#Low Light Imaging Market

[medicaldevicesindustrynews]

Low Light Imaging Market To Reach USD 51,466 Million by 2030

The size of the low light imaging market was USD 23,749 million in 2022, and it push at a rate of 10.15% in the years to come, to touch USD 51,466 million by 2030, as per a report by a market research institution, P&S Intelligence. The CMOS category had the largest revenue share, of over 60%. This has a lot to do with its low cost of manufacturing, high-speed imaging, flexibility in the process…

[willyoubemycherryy]

“Who’s your new friend?” (Salesman x reader)

Summary: Your dad’s dark stranger is the one for you. Too bad about his cruel streak….

Contains: sit down chicas this is a LONG one, plot but gratuitous p+rn, dads!friend au, rough sex, edging, pussy spanking, he’s mean :( , choking, drugging, everything IS consensual bc I’m tired of everyone writing him as a domestic terrorlzing rapist, he’s still psychotic and unhinged tho, just not psychosexual because psychotic traits don’t always translate to sexual violence, your dad is sweet but trusting and naive, squirting, pussyspanking unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy, wrap your gummy) begging, degradation, praise, cursing, reader is a bit of a bitch, light dom/sub dynamics, his cock is stuuuupid fat bc I said so and have eyeballs, ur 22 in this period and he’ll spit in your mouth in the next installment of this series :)

A/N: Yeah, he got me y’all😔 Gong Yoo sexy, fine, tall, handsome ass got me���I’ve been tripping out for 17 days straight over this man sooo…

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ _ _

_ ➵ ✩ ◛ ° . +

You knew your dad often had strange friends but this one takes the cake.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow at the tall man your father was currently introducing you to. Standing over 6 feet in a pitch black suit he was extremely easy on the eyes with full lips, perfectly styled hair, relaxed posture and not a wrinkle in sight paired with the darkest almond eyes you’d ever seen. You rove your eyes over him once more before looking back up to find him staring back at you…

Yes, he was perfectly lovely but was it too soon to assume something about him was..off?

You feel your face warm at how strong his gaze is but you stare back defiantly, mentally cursing your too trusting dad.

“…and since we chat almost everyday during our commute to work- would you guess that we’re both in sales and marketing?- I thought it’d be great to invite him over and talk more in a more comfortable setting!” Your dad says excitedly, smiling as he tells you all about his new friend. The man smiles alongside him, cheeks faintly dimpling and despite your distrust, you can’t take your eyes off of him as you feel your heart beat harder in its cage.

“I was going to call to tell you I was bringing company but you know I forget to use that thing.” ‘That thing’ being a modern phone to a man who was awful with tech. You scoff but nod to let him know you don’t mind (completely) and because you already know how your father is and he continues,

“Oh right! Speaking of forgetting, I don’t remember if I ever mentioned my daughter even though I know I probably did-“, you listen to your dad introduce you and the man smiles even wider as he steps forward, offering his hand to yours in a shake.

“How pleasant to meet you.” Holy shit. His voice is a lot deeper than you expected and you absentmindedly place your hand into his waiting one. The way it completely encases your hand due to its sheer size makes your heart stop before it melts down to a warm pool in your lower stomach, settling in your core like hot tea as you breathe out a shaky exhale. His hand is also rougher than you thought it’d be for a simple businessman as it squeezes yours and a quick flash image of that same hand around your throat has you snatching your hand back as you shoot him a tight smile.

“Right. Back at ya. Um, how old are you again?”

“Ah. Isn’t that improper to ask new people?”

“I’m just curious to how you maintain a career as developed as my dads because you seem so young.”

Oh. You’re quick witted; that makes things a potential hassle for him.

“Well, I’m much older than you. I’m certainly older than your father.”

“Ha! Are you also the Emperor of China-”, You’re cut off as your dad says your name in the way he does when you’re being rude but you ignore it, glaring at the man.

“Be polite! He’s older so you should speak respectfully”, you barely hide the roll of your eyes but your fathers new friend catches it and you swear you hear a huff of amusement from him, the low sound makes you shiver as you turn on your heel to go back upstairs, your dads scolding calling after you.

“Aish! Spoiled! Brat! You were so much cuter when you were younger!”

“Whatever!”

“Bellybutton lint!”

“Old man!”

“Oh yeah?! You won’t be 22 forever!”

The only response he gets back is the sound of your bedroom door slamming while you’re all too aware of the eyes on your back when you’d left. Your dad sighs as he runs a hand down his face. The salesman simply stands quietly, grinning as always as he observes your little spat. Something about it caught his attention though.

“She’s young.” And your father agrees, insisting that’s part of the reason for your behavior, you apparently were “much nicer” and he nods in understanding.

“College age is tricky. I met her mom around her age and things are so much more different than they were back in our day so I try not to be too hard on her but sometimes she’s so-!” He tilts his head as he waits for your dad to find the word.

“Difficult!”

Ah. How cute. A little attitude problem.

That honestly doesn’t surprise him because most pretty little things almost always had one- you were no exception. Though, you yourself were a pleasant surprise. He’d maintained a friendly relationship with your father on a mere whim, finding him to be…nice unlike most he considered nuisances, so when the man invited him over one day he accepted and as he trailed through the door behind him, taking in the warm tones of your house when he spotted you. Standing near the island by the kitchen in shorts so tiny the wide waistband made them look like a mini skirt, the words ‘PINK’ on the back and a snug white tee shirt, the blue of your bra peeking through, you walk towards them smelling of fabric softener and cold vanilla. Your hair was down as you stared at him like you were both scared and wanting with big eyes full of suspicion. The gloss of your lips shining back at him as your lips curl during your inspection of him, lightly arched brow raising as you gave him a thorough once over, eyes flicking back up to his when you were done. You were absolutely delicious to look at. Short, smart mouthed, pretty and prissy.

He didn’t mind the rude way you spoke to him- no- because your eyes tell. You were weary but interested; cynical in all the ways your father wasn’t but that was perfectly fine.

His smile slowly shifted into a smirk as he followed your father to the living room, humming whenever he would speak, but his thoughts were preoccupied.

Thinking of smooth legs on a cute face he’d love to see wet with tears as he spanked your smart ass raw.

•

•

•

When you went upstairs the first thing you did was grab your headphones and tune out.

What the fuck was your dad thinking??

You huff as you flop on your bed, scrolling through your favorite apps while you tried to slow your thoughts.

Everything is fine.

Your dad always has the most unconventional friends and acquaintances so this was probably just that and you were freaking out more than usual because he was unfathomably attractive. That’s it. You just needed to get a grip. But fuck would you love to ride him through the weekend if only he didn’t have such a concerning aura…and wasn’t pals with your dad of-course.

About 2 hours later when you go downstairs to get food and bring it back to your room-answering curtly when your dad asks if you want to join him and the hot stare of the suited man you’re trying to pretend isn’t there.

“Hard no. Do I look like a nurse? You two senior citizens can play amongst yourselves.”

You sigh when you get back up to your room, FaceTiming your friends as you eat, talking about whatever and whoever before you remember you need to organize some of your class notes and say goodbye before you hang up.

It takes less time than you thought it would so when you’re done, you go about your night routine. Teeth, skincare, oversized cotton shirt, lights off as you put on a movie you’ve seen a million times. It’s harder for you to fall asleep when you can still hear his deep voice through the walls talking and laughing with your dad, shaking your core as you toss and turn- physically fighting the feeling- until you fall asleep.

X

Another few hours later, you wake with a start. Something’s not right.

You can still hear the tv downstairs but no voices. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and as you turn your head towards your door- pulling the covers off your legs, the sight of a tall dark figure rips a blood curdling scream from your throat. In that same second the figure steps closer, the light from your tv illuminates him and your heart races as you stare back wide eyed at your dads suited stranger friend. You’re still gasping and reeling as he sits down on your soft bedding, watching with rapt eyes at you trying to calm down from the near heart-attack he almost gave you.

“W-what..what the fuck?!” He smiles as you get up to yell in his face, gesturing wildly.

“Why the hell are you in my-“, you cut yourself off as another realization dawns on you completely and he can’t help the compulsion he feels towards you.

“How long have you been in my room- wait where’s my dad?!” If you knew who he was and what he did for a living, you’d be much more agreeable…or maybe not and that’s what fascinated him about you. You were so unusual. Wanting to steer clear of him instead of on, even though he’d piqued your curiosity, you didn’t blindly follow like every other nuisance did; instead he was the inconvenience and the way you let him know via sharp words and distrusting looks was something he hadn’t gotten in a while. The way you brushed him and your hard working dad off with no more than a pretty glare while probably never having actually worked for anything in your life made him itch to correct you. Make you say sorry- break you back into the sweet girl he knew you could be.

“I swear to god- WHERE IS MY DAD-!“, before you can raise your voice anymore, turning to go find him yourself, he’s pulling you back by your wrist, covering your mouth with his other hand as he hooks his chin over your shoulder cooing at you to calm down - listen to him a bit.

“Shh. Your father is alright, had too much to drink so he’s passed out downstairs but safe nonetheless.” You feel your body relax against your will at his words but you still bite his palm for scaring the hell out of you. The pain that blooms up his wrist from his hand makes him hiss against your ear and you wish it didn’t sound so good before it trails off into a light chuckle.

“I’m going to move my hand. You won’t scream. Understand?” You roll your eyes but nod anyway and a few seconds later his hand is lowered but he keeps you sitting up against him.

“Look- if you’re some kind of extortionist or blackmailer, my dad only works for clean honest compan-“,

“I’m none of those things.” Huh. You’re even more confused but the silence that follows he doesn’t break instead he waits for you, enjoying your discomfort as you shift against him.

“Then what the fuck do you want? Nothing better to do in your ancient age on a Tuesday night besides creep around?” Your mouth would be the death of you and this might very well be the moment as you mouth off to a complete stranger who could be (and actually is) very dangerous but bravado was all you had. You’d seen and heard more than enough to know that an older man in a suit visiting a young girl he didn’t know in the dead of night never ended well.

“I want to chat for a bit.” You tilt your head a bit in confusion but he takes your silence as the go ahead, making your heart pound when he shuffles even closer causing you to feel his firm pecs through his expensive smelling dress shirt; the heady combination makes your pulse race as you fight yourself on whatever it is exactly that you’re feeling but shouldn’t be.

“When your father mentioned you, you sounded like such a nice girl…”, the low way he speaks resembles a purr, words vibrating his chest, thick arms holding you tight to him as his warm breaths coast across your chest and neck.

“Imagine my surprise when I meet you and you’re nothing more than an ungrateful little princess with a pretty face but very nasty attitude.” You feel your face warm in shame at the blatant way he calls you out, immediately defensive as you shoot back,

“What’s it to you? If you want to see some obedient thing then get a boarder collie-!” Enough of that. His hand claps down over your throat, squeezing not enough to hurt but enough to make you shut up as your heart rate spikes, nerves going haywire at the sudden cut of oxygen. You get dizzy quick. Blood rushing through your ears like a current of cotton, hand flying up on instinct to pull at his muscled forearm but it doesn’t budge and you whine- biting your lip as your heart beats liquid fire through your body. You were so fucked up, clamping your thighs shut as if that will stop you from getting wet but it’s hard to pay attention to that with a tight hand around your neck and mean lips against your ear.

“Didn’t your father tell you to respect your elders?” He tuts out and you nod desperately, willing to swallow your snideness if it meant getting air. He loosens his grip enough for you and you gasp so hard you nearly choke, the sound turning him on more than it should; he grabs your chin so you face him with teary eyes and he nearly groans at how weak you look. The sedatives he slipped in your dad’s drink would last for a while so for now it was just you and him.

“Answer me.”

“You first-“, you’re quick to shut your mouth as a smirk grows on his face. A fast learner.

“Smart. But”, he pauses to put you on edge before continuing, “because I quite enjoy your father and his company, I don’t like the thought of him being troubled by anything.” His words are sweet but they also fill you with dread because you know how much you intentionally butt heads with your father. Mouthing off at him just to amuse yourself sometimes. You never meant to stress him but messing with him a little was how you showed your affection.

“That includes you as well.” He rasps against your neck, nipping the sensitive skin there with more teeth than tongue and you choke on a moan, breathing hard.

“Okay. Got it. I need to be nicer-”,

“No, you need a firm hand.” Oh fuck. You bite your lip at that, watching through bleary eyes as he rubs his other hand down your chest, brushing your hard nipples through your shirt as he feels up your soft curves. The hand around your throat tightens when he feels you might move but when you don’t he doesn’t loosen it- instead he rewards you with wet, scalding kisses behind that spot under your ear, suckling down until he reaches your collarbones. Your eyes water from all the sensations as you try to rationalize what’s going on before you lose yourself to how good you feel.

The hand caressing over your body doesn’t stop, threatening to burn you alive with the heat it ignites in you. To make matters worse, you can’t even breathe deeply enough to calm down with the hold he has on your neck and you’re reminded of how pathetically wet you are whenever you move your legs as you’re completely naked underneath your shirt. So much is happening but it’s not enough. Fleetingly scarce touches is all you’re being given but you need more. You shouldn’t want this, want him- or anything having to do with him- but you do and that thought scares you more than any potential repercussions.

He watches you with an unreadable expression as you shift constantly, sliding a hand under your shirt to cup your tits, flicking and twisting the stiff nubs cruelly between his fingers. Laving his tongue over each bruise he’s left on your neck before choking you harder, making the veins on the back of his hand show and your mouth drops open, hoarse broken moans falling as your hips twitch upwards. This was how he liked you. Melting into him so obediently…

“You’re going to be a good girl now?” He asks like it’s a question but the even in hazy state you’re falling into, you know it’s an order. He loosens his grip again so you can answer, voice hoarse,

“..y-yeah.” The softened tone you use when you respond makes him hard beyond belief and he bites your shoulder with a satisfied groan and you swear your cunt has a pulse. The familiar burning ache is so blinding that you listen immediately when he tells you-

“Open your legs.”

He almost didn’t hear your sharp intake of breath. He barely noticed the way your hips snapped up to hump his hand… he was preoccupied with just how wet you were. Your arousal coats his fingers as he slides them between your sopping lips making you keen through shuddering breaths as you try to control yourself. A few hard circles to your clit shatters that control as you cry out, needy sobs falling from your gloss smeared lips while you beg prettily for him.

“Please! I-! I’ll-anything! Just-!” His hand collar tightens again as he slides two fingers knuckle deep in your spasming hole, immediately curling them towards him, grinding them against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you and the fire that’s been steadily burning inside you almost makes you black out from how quick it threatens to consume you. You’ve never felt more out of your mind, your cunt so soaking wet it’s audible. White-searing pleasure shoots electricity through every nerve and you’re screaming. Between the fuzz in your head from oxygen loss or the brutal way he’s fucking you with his fingers- the one thing you do know is that if you cum now, you’ll faint.

“Waittt- mm-! S-stopp!!” It’s the struggle of a lifetime to get the words out but you do and when you do, surprisingly- he listens. Taking his fingers out as the strings of your slick drip from them and you cry at the loss, the ache still there but you could at least breathe. You feel a nip at your ear and you only then notice the way you’ve rested your weight completely against him.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick with arousal from how wonderfully you responded to him. So wet he could taste it in the air as you trembled and cried against him. The water in your eyes spilling down over as they rolled back into your skull. Your face was the perfect erotic expression of tormented bliss as he made you earn air and fight off an orgasm so strong it would’ve put you in a vegetative state.

The sound of your weak sniffles make his cock ache as he lays back on your bed, maneuvering your hips over his as he opens his pants, taking his length out he moans at the pressure relief. Swiping his fat head through your messy folds but not inside.

“Well? I need you to answer me. Or do I need to get it out of you myself?” You shake your head, lifting your arms when he moves your shirt up off you and now you’re completely naked while he’s still clothed. As much as his stare intimidated you, his attentions felt even better, moaning at the dirty kisses his cock gave your hole.

“Was gonna cum…but you didn’t say I could yet”, you reach up to use his arm as leverage while you wiggle your hips and your submission drives him mad with how much he wants to ruin you.

“Aw. That’s cute…but if you came before I let you, what then? Are you smart enough to tell me?” He asks sweetly but the condescending undertone makes you feel dumb as heat blooms in your chest and you will away the fuzz that’s making it hard to think so you can give him a proper answer. One that would please him. The fact that you even wanted to please him was something you’d have to get back to.

“I’d be in trouble?” You say it like a question and less of an answer and he finds your uncertainty so cute as he laughs indulgently at you.

“Close. It’s because you’re my good girl. And my girl only does as she’s told, yeah?” The same trickling tingle at the base of your skull is back again as you mindlessly repeat after him.

“Yeah.” He hums, lining himself up with your drooling pussy, sliding in with one thrust. Gritting his teeth with a heavy groan while you choke on a sob.

“Fuckin’ tight-!” Deep grunting in your ear overwhelming you in the best way and you lose it from how full you are. You could’ve guessed by his height and frame that he’d be packing but it felt fatter than you would have ever been able to accurately guess, pressing effortlessly against every spot that made you see stars.

You were everlastingly grateful your dad was knocked out because the sounds coming from you and your room were beyond incriminating. Even though he wasn’t moving, every-time you did, you could feel the deliciously heavy pressure against your slick walls. Shivers wracking up your body as wheezing fucked out moans left your mouth and you grind down in messy circles until the hand on your throat stops you.

“Look at you. Desperate n’ wet begging to cum. You’d do anything I tell you, huh? Just like a dog.”

A disgustingly pathetic warble is his reply but he wants more from you, choking you hard as he pinches your sensitive nipples.

“Uhhn! Yes!” The sheer desperation in your shaky voice gives him a sick head-rush.

“Open your legs for me.”

You obey before he even finishes his sentence. Thighs falling apart, cooled air over your center makes you moan wetly as you wait patiently. So patiently that the first heavy slap against your pussy winds you by the time the pain registers. As soon as the sting settles, warmth pools in its place, sensitivity heightened as you wail. The stricken sound makes his cock throb inside you.

“Wha-!”, another slap cracks down on your swollen lips, hitting your clit spot on and again and you try in vain to wriggle away.

“You still need to prove to me that you’re sorry for your behavior earlier.” He says, voice casual but no less mocking and you cry. Tears running down your cheeks as your body struggles to adjust and obey. Before you can shout out however many strings of apologies it’ll take for him to let you cum, he strikes your center again, hissing in pleasure at your screams. He feels it. That somehow you’re even wetter, dripping down his balls and smearing your slick all over the front of his slacks. He has half a mind to make you clean it up when he’s done with with you as he spanks your cunt again, biting your ear hard until it reddens.

“If you cum before I tell you, I promise I’ll make this the longest night of your life”, he groans darkly in your ear. You’re blessed that you can still hear him through the bass of your heart’s beat and the loud, wet connect every time his hand comes down. You were so close. The sharp sting and the pained pleasure of swelling warmth his heavy hand left behind was too much and your poor clit couldn’t take much more. Gasping through your tears, you scramble to find the right words.

“‘Lease- please! Ah-m’sorry!” Your raspy voice breaks halfway through when lifts you only to slam you back down on his fat length, flicking your sensitive nub when he meanly asks you,

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Try again, little girl.” You night just be in for a long night after all.

You could barely breathe from how hard he was choking you, swollen pussy enflamed from countless spanks, and your center was stuffed to the brim as he was so big that he didn’t even have to try to hit your spots. You scratch and wrestle with his hand until he loosens it, gasping and whining, you pray you don’t come from the instant relief it gives you. The rush settling over you like a fuzzy blanket. He shifts below you and you hurry to get the words out before he makes you come without his say-so.

“I’m- I’m sorry! So sorry! Please Sir, can I-!”

Sir. You called him sir.

It’s less of you apologizing but more of you submitting to him, acknowledging him by title that he held superiority over you that pleases him enough to let you cum. Cutting off your sweet begging with more mean, heavy slaps to your wet pussy, basking in your delighted wails as he fucks up into you.

His hand tightens around your throat and this time, you welcome the suffocating pleasure. Scratchy cries escape when they can but you’re so far on the road to ecstasy that you don’t even care how you look or sound, chest heaving as your eyes water. Your cunt feels like it’s on fire but you beg him in every way you can to keep going even though you can’t take it and he does, groaning against your ear as he rubs messily at your throbbing clit.

“So good, baby- you can cum. Make your little mess before I make you beg some more-”, he does not have to tell you twice as everything you’ve been holding, releases and you do make a mess.

Mouth dropped open as you sob and for the next couple minutes hot unending pleasure is all you know as the stinging slaps get faster, ending with harsh circles on your bud after each one and your hole gets even tighter before you go limp- liquid jetting out of you. He fucks you through it with a tight grip on your windpipe, using you like a snug fleshlight until he’s coming harder than he has in a while at the state he’s put you in. He waits until he catches his breath to slide out of you- who’s deadweight as he lifts you off him.

Rolling off the bed, the silence makes him look over at you only to see that you’re out cold. His eyebrows raise as he huffs out an amused laugh, fixing his pants before brushing his hand over your pretty face. He might have overdone it he thinks as he sees your face return to it’s normal, less flushed hue. Leaning down, on impulse he presses a kiss to your cheek, his gentlest touch of the night before getting up and covering your worn naked body with one of the many blankets on your bed.

“You’re a treat in more ways than you know.”

As he stands, before he opens your door to leave, he pulls a card out of his pocket and leaves it on your nightstand then heads back downstairs to get his shoes and jacket. Turning off the tv where your dad sleeps easily and quietly slipping out the door, smiling the entire way. Now he has even more fun.

You.

•

•

•

When you wake up the next morning, you turn with a pleasant ache and stinging between your legs as you stretch, sighing with a blissful smile until you remember why you ache and who caused it.

Pushing yourself up, you stop when you see a card on your stand, rolling to the edge of your bed, you swipe it off and raise it to your face. It’s a picture of lollipop, a simple circle on a stick but the words below it make your chest warm and you don’t even bother pretending to yourself that you aren’t interested in seeing him again.

“Next time I’ll make you even sweeter.”

In part 2…

Or 3…

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Azul Ashengrotto: Like a Million Bucks

Bro literally looks like a Kdrama CEO 💀 or an expensive box of seashell-shaped chocolates… The groovy, meanwhile, is very Miles Edgeworth-coded!

Feel like his bedhead shout have been something more.. Ursula quaff shaped 🐙

Rise and Shine!

Azul peered into the vanity mirror and frowned.

Hair disheveled and sticking up. Pajamas and night robe in the place of a suit and jacket. Nose and brows scrunching in an unpleasant, sour expression. Remnants of sleep still clinging desperately to him.

How unseemly, Azul huffed, his expelled breath setting a few silvery locks swaying like seaweed upon a current.

“I can’t allow myself to be seen in public like this,” he muttered, running the teeth of a comb through his tresses. No client or business partner would take him seriously! “This shall soon be corrected.”

Dipping into a tub, Azul slathered his fingers in styling gel and began to massage the product in. The flyaways smoothed out, turning glossy and neat. He surveyed his reflection again, this time smiling smugly at the perfected groomed image that returned his gaze.

Now here was a something worthy of showing the world. An Azul Ashengrotto looking like a million bucks.

“That’s better.”

“What is?” you asked, peeking out from behind him. A second you emerged in the mirror’s face—and Azul startled, nearly dropping his items. Shock smeared the cocky confidence right off of him and set his spectacles askew.

“Wh-What… When did you get here?!” he demanded, scrambling to adjust his glasses. A part of him cringed at the unintended vocal crack—a weakness shining through his armor.

“Oh, a little while ago,” you replied nonchalantly, holding up a rolled up newspaper. His usual. “This was at the front door. I figured I’d let myself in and bring it to you since I already got here early.”

“Yes—well…!” Azul faltered, but he managed to reel himself back in. “Ah-HEM! Thank you for doing me the favor of retrieving my paper. I’ve been looking forward to catching up on the latest in stock market trends. Next time, it will not be necessary. Please wait for me to come to you.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing it again. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal when there is intrusion of a man’s privacy involved,” he corrected, tutting. “I was just in the middle of making myself presentable. What if you had waltzed in at an inopportune time and caught me right as I had woken up? Oh, the state I would be in!"

You cocked your head in confusion. “… I don’t get it, you’re always presentable.”

He laughed, light yet bittersweet. "You mustn't lie. Lying is most unkind of you. It takes hard work and effort to appear as I do and to maintain it."

"Yeah, of course I get that. You do a lot to come off as cool and put-together, like some big, bad businessman. But still... I dunno, I think you're plenty appealing when you have your guard down too." You shrugged, poking him in the chin with the newspaper. "Squishy and cute, like an octopus."

"You sound positively ridiculous," he grumbled with a sigh. "Jade and Floyd must have wormed their way into your mind and polluted your thoughts."

"It's the truth. No matter what the situation, Azul is always cute! So cute it's hard not to gobble you up."

"W-Would you stop saying that!!" he hissed through his teeth, telltale red splotches appearing on his cheeks. Azul hastily glanced over his shoulder and at the washroom doorway, as if expecting the twins to be looming there, snickering at his distress. "What if someone hears?! It would be a stain on my reputation!!"

"Eh? It's not like its news to anyone though. Everyone with good taste knows..."

"Wh-What?! S-So you're implying that the entire student body believes that?!" He paled, his pupils becoming pinpricks. "Where did I go wrong with my PR?"

Azul whipped away from you, receding into his night robe, head hung low. He raked both hands through his hair, releasing a whiny wail. “Enough already…! I can’t take any more of this!!”

Ah, he's retreated into a makeshift octopot to sulk.

You chuckled as you approached on swift feet. Looping your arms around him, you hugged Azul from behind. He quieted, tensing at your touch.

A single questions hovered.

“What are you up to now?”

“This Azul is fine, too,” you reassure him quietly. “Every Azul is. The strong Azul, the weak Azul… they’re all worth a million bucks and more.”

“… H-Hmph.” You didn’t miss how his voice slightly quivered before fully hardening into ice. “If you think that this flattery will make up for your brazen comments from earlier, then you are sorely mistaken.

“I fully intend to demonstrate to you the full extent of my capabilities! You will have no choice but to take me seriously. Fufufu…”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Cocktails

"Cocktail," like many words, has evolved over time, broadening its meaning.

While it once indicated a narrow range of drinks—perhaps originally a single drink—it is now customarily used to cover nearly the full range of mixed drinks available in the bars of the world.

Purists may insist that a true cocktail include at least 3 ingredients, two of which are distilled liquor and bitters. Others may argue that any drink mixed on the spot from two or more ingredients, at least one of which is alcoholic, is a cocktail.

The first known references to drinks called cocktails come from the late 18th and early 19th centuries. At that time, alcoholic beverages were largely served in inns and public houses, and weary travelers and thirsty locals would order concoctions.

LONG DRINKS

Also known as tall drinks, are simply drinks in tall glasses with larger amounts of mixer than short drinks.

Some, like highballs, are simple and straightforward; others are complex concoctions.

What they have in common is a relaxed quality, in that they present a relatively low concentration of alcohol and, often, an easy-drinking accessibility.

SHORT DRINKS

A drink served in a tumbler or old-fashioned glass.

Since they contain a higher concentration of alcohol than long drinks, they tend to be built more for slow, deliberate sipping—but there are no hard and fast rules here.

UP DRINKS

The classic image of a cocktail: shaken or stirred with ice and served, almost always strained, in a cocktail glass.

The most elegant of the cocktails, and not only because of their presentation.

Subtle or intense, austere or rich, they tend to have distinct personalities.

SHOTS & SHOOTERS

The most recreational of cocktails.

Despite their popular image, most of them are actually rather low in alcohol; the danger of shots lies in the temptation to drink too many, too quickly. Given how delicious many of them are, that can be all too easy to do.

HOT & FROZEN DRINKS

Hot cocktails have a long history, having been used for centuries to warm chilled travelers and bar customers.

Frozen cocktails are a more recent development, but they offer a bracing kind of refreshment that is perfect for steamy summer evenings.

Some Cocktails

Classic Cocktails

Some drinks have become timeless, iconic libations of cocktail culture:

THE MARTINI Despite a myriad of variations since its first appearance in the nineteenth century, the classic Martini remains the quintessential elegant cocktail: a cool, somewhat austere drink, not showy, but certainly powerful.

THE MANHATTAN The richness and power of whiskey gives the Manhattan slightly rougher edges than the Martini. It gained prominence in the 1930s as one of the five Borough cocktails of New York.

THE OLD FASHIONED Long before Don Draper of Mad Men revived interest in this classic, adding bitters and sugar to whiskey was a mainstay of cocktail culture and one of the most basic drink preparations.

THE DAIQUIRI The classic rum cocktail, the Daiquiri was a favorite of Ernest Hemingway and John F. Kennedy, and has spawned a host of variations.

Seasonal Drinks

Though most cocktails inhabit the perpetual season known as cocktail hour, many capture—or help create—the distinct mood of each quarter of the year.

SPRING & SUMMER Light, refreshing cocktails dominate the spring. Consider such classics as slings, smashes, lemonade drinks, and colorful coolers. Go-to cocktail: a French 75 Summer is, of course, the season for clear and tropical cocktails. Fresh fruit fills the market stands, the sun pours down through long days, and a cold, sweet-and-tart drink is what you crave. While you could always go for a Gin and Tonic, for a bit more personality try one of the great Caribbean drinks—a classic Daiquiri will keep you cool.

FALL & WINTER As Keats put it, autumn is the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,” and that vibe is what you’ll want in a cocktail. Deeper, richer drinks come to the fore. Any drink involving apple juice or apple brandy chimes with sentimental visions of autumn. Go-to cocktail: a Sidecar. When winter comes, linger over an Irish Coffee or Hot Toddy; or brace yourself against the cold with a potent whiskey drink—stay toasty warm with an Old Fashioned.

Champagne Cocktails

Occupy a distinct niche in cocktail culture.

At once colorful and elegant, festive and intimate, they lend themselves not only to romantic settings but also to expensive parties.

Source: The Ultimate Cocktail Encyclopedia by Walter Burns More Writing References: Wine-tasting ⚜ Drunkenness ⚜ Drinking

[sofiadzzle]

Magnetic Force of a Man

smut 18+ mdni

Pairing: ceo!Jay x worker!Y/N

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, dom!Jay, impregnation, dirty talk, fingering, pussy fucking, female masturbation, age gap (4 years), exhibitionism, breeding, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.4k

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I cursed as I stared down at the tear in my brand new sheer pantyhose. "Run-proof my ass! "

Shaking my head in dismay, I quickly looked around the large underground parking garage, praying to God that no one could see or hear me as I hurriedly positioned myself between my front door and the driver's seat of my beige sedan, hiking my lavender pencil skirt up to my ass, and then slid the ruined pair of hose the rest of the way down my legs.

Thankfully, I packed an extra pair!

I sat down on the side of the car seat and removed my violet high heels, almost like I was pulling out the replacements, taking them from the packing and quickly began slipping my feet inside.

The voice of a man said abruptly, "Yes, that's right."

My breath caught in my throat, I paused and turned to see the source of the voice. I was stunned by what I saw and halted abruptly, my new pantyhose halfway up my legs.

He had a great appearance. He was sitting at least fifty feet away from me, yet I could still see the platinum shine of his watch as he raised his left arm to check the time. He was dressed elegantly in a navy blue suit. His shiny black low-cut hair must have reached at least five eleven" in height.

With a dark satchel clasped in his right hand, he confidently walked towards the elevator labeled "PRIVATE." His broad shoulders, confident gait, and commanding presence evoked the image of a male model seen in GQ publications. His whole demeanor was confident.

I could tell that he was chatting to someone else and not about me or my pantyhose dilemma when a blue light blinked next to his ear. He never even gave me a sidelong glance.

I eventually snapped back to reality as he slid behind one of the pillars and finished pulling on my pantyhose. I tucked my skirt in and put my stilettos back on, eager to begin my first day of training as an executive assistant for Park Industries within the enormous, imposing Park Business building. (It seems the corporation required more than one because it was so large.)

I'd never seen or heard of Jay Park, the CEO of the company, before applying for this job. Even though I had looked him up online, all the pictures I could find of him included him wearing dark sunglasses and hats, which made me think he was probably a very secretive person. It appeared that he would much rather maintain a very low profile than be in the spotlight.

Nothing could have prepared me for the day I visited the Park Building for the first time, even though I had finished an internship at a Fortune 500 corporation close to my college campus.

My first interview had been with a woman named Son Eunsaem. She'd had a highly professional appearance and a no-nonsense attitude. She hadn't smiled once during the interview.

I was surprised when I got a call back for a second interview. That was where I met the other executive assistants. Park Industries had an executive assistant for each and every department in the company, and I had applied to the marketing department.

And I started working on the actual job today. At nine o'clock, I had my official orientation meeting, and then I was meant to meet with Jay Park, the company's CEO.

On their first day of work, all new hires were required to meet with the CEO, who was said to like having face-to-face meetings with each and every one of his staff members. I'll admit that I was anxious, but I was also interested to see this billionaire's true appearance.

The thirty-story building housed the marketing department on its twenty-fifth floor. At the orientation, there was another new hire in addition to me. Ryu Hanbin was his name, and he had been employed in the software department.

At orientation, our ID cards were issued to each of us. We were granted entry to the elevators, break facilities, and exits reserved for employees only. My heart started to race inside my chest as the orientation was coming to a conclusion.

Hanbin and I were taken to a private employee elevator and showed how to use our ID cards to operate it. Jay Park's office was on the top floor, and that's where our orientation leader, a middle-aged woman named Won Chaerin, led us up.

As the elevator door opened at the pinnacle floor, we had been greeted with the aid of using a short, stout, but very neat and well-groomed bald guy with a cleanly-shaven face in a vibrant purple pantsuit.

"Welcome to Park Land,” he stated with a welcoming grin as he reached out to shake our hands. "That's what we name the pinnacle floor, right here." He appeared to laugh after each sentence he spoke. “My call is Jinyoung, however all of us right here calls me Jin.” Another laugh.

What a unusual guy, I thought.

He led us down a hallway that ended with a reception table and a small living room area. There had been high-returned black leather-based chairs and a large flat-display tv withinside the ready area. There additionally regarded to be a bar of a few kind in the back of the reception table.

"Y'all can simply make yourselves comfortable whilst I allow Mr. Park recognize you are right here,” he instructed us with every other laugh earlier than sashaying returned to his spot in the back of the reception table.

"Thank you,” I instructed him as I took a seat in one of the leather-based chairs and crossed my legs.

As I sat ready, my heart commenced to overcome so rapid that it felt like it'd leap up out of my throat at any second. A stolen look over at Hanbin noticed his foot nervously tapping in opposition to the carpeted floor, and I felt relieved that I wasn't the simplest worried individual withinside the room.

A second later, the telephone on Jin's table rang, and he spoke back it on speaker.

"Send Ms. Y/L/N in first,” the voice said in a deep, authoritative tone.

"Right away, sir," Jin answered as he glanced over towards me.

I stood up and accompanied him down but every other lengthy hallway, with stylish artwork lining the partitions and porcelain statues each few feet.

At the quit of the hall, there has been a fancy-searching door with a platinum door knob.

"Knock, knock,” Jin said in a singsong-like voice as he knocked on it twice before turning the knob and pushing it open. “Ms. Y/L/N, meet Mr. Jay Park.”

He waited for me to step inside the large, elaborately decorated office before shutting the door behind me.

I stood there, with my back to the door and my orientation folder in my hand, not sure what to do next. Mr. Park had his head down and was doing something on his phone, but as soon as the door closed, he looked directly up at me, and my jaw almost hit the floor in utter awe.

Jay Park was none other than the sexy, model-esque man who'd been walking through the employee parking garage earlier.

I knew I was staring, but I didn't care. The man was a real-life Adonis.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N. Come. Have a seat.”

It was more of an order than a request, but I didn't mind. He had the most hypnotizing pair of eyes. They were a deep, dark br, and I felt as if I could get lost in them if I stared too long.

He didn't smile, but he didn't frown. He was eyeing me curiously as I made my way over to the chair in front of his huge, rectangular desk. I felt as if he was sizing me up for something... something other than just this job position.

"So, Ms. Y/L/N, you are twenty-four and you have an MS in Business Management. Impressive. What are your plans in the next five years?”

I felt completely on the spot. I cleared my throat before speaking.

"Well, I'm hoping to be working a job I love, maybe get promoted, and start moving up in the ranks."

"Hmm," he said quietly.

I leaned forward a bit and noticed that he had a folder open with my resume, cover letter, and some photos of me inside.

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

My heart sped up and began to beat harder than ever. He had removed his suit jacket, and his white silk shirt hugged his toned upper body with flair, accenting the broadness of his shoulders.

I shook my head and swallowed hard as my body temperature began to rise. No man had ever had such a profound effect on me. I could actually feel heat starting to build within my core and a noticeable tingling between my thighs.

He walked around to the back of my chair and stood behind me. My heart was beating a billion beats per minute.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

I shuddered at the feel of his breath against my lobe. My body was completely on fire for this man, and he hadn't even touched me. I was at a loss for words.

I wanted to glance up at him, but I was frozen in place like a stone statue, and all I could do was sit there facing forward as I waited to see what was going to happen next. From behind me, I heard him inhale deeply and then exhale slowly.

“Ahh, your perfume is intoxicating, but I sense something else about you, Ms. Y/L/N. You are in your prime,” he stated sensuously, his voice barely more than a whisper.

His lips were so close to my neck that his breath felt hot against my skin. It caused a shiver to run down my spine, and I had to muster every ounce of strength to keep a moan from escaping my lips.

Then, suddenly, he stood straight up and walked back around to the other side of his desk, and his demeanor had returned to a strictly professional one.

"Mrs. Son was quite impressed with you and spoke very highly of your interview," he said plainly as he sat back down in his chair.

"Really? Wow," I replied.

"You sound surprised," he said with a slight grin. "I know she can come across as somewhat ‘rigid, but it's all just part of how she does her job. She's extremely professional and would make an excellent poker player, no doubt.”

He chuckled slightly at his comment, and I uttered a small giggle as well.

"Well, I'm certain you'll be a definite asset to Park Industries, Ms. Y/L/N. Welcome to the team,” he said with a smile.

His smile revealed a set of the most perfect pearly whites I had ever seen up close. While staring at them, I almost missed the fact that he'd also extended his hand to me.

"Thank you, Mr. Park,” I said nervously, returning his smile with one of my own.

"You have a lovely smile, Ms. Y/L/N," he stated softly, still holding onto my hand after I'd stopped shaking it.

“Thanks,” I said coyly, tearing my eyes away from his before I became completely lost in them.

He ran his thumb slowly across the side of my hand before finally letting it go. That small, simple touch from him only added more fuel to the fire that was already building in my loins.

“Ms. Y/L/N? ”He called out to me just as I was about to leave his office.

"Yes?" I replied, turning around to look at him one more time.

"I'm having a small meeting this evening at the Italy Garden restaurant. The dress code is semi-formal. Can you be ready by 7:00?”

"Uhh, yes. Certainly, Mr. Park,” I replied, caught completely off guard.

"Great. I'll send a car to your place at 7:00, then.”

I left his office feeling flustered in more ways than one. It had been more than a year since I'd last had sex, and my attraction to Mr. Park was anything but subtle. He had a magnetic effect on me, one that I knew I was incapable of fighting.

I walked swiftly down the hall, past the small lounge where Hanbin was still seated, and into the ladies' restroom directly adjacent to Jin's reception desk. Breathing hard, I went into one of the stalls, set my folder down on the back of the commode, hiked my skirt up to my waist, and yanked my pants down to my thighs.

Panting like an animal in heat, I sat down on the seat and spread my legs.

"Mmm," I muttered as I closed my eyes and placed my right hand on the crotch of my thin satin pants.

Yanking my pants to the side, I exposed my moist, partially-swollen bud and began to massage it. Another moan escaped my lips as I bucked my hips and rubbed my pussy faster and harder.

I imagined that Mr. Park was in the bathroom stall with me and that he had pulled my pants to the side. It was his lips and tongue against my throbbing, swollen bulb, causing sighs and moans of delight to escape my mouth and sending me into a frenzy of pleasure.

“Ohhh,” I murmured softly as I pictured him rubbing the head of his hard, pulsating cock against my slick, hot slit.

I imagined his hands grabbing my ass cheeks and squeezing them hard in a fit of primal, uncontrollable passion. I pictured him entering me slowly at first, until his rock-hard dick was deep inside my pussy, stretching me to the limit.

"Fuuuck," I whispered as I plunged my fingers as deep into my warm, wet tunnel as they would go. "Yesss! Fuck me, Mr. Park!"

I imagined his cock moving in and out of me, faster and harder, fucking like wild animals as we both got closer and closer to our climaxes. Completely and totally engulfed in how unbelievably good the sex felt, neither one of us even cared that we were fucking unprotected.

"I want you to cum inside me, Mr. Park,” I imagined telling him. “Oh fuck, yessss! Cum in my pussy! Fill me up with your cum."

I didn't even care if I got pregnant or not; I just needed to feel his hot cum inside of me.

I was right on the brink of my orgasm, and I could already tell it was going to be a really good one. As I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, I pictured myself biting down on Mr. Park's ear to stifle my passion-filled moans.

My legs began to shake, and my hips bucked uncontrollably as a powerful climax wracked my entire body. I imagined Mr. Park squeezing my ass cheeks hard as his cock squirted into my cunt, filling me to the brim.

"Ohhh," I whispered, uttering a sigh of satisfaction as my orgasm began to wane.

After taking a moment to enjoy the afterglow, I quickly cleaned myself up, left the restroom, and headed back down to the 25th floor to finish out my workday.

I had just finished putting on my makeup when I noticed it was 6:45. The dress I had selected for tonight's meeting was a long, form-fitting silver cocktail gown I'd bought last spring. It was elegant, with a touch of sex appeal. The back dipped below the waist, and the front wrapped around the neck.

At 6:54, I heard a horn blow outside of my apartment. I slid into a pair of silver stiletto sandals, grabbed a small silver purse, and headed outside.

"Wow!" I exclaimed when I saw the pearly white stretch limousine waiting at the curb.

A tuxedo-clad chauffer opened my door for me and helped me into the back seat.

The inside of the limousine was immaculate! There was a fully-stocked bar with liquor, wine, and champagne. There were wine glasses on a glass shelf next to the bar. There was also a small fridge with fruits, cheeses, and other exotic-looking snack foods.

I helped myself to a glass of champagne and turned on the satellite radio to listen to on the way to the restaurant.

When we arrived about twenty minutes later, the chauffeur helped me out of the limo, and I walked inside. An older male host in a black and white suit was standing at a podium near the entrance.

"Good evening, Madam. Welcome to the Italy Garden restaurant. Do you have a reservation?” he asked.

“Umm, yes. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here for a dinner meeting with Mr. Jay Park,” I replied anxiously, trying hard to hide how nervous I truly was.

The five-star dining facility was way out of my league and price range. I had never been in a place so upscale and fancy. There were scores of expensive-looking pictures hanging on the walls and exquisite artifacts and statues in and around the corners.

I followed the host to a luxurious VIP balcony area where Jay Park was already seated and waiting for me.

"You look amazing, Ms. Y/L/N," he said, flashing that billion-dollar smile that made me want to melt right where I stood.

"Thank you," I replied shyly, returning a smile his way.

The host pulled out my chair, and I sat down.

"I've taken the liberty to order us a bottle of the finest champagne this place has to offer,” he told me with a grin. “What are you in the mood for?”

I couldn't pronounce a single dish on the menu.

"I'll have whatever you're having," I said softly, closing my menu and setting it to the side. I didn't want to risk embarrassing myself in front of our waiter.

"This champagne is delightful," I exclaimed before taking another sip.

"Only the best for a woman as perfect as you, Y/N," Jay stated sweetly.

It was the first time he'd ever called me by my first name. I could feel my cheeks reddening as I smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"So where are the rest of the meeting attendees?” I asked inquisitively as I glanced around the area we were seated in.

"This meeting is just for you and me, Y/N," Jay said in a sultry tone of voice. "There's something about you, Y/N, that drives me crazy. Ever since you walked into my office, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."

I felt the same way about him. He was definitely the most attractive, magnetic, and alluring man I had ever met. I was just too shy to tell him so.

Dinner was absolutely incredible. The food was delicious, and I'd probably had a bit more champagne than I'd actually intended to drink. After a perfect meal, Jay led me back out to the limousine, and we both got into the backseat.

As we talked about our backgrounds, childhoods, and future plans while drinking top shelf champagne, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't even asked him where we were headed. Before I could even form the words to inquire, the limo slowed to a stop.

"Where are we?" I asked, just as the chauffeur opened the door.

“My place,” Jay replied with a grin. “I hope that's okay with you. There's something I want to show you."

Normally, I would have thought twice about going to the home of a man I'd just met, but there was just something about Jay that made him all but irresistible to me.

His house was beyond magnificent. The outside of it took up damned-near an entire city block, and the front yard stretched out around the sides of the house. There was a huge, circular, paved driveway at the front, and the limo had stopped directly in the middle.

I couldn't even imagine what it was he wanted to show me. I felt both excited and anxious simultaneously.

Taking my hand inside his, he proceeded to lead me through his humongous residence, showing me all of the different paintings and other extraordinary decor and informing me of the countries from which they'd been ordered. Finally, we came to this nice, dimly lit room with a beautiful faux fireplace against the rear wall. My eyes widened in amazement as we entered the romantic-looking space hand-in-hand.

"Wowww!" I exclaimed, as I had done several hundred times since we'd first gotten out of the limo. "This room is so..."

“Enchanting? ”Jay stated in a questioning tone, finishing my exclamation for me.

"Yeah! Definitely!” I agreed as I looked around in bewilderment.

There was a bar counter in the far left area of the room and what appeared to be a fully-stocked mini bar behind it. A lavish-looking cream-colored sectional sofa was in the middle of the space, facing the fireplace, and there was a huge matching rug laid out in front of it.

Just as I was about to remove my shoes out of respect for the rug, the lights suddenly dimmed lower, and about a hundred faux candles all lit up simultaneously. Also, smooth, relaxing, slow music immediately began to play. The candlelight appeared to dance to the beat of the music.

I was totally speechless and utterly astonished. I had never seen anything like it before. I glanced over at Jay, who had already removed his own shoes and was filling two wine glasses at the built-in mini bar.

"Please, have a seat, Y/N,” he said amorously, nodding toward the sectional.

I sat down and continued to enjoy the ambiance of the supremely romantic setting until he soon came over to join me and placed a glass of champagne in my hand.

"So? Do you like it?" he asked after taking a sip of his drink.

"Like it? This is absolutely amazing!" I said with a huge grin.

"I'm glad you think so. I've never brought any woman into this room until tonight.

"I find that extremely hard to believe,” I said honestly."

I may be a lot of things, Y/N, but I am definitely not a liar,” he asserted. “Men like me don't have to be in order to get what we want."

“Now that, I absolutely do believe,” I replied with a grin. “So, what is it that you want with me? ”

"Ahh, the billion-dollar question," he said sultrily.

Just then, a very popular song began to play.

"Ohh, I love this song!" he said excitedly as he stood up and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

I didn't refuse. He pulled me upward and into his strong arms, and I wrapped mine around his neck. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating. I closed my eyes and pressed my body against his as we swayed to the music. Caught up in the moment, I felt like I could stay in his arms like that forever.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away for a moment and looked deep into my eyes.

“Y/N, you have it all. I adore your womanly physique, your stunningly bright brown eyes, and the fact that you are a very intelligent young woman. You are damned-near flawless. From the very first moment you walked into my office, I have had an undeniable, overwhelming attraction to you, and I know you feel it too."

I was completely speechless. I mean, what was I supposed to say? How do you even reply to a statement like that?

In all honesty, I was just as attracted to him as he was to me, but with him being both my boss and such a wealthy, sophisticated man, I think I felt a little bit intimidated. I'd never imagined myself being wined and dined with a billionaire Adonis like him.

I just kind of stood there, gazing into his tantalizing eyes like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush.

"Y/N,” he whispered as he suddenly spun me around so that he was behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Yes," I whispered back to him as the feeling of his warm breath against the nape of my neck instantly made me moist between my thighs.

I moaned as his soft lips brushed against the lobe of my him,. My body was instantaneously on fire for him and he had barely touched me.

"I want you," he whispered as his manly hands found my breasts and cupped them through the thin fabric of my cocktail dress.

The tips of his fingers found my nipples, causing another moan to escape my mouth. I felt his hand on the back of my neck, and then suddenly, my dress slid carelessly to the floor. I was braless, and this seemed to turn Jay on even more.

He groaned as I felt his manhood begin to stiffen against my ass.

"Y/N, you're fucking perfect,” he said gruffly, his voice raspy against my ear. “I want you. And you want me, too, don't you?

"Yes, Jay, yes," I moaned.

His hands squeezed my breasts, and I sighed loudly, arching my back. I felt his stiffening cock twitch in his pants.

"I'm twenty-eight years old, and I'm not getting any younger, Y/N. I've been looking for the right woman to bear my offspring, and you are the perfect specimen. I know you probably walked into the Park building today with your own plans and aspirations for your career and whatnot, but I have to be honest with you; I want you to bear my children.”

It was a lot to take in. He had certainly said a mouthful. I wasn't so sure about having kids with a man I'd just met, but he was definitely different from any other man I'd ever met, and odds were that I'd probably never meet anyone quite like him again.

His right hand slid down my midsection and into the front of my satin pants. I hissed with delight, biting down on my lip to stifle my cry of pleasure. He was applying just the right amount of pressure to my bud, and I was grinding my crotch against his hand.

"Don't hold back, Y/N,” he ordered in a breathy voice. “Let it all out!”

With that, he slid two fingers inside my dripping-wet pussy. I thrust my hips forward and let out a cry.

“Fuck, your pussy is already so wet for me! ”He declared with a grunt, pressing his erection against my ass.

Just as I was about to climax, he stopped, pulled his fingers out of my pants, and turned me around to face him. He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked my excitement out of them. My face flushed with need.

Then he pushed me down onto my knees as he undid his pants, releasing his stiff, throbbing cock. It was large—larger than I'd expected. It was definitely the biggest dick I'd ever seen in my twenty-four years on this earth. But I didn't care. I was going to try my damnedest to swallow it whole.

I caressed the shaft as I slid my tongue around the tip of his cock, teasing it gently, and then sliding it down into my mouth as far as it would go. I sucked it slowly and easily at first, and then I took my hand and used it with the rhythm of my mouth, sucking it as hard and fast as I could.

Groans fell from Jay's lips as he grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth. Then suddenly, he stopped me.

Easing the rest of the way out of his pants, he pulled me up toward him again and kissed me passionately, using his tongue to invade my mouth hungrily. I moaned as he began to trail his lips and tongue down my neck, pausing to lick, suck, and fondle both of my breasts, and then continuing down my belly until he reached the top of my pants.

With his teeth, he worked my pants down over my hips and buttocks, letting them drop to the floor near my dress. He parted my thighs slightly, using his fingers to slide my folds apart and massage my bud. Then, his lips replaced his fingers against my moist, pulsating pussy, and I cried out in sheer passion.

He was so skilled and talented—his tongue was like a fucking vibrating sex toy! He grabbed and squeezed my ass with one hand and used the other to slide two fingers back inside my pussy. I couldn't take it anymore!

"Fucckkk, I'm going to cum, Jay! I'm going to cum...so...fucking..." I couldn't even finish my sentence. His fingers pressed against my g-spot, and his tongue darted fast and hard against my pussy, sending me completely over the edge with the most powerful, intense, earth-shattering orgasm I had ever experienced.

My entire body shuddered and shook, and my legs tensed up. I grabbed his head as my crotch jerked forward uncontrollably against his face.

"Shiiiiittt! Oh fuuuuck!" I screamed loudly, unable to speak any other words.

When my climax finally began to wane, just as I was about to catch my breath, Jay suddenly lifted my legs up on his shoulders and gently pushed me down onto the soft, cream-colored rug lying me down on my back.

Not wasting a second, he slid his huge, hard cock into me slowly, with my legs still hoisted up on his shoulders.

I moaned long and hard as he stretched me to my limit, sliding deeper into my pussy than any other man had ever been.

“Fuck, Y/N, your pussy's so tight and wet! ," he exclaimed, moaning as he began to thrust in and out of me, going deeper with every stroke.

I was moaning so loudly that I could barely even hear the music playing anymore. His own groans became louder and longer with every thrust of his burly hips.

I reached up and wrapped my hands around his neck as he started fucking me harder and faster. It wasn't long before I felt a second orgasm building, getting closer and closer...

I still wasn't exactly certain about letting him impregnate me and make me the mother of his children, but the sex was fucking earth-shattering. I had never been fucked so good before! I felt his huge, stiff cock plunging in and out of me as I cried out in delirious pleasure.

Just as I was about to scream out loud, having reached my second powerful orgasm, he let out a loud, long groan, and I knew he was there, too. We were climaxing together simultaneously, and for a brief moment, it was like the two of us became one in our own world of bliss.

I felt his cock spurting his hot cum deep inside of me, filling my pussy to the brim, but it felt so fucking wonderful that I didn't give a shit. Besides, he was rich and handsome and could fuck like a damn machine.

As we finally came back to our senses, Jay kissed my lips as he slid out of me and plopped down on the rug beside me. The fake fire was still going, and the lights and music were still playing.

"That was, by far, the best sex I've ever had in my life,” I said breathily as I looked over at him.

"Me too," he said sultrily as he slid his arm beneath my neck.

With that, his eyes closed, as did mine, and we both drifted off into a satisfied slumber.

Jay and I continued to fuck like rabbits over the next few weeks, having hot, steamy, amazing sex every chance we got. And every time he came, he shot his hot cum deep inside of me.

Three weeks later, my pregnancy test came back positive. Jay was ecstatic, of course. At first, I had mixed emotions. I was going to become a mother. Was I really ready?

He immediately made me quit my job and put me in a beautiful condo with a view that overlooked the entire city. He found me the best doctors in the area and accompanied me to all of my prenatal appointments.

So I wouldn't be able to work for a while. I mean, babies don't stay babies. They eventually grow up into adults who can take care of themselves. Who knows? Once I've raised my kids, perhaps I'll still want to go back into the workforce.

For now, though, I think I'll just enjoy swelling with Jay's seed, growing rounder and riper by the day.

[thespnreferencedesk]

A Fic Writer's Guide to the 1967 Impala

Part 1: Exterior | Part 2

Click for the full-size, annotated versions of images! Unlabeled screenshots here

The given dimensions for the four-door hardtop Impala are 213.2 inches long (17.6 feet, 5.4 meters), 79.9 inches wide (6.6 feet, 2 meters), and around 55 inches tall (4.5 feet, 1.4 meters). Its wheelbase (the distance between the front and rear axles) is just shy of 10 feet. For comparison, the Impala is about three feet longer than a modern Toyota Corolla with a 1.5 foot longer wheelbase, but the same width and height. Fully loaded, it weighs easily over 2 tons and rides low to the ground. Baby is big.

Baby is a “hardtop” Impala rather than the sedan. This means it does not have a support post between the front and rear windows. The bit of trim/seal between them is part of the rear window and retracts with it when the window is rolled down. The exterior color is Tuxedo Black, and this color is still available today. It has a faint metallic finish to it due to small suspended glass particles that catch the light.

The original plates are Sedgwick County, Kansas front and rear plates with the number KAZ 2Y5 (referencing Kansas and 2005, the year the show started). After 2.19, they switch to Ohio front and rear plates with the number CNK 80Q3. When John first buys the car in 1973 in 4.03, it has a vintage rear Kansas plate with the number RPC 45P4. In 4.13 and 11.08 flashbacks to 1992 and 1997, the front and rear plates are Kansas BQN 9R3. In the djinn dream in 2.20, both plates are Kansas RMD 5H2.

The Impala has a circular driver’s side mirror, but no passenger side mirror. Between 1.01 and 3.09, it also features adjustable spotlights/searchlights on both sides. It also has two-speed chrome windshield wipers, an antennae on the front passenger’s side, and bumper guards on the front and back bumpers.

Up through episode 3.09, the Impala has chrome aftermarket Unity spotlights mounted on both sides. Mounting instructions and a up-close view of these on a fan replica can be seen here. Note that Baby's spotlights have black handles with a thin red stripe. Turn the handle to turn the spotlight's base (up/down), and twist the handle to turn and aim the light (left/right). There is a small switch under the half-sphere part of the handle that locks the light's position.

Baby's wipers have chrome arms and have two speeds, low and high. The doors feature mounted door handles with opening buttons just below them. You push in these buttons to open the door instead of pulling on the handle itself. If locking the door by pressing the door lock button on the window sill, these buttons need to be held down while closing the doors so as not to hit the physical locking mechanism.

Unique to the 1967 are these cage-style corner lamps. They are completely absent on the '66 and different on the '68. The headlights are controlled by a knob on the dash and a high beam button down in the floorboard (pushed with your foot). These come on when the parking lights are turned on. Of the two inner circular lights, the outer one is the low beam and has a low and high filament. The inner circular light is the high beam only and comes on when the floor switch is pressed. The rear lights feature the outer turn signal, center tail lights, and inner brake lights (see below).

To the best of my knowledge, Baby has 15x7 (15" diameter, 7" width) chrome steel wheels in the front and 15x8 in the back. This particular style is currently discontinued but was sold through a variety of brands under different names. The brand Cragar refers to this style as the "Super Spoke."

Outside of the in-universe book series’ fandom, four door Impalas are not sought-after or particularly “cool” classic cars. The Impala was marketed as a mid-luxury “family” car rather than something sporty or muscle-y. Other classic car buffs that Dean comes across might appreciate the way Dean has maintained the Impala for a daily driver, but not compared to a show car. They may also find the Impala underrated, but it is not a typical "dream car" the way a classic Camaro or Chevelle might be.

Without Dean, Baby would have likely ended up used for parts for other more desirable cars. This generation of Impalas is also virtually identical to other Chevrolets like Caprices and Bel Airs. Since Baby is debadged except for the “Chevrolet” on the grill, anyone who recognizes it as an Impala would be a massive nerd.

Just like Dean.

[severus-snaps]

A greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies...

never given this line much thought before but it fits with what Bellatrix says about Spinner's End being a "Muggle dunghill" and the dirty river etc, on top of the infamous collection of information in Two Up, Two Down post I love so much.

what follows is another moment for me of realising just how hard snape had it and the likely conditions he grew up in

he didn't have any older siblings (that we know about) to borrow clothes from, which was why he was in his parents' clothing; the fact that he wasn't loaned any clothes that fit marginally better or were even for boys from the neighbours suggests that the Snapes weren't particularly close to the other families, and i expect a large number of flies in the house (enough to be shooting down, enough to spot when harry only saw the memory fleetingly) suggests poor sanitation in the home

It's not just a case of Bellatrix being judgy about a Muggle neighbourhood, currently falling apart with houses on the cobbled streets boarded up and with broken windows, and a dirty, smelly river; Snape's home growing up was considered "a poor recommendation" even when he was a child. Two up, two down houses were, in that period (and even before) often falling apart, known for being unsanitary and unsafe, as well as damp and cramped together. they were never intended to be nice; they were thrown up so that workers could be near the factories, and that was about the only concern at the time

There's some really vivid descriptions of living in these sorts of houses around, but I've just found this one from facebook (with images I've added from flashbak.com):

The house had no electric supply and relied solely on gas for everything.

One wall in each room had one gas mantle fitted to it for light and when the mantle became faulty it would smell and the light would become less bright and eventually cease to do the job and need replacing.

There was a coal fire grate in each room but only the living room fire was kept lit to keep the costs down because although people worked long hours wages were low and money was in short supply.

In the kitchen the heat from the stove when cooking provided some warm that also made its way upstairs into the bedrooms.

During the winter months when the house was particularly cold overcoats were placed over the blankets on the beds for extra warmth for the children in the front bedroom. While the parents slept in the smaller back bedroom.

There was only one water tap in the house situated in the kitchen and the kettle or pans had to be filled when hot water was required. They were heated on the stove and because there was no bathroom the young children were washed in the large sink or a tin bath while others went to the public baths situated nearby, local to the area.

The toilet was in the back yard and was also unlit, leaving the gas light from the kitchen to light up the yard through the window.

Toilet paper was old newspapers that had been cut up into squares and made ready for use.

All flooring in the house was covered with lino with the exception of the living room that had a rug in the centre for comfort and to help prevent wear and tear. Since the end of the world war II there had been shortages and many households struggled to get basic food stuff and clothing.

The black market had been active for some years and those that had the money would get what they needed, while for those that had little depended on the rationing system introduced by the government to make sure that everyone got at least basic food stuff.

The I.D. card had been introduced because of the war and was proof of who you were and was used for the benefit of rationing. There were often queues at the butchers and many families got the scrag ends and scraps that were left over.

When it came to clothing, families would put aside what was worn by one child until the next child had grown enough to wear them and every item including shoes were cleaned and repaired if possible and put away and saved for later use.

In those days children at play preferred to play outside and regularly would play along the canal and the neighbourhood streets and alleyways. There were very few cars around and despite the unclean air from the surrounding factories they would play all day outside until they were called in.

In those days there were very little restrictions on pollution and it was normal to wake up in the mornings to smog that sometimes lasted all week. A real pea souper as they say

but like... imagine snape growing up there, like that, with no sense of community and parents who couldn't afford to or weren't able to care for him properly. this is so far beyond 'weasley poor' with their warm, cosy home and plenty to eat; this is gaunt poor, improper housing, and conditions that regularly made people ill

perhaps the Snapes had to rely on the black market to even eat enough, if they could afford it; I'm picturing chest infections and frost on the insides of the windows over the winters, and flies crawling in the house in the summers - and apparently limited use of magic at the time snape was growing up to rectify any of it, else the descriptions wouldn't be so consistently negative (and evocative) with a potential swarm of flies in his bedroom

(wonder if he was underage here, and using his wand since his mother would've had one, or whether it's a snippet of post-hogwarts snape; the next memory is of snape on a broomstick, so presumably that's at hogwarts, and he was underage in the fly memory, trapped/hiding/sulking in his room)

then he gets to hogwarts with the likes of the malfoys, who have a whole mansion and peacocks and house elves and can afford anything they want, and they look down on the weasleys and their comfortable one-'moderate'-income supporting a seven-child home as if they were cockroaches. what on earth would they have thought of snape, if they knew? he had factual knowledge of the magical world, but i doubt he had that "raised in the magical world" vibe they so desperately want to protect

[sxvual]

Felicity • f i v e

a/n: sorry all. i had a very busy and unplanned day.

also gonna be reworking all the banners for each chapter, i want them all to be different and set the tone for the chapter. so if yall get any notifs on past chapters, its not new content, just me messing around x

DM always open beautiful ppls 💌

cw: alcohol consumption, mature themes, suggestive content mentioned between consenting adults

listening suggestions 🎵: night + morning by alina baraz

word count: 3.9k (sorry she’s a shortie)

*The Lunch Meeting 

One thing about Athena’s career path was that it required many inhuman skills. Practically seeing into the future being one of them. She saw herself coming to this meeting with Roman to potentially consider his offer, but ultimately turn him down at the end. Citing her inability to balance any new high profile clients with her busy schedule as the reason. 

She didn’t see herself indulging in Roman’s casual flirty banter. 

But she did. 

She didn’t think she’d shrug off her coat due to the way the conversation heated up over time. 

But she did. 

Athena also didn’t foresee herself being on a third glass of chilled cabernet as she thoroughly enjoyed herself much more than planned. 

But she was.

This was risky. Athena had spent years perfecting the art of professional distance, of being respected rather than charmed. But Roman Reigns had a way of disarming her carefully curated strategy with nothing more than a deep glance in her direction. Coupled with the slow, easy confidence of a man who never had to try too hard. 

Their conversation began with logistics of their next steps—the interviews, further control of the Solo situation, a roadmap to success already forming in both of their minds. But then, somewhere between the appetizers and the main course, the discussion had shifted. 

“That accent I heard last night, on the phone,” Roman mused, tilting his head slightly, “Something else there?” 

Athena glanced up from her plate, surprised he even noticed—her polished corporate image included an impersonal monotone drawl. “Dominicana, I’m afro-latina.” she admitted, “My family’s originally from there, but I grew up down in Miami.” 

Roman’s brow lifted in interest. “Miami? That explains a lot.” 

She smirked, “And what does that mean?” She feigned offense as she perched her chins in her hands.

Roman leaned back in his seat, it cowered a bit in light of his large built frame, studying her like she was a puzzle he was enjoying the challenge of figuring out. “You’ve got this fire to you. Confidant, sharp—like someone who grew up having to prove herself. Miami’s got that energy. I get that, I was like that.” 

She hummed, satisfied with the answer but not wanting to give away just how right he was. “But you live here in Tampa now?” She shook her head while sipping her wine. “No, I moved down here right after college, better opportunities for what I wanted to do. I double majored in Marketing and Business Administration. And by the time I was 22, I was already making the moves to start my own firm.”

Roman let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “Damn. You weren’t playing around.”

“I never did,” she admitted. “Still don’t.” 

He smiled at that, a slow, approving grin that made something warm unfurl in her stomach. “A prodigy.” 

“I was ambitious.” she corrected. “When you come from where I come, you learn to work twice as hard. Me and Amina built from nothing.”

Roman’s expression shifted slightly, his respect deepening, “You built an empire by 29. That’s impressive as hell, Athena.” 

She shrugged, but she couldn’t deny the satisfaction that bloomed in her chest at the acknowledgement. “It wasn’t easy, there were…complications.” 

His gaze sharpened in curiosity, he wouldn’t ask but he wondered if she’d tell. 

Athena hesitated before answering, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “I come from a big family,” she finally said. “Not a wealthy one. When Amina and I started making real money, things changed. Some of our relatives were happy for us, but others…they expected things. Help. Before I knew both my parents quit their job without even telling us. They wanted money, and we gave it. Willingly. But–” she stuttered a bit. “No matter what we did, it was never enough. They’d ask for more and more, but wouldn’t even visit. Wouldn’t call unless they needed something.” 

Roman’s jaw tightened slightly, like he understood all too well. “That's rough.” Roman understood the feeling of getting lost in the shuffle of such a big family but being used and underappreciated, no. And he felt for her a lot. 

“It is.” she admitted, “I still take care of them. I probably always will. But the only real family I have is my twin. Amina and I…we’re all we’ve got. And that's okay with me.”

He nodded with a thoughtful expression, he appreciated her openness with him and without even realizing he gained even more respect for Athena. “Yeah, big families are like that for sure.” 

Athena neatly arched brows lifted in surprise. “You speak from experience?” 

Roman chuckled. “Oh yeah. Samoan. Big family. Three older sisters and a brother, my brother passed away a few years ago.” his face pinched up in a pained expression and Athena found herself softening. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Roman nodded but continued. “Yeah—and too many cousins to count—but there's one person more important than them all.” 

She tilted her head intrigued, “Who?”

His entire face changed, His lips curved into something softer, his eyes warmed with an affection so genuine that it caught Athena off guard. “My daughter,” he said. “She’s four, and she’s my world.”

Athena blinked, absorbing the revelation. A daughter. She hadn’t expected that. She chided herself for not doing her research on him as she properly should’ve but Roman had been properly distracting. 

“You’re a father?” she asked, her voice gentle barely above a whisper. 

Roman nodded, and there was something almost reverent in the way he spoke.

 “Yeah, she’s everything to me.”

Athena allowed a smile to creep on her face despite herself. “I can tell. You just lit up like a Christmas tree.”

Roman chuckled. “Yeah, well. She’s got me wrapped around her little finger, and she knows it.” 

Athena leaned forward slightly, propping her chin on her hand, “Tell me about her?”

And he did. 

For the next hour, Roman talked about his babygirl. ‘Gigi’ he affectionately called her, his tenderness made something deep inside Athena ache and she fought to ignore it. She saw a different side of him—the man beneath the larger than life persona, the ‘tribal chief’, the face of the WWE softened when he talked about tiny hands and bedtime stories and a little girl who had him completely in her grasp. 

By the end of night Athena had learned a lot about Roman. She could say it was for work, that she was just getting to know a client intimately for the sole purpose of ensuring their success. But it wasn’t. 

She was looking at Roman differently and she didn’t expect this at all. Hadn’t expected to enjoy his company, hadn’t expected to find common ground with him, and certainly hadn’t expected how intimately they’d get to know each other in the end…

*hours later

Everything had unravelled so quickly. 

Roman’s mouth was hot against hers, his body pressing her now into the cool surface of the nearest wall. A perfect contradiction of fire and restraint. 

Athena knew they were being reckless. Knew she was going too far with him. But as Roman hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

Their breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, as his lips traced along the delicate curve of her jaw. “Tell me, to stop,” he murmured in his voice a low, dangerous growl against her hot brown skin. 

Athena fingers gripped at his taut golden skin and felt around the rippling of his back muscles and arms, that held her up with ease. Her nails scraping lightly over his tattoos. “I should,” she whispered back, her voice betraying her hesitation. 

Roman lifted his head slightly, their faces mere inches apart. His dark eyes were intense, searching hers in silence to ask for permission. And then, instead of telling him to stop, Athena attacked his lips again, surging their hot kiss forward. 

It was slow and deep this time, less frantic, but no less consuming. Roman groaned against her mouth, his hands tightening around her hips sinking down to the swell of her ass as he pressed her harder against the door.

“Athena, babygirl,” he muttered between kisses, his voice thick with dwindling restraint. “You’re making it really damn hard for me right now..” 

She let out a breathless, teasing laugh. “You’re the one who came up here..” 

Roman smirked, pressing his forehead against hers. “And you’re the one who invited me in.” 

For a moment they stayed like that, foreheads touching, breath mingling, the weight of the moment pressing down on them. 

They both knew better but no one was moving away. 

“Tell me what you want Athena,” 

He just barely whispered groaned into Athena’s waiting ears, his hands roamed up and down her body leaving a hot trail of heat in its wake. Roman had barely touched her and he was doing something to her she’d never experienced before. 

He forced a response out of her that not even Dallas could get after ten years of marriage. 

Dragging his soft lips to feminine column of her neck, his lips were so soft.

Tipping her head up to look into his eyes Roman reiterated his words, deeper and seductively.

“Athena, tell me baby..”

She licked her lips, the wanton need painfully obvious all over her pretty face. Slowly Athena slid her head down the expanse of his hard chest and to the front of his slacks until she found the object of her desires. ‘Well damn’ Athena was almost sure by the way Roman moved he was packing something but to actually feel it for herself, she was very pleased. 

Throbbing under her touch, Roman’s member twitched and jerked, sending a chill of anticipation through her body. Athena slid her hand up and down applying pressure to the tip as she caressed him through the material. His sharp inhales of pleasure made her grin happily. 

“I thought it was understood what I wanted as soon as I asked you to come up here.” They both smirked. 

The first thing Roman became aware of was the smell. Sex lingered in the air, the warming odor a reminder of the pleasurable night before. Warm skin, faint traces of sweet perfume. The unmistakable lasting notes of her. 

Athena. 

The second thing? The fact that she was no longer curled into his chest, long statuesque legs draped over his naked waist. 

He cracked open a tired eye. The sunlight filtering in through the blinds was soft but persistent, painting long golden lines across the crisp white sheets. The same sheets that were not frustratingly empty on her side. 

Roman smirked to himself. He knew what this was. 

Athena was panicking. 

And if he listened closely—there it was. A faint rustling from somewhere in the room. Then the sharp sound of a drawer opening, followed by a muttered curse. 

Yeah. Definitely panicking. 

She was still beautiful as ever, oversexed and frazzled. 

He turned onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow just as Athena emerged from the closet wrapped in the bedsheet like a woman preparing for battle. Her hair—wild from his fingers tangling in it several times in the night—framed her gorgeous face, big eyes darting around like she was looking for an escape route in her own home. 

Roman grinned. “Morning sweetheart.” 

Athena whirled around so fast she nearly tripped over the sheet, her ass jiggling with the movement. “Oh, hell no. You do not get to be relaxed right now,” she snapped, pointing a stern finger at him. “You should be freaked out. Why aren’t you freaked out?” 

Roman stretched comfortably across the bed, utterly at ease. “Because I don’t regret a single second of last night?”

Her nostrils flared. Oh, she hated that answer.

Too bad for her, he wasn’t lying. 

Athena groaned and rubbed at her temples. ��You don’t have to regret it, but you can at least acknowledge that it was a huge lapse in judgement.”

Roman lazily scratched his bearded jaw, pretending to think about it. “A huge lapse, huh?” 

“Yes!” 

He smirked. “So you’re saying it was bad?” Roman knew for damn sure it wasn’t, he just wanted to make her squirm. Her mouth opened and closed. She scowled. “That’s not what I said.” 

Roman pushed himself up to sit against the headboard cocking his head, also not bothering to hide his…very erect friend. “It sounds like that's what you said.”

Athena shifted uncomfortably. “It was….inappropriate.” 

Roman shrugged. “I don’t know, it felt very appropriate at the time, especially when you did that thing on top and you—”

Athena glared. “Roman.” 

He held up his hands. “Fine, fine. You want me to acknowledge it was a lapse. Sure it was.” He let out a haughty scoff, “A really, really good lapse though.” Athena groaned like she was in physical pain. Roman chuckled. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He could see it written all over her face—she was spooked. And not just because they slept together. 

No. She, just like him, was terrified of what it meant.

In her eyes, her life was ruined. 

She slept with Roman Reigns. Her client. 

Her very high profile, very bad for her career client. 

Athena sucked in a sharp hasty breath. 

So yes, Athena was terrified. Because for the life of her she still didn’t know what this meant. 

And that was interesting for both of them. 

“Look,” she started, taking a deep breath, like she was trying to rein it in, after it had already been let loose. “We crossed a line. A big one. I should have never invited you up here.”

Roman stood, stretching, utterly unashamed at his bareness as he walked towards her. He didn’t miss the way her gaze flicked down—just for a second—before she forced it back up. 

“Can’t take it back now,” he murmured. “And I don’t think either of us wanted to at the time.” 

Athena folded her arms under her chest, her hard nipples hard and visible peeking through the thin fabric of the sheet she donned. “Not the point, Reigns.”

“Then what is?” 

“That we work together, and now it’s complicated!” 

Roman scoffed. “Athena, we just had great sex. No one died. What’s complicated?” 

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Roman smirked. Got her. 

She huffed. “Are you always this insufferable in the morning?”

He grinned. “Depends on who’s in my bed.” 

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. He loved riling her up.

Athena exhaled through her nose, clearly trying to stay on track. “I need to get dressed. You need to get dressed. And then you need to leave.” 

Roman raised a brow. “Kicking me out already. No breakfast? Coffee?” 

She shot him a flat look. “Maybe if we didn’t miss our meeting!” 

He sighed dramatically, “Well excuse me if I rocked your world and wanted to bask in it.” Roman stepped forward into her space till he was forced to look down at her. “And here I thought we had something special.” 

Athena pinched the bridge of her nose. “Roman.”

“I still love it when you say my name..” His smirk couldn’t leave his face if he tried. 

She glared holes into the pecs of his chest, “Alright, alright.” He lifted his hands in surrender, but the amusement didn’t leave his face. He was enjoying this too much. 

Still as he grabbed his pants from the floor, her words finally started sinking in. 

She wasn’t just panicking over last night. 

Athena was considering pulling back entirely. 

Roman fastened his belt, watching her carefully. “So what now?” 

Hesitation clearly plagued her pinched expression. “Now we pretend this never happened.” 

Roman’s jaw ticked and for the first time the knowing smirk was wiped off his face. 

Pretend?

Like hell. 

Still, he could see it—her walls were flying back up, reinforced with steel. And if he pushed too hard right now, she might actually shut him out for good. 

So, for now, he’d let her think she was in control knowing that's where she felt the most comfortable. Safe. 

He smirked, slipping his watch onto his wrist. “Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you say.” 

She frowned, clearly suspicious of how easily he conceded. “That’s it?” He shrugged. 

“You want me to leave? I’ll leave. I respect your wishes, Athena.” 

Athena eyed him warily, then nodded. “Good.” 

Roman grabbed his shirt off a nearby chair, taking his time rolling up the sleeves. He noticed the way her gaze lingered on his forearms before she willed herself to look away. 

He grinned, poor thing. She was trying so hard. 

Once he was fully dressed, he made his way to the door and opened it—then paused. 

“By the way…” He turned back to her, tilting his head. “You never answered my question.” 

She frowned. His smirked deepened. “Was it bad?” He knew she would be instantly flustered because by the way she was screaming last night, it was anything but. 

Her eyes darkened, jaw twitching. Roman let out a roar of laughter. “Didn’t think so, baby girl.” 

Roman whisked past her landing a sharp smirk on her ass on his way out. 

The second the door closed behind him, Roman let out a long exhale, rubbing at his jaw. 

Shit. 

He thought taking her to the bed would also put to bed his growing attraction. And that maybe once he had her, he’d be over it. 

Instead?

He wanted her more. 

It wasn’t just the sex—though it had been more than phenomenal. It was her. The way she challenged him. The way she thought steps ahead of everyone else. The way she tried so hard to keep herself contained—especially around him. But when she cracked? 

Goddamn, was it worth the wait.

And now she wanted to pretend it never happened? 

‘Not a chance in hell’ he thought. 

Roman smirked to himself as he headed toward the elevator. Athena could pretend all she wanted, but he wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, he was coming harder than ever because this all confirmed one thing for Roman Reigns.

He wanted Athena James. And he was gonna have her. 

It would just take a little convincing. And Roman had the time and the means. 

Roman did a lot of thinking on his drive back to his side of Tampa. He let his fingers drum against the steering wheel thoughtfully. The drive should have been peaceful as he navigated the quiet roads home—just him, the hum of the engine, and the lasting impression of Athena. 

He could still feel her. 

The warmth of her skin, the way her nails raked down his back, the breathless way she moaned his name. Damn. 

He hadn’t just enjoyed her. He had been completely consumed by her. 

And he knew, without a doubt, she was gonna put up one hell of a fight after this. 

She would probably try to keep him at arm’s length from now on, maybe even attempt to rescind her agreement to handle his image personally. But last night wasn’t some random hookup. It was the start of something completely different. 

What exactly? 

Roman still wasn’t sure. And as a man who was almost always particular and decisive it bothered him. Still, he wasn’t about to let her run from it while they tried to figure things out. 

His musings were interrupted by the sharp ring of his car's bluetooth system. The name flashing across the screen immediately evoked a cringeful sigh from the big man. 

Tianna. 

Fuck. 

He sighed, his jaw tightening as he inevitably pressed the answer button. “Yeah?”

“Where the hell were you last night?” She practically screeched. 

Roman rolled his eyes. “Hello to you too, Tianna.” 

“Don’t fucking play with me, Roman,” she snapped. “I called your ass twice. No answer. Where were you?”

Romans grip on the wheel tightened. “That’s none of your damn business.” 

She scoffed. “It is when I need to talk to you about your daughter.” 

Roman blew out a ragged breath, already knowing where this was going. “What do you want Tianna?” 

“Whatever boy, I’m dropping Gianna off today. I got shit to do this weekend.” 

Of course. 

Roman wasn’t mad about seeing his daughter earlier than planned—in fact, he was thrilled. But what pissed him off was the way Tianna did this—always on her time, always last minute, and always like she was doing him a favor by letting him have his own kid. 

“She has preschool tomorrow, I have to start getting ready to fly out for smackdown.” 

“Then take her with you, I don’t care.” 

Roman clenched his jaw. “You mean I gotta bring her to work with me? She’ll miss school—”

“She’s four, Roman, she’ll live. Or I can just stick her with my mom and let her know daddy don't have time for her again.” Roman shook his head, ire simmering deep and hot in his veins. As much as he wished Tianna wouldn’t be so spiteful to hurt their daughter like that, he knew better. She absolutely would.  

She did it all the time. Any time Roman didn’t bend to her will whether it be money, attention, sex, she wouldn’t let him see Gianna for weeks, at one point months. But Roman couldn’t take her to court again, not only did the court side with her as the mother, Roman also had a schedule too busy to go for full custody. Sometimes he felt trapped (he was, honestly) and as much as he loved their daughter, he couldn’t stand the evilness in his babymama. 

“You could’ve told me earlier. You knew you had plans yesterday, I'm sure.” 

“I’m telling you now.” 

Of course, now just meant whenever it was convenient for her. Roman breathed through his nose knowing damn well arguing wasn’t going to change anything. “I’m not home yet. Drop her off in an hour so I can get ready for her.” 

Tianna let out a sarcastic laugh. “Where the hell are you?” 

His silence must have pissed her off more because she immediately snapped. 

“Oh, I see. You were out screwing around.”

Roman’s patience was wearing thin. “I don’t owe you an explanation. We’re not together.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe if you kept your dick in your pants, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

Roman laugh was bitter and humorless. “Oh, so now Gigi is a mess? Don’t talk about my fucking daughter like that.” 

She huffed. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Then what the hell do you mean?” 

Silence. 

Because she didn’t have an answer. 

The truth was their relationship had been mistake since the jump. A whirlwind fling with a beautiful girl that turned into something permanent when she got pregnant, and the evilness that lurked beneath a pretty face reared its ugly head. By the time he realized how chaotic she was, it was too damn late. Roman still didn’t know how she got pregnant, he was always careful and she swore she was on birth control as well. 

Four years later and he was still sure that was an absolute lie. 

But he couldn’t complain, he got the love of his life out of the deal. And for all the hellishness that was her mother, Gianna was the best thing he could’ve ever done. And Roman refused to let their personal issues affect his daughter's happiness. 

“Just drop her off later,” he muttered. 

“Whatever, Roman,” she snapped, and before he could say another word, the line went dead. 

Roman exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as frustration rolled through him. 

His mood definitively shifted. But then, Athena's face flashed through his mind. 

As bothered as she was this morning she still looked stunning. Her voice, her touch, the way she had melted under him the night before. 

His lips curled into a small smirk.

Maybe his morning had started with complications, but he sure wasn’t about to let that ruin the fact that it had also been one hell of a beginning. 

tags 🏷️: @trippinsorrows @southerngirl41 @lilucey @alichesmi @skyesthebomb @reginawhorge01 @jazzyboo123-blog1 @overrboarrd @purplementalitybluebird @whowrotethenote @heerah34 @sharmelasworld

if you wanna be added to the tags just lmk 🤍.

[freshsandwichdinosaur]

Boss lady

The rhythmic tapping of Y/N’s Louboutin heels echoed through the sleek, glass-walled office of her hedge fund. The London skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but she barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere—on the market fluctuations, the billion-dollar positions at stake, and, annoyingly, on Jude Bellingham.

She sighed, glancing at her phone. Three missed calls. She knew exactly why.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” her assistant, Bella, poked her head in. “Your seven o’clock is here.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, smoothing down the lapels of her tailored black blazer. Beneath it, a cream silk blouse draped effortlessly, paired with high-waisted wide-leg trousers that elongated her frame. Her diamond tennis bracelet glinted under the dim office lights, and the deep red on her perfectly manicured nails matched the iconic soles of her heels. Power radiated from her, but she barely had time to enjoy the image she presented.

She expected another fund manager or an investor. Instead, it was him—Jude, fresh off a match in Madrid, dressed in a fitted black suit that did nothing to hide his athletic frame.

“Really, Jude?” she folded her arms. “You flew in for this?”

“For you,” he corrected, shutting the door behind him. “What was I supposed to do when you started ignoring me?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was—”

“Busy?” He smirked. “Yeah, I know. Always. But guess what? So am I. And I still find time for you.”

She rolled her eyes and moved to stand, but the second she did, he blocked her. His broad frame towered over her, and before she could react, she found herself face-to-face with his chest. His scent—clean, expensive, with a hint of something distinctly him—invaded her senses. Her breath hitched as his fingers gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

The tension thickened. Jude’s jaw was clenched, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. He stepped closer, so close she could feel the warmth radiating off him, his voice dropping to a dangerously low, calm, and seductive tone.

“You don’t run from me, Y/N.” His thumb brushed over her jaw, a barely-there touch that made her pulse spike. “Not when we both know you don’t want to.”

Her throat tightened. Because he was right. Again.

Jude let out a slow exhale, his eyes searching hers, waiting. The air between them was thick—too thick. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not yet.

“Jude,” she started, her voice steady despite the heat creeping up her neck, “you don’t get to just fly in, corner me in my own office, and act like you have me figured out.”

He chuckled, dark and knowing. “Oh, I do have you figured out.” His grip on her chin softened, his fingers grazing her skin before he finally let go. “That’s why you’re pushing me away.”

She hated how easily he got under her skin, how effortlessly he stripped away her carefully curated walls. But she wasn’t about to let him win.

Straightening her posture, she stepped around him and reached for her phone on the desk. “You should go. I have actual work to do.”

Jude remained unmoved, watching her with that unreadable expression. But instead of arguing, he pulled out his own phone and typed something before slipping it back into his pocket. “Fine,” he said, his voice deceptively casual. “I’ll go. But I’m not giving up on you.”

She didn’t respond, refusing to look at him as he made his way to the door. Just as he reached for the handle, her phone buzzed.

Jude Bellingham: Flight to Madrid is at 10 AM. First-class. I’ll see you there. Don’t be late, boss. 😉

Y/N smirked, shaking her head as she typed back.

Y/N: Cute. But I have my own private jet. Maybe I’ll let you hitch a ride if you ask nicely. 😏

She leaned back in her chair, amused. She could already imagine the look on his face when he read that. If Jude thought he could throw down a challenge, he better be ready for the game she was about to play.

[vhstown]

'til the breath returns

— hobie brown x gn!reader (dissociation comfort)

summary: It's hard to stay in your own body sometimes. At least Hobie's right there with you.

warnings: v self-indulgent (so may not be a very accurate depiction of dissociation erm...), dissociation / derealisation / depersonalisation (those terms are distinct but just in case :p), anxious behaviour, hurt/comfort-ish, hobie is trying his best? (he's not ur therapist but it's okay) & not proofread

word count: 1.9k

a/n: been struggling to get out of a dp/dr funk recently so. here we are! no gif lemme keep this one on the down-low fr 😭 img is of camden town from pinterest

🕸️📞🎸

"Hello? Hello...?"

The muscles in your shoulders tightened at the sound of the voice, obscurely louder than anything else around you — around you being the market, that was. Just how long had you been here?

You felt a burning ache in your eyes as you looked around, taking in the blur around you before meeting the expression of the man in front of you. The owner of the food truck, of course. He had an impatient look on his face, but it was too much detail to be anxious about.

"Sorry, uh..." you offered quietly, cut off by another loud voice behind you.

"Just hurry up and pay, mate! We haven't got all day!"

Your jaw tensed, crunching uncomfortably as you fumbled for something in your pockets. Trying to find cash of some sort, the world became still again, and you could barely register what they were saying before you put whatever you could find on the window sill of the truck.

Something that sounded unpleasant, another shout, maybe, followed behind you as you walked out into the open pavements of the market. Your hands felt funny, breath dry and head heavy and so light at the same time. It felt like you were floating, but also sinking so deep under water you were moving slow motion against the thick water. It was somewhat comforting, that image.

Maybe you should just sit down, let yourself fall backwards and sink. Maybe you'd wake up in bed, and fully be able to open your own eyes again. When was the last time you could do that? When was the last time you woke up? This morning, surely. It seemed so far away; maybe you should walk home, find home — it was somewhere near here. Where were you walking?

Why was the ground getting so close to your face—

"Hey, hey! Oi!"

Before your weight could fall forward anymore, you felt a hand move around your stomach. Tongue stinging too, you realise you'd bitten it. The urgent touch became more gentle, as the haste wore off and you were helped to your feet. You tried to pick up the sounds to form a "thank you", but all you could do was stare strangely as you met a face you could just about recognise.

"Don't mean to scare you, darling."

It was your boyfriend, is what you told yourself. Hobie.

"Didn't get your change..." He held out the coins in his hand, some of which were probably already yours . "And you're trippin' over yourself."

It would sound too weird if you tried to laugh, so you didn't bother.

"My bad, just out of it." Right, is what he must've thought.

"Been out of it for a while, huh?" He taps your cheek twice, bringing your attention to him. You hadn't realised you'd been staring dead straight into his chest — not anywhere near his face. "Your patty's all squashed, love."

His fingers moved gently between yours, prying the poor warm paper from your hand. The patty you had bought had started to singe the tips of your fingers, and the tips of your fingers had already broken apart the bread of the patty.

You didn't have much will to complain, but the corners of Hobie's mouth turned down in a frown. He took your hand, the pad of histhumb brushing the lingering heat off of your fingers

"What's going on? You hungry? Tired? Upset...?" All you could give him was a useless shrug — it'd probably be easier to fix if you could describe it; if only. "Hm..."

The back of his hand was cold against your forehead. Or maybe you were cold; he never really got cold after all.

"You wanna go home?"

"Hm?" you murmured, Hobie observing you. You weren't supposed to go home; you'd get over it. Fresh air and a walk was supposed to help, anyway — not like it was. "Thought you wanted to stay."

"We can always come back another time. You don't look like you're enjoying yourself."

His hand moved to your shoulder, brushing his lips over your forehead. It was definitely you that was cold.

"I think you should have my patty, too," he added, placing his in your hand.

Arm moving fully around your shoulder, the two of you started to walk back.

"It'll be warm out, soon," Hobie comments, as if trying to be inconspicuous. He pulls you closer to mams for a lady walking her dogs: little white lap dogs that turned their heads to look at you, or maybe Hobie. You tried to remember if the last time you saw them was today or last week.

"Ah, yeah..." you said, realising he was waiting for you to say something — something of more substance, probably.

"Sure bloody hope so," he continued, something like humour in his voice. "Been freezing my bum off for the past month."

Your steps felt big against the ground, like the ground was pushing back up, and you were going to float away if Hobie let you go. All you could do was just hope he didn't.

"It better not rain, though. I'll go mad if it does. Nothing's good in the rain, 'specially not food. Meant to have a street party soon."

Remembering the patty in your hand, you took a bite before Hobie had to remind you. It was veg — not beef like he'd usually have. In fact, he complained about the veg usually. Still, today, he'd wanted a veg patty. You held onto that fact like it was the first thing you'd ever been told, as you walked together.

As he continued talking, you had reached the riverside. It looked onwards to the canal, the water coloured by the orange sun. Everything always looked so different on the way back; the air was still, and it was evening by now.

"Mine or yours?" Hobie asks, as you reach the by-street.

"Mine, if you come with me."

"I ain't gonna leave you behind, or nothin'."

He cracks a smile, and you reach for his hand time time as you took the turn to your home. There were shops that passed by, but you didn't pay enough attention to figure out what they were.

And you weren't sure when you ended up in bed, probably after making conversation for a bit and changing, because you were now in your own bed, arms and legs and Hobie's chest encasing you in a relaxed hug. You were wearing a shirt that fit weirdly on you. It was likely his — the one shirt he had without lint on it. His head wasn't entirely on your shoulder, but he was close enough to press a kiss to your temple — it left a warm, tingling feeling, as did the rest of his weight against you.

"Is there something wrong specifically?" he asks, voice a quiet, smooth vibration next to you.

"Dunno, I just... feel weird. Mentally, I mean," you admit, turning your head to lean it against his. "I think this is helping, though."

"Yeah? You want me to do anything else?" You just wanted to keep yourself awake; you wanted to keep hearing his voice.

"Want to hear you talk more."

"As long as you talk as well." Your quiet sigh was audible enough to him, it seemed. "C'mon love, you've gotta talk, or you'll be stuck up there forever."

With your demeanor seeming to give up with you, he pressed another kiss to your face, near the corner of your mouth this time. It usually got a smile out of you, but you didn't know if you had the energy to. He lingered there, still.

"How about we start with right now?" he muttered, hand on your shoulder. "You gonna tell me about those new decorations in your room? Or all those new clothes in your closet? Or how your bathroom doesn't have the nice-tasting toothpaste anymore?"

"Hobie... What the hell..." You frowned. And then the smallest laugh escaped out of you, because you frowned, and then he laughed, because it was all he really needed.

"I'm serious, though. Let's start from the top?"

"Like... from when I was born?" That got a laugh out of him, thankfully. Your smile, though little, didn't seem to disappear just yet.

"Well, if you want," he replied, pulling his arms tighter around your sides. "I was thinking more like, this morning?"

This morning... A little worry creeped inside your stomach as you came to face how little you could really recount right now. The light brush of Hobie's thumb against your cheek kept you at bay, however, and you took in a deep breath.

"Well, today... we went to the market together," you started, taking his hand from your shoulder and holding it in your own. You toyed idly with his fingers, thumb brushing over his rings as your mind fell into blankness again.

"And it rained all morning," Hobie said, after a beat of silence, fingers gently squeezing yours.

"And... this little kid slipped in the mud," you murmured.

"Ah, he did. Rough, weren't it?"

"Mhm," you replied, and at the silence, you tried to continue. "Poor thing. His dad looked horrified."

The quiet chuckle against your back made your words seem somewhat more trustworthy, and you finally decided to just let yourself speak, about anything that came to mind.

"...And then we went to look at clothes. None of them were your size."

"Couldn't believe it..." Hobie commented, murmuring.

"And then we... got lost for a bit. Ended up in this shop that sold china."

"Oh yeah, there were those funny bird-lookin' ones."

"And then we walked around for a bit..."

Truthfully, he wasn't sure if it was actually helping or not, but at the very least, that fuzzy look in your eyes that scared him a bit had eased

"And now we're home," you concluded, and he kissed the side of your head as if to confirm.

"Yep. Where are we?" The question was pretty straightforward, but you took the chance to answer regardless.

"In my room... On my bed." The mattress creaked just a little as you readjusted your position, moving closer against him. "And I'm still with you."

"Uh-huh. Still here."

"It's getting dark out, though." Looking out at the dimming sky through your window, you took another breath in, not as deep as you would've liked.

"I can stay," Hobie reassured. His voice gave no reason for you to doubt it.

"Could you?"

"A hundred percent. Not a second I don't wanna spend with you."

Hobie brushed his nose against yours, before pressing a momentary kiss to your lips.

"Look," he started, voice low and soft, slightly more serious. "I'm not exactly sure how to help, but whatever you need, I'll be here."

Turning to face him again, you returned his kiss, holding it a little longer to feel the warmth of his lips against yours. Hobie held you like you were the world, and everything in it; if you didn't need to, at least you wanted to.

"Can we just keep talking?" Your voice sounded different, but not strange — a bit less tense, more certain.

"We can talk about anything you want; we've got all night."

You narrowed your eyes in thought for a moment, and he looked at you as if he already knew what you were thinking.

"...Could you scratch my back too?"

Hobie grinned, and so warmly — so easily. You felt a smile tug at your lips too, breath sinking back into your chest and the ever-present weight starting to lift from your body.

"Yeah, sweetheart — of course. Want me to switch the light off?"

You decided to nod, saving your words for when you finally laid in the darkness, curled up against him. Murmuring soft, yet sure words between each other, his fingers grazed your back in a gentle back-and-forth, and as your voice faded, he pressed another kiss to your forehead, pulling you further into him and the covers.

Breath quiet and even, you inevitably drifted into sleep. His hand was still on your back, feeling each breath of yours as it came and went, like the shore lapping against the land. And he'd breathe right with you, even when you couldn't hear him — even if he'd have to do it all over again tomorrow.

Always, he promised himself, and you. Always, until your breath returned — until you returned.

🕸️📞🎸

thank you for reading urrrr never written a comfort fic before n ik this is kind of diff but hopefully some of my usual stuff soon 🙏

rbs appreciated if u liked it, atsv masterlist here!

@phoenixinthefiles @qiupachups

[estellan0vella]

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter One: Satan And His Hellhound SS: 9 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 2.7K Content Warnings:

Previous Next Masterlist

The tension in the Levanter-Miroh Publishing office is so thick it might as well be listed as an official department. Two years post-merger, the open-plan layout still feels like a no-man's-land, with the remnants of Levanter's creativity-first chaos clashing violently against Miroh's sterile, data-driven efficiency.

Somewhere in the middle of this battlefield, Ayame and Chan continue their daily war, a slow-burning feud that keeps the office on edge and entertained.

Ayame strides through the building, the click of her stiletto heels echoing against the polished tile floors. Her light blue mini skirt swishes with every purposeful step, the fitted corset-waist blouse tucked just enough to appease HR.

She sips her coffee and catches up to Nari near the elevators. Nari, ever the image of poised chaos, juggles her phone, a tablet, and the sheer weight of dealing with Kang Haechul and his corporate minions. 

"Morning, Ayame," Nari says, barely glancing up from her phone.

"Morning," Ayame hands her a sleek folder, one corner decorated with a small smiley face sticker she slapped on last minute. "Here's the pitch for that YA series I mentioned. It's fucking gold. I'd bet my coffee budget it'll trend for years."

Nari flips through the file, her lips twitching in approval. "Has Kang Haechul seen this?"

Ayame raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching with a dry smirk. "I sent it to the dementor, sorry, I mean Chan, so I assume so. But if it has even a drop of creativity, I doubt it'll survive his soulless, corporate vacuum."

Nari lets out a low chuckle as they step into the elevator. "Quarterlies?"

"Lower than projected, but not a disaster," Ayame replies, leaning against the wall and crossing her ankles. "Better than Q2, at least. I already talked to marketing about alternative print strategies to cut costs without touching the quality. Sent you a breakdown this morning. Oh, and I emailed about the team-building event I'm planning."

Nari pauses mid-scroll, looking up from her phone with a sceptical arch of her brow. "Team-building? You? I thought you'd rather eat glass."

"Rusty nails, actually," Ayame corrects, smirking. "But Minho's drowning in complaints, and HR's been a shitshow since the merger. Figured I'd throw them a bone before they all quit."

As if summoned by her words, Seungmin appears just outside the elevator as the doors slide open. He steps in, sharp in his suit, holding a stack of perfectly aligned documents. His expression is neutral, but his tone is dripping with quiet amusement. "Half of those complaints are about you and corporate stick-up-the-ass."

"Morning to you too, sunshine," Ayame replies sweetly, rolling her eyes.

Nari shakes her head, grinning. "Oh, Ayame, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Be stuck with Satan and his hellhound," Ayame quips, nodding toward Chan and Kang Haechul, who are making their way across the lobby. Chan is in his usual sharp suit, his perfectly styled hair somehow looking both effortless and infuriating. His gaze is piercing, clipboard in hand like a weapon of mass destruction.

Seungmin mutters, just loud enough for Ayame to hear, "Pretty sure Satan and his hellhound would be less of a pain in the ass."

Ayame smirks. "Exactly."

As they part ways, Ayame makes her way toward her desk, only to be intercepted by Hyunjin, who's rushing toward her like a man on the verge of collapse. His tie is crooked, his shirt slightly untucked, and his expression is nothing short of desperate.

"Ayame, please, I need a favour," he blurts, running a hand through his already messy hair.

Ayame groans, holding up her coffee like a shield. "What now, Hyunjin?"

He exhales dramatically, pacing in front of her. "Okay, so, my new puppy, his name is Tofu, by the way, he got into the peanut butter last night, and, uh, well, he fucking exploded. Shit everywhere. I'm talking walls, furniture, my expensive rug-"

"Jesus Christ, Hyunjin." Ayame cuts him off, holding up a hand. "What is it you want from me?"

"I need an extension on the monthly report," he says quickly, clasping his hands together like he's praying. "Just a couple of days. I swear I'll have it done by Wednesday."

Ayame takes a slow sip of her coffee, staring him down. "You'll have it Monday. Wednesday at the absolute fucking latest, or I swear to god I'll make you clean the conference room after next week's catered lunch."

Hyunjin's face lights up like she's just saved him from certain death. "Thank you! You're a fucking angel."

"I'm a fucking sucker," she mutters as she brushes past him, heading for the meeting room with a tray of cupcakes she brought for the morning meeting.

Just as she reaches the doorway, she's blocked by Chan, who leans against the frame with his arms crossed and that damned clipboard clutched like it's part of his anatomy. His dark eyes flick to the cupcakes, then back to her, the faintest trace of a smirk playing on his lips.

"That was pathetic," he says, jerking his chin toward Hyunjin. "You could just tell him to do his fucking job, but no, you have to play saviour."

Ayame snorts, brushing past him without missing a beat. "Being a saviour is better than being a corporate dick-sucking yes-man."

"Interesting philosophy," Chan calls after her, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Inside the meeting room, the atmosphere immediately shifts as Ayame sets down the tray of cupcakes. Minho, seated at the head of the table, grabs two before anyone else can move.

"God bless you, Ayame," he declares, unwrapping a cupcake like it's Christmas morning. "Honestly, this is the only reason I come to these fucking meetings."

Ayame smirks, folding her arms as she leans against the table. "Don't stuff your face yet. We're supposed to at least pretend to talk about quarterlies first."

"I can multitask," Minho says around a mouthful of frosting.

Ayame slides into her chair between Seungmin and Seonghwa, expertly balancing her oversized coffee mug in one hand and a battered notebook in the other. The chair creaks slightly as she settles in, crossing her legs and shooting a quick glance around the table. Seungmin is leaning back like he doesn't give a single fuck about being here, casually scrolling through his phone, while Seonghwa greets her with a bright smile, his ever-present aura of calm cutting through the simmering tension in the room.

"You know," Seonghwa begins, his voice low and conspiratorial, "I watched this insane documentary last night. It was about the history of baking."

Ayame raises a brow, intrigued despite herself. "Was it good, or was it just weird enough to hold your attention?"

Seonghwa shrugs, his smile widening. "A little of both. Did you know Da Vinci invented the blender?"

Ayame snorts, nearly spilling her coffee. "Are you serious? That's what he spent his time on? Art, science, and fucking smoothie-making?"

Jisung, sitting across the table, immediately jumps into the conversation like he's been waiting for his cue. "Speaking of inventions, I've got something revolutionary: the pizza plate."

Ayame squints at him, her laughter tapering off as she processes his words. "The what?"

"The pizza plate!" Jisung exclaims, clearly proud of himself. "It's a second pizza you put under your first pizza to catch the crumbs. Genius, right?"

Minho groans from the end of the table, dragging a hand down his face like he's suddenly aged ten years. "No one fucking cares, Jisung. Literally no one. Please, for the love of god, stop."

Jisung smirks, undeterred. "You're just jealous you didn't think of it first."

Minho doesn't even look up, waving him off like he's swatting at a particularly annoying fly. "I'd rather think of literally anything else. Like how to end my suffering in this goddamn meeting."

Seonghwa leans toward Ayame, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Do they ever stop arguing?"

Ayame sips her coffee, her tone light but laced with exasperation. "Never. It's like breathing to them."

Before Seonghwa can reply, Chan's voice cuts through the room like a fucking guillotine. "Alright. Can we please get started, or do you all need another minute to play kindergarten?"

The table falls silent, though Ayame, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Minho simultaneously mouth the word dementor. Ayame bites down on her lip to keep from laughing outright, her eyes darting to Chan, who looks like he's five seconds away from snapping his clipboard in half.

"We're good to go," Ayame says sweetly, turning to Chan with a saccharine smile that's practically dripping with fake innocence. "But you? Your tie's crooked."

Chan frowns, glancing down at his tie, his expression shifting from confusion to realization as he catches her smirk. His tie is, of course, perfectly straight. He looks back at her, dark eyes narrowing dangerously as Ayame sips her coffee, her smile widening.

Before he can respond, Nari steps into the room, her heels clicking against the floor like a countdown timer. Kang Haechul follows closely behind, his posture rigid and his face locked in its usual mask of condescension.

"Alright, everyone," Nari says, her voice calm but commanding as she takes her spot at the head of the table. "Let's try to keep this short. Haechul and I have an announcement to make."

The room collectively stiffens, the air practically crackling with unease. Ayame leans back in her chair, notebook in hand, her pen poised but motionless.

"We're adding a new position to the team," Nari continues, glancing briefly at Haechul before pressing on. "A managing director role."

Haechul nods, clasping his hands behind his back like a fucking monarch addressing his subjects. "He will oversee all departments and report directly to me."

Ayame's brows shoot up at the pointed emphasis on he, and she isn't the only one who notices. Eyes dart around the table, and the tension thickens.

Nari's polite smile tightens, though her voice remains steady. "He or she will report to both of us," she clarifies smoothly, though the strain in her tone is impossible to miss.

Haechul doesn't flinch, merely inclining his head as though the correction doesn't bother him in the slightest. "Of course. The job will be open to external applicants, but I'd like to prioritize hiring from within."

The subtle glance he throws at Chan doesn't go unnoticed, and the room shifts again, silent but charged. Ayame watches Chan out of the corner of her eye. He looks composed as ever, his expression unreadable, but there's a tension in his shoulders that only someone who's worked alongside him this long would notice.

Ayame leans back in her chair, tapping her pen against her notebook. "Interesting," she mutters, her voice just loud enough for Seungmin to hear.

Nari clears her throat, clearly sensing the unease. "To ensure fairness, we'll be assembling an independent panel since Haechul and I don't always see eye to eye on things."

Haechul's mouth twitches, his attempt at a neutral expression barely holding. "The final candidates will present their strategies to the board after the New Year. May the best man win."

Ayame's jaw tightens at the deliberate phrasing. "Man," she mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes. "How fucking progressive."

Seungmin snorts beside her, his voice low. "Careful, Ayame. Your sarcasm's showing."

She doesn't bother replying, leaning forward instead to jot something in her notebook. Chan catches the movement, his gaze flicking to her with the faintest hint of curiosity, but she doesn't meet his eyes.

Nari steps in again, her tone firm but measured. "Let's stay focused on the task at hand. This is an important step for the company, and we'll need everyone's cooperation to make it successful."

Haechul nods, his gaze lingering on Chan like a fucking spotlight. "Exactly. Cooperation."

Ayame fights the urge to roll her eyes again, settling instead for a long sip of coffee. Beside her, Seonghwa leans closer, whispering, "This is going to be a fucking disaster."

Ayame sighs, her voice dry. "When isn't it?"

The meeting ends in a shuffle of murmurs, forced goodbyes, and the obnoxious screech of chairs dragged across the floor. Ayame barely lets the echo die before she gathers her notebook and empty coffee mug, making a beeline for the kitchenette like it's a lifeboat in the middle of a shipwreck. The room is blissfully quiet, save for the low hum of the coffee machine, and she takes a deep breath, relishing the rare moment of peace as she rummages through the cabinet for a tea bag.

Her peace lasts all of forty-five seconds.

The door swings open, and she knows who it is before she even turns around. That insufferable clack of dress shoes on the tile, deliberate but unhurried. Bang fucking Chan.

He strides in like he owns the place, leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed over his perfectly tailored suit. His dark eyes lock on her like a predator sizing up prey. "You know the job's mine, shortcake."

Ayame doesn't even flinch, too focused on pouring hot water into her mug. She hums noncommittally, not sparing him a glance. "Cute. When I'm your boss, I'll make it a requirement that you have to do everything with a smile."

Chan lets out a low snort, tilting his head. "A smile?"

"Yeah," she says, finally looking up, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "It's this thing where the muscles in your face move to react to positive things. You should try it sometime. It might help you seem... less like a soulless corporate dick."

He smirks, sharp and cutting. "You've never smiled at me."

She lifts her mug to her lips, her own smile threatening to betray her composure. "Make of that what you will."

His eyes narrow, his smirk not faltering. "Enlighten me," he says, leaning in slightly. "Why won't I get the job, huh?"

Ayame sets her mug down on the counter with an audible clink, crossing her arms as she leans back against the counter to face him fully. "Because you're the most hated man in this office."

Chan laughs at that, a low, deliberate sound that's equal parts condescending and amused. "Oh no, shortcake. No one hates me. They fear me, which is what makes me so fucking good at my job."

Ayame raises an eyebrow, tilting her head. "Fear doesn't make you effective, Chan. It makes you a pain in the ass."

He steps closer, the faint scent of his cologne cutting through the lingering smell of coffee. His smirk deepens as he lowers his voice. "And yet, here I am. The most effective pain in the ass you've ever met."

Ayame rolls her eyes, scooping up her mug and pushing off the counter. "Congrats on the self-awareness, Captain Obvious."

She starts toward the elevator, but she can hear the inevitable click of his shoes behind her. Of course he follows. His insufferable confidence radiates off him like heat, practically filling the space as they step into the elevator together. The doors slide shut with a soft ding, trapping them in yet another standoff.

Chan leans casually against the elevator wall, his gaze sliding toward her as he takes a slow sip from his coffee. "When I'm your boss," he says lazily, "I'm implementing a dress code. No more dressing like that."

Ayame freezes mid-sip, her mug halfway to her lips. She turns her head slowly, narrowing her eyes. "Like what?"

He gestures vaguely toward her outfit, his smirk unwavering. "Like... that. The mini skirts, the corset blouses, the whole look. It's distracting."

Her laugh is sharp, biting, like the snap of a whip. "Distracting? From what? Your spreadsheets? Grow the fuck up, Chan."

He shrugs, taking another sip of coffee like she hasn't just insulted his entire existence. "Just calling it like I see it."

She sets her mug down on the elevator railing, facing him fully now. "Let me tell you something. When I'm your boss, I'm enforcing casual Fridays. No suits allowed. Hell, no ties allowed. And for the record, if you get that job, I'll fucking resign."

Chan raises an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something closer to amusement. "Oh, you will, huh?"

"Absolutely," she replies, her voice light but her words firm. "Just like you will if I get it."

His chuckle is low, almost inaudible, as he leans back against the wall. "I don't quit, shortcake."

She picks up her mug, her lips curving into a wicked grin as she sips her tea. "Oh, but I could fire you."

Chan laughs outright at that, a deep, rumbling sound that makes the elevator feel ten degrees warmer. "You'd have to beat me first. And we both know that's not happening."

Ayame tilts her head, her eyes sparkling with mock innocence. "I'm getting the distinct impression that's not the first time you've said that to a woman in your thirty-something years on this planet."

His smirk falters just slightly before returning full force. "Touché."

The elevator dings as it reaches their floor, the doors sliding open. Ayame steps out first, her heels clicking against the tile. She glances over her shoulder, her tone smug as she says, "So, we agree? If one of us gets the job, the other has to quit."

Chan follows her out, his pace deliberately matching hers. He considers her words for a moment before nodding, his smirk turning downright devious. "Fine. Agreed."

"Good," she says, turning away with a satisfied grin. "You're going to look adorable when I'm your boss."

Chan laughs under his breath, shaking his head as they reach their shared office. He pauses at the door, watching her with a look that's equal parts amused and competitive. "This war's gonna be fun."

Ayame doesn't look back, but her smirk is visible in her voice as she replies, "For me, at least."

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Chapter 6: And If I Bleed, You'll Be The Last To Know.

Summary: For five grueling years, Taskforce X was both your lifeline and your torment. Mission after mission, you faced impossible odds with the dangling promise of a reduced sentence. Now, at last, you’re free—no more Belle Reve, no more danger. You’ve put that chapter behind you, determined to leave it locked away in the recesses of your mind.

But Amanda Waller has other plans. When she appears back in your life, she brings a new mission—and a new team. This time, you’re working alongside Rick Flag Sr., the father of your former team leader, and the members of Taskforce M. As the stakes rise, so do unexpected emotions. Tensions give way to an undeniable connection between you and Rick, a bond that deepens with every mission and threatens to pull you back into a world you thought you’d left behind forever. Warning: Slow-Burn, Age Gap, Violence, Swearing, Smut. Pairings: Rick Flag Sr/Reader Masterlist

The air in the President’s office was thick with tension, the kind that came from gathering too many dangerous people in one room. The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows, but its light did nothing to ease the weight of the conversation. The long mahogany table stretched between Rick and the rest of the team, who sat scattered in various states of alertness, boredom, and irritation. Maps, blueprints, and satellite photos were spread across the polished surface, their edges curling slightly under the weight of coffee cups and stray pens.

Rick stood at the head of the table, his hands braced against the wood, his posture straight but relaxed—commanding, but not overbearing. His eyes scanned the room, lingering just long enough on each face to make it clear he expected them to pay attention. He’d done this a hundred times before, laid out plans for operations that were complicated, dangerous, and borderline impossible. But this time was different. This time, you were here.

You sat near the middle of the table, leaning back in your chair with an air of detached confidence. Your legs were crossed, one ankle resting casually on your knee, your fingers idly toying with a pen. You looked perfectly at ease, like you didn’t have a care in the world, but Rick knew better. He could see the sharpness in your eyes, the way you were taking everything in even though you looked like you weren’t paying attention. It was infuriating, how you could exude that much confidence and still manage to look like you were on vacation.

Rick’s jaw tightened slightly, but he pushed the thought aside. He had a mission to explain.

“Alright,” he began, his voice cutting through the low hum of idle chatter. The room fell quiet, all eyes turning to him. “Here’s the situation. Two days ago, intel confirmed that a shipment of black-market weapons went missing on its way through the northern border. We’re talking military-grade tech—highly classified, highly illegal, and way too dangerous to be floating around in the wrong hands.”

He straightened up, pulling a folded satellite image from the pile in front of him and holding it up for the team to see. The photograph showed a sprawling compound nestled in the mountains, its high walls and guarded perimeter clearly visible even from the aerial perspective.

“This,” Rick continued, “is where we think the weapons are being stored. It’s a private facility owned by one of the President’s less-than-reputable business partners. We don’t have confirmation yet, but all signs point to this being the drop point. Our job is to get inside, find the weapons, and figure out who’s behind the operation.”

Rick let the photograph fall back onto the table, his hands returning to the edge as he leaned forward slightly. His eyes scanned the room again, gauging the team’s reactions.

“Now, the compound is heavily fortified. Armed guards, surveillance cameras, pressure sensors on the outer perimeter—the works. Getting in won’t be easy, and getting out with the weapons will be even harder. But we’ve got a plan.”

He reached for another map, this one a detailed layout of the compound itself. He unfolded it and spread it across the table, his fingers tracing the lines of the main building and its surrounding structures.

“We’ll approach from the south,” Rick said, his tone calm and measured. “There’s a blind spot in their cameras near the edge of the forest. It’s small, but it’ll give us enough cover to make it to the outer wall. From there, we’ll split into two teams. Team A will handle the guards and disable the security systems. Team B will infiltrate the main building and locate the weapons.”

His eyes flicked toward you, and for a brief moment, his smirk returned—the kind of smirk that made it clear he was enjoying this just a little too much.

“And you,” he said, his voice carrying just the faintest hint of amusement, “are going to be with me.”

The words hung in the air, and Rick didn’t miss the subtle shift in your posture. It was quick—barely noticeable—but he caught it. Your hand stopped twirling the pen, your chin tilted up slightly, and a single eyebrow arched in response.

“Am I?” you said, your tone light and teasing, but there was an edge to it, a challenge.

Rick straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at you. “Yeah. You are. We’ll be Team B. While the others handle the distractions, you and I are going to make our way to the vault and secure the weapons.”

The room was silent for a moment, the rest of the team exchanging quick glances. Everyone knew what was happening here—this wasn’t just about the mission. The tension between you and Rick had been simmering since the moment you’d joined the team, and now it was on full display.

“Why me?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, your eyes locked on his. “Not that I’m not flattered, but it seems like you’ve got plenty of other capable people to babysit you.”

Rick smirked again, but this time it was sharper, more intentional. “Because I trust them,” he said simply.

The words hit like a punch, and Rick saw the flicker of something—annoyance? amusement?—flash across your face before you covered it with another smirk of your own.

“Well,” you said, leaning back again and spreading your arms wide in mock surrender. “How could I say no to such a glowing vote of confidence?”

“You can’t,” Rick said, his tone final.

He turned his attention back to the map, ignoring the way his ears burned under your gaze. “We’ll move fast and stay quiet. The compound’s guards are on a rotating schedule, so timing is everything. Once we’ve secured the weapons, we’ll rendezvous at the extraction point here.” He tapped a spot on the map near the edge of the forest. “Helicopter will pick us up and get us out before anyone realizes what’s happened.”

Rick glanced back at the team, his expression hardening. “This isn’t a smash-and-grab. We’re not here to make noise or leave a trail. We’re in and out, clean and efficient. Understood?”

The team nodded, a mix of grim determination and quiet confidence settling over the room.

Rick’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary, his mind already running through a dozen different scenarios. He didn’t trust you—not yet. Not with your sharp tongue, your too-casual confidence, and the way you always seemed to know just how far to push without toppling the whole damn table. You were trouble, and he’d learned long ago that trouble didn’t come with warning labels. It came with smirks like yours.

If you were playing a game here—and Rick was certain you were—then he was damn sure going to win.

“Good,” he said, his voice steady and commanding as he straightened up. “We leave at 2100 hours.”

The team began to shuffle out, some in silence, others muttering quietly as they glanced at the maps and blueprints one last time. Chairs scraped against the polished floor, boots thudded lightly on the carpet, and the faint smell of stale coffee lingered in the room.

But you stayed put.

Rick noticed, of course. He noticed everything when it came to you. The way you didn’t rush to leave like the others, the way your hands rested casually on the chair arms, like you had all the time in the world. Your eyes met his, holding his gaze with that infuriating mix of amusement and challenge.

He let the others go, saying nothing, his focus locked entirely on you.

You smirked, your grin widening as you caught the flicker of irritation in his eyes.

“Try to keep up,” Rick said finally, breaking the silence. His tone was low and teasing, but there was an edge to it—a warning, a reminder that he wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.

Your laugh was soft, almost musical, and yet it carried just enough venom to set his teeth on edge. “Oh, General,” you said, leaning forward slightly, your elbows resting on the table. “I’ll be right behind you, following you into the line of fire.”

The words dripped with mockery, but there was something else there too, something that twisted in Rick’s gut and made him narrow his eyes.

You rose from your chair slowly, deliberately, your movements smooth and unhurried. For a moment, you lingered, your gaze meeting his as though daring him to respond. Rick didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away. But his jaw tightened ever so slightly, the only betrayal of the irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

“Good to know you’re looking out for me,” he said dryly, his tone flat.

You winked. “Always.”

Rick turned away then, his back to you as he began gathering the maps and folding them with quick, precise movements. He didn’t need to watch you leave to know exactly when you did. The sound of your boots against the hardwood, the faint creak of the door as it opened and closed—it was all burned into his awareness, like every move you made was somehow tailored to make him notice you.

He sighed quietly, his shoulders stiffening as the door clicked shut behind you.

The room was silent now, empty except for him. But the tension you’d left behind still hung in the air, coiling around his chest like a vice.

Rick’s smirk was gone, replaced by a darker, more serious expression as he stared at the table in front of him.

This mission was already complicated. The compound was a fortress, the kind of place where one mistake would get them all killed. And now, with you in the mix, it felt like he was walking a tightrope over a pit of fire.

You weren’t just a wildcard. You were a powder keg, and Rick knew better than to underestimate the damage you could do.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the edges of the map before he set it down with deliberate care.

You’d gotten under his skin. He hated that. Hated the way you seemed to enjoy testing him, pushing him, just to see how far you could go. But if you thought you had the upper hand, you were wrong.

Rick Flag wasn’t the kind of man to lose control, and he sure as hell wasn’t the kind of man to lose to someone like you.

Still, the thought lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing at him like a splinter he couldn’t quite reach.

There was something about you. Something he couldn’t quite pin down, something that made him second-guess every word, every look, every move you made.

Rick exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away as he grabbed the rest of the mission files and tucked them under his arm. He didn’t have time for this—not now.

But as he walked out of the room and into the hallway, his mind was already racing again.

This mission was going to test him. Not because of the guards or the cameras or the weapons they were trying to recover. No, the real test was going to be keeping you in line.

Because if there was one thing Rick knew for sure, it was that you weren’t just a match.

You were the kind of fire that burned everything—and everyone—it touched.

He reached his quarters, the heavy door creaking slightly as he pushed it open, tossing the mission files onto the desk with a dull thud and leaned against the edge, arms crossed over his chest.

Rick’s mind was already working through the details. The compound, the guards, the weapons—they were predictable variables. He’d dealt with worse before. But you?

You were the unknown.

He could see you now in his mind’s eye, sitting across the table earlier with that damn smirk and the way you’d said, “Oh General I’ll be right behind you following you into the line of fire.”

It wasn’t just the words that got under his skin—it was the way you’d said them, like you knew exactly what buttons to press, exactly how to make him second-guess himself. And the worst part? You weren’t wrong.

Rick let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair as he forced himself to refocus. He couldn’t afford to let you distract him. Not now.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You were meant to be a distraction. Whether it was intentional or just a side effect of your personality, you had a way of pulling focus, of shifting the dynamic in the room so that everything revolved around you.

Rick pushed off the desk and began pacing, his boots thudding softly against the floor. He thought back to Waller, to the way she’d spoken about you when she brought you onto his team—like you were some kind of secret weapon she’d been saving for the right moment.

“You’ll like her,” Waller had said, her tone cool and detached, like she wasn’t handing him a live grenade. “She’s efficient. Gets the job done. Doesn’t ask questions.”

Rick had scoffed at the time, but now, the words felt like an understatement. You weren’t just efficient. You were surgical. Precise. Too perfect, in a way that made his instincts scream.

And the way you carried yourself? It wasn’t just confidence—it was control. You had the kind of control that came from years of practice, of training, of knowing exactly how to manipulate every situation to your advantage.

Rick stopped pacing, his gaze falling on the mission files spread out on his desk. The compound was a fortress, sure, but it wasn’t impenetrable. He’d seen tougher. The real challenge wasn’t going to be getting in or securing the weapons.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers drumming against the edge of the desk as he thought through the possibilities. He’d already decided to keep you close—to watch you, to make sure you didn’t pull any stunts that could jeopardize the mission. But that meant putting himself right in your line of fire, and Rick wasn’t sure if that was a smart move or a reckless one.

Rick exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he pushed the thought away. This wasn’t the time for doubts. He had a job to do, and if that job meant keeping an eye on you, then so be it.

But as he stared at the map of the compound, at the detailed layout he’d spent hours studying, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission was going to test him in ways he hadn’t been tested before.

And the worst part?

A part of him was looking forward to it.

<><><><><><><> The night was quiet, but the weight of the mission pressed down on everyone. The team moved like shadows through the dense forest surrounding the compound. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp earth, and the only sounds were the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft crunch of boots against the ground.

Rick led the way, his dark figure slipping between the trees with practiced ease. His rifle was slung across his back, his hand resting on the grip of his sidearm, ready for anything. His sharp, military-trained eyes scanned the area constantly, every step calculated, every movement deliberate.

Behind him, you followed with a kind of effortless grace that somehow managed to irritate him. You didn’t move like the others—there was no hesitation, no uncertainty, just quiet confidence. Like you’d been doing this your whole life. Like sneaking into a heavily fortified compound was no different than a casual stroll through the park.

Rick slowed, holding up a fist to signal a halt as the team reached the edge of the tree line. The compound loomed ahead, a stark contrast against the natural landscape. High concrete walls surrounded the facility, topped with razor wire that gleamed faintly under the pale moonlight. Guard towers stood at each corner, their searchlights sweeping methodically over the perimeter.

Rick crouched low, pulling out a small pair of binoculars from his vest. He scanned the compound, his jaw tightening as he noted the guards patrolling the walls, the cameras mounted above the gates, the faint glow of infrared sensors near the entrance.

“Cameras are on a rotation,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “About ten seconds between sweeps. We’ll move during the blind spots.”

You crouched beside him, close enough that he could feel the faint warmth of your presence. You didn’t say anything at first, just followed his line of sight, your sharp eyes taking in every detail.

“Guards change position every five minutes,” you said quietly. Your voice was low, calm, but there was a hint of amusement in it, like you were enjoying this far more than you should. “The one by the west gate lags behind. He’s got a limp—probably an old injury. That’s our best entry point.”

Rick glanced at you, his expression unreadable. He didn’t like that you noticed things so quickly, that you were already dissecting the situation with the same precision he prided himself on. But he couldn’t deny that you were right.

“Not bad,” he said gruffly, his voice laced with reluctant approval.

You smirked. “Careful, Flag. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were complimenting me.”

Rick ignored the comment, turning his attention back to the map on his wrist-mounted display. He tapped a few buttons, marking the west gate as the insertion point.

“Team A,” he said, his voice low but firm, “you take the north perimeter. Distract the guards, disable the cameras, and keep them focused on you.—” his eyes flicked to you briefly, “—we’re going through the west gate. We’ll secure the weapons and get out before they even know we’re there.”

The team nodded in silent acknowledgment, their faces set with determination.

Rick checked his watch. “Move out in two minutes. Stay sharp.”

The team began to shift into formation, preparing for the breach. Rick stood, his gaze fixed on the compound, his mind already running through the plan again.

You rose beside him, your movements smooth and silent, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Sticking close to me, huh?” you said, your voice low and teasing. “Guess you couldn’t resist the chance to spend some quality time together.”

Rick didn’t look at you, his jaw tightening as he adjusted the strap on his rifle. “I’d rather keep you where I can see you,” he said flatly.

You chuckled softly, the sound low and almost dangerous. “Smart man.”

Rick spared you a glance then, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Just stay focused. This isn’t a game.”

Your smirk didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something else in your expression—something more serious, more calculating. “Don’t worry, Flag,” you said, your tone light but with an edge of steel. “I always play to win.”

Rick turned away, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t respond, didn’t rise to the bait. He couldn’t afford to let you get under his skin, not now.

The two-minute mark came quickly, and Rick gave the signal to move. The team split off into their assigned groups, melting into the shadows like ghosts.

Rick moved toward the west gate with you close behind, the tension between you palpable in the quiet night.

As you approached the edge of the compound, Rick held up a hand, signaling for you to stop. He crouched low, pulling out a small device and attaching it to one of the cameras. The screen on the device flickered, showing the camera’s feed as it looped back to an earlier recording.

“Camera’s down,” Rick said quietly. He glanced over his shoulder at you. “We’ve got ten seconds. Move.”

You slipped past him, your movements impossibly quiet as you reached the base of the wall. Rick followed, his heart beating steadily as he kept an eye on the guard with the limp.

The timing was perfect—just as the guard turned his back, you hooked a small device onto the wall, its magnetic clamps holding it in place. Rick watched as you pressed a button, the device emitting a low hum before cutting through the steel-reinforced concrete with precision.

It was impressive, he had to admit. Too impressive.

Rick kept his eyes on the guard as the hole in the wall grew large enough for you both to slip through.

“Go,” he said, his voice low but firm.

You were through in an instant, disappearing into the shadows on the other side. Rick followed close behind, his weapon drawn, his senses on high alert.

Inside the compound, the air was colder, heavier. The faint hum of electrical systems buzzed in the background, and the soft glow of security lights painted the walls in patches of yellow and white.

Rick motioned for you to follow as he moved toward the main building, his steps careful and deliberate.

“Vault’s on the lower level,” he whispered, glancing at you. “We stick to the plan. No detours.”

You nodded, but the glint in your eye made him uneasy.

Rick’s gut twisted as he turned his attention back to the path ahead.

This mission was already complicated. But with you by his side, it felt like he was walking a razor’s edge.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t sure if you were going to push him off or pull him down with you.

The faint hum of the compound’s electrical systems filled Rick’s ears as the two of you crept through the shadows, the tension between you palpable in the cold, sterile air. The corridor ahead was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescents casting uneven patches of light across the walls. He moved with precision, every step deliberate, every sense heightened. Behind him, he could feel your presence—not just hear it, not just see it when he glanced over his shoulder, but feel it, like a storm gathering just out of sight.

The main building loomed ahead, its steel doors sealed tight, a keypad flashing faintly on the wall beside it. Rick held up a fist, signaling for you to stop, and you obeyed—though not without that infuriating smirk still tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Stay put,” he muttered under his breath, moving to the keypad.

You leaned casually against the wall, watching as he pulled a small device from his gear and attached it to the panel. The device beeped quietly as it began to override the system, its screen flickering with lines of code.

“You sure you’ve got this, Flag?” you asked, your voice low but teasing. “I’d hate to have to rescue you if something goes wrong.”

Rick didn’t look at you, his jaw tightening as he focused on the task at hand. “Just keep an eye out,” he replied, his tone clipped.

“Oh, I’m watching,” you said softly, and there was something in your voice—something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

The keypad gave a soft chime, the lock disengaging with a faint hiss. Rick stepped back, motioning for you to follow as the doors slid open.

“Stay close,” he said, his voice low but firm.

You grinned, falling into step behind him. “Always.”

The hallway beyond the doors was colder, the air tinged with the faint metallic scent of machinery. Rick’s eyes scanned the space, his weapon at the ready, his mind running through the layout of the compound. The vault was on the lower level, past the main control room and several layers of security. They were deep in enemy territory now, and every step forward felt like walking a tighter and tighter wire.

“Guards are light in this section,” you whispered as the two of you moved. Your voice was calm, almost casual, but there was an edge of focus in your tone. “They’re all concentrated near the vault. If we run into anyone, it’ll be close.”

Rick glanced at you, his expression unreadable. You were good—too good. You moved like you already knew the layout, like you’d walked these halls before. It set his teeth on edge, though he kept his suspicions to himself.

Ahead, the hallway split into two, the path to the left leading toward the control room while the right sloped downward toward the vault. Rick paused, holding up a hand again as he crouched near the corner, peering around the edge.

Two guards stood near the doorway on the right, their rifles slung across their shoulders, their postures relaxed but alert. Rick studied them for a moment, noting the way they shifted their weight, the way their gazes swept the hallway at irregular intervals.

“Two guards,” he whispered, glancing back at you. “We take them out quietly. No noise.”

You nodded, already moving.

Rick blinked, his jaw tightening as he watched you slip past him, your movements impossibly quiet. You were on the first guard in an instant, one hand clamping over his mouth while the other drove a blade into his side with ruthless precision. The second guard barely had time to react before you spun, catching him with a swift, brutal strike to the throat. He collapsed silently, his rifle slipping from his hands as you caught it and eased it down.

Rick stepped forward, his weapon still raised, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you. “You’re supposed to wait for my signal,” he said quietly, his tone sharp.

You wiped the blade clean on the first guard’s uniform, your smirk returning as you straightened. “Signal or no signal, they’re down,” you replied, your voice light and unconcerned. “You’re welcome.”

Rick clenched his jaw, his grip on his rifle tightening. He didn’t like the way you operated—too independent, too reckless—but he couldn’t deny that you were effective.

“Just stick to the plan,” he muttered, stepping past you and moving toward the door.

You followed, your grin widening as you fell into step behind him.

The door to the vault was heavy, reinforced steel with a biometric scanner mounted on the wall beside it. Rick crouched near the scanner, pulling out another device from his gear. This one was more complex, a small tablet-like screen that connected to the scanner with a thin cable.

“This’ll take a minute,” he said, glancing at you. “Watch my six.”

You leaned against the wall, your eyes scanning the hallway as he worked. “Always happy to play lookout,” you said, though there was a teasing lilt to your voice that made Rick bristle.

The device beeped softly as it began to bypass the biometric lock, its screen displaying a stream of code. Rick’s fingers moved quickly, navigating the interface with practiced ease.

Behind him, you shifted slightly, your eyes flicking toward the corner of the hallway.

“We’ve got company,” you said quietly, your tone suddenly serious.

Rick didn’t look up, his focus still on the lock. “How many?”

“Three,” you replied. “Armed. Moving fast.”

Rick swore under his breath, his fingers tightening around the device. “Stall them,” he said.

You didn’t hesitate.

Rick heard the faint sound of your footsteps as you moved toward the corner, followed by the soft click of your sidearm being drawn. He couldn’t see you, but he could imagine the way you’d position yourself, the way you’d calculate every move with deadly precision.

The first shot was muffled, the silencer doing its job as the sound barely registered over the hum of the lock-picking device. Rick’s jaw tightened as he heard the faint thud of a body hitting the floor, followed by another shot, then a third.

A moment later, you were back, your expression calm as you reloaded your weapon.

“They’ll send more,” you said quietly, your voice low but steady.

Rick nodded, the lock-picking device giving a final, soft chime as the vault door hissed open.

“Then we move fast,” he said, stepping through the doorway.

The vault was massive, its walls lined with steel crates and shelves packed with weapons and military tech. Rick’s eyes swept the room, his mind already cataloging the inventory.

“This is it,” he muttered.

You stepped in behind him, your eyes narrowing slightly as you scanned the room. “Looks like Christmas came early,” you said, your tone light but with a dangerous edge.

Rick ignored the comment, moving toward one of the crates and prying it open. Inside, rows of high-tech weapons gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights.

“Secure the inventory,” he said, glancing back at you. “We don’t leave anything behind.”

You nodded, moving to the nearest shelf and beginning to pack the weapons into a reinforced bag.

Rick’s gut twisted as he worked, the tension in the air thickening with every passing second. This mission wasn’t over yet—not by a long shot.

And with you by his side, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger hadn’t even begun.

<><><><><><><><><> The firefight erupted faster than either of you anticipated. Rick had barely stepped out of the vault when the first shot cracked through the air, ricocheting off the steel frame of the door. A second shot followed, closer this time, and the sound of boots pounding against the concrete floor echoed through the narrow hall.

“Ambush!” Rick barked, ducking back into cover as bullets tore through the air around him.

You swore under your breath, your weapon already in your hands as you darted to the other side of the vault entrance. The guards had come in force—six, maybe more, their footsteps thundering as they closed the distance. The quiet infiltration had gone sideways, and now the air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and the sharp, metallic tang of blood.

Rick leaned out just enough to take a shot, dropping one of the guards before ducking back as return fire peppered the wall beside him. “They must’ve tripped an alarm,” he muttered, his voice tight with frustration.

“No shit,” you shot back, your tone sharp as you returned fire, hitting another guard square in the chest.

Another round of gunfire blasted through the hallway, forcing you to retreat further behind cover. The guards were pushing in hard, suppressing fire pinning you and Rick down.

A shadow moved fast on your left. Too fast. Before you could react, a guard was on you—one of the bigger ones, barreling forward with a combat knife in hand. He slammed into you like a battering ram, sending you crashing against the cold steel vault door. Your gun slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor. The guard wasted no time, slashing at your midsection. You barely twisted in time, the blade grazing your side instead of cutting deep.

You gritted your teeth and caught his wrist before he could pull back for another strike. With a sharp yank, you twisted his arm outward, forcing him to drop the knife. But he was strong—stronger than you—and instead of falling back, he drove his knee into your ribs. Pain exploded through your side, but you held onto his wrist, twisting harder until you heard a sickening pop.

The guard grunted in pain but didn’t stop. His free hand curled into a fist, swinging straight for your face. You ducked at the last second, using his own weight against him as you threw your elbow into his throat. He staggered, coughing, but still standing. You didn’t give him a second chance.

You barely had a second to think—your body moved on instinct. A sharp step forward, and your fist connected with his gut, sinking deep enough to knock the breath from his lungs in a violent whoosh. The shock in his eyes was brief but satisfying. His stance wavered—exactly what you needed. Without hesitation, you seized the back of his head and drove it into the steel vault door with all the force you could muster.

The sickening crack of bone meeting metal echoed through the room. For a heartbeat, he was still. Then his body gave out, crumpling to the ground like a discarded marionette, completely lifeless.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you took a step back, flexing your fingers to shake off the sting. Pain throbbed along your knuckles, a dull ache overshadowed by the surge of adrenaline coursing through you. You barely noticed it as you turned back to where Rick stood, reloading his weapon with the same calm he always carried.

"Really appreciated the hand there, boss," you said, rolling the tension from your shoulders.

Rick shot you a glance, his expression unreadable as he chambered a fresh round. "You had it handled," he replied, his voice steady, unfazed, like this was just another routine mission.

You scoffed, raising your gun as you moved to cover his flank. "You're getting slack, that's what it was." With a sharp pull of the trigger, you took down another two hostiles before they even had a chance to react. "If I knew I had to pick up the slack, I never would’ve agreed to this damn job."

Rick barely reacted, lifting his gun and firing another shot with practiced ease. "The team's about a minute out," he said, his tone carrying the same cool confidence it always did. "We just have to hold them off until then."

You exhaled, steadying yourself. The weight of the situation pressed against your ribs, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the battle ahead. The air smelled of gunpowder, sweat, and blood. A storm was still raging around you, and you weren’t out of the fire yet.

"Yeah?" You flicked the safety off, taking position beside him. "Then let’s make sure they’ve got something left to clean up when they get here."

A shout from the corridor snapped your attention back into focus, and your grip on the gun tightened instinctively. Boots thundered against concrete—more of them, closing in fast. Your heart pounded, but not from fear. This was the kind of moment you thrived in—the kind where hesitation could get you killed, where instincts and muscle memory ruled over doubt.

Your pulse was a drum against your skull, but you kept moving. A third enemy lunged from behind a crate, too close for comfort. You twisted, a flash of steel catching your eye as they swung a knife toward your throat. Instinct screamed at you to move, and you dropped low, just barely avoiding the blade.

Too close.

Your gun was useless at this range. You didn’t think—you just acted. A quick, brutal elbow to their ribs, then another, sending them stumbling. Without missing a beat, you grabbed their wrist, twisting sharply until the knife clattered to the ground. Their pained yell was cut off by the butt of your gun slamming into their temple. They crumpled, out cold before they hit the floor.

You inhaled sharply, adrenaline burning through your veins, eyes snapping up in search of the next threat. Rick had already handled two more, his expression unreadable, his movements efficient. He made it look so effortless—like it wasn’t life or death, just another mission.

“Status?” he asked, barely winded.

You shook out your wrist, flexing your fingers to shake off the dull throb where bone had met bone. The impact still lingered, a reminder of how close that last encounter had been. “Still breathing,” you muttered, toeing the fallen knife away before smirking dryly. “Unfortunately.”

Rick barely reacted, only giving a slight nod as he scanned the room, eyes sharp and assessing. He was always thinking ahead, always calculating. You could see it in the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers adjusted on his weapon, ready for whatever came next.

“Let’s get these weapons and go,” he said, his voice low and even. No unnecessary words, no wasted movement. Just efficiency. He turned toward the vault, barely sparing another glance at the downed enemies. “Watch my six.”

And then he was gone, stepping back into the open vault before finishing loading the bags. You could hear the rustling of gear, the scrape of metal against metal as he packed the stolen weapons with methodical precision. You took position near the entrance, gun at the ready, eyes flicking between the dimly lit corridors outside.

“Admit it,” you grinned, watching the empty hallway like a hawk. “You’re enjoying being here with me.” You glanced over your shoulder, smirking. “Watching me get all—”

You froze. A faint scuffle of movement echoed from the far end of the hall.

Your stance shifted in an instant, training taking over as your finger moved toward the trigger. You took a step forward, your gun raised, ready to fire—

And then you saw them.

Bride and Phosphorus emerged from the dim light, moving quickly, their weapons lowered but their faces set with the same tension you felt.

You exhaled sharply, dropping your aim with a shake of your head. “Oh, so now you guys show up.”

Bride shot you a sharp look as she passed, brushing past without slowing. “We had our own problems,” she muttered, moving to Rick’s side. Without hesitation, she began helping him load the last of the stolen weapons, her movements just as precise and efficient.

Rick barely acknowledged the exchange. His focus was already shifting, his mind already on the next step. His voice was calm but firm when he spoke, directing the team without needing to raise his voice.

“Bride, grab the last two cases—we’re moving out now,” he instructed, adjusting the weight of his own bag over his shoulder.

Bride nodded, quickly zipping the bag closed and hefting it up without complaint.

Rick turned to you and Phosphorus next. His expression remained unreadable, but there was no room for argument in his tone. “You two take point. Sweep ahead and make sure we don’t have any more surprises on the way out.” His gaze flicked toward you for a half-second longer, something unspoken lingering in his stare. Trust? A warning? Maybe both.

You gave a sharp nod, already shifting into position beside Phosphorus, gun up, eyes scanning the corridor.

Rick adjusted his grip on his rifle before glancing back at Bride. “Let’s move.” The compound was dark, cold, and filled with the kind of silence that made your skin crawl. The kind that felt unnatural, like something was waiting just beyond the edge of your vision. Your breath came steady, controlled, even as your heart pounded against your ribs. You kept your gun raised, your eyes flicking through the shadows, scanning for movement, for any sign of life beyond your team’s hushed footsteps against the concrete.

You were at the front of them, leading. That was your job right now—clear the path, make sure there was nothing waiting ahead, no last-minute surprises before extraction. Just get through this, get on that helicopter, and then back to the president’s house. That was it. One last stretch and this was over.

At least, this part of it.

Your jaw tightened. This was just another stepping stone, another hoop you had to jump through to get closer to what you really needed. The only reason you were even here was because Waller still had something you wanted—those files.

You could already picture her in your mind, that knowing smirk, those cold, calculating eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing, how to keep you on her leash just long enough to make sure you danced to whatever tune she played. And you hated it. Hated the way she’d pulled you right back in, back into the fire you’d fought so hard to walk away from.

You could feel your jaw clench harder, the frustration curling deep in your gut. You had spent too long looking, searching for something you weren’t even sure existed anymore. Too many dead ends, too many false leads, too many nights spent chasing ghosts that disappeared the second you got close. And now, instead of being out there, following your own trail, you were here—caught in another one of Waller’s games, running her missions, cleaning up her messes, all because she had the one thing that might finally give you answers.

Your grip on your weapon tightened, but you forced yourself to stay focused. The frustration, the exhaustion, the resentment—you could deal with all of that later. Right now, you had to finish this.

One more step, one more mission.

Then, maybe, you could finally get what you came for.

<><><><><><><> The courtyard hummed with the quiet murmur of diplomacy, the kind of carefully measured conversations that masked deeper intentions, ulterior motives weaving through every word. Crystal glasses clinked gently, carrying the scent of expensive whiskey and wine, the air thick with the mingling of cigar smoke and the faint fragrance of jasmine from the nearby trellises.

Rick stood at the edge of the gathering, his posture deceptively relaxed, the weight of his glass familiar in his hand. But his gaze was sharp, cutting through the facade of politics and alliances, his focus locked onto a singular interaction unfolding before him.

You.

And the president.

Rick didn’t like the way the president was talking to you—low, smooth, his tone dripping with something just shy of outright suggestion. He didn’t like the way his eyes dragged over you, assessing, lingering in a way that made Rick’s fingers tighten around the glass in his hand. A predator measuring the worth of his prey.

And he didn’t like the way you were letting it happen.

That slow, knowing curve of your lips. That subtle tilt of your head. A dance you seemed to know well, one you moved through effortlessly, like you were in on some private joke with the president—something only the two of you understood.

Rick fucking knew you were up to something.

The only question was what?

Had you already done it? Whatever ‘it’ was?

He had caught you sneaking back into your room last night, slipping through the dimly lit corridors with the kind of careful silence that only came from someone who didn’t want to get caught. He hadn’t stopped you, hadn’t called you out—just watched from the shadows, his jaw tight, suspicion curling in his gut.

The mission was already complete, why were you still playing the part?

Why were you letting the president touch your wrist lightly as he spoke, as if testing how close he could get?

Rick hated it.

The rest of the team were scattered throughout the courtyard, each engaged in their own subtle forms of reconnaissance.

Bride stood near the marble fountain, her statuesque frame poised in a way that suggested casual conversation, but Rick knew better. Her eyes were sharp, calculating, reading her foreign counterpart as easily as she might dismantle a machine.

Phosphorus lounged against one of the stone columns, arms crossed, pretending to be uninterested. But Rick had seen him listening, his head tilting slightly whenever certain words were uttered. He was absorbing everything, filing it all away for later.

Every member of the team was playing their role in this political theater.

And then there was you, right in the center of it, spinning your own web, standing too damn close to the president, tilting your head just so when he spoke, letting that smirk linger.

Rick’s grip tightened around his drink. His expression remained unreadable, but irritation simmered beneath the surface, coiling tight in his chest.

“General Flag,” The President called out. Rick blinked, realizing the conversation had shifted. Both you and the president were looking at him now, expectant.

“Come. Join us,” the president invited smoothly, extending a fresh glass in his direction. His smile was easy, practiced. “Your agent was just telling me about her experiences in Bosnia a few years ago.”

Rick’s gaze flicked to you.

You met his eyes with that same lazy amusement, an eyebrow raising ever so slightly, daring him to call you out on the lie.

But he didn’t take the bait.

Instead, he stepped forward, accepting the glass, his fingers brushing against the cool crystal as he took a measured sip. The warmth of your shoulder was close now, too close. A presence both familiar and infuriating.

“Bosnia, huh?” Rick murmured, his voice even, unreadable.

You smirked, saying nothing, taking a slow sip of your own drink before turning back to the president.

Rick didn’t miss the way the man’s eyes followed the movement of your lips against the rim of the glass. Didn’t miss the way his fingers lingered just a second too long when he touched your back. Didn’t miss the subtle shift in your body language—so imperceptible that no one else would catch it. But Rick did.

The evening stretched on, the golden glow of courtyard lanterns casting flickering shadows across polished stone and silk gowns. Conversations ebbed and flowed, laughter punctuating the night air, but Rick’s focus remained locked. The president was comfortable now, his posture loose, his smile easy—the kind of ease that only came when a man was certain he had control. His attention was no longer divided among the team or the fading conversations around him. No, his focus had narrowed entirely to you.

Rick didn’t miss the way the president’s gaze settled on you—assessing, calculating. The kind of look men like him reserved for things they wanted to own.

Rick knew his type.

Men who wielded power like a weapon, who measured worth in terms of possession and conquest rather than merit or character. Men who played the long game, who toyed with their pieces before making their move.

And right now?

You were the move.

Rick clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take another sip of whiskey, letting the burn anchor him. His face remained unreadable, his grip steady, but beneath it all, something coiled tight in his chest.

Because you were letting it happen. Letting the president’s gaze linger too long. Letting him think he was winning.

You tilted your head just enough to appear engaged, let your lips part in a way that suggested amusement, interest. An invitation.

And maybe he was winning.

Or maybe you were just keeping him distracted.

Rick honestly didn’t know which was worse. Because if you were keeping him distracted? Then you were up to something more then what you had all been sent there for.

The president exhaled, setting his empty glass down with a quiet clink against the polished marble table. He stood, movements smooth, deliberate, adjusting the cuffs of his suit with a casual grace that suggested satisfaction.

Like a man who had just sealed a deal.

Like a man who had already gotten what he wanted, and didn’t need to make the effort anymore.

Rick’s grip tightened around his own glass. He wanted to say something, to call you out and ask what the fuck you were up too, but he knew you wouldn’t say shit. You never did.

The president turned to him first, extending a firm hand, "I appreciate what you have done for me," he said, his smile practiced, diplomatic—just the right amount of warmth to seem genuine, just the right amount of distance to maintain authority.

Rick clasped his hand, his grip steady, firm, "Glad we could help," No extra words. No unnecessary pleasantries. Just the measured response of a soldier—one who didn’t play games, one who didn’t pretend to be anything more than what he was.

The president nodded once, satisfied; and then His attention shifted back to you. His entire demeanor softened, the steel in his voice melting into something warmer, smoother, that made Ricks stomach clench slightly.

"And you?" he murmured, his smile lingering. "You have been an absolute pleasure."

Rick caught the emphasis. The deliberate weight in the words. Something possessive in the way the president said it, as if you weren’t just some operative or ally, but something personal.

And then, before Rick could fully process it, the president leaned in, closing the space between you, and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

Not hurried. Not polite.

Deliberate.

Rick’s fingers curled into a fist at his side. But it wasn’t the kiss that got to him. It was what came after. Because before the president pulled away completely, his lips barely brushed past your ear, and he whispered something Rick couldn’t hear but he saw the way your body reacted.

It was subtle; so infinitesimal that if he hadn’t been watching you like a hawk all night, he might have missed it. The smallest tightening of your jaw. A flicker of tension in your shoulders, there for only a heartbeat before you forced yourself to relax.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t react beyond that split-second tell. And then, just like that, the mask slid back into place. That perfectly practiced smile. That easy, knowing look.

The game.

You raised a single eyebrow at the president as he pulled back, lips curling at the corners like you were amused by whatever he had just said. Like it was all part of some joke only the two of you understood.

And then the bastard winked at you. Rick had to force himself to stay still. To not react. To not move. And it was a type of posessivness that even he had to blink at. Because what the fuck was that? He didn’t give a fuck about what slimy greasy put their hands on you. If you didn’t want it, he knew for a fact you would have said something, done something; but you didn’t. In fact you were openly encouraging it. But this wasn’t about that; this wasn’t about someone touching you, whispering to you; no this was about the fact that you were up to something and he didn’t have a fucking clue. It was about the fact that Waller had sent someone like you to a team like his under a guise he knew was absolute bullshit. So why the fuck was he struggling to not rip that smug son of a bitch’s hand off at the wrist?

The president straightened, casting one final glance around the courtyard before turning on his heel and striding off, his security detail falling into step beside him.

The moment he was gone, the weight of the evening seemed to shift. You exhaled through your nose, turning back toward Rick, your expression unreadable as you reached for your drink.

You swirled the amber liquid lazily in your glass before lifting it to your lips, "You hear that?" you mused, voice light, dry. "I’m a fucking pleasure. You should take notes."

Rick’s jaw clicked as he exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to stay still. To not react to the way you played the game so effortlessly. To not let the irritation creeping up his spine show on his face.

Because for all the sarcasm in your voice, for all the ease in your posture something had shifted.

The only problem was he still didn’t know what. Because for all your bravado, for all your sharp-edged humor, he had seen it. The flicker of something in your expression when the president had whispered in your ear. The way your shoulders had squared for just a fraction of a second before you had forced yourself to relax.

His silence must have stretched too long, because you huffed out a breath, tilting your head at him, amusement curling at the edges of your lips.

"Can I help you with something?" you asked, arching a brow. "Or are you just basking in my after-mission glow? Your son used to do the same thing, you know. Except he’d shoot me this look—like he was sick of my shit, but not really, because I’m a fucking pleasure,” You grinned as you took another sip, as if daring him to rise to the bait.

Rick sighed, pressing his tongue against his teeth, leveling you with a flat look, "You done?"

You exhaled, shaking your head like you had already won whatever game you thought you were playing, "You’ll get it one day," you murmured, voice softer now—almost teasing, but not quite. And then, without another word, you turned on your heel and walked off, disappearing up the cobblestone steps.

Rick watched you go, watched the way the lanterns cast shifting shadows across your retreating form. And for the first time that night, he let his expression slip. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. Because despite all the careful maneuvering, despite all the scripted smiles and calculated charm.

Something had changed tonight.

Something he hadn’t accounted for.

And the worst part?

He still didn’t know what the hell it was; but if he went by what your file had shown him, what your demeanour had been, by what he had seen from what was in front of him; He knew it wasn’t going to be good.

[librarianandguardian]

The Balconies - Viktor x Fem!Reader

Music : Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears

Pairing : S1 Viktor x Assistant Fem!Reader

Word count : 2.1K

Warnings : Mentions of Anxiety and Self Worth doubts, Shy Fluff

A.N : Helloooo It's meee. Am I popping up to then disappear again for a whole other year ? Yeeeeezzz probably. Needed to help my brain work through a break-up and work problems so I went to Viktor for comfort. It worked really well ! This is quite reflective and full of thoughts. I hope I did not make mistakes with portraying Viktor's disability. Do tell if you see anything, I'm keen on learning :)

A French version is up on my Wattpad account right here.

This party was as expected : extravagant and noisy. You cursed yourself to have agreed to the boys’ proposition. Jayce had been more insistent than Viktor, who wasn't too enthusiastic either, your Hex Tech assistant status forced you to be here tonight. Bollocks. You only stuck to the shadows. Because in the end, you hadn't done much besides stand by them, and be on the front row for their speech. No one minded you and they were right : who cares about the assistant of the two geniuses of the decade? The men themselves were here. The loud chatter of the room, the dense sea of people, the many invasive perfumes of the upper class, the boys out in the wild somewhere… The darker the night got, the more you felt out of place. You ended next to the buffet, mouth always full, champagne glasses after glasses, then topping it off with fruit juice. Overwhelmed, you fled to the first balcony available.

Would you rather be at the lab, tidying notes and books they had thrown everywhere to prepare for the speech? Absolutely. Considering how long it would be. But also because the low humming of their machines soothed you. Their cold coffee mugs told you they had a breakthrough. The couch still smelled like Jayce's expensive cologne and Viktor's shampoo (when he finally rested). The Moonshine piercing through the window, lighting the empty place up, made you happy. This lab was your second chance. New friends came into your life ; the boys and Sky, their other assistant. She was extremely sweet compared to the brutal science world. You guys became each other's complaints desk and laugh station. Even though you were the one who needed pity, being Jayce's direct assistant, housekeeper and community manager, you always listened to her trials with Viktor. The resilience of the young man from the Undercity fascinated you. The places he got to in so little time… You remembered your time at the Academy, his name like a whisper in the hallways. He was a mystery to be solved back in the days.

You sighed. This party congratulated your partners for their hard work, their passion. But it was also protocol. None of them rejoiced in being here. All these manners and fake smiles. Not the ideal place for scientists. At least that's what you guessed from Viktor's face all night long. He thought he hid them well, but your keen eye caught it. Unlike Jayce masking his uneasiness with class, thanks to his birth rank and natural charisma. How you would've slapped this "perfect" child. Friendly slaps, that is.

With tired eyes, you took the time to look at this Wonderful city, where your lives unfolded. During this sweet starry night, the streets of Piltover were dressed in blue and golden hues. The colors of new technology, of progress. Her people strolled, celebrating this growth with tiny markets, exhibitions and small street art shows. All this light hid the sea, you could guess with the moon shining on its horizon. The veins of the city were loud with joy, but not enough for you to hear, only feel. Everyone was happy tonight. Then a small nervous laugh escaped your mouth. With all this, you realised something : the task of maintaining the public image of your two devils was yours. For good.

Shit.

You were gonna have to watch out for their potential public bad behavior. If any problem related to that occurred, you’d have to cover it. They would have to be more often shown in public with a clean look. No more dishevelled science boys.

Your head spinned with all this. Or was the champagne at fault ? No, you knew why you quivered. Your breath got quicker. What were you doing ? Close to entering a thought spiral, the door of the balcony being shut and a sigh saved you from it. Startled, you turn around. Half hunched on his cane and visibly irritated, Viktor walked painfully. He was muttering unfamiliar profanities. You giggled, capturing his attention. At the sight of your smile, he eased and joined you. A small hysteria took you both out of breath, only to stop a few dozen seconds later. The scientist had to sit on one of the benches next to the railing, shaken. His knee having slightly twitched, you came closer in case he needed anything. He sat with ease and wiped some tears off.

« ‘Tis all very ridiculous. Truly. »      he sighed with a thick accent.

Your head tilted. He was right of course, but something had to have happened to him. For Viktor to isolate away from Jayce, much was needed. The man wasn’t shy, more socially averse when it didn’t concern work. He hit the ground with his cane to calm down.

« A young daughter of some rich investor has been courting me for more than an hour now, through thick spider-like lashes- Ugh. »

With a reassuring smile, you patted his hands. The poor dear was NOT into marriage and love stories.

« It’ll soon be your new life. To the both of you, dear.

-Mmm, New Hell on Earth you mean. »

You giggled once more. The corners of your eyes wrinkled as they closed, one of your hands hiding your mouth, your nose scrunching. Viktor took in every bit of your false mockery with a grin. Saying you made life easier was down playing the truth. Mediator, Janitor, Nanny when he started to neglect himself. You had been a hurricane of salvation in their bachelor lab; making sure things were in their place, easy to find with their thought process and for the place to be clean after every project. You crossed none of the boundaries established, giving them air until a signature was needed, or an investor answered. Your soft smile, your caustic humor and laughs soothed the hardest day. Empty coffee mug? Never. No meal for 2 days straight? 'You are unbelievable! Eat if you want fuel for your damn brain to properly think.' 

Sometimes your sadness and loneliness caught up to you. Your face closed when you came in, nearly incapable of speaking. You stayed in a corner, eyes glossy with tears, looking out a window. Or you vanished to the bathroom for a while. They were unsure of what to do, but tried. Viktor went with jokes; it worked pretty often. Jayce regularly served you your favorite hot beverage. But when it was too much, Sky came to the rescue. Team dynamics were important; you guys had a good one.

The young man would be lying if he denied loving every evening spent together, alone. A comfortable silence, you watching him, being curious. Or working until you fell asleep headfirst on the table, under a small dim light. Only to abruptly wake up and push him to go home or at least get on the couch. He rarely declined.

When you calmed down, you cleared your throat.

« I'm happy that you find my situation most amusing, darling. »

You winced at his eyebrow raised in false vexation. Arms behind your back, you nonchalantly looked around. Your feet brought you back to the railing.

« I wouldn't dare.

-Oh, I think you would. I know your antics now. »

With this, he got back up and joined you. Your arms on the railing, he took it as an opportunity to lean against your shoulder, hovering his leg in the air. You relaxed against him and breathed. Your stares marveled at the chaos in the streets, ghosts of smiles haunting your mouths at the comfort of each other's presence. The party behind you almost forgotten. You used to live on the outskirts of Piltover, just in front of the bridges that led to the Undercity. You saw the dirt, the grim, the violence. Viktor lived within it, making you both hate high society, fakers and sweet talk. You would have given everything to wander down there with the crowd, watching life buzz. Viktor would have loved to sit on the docks facing his home, ranting with you and sweets.

His head turned towards you. Your eyes glistened, far away on the horizon, your breath hitched, your jaw clenched. Smoke could have come out of your ears. The train had departed the station. What could he do? One day, you had discussed fears surrounding the project, your place in the team. You loved science but stayed an artist at heart. Your studies had been followed on the opposite side of the Academy; in the grand luminous Art Classes, the Workshops of Piltover. He had heard of rumors back in his days : a young rebellious woman, bullied by insidious comrades, but who finally rose to the rank of assistant to the Dean of the Workshops. The only common room you shared was the library. There, you only acknowledged each other with quick nods. When he got up the ladder too, you’d cross paths more often. Talked too. Then you disappeared. For months. He'd often mention the incident to Sky. She'd stay evasive on the matter. All of a sudden, you appeared. Just when Heimerdinger went looking for an additional assistant for the Hextech Project. Theories blossomed in his head. At every given opportunity, he’d study you. To no avail. The satisfaction of actually getting to know you overshadowed his need for answers. Yes, mentioning this wouldn’t help. If you had not confided in him, there had to be a valid reason.

« Miss ? »

Viktor was scared you would break into a million pieces in front of him. Small tears were streaming down your cheeks. He had to call you softly for a solid minute. When his voice pierced your mental fog, your eyes widened at his. You flinched at his intensity. But he brought you back. One of his hands grabbed your left forearm, to keep you anchored.

« Long tiring days are ahead of us. Things will become more complex. Jayce and I are aware of that. And… I believe you too. It's poisoning your mind. »

You briefly looked at his hand. Since he helped you come back to reality, your five senses were calm. Your mind focused on his voice. You met his sweet honey eyes again. He seemed to carefully pounder his next words. Should he talk about it all? The fright, the exhaustion, the hesitation, everything seemed conflicted in you. Soothing was wiser.

« I- I trust you. You proved us you are a pillar of our project. Your kindness and skills might not be poured into the science itself, but science alone cannot hold this dream together. There also is the hope we pour in it. All of us. »

You silently bursted into tears, unmoving.

« I do not know what happened in the past, what they told you. But you are competent. More than a lot of us. Your worries are justified, but they will be erased. I promise you. Otherwise, I'll hunt them down with my cane, partner. »

You snorted. His hand patted your arm, proud of his motivation speech. He began to understand something. This was the way Sky comforted you, how you did it for her too. He had always thought it hard to do, but everything came from his heart. His truth, his feelings. Determination took over his gaze. With a few minutes of silence, you were able to put your mind together, the scientist next to you, joking around, leaning on the railing like a bachelor. At peace, you inspected the lit-up streets again. 

« Thank you Viktor. »

He nodded, scratching his neck.

« How you would feel if we… ran away from this horrendous noisy place? »

You stared, flabbergasted. Nervous, he shrugged.

« Jayce has the crowd’s attention. I wish to flee this aristocrat and you quite obviously don't want to be here. Let’s change, get some food and sit elsewhere. In a calmer, more familiar place. »

You considered it, still shocked. One of the co-founders of Hextech fleeing the launch party? That would be bad. Especially with an assistant. However, the crowd was dense and captivated. And the young man's knee seemed to hurt him; his knuckles were white around his cane. Well. You had a plan. 

« Let's get out of here, partner.» You said, grabbing his arm.

Maybe life would not be too hard. Your team could survive it all. Those thoughts were left to linger in the dark. The balcony you had invested at the party did have a beautiful view. But it could never compare to the laboratory’s one. Sitting next to Viktor. Bundled up in warm clothes, with hot beverages and snacks, under the moon and stars.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Tease (Tid)bit Tuesday

I was tagged by my darlings @typicalopposite @bidisasterevankinard and @laundryandtaxesworld, and I decided to post a little more of Nonna Rosa meeting Buck cause I love how it's coming off! Hope you guys had a lovely Tuesday and that you like it! ♥

“Maybe I will, Nonna”, Tommy says, a wistful look in his eye as he looks at the forest landscape and the other painting. Buck is already low-key planning to find the best art supplies stores in LA and surprising Tommy with a kit of brushes and oil paints, maybe one of those fancy little holding things he’s always seen at cartoons, and a painting coat (although he’d rather have Tommy painting shirtless, but that’s not a vision he wants to dwell on in front of his boyfriend’s grandmother).

“That’s a good boy”, Nonna says, her voice filled with pride, and then she looks critically at the bags still on his hand. “Now off you go, take these bags to the bedroom before our merenda runs cold, hm?”

“Sí, Nonna” Tommy easily agrees, kissing Buck’s cheek as he passes by him towards a dark wooden door, that from what Buck can see leads to a hallway where the bedrooms probably are. 

“Do you need some help, babe?” Buck asks, the pet name slipping out before he can stop himself, but Nonna doesn’t even bat an eye, she just smiles cheekily at him, playing with the tip of her braid. 

“Oh, Evanino, I’m sure Thomas will be very glad to show you the bedroom, but later, hm? I just said I don’t want the food getting cold”, she says with a wink, and both Tommy and Buck are left spluttering, blushed to the tip of their ears. 

“Dío, Nonna, you can’t say things like that, you’ll scare him off!”, Tommy says grumpily, sounding just like an embarrassed teenager as he rushes towards the hallway, grumbling under his breath. 

“Non-sense, Tommaso, he’s a firefighter. It takes a lot more than a mouthy old lady to scare you, doesn’t it, Evanino?” She pokes his arm, and Buck can’t help but laugh, nodding at her. “Now come, it’s time for you to meet the heart of any house”

“The kitchen, right?” Buck asks, and Nonna smiles, clapping her hands together.

“Sí, la cucina! Did Thomas teach you that?” She asks curiously, and Buck shakes his head, a small smile showing up on his face. 

“Actually, my captain, Bobby. He’s recently moved, and he kept telling us that a house had to be chosen by the kitchen, cause that’s where the heart of the house beats” Buck tells her, and Nonna nods approvingly.

“Ah, a wise man! I like him already!” She exclaims, and then motions Buck with her hands. “Now, follow me before my cake burns in the oven, hm?”

Buck follows Nonna through a worn white door. If the rest of the house looks well-loved, the kitchen brings it up to eleven. The floor is made of honest-to-God white and black checkered tiles, something Buck has only seen in cartoon kitchens, and they match perfectly to the light yellow walls. The walls here are cleaner than in the living room: Buck can only see one painting: a replica of The Last Supper (and he’s pretty sure Tommy’s not the artist of that one) placed over a wooden table, covered in a flowered tablecloth. 

On the opposite wall, he can see a black-and-white wedding portrait that looks at least fifty years old. It shows a young woman with a scrunchy smile and a man who looks so much like Tommy that Buck’s heart skips a beat, the resemblance almost jarring. Near an old cuckoo clock, there’s also a calendar hanging on the wall, its date marked in red and an image of a saint peeking from the top.

The counters, however, are a completely different story. Most of their surfaces are covered by small vases containing herbs that make the kitchen smell like a farm market, and Buck couldn’t name even half of them. Most of them are crammed in the counter closest to the large wooden-paneled window, but the rest of the surfaces are covered in jars, pots and pans, put together in a chaotic way that, somehow, looks like it follows its own system. Closer to the sink, where there’s a clean space lightly dusted with flour, Buck can see a mushroom-printed glass jar holding at least a dozen wooden spoons, and proudly displayed beside it, a rolling pin that looks a hundred years old. 

The gas-burning stove is painted red, though its side is chipped, and the light blue fridge hums loudly in the corner, its surface a mosaic of photographs. Most are of people—friends, family, loved ones—and Buck’s chest tightens when he spots a photo of himself and Tommy, taken just a few weeks ago, placed proudly at eye level. The sight warms him in a way he wasn’t expecting. It’s so different from the spotless, minimalist kitchen his mother kept—so far from his own, with its modern appliances and practical, clean-cut utensils. Nonna’s kitchen looks old, and messy, and lived-in.

And Buck loves every inch of it.

Np tagging @weewookinard @perfectlysunny02 @littlepaws9 @silversky9 @mmso-notlikethat @30somethingautisticteacher and whoever else would like to join! ♥

[thefrogman]

Recently I took a panorama of the Pittsburgh skyline at night that got a positive response. That was done on the spur of the moment with an iPhone. I want to do that again and more, but this time with a dedicated camera setup. It's been years since I've had one, so I'm basically starting over again. I'm mostly interested in getting day and night cityscapes, and maybe the carryings-on at this year's Anthrocon. Would you have any particular knowledge to pass on as I set off on this journey?

Since you didn't specify a budget I'm going to assume it is in the $10K range.

And you're probably thinking I'm going to suggest a Leica. Every dentist and his brother (who is also a dentist) gets a Leica. But I just can't take a camera brand seriously when they charge you an extra $2200 for the privilege of not being able to shoot in color.

Sure, you can hit a single button in Lightroom to get B&W and save some money, but then you won't be able to brag about how limiting yourself to only shades of gray has opened up new artistic pathways in your brain while a clueless person responds in mumbles during their root canal.

What you really want for your landscapes is a Hassie.

They were the first camera on the moon! How could you *not* want a Hasselblad? That is some camera gorgeousness right there. And it's so reasonably priced*!

*compared to their previous $40,000 camera systems.

And if you are doing landscapes with the Hassie you'll need a nice wide angle lens to go with it. This one is actually quite affordable*!

*compared to their previous $8000 lenses.

Can we all agree that is a work of art? They even use their H logo as the knurling.

That is just so... extra. And I love it.

Out of the entire alphabet I've heard Hs give you the best grip.

Man, I almost wish I was a dentist just so I could buy a fancy camera.

Sorry... I was just having a little fun.

I never get to recommend the super cool expensive cameras. Because, ya know, the economy and the fact that only dentists have Hasselblad money.

You probably think I'm being silly but there actually is an entire community of dentist photographers keeping the high end camera market alive.

Okay, let's get started...

Landscape Buying Guide

Opening Thoughts

For landscapes I would highly suggest a full frame camera and a high quality wide angle lens.

Full frame has several advantages but it is not necessary. You can go with a smaller sensor like APS-C and get great images. Personally I would not go any smaller, but there have been some great landscapes taken on micro 4/3 and even smartphones. Technique, knowledge, experience, and composition will usually win the day over a camera, but having a nice camera makes things a lot easier.

At this point, with full frame options being very affordable now, the main reason to get a smaller sensor is if you want a smaller system that is easier to carry for extended periods and easier to pack when traveling. Or if you aren't sure you want to take on photography as a hobby, you can get an old APS-C DSLR for under $200 to learn with and test out.

So if you need a very cheap OR very compact system, APS-C and Micro 4/3 might be worth considering, but a bigger sensor will cause less frustration most of the time.

Froggie Note: The expensive Micro 4/3 and APS-C systems are the compact ones. The cheap systems are about as bulky as full frame.

The biggest advantages to full frame are low light shooting, lens selection, and field of view. Full frame cameras have many, many more lenses to choose from. And since the sensor is bigger, it is much easier to get a wider field of view that is often needed for landscapes. And the high ISO noise performance tends to be better on full frame.

However, you can use full frame lenses on APS-C camera bodies within the same ecosystem. They just get a little... zoomier. Roughly 1.5x zoomier. A 35mm acts like a 50mm, for example. So if you want to spend a little less now you can get an APS-C camera with a full frame lens and then upgrade to full frame later on without having to buy a new lens. Full frame lenses work on APS-C bodies but not the other way around.

Most landscapists have a really solid 16-35mm lens and that covers almost all of their needs. So I would suggest something comparable. Please don't get suckered into some crazy 18-300mm superzoom. Just get the focal range you need for the photos you want to achieve.

A purpose-built lens always outperforms one that was made to do everything.

As far as where to get used gear, I highly recommend using KEH or MPB when buying used camera bodies. They check every device and offer between 3 and 6 months warranty to make sure the device won't crap out on you. Lenses are typically a lot more robust and a safer thing to buy on eBay or Facebook Marketplace if you can find a better deal. But the security of having a warranty and a return apparatus if something goes wrong might be worth the extra price when using these two sites.

I am going to recommend Canon, Nikon, and Sony systems. I feel they have the most complete ecosystems with gear that spans all budget ranges. I'm not saying there aren't good cameras from other brands, but you have to remember every camera has an ecosystem surrounding it. There are accessories and upgrade paths and niche lenses that may not be available with other brands. I think Fuji has some tempting options and if you like the look of vintage film photography, their emulation options are quite stunning. Their cameras are also quite attractive and have very satisfying knobs. But I still can't recommend them unless you have a specific reason for wanting their gear.

Just remember that for every Canon DSLR I recommend there is a comparable Nikon option available as well. There are more lenses for a Canon full frame DSLR body than any other brand with Nikon coming in a close second.

So if you choose not to go mirrorless yet, the Canon and Nikon DSLR camera ecosystems are immense and have tons of gear and accessories available to go with them. And since used gear holds up really well, those ecosystems will survive for decades.

Should you buy a mirrorless camera or a DSLR?

Mirrorless cameras are the latest camera technology for interchangeable lens camera systems. At this point they are superior in every aspect and they continue to improve year by year. Because of that, used DSLRs have plummeted in price. This allows people greater access to a starter ILC (interchangeable lens camera) without a significant investment. You can get professional quality images on either format, but mirrorless has a shallower learning curve and much better automatic modes.

The in-body image stabilization (IBIS) stabilizes *every* lens and the eye tracking autofocus make "focus and re-compose" extinct. These are huge selling points for a lot of people. With IBIS you can take photos with up to 2-4 second shutter speeds without a tripod. And never missing focus on a human or animal or bird is pretty cool too.

DSLR camera bodies are no longer being designed by most of the major manufacturers. Thankfully Canon and Nikon developed plenty of bodies and lenses, so you will always have options and upgrade paths. But you will not be able to upgrade to systems with the latest advanced features.

The best DSLRs available are probably the Nikon D850 and the Canon 5D Mark IV. That is as good as it will ever get. The technology ends there. So if you want to enter an active camera ecosystem then you will have to get a mirrorless camera.

DSLR Camera Systems

Full Frame DSLR Camera Bodies

Canon

If you buy a used DSLR, there are some very affordable full frame options. In fact, the classic much-praised budget full frame Canon 6D can be had for under $300 right now.

This is an old camera. It has no fancy features. It only has 20 megapixels. It just does what it says on the tin. But it has a big sensor and a *ton* of really cool lenses available for it.

If you are specifically looking to create really high resolution panos, you could also look at the 50 megapixel 5DS R for around $1000.

There is a community of landscape pano-maniacs that love to create "gigapans" that have endless amounts of detail where you can zoom in and find new details in every photo. I was only able to create a 120 megapixel photo, but you can still find things like people starting a campfire and a dude fishing and a truck on a far off bridge. So even though this seems expensive for a DSLR, you are looking at another thousand bucks to find anything with more megapixels than this bad boy, so it is quite a good deal relatively speaking.

Nikon

Probably the best DSLRs ever made were the Nikon D800 series and you can get the Nikon D800 for $464.

This is a newer camera than the 6D with more megapixels (36) and a better sensor. It also has a more modern autofocus system and about 3 more stops of dynamic range which can come in handy for landscapes. This is an incredible camera for this price.

APS-C DSLR Camera Bodies

If you aren't sure you want to commit to this hobby, you can look into a Canon APS-C sensor body like the Canon Rebels and Canon 60D through 90D models and get good results.

And there are many Nikon DX APS-C bodies that would be great starter cameras as well. If you get a Nikon, you'd have an upgrade path to the D800 if you get hooked by the photography bug. I would miss a few very special Canon lenses like the 100mm f/2.8L macro and the 400mm f/5.6 telephoto but I'm sure I could figure out some reasonable Nikon alternatives that would do roughly the same thing.

Canon APS-C

There is a Canon 60D for $139 right now that would be perfectly adequate for landscape work on a tripod.

That was my first camera and I took some very nice photos with it. Only 18 megapixels but it has a very convenient flippy screen which was really helpful for a disabled photographer trying to get low angles.

This was in 2014 and I didn't know what I was doing but that is a pretty stellar-looking sunset for a (now) $140 camera.

Nikon APS-C

And the Nikon D3400 would be a great option as well at around $184.

You get some extra megapixels (24) and it is a bit newer than the Canon. I get the sense that used Nikon DSLRs give you more value for your money right now but I don't have a large enough sample size to confirm that.

Full Frame DSLR Lenses

Froggie Note: I am recommending full frame lenses even if you choose an APS-C DSLR body so you have an upgrade path. But also very few purpose-built APS-C lenses had superior glass. Just remember, crop sensor APS-C cameras add ~1.5x to your focal length. So a 16-35mm will have the equivalent field of view of a 24-50mm lens. Still quite acceptable for landscapes, but you may benefit from doing panoramas more often. And if you upgrade to full frame down the road, you'll already have the ideal lens.

Canon DSLR Lenses

If you get the 6D or another Canon you could pair it with the beloved-by-landscapists Canon 16-35mm f/4L.

Honestly, it is blowing my mind you can get that combo for under $600. Me from 12 years ago is super jealous right now.

If you are worried you might need something to work in lower light and still want a zoom, the f/2.8L starts at around $434.

This might be the most famous landscape lens of all time. Kinda boggles the mind how many gorgeous vistas this thing has captured the light of.

If you can live without the zoom, you could get a much sharper prime lens that can also be used in even lower light. A used Sigma 24mm f/1.4 Art lens is $439 would be a fantastic option.

24mm is still a very good focal length for landscapes and the sharpness of this lens lends well to panoramic stitches. Seriously, these art lens are so freaking sharp. Although 35mm is typically preferred for most street photography, I think this would do great for that purpose as well. It couldn't do close up portraits, but 3/4 and full body portraits would look great. I also love this focal length for doggos. It enlarges their heads a bit which enhances adorable-ness.

Though I probably wouldn't recommend the 24mm on APS-C for landscapes as it would put you near a 40mm full frame equivalent field of view.

Nikon DSLR Lenses

And on the Nikon side of things you could get the Nikkor 16-35mm f/4 for $399.

This is a great lens too. Very comparable to the Canon L glass. And paired with that D800 you would have a better shooting experience than with the 6D if it fits within your budget.

It's a little harder to find, but you can also get that same Sigma 24mm f/1.4 Art lens for Nikon at around $528 used on Amazon and in the $400 range on KEH and MPB when it is available.

The older and softer Nikkor 28mm f/1.8 is a little more affordable and easier to find.

What if you are not a dentist but are willing to save up for something a little nicer?

Enter the world of...

Mirrorless Camera Systems

Sony currently has my favorite ecosystem of mirrorless cameras and lenses and they are consistently ahead of the other brands as far as technology and features. In fact, many other manufacturers use Sony sensors. They literally supply their competition with their own tech. They are also pretty good about updating firmware—even with older models. So I feel like Sony has a lot of future-proofing advantages over other brands. Sony has a great selection of 3rd party lenses like Sigma, Tamron, Viltrox, Laowa, Samyang, etc. These lenses often have nearly the same optical quality as Sony's G Master lenses at a fraction of the price.

Full Frame Mirrorless

Currently, I think the best value full frame mirrorless camera for landscapes would be the Sony a7R III.

This is very nearly a top-of-the-line landscape camera for a little over $1200.

That might sound like a lot, but I want to be clear...

This isn't just decent. This isn't "good enough." This is a spectacular professional grade full frame camera.

10 years ago you could spend $6500 for a *worse* camera. 5 years ago you could spend $3000 for a *worse* camera.

It can do every genre of photography except for maybe fast paced sports/action. It has an amazing 42 megapixels—which are not necessary but they do make editing and printing a lot less of a headache. The file sizes can get a little big, but storage is a lot cheaper than it used to be.

Oh, and it can be used for professional quality 4K video work too.

The a7R III comes with all of the modern bells and whistles including in-body stabilization (IBIS) so you can handhold at very slow shutter speeds. It has one of the best autofocus systems—complete with eye tracking. But not just human eyes! Dog eyes. Cat eyes. Bird eyes. If it has an eye, the Sony can probably lock focus on it. And it has an admirable 10 fps burst shooting mode.

APS-C Mirrorless

If you want to enter the Sony ecosystem but can't afford full frame quite yet, you could do the a6400 for about $600.

You still get the eye-tracking and the in-body stabilization, but you will lose some image quality at higher ISOs due to the smaller sensor size. However, you can get the same full frame E-mount lenses for it and upgrade to a bigger sensor later on and not have to buy new lenses.

Mirrorless Landscape Lenses

I think a good value landscape lens would be the very impressive Tamron 20-40mm f/2.8.

This is a newer lens so there aren't many deals on used options yet. But this is still a great price for the quality and versatility you get. You will never regret spending a little more on glass.

The 20mm range can fit an entire cityscape in the frame without needing to do a panorama. But if you zoom to 40mm and mount the camera vertically, you could stitch together several photos to get well over the 100 megapixel range.

Also, the 40mm focal range is long enough to do street photography and even head & shoulder portraits. The wide f/2.8 aperture combined with the high-ISO friendly full frame sensor and in-body stabilization means you can shoot in very low light without a tripod. You can also get some great pictures of stars if you travel to someplace with minimal light pollution.

The cheapest landscape zoom lens I could find was the Sony 16-35mm f/4 at $384.

It's one of Sony's older lenses and may not take advantage of all of the a7R III's pixels, but it would be a good option to get you started in this system and upgrade the lens later on.

Mirrorless Prime Lenses

Zoom lenses are great but you have to spend more to get tolerable quality. Kit zooms can be softer than even the tiny plastic lenses on your phone. So a great way to stretch your budget is to get multiple fixed focal length "prime" lenses. Primes can be built inexpensively while still having good low light performance and decent sharpness.

For instance, you could start with something like the Tamron 20mm f/2.8 for $175. And if you want to do more than landscapes you could add the Sony 50mm f/1.8 for $170 later on. Cheap primes will outperform any of those mediocre kit zoom lenses in that same price range. You lose some versatility and have to deal with the pain of changing lenses or zooming with your feet, but sometimes a tight budget demands a little pain.

There is also a higher quality 3rd party wide angle prime lens that is very popular right now. The Viltrox 16mm f/1.8 is only $549 and the reviews say it has similar quality to lenses 3 times its price.

If you have to choose between a better camera body or a better lens, a good lens will help your photos more than a fancy camera body.

Froggie Note: These are examples. You should always do your own research before making a major technological purchase. This post could be a year old by the time you see it and there could be new stuff that is better. But all of the principles I tried to convey should hopefully guide you to a good decision. Also, feel free to message me if you want to ask about specific gear you are considering purchasing.

More Resources

This is my Encyclopedia of Lens Terms which is a helpful primer in understanding all of the wonderful and different lens options available on ILCs.

This is my buying guide for low budget used DSLRs. Similar to this post but less geared toward landscapes.

And this guide for getting decent landscape photos with any camera.

This is a free tutorial that teaches you everything you need to get started with an ILC system.

And this free tutorial by Karl Taylor is quite good as well.

[dr-hanwool]

the regular

Timeline: 2024 November 2nd, Saturday, late night. Location: The Playroom, Bangkok. Mood: Excited to see his obsession Rain again Attire: See this post. Man is HANDSOMEEEEE! With: @poorlboy Music: Easy by Jaehyun, which is playing low in the background of The Playroom

It was another warm night in Bangkok when Kim Han-wool made his way down the dark streets to the destination he had had in mind for hours. His surgery was open at reduced hours on the weekend, but he had to stay over time tonight since there were an influx of patients today. As soon as Hanwool finished signing off on the final prescription of the evening, he closed up shop and headed on home to his condo, wanting to shower and get ready for the next - and more exciting part - of the night.

The Playroom had been an area he frequented now that he was living in Bangkok. In his previous visits, he never dreamed of entering such a place. His strict upbringing and no-nonsense attitude would never have allowed him to set foot in an escort establishment, or even call for one to entertain him for the night. But after having permanently relocated, it was time for a change. The old him died alongside his first love, for whom he still grieved over.

Bangkok was a fresh start, in so many ways. By day, his practice was booming. There were many Koreans living in Thailand, a few who were still settling into the country, so they were thankful to be able to speak in their native tongue when it came to their medical problems, which could be difficult to translate into Thai.

By night however, Hanwool would explore the city he loved on his visits here throughout his life. He went to the night markets, talked to strangers, visited bars and clubs - all things he should have done in his twenties, back when he was young, that he never allowed himself to do.

The Playroom would not have been his choice of club, if Hanwool was being honest with himself. He'd never have thought about it at all, if it weren't for a fleeting image he saw, of a man who looked far too familiar entering through the double doors. Hanwool had been like a man compelled, following the stranger into the establishment. He had no idea what he had walked into, eyes widening at the decor, the place almost menacing with its dim lighting and obviously adult theme - but he had to see the man again, no matter what.

He resembled Yeong too much...

Since that day, Hanwool had become a regular at The Playroom - but only for him. Sometimes he'd visit once a week; other times, when he was busy, it would be less frequent. Sometimes he'd come alone; sometimes he'd come with friends. But the one constant in his experience at the establishment was the escort whose name typed into the online booking slip, the autofill doing its technological magic to make sure the name RAIN stared back at him through his phone screen.

When Hanwool entered the club, he was greeted warmly by the man he knew now as the manager. He didn't need to be read the rules, or told where to go. A simple nod of his head, indicating that his booking had been received, was the only communication needed before Hanwool wandered over to the red and black booths. He slipped inside, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, allowing himself to relax. He waited for his escort, trying not to obviously glance around for the man, his fingers drumming on the table in anticipation.