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ladsonlads · 9 hours ago

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Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part Two

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> I'm sorry it took so long. I have been obsessing over trying to make part two perfect but I don't think I can. It's time I share my baby with you, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Tags -> Angst, fluff :)

Trigger Warnings -> Character death, heavily mentions grief. Some parts are suggestive but there is no smut.

Word Count -> 18.8K (it got kinda crazy)

Late October

It was cold, dark and gloomy; the weather a perfect pathetic fallacy to the narrative of your life. The freshly disturbed patch of grass failed to convey the significance of who laid underneath it. It was vexing, how the world continued to spin on it’s axis despite the fact that it stopped spinning for you.

It hurt to think about the events that led to your undoing. The weeks prior to the moment your mother drew her last breath. You were a cracked vase filled with wilting flowers and overflowing regret. Every breath you took consumed more energy than you could spare and yet the world just. Kept. Spinning.

“I brought you flowers. Yellow tulips, by the way.” The words felt like lead on your tongue. It was one thing to accept your mother was never coming back, it was another to try to act normal about it. “I know you never cared for them, but I didn’t think leaving a pack of cigarettes on your grave was very tasteful.” You bitterly smiled to yourself at the memories of your mom sneaking a cigarette in the backyard when she thought you were asleep. It was a nasty habit you did everything to rid her of. A fruitless attempt to protect her from the inevitable.

“I’m sorry I haven’t figured out your epitaph yet. It’s just so hard to condense your entire life into a few words. Plus, they charge by the letter, so I’m trying to be really selective.” It felt weird, speaking into empty space, but you read online that it helped with grief, so you tried anyway.

That was how you approached most things nowadays. Eating, drinking, sleeping, they all seemed meaningless. But, you knew you couldn’t survive on just antagonism and mourning, so you did it anyway.

“Zayne called again. I know you told me not to hate him and that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t bring myself to agree.”

The moment Zayne told you that the heart that could save your mother’s life was going to someone else replayed in your mind like a scratched vinyl stuck on an aggravating note.

“I got so frustrated by his constant calls that I threw my phone into the ocean.” You let out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s the last time I bring anything with me when I’m walking along the coast.”

You paused for a moment, feeling stupid. But you had so much to say to her, it all just began spilling out.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I might lose the house. I burned through all my paid leave, and the idea of going back to work for Sylus makes me want to put my head through a wood-chipper. I know I have to, but how can I focus on work when I have nothing left to work for?” You tasted the tears before you felt them, the saltiness reminded you of your weekends at the beach with your mom. You did everything to get out of joining her, you hated the beach, but it was her favourite place to be and in a desperate attempt to cling on to whatever was left of her, you forced it to be yours too.

“I’m sorry I never got you that house you dreamed of, or the dog. I’m sure there are lots of dogs in heaven, and at least the dogs there have been screened. With my luck any dog I would’ve gotten you would’ve been evil.” You teetered around the grievance you truly wanted to apologise for.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you before you passed away. I was so sure you would get the transplant. I tried so hard to save for it. I should’ve been with you. If I knew—” The sobs raked through you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat down next to her tombstone, leaning your head against the chiseled rock.

There were moments when you’d wake up, and in the haze of your muddled mind you’d forget she was dead. But then the ache in your body is deciphered by your mind, and you’re reminded of just how much you’ve lost. Maybe that’s why they called it mourning. Grief dawned on you like the rising sun.

Life had a way of being entirely unfair, and there was nowhere to hide from fate’s piercing claws. And as if to ensure you hadn’t forgotten just how cruel life could be, your head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find the last person you wanted to see.

Sylus was dressed in a long black coat hanging effortlessly off of his broad shoulders, a black dress shirt that really should’ve been buttoned up to the top, and a pair of black slacks that made his long legs look impossibly longer. He looked every bit the cunning grim reaper, and it wasn’t just because he was surrounded by graves.

“I didn’t know you were back in the N109 Zone.” The words came out harsher than you intended as your head returned to it’s position against the rock.

Sylus stopped in front of you, lowering himself to his haunches so that you would be face-to-face. It stung to look at him, so you focused on picking at the grass instead.

“I only got back a few hours ago. I heard about your mother. I’m sorry.” Having been deprived of his voice for over a month, you cursed the butterflies that coursed through you like muscle memory. Part of you wished he’d returned disfigured, but you knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Ugly or devastatingly beautiful, the storm that was Sylus could not be stopped, only weathered.

“Sorry that she died or sorry that you weren’t there?” The bitterness in your tone was unfamiliar to you. Even though you knew it was unfair of you to expect him to have stayed, he left immediately after he dropped you off at the hospital and you hoped he’d have been there just a little longer. It didn’t help that you didn’t hear from him until two weeks later, and by then you were too engrossed in your battle against Akso hospital’s medical board to respond.

“You haven’t been answering my calls; they’re not even going through anymore. You haven’t blocked me, have you?” Sylus countered your question with one of his own. If you cared enough, you might’ve called him out on his diversion.

“No, my phone broke.” That was an understatement if there ever was one.

“How long ago?”

“A week.” That much was true and since you couldn’t afford a smart phone, a shitty $30 flip phone weighed down your pocket.

“And all the times I called before then?” Sylus’s eyes perused you with intensity, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You weren’t dressed well, in a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you and a matching hoodie. Grieving people were allowed to dress terribly without judgement, Y/N. It’s okay.

“I didn’t feel like picking up.” The grass continued to bare the brunt of your nerves as you answered. The you that wasn’t effectively an orphan would’ve made up some excuse to protect his feelings, but you were resolved to change that. Your mother was strong, independent, and she never backed down from a fight. Not against men like Sylus, and not against her illness. If you wanted to honour her memory then you had to live your life the way she’d want you to.

“Do you have a phone now?”

You reached into the pocket of your sweatpants to take out the grey flip phone. You watched as Sylus bit back a laugh.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t need you to get me anything.” You quickly retorted.

“You’re going to need a phone from this century if you’re working for me, Y/N.” He said it so casually, as if you were put on this earth solely to serve him as his accountant.

“Right, about that…” Your determination to be confident and unapologetic began to dwindle as you wondered how to tell Sylus you needed more time.

“No. Resigning is not an option.” Twelve minutes. It took Sylus twelve minutes to return to his usual controlling self. You were impressed, truly, it was a new record after all.

“We don’t have a blood pact, Sylus. I can resign if I want to. Besides, that’s not what I was going to say. I need more time off.” You didn’t sound very convincing, but it wasn’t like you could change who you were overnight. It would take a lifetime to unlearn your bad habits.

Sylus looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. When he chose to finally open his mouth, you wished he hadn’t.

“I’ve given you a month, Y/N. That’s enough.” His statement came out so matter-of-factly, you wondered if you had imagined it. A month was not nearly enough to recover from losing your mom, but you figured a man who killed people for a living wouldn’t understand.

“It’s only been two weeks since she died. And I’m sure the temp you’ve got is perfectly competent.”

“The temp doesn’t know the company like you do and I haven’t bothered teaching him on the premise that you were returning. If you’re not back soon I can’t promise you’ll have a job to come back to.”

The tension in the air dissipated as you began to laugh. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Hysterically.

“You— You seriously think I care whether or not I have a job? I can barely will myself to eat right now—employment is not my priority.” You wiped back the tears that began to spill out. Their origin unknown, between your hysteria and sorrow, your eyes were constantly puffy.

“People die all the time, sweetheart. It’s no reason to throw your future away.” Sylus stood up straight at the end of his statement, holding his hand out to you.

The angel on your shoulder whispered that in his own peculiar way, this was his attempt at comforting you. But you stopped listening to that angel when they buried your mom under six-feet of dirt, and you couldn’t help the word vomit that escaped you like water barrelling out of a splintered dam.

You pushed away his hand, and stood up to look at him with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed.

“I get that something really dark and twisted must have happened in your youth to make you so heartless, but most people have shitty childhoods, sweetheart. We choose not to be terrible, insufferable people because of it.” The unbridled rage you’d spend so long trying to suppress seeped out of you uncontrollably as you screamed at Sylus. You walked toward him, your anger taking hold of you as you began to push him away. A few months ago you would’ve given anything to touch him, now all you cared about was making him feel a semblance of the pain he instilled in you.

“Some of us choose to feel our emotions in their entirety, regardless of how much it hurts, because we’re not scared to love and lose. You’re a coward, Sylus and you may think that my mother dying is just an inevitable consequence of life, but my world will never be the same.” In an attempt to calm down, you took a deep breath.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.” The word vomit continued, and when you saw the hurt flash briefly within his eyes, you felt the arms of regret begin to sink their claws into you.

You shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you.

But before you could take it all back, Sylus’s phone began ringing and you figured from the urgency in which he answered it must’ve been her.

“I lost track of time, I’ll be right there.” He spoke in a low voice in what you could only assume was an attempt to mask the fact that he was leaving you for something more important, again.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Just go.” You waved him off and turned back around to face your mother’s grave, though now the tears welling up in your eyes couldn’t be entirely attributed to the grief.

Early November

You weren’t sure time could heal the gaping wound your mother’s passing left behind, but grief had settled into your life like an imposing aunt. It was in your home, touching your things, ruining your food, and never once leaving you alone. It didn’t feel so all-consuming anymore, but it clung onto you constantly like a shadow.

You were watching the third Harry Potter movie at 8am when you received the eviction notice via Email. You’d been expecting it, ultimately you were behind on rent, but the reason plastered on the paper was exponentially worse than your own incompetence.

…Selling to developers…suburban expansion project…

As if losing your childhood home wasn’t bad enough, they were planning on destroying it. Memories were bound to decay with time, that was an inevitable consequence of being human. Sooner or later you’d forget the way your mom dressed, or the smell of her perfume. Tangible things like photographs, places, they kept those memories anchored. You couldn’t lose the house, it wasn’t an option.

You spent the next hour trying to reason with your landlord over the phone, but he was committed to selling. He rejected every single one of your proposals, though even you knew they were weak at best. The developers were offering significantly more than market value, there was no way you could beat that. Stupid gentrification. But, your landlord told you he was sympathetic, and the deal hadn’t been finalised just yet. If you could match the developer’s offer by the end of the month, he’d gladly sell it to you instead.

Of course the developer’s offer was $800,000, and by the looks of your financials, you were about $796,312 short.

Desperate for a catharsis for your unending frustration, you screamed into the throw pillow on your couch until your throat felt raw. Then, you opened up your laptop to figure out a plan.

30 minutes later you had:

Sell your kidney to an organ broker and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Dabble briefly in prostitution and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Become a squatter and protest the demolition of your home environmental-activist style.

“Wow, Y/N. Graduated top of your class and this was all you could come up with, huh?” You muttered to yourself as you stared at the list of terrible ideas. Your mind hadn’t come up with something so horrific since the bed-in-breakfast Mother’s Day fiasco when you were 11.

The only option that didn’t end in bodily harm or a prison sentence was to work as many jobs as humanly possible for the next few weeks in hopes you could somehow manage to accumulate the deposit for a loan. You could probably sell some appliances too, and maybe revisit the kidney idea if it came to it.

Despite it being a long-shot, you had to try. You changed into a pair of flared leggings and a sweater. It was basic and borderline mismatched but traversing your explosive closet was a large undertaking you tended to avoid. You dug a copy of your old resume out from your file drawer, after all, it wasn’t like your experience as Onychinus’s accountant was going to do you any good. Further, listing Sylus as a reference would ensure you never got a job again.

You figured the easiest place to start was the central district of the N109 zone, bars and restaurants there were constantly hiring and from what you’d heard their only requirement was that you had two functioning legs and arms. But when you tried to leave through the door to begin the job search you collided with a formidable wall.

Since when was there a—

“Where you headed to, Y/N?” The familiar voice was so surprising it made you jump, the action accompanied by a shrill scream.

“What the fuck? Why are you just standing outside my door?” You rarely ever swore and you were sure that if your mother was still alive she’d throw her shoe at you for using the devil’s language. But of all the things you expected to see that morning, Sylus outside your door was not one of them.

“Is that any way to welcome your old employer?” Sylus stepped into your home without an invitation. Conclusive proof against your theory that he was secretly a vampire.

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, still staring at Sylus like he sprouted a second head. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d show up at your place of residence, he never did while you were still his employee.

“I need you to come back.” You choked back a laugh at his ridiculous request. Was he insane?

“Go to hell.” Your vicious response didn’t sway Sylus.

“I’ve fired an accountant every week since you left. The accounts are in complete disarray, half my businesses are behind on their bills, the other half have been paying the wrong amounts to the wrong companies. My investors are unhappy, my debtors are one week away from assuming I’ve gone bankrupt and I haven’t slept in weeks. Come. Back.” While it stroked your ego to hear that the organisation was suffering in your absence, you couldn’t just forget the terrible way he’d treated you in and out of the workplace.

“You insisted I was especially replaceable and now you’re saying you can’t replace me?” You chose to remind him of just how horrid of an employer he was, an action he didn’t appreciate.

“If you’re going to dwell on the semantics I’d rather just cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you back?” Sylus’s tone suggested he was truly trying to negotiate with you. Of course a man like him didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“Pigs to fly.” You quipped, opening your door in hopes he’d get the hint and leave.

“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t survive without you.” His desperation went straight to your head, but you stood your ground.

“Then die.” You tried to shove him out of your doorway, but he was about as easy to move as a truck.

“Everyone has something they desire, sweetheart. Name your price.” While you were ready to fire up a quick retort, his suggestion reminded you of the very reason you were about to leave the house.

Perhaps this was a sign; you could swallow your pride if it meant you got to keep your home.

You pretended to give it thought, sighing loudly in contemplation. “Fine. I want a sign-on bonus. Or in this case, a re-sign-on bonus, I guess…” You trailed off, unsure if he would agree.

“Alright, how much?” He was quick to accept your terms, and you decided to test the waters of just how desperate he was for your return.

“A million dollars.”

“Done.”

Dammit, you should’ve asked for more.

“I want a personal driver too, I’m sick of biking to work.” You would’ve been okay with just the bonus, after all, it was insanely generous. But you’d be a fool not to milk this opportunity for what it was worth.

“Anything else, princess?” The condescending nickname only added fuel to the fire as you fired off more requests.

“I don’t want to share my office with the twins anymore, they’re loud and annoying and they have no respect for the sanctity of my monthly budgets.”

“Okay.”

You masked your shock at his sudden magnanimity. “One last thing. Since you’ve come to the realisation that I am, in fact, a valuable asset to your organisation, you’re not allowed to be a dick to me anymore.”

“Elaborate.”

“No more calling me stupid or other degrading insults, threatening my job security, threatening my life — just no more threats in general — and if you’re going to assign me extra work that is beyond the scope of my job description, a please and thank you would be nice.”

“You’re pushing it, Y/N.” Of course treating his employees like human beings was the most difficult request.

“You just agreed to give me a million dollars and being nice to me is where you draw the line?”

Sylus sighed, deliberating in silence for a moment. When he saw that your resolve was unrelenting, he begrudgingly agreed. He wasn’t sure where your newfound confidence was coming from, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive.

“Alright, you’ve made your case. I’ll agree to your conditions. Now, please fix it.”

It took every fibre of your being not to break out into song and dance at your victory. “Let me get my coat.”

______________

You stared at the horrific mess your beautiful spreadsheet had turned in to. This was a disaster. A colossal, unfathomable disaster. “How could you let it get this bad?” Your voice was dripping with fear, it was like staring a train wreck.

“It wasn’t like it happened on purpose. Besides, if you’d never—” Sylus interrupted his own sentence which you were sure contained an insult, and you could almost hear the evil chuckle resounding in your head at the sight of his obedience. This was going to be fun.

“This is going to take forever to fix.” It would actually only take the day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“I need it fixed by the end of the week. Please.” He looked pained as he added the nicety. Soooooo much fun.

“Add on a massage chair for my office and I’ll get it done by Wednesday.” You wondered just how far you could push his desperation.

“Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake and when you did, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Now you could tell people ‘How to Tame Your Dragon’ was loosely based on your life.

“You know, Sylus, I’m liking this new dynamic.” Your shit-eating grin couldn’t be wiped off of your face no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh I can tell. Now, get to work.” Sylus made a show of pulling out your office chair for you, and when you sat in it for the first time in two months, you felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. And for once, the recollection of your past didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.

Mid-November

This time around, your employment under Sylus was much more pleasant. Surprisingly, he’d actually adhered to your conditions.

The twins were slightly offended that you no longer wanted to share your office with them, but their gratefulness for your return trumped any antagonism they had for you. You were kind of a celebrity in Onychinus’s executive team, their saviour, if you will.

But, the enjoyment of your newly established status could not be savoured. Undoing months of mistakes was turning out to be positively exhausting. You were an accountant; socially awkward, stuck to her Excel sheets, spent most of her free time indulging in shitty rom-coms. You were not built for briefing CEOs, Chairmen, investors, subsidiaries and of course, debtors, on your commitment to stability via video call.

Sylus insisted it had to be you, even though he usually handled the bureaucratic part of the organisation. Something about him not being able to answer their questions regarding the numbers. You told him you would tell him what to say through an ear piece like a spy movie, but he responded with a resounding no.

It was more like ‘hell will freeze over before I turn into a glorified puppet, Y/N, blah blah blah’.

Every single one-on-one conference call made you feel like you were getting hives. Not to mention the active effort it took you to refrain from making stupid jokes at every opportunity. When the last one with the representative from Onychinus’s main bank was over, you had officially smoothed over all bad blood between Onychinus and it’s stakeholders.

Giving yourself a moment to recalibrate from the sheer amount of social interaction you had been subjected to, you glared at the shared calendar event. ‘Miss Hunter’s Birthday in 13 days’.

You tried to distract yourself from that familiar sinking feeling in your gut with your work. Sylus never remembered your birthday, but it wasn’t like it mattered. You were his accountant, he was your boss. That was the extent of your relationship, even though you’d both said things to each other that would cause your HR department, if you had one, to self-emulate. But in the chaos of buying your home, going back to work and learning how to navigate life with your unwanted companion; grief, you’d forgotten all about your feelings for Sylus.

They weren’t gone but they were muted, like a voice screaming out to you while your head was underwater. Most of the time they were easy to ignore, but in times like these they were too loud to overlook.

You couldn’t dwell on your self-pity for long because there was a knock at your door. No one ever knocked on your door, people just tended to barge in.

“Come in?” Confusion dripped from your voice. When the door opened to a pair of twins with shameful smiles, you knew they were about to ask you for a favour.

“We… fucked up.” Three words you never wanted to hear coming out of either Luke or Kieran’s mouth.

“What have you done?”

“Long story short. Boss sent us to pick up a gem for Miss Hunter’s birthday. It’s really rare. The man who owns them is this older, heart of gold type old guy who refuses to sell to nefarious people because of his outdated principles. He wouldn’t give it to us, said something about us being part of Onychinus. We knew if boss didn’t get this gem today he’d have our heads displayed on mantels in his office, so we threatened the old man with a gun and then an entire arsenal of security appeared out of thin air and we were blacklisted from the property.” Kieran’s explanation left you astounded.

The twins had their fair share of asinine mistakes, but this one might have taken the cake.

“You threatened an old man with a gun…”

“Yes.” Kieran responded.

“Over a gem?” You asked in disbelief.

“A very rare gem!” Luke corrected.

“Huh. How am I supposed to help?” It was a genuine question, you didn’t really see a way out of this one.

“Can you go and convince the old man to sell the gem to you?” Kieran’s request made your eyes widen in protest.

“No way! I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable business meetings.” And wasn’t that the truth. If you had to see one more man in a business suit ask you ‘if you even knew what you were talking about’ you might throw your laptop into the first body of water you could find.

“Please, Y/N. Sylus will kill us. Do you want our deaths to hang over your conscience?”

Luke’s question was an innocent hyperbole, but at the mention of deaths hanging over your conscience, you were reminded of your mom. Your face dropped, your fingers slowly forgetting what they were supposed to type. Kieran, the more observant twin, elbowed Luke.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, I’m not going to burst into tears.” You weren’t sure that was true quite yet, but fake it till you make it, right?

“Will you help us? Please. We’ll owe you big time.” The line was clearly rehearsed since they said it in unison, or maybe it was some weird twin telepathy thing. Either way, it freaked you out so much you agreed.

“Fine, what’s the address?”

_____________

You knocked on the large wooden door of a beautiful home. It was classically designed, a perfect intersection between modernity and the timeless complexity of archaic house designs. It was rare to see homes like these in a society that prided itself on progress.

When you heard the sound of soft feet shuffling toward the door, you felt the guilt eat at you internally. You were tricking an old man into selling a gem to people he very reasonably did not want to sell to.

“Y/M/N?”

Did he— why did he call you by your mother’s name?

“That was my mother, I’m her daughter, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I’d finally lost it. Come in, come in.”

Your interest had been piqued, and you forgot all about the gem as you entered the old man’s home.

“I must say, I’m surprised you’re here. Did your mother send you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “She passed away just over a month ago.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, dear. Are you alright?” The question was filled with so much warmth it made tears well up in your eyes. Your mother never had any friends, and you were estranged from your extended family. You were all alone in your grief, and hearing someone who knew your mom in some capacity ask you if you were alright felt bittersweet.

“Yeah. I’m doing okay. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know her?”

“You don’t know? I figured that was why you were here.”

Right. The reason you were here, the gem.

“No, I’m actually here entirely coincidentally, I came to acquire a gem.”

“Which gem were you after, dear?” He asked the question as he looked around his living room for something.

“The Painite one.”

He stopped pacing and turned to you with an accusatory stare. “This wouldn’t happen to be related to those two rowdy boys who came by earlier, right?”

“Well…” You couldn’t lie to him. He looked like the old man from ‘Up’, it was entirely unfair.

“I’m afraid I can’t sell to you. I’m concerned you’ve even gotten yourself wrapped up in such a terrible organisation.” He shook his head, his disappointment evident in his tone.

“Look, I know what you’ve heard, but most of the rumours you hear about Onychinus don’t have a modicum of truth to them.”

“Then why hasn’t your boss cleared them up?” A great question.

“In this business its good to have a reputation that instills fear in others. You’ve seen what people do for Protocores and black-market items. Onychinus serves as a… regulatory body of the underworld, the only people they harm are those that harm others.” The practiced speech came from years of listening to Sylus give it to yourself and others.

“I don’t know dear, I’ve heard some horrific things about their leader, Sylus.” You were probably responsible for a few of those rumours…

“The only horrific thing about him is his sharp tongue. Seriously, he has a way of finding your worst insecurity and then using it to drag you through the dirt.” Recognising the unhelpful tangent, you digressed.

“But when it comes to business, he’s fair and when someone hurts the people he cares about, he’s merciless. He has a good heart, it’s just encased under a very thick layer of stone.” When he didn’t look convinced, you continued.

“In fact, he wants this gem for a woman. She’s special to him and its her birthday in a few days. She’s a hunter, by the way, she saves lives. So, even if you don’t want to sell to Sylus because he’s probably half demon, you should sell it to her. You know, by proxy.” The argument was a stretch but you couldn’t help your rambling.

“You are the spitting image of your mother.”

The comment caught you off-guard.

“You think so?”

“I knew your mother when she was your age. She used to sing live at a bar I frequented with my friends. It was a simpler time, before wanderers attacked. I was head over heels in love with her, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But, she got wrapped up with the wrong guy, a real bad man, and it took finding out she was pregnant with you to break it off with him.” He recounted his past as he continued to search his drawers for something, when he came back to the couch in front of yours, he handed you a photo.

It was of your mother, except she was much younger. She was on a stage performing, a part of her life she never told you about. She looked happy and was glowing with the kind of ethereal beauty that never dwindled with time. He was right, you looked a lot like her.

“Can I keep this?” You looked up at the man, and he gave you a small nod.

“Of course. You know, I offered to help her when I found out, said I’d raise the baby as my own, but she told me I was destined for more than she could give me. Said she had to do this on her own. She was stubborn but she loved boundlessly, Y/N, just like you.”

You were confused, this man hadn’t known you for very long, how could he know such a thing? “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what that Sylus man has done to deserve your adoration, but I can tell you love him. And for you to come here on his behalf to convince me to sell him the rarest gem in the world for another woman? You truly do have your mother’s heart.”

His words sprouted doubt and introspection. Why were you trying so hard to get Sylus such a romantic gift when it was meant for someone else? Were you secretly a masochist?

“If it’s alright with you Y/N, I’d love to get to know you. Your mother was my first love, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about her.”

You gave him the sincerest smile you could come up with. “I’d like that. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about her either.”

“As for the gem, I’ll sell it to you but only if you promise to love a man who will go to these lengths for you, not someone else.”

“I promise.” You’d promise to try, at least. You told the man, who you now knew was Dr Jeffery Hunt the geologist, that you needed to get back to work. You exchanged contact information with a promise to catch up later and trade stories about your mom.

You left the house with the rarest gem in the world in one hand, and an infinitely more valuable picture of your mother in the other.

___________

You walked toward your office where Luke and Kieran should have been to find the door slightly ajar. You stopped just outside the door when you heard Sylus’s voice from inside your office.

“You sent Y/N to get the gem? Was the task too difficult for the two of you?” You tried to sympathise with the twins, but it was kind of funny to see Sylus berate someone else for once.

“The owner said he wouldn’t sell to Onychinus—” Kieran’s attempt at an explanation was shot down instantly.

“So you pick some random person off the street and send them in instead. You don’t send the girl the gem is for to go retrieve her own present. You have completely ruined the surprise.”

Wait, what?

“No, it’s fine, we sent Y/N not Miss Hunter.”

“Miss Hun— why would you assume it’s for her?” The question hung in there for an uncomfortable moment, after all you assumed the same thing.

“Her birthday’s in a few days.” Luke timidly added.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s in the shared calendar.”

“Fuck.”

With your ear plastered shamelessly against the door, you smiled to yourself. He had a bad habit of putting personal events in the shared calendar.

“The gem was for Y/N. Thanks to you imbeciles I have to figure something else out.”

Why was the gem for you? Was it poisonous? You started down at the velvet box in your hand and wondered if the gem was secretly a teeny tiny bomb.

“Is it Y/N’s birthday soon too?” Kieran’s question offended you. Your birthday was in March and both he and Luke were at your celebratory birthday dinner last year.

“No, that’s in March. It’s to celebrate her 3rd year with Onychinus. Although now I’m wondering if your time here has come to an end.” It was kind of sadistic, but it was comforting to know that Sylus threatened other people’s job security over minor inconveniences too.

“No! Please, we promise we’ll make it up to you.”

You stopped listening to the conversation as you opened the box in your hand. The gem glistened under the artificial lights as questions fired off in your brain. He wanted to give this gem to you? How did he even remember the day you started at Onychinus? And he knew your birthday?

Before you could search for the answers, the sound of footsteps approaching the door made you panic. You tried fruitlessly to escape the long hallway but Sylus stormed out before you could.

“I um, got that gem for you.” You pretended you weren’t eavesdropping and held the gem out to him, but he pushed it back toward you.

“Thanks. I was going to have it turned into a necklace, but since the cat’s out of the bag, you can decide what to do with it.” He clearly knew you’d heard everything and gave the twins a pointed glare as they scurried out of your office.

“It’s really too much. Most employers get their employees a gift card or something.” You tried to hand it back again, but he was unrelenting.

“I’m not most employers, and you definitely aren’t most employees.” The loaded compliment made you bite back a smile.

“In that case, a necklace would be nice. I have a photo of my mom when she was my age, she wore a necklace with a similar looking gem. Do you think you could find someone who can copy the design? It would mean a lot. I’d pay for it, of course.” You kept the photo in your wallet now, it quickly became one of your favourites. When you passed the photo to him, he looked at it for far longer than necessary.

“Consider it done, and your money’s no good with me. Save it for something else.” He paused for a moment, took a photo of the necklace on his phone and returned the photograph. “I see where you get your beauty from.” The comment was so nonchalant and inconsistent with Sylus’s usual dialogue that you were left speechless. Your heart battered against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape and mount itself onto him instead. Traitorous organ.

You watched him turn around and walk toward his office. The sight of him walking away from you brought back memories of that day in the graveyard and what you’d said to Sylus before he left.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.”

The guilt was eating away at your conscience, and you knew you had to let him know that you didn’t mean what you said. Especially not now.

“Sylus, wait.” He stopped just as his hand reached the doorknob of his office door and looked up at you expectantly.

You raked your mind for the right thing to say, and Sylus didn’t make a sound as you prolonged the silence.

“If you died, I’d mourn you.” And you meant it. You maintained eye contact despite the urge to look away from his intense gaze in an attempt to convey your sincerity.

He shook his head with a slight chuckle in response, and walked into his office wordlessly.

You figured he hadn’t given what you said a second thought. It was foolish to think you could ever hurt the impenetrable Sylus’s feelings. You weren’t even sure he had feelings.

But, unbeknownst to you, when Sylus closed the door behind him, he felt himself let out a breath that alleviated a pressure in his chest he didn’t know he’d been carrying. What you’d said to him in the graveyard weighed on him like an uncomfortable tumour.

Sylus knew you were right, but the idea of no one caring for him never bothered him before, not until you said it. It dawned on him that the only person who’s idea of him actually affected how he thought of himself was yours.

Late-November

“Finish up, we have a reservation at six.” At the sound of your boss’s voice, you looked up from your computer screen. Your eyes were watery from staring at the ledger for hours but you still couldn’t reconcile the $15.70 that was missing. It was driving you insane.

“Was there a meeting I forgot existed?” The calendar looked empty from where it stood on your second monitor. Well, it was empty now that Sylus deleted the shared calendar event for Miss Hunter’s birthday which should’ve been yesterday.

“No, it’s just us. I’m taking you to dinner. Now hurry up.” You couldn’t help the frown on your face. There was surely an ulterior motive.

“Taking me to dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?” You were teasing; hell would freeze over before Sylus would ask anyone out on a date. Though, maybe he already had, after all he was busy yesterday…

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re celebrating your third year with Onychinus. As an employer I believe rewarding long-term employees can strengthen their loyalty to the company.” He regurgitated the words like they were toxic.

“You stole that from the last issue of Forbes magazine. I would know since I was the one who gave you the article.” It was titled ‘Ten foolproof ways to make your employees like you’ and you thought it would be funny to leave it on Sylus’s desk.

“And I’m responding to your feedback like number 4 on that list suggested. Now, do you want to go to this dinner or should I ask someone else?”

You quickly scrambled out of your seat, you couldn’t miss out on a chance to see Sylus actively try to be a regular boss. Who could say no to dinner and a show?

“No, no, I’ll go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and followed Sylus out of the building. You asked him a series of questions about where you were going, when you’d be back, if you were getting paid for the time you were forced to spend with him, but he answered none of them.

Sylus was driving for all of 2 minutes before you began to draft an appreciation letter to the inventor of seatbelts in your head.

“You know, you may be harder to kill than a regular person, but I will die if you crash this car.” Pleading for your life in an expensive sports car was not how you expected to go.

“It’s a little early in the night for your theatrics, Y/N.” Sylus’s deadpan tone did nothing to soothe your concerns as he turned yet another sharp corner with aggressive speed.

“It’s also a little early in my life to die.” You unhelpfully added.

“Relax, will you? I’ve never crashed before.”

Well, there’s a first time for everything. You thought as you tightly gripped the handle of the door. You found yourself suddenly missing the middle-aged man who would grouchily drive you to and from work. At least he drove like he valued his life.

_______

When you arrived to the place in one piece you felt severely under dressed. Sylus was wearing his regular attire, a suit without the tie, and you were dressed in linen pants and a turtleneck. Sylus never enforced a business dress code, though in that moment you found yourself wishing he did.

The restaurant was multi-level and sat at the top of a mountain. The exterior screamed affluence and you were sure everyone who dined there was in a different tax-bracket. Sylus reserved a table on the rooftop which unfortunately meant you had to ascend four levels in your mediocre outfit that made you stick out like a sore thumb.

When you eventually reached your table, you quickly hid in your seat. While it was unrealistic to assume anyone would pay you any attention but your embarrassment was usually irrational. Nor, did it help that Sylus naturally made heads turn wherever he went. He was freakishly tall and unnervingly handsome; next to him anyone struggled to look attractive.

“You’re in a rush. Hungry?” Sylus asked across from you as you buried your face in the menu. You didn’t feel like explaining how being out with him made you feel insecure, so you forewent a response.

The waiter quickly returned with a bottle of wine. Of course Sylus’s favourite wine was known universally. Why wouldn’t it be? He practically ruled the N109 Zone.

“Thanks, she’ll have a mojito.” Before you could tell the waiter not to bring you your favourite cocktail, he was gone.

“I’m not drinking.” Your protest fell on deaf ears. “Drinking with your boss is like number 1 on the list of things you shouldn’t do if you value your job.”

“You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, Y/N. You’ve done that plenty of times sober.” Sylus smirked as he made the dry joke and you held back the urge to step on his foot under the table.

Never mind. You needed a drink pronto.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Artichokes! I said the artichoke salad looks good.” You could tell Sylus wasn’t convinced, but he dropped the matter anyway.

“Order whatever you’d like.”

“There’s no prices on the menu.” You flipped it around every which way but not a single price appeared.

“Sweetheart, the people who can afford to dine here aren’t too concerned with prices. Don’t worry and order what you wish.”

Aw, how sweet. Sylus thought you enquired about the prices because you were concerned about overspending. As if. You knew that man’s financials inside and out, if anything, you wanted to order the most expensive things on the menu.

“Jeez, my bad Mr One-Percent.” Your joke was not well received.

“Can we have one night without your incessant sarcasm?” The plea sounded genuine, but it was denied.

“We could, but that’s no fun.”

“I find you painfully unfunny, Y/N.” You smiled to yourself at his blatant lie. Everyone found you funny.

Before you could think of a retort, Sylus pulled out a large velvet box and slid it toward you on the table.

“What’s this?”

“The necklace.”

You opened it up eagerly and the sight of it brought pure bliss to your heart. It was exactly like the one your mother wore, and it was even more beautiful in person.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feeling slightly remorseful for your attitude prior to the gift-exchange, you gave him a sheepish smile.

Sylus watched you lift it up to put it on, but quickly interjected. “Allow me.” He stood up, walking toward your seat. Flushed, you clumsily turned around so your back was facing him. You felt goosebumps on your skin when his cold hands bunched your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of wired nerves in their wake.

You took your hair from his hand to hold it up, the mere feeling of your fingers brushing his gave you heart palpitations. The act was way too intimate, and despite how it good it felt to have him so close, your brain knew it was safest to pray it would be over soon.

When Sylus was done he spun you around to face him and shamelessly observed his handiwork. “It looks good.” Your brain short-circuited the moment your eyes met his, so you sat in front of him in complete silence.

The moment was rudely interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Sylus? Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!” You both turned to the source of the voice to see Miss Hunter in a beautiful baby blue gown. As if you didn’t feel bad enough about your choice in attire. You began to smile until you noticed that the arm linked with hers belonged to your mortal enemy. Dr Zayne.

You got up to greet them, despite your primal urge to push Zayne off the roof, but Sylus beat you to it. “Miss Hunter, always a pleasure.” You tried not to gag at the sight of Sylus being so gentlemanly. It became particularly hard when he kissed the top of her hand.

“I didn’t know you knew Dr Zayne.” The comment slipped out of Sylus’s tense smile with a twinge of what you thought was hostility. Was he jealous that she was with Dr Zayne? Were you jealous that he was jealous? Are you in a soap opera?

“Oh, he’s a childhood friend andmy doctor! I’m very lucky. How do you know him?” Before you could whisper to Sylus to make up some excuse, he was firing off information about your personal life to the last two people you wanted to discuss your personal life with.

“He was Y/N’s mother’s doctor.” Everyone went tense, everyone except for Miss Hunter, of course.

Your eyes followed her as she turned to you, praying she wouldn’t ask about your mother’s health. Instead, she praised your nemesis. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in protest. You wanted to swing a chair into Dr Zayne’s head, and then use the broken scraps to beat him to a pulp. But you opted to force a painful smile instead.

“He’s definitely something.” You looked right at Zayne, hoping he’d understand the implications of your backhanded compliment.

“Well, we were just here to celebrate my birthday yesterday, but the hostess said it was all booked out and silly Zayne forgot to make a reservation. We just came up to the rooftop to get some pictures, but you guys should enjoy your dinner!” Miss Hunter’s polite dismissal was the perfect opportunity to end the painfully awkward interaction and move on with your night.

“Thanks.” You were about to return to your seat when Sylus decided to continue with his commitment to ruining your life.

“You guys should join us, the more the merrier, right Y/N?”

The question you had no idea how to answer only poked at the jar of pent up murderous rage you were trying to suppress. It wasn’t like you were subtle about your hatred for the Doctor, why the hell was Sylus inviting them to stay?

“Right.” You couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you tried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to focus on making it out of this building without a homicide charge.

When Miss Hunter happily agreed, Sylus quickly waved down a waiter and made them transform your two-seater table into a four-seater. Unfortunately for you, the seating arrangements somehow ended up with you next to Zayne and Sylus next to Miss Hunter .

Zayne could feel the hostility radiating off of you in waves, but he was too scared to do anything about it.

“Happy birthday, by the way.” You offered Miss Hunter the nicety, since she was really the only innocent person at the table. Your unfounded hatred for her took the back-burner when Zayne was around.

“Thanks, Y/N. I love your necklace, where did you get it?” Yet another question you didn’t know how to answer. If this was how the entire night was going to be you might as well cut your losses and take your chances with jumping off the roof.

“It’s um, custom made.” You avoided Sylus’s glare.

“Well it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment. Her sunshine-y attitude could rival yours.

“Sylus knows the guy who made it, I’m sure he could get one for you too.” You glanced at him only to see him quirk an eyebrow at your response. Was he seriously mad? You were practically the world’s greatest wingwoman.

When Miss Hunter turned to look at him, he quickly shut her down. “He retired right after making that piece, actually. Something about getting arthritis.”

He was definitely lying. You weren’t sure why he was gatekeeping this jeweller and you never got the chance to ask.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Hey Zayne, you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something!” Miss Hunter gave him a playful push on the shoulder as she teased him. The sight would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for satan’s incarnate sitting inches away from you.

“Yeah Zayne, how was work? Steal anymore hearts lately?” You asked the deceivingly innocuous question while breaking apart a piece of bread. The double-entendre was like a secret you both shared; though the idea of sharing anything with that waste of space made you inscrutably angry.

Sylus silently observed the interaction with curiosity. Your passive-aggressiveness was a trait he thought you only reserved for him. You were always nice, to everyone. Seeing you treat Zayne so coldly was like witnessing a beaver play the piano. It was unnatural.

“Work went as well as expected.” Zayne’s clipped reply left no room for further discussion. The conversation came to do a lull, and you took it as the opportunity to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You immediately beelined away from the table that currently situated your nightmare blunt rotation and toward the women’s bathroom that was positively Zayne-free.

The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the restaurant but you didn’t get to admire it before you splashed water on your face in an attempt to cool down. There was no way you could last an entire dinner next to Zayne. Maybe you could say you were feeling sick. Probably a bad idea when he’s a doctor. Work emergency wasn’t plausible, your boss was at the table. What if you just ran away? You could live with the shame and embarrassment.

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed the heavens for your terrible luck. Seriously, you must’ve been a serial killer in your past life to deserve this fate. It was a never-ending series of unfortunate events, and you were desperate for a break.

When you eventually left the bathroom, Zayne was standing right outside the door. He startled you, but the moment the shock wore off your face morphed into a deadly glare.

“Look, I know you think I’m a terrible person but—”

“Monster is the term I’d use, but go on.” You rudely interrupted Zayne. He chose not to acknowledge your comment.

“I rarely get to spend time with MC and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ruin her birthday dinner because of me.” It didn’t take long for you to realise that MC must’ve been Miss Hunter’s first name.

Zayne ruined everything he touched, he needed no help from you.

“I’m sorry, does the fact that I’m angry at you for letting my mother die put a damper in your dinner plans?”

“Yes it does, actually.” Zayne responded quickly. He either didn’t understand sarcasm or was an even bigger dick than you thought.

“Then might I suggest you take her someplace else. It’s your fault you couldn’t get a table here. Why should I have to suffer because your incompetence knows no bounds?” You couldn’t think of a time you’d insulted someone so much in such quick succession. Dr Zayne brought out the worst in you, but you could reflect on your actions later. Right now you were at war.

“We are perfectly capable of having an amicable dinner.”

You rolled your eyes at his condescending tone. “You might be, I’m not that mature.”

“Y/N. We’re both adults.” He pleaded.

“Bite me.”

Before Zayne could open his mouth again, Sylus interrupted.

“Everything all good here?” For once in your life, you were grateful for Sylus’s interruption.

“No.” You said.

“Yes.” Zayne also said, at the exact same time.

“Zayne you should head back to the table. Miss Hunter's waiting for you.” Zayne didn’t think twice before taking the out and you internally flipped off his retreating form.

Sylus grabbed you by the forearm, his grip tight as he dragged you to a secluded part of the rooftop and away from the bathrooms.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked the moment you stopped moving, his hand still gripping onto your arm like a vice.

“Can you let go? You’re hurting me.” He quickly released you, his eyes washing over with something you couldn’t recognise as you soothed the part he’d rubbed raw.

“Why are you acting so childish?” His question would've angered you had you not been angry already.

“I hate his guts.” The response did not help your case, but you weren’t very articulate when you were upset.

“What did he do to you?” Sylus’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a low tone that was laced with danger. You didn’t think too much of his strange reaction, Sylus acting strange was pretty much the only consistent thing in your life lately.

You gnawed on your lip, unsure of how to respond. Your grievance against the world-renowned doctor was one you’d always kept to yourself. After all, everyone had nothing but praise for the brilliant Dr Zayne.

“Y/N, if he touched you I’ll—” Your eyes quickly widened in shock at his interpretation.

“No! Nothing like that. It’s just, a few days before my mom died, a heart came in that was a match. But there was this other guy who was younger and needed it just as badly. The policy was that the hospital's medical board would vote on who got the heart and the entire board, Zayne included, unanimously agreed that the heart should go to the other guy.” They said it wasn't personal, that it had everything to do with survival rates, but there was no way to detach personhood from medicine.

You realised that when you said it out loud, your hate seemed unfounded. “I know it wasn’t entirely his fault, but he didn’t even try to give my mom a fighting chance. He didn't say anything to sway them, he just silently agreed. He was supposed to be her advocate.” The frustration began to boil over, and before you knew it there were tears welling up in your eyes.

“God, I spent every last dollar of my paycheque to make sure she got the greatest medical care money could buy. Everyone said he was the best, but when it really mattered, he did nothing for her. I was such an idiot.” There was an uncontrollable fountain of tears streaming down your face, and you were grateful for Sylus’s decision to drag you to somewhere secluded.

The familiar tendrils of an oncoming panic attack began to wash over you as you began to hyperventilate. No matter how much you wanted to blame Dr Zayne, or the universe, or your shitty luck, the only person you could really blame was yourself. You sent her to that hospital, you convinced her to hold on for a transplant, you spent her last months on this Earth slaving away in another city instead of by her side. There was no way to get that time back.

“Y/N, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Sylus’s voice was like a beacon of light that led you through the dark tunnel you were trapped in. He cradled your face in his hands, wiping away your tears as they continued to stream down your face. But when your tears showed no signs of slowing, he pulled you into his arms, his hands holding your tear-stricken face against his chest.

He ran his long fingers through your hair as he whispered everything you wanted to hear. "It’s not your fault. It’s okay to hate him. It will get easier."

You weren’t sure how long you spent with your face buried in his chest, but by the time you’d returned to reality, his white dress shirt was slightly transparent where your tears soaked through the material.

You laughed a little at the sight, and the corners of Sylus’s lips raised ever so slightly at the sound. When he saw you were okay, Sylus began to speak. “Don’t move. I’ll grab your bag and we’ll get out of here.”

Before he could leave you tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.” You truly were. Sylus did not deserve to be subjected to yet another one of your meltdowns, but he seemed to have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“No it's my fault, I ruined it by inviting them to join us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sylus then manoeuvred through the restaurant toward the nightmare table. When he returned with your bag in one hand and the other outstretched toward you, your heart skipped a beat. Or two. He played the role of the knight-in-shining-armour quite seamlessly, and he looked every bit the handsome prince charming. You tried to remind yourself why it was so dangerous to be attracted to a force like Sylus, but when he smiled at you like you were the only two people in the room, all caution was thrown to the wind.

_____________

In the spirit of making things up to you, you made Sylus take you to a restaurant of your choosing. It was a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that charged so little one would question if they were serving real meat. But you never found better dumplings, so you took the risk anyway.

The dynamic was completely subverted as you sat on the table that was slightly sticky with cheap cleaning chemicals. Sylus was the one who looked out of place, his suit was unarguably the most expensive thing in the room and it brought joy to your miserable night to see him out of his comfort zone.

“How did you find this place?” The question was warranted, other than you two, the only other occupants in the restaurant were a few middle-schoolers.

“I used to come here a lot with my friends in high school.”

“Did they all die from food poisoning?” Sylus seemed proud of his quick-witted joke. You gave him a pointed glare to convey just how unfunny that joke was.

“Funny, but no. We just drifted apart after we graduated.” The clipped reply shut down any further inquiry. You thought back to the fond memories you had in that restaurant. Things were different when you didn’t yet know the cost of failure; before you knew what you’d be losing. And while everyone may have moved on from this small town in the N109 Zone, you never left.

“Do you even have any friends?” You choked on your drink at the question. He was genuinely asking and the worst part was, you really didn’t.

Your constant struggle to make ends meet and maintain a high GPA for your academic scholarships made it impossible to have a social life. It didn’t help that you went to a college you couldn’t afford. It was hard to find people to relate to when everyone had grown up with silver spoons. Then after you graduated you landed at Onychinus, and it wasn’t exactly a friendly environment.

“Of course I have friends.” Your lie was a feeble attempt to preserve the last of your dignity. Sylus had seen you at your absolute worst, but there was something extremely dehumanising about letting him know you were insanely lonely.

“Really, who?” His genuine surprise only made your insecurity worse.

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Plus, you wouldn’t know them.”

“Try me.” Of course he wouldn’t drop it. When has Sylus ever let something go?

“Well, there’s Mr Demir, and Luke and Kieran, and my newly acquired friend Dr Hunt.” In a desperate attempt to keep up your lie, you pretty much just named all the people you knew.

“Y/N, that’s the man who sells you your sandwiches, my assistants, and a geologist who sold you a gem.”

“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes a know-it-all?”

“I think you should get out more. Maybe tone down the sarcasm and you might just make a friend or two.” Your jaw-dropped in faux shock at his unsolicited advice.

“You’re one to talk, your best friend is a mechanical crow.” You snuck a dumpling off of his plate while he was distracted.

“I don’t need friends, they’re unnecessary burdens.” He took a swig of his beer. You thought he’d burst into flames if he drank anything other than red wine, but he adapted to his surroundings with little effort.

You put a hand on your heart as if in pain and jokingly gave him a solemn look.“Then why would you wish such a cruel fate onto me?”

“Because I hate seeing you this miserable, Y/N.” The amusement from your banter died a quick death at his confession. You thought you kept it together most of the time, though bawling your eyes out in the N109 Zone’s hottest restaurant probably didn’t do that facade any good. But for the most part, you handled the death of your mother relatively well.

“I’m not miserable. Not all of the time at least. Like right now, I’m only mildly annoyed!” You tried to change the topic the only way you knew how, with humour, but Sylus wasn’t budging.

“You take care of everyone but yourself and all it’s done is isolate you. There needs to be a give and take, sweetheart. People don’t like feeling useless.” He spoke to you softly, as if he was scared the timbre of his voice would cause you to shatter into a million pieces.

There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that followed his oddly specific guidance. He seemed to know more about you than you thought he did, and you were torn between feeling seen and feeling judged.

“That’s sound advice. Guess you’ve been reading more magazines.” You were grasping at straws, willing to try anything to get the unwanted spotlight off of your inadequacies.

“You also need to learn how to accept help without downplaying your problems.”

“Okay, okay. You sound like my mother. Has her soul possessed you?” There you go Y/N. Play the dead mom card, that’ll work.

He chuckled at your joke. You knew he found you funny.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Yeah, the manufacturers didn’t include an off-switch. No refunds, sorry.” You stuffed a dumpling in your mouth as the tension subsided.

“Oh, I’m not returning you, sweetheart. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” While you knew he was probably referring to the value you brought his company as his accountant, you couldn’t stifle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in your stomach.

You didn’t move when Sylus’s car stopped outside your house.

“Thanks for tonight, I had fun. Sorry it didn’t go to plan.” You turned to him after you unbuckled your seatbelt and the tight confines of the car felt even smaller.

“It’s fine, I liked this version of events better anyway.” His low voice reverberated through the small distance between you, nestling in your heart that was beating unhealthily fast.

“Me too. Next time you take a girl to dinner you ought to let her know if she’s supposed to dress like she’s going to the met gala.” Your advice had a bitter undertone because part of you still wished you could be the only girl he’d take to dinner.

“I usually do, but this particular girl doesn’t need a fancy dress to be the most beautiful girl in the room.” The candid compliment made the butterflies do summersaults, and while their gymnastics routine continued, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sylus leaned over the centre console and opened the door for you, completing the chivalrous act of opening the door for you in his own unique fashion. He was so close, all it would take was one small move and his lips could’ve been on yours.

“Goodnight.” You barely got the word out through the sudden bout of breathlessness you were experiencing. And when you were finally encased in the familiar four walls of your home, you thought about every moment you shared with Sylus and how different he seemed from the man you knew before.

The weekend passed by in a blur. The necklace that looked like a carbon copy of your mom’s was nestled on your neck. A permanent reminder that made ‘Operation Sylus: No More’ infinitely harder to achieve.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him to stop being a dick, because what you thought would be an easy feat was beginning to feel like climbing a mountain with a peak you couldn’t even see.

You were staring at the list on your notes app on your brand new phone in hopes of searing it into your memory.

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November.

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly.

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants.

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You violated step 5 that Friday when you let him take you to dinner and you were reaping the consequences of your mistake. There was no way you could survive the free-fall if you couldn't get your heart to obey your mind. The disconnect between the two vital organs might be the thing that kills you.

When you heard something shatter in the hallway, you quickly put your phone down and went out to investigate.

The door opened to Mephisto standing on a side table where an empty vase used to sit. The vase was now on the floor in pieces in front of your feet.

“You did this on purpose.” You pointed an accusing finger at the bird, but all he did was tilt his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand you. You knew he could understand you perfectly well.

The cold war between you two started in your first week at Onychinus when he would swoop at your head spontaneously for no reason. Sylus told you he did it to everyone he didn’t trust and that he’d be over it in due time, but you were too vindictive to let it slide.

Several back-and-forth pranks later, the bird seemed to have remembered the tradition you managed to forget. “If this is your way of saying you miss me then you take an awful lot after your owner.” Your words faded as you made your way to the kitchen to find the broom. However, upon your return you saw that the floor was flawless and the door to your office was closed.

You rushed in with unparalleled speed to see your worst nightmare; Sylus leaning against your desk in his usual model-like fashion with your phone in his hand.

Panic coursed through you like never before as you remembered what had been left open on your phone when you set it down and the painful fact that you left it unlocked.

Prayers for a sinkhole to open up and consume you in that very moment went unanswered as Sylus looked up at you with a smirk on his face.

“Is my laugh really deadly?” He looked amused.

Come on sinkhole. Anytime now.

When you didn’t answer, Sylus moved toward you. When he was close enough to touch you, he leaned down to make sure your eyes were on his.

“Your deadline is fast approaching, Y/N. Care for a progress report?” The taunting question made heat rush to your face.

“It was stupid, I wrote it months ago.”

“Then why did you have it open?”

You couldn’t exactly tell him that his willingness to change his cold and cruel demeanour just to keep you as his accountant revived the feelings you thought were long dead. You definitely couldn’t tell him that the necklace that suddenly weighed down your chest made your heart skip a beat every time you touched it. And there was no way you were telling him that the dinner you shared was the happiest you’d felt in a long time.

“I was going to delete it when I heard Mephisto break something in the hallway.”

“Delete it? Guess you don’t need it anymore.”

“Nope.” You popped the P on the word for emphasis. “Can I have my phone back now?” He placed the device into your outstretched hand.

“So how do you feel about me now, sweetheart?”

You tried your best to appear unperturbed by his taunting. “Mad at your blatant violation of my privacy.”

“Forgive me. I saw my name on your phone when I went to check in on you and I was curious.”

“Mephisto told you I broke the vase, didn’t he?”

“Don’t deflect. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“No, they’re gone. Can we please drop this? It’s embarrassing.” You lied in favour of self-preservation and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see through your act.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Many women confess their love for me every month.” You rolled your eyes at his ardent display of over-confidence and narcissism, though you knew he wasn’t exaggerating.

“Okay, brace yourself there bachelor. No one said anything about love.” It was true, you never said you loved him. Whether or not you did, well that was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“So then which feeling are we discussing?” The loaded question came out of his mouth so casually, like someone ordering a latte. A display of power that reminded you of just how little this mattered to him.

Your feet felt like they were grounded in their place by an invisible force and you were sure your cheeks were beet red. You knew your mouth was slightly agape in shock, but you couldn’t even close it. Meanwhile, Sylus was unfazed, treating your feelings like a game.

“Since when do you even care about how I feel?” The sudden outburst was accompanied by your hand running through your hair out of frustration.

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a moment he said nothing. There was no hint of amusement left on his features.

“You think I don’t care about you?” He seemed irritated by the premise, but you couldn’t figure out why. You thought Sylus was proud of his clear disregard for other people’s emotions.

“You treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of your boot for years. What reason did you give me to think otherwise?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I pay you more than my highest ranking footmen. Or that I had Mephisto tail you when you used to bike to and from work to make sure you got home safe. Hell, I invented the lunch budget when I hired you just to make sure you were eating— I even banned mushrooms from my kitchen in case you wanted to eat here. Not to mention the bullshit extra work I’d assign you just so you would stay longer.”

Choosing not to dwell on the implication of his silent acts of kindness, you interjected. “Hey, I took those tasks seriously!” The twins thought you were crazy when you asked if Sylus was making those assignments up. You knew you were right.

“Don’t interrupt me.” Your mouth clamped shut at his rather reasonable request. Sylus wasn’t a big talker, so when he monologued, it was important.

“Your kindness, your humour, it all caught me off guard. No one ever treated me like you did and I had no idea how to feel. The little doodles you sent back to me on the notes I left you delineating tasks? I kept every last one. When Mephisto complained to me about that time you put corn-starch in his water fountain and almost destroyed his wiring, all I could do was laugh. I treated you like I treated all my men because I didn’t want people to find out that you were my weakness.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but the pressure wasn’t budging. There was so much you didn’t know about Sylus, so much you completely misunderstood. This revelation caused a series of chain reactions to go off inside your brain and the weight of what he was trying to say felt suffocating.

You dreamed of a time where Sylus would reciprocate your feelings, but the reality of it was more daunting than you realised.

“All my threats are empty with you, Y/N. You’re the only one who gets away with the attitude you give me. You tell me you crashed a car worth over half-a-million dollars and all I could think about was if you were okay. I even offered to buy your house for way more than it was worth just to get you back. Do you seriously think I don’t care?”

All sound came to a stifling halt.

“Wait, you were the ‘developer’?”

The inklings of betrayal wove their way through your skin as the pieces began to fall into place. The timing of the eviction notice, the fact that he’d shown up at your house the day you received it, the way he was so quick to agree to the ridiculous bonus.

He manipulated you like a puppet on a string and let you think you were in control the entire time.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some traitor.” His audacious demand made your blood boil.

“You are a traitor! How could you do that to me?” You yelled.

“You were going to leave me like I was nothing!” For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus raised his voice to match yours. Your entire body went cold at his vulnerability. He was afraid of being abandoned, and that was a fear you both shared.

“Not seeing you every day made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest. I could barely focus, all I could think about was what you were doing, who you were with. So imagine my surprise when I come to find that while I’m being tortured every minute I’m away from you, you needed more time.

“I knew I was being selfish, I knew that your grief had nothing to do with me, but I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. That day in the graveyard when you wouldn’t even look at me, I thought I’d lost you for good. It ate at me like a parasite. I had to get you back and I won’t apologise for not playing fair. There isn’t a rule I wouldn’t break for you, Y/N.”

It was hard to hate him for what he did when you understood where he was coming from. You were two sides of the same coin. While you overcompensated for the lack of love in your life by becoming the ultimate people-pleaser, he avoided it at every turn, saw it as a weakness. But at the core of every human being was an innate desire to be loved and an inherent fear of being abandoned.

People couldn’t leave your life if you never let them in. That was a philosophy you saw both your mother and Sylus live by. It was lonely and difficult, and if you had the power of hindsight you would’ve tried harder to convince your mother she was worthy of love. You couldn’t make that same mistake again.

You loved Sylus, that much was ingrained into the flesh of your heart. For all his rugged edges, he had a way of making things happen that was akin to magic. His determination, his grit, it was admirable.

His intelligence was infuriating, you couldn’t get anything past him. If he received the Greeks’ horse instead of the Trojans, you were sure he’d have seen right through their ruse.

His desire to make the N109 Zone a better place stemmed from a sense of altruism you could only hope to possess. And when Sylus did things for others, he never expected anything in return.

But for all his greatest traits he had some difficult ones too. He’d hurt you more times than you could count, and even if he’d changed drastically since your mother’s death, you couldn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t hurt you again.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You confessed. It was no secret you wore your heart on your sleeve, despite your mother’s constant reminders that the world was filled with terrible people who’d take advantage of your candour. You chose to see the good in others, it boded better than the grim lifestyle that came with perpetual pessimism.

“Then why are you fighting this?” His question came out pained, and it was one you could answer.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sylus. I loved you even though you insulted me, ignored me, reminded me I was replaceable every chance you got.

“I told myself it was just how you were, that it wasn’t personal. But when you walked out on me in the hospital when I needed you the most, I loved you a little less.”

Sylus felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, like someone took a needle to his heart. He left that hospital because he wasn’t sure you’d even want him there, and it pained him to see you so distraught over a problem he couldn’t fix. When MC came to him with an important mission in Skyhaven, he saw an out, and like the coward he was he took it. If he knew that you’d lose your mother while he was away, he never would have left your side.

“When you didn’t call until weeks later, when you showed up only to tell me I was being dramatic for grieving, I loved you even less. Every time you screwed me over you made it easier to live without you.”

It hurt to remember the pain you were in back then, the immense pressure of the burdens you carried. But if there was ever a chance of you and Sylus working out, he needed to know the truth.

“I’ve only ever loved two people, Sylus, and in one month it felt like I’d lost them both. I still love you, I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried, but I don’t know if I can be more than your accountant right now.” You couldn’t survive another heartbreak, that much was for sure.

Even though Sylus looked like he was going to be sick, you continued.

“I thought I was okay with you treating me like everybody else, thought I was strong enough to take it. But when I saw you with Miss Hunter and the softness with which you spoke to her, it broke me. I saw that you were capable of being gentle. You just didn’t think I was a worthy recipient of your kindness.”

He was quick to correct you. “That’s not true, sweetheart. Not at all. She has something I need, something I can’t take with force. It’s why I’ve had to adopt unusual methods. If I’d known it was causing you so much pain I would’ve explained. Fuck, Y/N, you deserve so much more than just my kindness, more than I could ever give you. I can’t even think of a person on Earth who deserves you at all.”

When Sylus saw the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, he resisted the urge to wipe them away.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, anything but letting you go. There’s nothing so broken it can’t be fixed, Y/N. You taught me that. Let me fix this.” He tested the waters by taking your hand in his and when you let him, he pulled you into his arms.

For a moment, the room was silent. You listened to his heartbeat through his chest and it might have been even faster than yours. It felt like deja vu, reminding you of that moment in the restaurant, or that time in his hallway after Zayne’s phone call. Sylus was there to comfort you more often than not, why were you so scared of letting him in?

“I want to believe you, I just don’t know that I can.” Your voice was small, timid. As if you were afraid something you’d say would shatter the sanctity of this moment and you’d find out it was all a dream.

“I won’t stop trying until you do, sweetheart. You’re it for me, there’s no one else.” He kissed the top of your head with a softness you didn’t know he possessed and the words were like bandages wrapping around the wounds inflicted by your own envy.

In the comfortable silence, Sylus made a vow. “I don’t have regrets — you know that quite well — but I regret the way I treated you. I’ll spend every lifetime repenting for my mistakes, Y/N, and I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and the comfort his warmth brought you was a welcome change to the cold you lived in all the time.

Desperate to diffuse the overwhelming angst of the situation, you pulled away from his embrace and clapped your hands together. “Okay then, as of today we commence ‘Operation Sylus: The Redemption'.”

His loud laugh resounded through your office, and it was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. He grabbed your chin. “Have you always been this corny?”

“I watch a lot of movies, okay? Now, shake on it.” You shook his hand off your face and held out your hand with an invitation that he instantly accepted. With his warm hand encasing yours, you whole-heartedly hoped this operation would be a success.

Late December

You assumed the dynamic between you and Sylus would drastically change following your impromptu heart-to-heart. But the changes came in small waves.

It started with the middle-aged man who silently drove you to and from work with a permanent scowl on his face being replaced by Sylus himself.

Then there was the sticky notes he’d usually place on documents explaining the task and deadline, now with an added addendum.

— That necklace was the best decision I’ve ever made.

— Your hair looks especially nice today.

— Did you switch perfumes? I like it.

— That new lipstick suits you. Your lips are all I can think about.

You saved all of them in a drawer at your desk.

He had someone bring you your lunch every day and spent your entire lunch break with you. Somedays you talked until your tongue felt like it was going to fall off, other days you just sat and ate together in silence. And every Friday afternoon, instead of taking you straight home, he’d take you to visit your mother’s grave with a new bouquet in his hands.

You were glad he was taking things slow. His small gestures made your heart flutter without overwhelming you, but it had been a month since your confrontation, and he didn’t even try to touch you.

While your inexperience with love, lust and romance never impacted any significant aspect of your life before, it was growing increasingly difficult to wait for Sylus to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare you, that much was understandable. But you were growing angsty waiting for him the tension between you two hit a boiling point.

The glorious plan came to you while you were shopping with Luke and Kieran for Onychinus’s annual Christmas gala. It was a networking event masked under the guise of a holiday celebration where the people hiding in the shadows of the underworld could spend one night communicating on the surface.

Every year, Sylus insisted he couldn’t outsource waiters for the event because of potential security leaks, so you, the twins and a couple other of his staff were forced to fill in as the help. Sylus told you that you wouldn’t have to participate this year, but you began to look forward to the event. It was like an unorthodox Christmas tradition.

Your eyes drifted to the costume section of the party store, and when they landed on a short red Santa’s helper dress, you felt a lightbulb turn on in your head. Maybe you had to give Sylus a little nudge.

“Hey, aren't you guys kind of bored of the slacks and the dress shirts he makes us wear?” You sowed the seed of doubt into your unwilling accomplices.

“Duh. I hate dressing like a butler.” Luke’s eyes continued to scan the aisle for decorations. The hall was professionally decorated, but you added your own little details every year. It made things less drab and it gave the twins an excuse to spend hours in the party supply store.

“What if we went with Christmas themed costumes this year?” The twins turned to look at you with confusion, but they quickly warmed up to the idea when you pointed at the wall of seasonal costumes.

“I’m Rudolph!” They made their declarations in unison before breaking out into an argument in the middle of the party store.

“Just flip a coin!” You desperately suggested, taking a coin out of your wallet and placing it on your thumb, ready to flip. People were beginning to stare.

“I’m heads!” They said in unison, again.

“Kieran you’re heads, Luke you’re tails.” You assigned them the parts of the coin alphabetically and watched it flip through the air. When it landed in your hands, it displayed tails. You silently hoped they would move on from this unnecessary battle and restore peace to your shopping trip again.

“Sorry Kieran, Luke’s Rudolph.” Kieran complained for the rest of the day about how annoying being an elf was, and how, since he was an inch taller than Luke, it only made sense for Luke to be the elf instead.

They argued like the siblings you never had, and for all the pain and suffering they caused you, there was no denying you loved having them around. Besides, working for Sylus left the three of you trauma-bonded for life. There wasn’t really an out from this unconventional friendship.

_________________

You failed to remember to clear the costume idea with Sylus before the gala. He was just so busy trying to organise the event, and you were similarly swamped with ensuring all the invoices were sent out on time to the right vendors. You barely saw each other in the days leading up to the big event.

The dress was shorter on you than you anticipated. Coming up just above mid-thigh, it was nothing like anything you owned in your closet. The little hat it came with was cute though and you pinned it to your hair. The make-up you wore was the same as your everyday makeup, barring the eyeliner you’d spent way too long trying to perfect and your lipstick.

Other than the dress, you really did look the same as you did most of the time. Would Sylus even notice?

Right on cue, a knock on your door snapped you out of your train of thought, and you took a deep breath before opening it.

As you expected, Sylus looked unfazed by your choice in attire as you moved out of the doorway to let him in.

“I see we’ve foregone the uniforms this year.” His comment was a welcome distraction from your insecurities.

“Whimsy is part of the Christmas spirit, you know.”

“It’s cute. Did you get that dress from the children’s section?”

The question came so out of left-field it left you were stunned. Once the shock settled in, you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“No… Why? Does it look childish?” You couldn’t help the vulnerability in your voice.

Sylus closed the distance between you in a few long strides, his hands were on you in an instant. His palm was holding onto your waist the other tracing alone the edge of your dress.

“Quite the opposite, I’m just wondering why they’d make a dress so short for adult women.”

“Adult women can dress however they want, Sylus.” You chided.

“I know, but I’ll have my hands full if I’m trying to host this event and take care of the hoards of men that will be chasing after my girl at the same time.” He whispered the words seductively into your ear, the hand on your thigh slipping ever-so-slightly under the dress.

You ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed through you at the sound of Sylus calling you his girl.

“There won’t be ‘hoards of men’. This will be the third time I’m working your annual gala and I’ve only ever gotten hit on like four times.” You knew from the way his eyebrows furrowed that you shouldn’t have told him that.

“Four times? Men hit on you four times while I was in the room and you didn’t tell me?” He was clearly angry, his rage unwarranted since it happened right under his nose.

“I didn’t think you’d care. Most of them were like fifty, anyway!” That was true, and every time one of them placed a hand on your shoulder or your forearm, it made you grimace.

“If men approached you in long pants and a dress shirt with a plate of refreshments in your hand what do you think they’ll do when they see you in this get up?” He walked you back until you were standing against the wall.

He had a point. Maybe it was too suggestive.

“I can change—”

“No. You never have to do that with me, baby. Just stay where I can see you, alright?”

“Okay.” You felt a blush paint your cheeks. The tension was bubbling up between you. His hand was searing into your waist, his other one moving dangerously high on your thigh. You really thought this would be the moment he kissed you. But then the warmth of his hands was abruptly gone.

“Okay. You ready to go?” He held the door open for you. That was it? Frustrated at your lack of results, you silently walked out of your house.

__________________

“Did you see Sylus’s date?”

“Of course, she’s definitely the hottest girl here.”

“I bet she’s had work done.”

“If so, I need the name of her surgeon.”

You eavesdropped on the hushed whispers of a group of women who were gossiping in a corner near the kitchen. The second you walked through the doors of the extravagant event hall, you both went your separate ways and you hadn’t seen him since. So much for not letting you out of his sight.

All you heard about the entire night was his mysterious date and her envious beauty. He never told you he was bringing one, nor did he ever ask you to fill the spot. But before you could completely spiral, you reminded yourself of Sylus’s promise. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing working here?” Your train of thought was interrupted by the voice of a man. You turned around, expecting to see one of the many sleazy old men who frequented these events and saw you as an easy target, but all you saw was a young, attractive guy in a three-piece suit. Huh.

“Hors d’oeuvre?” You offered the plate to him in place of a response.

“No thanks. I’ve had my fill, though I must say, the other servers aren’t quite as easy on the eyes as you.” His eyes shamelessly scanned every inch of you, head-to-toe, and you felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Oh, um thanks.” The blush on your cheeks was an unwanted biological reaction, you weren’t used to attention from men within your age range. It wasn't like you thought you were ugly, you were just a bit of a hermit.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” You were about to answer his question when someone did it for you.

“Y/N.” The voice belonged to the man of the hour who seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

“Sylus, hello. Hors d’oeuvre?” Clearly you were running out of things to say if your default reaction was to offer everyone a snack, but it was hard to find the voice to speak when you saw the girl who had her arms wrapped around his.

Miss Hunter. You should’ve known. Your eyes passed over her beautiful dress and pinned up hair. She lived up to the rumours, she was definitely the prettiest girl in the room. Next to Sylus the pair reminded you of a renaissance painting. They made sense, and clearly not just aesthetically if he brought her as his date instead of you.

Sylus saw the way your eyes trailed off to MC standing next to him. He saw the self-doubt turn your eyes glassy, and all he wanted to do was whisk you away to a private room where he could show you just how badly he wanted you, and no one else.

But his enemies were in attendance tonight, it was part of the reason he didn’t want you there. Sylus’s only weakness used to be his mortality, and even that was debatable. But now his biggest weakness was tangible, and she wore an adorable Christmas themed dress that made every man in the room brim with desire. Miss Hunter may have been the focus of all the women in attendance, but all the men could talk about was the sexy server in the little red dress. It was driving him insane.

But MC was a hunter and if he endangered her, she could get out of it unscathed without his help. Their enemies were the same, which made them perfect allies, but it also made their loved ones easy targets. Sylus would never forgive himself if he let someone hurt you. So despite the excruciating pain that coursed through him at your hurt expression, he did nothing to quell your concerns.

But he couldn’t idly stand by and let this man make a pass at you either. It was clear Henry was not aware of Sylus’s newly established no-fraternising-with-the-staff policy.

“Henry, not distracting my staff, are you?” Sylus directed his attention to his business associate. Henry ran a security company which supplied a large portion of their weaponry from Onychinus. The contract they shared was a substantial source of revenue that Sylus couldn’t afford to compromise.

“I’m just wondering where you found such delectable staff.” Sylus felt his jaw clench at the way Henry undressed you with his eyes and your consequential discomfort. Fuck the contract, he was going to make that man pay. But he couldn’t inflict his revenge quite yet, so he played nice.

“Unfortunately my staff are exclusively mine. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to find loyal help.” Well, at least he tried to play nice. The subtle jab at Henry’s recent whistleblower scandal was a low blow, but he wasn’t above kicking below the belt.

Annoyed and slightly confused by the exchange, you rolled your eyes at the testosterone-fuelled men bickering and cleared your throat.

“I think I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice meeting you, Henry.” You gave him the kindest smile you could muster and gave Sylus no smile at all. It was the least he deserved for blindsiding you with his date.

“I should check on the catering, excuse me.” Sylus followed you to the kitchen and the second he caught up to you, he pulled you into a nearby storage closet.

There was barely any room for the both of you in there, so you were pressed up against his body. You tried to create some distance between you two, but he just pulled you back in by your waist.

“What are you doing? I’m supposed to be working and you’re supposed to be socialising. We can’t do those things from here.” You berated him quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t really need anyone from the staff discovering you in this compromising position. You’d had enough embarrassment in one night for a lifetime.

“Miss Hunter is just here with me on business.” Sylus’s statement did little to comfort the tumultuous storm in your mind.

“I don’t care.” In a sense, it was true. It seemed your mind didn’t care whether Miss Hunter was there with him on business or not, it still hurt all the same.

“Don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re upset.” Sylus tried to caress your cheek but you pushed his hand away.

“Okay, fine. I’m upset. Now will you let me leave?” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. His hand squeezed your face as he forced you to face him.

“If you’re upset, talk to me about it. Don’t antagonise me by flirting with other men. It won’t end well for them.” The fire in his eyes swore retribution and you did not want to be Henry right now.

“I wasn’t flirting!” You tried to defend yourself but you knew he’d see straight through your ruse.

“That sweet smile of yours is reserved for me and me alone.” There was no way Sylus would’ve let that over-the-top smile slide and this was exactly how you expected him to react, but it only made you more upset.

“Right, but I just have to make do with sharing you with Miss Hunter.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Sylus, but he had a laundry-list of crimes, hypocrisy was the least of them.

“I’m all yours, baby. I promise it’s just business.” He sounded sincere, and you trusted him to tell you the truth. Sylus never lied unless it was out of omission, but when you asked him a direct question, he never failed to answer honestly.

“I can help you with business.” You tried to reason, your palm resting against his pounding heart.

“Not this kind, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect you. I need you to trust me.” You trusted Sylus with your life, with your heart. Which was why you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to the question you asked next.

“Did you sleep with her?” The mere thought of it tasted like acid on your tongue. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of Sylus’s past, but where the other women in his life came and left like the tide, Miss Hunter’s presence was persistent.

You needed to know just how far they’d gone, even if it might destroy you.

“Yes. It was one time when we first met in September. Before I realised how I felt for you.” The words pierced straight through you like bullets of radiation. Your palm slowly slipped off of his chest and you diverted your gaze to your heels. “Y/N, you know I only want you. It meant nothing to me.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that they’d slept together that hurt you so deeply. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way she got under his skin. Sylus may love you, but what if he wasn’t attracted to you?

The thought slipped out of you before you could mull it over. “How am I supposed to believe that when you were all over in seconds and you won’t even kiss me?!”

A hint of recognition flashed through Sylus’s eyes as he realised the catalyst behind your frustration. For some odd reason that he could never figure out, you were insecure. Even though your charm bordered on lethal and your beauty was unparalleled, you still felt inadequate. It perplexed him how someone could look so divine and not be aware of it.

“I haven’t kissed you because I wanted to make sure you were ready, sweetheart. I was worried I’d scare you away, because I’m sure if I got a taste of you I wouldn’t know how to stop.” He sounded strained when he spoke, as if he was recalling his frustration at having to hold back.

You watched him intently, his words dripped with a desire you both shared. With his body so close to yours, it was hard not to wish he’d just act on his primal instincts.

“You’re entirely unaware of your affect on me. You have no idea how precarious the string holding me back from insanity has become. When I saw you in that dress, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back. But then you'd look up at me with those angelic eyes and I realise I can’t risk losing you.”

Before you could even think it through, your desire became overwhelming and your lips were on his in an instant.

It was nothing like you expected, nothing like the chaste, sweet kisses you saw in your movies. It was heated, messy, desperate. His lips ravaged yours like a man on death row devoured his last meal. You felt his desire with every movement and all the doubt you had dissipated instantly. His hands were all over you, one softly held on to your neck, while the other held on to your waist like you might disappear.

His lips moved to your cheek, your jaw and eventually the sensitive skin on your collarbone. When he bit a particularly sensitive part of your neck, you let out a whine. You hoped he hadn't given you a hickey. His face came up to yours as he looked at your lips which were red from the impact and the desire running rampant in your eyes. It might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever looked.

“Well? I’m still here.” You whispered against his lips before giving him a chaste peck.

Sylus knew you weren’t just talking about this moment. You never left, even when he gave you a million reasons why you should. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such luck, but he knew he’d never give you a reason to walk away from him ever again.

“We should get out of here.” Somehow you knew he didn’t just mean the storage closet. He shifted to lead you out but you quickly stopped him.

“You can’t leave your own party! What about your date?” As much as the idea of MC hanging off his arm made your skin crawl, it wasn’t right to just leave her alone.

“She’ll be fine. The only woman I care about is right in front of me, and I want to do so much to her than kiss her in a storage closet.” There was an underlying promise in his tone, and you felt the slightest bit of fear that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

“You’ve lasted this long, what’s one more night?” Your last ditch effort to escape the dangerous situation was unsuccessful.

“Sweetheart, I can't wait another second.” He gave you a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed his fraying restraint. Your fear felt inconsequential when he was with you, you knew you could trust him wholly with every part of you.

So, when he led you out of the storage closet and all the way to his bedroom, you never once felt scared. Or insecure. Or inadequate. Sylus worshipped you like you were his salvation and he never once let you doubt yourself again.

Later that night, as you laid in his bed underneath his covers, staring over at his peaceful sleeping expression, you realised he was your salvation too.

Christmas Day

“What’s the surprise?” You asked the same question for the umpteenth time.

“Just be patient, we’re almost there.” You let Sylus lead you through what you thought was a building while you obediently kept your eyes shut. Eventually your feet came to a halt, and you were bursting with anticipation.

“Alright, open your eyes.” When you opened them you were in the living room of a charming beach house. It was so bright it took your eyes a while to adjust, but when they did you noticed that it was decorated with splashes of your favourite shade of yellow. The large balcony doors opened to the sight of a familiar beach, and you felt a range of emotions wash over you all at once. Sadness, nostalgia, yearning.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Sylus’s voice behind you snapped you back to reality.

“What is this place?” The awe in your voice could not be concealed.

“It’s yours. I know how much you hate being on the beach, but I also know it meant a lot to your mother. From this balcony it’ll be like you’re right there without actually being there.” He sounded almost nervous while presenting his gift to you, worried you might hate it. But there wasn’t a word that could describe the pure gratitude and love you felt for the man standing in front of you.

“You bought me a house on my mother’s favourite beach?” The disbelief in your voice was almost tangible.

“Yeah.”

“Sylus, all I got you was a pocket watch!” You thought that since you were both not very big on Christmas, you would exchange small gifts. Clearly small wasn’t a word Sylus kept in his vocabulary.

“You gave me so much more than that.” The suggestion in his voice did nothing to soothe your guilt.

“This is too much.”

“Y/N, you’re more familiar with my assets than I am, if this made a significant dent in my bank account I think you would’ve noticed when I bought it a month ago.”

“You’ve had this for a month?” The shock persisted, but he was right. His expenses ranged from a box of paperclips to the purchase of a two-hundred-million dollar industrial complex.

“Yes, I bought it the first time you asked me to take you to the beach after work.”

“But what if we didn’t work out?” A month ago that seemed like a palpable possibility, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without Sylus in it.

“I’d find a way to trick you into taking it anyway.”

You all but rolled your eyes at the memory of his less-than-graceful plan to acquire your house until you ended up working for him again.

“Right, of course. You’re quite good at that I hear.”

“I’m good at many things, I’ll remind you later.” He drawled against your ear, but before you could force him to act on his promise he spoke up again. “For now, there’s one more surprise.”

You let Sylus lead you out to the balcony with his hands on your shoulders, driving you forward. He stood behind you, his chest to your back. He pointed to a hill on the left of the house where a beautiful willow tree sat atop the beach on a cliff.

“I bought that plot of land too. I don’t want to overstep, but if you’d like, we could move your mother here. Have her final resting place be at the place she loved the most.” His voice kept you anchored as memories of your mother threatened to pull you away. It still filled your chest with overwhelming sadness when you thought of her, but the thought that she could spend forever in the place that brought her the most joy filled you with relief. You didn’t get to give your mother much, but at least Sylus helped you give her this.

You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face if you tried.

Sylus had come a long way from that day at the graveyard, an even longer way from the day you met him. The fact that he grew to care about your mother as much as you did made your heart swell with love for him that expanded every day. Something you didn’t even think was possible.

“She would love that.” Sylus wrapped his hands around your waist, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss on your temple. “I wish you could’ve met her when she was alive, you would’ve loved her.” They were both the strongest people you knew, and it pained you that they never got to meet.

“I’m sure I would have. After all, I am a huge fan of her work.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his cheesy joke. You were rubbing off on him, that was for sure. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face at the sound of your joyful laugh and you had to squeeze out of his grasp to make him stop.

While you wished you didn’t have to lose someone so important to you to gain another, things always had a weird way of working out. Your future was still murky, but what you did know for sure was that ’Operation Sylus: No More’ could officially be declared a massive failure. And even though the physical hole in your heart still existed, the proverbial one shrunk to half it’s size; and you had the silver-haired man with the stone-encased heart of gold to thank for that.

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#love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus angst #l&ds sylus #sylus imagine #sylus smut #sylus x you #lads angst #lads x reader #lads x you #lads zayne #lads fanfic #sylus fluff

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ramp-it-up · 1 day ago

Text

Fade to Love

Summary: You and Bucky go way back. Way back to when you acted together 20 years ago. You had a crush on him then, but you were too young. Tragedy and artistic passion made you best friends. Will your history make you lovers?

Word count: 4.3 K

Pairing: Actor!Director!Producer! Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: I've been dreaming about this ever since I got my #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Best Friends to Lovers. As always, I crave feedback, so please let me know how you feel in asks, comments, reblogs and likes. TIA! ❤️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Best friends to lovers. All of the reckless behaviors that come with growing up in Hollywood, teenage crush, small age gap, young love, tragic loss, idiots in love, cigarette smoking, mutual pining. Then comes the smut. :)

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

This was deja vu all over again.

The paparazzi swarmed the studio as you and Bucky arrived for your meeting at the studio. After all, you'd spent your teen years under the camera’s glare, a co-star in an ensemble drama series, Idol’s Ridge, that captured the hearts of millions 20 years before.

During those five years portraying Sophie Randall, you’d met the people who’d become your best and enduring friends. Sam Wilson, who played your older brother, Peter Randall, Carol Danvers, who played your best friend, Morgan Blair, and James “Bucky” Barnes who played Sam’s Best friend and Morgan’s older brother, Jack Blair.

There were several other actors from the show with whom you’d remained cordial and friendly, but this was your core group.

But today? Today was different. Today, you were meeting in a creative capacity, not just as an actress. You were going to control the narrative.

The past twenty years had been a whirlwind. A marriage, scandal, and a career that had taken unexpected turns. You'd left the acting world long ago, but here you were again, standing next to Bucky Barnes, one of your best friends. Someone who’d been through it all with you.

Bucky, with his model handsome looks, dark hair and true blue eyes, was more than just a pretty face. His career had been varied, lucrative, and meaningful.

He was now reaching phenomenal heights. And he was the one the tabloids still associated you with, before, during, and after your marriage, even after all these years.

The shipping of the characters was inappropriate at the beginning, but toward the end of the run when you were an adult, Idol’s Ridge fans were calling for Jack to notice Sophie, and wanted you and Bucky together, even though you never dated.

It was others pushing that narrative, always trying to create drama where there was none, not you two.

You and Bucky were just friends.

But if you were being honest, that “what if” had been curling around your mind since you were a kid with a crush on a co-star who was too old for you. 20 to your 15 when you first started the show, Bucky didn’t spare you a second glance in a romantic capacity, but he took you under his wing and protected you, calling you his “Little Star.”

He decided that nothing was going to ruin your innocence, lecturing you all the time about the pitfalls of fame at a young age, even as he was reveling in those pits. If he knew you wanted him to ruin you, he didn’t let on.

Bucky’s decency did nothing to sway your heart away from him. In fact, it only made him more appealing. You always had a soft spot for Bucky Barnes.

If Bucky noticed you growing up and becoming a woman, he didn’t let you know. You were always his little sidekick, not quite a sister, but definitely not a romantic interest.

Perhaps it was because his best friend, another rising star in tv and film, did.

Steve met you briefly when he was filming in LA and hanging with Bucky. They were roommates in New York and best friends, having known each other as child actors from Brooklyn.

After he met you when he was 24 and you were 19, Steve talked about you all the time to his best friend and begged Bucky to give you his number.

Bucky refused, citing the fact that you were not ready for the likes of Steve Rogers, the golden boy heartthrob actor who partied harder than he did. Yes, that was the reason.

On the night of your 21st birthday after Idol’s Ridge was over, you had a get together in Manhattan, because you were filming a movie in New York City. You invited Bucky who was now based out of Brooklyn, and Steve was not going to miss this opportunity to get next to you.

That night, 25 year old Steve Rogers bought you a drink, and the next morning, Bucky heard you two in the room next door, cursing his, and Steve’s, timing. The rest was tabloid history: the whirlwind romance, the young, impetuous marriage, the substances, the breakout films, the nominations, the miscarriage, the rumors, the tragedy.

You were a widow at the age of 26, the caretaker of the legacy of one of the most talented young actors of your generation. Gone too soon.

Bucky was there for you, and you for him, feeling the loss as no one else could. When you were ready to get on with life, you and Bucky created Valkyrie Production Company as a tribute to Steve.

While you slowed your acting career way down before 30 years old, only taking on about one indie film project a year, Bucky’s career had taken off.

He’d transitioned from actor to actor/director, and of course, actor/director/producer. You watched him get engaged to Natasha Romanov, one of the older Idol’s Ridge alums, break up, and then date a string of actresses and models, but nothing ever stuck.

You didn’t understand. He could be a bit intense, but Bucky was such a good guy. He deserved happiness. Now, he was a 40 year old single successful actor slash slash with no family to speak of but you.

“Ready to roll?”

Bucky’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, taking a step back into the moment. You smoothed your pencil skirt down your hips, which were wider now than they were 20 years earlier. You wondered what production would think of you at 35, no surgical augmentation, just naturally you in a sea of plastic.

Bucky was the same way, his dark hair and beard peppered with gray and crows feet framing his striking eyes. But on him they were ‘sexy.’

Women were held to a different standard.

You missed Bucky appreciating your curves and your looks as you bit your lip and looked up at him with those big eyes.

Bucky’s heart clenched when you smiled at him. So fucking beautiful.

“Yeah. Let’s make magic, ” you murmured.

Bucky was a goner.

He loved your voice since you developed the lower register of your tone. It was one thing that the critics and fans raved over in anything you did.

He chuckled at how you’d trashed his trailer when he’d tried to hide your cigarettes from you that one time. It was all for naught, since you quit 18 months after you started.

He didn’t know that you’d just done it to hang out with him outside the soundstage door, stealing time. But it had permanently changed your voice into something that cemented your icon status in the present day, despite your limited career.

Bucky grinned that boyish grin, the same one he’d flashed a thousand times when you were on set together all those years ago. It made your heart do that little flip it always did, despite everything.

You had a meeting with the studio execs to discuss the next project, a reboot of the very series you'd starred in all those years ago, Idol’s Ridge.

It was too perfect, too full of nostalgia. But it also felt strange.

You glanced over at Bucky as he started talking to the execs. He was charismatic, confident, everything he had always been. But there was something in the way he kept glancing at you. His eyes were more intense, more aware of your every movement.

It was unsettling, especially the premise he pitched.

You finished up with the execs and stepped outside the back entrance for a quick break and Bucky lit up a cigarette, something you hadn’t seen him do in years.

“You’re quiet today,” he said, leaning against the wall. You inwardly railed at him smoking again, but he was grown. You watched the smoke curl around him through narrowed eyes. Then you grabbed the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag.

“Don’t do that, Star…”

You raised an eyebrow at him and then inhaled, Bucky watching you closely. Too closely, you might have thought if you noticed the way he watched your mouth after you removed the cigarette.

Bucky put the cancer stick in his own mouth and closed his eyes as he took his own drag, tongue chasing the filter as he removed it to exhale. He peered at you through the smoke, licked his lips and then dropped the half smoked bone on the ground, extinguishing it with the sole of his brown Ferragamo.

“We quit.”

You laughed and leaned on the stucco wall with your hand, staring up at him while he smiled down at you. This was your thing, this unspoken language that was understood but not explicit.

You worked together, but it was always more than that.

You were waiting for him to speak, but Bucky could always wait you out.

“James.”

You punched him on the arm. Hard.

“Ow!”

He laughed and rubbed his arm as he looked down at his shoes, smiling.

“You can do it, Star. I believe in you.”

You rolled your eyes at the old nickname. He always told you that you were the brightest little star on the set.

“But Bucky…”

You thought you lost it when Steve disappeared. But you couldn’t lose that feeling, so you took small roles, just to have permission to be someone else for a time.

Your films were critically acclaimed, but your confidence was shot.

“You can do it.”

You appraised Bucky. Something had shifted. Maybe it was the project, or maybe it was something more. Bucky looked right back at you, his expression softening.

“Are you in or are you out, Star?”

“I’m in,” you said, your voice steady and sure.

He tilted his head, studying you.

“Good. Because I need you.”

“You’ve always needed me,” you said, half-joking, half serious.

Bucky chuckled.

“Yeah, well, this time it’s different.”

You could feel your heart pounding. He was looking at you like he’d never looked at you before. Like he was really seeing you. But you were reading too much into things again.

You took a deep breath.

“You know, I’ve always trusted you, right? With everything. You’re the only person I’ve never felt like I had to pretend with.”

You took his hand and Bucky looked down at you tangling your fingers with his.

He should tell you.

“I know, Buck. You’re my best friend.”

There it was. The friend zone. Bucky sighed, but held on to your hand.

“Although we didn’t talk about that one plot point.”

You released his hand and crossed your arms, pushing your breasts up in your sweater. Not that Bucky noticed that sort of thing.

Bucky looked at you, one eye closed, squinting from the LA sunlight. Or was it because you were so gorgeous?

To you, his glance felt loaded, like there was something you couldn’t ignore anymore. But of course you tried.

“Which one?”

You smiled at his evasion.

“You know. The one where our characters are married now?”

Bucky smirked.

“We discussed this being centered around the children of the cast from 20 years ago.”

You huffed, frustrated.

“Yes, Bucky, but our characters were never a thing.”

He stood up and walked two steps toward you, into your space.

“Not true. Sophie always had a crush on Jack, but he blew you off. It’s 20 years later, he’s grown up and finally appreciates the beautiful woman who was always right there in front of him.”

You looked up into his clear blue gaze and had a scorching comeback for him.

“Oh.”

He reached for your face, palm resting on your cheek, thumb brushing at the side of your nose.

“Hold up…”

Bucky moved even closer and brought his face close to yours, warm menthol breath hovering over your own. He pulled his hand back and looked at it, showing it to you briefly. You didn’t see anything.

“Eyelash.”

He opened the door and held it for you as you tried to get your soul back into your body.

“Break time is over.”

—--

The next hours were a blur.

The production meeting went long as you brainstormed for the reboot, and you and Bucky worked seamlessly together, bouncing ideas off each other and firing on all cylinders. The dynamic was amazing and reignited your old crush.

You went to Bucky’s LA home after the meeting, excited at the preliminary greenlight for the project. You both decided to work on an outline that weekend to deliver to the studio Monday morning.

You’d gone home to pack a bag and get your essentials, as Bucky said you could bunk in one of his guest rooms.

It would be like a sleepover with one of your girlfriends, sweet, innocent and fun.

But after eating takeout tacos from Leo’s, you got to work in Bucky’s home office, and the vibe was thriving, but different. Every time your hands brushed as you passed papers or exchanged a glance, it was electric.

The air arced between you, but you couldn't tell if it was just you, or if Bucky felt it too.

As you sat looking at the whiteboard with the preliminary outline of the pilot episode, Bucky leaned back in his chair and regarded it, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“This shit is fucking brilliant. It’s going to be better than the original.”

You looked at him, excitement coursing through you. You smiled at him and got up to walk behind his chair to lean on it and admire your ideas, as if you could see better what he meant from his perspective.

“I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

You leaned down and whispered in his ear, afraid to voice it too loud. Bucky swiveled around in his chair to look at you. You were still in your outfit from this morning, too excited when you pack to change into something more comfortable. You looked gorgeous.

He stood up and grabbed your hands in his.

“Better believe it, Star, we’re going to do this thing big.”

You squeezed his hands back and looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. Bucky’s hands were on your arms now and he was drawing you closer.

“Couldn’t do this without you, Star. I love… working with you.”

Your stomach flipped as he murmured at you. You inhaled the spice of his cologne and savored his touch while listening to his voice.

But your stomach dropped when you heard the ‘L’ word and you didn’t know what happened; just like Sophie and Jack all those years ago, you didn’t know what came over you when you pressed your lips to Bucky’s.

You had every intention of ending the contact before it began, but Bucky’s hands were now in your hair and tugged you close. He turned and lifted you onto his desk, stepping between your thighs, pressing them wide enough so that your skirt fought the movement.

It only made everything hotter.

Bucky used his hold on your hair to tilt your head so he could kiss down your neck. You arched your back, needing his mouth all over you, needing him to rip you out of the clothes that had the nerve to create a barrier between you.

For some unknown reason to your cunt, words emerged from your lips,

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He pushed your cardigan off your shoulders and nudged your tank top lower so that he could mouth at your cleavage. Your panties flooded with wetness.

“We’re both grown, Star.”

The acknowledgement in Bucky’s rumbling voice sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. He skated his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher until you had to lift your hips to allow it to bunch around your waist. He fingered along the edges of your panties.

He looked down.

“Black lace. Fuck.”

He cursed low enough that you had to strain to hear him. He licked his lips, his saliva making them look so delicious.

“Can I touch you, Starlight?”

You shivered at the nickname and nodded, breath caught in your throat.

“Need your words, Baby. Need that beautiful voice.”

“Yes, Bucky. Please touch me…”

Bucky’s fingertips traced your clit through the fabric.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you.”

“Me too,” you whispered, and he met your gaze, which threatened to stop his heart.

His blue eyes were fire, bright enough to make your whole world glow. If you let him, he’d sweep you away and ensure you enjoyed every second. You wanted it. To be swept away by him.

Bucky started the torturous slide of his thumb over your clit. You threw your head back and whined, caught up in a nirvana you’d only dreamt about.

“Bucky! Dont…”

He stopped what he was doing, stilling his hand over your cunt.

“Don’t?”

His voice was broken, and pleading. You used your free hand to cover his where he cupped your pussy.

“...Don’t stop Bucky….”

Still he didn’t move, searching your face for answers you didn’t have. You drew in a shuddering breath. Bucky’s slow smile sent your stomach into a dizzying flip.

“Naughty girl. You want to use me for your pleasure. Your own personal sex toy.”

You dragged your gaze over him, from his dark hair, to those wicked blue eyes, to his sinful mouth, down to the pants clearly sporting a huge hard-on. You grew bold in the knowledge that he’d started this.

Bucky Barnes wanted you, too.

“I have a sex toy. In fact, I have several. None of them look a thing like you.”

His laughter rolled through you.

“I guess I have work to do. Need to retire some sex toys. Check.”

“You’ll have to work real hard. I’m kind of attached to them, especially Arthur. Haven’t had real cock in 2 years.”

Bucky arched his eyebrow and hooked his fingers through your panties and dragged them down your legs, stepping back so you could kick them off.

“I’m disturbed that you named your vibrator.”

“Dildo,” you corrected.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“But I’m up for the challenge of making you scream my name…”

Bucky went to his knees between your spread thighs, looking at your pussy so intensely you could feel it like his touch.

“And I won’t tell you that I’ve jacked myself to the thought of you countless times over the years.”

“Bucky…”

He pressed a painfully gentle kiss to each thigh and then his breath ghosted over your clit.

“I sure as hell won’t tell you that when I fucked my hand, and imagined being inside you, that I came so fucking hard, Star, just from thinking about being buried in you to the hilt.”

You tried to focus past the pleasure of his mouth, his big hands holding your thighs wide as he devoured you. But his words had you floating.

“I… You fantasized about me?”

Bucky licked up your slit and then kissed it, looking up in your eyes before he answered you.

“Hmmm. Yes. I did.”

He sucked on your clit hard enough to make your back bow.

“Eating you out...”

Another long lick and a smile that he was accomplishing that very thing.

“You on your knees for me...”

The image in your mind of looking up at Bucky made you clench down and Bucky smiled at your pitiful pussy.

“...Bending you over something, like this desk, and fucking you hard…”

You whimpered, your pleasure building as much from the fantasy as from Bucky’s mouth.

“... Maybe taking that ass…”

He rolled his tongue over your clit, working you in just the way you needed.

“....cuming inside you, or all over your back. I’ll let you choose.”

“Oh! Bucky!”

You were practically screaming as you tried to slow your pleasure, to make it last, but Bucky drove you to the brink and you couldn’t resist him. You came with a cry that filled the room around you.

Bucky didn’t give you a chance to recover, though. He stood and stepped back between your thighs to take your mouth. You tasted yourself on his tongue and it made your toes curl.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he lifted you off the desk easily and walked you down the hallway, still kissing you, never missing a step.

“You’ve done this before,” you murmured.

“Not like this. Never this.”

He kept you pinned to him with one arm around the small of your back and used his other hand to pull your tank top off. You ran your hands down his muscled chest. He really was too beautiful. It almost hurt to look at him and touching him only magnified the sensation.

He spun and pinned you between his body and the wall next to the door, thrusting against you. The seam of his pants pressed against your clit and you cried out.

“More.”

Bucky dragged his mouth up your neck and set his teeth against your earlobe and that set you on fire.

“You’re so needy, Star. I get it, I really do. Been wanting to show you how I feel for 14 years…”

You gasped and Bucky’s teeth scraped against your lip, making your nipples tighten in response. He let you down and stepped back, running his hand through his hair.

“Strip.”

There wasn’t much left to take off, but you obeyed and his grin made your heart stutter.

“On the bed.”

You crawled on the mattress and reclined among the pillows. You were rewarded by Bucky stripping out of shirt, and his pants and underwear in one go, shoving the material down his strong thighs and kicking free of them, leaving him naked.

The sight of his large cock straining against his stomach had you biting your bottom lip.

You knew what came next.

You craved it. And you forgot all about Arthur. You reached for him.

“Don’t make me wait any more, Bucky.”

He pulled a string of condoms from the nightstand and tossed them on the bed next to you. You counted six and raised your eyebrows. Bucky gave you an unrepentant grin.

“One condition.”

“Damn it, Bucky.”

Of course there were conditions.

“Stay in my bed tonight. Another fantasy of mine.”

You melted. Why not? It was finally time to have what you wanted. And you wanted Bucky.

You met those intoxicating blue eyes and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Thank fuck.”

He was on you in seconds, shoving your legs wide and he ground the base of his cock against your clit. He tangled his fingers in your hair and took your mouth like you were the sweetest fruit and he’d never get enough.

You reached blindly over and grabbed a condom. You tore the wrapper with your teeth and you rolled it over his cock. He allowed it, shifting back to give you the room to work.

Your body cried for him; you needed him inside you and you needed it at that moment. You lay back and guided him into you and he thrust in slowly, inch by inch, until he had sheathed himself completely.

Oh god. The stretch. Bucky broke free of your mouth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breath mingling between you.

Each of your exhales came out as, “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”

He gentled his touch, stroking your hair as if you were a wild animal he was taming.

“Stay with me, Starlight. I’ve got you.”

As if this was something that was forced upon you, rather than what you grabbed with greedy hands because you wanted it so badly.

You smiled, blissful. Fucked out, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s cock pouding inside you. You needed more.

“Please move, friend. Fuck me, Bucky.”

You hitched your leg around his hip so you could take him deeper and leaned up until your lips brushed his ear.

“I need it hard.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes together and bit his lip as the pounding of his cock increased. You both thought he would cum right then.

“‘M not your fucking friend…”

He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up even as he impaled you again.

“You want me to fuck you hard?”

“Yes!” you moaned.

“Knees wider, Starlight. Let’s go.”

Bucky slapped your ass and then grabbed a handful of your thick hair, tugging at just the right amount of pain to go with the pleasure.

The first stroke was slow.

“Fuck, you’re gripping me like a fucking vice. Almost had me cumming a few minutes ago.”

You could tell that Bucky’s teeth were gritted when he spoke. He had to brace against the urge to rut into you like a wild animal, but his pace and intensity increased.

For long, mind-blowing minutes, he thrust into you, paying attention to your sounds and movements to know that he was hitting that spot inside you. You meet him thrust for thrust as Bucky began to fuck you like his life depended on it.

He made the mistake of looking down at how your ass took the shock waves of his back shots and the evidence of your arousal left on his cock as he pistoned inside you and he cursed.

“Fucckkkkk! You should see the beautiful cream you’re leaving on my cock, Star. So fucking hot.”

The way you moaned set him on the road to orgasm and again and he reached for your clit, rubbing his thumb over it. Almost as soon as he did, you screamed his name and shattered beneath him. Bucky followed you headlong over that cliff and collapsed beside you, dizzy.

He looked over to see you already falling asleep, exhausted. He kissed your temple and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, coming back with a washcloth for you.

When he was done cleaning you up, he gathered your boneless body in his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead as you curled into him, your head on his chest and leg thrown over his.

It was like you didn’t want to let him go.

“I know the feeling, Star,” Bucky whispered as he closed his eyes.

A feeling settling in his chest that he’d almost, but not quite, ever felt before.

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sailoryuns · 2 days ago

Text

INAMORATA ─── PSH

genre. idol!sunghoon x model!f!reader | established relationship

warnings. angst, fluff (moreso towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hoon being lowkey toxic, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread wc -> 1.5k

ps. the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to sunghoon was like conversing with the wall, never fully grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with jake or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

sunghoon felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere y/n, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hoon, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious y/n? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” sunghoon couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you sunghoon. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” sunghoon angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

sunghoon’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed core “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, sunghoon!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your sloppy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hoon-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, sunghoon loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. sunghoon knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a string of curses leaves your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. sunghoon slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and stomach.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing sunghoon’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe this is all mine.” sunghoon whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much, baby.”

“love you too hoon.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎

#sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen fanfic

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pots-sibly · 2 days ago

Text

When I flared so bad in November that I physically couldn't be out of bed for more than like. Two or three minutes at a time. I did a loooooot of doomscrolling, to the point where I felt like I was mentally back in the place I was as a teenager when I had no friends and spent every waking minute on like instagram or something. I caught myself falling into habits I haven't had in years, like compulsively arguing with people online or engaging in content that made me mad or upset. If I was in the same place I was when I was younger, I would've just kept falling into that pit, but I know what it's like now to not feel that way, and I didn't want to go back.

So, I did the most logical thing to me: I went on Amazon and ordered a bunch of yarn and crochet supplies.

I haven't crocheted since I was in the single digits. My grandma tried to teach me, but I was never able to get past the chain stitch. Even so, I remembered absolutely loving it; I'd make chains out of whole balls of yarn and just like, have them in a drawer. I'd do it over and over again because I liked the colours and the repetitive motions. It was soothing to me.

I got a beginner's crochet book and started teaching myself other stitches. I was having really bad brain fog at the time, so I learned slow (and wrong), but I still learned. I made scarves for everyone in my family for Christmas that were way too long and just the same stitch over and over again. I took my yarn and hooks to the emergency room, to get blood work, to urgent care. I made a blanket that covers a double mattress and am hoarding yarn under my bed.

I'm just learning how to make other things, like stuffed animals and granny squares, but honestly I would probably be just as happy to make more mile-long chains. It's extremely calming (so much so that I fainted in the middle of doing a scarf in the ER once) and when I'm doing simple patterns, it's something I can do even with the fatigue and the brain fog. I no longer feel the need to engage with shitty people online or spend hours scrolling and rotting. I've successfully pulled myself out of doomscroll spirals with 'oh shit I need to finish that scarf/blanket/amigumuri'

I used to see posts like this going around and always felt a little defensive because I never really had anything like that. I was always so tired and sick and thought it was a personal failing, so someone being like 'hey maybe you should do something other than scroll instagram reels until you want to die' felt like a personal attack (yes, I was in a bad place). But it's literally so important to have Something like this and I'm so glad that I'm in a place now where I actually do

Most anti phone advice is so inane and regurgitated to me but one thing I’ve been thinking about for days is “social media is okay, but the real danger comes in when you think your phone should be your go to during your limited pockets of leisure” like that’s literally the truest thing ever

#sorry for the rambles i'm sleepy tired #chronic illness #invisible illness #invisible disability #pots #mecfs #mcas #crochet

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pineconepie · 3 days ago

Note

parental yandere guardian angel perhaps?? 👀

TW: Violence, infantilization, mentioned stalking(?), parental yandere, alcohol, attempted mugging

...

You drag out a long sigh, not bothering to look the presence you know is next to you in the eye. For days he's been following you around like some puppy looking for attention, and you're more than tired of it.

"I do not like these bars," Seradiel murmurs. "There's all sorts of harmful people around. Are you trying to make my job harder?"

"A pointless job, might I add," you chuckle humorlessly. "You don't need to watch after me like I'm some baby. And for the record, you don't need to be sitting next to me 24/7, either."

At first, you thought Seradiel was crazy when he claimed to be your guardian angel, but ever since you nearly got ran over from not looking both ways on the street, the dude had been following you everywhere like some sort of shadow.

He said he had been guarding over you ever since you were a newborn, but decided to make his presence known ever since that incident.

He would appear out of nowhere in your house while you were sleeping and making sure you're breathing right, or follow you on walks, protecting you from any potential danger.

Seradiel's frown deepens. "Either way, you won't approve. If I watch you from afar, you claim that's creepy; but if I make myself known, you get annoyed."

You give Seradiel a pointed look. "That's because most people don't have an angel follow them around all the time."

He shakes his head. "That isn't true. Everyone has an angel. Some are just less dedicated than I am."

A groan escapes you. What kind of excuse is that?

You wave him off. "Can you at least, I don't know, sit at another table? The waiters keep looking our way since they can't see you and probably think I'm talking to myself like a crazy person."

"No, they can see me. I just don't have wings in anyone else's vision," he claims. "They're probably giving funny looks because of our conversation."

"Whatever," you mutter under your breath. "Why are you so dedicated, as you claim?"

He ruffles your hair. "Because you're like my baby. Sure, you may have biological parents, but even they don't share the same kind of connection with you as I do. After all, I've been watching over you ever since your first moments of life. I've spent more time with you than anyone else on this Earth has. And you were such a sweet child. Sometimes I wonder if you miss those days as much as I do."

"Not at all," you mutter, even though that isn't true at all. "So you just watched me my whole life?"

"Of course. Therefore, you are essentially like my child. And no good parent would allow their child to wander around such a sketchy establishment like this." He motions towards the dimly lit, rather unimpressive bar.

"Any good parent would let their adult child do what they please, because they're an adult." You take another sip from your cup. The liquid burns your throat going down, and you almost immediately feel drowsier and more light-headed. Seradiel yanks the cup away from you. "Hey! What the hell, I paid for that!" You reach for it back.

"You've had too much already," he scolds. "Now let's leave." He grabs your hand and leads you out. With you stumbling after him, you finally make it onto the street outside and head home.

The walk is silent other than your occasional hiccup. But every few minutes, Seradiel makes sure you're still lucid.

"Just leave me alone," you whine. "Please. I want just a minute of independence, I can't do anything without you hovering over me! Is that too much to ask?"

Seradiel's eyes narrow. "Is that so?" Without warning, he lets go of your hand. "Fine. If you'd like to be a brat, we can play your game."

He disappears in an instant. Despite the fact that you were begging for him to stop being so clingy, you find yourself strangely unsettled at his departure, as if something's missing.

Nonetheless, you decide to ignore it; he'll come back eventually.

You continue your drunken stumble back home.

However, you barely make it another block before you hear the sound of footsteps behind you.

Normally you would've ignored it, but combined with how late it was and how sketchy the bar itself was, you pick up your pace. Whoever was behind you speeds up also.

Now more than nervous, you start running, not caring about how lightheaded you felt and how awful your body ached.

Whoever was following you started running after you now, and in the dead silence of night you can hear their rapid steps thumping against the ground.

Their heavy breathing rings through the air, and your heart drops when you realize they were gaining on you.

Before you knew it, a firm hand wrapped around your arm, yanking you to a stop.

The person has a knife, dressed in all black clothing, looking eerily similar to someone who was ready to commit murder.

"Empty your wallet now," he hisses. "And don't make any noise. If you try to scream, I'll cut off your fucking tongue."

You scramble to empty your wallet. There isn't much money in there, which just pisses him off.

"That's it? That can't be all you have," he snarls. He backhands you in anger, causing you to stumble back. You rub your face where he struck you, crawling backwards as he rummages through your things himself. However, he only finds a couple pieces of gum. He looks even more angered by this outcome, reaching for his knife again.

"Seradiel!" you cry out, shutting your eyes tight. "I'm sorry! Please help me!"

Suddenly, there's a gust of wind. Your eyes fly open, and in front of you is none other than Seradiel. He stands tall, looming over your mugger with his white wings stretching out like a curtain to conceal you. His golden hair shines in the moonlight. Although usually calm, his demeanor has completely changed.

His eyes are now slit into furious daggers glaring straight ahead at your mugger.

"What the hell..." the man mutters.

With no words, Seradiel reaches forward and grabs the assailant by the neck, throwing him across the road and into a wall like the assailant is merely paper trash.

Seradiel begins to stalk towards the mugger, who's coughing violently from the impact. "I usually hold empathy for criminals like yourself; just trying to survive. But then you decided to try and hurt my child," Seradiel growls. You've never seen such fury radiating from his usually calm appearance. He looks more than capable of murdering the mugger then and there.

The assailant scrambles backwards, attempting to stand. Unfortunately for him, before he can rise Seradiel is upon him again. The angel knocks the mugger off their feet and kicks them, sending them flying backwards.

He grabs the knife he dropped, twirling it between his fingers.

"Hmm. Should I kill him?" Seradiel asks, turning towards you. He doesn't even look remorseful. On the contrary, he looks emotionless; he doesn't care if the criminal lives or dies. It was like he was asking you to pass him salt on the dinner table.

"No," you whisper. "Please don't. I just want to go home. Let's just go home, please."

"Alright. As long as he apologizes." He turns back to the assailant. "Well?"

The attacker sobs and nods. "Okay! Okay, I'm sorry! I'll never do it again!"

"And give them back their belongings," Seradiel adds.

The mugger obliges and hands all your belongings back to the angel. Once Seradiel steps aside, he scrambles away until you can't see him anymore.

He turns to face you again, his expression immediately softening. You instinctively take a step back. Seeing him switch demeanors so quickly is shocking.

"My love," Seradiel murmurs softly. "I told you it wasn't safe here. Are you okay?" He approaches you cautiously. He takes out his handkerchief to dab the bleeding scratch on your cheek. Then he inspects you, making sure you haven't sustained any other injuries. "See what happens when you walk alone? This is why I need to watch over you at all times. Does that not make sense to you yet?"

He puts his arms underneath your legs and back, picking you up. You bury your face in his robes.

"I don't like bars," you mumble quietly. "I promise I won't go to another one."

"Not just bars. Everywhere is dangerous. It's a good thing I'm your guardian angel; the world would eat you alive otherwise," he mumbles. "Oh, little lamb. What will Papa do with you?" He kisses the top of your head while carrying you.

It's not the first time he's referred to himself as that word. Papa.

In some ways, it makes sense; he does act very fatherly and treats you like his baby.

Still, you have mixed feelings about him. You still can't wipe the vision from your mind of him brutally beating up your mugger just minutes ago.

"Aren't angels against violence?" you rasp.

He shakes his head. "Not in cases such as those. Angels protect others. Most just happen to use violence as the last resort. And I will always protect my children."

"How many children do you have?"

"You're the only one," Seradiel coos. "And trust me, I love you very much. I hope this was a valuable lesson for you."

You fall into silence once again, clutching his robes.

When you finally arrive home, he opens the door for you. "Is there anything you'd like to say?"

"...thank you, for protecting me," you mutter under your breath.

He gives you a smile, but it's far from gentle. No, it looks almost... proud, victorious. "Of course. Just remember that I'll always be here to keep you safe."

#parental yandere #familial yandere #platonic yandere #forced age regression #yandere #yandere age regression #forced agere #seradiel oc

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supernotnatural2005 · 2 days ago

Text

'Happy Accidents'

Pairing: Dean x Plus!sized Reader

Summary: You haven't seen the Winchester's in over a year, but the case you're working has you scratching your head, and who better to call than some old friends. However, insecurities arise as well as the reprise of a long time crush. Little do you know, it's reciprocated.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/tags: Dry humping! (18+Only), fluff, mutual pinning, Plus!sized Reader, body insecurities, curvy girl appreciation, swearing.

AN: Okay so this is my first time writing for a more specific reader body type, but being a curvy-girl myself it was interesting to implement it into a story. And with Dean being the appreciator? Yes please! 😍 I know this might not cater to all of you, but I'm inclusive to all y'all ❤️ Also taking some inspo from @bejeweledinterludes post for this one and @zepskies Midnight Espresso series, which is honestly one of my favourite series and stories featuring a Plus!sized reader!! I do hope you guys like this one! 💕

Main Masterlist

You hadn’t seen the Winchesters in over a year.

Not since that hunt in Nebraska—the one that went sideways fast. The one that left you with a busted-up ankle and Dean with a fresh scar along his jawline. The one where, after all was said and done, you parted ways with an easy “See you around,” never expecting “around” to take this long to come back.

But when a case cropped up—one that twisted your gut with unease—you hadn’t hesitated. You picked up the phone and called the only people you trusted to have your back. If anyone could help, it was them.

And now, sitting in a dimly lit bar, waiting for them to arrive, your nerves were shot. Maybe it was the case. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d changed since they last saw you—since he last saw you.

That old, ridiculous crush on Dean Winchester hadn’t gone anywhere. That much had become painfully clear the moment he picked up the phone, his voice as deep, gravelly, and cocky as ever. But now, with time apart and the weight of your own insecurities pressing down, the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist.

You had always been curvier, carrying stubborn weight around your thighs, ass, and middle. But in the last year, you’d softened even more. Life had been quieter, with less running and fewer adrenaline-fuelled hunts. You were still strong, still capable, but you felt different. And you knew the type of women Dean gravitated toward—tall, slim, easy.

You were none of those things, and you never would be. And that was okay. But it was a niggling fact that had always lingered in the back of your mind, that had stung each time the three of you got together and you watched him charm someone else. Someone who wasn’t you.

A warm, unexpected hand on your shoulder brings you out of your darker thoughts, with a slight gasp, startling you a little.

“Easy there, sweetheart.”

You turned, heart stuttering as Dean stood there, grinning down at you like no time had passed at all. And damn it all, he looked the same—scruffy and stupidly handsome in that effortless way of his, jeans snug on his hips, flannel worn open over a snug black tee. Sam stood just behind him, offering you a softer, more knowing smile.

“Hey, boys,” you manage, hoping the warmth creeping up your neck isn’t as obvious as it feels. You slip off the barstool, nerves buzzing, but force yourself to keep it together.

Dean’s eyes flick over you—quick, but thorough. For a split second, something unreadable flashes across his face, but it’s gone before you can place it.

“Missed us that bad, huh?” His smirk is pure Dean, cocky and teasing, slipping back into the easy rhythm of your old banter.

You roll your eyes, but are grateful for it. “Don’t flatter yourself, Winchester.”

But your voice is softer than you mean it to be, and when you turn to Sam, pulling him into a warm hug first, you feel Dean’s gaze linger.

Then you step up to him, hesitation curling in your chest—but before you can overthink it, his arms are around you, solid and warm, pulling you close like no time has passed at all.

That familiar scent—woody, spiced, edged with leather—wraps around you, grounding you, unraveling you. For a second longer than necessary, you let yourself sink into it, just this once.

The three of you settled into a booth once the bartender set down your drinks. Sam took the seat across from you, while Dean slid in next to you, his presence a little too warm, a little too distracting.

“So,” Sam started, taking a sip of his beer. “What are we looking at?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “A few people have gone missing over the last month—no bodies, no traces, just… gone. I’ve ruled out everything I know of. There’s no signs of a struggle, no sulphur, no EMF spikes. It’s like they just vanished into thin air.”

Dean frowned, brows knitting together. “And no patterns? No connection between them?”

“None that I could find.” You shook your head. “That’s why I called you guys. I was hoping fresh eyes might help.”

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, both equally puzzled but already slipping into hunter mode.

“Well, we’re here now,” Sam said, ever the problem solver. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, feeling some of the weight lift. “We’ll go over everything in more detail tomorrow. Tonight…” You glanced between them, the tension of the case momentarily fading. “It’s just good to see you both.”

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed warmly, raising his bottle. “To old friends.”

You clinked beers with him, and Dean followed suit, but as your bottles met, his eyes locked onto yours. There was something there—something lingering, unreadable, sending a flicker of warmth through you. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone, masked behind an easy sip of his beer. You swallowed, shaking it off as nothing more than a trick of your mind.

The more the beers flowed, the easier it got. You caught up, swapped stories, and fell into familiar rhythms.

Dean was as quick with his smart-ass remarks as ever, and the two of you naturally fell into your usual back-and-forth. Sam, as always, was the long-suffering audience to your antics.

At one point, you and Dean tag-teamed a particularly brutal roast of Sam—this time about the time he’d gotten sick on a case and tried to insist he was totally fine, only to end up passing out face-first into a hotel’s continental breakfast buffet.

“Oh, come on,” Sam groaned, shaking his head as you and Dean laughed. “That was years ago.”

“And yet,” you grinned, “I can still hear the sound of your face hitting that tray of scrambled eggs.”

Dean snorted, nudging his knee against yours under the table. “Dude, you took out the whole table. That poor old lady thought you died.”

Sam huffed, rolling his eyes as he pushed his beer away. “Yeah, and that’s my cue. I’ve had enough of you two for one night.”

You laughed, but before you could say anything, Sam stood, shaking his head. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” He pulled you into a quick, brotherly hug, and you squeezed back.

“Night, Sammy,” you murmured, watching as he strode toward the door, leaving you alone with Dean.

You half-expected him to call it a night too, but instead, Dean didn’t move. If anything, the second Sam walked out, he seemed to settle in more, arm stretching along the back of the booth, fingers barely grazing your shoulder. The casual touch sent a ripple of awareness through you, but you forced yourself to act normal, reaching for your drink instead of acknowledging the way your heart had picked up speed.

“I think I’ll stick around a little longer,” he said casually, surprising you.

Your heart kicked up a notch, but you welcomed the company. “Yeah?”

Dean smirked. “Yeah. We got a lot of catching up to do.”

And so you did. The conversation flowed effortlessly, laughter slipping in between shared memories and stories of the road. Some cases were so bizarre they barely seemed real, and a few had you nearly crying with laughter. Time seemed to pass in a blink of an eye, the bar thinning out around you, and you barely noticed.

At some point, Dean just sat back and looked at you. Really looked at you. His expression softened, head tilting slightly as he took you in, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, he shook his head and muttered, “Damn, it’s really good to see you.”

The sincerity in his voice knocked the breath from your lungs.

Your lips parted, a response on the tip of your tongue, but nothing came out.

Dean huffed a small laugh, eyes still studying you like he was committing you to memory. “You look good, too.”

The words weren’t rushed, weren’t casual or offhanded. They were steady, like a thought he’d been holding onto for a while.

Heat crept up your neck, and you let out a small, nervous chuckle, dropping your gaze to your drink as you toyed with the condensation on the glass. “Yeah, okay.”

Dean shifted, leaning in just a little, enough that the space between you felt smaller, more intimate. “I mean it,” he said, quieter this time, voice dipping low.

All you could think was; what the hell is happening here?

Dean had never been like this with you before. Sure, he flirted—it was second nature to him—but not like this. At least that’s what you’d always believed. Had you just never noticed? Had you missed the way he looked at you before? Or had something changed?

Swallowing, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, only to find his eyes sweeping over you—slow, deliberate. No hesitation. No teasing. Just appreciation.

His gaze flickered to your lips.

The air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken, something you weren’t sure you were ready for, but part of you wanted to reach for it anyway.

Then—

“Last call!”

The bartender’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.

You exhaled sharply, the moment shattering as you snapped back to reality. A part of you wanted to stay frozen in it, let whatever this was between you and Dean unravel, but instead, you reached for the safest thing to say. "We should head back."

Dean nodded, standing with you, hands shoving into his jacket pockets. But even as you stepped out into the crisp night air, the tension didn’t fade. If anything, it followed you like a shadow.

The walk back to the motel was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the crunch of gravel under your boots. The air was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat still thrumming under your skin. You kept sneaking glances at Dean, only to find him already looking at you, eyes dark, thoughtful, unreadable.

He was close—not touching, but his presence was all-consuming. The scent of leather and whiskey clung to him, mixing with the crisp night air, making your stomach twist with anticipation.

When you finally reached your door, you hesitated.

"Well… this is me," you said, voice coming out lighter than you intended, a small, nervous chuckle slipping past your lips.

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile as he looked down at you. "Yeah."

But neither of you moved.

The air shifted again, crackling with something dangerous, something inevitable.

Dean’s gaze flickered lower—tracing the curve of your mouth, watching as you unconsciously pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. His pupils dilated. His breath hitched and something in his expression darkened.

"Fuck it."

The words barely left his lips before he was on you, crashing into you with a hunger that sent you stumbling back against the door. The force of it stole your breath, his mouth devouring yours, needy, desperate, like he’d been holding himself back for years and finally gave in.

A muffled sound of surprise left you, swallowed instantly by his lips, but it only took a second before you melted into him, your fingers fisting the open lapels of his jacket, anchoring yourself against him.

It was hot and messy, all teeth and tongue, the kind of kiss that left you lightheaded and aching. His hands were everywhere—gripping, pulling, claiming—sliding over your hips, your back, fingers digging into your flesh like he never wanted to let go.

You fumbled for the door behind you, barely registering how you managed to get it open before tugging him inside.

Dean groaned against your mouth as the door clicked shut, his hands already working your jacket off your shoulders. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this," he murmured against your lips, voice rough, breathless.

Your stomach flipped, your heart fluttering at the implication—the confirmation that this wasn’t just heat-of-the-moment lust. This was Dean. Wanting you. For who knew how long.

A moan slipped past your lips in response because forming actual words wasn’t an option—not with his hands gripping you tighter, not with the way he was kissing you like he was starving.

You barely noticed when you reached the little loveseat, your room provided, until the back of his knees hit it. Taking advantage of his momentary imbalance, you shoved him down onto it and climbed into his lap.

Dean groaned, head tipping back slightly as his hands found your hips, gripping tight. Touching you like he’d always wanted to. His fingers dug into the soft curve of your thighs, your ass, holding you like he couldn’t get enough.

You stiffened for half a second. The way his hands moulded to your body, the way he held you there so easily—so greedily—made your head spin.

You’d spent years second-guessing what guys thought when they touched you, wondering if they found you too much, too soft in places you’d been taught to shrink. The idea of straddling Dean, of all people, should’ve sent a jolt of insecurity through you. Should’ve had you hesitating.

But then Dean’s hands tightened—fingers pressing into your thighs, squeezing like he couldn’t stand not to have you closer. A deep, rough sound rumbled from his chest, his lips breaking from yours just long enough to groan, "Jesus—fuck."

The way he said it sent fire straight to your core.

He wanted you like this. Craved it. He wasn’t just tolerating the way your body pressed against him—he was obsessed with it.

As if to prove the point, his grip turned bruising, his hands dragging you even closer, pulling you down into him, despite the small part of you that feared you might be too much.

Dean grunted, his head dropping forward slightly, his forehead pressing to yours. "Goddamn, sweetheart."

A rush of confidence flooded through you, drowning out every lingering doubt.

And then you moved.

You rolled your hips, testing, teasing—just enough to feel the hard, undeniable evidence of how much he wanted this. Wanted you.

The friction was incredible, sending a bolt of pleasure up your spine, making you bite back a moan.

Dean’s breath hitched. His fingers dug into your flesh, his entire body going rigid.

That only made you do it again. Slower this time, deeper.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, his hands twitching on your thighs like he was trying to keep himself together.

"Fuck—" His voice was raw, strangled, almost pained.

You could feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle coiled tight as you ground against him, feeling the delicious pressure between you, the way his cock strained beneath his jeans, thick and hot against you.

Suddenly, his hands snapped up to your waist, gripping hard, stilling you.

You barely had a second to register it before—

Dean shuddered. His whole body tensed beneath you, a choked grunt ripping from his throat as his fingers dug into your flesh, his head tipping back against the couch.

He went still, and it took you a second to realise.

Dean Winchester had just cum in his jeans.

A rush of heat flooded his face, his expression shifting from shock to pure horror. He blinked up at you, wide-eyed, mortified.

"Oh, fuck." His voice was barely above a whisper, his hands still gripping your hips, as if he was trying to process what the hell had just happened.

Your lips parted in surprise. Then—a slow, wicked grin spread across your face.

"Did you just—?"

Dean groaned, head dropping back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. "Don’t. Just—don’t."

But you couldn’t help it. Because holy shit.

You’d just made Dean Winchester cum in his jeans.

If that wasn’t the biggest ego boost of your life, you didn’t know what was.

Leaning down, you pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, revelling in the way his breath stuttered. "That," you murmured, lips brushing against his ear, "is the best compliment I’ve ever gotten."

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he melted under your touch, his hands hesitantly sliding up your sides, gripping your waist like he needed to anchor himself. When he finally looked up at you, the humiliation still lingered, but something warmer, something softer, began to take its place.

His green eyes flickered over your face like he was memorising you. His throat bobbed with a swallow. Then, suddenly, he let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.

"God, I’m sorry," he huffed, running a hand down his face, still half-stunned. "You’re just—" His eyes swept over you, dark and reverent as his hands followed, tracing over the curve of your hips, the swell of your full breasts, the thickness of your thighs. His fingers flexed, like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed to feel every inch of you to believe this was real. "Fucking gorgeous."

Heat rushed to your face, your stomach flipping as you instinctively tried to shy away. But Dean was already there, his thumb pressing lightly under your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

"Hey," he murmured, his lips twitching into something wicked and sweet all at once. "Give me five minutes," his hands slid around the curve of your hips, then lower, grasping large handfuls of your ass, his fingers digging in like he couldn't help himself. He groaned, low and deep, pressing you closer, like he needed you to feel just how much he meant it. "And I’ll really show you how much I want you."

Your own lips curled, mirroring his. "Five minutes, huh?" You couldn’t help but hum as he kissed along the column of your throat, his lips soft and warm, his teeth grazing, sending a shiver down your spine.

His grip on you tightened, kneading the flesh beneath his hands, and another groan rumbled through his chest, when you shifted in his lap again and you felt the unmistakable twitch of him against you.

"Okay, make that two," he muttered, his voice rough with renewed hunger.

You laughed, and he grinned against your skin at the sound, before pulling you in and claiming your lips in a hot, deep kiss once more.

“Besides,” he mumbled between kisses, “I wanna sample the goods first, anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, about to retort, but then you squealed as he abruptly lifted you into his arms, carrying you over to the bed like you weighed nothing. With a playful smirk, he dropped you onto the mattress unceremoniously, making you bounce with a giggle.

Dean climbed in after you, hovering over you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his expression turning unexpectedly tender. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he admitted, voice quieter now, raw and honest.

Your heart fluttered.

"Then show me," you whispered.

And as his lips met yours again, slow and deep, Dean swore he’d take his damn time proving just how much he did.

AN: So this just popped into my mind, I hadn't planned on posting, but had to get it out 😅. I know this doesn't cater to everyone it's a little more reader specific, but, it's just another reason to love Dean! 😍

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel @piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse @impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean x you #spn #spn fanfic #sam winchester #spnfamily #jensen ackles #abbalina writes

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megs-1800 · 2 days ago

Text

No Strings Attached

Summary: Friends with benefits is always difficult especially when one of you catch feelings. Will Mason have the same feelings or will you lose him forever?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Angst, Fluff and Smut

“T-that was i-incredible” Mason pants as he rolls off me and flops himself on the bed next to me trying to catch his breathe. “Our sex always is incredible” I say rolling onto my stomach crashing my arm onto his chest whilst he tickles up and down it. I look into Mason’s eyes which I can see the spotlight from the ceiling are making them sparkle. Fuck he is so gorgeous. Mason sits up and looks at the time “I probably should make a move, I got training early tomorrow morning”. I give him puppy eyes hoping he would stay but I knew what I signed up for. Mason and I met a year ago, my best friend Paige is dating Ben Chilwell, she introduced me to Mason at a party of theirs. At the time I was happily engaged but the bastard ended up cheating on me, well turns out he was cheating all along. Me and Mason got drunk and ended up sleeping together, but from there we kind of just stayed a type of friends with benefits, he was there for me when I needed and vice versa. ‘No strings attached’ we said. “When am I next seeing you?” I ask and Mason gives me a smirk as he looks me up and down. “I will call you yeah”. I wink at him knowing he always calls.

I didn’t hear from Mason for the next couple of days but that’s not out of the ordinary, we go days not talking then we can go days with non-stop talking. I could say he is on the border of being one of my best friends, if I being honest he knows me better then I know myself sometimes, but I feel like we could never be proper friends due to our activities together. I throw myself on the sofa after a awfully long week, I turn on the TV and see that United are playing, it’s a Saturday early game so not much else to watch and thought it would be nice to show Mason some support. That’s why Mason hasn’t been talkative he has been putting his all into preparing for the game I thought. However 38 minutes into the game I watch how the opposition player tackles Mason and takes him completely down, I watch how he is screaming and rolling around in pain. I can see the pain in his eyes, I know he is more annoyed at being taken off rather than the pain of the tackle, he has worked so hard to get back and already being subbed must kill him. I quickly text him knowing that when he is free he will respond:

Y/N: How you feeling? x

I couple of hours passed and I hear my phone buzz and looking down and seeing Mason has replied:

M: Like shit how do you think I am feeling

Y/N: sorry silly question x

I feel bad for him but I didn’t know what else to say, I am taken back by his bluntness but I know he is hurting right now, I know deep down he doesn’t mean it. Another hour passed and my phone buzzes again:

M: Sorry y/n/n its just so frustrating you know I worked so hard for what, to play 38 minutes its just shit. The press has already slaughtered me, I just feel like shit but I don’t mean to take it out on you xx

Y/N: Don’t listen to the stupid press they just want a story. You are amazing Mase, injuries happen that’s the joys of being a footballer but don’t let them get you down. You know I am always your number one fan. I will whip you back into fitness in no time ;) xx

M: I can always count on you to make me laugh. Chilly said you are out with Paige tonight but I don’t suppose you can come here beforehand please? You can get ready here, I just hate being alone right now xxx

Y/N: I am already on my way superstar xxx

I quickly pack all of things that I would need for the night and then make my way to Masons. Everytime I go there it leaves me speechless, it definitely puts my one bedroom flat to shame. Mason opens the door, I can see he is wearing a pair of shorts and has he left ankle wrapped and is limping to the sofa. “Can I do anything?” I ask assessing his wounds. “you can do a lot of things” he raises his eyebrows and smirks seductively, he quickly continues “I am joking, you can get me a jumper please I just cannot bring myself to tackle the stairs yet”. I nod and quickly run upstairs and grab my favourite hoodie of his. I run back down the stairs and give it to him, he looks at me and smiles “how did I know you were going to get me this one” he laughs “am I that predictable?”. I make me and Mason a cup of tea and come join him on the sofa. He puts his arm up so I can turn my body into his chest, he has his ankle rest up in front of him. He continues to stoke my hair and we sit there in silence for what feels like forever. I go to look at the time, “jheez I gotta start getting ready” I start to move which Mason holds me tighter. “5 more minutes you have no idea how easy you take away the pain”. I smile into his chest, I love that I have that impact on him.

I look at myself in the mirror as I make one more curl in my hair, I am wearing a short black dress with laced sleeves and I matched it with a pair of black heels. I carefully make my way downstairs, I watch as Mason’s eyes look up from his phone and his eyes follow up and down, as I do a little playful swirl “you look insane” Mason states and I can feel myself blush. As I walk over to get my bag I heard my phone ding, I walk over to check it and my face drops “whats up?” Mason looks at me concerned. I take my heels off and flop myself on the sofa next to Mason “well that’s Paige cancelling last minute- again!” I groan. Mason looks at me sympathetically “has she cancelled on you a lot?” I nod to his question “yeah since she got with Chilly she has all her WAG friends now so I am kind of second best. I still love her but I guess she has more important places to be” I say defeated feeling sorry for myself.

Mason smiles “well we can party here?” I look at him and laugh “what with you that has one leg and is on strong painkillers so cannot drink? Great party!” I joke back. Mason clutches his chest where his heart is like I hurt his feelings “ouch!” I jab him in arm “thank you for making me feel better. Well I guess one good thing is I could go and put a tracksuit on and stuff my face now” I start to make my way upstairs when I hear him shout “You can wear that new tracksuit of mine that you like, I will order your favourite”.

I am laughing away with Mason, I am wearing his new Gucci oversized tracksuit, its massive on him so it drowns me but I am so comfortable. “I have never known someone who looks as beautiful all dressed down as they do all dressed up. You are going to make someone a real lucky guy one day”. I can feel myself blush at Mason’s words, he always knew how to pull on the heart strings. “Why you being so cute Mount? You wanna get into my knickers or something?” I heard him laugh and then lean in close to me “Maybeee?” I snigger at his comment “well you are in no state to ‘rock my world’ tonight Mase” he learns back and raises his eyebrows at me “Maybe but I bet even with my injured ankle I am still the best sex you ever had”. I laugh, I love how he has such a big ego.

Another hour passes, “its getting late I best get going” Mason gives me pleading eyes “please stay y/n. I need help to get up the stairs please” I nod “okay I will help you up the stairs and into bed then I am leaving”. Mason gives me a slow nod in response but I can tell there is something deeper in his eyes. I help him hobble up the stairs as I allow him to put the pressure onto me, I am struggling under his weight but I am determined to get him there. We eventually make it to his bedroom and I help him walk over to the bed. “I still cannot get over this room, this room is the size of my whole flat”. Mason shrugs his shoulders “perks of being a footballer I suppose”. He starts to get underdressed and I quickly shield my eyes “right I need to be going. Thanks for tonight Mase”. Mason pats the spot next to him in bed “why do you hide away its not like you haven’t seen it all before, but come join me” I hesitate for a minute but I know he will win. “There is a pair of my boxers and tshirts in the drawer you can wear for now” I thanked him and put them all.

His glaze doesn’t leave mine as he watches me get into his clothes “I have never known someone to look so fit in a pair of mens boxers you know” I am taking that compliment. I throw the covers back and join him in bed “I never get over how big and comfy this bed is” I stretch out as I show gratitude to the bed. Mason leans in and tickles up and down my sides which gives me goosebumps, he then extends his hands strokes the sides of my face “you are so beautiful never let anyone tell you different” I lean in closer to Mason so our lips are brushing against eachother “you are full of compliments tonight Mount”.

With that our lips come crashing together, our tongues fighting for dominance which I eventually allow Mason control, I always end up giving into him. I can feel Mason grinding his hips into mine and the blunge between us becoming apparent, Mason moves him lips to my neck and I cannot stop the moans that come out. I reach down to take him in my hands and I feel Mason stop my hands, I look at him confused. “I am not going to last long I need to be inside you” I nod knowing exactly what he means, I am in no mood for foreplay I need to feel that dick stretch me out. He removes his pants and climbs on top of me and puts legs so they wrap around his waist he slides the boxers I am wearing to the side and slowly lines himself up with me. “F-fuck” he moans into my neck “I love feeling that pussy stretch out for me” Mason starts a slow pace then it hits me “Mase your ankle lets swap” I offer. Mason shakes his head and continues his pace, I can hear him getting harder and faster and I know that he is close and he is edging me closer too. I can then feel his pace slow down and then I see him wince “swap” I demand and Mason gives him and flops down next to me “sorry I want to ruin you right now, bloody fucking ankle”. I kiss him to shut him up as I climb on top of him, I usually hate being on top as I am insecure about my body but Mason makes me feel so comfortable, I have no objections. I line him up with my entrance and slowly lower myself down, we grown in unity as I start to bounce up and down on his dick. He removes the tshirt I am wearing and starts playing with my tits, I can feel his fingers grazing over my nipple as he is inching me closer to my orgasm. “uh right there M-Mase r-right t-there” I moan as I come undone all over his dick, with that I feel Mason’s dick twitch inside me as he moans my name into my neck.

I flop off him as we both catch our breathe “see injured and I am still the best sex you ever had” which he winks at me. “Who said that you was the best sex I have ever had?” I tease as we both know he was the best guy I have slept with, “I think from the way you just screamed my name as you cum all over my dick had something to do with it”. I quickly get up and get cleaned up and bring Mason in some tissue as I know he is going to struggle to get out of bed. I go to get dressed as Mason stops me “what are you doing?” I look at him confused “I am getting dressed what does it look like I am doing?”

Mason shakes his head “stay with me tonight”

“Isn’t that breaking one of our rules ‘no sleepovers’ remember you were there when we set them”

“Yes and now I am saying lets break this one just for tonight. Please it will be nice not to be on my own. You know in case I need the toilet or something” I know there is more to that but I am not going to argue.

“Okay just this once” I reply as I throw back on the tshift I was wearing earlier and climb back into bed with him. Mason grins like the Cheshire cat as he pulls his arm out so I can lay on his chest. The small sound of his heart beating sends me to sleep.

A wake up as I see the sun drifting in through the blinds, I see Mason hobbling out the bathroom “Hey you are not supposed to be walking without support” I scold him.

“Well if I waited for sleeping beauty to wake up I would of exploded I have a bladder of a child” he giggles as he hobbles back to the bed and throws himself next to me. “Whats your plans for today?” he asks

“Not much I am helping one of the girls I work with move this afternoon, so probably have to leave soon” Mason pouts at that statement, “what about you Mount?”

Mason looks down like he doesn’t want to tell me the next part “Rebecca is coming down to spend time with me today”

I look at him confused as I bring his chin up to me so our eyes meet “whos Rebecca?”

Mason looks back down again as he didn’t wants to meet my gaze “she is a girl I have been seeing?” I jump out of bed at this comment.

“What the fuck are you talking about Mason? We just had sex and now you wanna tell me you are seeing someone. What the fuck Mason!!!” I am now screaming and throwing my hands around. I am starting to get dressed as I am shouting.

“We said no strings attached Y/N”

“I know that Mason! I don’t mean it like that, I mean that you have cheated on that poor girl with me. You have made me the other women that’s disgusting Mason! You know I have been cheated on why would you do that to me!” Mason gestures for me to sit at the end of the bed so I do, hoping he will let me calm down.

“We are not exclusive, we have only been on a couple of dates. We haven’t even slept together yet. I know its wrong Y/N you just do these things to me, you make me feel so much better and I know I do the same for you. I am sorry we can stop now if it will make you feel better.” I give him a look so he knows I am not impressed but I know nothing is going to change what happened so no point dwelling on it, so I nod in agreement.

“No more sex but still friends yeah” I lean to him and put out my pinkie finger. He wraps his pinkie around and places a kiss to it. “the best of friends” he replies.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A year has passed since that morning and Mason and I have kept our word and haven’t slept together. We are still close and talk near enough everyday but we are just keeping it to friendly flirting and not taking it any further than that. I miss that closeness though, I feel like I haven’t been able to feel that closeness with anyone else. Even with my partner James its different, we have been dating for nearly a year, I met him shortly after Mason and I’s ‘no more sex’ pact, Mason is still dating that Rebecca, it seems to be going well. I am happy with James, he is successful and passionate and loving and everything I should want in a man, but I don’t know I feel like something is missing. Maybe that’s just me being silly, always looking for a ‘but’ in a relationship. Maybe this will be my happy ever after, after all.

“Pleaseeeeee come out tonight y/n/n! It won’t be the same without you” Paige begs on the phone.

“I don’t know Paige. It’s a very A list party I am not sure I would fit in babes”

“Oh come on Y/n you said that James is working so what else are you going to be doing on New Years Eve. I hate the thought of you sitting at home on your own pleaseeee. You know us and Mason is going to be there.” The thought of Mason there does heal the anxiety of going a little bit.

“Okay Paige I agree I will think about it okay”

“That’s all I am asking babes. Love ya”.

I am still not sure if I want to go or not, I am constantly fighting with my head. Paige is hosting a New Years party at Ben Chilwell’s but my anxiety is going through the roof of the thought of going to the party with all these famous people and I am just little old me. I just got home from work when I get a text message:

M: Please tell me you are going to Chilly’s NYE Party! Paige said you haven’t got back to her yet. Please I need to see drunk y/n, I haven’t seen her in a long time. She is a laugh, give the people want they want!!! Drunk y/n drunk y/n! xx

I giggle at his message and quickly hit reply.

Y/N: I don’t know, my anxiety isn’t great Mase there is going to be a lot of people there and I will literally know Chilly, Paige and you. But at the same time work has been mad recently so would be nice to let my hair down. Aww I don’t know Mase xxx

M: Pleaseeeee do it for me xx

Y/N: Okay you have persuaded me. You are my weakness Mount. I will see you there xx

It takes me days to decide what to wear for New Years Eye, I don’t want to be too dressed up as its only a house party but I don’t want to show up not making an effort. Its got to NYE, I finished work early so I got time to get ready but I still have no idea what to wear. I have finished my hair and makeup but just no outfit.

M: What time are you getting there for? I am staying the night so I can come and get you on the way if you want? X

Y/N: Thanks that would be great. I will be ready for whatever time you want me ready for xx

M: Ready for 7? X

Y/N: Perfect! Well it would be if I knew what to wear x

M: You look amazing in anything! Wear that white thing with the trousers and the fluffy bits I like that one x

Y/N: Thank you but I have put some weight on since I last worn that so I don’t know x

M: Well try it on and see I bet you will still look amazing ;) x

I quickly find the outfit he is talking about and snap a photo of me in it. I really don’t know about it but I send it to Mason and see what he says.

M: See I knew I was right. I am leaving mine now so see you soon xx

Mason messages me when he is outside, and I make a way to his car. He is wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a nice top. “See I knew I was right you look lovely” I can feel myself blush “thank you Mase you look really nice too. I just don’t know if it’s a little tight around the stomach” I say trying to grab the material away from the stomach feeling insecure. I watch Mason’s eyes flicker up and down over me “you look amazing! Now stop it we going to have a great night!” I nod knowing he was right, tonight is going to be the best.

The rest of the night is amazing, Mason barely leaves my side as we speak to others at the party. I know he can sense my anxiety I even feel his hand rub my waist when he can sense I am uncomfortable, he always knows how to make me feel safe. I am on drink ‘I cannot even remember’ now and I can feel myself start to get a little tipsy. Mason looks over me with his hand wrapped around my side as he looks down at me “so where’s James tonight?” for a second I want to say ‘who is he talking about?’ due to the alcohol consumed. “He is working tonight. What about you? I am sure Rebecca would of jumped at the chance to be at a NYE party with you? I like Rebecca she is sweet”.

I can feel how tipsy I am with how unstable I have become on my feet “she is a nice girl. She is with her family tonight though. She thinks a lot of you though y/n, she really likes you too”.

I pull away from Mason’s grip “yeah she wouldn’t like me though Mason if she knew we slept together when you first got together”. I watch Mason’s face drop as I know he feels as guilty about it as I do. “Come on lets not dwell on that, lets just enjoy the night” which with that he grabs his arm around my waist.

The rest of night I can feel my anxiety start to fade with the amount of alcohol consumed. I loose Mason for a little while but with the liquid courage I have brought myself to chat to other people. I am dancing with a couple of girls that I have got chatting too when I can feel someone behind me and wrapped their arms around me, at first I thought it was Mason so I settle into it a little but then I felt their hands roll down the outside of my thighs and pushes their body into mine. I hear them whisper into my ear “I love the little show you put on for me. Shake it for me baby”. I quickly tense up and I turn around realising I have no idea who this guy is. “Who are you? What are you talking about?” I suddenly feel uneasy and try and back away from the guy. “Come on don’t be a tease baby. I know you were shaking it for me”. I watch how his eye darken and he grabs my waist. I can feel his fingers digging into me whilst his other hand wraps around my wrist. I suddenly begin to panic. “please let me go” I beg, but he doesn’t reply he just tightens his grip.

Suddenly I feel another’s presence “If I were you were mate I would let her go”. I feel the grip loosen slightly. I know that voice, Mason! I see the guys face turn from lust to anger “and who are you mate? She wants it! She has been dancing in front of me all night telling me she wants it. Look at her of course she wants it!” I can feel my heart drop do I really look like a slut? I was just trying to have a good time. I watch the rage in Mason’s eye’s “I will say it again I suggest you let her go before we got a problem.” The guy lets me go and squares up to Mason “yeah is it now. I suggest we take this outside”. I know Mason isn’t a fighter and I really don’t want him to get injured over me. I take Mason’s hand “come on just leave it Mase its not worth it.” I plead for Mason to drop it, not wanting to make more of a scene about it. ”Stay out of this you little slut! If the famous Mason Mount thinks he can try it with me, then lets go!” Mason doesn’t reply all I see is a swing and Mason’s hand colliding with the guys cheek which knocks the guy onto the floor. Chilly and a couple more people seeing the commotion quickly dragged the guy out whilst Mason looks at me and then quickly storms into the kitchen. Feeling embarrassed with all eyes on me I quickly run to the bathroom.

I can feel my heart beating in my chest, I cannot believe Mason just hit that guy. I can feel my eyes starting to water. Mason is always there to save me, but he didn’t need to do that. I compose myself after a couple of minutes and make my way back to the party. I bump into Paige “are you okay babes? I don’t know who that guy thinks he is? I don’t even know who he is I think he is a plus one”. I wrap my arms around Paige and settle into the hug “I am okay Paige, honestly. Well thanks to Mason I am. I am probably going to make a move though that guy has ruined my vibe”. Paige pulls away from the hug “no please y/n/n don’t leave!” I hesitate “I need to go find Mason and check he is okay”. Paige nods “I think he is in the kitchen”. I thank her and made my way to the kitchen.

I turn the corner and I can see Mason having a conversation with a couple of the boys “come on man! There was no need to punch him” I hear one of them say, I hear Mason grunt “he was groping her! Then you should of seen the way he spoke about her it was fucking disgusting I didn’t mean to hit him I just flipped”. I hear one of the cough and they all look up to me which the other men remove themselves from the kitchen.

“How you doing?” he asks me, I melt at his compassionate.

“You are asking me how I am doing? You are the one who punched someone. Hows your hand?” He lifted his hand up so I could inspect his knuckle. He winces as I touch the wound. I grab the bag of ice that is lied on the side and put it back onto the knuckle, which Mason hisses and swears. “I’m sorry”.

Mason looks at me and grabs the side of my face “what are you sorry for? He was the asshole and it was my choice to punch him. None of this is your fault”. Mason uses his un-injured hand to place a stand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t listen to a word he said. You look incredible and you deserve to dance and have a good time without being harassed.” He shoots me a reassuring smile. Which I return.

“Thanks Mase for saving the day! I am probably going to make a move now tho. I just want to forget tonight ever happened”. I see the sadness in Mason’s eye.

“What?! You cannot leave now. Its New Years in an hour come on just see the New Year in then I will let you go. Please I punched a guy for you, the least you can do is stay for me”. He jokes the last part but still it has persuaded me.

“Okay Okay you really are my weakness Mount. I will stay for you, but just until midnight” Mason gives me a toothy smile in return. “Just until midnight” he repeats back.

The rest of the evening is a laugh, I continue drinking and I am now totally smashed, which looking at Mason he is the same. We are dancing away together, chatting away with everyone. It gets to the New Years countdown and we are all cramped into the living room counting down together. As the numbers are getting smaller, I am not sure what to do. 12….11..Should I kiss Mason? 10…9.. Mason looks down at me, I am wondering if he is thinking the same? 8….7 Mason wraps an arm around my side and holds me closer. 6…5.. He closes the gap between us I look between his lips and his eyes. 4…3…2…1… before I know it our lips are connected. I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him closer as we continue to kiss. He pulls away and I see him bite his lips “happy new year beautiful” I lean in again which Mason returns the kiss as we pull away I talk “happy new year Mase”. I can feel butterflies in my stomach, right now in this moment, everything feels right.

Another hour passes and I can start to feel the alcohol wearing off, I say my goodbyes to Paige and Ben and I continue to walk round trying to find Mason. I haven’t seen him for the last 20 minutes which was weird as we have been attached at the hip during this party. I really don’t want to leave without staying goodbye. I look everywhere I can think of but he is nowhere to be found where can he be? I thought. My uber messages to say they are outside and I know I need to go, I check one more place before going Ben’s spare room. I knock lightly on the door and slowly open the door. I see Mason sat on the bed smiling at me “there you are!” I grin “I have been looking for you”.

Mason gets up and comes to meet me at the door, “I came to say goodbye, my uber is outside”. I explain. Mason doesn’t say a word and continue to look at me. We continue to stand there in silence, “okay well thank you for tonight. Its been the best night, and you know thank you for saving me and all that. So I guess I will see you soon”. Mason still doesn’t say anything and I can feel the air between us is weird, its never like this between us I wondered what’s happened. Mason then closes the gap between us, he brings my chin up so I am looking into his eyes. There is a sparkle in his eyes, Passion! He slowly lowers himself down and I can feel our lips brushing against eachother, it’s a slow loving kiss. It’s a kiss we have never had before. Mason hands lower and I can feel them brushing against my bum, he gives it a little squeeze before he continues the kiss. This time the kiss is needy as I can feel his tongue dominating my mouth. We both pull away fighting for breathe “I really gotta go my ubers waiting” Mason hums into my mouth as he continues the kiss “then go then” he kisses me, another deep kiss “or I can refund you the money you paid for the uber and you can stay here”. Mason and I continuing to kiss and right now in this moment all I can think about is the growing bulge between us. I can feel myself fighting with my head.

Mason rips his shirt over his head and exposes his toned chest, my lips water at the sight of it. We haven’t been this intimate in a year. I run my fingers down his chest as we continue the kiss, I can feel him moaning into my mouth. Mason turns me round and I can feel him grinding into my bum, which his dick is now rock hard. He starts to kiss down my neck and I know he is leaving me a hickey, I can feel the zipper of my jumpsuit and before I know it I am left in my underwear. Mason turns me around and looks me up and down “fuck you are so beautiful” he says making me blush and my instinct is to suddenly try and cover up. He grabs my arms away “come on its me. No need to hide away”. Our lips are connected again, I help Mason remove his trousers so we are both left in our underwear. Our hands are exploring eachother’s bodies, I can feel myself moaning as he brushes over the spot I need him most. That’s when reality hits me I quickly pull away “Mase what are we doing? We cannot do this?” Mason pulls away and takes a deep breath “I don’t know y/n you just do something to me. I just can’t handle myself around you. If you don’t want to do anything then its fine you can do home.” We both stand there, staring at eachother. My heart bonding through my chest whilst my head is fighting with my heart.

I wrap my arms around his neck “Mase I don’t know! I got James and you got Rebecca. We cannot do this to them. What if they find out?” Mason is continuing to tickle up and down my back “I will repeat y/n if you don’t want to do anything we don’t have too. But why are you worrying about them finding out? Its only us here”. I know he was right, I jump onto Mason which he catches me and wraps my legs around his waist. We both look into eachothers eyes and I can feel my heart melt, “I’m guessing that means you have opted in for the best sex of your life”. I roll my eyes as Mason walks me over to the bed and throws me down.

He quickly joins me and climbs inbetween my legs, I know what I am doing is wrong. I know I shouldn’t be doing this to James, but its Mason, its like he has a spell over me. All thoughts of James disappear as Mason kisses down my body, he unclips my bra and I can feel him flip my tipple through his tongue and slowly grazes them with his teeth “m-mase” I whimper. Mason continues to kiss down my body until he is finally at my core. He lifts my hips up so he can remove my thong then leaves a trial of kisses up my thighs, I try and contain my moans as I know we have to keep quiet but its so hard when I can feel his hot breathe on my pussy. He gives me one long swipe with his tongue and I scream out his name. He giggles and looks up at me, I give him pleading eyes begging him to go back to where he was “as much I love hearing you scream my name y/n we need to be quiet so we don’t get caught okay”. I nod in agreement hoping he will quickly return to where he was. Mason focuses on my clit and I can feel myself coming undone underneath him, Mason quickly inserts 2 fingers inside me as his tongue pays attention to my clit. I grab the pillow next to me and place it over my mouth to give me something to bite down on to stop me from screaming, I am a mess from Mason’s touch “fuck I have missed your fingers and mouth. Its so fucking good!” I am able to mutter which I can feel Mason smile into it. I am so close “go on baby let yourself go I know you wanna”. I relax my body and I can feel myself hitting my high, I try my hardest to be quiet but his name escapes my lips a little too loud.

Mason hovers back over me “I am sorry I didn’t mean to be so loud” I cover my face a little now feeling slightly embarrassed. Mason shakes his head “Baby girl you screaming my name is my weakness”. I smile into Mason as connect again, I can taste my cum in his mouth. I help Mason remove his boxers and his dick suddenly springs free I reach inbetween us and start to slowly pump him. I can feel him moaning into my neck from my touch which is giving the confidence to keep going. I connect my mouth to his neck and I start sucking away giving him a matching hickey to the one he gave me earlier “U-uh y-n d-don’t stop” he moans into my neck. I quickly flip us over so I am now in control, I can see the lust in Mason’s eyes as he watches me kiss down his toned body. I reach his cock and play around with it in my palm, I give the top small kisses and licks and then put it into the back of my throat as I choke on it, I know Mason loves it when I choke on it. I can hear Mason mutter words of recognition which is urging me to go harder and deeper. Mason reaches down and starts playing with my hair as he pushes my head down onto his cock when I hear a loud moan escape his lips. He quickly brings me back up so we are eye to eye again. “I need you” he begs.

Understanding exactly how Mason feels I climb back into my seated position and line myself up with him. Mason quickly stops me, looking at him confused “whats wrong?” I ask. Mason quickly shakes his head so I know its nothing that I am doing wrong. “Last time we slept together, me ankle was all messed up. So this time I wanna be on top, I need to absolutely ruin you y/n”. With that Mason flips us over so he his hoovering over me, placing all his weight on his arms that are either side of my head. Mason lines himself up with me and we both watch eachother as it goes in, I can feel myself stretching due to his size. Mason gives me a couple of seconds to adjust and then starts his rhythm. He is starting to speed up and I know he has got the pace that he wants, he starts hitting the spot and I can feel myself seeing stars “fuck your cock is so good” I manage to get out. “Believe me its nothing compared to this pussy, fuck yeah just like that”. Masons thrust have become sloppy and I know he is close. “You got another one in there for me baby” I nod my head as I cannot manage any words, Mason is destroying me. He pins my hips down and gives another couple of hard thrusts and with that I unravel onto his cock. This helps Mason hit his high as a couple of seconds later he quickly pulls out “fuck yeah shit so f-f-ucking good!” he moans as he cums all over my stomach and flops next to me on the bed. “Have I told you before how incredible our sex is?” Mason asks, I giggle in response “Yes, you have actually a couple of times”.

It’s the best night sleep I have had in ages, I roll over and Mason has his back to me. I allow myself to trace his the outline of his muscles with my fingers as he groans in appreciation. He rolls over to meet my eyes. “I gotta get going soon” Mason says bringing me out of my daydream. I look over at the clock and see its 11am “Yeah I need to as well. I need to sneak out before anyone sees me here”. Mason laughs knowing I am right. I get myself out of bed and force my feet into the ensuite, I gasp as I see the purple bruise that is glistening on my neck “Mason what the fuck! How am I going to go home with that?” Mason is quickly behind me, and laughs. I turn around and give Mason a stern look “Its not funny Mason how am I going to explain this?” Mason shrugs and turns his neck so I can see the matching hickey on his too “see you got too carried away as well y/n. You are not the only one who has explaining to do”.

I groan and storm back into the bedroom and flop onto the bed “we are horrible people Mason, I cannot believe we did that. I cheated on James. I hate myself”. I can feel the tears pricking in my eyes, Mason crouches in front of me so he is in between my legs, he quickly uses his thumb to wipe away the tears “come on don’t cry. We both had a lot to drink and got carried away. No one needs to know okay it can be our little secret. I hated doing that behind Rebecca’s back but last night was amazing I am not going to regret that”. Mason always knows what to say to make me feel better. He brings me to stand so we are facing eachother “No more sex” we both say together. My head is all over the place, I don’t know why I let myself do this to James but Mason has something over me I cannot explain. I just wish it wasn’t this complicated.

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Another 6 months has passed and Mason and I kept our word ‘no more sex’, its been like before NYE. No awkwardness has occurred and we have pretended nothing ever happened, we have never spoke about it since, we still talk everyday he is still my best friend though. Just to me this time feels different. James and I have been amazing, he is so kind and caring and I still beat myself up for what happened but I cannot change the past, I just need to focus on the future so I have decided to put my all into the relationship. I know James loves me as much as I love him, I never knew how I got so lucky with him. We had the best day when he asked me to marry him, I was so shocked as it was totally unexpected but of course I said yes, I would be stupid not too. Paige is having some girls over tonight and invited me over too, Lauren, Declan’s girlfriend was there and few other WAGs.

I sat with Lauren chatting away about life and I was telling them all about the engagement and them all gauging at the ring. That’s when I heard the whole group conversation turn about Mason. “I cannot believe Mason and Rebecca broke up like what the fuck” Paige says.

“I would snatch him up in a moment” one of the single girls of the group who I know as Monica contributes. I look at everyone confused, they broke up? Why didn’t he tell me?

“What they broke up?! Why what happened?” I turn to Lauren thinking out of all the girls she would know the answers.

Lauren shrugs “I don’t really know much. Apparently Mason became really distant and Rebecca thought there might be another girl. Mason always denied it but I agree he really didn’t seem that invested in the relationship recently, he seemed pre-occupied.”

“So what who ended it?” another girl asks but I am sitting at the edge of my seat waiting for Lauren to reply.

“Mason ended it, apparently he couldn’t deal with her constantly accusing him of there being someone else. I agree with Rebecca though Mason has seemed different its only been recent I would say since like New Year. He has totally distant himself from the relationship, maybe its for the best they both weren’t happy”. I can feel my heart beating in my chest.

“I’m surprised Mason didn’t tell you. Usually he tells you everything” Lauren continued turning to me.

“Yeah I guess he has decided to keep girl troubles out of our conversation this time”. Which I gave a little laugh which the whole giggle in reply. The conversation changes topic and everyone is engaged in conversation, I go to make myself another drink when I feel a presence behind me, I saw Lauren standing there. “What happened New Year?” she asks, I can feel my heart pounding, I like Lauren and I don’t wanna lie but I am not sure what Mason told her or not?

“I-I um-um not sure what you are talking about Lau” I try and act dump

“You know Declan and I stayed at Chilly’s that night too. When the party finished we walked past the room where Mason was staying and we could hear muffle sounds, it sounded like he was sleeping with someone. Then first thing in the morning I was downstairs when you tried to sneak out. So what happened? I am not dumb you know. I won’t judge whatever it is. We tried to ask Mason about it but he wouldn’t give us a straight answer”.

I look at Lauren in defeat I know she has found out our secret. “Okay okay I slept with Mason on New Years Eve.” I look down trying to not meet her eye, admitting it now makes it feel real.

“WHAT!!” I quickly grab Lauren and move her to the other side of the kitchen away from where the other girls are sitting. “Shhh will you keep your voice down no one else can know please”. I plead with her.

“Why didn’t you just tell me. What happened? How did you two randomly just get into bed together. Tell me everything”. Lauren picks up the glass of wine next to her and starts taking a couple of sips, knowing that she wants the gossip.

“Okay me and Mason had been a kind of friends with benefits since we first met.”

“Nooooo shut up!!!” she squeals

“let me continue…” she makes the action of zipping up her mouth and lets me continue.

“So well remember when he hurt his ankle..” she nods “well that’s when everything changed. I went round there to comfort him and well one thing let to another and we ended up in bed. I actually stayed the night which never happened. The next morning he told me he was starting to see Rebecca so we called it quits. Shortly after I met James and everything was fine, me and Mason were just friends and no lines where blurred”.

Lauren took another sip of her drink “so what happened New Years then?”

“Well obviously we both had a lot to drink, and then it kicked off with that guy started to make advances to me and he called me a slag and all that then Mason punched him and I don’t know maybe it was the heroic action or the amount of alcohol consumed I generally don’t know. I went to say goodbye and one thing let to another and we ended up in bed together. We woke up both feeling like shit so we agreed to not discuss it. Please I already feel awful about it, please don’t say anything to James.”

I am now starting to panic but Lauren is quick to assure me “babe my loyalties are with you not James. So whatever is said in this room stays in this room okay. So whats happened since because Mason has been all over the place have you guys continued to sleep together or what?”

“No nothing like that Lauren. We have agreed nothing will happened since that night and me and Mason are still close and talking everyday but nothing like that. Well I thought we were close but he didn’t tell me he broke up with Rebecca so god knows”.

“I have no idea what goes on in that guys mind. So whats Mason like in bed anyway? I would feel like his ego couldn’t match his performance if you know what I mean”. She is now giggling away like a little school girl.

I take another sip of my drink now feeling the after effects of the alcohol. “he is amazing Lau! Like obviously I would never tell him this because I wouldn’t want to boost his ego more but he is the best sex I have ever had. The way he makes me feel damn no one comes close”. Lauren smirks at me.

“So tell me again why you and Mason are nothing more then ‘just friends’?”

“I am engaged Lauren” she nods slowly but I can tell she knows there is lot more to that answer.

“Come on we should go back before the girls wonder where the hell we are?” I nod in agreement.

“I will be right in just need another drink”. I wait for Lauren to leave the room before I let out the deep breathe that I didn’t realise I was holding in. I cannot believe he broke up with Rebecca but why didn’t he tell me? Was it because of me? I need answers.

The next couple of hours I am completely distracted, all I can think about is Mason. I have drink after drink before I am completely tipsy. I say my goodbyes to everyone as my taxi notifies me they are outside. I wrap my arms around Lauren and thank her as it has been good to get it all out, “call me if you need anything”. She says and I know she means that. Before I knew it the taxi was pulling up outside Mason’s house, I hesitate for a minute. I don’t even know why I am here. Before I even walk up the steps I see Mason emerging from house, he looks confused until he recognises it was me. I go to say something but the taxi man interrupts “love you need to pay” I quickly look for my bag and then the realisation hits me “shit I left my bag at Paiges”. The taximan does not look amused but Mason just giggles “typical y/n. No worries I got this mate”. He turns to the taximan and chucks some cash at him and helps me inside.

“Soooo I-I heard you b-broke up with Rebeccaaaa” I slur before Mason even shuts the door, I am struggling to get my words out due to the alcohol consumption. Mason stops in his tracks.

“that’s why you are here”.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say pouting

“It wasn’t anything to really tell. Rebecca kept accusing me of being absent and had it in her head I was cheating on her. It was constant arguing I couldn’t be in that toxic relationship, I have had them with my exs I couldn’t do that again.”

“Well she wasn’t wrong about the cheating” I say plopping myself on the sofa, Mason rolls his eyes and sits next to me.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I have just had so much going on it kind of escaped my mind but I am sorry. You look lovely tonight you know”.

I can feel myself blushing. I hate that he has that impact on me. “So now tell me y/n why are you here and not at home with your fiancé?”

I take a deep breathe “I don’t know”

“Come on y/n of course you do”.

“I spoke to Lauren tonight. She said she heard us on NYE then saw me leaving the next morning she asked about us. It actually felt good to tell someone the truth. I am sorry I know we agreed to keep it a secret.”

Mason is tracing lines across my cheek and smiles “its fine y/n I am not angry. Before I broke up with Rebecca I came clean to Declan so chances are Lauren already knew she was probably just giving you the chance to tell her the truth. I had to talk to someone I had to get it out”.

“I love you Mason” I blurt out.

Mason drops his hand from my cheek, and shuffles back. “What do you mean you love me? You are engaged y/n”.

“Mason I have loved you from the first night we met. The way we connected, the way you made me feel. The only way we could ever be close enough was ‘friends with benefits’ so I accepted that’s all we are going to be. But now Mason I am not sure if that’s enough, I fucking love you Mason. I love the way you make me feel, the way you know me better then I know myself. Come on Mason you cannot tell me you don’t feel the same”. I don’t know where this courage as come from I am guessing its going something to do with the amount of drinks I have done.

“Y/N I will repeat it again it doesn’t matter how I feel you are engaged.”

“Lauren said the reason why you broke up with Rebecca was because you became distant like you were focussing on someone else. Are you seriously going to tell me that wasn’t me?”

“No y/n me breaking up with Rebecca had nothing to do with you! Not everything is about you. We had sex y/n that was all it was. No feelings, no strings attached remember that’s all we were. We used eachother to make eachother feel good at our time of need that’s what we were y/n. I am sorry if you caught feelings but this is what we were, nothing more.” Mason spat out. I wanted to be sick and I can feel tears starting to prick in my eyes. I hate myself how could I let myself confess my feelings for someone who doesn’t care. I start to sniffle to hold in the tears and make a beeline for the door.

“Y/n wait!” I hear Mason shout. I quickly turn around on my heals.

“No you are right Mason. That’s all we were, it was me being stupid. How could someone like you ever catch feelings for silly little m-m-me”. I stutter the last part and the tears are now completely falling down my face, I run out the house and never look back. I can feel my heart shattering into a thousand pieces, how can I have these kind of feelings for someone who I am not even engaged too? How can I feel this way about someone who doesn’t love me back.

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Mason’s POV- 6 Months later

After a couple of rings Declan picks up the phone “Mason I got your messages mate, I am not replying for a reason, please you cannot do this”.

“Please Dec understand she needs to know how I feel. She needs to know how I feel before she marries the wrong person”.

“Mase don’t you think you have put that poor girl through enough. Just let her be”.

“I can’t Dec. I have tried to put her out of my head. I can’t please Dec. I love her”.

“Then if you loved her Mase you wouldn’t hurt her, on her wedding day on all days”.

I know deep down Declan was right, I just cannot let you go. I cannot let you make the worst decision of your life. Ever since that night I have beat myself up with how I acted, I just never thought you ever felt that way about me. Please, look at you, you are the most perfect women and I never thought you would get with a guy like me. I tried to ring and text you everyday since that day but you ended up blocking my number and I even showed up at your flat which you refused to open the door eventhough I knew you were home. I would give anything to go back in time and admit my feelings too, I should of never let you go. And now its probably too late.

Chilly was invited to the wedding as Paige was the Maid of Honour, I asked Chilly to give me the address of the wedding. He fought very hard to not give it to me, I am not sure if he knew what happened between us but he must know me asking for the address of the wedding will not end good. Eventually I got it out of him. I couldn’t sleep all night I was so worried about what I was going to say to you tomorrow, I have to give myself a chance, a chance for love.

I walk through the venue and its absolutely breathtaking, I look at all the little details and I know that is totally your input. I know you would have everything looking perfect. I pump into one of the waiters “oh sorry” I quickly apologise. He looks completely shocked.

“Oh my god! You are Mason Mount! Can I get a picture?” I agree and he quickly snaps a selfie and thanks me.

“What room is the bride in?” I ask

“Down the hall and to the right is the bride’s suite”.

I thank him and quickly hurry down the hall. I can feel my palm’s sweating I don’t want to burst into the room with a load of people in there. I wait outside hesitating if whether I should do this when Paige comes out. She scowls at me, she definitely knows what has happened. “what are you doing here Mason? If its what I think don’t even think about it. I will tackle you to the floor now”. She laughs but I know she is totally serious.

“Please Paige, 5 mins that’s all I am asking. Please.” I see Paige hesitate but looks around down the hallway.

“ 5 mins okay. She is on her own but we all coming back in 15 minutes to get photos done and I want you gone by then”. I nod grateful for her.

“Thank you Paige” I hug her and then make my way to the door.

I hesitate again but I know I am wasting precious time, I quietly knock as I hear the ‘come in’ from the other side. You quickly spin around as our eyes meet. You looks absolutely incredible, I have never seen someone so beautiful. I can feel my mouth go completely dry.

“Mason? What are you doing here? I thought me blocking you was enough of an understanding for you.”

I am stood still in my tracks, I still cannot get over how mesmerising you look. “I-I’m sorry you look unreal. Wow absolutely incredible”.

I took a step forwards in which you take a step straight back to remain the distance between us. “Thank you but I will repeat Mason what are you doing here?”

“I-I’m an idiot” is the only thing I can get out. I have never been this nervous my mouth is totally dry.

“Yeah no shit” you spit back. I kind of deserved that.

“5 mins y/n please” I grab your hands in mine and this time you don’t pull away. “I love you y/n”

You let go of my hands and shove me away I can see the tears starting to appear in your eyes as you try to look up to prevent them from falling down. “No Mason. No fucking way you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to par me off when I confess my feelings then want to wait until my fucking wedding day to confess yours fuck you Mount!” You are now starting to get heated.

“I tried y/n. You blocked me remember and refused to open the door. This was my only chance”

“D-Don’t you think you hurt me enough. Now you g-gotta come and ruin my wedding day too why Mason”.

I hate that I am making you cry, especially when you look that beautiful. I slowly close the space between us trying to not make you flinch, I slowly wipe away the stray tears that have fallen down. “I needed you to know how I feel before I lost you forever.” You start to sniffle and I can hear you trying to control your breathing, you do not incept so I continue. “Y/N I have always loved you. From that first moment I met you, I was taken back by how someone could be that beautiful on the outside was so beautiful on the inside. Our sex is amazing, I have never connected with anyone on that level before. But its not just the sex y/n, I love how you listen and understand me. You are always there when I needed you. You know me better then anyone else. I was stupid y/n and I shouldn’t of said what I did. I didn’t mean it none of it was true. The reason why I left Rebecca was because of you, I guess I started distancing myself from her because every time I looked at her I started comparing her to you and I saw everything that she wasn’t. Fuck I love you y/n and I am a stupid stupid man for not confessing my feelings to you that night. I was scared I have never felt for someone the way I feel for you and it scared the absolute fuck out of me. Please y/n you cannot tell me those feelings have just gone away”.

I can hear your breathing now as your struggling to breathe, I rub your hand trying to get you to calm down. “Please y/n even if you don’t want this, then please can we still be friends. I cannot live my life knowing that you are not apart of it. These past 6 months have broken me, you can ask anyone”.

“M-Mase I cannot do this now. Why did you wait until now to tell me all of t-t-this. I-I g-get m-married i-inn 30 m-minutes.” You are struggling with your words and all I want is to wrap you up in my arm and take away the pain. I know there is nothing I can say or do, its too late you have made your decision and you are marrying him. I can feel the tears starting to fall down my face as I watch the love of my life marry another guy.

“I-I’m sorry for everything y/n. If I could rewind time I would do this so much better I promise. If your change your mind I will be at the docks in an hour waiting.” I place a small loving kiss to your lips, I know I shouldn’t but I needed to feel the softness of your lips on mine one last time. I can feel both our tears running down our faces onto our lips as we pull away. With that I turn around and walk straight out the venue, knowing deep down that I have lost you forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I look at the time, and I see its 3pm. The wedding was taking place an hour ago. I look around the docks but I cannot see you. I look down and flip my hoodie over my head as I let the tears fall down. A small part of me thought you would change your mind, but here we are I am wrong again. I walk a couple of steps and I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I turn around to see you standing there, you still have your bridal hair and make up on but you have got changed into a tracksuit. Looking over the tracksuit I actually realise that’s mine that I have been looking for, for ages, but that’s a question for another time. I am stunned that you are stood in front of me. You were first to speak “you were right Mase. I couldn’t walk down the aisle knowing the love of my life is here. I couldn’t do that to me or James. Sorry I am late I had to speak to James and then my dad. Both understood actually it was a lot easier then I thought, my dad just upset about the money paid for the wedding.”

I quickly respond “I will pay your dad back every penny he spent on the wedding. It will be a clear slate I promise”. It’s the least I can do I suppose, I am the reason the wedding was ruined.

“Thank you but I am not here for your money mase. I want you. I fucking love you” you jump closing the gap between us and our lips connect. For the first time this kiss feels right, like everything is happening how its supposed to. As we pull away I gather my thoughts, you still unreal even in my tracksuit. That when the sun reflects on the necklace you were wearing, it was a small sliver heart with your birthstone in it, looking at it I remember what it is.

“You were going to get married in the necklace I got you”. I run the necklace through my fingers as I caress your neck. “What did James think about the necklace it literally has the number 7 on the back of it?”.

You giggle at me “please can we not speak about my ex-fiancé who I literally just left at the alter. But I told him the number 7 was my lucky number. Well I guess it still is”. You wink at me and pull me in for another kiss. Our tongues fighting for control, I finally give in and allow you the control. We quickly pulling away remembering where we are.

“Shall we get out of here.” You wink at me.

I grab your hand in mine as we begin our walk along the docks “yeah lets get out of her before you change your mind”. I joke. You look up at me and playfully punch my arm. You link your arm into mine. We stop walking and you look up into my eyes “here’s to forever”.

#angst #fluff and angst #football #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you #manchester united #footballer smut #smut #mason mount fanfic #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount

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cisnt-critter · 2 days ago

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My mom was so so scared of letting me be medicated because I’m creative and neurodivergent and weird and she was afraid I’d lose that. Since being medicated she has told me multiple times that I’m more myself than I have been in a long time. My medication means that I write and draw my blorbos instead of just thinking about doing so. It means I still want to go on walks and care for my cat and hang out on vc with friends but I can actually do it. I have the energy to be who I always was and I’m more myself than ever. Whenever I forget to take my meds I feel way less like myself and just don’t know why until I see that I didn’t take them a day or two later. Again, some meds can change who you are but they shouldn’t and they don’t have to. You certainly don’t have to take or stay on meds but don’t let fear be the only think stopping you from having a better quality of life. If you are really worried about it, let somebody in your life know and listen to them if they think these meds aren’t working/have changed you. Idk

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

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ablobwhowrites · 1 day ago

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Thinking about yandere dc again and new y/n idea cause can't help myself

Thinking about a y/n who is like squirrel girl and this is more of a platonic yandere story (I have read the squirrel girl comics a long time ago and seeing her in marvel rivals and stuff, also in the Jeff the landshark comics so yeah) and has the powers for squirrel girl and wants to be a hero but being stuck in the bat family is hard cause, y/n is kinda the middle youngest just month later than Tim drake and y/n hates it cause Bruce says it's to dangerous as well as the other bat family and y/n is shocked cause Damian is a whole ass child and y/n is older than him!

Once y/n snuck out of the manor and into the city and ended up seeing Gordon having trouble with a crime case and y/n with a squirrel who was around the place of the crime. Ended up up finding the criminal who robbed the place and turned them into Gordon and after y/n was scolded by Bruce and Alfred for sneaking out and y/n did feel bad but they saved a store from losing all their money and luckily Grayson stepped in and y/n was able to go on patrols and stuff but only when there were small crimes and y/n got bored and had their squirrel friend with them and they did find a cool slingshot but still bored because there wasn't anything exciting happening and of course they got to help people and stop criminals but it was still boring but y/n ended up wandering off.

(Grayson wasn't paying attention and was doing some cool monologue in his head so he was heavily distracted) y/n ended up finding jokers henchmen stealing stuff. They end up defeating the henchmen and of course when Grayson finds y/n, he's worried as hell but then sees 10 of jokers henchmen on the ground with acorns on them and several with bite marks from a squirrel. Also y/n has a special attack, pocket squirrel in a time of need, y/n will literally throw a squirrel at you or just fastly pelt you with acorns if needed.

I also love the thought of because of this y/n having the powers of squirrel girl, they also have the big squirrel tail because I like to think when y/n is startled they just puff up their tail or something, plus squirrels can communicate with their tails so I imagine when their mad at the Grayson or Jason or basically anyone, they just stopped talking to them but they use their tail to bascially cuss them out or something.

I have more ideas because I got back into DC and have been watching Batman the original animated series and some other DC series so I got back into my DC brainrot.

(but that's it for my yapping session. If you like this idea please don't feel shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n ideas. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

#yandere batfamily x reader #bat family #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere dc x reader #yandere dc #dc x male reader #dc x reader #yandere platonic #yandere x male reader #x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #x gn reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #male reader #random talks

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mediocre-shark-tales · 3 days ago

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Your Secret is Safe with me... With US....

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Returning to the track the next day felt like a chore, each step heavier than the last. Today wasn’t about the race—it was about honoring my uncle in the only way I knew how.

A long time ago, he had given me a custom pin chain designed for the collar of a suit—something sleek, something personal. Silver, with two outstretched wings as the pins. I had never worn it at a race before, but today, it felt right.

So I dressed accordingly.

A black button-up shirt, the collar adorned with the silver chain and its delicate wing pins. Over it, a baggy leather jacket, only half-buttoned to let the chain glint under the paddock lights. Straight-legged black pants completed the look, along with my usual Nike high-tops—one of the few constants in my life.

I walked into the paddock in silence, the hum of conversation and laughter faltering as I passed. The atmosphere of this track was bright, electric, filled with vibrant colors from drivers wearing bold outfits to match the energy of the weekend. And then there was me—dressed in something more fitting for a funeral.

The moment the media caught sight of me, the chaos erupted. Cameras snapped in my direction, the clicking and flashing intensifying with every step. I didn’t flinch, didn’t stop. Normally, I would have. Normally, I would have given them something, even if just a glance. But not today.

I could already see the headlines forming in their heads. They would twist this against me, paint me as distant, unapproachable, brooding. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not today.

Interacting with fans and media would only make it worse. I didn’t trust myself to keep up the act—to hide the weight pressing against my ribs, the ache sitting heavy in my throat.

By the time I reached the Cadillac garage, the usual hum of chatter inside had quieted. Mechanics and engineers paused mid-task, eyes flickering to me before quickly looking away. The concern was evident, but I ignored it, making a beeline for the one person I trusted most here.

Nico was waiting for me in my usual corner of the garage. The moment our eyes met, he gave me a sad smile, understanding without needing to ask.

"Hey, Ghost," he said gently. "I know today’s gonna be tough. Do you need anything from me?"

I nodded, my voice carefully neutral. I had been fighting the burn in my chest all day—I wouldn’t let it consume me here. Not now.

"Yeah. If you can find a way to minimize my media duties after the race, that would be great. I can do them, but… I don’t know how long I’ll last before I break."

Nico didn’t hesitate. "I’ll see what I can do, bud." He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a silent promise. "For now, take whatever time you need before the drivers’ parade."

I gave him a curt nod before turning on my heel. I could have gone to my driver’s room, locked myself away from the world. But something about the heat of the sun pressing against my black clothing felt grounding.

So instead, I walked.

Down the pit lane, where the media weren’t allowed, where I could breathe without feeling the weight of a hundred lenses on my back.

At least for a moment.

When it was time for the drivers' parade, I stayed in the back of the room, away from where the others had gathered. The air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the usual pre-race energy, but I remained silent, still.

Any other day, I might have felt a pang of hurt at how easily silence made me invisible. How quickly I could fade into the background when I wasn’t cracking a joke or joining in on the pre-race banter.

But today, I was grateful for it.

Grateful to be overlooked.

At least, until I wasn’t.

Two sets of eyes found me, locking onto me like twin beacons through the haze of chatter.

I didn’t need to see their faces to know who they belonged to.

Both boys peeled away from their own groups without a word, their movements quiet but deliberate. When they reached me, stopping just two feet away, the energy between us shifted.

Their expressions, once lighthearted and carefree, had darkened—concern replacing whatever pre-race excitement had been there moments before.

Neither of them spoke right away.

They just stood there, looking between me and each other, waiting.

Waiting for me to let them in.

Oscar looked like he wanted to say something, but the moment was cut short. The call to head onto the trailer came, and like a machine set on autopilot, I fell into line with the other drivers.

I barely noticed that Lando and Oscar had taken up position on either side of me until Lando nudged my arm lightly.

“Alright, Ghost,” he said, his voice casual but playful, “I know you’re not much of a talker, but this is ridiculous. You’re usually at least pretending to enjoy this part.”

I blinked, forcing myself to focus as the three of us stepped onto the trailer.

Oscar leaned in slightly. “I was gonna say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet. Are you conserving energy or just silently plotting something?”

Lando gasped dramatically. “Oh no, don’t tell me you’ve finally given in to your dark side. You’re planning world domination, aren’t you?”

I let out a slow breath, pressing my lips together to keep from smiling.

“Damn, he’s not denying it,” Oscar said, eyes widening in mock horror. “It’s over for us.”

Lando placed a hand over his chest. “We had a good run, mate. At least we’ll go out knowing we were kind of the fastest here.”

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head slightly. They weren’t being pushy, weren’t demanding answers—they were just being themselves, trying to pull me back into reality.

“I hate to break it to you,” I said, voice quiet but even, “but if I wanted world domination, you two wouldn’t be my first recruits.”

Lando gasped again. “I’m offended. We’d make an excellent evil trio.”

Oscar crossed his arms. “Yeah, you’d need at least one of us for planning and the other for distracting.”

I huffed a small laugh despite myself.

Lando grinned like he had just won something. “There he is.”

Oscar nudged me lightly with his elbow. “Alright, now that we’ve got you talking, tell us—what’s with the dark-esk outfit? Did you finally snap and we are seeing a revenge arc?”

I stiffened for half a second before forcing myself to relax, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “Not really.”

Oscar and Lando exchanged glances, sensing something but wisely not pushing further.

“Noted,” Oscar said, shifting the topic. “Well, just so you know, Lando here has already almost fallen off one of these things before. So if he suddenly disappears mid-parade, don’t be alarmed.”

“Hey,” Lando protested. “That was one time.”

Oscar smirked. “One time that we know of.”

This time, I didn’t have to hold back the laugh. It was small, barely there, but real.

And for a moment, just a moment, the weight pressing down on my chest felt a little lighter.

By the time the parade had ended, just about every rookie had taken a moment to try and lift my spirits. They offered small jokes, lighthearted banter, and reassuring pats on the back, all assuming that the brutal criticism and the weight of the weekend had worn me down. But none of them—none—truly knew the ache my heart was trying to mend, only for it to tear open again with every quiet second I was left alone with my thoughts.

The only one who didn’t come near me was Jack. And maybe that was for the best.

How was I supposed to look him in the eye, knowing that the same grief that had shattered me was clawing at him, too? How could I lie to him, pretend I was upset from media critics, when we were both drowning in the same loss?

I couldn’t. I knew that.

So the moment the trailer came to a stop, I was the first to step off, weaving through the bustling paddock with only one thought in mind—get back to my driver’s room before the walls I had barely managed to keep standing finally collapsed.

The second I shut the door behind me, my chest caved, and I sucked in the first deep breath I had taken all day. It was shaky, unsteady, as if my lungs themselves rejected the idea of calm. But I needed to regain control. I needed to silence the storm in my head. I needed to go numb before the race.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling mindlessly through my playlists before my fingers hesitated over one I hadn’t touched in years. Indycar Rage+Ruin.

I pressed play.

The soft strum of a guitar hummed through the speakers, and immediately, my throat tightened. My uncle and I had made this playlist together during my first year in IndyCar. It had been our escape, the one thing that always seemed to drown out the noise of the world. He had built my music taste, shaped the songs I clung to in my hardest moments. This playlist, though—it was filled with his recommendations. Every song carefully chosen, meant to guide me through anger and exhaustion, to remind me of my worth when the world told me otherwise.

Back then, when I was ridiculed for being too young, too inexperienced, too different, he sat me down, placed an earbud in my hand, and said, "Let the music turn their doubt into your fuel. Show them what I already know you can do."

Tears burned in my eyes as the memories swelled, raw and vivid. His voice. His laugh. The way he always believed in me when no one else did.

I pulled off my helmet, my hands trembling as I changed into my fireproofs. But when I picked my helmet back up, my breath hitched.

It was another piece of him.

I ran my fingers over the design, tracing the lines and colors that hadn’t existed until he convinced me to take a risk. I had wanted to keep my old one—stick with something familiar. But he had pushed me to evolve. To make it mine. To leave the past in the past, to move towards my future, to the day I finally showed my truth to the whole world.

So I had. Every stroke, every detail, had come from his suggestions.

I swallowed the sob creeping up my throat, forcing my emotions into the deepest corner of my mind. I couldn’t break here. Not now.

I wiped the last of my tears away, pulling my balaclava over my face and securing my helmet in place.

This is for you.

And with that, I stepped out, ready to race.

—

Lap 26.

P8.

I should be fighting. I should be pushing harder, clawing my way back up the field. But all I could do was exist in the seat, my body moving through the motions like a machine while my mind drifted elsewhere.

The world outside my cockpit blurred into streaks of color—flashes of the crowd, pit boards, and curbs passing by without meaning. The radio crackled in my ear with strategy calls, updates on gaps and tire wear, but they barely registered.

Numb.

That’s all I felt.

The weight of grief had settled into my bones, anchoring me to a darkness I couldn’t shake. Every turn, every straight, every second that passed only reminded me of the gaping hole in my chest.

My uncle should have been here.

He should have been watching from the garage, pacing back and forth with that nervous excitement he always had whenever I raced. He should have been waiting for me at the end of this, ready to pull me into one of his crushing hugs and tell me exactly what I did right, no matter the result.

But he wasn’t.

He never would be again.

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the wheel. The ache inside me grew stronger, heavier, suffocating.

Then, without warning—

"You know why people look for flaws in you?"

A voice.

His voice.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was as if he was right there beside me, speaking through the static of my own thoughts, cutting through the numbness with words I had heard before.

"It’s because they see something in you that terrifies them. You’re not just another driver. You’re proof that the future doesn’t belong to the same old faces they’re used to. You prove them wrong every damn time you put your hands on that wheel."

I sucked in a sharp breath, my vision focusing again on the track ahead.

"They will always find something to pick apart. They will say you’re too young, too reckless, too emotional. But that’s just what people do when they can’t deny talent anymore. When they know that talent is going to change everything."

A lump rose in my throat.

"I know you, kid. I know you better than anyone. You’re strong, you’re relentless, and you are more talented than you even realize. I can’t have kids, but from the moment I put you back in that kart and saw that fire in your eyes, I knew—I didn’t need to. You were mine. You are mine. My kid, my racer, my pride."

Tears welled up, blurring my vision for a split second before I blinked them away.

"I love you like a father loves his daughter, and I will always, always be with you. My sister has no idea the daughter she lost that day, but I know the one I gained. So show me, kid. Show me just how amazing of a daughter I got."

The numbness cracked.

Then shattered.

A fire erupted inside my chest, spreading through every inch of my body. My grip on the wheel tightened—not from despair, but from purpose. My uncle’s words weren’t just a memory; they were fuel, reigniting the part of me that had been drowning all day.

I would not let this race slip away.

I would not let grief steal this from me.

I would honor him the only way I knew how—by fighting with everything I had.

"Let’s go hunting." I growled into the radio.

The response was instant. I could almost hear the sudden excitement in Diego’s voice.

"Copy, let’s get it."

Lap 27.

I launched into attack mode.

The first victim—P7. I lined up the move through Turn 3, positioning myself perfectly for the switchback out of Turn 4. Late on the throttle, I powered past, slicing ahead just before the braking zone into Turn 5.

One down.

Lap 30.

P6 was trickier. They defended hard, forcing me to back off twice. But they were draining their tires with every aggressive move, and I was patient. Into Turn 12, I dummied left before diving right, catching them off guard. My front wing edged past their rear tire—just enough. I held my breath, committed, and sent it.

They locked up. I didn’t.

P6 was mine.

Lap 34.

P5 and P4 were in a battle ahead, slowing each other down. I used it. A perfect slipstream down the main straight, and with DRS wide open, I took them both into Turn 1 in a double overtake that had my heart hammering inside my chest.

Lap 39.

P3.

Only two cars stood between me and the top step of the podium. My tires were screaming, my body was running on adrenaline alone, but I refused to lift.

Lap 42.

P2.

A lunge down the inside of Turn 10. No hesitation. No second thoughts. It stuck.

Final lap.

The leader was just ahead, but I was closing. DRS on the back straight. Slipstream. My pulse thundered in my ears.

Turn 14—late braking. Aggressive entry. I forced them wide.

Turn 15—I pulled ahead.

Final corner.

I could see the finish line.

This is for you.

I floored it.

The checkered flag waved.

I crossed the line.

P1.

I won.

A cheer ripped from my throat as I screamed into the radio. The team’s voices roared back at me, their cheers barely audible over the pounding of my heartbeat.

I slowed the car, my hands shaking, my breath coming in uneven gasps as reality crashed into me. Unbeknownst to me, My sobs being played over the live broadcast, something that could come back to bite me in the ass. But I no longer would care.

I had done it.

I had honored him.

Slowly, I rolled to a stop in parc fermé, the engine ticking as it cooled behind me. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, my hands still gripping the wheel as my body trembled with adrenaline, exhaustion, and something much deeper—something far heavier.

I had won.

But he wasn’t here to see it.

The roar of the crowd echoed around me, but it felt distant, almost muffled. Right now, the visor had become my barrier from showing the emotions racking my mind. That barrier felt like the only thing holding me together.

With slow, deliberate movements, I unstrapped my belts and climbed out of the car. The moment my feet hit the Halo, I stayed there, standing tall atop my machine.

Then, I placed my hand over my heart.

And I pointed to the sky.

My head stayed bowed, my gaze locked onto the carbon fiber beneath me. It wasn’t a grand gesture, it wasn't a show for the cameras or the fans—it was just for him. A silent message. A promise.

This win is yours, too.

The moment passed, and I finally stepped down from the car. The second my feet hit the ground, I turned toward the barrier, toward my team waiting on the other side.

They were already there, arms outstretched, shouting my name.

I barely made it two steps away before they pulled me in, wrapping me in a massive hug, their cheers filling the air around me. The warmth of their embrace, their unfiltered joy—it should have grounded me, should have held me together.

But as I let myself sink into them, the weight of everything crashed down all at once.

My breath hitched. My chest tightened.

I wasn’t ready to break here. Not in front of them.

Slipping away from the group, I ducked my head and moved quickly, weaving through the celebration before anyone could notice. I needed a moment. Just one.

By the time I reached my driver’s room, I barely had the door closed before my legs gave out. I sank onto the small couch, my hands trembling as I ripped off my gloves, pulled off the helmet and balaclava before I pressed my palms over my face.

A shuddering breath. Then another.

And then, finally, the dam broke.

Silent sobs wracked through me, my body shaking from the force of them. The grief, the joy, the pain—all of it collided in a way that stole the air from my lungs.

I had won.

I had done exactly what he always believed I could do.

But it would never be enough to bring him back.

And God, how I wished he was here.

Suddenly, I heard yelling from outside my door.

"You can’t go in yet!"

The warning reached my ears too late.

The door swung open before I could react—before I could pull my helmet back on, before I could even turn away.

Three pairs of eyes locked onto my tear filled ones.

Fuck.

Instinct took over. More voices echoed down the hall, growing closer. I didn’t think—I just moved.

Grabbing all three of them, I yanked them inside and slammed the door shut, twisting the lock into place.

Silence.

Only the sound of my own breathing filled the room, ragged and uneven. My heart pounded as reality sank in.

The gig was up.

There was no covering this up, no half-baked excuse that would save me now. They had seen me. Really seen me.

I dropped my head against the door with a quiet thud, the dull ache grounding me in the moment. A long sigh escaped me.

Shit.

I finally turned around, bracing myself.

Lando and Oscar were still frozen, their faces caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. Lando’s mouth hung slightly open, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Oscar just blinked, like his brain was still buffering.

But Franco—he looked different. His expression wasn’t one of shock, but something else. Guilt.

That’s when the dots connected.

Franco had been acting differently ever since the day my uncle passed. Ever since the moment I broke down in Nico’s arms. But… the door had been shut, right? No. It hadn’t. He must have seen me.

My breath hitched as I locked eyes with him, and in that instant, I knew. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze told me everything. He had known—maybe not the full truth, but enough to suspect. Enough to treat me differently ever since.

“This whole time…”

Lando’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, calm but laced with something unreadable. My head snapped toward him, bracing for the inevitable backlash, the betrayal, the anger. But it never came.

Instead, the shock on his face melted into something else—wonder, maybe even admiration. Beside him, Oscar’s expression shifted in the same way, the disbelief settling but not turning to resentment.

“You’re actually a girl?” Oscar blurted, blinking rapidly. “This whole time we’ve been calling you a dude?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, a small smile tugging at my lips. I nodded.

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I guess the voice changer actually makes sense now. I thought maybe you were just embarrassed about your voice or something stupid like that.”

Oscar grinned. “Yeah, I figured it was just part of the whole mysterious Ghost persona thing. But damn—this is next level.”

Their easy acceptance caught me off guard. I had prepared for anger, disappointment, maybe even disgust. But this? This felt… light.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting this reaction,” I admitted, my voice softer than before. “I thought there’d be a lot more anger. Or, I don’t know… disgust.”

That wiped the smiles off their faces instantly.

“What? No!” Lando exclaimed, his brows furrowing.

“Why would we think that?” Oscar asked, genuine confusion in his tone.

I hesitated before answering. “Because I’m a girl. Or maybe because I chose to hide my identity instead of fighting my way into the sport the ‘right’ way.”

Lando let out a short chuckle, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Right way? What even is the right way? Every girl in motorsport has to jump through hoops just to get a fraction of the chances we get.” His gaze softened. “If anything, you found the only real way to prove the facts over the ideals—you proved you belonged before anyone had the chance to doubt you.”

Oscar nodded, crossing his arms. “Think about it. You’ve spent the last five years proving a girl can race with the best of the best. The only difference is that you were given a fair shot—without prejudice clouding people's judgment from the start.” He tilted his head, a sly grin forming. “Just imagine the absolute meltdown the anti-female racing fans are gonna have when you reveal yourself. You’re about to shatter every argument they’ve ever had in real time.”

My heart swelled, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through my chest. For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.

They didn’t just accept me.

They believed in me.

Franco finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual but steady.

"They are right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "When I found out yesterday,"

My stomach twisted as he confirmed my suspicions.

"The door wasn’t all the way shut. I was walking past when I heard you sobbing, and before I could even process it, I saw Nico holding you. And… I saw you—not Ghost, not the masked driver everyone argued over—but you."

He let out a slow breath, like he had been holding it in for months. "At first, I didn’t know what to think. I mean, I had hunches that something was off—sometimes your mannerisms didn’t match up, your reactions felt… different from what I expected—but I never thought this was the truth. And when I did realize? Everything just… shifted."

I stiffened slightly, but his expression wasn’t one of judgment—it was one of understanding.

"I saw the way you carried yourself, how you fought for every inch in this sport, how you refused to back down even when the entire world was tearing you apart over baseless rumors. And then it hit me—" He shook his head, his voice growing more certain. "—if you had never hidden your identity, if they had known you were a girl from the start, you wouldn’t have even made it to IndyCar, let alone past it. You would’ve been written off, ridiculed, shoved into a marketing stunt instead of given a real seat."

I swallowed hard, because he was right. I had known it. But hearing someone else say it out loud? It made my chest tighten.

Franco ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And that’s what pissed me off the most—realizing that you had to do this. That you had no choice but to race under a mask just to prove you belonged. And even then, people still found ways to tear you down." His jaw clenched. "It made me sick. That’s why I started acting different—I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at the system that forced you to do this in the first place."

Silence hung in the air between us.

I had spent years preparing for this moment, expecting rejection, expecting people to be angry with me for lying. But instead, all I was met with was understanding.

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to blink hard to keep my emotions in check.

Lando let out a deep breath. "Damn… that’s actually insane when you think about it."

Oscar crossed his arms. "Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit is what it is."

Franco looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. "But you made it anyway." His lips quirked up in a small, almost proud smile. "You proved you belonged—without sponsors forcing a diversity hire, without a team trying to sell you as the next big ‘female trailblazer’ before you even turned a wheel. You earned this. And now that you’re here? No one can take that away from you."

Something in me cracked at those words.

For so long, I had braced myself for this truth to destroy everything I had built. But instead, these three—these friends—were standing beside me, not tearing me down but lifting me up.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t Ghost.

I was just me.

I took a slow, shaky breath.

“If I tell you the full truth… will you promise me something?” My voice was quieter now, uncertain.

Lando, Oscar, and Franco exchanged glances before nodding.

“Of course,” Lando said.

“Anything,” Oscar added.

Franco just gave me a firm look, waiting.

I hesitated, but I couldn’t stop now. The weight of the secret was pressing down on me, and for the first time in years, I wasn’t carrying it alone.

“I didn’t start hiding my identity because I wanted to,” I admitted. “It wasn’t some big strategy or grand plan. I did it because it was the only way I was ever going to race.”

Their brows furrowed, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

“My parents… they never wanted me to be a driver.” The bitterness in my tone was undeniable. “Jack? He got everything. He was the future of our family in racing. My parents invested everything into him, his training, his career. But me? I was their daughter. That meant a different future—one where I was supposed to be proper, ladylike, anything but a racer.”

Oscar’s mouth parted slightly in shock. Lando looked outright offended.

“But… then how did you start racing?” Franco asked, confusion laced in his voice.

A small, sad smile pulled at my lips. “My uncle. He helped me. He was the only one who saw how much I loved it—how much I needed it. He taught me behind my parents’ backs, found ways to get me into karting under a fake name. He made sure I had a shot.”

I swallowed hard.

“They never knew. Not my parents. Not Jack. And as I got older, the lie became my only way forward. The mask… it became necessary. If they found out, it would’ve been over before I even had a chance.”

Silence filled the room, the weight of my words settling in.

“I watched so many other girls get stuck,” I continued, my voice dropping to almost a whisper. “They had the talent. They worked just as hard, if not harder. But they were always seen as ‘a risk,’ as ‘a marketing opportunity’ instead of real drivers. Meanwhile, I just kept moving up—because they didn’t know. Because I was a mystery they could project their own expectations onto.”

I let out a humorless chuckle.

“And now? This is all I know. I don’t know how to race any other way. If I take the mask off now, everything changes. I change.”

I met their eyes then, desperation creeping into my tone.

“That’s why I need you to promise me. Please. Keep pretending you don’t know. Keep using male pronouns. Keep the secret alive—just a little longer.”

I could see the emotions warring in their expressions—concern, understanding, frustration at the reality of it all.

Then, Lando let out a long breath, shaking his head in disbelief before cracking a small, lopsided smile.

“This is fucking mental,” he muttered.

Oscar nudged him. “Lando.”

“What? It is! But…” He looked back at me, something more serious in his gaze now. “I get it.”

Oscar nodded. “Me too. It’s not fair, but if this is what you need… we’ve got your back.”

Franco was the last to speak, his expression unreadable. But then, he gave a single nod.

“We’ll keep the secret. No one’s gonna hear it from us.”

Relief flooded through me so fast I almost felt lightheaded.

"Thank you," I whispered, meaning it more than I ever had before.

Lando let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You know, we originally came in here to congratulate you on your first goddamn F1 win, but somehow, we ended up in a full-blown identity reveal."

Oscar snorted. "Yeah, this was not on my bingo card for today."

Franco shook his head with an exasperated laugh. "You literally won your first race, and instead of celebrating, we get emotional in your dressing room and drop the biggest plot twist of the season."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, the tension in the air finally easing. "I mean… if it makes you feel any better, I also wasn’t expecting this to happen today."

Lando threw his arms up. "Oh, fantastic! That makes it so much better."

Oscar patted his shoulder. "Deep breaths, mate."

Lando shot him a glare. "I have been breathing, thank you very much."

"Could've fooled me."

"Shut up, P5."

Oscar smirked. "P5? Mate, you're acting like you didn't just get your ass handed to you by the ‘rookie’ we all thought was a guy five minutes ago."

Lando groaned dramatically. "And now that's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life."

Franco clapped his hands together. "Alright, as fun as this little existential crisis is, we have an awards ceremony to get to before the FIA starts hunting us down."

My eyes widened. "Shit, you're right." I rushed over to grab my helmet, shoving it back on my head before anyone else could see my face. The visor clicked into place, securing the secret once again.

Lando waggled his eyebrows. "So mysterious."

I smacked his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being you."

"Wow. Rude."

Oscar sighed, already heading toward the door. "Can we please move this along? I'd like to see secret history being made sometime today."

Franco pulled the door open, peeking outside to make sure the coast was clear before gesturing for us to follow.

As we stepped out, Lando leaned in toward me. "Just so you know, Max is gonna be so pissed he lost to a literal ghost driver."I smirked under my helmet. "Then let’s not keep him waiting."

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy

#x reader #driver!reader #f1 #f1 angst #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #f1 imagine #f1 driver!reader

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sometimesanalice · 3 days ago

Text

Morgannn!! 💖 oh I’m so, so happy you liked this! Fluffy, fun, and flirty vibes for days!

I’m so happy that it was something that made you smile! 🥰🥰

More for you!!

Oh, this was absolutely delightful and fun and exactly what I needed after this week! I broke into giggles and a smile more times than I could count! I love everything you write, but sometimes you pop off with the best little details and phrasings and it's such a joy to read your writing!—🥹🥹🥹

And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

Quite literally the vibe for modern dating, and especially with how many men always forget Feb 14th is a holiday!!!!!— I just imagined her being like “are you sure??” like five times and this guy being like “it’s a Wednesday like yeah”. But truly, the amount of me not utilizing the notifications on their built in calendar is a CRIME. But especially on international hearts day!

And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Men don't appreciate good fashion. That's why we dress for the group chat and ourselves!— the girlies(gn) just want to look and feel cute! But also, you know that group chat was popping off with the🔥 emoji, lol

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

This visual this gave me! A beacon of pink! Get her a drink!— goodness knows miss ma’am needs one! She was just trying to go with the flow and have fun! But I loved trying to find ways to highlight just how out of place she was there, not only like with how she felt but also the setting!

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

STOP, THIS GOT ME!— I MEAN CAN YOU IMAGINEEEEE

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

Snaps for Selleck mention.— the OG mustache man!

Oh.

AN ITALICIZED OH, SO YOU KNOW IT'S GOOD!!!— ITALICIZED OH SUPREMACY!! (Also I’m so endlessly tickled by the amount of support the italicized oh has gotten 😂 I know I posted about it specifically, but I love how much love we all have for those two little letters!)

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

This was entirely too relatable. Those jeans are too slutty and the group chat must know! (nothing wrong with taking a lil pic either 🤫) — I was so obsessed with the idea of her being like “you guys won’t believe what happened” and her phone just blowing up the other night of her best babes wanting allll the tea! You know the brunch talk is going to be popping! (But the slutty beans and that cock walks are a lethal combo!!)

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

This whole pool scene was so fun! You captured Jake and Bradley's game with so much descriptive detail, it made me want to watch the movie again! Jake would absolutely get hustled, that man has too much ego to not get played.— ahhhh!! This is the best thing you could have said because Morgan I know nothing about pool lmaooooo 😂 I was reading as much as I could and snooping on r/billiards to figure out what was going on hahaha! All the while cursing myself for deciding her ace needed to be her sneaky pool shark skills. He would SO get played, he wouldn’t be able to help himself!

In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold.

This is quite literally one of my favourite ways a kiss has been described. So visual, yet you can feel it. It's going to be rolling through my brain for a bit, I love it!— stopppp!!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 there’s always so much pressure to try and get a first kiss right, so that makes me so happy that it landed well with you!! 🫶🏻

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in.

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own. “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it. But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

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

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

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

#thank you for reading and reblogging!#I’m just so happy you liked it!! 🫶🏻#the babe with the big move

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ephemeral-love-4 · 2 days ago

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Linger

── .✦ Lilia Calderu X Princess! Reader

╰┈➤Chapters : 1/3

Word count :27k

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The marketplace was quiet at this hour, the last of the vendors long gone, leaving behind only a faint scent of spice and wax. My feet barely made a sound against the cobblestone as I walked, the night air curling around my skin. I should have been in my chambers, tangled in expensive silk sheets, feigning sleep beneath the heavy weight of my obligations. But the castle had felt more suffocating than usual tonight.

The talks of my engagement had begun.

I exhaled through my nose, rubbing at my temple as I let my feet guide me through the familiar streets, seeking solace in their emptiness. That was when I saw her.

She sat at the base of the fountain, her golden gown catching the soft glow of the lanterns. The moonlight bathed her in silver, accentuating the dark curls that cascaded past her shoulders. She was beautiful— breathtaking, really. But it was the way she sat, shoulders heavy, her brown eyes filled with something unreadable as she gazed into the water, that struck me the most.

She wasn’t from here.

I knew everyone in my kingdom, and I had never seen her before. So, I did what any reasonable princess would do. I walked up to her.

“You’re new,” I said, settling beside her on the fountain’s edge.

She looked up, an eyebrow arching at my intrusion. “Is that a problem?”

“Nope,” I mused, tilting my head. “Just an astute observation.”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she studied me, her dark eyes scanning my face with something like quiet amusement. I liked that she didn’t lower her gaze.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She hesitated, as if weighing whether to answer. “Lilia. Lilia Calderu.”

“Calderu… You really aren’t from here, huh?” I said, surprised. Most people didn’t visit the kingdom unless they had business, and even then, they rarely lingered in the streets at this hour.

“So, where are you from?”

A pause— small, but noticeable. “Sicily.”

“Sicily?” I repeated, leaning forward with interest. “That’s… in Italy. And fairly far away.” I dipped my fingers into the cool fountain water, letting the ripples dance around my skin. “So, what brings you here, all the way from Sicily?”

She pressed her lips together. Her fingers trailed absentmindedly over the fabric of her gown. “Circumstances,” she said quietly.

“That’s vague.”

A soft breath left her nose— almost a scoff. Then, after a long moment, she spoke again. “A fever swept through my village,” she murmured. “And I was the only survivor.”

The words were quiet but heavy. The weight of them hung in the air, settling between us like an unspoken grief.

I reached out instinctively to take her hand but hesitated, retracting my fingers at the last second. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. And I truly meant it.

She glanced at me before turning back to the water. “It happened a long time ago.”

“It may have happened a long time ago,” I said softly, “but the feeling still lingers, does it not?”

She stiffened, her hands clenching around the folds of her gown. “I suppose it does.”

A quiet settled between us, broken only by the distant hum of the wind.

“Do you have anywhere to spend the night?” I asked, watching her face carefully.

She shook her head.

A brilliant idea struck me.

“Stay at the castle.”

She turned to me, confusion flickering across her features. “What castle?”

“My castle.”

Her expression shifted. Recognition. “Ah. So you’re the principessa.”

“Yep. Princess Y/N of the L/N household,” I said with a grin, finally introducing myself.

Lilia stood and curtseyed. “Ah, pardon me, I didn’t recognize you were royalty,” she said with a soft tone.

I waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, you didn’t know.” I stood beside her. “Right, so, are you staying at the castle?”

“I must decline your invitation,” she said, dusting off her dress.

“Why?”

She gave me a pointed look. “Pardon me, but it’s a foolish idea.”

“Why?” I repeated.

“Why?” she echoed, as if she couldn’t believe I was asking. “You don’t know me, principessa. I could be a thief. Or an assassin.”

I grinned. “Well, if I were to die, at least I’d be dying at the hands of a very beautiful woman.”

Lilia blinked, then scoffed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ve been told.” I clasped my hands together. “So? Are you going to stay?”

She slipped her hands out of mine. “No. I need to be out by dawn, anyway.”

I huffed, frustrated with her reluctance. “So? There’s no harm in spending the night.”

She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down her face, as if she were struggling to keep her composure. Before she could protest further, I cut her off.

“You’re spending the night. And that’s an order.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me. You’re spending the night.”

She muttered something in Sicilian— probably cursing me— before sighing. “One night.”

I beamed, extending my hand. “Excellent! I can assure you, you won’t regret it.”

She eyed my hand before taking it and muttering, “We’ll see.”

The walk back to the castle was quiet. Lilia observed the surroundings, taking in the sight of the village, while my focus was entirely on her. There was something about her—something enticing, something I couldn’t quite place. She was like a flickering candle in a dark room, drawing me in with her quiet intensity.

I was so focused on her that I didn’t even notice the approaching guard.

“Princess!” a voice called out.

We both stopped in our tracks.

“The king is very displeased with your actions,” the guard continued, his tone clipped. “I suggest you return to the castle at once.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. If my father was already upset, how was I supposed to convince him to let Lilia stay?

Lilia tensed beside me. I felt the shift immediately— the way her shoulders squared, her posture stiffening. She was preparing for rejection, for being turned away.

Not happening.

The grand hall was cold despite the flickering chandeliers overhead, the polished marble floors echoing every step I took. The moment I set foot inside, my father’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

"Y/N."

I froze, shoulders squaring instinctively as I turned to face him. King L/N stood at the foot of the grand staircase, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression set in a deep frown of disapproval. The heavy embroidered cloak draped over his shoulders made him look even more imposing, his piercing gaze cutting straight through me.

Behind me, Lilia remained silent, her posture unreadable, but I could feel her gaze flicking between us, assessing the situation.

My father’s expression hardened as he stepped forward. "Where have you been?"

I lifted my chin. “Out.”

His frown deepened. "Sneaking away in the middle of the night? Do you know what kind of example that sets?"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Oh, forgive me, Father, for daring to leave the castle walls for fresh air.”

His eyes narrowed. “This is not a game, Y/N. You are a princess, not some reckless commoner who can disappear into the streets without consequence. What if something had happened to you? Do you think the kingdom would not notice if its heir went missing?”

I set my jaw. “I was fine.”

“You do not know that,” he countered, voice low with simmering anger. “The world outside these walls is dangerous. And you, Y/N, are far too naïve if you believe otherwise.”

Before I could snap back, his gaze flickered past me to Lilia, assessing her with an unreadable expression. His posture stiffened. “And who is this?”

I lifted my chin, stepping slightly in front of her. “Her name is Lilia Calderu. She’s my guest.”

His brows furrowed. “Guest?”

“Yes.” I crossed my arms. “She has nowhere to go. She’s staying the night.”

His expression darkened instantly. "Absolutely not."

My stomach twisted. “Why not?”

“Because I said so,” he replied, his tone final, as if that alone should be enough.

I took a step closer. “She is staying.”

He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, do not test me. You are to be engaged soon. You should not be bringing strange women into the castle.”

Anger flared in my chest. “She is not a ‘strange woman.’”

“She is a wanderer.” His voice was laced with disdain. “You know nothing about her. Who she is, where she has been, what she might want.” He gestured toward Lilia, his expression tight. “For all you know, she could be a thief, a spy, or worse.”

Lilia let out a low, unimpressed scoff behind me. I had no doubt she was already growing tired of this conversation.

My fingers curled into fists. “She saved my life tonight.”

That caught him off guard. His eyes flickered briefly with something unreadable before his expression turned skeptical. “Did she?”

“Yes,” I said, voice firm. “And I gave her my word that she would have a place to stay for the night.” I took another step closer, squaring my shoulders. “And a princess does not break her word.”

A tense silence fell between us.

My father’s eyes studied me, sharp and calculating. I could see the war waging in his mind— his need for control battling against the unshakable will I had inherited from him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a slow exhale. "Fine. One night."

A triumphant grin spread across my face before I could stop it.

Lilia, standing behind me, muttered something under her breath. I wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a prayer.

The king’s expression remained unreadable as he turned on his heel, already heading up the staircase. “Do not make me regret this, Y/N.”

I watched him disappear down the corridor before letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Then, turning back to Lilia, I smiled. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I glanced toward one of the maids lingering near the entrance. “Prepare a bath for my guest. And bring some fresh clothes.”

The maid gave me a quick bow before hurrying off to do as instructed.

Lilia arched a brow at me. “Saved your life?”

I grinned. “Yep! Saved me from eternal boredom”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I pushed open the heavy wooden door to my chambers, leading Lilia inside with an air of triumph. The room was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, the silk curtains fluttering gently from the night breeze that slipped through the open window. The scent of lavender and honey lingered in the air, a comforting contrast to the crisp, spice-tinged scent of the marketplace.

Lilia stepped inside hesitantly, her sharp eyes sweeping over the luxurious surroundings. The grand four-poster bed sat at the center, its plush golden canopy draped elegantly, while a vanity table lined with ornate trinkets and glass bottles stood against the far wall. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the intricate tapestries hanging along the walls.

"You can take a bath," I announced, stepping toward a hidden door that led to my private bathing chamber. "There should be fresh water waiting. And when you're done, there'll be some clean clothes for you."

Lilia raised an eyebrow, arms crossing but didn't say anything, simply moving towards the bathing chamber, pausing only to glance back at me. “Don’t go stealing my things while I’m in there, principessa.”

I gasped, placing a hand over my heart in mock offense. “I would never! …Unless you have something particularly interesting.”

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head before disappearing inside.

By the time Lilia emerged, she was clad in a loose, white linen shirt and a pair of silk trousers I had laid out for her— simple, but far cleaner than what she had worn before. Her damp curls cascaded over her shoulders, her face softer now that the dirt and weariness of the road had been washed away.

I, already in my nightgown, flopped unceremoniously onto my bed, stretching out like a cat who got the cream. Lilia stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed again, as if debating her next move.

“Where will I be sleeping?” she finally asked.

I blinked at her before grinning mischievously. “Oh, there’s plenty of room in my bed!” I patted the empty space beside me.

Lilia’s expression remained unreadable for a moment, before she let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You have an entire castle with dozens of guest rooms… and yet, you insist I sleep here.”

"Of course," I said, beaming. "You don’t expect me to throw a guest into a lonely, cold room all by herself, do you?"

She exhaled sharply, as if she was suffering some great misfortune, before moving toward the bed. With clear reluctance, she perched at the very edge, sitting stiffly with her hands clasped in her lap.

I, on the other hand, was sprawled on my side, my head propped up by my hand as I stared at her unabashedly. “You look like you’re about to flee,” I commented.

“I’m considering it.”

I giggled, kicking my feet slightly. "You wound me, Lilia. Truly. Here I am, offering you warmth and comfort, and you act as if I’m the villain."

“You could be.”

I gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to my chest. "Me? A villain? And here I thought I was your noble rescuer!"

She shook her head, looking away with a barely contained smirk.

A few beats of silence passed. The room was quiet except for the gentle crackling of the fire and the occasional hoot of an owl outside. I studied her in the dim candlelight, the way her shoulders were tense, as if she was constantly ready to spring into action. There was a guardedness in her posture, in the way she held herself— like a woman who had spent too long expecting the worst from people.

I shifted, sitting up properly. “So,” I said, tilting my head, “what’s your story?”

Lilia’s fingers drummed idly against her knee. “That’s a dangerous question to ask, principessa.”

"Is it?"

She hummed, glancing at me from the corner of her eye. “It is. People lie. People exaggerate. Some stories aren’t meant to be shared at all.”

I leaned in slightly. “And which of those applies to you?”

She hesitated. For a long moment, I thought she might refuse to answer, but then— perhaps as a way to humor me, or as some small form of repayment for my generosity— she sighed and leaned back on her hands.

“I’ve traveled a lot,” she began. “And when you travel, you see many things. You meet many strange people.”

I perked up, urging her on with an excited nod.

She exhaled through her nose, as if debating how much to tell me. Then, a glint of amusement sparked in her eyes. “There was a time,” she said slowly, “when I tried to swindle a nobleman out of his gold.”

My eyes widened. “Did you succeed?”

Lilia smirked. “I almost did. I had the whole act perfected— a lost traveler, helpless and alone, abandoned by fate itself.” She sighed dramatically, mimicking my earlier theatrics. “He fell for it, of course. But, just as I was about to make off with a very fine coin purse, his wife arrived.”

I gasped. “And then?”

Lilia grinned, the sharpness of it rivaling the edge of a dagger. “She turned out to be far more terrifying than he was. I barely made it out of there without a broken nose.”

I burst into laughter, throwing my head back. “Oh, that’s brilliant.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head.

“Tell me another,” I urged, shifting closer.

Lilia raised an eyebrow. “Are all princesses this demanding?”

“Only the best ones.”

She exhaled, but there was no real protest in it. And so, she told another.

And another.

She spoke of a tavern brawl in a coastal town, of a merchant who tried to sell her a “magic” gemstone that turned out to be nothing but colored glass. With each story, my laughter grew louder, my fascination deeper. And though Lilia acted as if she was merely humoring me, I could tell— there was a flicker of ease in her posture now. A softening of the walls she had built around herself.

I don’t know when I stopped lying on my side and ended up sitting cross-legged in front of her, leaning in, hanging onto every word. I don’t know when Lilia’s smirk turned into something more genuine, or when her voice lost its usual guarded edge.

But by the time we realized how late it had become, the sky outside was no longer dark.

Golden light trickled through the curtains, the first hints of dawn breaking over the horizon. The night had slipped away from us, lost between laughter and whispered stories.

Lilia blinked, glancing toward the window. “...We talked all night.”

I grinned, stretching my arms above my head. “Looks like we did.”

She shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “That wasn’t my plan.”

I laughed. “Neither was bringing home a mysterious traveler from the fountain, yet here we are.”

Lilia sighed, rubbing at her temples. “I blame you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She looked at me for a long moment, then exhaled in defeat. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still here,” I pointed out smugly.

A flicker of something passed through her gaze. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t deny it either.

“So, will you be staying for breakfast?” I smile, getting ready to insist that she stayed but to my surprised she didn't protest simply just agreed

I had a feeling she was going to be staying for much longer than just breakfast

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The autumn air was crisp, tinged with the scent of earth and fallen leaves. The gardens, usually vibrant with life, now stood bathed in gold and amber, the trees shedding their fiery coats with every passing breeze. The stone path beneath my feet was littered with leaves that crunched softly as Lilia and I walked side by side.

She held my hand— casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her fingers were warm despite the chill in the air, her grip firm but not forceful. The way her thumb occasionally brushed over my knuckles was enough to send a quiet shiver down my spine.

She was telling a story, her voice rich with amusement, her words animated with subtle gestures.

“So then, the old woman— no taller than my shoulder, mind you— just picks up the frying pan, swings it around like she’s wielding a sword, and bam— drops the first man to the ground. I have never seen a grown man go down so fast in my life. And the other two? The moment she turned toward them, they just— ” Lilia made a dramatic, exaggerated motion of two men throwing their hands up in surrender, eyes wide with terror.

I let out a small, breathy laugh, but it lacked its usual spark.

Lilia didn’t miss it.

She trailed off mid-sentence, her sharp gaze flickering toward me.

“You’re quiet.”

I blinked, startled by her sudden shift in tone.

“You’re never this quiet,” she pressed. There was something softer in her voice now, something searching. She gave my hand a light squeeze, as if to pull me back into the present. “What’s wrong?”

I hesitated. I could brush it off, I could tell her I was just tired, I could turn the conversation back to her story. But this was Lilia. She would see through it instantly.

So instead, I sighed, my breath visible in the cool air.

“My father,” I murmured, “has successfully arranged my marriage.”

Lilia stopped walking.

Just like that, the world seemed to still.

I kept my eyes ahead, focusing on the shifting leaves in the distance. “It’s with the neighboring kingdom,” I continued, my voice steady despite the weight of my words. “A political alliance. It will benefit our people.”

Silence.

I could feel her staring at me, I could feel the tension radiating from her as she processed my words.

When I finally glanced at her, her expression was unreadable— but her grip on my hand had tightened.

“And you’re just… accepting this?” Her voice was quieter now, but there was a sharpness beneath it, like the edge of a blade.

I shrugged. “It’s my duty.”

Lilia scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Since when do you care about duty?”

I smiled wryly. “Since always.”

“That’s a lie,” she shot back. “You do what you want, when you want. You push against every rule, every expectation. You never just accept things.”

She pulled me to a stop, turning to face me fully. The autumn breeze swept through the garden, rustling her dark hair, making the crimson leaves dance around us.

“You could rule alone,” she said suddenly.

I blinked. “What?”

“You don’t need some self-important noble at your side,” she continued. “You could take the throne by yourself.”

I laughed, the sound light but hollow. “You say that as if female rulers aren’t rare.”

“You could be the first.”

“I’m not fit to be one of them.”

“That’s not true.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “Lilia, I—”

“I mean it,” she interrupted. Her voice was steady, certain. “You’re more capable than anyone I’ve ever met.”

I smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’m not fit to be a royal at all.”

Lilia’s brows furrowed. “Why would you say that?”

I turned my gaze upward, watching as a golden leaf drifted lazily through the air. “Because I don’t belong here.”

She said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

“I envy you, you know,” I admitted after a moment.

Lilia frowned. “Why?”

I gestured vaguely around us, to the castle in the distance, to the sky stretching endlessly above. “Because you’re free. You can go wherever you want, live however you choose. You don’t have to answer to anyone.”

Lilia was silent.

Then, before I could react, she abruptly stopped walking and turned to me, her hands now gripping both of mine.

“Run away with me.”

I froze.

Her voice was steady, but there was something desperate in her gaze.

I let out a breathy laugh. “Lilia—”

“I’m serious.” She took a step closer, her fingers tightening around mine. “Come with me. Leave this place behind. No arranged marriages, no obligations— just us.”

My heart clenched painfully.

I wanted to. Gods, I wanted to.

To run, to escape, to be selfish just this once.

But I couldn’t.

And she knew that.

So I did what I always did— I smiled. I laughed. I brushed it off like it was nothing.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I teased. “Where would we even go?”

Lilia didn’t laugh.

Her lips parted as if to argue, but then she stopped. Her expression shifted, like she had realized something.

Like she had realized I wasn’t saying no because I didn’t want to.

I was saying no because I couldn’t.

And for the first time since I had met her, Lilia had no clever retort.

She just held my hand a little tighter.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The grand hall was alight with warmth and music, chandeliers casting golden light over the polished marble floors. Laughter and conversation wove through the air, a soft hum beneath the string quartet playing in the corner. It was a private affair— no grand ball, no elaborate feast— just a quiet gathering to introduce Prince Edric to the inner court.

I stood near the farthest window, a goblet of wine in hand, watching as the guests spoke in hushed tones about my impending marriage.

“Your Highness.”

I turned, and there he was— Prince Edric.

His dark hair was neatly combed back, his attire pristine and refined. He had a composed, gentle smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Your Grace,” I greeted, forcing a polite smile.

“I was hoping we might speak.”

I nodded, gesturing toward the balcony. Away from the prying eyes and murmured gossip, the cool night air greeted us as we stepped outside. The autumn wind carried the scent of rain, crisp and clean.

Edric exhaled, resting his hands on the stone railing. “I won’t pretend this arrangement is one of love,” he began, voice steady. “But I hope, in time, we might at least be friends.”

I studied him. He was not cruel. Not unkind. He was not a tyrant, nor a fool. In a different life, perhaps I could have been content with this.

I offered a small smile. “I suppose that’s a good place to start.”

He glanced at me then, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “I will not ask if this is what you want,” he said carefully. “Because I suspect I already know the answer.”

I said nothing.

Edric turned back toward the night sky. “Duty is a heavy thing, isn’t it?”

I let out a quiet breath. “It is.”

And that was that.

We returned to the hall, where the murmurs and music swelled once more.

Lilia was waiting for me in my chambers when I returned.

She sat on the windowsill, one leg dangling, her arms crossed. The moonlight painted her in shades of silver and shadow, but even in the dim glow, I could see the tightness in her jaw.

“You’re late,” she muttered.

I sighed, kicking off my shoes. “I was with Edric.”

Something flickered in her expression. “And?”

I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “And… he’s not as bad as I thought.”

Silence.

Then, quietly—

“You like him.”

I turned my head toward her. “Does it matter?”

Lilia’s hands clenched at her sleeves. “It does to me.”

I sat up. “Why?”

She let out a sharp breath, standing abruptly. “Because—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

“No.” I pushed myself to my feet. “Say it.”

Lilia glared at me. “What do you want me to say, principessa? That I can’t stand to watch you fall into this gilded cage? That I hate the way you talk about him as if it’s already decided?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Because it is, isn’t it?”

I swallowed hard. “Lilia—”

She took a step forward, close enough that I could see the frustration burning behind her eyes.

“Tell me you don’t want more,” she whispered.

I didn’t answer.

Because I couldn’t.

Her breath hitched, and then, with a shake of her head, she turned away.

“I can’t do this.”

Something in my chest twisted. “What do you mean?”

She exhaled shakily. “I mean I can’t stay. I can’t sit here and watch you marry someone else.”

Panic flared in my heart. “You’re leaving?”

Lilia didn’t answer.

I grabbed her wrist. “Lilia.”

She turned back to me, and for the first time, I saw it— real heartbreak, plain on her face.

“I love you,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “And I can’t stay and watch you be someone else’s.”

My breath caught.

But before I could say anything—

She pulled away.

And she was gone.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The castle was shrouded in silence. The kind of silence that felt heavy, suffocating, like the calm before a storm. The torches along the walls flickered weakly, their light barely pushing back against the thick darkness creeping through the halls.

I should have been asleep. Tomorrow was my wedding day. The day I fulfilled my duty. The day I sealed my kingdom’s future. The day I gave myself away to a man I barely knew.

But instead, I was here— standing at my window, watching the courtyard below, lost in thought.

And then, I saw her.

A shadow, moving swiftly along the stone path leading to the gates. Cloaked, hooded, carrying only a small satchel.

My stomach dropped.

I knew that silhouette. I would recognize her anywhere.

“Lilia…”

I barely realized I had whispered her name before I was moving. My feet carried me through the halls before I could think. Before I could hesitate. Before I could talk myself out of it.

I didn’t bother with shoes. Didn’t bother with a cloak to keep out the autumn chill.

I ran.

Through the halls. Down the stairs. Across the courtyard.

She was already at the gates when I called out.

“LILIA!”

She froze.

For a moment, she didn’t turn.

Then, with a sigh, she did.

Under the pale moonlight, her face was unreadable. A perfect mask of indifference. But I knew her too well. I could see it in the tightness of her jaw. In the way her fingers clenched at the strap of her satchel.

She wasn’t indifferent.

She was in pain.

“You’re leaving.”

Lilia froze mid-movement, fingers tightening around the strap of her satchel. Then she sighed, slow and measured, before turning slightly— just enough for me to see the tension in her face.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

I stepped forward. “So, that’s it?” My voice was softer than I intended, laced with something close to hurt. “You weren’t even going to say goodbye?”

She let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking her head as she turned away.

“Would you have even noticed?” she muttered. “You have a wedding to prepare for, after all.”

I flinched.

“That’s not fair.”

Her shoulders stiffened, something snapping in her as she turned fully to face me.

“What’s not fair,” she snapped, “is standing here, pretending this means nothing to you. Pretending I mean nothing to you.”

The air went still.

I swallowed hard, but I didn’t deny it.

Because I couldn’t.

Because we both knew the truth.

“Lilia,” I said softly, hesitant. “You know it’s not that simple.”

She laughed, but there was no joy in it. Only sharp edges and unspoken pain.

“No.” She shook her head. “It is that simple.”

Her eyes locked onto mine, something fierce and desperate burning in them.

“You don’t want this marriage, do you?”

I opened my mouth. Then hesitated.

And that was all she needed.

Lilia took a step closer, lowering her voice, but the urgency in it only grew.

“Then run.”

My breath hitched.

“Let’s go— tonight, right now. Just say the word, and we leave.”

Her hands found mine, fingers curling around them like a lifeline, as if willing me to take the leap she had already decided on.

For a moment, I almost did.

For a moment, I imagined it— us, slipping away into the night, leaving behind duty and titles and the weight of expectation.

For a moment, it felt real.

But it wasn’t.

It never could be.

I shook my head, barely able to get the words out.

“I can’t.”

Lilia stilled.

For a long, excruciating second, she just looked at me.

Her expression shifted.

The fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something more fragile.

Something that shattered me.

“Do you love him?” she whispered.

I stayed silent for too long.

Then, barely above a breath, I forced out the truth neither of us wanted to hear.

“…It doesn’t matter.”

Lilia closed her eyes.

And I knew.

I knew I had lost her.

She exhaled sharply, jaw tight, and when she looked at me again, the softness in her expression was gone.

She stepped back.

Out of reach.

“Right.” A quiet, bitter chuckle. “Of course, it doesn’t.”

Something inside me screamed to stop her. To take it back. To say something— anything— that would make her stay.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

She shook her head, stepping further away, the distance between us stretching wider and wider.

“No.” Her voice was softer now, but no less final. “You made your choice.”

And just like that—

She turned.

And walked away.

And I let her.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The morning of my wedding arrived with a hush, as if the entire kingdom held its breath. The air was thick with the scent of roses, honeyed incense, and polished steel. Every hallway of the castle had been draped in silks of gold and ivory, servants scurrying to ensure that every candle was perfectly lit, every flower in place. The weight of it all settled on my shoulders long before I even opened my eyes.

I was getting married today.

To Edric.

To a man who was kind enough. A man who smiled when we met, who was polite, respectful. A man who would be a good king, a strong ruler, a responsible husband.

A man who was not her.

I sat before the mirror as the maids fastened the last ties of my gown, their hands careful, their voices hushed. My wedding dress was heavier than I expected, layers of embroidered silk wrapping around my body, golden threads woven into intricate patterns across the bodice—symbols of unity, prosperity, duty.

Duty.

The word rang in my mind like a funeral bell.

I barely noticed as they pinned my veil into place, as they twisted my hair into an elaborate style fit for a queen. I did not flinch when they placed the weight of the crown atop my head.

I looked the part. A bride. A future queen. A symbol of peace.

And yet, all I could think about was Lilia.

Had she made it far? Had she left the kingdom’s borders yet? Was she safe? Was she thinking of me?

Was she regretting it as much as I was?

A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.

“It’s time, Your Highness.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, pressed my trembling hands together, and rose to my feet.

It was time.

The cathedral was grander than I had ever seen it, bathed in golden light, the high-arched stained-glass windows casting fractured colors onto the marble floors. Every inch of the hall was filled— nobles draped in their finest silks, foreign dignitaries, knights standing like statues along the pillars. My father sat upon his throne, watching from above.

A kingdom waited.

The heavy wooden doors creaked open.

I stepped forward.

Each step sent a dull echo through the silent hall, my gown trailing behind me like a ghost. The scent of incense and candle wax curled in my lungs, but I barely breathed.

I was numb.

At the altar, Edric stood waiting.

His posture was perfect, his expression composed. He was not unkind, not cruel— there was no malice in his eyes, only duty. We were both victims of it, in our own ways.

I forced myself to meet his gaze as I reached him.

Neither of us smiled.

The priest began the ceremony, his voice a distant hum, speaking of love and duty and sacrifice. Words that meant nothing to me. Words that bound me all the same.

I wanted to turn, to run, to flee down the aisle and out into the cold air, where I could still chase after her. I wanted to find Lilia, wherever she had gone, to take her by the hand and tell her I was sorry.

But that was a fantasy.

This was my reality.

“…Do you, Princess Y/N, take Prince Edric to be your husband and king?”

The silence stretched.

I could feel my father’s gaze, the expectant stares of the court, the breathless anticipation of my people.

I was their princess. Their future queen.

This was the moment.

This was my fate.

My lips parted.

“…I do.”

A cheer erupted through the hall, a roar of celebration, of relief.

The golden ring was slipped onto my finger, cold as iron. The weight of it settled, final and unshakable.

There was no going back.

And somewhere, far beyond the castle walls, Lilia was nothing more than a memory.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

#patti lupone #lilia calderu x reader #agatha all along #lilia calderu #idk man #im scared

124 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 21 hours ago

Text

What’s up, buttercups! 💕

Chapter six is here, bringing us even closer to the idea that sparked this whole story 😉 Personally, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with this chapter—some parts I really enjoy, while others make me cringe at myself… Anyway, we all know where this is headed 😘

As always, happy reading! 💕

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language

Word count: 7k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three ; Chapter four ; Chapter five

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Six: The Ice King’s game changer

“Dearest Toronto readers,

It seems the Ice King and his Queen are not just skating by anymore—they’re captivating an entire city. In the wake of last night’s dinner date, whispers of their chemistry have turned into a resounding buzz, amplified by the kiss that stole the spotlight.

Oh, yes. You heard that right. A kiss. Not just a peck or a fleeting brush of lips, but a moment so undeniably intimate that it has us questioning everything we thought we knew about this royal couple. Auston Matthews, Toronto’s golden star with ice in his veins, and his Queen, a poised profile who continues to surprise us, shared a kiss that has left the city talking.

What makes this tale even more intriguing is the subtle transformation of our Ice King. Known for his cool, detached demeanour, Auston has been showing glimmers of something softer, something warmer.

But is this love or strategy? As the Ice King prepares for tonight’s game against the Kraken, one thing is clear, Toronto: this story continues.

Stay tuned. The best is yet to come.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer.”

Thursday –

The crisp morning air bit at your cheeks as you tightened your running shoes, your breath visible in the chill. Restlessness had dragged you out of bed far earlier than usual. Sleep had been impossible, with last night replaying over and over in your mind. The dim restaurant lighting, the way Auston leaned in like you were the only person in the room, his voice quiet and steady, somehow managing to soothe your nerves without even trying.

And, of course, the kiss.

God, the kiss.

It hadn’t been the fireworks-filled, over-the-top kind you’d imagined in your “perfect moment” fantasies. It was better—softer, slower. The way Auston’s eyes searched yours for permission, the gentleness of his lips against yours, steady and deliberate. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a moment. And it had left you feeling something you hadn’t in a long time: cared for.

Your pace quickened as the memory stirred something warm and unfamiliar. You tried to push it aside, focusing instead on the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, but it was no use. Auston Matthews, the cocky, larger-than-life hockey star, had shown you a side you hadn’t expected—gentle, personal, even… vulnerable. How could someone like him feel like two completely different people?

Your phone buzzed against your arm, jolting you back to reality. You slowed to a jog, glancing down reluctantly. Of course, the kiss had gone viral. Social media buzzed with images of Auston holding the car door for you, his hand at the small of your back, and that kiss—a perfect tilt of his head, his hand cradling your jaw. It looked impossibly polished, like a scene from a movie. Which, in some ways, it had been. And yet… not entirely. That realisation unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

Dinner had been better than you expected—his smirks, the way his voice dipped softer when he spoke directly to you, the glimpses of sincerity that peeked through his cocky exterior. Against all logic, you’d found yourself drawn to him, as if the magnetic pull he carried on the ice extended into every part of his life.

And then, there was his offer.

The sincerity in his voice as he proposed to help you had completely thrown you. Auston Matthews, who could have anyone, had looked you in the eye and offered something so earnest, so unexpected, that it had made you wonder: What if?

Your breath came in visible clouds as your pace slowed again, the brisk air stinging your skin as you fought to clear your head. Could you trust him? Could you even let yourself entertain the idea? After everything you’d been through, the thought of trusting anyone like that felt impossible. But there was something about Auston—something about the way he’d looked at you, steady and sure, like he saw parts of you you’d long since hidden away.

Another buzz. Your phone jolted against your arm again. A text this time from your brother:

“So… Auston Matthews, huh? Care to explain?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as you picked up your pace again. How could you explain something you didn’t even fully understand yourself? The thought of introducing Auston to your family sent a pang of anxiety through you. They wouldn’t get it. Hell, you didn’t get it. And yet, despite the swirl of confusion, the idea of him meeting them someday refused to fade completely.

Auston sat in the locker room, lacing up his skates as the hum of chatter and laughter filled the air. It was game day—a home match against the Kraken—and the team’s energy was sharp yet relaxed. Morning practice was crisp, the drills seamless, everything perfectly in rhythm, yet Auston’s mind kept drifting back to you.

You were a puzzle he hadn’t expected but couldn’t ignore. Most people fell into predictable patterns around him—awed, impressed, eager to please. But you? You didn’t fawn over him or let his NHL superstar status phase you. You challenged him, called him out, and somehow still made him laugh while doing it. That disarming honesty threw him off balance in a way that both frustrated and fascinated him.

Practice was solid, the energy electric, but even as he fed off it, his thoughts kept circling back to the kiss. Not just the memory, but the feeling it left behind. It lingered in his chest, leaving him smirking to himself as he skated through drills, already thinking about how he’d approach you next.

And, of course, Mitch noticed. Nudging Auston as they walked to the meeting room, he grinned. “What’s with the smirk, Tony? Got something planned for tonight?”

Auston shrugged, his smirk widening just enough to irritate his best friend. “Just thinking about the game.”

“Sure you are,” Mitch replied with a knowing look.

Auston didn’t bother correcting him. Let him think what he wanted. His teammates didn’t need to know that grin had nothing to do with hockey—and everything to do with you.

The hum of the office was interrupted by a sudden commotion at the reception desk. A courier, dressed in stylish uniform, stood by the counter holding a sleek white box tied with an elegant black bow. The package seemed to draw attention like a magnet, sparking a ripple of whispers and curious glances among your co-workers. You glanced up from your laptop, your focus splintered as Clara, the receptionist, called your name across the room.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stood, hesitating slightly before making your way to the desk. It wasn’t the package itself that set you on edge—it was the watchful eyes of your colleagues tracking your every move, their unspoken curiosity palpable.

Clara handed you the box with a knowing smile, her eyebrows raised in playful intrigue. “Looks like someone’s got an admirer.”

“Hardly,” you muttered, though your cheeks warmed under the attention. The elegant packaging and the black bow whispered exclusivity, and your curiosity stirred. As you walked back to your desk, the whispers behind you swelled, prickling at your self-consciousness.

“What’s in the box?” Ina, your colleague, asked, her tone laced with a mix of curiosity and teasing as she swivelled slightly in her chair to face you.

“No idea,” you replied, setting the box down and feigning nonchalance, though your heart raced. Your fingers moved quickly to untie the ribbon, the hushed buzz around you only amplifying your nerves. As you lifted the lid, the contents took you by surprise—a pristine Toronto Maple Leafs jersey, the unmistakable number 34 and “Matthews” emblazoned boldly on the back.

But it wasn’t just the jersey that caught your attention. Resting on top of it was a small card:

“Know you’ll look sick in this. Bring your game face, boss. - A”

You bit your lip, the corners of your mouth twitching as you tried to suppress the smile threatening to spread. It was such a simple gesture, yet so distinctly Auston—cheeky, confident, but also unexpectedly thoughtful. And the fact that he’d sent it directly to your office, of all places, made your chest tighten with a mix of flustered nerves and something you didn’t quite want to name.

“That’s a hockey jersey, right? Matthews?” someone nearby asked, their curiosity piqued as they craned their neck to get a better look.

You shrugged, hoping your feigned indifference came off as convincing. “Yeah, I guess.”

Another co-worker, her grin wide and clearly fuelled by speculation, leaned closer. “He sent it here? To your office? That’s a big deal.”

“It’s nothing,” you deflected, your tone casual as you closed the box and slid it to the corner of your desk. “Just… work stuff.”

The murmurs eventually died down as your colleagues returned to their tasks, though you felt the weight of a few lingering glances. Once you were finally alone with your thoughts, your fingers drifted over the jersey’s soft fabric. The weight of the gesture settled over you—a mixture of playfulness and intent that was undeniably Auston. It wasn’t flashy or extravagant, but it was personal.

Returning home after training, Auston leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone when it buzzed with an incoming call. Mom.

He sighed, knowing exactly why she was calling. Ever since the photos of the two of you at dinner hit social media, his family group chat had been lighting up with messages. And his mother had been particularly eager to get more details.

“Hola, mijo!” Ema’s cheerful voice greeted him as soon as he answered. “How’s my handsome son doing?”

“I’m good, Mama,” Auston replied, his voice softening. He always had a special tone reserved for his mother, one that was gentler, warmer.

“Good? Just good?” Ema teased. “I saw the photos, Auston. Oh she’s so beautiful! Please tell me about her. Or are you hiding her from us?”

Auston rubbed the back of his neck, already feeling the heat rise. “Well, I told you, her name’s Y/N. She works in PR, and we’ve been spending some time together.”

Ema’s delighted gasp came through the line. “PR? Smart and beautiful. Tell me more! How did you meet?”

Auston hesitated, trying to navigate the fine line between the truth and the story they were selling to the world. “We met through her job. She’s been working with MLSE, and we just… clicked, I guess.”

But Ema wasn’t easily satisfied. “Oh, that’s good! What’s she like? You’ve been spending time with her—what do you like about her? And her family?”

He sighed, trying to keep his answers as genuine as possible without revealing too much. “She’s driven, hardworking, really independent. She doesn’t take crap from anyone, especially not me,” he added with a chuckle. “Her family’s large, close-knit, and she’s got a good sense of humour. It’s nice.”

“It’s nice?” Ema scoffed; her tone playful but firm. “Auston, when a man talks about a woman like that, it’s more than nice. She sounds special.”

Auston couldn’t help but smile at his mother’s enthusiasm, though a flicker of unease crept in. “Yeah, she is. But, Mama, it’s still new. So, just don’t get ahead of yourself.”

But Ema ignored his caution, her excitement undeterred. “When can I meet her? Maybe we can all FaceTime soon? Or I can come up for a visit.”

His stomach twisted. That was the last thing he needed—dragging his mother into something that wasn’t real. The whole point of this arrangement was to maintain appearances, but involving family blurred those lines far too much.

“Mama, it’s still early,” he said carefully. “We’re just getting to know each other. Let’s not rush anything, okay?”

Ema hummed thoughtfully, clearly not convinced. “Fine, I won’t push. But Auston, I like this one already. She sounds good to you. And you deserve someone who makes you happy.”

Her words hit harder than he expected, the sincerity in her voice stirring something in him. “Thanks, Mama,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, mijo,” Ema said with a laugh. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Auston replied before hanging up, exhaling deeply as he set his phone down.

He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the screen as if it held the answers he needed. A part of him knew this could’ve happened. But bringing you into his family’s world felt like a line he wasn’t ready to cross. This was supposed to be simple—a PR move, a fake relationship to keep the media off his back. But the thought of introducing you to his mother, hearing you talk to her, and seeing you in his family’s dynamic? It felt too real.

And yet, as complicated as it all seemed, he couldn’t shake the idea that his mother might actually like you. That thought brought an unexpected warmth to his chest—and a whole new layer of confusion.

Jess and Maya didn’t let up easily either, their voices overlapping as they bombarded you with questions the second you sat down at your usual café table. You had managed to squeeze in some time for their relentless third-degree interrogation before tonight’s match.

“So, when do we get to meet him?” Jess asked, stirring her latte with a dramatic flourish. “You can’t just keep this hockey star all to yourself. Besides, we need to approve - as always.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Maya chimed in, leaning forward with a grin. “Don’t think you can dodge us forever. Plus, I have to see if he lives up to the hype.”

You smiled tightly, your stomach doing an uneasy flip. “It’s not really like that,” you said, carefully choosing your words. “We’re still… figuring things out.”

Maya raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. You’ve been out in public with him, kissing no less! Don’t tell me he’s not already calling you his girlfriend.”

Jess nodded in agreement, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Yeah, a jersey with his name is like hockey language, saying your his.”

You let out a soft chuckle, but then came Jess’ next question that sent an anxious shiver through you.

“What about your family? Have you told them yet? Or are you waiting for him to charm them with his million-dollar smile?”

The mention of your family made your stomach churn. You’d barely had time to process the implications of your arrangement with Auston yourself, let alone consider introducing him to the people who expected perfection at every turn. The thought of your mother’s scrutiny alone was enough to make you sweat.

“I haven’t mentioned it to them yet,” you admitted, trying to sound casual. “It’s… complicated.”

Maya tilted her head, clearly not buying it. “What’s so complicated? He’s hot, rich, and clearly into you. Your mom’s going to love him.”

You laughed dryly, shaking your head. “That’s exactly the problem. She’ll love him for all the wrong reasons. His looks, his money… but then she’ll start asking questions about his career. His schedule. How he’s supposed to be a present father when he’s on the road half the year. And then she’ll wonder if I’m planning to quit my job to… I don’t know, be a hockey wife or something.”

Jess frowned. “Yeah, that’s a lot of pressure. I mean, your mum’s always had high expectations, but you’re an adult. This is your life.”

“I know,” you said, sighing. “But my family isn’t like yours. They expect… a picture-perfect match. Someone who fits seamlessly into their world.”

“And Auston doesn’t?” Jess asked, her voice softer now.

You hesitated. “He’s… different. Not in a bad way. But in their world, he’d be the rebel. The outsider. He’s not the cookie-cutter guy they’d envision for me.”

Maya smirked. “Yeah, but sometimes the outsider is exactly what you need. You’ve spent your whole life trying to check their boxes. Maybe it’s time to check your own.”

Her words lingered in the air, and you felt a knot of emotion tightening in your chest. She was right, in a way. Auston wasn’t the type of guy you’d ever imagined yourself with, but maybe that was part of what drew you to him. He challenged you, made you question the rules you’d always followed. Maybe he wasn’t what your family would expect—but maybe that didn’t matter.

Still, the thought of facing your mother’s inevitable questions and assumptions sent a shiver down your spine. You could already picture her cooing about Auston’s Latino heritage, imagining how beautiful your hypothetical children would be, before diving headfirst into how impractical his career was for a stable family life. The conversation felt like a minefield, and you weren’t sure how—or when—you’d navigate it.

For now, you plastered on a smile and tried to steer the conversation away. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to meet him,” you said, aiming for lightness. “But don’t hold your breath. We’re taking things slow.”

Jess and Maya exchanged a glance but let it go—for now. And as the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what lay ahead. Auston Matthews might be the perfect guy on paper for some, but in your world, he was a risk. A gamble.

And yet, as much as the thought of introducing him to your family made your stomach twist, another thought crept in: maybe, just maybe, he was exactly what you needed.

The arena buzzed with energy as the final horn sounded, signalling a 5-3 win for the Leafs. The crowd roared with excitement, and you found yourself swept up in the celebratory atmosphere. It was your second time navigating this world of flashing cameras, cheering fans, and high-fives from players you barely knew, and tonight, it felt a little less daunting. Maybe even close to something familiar.

You lingered near the wives and girlfriends, their laughter and camaraderie helping to ease the occasional pang of awkwardness you felt as an outsider. Aryne, ever the gracious host, looped you into their conversation, her easy confidence making you feel like you belonged. But your focus kept drifting, your eyes drawn to Auston as he made his rounds with the media.

There he was, freshly showered, his hair still damp and swept back, the sharp lines of his post game outfit tailored to perfection. Microphones surrounded him as reporters hung on his every word. You watched, unable to stop your gaze from lingering on the curve of his jaw, the way his lips moved as he spoke, or the easy way he carried himself, exuding confidence. Too much confidence, you thought. A part of you rolled your eyes at how self-assured he seemed, yet another part couldn’t help but find it… attractive.

You convinced yourself it was professional curiosity. Watching him work the media was relevant to your job. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. The memory of his recent bold proposition, the way he’d kissed you last night, and the teasing note he’d sent earlier—all of it swirled in your mind, making it impossible to look at him without a flutter in your chest.

When the interviews wrapped up, Auston made his way over to you, his presence as magnetic as ever. He smiled as he placed a hand on your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth of his touch and the faint, clean scent of his post-game shower made your heart skip a beat.

“Knew the jersey would look good on you,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His hand lingered on your hip, and his closeness felt more intimate than it should have. “Remember, game face on.”

At first, you leaned into the act, letting him hold you as you exchanged pleasantries with his teammates and staff. But as the minutes ticked by, something shifted. Auston’s demeanour changed, his cocky confidence coming to the forefront. He started talking about his connections, dropping names like Justin Bieber and hinting at the exclusive events he’d been invited to. The swagger in his tone felt like a stark contrast to the Auston you’d seen last night—soft-spoken, considerate, even sweet.

You tried to brush it off, reminding yourself that this was part of the persona he wore around others. Still, the arrogance in his tone grated on your nerves, making it harder to reconcile the two versions of him.

Finally, as the crowd began to thin out, Auston’s attention turned fully to you. His hand tightened slightly on your waist as he leaned in, his voice softer now. “You know,” he began, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “if we’re going to sell this, we should probably seal it with another kiss… in front of everyone.”

You froze, caught off guard by the suggestion. His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was an underlying sincerity to his words. Your mind raced, torn between hesitation and the knowledge that your boss was likely tracking every headline. This was part of the job, you reminded yourself. Part of the deal.

Swallowing your nerves, you nodded.

Auston didn’t waste a second. He cupped your face gently, tilting your chin up as his lips met yours. The kiss started soft, a brush of warmth, but then it deepened. His lips moved against yours with a confidence that made your breath hitch, and for a moment, the world around you faded. The noise of the arena, the curious stares, all of it melted away, leaving just the two of you.

When he pulled back, your lips tingled, and your heart raced uncontrollably. Auston grinned down at you, his hand again resting on your waist. “Not bad,” he teased, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You couldn’t help but glare at him, more at yourself than at him. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to make you melt so easily. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered under your breath, though your flushed cheeks betrayed you.

As the night came to an end, Auston walked you to your waiting Uber. The confident swagger he’d worn throughout the evening seemed to have melted away, leaving behind a softer, more genuine version of himself. He lingered by the door, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, as if debating his next words. The glow from the streetlights cast a warm light on his face, highlighting the sincerity in his expression.

“About my offer,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. His dark eyes locked onto yours, holding your attention in a way that felt almost intimate. “I meant what I said. I want to help.”

There was no rush, no pressure in his tone—just a quiet assurance that felt disarming. In that moment, you caught another glimpse of the Auston he hid behind his public persona. The one who wasn’t all bravado and confidence, but someone thoughtful, patient, and unexpectedly kind. Someone you could almost let yourself trust.

You nodded, managing a soft smile despite the jumble of thoughts swirling in your head. “Thanks, Auston. I truly appreciate it.”

He smiled faintly, his lips curving just enough to show a trace of his usual charm. “How about dinner tomorrow night? My place. Before we head out on the road again.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, the idea of seeing him again so soon catching you slightly off guard. But before you could second-guess yourself, you found yourself nodding. “Okay… yeah… Good idea.”

“Great,” he said, his voice lighter now. He took a small step back as the Uber driver rolled down the window to confirm your name. “Get home safe, boss.”

You gave him a parting smile as you climbed into the car, your heart still racing from the weight of his words and the lingering warmth of his presence. The ride home was quiet, but your thoughts were anything but. The memory of his kisses kept replaying in your mind, the gentle touch of his hand at the small of your back, and the way his lips had pressed against yours, leaving you breathless. It almost had you yearning for more.

The lines between the act you’d both agreed to and the reality of what was happening were slowly blurring, becoming harder to distinguish with every interaction. And as much as you tried to convince yourself this was still just a temporary arrangement, you couldn’t help but feel like you were in far deeper than you’d ever intended.

“Toronto, hold onto your helmets! The Ice King has stolen the spotlight again, but this time, he’s not alone. Auston Matthews and his Queen lit up Scotiabank Arena with a scene straight out of a Hollywood romance—a big win, a lingering kiss, and enough chemistry to melt the ice.

Our Queen was spotted among the other royalties, looking confident and sporting her new #34 jersey. And who could blame her? Courted by one of hockey’s most eligible bachelors, she’s commanding attention both on and off the ice.

Meanwhile, the Leafs secured a thrilling 5-3 victory over the Kraken. Knies shone, Nylander delivered, and Lorentz and Domi rounded out a strong team effort. But beyond the scoreboard, Matthews and his Queen have Toronto hooked. With every glance and touch, their story grows stronger. Stay frosty, Toronto.” – The Benchwarmer

November, Friday -

Auston leaned against the counter in his sleek, modern kitchen, spinning his phone absently in his hand, his thoughts a tangled mix of strategy and sincerity. The relentless stream of notifications—DMs from women he didn’t know, old flings sliding back into his messages, and his teammates’ teasing texts—was nothing new. If anything, the media frenzy around his “relationship” with you had only amplified the chaos. But tonight, for the first time, it all felt like background noise.

Once, he might have thrived on this—the attention, the validation, the ease of picking someone from the crowd to occupy his time. But you? You were different. You were a puzzle he wasn’t used to solving, and he found himself unwilling to take shortcuts.

That wasn’t to say it was easy. In truth, you were a challenge, and Auston thrived on challenges. There was a part of him—one he couldn’t quite shake—that saw the guarded way you carried yourself and thought, I can break through that. Not maliciously, not as a game to play and win, but as something far more personal. Cracking through your layers felt like earning something genuine, and that ignited his competitive streak just as much as it intrigued him.

At the same time, it wasn’t just about the chase. Somewhere along the way, this thing with you had shifted into unfamiliar territory. You saw past the public persona, past the bravado he wore like armour, and you challenged him. And Auston wasn’t sure what unnerved him more: the fact that he couldn’t quite figure you out, or the fact that he didn’t want to stop trying.

His thoughts flickered back to the tension coiling in his chest, the low hum of need that hadn’t been easy to ignore lately. His phone buzzed again, and he glanced down at another DM—a name he vaguely recognised offering something easy, something fleeting. Once, he might have answered without a second thought. But the idea of hooking up with someone random now felt… cheap. Hollow.

He sighed, setting his phone down, face-down, on the counter and running a hand through his hair. His gaze shifted to the clock. You’d be over soon, and tonight had to strike the perfect balance. He didn’t want to push, but he wanted to see if he could nudge you just a little closer to trusting him, to letting him in.

Dinner was ready; takeout from your favourite Italian spot. Felix had been walked and was now curled up in his bed, his fluffy tail twitching in a lazy dream. The apartment was spotless, but not too spotless; he’d carefully left it just imperfect enough to feel inviting. Casual, effortless. He didn’t want you thinking he was trying too hard.

Okay, maybe he was. Just a little.

But beneath it all was a quiet thrill, a sense of anticipation that had him feeling almost like a rookie again. Nervous, but determined. Because this wasn’t just about seduction or proving something to himself. It was about you. The thought of earning your trust, of seeing you let your guard down, was far more satisfying than any fleeting conquest could ever be.

When the doorbell rang, Auston straightened instinctively, his heart giving a small, traitorous leap. Felix, ever the loyal greeter, jumped up from his bed and bounded to the door, letting out a low bark as his tail wagged furiously.

“Easy, Snuff,” Auston murmured, scratching behind the fluffy friend's ears before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

And there you were.

You stood in the warm glow of the hallway light, dressed in your professional work attire—a fitted skirt, a blouse that hugged your frame just right, and heels that gave you that sophisticated look. There was a touch of nervousness in your smile, but it only made you look more endearing.

“Hey,” Auston said, his voice warm and steady, though his pulse quickened at the sight of you.

“Hey,” you replied softly, your voice carrying a mix of excitement and apprehension as you stepped into his home.

Felix wasted no time presenting himself, trotting up to you with his bright eyes and wagging tail. You crouched down, letting out a soft laugh as you scratched behind his ears. “Well, hi, Felix,” you cooed, giving the dog your full attention. Felix, clearly pleased, flopped onto his back, offering his belly for more pets.

“Seems like he’s missed you,” Auston teased, nudging the dog gently with his foot as Felix let out a contented huff. “Traitor.”

You laughed, standing back up and smoothing your skirt as Felix rolled over and trotted back to his bed. “He’s adorable.”

“Yeah, he’s good company,” Auston admitted, closing the door behind you. “Come on in. Make yourself at home.”

As you slipped off your coat and hung it neatly on the hook by the door, you couldn’t shake the nervous energy that buzzed faintly under your skin. Music played softly in the background, as you glanced around the space, taking in the details of Auston’s apartment—the subtle mix of modern masculinity and personal charm that reflected the man you were still trying to figure out. For someone who exuded so much confidence on and off the ice, his home was surprisingly inviting, with warm lighting and carefully curated touches that hinted at a quieter, more thoughtful side of him.

Auston, leaning casually against the doorframe, watched you with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was something captivating about the way you moved, even in your hesitation—a kind of quiet grace that made you seem as though you belonged there, despite the nerves he could sense radiating from you.

“Nice place,” you said, your voice light but genuine as your gaze swept across the sleek furniture and personal details. The large, comfortable couch dominated the living room, flanked by a couple of armchairs and a low coffee table stacked with neatly arranged magazines and books. On the wall, a framed jersey hung proudly alongside an abstract piece of art that added a pop of colour to the neutral tones of the space. Family photos dotted the shelves—some with his mother and sisters, others of him with his dog, a few even capturing moments from his childhood. It all felt so personal, so unguarded.

“Thanks,” Auston replied, his voice casual but warm. “My mom and sister helped with the decorating. Figured I needed more than just a couch and a TV.”

The small joke eased the tension in the room, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, they did a good job. It’s… inviting.”

“Inviting, huh?” he teased lightly, stepping further into the room. His hands slid into his pockets as he watched you take it all in. “That’s good. I was aiming for ‘inviting.’”

You let out a soft chuckle, feeling the tension in your shoulders begin to ease. His relaxed demeanour was unexpectedly disarming, drawing you out of your own thoughts and grounding you in the moment. While unspoken hints of where the evening might lead lingered in the air, you chose not to dwell on them too much.

Over dinner, the initial awkwardness began to dissolve, replaced by the comfort of easy conversation. The takeout spread—a mix of pasta dishes, salads, and garlic bread—felt intimate yet casual, and Auston’s warmth filled the room as he asked about your day, your work, and your favourite places in the city. His genuine interest surprised you. The confidence and bravado he wore so often were still there in flashes, but tonight, it was layered with something softer, something that made you feel like he was truly present in the moment.

He laughed as you told him a story about a particularly disastrous client meeting, the sound rich and deep, and you found yourself relaxing more with every passing minute. His smile had a way of making you forget your nerves, and the playful glint in his eyes whenever he teased you left you simultaneously flustered and charmed.

It wasn’t until the plates were nearly empty that the energy in the room shifted. Auston reached across the table, his large hand enveloping yours. His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles over your skin, and the gesture sent a soft shiver up your spine. His gaze locked onto yours, intense but gentle, holding you captive in a way that made your breath hitch.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and you could feel your pulse quicken under his touch.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, though your voice felt unsteady. Your heart was racing, and you weren’t sure if it was from the intensity of his stare or the warmth spreading through you from the simple act of holding your hand.

His lips curved into that signature smile of his, the one that managed to be equal parts cocky and endearing. “Good,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Come on—let’s move to the couch.”

Grabbing both of your unfinished drinks, he stood, guiding you with him as you moved to the leather sectional in the living room. The cushions seemed to envelop you as you sank into them, and Auston settled in beside you, his arm draped casually across the back of the couch. For a moment, you were hyper aware of the space between you—minimal but electric, every inch of proximity charged with unspoken tension.

At first, neither of you spoke, the soft hum of Auston’s playlist filling the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but the unspoken tension hung in the air, crackling like static. Just as you began to feel the weight of it, Auston’s low, soothing voice broke through, drawing you back into an easy conversation. The words flowed for a while, easing the charge in the air—until they didn’t. Another pause lingered, this one heavier, yet somehow not awkward.

This time, when your eyes met, it was different. His gaze held yours, steady and searching, and without a word, it felt as though the two of you were communicating something unspoken. Your eyes flickered briefly to his lips, and in response, Auston unconsciously ran his tongue across his bottom lip, the simple action making your breath hitch. You parted your lips slightly, as though about to speak, but no words came. Still, somehow, Auston understood.

When he leaned in, his movement was slow, deliberate, as if he was giving you every chance to pull away. His lips brushed softly against yours, testing, teasing, and the world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis. The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle exploration, but as you leaned into him, it deepened. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and the tenderness of the gesture made your chest ache in the best way.

Your hands moved instinctively, threading through his dark hair, your fingertips grazing the soft strands as they trailed down the curve of his neck and over the solid breadth of his shoulders. The faint scratch of his beard against your skin sent an unexpected shiver coursing through you, a sensation both foreign and addicting. Everything about this—about him—felt disarmingly natural, as though this moment had been waiting for you to let your guard down and simply lean into it.

Auston’s movements remained slow and steady, his hands firm but gentle, guiding you seamlessly into the deepening kiss. When he eased you back against the couch, your head meeting the cushion beneath you, his tongue brushed past your lips with a polite yet insistent request. You welcomed him without hesitation, your own tongue meeting his in a sensual rhythm that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

Your hands continued to explore him, fingers mapping the lines of his neck, the planes of his chest, and the solid strength of his arms. Beneath his controlled movements, you could sense the restrained power in him, a careful balance between taking and waiting for your permission. With his arms on either side of you, his body hovered just above yours, close enough to feel his warmth, but he never let his weight press down, leaving you space to decide how far this would go.

The tension was electric. The more his lips moved against yours, the more the air seemed to thin, your breaths coming shorter, your skin tingling with every touch. A soft sound escaped you when your hips instinctively lifted toward his, the motion involuntary but honest. It was as if your body was betraying your carefully guarded mind, signalling a desire you hadn’t been prepared to admit.

Auston paused briefly, his lips lingering against yours before pulling back just enough to catch his breath. His forehead pressed gently against yours, and for a moment, the two of you stayed like that, the room filled only with the sound of your uneven breathing. His dark eyes searched yours, flickering with something that seemed to tread the line between vulnerability and determination.

He didn’t want to rush you—he knew he couldn’t rush you—but he also couldn’t deny how right this felt. You were relaxed beneath him in a way he hadn’t seen before, your body subtly leaning into his, your touch soft yet inviting. His own need simmered just beneath the surface, the pull of desire undeniable as he felt the heat of you so close, the way your body had responded to his without hesitation.

Finally, Auston broke the silence, his voice soft and low, carrying a vulnerability that surprised even him. “Did you try what I suggested?” he asked, his dark eyes searching yours. “Did you touch yourself?”

Your breath caught slightly as you nodded, the weight of his question leaving you momentarily unsteady.

A small, approving smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he murmured, his voice warm, almost coaxing. He paused briefly, as if carefully considering his next words. “Did you enjoy it?”

You hesitated only for a moment before nodding again, your gaze locked onto his, unable to look away.

A flicker of something deeper crossed his features, and his voice softened even further, a thread of both caution and invitation woven into his words. “Do you… want to come to the bedroom with me?”

The question hung between you, heavy and weighted with possibility. You hesitated for just a moment, your logical mind briefly warring with the primal instinct that had taken over. Trust was still a complicated thing, something you weren’t entirely ready to give fully, but the magnetic pull of this moment made it hard to think clearly. The circumstances of your arrangement were unconventional, but in this instant, it didn’t matter.

And when you let out a soft ‘yes’, barely above a whisper, Auston’s lips quirked into a small, genuine smile, one that made your chest tighten all over again. Gently he stood, his movements fluid and confident, and took your hand in his. The steadiness of his grip was grounding, as though he was silently reassuring you that he’d take his time, that this was about both of you.

He led you down the hallway, the dim lighting casting soft shadows that seemed to wrap around the two of you, cocooning you in a world that felt separate from reality. Each step drew you further from the noise of the outside world and closer to something intimate, something raw and unspoken. And as he gently guided you into his bedroom, the air between you buzzed with a quiet anticipation that made your heart race and your breath catch.

“Dearest Toronto readers,

The Ice King has officially rewritten the rules, and it seems the Queen has more influence over him than we ever anticipated. This week brought us glimpses of intimacy beyond the ice and the arena, revealing a side of Auston Matthews that’s left the city buzzing.

Thursday’s game against the Kraken ended with a stellar 5-3 win, but the true highlight wasn’t on the scoreboard. A lingering kiss in the aftermath of the victory—captured perfectly by prying lenses—cemented the growing chemistry between Auston and his Queen. The image has become the city’s latest obsession, sparking debates across forums and dinner tables.

And then came Friday. The Queen was spotted entering Matthews’ private residence. While the cameras didn’t catch what happened behind those closed doors, we can only imagine the layers of their connection unfolding. Witnesses? None. Speculation? Endless.

Could it be that our Ice King has found someone worth melting for?

Toronto, the game may have just begun, but it’s already shaping up to be a season worth watching. Auston and his Queen are redefining what it means to rule the city together.

Stay tuned, because this saga is far from over.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer.”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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