to allow her approach.

“Have you given tonight any consideration?” She asked.

“Yes, actually...”

“You’re not going to retreat to your chambers?”

“...not immediately,” you said, noncommittal.

“I’m glad.” She smiled gently. “I’ll likely be busy most of the night, though if you’d like me to send anyone your way, let me know. Who’s on your list?”

“My list?” you sputtered. “Petra told you?”

“Petra? Goodness, no,” she chuckled. “I just figured you’d have one. It’s standard practice for these sorts of things; I’ve a list as well. So... who’s on yours?”

You lowered your head and examined your shoes.

“Well... it’s quite long.”

“How scandalous!” she gasped exaggeratedly.

“I’m just casting a wide net is all! I don’t intend to bed every single male my age!” Your cheeks burned again. You considered dropping the charade if it meant this level of humiliation.

“I expected my mild little brother to have a rebellious phase eventually, but this...” she said, ignoring your cries.

"Sister, please," you pleaded. The tone of your voice convinced her to return to normal. She extended a hand to ruffle your hair but stopped herself when your fashion corps hairstylist glared at her.

"Apologies, little brother. I had to jest a little," she smiled at you, this time without intent to tease. "They're going to start letting in the guests soon. We should take our seats."

You nodded and followed her to the stage. The fashion corps fell away from you and went to help elsewhere. You sat in your uncomfortable pseudo-throne and waited, eventually joined by your other siblings save for your eldest brother. They greeted you as they took position at your side, but there was very little to talk about. This was the first time you had seen them in a while.

Then came the guests: the table-setters had cleared out some minutes before the floodgates burst and more staff escorted groups of people to their tables. The cathedral-like great hall was full in mere moments. Sorted by table, there was a sea of people in colorful finery all conversing amongst themselves and giving you and your siblings the occasional glance. You tried to pick out Amon from the crowd but quickly realized half-remembered fragments from your dreams wouldn't be enough to pick him from a sea of hundreds. Even finding his name on the list took a considerable amount of time.

Then the hall fell silent, or something close to it. A lively conversation between hundreds of people dropped to hushed whispers. Your father and brother had entered the hall and begun their walk to the podium, silencing the crowd with nothing but their appearance. When your father reached the podium, he extended both arms palms up and the previously subdued crowd erupted into cheers. If not for the applause, he would have heard you groan. Your sister said nothing, only giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

When the speeches started you practically willed your ears shut. Perhaps you would have built a tolerance to them if you had appeared at more of these events, but you couldn't bear to listen to your father and elder brother boast of their achievements to a sea of complacent, nodding heads. It was like a reminder that within the kingdom your father built, you served your purpose by distracting that assassin some years ago and now outlived your usefulness. At this gala, you were decoration only a few ranks higher than a potted plant.

You thanked any and all higher powers when the speeches were over. Father and his crown prince had left the stage to begin their targeted commingling with VIPs, prompting you and your siblings to stand from your seats. They all dispersed before you could look to them to follow their lead. When you stumbled off the stage and distanced yourself from it by leaning against the wall as you walked, hardly any attention came your way. Thankfully, the attention you did receive was from Petra.

"Prince, are you alright? You look troubled," she said, sidling up to you.

"What do I do, Petra?" you asked, intimidated by the sheer size of the room and the attendees within it. Each table was like its own little kingdom with strangers you didn't know and faux-pas to stumble over.

"See how each table has an empty chair or two?" She pointed to the tables nearest you, one full of scaly Sāmm-abraṣ emissaries and another with human diplomats bearing the flag of Bavaria. You nodded. "All the guests are expected to stay seated while dinner is served. They won't get up to dance and drink until the meal is concluded. Right now, only people from the host kingdom— like you, me, your siblings, and other members of the court— will be walking around."

"So I just sit at whichever table and introduce myself?"

"If you even need to. The fact you're walking will show them you're hosting. They'll pay you proper respect without you saying anything at all."

"Hm," you mused. That sounded like a lot of work, especially since you weren't aiming to meander. Finding Amon would be immeasurably more difficult once the crowd was disorganized and inebriated, though, so now was your best chance.

"I've a copy of your list, Prince. Shall I help you navigate it?" Petra asked, holding up parchment.

"Yes, let's," you said. The lengthy document threatened to touch the floor. "Let's begin alphabetically."

"Alphabetically, Prince?"

"By first name."

"Of course, Prince. That means we should visit Aariyeh, Sardar of Anatolia, followed by Abdul II, Knez of Smederevo—"

"Any Eparchs on that list?" You winced at your own forwardness. The charade was wearing dangerously thin.

"...Eparchs?"

"I'm in an Eparch mood at the moment," you explained weakly. Petra looked at you as if checking for signs of illness.

"I see. There's one: Amon II of Nobatian Lower Makuria and Alodia."

"He sounds splendid. Take me to him."

Petra, either from exasperation, deference, or both, folded up the list and took your arm without another word. She led you through the clusters of gala attendees. You could feel every one of their eyes watching you as you caught their attention. Just as the scrutiny was starting to become too much, your eyes found a target of their own. A warm shiver ran through your spine, a sensation the French would call déjà rêvé: a dream made real.

His verdigris eyes locked onto yours. They peered at you from behind short, white curls of shiny hair. His skin reminded you of the bluebells in the gardens, and his pert, curled horns were a shade darker. He flashed something between a grin and a smirk at you, revealing pearlescent teeth with canines that could be mistaken for fangs.

Amon was breathtaking and he knew it.

If your arm wasn't in Petra's grasp already, you never would have made it to the chair. She struggled a bit as she plopped you into it, your leg brace protesting with clicks and creaks. The other tieflings at the table, all varying shades of azure, stopped what they were doing to acknowledge your arrival. You gave them a weak nod while you regained your composure.

"Greetings, delegation from Lower Makuria and Elodia. I'd like to introduce you to our Middle Prince," Petra said from over your shoulder, upon which she planted a firm hand. She squeezed hard.

"I'm pleased to meet you all," you managed to get out. Your audience of tieflings nodded and muttered.

"As am I, Middle Prince." Amon set his cutlery down and rested his chin on interlaced fingers. His voice was high and carried a boyish, scheming air; you envisioned him stealing lumps of sugar from a pantry. "I didn't think my kingdom warranted such a visit. What brings you to my little exclave of Nobatia?"

"A whim."

"How quaint," he said, still smirking. His gaze shifted as he eyed his all-tiefling entourage. The intent was to communicate something, though you didn't know what.

"I am the middle prince, after all. I've few obligations. None, actually," you said.

"Hm," Amon said, looking decidedly amused. "We may have more in common than we thought." His retinue nodded along with his observation.

"Surely you are a busy man? You are Eparch of not one, but two territories."

"Do you know what the title 'Eparch' entails, Middle Prince?" Amon said, more as a targeted quip than an actual question.

"I... am not familiar, I admit," you ceded.

"An Eparch is a figurehead. Makuria and Alodia have long been ruled by invaders and rebels, respectively. I'm kept in a symbolic position to preserve what's left of Nobatian culture," Amon sighed. "In fact, I was sent here in place of the true rulers since they thought it so unlikely that you would have anything important to say to us. Anything other than absorbing us into your hegemony, of course."

You averted your gaze. He clearly was not happy with his status, and while his discontent wasn't targeted at you, it hovered about him like a cloud. He picked at the remainder of his meal while the cloud dissipated and you plucked a topic from the clearing air.

"How was your journey here? You've come a long way," you said.

"It was pleasant enough. Your trains and... horseless carriages are quite impressive," Amon said, pausing. "What's your name for them again?"

"Automobiles," you answered.

"Yes, automobiles." He rolled the word in his mouth as if tasting wine. "Though you have such a fine river and only use it for cargo. A felucca would have made my journey quite enjoyable."

"A felucca?"

"Ah, it's my turn to inform you." Amon smiled. "A felucca is a sailboat we use on the Nile. It's built for comfort, with carpets instead of hardwood decks. Some even come with a kitchen, and it's unheard of to sail without finishing a pot of tea."

"It sounds lovely," you said. "Lavender tea, I hope."

Amon raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, my favorite," he looked amused. "How did you know?"

"A whim," you answered. "The same one that brought me over to your table."

"I see." His eyes locked with yours for a lengthy pause. His retinue shifted in their seats at the uncomfortable silence. He was thinking hard about something, but the subject of his thoughts remained unknown to you. If he truly shared the dreams with you, surely you must have gotten the point across by now?

"It was lovely chatting with you, Middle Prince." He broke the silence and straightened his posture. "But I would hate to keep you when you have other guests to see."

"I really don't—"

"Nonsense, my prince," he interrupted, "go on and mingle. Perhaps, if we're lucky, our paths will cross when the festivities begin in earnest."

You couldn't believe your eyes. Did he wink at you?

"Of course..." you said, slowly realizing he was scheming. "Enjoy the gala." He locked eyes with you again.

"Oh, we will."

You had resumed hovering with Petra on the edges of the great hall. More staff had filed in to take away dirty dishes and the remains of the guests' meals. The dance floor had been opened, the musicians were in position, and staff bearing silver trays readied drinks for the merry and hors d'oeuvres for the peckish.

"How was your visit with the Eparch?" Petra asked.

"Enlightening," you answered cryptically. The need for secrecy hadn't passed, but now you were unsure of what charade to uphold. You only knew Amon was in on it as well.

"I trust that means it went well?"

"Yes, I think so." You scanned the crowd of attendees, which had now gotten up from their seats and begun to mix and intermingle. Amon disappeared like an ace into a shuffled deck. Petra flashed you an impatient expression.

"Prince, do you want me to help you get with him or not?" She said with folded arms.

"Petra!" You gasped. "You're rather forward."

"It's quite literally my job to make sure you end up with him if you wish it, Prince," she assumed a stern tone as if you refused your vegetables. "Give me a yes or no."

You stewed under her gaze. It seemed the pressure and time-sensitive nature of the gala had started to affect her as well, though for different reasons to you.

"Yes." You muttered. She didn't ask for confirmation, instead slipping away into the crowd with nothing more than a nod. Was this part of the charade, still? You had no idea what Amon even wanted, or frankly, what you wanted from tonight.

The musicians started and the small groups that had formed on the edge of the dance floor produced couplets of dancers. They were eager to begin the waltz, a somewhat contentious dance that had only recently come into popularity. You hadn't been practiced in it, instead learning of court dances like the cotillion. As you watched it take place, the dancers seemed awfully close. They were practically pressed against one another!

While you tried to discern the intricacies of this new style of dance before you, that familiar azure face peeked at you from the crowd. Amon smiled and raised his drink in your direction. It was a small gesture but you were helpless to do anything other than join him. Before you knew it, you were at his side in the sea of people and some sort of libation had been thrust into your hand.

"You know, I'm starting to grow partial to this stuff," Amon said, sipping on a duplicate of the drink you held.

"I was under the impression your faith disallowed the consumption of alcohol," you said, watching him finish the glass.

"An easy mistake to make." He handed off the glass to a roving staff member. "Modern Makurians and Alodians don't drink. Nobatians like me do. It's one of the holdovers of my dead culture."

You looked at the glass in hand; it was a clear, cold drink with a slice of lime. As you expected, the taste was bitter and unwelcoming.

"You like gin?" You asked, one taste enough to identify it.

"As I said, it's starting to grow on me," Amon chuckled. "It's not good enough to stop me from missing home, but it'll get me through the night."

"Speaking of home..." you started, looking around. You were unable to spot any other blue-skinned tieflings in the crowd. "where has your retinue gone?"

"I told them to enjoy themselves. As my courtiers, that means they're likely hovering by the exit, waiting to escort me out of here when I leave."

"They seem like a serious bunch."

"They're overprotective," Amon hissed. "As I said, my culture is long dead. They see it as dying. They think they can save it by putting me in a glass case for future generations to study."

"You've given up on Nobatia?"

"Pah! Of course I have!" He deftly procured another drink from a passing waiter. "Nothing will bring the old country back. Nobatia is a minuscule region; I can say with certainty I'm the youngest one left. When I'm old and infirm, Makuria and Alodia will reject the idea of a royal family entirely and I'll finally be allowed to be forgotten."

"That's quite a bleak outlook, Eparch," you gently chided. "Perhaps in war, things would be on a fixed course, but matters of diplomacy are more malleable."

"Perhaps," Amon said, sipping his gin. "But that's enough about me. I'd like to know more about you."

His eyes looked into yours as if he would magick the information he wanted straight out of you. No incantations were uttered, though, and you took a pragmatic sip of gin to fill the pause.

"What would you like to know?" You said.

"I'd like to know about this 'whimsy' you have," Amon probed. "To be frank, my prince, I expected to be out the door by now. Instead, I'm here, conversing with you. It doesn't make sense."

You finished your gin. This was as good a time as any to explain yourself.

"What do you know of oneiromancy?" The question left your lips and slapped Amon across the face. He chuckled.

"The school of magick so vague and unmeasurable it's not even officially recognized?"

"It seems you know the same as most," you said. "Oneiromancy is real. At least, real enough to give me the same dream night after night."

"I see..." Amon was mulling something over.

"In each one of these dreams, though my waking memory is hazy, I remember one thing they all had in common." You took a deep breath. "You."

"We should discuss this in private," Amon interjected, gently brushing your hand against his. You had been so caught up with telling Amon that you forgot you were in the middle of a crowded gala. Concern crept into the corners of his face. "Do you have a place we can go?"

You nodded and grasped his hand in earnest. The spot you took him to was one of the many balconies that overlooked the palace gardens. The sun had set fully at this point, and waltz music lazily floated out of the great hall. A few revelers who had over-indulged caught the fresh air in the hedges below. You and Amon rested on the cool marble balustrade, momentarily admiring the mingling of crickets, music, distant conversation, and the night air.

"I've been having the dreams as well. All of them involving you in some... capacity. I wasn't sure it was you at first. The dreams were so vague..." Amon kept his gaze fixed on the gardens below.

"Were the dreams... um, did you wake up... well..." you stammered. He looked at you knowingly.

"Yes, a few times," Amon answered. He didn't seem nearly as embarrassed as you. "You suspect oneiromancy is at play?"

"The court oneiromancers determined the dreams are being intentionally created. They're not a coincidence."

"Court oneiromancers?" Amon nearly spat out his drink. "My, you do have everything in this kingdom."

"Yes, we have court oneiromancers, but your surprise is beside the point." You had finally found the mysterious Amon, and you didn't want to waste any time on tangents. "Surely you're just as curious as I? Do you know anything about these dreams?" Amon drained the remainder of his gin in response.

"When I was a child..." He paused and shook his head. "When I was a child, my mother told me folk tales. The standard stuff: damsels in distress, slaying horrific beasts, that sort of thing. But she also told me tales of lovers who met in dreams. She said that was how she and father met."

"Something tells me you don't believe in that."

"When I grew too old for fairy tales, I saw it as her way of helping me keep hope that the one would be out there. With Nobatia falling and no suitors left..." he trailed off, setting his empty glass on the balustrade.

"So what if she's right?"

"That's a rather large 'if,' my prince. She was the only one that believed in that stuff... Aside from an uncle who would tell more dreamers-to-lovers tales, but only after drinking too much boukha, and always with a sarcastic tongue. They're just that: tales."

You felt Amon's cloud of discontent precipitate once more. His words were scathing, but not towards you; they spoke to a painful past and familiarity with disappointment. He saw something hopeful, happy, and promising, then cast it down in order to never feel the pain of losing it. You rarely had such clear insights about people, but with Amon it was different. It was as if you had known him for a long time and learned the language spoken by his brow, posture, and eyes. You knew what you had to do.

"Amon," you sighed, placing a hand on his, "even fairy tales originate from some truth, even if only a little. Don't be afraid to entertain the notion that your mother might be right."

You tried to look him in the eyes, but he cast his gaze down to the gardens below. His quick tongue failed him and silence ensued. His hand had reluctantly surrendered itself to your grasp, resting warm and limp.

"Look at me," You commanded with a firmer tone than expected. Reluctantly, he swiveled towards you and his aquamarine eyes found their way to yours. "Think about what you truly want. Don't be afraid to take it."

He swallowed. After a pause of a few heartbeats, his free hand grasped the back of your head, entwined his fingers in your hair, and pressed your lips to his. Your hand that held his grasped even tighter. The two of you were entwined in your own scandalous waltz. You could feel his hunger just as clearly as you felt his discontent when he parted your lips with his tongue. You reciprocated, catching fleeting impressions of his sharp teeth. He tasted like gin and figs. Short, passionate gasps and moans escaped the two of you and joined the chorus of crickets. You pulled away only to catch your breath.

"Amon," you gasped, his name sweet on your tongue. He looked at you with a bewildered expression and flushed navy cheeks. Neither of you could believe what just happened, yet surprise gave way to familiarity. Kissing Amon made your heart race but your shoulders relax. Being breathless and panting in his embrace was as recognizable to you as Petra's morning wake-up calls, or the smell of the gardens, or the feeling of your bedchamber floor on your bare feet. Déjà rêvé.

"I..." Amon sighed, "I shouldn't. I've had too much gin. I've been foolish." He released you from his arms and took several steps backward. Your jaw hung agape as he jogged inside and disappeared from view. Too shocked to try to catch him, you remained outside and alone on the balcony with only the sound of crickets and distant strings to keep you company. Just as silently and perceptively as a cat, Petra crept from the doorway a short while later.

"I saw Amon run away and came to check on you." She looked at your expression and reciprocated with a downtrodden look of her own. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. Probably not." You sighed and buried your face in your elbows until all you could see was the balustrade. You sensed Petra take a few steps towards you.

"What happened?" She asked delicately.

"We kissed, passionately. Then he said he was foolish and ran away," you mumbled into your self-embracing arms. Petra rested a hand on your shoulder.

"Some people just can't handle the fast pace and the pressure at galas like this. I'm sure it wasn't personal."

"I know..." you sighed. To Petra, your attempts at flirting simply failed to land. She didn't see the dreams. She didn't see the look in his eyes. She didn't hear the fear of hope in his voice. There were not enough hours in the night to explain to her the true extent of your sorrows.

"There's always tomorrow, Prince."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tonight is only for the Gala," Petra explained, her tender tone turning slightly optimistic, "anyone attending will be staying at least until tomorrow night for the treaty signing."

"So Amon is still here, then?" you asked, finally pulling your forehead from its resting place on your folded arms.

"He was likely running to the guest wing of the palace, where all the other dignitaries will be. If you truly wish to meet with him again, breakfast tomorrow morning would be an excellent opportunity."

You considered things for a moment. If Amon were to stay one more night, then that was one more dream to share. Tonight, you and Amon would spring awake in bed at the same time after another shared dream, but he would be only a few corridors away.

"Petra, get me an oneiromancer." You commanded.

"An oneiromancer? At this time of night? They're probably attending the gala with the rest of the court."

"Petra, this is important," you said. "I haven't exactly been forthcoming about everything in these recent days, and I'm sorry for that... but I need an oneiromancer before I sleep tonight. If you can do this for me, I promise to explain everything soon."

Petra looked at you silently, deciding whether or not to press you for details now rather than later contingent on your promise. She chose the former, nodding and silently fast-walking inside.

Alone once more on the balcony, you leaned on the balustrade and studied the stars. The moon's halo of illuminated night sky was the same color as Amon's lips. With any luck, you'd be seeing them again soon in tonight's dream.

#exophilia #monster x reader #monster x human #romance #male reader #tiefling #male tiefling x male reader #monster love #mlm #monster romance #monster fic #mlm romance

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kerie-prince · 4 years

Text

the intern

Peter Parker x Reader (college au)

requested: (anon) plz plz plz give me some college aged, super powerful ( think stark ceo powerful ) peter parker shit. idc what the rest of the story is about, i just need a brooding, smoldering, suit wearing, extremely expensive, college aged spiderman. plz and thank you!!!!

warnings: language

summary: When you start a new internship at Stark Industries, you're not only surprised to find Peter working as your boss, but that he's not the shy neighborhood boy you grew up with

a/n: this doesn't follow canon so for this imagine, hammer industries is just a rival company and the snap never happened lol also i don't know anything more than operating a phone so don't expect me to write sciencey, techy stuff lmao

(gif source)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were running across the road to jump into a cab that was available. Your phone hadn't been charging all night as you thought it had which caused you to wake up forty-five minutes before the start of the interview. You need this internship before you graduate from Empire State and get your degree in robotics.

On the way there, you nearly got car sick as the driver took sharp turns and nearly ran past intersections seconds before they became red. Once in front of Hammer Industries, your heels clicked loudly as you ran inside the tall building. You checked in with the front desk and took the elevator up to the 10th floor.

Just as you arrived, Justin Hammer was calling your name. “I'm right here!” you nearly tripped on your heels and your breaths were short.

“I've called your name three times, do you understand what that makes you look like, correct?” Justin stood unphased as you stood up straight and tried to steady your breath. “All these people are on time. Some of these folks have been here for hours, even.”

“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry–”

“Shame, I really liked your resume and your report on the expansion of nano-technology. Try again next year, maybe.” Justin started to call out the next participant and when she got up you stepped in front of her, “Please Mr. Hammer, I need this internship or I can't graduate.”

The people in the waiting room had their eyes on the two of you, tension so thick that it was almost hard to breathe. “Then maybe you should have come on time,” he pushed you aside to let the next person in to interview. You quickly ran back out and spoke to no one all the way home. Your eyes and cheeks were aching as you held in the tears during your Uber ride. The driver wanted to ask if you were okay, but if you were to break down in his car he’d probably be stuck having to listen to what happened and if he was honest with himself, he didn't actually care.

Once you got to your apartment, you made a straight line to the kitchen. “Hey, how’d the interview go?” MJ, your roommate, asked while still looking at her computer. You reached into the freezer for your emergency ice cream pint, snatched a spoon and walked into your room without saying anything. “That bad, I guess,” MJ said to herself.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

You sat with MJ and Ned in the cafeteria, but had not touched any of the food on your plate. Your head was laid on the steel table and you just continuously groaned. “I’m a failure,” you whined.

“No, what you are is fucking dumb,” MJ commented as she ate.

“Thanks, Michelle, that makes me feel so much better,” you looked up to glare at her before laying her head back down. Ned felt bad that his friend was in despair, “How come you didn't ask Peter for help?”

“Huh?” you lifted your head back up some of your hair falling onto your face.

“Yeah, Peter already works at Stark Industries, why didn't you just ask him to get you in? You could even skip the internship altogether and be in full time,” Ned suggested. You gave it some thought, but something about it didn't sound right.

“No, I don't want to bother Peter. I don’t want him to think that I’m only calling him for a job,” you sighed. Ned texted Peter anyways. Unexpectedly, Peter texted him back immediately.

“He says it’s fine,” Ned showed you his phone to read the text. ‘Yeah man, tell her to come in tomorrow and Ms. Potts will interview her’

You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding and pulled out your phone.

‘Thank you so much for helping me out’

(…)

‘No problem, anything for a friend’

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

The Stark Industries building was huge. It almost looked taller than the Empire State Building, and maybe it actually was. Your legs were shaking as you stared up at it. “Here goes nothing,” you assured yourself.

The lobby was bustling with people; workers walking around, a group of kids that seemed to be here on a field trip, and some teens taking pictures in front of one of Mr. Stark's Iron Man suits.

The trip up to the 17th floor was crowded with people as more and more entered in every passing floor. You had to squeeze yourself out and accidentally stepped on someone’s foot in the process.

Looking around, your jaw dropped. It was an open laboratory with groups of people putting together small robots, flying drones, and people laughing and talking. It was such a fun and cool looking environment, you wondered why you didn't just apply here in the first place.

Pepper Potts spotted you walking around and approached you with a tap on your shoulder. “Hi, I’m Pepper. You must be Y/N,” she reached her hand out to shake yours which you accepted. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Peter’s told me a lot about you. Come, follow me,” Pepper’s office had glass walls and a view of New York from behind her desk. You weren't particularly fond of heights, but even you would love to have an office view like that. Pepper gestured to the chair in front of her as she smoothed her dress to sit in hers. “So, I see here that you had an interview at Hammer’s. Can I ask why you chose them?” You didn't even know how they got that information. You hadn't seen or spoken to Peter in quite a while, so how Pepper knew that was beyond you. You sat there with your lips moving to say something but nothing was coming out.

Pepper seemed to have caught on what you were thinking and elaborated, “Before I do any interviewing, I do full background checks on everyone.” She had a gentle smile which made you feel better. You thought she would scold you or something considering the question did more than catch you off guard.

“My mother used to work there for a long time and I figured that I would follow,” you explained. Pepper nodded her head and wrote some notes down. She looked onto her computer and looked at everything there was about you. “Well, I see here that you have exceptional grades. 4.7 GPA since you started school and your paper on nano-technology has gotten much praise. I think even Tony read it.” No way. The Tony Stark read my paper? “So tell me, do you see yourself working here at Stark Industries?”

You looked outside and watched everyone in the open lab again. “Yes.”

“Then that’s all I need to hear. We’d love to have you here,” she reached over to shake your hand. You looked at her surprised and hesitantly shook hers. “Welcome to the team, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much!” You cupped her hand with both of yours and shook it a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to mind. You were ecstatic to start your path to your career, and at a dream place at that.

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Your alarm rang at the time you set it to, but there was no need for it. You couldn't sleep all night. Today is your first day of your internship and you were feeling so many things at once. Excited, nervous, happy, scared…

You tried to restrain yourself to a light breakfast, but MJ’s pancakes were to die for that you ate two whole stacks. You looked through your closet just about fifteen times; you had already picked an outfit the following night with the help of MJ, but when you put it back on, you hated it. It sucked for your roommate seeing as she had to sit through you changing from eight other outfits.

You tried to picture the lab again to see how other people dressed for a better idea to base it on your outfit choice. From what you remember, it was pretty casual, so that’s what you stuck to.

You were given your pass the day you were hired, so you had no issue walking inside. The elevator was just as packed as it was last time, but you were more composed so there were no toes being stepped on this time. You weren't exactly sure as to where you had to go, so you looked around to see if there were other interns to ask where to start.

“Y/N!” Peter’s voice surprised you from behind. Your shoulders jumped a bit, but relaxed at the view of his face. His face… you actually hadn't seen him for quite a while. Months, maybe. His jawline was more defined, and his once floppy hair was styled neatly. You tried to not look him up and down, but the temptation was definitely there. And the other thing, his voice was deeper than you last remembered. Is this really Peter Parker? “Hey, Peter.”

He gave you a hug that nearly made you lose breath. He was stronger than you remembered. A memory flashed back to when you were in junior high; you, Ned and Peter were hanging around the local park and you beat Peter on rounds on the monkey bars. He gave up after a couple bars, but you went back and forth a couple times. ‘Show off.’ But now, he had muscles that the shirt he was wearing hugged his biceps.

The hug was quick, and you had to pretend that he didn't just squeeze some life out of you. “Do you work on this floor?”

“Yeah, you’re actually assigned to work with my team. Come, I’ll show you around.” He started walking and you noticed how his posture changed. Damn, I know it hasn't been this long since I've seen him. Why does he look so different? He was wearing trousers. Trousers? Peter hates trousers. But his ass is looking great–

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s going to be working with us as an intern. And I'll say this beforehand, no she's not going to be taking coffee or lunch orders,” Peter introduced you. There were various aged people in this group. Some were your age, and one person looked to have been in his thirties. Peter is in charge of this group? They all said ‘hi’ to you and went around introducing themselves.

Once that was finished, Peter pulled a chair for you on the table. “You’ll take notes for me while I give this presentation,” he whispered to you before walking in front of the table and started writing on the clear glass board.

He was talking quickly and didn't stumble over his words like he used to. Everyone was listening to him attentively and you jotted notes down as quickly as you could. Every now and then, you would steal glimpses of him and feel a sort of… well you felt something. Amazement? Inspiration? Adoration?

No doubt was Peter one of the smartest people you've ever met and here he was leading his own team and making potential products for Stark Industries at such a young age. Seeing him at work was so… it was indescribable to you but all you could think of was how different he is now. In a good way, of course.

Peter Parker has been your friend for years and to see him change from a bumbling, shy, adorable nerd into a confident, intelligent working man attracted you.

When you got home, you thought a lot about your first day. Being an intern at Stark Industries was really fun, so far. You weren't expected to do silly things like get coffee or lunch for everyone or pick up someone’s dry cleaning. You actually learned something and even had your opinions heard on some of the things that Peter suggested for his team’s upcoming product presentation.

If this is what it's like to be an intern, you couldn't imagine what it would be like working full time.

“How'd it go?” MJ stuck her head in your room. “It was fun. I'm working with Peter,” you explained your day to her.

“Cool,” was the last thing she said before she went to her own room for the night.

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In the past few months, your internship at Stark’s has been going swimmingly. Everyone's been so nice, and the work is so fascinating. You've gotten closer with Peter and along the way, he felt like he was more than a friend and boss to you.

Currently, everyone was getting ready for their final presentations for the upcoming annual Stark Industries Convention. It was going to be Peter’s first year presenting his own project with his team and you were so excited to be a part of it.

The time you’ve spent with Peter was really fun. He was a good mentor and a great friend. The only thing was that you couldn't help but look at him a little too long, and you’ve found yourself thinking about him during your classes or doing your homework. The shy boy from Midtown High was no more, replaced– no, grown into the Peter you know now. But you pushed all feelings aside to focus on your next thesis paper and mock-up of the handout brochures of Peter’s project.

Sometimes, you didn't even feel like an intern as Peter would ask for any ideas you had to make the project better and even let you help with assembly. He stayed true to his words and you’ve never once had to run for coffee or things like that. There’d be times when you would study some of the little parts under a magnifying glass and he’d come up slightly behind you and explain about some of the bits on the working table.

And every time he did that, your breath would be stuck in your throat and you’d have to remind yourself that this was just Peter helping you out and you’re just learning. But it was normal to want more every now and then… right?

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The convention was just a few days away and you had trouble finding something to wear. These events were usually black tie events, but did that mean the presenting teams as well? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable?

One of the guys on your team, Richie, sat with you during lunch and talked about how he was probably going to wear the same suit as always. Not because he couldn't afford a new suit, but he was just a simple person and he only wears it once a year for the conventions and that’s all, so it’s still in mint condition.

The girls on your team and some from others were going dress shopping the day before and invited you to join. You were excited mainly because now you don't have to bother MJ for it.

Speaking of MJ, you were going to ask her to come with you. Pepper sent out the electronic invitations to everyone in the company and authorized plus ones to even interns. She’s never been to one – for reasons you were still confused about – but you wanted your best friend to be there for you. And if not MJ, then you bet Ned would still come with you. Wait, what if he’s going with Peter?

On cue, Peter had sat in the chair next to yours in the small break room, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey Pete. You excited for Saturday?” Peter quietly stirred his coffee and gave you a small smile, “Uh, yeah. I’m nervous, but I’ve worked really hard on this. And everyone, too. Including you.”

You slightly blushed. I didn't do all that much you thought. You two just sat there taking small sips from the hot, bitter beverage.

“So… I wanted to ask you something,” Peter started.

“Mhm?” The coffee nearly slipped past your lips. You quickly grabbed a napkin to lightly dab some of it off of your lips.

“Well, as you know, we can bring anyone with us to the convention,” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Is he going to…

“And I wanted to know if you were bringing MJ with you.” Oh. You nodded your head and thought you hid your disappointment well but without knowing, Peter actually caught it for a split second. “Good. You can come with me,” he smiled and stood up.

You were in awe; without effort, Peter just asked you to be his date for Saturday.

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“Dude, how are you not ready yet? He’s gonna be here any minute,” MJ sat at her computer per usual working. Your music was too loud for her taste playing from your shared bathroom. Peter said he would pick you up at 7, and it was currently 6:50.

You had put on and removed your make-up at least five times. Something was always wrong; one of the wings would either be thicker than the other, the blush would be the wrong shade, or the lipliner kept going out of place. But, alas, you finally nailed it.

Your hair was styled half up with elegant curls and braids. In between some braids were little bits of baby’s breath flowers. Most likely, you were going to have a hard time taking those out but they looked cute and it was too late to take them out.

Your dress was right above your knee and flowed comfortably so you wouldn't have a hard time walking. It was a neutral taupe color and had a V-line that ended just above cleavage and hugged the curve of your waist. You paired it with simple black heels and a small, white handbag.

“He’s here,” MJ informed you.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, “what do you think?” You spun around and held your arms out. “You look really pretty. Now go get ‘em. I’ll watch it on the live stream.” She gave you a lazy thumbs up and resumed her work.

Outside was Peter in an all-black apparel. His dress shirt had only one button undone, and he had a loose blazer that accentuated the dip of his shoulders. He stood against the limo with his hands at his sides. God, he’s gonna be the death of me.

When he caught sight of you, he had a flirtatious smirk on his lips and held out for your hand. “Peter, where’d this limo come from?”

“Mr. Stark set it up for me,” he stated like it was no big deal. Must be nice being his favorite. He held the door for you to climb in and closed the door behind him. “We’re ready, Happy,” he told the driver. Happy rolled his eyes, closed the window and drove off.

The convention was off to a great start; Tony Stark came in with his suit as he always loved to do and started introductions before everyone else scattered around to look at the projects of the many departments in his company. Some groups of certain departments had large stages, some had small stands, like Peter’s.

There were still large crowds coming to see the smaller presentations, and everyone seemed to be fascinated with Peter's. You stood on the side as his team operated the machine and Peter spoke. He looked confident and it was mesmerizing to watch him.

After the night was over, all employee’s and some guests were brought back to headquarters for the after party. You walked around with Peter and had flutters in your heart every time he held the small of your back. The most exciting part of the night was meeting Tony Stark in person. He greeted Peter warmly, and then his eyes landed on you, “Peter, who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Y/N. She’s a friend of mine,” he gestured for you. You shook Tony’s hand and stood starstruck. “The one you don’t shut up about?” Pepper hit his shoulder and laughed nervously.

“Wait, I’ve heard about you. Buddy of mine works at Empire State and he showed me your paper, it was really good.” You were still shocked that he had even read it and here he was talking to you about it. You went back and forth talking about nano-technology.

On the way home, you and Peter talked and laughed about things you told him as you caught him up to what was happening on campus when he couldn't be there. It was a really fun night, and Peter was more noticeably relaxed now that the hard part was over. “Alright, home sweet home,” Happy announced through the window.

“Well, that’s me,” you smiled sadly, not wanting the night to end. You reached to open the door but Peter climbed out from his side. He walked around to open your door and just like he did earlier, held his hand out for you to grab and assist you out the limo. What was different this time was that he kept his hand in yours as he walked you to the door of the apartments. “I had a great time with you tonight,” Peter confessed.

“Me too,” your voice was soft and low for only him to hear. Peter’s eyes switched from looking into yours to your lips before he grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you. The kiss was needy, passionate, but had a certain gentleness to it. Once he felt you kiss him back with the same fervor, he deepened the kiss and brought one hand to pull your waist closer to him.

You pulled apart to regain your breath and looked to admire his swollen lips and he copied the same notion. He leaned in to give you a gentle kiss and pulled away, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Peter.” Your cheeks were flushed and your face was warm. You watched him as he left and ran inside. Upstairs in your apartment, you found MJ and Ned sitting on the couch with a bag of chips in each of their hands.

“Good night?” Ned asked. You just nodded and walked slowly to your room.

“We saw the whole thing, by the way,” MJ said nonchalantly. You looked back to glare at your best friends, Ned smiling innocently at you and MJ keeping her straight face.

You changed into your pajamas and laid on your bed on your back, looking up at the ceiling. You couldn't wait to go back to work on Monday.

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