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pupyuj · 3 days ago

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→ “cherry on top.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— gifting your girlfriend a beautiful (and expensive) necklace was going to be the perfect way to end the last night of your winter getaway but with the necklace being forgotten all the way back to your shared apartment, wonyoung decides on the next best thing…

word count: 3.7k.

dynamic: dom!jang wonyoung x sub!actress!reader.

warnings: age gap, reader is older, lots of biting and marking, fingering, mommy kink, praise kink, hair pulling, reader being an actress doesn't really play a big part lol, wonyoung is down horrendous, wony is also lowkey into pain like whoa!

requested?: nope.

a/n: fun fact, i wanted to drop this fic around/on christmas but ofc, i didn’t have enough time so i just made it winter-themed instead 😭 i would have loved to actually drop something from my wip list that's actually been there for a while but since this ended up being a short one, i decided to go with it instead! i hope you guys like it though! i know it's not my best work ever BUT this will be a nice little step to get me back to my writing machine roots 😎😎

“i really don’t know why i’m doing all of this. it’s really nothing special,” you shared a giggle with your girlfriend, wonyoung, as you guided her along the hallways. you made her wear your favorite sleeping mask to completely obscure her vision for the sole reason of surprising her with what you have spent quite a bit of time setting up earlier in the afternoon. wonyoung, despite her excitement, takes her next steps carefully. she didn’t want a stupid incident to take attention away from what you so obviously worked hard on. “but i think this is the best way to end our little trip.” you halted her steps, giving her a soft kiss from behind her shoulder and finally lifting up the mask.

wonyoung blinks several times to have her eyes adjust to the lights that illuminated the lodge. what she saw in the living room area was a humble picnic set up! soft sheets lay on the center of the room (wonyoung noticed that you pushed the coffee table aside for space) accompanied with a few pillows, a wicker basket filled with pasties, wine, and other snacks was sitting right beside it along with a bouquet of pink tulips, and right on the sheets was your laptop with Clueless more than ready to start playing.

“oh, unnie, this is wonderful!” wonyoung whips around and squeezes you for a tight hug. you returned the embrace with the same amount of love, even going as far as to giving a kiss to the side of her head. wonyoung proceeded on tugging you over at your little set-up and sat you down. one would think that you ended world hunger with the way her eyes shined as she stared at you. you tried to ignore that sinking feeling in your stomach—guilt. because as lovely as this was, this trip should not be ending like this. you had something far better planned! but you should have expected with the way you and wonyoung rushed to start the trip that you would forget the most important item that you would be gifting her—the prettiest diamond necklace that even made a successful and rich actress like yourself sweat with how expensive it was.

but you weren’t going to tell wonyoung about the dent it made on your bank account, like ever. anyhow, you realized that you completely forgot about the necklace on the previous night. you weren’t able to sleep much since something in the back of your mind was screaming at you to check your bags and make sure everything was perfect for the next day and alas, the necklace was nowhere to be found! if wonyoung hadn’t been sleeping peacefully, you would have screamed out of pure frustration at yourself!

there was no use crying over spilt milk, however. and so, you spent the rest of that nearly-sleepless night thinking up of ways to end the trip on a good note even without the necklace. a cute indoor picnic was the idea you liked the most, and now that you’ve seen how much wonyoung appreciates it, perhaps the idea wasn’t too bad. the next problem to tackle was explaining all the trouble you went through to set this all up to wonyoung, but maybe that should be saved for until you’re both too buzzed to care about anything else.

“i hope you don’t think this is boring compared to everything we’ve been doing for the past week, love.” you said as you filled up two glasses with wonyoung’s favorite white wine. (upon noticing this, wonyoung couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. maybe it was painfully simple of her to fawn over the fact that you remembered her favorite drink because it was the bare minimum considering you’ve been dating for years now, but it is as they say: it’s the little things! so, do pardon wonyoung for falling in love with you just a little bit deeper.) a surprised sound escapes your lips when you feel your girlfriend pressing her lips on your jawline, but then you laugh at how her hair tickled your skin.

when wonyoung leaned back and saw that she left a faint kiss mark on your jawline, she let out a satisfied smile. “what do you mean? this is lovely, unnie.” wonyoung can’t even remember all the times she has wished for one relaxing day with you, so she was beyond thankful that she had a whole week of just that. with her being a bigger idol than ever and you jumping from project to project, naturally neither of you had too much time to be together recently. but at least you were luckier than most celebrity couples who can’t even see each other at all! mostly because of their management that just refuses to give them time together. you and wonyoung were blessed with family, friends, and teams that supported your relationship so both of you made sure to enjoy this little trip with everything it had to offer.

“well, between skiing, having lunch in an observation deck atop the mountain, seeing the northern lights, and a picnic with some movies, which one would be more appealing to you?” you asked, leaning back on the pillows. almost automatically, you wrapped a single arm around wonyoung’s waist and pulled her closer to you.

“anything’s good with me as long as i’m with you. how’s that?” wonyoung replies with a grin, knowing she successfully made you cringe in your seat.

you laughed, shaking your head. “ew. cornball.”

the next three hours were a blur. thanks to wonyoung who was clearly having the time of her life, the two bottles of wine were finished relatively quickly. she had begged you to get just one more bottle, using everything in her power to convince you from fluttering her eyelashes, pouting, kissing you, and whispering naughty promises in your ear. as much as you didn’t want to wake up with a hangover, you couldn’t resist wonyoung. especially when all you could see in her eyes every time you looked at her was love!

surprisingly enough, wonyoung was… quiet. when she gets drunk, she’s usually so chatty and giggly. laughing at everything and nothing, sometimes she even turns into a whole pervert! inappropriate comments and all! but tonight, it seems like being in your embrace, basking in your scent, and listening to your heartbeat as she lay her head on your chest was everything she needed to be content. you turn your head steadily towards her, careful not to startle her away from your warmth. her eyes were closed and her breathing had slowed and gotten… heavier? was she asleep? well! that wasn’t how you expected your picnic night to go.

that is until you felt fingers sneak inside your hand-knit sweater, as well as plump lips pressed against your collarbone. a whimper accidentally escapes your lips at the cold sensation of wonyoung’s hand, and you can just tell that that was a sound you should not have allowed to come out of your mouth.

“you’re so sweet, (y/n)-unnie,” wonyoung was positively drunk! her cheeks were glaringly pink and a lazy smile spread across her face while she looked up at you from your shoulder. gods, she was adorable. but you didn’t have the time to revel in that fact when she suddenly straddles your lap, her long legs wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place. with nowhere to go, you were forced to look up at her this time. “planning this entire vacation behind my back, paying for everything and strongly refusing whenever i offered, giving me the best getaway of my life… why are you so perfect?”

“it’s what you deserve, wonyoung-ah.” your reply fell from your lips smoothly as if it was the only right answer to her question. and it really was.

wonyoung playfully rolled her eyes, “so do you. but i got distracted by how much thought you put into this entire vacation that i couldn’t think up of anything to make it up to you! except for one thing, of course…” you didn’t miss how wonyoung’s tongue swiftly brushed across her upper lip and how her smile now turned into something akin to a sly grin. her eyes spelled out her plan without needing the help of her words to which you adorably and pathetically blushed at upon realization.

“n-not everything is perfectly planned… i mean, this really wasn’t how i wanted to spend our last night here together! i was going to take you to the nearby town, have a candlelit dinner with the prettiest view of the frozen river and the snowy mountains, and… i was going to give you a—”

“—a necklace, right?” wonyoung cuts you off. (on the night you found out that the necklace was nowhere to be found, wonyoung was woken up by the sounds of your frustrated and heartbroken rants to one of your friends over the phone. you had no idea she heard everything. she made sure to hold you extra tight when you returned to bed in hopes of making you feel better. and naturally, it worked.) you pouted as you nod your head, once again feeling sad about how careless you were on the day you both set off on your vacation.

“i couldn’t believe i forgot to grab it… and i didn’t realize that i never brought it with us until yesterday! so you can imagine the stress i was under this entire day while i tried to set this all up!” you sighed deeply after your little rant. you pulled wonyoung close, putting your head in her chest as she consoled you. she couldn’t hold her laughter due to the sheer amount of cuteness aggression she was feeling over your whining, but she made sure to pat your back and kiss the top of your head.

“that explains why you abruptly left me by myself in the skating rink this afternoon! and why you came back all disheveled and out of breath! oh, unnie…” wonyoung only laughs harder when you tighten your hold around her waist—you were clearly embarrassed by your antics from earlier, but wonyoung thinks it’s so cute. you were older and wiser than her, but there are days where your childish and adorable side slips out and wonyoung thinks it’s so, so charming. and the way you don’t realize it makes it all ten times better. makes you ten times more… desirable. irresistible.

wonyoung starts to kiss you from your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your jawline… until she finally reaches your neck where she liked to just take you in and relish at how you shuddered at her actions, “necklace or not, the night would have ended up exactly the same… you did all this for me, and i would love to do things for you in return. many things.” you don’t realize that she reached behind you and undid the perfect ribbons she herself tied up for you. not until you felt her fingers drag across your now exposed skin while simultaneously giving your neck the softest kisses you’ve ever received.

“will you let me?”

she didn’t even need to ask. and she didn’t need to hear an answer from you. kissing her with never-before-seen passion was enough of a confirmation from you. wonyoung appreciates how you always allowed her to have control whenever things escalated. both of you knew you were too clueless about all this, but fortunately wonyoung wasn’t.

and thank heavens for that.

wonyoung tugs gently on your hair with one hand and holds your jaw tightly with the other, deepening the kiss, practically shoving her tongue inside your mouth and establishing dominance early on just because she so loves feeling the moment you submit to her. it happens when your shoulders relax, your hands fall on her thighs, and your hips desperately grind towards hers to quench your thirst. it’s a massive ego boost and if it wasn’t for you, wonyoung would feed on it until it consumed her… but she doesn’t allow that to happen. not anymore.

you deserve the utmost care and love and that was what she wanted to give you. what she will give you.

“mmhn.. wonyoung…” who would’ve thought that the brilliant young actress that the entire nation adores for her kind heart, bright-as-the-stars smile and unrivaled poise would elicit such sounds for a lover? but then again, jang wonyoung is not just any lover, is she?

wonyoung pulls your top over your head and tosses it elsewhere. she refused to believe that it was the wine that made you look a thousand times more delectable than usual, but rather, she accepted that you were just that stunning. with your hair unkempt in the most perfect way, your lip tint a mess on your face, chest heaving up and down, eyes clouded with longing… and the cherry on top? seeing that you were wearing the bra that wonyoung got you a few months back.

the younger girl bites her bottom lip at the sight, “please, have some patience.” whether wonyoung said that to you or to her very own hunger for you was unclear. she repositions herself so that she was now on all fours, her lips attached to yours once again but now… you had her hands on her. you wanted to feel her skin on yours, but wonyoung had plans of her own. she ignores your needy whines and your desperate attempts to undress her with great difficulty and continues on making a mess of your mind using her lips alone.

eventually, you were sitting on the couch while wonyoung was on her knees in front of you. your bra had been cast aside as well, leaving you fully topless. what a sight to behold, really. wonyoung spots a faint hickey on your collarbone, the one that she remembers putting there herself when she couldn’t help it after you both arrived at the lodge. there was another one on your shoulder which looked a lot more recent—that was from when she dragged you into the shower with her two days ago, and she was particularly proud of that one too!

you held wonyoung’s stare as her hand traveled slowly from your chest to your stomach. she was teasing you. enticing you to make a desperate action just so she can shut it down and hear you beg… but you know her game, and you don’t feel like playing it this time. besides, she asked you to ‘have some patience’! you weren’t one to disobey when she asked so nicely.

lifting your hips, wonyoung successfully got your shorts off of you and left them to fall at your ankles. “aww, you’re all ready for me.” wonyoung said smugly, staring at the wet spot on your underwear. add that to the list of things wonyoung finds so adorable about you; you can get riled up so easily, it’s sometimes unbelievable. and yet, you were never too needy and would rather wait for wonyoung to initiate something. she almost hated how patient you can really be, but hey, she was the one who asked for it!

“a-are you sure we should be doing this without closing the c-curtains—i mean, what if someone… some…” your words trail off, having been distracted with the way wonyoung gently presses her fingertips against your clothed clit and rubs very slow circles on it. and all of a sudden you didn’t care anymore. the mild shrubbery in front of the lodge was enough of a cover, you suppose.

“hm? what was that, unnie?”

“nothing.. noth—ah!” you squeak after wonyoung unexpectedly pressed hard on your clit, but cover your mouth immediately. but it’s not like anyone would hear, anyway. all of the other lodges are quite a distance away and you would have to be screaming for them to hear you and that, wonyoung feels, is quite timely because that was exactly what she wanted to do. as if it wasn’t obvious already, wonyoung has been a lot more head-over-heels for you than usual. she truly believes that she was falling in love with you all over again and the last time that happened, wonyoung had to run after you as you were leaving an event just to tell you about all about the feelings she has had for you. of course, that led to the wonderful relationship you have now… but just what else can wonyoung do this time?

“come here.” she pulls you in for a kiss. it was softer this time but it wasn’t any less passionate than the last. it almost felt like a reminder that even though her heart was on fire, wonyoung will still take care of you and you know what? that was basically the only reassurance that you needed to completely submit.

soon enough, your panties joined the pile of your clothes on the ground. wonyoung had started attacking your neck, her lips latching onto every inch of your skin and leaving lovely red marks in her wake. you’d tell her to be careful not to make them too red, or not to leave too much if it didn’t feel so good, if the way wonyoung’s fingers wasn’t so distracting with just how much she was teasing you. oh, to hell with it—you start grinding against her hand, paying no mind to how wonyoung couldn’t help but break into a smile while she worked her lips down to your chest. she wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you as close as you can be to her before catching one of your nipples in her mouth.

your hands dig through wonyoung’s beautiful hair while your moans fill the warm, empty air. it was getting harder and harder to pay attention to anything at this point. all you can hear was wonyoung’s soft moans and heavy breathing, and it reminded you of how much you would have loved to switch roles and please her yourself, but wonyoung was sweet enough to take charge and you need this. “mmn… mommy, open up for me… please?” the younger girl whispered against your skin. you lift one leg up, giving wonyoung all the access she wanted and more.

you leaned further back on the cushions of the couch as wonyoung inserted two fingers inside you. she was slow, careful. she always gave you chances to back out if you didn’t feel comfortable enough to do any of this with her. and once she knew that you truly wanted this, she allowed herself to relax and start her work. although, her steady pace didn’t last long—each second that passed, she only thrusted faster, wanting to hear you moan over and over again. she kept glancing up from your chest, looking at your expressions and smiling to herself while she alternated between sucking on your tits and leaving marks all over them. not having had enough of it all, you started rocking your hips towards the younger girl’s hand, desperately chasing after even more pleasure.

occasionally, wonyoung would wince at how hard you tugged at her hair. she knows you don’t do it on purpose and she does like it, plus it gives her reason to, say, ‘get back at you’ by biting your skin and making you wince. and it was when she bit on your collarbone that you moaned her name wonderfully. pride surges within wonyoung. more, she wanted, and faster she went. her fingers reached deeper than they ever have before and out of your mouth came sounds wonyoung was hearing for the first time, so she kept it up.

“tell me,” wonyoung says. you hear her, but you don’t respond. “am i doing goo—mmpf!” you silenced wonyoung by quickly pulling her hair and crashing your lips together. your free hand clutches on her shoulders for dear life, your nails digging into the skin exposed by her off-shoulder blouse.

“yes…! hmnn… you’re being so good, love…” you answered as your lips briefly parted hers. wonyoung, overwhelmed by adrenaline, moans at the praise. she was soaking wet herself; her core ached for attention and your praises, your lips, and your tightness wasn’t making anything easy for her. but oh, sweet and selfless wonyoung wouldn’t stop pleasing you just as you’re about to reach your climax just so she can get off instead. she hides her face on the crook of your neck, now stimulating your clit with her thumb and driving you into a frenzy.

“i love you so much, unnie… i’ll make it up to you properly later on but—hah… but for now,” wonyoung releases your waist from her hold and places her hand behind your other thigh before pushing your leg back. “cum for me.” she mutters right against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine before you succumb and the knot in your stomach breaks. wonyoung held you as you came, trying her very hardest not to cum with you because not only will that be embarrassing but also because surely you would tease her for cumming untouched!

wonyoung pulled her fingers out of you once you were calm again. you smile at her as you didn’t have the energy to speak just yet… nor did you have the energy to do anything else at all. while wonyoung was busy cleaning up her fingers (using her mouth, naturally), you just so happened to notice that she had her legs closed a bit too tightly, and her face was flushed way beyond normal. and then, you knew. your poor, darling angel needed you too!

you went on to move yourself back down on the mattress on the floor, then, you took a hold of wonyoung’s sleeve and pulled her down with you as you lay yourself down on your back. wonyoung was confused, albeit being totally into whatever you were planning. it was when you slid a leg in between her thighs and pressed it against her throbbing core that she knew. and oh, was she ready.

you tucked wonyoung’s hair behind her ear, and warmth blooms inside your chest when she smiles at you, “let’s make this night last, wonyoung-ah.” you mumbled as you placed a soft kiss on her nose.

“whatever you want, my love.”

well, turns out you really didn’t need that necklace, after all.

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viasdiary · 3 days ago

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☆ i'm yours (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ word count: 2.4k

☆ warnings: slightly toxic, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, not really proofread

☆ after taking a break from each other, you decide you should make it permanent. you invite luigi over to break up with him but he's got something else in mind.

luigi was so wrong for you, but you couldn't get enough of him. even after you'd broken up and gotten back together time and time again, you'd always end up back with him. this time was different though. you'd found someone to take your mind off of luigi, someone who made you feel so good about yourself. you were finally ready to let him go.

sitting on the couch in your living room, you pick up your phone and call luigi. he picks up after the first ring.

“hey what’s up,” he says, aiming to sound nonchalant but miserably falling short. he sounded like he'd been longing to hear you so badly.

“hey lu,” you say, feeling a pang of intense guilt. he has absolutely no idea what’s coming next.

“i’ve been meaning to uh-” you begin to say, before realizing you just don't have the heart to break up with him over the phone.

"why don't you come over tonight?" you suggest, your voice softer now, as if you’re bracing yourself for the weight of the words. "there’s something i’ve been meaning to talk to you about”

“uh yeah, i can probably be over in about an hour”

you nod, even though he can't see you. your fingers grip the phone a little tighter, and you press your lips together, trying to steady your breathing.

"okay, yea. i'll be here," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

the call ends before you can say anything else, and the sudden silence in the room feels almost suffocating. you stare at the screen of your phone, the echo of luigi’s voice still lingering in your ears. an hour.

you sit there for a moment, trying to gather yourself. you fidget with the hem of your sweater anxiously. the weight of what you’re about to do presses down on you, and you wonder if you’re making a mistake. but deep down, you know this is the right thing. you’ve been holding on for too long, and it’s time to let go.

the clock on the wall ticks louder than usual as the minutes slip by, each one pulling you closer to the moment when you’ll have to look him in the eyes and finally say the words. the words you’ve been avoiding, the ones that will end everything.

you stand up, pacing the small space of your living room bathed in the amber glow of the sunset shining through your window. you're not sure what to do with your hands, or your mind for that matter. the thought of luigi showing up here, of seeing him and feeling that familiar pull, makes your stomach twist. it’s always been like this—he’s always been like this. he’ll look at you with those wide brown eyes, and you’ll almost forget why you need to let go.

but you can’t forget. not this time.

the doorbell rings, pulling you back to reality. your heart skips a beat as you take a deep breath, walking toward the door. you hesitate for a moment before pulling it open, the sight of him standing there in a navy sweater and baggy jeans, his dark curls slightly disheveled, still somehow perfect in his own way—makes everything inside you ache.

"hey," he says softly, his voice carrying that familiar warmth, but there's something different now. he doesn’t know it yet, but things are about to change forever.

you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. "come on in."

as he steps over the threshold, you brace yourself. this is it.

before you can open your mouth, his hand finds its way beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head upwards as he plants his lips onto yours. you melt into the kiss, placing your hands against his chest as he pulls you closer, and for a moment, you forget everything. the warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of his cologne, the way his body fits perfectly against yours—it all comes rushing back, threatening to sweep away your resolve.

but then you remember why he's here, why you called him over. with a sharp intake of breath, you pull away, gently pushing against his chest. luigi looks at you, confused.

"what's wrong?" he asks, his hand still lingering on your waist.

you step back, creating some distance between you. the space feels charged, heavy with unspoken words.

"lu, we need to talk," you say, your voice steadier than you feel.

his thick eyebrows furrow, and you can see the concern etched across his face. "okay," he says slowly, following you as you lead him to the couch.

you sit down, leaving a little space between the two of you, and you just let it all out.

“i don't think this is gonna work for us anymore. i’ve been talking to someone else and i've kinda just had some realizations about us and i think we've outgrown this.”

its impossible to read his face as you continue speaking.

“i care a lot about you and i'd love to stay friends, maybe even-”

before you can finish he interrupts you with a soft chuckle.

“you think you're gonna sit me down and kick me to the curb? yea, that’s just not how tonight's gonna go.”

you feel a chill run down your spine at his words, his tone shifting from the warmth you're used to into something colder. your heart begins to race as you realize this isn't going the way you planned.

"luigi, please," you start, but he cuts you off again.

"no, you listen to me," he says, leaning in closer. his eyes, usually so soft and inviting, now hold a glint that makes you want to shrink away. "we've been through this before. you think you want to leave, but you always come back. always."

you shake your head, trying to find your voice. "this time is different. i've changed, we’ve changed"

"changed?" luigi scoffs, his hand suddenly gripping your arm. "you haven't changed. you're still the same person who needs me, who loves me. you're just confused right now. you know you fucking love me.”

your gaze shifts to his lips, pressed into a hard line, and then to his strong jawline.

you want so badly to tell him he's wrong, but he's not. you still love him, and as he's sitting on your couch next to you and as you look at his handsome face, you know exactly why you chose him.

you feel your resolve weakening, your carefully planned words crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. luigi's grip on your arm loosens slightly, his thumb now tracing small circles on your skin. the familiar touch sends shivers through you.

"i..." you start, but the words catch in your throat. you want to tell him he's wrong, that you've moved on, but the lie won't come.

luigi leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "tell me you don't love me," he whispers, his lips barely grazing your ear. "look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this."

you turn to face him, your noses almost touching. his brown eyes are full of anger, hurt, and desire. you open your mouth to speak, to end this once and for all, but no sound comes out.

instead, you find yourself leaning into him, your lips meeting his in a desperate, passionate kiss. your hands tangle in his curls as he pulls you closer, erasing any remaining space between you. the familiar electricity of his touch ignites something within you, and for a moment, all your doubts and reservations melt away.

but as quickly as it began, reality comes crashing back. you break away, gasping for air, your mind reeling. "no," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "no, we can't do this."

luigi's eyes flash with a mix of triumph and frustration. "we already are," he says, his voice low and intense. "you can't deny what's between us. you never could."

he places his hand behind your neck and pulls you close again, his lips brushing yours. you melt into him. god, you missed him so much, his touch, his voice, his body. with every movement of his lips, every stroke of his hand, he was righting his wrongs. his hand trails up your thigh, pushing up your skirt.

the way he touches you feels so nice, and your body responds against your will. his fingers trace patterns on your skin, sending shivers through you. as his hand snakes higher up your leg, you feel an aching need for him.

he breaks the kiss as he gently pulls you onto his lap, his hands planted firmly on your thighs as he places kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

“you’re so perfect for me.” he says, barely a whisper.

“and i know i’m perfect for you too,” he continues, his eyes scanning your face as he says it. he looks so beautiful like this. the golden light of the sunset bathing him in an amber glow, shining through his curls and making his dark brown eyes shimmer.

he finds the hem of your sweater and slowly slips underneath. he runs his large hands across your bare skin skin.

as he begins to lift your sweater, the realization of what's happening hits you, and you place your hands on his chest, prepared to push away from him, but you can't. you hate that he feels so good. you hate that you want him so badly.

you lean forward and kiss him, hard. luigi moans against your lips, and you can feel his erection straining against his jeans.

you break the kiss and begin to lift his sweater, running your free hand over his abs, eager to feel his bare skin against yours. he helps you get his sweater off, and then reaches for your sweater. in one swift movement, he pulls it off, tossing it aside. he pauses, his gaze raking over your exposed skin, before leaning in and planting a kiss on your collarbone.

he cups your breast and starts sucking on it. you bite your lip, trying not to moan.

he stops and looks up at you, his eyes burning with desire.

"god, i've missed this," he breathes.

"i missed you" you admit breathlessly.

you run your fingers through his soft, dark curls, the smell of his cologne intoxicating you as you move yourself back and forth slowly, rubbing yourself along his leg. the thin fabric of your underwear begins to dampen, and the friction only heightens your desire.

you lean in and kiss him, the taste of his tongue in your mouth making you shudder with pleasure. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, the feel of his skin against yours is unreal.

luigi slides his hands up and down your thighs as his mouth finds the delicate skin on the side of your neck.

"look at you, so fucking impatient. riding my leg to get yourself off" he says against your skin.

"he's not fucking you right, is he?" he whispers, his hand creeping under your skirt and finding the wet spot in your panties.

"no," you admit.

"that's too bad," he says, sliding his fingers under the edge of your panties and brushing them against your clit.

you gasp at his touch, grinding yourself against him.

your hips buck at the contact, and you let out a small moan.

"you're fucking soaked for me," he breathes, slipping a finger inside of you.

"luigi, please," you beg, grinding against his hand.

he adds a second finger, and you moan, arching your back and pressing yourself against him.

"god, look at you," he whispers, his voice thick with lust.

"i know he doesn't make you fuckin' sound like this" he says, more intensely this time.

"please luigi, just fuck me."

"not yet." he says, continuing to finger you and using his thumb to rub circles on your clit.

"lu," you whine, squirming and bucking your hips.

"so fuckin' needy," he says, a smirk spreading across his face.

you whimper, biting your lip and grabbing his shoulder, desperately clinging to him.

he keeps working his fingers, and you can feel your orgasm building. you can barely breathe, the feeling of his fingers inside you is so intense.

"fuck, lu," you pant, your nails digging into his skin.

he speeds up his pace, and you can feel your orgasm approaching.

"lu, i'm so fucking close," you say, the words slightly catching in your throat as he sends you over the edge.

you cry out, the sensation overwhelming you. he holds you close, kissing you as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

you rest your head on his shoulder, panting and trying to catch your breath.

"i'm not fuckin' done with you yet." luigi says, gently pushing you off his lap and back onto the couch.

he stands up, and you watch as he unbuckles his belt, pulls off his jeans and boxers, freeing his thick cock. you lick your lips, taking in the sight of him.

he sits back down, and you crawl onto his lap, straddling him. he takes himself in his hand, stroking his length and guiding himself inside of you.

"oh god," you moan, feeling him stretch you.

"that's right," he breathes, his voice low and husky.

he begins to thrust into you, and the feeling is incredible. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair and breathing in his scent.

"fuck," he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you onto him.

you feel the pressure building again, the heat in the pit of your stomach growing with each thrust.

"lu," you whimper, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"tell me," he says, his voice strained. "tell me how much you fucking miss this."

"i miss this so much," you say, your breath ragged.

"tell me," he pants, his rhythm getting faster and more erratic. "tell me you want this, tell me you need this."

"i need this, lu, fuck, i need you," you moan, the heat in your stomach growing.

"say it," he demands, his voice tight and strained.

"i'm yours, lu, i'm fucking yours," you cry, the pressure becoming unbearable.

he moves mercilessly, and with every thrust you feel him stretching you out, your slick spreading up and down his cock. he grabs your ass firmly with both hands, moving you up and down roughly, the lewd sound of skin on skin filling the room.

"where do you want it, baby?"

"fuck, please cum in me" you beg, your legs wrapping around his torso as he continues using you, roughly gripping your ass as he fucks you.

"good fuckin' girl. want me to fuck a baby into you, huh?" he says breathlessly. luigi groans deeply, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts up into you one final time. you feel him pulsing inside you as he finishes, filling you with his warmth. you come undone, the intensity of the orgasm tearing through you.

he buries his face in your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he releases inside you. you both sit there, breathing heavily, holding onto each other.

he lifts his head and gazes into your eyes, a smile playing at his lips.

"i guess this means i'm not getting rid of you, huh?"

#luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione fanfic #free luigi #real person fiction #uhc shooter #uhc assassin #deny defend depose #free my baby daddy

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gojoidyll · 2 days ago

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There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 11 | Amnesia and What Else

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

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When you next opened your eyes, your head was lying in Sunday’s lap.

“Hello again,” you managed to say. You watched the corners of Sunday’s eyes crinkle at your greeting, his hand gently running through your hair.

“Hello, y/n.”

You closed your eyes and let yourself relax, your body just sinking into warmth as you and Sunday rested in silence until the questions in your head began to fester within yourself.

“Sunday?”

He hummed.

“Why is this so difficult? It’s like… no matter what I do, the emperor will just kill me,” you sat up then and turned to Sunday.

“I’m afraid Jing Yuan will always be difficult. As he always was.”

“You sound like you know him well.”

Sunday pursed his lips, “you could say that, but I wouldn’t worry about that, alright?”

You nodded slowly as Sunday leaned in and kissed your forehead, just as he did before to help you forget your death, or at least, forget the pain of it. And just like before, his lips on your skin were soft and warm, featherlike almost. The pain that has been inflicted on your body long forgotten.

“The next you wake, you’ll be right where you started.”

“Wait, before I go, please… please point me in the right direction. What should I do now? If I’m not careful I’ll just be seen as ‘boring’ again, or painted as someone untrustworthy or dangerous, or even end up in some convoluted plot set up by someone else.”

Sunday closed his eyes and thought for a moment. The silence was almost deafening.

“Blade.”

“Blade?”

“Try to get him on your side again.”

“And how do I go about doing that?”

Sunday opened his eyes and merely gave you a small smile, “you’re quite likable y/n, I’m sure you won’t have to try hard to get him on your side.”

“What do you mean by that-?”

You couldn’t finish your questioning, however, as you had found yourself opening your eyes once more. Though, when you woke up, everything just… hurt. Why?

Sitting up and looking around, you noticed that you were in the infirmary and not your room which… didn’t make sense at all.

“I changed the past… if only a little and put you back to when you enacted your little … amnesia plan and even made it where it looked more believable to any watchful eyes that were on you,” Sunday’s voice was soft as it echoed within your mind. His breath almost tickled on the shell of your ear, “good luck, y/n.”

Calming yourself, you mentally thanked Sunday. Though, now even more questions swirled within your mind. One of them being… how? How was Sunday able to do it? Was he able to control what can be seen or not seen?

You suppose it doesn’t matter, at least, not right now.

Now, if you remembered correctly Blade was also in the infirmary, and now that you are aware of that… it’s to act like you actually have amnesia. Sunday gave you a chance and he also gave you a little direction too. Blade was your target, and you were determined not to die again!

“Where- where am I?”

You faked looking around again, your hands grabbing at the sheets as you pulled them close to you which was when your eyes landed on Blade. Faking a gasp, you jumped a little and scooted close to the edge of the bed, far away from where Blade was standing guard next to you.

“Who- who are you?! Where am I?!”

“Princess-,” when he reached for you, you slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!”

You wanted to pat yourself on the back with the show you were putting on.

Blade, all the while, let his hand fall back to his side, “Princess, you-,” he paused as if contemplating how to explain it to you and honestly you were curious what he was going to say too, and when it became obvious that he was struggling with an explanation to give you, you decided to move the conversation along.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What?”

“Princess. Am I really a princess?”

“You…,” he paused, “you are, and I am the guard assigned to you.”

“If you’re really my guard, then why am I.,” you looked around for effect, “what looks to be an infirmary.”

“You got hurt,” when he took a step forward you scooted back making him pause, “a maid had pushed you down the stairs when I wasn’t around.”

“Then how do you know it was a maid?”

“Another had witnessed the incident and had caught you before any more damage could be done.”

“Caught me?”

“A maid had pushed you down the stairs.”

Which means the one who caught you was Imbibitor Lunae, and since Blade isn’t accusing you of faking amnesia, then Sunday’s trick (whatever he did) is working.

“Who.. who caught me?”

Blade shook his head, “that isn’t important right now, what is important is if you remember anything. Anything at all.”

You paused for effect again and finally shook your head, “I- I don’t.”

Blade sighed, his shoulders falling slightly at your admittance, “I will inform the Emperor then.”

“Wait!”

You called out to him just as he turned to leave, “yes?”

“What- what is your name? And what emperor?”

“You can call me.. Blade. And the Emperor is your fiancé.”

When he left you with that information, you relaxed considerably. So far, so good. Now, you just have to keep up the act and get Blade on your side.

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

#There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair #emperor jing yuan #emperor jing yuan x reader #emperor jing yuan x princess reader #jing yuan #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x y/n

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softtdaisy · 3 days ago

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it takes what it takes / Charles Leclerc

summary. When you heard Charles was bringing his new girl to you and your friends' annual winter holiday, you decided to bring someone too. That isn’t your boyfriend. But it takes what it takes to make your ex jealous, right? Well, that was something Charles had in mind too.

words count. 1,854

a/n. it feels so good to write for Charles again?? This was supposed to be a mix of Is It Over Now? and Last Christmas but I wanted to do something sweet and fun and I really love it??? So I hope you will too 🤍

F1 masterlist | general masterlist

“It’s a bad idea.”

You had been thinking that for the whole ride, that’s for sure. But you didn’t realize you were thinking this loud that even your friend could read your mind and say the same thing. You turned to look at Andrew, your ‘date’ for the holiday. A date that was clearly more stressed than you were about the situation.

“It will be fine.” you replied, focused on the road. “You don’t have to do much except being nice and pretend to love me.” you heard him laugh softly to which you replied with a smack on his thigh. “Two hard things to do, I know.”

“You’re not hard to love honey, you’re just not my type.”

You rolled your eyes. One thing was true, the other was harder to believe. You knew that asking Andrew to come would be easy, you were offering him a free snow holiday with one of his best friends: you. And you knew things couldn’t be awkward between you since there were more chances for him to fall for your ex than for you.

On the other hand, the first part is harder to believe. Especially when your ex broke up with you to “focus on his career” and was now dating someone else. As if his career was to be a serial dater and not a Formula One driver.

When your friends told you Charles would bring his new girl, you couldn’t accept being there by yourself. It would be hard enough to pretend to not be jealous, you couldn’t do that alone.

So there you were, finally parking in front of the luxurious cabin you all rented with your fake boyfriend.

Andrew was the first to leave the car so he could take your baggage off the boot. When you finally stood next to him, he took your hand in his and kissed it. “Let’s get in here, my sweet jellybean.”

You laughed so loud you probably woke up the neighbourhood. “Ugh, don’t call me that idiot.”

Your exchange was heard by your friend who rushed outside to greet you. It was nice to see them all again. You had some doubt after your breakup with Charles that maybe they would all choose him and forget about you. But there you were with them, feeling loved and appreciated like nothing ever happened.

Andrew was introduced and played his boyfriend role so perfectly that even you believed it for a minute.

But just for one single minute. Until Charles came outside too.

It wasn’t like you could have escaped him this year. You saw interviews of him, you were in Monaco when he won. It was hard to see your ex boyfriend everywhere yet you couldn’t contain the pride of seeing succeed.

You didn’t rush to hug him like he didn’t move from the door. You just both acknowledged each other’s presence. You noticed the small smile on his face when he looked at you and for a few seconds, it was enough.

Enough to think you could handle the whole holiday with him.

Enough to forget all the bad things you thought and said about him these past months.

Enough to consider being friends or, maybe more if things came to an end with his girlfriend.

Said girlfriend that ruined everything you had in mind the second she stepped outside.

Not that she did anything bad. She stayed quiet, almost hiding behind him. You were even sure she nodded towards you to say hello. You couldn’t blame her for being arrogant, possessive or mean to you. She didn't do anything wrong.

Charles did.

By simply picking someone that looked exactly like you.

You gave a short look at Andrew that looked as surprised and confused as you were. At least you had the decency to not choose a fake boyfriend that looked like your ex boyfriend.

“We are all finally together!” one of your friends said, putting his arms around you and Andrew’s shoulder.

“For better and for worse.” Andrew whispered to you, to which you replied again with a smack on his back.

If Andrew played his role to perfection, by always staying by your side and having a hand on you because he knew how much you crave physical affection, you were far from being the best actress in this play.

You spend the first evening noticing every single thing that reminded you of yourself on Charles’ girlfriend. From her hair colour, the way she styled it to her sweater that was the same as one of yours -like did he seriously look at your closet to offer the same? You were convinced Charles did all of that on purpose. Or he really had a type and it was you.

Still, you tried to be nice to her. Because she was a nice girl. But anytime you started a conversation, you just kept noticing more and more things in common with her. And it was driving you mad that Charles not only broke up with you for stupid reasons but was now dating some kind of clone of yourself.

You tried to analyze their relationship without being creepy but it was harder than you thought.

And being curious doesn’t always bring good things.

Not when you were so focused on the way Charles and her were acting during the afternoon outside that you didn’t notice the rock under the snow and fell on your knees. Of course, Andrew was living his best life as a passionate skier and wasn’t close enough to help you.

Compared to Charles that saw your fall.

“Are you ok?” he said once he was close enough to help you back on your feet.

You gave him a bad look, do you seriously think I need your help? You thought so loud that you hoped he would hear.

But that would have been terribly ironic considering you almost fell in his arms once you were standing again. “I might have hurt my knee.” you admitted.

You looked down at your legs, reprimanding them for letting you down literally in front of him. “Go meet the others.” you heard him say. You thought he talked to you until you looked up and saw his girlfriend leaving you. Of course, skiing perfectly compared to you. At least that made a difference between you two. “I’m bringing you back to the cabin.” he added

“I can do that by myself.”

“No, you can’t.” you opened your mouth to reply but he stopped you. “But we can try and see how many times you fall without me. I’ll bet on three before your call for my arms again.”

These types of squabbles were typical of your relationship. You kept doing that when you were together for every little unserious thing. Mostly because it always ended up with kisses and laughs. Nothing was ever serious with Charles and that’s what you loved the most in your couple. Nothing except your breakup.

“Fine.” you mumbled. When you looked at him, you noticed a little amused smile on his face. You weren’t the only one remembering the good days.

Once inside, Charles helped you sit on the sofa and stretched your leg. But he didn’t seem to leave. Instead, he took off his coat and made himself another coffee. “What are you doing?” you asked, confused.

“Making myself a coffee.”

“No shit Charles, I never would have guessed.”

“Another stupid question?” he said with a big smile while coming closer to you. The thing is, your “yes” came out of your mouth faster than you thought. And you found yourself trapped in a conversation that you had multiple times in your head since you arrived yesterday. “I’m waiting.” he added when you tried to avoid his eyes.

“Why did you find someone that looks like me?” you finally asked.

Charles laughed on his coffee, putting some on his sweater. That was far from the question he imagined hearing. But it wasn’t a big surprise either. “She doesn’t even look like you,” he replied. He hid his smile behind his cup. Which wouldn’t have worked if you weren’t that concentrated on your conversation.

“Are you kidding me Charles? This is some kind of Ross and Russ situation in Friends!” but you didn’t get any answer to that except for another laugh from him. So that was it? You were just a joke for him? Someone he wanted to make fun of? You felt your joy and curiosity fall immediately at that revelation. “Why do you do that? Why are you dating someone that looks like me?” you asked in a lower voice.

Charles had left for the kitchen so you missed his expression when he heard you. A strange mix of happiness that you were jealous and sadness that he hurt you, which wasn’t the plan. “I wanted to make you jealous.”

You turned your head, which caused an immediate neckache. “What the hell are you talking about?” you sighed with your eyes closed. Did it make the pain go away? No.

But it made Charles sit next to you.

“You told everyone how you hated me this year.” He said, looking you right in the eyes.

“You broke up with me.”

“You said so many bad things I thought you wanted me dead.” he laughed.

“Well, you broke up with me.”

“You ignored me the whole year. And don’t say it’s because I broke up with you! Because I know, ok? And I regretted it the moment you left my place.”

Confusion wasn’t strong enough to explain how you felt at that moment. Not when on top of what he said, Charles took your hand in his and started gently rubbing your skin with his thumb. “I was an idiot, ok? I still am for what I know. And I didn’t know what to do to make you realize that maybe you still love me.”

“So you brought your girlfriend here?” you asked in a whisper, like it was some kind of secret nobody had to know about.

Charles moved his face closer to yours so he could whisper back. “I’m not dating her. And I know you’re not dating Andrew either.”

You felt ridiculous keeping this position to whisper in an empty place like that. But the feeling of finding that you love again was stronger than everything. “What would you have done if I wasn’t jealous?”

“I would have played pretend until I left and accepted that I was the biggest idiot for letting the woman I love go.” Then a smile grew on his lips. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh I’m not done with you Charles Marc Hervé…” you started. But you never finished this sentence. Because Charles was quicker to put his lips on yours and kissed you like he always loved to. Softly, with so much love that you could feel it right in your heart.

That was how you realized that maybe your heart had been switched off this whole year. Because for the first time in months, you felt lighter. Happier. Loved.

And in love, again.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc story #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 story #f1 angst #my writing

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star2fishmeg · 1 day ago

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need some luke x inexperienced reader PLEASE just too good

Luke's hand lay under your t-shirt, flat against your spine, his other cradling your nape with your pyjama shorts clad thighs straddling his lap and curls tugged by your fingers as lips move and lap in languid motions. Elongated moans muting any noise from beyond your bedroom door, volume increasing when his hand slides from your neck and over her breast, cupping and giving it a soft squeeze before you part, hot breaths panting onto the surface of your swollen lips and eyes flickering to each other. He can't begin to explain the heat that surges through him every time you kiss him, his head just floats straight to cloud nine and ears blocked everything but the sounds you make when you grind down on him experimentally.

His hands fall to the hem of your t-shirt, his old Michigan one that's you've been stealing since you met as freshman, fingers wrapping around the fabric.

Luke's voice drops low, raspy and still catching his breath slightly, "Can I?"

"Only if you will too..." you mumble, retracting your arms away from his hair.

He lets the fabric go and pulls his own shirt over his head first before removing yours. You think about looking away but it's Luke, his eyes are too soft and he's gently running his hands along your back so, when you go to meet his gaze, you're surprised to see him locked on your breasts. He licks his lips before pressing sweet kisses to the flesh, over the top and into the valley, hands finding their way to cup over the lacy bra and thumbs rubbing over your nipples. He can't help it, he's obsessed with them, they're the best pillows he's ever had and nuzzling his face in them is a past time, but without the barrier of a t-shirt, his hairs stand on end and his cock twitches.

"Look at you, beautiful." He groans deeply when his nose presses in the valley, pushing your breasts together to bury his face entirely. You feel his lips, his mouth trailing sloppy and wet kisses wherever he can, teeth grazing and buds pebbling under the padding.

"Lu," your hands find his hair again, nails massaging into his scalp as his teeth nip the flesh, "can...can we try something?"

He raises his head and kisses the corner of your lips, "What is it, baby? You sure?"

"I...fuck, this is hard...I want you, uh, to suck my tits. Please. Apparently, it's good and, uh, you like my tits a lot so, like..." you notice the way his eyes sparkle, elated that you've finally granted him full access to his favourite place to sleep.

"Yeah...oh yeah, I can do that, shit, baby." His lips quirk into a crooked smile, excitement fizzling in his chest and he plants both hands on your lower back, pulling you closer on his lap and sliding his palms up your spine. Freedom fills your back, the band of your bra unclasping and you can't bear watch it hit the floor, not that you get the chance before Luke's peppering your cheeks with kisses. "You sure you’re, okay? Just say so and I'll stop if you aren't diggin' it, okay?"

"Okay-oh!" you moan abruptly, it only taking him a split second to hear your consent before his warm mouth latches to your nipple, hand pushing against your spine and guiding you to arch into him.

Your eyes flutter close, jaw faltering open with shockwaves of euphoria as his tongue swirls around your bud, the tip flicking between phases swirling and suckling. Your hips buck into him when he groans, the vibration's a sweet, pleasurable paradise through your nerves and your fingers grip his hair harsher, keeping him into your chest.

When he pulls off with a wet 'pop', you whimper as the cold air brushes your nipple, now soaked with saliva and swollen but before the words leave your throat, he's taking your other breast into his mouth, hungrily. Sometimes you forget how strong he really is, but you're thankful he reminds you by pushing you backwards, your back hitting the mattress and situating his biceps either side of you, lips sucking firmly and tongue moving in circles around your nipple.

"Luke," you whine out with a smile, "oh, Lu."

His large palm encases your free breast, groping and taking the bud between his pointer and middle finger, rolling it to draw those high-pitched whimpers you love to torment him with so much. The sensations new, so new but tremendously stimulating with bursts of craving in your stomach, those tingles that feel like flips. You want him to touch you like this all the time, relish how he loves every part of you.

Pulling away again, Luke rasps, looking at you with his glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, "Fucking love your tits, baby. Did I do okay?"

"I didn't say stop, do it again." You push his head back to your breast, his chuckle intoxicating but not as addicting as his tongue flicking over your nipple again, lips suctioning over the wet surface of your skin and your head tips back into the sheets, mewling out his name while his hand and mouth work in tandem.

#≡lh43 #luke hughes #luke hughes smut

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nyxs2 · 15 hours ago

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Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 7/?)

A blade is a mirror of control — sharp, unyielding, and always two-edged. No matter how tightly you hold it, it can just as easily turn against you, leaving you bleeding from your own grasp.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 8,3K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, oral sex (m!receiving), deep throat, a little bit of female domination, cowgirl position, unprotected sex, creampie, use of the title "sir" in a sexual context, knife play (no penetration with the knife handle if you're expecting it not yet at least), vaginal fingering, possessive behavior, you are a prostitute, Silco POV

Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 6

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

Silco's head fell back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut as she worked her magic on him. He could feel every suckle, every flick and swirl of her tongue as she took him deep into her throat. The sensation was exquisite, the wet heat enveloping his aching length driving him wild with lust. His hands tightened in her hair, his fingers tangling in the silky strands as he guided her movements, urging her to take him deeper.. He loved the way her lips stretched around him, the way her throat constricted as she swallowed around his girth.

Fuck, he had forgotten how good she was at it. Too good. He could feel himself already getting close, could feel the telltale tightness in his balls that signaled his impending release. But he didn't want this to end, not yet. He wanted to lose himself in her mouth, to forget about everything except the feeling of her hot, wet mouth wrapped around him.

He knew he should be focusing on his work, on the mountain of paperwork that always seemed to pile up on his desk. But how could he concentrate when he had a goddess on her knees before him, worshipping him with her mouth? He couldn't, and he didn't want to. Let the work wait. Right now, all that mattered was the feeling of her mouth on his cock, and the way she seemed to crave his pleasure as much as he craved her.

He let out a low groan, his hips lifting off the chair as he pushed himself deeper into her throat. He could feel her taking him, could feel her relaxing her muscles to accept his length. He knew he was being rough, knew he was gripping her hair almost hard enough to hurt, but he couldn't help it. He was lost in a haze of pleasure, and she was the cause of it.

He could feel her taking him deeper, inch by inch. His chest heaving with each labored breath as he fought to maintain control. He looked down at her, taking in the sight of her lips stretched obscenely around his thick length, her cheeks hollowed as she sucked him. It was a vision of pure debauchery, one that made his blood burn hotter in his veins. "Fuck..." he growled, his voice strained with pleasure. "Take it all, dove. I know you can handle it."

Silco pushed her head down further slowly, helping her with the task she seemed so focused on completing. He could feel the head of his cock kissing the entrance to her throat, and he shuddered at the sensation. She was so tight, so hot and wet and perfect. He wanted to bury himself inside her completely.

For a few long, blissful seconds, he kept her there, his cock lodged deep in her throat as he savored the feeling of her swallowing around him. He could feel her throat convulsing, could feel the way she struggled to breathe through her nose as he held her in place. Finally, just as he felt the first stirrings of his orgasm building at the base of his spine, he released her. He pulled her off his cock, his length slick with her saliva as he gasped for air. He could see the way her chest heaved, the way she panted as she tried to catch her breath.

Silco could see the way her hair was mussed, the way it fell in disarray around her face from his rough treatment. It only served to make her look even more desirable, even more beautiful. He contented himself with observing her as she stood, her movements a bit unsteady from being on her knees for so long. She reached up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a gesture that was both endearing and erotic. He could see the way her chest heaved with each breath, the way her nipples strained against the thin fabric of her top.

In one swift motion, she undid her pants and shimmied out of them, letting them drop to the floor. Silco's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, now naked from the waist down. He could see the glisten of her arousal coating her inner thighs, the urge to touch her, to bury his head between those damn thighs, was almost overwhelming.

But then she was straddling his lap, her naked heat pressing against his aching cock, and he forgot all about his original intentions. He gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he pulled her closer, grinding his length against her slick folds. He could feel the wetness of her arousal coating his shaft, the way she was already so ready for him.

"Now that's the right position." her voice came, low and slightly hoarse, tinged with an unmistakable arrogance. That damned smile of hers – sharp, teasing, and brimming with confidence – dared him to react.

Silco blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in her demeanor. His blue eye narrowed, a flicker of intrigue sparking in its depths as her hand rose, bold as ever, to grip his chin. She tilted his face upward, forcing his gaze to meet hers, mirroring the very gesture he had so often used on her. The audacity. His instinct was to retaliate, to remind her exactly who commanded this space. But instead, Silco found himself leaning into her touch, allowing the moment to play out. There was something intoxicating about it—watching her wrestle the dynamic of power away, even if only briefly. Silco had to admit there was something thrilling about seeing her like this - confident, assertive, and undeniably sexy.

She then was positioning herself above him, the head of his cock kissing her entrance, and any thoughts of laughing filled his mind. He looked up at her, taking in the determined set of her jaw, the way her eyes blazed with a hunger that matched his own. But she didn't finish the downward movement. Instead, she asked: "Will this chair hold?"

He smirked, his hand gripping her hip tighter as he encouraged her to bend down. "Oh, the chair will hold, dove. Don't you worry about that."

Silco pushed her down slowly, inch by tortuous inch, until finally he was fully sheathed inside her. He groaned at the sensation, his head falling back against the chair as he savored the feeling of her tight walls gripping him like a vice. He could feel every flutter, every clench, as her body adjusted to his size. It was pure, blissful torture, and he never wanted it to end.

Silco groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as she began to move. She rose up slowly, until only the tip of his cock remained inside her, before sinking back down just as languidly. His hands itched to simply grip her hips and dictate her movements however he saw fit, like he always did. But he held back, keeping both hands only resting on her hips to stabilize her and nothing more.

If she truly wished to continue this little charade where she believed herself in control, Silco would allow it—just this once. But only because he found himself in a rare, indulgent mood. But gods, she was torturing him. The deliberate, agonizing slowness with which she moved, sliding down in his lap with a purposefully slow rhythm before rising again, was was driving him crazy.

His hands slid up her sides, his fingers splaying across the smooth expanse of her back as he pulled her closer. He could feel the soft swell of her breasts pressing against his chest, their hardened nipples a delicious contrast to the softness of her flesh.

He wanted to rip it off that top she was wearing, to expose her completely to his hungry gaze, but he resisted the urge. For now, he contented himself with watching her, with admiring the way her body undulated above him, the way her head tilted to the side, her flushed face, and the way her mouth hung slightly open, lips parted as if caught between a breathless sigh and a moan. Her eyes were shut, though he couldn't tell if it was from exertion or pleasure. Perhaps both. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, her fingers digging into him as if she sought something solid to anchor herself. She was a vision, raw and unfiltered, her beauty so stark and unadulterated that it was almost impossible to reconcile it with the filth and grime of Zaun.

It made Silco pause for the briefest moment. How could someone like her be born of a place as harsh and unyielding as this?

He wasn't naive, nor a hypocrite. Silco loved Zaun; he believed in its potential, in its right to stand equal to or above Piltover. But he wasn't blind to its flaws. He knew Zaun for what it truly was—brutal, unrelenting, and cruel. He had built his empire atop that very decay, navigating it, controlling it, weaponizing it when needed. The city chewed people up and spat them out, leaving behind only the strongest or the most cunning to claw their way to survival. Yet here she was, a flower somehow growing in the cracks of Zaun's polluted concrete, defying the odds and thriving amidst its decay.

It almost felt sinful, what he was doing. The way his hands roamed her body, the way he coaxed her reactions with an authority he knew she would never deny him—it felt like corruption. Like he was staining something sacred.

But the moment the thought crossed his mind, Silco quashed it with a resolve as sharp as a blade.

Sin? No, he decided, leaning closer, his fingers curling possessively around her waist. What they had wasn't sin—it was inevitability. She was no fragile thing to be coddled or worshiped from afar. She was fire wrapped in silk, strength disguised as softness, and he would claim her fully, unapologetically.

If this was corruption, then so be it. Silco had long since accepted the monster he had become. She wasn't his salvation, and he certainly wasn't hers.

Silco's breath hitched as she leaned in, her forehead pressing against his own. Her eyes, those piercing, intense orbs that seemed to see straight into his very soul, stared into his own. In their depths, he saw a whirlwind of emotions, a tempest of things left unspoken and perhaps best left that way. Things he didn't want to acknowledge, didn't want to examine too closely.

His hands gripped her hips hard, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he thrust up to meet her grinding. He could feel her starting to tighten around him, her walls fluttering and clenching as her own peak approached. The sensation was too much, too intense, too... everything. With a guttural groan, Silco let go, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled himself inside her.

He pulled her down hard, burying himself to the hilt inside her spasming heat as his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave. He could feel her coming undone above him, her body shaking and shuddering as she cried out her own release. The sound of his name on her lips, raw and wanton, only served to prolong his own intense pleasure, his cock twitching and throbbing as he rode out the aftershocks of his climax.

Silco slumped back against the chair, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The chair creaked ominously beneath them, the old wood groaning in protest at the vigorous use. He couldn't help but let out a low, breathless laugh as he imagined the chair collapsing entirely, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Panting softly, Silco looked up at she with a wicked grin, his eyes glinting with renewed desire and a hint of mischief. "Much as I'd love to stay right here and ruin my office furniture with you, dove, I have a feeling we might be better off continuing this somewhere a bit more... stable." he punctuated his words with a roll of his hips, a reminder of his lingering hardness inside her. "What do you say we take this to your future room?" he raised an eyebrow suggestively. "The bed is much more accommodating."

She just nodded as she settled even further against Silco's body, her legs probably having lost the stability to move on their own. Silco then decided that for the first time since he had taken control of Zaun, he would take the day off.

[...]

It was curious how daily tasks and the constant headaches had become more tolerable since she became part of his routine. Silco found himself anticipating the end of the day with an almost imperceptible pleasure, knowing she would be there, waiting to be the relief he hadn't even realized he needed years ago. Lately, he spent more time in the room he had assigned to her than in his own. Even so, he never stayed the night.

As tempting as the idea of waking up beside her was—a scenario he imagined more often than he cared to admit—Silco understood this was a line she wasn't ready to cross yet. Sex was one thing; sharing the intimacy of a bed without the context of desire was something else entirely. He knew there were still wounds between them, not fully healed, especially when it came to Kate.

He saw the lit candle on the windowsill in the hallway leading to her room. A silent homage to the memory of the dead girl. He understood what it meant. It wasn't just grief; it was a constant reminder that, as much as she was there, she hadn't forgiven him. Not completely.

Even so, she no longer seemed to carry that murderous fervor from before. He noticed that her anger appeared in other moments, especially during their more intense encounters. She had an occasional aggression that surfaced during those times, something Silco suspected was a reflection of the conflicting emotions she harbored.

But he was patient. He knew it would take time for her to let her guard down completely, to trust him enough to allow the level of intimacy he desired. He wasn't in a rush. After all, she was under his wing now, and he had no intention of letting her slip away.

However, there were complications. There always were.

Jinx was the biggest one. Silco still hadn't decided how to keep the two of them apart in the long term. Jinx was unpredictable, showing up at his office whenever the whim struck her, without warning or ceremony. Fortunately, Sevika had been managing to contain the girl's escapades. But that was only a temporary solution. He needed a plan, something to ensure they would never cross paths. They were such distinct parts of his life that he dreaded the chaos that could arise if they collided.

And, of course, there was the financial issue. Keeping someone like her by his side wasn't cheap. Besides the allowance he planned to deposit in her name, there was his part of the contract he had to fulfill. These expenses, while manageable, required adjustments.

Fortunately, business was thriving. The Shimmer continued to generate considerable profits, especially with the growing number of dependent users. He had already made the decision to adjust prices to capitalize on this increasing demand—something that would undoubtedly ensure the necessary cash flow to support both his personal interests and his ambitions for Zaun. Moreover, The Last Drop was flourishing with the changes that Silco had implemented.

The weekend, however, brought no rest for Silco. He spent the entire day out, dealing with a frustrating string of problems that only seemed to pile up. Among them were the disastrous tests of the Chemtanks. The test subjects, intoxicated by Shimmer and armed with the promise of becoming living weapons, failed spectacularly. Instead of targeting their predesignated objectives, they lost complete control, destroying everything in their path.

Silco was accustomed to chaos, but this exceeded all limits. The creatures had nearly managed to destroy the security booth where he and the other barons were observing the demonstration. It was only thanks to the safety system—designed to detonate the test subjects in case of failure—that everyone emerged unscathed.

"Disappointing" would be an understatement. It was a disaster that cost dearly, not just in financial resources but also in precious liters of Shimmer. At least Renni assured him that the next prototypes would not suffer from the same flaws and would be better. Silco's response was clear: "They'd better be." He knew that subtle threats worked best.

When he finally returned to the Last Drop, the exhaustion was evident in his posture, though his expression remained impassive. Sevika was already waiting for him at the bar, as usual. He passed by her without slowing down, his attention fixed on the stairs leading to the second floor. Sevika didn't seem to mind. She simply adjusted her pace to match his, handing him a letter as they ascended.

"Marcus sent this." she began, her voice firm but unhurried. "Said he'll try to find the documents you requested. But he wanted to emphasize that the case was closed and archived. So, according to him, it can't be the same person."

Silco took the letter, opening it with a deliberate gesture. His eyes scanned the contents briefly, just enough to confirm the information.

"How long will it take him to find it?"

"Not long, probably." Sevika replied casually. "He said he'll request a meeting for it."

They reached the office, and Silco opened the door with a swift motion. The room was shrouded in dimness, illuminated only by the flickering light of a lamp on the desk. He crossed the room, tossing the letter onto the growing pile of papers.

"And her?" Silco asked without looking at Sevika. "What did she do while I was away?"

Sevika settled into the couch, pouring herself a glass of whiskey from a bottle nearby. "She spent most of the time here." she said, taking a sip before continuing. "When I came in to check, she was asleep on the couch. So I moved her to the bedroom."

Silco eased into the leather chair, the faint creak of the furniture breaking the silence in the office. He slowly turned to face the window, where the hazy view of Zaun stretched out like a decadent painting. "Did you notice anything suspicious?"

She took another sip of whiskey before responding. "Nothing specific. She didn't steal anything, I can say that much for sure. I checked her clothes. But..." Sevika paused, as if internally deliberating on how to phrase her next words without incurring Silco's wrath. "She's too passive for someone who's not here of her own free will."

Silco swiveled slightly in his chair but still didn't look at her directly. His attention remained fixed on the scene outside. "What do you mean by 'not here of her own free will'?" he didn't need to raise his voice; the cold, sharp edge of his words was reprimand enough. "She agreed to the terms of the agreement. That makes her presence here a choice."

Sevika didn't respond immediately, but her silence was as telling as any verbal reply. Silco knew she wasn't entirely satisfied with the situation. Sevika had always been distrustful—a trait he usually valued. Still, he was confident his dove wasn't foolish enough to breach the terms of the deal so carelessly. Not with so much at stake.

The office fell into an oddly uncomfortable silence, and even with his back turned, Silco could tell the other person in the room was restless.

"Are you sure it's her?" Sevika finally asked, her voice almost hesitant. She was probably wrestling internally with whether or not to question him so openly, but as his right hand, she had every right to know. "That woman?"

"I need confirmation, but all signs point to yes."

"I hope you're right." Sevika drained her glass in one swift motion and rose from the couch, pouring herself another drink before heading to the door. "I'll keep an eye on her." she added before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

The silence that followed was a relief for Silco. He closed his eyes for a moment, his head resting against the back of the chair. For the first time that day, peace seemed within reach, even if only temporarily. He knew he should be focusing on the piles of documents on the desk, on the schemes that demanded his attention, on the financial matters that needed resolution... but his mind kept drifting back to her.

There was something selfish about having her there by his side; he acknowledged that. He wanted her for reasons even he couldn't fully explain. But there was another reason, the one that had driven him to set all of this in motion. It was a risky gamble. There was a small chance that it was all a mistake, that she was just an extraordinary lookalike of the woman he had tried to locate years ago, back when Vander was still alive. But her reactions, especially during the heated argument a few days ago, were almost impossible to ignore.

And even if she wasn't the one, Silco knew he was already too invested to turn back. Regret had no place in his life.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he turned the chair toward the desk cluttered with papers, contracts, and reports. The exhaustion weighed on his shoulders like a physical burden, but he didn't let it stop him. He stood only to grab the bottle Sevika had left behind, placing it on the desk within easy reach. He knew he'd need the liquid comfort of alcohol to get through the rest of the night.

[...]

The hours blurred together. The world around him seemed to dissolve as he delved into the paperwork. The only companions were the clink of the glass against the wood and the occasional crackle of the cigar tip he lit from time to time. He was so engrossed that he barely noticed when the noise from the Last Drop gradually faded until it disappeared completely, signaling the bar's closure. The night stretched on as Silco remained isolated in his office, like a man suspended out of time. Sleepless nights were common for him, and it was shaping up to be one of those nights.

It was then he heard the nearly imperceptible click of the lock. It was a subtle sound, but enough to draw his attention, interrupting the solitude he inhabited like an old friend. Silco raised his gaze, observing over the rim of his glass as the office door slowly creaked open, revealing a figure slipping in quietly, almost like a shadow.

And there she was.

She was wearing the clothes he had purchased the day before—a simple outfit, but on her, it looked like temptation incarnate. In the dim light of the office, the shadows caressed her curves, accentuating every detail of her silhouette. She stopped by the door, leaning lazily against it. Her hands still held the doorknob behind her, while her head tilted slightly, her eyes fixed on him.

Silco, for his part, lowered his glass, resting it on the desk with a slow, deliberate motion. He didn't say anything. He simply leaned back in his chair, feeling the muscles in his back protest after being hunched over for so long. Even so, he didn't take his eyes off her.

Time seemed to stretch, making the silence tangible, almost suffocating. But Silco was in no hurry to break it. He knew the power of a well-placed pause, of a moment that lingered beyond discomfort, transforming into something almost intimate.

She, however, decided to end the standoff.

"I found it curious that you haven't come to see me until now." she said, her tone that familiar mix of playful and accusatory. "So, I wanted to make sure you weren't drooling over your oh-so-important documents."

A subtle smile appeared on Silco's lips, though it didn't quite reach genuine. "I don't plan on sleeping tonight, dove."

She moved finally, stepping away from the door and crossing the office toward the desk. Her heels clicked softly against the wooden floor, a faint sound that somehow seemed to fill the entire room. He raised an eyebrow at the footwear. Why the hell was she wearing heels at this hour of the night?

"Not planning to sleep because you've got work to do or because something else is on your mind?"

There was a clear insinuation in her question, one Silco picked up on immediately. He let out a low, humorless chuckle as he poured the last dose from the bottle. The amber liquid glimmered under the faint light, but it was no more than an empty ritual. After all these years, he knew it was nearly impossible to get drunk.

"As much as I'd never deny enjoying your company after a goddamned day like this." he said, his voice low, with a rasp of fatigue. "I'm not in the mood right now."

When he heard that, he noticed a brief glimmer of incredulity in her eyes, as if the idea of him rejecting her implied offer was impossible. It was almost comical. She stopped beside him, but to his surprise, instead of doing what she always did—sitting on his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world—she simply leaned against the desk. For a moment, Silco felt something akin to shock. He was so accustomed to accommodating her that he automatically prepared himself whenever she approached, like a conditioned reflex. However, the fact that she merely stayed there, close but not intruding, made him feel somewhat strange.

"You look tired."

Her voice pulled him from his thoughts—a soft tone, almost casual, but laden with something Silco couldn't quite discern, whether it was concern or mere observation.

"It's been a long day." he replied curtly, almost disinterested. Not because he didn't want to share, but because he saw no point in burdening her with the day's frustrations. Silco was pragmatic, and to him, there was no sense in wasting words on matters that wouldn't change anything. "And you? Why are you here at this hour?"

She leaned back slightly, settling more comfortably on the edge of the desk, practically sitting on it, her fingers idly playing with the cold surface of the wood. "I couldn't sleep." she offered no further explanation, and Silco didn't bother to press.

"So, you came looking for company or distraction?"

She averted her gaze, fixing it on the window as if the world outside might hold some answer she seemed to be seeking. "Maybe both."

It was only when she turned back to him that Silco realized how closely he had been paying attention to her. The movement was smooth, her hair falling softly over her face as though even that had been carefully choreographed. Instinctively, he raised a hand to brush the strand aside, his fingers grazing her skin lightly. She leaned into the touch almost imperceptibly, and noticing this, he allowed his hand to linger for a second longer than necessary.

Silco's gaze remained fixed on the delicate curve of her cheek, watching every subtle movement as his thumb slowly traced the line of her jaw. He felt the soft texture of her skin beneath his touch, the warmth emanating from her like a stark contrast to the roughness of his own calloused hands.

For a moment, he indulged himself—letting his hand glide down, his fingers lightly brushing against her collarbone, tracing the gentle contours before pulling away and leaning back into his chair. He created distance, but not so much that he couldn't feel the residual warmth of her presence.

"A distraction, then." he murmured, his voice low and tinged with the rasp that only exhaustion or a long night could bring. Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched her intently. His eyes swept over her face, searching for answers to questions he hadn't yet formulated. "And what kind of distraction do you have in mind, dove?"

She didn't answer. Not immediately, at least. Instead, she let her gaze wander slowly over the calculated mess that was his desk. Papers, scribbled notes, the ashtray now full of ashes and extinguished cigars... and among it all, the cold glint of the dagger he had casually tossed onto the surface hours earlier. He saw her eyes linger on the blade, even as she tried not to show any interest.

He leaned forward slowly, picking up the dagger between his fingers with an almost theatrical care. It was a simple weapon, but well-crafted — a handle adorned with silver, a blade sharp enough to slice through paper with a mere touch. He held it by the hilt, turning it slightly in his hands as he weighed his own sanity.

It was an act that defied logic. Handing her a sharp object was, in any other situation, the height of recklessness. After all, this was the same woman who, besides telling him to his face that she wanted him dead, had tried to kill him twice with a determination he still wasn't sure whether he admired or feared. And yet, Silco extended the dagger toward her, gripping it by the hilt, the blade pointed at himself — an ironic gesture of trust.

"If you're going to keep staring, you might as well take it."

She hesitated only for a moment before taking the weapon, examining every detail of it. Silco watched intently as she spun the blade between her fingers with an almost unsettling precision. Her movements were fluid, far too confident for someone who, in theory, shouldn't be so accustomed to handling weapons so casually. That dagger seemed to have been made to fit her hand. And that was a detail Silco would not overlook, even though his face remained impassive, his chin resting lightly on his hand as if bored.

She knew how to handle a revolver and now a dagger.

She twirled the blade between her fingers one last time and then pointed it directly at him. Her eyes shone under the warm, yellow glow of the desk lamp, their intensity almost challenging, as if she meant to set the space between them alight. Silco didn't flinch. Instead, he arched an eyebrow, silently daring her to continue.

"You said you weren't in the mood..." she began, her voice soft but laced with an undertone that bordered on provocative. "Is there any chance I can change that?"

"You can try." he replied, his voice low and firm, though the calm tone only masked his heightened awareness. Silco knew underestimating her would be a fatal mistake. The ease with which she shifted between playful and dangerous was something he was still learning to gauge. For a fleeting moment, he considered that the same blade now spinning gracefully between her fingers could just as easily be driven into his chest before he had time to react.

Yet, as if she had read his thoughts, she twirled the blade once more but, this time, pointed it toward herself. Silco remained motionless, his eyes tracking her every move with a mix of fascination and wariness. The cold metal of the blade touched the button of the satin shirt she wore, producing a barely audible sound that, in the quiet of the room, seemed to echo like a thunderclap.

She let the sharp tip linger there for a moment before pressing it gently, slicing through the thread that held the button in place. The small object fell to the floor, and the shirt parted slightly, revealing a glimpse of skin. Silco stayed still, but his eyes betrayed a growing interest as she repeated the motion, slow and deliberate, button by button. Each cut deepened the neckline until the opening reached the valley between her breasts. She stopped there, leaving a few buttons intact, the fabric of her shirt clinging to her body in a way that seemed on purpose; the opening was enough to provoke desire, but her chest remained modestly covered by the material.

Silco tilted his head slightly, his eyes now fixed on her face. There was a barely concealed satisfaction on her lips, as if she knew she had achieved exactly what she intended.

Then she did something he did not expect. She turned the dagger in her hand, mimicking the gesture he had made minutes earlier, the point still directed at herself as she offered him the hilt. However, in her hands, the act carried a different energy—charged, almost perilous.

"Want to finish, Silco?"

Without a word, he reached out and took the dagger from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers in a fleeting moment of contact.

Silco moved, shifting until he was standing between her spread legs. He could feel the heat of her, could smell the scent of her arousal, and it made his head swim with desire. He pressed the flat of the blade against the bare skin of her chest, just above her heart. He can see the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, the way her breath comes a little faster now. Fear, perhaps. But there's something else there too, a glimmer of anticipation in those eyes.

Slowly, almost torturously so, Silco began to drag the blade downwards, slicing through the remaining buttons. Each one fell away, clattering to the floor, until her shirt hung open completely. With a deft flick of his wrist, Silco used the dagger to push the garment aside, baring the creamy swell of her breasts to his hungry gaze. He could see the way her chest moved in a deep breath, the way her nipples tightened into hard, aching peaks as the cooler air caressed her skin. Silco licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry with anticipation. He could feel the heat of her, could see the way her skin flushed a pretty pink, and it made his blood burn hotter in his veins.

With the same slowness as before, he brought the tip of the dagger to the swell of her breast, tracing the delicate curve with the unerring precision of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

The blade left a faint, red line in its wake, a mark that would fade in time, but one that Silco hoped would linger in her memory. He could feel the way her skin pebbled beneath the cool touch of the metal, could hear the sharp intake of her breath as he teased her, bringing the dagger closer and closer to the straining peak of her nipple.

He could see her shiver, could feel the way her body tensed slightly at the unfamiliar sensation. But she didn't pull away, didn't tell him to stop. If anything, she seemed to lean into the touch, her breast pushing against the dagger as if craving more. Silco circled the blade around one stiff peak, not quite touching yet, just letting the tension stretch out. So, he let the flat of the blade graze against the sensitive tip, a contact firm enough to make her gasp loudly, but not enough to hurt. The cold of the dagger against her warm flesh lasted for just a second before pulling the blade away. He traced the dagger lower, following the curve of her breast, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip. He could feel the way her body trembled beneath his touch, the growing expectation threatening to burst at any moment.

He noticed her gaze fixed on the blade as it traced its path across her quivering skin. In a fluid motion, he uses the dagger to hook under her chin, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of her soft skin. He applies the slightest pressure, just enough to tilt her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. The blade pressed lightly against her skin, not hard enough to break it, but with just enough pressure to make her hyper-aware of its presence. The slightest movement and he would slit her throat.

Seeing her like this, at his mercy, was intoxicating in a way he had never experienced before.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me."

At the same time, his other hand began a slow, teasing journey up her thigh. His calloused fingers brushed against the fabric of her skirt, a fleeting, feather-light touch that made her shiver. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin material, could sense the tension coiling tighter in her muscles with each inch he climbed. His hand crept higher, the hem of her skirt riding up to reveal more and more of her creamy flesh. He could see the way her thighs clenched against his body, the way her muscles jumped beneath his touch. It made him want to push her, to press further, to see just how much he could take before she broke.

"You don't want to end up hurting yourself, do you, dove?" he murmured, his voice a low, sinful purr. "I'd hate for this little blade to slip and mar such perfect skin." he could see the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, could feel the flutter of her pulse beneath the blade. "So keep still and let me take care of you, understood?" "Yes, sir."

Silco's eyebrows arched ever so slightly, his sharp gaze locking onto her as the words slipped from her lips like a forbidden melody: "Yes, sir." The phrase was unanticipated, an anomaly in the ironclad image he held of her — defiant, sharp-tongued, fiercely independent. For a fraction of a second, he was caught off guard. But the surprise melted away almost instantly, replaced by a wave of something darker, more primal. A thrill, coiling like a snake in his chest, hissed its approval at the sound of her submission.

The title of "sir" wasn't unfamiliar to him. His subordinates used it daily, their voices tinged with fear or reverence. Yet, hearing it from her — her — was something else entirely. It wasn't born from fear, nor was it hollow obedience. It was deliberate, purposeful. And to him, it was the closest thing to perfection he'd ever heard.

Without a word, he pressed the blade more firmly into the delicate skin of her chin, the sharp point digging in just enough to draw a single, crimson bead.

"Again." he growled, his voice a low, demanding rumble. "I want to hear you say it again.

Her lips curled into a slow, knowing smile, one that rivaled the hunger in his own gaze. She had learned something about him in that instant, and Silco knew it. She wasn't merely yielding—she was playing his game, wielding her submission like a weapon, and she intended to use it against him. "Yes, sir." Her voice was even sweeter this time, dripping with a sultry edge his grip on the dagger handle tightened instinctively. For a moment, Silco said nothing. He didn't offer his usual sharp retort or biting praise. No, he simply let the moment stretch, savoring the way her words lingered in the room, embedding themselves into his mind like a brand. The sound of it stirred something deep within him that he hadn't anticipated.

So he decided to provide that woman with a little treat.

As Silco slid his hand higher, his fingers brushing against the bare, slick folds of her sex, he felt a jolt of surprise. He paused, his eyes widening fractionally as he realized she was bare beneath her skirt, no scrap of lace or silk separating his touch from her most intimate flesh.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, his eyes glinting with a newfound hunger as he processed this revelation. He could feel the heat of her, the slick arousal coating his fingers as he dragged them teasingly along her slit. He could sense the way her body trembled, the desperate little whimper that caught in her throat at the intimate contact.

"My, my, what do we have here? No panties, you naughty girl." his fingers circled her clit, teasing the sensitive nub with a maddeningly light touch. "You came here expecting something like this, didn't you?"

But even as he touched her, even as he felt her respond to his cares, Silco didn't let go of his grip on the dagger. The blade remained pressed beneath her chin, a constant reminder of Silco's order, an order that she seemed to fulfill with great difficulty now.

His fingers dipped lower, teasing her entrance before sliding inside, filling her in one, smooth thrust. He could feel her walls clench around him, could sense the way her body instinctively tried to draw him deeper. His palm pressed against her mound, the heel of his hand grinding against her clit as he began to thrust, setting a deep, deliberate rhythm.

Silco noticed the way her eyelids fluttered, her gaze trying valiantly to stay locked on his own but constantly threatening to drift shut as the pleasure mounted. He could see the strain in her neck as she fought the urge to tilt her head back, to surrender to the blissful oblivion that beckoned.

He also couldn't miss the subtle, desperate undulations of her hips. Even as she tried to hold still, her body betrayed her, rocking against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Her thighs clenched around him, the muscles trembling and fluttering as her arousal grew. The slick heat of her arousal coated his fingers, making them glide more easily through her folds with each thrust.

"Such a greedy little thing."

Watching her come undone was almost as intoxicating as experiencing it himself. Seeing the strong, fierce woman he knew her to be reduced to a quivering, desperate mess by his touch alone sent a dark thrill racing down his spine. He could feel his own arousal straining against his trousers, aching for the slick heat of her core. But he ignored it, focusing instead on the exquisite sight before him.

Silco watched her reaction intently, the way her body tensed under his touch, the sharp intake of breath that escaped her lips as his fingers curled inside her, deliberately seeking out that spot he knew would unravel her completely. A sly smile tugged at his lips as her hand shot up instinctively, grabbing his wrist—the same wrist that still held his dagger, its blade glinting faintly in the dim light of the room.

Her nails dug into his skin, sharp enough to leave small crescent moons, and Silco's grin widened. The sting of her grip was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her body. He adjusted his hold on the dagger, his knuckles whitening momentarily, before he increased the pace of his movements, his fingers stroking her with a precision born of cruel patience. Silco had to hand it to her. She had actually been keeping her eyes locked on his until now, giving him the perfect view to watch her come undone against his fingers completely.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her body trembling as Silco recognized the telltale signs that she was on the verge of release. At the precise moment she tipped over the edge, he deftly moved the dagger away, the blade slipping from view as her body arched and she shattered against him. Her eyes fluttered shut, her face a portrait of unrestrained ecstasy, and she collapsed against his chest, her breathing ragged and uneven.

Silco didn't falter. His movements remained steady, his hand continuing its ministrations, coaxing her through the waves of her climax. Her soft, breathy moans filled the room, a symphony of vulnerability that stirred something primal within him. Only when her body began to still, her trembling subsiding into languid exhaustion, did he withdraw his fingers from her.

While she slumped against him, her cheek pressed against his chest. Silco dropped the dagger on the table before moving his hand to stroke her hair, a surprising gesture of comfort. But his other hand—oh, his other hand—he brought to his lips with deliberate intent. His tongue darted out, tasting her essence, savoring it like a rare vintage. The flavor was intoxicating, a mixture of salt and sweetness, uniquely hers. He closed his eyes momentarily, a hum of satisfaction rumbling in his throat.

She remained there, silent, for longer than Silco expected, her arms loose around him as she caught her breath. When she finally moved, it was only to lift her face and meet his gaze. Her eyes were still clouded, a reflection of the intensity of the moment before, but there was determination in her weary expression. She insisted on forcing herself to face him, as if trying to prove a strength he already knew she had.

That was when he noticed the small cut on her throat. A thin, almost insignificant line that would likely disappear by morning. Even so, Silco felt compelled to tend to the minor wound. He leaned over, grabbing a nearby handkerchief, and began wiping away the blood that stained her otherwise flawless skin. While he was focused on the task, he felt her hands, small and tentative, settle on his hips, her fingers sliding with both hesitation and intent. The touch made him pause, his gaze shifting from her throat back to her face.

"You need some relief too." she said, her voice husky, heavy with exhaustion and something more, her eyes drifting toward his groin, making her intentions clear.

Silco let out a soft sigh, shaking his head firmly but not unkindly. "Don't concern yourself, dove. You've had enough excitement for one night."

"But I want to, Silco."

With the same gentle care he'd used to clean the cut, he lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him again. "As you wish, then. But first, tell me: Are you alright?" the question came in a deeper tone, almost tender, yet still laced with that unwavering control Silco always exuded.

She nodded, her movements slow, as though navigating the space between exhaustion and comfort. Then she collapsed against him again, her arms wrapping around his waist in an embrace that caught him off guard. Silco was not a man accustomed to gestures of affection, but he didn't push her away. On the contrary, one of his arms encircled her shoulders, holding her there as if the moment were as rare as it was precious.

"Give me a few seconds." she murmured against his chest, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. "And we'll continue this on that couch."

Silco let out a low chuckle, a sound she likely felt more than heard. He tilted his head, his sharp gaze softening as it settled on the top of her head.

"Take all the time you need." he replied, his voice carrying an unspoken promise. "We have the whole night."

[...]

Silco woke with a dull ache radiating through his entire body, every muscle pleading for relief as he slowly pushed himself upright from the couch. His back protested as though he'd slept on the floor, and as he ran a hand over his face and through his hair, the weight of the previous night settled on him—not just in exhaustion, but in his appearance.

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror atop the nearby desk, assessing the damage. His waistcoat hung open, the buttons of his shirt misaligned, and the tie that should have been around his neck lay forgotten on the floor. His shirt, still clinging to his body, was so wrinkled it looked as though it had survived a storm. But what caught his attention most were the marks. Faint dark stains—a brazen reminder of her audacity—were etched into his neck like a deliberate challenge.

Ah, that woman.

Silco ran his tongue over his teeth, a wry smile tugging at his lips as fragments of the night before replayed in his mind. He couldn't quite pinpoint how things had escalated the way they had. The evening had started under his control, of course—it always did. Control was his domain. Yet, somewhere along the line, she had turned the tables. The desk in his office, a space usually reserved for strategy and seriousness, had become the stage for something he would never have permitted under normal circumstances. She had disarmed him—both literally and figuratively—dragging him to the couch in a whirlwind of desire and defiance.

And she made it last. Gods, how she drew it out. Silco, as assured and confident as he was, had to admit to himself that his stamina wasn't what it had been in his younger years. He'd kept pace, of course—he never backed down from a challenge. But the cost was steep. Now, every fiber of his being screamed for rest, and he couldn't decide whether to blame the intensity of the woman or the unforgiving rigidity of that wretched couch.

When he finally managed to regain some semblance of composure, his eyes swept over the room. She, as expected, was already gone, leaving no trace behind—except, perhaps, for the disheveled state she had left him in. She had probably slipped out hours ago without so much as a backward glance. Bending down, he picked up his tie, straightened his shirt as best as he could, and began adjusting his waistcoat while his mind gradually returned to the tasks he had set aside.

But now, he knew something about her—a certain inclination, her particular taste. Silco couldn't suppress a smirk. Perhaps this was something worth exploring again. He could think of a few ideas later, but for now, there was work to be done.

Throughout the morning, there was no sign of her, but that wasn't entirely unusual. She had a habit of spending her mornings holed up in her room, either sleeping or, at the very least, avoiding unnecessary interactions. However, what stirred his suspicion was something else entirely. His men were acting strange—restless, exchanging furtive glances, and clearly uncomfortable. He also noticed the absence of guards at some posts and the evident unease in those who remained. Something was wrong—he knew it.

The bad feeling reached its peak in the early afternoon when the door to his office was flung open unceremoniously.

Silco was seated in his usual chair, facing the window as he applied powder to his scarred skin—a meticulous ritual that was part of his routine. Through the reflection in the small makeup mirror he held, he caught Sevika's stern expression as she strode across the room—a mixture of urgency and something he rarely saw: genuine concern.

"I hope you have a good reason for barging into my office like this." Silco said coldly, not even bothering to look away from the mirror.

"She's gone!"

For a moment, the world seemed to go silent. The sentence reverberated in Silco's mind, carrying a weight he was unwilling to acknowledge immediately. He knew exactly who she was referring to.

With a sharp snap, he closed the mirror abruptly, the sound reverberating in the room like a whip crack. The restrained anger in his gesture was enough to fracture the object. In one swift motion, he spun the chair around to face Sevika. His eyes widened, blazing with a mixture of shock and fury.

"SHE WHAT?"

Part 8

AUTHOR'S NOTES: After much debate with myself, I realized that I ended up creating a protagonist with small dominant traits, just like Silco. So the dom/sub dynamic becomes even more fun when there are two dominants in the relationship (obviously the protagonist switches more easily between being the sub or the dom than Silco). I intend to address other kinks eventually, so if you want to see something specific, feel free to suggest it. And what about that ending? Did you really think it would be that easy? Are you and Silco living a honeymoon? Not on my watch. I like a good old drama, so you'll see that here.

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#silco x reader #silco x you #reader insert #smut #arcane silco #arcane fanfic #arcane #minors dni #no beta we die like silco

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gretagerwigsmuse · 1 day ago

Text

But tonight, you were on the clock instead of watching - this made me smile each time i read it

but not even the decent severance package they sent you out the door with could have cushioned that blow. You’d been laid off from your tech job just in time for your industry to be hit with hiring freezes - okay but now i can really pretend she’s me

like a groundhog’s day from hell - HAHA

You couldn’t remember who your first celebrity crush was, but you definitely remembered the boy with the curly brown hair who was responsible for giving you butterflies in your stomach for the very first time. - i mean matt damon, but if i had bradley bradshaw around growing up id forget all about him

You’d always hoped he remembered you just as fondly. - oh 🥺

Just like you knew that he was left-handed but preferred to throw a baseball with his right. - i love these little details! this and the stuff about the dole whip and mini golf are so sweet and from a time gone by

“I don’t know about ‘hotter’, but probably taller since that last time I saw you.” - AND BROADER 🤭 oh my god he’s so pretty and he had the perfect response to this

more below 💕

“I keep telling the squad to stop underestimating the old man, but they never learn. They’re still just as competitive as ever.” - HE WAS THE ONLY ONE IN THE MOVIE WHO CAUTIONED AGAINST THE PUSHUPS BECAUSE HE KNEW!!!

“I feel like there’s some kind of ‘the birds and the bees’ joke here. One I’m not qualified to make since you were always the funnier one of the two of us.” - ohmyfuckinggod he’s such a NERD ugh i love him

The way Penny said it always made it seem like you should know who she was talking about - girl thinks she’s SLICK

“I’d like to catch up, if you have time for an old friend.” Friend. The word shook you out of whatever Bradley Bradshaw induced haze you’d found yourself in. - oh sweet girl 🥺 my stomach dropped at that too

He helped you paint the kitchenette in the loft a soft blue- with your aunt’s permission, of course. - this is so?!? who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me!?! like!? and the tight uva shirt?? bye (don’t even get me started on the family dinners)

He’d even taken you for a spin on his motorcycle. - not to derail, but can you imagine smart aleck doing this? oh my god bradley would go mental (affectionate)

It was nice to have a friend. - oh sweet girl 🥺 and i love the part about her not being too hard on herself because he really is the sweetest boy and it’s so easy to have a crush on him

“It’s the weekend, Bee,” Bradley said like it explained everything. “It’s a Wednesday.” - everything about this has me giggling

because then he was leaning in, in, in. - THE REPETITION!!! and then friend friend friend!!!

He ended up giving Penny and Mav the same treatment too. Although Pete shoved him away good-naturedly when he tried to plant a particularly sloppy one on him. - OBSESSED with this!!! i know he’s a head kisser!! especially since maverick is so goddamn short! and the bit with amelia!?? BEST FRIENDS SIBLINGS (edit: did he get her a christmas present? i love the visual of her just standing super still and everyone else in the house being a little chaotic)

Everything sparkled and shined, the light bouncing off everything gave the bar a wonderfully hazy glow, it was the perfect ambiance for the most hopeful night of the year. - i wanna go to a new year’s party like this with all my friends 🥰

Bradley was dressed up in a navy suit that fit him in all the right places, looking more handsome than you knew possible. All broad shoulders and thick thighs. The top button of his pristinely pressed white shirt undone, giving you a peek at the divot base of his throat. - STOP THIS! how dare you keep this from me!?? oh my god it’s a FANCY PARTY!?? god he’s so pretty and tall and broad AND HIS THICK THIGHS!?! she’s stronger than any naval aviator

Bradley chuckled and reached out taking an end of the little rhinestone bow that dangled from right beneath your neck where the straps met and twirled it between his fingers for a moment. “I think this might be my favorite part though,” he rasps lowly. There was an intensity in his eyes directed at you that you hadn’t seen before. - jesusfuckingchrist i got butterflies why can’t he be real like you know i love a bow moment

He hadn’t come up to you at all since before the party started…saw him talking with the girl in the shiny dress and her interested eyes as you put the freshly washed glasses away. - oh 🥺 he always comes up to talk though 🥺

The countdown had snuck up on you. Just like everything else had this year. - love this sentence and i also really like how you put a little blurb after each number in the countdown. i like that the countdown ends with her smiling to herself and being happy for herself! and all the work she did with the decorations and party planning work perfectly

You’ve come to accept that he had a piece of you that you weren’t sure you were ever going to get back. But that was something for you to deal with next year. - oh 🥺 and then there was bradley 🥺

As you got back into the groove of serving people, your brain snagged on the sound of Auld Lang Syne being played on the upright piano at the other end of the bar, and the only person it could be playing it. - this is so hot of him i’m being so serious, i love auld lang syne so much, it’s so gorgeous on the piano and slowed down

That even though the ball had dropped and the confetti had fallen you weren’t ready to have the night be over yet. Knowing that the moment you locked up for good and got in your car and headed home, that the bottle of champagne you’d bought for yourself and plans with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal wouldn’t hit quite the way you’d hope it would. - oh 🥺 this made me sad. she doesn’t want the magic to end and be alone 🥺

He says it so conspiratorially, like he’s getting away with something and you’re an eyewitness to his delinquency, as if he wasn’t a decorated golden boy of the United States Navy. - NEPO BABY!!! but ugh i just know he’s got this cheeky smile on his face!!

You’ve spent all night catering to everyone else, it’s nice to have someone looking out for you now. - this is so sweet! oh i love this like he wants to take care of her! like he easily could’ve asked her for a drink, but he does all the work!

“It was nice enough, I guess,” he says, giving you a half smile, “I’m having a much better time now though.” - sweetest boy!!!! ugh

He takes the bottle and pours you a little more. “People kept hogging my favorite bartender.” - ENOUGH!!! this is so cute!!! and their little back and forth!? the fact that he pushes back on her response is so 🤭🤭

“You see, I’ve been saving these ones for just the right girl.” - my heart would stop, my jaw would drop, i’d be a mess 🤭 this is SO cute wowowowowow

This rendition was delicate and atmospheric. Intimate. Almost like the music was wearing its heart on its sleeve. - just like is bradley in this moment!! he’s so smooth with all of this, but it still feels so earnest and sweet?

“This doesn’t feel very friendly,” you whisper. - oh sweet girl!!!! she doesn’t want to believe it yet

“You didn’t get a New Years Eve kiss.” It’s a statement. Like he knows because he was paying attention. - oh bradley 🤭 isn’t it the same thing, love and attention?

Bradley brings both hands to cup your face. - TWO HANDS!!!! oh bradley!!!

That it’s the moment he’s been waiting the last four months for. - bestie you both have been waiting for years even if you didn’t know it

But only after Bradley finally stops kissing you long enough to grab that cork he’d shot across the bar earlier, pretending not to see the way he tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket. - i knew one of them was going to keep it!!!!

And you can’t help but think that this really will be the best one yet. - 🤭🤭 i hope so

Save Your Midnights for Me

Summary: This year has thrown you through a loop. You lost your job, you moved to San Diego, and you reunited with your summer crush from all those years ago who still is just as handsome as ever. As the clock ticks down, you can’t help but wonder what the new year might have in store for you.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 9k

Warnings: fluff and two pining idiots in love

(Author’s note: this one is for the hopeful romantics! Happy New Year, friends!)

You’ve always loved New Year’s Eve. The excitement, the fun, the champagne, the confetti. Everyone riding the high of the hope and potential of the new year ahead.

But tonight, you were on the clock instead of watching as it inched closer and closer to midnight with every tick of the second hand.

The evening has been a whirlwind of cheerful faces as you pour pint after pint of frothy, cold beers. Your arms were definitely feeling the burn of all the margaritas and whiskey sours you’ve been serving up. You were putting all your well-earned practice from the last four months of working at the Hard Deck into good use for the steady stream of Naval patrons who had come to gather and celebrate.

But you liked the steady flow. It kept you focused; it kept you busy. With your head down and your thoughts occupied with tasks and orders and drink recipes and tabs, it spared you from having to see Bradley with the girl in the silver dress who was making it more than clear whose midnight kiss she was after.

Bradley Bradshaw had been the star in all your daydreams growing up. You just never could have anticipated that you still wouldn’t be able to kick that summer crush on him, even all these years later.

This year… hadn’t been the greatest.

The meeting you’d thought was going to be the start of a new chapter in your career with that promotion you’d been hoping and working so hard for had ended with you clearing out your desk and turning in your ID badge, but not even the decent severance package they sent you out the door with could have cushioned that blow.

You’d been laid off from your tech job just in time for your industry to be hit with hiring freezes so glacial it felt like there must have been a breakthrough in global warming, as if the ice caps weren’t melting.

You spent days then weeks then months applying and interviewing on repeat like a groundhog’s day from hell, only to encounter more closed doors than open ones. Had enough ever-so-casual networking coffee chats that you were pretty sure you’d need to switch to decaf if you still wanted to have some functioning adrenal glands by the time you were fifty.

Coming close- so, so close- so many times. Having the final decision come between you and another candidate only for your fingertips to slip off the edge at the very last moment.

Still freefalling the same way you’d been since you’d first been let go.

With your savings dwindling and spirits low, you’d decided that what you needed most was to decompress and reassess. And where better than the place where some of your favorite memories had been made.

All it had taken was one call to your Aunt Penny for the little strands of silver lining to peek out from behind the gray clouds that had filled your skies lately.

By the end of the conversation not only did you have a place to land- the furnished loft above the garage with an ocean view from the tiny kitchen- but also a just-for-now job too, getting to work with her at the bar. Something to help get you back on your feet while the dust of your imploded life settled around you as you figured out your next move.

You weren’t known for staying in any place too long as it was, so it had been easy to pack up and leave the city you’d been living in for the Southern California sun, feeling lighter than you had in ages.

Your mom’s longtime best friend was quite possibly one of your favorite people on Earth. And still is.

There was nothing you looked forward to more than those summers you got to spend in San Diego, when you got to trade your textbooks for days out on the boat. Your family would rent at home near the Benjamin beach house and for almost two months it was carefree days of endless blue water and sand between your toes.

But without a doubt, the highlight of your summer was always Bradley Bradshaw.

A few years older than you, he’d been the cute boy who was the object of all your daydreams. You couldn’t remember who you first celebrity crush was, but you definitely remembered the boy with the curly brown hair who was responsible for giving you butterflies in your stomach for the very first time.

While your brother was more than fine trying to ditch you at every turn, Bradley had always made you feel like you were right where you were supposed to be. He always made you feel included. He had been the one to teach you how to wakeboard, gave you his free dole whip when he made a hole-in-one at Tiki Town, and sat next to you the first time you ever rode the Giant Dipper Roller Coaster.

Even though Penny and Mav’s relationship had been on and off for years, Bradley had remained a steady presence in your life every July and August.

Until the one summer when he didn’t show up.

You’d sat on the stairs with your arms wrapped around your knees that first night and listened on as your mom and Penny talked, piecing together the explanation for Bradley’s absence and why your aunt was dating the uninteresting man you’d met earlier that night at dinner.

The sun, the sand, and the sights were all the same. And yet everything had changed after that.

That had been your last San Diego summer.

You moved on, you went to college, you grew up. But you had never forgotten the boy who had made you feel like sunshine.

You’d always hoped he remembered you just as fondly.

When you heard that Penny and Mav were back together, you thought there might be a chance to see him again, you were always curious about how things had turned out for you. You just never expected for him to quite literally crash back into your life.

Or for all of those sun-warmed feelings came rushing back.

It was your third day of working at the Hard Deck.

You were still getting use to the lay of the land- and announcing corner whenever you made your way out of the stockroom- when you’d come out of the back with your arms full of refill napkins packs only to collide with a wall of muscles with a less than dignified oof.

“Oh, shit!” The hand that reached out to grasp your hip was probably the only reason you hadn’t landed on your ass, even as the napkins went everywhere. “Sorry, that was my- wait, Bee?”

The nickname from your younger years was exclusively reserved for close family and friends. Shortened over time from busy bee, a name your mom still wrote in your birthday and Christmas cards, because of the way you were always pursuing new activities with the kind of intense tenacity only found in the most precocious of kids.

Although, no one who’d known you squarely post-braces had ever called you that before. And definitely not anyone so solidly built with such a masculine, raspy voice.

But you knew those rich brown eyes and sun-streaked curls.

Just like you knew that under the soft looking linen blend shirt there’d be freckles dotted along his shoulder. Just like you knew that he was left-handed but preferred to throw a baseball with his right. Just like you knew he rode the Beach Blaster four times in a row that one time, not because he liked it, but because he was trying to get over his fear of heights.

“Bradley?” The right side of his mouth pulled up in a smile, seemingly pleased you recognized him. “Bradley Bradshaw?” you repeat, because even though he was standing less than three feet away from you, your brain was having a hard time processing the boy you’d known was now the man in front of you.

You hadn’t seen him since you were fifteen.

Although, you did try to look him up once in college when you and your roommates were tipsy off cheap sparkling wine and talking about first crushes. Giggling over poor choices and high-fiving over the ones who still Had It. Only when it was your turn, you’d found out pretty quick that he wasn’t on any socials- at least none that the four of you could sleuth out drunk on sheer determination and peach Andre. They’d let you have the rest of the bottle as a consolation prize when you’d all come up emptyhanded.

Bradley Bradshaw had remained a mystery to you, until that moment.

Gone was any trace of baby fat from his familiar face, replaced with a defined jaw and crinkles around the corners of his eyes. There were scars on his cheek and neck that hadn’t been there before, but the smile underneath that mustache was the same one from those summers all those years ago.

“It’s been a long time, huh?” Bradley said.

The only difference was the cute boy you’d known growing up was now quite possibly the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

“How’d you get even hotter?” you blurted. It only took a split second for your brain to catch up with your mouth, wincing at the words that hung in the air unable to take them back.

Bradley’s eyes widened in surprise just for a moment before he laughed. Loud and unguarded and amused.

Mortified and flustered you drop down to your knees to pick up the scattered brown craft paper wrapped bundles of napkins that littered the narrow hallway. His presence- and bulk- filling up the already small space.

He kneeled down next to you, helping to collect the packs. “I don’t know about ‘hotter’, but probably taller since that last time I saw you.” You couldn’t help but notice how big his hands were as he reached for the furthest one that was sent flying as victim of your two-person Big Bang.

And broader, you think.

“We’ve been doing a lot of push-ups lately,” Bradley chuckled, “I keep telling the squad to stop underestimating the old man, but they never learn. They’re still just as competitive as ever.”

“Jesus,” you muttered under your breath, needing a rock to crawl under. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt that ruffled around a man before. So caught off guard that all semblance of casually cool had left the building. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, and attempted to diffuse the situation with some self-deprecating humor, “Well, I wish second puberty had been as kind to me as it was for you.”

“From what I can see, it looks like it was pretty damn kind to you too.”

You’d pressed your lips together and fought back grin as you shook your head, reaching for another bundle. The last thing you’d needed was for him to be charming too.

You felt his gaze on the side of your face, like he was trying to catch your eye, and when you couldn’t avoid it any further without making it weird you met those warmer than cinnamon brown eyes.

“It’s good to see you again.” There was an earnest smile still in place on his face as he passed you the napkins he’d collected from his side of the hall.

He looked at you- probably the same way you’d been looking at him only a couple moments ago- trying to reconcile the carefree girl with the stunned woman in front of him, seeing what changes could be picked out on a face that hadn’t been seen in over a decade. You didn’t dare call it interest that was flickering in his eyes, but you could safely say there was at least some curiosity reflected in them.

You knew he wasn’t flirting, just trying to make you feel better less awkward about your earlier slip. Playing along the same way he did when he’d sabotage your brother at the water gun war game at Belmont Park so that you could stand a chance at winning a stuffed animal prize.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” you replied, meaning it as you gave him a smile of your own for the first time and watching as his own grew a little wider.

“Bee? Did you find them? The napkins should be-” Penny came rounding the corner, taking in the scene in front of her and who you’d been delayed by. Your whole body jolted like she’d caught you playing 7 Minutes in Heaven instead of crouching on the floor. “Oh, I see you’ve found Rooster. And the napkins.”

“It was my bad, Penny, I plowed right into her,” Bradley- Rooster?- said standing back up, wrapping a hand under your elbow to help guide you up to your feet.

“Sorry, I’ll be right there,” you told her, gesturing with your napkin filled arms. He was quick to reach out and catch one of the slipping packs from the top of the pile before it could fall to the ground again, helping you to get them better situated and less like a Jenga stack waiting to collapse.

“There’s no rush. I just wanted to make sure you were finding everything alright.” Her eyes drifted back and forth between the two of you, before landing on him and flicking down to the hand still on your elbow. “Hey, since you’re here, would you mind grabbing a fresh keg of the Stone Brewing lager for me?”

He nodded, letting go of you and hooking his thumbs into his front pockets. “Sure thing, can do.”

“Thank you, Bradley. And Bee,” she continued, turning back to you, “You can just bring those up when you’re ready.” You didn’t know what to make of the smile she gave you before she’d set off back to the bar.

The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments, although it hadn’t been the uncomfortable kind.

Bradley cleared his throat, his mouth quirking to one side. “I feel like there’s some kind of ‘the birds and the bees’ joke here. One I’m not qualified to make since you were always the funnier one of the two of us.”

That time it was your turn to laugh. You were more than a little pleased when his deeper one mixed with yours.

You warred with yourself- still holding those damn napkins- whether or not to wrap things up and go take them to Penny, but you wanted to know more.

“Rooster?” you’d asked, tilting your head at him in question.

“Believe it or not, I finally got past that fear of heights,” he explained, “I’m a pilot now.” You felt your smile grow on its own, it was something he’d always talked about. You were happy to learn he’d made it happen for himself. “Rooster is my callsign.”

It was a name you’d heard a few times since moving into the loft above the garage. The way Penny said it always made it seem like you should know who she was talking about, you just hadn’t taken a moment to ask, figuring that you’d meet this mysterious ‘Rooster’ eventually. You just never would have guessed you already knew him.

You told him as much, adding on, “Maybe she thought we’d kept in touch.”

“I would have liked that.” You ignored the fluttering low in your stomach. There was something in his voice that made your mouth go a little dry. “What’re you doing later? Are you here for long? I’d like to catch up, if you have time for an old friend.”

Friend.

The word shook you out of whatever Bradley Bradshaw induced haze you’d found yourself in.

You didn’t know how long you were going to be here, but one thing was for sure, all the two of you were ever going to be was platonic. It was a necessary reminder before any coconut sunscreen scented daydreams tempted you off course.

A smile stayed plastered to your face, one that felt more forced than it had been a few heartbeats ago, “I’m behind the bar until midnight, but I’ll be your friendly neighborhood bartender for the foreseeable future.”

Bradley grinned. “Guess, I’ll be seeing you around then, Bee.”

“I guess you will, Rooster.”

And you did.

You went from not seeing Bradley Bradshaw for over a decade to seeing him multiple times a week.

He kept you company at the bartop, swiveling on his stool, on slow nights as you found little projects to keep yourself occupied, like polishing and reorganizing the Hard Deck’s glassware collection. Filling each other in on the important things and people that had helped shaped the two of you into the adults that you’d grown into.

Rooster introduced you to his friends and teammates, making you feel not only included but liked you belonged in that same way he had when you were kids. Seamlessly bringing up common interests you shared with the people closest to him, giving you something to connect with them on your own outside of him. Always taking the initiative to extend invites your way to hang out at the beach or to check out the best spot for breakfast or to experience a Padres game complete with an unofficial culinary food tour of Petco Park.

He helped you paint the kitchenette in the loft a soft blue- with your aunt’s permission, of course. Meticulously taping off the countertop edges and cabinets, yet somehow ending up wearing more paint on an old, tightfitting UVA shirt that had seen better days than he got on the wall.

And on Sunday nights he was seated across from you at the oak dining table with Amelia, Penny, and Pete for the weekly dinner the five of you all had together. They’d been back together for over a year now, and it seemed like it was for good this time based on the way they looked at each other. Your aunt was noticeably happier than she’d been even just a few years ago, that spark back that had been dimmed from an unhappy marriage.

You were happy for her and Mav.

He’d even taken you for a spin on his motorcycle. It was a one and done event, reaffirming what you already knew, that you were more of a four-wheel girl than a two-wheel one.

When you weren’t at the bar or working on the few remote side gigs you’d taken on to keep your skills feeling fresh, you were helping Amelia learn to code. It wasn’t your forte, but you were having fun spending time with her and teaching her what you did know. And in return, she’d help you to revamp your wardrobe a bit. You thought California cool looked good on you.

There had been a brief moment when you’d been packing up your old apartment when you’d worried about being lonely in San Diego not knowing anyone outside of your family, but you were the furthest thing from lonely and you had Bradley to thank for that.

It was nice to have friend.

However, you were finding that crush on him harder to get over than you anticipated.

You still get annoyed at yourself when he smiles at you a certain way making your cheeks heat up and your stomach flip. Although, you try not to be too hard on yourself because he’s genuinely kind and good looking and you’re only human. God knows you’ve seen enough people notice him too from your perch behind the bar.

But there were worse problems to have.

You had spent that morning getting the Hard Deck decorated for the big New Year’s Eve party.

As the first to arrive, you’d gotten the coffee going on the ancient coffee maker that you were trying your hardest to get Penny to replace when a big hand skimmed the side of your waist, reaching past you to steal the cup you’d just poured for yourself.

You turned to see a sleepy looking Bradley standing behind you, his curled looked more like they were fresh off his pillow than the way you usually saw them styled.

“It’s too early for this.” You watched as he took a big swig from the cup, wincing as he registered just how hot Jimmy’s machine had brewed the coffee, just a couple degrees below scalding.

You gave him an unimpressed look, “Says the man who routinely wakes up at 5am for a sunrise run.”

“It’s the weekend, Bee,” Bradley said like it explained everything.

“It’s a Wednesday.”

“Schematics.” He took another deep sip of your coffee, but not before you caught the mischievous way his mouth was curved upwards. “Everyone knows the days between Christmas and New Years Day are the Wild West of the calendar year, every day is a weekend day from the 26th to the 1st.”

You actually hadn’t seen Rooster since Christmas.

You’d decided to spend the holiday in San Diego since your parents had decided this was the year they were finally going to check out the Christmas markets in Europe like they’ve always wanted too. And you didn’t want to crash your brother’s first Christmas as a dad, instead you’d sent the most obnoxious baby toy you could find online in addition to a silky soft stuffed rabbit with your niece’s name embroidered on the ear.

When you opened the front door with the pretty stained glass sailing boat picture window, you’d been surprised to see Bradley standing there with a white faux fur trimmed Santa hat and holding a bag with unexpectedly well wrapped presents in one hand and a creamy, cranberry-colored pie in the other.

Your hand stayed glued to the doorknob as his eyes trailed over you. The house had been warm but a shiver still worked its way through your body as he took in your festive pajamas.

Before he could say anything Amelia ever-so-helpfully pointed out the mistletoe you’d conveniently forgotten about that had been hung above the wood door. Frankly, she sounded a bit too enthusiastic about it.

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like little punk, although his tone was so affectionate that you thought you must have misheard him. But you didn’t get to think on it for too long because then he was leaning in, in, in.

Your heart shot straight into your throat at the first prickle of his mustache and then the slightly dry lips as they brushed against your cheek for the briefest of moments.

And then he pulled away all too soon.

Friend. Friend. Friend. You tried to remind yourself, but your heart was too aflutter to get the message.

He looked you straight in the eyes as he stepped back, “Can you do me a favor, Bee?”

You must have made a sound that was close enough to an mhm, because then he passed you the bag of presents and the pie waiting only long enough to make sure you had a good hold on them both before darting around you to chase after Amelia.

Amelia squealed when Bradley caught her, ducking his head down to drop a playfully chaotic kiss on her cheek.

He ended up giving Penny and Mav the same treatment too. Although Pete shoved him away good-naturedly when he tried to plant a particularly sloppy one on him.

All while your feet stayed glued to the same spot they were when he kissed you.

But that was six days ago. Probably the longest stint without seeing him since you collided with him that afternoon a few months ago.

The smell of strong coffee and cinnamon had coaxed you back into the moment, and you’d shook your head a bit like that would help you clear your mind with Bradley standing so close to you again.

“I don’t think it’ll take us too long,” you declared, trying to get focused back on the task at hand- that being the unofficial head of the NYE decorating committee, “I even made us a schedule.”

“Of course you did. Is it color-coded?” he asked over the rim of the chipped mug.

“And if it is?” you countered, unashamed of your planning. And then there was that damn smile of his.

“Then I’m really going to need this coffee,” he winked, and poured you a cup of your own.

You’d been right though. With everyone pitching in things came together rather quickly.

The morning moving steadily as the Christmas decorations were replaced with classic the gold and white and black color scheme you’d went with for the party. The silver tinsel tree covered in beach themed shaped ornaments with a few planes hung about by the front door might have stood out at odds with everything else, but metallic was a neutral in your book so you’d opted to keep the cheerful tree up just a little bit longer and tucked a few party blowers into the branches to tie it in with the rest of the space.

It was easy for you to get in the zone, delegating and divvying up the tasks on your color-coded schedule, putting all your project tracking skills to use. There were dozens of strands of string lights that had to gone up on the ceiling and along the walls. All of the windows with the snowflake cut outs you and Amelia had made for Christmas were framed in a metallic fringe. There was a station with hats and headbands and glasses in case anyone was feeling particularly festive. The tables and booths had been stocked with noise makers and confetti poppers in addition to the mirrorball centerpieces and confetti scatter.

Everything sparkled and shined, the light bouncing off everything gave the bar a wonderfully hazy glow, it was the perfect ambiance for the most hopeful night of the year.

At one point, you’d been working on hanging up some dangling golden stars from one of the ceramic mug rounders only to find Bradley standing there at the base of the ladder behind you with a well-defined arm stretched out just in case you lost balance.

And then just like that, your focus went out the window. Because then he was everywhere. He made it impossible for you to not notice him, especially since so many of your jobs and his overlapped, something you’d come to regret more and more as the hours went by.

You’d been working on tying off balloons and lamenting the fact you didn’t order another pump with the tying tool, when you’d decided to take a break to massage your numb fingertips. You looked up to check the progress made with fresh eyes, to see Rooster on a ladder helping Mav to get the netting set up for the balloon drop.

The athletic shorts he’d been wearing were hanging low on his hips. And as he reached up to hand Pete another nail it caused his t-shirt to ride up giving you a glimpse of toned stomach and tantalizing v-lines. It was just as tempting as it was taunting.

You’d switched to ice water after that.

The image was seared into your mind for the rest of the afternoon. Not even the freezing cold shower you’d hopped into the second you made it back to your loft to freshen up before the party had helped. Neither had the rushed orgasm to take the edge off, because it wasn’t your own fingers that you wanted.

He’d found you before the party well and truly started.

You’d been double checking all the prep, making sure you had the bar stocked up as was possible without losing any valuable space, when you felt a hand on your back. Bradley was dressed up in a navy suit that fit him in all the right places, looking more handsome than you knew possible. All broad shoulders and thick thighs. The top button of his pristinely pressed white shirt undone, giving you a peek at the divot base of his throat.

You weren’t sure what made you more flustered, that hint of his neck or the skin under his bellybutton that you’d seen only a couple hours ago.

A soft smile coasted over his face as he took in your New Years’ Eve finest. “You look-”

“I know, rhinestones for New Years’ Eve, how groundbreaking,” you joked, cutting him off and giving your best Miranda Priestly impression.

You were wearing a black velvet jumpsuit for the party. You loved the way it fit the curves of your body and the way the halter top made your collarbones and shoulders look. There was just a hint of skin with the keyhole near the bust. But it was also practical- right down to your plain black no-show panties you had on- so you could move easily without worrying about giving anyone an eyeful. It wasn’t the flashiest of outfits, there’d be more than enough sequins later on, but the way Bradley was looking at you made it feel like your off the rack might as well be haute couture.

“I was going to say, you look good. Really good.” Bradley takes his time letting his eyes drag down your body, his cheek kicking up when he lands on your shoes. “I especially like the birks, they tie the whole look together.”

The clogs you were wearing were decidedly unsexy, not many people could pull of the potato shoe, but you weren’t there as a party guest, you still had work to do and your night was just getting started. “I don’t think stilettos and stouts would mix together very well,” you said by way of explanation.

For a moment it looked like he was about to say more, and then a glass shattered.

The sound of it caused you to crash back into your body.

“And so it begins,” you announced, taking a half step backwards and out of his touch, that rhinestone cord falling back against your sternum with a gentle thud that you felt reverberate in your chest.

You heard him say your name, but you were already setting off for a broom.

So you’d kept your head down and your hands busy.

It felt like for every drink you made, two more were ordered. Barely noticing as the final minutes of this year flew by while you garnished drinks with bright cherries and slices of lemon with a flourish before handing them off.

Offering smiles and well wishes to those here to celebrate. True to your namesake as you swiped cards and counted bills and mixed and poured and served the drinks to the ever-rotating people in front of you.

You made eye contact with Rooster a couple times throughout the night, the same way you usually did when you were behind the bar and he was there. Eyes drawn to him like a magnet against your will.

He hadn’t come up to you at all since before the party started. You’d seen him with the Daggers when you went to refill the water tank, heard the keys of the upright piano when you grabbed more ice from the back room, saw him talking with the girl in the shiny dress and her interested eyes as you put the freshly washed glasses away.

Just like he’d been the best parts of your San Diego summers, he’d become the best part of your year.

You’d spent the last four months trying to convince yourself that it was a silly crush, that you could will it away or get over it. But now just a couple moments shy of a new year barreling towards you, it was time to face the fact that Bradley Bradshaw wasn’t someone you were ever going to get over.

Although if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t sure you wanted to get over him.

You’re giving the counter a quick wipe down, taking advantage of the brief lull when the music cuts off, startling you out of your thoughts.

Twelve!

The countdown had snuck up on you. Just like everything else had this year.

Eleven!

You’d had your fill of unexpected surprises, some for the worse and some for the better. While it felt like you’d had more downs than ups, you were ending the year feeling the most content you have since you were laid off. And that was more than good enough for you.

Ten!

At the beginning of this year, you never would have guessed that you’d end it in San Diego. This year had taken from you, but it had also given you a lot. New friends, new places to explore, new memories, new hopes.

Nine!

You were still figuring things out and that was ok. Even though you still weren’t sure what was next for you, you knew everything would work out. One way or another you’d find yourself on the other side of this and able to look back with pride for making it through all the challenges that had been thrown your way.

Eight!

And while things didn’t shape out the way you anticipated them to, with goals still yet to be achieved and a vision board of ideas that you’d carry into the new year, you had so much to be grateful for.

Seven!

You liked San Diego- and not in the just-for-now way. You liked the life you were building here. You liked the beach and the sand and the sun. You liked you Sunday dinners with Penny and Amelia and Pete. You liked the people you were surrounded by. You liked the stories you’ve collected from your side of the bar. You liked the diner down the road with their perfectly shaped coffee cups. You liked your new normal while you got your feet back under you. You liked the potential you felt was here.

Six!

And then there was Bradley.

Five!

You were avoiding looking in his direction, too worried about what you might see, not wanting to end this year with another disappointment. You’ve come to accept that he had a piece of you that you weren’t sure you were ever going to get back. But that was something for you to deal with next year.

Four!

For now, you are right where you are supposed to be.

Three!

Because what is meant for you will never pass you by. Not in life and not in love. And that was something you could count on, something you could hold onto.

Two!

You smile to yourself and close your eyes.

The crowd chants One!

You breathe out and let go.

And when the cheers of Happy New Year! ring out, you breathe in and open your heart up to all the possibilities.

Enjoying the moment for what it was- exactly as it was- as the party noise makers started going off all around you.

As New Years’ kisses were traded.

As people greeted a fresh, bright New Year with wide-open and welcoming arms.

Where anything could happen.

Where anything was possible because the year was waiting to written.

You tip your head back and open your eyes, watching as the balloons you’d spent the afternoon tying knots in started to fall, slowly at first and then more until your view was a cocoon of black and gold and white and clear blocking out the rest of the world from view.

Time seemed to slow a bit as the confetti poppers joined the mix adding to the echo of fireworks going off nearby. The glints of gold and little shiny dots of sparkles and streamers seemed to hang in the air. There was a cacophony of cheerful noises, from the poppers to the people to the familiar sound of Whitney Houston being piped over the static-y speakers.

A moment of magic for you and you alone, as you pocketed the hope and optimism you felt rippling around you.

Over the next couple of hours pass just as swiftly as before. As you got back into the groove of serving people, your brain snagged on the sound of Aud Land Syne being played on the upright piano at the other end of the bar, and the only person it could be playing it.

It wasn’t long before people steadily started to trickle out the front door.

You’d made sure to shoo Penny out to the dance floor with Pete as the lineup of people slowed down enough for her to have some New Years Eve fun.

No one had gone too crazy, but even so, you helped arranged people rides to get home safe between closing out tabs and announcing the last call for the few people who wanted to stick it out until the very end. Waving to your new friends as they all slowly but surely made their exits.

You’d lost track of Rooster along the way, it would have been nice to wish him a Happy New Year, but it was probably for the best. It was easier on your heart to not know whether he left with some of the Daggers or with the girl with the silver sequins.

You just locked the door after the last couple stragglers had left for the night. You’d sent Penny away a little over a half an hour ago- along with Mav- since there’d been only a handful of people to look after.

She’d made you promise not to stay behind after locking up, but you didn’t see the harm in tidying things up a bit more. You were collecting the empty glasses that had been scattered about and abandoned on window ledges and tables when you caught a figure out of the corner of your eye, nearly causing you to drop the bus tub you were holding on to.

“Bradley! Jesus.” You set the plastic tub down on a table with more force than necessary, the glasses rattling against each other, and press a hand to your chest where your heart is rapidly knocking about. “What are you still doing here?”

You figured he left already, so you’re more than a little surprised he’s still here. And not just because he startled you half to death.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, putting his hands up. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, I was taking out some trash and then got held up talking to Jake for a few minutes. I didn’t realize everyone else had left.”

“I just locked the front doors,” you say, waving towards the now closed front door.

Bradley takes a cautious step closer. “So, it’s just us then?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look like he’s been partying for the better part of five hours, he looks just as handsome as he did at the start of the evening, whereas you’re sure you probably look as ruffled as you felt.

“We’re the last two standing,” you confirm, putting your hands on your lower back to stretch out the tightness that had settled along your spine over the course of the night, “But just barely, on my end.”

“You’ve been busy tonight.” You hum in agreement and reach for a foam-covered glass that was left between the coaster holder and napkin dispensers. His big hand closing around it first and he pins you with a look, leaning a hip against the table, “So tell me, why are you still cleaning when you and I both know for a fact Penny hired a crew to take care of this in the morning?”

You don’t have an answer for him, at least, not one you were willing to share. That even though the ball had dropped and the confetti had fallen you weren’t ready to have the night be over yet. Knowing that the moment you locked up for good and got in your car and headed home, that the bottle of champagne you’d bought for yourself and plans with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal wouldn’t hit quite the way you’d hope it would.

Instead, you offer him a shrug.

Bradley’s eyes search yours for a moment before he gives you a gentle smile. “C’mon, busy bee, I think you’ve more than earned yourself a glass of champagne.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to argue, already making his way towards the bar, not that you put up much of a fight. The ‘Greatest Hits’ playlist that Penny had queued up for the night is still playing in the background, you recognize opening notes of The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” as you trail after him.

You lift an eyebrow as he pulls out a stool for you, but he just mirrors you by lifting one of his own and gestures to the seat. You think you feel his thumb sweep over your hip as he helps you into the stool before stepping into the front bar. A little sigh of relief slips out of you, finally off your feet for the first time all night.

You’re tired, but it’s a happy kind of tired. You’d had a nice time all things considering. Seeing the bright faces of everyone tonight had made all the work you’d put in feel worth it, all the planning and prep and decorating made it worth it if tonight ended up being a fond memory for someone.

Bradley grins at you from over his shoulder mischievously, “You know, Penny’s never let me behind the bar before.” He says it so conspiratorially, like he’s getting away with something and you’re an eyewitness to his delinquency, as if he wasn’t a decorated golden boy of the United States Navy.

You laugh, endeared by the boyish smile on his face. “Probably because you’re never wearing the right shoes,” you tease, wiggling a clog towards him.

And he chuckles, warm and affectionate.

Rooster finds the freshly washed glasses easily- Pete had done a great job as the designated dishwasher of the evening, loading and unloading glasses as quickly as they came with speedy efficiency. You see as his hand hesitates for a moment eyeing the already open bottle of champagne on the counter warily, and you point a glossy cranberry coated fingernail to the fridge under the counter, where you knew a few uncorked ones were still stocked knowing that Penny won’t mind if you pilfer a celebratory bottle to share between yourselves.

With your help he finds the chilled bottle and shoots the cork across the room with a cheerful pop! You make a mental note to pick it up later marking the spot in your mind, which he must notice because he says, knowingly, “Don’t worry, I’ll grab it later. You’re officially off the clock.”

He pours you a glass and then one for himself with a flourish, clearly showing off as the bubbles fizz to the top of the rim without spilling over. You’ve spent all night catering to everyone else, it’s nice to have someone looking out for you now.

Rooster holds out a glass for you, “Cheers, Bee.”

You smile and clink yours against his.

The bubbles burst across your tongue, refreshing and crisp. The two of you sip on your glasses of champagne in companionable silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm after a busy day and busier night.

“Did you have a nice time tonight, Bradley?”

“It was nice enough, I guess,” he says, giving you a half smile, “I’m having a much better time now though.”

You take another little sip, attributing the fluttering in your chest to the bubbles.

“It feels weird to be sitting on this side of the bar,” you muse, changing the subject, “You know, I don’t think I made you a drink at all tonight.”

He takes the bottle and pours you a little more. “People kept hogging my favorite bartender.”

You grin into your glass.

“I would have made time for you,” you say.

He leans down and fold his arms in front of him, so that your faces are level. “You would have?”

The answer comes easily. “Of course.”

Bradley gives you a look you don’t know how to interpret, like reading your face isn’t enough that he wants to know what’s going on inside of your head. You always kind of thought your cards had been on the table the whole time, but maybe you’d been keeping them closer to your chest than you’d realized.

“It was nice of you to make sure Penny and Mav got out on the dancefloor earlier.”

“You saw that?” It hadn’t been an easy feat, but it had been worth it to see them looking at each other in a way you hoped you’d find someday.

His gaze is steady when he replies, “I did.”

Flustered now, you feel your cheeks heat up. “Amelia and I had a bet about if he was going to propose tonight, and I thought I’d do my part to try and help her win twenty dollars. I didn’t think he would, at least not here in front of a crowd of people, but I hope he’ll do it soon.”

He nods, taking a sip of his own, the tips of his ears getting red.

You lean forward on your elbows, “Tell me what you know, Bradshaw.”

“I’m a vault,” he says, shaking his head.

“Does he have a ring?” you ask, elatedly.

Bradley takes another deep sip of champagne, giving you nothing, at least not with his words. But you don’t need him to confirm, not with the way his lips are turned up, clearly happy for his uncle and your aunt.

Good, you smile to yourself, that’s good.

“I also happened to notice that you didn’t get to dance at all tonight.”

“No, I didn’t.” You could have. Penny had tried to get you to take a few minutes to enjoy yourself, but you kept finding excuses to stay planted where you were. “There’s always next year,” you add, circling your finger around the base of your champagne glass.

Bradley steps out from behind the bar and takes the half full glass from your hand, setting it on top of a coaster in a move that you find entirely too appealing. And holds out a hand out for you, “We should fix that.”

His large fingers wrap around your hand- strong and sure- as he guides you towards the old jukebox, the two of you walking over the confetti covered floor and though the sea of balloons that bobbed in your wake.

He lets go when the two of you have reached the middle of the makeshift dancefloor that had been cleared of the tables that were normally there for the night. Your feet stay put as he makes his way to the sticker covered jukebox and starts flipping through the options.

“I keep trying to get Penny to get a new one that takes a card,” you say nervously, filling the quiet, the air now charged with something new between the two of you. “Or one with an app, where people could pay and pick things from their phone.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” he teases playfully, still scanning through the CDs, clearly on a mission to find a particular song.

“She keeps a couple spare quarters on the ledge behind it- but uhm- I’m not sure if they’re still there or not, or if people have already used them. I could grab some from the register-”

You take a half step back, but Rooster stops you.

“Don’t go flying away, Bee.” He pulls out his wallet from the inside of his suit jacket and fishes out a couple coins, holding them out on his flattened palm for you to see. “You see, I’ve been saving these ones for just the right girl.”

You didn’t know your heart could beat so fast.

Bradley slips them into the machine with a metallic plink, once and then twice. The corner of his mouth pulls up as his eyes drift over you. “Yeah, you’re definitely an N24 kind of girl.”

He punches in the code and walks purposefully back to you.

The gentle sound of an acoustic guitar crackles to life over the old speaker system of the Hard Deck, the song much slower than you were anticipating. The opening notes are familiar ones to you, but different than what you were used to hearing. This rendition was delicate and atmospheric. Intimate. Almost like the music was wearing its heart on its sleeve.

Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you in. His eyes are heavy on yours, you feel the weight of them everywhere. He coaxes your hand onto his broad shoulder and takes the other one in his, drawing it to his chest.

He holds you close as he leads you in a dance.

No one has ever looked at you the way he is looking at you.

“Ask me about my night again,” he murmurs, invitingly.

You swallow. “Did you have a nice time earlier tonight?”

“No.” Your breath stutters in your chest and you miss a step, but he easily guides you through it. “No,” he repeats, “I didn’t because I couldn’t spend it with the only person I want to.”

Your voice has escaped you, not that you’d trust it not to completely give you away.

“This is the part where you ask me how it’s going now.” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, encouragingly.

“This doesn’t feel very friendly,” you whisper.

Bradley presses you even closer to him. Every part of you is touching him, and you’re warm everywhere. “That’s good,” he rasps, “Because I’m not really going for just ‘friendly’ here, honey.”

You see everything there plain as day, written all over his face.

All you can say is his name.

“Bradley.”

And he says yours in return, so gently like it’s precious to him.

“I kept hoping you’d look my way during the countdown. But then you looked so thoughtful and all I wanted was to see that moment through your eyes. I couldn’t look away, you’re so beautiful.”

Feeling brave, you slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, combing your fingers through the short hair at the base of his head. He hums, pleased and content.

“You didn’t get a New Years Eve kiss.” It’s a statement. Like he knows because he was paying attention.

Your stomach swoops, and it’s like you’re fifteen and riding the Giant Dipper again.

“Neither did you, it seems.” His eyes drop down to your mouth.

“No, I didn’t,” he confirms, raising a hand up and skimming his thumb along your lower lip. “But now I’ve got a whole year to practice.

Bradley brings both hands to cup your face. His eyes traveling from your eyes to your nose to your mouth, a soft smile on his face as he leans in to kiss you.

When his lips meet yours it’s like time stops. You can’t hear the music over the rushing in your ears or the beating of your heart. In that moment, all there is only Bradley.

There’s no hesitation in the way his mouth moves against yours. Or in the way his teeth grazes your lower lip, right before he follows it with his tongue. It’s as if he has played this moment in his head so many times before.

Like there was never a question in his mind about if it was ever going to happen, but when.

There’s a surety in his touch, in the way he cradles your face in his big hands, in the way he angles your head just right.

The way Bradley kisses you makes you feel like this is the moment he’s been waiting for the whole night.

That it’s the moment he’s been waiting the last four months for.

His kiss is sweet like cinnamon and you know you’ll never be the same now that you’ve had a taste of it.

Your first one of the year. And it belongs to Bradley Bradshaw. Just as you always hoped it would be.

He pulls away just enough to skim his lips teasingly against yours. “Happy New Year, Bee.”

“Happy New Year, Bradley.”

You grin and he dips back down to kiss you again.

Time ticks on, but this time there isn’t a countdown. Only his mouth against yours and your arms wrapped around his neck.

After a while, he pulls away again, looking entirely and thoroughly kissed. It’s a good look for him.

He smiles at you. “My mom used to believe in ‘beginning as you mean to go on’. Taking time on the first of a new year and doing something that you want to make a part of your year going forward,” he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “So if you’re up for it, honey, I’d like to take you out to breakfast at that 24-hour diner. Because I mean to go on with you this year and the next one after that if I’m lucky.”

“I’d like that,” you say, taking a snapshot of this moment and the way those warm, brown eyes are gazing at you. “Just as long as we leave some time for mine. I have an idea of how I’d like to ‘begin as I mean to go on’.”

“Yeah? What did you have in mind?”

You don’t answer, instead you just lean in close until you feel his smile pressed against your.

The two of you eventually lock up for the night, for good this time. But only after Bradley finally stops kissing you long enough to grab that cork he’d shot across the bar earlier, pretending not to see the way he tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket.

He takes your hand in his warm one, his fingers slipping easily between yours like he’s done it hundreds of times before.

The sunrise is still a couple of hours away, but you can see the promise of dawn and all the possibilities it’ll bring.

Bradley turns his head back to look at you and grins, it’s wide enough that the corners of his eyes crinkle.

A new day, a new year.

And you can’t help but think that this really will be the best one yet.

Happy 2025, tgm friends! I hope this is your year! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

If you want to know what song Bradley played for Bee 🥰

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley fic

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caramelc0rgi · 2 days ago

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I probably already wrote something about this but I will never stop talking about how badly written X-men Dark Phoenix is. If Dark Phoenix has zero haters, then I’m dead.

I absolutely despise how everyone in that movie villainizes him. Charles made a lot of mistakes, yes, especially when it comes to hiding what actually happened to Jean’s parents but it just seems so out of character from everyone to suddenly turn on him?

They blame him for Jean’s problems, for her not understanding herself, and it’s like no one takes a second to acknowledge that maybe Charles is just a guy trying to do his best. The worst part is, he’s always the one who’s giving—guiding, supporting, and protecting—but no one ever really checks on him. The people who should understand him the most (his students, his closest friends) seem to disregard him completely in this film. And it’s not like he’s some invincible figure who doesn’t need help; he’s clearly struggling, but no one seems to care. They just let him flounder, and that makes it feel like everyone’s turning their backs on the person who’s been there for them from the beginning. Charles was literally still mourning the death of his sister and Hank basically tells him how everyone should be afraid of him for the things he did.

In Dark Phoenix, Charles becomes a villain of sorts, but it feels like the movie’s creators didn’t know how to make this change feel earned. Instead of evolving his character in a believable way, they just throw him under the bus to make the stakes feel higher. The whole movie seems to forget the complexity of who Charles is and the positive impact he’s had on these characters. Rather than giving him a solid, well-deserved arc, the film turns him into someone who’s not only flawed, but also pretty unlikable. It’s a shame because, in the end, Charles is one of the most fascinating, multifaceted characters in the X-Men universe, and Dark Phoenix did him a major disservice by treating him so poorly.

And the worst part is, the movie doesn’t show anyone stepping up to help Charles. He’s not given the kind of emotional support that he has so often given to others. You’d think that after everything he’s done, someone would be there for him. But no. Instead, he’s left alone, isolated, and vulnerable, with no one offering him the same kind of empathy he’s given them for years. It feels like the movie forgets the essence of his character—the wise, compassionate leader—and replaces him with a broken, almost unrecognizable version of himself.

Anway, this movie is ass. Paris proposal was the only good thing about this movie. That, and Erik was slaying with that look of his

#cherik #michael fassbender #james mcavoy #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #x men #x men dark phoenix #i hate this movie with a passion #paris proposal #paris proposal stay winning #I will never forgive them for writing Charles so poorly in this movie #dark phoenix writers when I catch you

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yournightmary · 3 days ago

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ellie headcanons about being best friends in college, ellie and reader are hopelessly in love and hopelessly clingy asf over text whenever they’re separated due to like winter/summer break or whatever 🤠

content warning:: literally nothing i don’t think so??

AN:: happy new year! except for all of the dumbasses on this app <33 I wanted to make some fake texts but the app I use is broken :/ Hope you enjoy it

⇢ ˗ˏˋ First of all, she’d be so sad about getting separated from you. Definitely insists on having a few days long sleepover before any kind of break (if you live off-campus)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Also always invites you to spend the break at her house. Joel wouldn’t mind and she’d get to show you her actual bedroom!! how cool is that? (not that cool, but don’t tell her that)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ If the break is long enough she’ll send you little gifts, especially over christmas break. She wouldn’t even tell you, the package would just arrive at your door and she’d be like ‘Oh, yeah. Forgot I even sent that’… though she didn’t forget. She was on her toes everyday, waiting for you to receive it.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Makes you open it and react to everything on a video call. Literally everything. Most of the stuff would be handmade things or small trinkets she found and they reminded her of you. And a few things she accidentally brought home with her that are actually yours.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I see her as the type of person that just spams messages. Not only she won’t write a message longer than a few words, she’ll also send thousands of them, not waiting for your reply.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Honestly, she treats her chat with you as a notes app that gives replies.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kicks herself in the head everyday she’s away from you, regretting not telling you her true feelings before break. Every single time she’d be like ‘I’ll tell them as soon as I see them’ but then she pussies out and the cycle repeats.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ If you have an iphone she’s playing 8-ball pool and other games like that with you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ If you’re friends with Dina and Jesse she’ll force you all to play things like gartic phone and cards against formality with her every night. (She’s just happy that you’re getting along with her friends)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She wants to fall asleep on call with you, but it always ends up with her phone dying and getting hotter than the sun itself.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She isn’t one to take photos of herself, so you’ll get tons of random pictures of the ‘cool’ stuff she sees. It can be anything from a photo of a stray cat she saw on the street to a photo of a burnt piece of bread she tried to toast.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Gets mad when you don’t watch the tik toks or reels she sends you. She will literally ghost you until you do.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Ironically uses emojis.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Chronic gif sender.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Sends you good morning and goodnight texts every day (ignore the fact that the good morning’s get sent at 2PM and goodnight’s at 4AM)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Doesn’t really like to text when she actually wants to talk. She just doesn’t know how to convert her thoughts and emotions to messages. So she just calls you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ The first time you went on a break after you two became friends she gave you a whole ass house tour on video call. Maybe even a town tour if she wasn’t lazy.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Loves to eat over video call. Just chat and laugh during meals, like you do when you’re together in person.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Genuinely gets jealous when you go out with your friends from your hometown. She just wishes you two could stay on call 24/7.

i’m rusty

#lesbian #wlw #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams headcannons #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff

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shy-canadian-snowflake · 3 days ago

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Even even more Mentally Unwell Wade:

Sometimes Wade needs an extra kick of caffeine, sometimes he needs a stiff drink, sometimes he forgets to take his meds and takes them 5 hours late. What all of this equals up to is a Bad Night.

His brain will tell him things, and it makes so much sense to him that he'll do it, even if it's illogical. Like trying to break his own leg. Logan will find him curled up, trying to snap his own ankle and have to hold him down. Wade doesn't fight, he doesn't need to. This makes sense to him, his leg needs to break and then everything will be fine again. He tries to explain it to Logan, that causing this harm will do good. It makes sense to him. It has to happen, sooner than later. But if Logan makes him wait, that's fine too. He can wait to break his leg, but it needs to happen tonight Logan, everything will be okay once my leg is broken, you'll see! I'll be better, I just need to break my damn leg, then everything will be fine Peanut! Nothing to worry about, I only need to break my leg.

Logan tries to question him, make him think about how no- this doesn't make sense. This isn't logical.

Those are the nights where Logan is up the whole night keeping an eye on Wade. There is a chance that the man will go off and jump off high things to break his leg,or will let a car hit him, or do something rash and distructive.

Yes, Wade would live through it and be fine if he did break his leg, but what is it telling his brain by letting him do these actions. That his insane thoughts are okay? That there is logic to his madness? If his brain thinks this, what rash thing will it come up with next.

Logan tries to talk him out of these things, trying to make him see logic when it already seems logical to Wade. Logan isn't one for convincing people with words, so in the end he just keeps Wade distracted. Holds him, tries to get him to do something that's not self-distructive. Sometimes he can't so he has to fight Wade's illogical brain all night and wait for him to get tired enough that he passes out.

#tw psychosis #tw hallucinations #tw self destruction #poolverine #wade wilson #deadclaws

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couch-potato28 · 1 day ago

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Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

Prologue

(a/n: Hey everybody! First time writing here, so please 🙏 excuse my poor looking posts and grammatical errors /let me know if u see any!!/ English is not my first language so pls take that into account O.O tyy ❤️) WARNING!-there's i think one swear word

wc: 2.8 k words im sry really, like i yap alot 😭

ALSO: please let me know if you're interested in the continuation

Imagine that in addition to your logical thinking, communicational skills and physical performance, Blue Lock also tests your mental health, because if you excel in these 4 areas, you might be worthy to become a manager of one of their players. However, competing with 199 other girls who are going through the same ordeal, let's admit, doesn't really calm your nerves. But how did you even end up in Blue Lock in the first place?

—————— Saturday morning, sitting in the corner of a nearby coffee shop, with your books open, laptop fully charged, your phone on silent mode with of course, a cup of caffeine on the side, you are ready to conquer those history notes. You had already started to memorize everything the previous week, so today was really about practicing and revising. After cracking your back and sipping some coffee, you began reading the first few lines on your laptop, occasionally peeking at the highlighted parts of your book in case you got stuck. Time passed quickly, and when you looked at the clock on your phone screen, it turned out that you had been revising ridiculously difficult names, dates, places and events which were described in an awful lot of detail for exactly 1 hour and 32 minutes. Seeing the time, you decided to take a well-deserved break, which actually just consisted of texting and watching funny cat videos.

Closing your laptop and books, you gave yourself exactly half an hour to rest, so that time wouldn't double leading to you procrastinating and forgetting everything you'd just revised. Reaching for your phone, you turned off the silent mode and started reading the messages that had come in during your study session. Most of them were from your best friend, briefly stating that she had fallen asleep and will probably stay up all night to cramp whatever material she can get into her head, hoping that she somehow manages to pass on Monday.

“Told ya to set an alarm >:( Well, you should have accepted my offer to study together HAHAHA good luck btw :D”-you wrote in response, feeling kinda sorry for her. Then you went straight to your emails after seeing a notification, where you found a recently received message with a strange title.

“BLUE LOCK INVITATION”

What the hell is Blue Lock? And why did you get an invitation? Your initial thought was that it’s a scam and were trying to delete the email if your stupid finger hadn’t slipped, making it press and open the email. Great, now your eyes were glued to the screen, trying to read whatever was on the message.

“Dear L/N Y/N!

We are honored to invite you to the Blue Lock Manager Training Program, where you will be granted the chance to work with one of our future star footballers. We hope you will consider the offer because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you are interested, please come to the following address and time.

Any further questions will be answered on-site!

Blue Lock Assistant and Health Manager,

Anri Teieri”

Um, what the fuck. Yeah, doesn’t sound sketchy at aaall…as you read the letter over and over again, trying to make sense of it, not understanding how they even knew about your existence in the first place and more importantly…how did they get your email address? Although that wasn’t the point, it really piqued your interest. You had so many questions yet you could only get answers on the spot.

“Smart tactic.”-you said, before searching the internet to find something about this Blue Lock project. After about 20 minutes, you sighed in defeat as there was not a single thing about Blue Lock at all. You only had this quite fancy looking email. Finishing the rest of your coffee, you began to think about the offer and whether or not to go. Your current job wasn’t good neither was the payment, which is why you recently had to take on a second job. But from what you read about the program, if you were to actually work with an upcoming star football player, the pay would probably be high. Plus, how hard can it be to manage a person, right?

After thoroughly thinking about the offer, you decided to give it a chance. Finishing the rest of your work, you came home and talked to your parents somehow persuading them to agree. Later that day you also informed your best friend as well. After successfully passing your history exam on Monday, you headed straight to the so-called Blue Lock building the very next day. ——————

That's how you ended up in your current situation. On your first day there, they led you to a big waiting room where there were a lot of other people, to be specific, girls. Looking around for a bit, you realized that there were a lot of girls indeed, but no boys in sight. Finding it strange, but shrugging it off, you turned around to face a huge stage, where a pink-haired woman appeared, whose name you assumed and now know is Anri, introduced herself and greeted you from a big podium with a mic in her hand. Finishing the brief intro she then continued with a very thorough and detailed speech, where she revealed that if you agreed to the conditions of the program, you would technically be locked up in the building for at least 3 months and would participate in intensive training, where you potentially could be eliminated for poor results.

“There goes my money…”-you thought, since you never really cared about football in your life nor did you know anything about it. Which in retrospect, you should have done or researched a bit before coming here since you applied to be a football player's manager after all.

“Well, it doesn't matter now anyway.”-you told yourself for some comfort. After Anri had finished her monologue, she instructed everyone that:

“If you agree and ready to take on the challenge then please go through this door!”-pointing with her microphone at a huge dark blue door that was slowly opening.

Hesitating a bit, you thought about all the possible things that could go wrong, but after a not-so-long train of thoughts you managed to convince yourself, and that little push by a girl running towards the doors sealed the deal for you as you slowly started to walk towards the unknown.

“I mean, what can I lose, right? My sanity is gone already and even if I get eliminated, I'm just going to go back to my normal life again”-you whispered and with a small grin you officially entered Blue Lock.

To your surprise, the facility was quite clean and not to mention huge since most likely somewhere on the other side of the building, boys were kicking balls and running laps. Following the crowd, you arrived in, what you assumed was a large waiting room with multiple TV screens on the walls. After managing to squish yourself through the crowd, a sudden voice spoke from the speakers and an egg-headed guy with a strangely perfect bowl cut appeared on the screens, introducing himself.

“Hello, diamond grinders! My name is Jinpachi Ego, the coach of the players in Blue Lock and the overall boss of the facility. I guess you already know why you’re here so I won’t bother with that anymore. First, let’s start with a quick count, which is...currently 200 people.”-he said and you looked around with wide eyes. The fact is, there were indeed a lot of people besides you, but you didn't think such a large amount of people would participate.

'Pfft, no worries…'-you thought, encouraging yourself, realizing that you’d probably get kicked out on the second day, if not today. You looked up to the screens again, and bowl cut continued.

“Out of these 200 people, the best performers will be given the best athletes to work with. But! You have to know what you’re doing. From now on, every minute of your time will be spent, from morning to night according to a routine and the underperformers will be eliminated. Understand?”

You nodded unconsciously, following those around you. This was serious and there was no turning back now. Even so looking at that man’s gaze somehow made you shiver a little.

'What have I gotten myself into?'-the question suddenly popped into your head, making you doubt for a moment, if you being here was truly a good decision, but Ego's voice immediately made you get back on track.

“Great. Let’s start with a quick summary then. First, you will be divided into 20 teams, 10 people each. This division was based on your current abilities, but they can change over time while you’re here. Each week, the levels to pass are going rise and be harder and those who can't pass will automatically fail and get eliminated."-he said leaning back into his chair.-"Next, is the routine which the assistant will tell you about in detail later. The goal here in Blue Lock besides creating football players, is to produce ideal managers who have the skills to fit with the players, and to maintain their level, helping them until the end of their careers.-he suddenly raised his index finger and the screens showed what looked like an animation of whatever he was about to say.-"This includes, one: Strategic and logical thinking, two: A healthy and fit body and three: The highest levels of media and communication! If you perform well in these three main areas, then a job and the experience of a lifetime are guaranteed! Don't disappoint me! Now lock off and goodbye for now!”

With that, the egg-headed man finished his speech, disappearing from the screens and Anri, with a microphone in her hand, started to divide everyone up. You have been assigned to group number 10. That's not bad, but were your abilities really worth as much to be a team 10 member? So far you have only (tried) to manage your own life and your current football knowledge was equal to zero. But there was no time left for further thoughts, because after receiving the uniform you had to immediately start on the first task according to your assigned routine for the day.

—————— Okay. This was harder than you thought. Wiping off the sweat from your forehead, you started running your seventh lap around the damn track again.

"I’m gonna pass out.”-you muttered under your breath, as your newly made friend you’d just met a few ago appeared next to you.

“Same, I'm too tired to be running around!”-she replied, and after a few seconds the sound of a whistle was heard, signaling the end of the first part of the warm-up. Well, today was going to be long again.

Your new routine consisted of starting your mornings at exactly 7 am with physical exercises and then, you had a quick breakfast. After that you had to start on some brain work tasks for the day, followed by communication class and lunch. A 15 minute break later, media and IT started and before finishing the day with a small workout again, were language lessons waiting for you. Yes. You also had to learn languages. Unfortunately not just one, not two or three, but four fucking languages in which you had to reach a basic level. At least the variety was good, since now you knew how to say hello in French, German, Italian and Spanish. (multilingual queen slay) And then based on those you could decide which one you wanted to work on more and reach at least an intermediate level. In addition to that, the knowledge of English was also mandatory, but at an advanced level. Also for every other day there were talks, activities and tasks about basic football for those (like you ^_^) to have a grasp on the topic. So there you were, in full uniform everyday for the last two months, suffering through training.

It almost hurts to admit, but on some days you started to miss your simple, slightly boring school life. Thinking back to your friends and parents who you hadn't talked with in a while, to those boring classes and your warm bed. Training was hard since other than having to excel at the 3 fields, worrying that you could get eliminated at any moment, if you lacked behind was stressing you out even more than you already were. On top of that, seeing as some of the girls were slowly kicked out of the building was saddening, yet it worked like a charm to make you work even harder to survive till the end.

Well, it’s not like it wasn’t good here since you arrived. You quickly adapted to the new environment, getting used to the shared bathrooms, roommates, the extreme routines you had to follow and the canteen food. But the lack of 'fresh air'of the bustling Tokyo, the crowded places, the subways and the fact you could sleep in on the weekends certainly made a void in your heart. The mountains were a beautiful view, but you started to get bored of them after a while.

That's how you usually spent the rest of your days with. Time also flew a lot quicker with your new friends who you suffered with together until they finally announced the end of the program, ordering everyone to gather in the waiting room. Everybody arrived on time and just a few minutes later bowl cut finally appeared on the screens again. —————— “Yo, diamond grinders! Congrats on surviving till now. Looking at your data and statuses, I'm pretty much satisfied with everyone. Well, it doesn't matter now, since the results are already decided.”-Ego said in a voice that lacked emotions yet again. Still the boredom and lack of sleep were evident on his face, specially his eye bags and the empty cups of ramen in the background that he didn't even bother to clean up. He coughed a little before continuing.-“After analyzing every single one of you on each field, I have decided on which player to assign you, based on these factors and scores. Let's start now, shall we?"-he asked and a little icon of the first girl who was about to be assigned, appeared on the TV screens, showing her name and the team she belonged to.-"First of all, congratulations to Aiko Hashimoto…”-he said a girl's name that felt unfamiliar to you, and then went on with, what you assumed was the player's jersey number and the name of who she would be managing from now on. Meanwhile on the big screens the footballer's little icon made an appearance as well next to Aiko's.

Ego soon continued with announcing the girls by their rank and time seemed to slow down the moment he started speaking again. After a while, at least 20 minutes have passed, yet your name was nowhere to be heard. Even your closest friend was now assigned to some boy while you were still waiting for your turn. 'Did you do that well? Maybe they just forgot to kick you out.'-you assumed after another 5 minutes have passed. Listening to Ego as he was still announcing names, you glanced around at the remaining girls who seemed confident while standing and not hearing their names yet. They seemed certain that they were getting one of the top players you thought, while you, yourself were still unsure who you would get. Before any more thoughts could occupy your mind, you suddenly heard your name.

“Next up is L/N Y/N.”-you heard from the speakers and finally your little icon also turned up on the screens. Oh my gosh, it’s you! Wait who was before you again? What numbered player are we even at now?!

Blinking twice, you looked up to the main screen, staring at the miniature doddle of you, while Ego was about to announce, the lucky guy's name you were going to work with. A sudden rush of excitement and worry began to overwhelm you, anxiously waiting to hear the fruit of your 3 months of suffering. Sure, you did do well in all areas required and even gained some knowledge about football in general, but was it enough? Every girl here was doing their best, trying equally hard afraid of missing the opportunity of a lifetime and getting kicked out of the facility.

You gulped ready to hear whatever and whoever was waiting for you on the other side of Blue Lock. Ego’s voice rang through the waiting room as he said the following:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…”

(Oh my gosh, this was a long one, hope you guys enjoyed it ^^; i wasn't sure about this story since it's my first one, so pls let me know if you are interested in a continuation and tell me, who you think will get u as their manager? (★‿★) tyy

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #manager au #bllk x reader #bllk #ego jinpachi #anri teieri #fem reader

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luckykiwiii101 · 1 day ago

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Heyhey

First of all,

Much love to you. I know you've helped a lot of people and on behalf of everyone you've helped..a big thank you!

I found something on reddit and it made everything just click in an instant. I'll put it at the end. (for some reason I can't link it) I am sending this to you in the hope that this will really help some people who feel lost.

Sidenote: I know it's basically what you and other blogs has been preaching about, but this is rephrased differently and may help some people understand and truly apply (and stop overconsuming lol)

I CANT BELIEVE IT TOOK ME ALL THIS TIME TO FINALLY GET IT… Tips & Techniques I’ve known about the Law of Assumption for almost four years, and now I finally get it. I always thought that when I closed my eyes to imagine something, it was my false self—let’s call her Ella—doing the imagining and experiencing the desire. But that’s not true. Ella only exists in the physical realm; she’s just another object in awareness. The one who’s really imagining is awareness itself—God, consciousness—the only thing that truly exists. Now I understand why imagination is immediate and real. It’s not Ella’s creation because she has no access to awareness. Ella’s role is confined to the 3D world. Her job is to make sense of life through logic, past experiences, and sensory input. So, when I imagine something, Ella can’t “see” it because imagination operates in the realm of awareness, not the physical. This is why thoughts like “Where is it?” or “It’s not working” arise—they’re just Ella panicking because she didn’t witness the creation happen. Ella is fixated on time and the physical world, so she doubts anything beyond her perception. But her panic doesn’t mean anything because she’s not the one imagining. She’s not capable of understanding or influencing what exists in awareness. This realization leaves no excuse not to trust my imagination. Imagination is beyond Ella’s capabilities, and its reality is not dependent on her understanding. This isn’t an invitation to hate or fight Ella—it’s about recognizing her limitations and letting her be. When I notice my mind being logical or thinking doubtful thoughts, I can let them pass because that’s just Ella doing her job. There’s no need to argue with or control her because it’s like bullying a blind person for not being able to see. She simply can’t perceive what’s happening in awareness, and that’s okay. Let her do her thing, knowing it doesn’t matter. The real work is already done in imagination, which is the realm of the infinite.

Someone answered:

Yup, Ella is herself a manifestation of consciousness and there is only consciousness. We think we are Ella, when we are consciousness, perceiving things through Ella's perspective. Good job. And that's exactly why manifestation is instant, the moment awareness becomes aware of something through your imagination, it happens. Because everything is awareness. You already are living that reality from the moment you imagined it. Ella will keep thinking. You need to not react to those thoughts or feelings of Ella, observe them, take care of Ella when she feels down but laugh a little at her naivety. Most people imagine and forget that they're not Ella but consciousness and become aware of something else by giving attention to Ella's limited perspective but guess what? Ella is a well behaved child, she will learn as soon as you discipline her. Her thoughts would slowly get on board too and so will the feelings. So let Ella be, don't react to her thoughts and emotions and become aware of something that's not what you want

People need to read this!!! Thank you so much for sharing!!

#void state #void #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loassumption #loa blog #loablr #manifestation #loa #the void state #loa manifestation #loa advice #loa manifesting #loa tips #neville goddard #edward art #law of assumption blog #loassblog

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moonmaiden1996 · 2 days ago

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Totally agree 💯 with your thoughts on Sanji as a romantic partner (he's my favourite 🥰). What is your opinion on him as a sexual partner? I somehow see him still as a virgin (would have died from that massive nosebleeding) 🤣 and shy, afraid of not pleasing his woman. Maybe more vanilla than into kinks. Lot of cuddling, kissing and holding hands. 🤔 What you think?

I love this question. Sanji is also my fav- you have good taste.

Okay, buckle up, folks—I've put some serious thought into this, and here comes a full-blown essay.

First off, I’m convinced Sanji is a virgin. Hear me out. I think even Oda might’ve hinted at this somewhere? The guy’s all about the romance of the relationship, not the deed itself. His intensity about love probably scares off anyone looking for casual fun. Add to that his chronic nosebleeds at even the hint of affection or attraction—it’s safe to say it takes someone very special to get over him losing his entire supply of blood through his nose to get to that level.

But let’s talk about Sanji as a lover. The man is a giver, full stop. His happiness comes from making you happy, no matter the lengths he has to go to. Sanji’s the kind of guy who could literally lose himself in your pleasure—like, "Oh, you’re enjoying this? Great, I’m done!" He’s probably the type to cum in his pants while he’s focusing on you.

In the early stages of your relationship, Sanji would be laser-focused on perfecting his technique. Picture him pouring over every guide, every book, every questionable magazine he can find to up his game. And don’t think he’d stop there—oh no, this man would shamelessly eavesdrop on his fellow crew members for tips. And yes, I absolutely believe he’d practice on a half-eaten peach in the privacy of his room. (RIP peaches, forever ruined for him he can't go near them without his pants tightening .)

Being the hopeless romantic he is, Sanji’s all about slow burns. He’d wait until marriage, all while showering you with kisses and cuddles—he thrives on emotional and physical connection. That said, if you weren’t a virgin, he’d be down for a little extra physical affection before marriage and the big event (cue eyebrow waggle). He wouldn’t mind your past; he’d just be thrilled to share this new chapter with you. And hey, if you’ve got pointers? Even better. Sanji’s a fast learner with a willingness to please.

Now, if you were a virgin, Sanji would handle it with the utmost care. This man would be terrified of messing it up and you never want him to touch you again (I feel like this is the biggest fear for him getting physical with you, that and hurting your even the slightest bit). Hence lots of prep, oils, and constant check-ins to make sure everything feels just right. He’d follow your instructions to the letter, treating the whole experience like a sacred ritual.

Now for the spicy part: fetishes.

I’m torn here. On one hand, I could see Sanji keeping things vanilla—classic positions, whatever works best for you, with a side of soul-stirring romance. But let’s not forget, this man is also prone to dramatic flair. I wouldn’t be shocked if he pulled out some next-level One Piece tantric lovemaking just to keep things interesting.

On the kinkier side, I think a breeding kink might be on the table. Sanji dreams of a big, loud, loving family, and the "practice makes perfect" mindset tracks perfectly with his character. Beyond that, he’d be open to experimenting—but with clear boundaries. Anything involving harm or discomfort? Absolutely off-limits. Sanji wants you happy and safe, always. Nothing you do or say will persuade him. Side note thought - he would be very down to mark you up with hickeys, something that doesn't hurt you but tells everyone your his really hits his possessive needs.

That said… I do get strong "step on me, mommy" vibes from him. Just putting it out there. Take that as you will.

At the end of the day, Sanji is all about love, care, and devotion. Whether he’s cooking for you, cuddling with you, or, ahem, other things *wink wink*, he’s 100% in. He lives to see you happy, and your joy and pleasure is the greatest reward for this passionate, hopeless romantic man.

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #sanji vinsmoke #one piece #one peice #opla x reader #opla #straw hats #straw hat pirates #straw hat crew

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shinyzango · 3 days ago

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So, 2025...

Now that we're officially in 2025, and I finally recovered from the new year allnighter so I can finally reason, let's finally talk about personal objectives for the year.

2025 is going to be... a busy year for me. I got many plans on the line that I am going to hopefully achieve by the end of the year.

First of all, the biggest most important thing is that starting from this year, I'm officially a Freelancer Artist. Yes until now I've kept doing it as a side thing, but seeing how things are going, I'm going to see how it'll work out. While the prospect of fully center my job around art is rather intimidating to me, I really cannot think of any other job I can undertake as a primary income source. I will make this work. In prospect of this, things are most likely to change a bit commissions wise as I will have to adapt elements (such as prices and request form) in order to fit better with this. I apologize if this will make it harder for folks to buy something for me, but it is a necessary change. But on the other side, I do want to push myself out there and start actually leaving a mark. I want to be seen, to join projects and help bringing them to life. It's time I get out of my shell for good.

Another objective for the year, as I mentioned before, is to officially start putting down "The Last Nutcracker". I think I waited long enough and I can't keep hold it back further. When I will start, that I cannot say for certain. But it is going to happen.

Then, I want to stream more. Both Art and Games. I want to hang out and have fun, share my experiences with everyone. I have a long list of games I want to stream as I mentioned before (with even more games than what I did list as I slowly remembered more games I want to play), and I want to get around to play through them. Have a proper stream setup and all.

What else... well, there are smaller personal objectives, such as get the driving license for cars, learn japanese, find a physical activity that I enjoy doing in order to get back in shape, meeting up with my irl friends more often, rent a table at a comic convention at least once...

and definitely more objectives that my brain is most likely forgetting about at the moment.

This is going to be a busy year. But it is going to be THE year. A year of changes. Of improvement. I will make sure of it.

And I wish it will be the same for everyone else. I know we're currently in a period where a lot of shit is happening and everything looks bleak, but it's important to remember that even if the world is shit, we can still work to make our lives that more enjoyable for ourselves. It all starts with us.

We can do it.

Happy New Year, folks. Let's fuckin rock this year.

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casuallivi · 1 day ago

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The Midnight Kiss

Warning: blink and you have a giant doc worthy of flashbacks but moving the story forward is a hassle to you, huh? this is a self critique. I guess in the end we do write what we want to read, there's no escaping our kinks.

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 9: 500 days of Azriel - part 2

DAY 348

“Hold for me!”

The feminine pitch echoed in the parking lot, bags fumbling against her ribs and sneakers thumping in concrete as she ran for the elevator, Azriel using a hand to keep the door open.

“Good morning, sexy.” A slightly out of breath Elain greeted him coming into view, a messy braid swaying from one shoulder to the other.

“That’s no way no greet your boss.” He stepped aside, allowing her to enter. “Don’t mimic me.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Elain denied mid eye-roll, mouth already twisting to repeat his words. “I wasn’t! Gosh, you’re stiff from sunrise to sundown, and not in the fun way.”

Ignoring her blunt lie Azriel took the heavy black bag containing a heavy camera support from her shoulders and pressed their floor number.

“You chatter from sunrise to sundown, and don't see me complaining.”

Her braid slapped him in the chest, Elain turning to look at a him, mouth hanging open as if she could not believe her ears.

“Are you freaking kidding me!?! Of course, you do! You complain about it all. the. time!”

“Nah, that doesn’t sound like a me thing.”

“Unbelievable. Hold this.” she muttered pulling the light orange scrunchie from the end of her braid, nimble fingers combing through her hair to undo the thing. Azriel slipped the accessory in his wrist, watching she bang her head from one side to the other.

“Are you trying to get messier?”

“I’m giving it a sexy spin. You wouldn’t know nothing about that miss my-mommy-combs-my-hair-every-morning.”

A couple more shakes and she was done, picking her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and opening the camera app, moving her neck this way and that to check herself.

“Say My girlfriend is the sexiest in the whole world!”

Azriel frowned at the blinding flash lights coming out of nowhere.

“A little warning.”

“I like organic moments. And you never come out looking ugly anyways. Is infuriating.” She moved closer to him, opening her phone gallery and proceeding to show him the picture.

Azriel barely paid attention to himself, eyes fixed entirely on Elain, mapping the constellation of freckles framing the bridge of her nose and puffed cheeks pushed upwards by a big smile. Then her finger was swiping on the screen, showing him three more photos she managed to snap in succession

"Look at my lazy eye! Christ, even glaring you look good. Never managed to catch up with an open mouth, eyes rolling, sneezing, poking your nose, nothing! It’s like you are prepared every goddamn time.”

He chuckled at her indignation.

“Why do you take so many pictures?”

Elain shrugged.

“I like documenting stuff. Stuff that catch my attention.”

“Everything catches your attention. You have the attention span of a hyperactive toddler.”

“Oh, shut it. I bet you have some weird photos in your phone, you probably collect feet or something. Where is it?”

A sneaky hand quickly found its way to his front pocket, Elain made sure her eyes were wild open to taunt him. "My, my, is this phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

She didn’t wait for him to answer, taking the phone out with a false victory cry.

“What’s your password? No! Let me guess…. 0828?”

Her question caught him by surprise.

“You remember my birthday?”

“Sure! How could I forget you’re a tight little virgin?” Elain pumped her eyebrows up and down, getting an eye roll as response. “Wait a minute,”

“Here we go.”

Azriel stepped out from the elevator making away to the rented shoot set, not bothering to check if Elain was following. He knew she was. She would never pass an opportunity to tell him whatever nonsense she had come up with.

“Now that I think about it… does that mean I get to pop your cherry?” She gasped exaggeratedly, placing a hand in her heart. “Do not worry Marino, I’ll do right by you, I’ll give –”

“All right now, let’s not. 1234. The password is 1234.”

Elain typed the password clicking her tongue, a fake expression of disappointment fixed in place.

“Christ, you’re a grandpa. This is a terrible password, too easy to remember.”

“That’s why I put it.”

“That’s why is bad.”

She went on and on about him being an old guy who was not deserving of technology, Azriel not really paying her much attention until she squealed like a guttered bunny.

“Oh my god,”

Elain exited the gallery and return dozens of times, thinking his phone may had malfunctioned or something. Nope, the phone was working just fine. She waved it in his face.

“Why are there no pictures in here?”

“There are.” Azriel said nonchalantly, jerking his chin at the few images appearing in his gallery.

All impersonal and irrelevant, mostly pictures exchanged throughout the day in Marinos’ group chat. Elain shook her head in denial.

“I mean personal pictures, pictures of things you captured with your camera because you liked them, not because they are in a vision board from next month’s issue.”

Azriel frowned in confusion

“Why would I take pictures? I can just look at the things I want.”

Elain let out a dramatic gasp, hand to heart and everything. Before she could berate him a chirpy blonde fellow approached them.

“Morning boss. Morning El. What me to set you up?”

“Morning Tommy. You can take the bag from the handsome.”

Nonchalant, Azriel dropped the bag in the boys arms not bothering to make the transition easy, Elain’s assistant for the day nearly collapsing under the weight. Azriel watched the new intern struggling not to drag the bag away.

“I don’t like him.” He said serious. Not an ounce of strength in those arms. He would not last.

"You don't like anyone."

Morning El.

"I specially don't like him."

“Are you a serial killer?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

"This is not normal."

His phone was pushed on his chest and then Elain was back on her phone, frantically swiping her fingers across hundreds of pictures gleaming in the bright screen. Literally hundreds. She gave him the phone and Azriel kept scrolling. Different shoots of ice cream, juice, pizza, donuts, pasta and other food related items passed by.

“Are you setting a portfolio for a culinary magazine?” he joked.

Elain slapped him in the arm, the aggression changing to a caress when her fingers splayed over his shirt, curling around his covered biceps.

“God, you’re big. Strong too.”

“Open space. Office hours.” He chanted, not bothering to remove her hand. Once could say he flexed a little, but Azriel would firmly deny.

“I know. What were we talking about?”

“Food.”

“Yeah, food… I could eat you up.” She sighted lost in a dream.

“Elain.”

“I said food gives me joy.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. Judging by her phone gallery, everything gave her joy. Parcs, dogs, kids, houses, rain, trains, books, fresh laundry. Eventually, his employees began to fill the screen as well, goofing in their spare time, posing in the allocated sets with some model, posing with props, taking mirror selfies, cataloging material in their reunions, then it came him. Azriel clicked on a couple pictures of him taken recently, face serious and sleeves rolled upwards as he examined a variety of reports covering the meeting room table. He turned to Elain, questioning her with a look

"You look good when you are focused." She shrugged. “By the way, you don’t have to make the intern cry. I know you don’t believe it, but it is possible to treat people nicely and not die on the spot.”

Azriel sighed deeply. Never a single topic with this one. Elain’s mind had a tendency of jumping from one subject to the other, the conversation never floating in a single direction.

“I’m not running a daycare, Archeron. I’m their boss.”

“I know that. I still think you can be less of an asshole,” suddenly, she pointed a finger at him saying, “and praise! Everyone likes a little praising every once in a while. You never praise anyone! It’s absurd.”

“When one of them do something worthy of my praise, they’ll receive it.” A bit of silence passed, and Azriel could feel Elain starring a hole at his face. “What?”

“It’s that your kink? Making someone working hard for your praise?”

The more his ears turned red, the playful glint in her eyes shining brighter. Where Azriel wasn’t one to make jokes or sexual innuendos in public, Elain used them as a second language, not ashamed to shoot her shot any time. At first he thought he hated her jokes, annoyed at how inconvenient she was. Later, Azriel realized his annoyance came from the fact that he was not able to quip her with a response, a fitting rebuke only coming to mind when it was already too late.

“Do you like receiving it or giving it? No matter, I guarantee I can satisfy you either way.”

“Nope. I’m done talking with you now,” he announced walking away from her. “I have real work to do.”

“I work too you know! I make the stars in this set shine!” She yelled after him. “Have a good day, lover!”

DAY 424

“All I’m saying is you can tell me. I’m your brother, for fucks sake.” Cassian whined loudly from his chair, legs shaking like a goddamn toddler.

“I’m not talking to you.” Azriel said from behind is computer.

“Come on, bro. All I’m asking is a little bit of gossip from how are things progressing with our sweet little Lainy. For example, has she taken your virginity yet?”

"She's not yours anything." Aziel said monotonously, not bothering to give his brother too much attention. “And I am not a virgin.”

“Men don’t count.”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure our Lainy won’t –”

“Not yours.”

"Agree to disagree. Since you decided playing this fake dating shit, she sure ought to be my something." Cassian taunted. “Come on Az, I know you are not dating her. You can come clean now, I won’t judge. Much.”

Azriel watched his brother, his restless hand tapping against the armrest, the smirk that didn’t quite meet the eye. His brow furrowed.

Azriel and Cassian had a complicated relationship in boyhood, having to relearn how to navigate around each other once they were adults. The boys weren't in speaking terms for two years of their late teens and the majority of their twenties. When they were seen together at last, everyone assumed the brothers made piece to take over the family business because it was the natural outcome for them.

In reality the biggest reason behind Azriel’s return to America was Marinos wasn’t as profitable as before. While Azriel followed Morrigan across the globe her modeling career took flight but his grandfather got sick, and Cassian –who had always been the favorite for choosing to learn the finance trade– took over the family publishing business, only then discovering the trojan horse his favorite relative had left him. Their grandfather’s entire publishing business was facing bankruptcy, the magazine being one of the remaining divisions that still hadn’t gone under.

By the time he asked for Azriel's help, it was too late to save most of the branches, but Azriel did his utter best to save Marinos –a fashion magazine originally envisioned by his mother that no one ever really cared about. It cost him four years of strenuous hard work, twenty percent of the shares sold, multiple department changes, function extinctions and staff rearrangements, and the woman he thought it was the love of his life gone, but Azriel got Marinos back to its feet.

Azriel watched his brother, the nasty memory of their split replaying in his mind. It would be a lie for him to say pettiness wasn't what guide him to drop himself -almost- on top of Elain Archeron on that night. The woman had a massive crush on Cass, and knowing his brother's ego as he did, Cass was probably nursing said crush to act on it. That night Azriel’s drunken mind conjured a reality where if he was lucky, he would make his brother a little jealous, just enough to give him a bit of satisfaction. A petty payback for succeeding in doing what Azriel never could.

“You are awfully interested in my girlfriend.”

“Am I?”

Seeing his brother show such blunt display of interest in Elain gave Azriel a couple emotions, and satisfaction was none of them. It doomed on his mind that he had become attached to Elain rather quickly, because playing petty games Morrigan and his brother didn’t seem so interesting anymore.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, Cassian sneer daring him to submit, to speak first, to cry and beg and plead for his brother to leave him alone as he would do when they were kids. Azriel wasn’t a kid anymore.

Cassian opened his mouth, and Azriel would never hear what he was about to say. Two knocks on the wood and the brothers broke their staring contest as a twirling Elain made her way into the room, the skirt of her dress swaying around her legs.

“See? I told you it wouldn’t wrinkle! I’m all ready for – Cassian.”

Her eyes grown bigger mid-sentence, surprised to find his brother there, same brother who wasted no time in placing two finger on his mouth whistling loudly.

“I'm ready for you too. Looking good, Lainy.”

"You're back."

Azriel watched her expression change from mirthful to bashful. He wondered if she was feeling shy of embarrassed. He hoped it was the latter.

“Yep, and just in time to make your wishes come true. I’m not Santa, but you can sit on my lap and tell me everything you want. I'll give it to you."

“Christmas in long gone, Cass.” She snorted.

“Oh, a daddy is never of duty,” he winked at her.

Elain suppressed her giggle, Azriel gagging all the wall to the coach hanger. “You are disgusting.”

Cassian ignored him, all smirk and bravado as he got up and moved toward Elain, malice radiating from every step. He appraised her from head to toe. It was a rare event to see Elain in a dress. Glittering eyelids matched the cleave-free green dress that stopped a few inches above her knees, white flats completing her look. His eyes returned on her knees, his smile dropping, replaced by a frown. There, pinkish than the rest of her skin, laid a perpendicular scar dividing her knee in half, stretch marks from the stitches leaving the skin heightened in a standing position. Cassian had never noticed that scar before. He wondered if it was new.

Elain cleared her throat, a blue jacket appeared in his line of sight as she repositioned the piece of clothing in her arms to cover herself, uncomfortable with his stare. Cassian smiled at her, deciding it was best not to ask about it.

“So, where we going?”

He offered her a hand, the promise of a kiss in his eyes. Elain had always loved the kisses he deposited in her hands and cheeks, lips lingering on her skin to enjoy the squirm she thought he couldn’t notice. He did notice, every time. Cassian loved making her squirm, delighting in her little crush.

For the great shock of a nation, Cassian had not fucked Elain, but now that his brother was he wondered if he had missed some kind of swift opportunity. Elain wasn’t ugly, and it had been a long time since he found a match to his twisted sense of humor. What a delight it was that her sense of humor came wrapped in a package with a killer pair of legs, which should definitely be exposed more often. His look drift to her chest. She didn’t have much in that department but that didn’t matter much, he was more of an ass man anyways. No, Elain wasn’t ugly at all, and Cassian liked looking at her very much.

She could dress better, tho. He preferred his women with smoked eyes, sexy dresses, thigh slits and high heels. Women looked very fuckable in heels, all perched ass and tits pushing in his direction. He loved it.

Brown eyes sparkled with joy, a pretty smile blooming on her lips as she raised her hand. Except she did not place it in his expecting one, no. A harsh push forced him to the side, Azriel replacing him to take her hand, a light kiss landing on the back.

“You looked lovely.” He complimented taking her from the room. Not bothering to say goodbye to his brother, choosing to forget he existed all together.

"Good enough to eat?"

"Behave."

"Only 'cause you asked, love."

Contrary to Azriel, Elain had not forgot Cassian was there.

"We are going on a date!" She shouted back at him while Azriel walked faster to get her away from his brother. Cunning bastard.

Cassian watched her wrap her other hand around his brother’s flaccid biceps, smiling as she murmured softly to him. His expression faltered for a second. What was so funny about Azriel’s sad lack of mass muscle? Fixing his face, he jogged towards the couple, reaching them near the elevator, meddling in the middle to keep them apart, an arm around his brother and the other around Elain.

"Now this is a development I had not seen coming. Lainy, is this some kind of bet gone wrong? You can tell me if it is, as his boss I have the power to set you free."

"You are not my boss," Azriel pipped at the same time Elain said, "We are good."

Under his arm, Elain shrugged. Azriel breaking free to go stand at her other side, pulling her by the waist till she parted from Cassian.

“This makes no sense. You are two fight like dogs… Is little Azzy threatening you?” Cassian concluded at last. “Is that it? You can tell me if he is, I’ll beat his ass for you.”

Elain simple laughed.

"Please, like he could handle me. Did you know that my sister,"

"Is a professional MMA fighter." Azriel finished the sentence in her place, winning an ugly glare. "Yes, he knows, everybody knows. You've mentioned it. Several times."

“Meddlesome.”

“Broken record.”

“Maybe he didn’t know.”

“He knows.”

“How do you know? You’re not entitled to everyone’s knowledge.”

She bumped him with her hip, Azriel not moving an inch, and turned to Cassian.

"Anyway, your brother confessed his undying love for me, and how all that stress was his way of demonstrating affection. Like a little boy pulling the pigtails of the girl he thinks is pretty." She sighed deeply. "I knew my irresistible charms would get me in trouble someday."

"I'm right here." Azriel reprehended pulling her closer.

"Oh my, you are here, love? You are so pretty for a second there I thought you were a painting." She slapped him lightly on the cheek, Azriel grabbing her wrist on the second tap.

“No hitting.”

”Why? Is it that your kink?” She asked using a tone Cassian could not distinguish, as if she was sharing an inside joke with his brother.

The elevator doors opened, his existence completely forgotten by the couple bickering as they walked inside and off they went.

DAY 489

Had someone told him he would be outside his girlfriend’s apartment, making out against a door like a couple of fucking horny teenagers, he’d have called the bloke mad. Now here he was, being the mad man himself. One side of her overall had unbuttoned, the metallic piece rasping on the wood as Azriel pressed Elain harder against the door, two bodies merging together.

The goodnight kiss was supposed to be gentle, a tender caress to remember till he saw her again. Azriel would be gone for a couple days, and Elain insisted he walked her upstairs before he left.

“I’m not coming in,” he warned her back in the car.

“Just walk me to my door, that is.”

“I will. But I’m not coming in.”

“Gee, you said that. I just want to give you a proper goodbye,” she said with false innocence.

Liar.

Once upstairs she invited him inside again, but Azriel would budge.

“Fine. Can I at least get a kiss?”

He gave her a peck.

“Goodnight, Elain.” He said knowingly. Azriel called her by last name to annoyed her, a petulant childish trait that he seemed to have absorbed around her.

Determined hands wrapped around the lapels of his suit, Elain tiptoeing to tug him down.

“I wear black and white you think I'm a nun? Don’t you dare leave after giving me this slob sorry excuse of a kiss Azriel, or I swear to God –” Her empty threat was swallowed by a kiss.

Azriel wouldn’t admit to a soul, but riling her up was fun. Their breaths mingled in a slow and sloppy kiss, Azriel walking her backwards up till she hit her door, a painful hiss drowning on the slow sleek of his tongue. In the many days following their agreement Azriel and Elain had kissed many times, which had him quickly learning that she was a frenetic kisser, aggressive in her necessity to take the lead in a succession of hurried uncoordinated motions as someone who was ready to torn her clothes apart, moving too fast as she often did in every other aspect of her life.

Like a caveman first discovering fire, he enjoyed her enthusiasm with an intense amount of male pride burning in his chest. The problem was his body was still recovering from the aftermaths of a bad love. Until Elain, Azriel had only ever loved one woman in his life, had only ever been with her. Sure, he had been on a date here and there when things went south and they broke up for a few days of weeks. Pity-dates set by friends who could not understand why a twenty-something hadn't had a single girlfriend in his entire life, pity-dates set by worried familiars who secret thought him homosexual.

He remembered being set up with solid young women whose personalities were nearly a mirror of his own, having forgettable dates where he couldn't, for the life of him, recall what they talked about, kissing some of them goodbye with a lie ready on his lips that they should do it again. Tepid kisses that were closer to a handshake than caress between possible lovers. He went to bed with none of them.

Looking back, it was almost laughable how he caught Morrigan in an intimate act with another men more times than he liked to count but had never managed to move forward with another woman himself. Too hung up in a promise she had no interest in fulfilling. Now Azriel was done chasing a woman who had no love to give him, but his body was still fearful of getting with someone different, someone new.

He needed more time to adjust, time his volcano of a girlfriend seemed to not need at all. Tenacious hands found their way inside his jacket, running wild all the way from his hip to his neck, pressing him harder against herself, her soft breast rasping against his dress shirt with every move she made. So he had to educate her.

Where Elain was a trashing hurricane, Azriel was a placid running river, moving with deliberate slow and steadiness, guiding the kiss to a less hectic pace, leisured wet tongue kisses mingled with soft peck to stable his breathe, strong hands shaping the outside of her body without being too brazen, bold enough to soothe his curiosity in caressing her body but enough to blur the lines he wasn't ready to cross.

Hands moved to him front, trailing down from his chest to his waistline, closing precariously around his belt to get him closer. Azriel stopped the kiss, pulling away slightly. Blown-wild pupils had nearly encased the entirety of her irises, a breathless Elain looking up and expectant at him.

“I want to see you naked," she hushed. Quiet words spoken in a frenzy, a solid request with no shyness in the borders.

Despite his efforts to mellow the kisses, his heart thundered inside his chest. The feeling of soft curves molding perfectly to the hard shapes of his body making him dizzy. He collared her neck, not to choke, just to hold her in place.

“What would your neighbors say?"

Azriel meant to sound playful, calm. He sounded lustful and agitated.

Elain watched him like a hawk, searching his eyes for a bit, noting the tension in his shoulders, the uneasiness in his strained smile, a quiet tell for a question she would not ask. Not yet. With a yielding sigh, she hid her face in his chest.

"She’d probably thank you, that lady is a pervert,” came her muffled reply. “We could put on show for her.”

"Is that your kink? Exhibitionism?" His smugness could not be missed, Azriel feeling pretty proud of himself for the quick thinking. Elain had been antagonizing him about kinks for weeks, now it was his turn to make her hot and uncomfortable.

"Dunno. Wanna help me figure it out?" He groaned lordly. Of course she wouldn’t stay down. “I bet she’s more kinky, tho. Did you know she watches porn without headphones?” She lifted her head again, face soured by the memory. “We do not have good soundproofing walls, Marino. Sometimes I can hear it as I'm climbing upstairs!"

Azriel chuckled, moving his hand to her face, his thumb making circular motion in her cheek. Even at night Elain seemed to glow, her supple skin calling at him, begging for a stroke, for a touch, for a kiss. So soft and so, so,

“So pretty,” he finished out loud. The unsolicited compliment turning her face red.

She recovered quickly, fully leaning into his hand to say, “I’m prettier naked. Wanna see?”

“Out in the hallway?” He challenged mildly.

“Out in the hallways.”

“For everyone to see?”

“Eve-ry-one.” She said secured. “But mostly you.”

“You are confident."

“Maybe I am an exhibitionist.”

Azriel laughed quietly, cradling her face in both hands now, a kiss landing in her forehead. Having known Elain for over a year, Azriel has lost count of how many sexual innuendos he heard coming out of her mouth. He was mostly shocked at first, mildly annoyed later, and full-on done with them once Cassian joined the mix, an insufferable nasty match that could put hookers to shame. Then he asked her to date him, and Elain perverted agenda had seemed to find a new single target: him.

Azriel would have been caught by surprise had he not been so used to her being deliberately inappropriate. Elain wanted to have sex with him and would spare no efforts to make sure Azriel understood that, but Azriel was scare to correspond because he wasn’t sure of how his body would react with a new partner.

Truth be told, he was scare he would not react at all.

“I’m sorry.”

"If you apologize for that I'll feel like a predator." Elain grimaced, exhaling in defeat. "It’s all right, rain check on exhibitionism. This is actually a very good choice you know, I remembered I'm wearing an ugly beige bra."

Azriel gave her one last kiss.

“My favorite color.”

“You would, wouldn’t you? You do seem like a guy with a boring favorite color.”

DAY 500

Her shirt had been distracting him all afternoon. The darned thing wasn’t even a sexy one, just a simple white cotton t-shirt with a stupid drawing of potted plants having a conversation.

Azriel used her jeans belt loops to turn her around till her ass was pressed on the table "You are fun, but funny, tsk tsk. Funny is a big stretch."

His fingers dug in her in waist, cutting her cognitive abilities, stopping her from registering the insult. "Cute shirt."

Elain looked down on her white tee design, where two potted plants were having a conversation. One saying, "Aloe, how are you?", the other "Hey, long Thyme no see."

"Thanks."

He traced her lower lip, muttering. "No lipstick, today?"

Her tongue darted outside, meeting the pad of his thumb. "Didn't want to smear you."

"Glass walls. Office hours." Came his low warning.

The usually cool space of the meeting room now felt like a glass furnace, his body burning from the inside out.

"Technically, we are past office hours.” She countered with a sassy tone. “I'm friends with Marie, you know, the cleaning lady. She gave these glass walls an extra glow this morning, I can guarantee you'll find no germs in it. Now, if you wanna put some germs in it, I have a few ideas about what we could press there. Who. You. could press there. But I should warn you, the dress code suggestion may get a little skimpy."

There was no hidding his smile now, except he wasn't amused. His smile was wicked, smoldering hazel eyes hiding delirious promises. Azriel cleaned her saliva over her cheek, finding her neck. Before he could rip a page from her book and make a nasty suggestion of where to put her tongue next, knuckles rapped on the wall, a voice calling for him.

"Az."

Azriel blinked, relaxation morphing into anxiety. He didn’t recognize it at first. The voice that had not called him in a while. Her voice.

“Az?” She tried again.

Blood drained from his face. Azrriel didn’t move. Couldn’t move. The sound of clicking hills filled the unnatural silence, and he knew he could not escape any long. It would come any time now.

"Az... Azriel."

There it was. The trembling call, the crying in her voice. He withdrew from Elain completely, no wanting to soil her with the disgust leaking out of him. Taking a deep breath, Azriel faced Morrigan at last.

“Hi,” she said with trembling lips.

He didn’t greet her back. Didn’t bother too.

"Can we talk? Please. I really need to speak with you."

His heart beat faster. Beneath his skin a new kind of emotion began to shimmer, rageful and blinding, so overwhelming he didn't process Elain's soft "I'll give you a minute," didn't felt the comforting swipe of her hand on his back before she left them alone.

Elain left him and Morrigan stayed.

“I missed you. I’ve called and called and you did not answer me. You know I need you,”

Morrigan was talking.

Morrigan was talking to him.

Her mouth was moving and he had no fucking clue about what she was saying.

Azriel couldn’t listen to a single word, too busy watching her. Watching her meticulously painted cherry red lips. Not a smudge in place, not even when a tear slipped past her black-lined eye the red did not smudge. She remained perfectly put together. He followed the lonely tear all the way to her chin. From there, Azriel kept going, descending to the gold choker around her tanned neck, to the strapless blood red jumpsuit that left her arms and neck uncovered but protected everything else all the way to her ankles, finishing in the black stilettos that made no more noise because she hadn’t move an inch.

Azriel would have easily fell for it in the past. The watery eyes, the singular tear drop streaming down her cheek, the trembling lips to make sure each word came out a little shaky, just enough to make her look pitiful, careful to still enunciate them properly for him to understand every word.

Words he'd latch on, let it sink, let it drown him in guilt and misery and a feeling of longing for a relationship that never existed outside of his head.

Now that he didn't listen to her, Azriel saw her. Her well-manicured coffin nails, the sunglasses on top of her head, the lasted Dior jumpsuit draped over her body. Nothing in her posture or clothes showed a person suffering as she claimed to be.

Azriel saw Morrigan and it saddened him how easily it was to manipulate him.

To let himself be manipulated.

“Are you done?” His question was cold, cutting her sob story in half.

Morrigan sniffed, big brown eyes looking pitifully at him until she saw his resigned expression. His lack of will to entertain her. That's when her face changed, her real self breaking through the cracks of the insecure and pitiful persona she was trying to play. She looked at him regal and feral, Morrigan looked at him with the uttermost conviction that she could bring him back to her world in the snap of her fingers.

"Are you done?" she repeated back at him. Voice clear as water.

"I'm done with you."

"Stop this bullshit Azriel, we both know you don't have it in you." She pulled a small hand mirror from her purse, padding the area beneath her eye where a second tear was coming down. "I've entertained you long enough. It's time for you to go back to where you belong."

"And where would that be?"

"Beside me."

Azriel was stunned for a second. Then he was laughing, howling even. His laughter was a sad thing, carved from disbelief. He must have misheard her. Behind me, that's where she meant. Behind her, after her, pinning for her like a dog while she lived her life to the fullest not bothering to give a fuck about him. Azriel ran a hand over his hair to pull the edges hard, moving on to rub his face furiously. No, no, no. He wasn't doing this, he wasn't going to entertain her anymore.

Sharp nails carved a path on his forearm as he tried to pass by her, Morrigan grabbing him with all the strength she could must.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"I'm talking, Azriel."

"I'm not listening, Mor."

Azriel held her stare, all the love he once felt turning into an ugly thing inside his chest. She held him harder, nails sinking deeper. Her voice reflecting every ounce of authority she deem to exercise over him

"I'm talking, Azriel. And you're listening."

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