#remove gutter guards

[greentechpropertycare]

GreenTech Property Care Launches Innovative Green Solutions for Property Maintenance in Nanaimo

reenTech Property Care, a leading provider of eco-friendly property care services, is pleased to announce the launch of its comprehensive range of green solutions for property maintenance in Nanaimo. With a commitment to sustainability and environmental stewardship, GreenTech Property Care aims to revolutionize the industry by offering high-quality, professional services that minimize the ecological impact on our planet.

GreenTech Property Care is dedicated to providing top-notch services to residential and commercial clients in Nanaimo and surrounding areas. From hedge trimming and lawn mowing to gutter cleaning and guard installation, the company offers a wide range of services to meet the diverse needs of property owners. Their team of skilled professionals is well-equipped with the latest tools and techniques to ensure efficient and eco-friendly property care.

Recognizing the importance of maintaining a healthy and aesthetically pleasing outdoor space, GreenTech Property Care specializes in lawn and garden maintenance, including lawn mowing, yard maintenance, and landscaping services. They understand that a well-maintained lawn enhances the beauty of any property while providing a safe and enjoyable space for families and visitors.

GreenTech Property Care is also committed to ensuring the longevity and cleanliness of roofs, gutters, and exteriors. Their services include gutter cleaning, guard installation, pressure washing, roof cleaning, roof and gutter cleaning, and window cleaning. Additionally, they provide expert roof moss removal services using the best cleaner for skylights in Nanaimo. These services not only enhance the appearance of properties but also help to prevent costly repairs and extend the lifespan of roofs and gutters.

We are excited to introduce our innovative green solutions to the Nanaimo community of GreenTech Property Care. "Our team is passionate about combining top-quality property care services with sustainable practices to create a greener future for our clients and the environment."

As an environmentally conscious company, GreenTech Property Care utilizes eco-friendly products and techniques in their operations. They prioritize reducing chemical usage, conserving water, and minimizing waste generation to ensure their services align with the principles of sustainability. With a focus on customer satisfaction, the company delivers exceptional results while making a positive impact on the planet.

About GreenTech Property Care: GreenTech Property Care is a leading provider of eco-friendly property care services in Nanaimo. With a commitment to sustainability and innovation, the company offers a comprehensive range of services, including hedge trimming, lawn and garden maintenance, gutter cleaning and guard installation, pressure washing, roof cleaning, and window cleaning. Their team of skilled professionals is dedicated to delivering exceptional results while minimizing the ecological impact on the environment.

For more information about GreenTech Property Care and their range of green solutions for property maintenance in Nanaimo, please visit their website at https://greentechpropertycarevi.com/.

[otto-s-alskling]

TF141 X Hardworker!Reader

"Their Sleepyhead"

You're a hard worker, everyone knows that. God, even Price had to carry you a few times to bring you to bed (and not in *that* way, get your mind out the gutter!) But your insistent attitude of working till you collapse is a trait that the 141 is aware that will never go away, not when they've seen you do it for over three years.

Price

You have your office close to his, connected with an adjoining door which was lucky because you bought your own coffee machine. Majority of the time, you're brewing him a fresh cup of coffee, black with a hint of sugar to cut the full bitterness.

He loves listening to you shuffling and singing next door, sometimes singing back to your songs when duets are playing from your phone but he'd be damn and hide in a hole before he'd let you know that he sings along to you and your velvety voice with his gruff one.

But this also includes him actually hearing you when your head finally thuds down on the desk when you refused to stop working from 5AM till wee hours of the night. He'd peek through the adjoining door first before sighing and picking you up, cradling you close before carrying you out the offices, ignoring looks from the other soldiers still awake late at night. Gaz would immediately walk up to help, opening the doors for Price so he can tuck you into bed, removing your boots before turning off the lamp light. He'd sneak a forehead kiss before closing the door and walking back to the offices, ignoring his racing heartbeat.

Soap

Our Scot is a freaking sweetheart (this is the hill I'll die on.) If he knows Cap isn't in office or in a mission or conference somewhere, you bet your ass he'd delegate himself into keeping company, literally. He'd play on his phone in your office couch, nothing too loud but just enough to be there.

Talks will be nonstop and he'd teach you some Scottish slangs too, much to a certain Skull masked teammate. He'd even teach you traditions and if he had the time and the energy, he'd do your hair into some Scottish Braids. (Look em up, they're GORGEOUS.)

He'd pause from time to time, get a snack or something and he'd come back with something for you too! And if you fell asleep, you bet he'd transfer you over to the couch and find your emergency blanket and tuck you in.

He'd brush your hair out of your face and plant a kiss on your cheek before sitting on the floor next to the couch, just playing on his phone till he fall asleep himself or if he gets hungry and get another snack. He'd wait till you wake up, and not even Ghost can drag him out the room. Someone had to guard the team's Bonnie after all.

Gaz

If you think he wouldn't help out with the paperwork, you'd be fucking wrong. Being the youngest meant you two are the closest, age wise anyways. Would pause halfway on working to show you something in TikTok or play some random playlist on YouTube or Spotify just to break the silence in the room.

He'd being his own snacks, which also includes a big bar of Cadbury. Sometimes Lindt if he got to visit in the nearby city. Work goes faster so he always try to help out on hell week so you wouldn't handle the full brunt of the workload.

If you fall asleep, he'd switch the music to a lullaby or a soft classical music, keeping you asleep as long as he can anyways. Like Soap, he'd transfer you to the couch but he'd push an armchair flush against the couch to block you in from falling like a pseudo bed (or fort or crib. Do people still do this?)

Tucks you in gently and continues his half of the paperwork before joining you on the couch and cuddling you to sleep. He's not one to pass up in getting to sleep in your arms after all.

Ghost

This man trusts with his life. (He'd never say it out loud.) He wasn't really warm with the idea of having a support member in the team, especially one who's specialty ranges from medic to sniper to assistant. Like how is that even possible? So when he realized that you're one of the most hardworking person he'd ever met, respect was earned... And affection.

It was around halfway the second year when he showed his face to you, the heat surge in the office making it annoying to have the mask. He didn't make a fuss so you didn't as well, just working along with him and Price in the Captain's office and hope to survive the heatwave enough. Door was locked so he was confident enough to do it even if Price did raise an eyebrow for a moment before shrugging it off.

By the third year, he already made it a habit to remove his mask once he got you to your room, finally dragging you to bed even before you fall asleep on the desk. You'd grumble and complain but when he glares you down, you relent anyways, not like you can fight him back easily when he's the largest amongst your teammates. So against your unnecessary complaints, he'd spoon you till you fall asleep, much thanks for your exhausted body and mind. Once asleep, he'd sneak a nap for an hour or two himself before letting you be, heading back to his own room, but not after sneaking a kiss to the hair and hand. For him, you're his hardworking lovie, not that he'd let it slip out to everyone else.

[la2yn0va]

Hello there! Can I request some yandere Black Swan, Acheron, Jingliu and Kafka (self aware) x male reader who is single and has absolutely no experience in relantionship yet is down bad for them or has an interest for them

Call me crazy… I get a feeling you like women…

————

Black Swan

She automatically knows you like her. She feels your eyes looking down at her softly, the same way others look at her when they found her attractive.

And she is a bragging bitch about it. “Oh, his grace built you? Couldn’t be me~ he maxed me out immediately~”

She finds your inexperience down right adorable. The way you stutter at least thrice when she’s in your vision. The way your eyes shine when she talks.

When you eventually get dragged into the world of Honkai Star rail, she lets go of all restrains. With no shame she flirts with you EVERY SEXTILLION SECOND.

She makes sure your a flustered and blushing mess, rubbing against you so your hand grazes her chest area.

Getting close enough to make sure her breath attacks your neck and the her lips tickle your skin, while whispering provocative things into your ear.

She always steals you away from people any chance/time she gets/wants to. After all, you LOVE her right~? There’s no issues with acting as you girlfriend (unofficial)

Just to make sure no one interferes in your little sessions, she goes into glass paintings/objects with you (in her trailer she goes into things like glass paintings)

Her hands are always on you in some manner, weather it be romantically around your neck or your arms, or in a more sexual manner.

In short, black swan takes the lead in this relationship

Acheron

She’s pretty confused on why you’re acting different with her at first. However, after a few moments/after encountering firefly and the trailblazer on their ‘date’ she’d finally realize you LIKE her.

She acts more shy whenever your around her, she doesn’t really know how to interact with you. More so because she doesn’t know how to… react to your feelings.

Yes she loves you back, but she’s never had a crush/lover so she’s as lost and inexperienced as you.

Although others are jealous of her, they also find it pretty fucking cute, and make a whole ‘will they or won’t they’ game show.

In battle acheron will always crit for you, and when in idle she compliments you subtly. She doesn’t wanna scare you away.

The ancient scrolls say you believe their video game characters. so she’ll hide her time until you finally get transferred back here, to your real home AND to her.

And when you do get isekai’d by whatever fuckin means, I’d like to congratulate you, as you now have earned a VERY FUCKING SCARY GUARD DOG.

Acheron doesn’t leave your side for a second (unless you ask her to in which case she’ll stand BEHIND you. Or if your in the bathroom)

Acheron quickly learns how to show her love towards you through acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch.

She likes to hold your hand, and with no shame likes to proclaim to everyone that the two of you are an item. Which you don’t deny.

Acheron takes the lead in the relationship

Jingliu

The most normal about your attraction to her.

She’ll be honored that you love her, and shows it through ALWAYS crit damaging enemies and taking less health from her allies.

While in idle she’ll (like everyone else) will say a unofficial voiceline towards you, complimenting you and slightly hinting that she knows she’s a ‘video game character’

Another unofficial thing she’ll do while in idle is remove her blindfold and stare into your eyes lovingly YET respectfully.

When you get transferred into the game, it’s basically the same as acheron. But she’s more open and well normal about your relationship.

She’s slightly overprotective and possessive but that’s about it. She spends all her time by your side, weather it be in bed (get yo mind out the gutter) or IN bed (put it back in the gutter) or simply walking/exploring other planets.

She shows her love through..well everything. Acts of service, physical touch, gift giving, etc…

Overall not much to say here, she’s the most normal and a less scary (when not Mara-struck) acheron.

No one takes the lead, yall just switch leading roles every other day.

Kafka

Kafka is also very similar to black swan.

She immediately knows you love her, and she takes pride in it, after all who doesn’t? (Kafka’s the type to make gay men question themselves, as I myself can NOT attest to 😉)

Unlike her fellow…acolytes, she’s much more suave and blunt about her knowledge on your attraction. After all, your so adorable and cute for the god of gods (or as I like to refer to the reader who’s a god in self aware au—THE OMNI AEON)

In idle, she pulls out a blurry photo of your and kisses it while staring right at you. It’s blurry to you but VERY visible to kafka.

She’s also the only person in this who’ll outright state she knows she’s in a game and loves you (like sues in that one episode of gravity falls with his A.I yandere love)

Overall there’s nothing else to add here, she’s just another black swan when it comes to this scenario. OH wait no!

She uses her webs to manipulate you to dance gracefully with her and makes you touch her body while feigning innocence and teasing you.

She takes the lead in the relationship.

Okay I’m done. 4 or 5 more requests to finish

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - A Luca Changretta/OC Story.

Okay, okay! I got the message quite clearly that just a few of you are more than a wee bit excited for this, so regardless of the poll results, ya bestie over here is giving you the first chapter. Everybody gather round and meet Emily Jane. She shyly says hi.

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,224

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Brooklyn, 1923. It was a dangerous place to be in certain areas of the New York borough, where bullets fell like rain and crimson bled plentifully into the gutters. Its misdeeds were becoming famous, the mob swelling like a well-fed beast, prowling the streets unleashed, snarling and hungry. In Brooklyn, the mafia were the kings, whether you, your mother, your cousin or the cops liked it or not.  

It was generally advised that you did not protest.  

Wiseguy compliance was safer than the alternative, and everybody knew it. When they came knocking, offering fistfuls of dollars to store barrels mostly containing contraband beer, gin and whiskey within the warehouses of legitimate businesses, the proprietors knew that you either said yes or you died. That money you were so generously handed would be earned back, though.  

“So look, uh, you gonna be lookin’ after this cargo for us, right? That means there are gonna be certain guys on the street who ain’t gonna be too pleased about you working with us. So, what I’m gonna do is have a few of my guys lookin’ out for ya. Fifty bucks a week and nothin’ happens to your business, or your family.” 

The story was the same for any other business within the radius of their turf, racketeering forced upon you whether you guarded contraband alcohol for them or not.  

It was generally advised that you paid them the fifty bucks.  

Of course, when it came to the families going to war with one another, there was nobody there to protect you, whether you paid into a protection racket or didn't. If the police were called, they generally – and purposefully - arrived too late, the large wedges of cash stuffed into their back pockets by whichever mob crew were buying their compliance ensuring that.

No, when the gunfire erupted and turned the silent streets into a bloodied cacophony, you knew there was only one thing to do.  

It was generally advised that you duck.  

On that particular chilly November night, though, with the threat of snow hanging heavy in the air from the thickened clouds above, one young woman opted not to duck. Instead, she chose to walk right out into the carnage, for it was perhaps the only avenue she could tentatively tread upon in order to save herself from hell.  

The Changretta’s and the Calabrese's had been at war with one another over turf for months, disputes rife over what mob presided over which area, promises of blood come good after negotiations had failed, leading to the shootout between both crews in the dead of night.

Bullets peppered the air, tattooing the buildings and cars along the street, screams and shouts only just about audible over the thrum of heavy machine gun fire, men diving and dying left and right. The sins they fought and died for knew no difference, but somewhere in the madness, these men of bloodthirsty savagery had a line they would not ever cross.  

The Changretta mob scanned the desolate street, high alert agitating their blood, neurons firing rapidly as they watched the area, looking, waiting for movement. The enemy had been thinned to what appeared to be nothing, their bodies littering the ground, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more lying in wait.  

Luca’s unblinking eyes toured the darkness, daring to slowly rise from his concealed place behind the front wing of a shot-out Ford, each step crunching the shattered glass beneath his feet. Nothing. They’d accomplished the extermination mission sufficiently, not a single Calabrese goon left breathing.  

“Boss! On your left!” 

At his right hand’s call, Luca spun, directing his gun at what his eyes picked out through the inky night, a glowing light splitting the dark, his men beginning to fire.  

“Stop, fuckin’ guns down, now!” he bellowed, his cadence rising sharply, way above his usual silky, rumbling drawl. “It’s a girl, you dumb fucks.”  

She seemed to glide over the ground, her feet bare, platinum hair matted and tangled, the white lace of her dress torn and bloodied.  

“What the fuck? Is it a trap, or what?”  

Luca turned to view Enzo with a slight shrug, his hand reaching out to grasp his arm when he raised his gun. “Ah, aspetta, aspetta.” At being told to wait, his right hand once again lowered the machine gun, both Italians watching as the girl continued her walk, her eyes wide and dazed, her face bloody, purple welts marking her features. The closer she got, the more of them Luca noticed, angry and swollen upon her pale skin, the infliction of brutality tarnishing much of her body, a body that buckled as she suddenly fell, collapsing in the middle of the street.  

“Ain’t no trap.” Moving out fully, Luca strode through rivers of blood and bullets, removing his long, wool coat, wrapping it over the barely dressed blonde as he crouched at her side. “Hey, what the fuck happened to you, huh?” He gave her cheek a few gentle slaps, trying to rouse her. “You with me? C’mon, wake up.” This truly wasn’t the time or place for damsels in distress. He had himself and his guys to think of before all else.  

Her eyelids fluttered, blinking rapidly a few times as she came to, curling herself smaller. Her mouth opened, and Luca was sure she said something, but her voice was ghostly, so quiet he was scarcely sure she’d spoken at all.  

“What? I can’t hear you.” He leaned closer, craning his ear, just about able this time to hear her words.  

“There’s a bomb under your car. Twenty seconds.”  

With widened eyes, his head spun round to where his assembled crew waited. “Move! The fuckin’ car is live, move!” Pulling her up off the street and into his arms, he and his men began to run, covering the ground rapidly. They’d gotten a good hundred feet away, yet their eardrums still all but ruptured when the TNT blew, reducing the Buick to an inferno.  

They took cover behind another car, a car Enzo rapidly broke open the door of, cranking the engine into life. “Let’s get the fuck outta here, eh?”  

So, it looked to Emily like she was leaving one set of wiseguys and going with another as the tall, slender man who held her jumped into the back of the car, three other guys piling in, the car shuddering out from its spot and being directed in the opposite direction to the blast.  

“Hey boss,” Dante piped up from the passenger seat, nodding at the blonde. “Who’s the dame?” 

“You know as much as I do.” He was just about to ask her that very question, looking down to see her head lolled over his arm, out cold once more. Whatever the fuck she’d been through, he could gauge it was a lot. Giving him the kind of information she had, though, information that had saved him and his crew from being blasted to smithereens, he wasn’t just about to let he be on her way.  

If she knew about the bomb, then what other information might she have? The firefight had not exterminated all of the Calabrese mob, just a mere handful of foot soldiers.  

Exiting the car on the corner of Third Avenue, Luca strode towards the doors of Bella Vita, the bar turned speakeasy he owned, the doormen nodding to him and swinging the doors open. He took an immediate right, the thumping blare of jazz music and patrons having a fabulous time hurting his still fragile, bomb-blasted ears, another large man employed for security purposes opening the next door he came to.  

It closed with a heavy thud behind him, the wall of noise muted, Luca beginning to climb the stairs that led to his spacious apartment. It had only been home for seven months, since he had the former three dwellings gutted out and fashioned into something more resembling the comfort he was accustomed to. High standing members of the mafia did not reside in shabbiness.  

His former abode, a sprawling townhouse upon the Upper West Side of Manhattan, was now solely home to his ex-wife and three children. For a quicker divorce from the wretched, screaming harpy whom he had once loved very dearly, he considered it a cheap price to part with for the sake of his sanity. Her alimony was also eye watering, but it wasn’t like Luca didn’t rake in serious bank.  

He’d also never deprive Milania, Guiseppe and Alessio of anything. His sons were the apple of his eye, and his daughter, well, she was quintessentially daddy’s little girl. He just wished she had a smidgen less of her mother’s hot-headed temper. Then again, he supposed he deserved every ounce of it, not being a particularly good husband to Filomena.  

Well, it was subjective, really. He provided for her, took her out regularly, bought her an abundance of luxuries from expensive jewellery to beautiful furs, but he did have somewhat of a predisposition for sticking his cock where he most certainly should not have stuck it. Filomena had all but turned a blind eye to his philandering ways, and Luca knew that was why he’d continued to do it, because she'd let him. She didn’t care, it seemed, so why should he?  

Maybe if she’d have been the kind of woman to crack his jaw and tell him in no uncertain terms that he was hers and hers alone, he might have fixed up and adhered to the fidelity he’d promised her, but she never had. It went right over his head that this is what he should have pledged without the threat of violence in the first place.   

The final straw finally drove her into action, though, arriving home earlier than he’d expected one day to find him in bed with two whores, one astride his face and the other riding his cock. There weren’t many women out there who could witness the man they loved in that kind of scenario and still continue to love him. She’d given him nothing but pure, unfiltered hell in the time between, Luca agreeing to all of her demands, just as long as she didn’t touch either his car collection, his speakeasy, or his home in the Catskills.  

Carrying the mystery blonde over to the lounge area of the open plan apartment, he placed her down on the dark, oxblood leather chesterfield, noticing that she’d come round again. “You wanna drink, sweetheart?”  

She nodded, beginning to tremble a little. “Hey, you’re alright. I ain’t gonna do nuthin’ bad to ya.” Emily doubted his sincerity, knowing wiseguys as well as she did. His voice was half salty rumble, half viper’s hiss, but each word was delivered with the kind of hush that made her feel soothed, she had to admit. The quietness of his tone made a nice change from being yelled at. “Whaddya drinkin'?” 

“A water, p-please,” she stuttered, Luca nodding. He’d been offering liquor, but water he could do, too.  

He paused before going to fetch it, crouching before her, studying her wounds a little more closely now she was under the brighter lights within his home. “Those cuts are nasty, doll. Who fuckin’ did this, eh?” He reached for her face, regretting it instantly when she shot across the couch, curling into a ball at the opposite end. “Woah, hey. Like I said, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help you, and for you to tell me what you know about the Calabrese guys. I’m guessin’ you know a whole lot, to know one of ‘em stuck a bomb beneath my car.”  

She trembled, her eyes wide, her silence profound. “I’m gonna get you that water.” He rose to his feet slowly, knowing he had to treat her as if she were an injured fawn, everything slow and steady, save her from becoming furtherly spooked.  

Caring for another, though, was somewhat beyond his usual skill set. Luckily from his own scrapes, he both knew how – and possessed the necessities - to clean up wounds before they became an infected mess, going to the bathroom and pulling out gauze and a bottle of iodine, returning to the kitchen to fetch her requested glass of water.  

He handed it to her, moving to his drinks cabinet then and pouring himself a large measure of whiskey, returning to sit in front of her on the coffee table. “You gonna let me clean you up?”  

She shook her head, spilling several drops of water as she lifted the glass to her lips, downing it in its entirety.  

He nodded, sucking the matchstick he was chewing before removing it. “Alright. You gonna tell me what you know?” 

Again, she shook her head.  

He shrugged, a little agitated, but knowing he had to play his cards carefully. “I got all night, doll. Could start with your name, though, if the rest is too much to ask.”  

She wanted to trust him. Hell, he could have simply dropped her from his grasp and left her there on the street, but he’d taken her with him, back to the safety of his apartment, no less. Of course, though, it was to gain information. Then again, if it was solely that, why was he trying to help her? Men who sought only answers to their questions seldom had the interest to clean wounds. Hell, they usually jammed a gun to your tonsils and told you to spill all as soon as they removed it.  

Who was she to him that he’d care whether her cuts were bathed? Still, it took him a patient wait of just over a half hour until she finally spoke.  

“Emily Jane,” she finally replied, swallowing hard. “Emily Jane Mortensen. Most people just call me Emily, though.”  

He lifted his chin, pointing to her water glass. “You want another in there, Emily?” 

“Please.”  

Well, she had a name, at least. It was as good a start as any. “You know,” he began, long legs extending as he rose to his feet, walking back over to the kitchen area, “the Calabrese’s won’t do shit to you with me around. If that’s why you’re scared to talk, ain’t no mind, doll.” Returning to her, he resumed his seat upon the coffee table, handing over the glass. “Like I said, though. I got all night.”  

Protection. Something she’d longed for, but could she truly trust it? She knew exactly who he was; Luca Changretta, the big boss, the number one apex predator at the top of the mafia hierarchy. It was either the very best, or the absolute worst place that she could have ended up. “Gino Calabrese ordered Joey, his youngest son to have the bomb planted, so that if the firefight didn’t kill you, the blast definitely would.” 

His eyebrows rose a little, chewing the matchstick slowly. “And you know this how? Who are ya, to Gino?” 

Finishing her water, she reached to place it upon the coffee table, Luca taking it from her, resting his forearms back to his thighs as he leaned forward, looking expectant. “Um, nothing to him, but to his son, I – well, I was his card counter. That’s kinda moot now, though, since you and your guys put about sixteen bullets in his chest.”  

His lip curled slightly. “Card counter?”  

“Yeah. I have a real fast brain for math, so technically I can’t ever be beaten in a game of blackjack. I won Joey thousands upon thousands at games all over, from Vegas to Reno. Illegal games, too. Women don’t usually get a seat at the table, but I got to, because...” 

“Cuz’ Joey boy was partially sighted, I’m guessin’, right? You were his alleged eyes, but truly, you were there to tell him when to make his moves, amirite?” 

God, he was very sharp. “Correct,” she confirmed, although Luca still looked slightly dubious, reaching behind him and grabbing something. He turned back to reveal a deck of cards, sliding them from the box and giving them a rapid shuffle.  

“Show me.” Standing, he moved to sit beside her on the couch, dragging the table nearer and dealing out as he were the house, Emily moving a little nearer.  

“Alright, so I mostly use the Hi-Lo strategy. It means if the ratio of high to low cards is higher than normal, the player can make bets that are larger when the deck is favourable.” 

He noticed it instantly, how when presented with the opportunity to show off her skill, she unwound from the nervous, tense little waif he’d carried into his home just over an hour before. “How’d you know if the deck is favourable?” he asked, a frown knitting between his dark brows as he pointed at them on the table.  

“You have to track the ratio of high to low cards by assigning them with a value. You begin at zero, then as each card comes up, you add it to your tally. Cards two to six have a value of plus one, cards seven to nine have no value, and cards worth ten and also aces have a value of minus one, so you keep adding and subtracting, betting accordingly. Watch. Hit me.”  

He dealt her another card, Emily tapping it. Another was placed. “I’m holding.” Turning the other cards, he saw she would have won her hand had they been playing for cash. He made her do it another five times before he truly believed what she could do, sitting there with slightly widened eyes.  

“Look at that, huh?” he spoke, gathering the cards from the table and returning them to the pile. “No wonder he kept you around.”  

She shrugged. “Shame it wasn’t of my own free will. All of this mess I’m in, it was because I tried to get away from him earlier, so he took a set of brass knuckles to me. Wasn’t the first time either.”  

He studied her face, his jaw tightening. Luca had few codes of honour, and not taking his fists to a woman was high upon that list. He hissed a breath, his eyes narrowing. “Fuckin’ asshole. I’m extra glad I shot the living fuck outta him now.”  

Dropping her gaze, she folded her arms, looking at her bare feet. “So am I.”  

Reaching for his drink, he knocked it back, truly feeling glad that Joey no longer breathed. If there was one thing he truly detested, it was a woman beater. He didn’t have much to be proud of in his life, morally speaking, but he had never and would never raise a hand to a woman. Ever. “Fuckin’ brass knuckles, Jesus above. I know how much those fuckin’ things hurt only too well.” 

She snorted softly, her eyes finding his again, her heart doing a little somersault as she watched the peridot shards glint at her through the low light. Hoo boy, he was a handsome one. Deadly, but handsome nonetheless. “Who on earth is brave enough to take a set of brass knuckles to the famous Luca Changretta, and live to tell the tale?”  

He smirked, rising to his feet. “Nobody these days, but when I was still comin’ up, plenty of guys.” Moving back to the drinks cabinet, he took the bottle of whiskey, turning to her. “You want another water in there, or somethin’ else? I got just about everythin'.”  

Peering at him over the back of the couch, he felt his inside pinch a little. She was so tiny and cute. “Could I have a vodka rocks, please?”  

“You can, but ice I don’t have. Gimme a sec.” He strode across the space again, heading back down the stairs, the sounds of music growing louder and then returning to the dull rumble, Emily moving to pull on the long coat around her, feeling chilly. It smelled of him. The woody, musky, yet slightly spicy notes of whatever cologne he wore filled her nose as she held the soft lapels to her face.  

The sudden blare of music signalled his imminent return, the tall Italian appearing from the stairwell once more, carrying with him an ice bucket he placed upon the table, going back to the cabinet and collecting the whiskey and vodka bottles, pouring a large measure into her glass, dropping the ice in and handing it to her.  

“Thank you,” she spoke, Luca noticing her manners were impeccable, also watching her face as it twisted into a grimace, Emily hissing before straightening her leg, examining her grazed knee.  

He gestured to her injuries with a sweeping hand. “Gonna let me help you with that yet? You’re kinda bleeding all over my couch.” 

In an instant, she looked horrified. “Oh, I’m so sorry, and probably your coat, too. I’m an idiot, I'll sit on the floor.”  

He moved swiftly, shaking his head. “It’s fine, ain’t no bother, doll.” In truth, it was, but he kept that to himself. Blood cleaned off, he had to concede. This girl, he needed to keep her sweet in order to keep on feeding him further information that he sensed she possessed. Joey Calebrese might not have been high up within his criminal family, a street guy who was not yet elevated at the time of his death (and which was why, Luca guessed, he’d used Emily for her card counting skills to make the kind of bank his lower standing didn’t allow for) but being around them, she was bound to know more.  

She was a valuable asset, and he’d treat her as such.  

He picked up the handful of gauze and iodine, moving back to the coffee table. “It’s gonna sting like fuck, but you likely know that.”  

She did. Bracing herself, she clenched her teeth as one by one, Luca dabbed each cut and graze with the iodine-soaked gauze, wincing, hissing at the burning, sharp sting. “Gonna be a little black n’ blue for a while, honey,” he drawled, his mouth tilting into a smile. “Still pretty, though.”  

He winked, and it sent a spark through her, although the rational side of her brain told her that allowing herself to be charmed by a dangerous mobster was the last thing she truly needed right then. He didn’t make it easy, though, being attentive to her, looking as good as he did. She’d always had a thing for older men, and she could guess he likely had at least a decade and a half on her twenty-three years.  

“So, you gotta home I can take you to, people wonderin’ where the fuck you vanished to?”  

Home. It was a word she didn’t really have any true comprehension over, the place that to everyone else acted as a sanctuary, a safe haven, had truly been anything but to her. “No, I don’t.”  

“No port in a storm, huh?” he asked, gently lifting her leg to rest upon his slender thigh, smoothing her dress up a little to reach a cut beneath. His hands were so hot. Yet another spark flared within her belly.  

“No, no port.” She paused, meeting his eyes, knowing he was expecting more. “I’ve no idea who my father was, and my mother was a drunk, still is for all I know. I don’t have any siblings either so when I was eighteen, I left California and made my way across the country to New York. Wanted a better life for myself. It didn’t exactly go to plan. I have a habit of trusting the wrong people.” 

He looked away from her then, eyes flitting to her knee, pressing the gauze onto an open cut. He was definitely a man she shouldn’t have trusted, and he wasn’t entirely sure why that suddenly prickled quite sharply at his conscience, but it did.  

“You probably don’t trust me, but if you wanna crash here until you find your feet, you’re welcome to.”  

She looked at him with big, grey eyes full of hope. “Really, you don’t mind?” 

He sniffed. “Wouldn’t have offered if I did.” Placing the cork back into the iodine bottle, he moved to take a seat beside her again, picking up his drink. “Might be better if you do, actually. The Calabrese’s are likely lookin’ for ya. If you vanished and didn’t wind up as a dead body, and I didn’t get blown up, then it don’t take no genius to work out that you ratted on ‘em.”  

Shit. She hadn’t even considered that. It was a fear Luca was banking on playing upon, and it had worked flawlessly. “S’okay, though, sweetheart. As long as you’re with me, they ain’t gonna touch ya. You’re fine.”  

Was she, though? Emily truly had to wonder. She pondered over it for the rest of the night, Luca telling her she could go take a bath and clean up, loaning her one of his shirts to wear that absolutely buried her, telling her he’d take the couch while she slept in his bed. She tried to protest, but he wouldn’t hear of it. 

“I ain’t exactly a gentleman in a lot of respects, but you ain’t gonna sleep on the couch. Nah. It’s fine.”  

Was it, though? As her tired eyes fluttered, lying in the comfort of a big bed that smelled like her host, she truly did have to wonder.  

[exitrowiron]

A clean start to 2025!

Although we have guards over our gutters, the pine needles somehow make it through the tiny holes and clog the inside of gutter and they get hung up on the heat cord on top of the gutter. This leads to my least favorite maintenance task as it requires climbing a ladder while carrying a ladder to reach the roof of the second story, then removing the gutter screens and clearing the debris so the snowmelt doesn't cause any damage.

My other tasks were much less irritating starting with organizing my part of the closet I share with Beth. My Mom would be proud of my use of the label maker.

And finally, the garage and cars got cleaned; I hate pulling into a dirty, disorganized garage. I removed and hosed off the car floor mats and washed and vacuumed the cars.

Now I just need to put the Christmas stuff into the garage loft and I will be ready to start 2025.

[ne0nic]

Our Game

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Wriothesley x f!Reader ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 5.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Dom!Wriothesley, Thief!Reader, Mentions of Human Trafficking, Drugged Tea, Slight Bondage

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

The game is lively tonight and you expect to enjoy it in full. 

With effortless grace, you move in and out of the shadows around the Court of Fontaine, becoming a phantom of the night. The deserted streets are a ripe playground, businesses closed, doors and windows locked, and the guards drowsy and inattentive. It's a realm of exhilarating opportunity, just waiting for you to claim.

Your destination is the side door of the antique jewelry shop, known as the last source of pride for an elderly proprietor. Your knowledge of every shop in the city is impeccable, following a mistake where you learned that it's unwise to steal from a Fatui-owned establishment; it's akin to pilfering from the Tsaritsa herself.

With a few deft movements, you manipulate the lock, and the door swings open without a sound. The shop's interior is as silent as a tomb, its owners having long retired for the evening. You enter, your eyes alight with anticipation.

You navigate the shop's layout like a child in a candy store, your gaze drawn to the glass cases showcasing a myriad of jewels, each one casting a beguiling shimmer. With nimble fingers, you open the case and select a ring featuring a sizable ruby. You slip it onto your finger, admiring the deep red luster. The ring itself is far from delicate, clearly designed for a more masculine hand – someone like…

You quickly remove the ring, tossing it into your bag. No point dwelling on such thoughts; it's time to collect your treasures and make your exit. You work swiftly, carefully placing necklaces and bracelets into your waiting bag, ensuring the displays remain untouched.

The unmistakable sound of heavy boots approaching makes you freeze in place, listening to the resonant thud of leather shoes and the subtle jingle of chains and cuffs. It's time to depart. You wrap up your mission with meticulous precision, and as swiftly as you had arrived, you vanish into the night. Peering from the safety of an alley, you remain silent, unable to spot the approaching figure. Even worse, you're uncertain of the direction from which he's drawing near.

Taking on the rooftop is undoubtedly the better choice. Climbing up the copper gutter pipe, you gain a sweeping view of the city from the high vantage point. From here, you can easily traverse the rooftops, leaping across buildings and making swift progress. As the immediate danger lessens, you descend to the streets below.

Suddenly, that distinct sound returns, the one signaling his presence. How did he catch up to you so fast? It's time for plan B. You snatch a dark cloak from a nearby stall and quickly drape it over yourself, making a dash for the nearest stationed Garde.

"Oh! Garde! Monsieur!" you implore, rushing up to the uniformed soldier. The young man, evidently new to the force, turns his attention to you with an eager desire to assist.

"Madame? What's the problem?" he inquires, clearly willing to help.

"I was just at the tavern getting a drink, and I think a strange man is following me! Please, help me!" You plead, ensuring fear reflects in your eyes.

"Do not worry, ma'am. I will take care of this," he assures, stepping around you to face the direction of the approaching footsteps.

"Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur," you say, masking your sly grin as you slip away.

The guard stands firm, ready to protect the innocent young woman who has placed her trust in him, aligning with the oath to safeguard all citizens of Fontaine. His excitement is palpable.

A shadow emerges in the dimly lit street, advancing slowly. The young Garde stands at attention. "You there! I'd like a word with you!" he calls out.

The approaching figure steps into the light, revealing a large, menacing man. He possesses piercing blue eyes, is adorned with chains and has a pair of handcuffs hanging at his side. His coat is casually slung over his back, and a scar stretches from the base of his neck, disappearing under his clothing.

The young Garde recognizes the man and instantly locks up. "Y-Your Grace! My apologies! I mistook you for a suspect!"

"Suspect? What gave you that idea?" the man inquires, tilting his head gently.

"This young lady, she—" The Garde turns, only to find that you've vanished. "Where'd she go?"

"A woman?" he asks.

"Y-Yes, a woman. She claimed a man was following her," the Garde explains. The man, who moments ago wore a serious expression, breaks into a smirk and chuckles softly.

You've successfully ascended the tower, fully prepared to make your getaway into the cover of the night. Luckily, tonight's escape had proven effortless, and you hadn't even needed to trigger an alarm to elude the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. He must be accustomed to your flamboyant tricks by now. The two of you had been engaged in this thrilling game for so long that you constantly had to innovate new ways to lead him astray. However, you'd come to find that the simplest tricks were the most enjoyable, especially after the sheer madness you'd put him through as you slipped away.

As you make your way toward freedom, a hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pressing your back into the wall. He looms above you, an unamused expression on his face. The way his stunning eyes seem to gleam in the dim light sends a shiver down your spine.

"Hello, darling," you taunt.

"Give it up. I'm taking you in," he declares with unwavering determination.

"That's what you always say," you mutter, causing him to grit his teeth.

"The bag," he demands, extending his hand.

"You're no fun," you pout, pulling the strap over your head and placing it in his palm. Wriothesley keeps you cornered as he opens the satchel, only to find it empty—no jewels, necklaces, or even a few coins. "Trouble?" you ask with a smirk.

"Where are the jewels?" he asks bluntly.

"What jewels?" you play innocent. He grabs your arms, pressing you firmly against the wall.

"I'm not in the mood for this today," he growls.

"But I'm completely innocent, Your Grace," you say with wide, doe eyes. "Little old me? A thief? Isn't it wrong to accuse someone without any evidence?"

"Enough!" he snaps, pushing you closer, your chests almost touching. You can feel the way his heart races, how you make him nervous. It sends a thrill through you.

"Or was there a different reason you followed me tonight, Your Grace?" you inquire, leaning forward. Your lips are mere inches apart. He tries to hide the way his breath hitches, but your smirk widens. "Did you want me all to yourself? You could've just asked. I'd never refuse." You tease him with expert precision, knowing precisely what to say and do to provoke him. You close the distance even further, his eyes locked onto your lips. Your breaths mingled so closely that your lips could touch if either of you moved even slightly. And just when it seems like he can't take it any longer, you pull away. "Forgive me, Your Grace. Sometimes I forget you're a man of the law, dedicated to your work. Surely, you're far too busy for me to take up any more of your time."

"Shut up," he snaps, closing the gap between you in an instant. He captures your lips, instantly stealing your breath away. His kisses are demanding, his desire to take the lead palpable, and you willingly submit to his commanding presence. His teeth graze along your bottom lip, eliciting a breathy, barely audible moan from you. You press your thighs together, utterly captivated by the way this man has the power to make you unravel. His longing for you has always had the ability to make you tremble, particularly in moments like these, when the game between you two reaches its zenith, when he finally catches you, and both of your desires hit you without reserve. 

His hand raises to the back of your neck, tilting your head up, giving him more of you. He's going mad. He has to be. There must be some kind of spell or pheromone that you've cast over him, that makes him need you desperately. Everytime you're before him like this, his morals fly out the window, and his lust becomes so thick he can't resist. He's well aware of the moral dilemma that plagues him. You're a true criminal, through and through, and he's fully cognizant of the wrongdoing of his actions. However, he never feels the exhilaration of the chase as intensely as he does when it's with you.

The tranquil sound of water churning brings you back to the present moment. Regrettably, it's time for you to make your exit. Your fingers slide over his vest pocket, and Wriothesley's brow furrows as you withdraw from the kiss.

"Gotta run," you murmur, slipping out of his grasp and collecting your discarded bag. Wriothesley's brows knit as you head toward the boat.

"Wait!" He attempts to step forward but is abruptly pulled back. He turns, only to discover that you've cuffed him to the service pipes. With a frustrated grunt, he struggles against the cuffs, and something falls out of his pocket. He gazes downward, finding a jewel necklace on the ground. Lifting his head to you again, you turn back to him with a playful smile.

"I had fun."

"Dammit!" He curses, his bracers materializing on his hand as he strikes through his own cuffs. Finally free, he makes a dash toward the boat. But the ferry has already set off, and he can only huff in frustration as you slip away. 

Again. 

Your fingers trace over the ledger, where rows upon rows of names denote inmates at the Fortress of Meropide. However, none of them match the one you're seeking. You can't help but wonder how many trivial offenses landed people in this imposing place.

Infiltrating the fortress itself was a relatively straightforward affair. They treat their prisoners well down here, making escape seem an improbable feat. Most inmates are cowed by the mere sight of the glass barrier that separates them from the relentless ocean outside. However, gaining entry was an entirely different challenge. Infiltrating the Duke's office, that's where things get tricky. Luckily, your familiarity with the office makes the entry a minor concern, especially when you have a duplicate key at your disposal.

"I'm assuming you didn't come for tea," a voice intones behind you. His hand closes the ledger's cover and rests atop it. Veins course through his arm and hand, and his knuckles are rough and calloused. You push away the inappropriate thoughts that threaten to surface.

"Should I even ask how you got in?" he continues, but you maintain your silence, choosing not to respond. Playing along with him today is the last thing on your mind.

"Who are you looking for?" he gets straight to the point.

"An...associate of mine went missing a few days ago. I was merely curious if he happened to be in your custody," you reply. He picks up the ledger and moves to the other side of his desk to set it down.

"Associate, huh? I thought you worked alone."

"I do," you confirm.

"His name?"

"As if I'd give you that. I'm not here to further incriminate him; I need to secure his swift release."

"Then it seems I can't help you," he states.

"You've never helped me," you correct, to which he chuckles.

"Touche."

"I brought you more of that blend you like," you say, gesturing toward the cabinet.

"Paid for with the proceeds from the jewels?" he questions, a hint of darkness in his tone. You smirk.

"I don't recall any jewels. It's simply a friendly gift, a favor for a favor," you reply, reveling in how his eyes narrow at your words.

"And what favor have I done for you?" he inquires, already knowing the answer. He's trying to ensnare you with your own words.

"I'll prepare a cup for you, dear. You seem weary," you offer, turning toward the cabinet. He's beside you in an instant, gripping your wrist.

"I wouldn't trust you to make anything for me," he snaps, making you smirk.

"Do you truly believe I'd do anything to harm you?" you ask in a feigned tone of surprise. You notice the tension in his jaw and your gaze drifts lower to the scar on his chest, which barely peeks above his clothing, triggering memories of that fateful day. "...Anymore?"

"Go sit down," he orders, and you pull away from his grasp.

"Yes, Your Grace," you say as you step over to the table. Outside the window, the vast expanse of the ocean unfolds, with creatures moving freely, seemingly unconcerned with the curse that hangs over the people of this nation.

You can't help but envy them, particularly after the arrival of that blonde-haired traveler, which marked the beginning of a downward spiral.

"I would like—"

"Three sugar cubes, I know," he interjects, causing a subtle smile to play on your lips.

"What time will the Iudex be arriving? I'd hate to be a bother," you inquire, knowing full well that you've committed his schedule to memory. He sighs, realizing there's no use concealing it from you.

"He won't be. Monsieur Neuvillette had a sudden trial, so he's rescheduled for next week," he admits, an air of candor coloring his response.

"What a shame. That blend is best served fresh," you murmur, your gaze drifting back to the water. A few moments later, he joins you at the table, the gentle clinking of teacups and saucers filling the air. You eagerly pick up your cup.

"I must admit I only ever have tea with you," you confess.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow as he settles into his seat. He observes you as you bring the cup to your lips and take a sip. Only then does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in his tea.

"It's true," you affirm, setting the cup down. "I always believe tea deserves to be enjoyed in good company."

"You don't have any other good company?" he inquires.

"None quite like you," you reply with a smile.

"Your clever quips won't get you out of here, you know."

"You think I'm clever?" You tease with a playful glint in your eyes.

"I don't intend to just let you walk out of here."

"You never have, not until I was properly sore and had trouble walking the next day," you taunt, taking another sip, causing him to gulp down his tea. His hands clench as you speak.

"Enough. This... arrangement we had is over. I'm taking you in. I'll inform Neuvillette of your transgressions, and you'll face justice," he declares, his tone stern.

"And then I'll find myself right back under your vigilant watch. Is that what you desire? To keep me close? Ensure that we'll never be apart again?" You tease. His jaw tightens. "I thought you relished our little game as much as I did."

"Game?! You're stealing from people!" His anger is palpable now.

You roll your eyes, reaching into your jacket and producing a document, which you slap onto the table. He leans back, perplexed. "And what is this?"

"The justification you seek. The part of you that yearns to believe I'm not entirely malevolent, this is your evidence."

"I don't understand."

"You will," you assure him. The grandfather clock in the corner begins to chime, marking the appointed time.

"It's time for me to go."

"What?" he blurts out.

You rise from the table with alacrity. "Thank you for the tea. I had a lovely time." You begin to walk away, and he suddenly springs to his feet. However, dizziness overtakes him, and he barely catches himself as the world blurs around him. Overwhelming drowsiness renders his legs wobbly, and he finds himself on his knees, struggling to resist it.

"When?" he manages to mumble.

"It was your teacup. You always use the same one," you giggle. He exhales in frustration. You draw closer.

"Don't worry. I'd never harm you. You're just going to have a short nap."

His hand grasps your wrist. "Don't go," he pleads, his desperation evident. It ignites a spark in your heart, prompting you to sink to your knees, cupping his cheeks.

"Well, when you ask so sweetly like that, how can I resist?" you murmur before pressing your lips to his. "Listen to Siegewinne, dear. You've been appearing quite exhausted lately. But I hope you'll feel better when you awaken. And on top of that," your gaze drifts toward the document, "you might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

After a lengthy and exasperating lecture from Siegewinne, Wriothesley finally returns to his office. It appears that you were telling the truth; it was merely a sleeping drug, and by the time he awoke, you had vanished. He didn't provide Siegewinne with many details about your encounter, nor did he delve into any in-depth discussion about you.

He sinks back into his chair, holding a cool washcloth to his forehead. You had been here, well within his grasp, and yet, once again, he found himself incapable of fulfilling the very duty he had sworn to uphold. It frustrates him to no end. Every time you make an appearance, it catches him off guard. However, when he saw you inspecting his office, for a brief moment, he had hoped you were there for him alone. Alas, that's never the case.

To make matters worse, you've infiltrated his dreams. Every time he closes his eyes, there you are, bare beneath him, your cheeks adorned with a charming flush. Your hands tenderly caress his face, and he takes you with a gentleness and passion that starkly contrasts the reality of your late-night rendezvous. Normally, he's rough with you, mirroring your intensity rather than expressing love.

The thought of you alone is enough to stir his desires, and he curses himself. You had drugged him not long ago, yet he's back to square one. Removing the washcloth, he stares at the ceiling, hoping his little problem will subside on its own. He replays the recent events in his mind, striving to rekindle his anger instead of his lust.

"You might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

What did you mean by that? How could he perceive you differently? His gaze drifts to the desk, where the document you left behind rests. He leans forward, scoops up the folded papers, and breaks the wax seal. As he peruses the contents, his heart sinks.

The elderly man who owns the jewelry shop was using it to launder money from human trafficking sales. You appraised numerous items and recorded their selling prices. You even managed to gather evidence of the boats at the marina being involved in the conspiracy. Photos, evidence—everything is meticulously compiled within these documents. This alone must have taken you weeks. A small note is clipped to the last page, the page itself revealing the location where the captors are holding their victims.

Without jewels, there are no sales. I have bought you time, Warden. Do not disappoint me.

He rises from his desk, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next.

The entirety of Fontaine's police force is mobilized for this operation, simultaneously raiding all the identified targets. Wriothesley, however, personally takes charge of the most significant arrest. With a sense of duty, he apprehends the elderly man, promptly handcuffs him, and pushes him toward the exit.

Outside, the ever-dramatic residents of Fontaine have congregated, forming a boisterous audience to witness this spectacle. The vigilant Gardes work diligently to keep the curious onlookers at bay as he escorts the man outside. His eyes inadvertently scan the crowd. 

A sudden pause overcomes him as he catches sight of you. A sly smile graces your lips as you knowingly meet his gaze, and then, with your characteristic grace, you disappear into the crowd, leaving him with a sense of intrigue. 

About a week later, following the court's verdict and the subsequent exile to the Fortress, you make a return. Leaning casually on his desk, you patiently await his arrival. As he trudges up the steps, his demeanor brightens in pleasant surprise at the unexpected sight of you. There's a trace of solemnity in your smile as your eyes meet his.

Setting his report down, he approaches you, his curiosity evident in his tone. "You've been gone for a while."

"I had some important matters to attend to," you explain. "The victims who were kidnapped are now under the care of the Spina di Rosula. Most of them are just awaiting reunions with their families. Convincing a few to testify during the trial was a bit challenging, but I'm relieved it's come to a favorable resolution. The Spina di Rosula has pledged to hunt down the buyers, and I've provided them with all the information I could gather."

"Why not have the Spina di Rosula collaborate with the Garde?" he inquires.

"You and I both know that would never happen."

"What now?" he asks.

"My job is done, and I've cut my few remaining ties. All that remains," you say, raising his cuffs, "is you, Your Grace." He takes the cuffs from you, studying them with furrowed brows. As you lift your hands toward him, he glances from the cuffs to your wrists.

With a resounding clack, the cuffs land on the desk. The gravity of this decision settles upon you, hiding within it the unspoken message he wishes to convey. Slowly, you lower your hands as he fixes his gaze on you, drawing dangerously near.

"You're making a mistake," you caution.

"I know," he responds before pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. 

In a matter of seconds you both burst into his bedroom, lips locked, jackets falling to the floor. Your nimble fingers are quick on the buttons of his vest as he backs you towards the bed. He pulls your shirt upwards, his rough hands riding up your front. Once one hand finds your breast you moan into his mouth. His ice cold touch electrifies you. He rids you of your shirt and pushes you down onto the bed. His gray vest falls to the floor leaving him looking seductively disheveled in just his black button up. 

The tip of your nail fits between your teeth as you devour him with your eyes. "You're going too slow," you whine, reaching a hand out. Your fingers trail over his shirt, feeling every curve of his muscles just beneath the fabric. It has you aching for him. He reaches up, tugging his tie free from his neck. You light up, obediently offering your other wrist to him too. 

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd liked being my prisoner," he says, leaning closer as he ties the red fabric around your wrists. 

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you tease, leaning in as well. His gaze falls to your lips before lifting your arms over your head and guiding you to lay on your back. From there he spreads your thighs, fitting himself between. Pressing your lips tight together, you resist the urge to beg. Even a small bit of friction would be heavenly, but it doesn't come. Instead he slowly strips your bottom half, taking his sweet time to admire your panties before just snapping them off your hips. 

He sinks to his knees, lips caressing your inner thigh. Your hands find their way to your mouth trying to muffle your own weak whimpers as he trails towards your core. Where you want him the most. 

Just as his breath ghosts over your aching cunt he stops. Suddenly his hand wraps around the tie and shoves it upwards again. "Do not move them again, if you do you can forget about my earlier mistake. I'll take you in, right now, like this," he threatens in a husky voice, eyes boring into yours. You smirk, lifting your thigh to rub against his hip. 

"Like this, Your Grace? How scandalous," you tease. 

"Do you understand?" he demands. 

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He snaps. 

"Yes, sir," you say, your voice growing weaker. 

"Good girl," he praises, and you know you're soaked down there. Cheeks tinged red and heart racing as he sinks back down your body. He lifts your thighs over his shoulders before tugging you in one last time. Torturously slow he gives a chaste kiss to your clit. You resist the urge to pull your arms back down as a groan leaves your lips, your body involuntarily twitching. Wriothesley smirks at the display. It's as if he's trained your body to fall apart at just his touch, something he carries with pride. 

His tongue dives between your folds, and you throw your head back with a sinful moan. The man below you is terrifyingly good with his tongue and fingers which makes his next move a damning one. 

Two fingers easily slide into you, but he makes sure not to curve them into the place you like. Instead he watches the way you writhe, almost trying to force his fingers that way, the pleasure making you dizzy. Pathetic moans and whimpers pass your lips, music to his ears. 

"Please… fuck— mh." 

"What was that?" He mutters. "I couldn't hear you." His fingers slow to a cruel rub. 

"I wanna cum. Please," you beg. 

"Really?... I don't know if you deserve to," he says, his voice dropping a few octaves. The voice change drives you, making him smirk as he feels you tighten. "After all, you didn't tell me what you were up to. You worked outside the law, you could've gotten yourself hurt. Now, that… I just can't seem to forgive." He crooks one finger up slightly, sending you spiraling. 

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry! I won't do it again," you promise. He slowly rises to his feet, fingers still deep inside you. Wriothesley leans over your trembling frame. His hand caresses your cheek with a tender touch. The coolness of his fingers on your burning cheek is practically bliss. 

"Now, how can I believe you? You've broken every other promise you've made to me," he says tauntingly. Fuck! You hate him. You know what he's trying to do, and he knows how desperate you are, enough to agree to any of his demands. He brings your diverting gaze back to his. 

"No more secrets," you agree, making him sigh. 

"Now, was that so hard?" He asks, pressing right there making your head go fuzzy. You gasp in surprise as his fingers pull you apart all over again, the familiar sensation pooling within you. Wriothesley presses his lips to yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth so he can still hear your gasping moans. "Cum, pretty girl." Your body shudders in the wake of your orgasm, and he doesn't relent, driving you oversensitive in a matter of moments. Your hands grab his wrist, stopping him as you still ride out the end of your orgasm. He smirks and pulls his fingers out. You feel the tie release your wrists. 

He's gentle as he lifts your face, seeing the dazed, blissed out expression you wear. His lips peck around your cheeks, to your neck, to your collar, and them to your shoulders by the time your high fades. 

"Back with me?" He asks lifting your chin, you nod and he slots his lips against yours while opening your legs again. He fits himself between them and pulls on his belt with one hand, something you don't mind helping him with. He chuckles as he feels you desperately pull his pants open. His aching cock springs free hard and hot in your palm as you stroke him. His forehead sinks to your shoulder as he shudders, slightly thrusting into your touch. "Shit." 

"Hurry," you urge. Lifting himself up he positions himself so the head just barely brushes against you. You press your lips together. 

Wriothesley reaches upwards, his hand sliding down your arm until he can fit his fingers between yours. Then he thrusts. His other hand grips your hip so tight you pray there will be a bruise. He stretches you open, forcing you to take his size, your eyes roll back into your head. 

"Fuck!" You cry out as he bottoms out. He starts with slow shallow thrusts but his patience quickly wears thin. In no time he's snapping his hips forward, rocking the bed, shoving himself deeper inside you. It's predatory, the way he heaves, the way he takes, the way his fingers grip your hair and hold your head up to make you watch him fuck your brains out. 

In practically no time at all you're cumming again, but he doesn't slow down, his own orgasm approaching as he feels you clench down on him. The continued force of his thrusts sends you right into a second orgasm and he follows suit. Your cunt milks him for all he's worth. Every drop belongs to you. 

He belongs to you. 

"Just fucking be mine already," he groans. His words break through your hazy mind in an instant. 

"What?" 

"Fuck," he mutters. "You're gonna make me say it outright, aren't you?" He leans over fingers brushing over your cheek. "Stay with me. Be with me." 

Your heart feels as if it may beat out of your chest as he says it. His cold eyes are now strikingly warm and tender. But you don't know what to say. 

Instead you reach up, hands pulling his face down to yours. He complies easily. You kiss him sweetly, whispering against his lips, "I'm yours." 

Your confirmation makes his heart sing as he kisses you with more fervor, growing hard inside you once more. The first thrust catches you by surprise but you're loving it. This time there's nothing rough about the way he holds you. He treats you softly, like you'll break if he's any harder. He holds your body in tight to his, burying himself deep inside you, until you're seeing stars. 

The clock chimes, marking the hour as Wriothesley opens his eyes. To his dismay the spot next to him is empty. He rubs his face, already stressed that you've disappeared like usual. Unfortunately, maybe he was foolish enough to hope for something more from you. 

Sitting up he finally notices the weight on his finger. A ring, a gigantic red ruby within a thick band. The metal is dark and the design is intricate. Honestly, it truly seems like something he'd wear. 

Peering over to your side one more time his eyes widen as he sees a folded up paper. With one hand he retrieves it and flips it open. 

My secrets come at a cost, Your Grace. So, if you manage to catch me Thursday night, I might consider telling you one or two. Preferably over tea. 

I'll be expecting you. 

He laughs to himself, "So, the chase is still on, huh? Better make it interesting."  

[fandomfics]

We're Strangers

Part 1 of 3

Ragnarok AU

Pairing: Loki x Fem Reader

Description: When Loki ends up stuck on Sakaar, he runs into you, an indentured servant to the Grandmaster.

Master List

⚠️Warnings⚠️

Au, Loki stays on sakaar and Thor never shows up. Implied sexual situations(light smut?), mentions of nudity, language, use of restraints.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Indentured servitude in the Grandmasters Palace can be absolute hell, but you find it a much better arrangement to sleeping in the gutters and barely scraping by. You are given fine clothes to wear, you are fed, and you have a bed to sleep in at night. All for the price of being one of the grandmaster's personal maids.

You spend your nights in a chamber next to his, awaiting the ringing of a bell to indicate he is in need of you. Most of your time is spent mending and making clothing for the champions, occasionally being called for refreshments or food for the grandmaster and whoever is occupying his bed that night. On the rare occasion that he doesn't have a companion, he calls you in to fill that roll.

The first time it happened you were surprised by the proposition, moreso that he actually wanted your consent. After that you always agreed, spending a night wrapped in his luxurious bedding, partaking in pleasures you rarely did otherwise. It was a treat.

For a long time your life in service of the grandmaster was monotonous, the rare nights with him were the only break from it until he took a new lover. The tall thin man is clad in green and gold, his long dark hair is slicked back, and the ever present mischievous smile on his face is wide. The Grandmaster clearly was obsessed with this one, he was the only one to spend time with him for months.

One evening you sit in your plush armchair hand sewing a garment as quiet music from an unseen speaker fills the empty space, an open window allows the cool breeze to wash over your skin and you shiver.

"Cold darling?" You jump in your seat, startled by the unexpected presence, sending the needle into your finger.

You turn sharply to see the Grandmaster's lover.

"oh, I'm terribly sorry about that." The grin on his face conveys the exact opposite of his words and you shoot him a cold look in response as you make your way to the small first aid cabinet.

"What do you want? You should have just rang the bell. You know how all this works by now." You spit at him while you remove the needle to clean and bandage the wound.

"I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to be nosey," a look of confusion contorts his face, "I mean, I want to find any leverage I can against the grandmaster to use at a later date."

You laugh as he continues to speak, "why can't I say I'm tired of fucking him, I want to take his title? Norns! I just want to lie to you!"

"Must be frustrating," the amused smile on your face elicits a probing glance from the god. "I must say, I find your confusion quite entertaining."

"What have you done to me?" He scowls

"Not a thing sir. People from my planet are... special. We can't be lied to..." A quick flash of sadness washes over your features before you replace it with amusement once more, but he caught it.

"Hmm, seems like a planet that I could use in my endeavors..."

"Have fun with that." You say turning away.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

An uneventful week passes before he returns to see you. He takes a seat in the armchair across from you and silently watches you work. You don't acknowledge his presence until he finally speaks.

"I'm sorry." His voice is low, almost too quiet for you to hear.

"What for?" You're caught off guard by his words, you expected more mischief.

"Your planet. Are you the last one left?" His eyes are... Doleful. You've never seen him convey such emotion. With the exception of last week's confusion, all you've seen is cocksure devilry play across his handsome features. You eye him cautiously, just because you can't be lied to doesn't mean that you can't be manipulated.

"I'm not sure. I was taken years before it happened, but I've never encountered anyone."

"By the grandmaster?"

"No, I just ended up on this trash planet sometime after. "

"Hmm." He shifts in his seat as he thinks, bringing a hand up to rub his chin. "Why didn't you tell him what I said?"

You shrug, "No one has ever been successful, didn't think it mattered."

"I like a challenge." he smirked "oh, how rude of me, I never introduced myself. Loki, god of mischief." He bows his head to you.

"I am well aware of who you are." You chuckle before giving him your name.

"Beautiful name, it suits you." He says before repeating your name slowly, savoring it like the last sweet in the box. He is clearly trying to charm you, but for what you don't know.

"What is it that you want from me Loki?"

"Just your friendship. Nothing more." His eyes light up with his smile, "it's getting awfully dull around here while I bide my time."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Four months pass and Loki still has the affections of the Grandmaster. Every night after he falls asleep Loki finds his way to the chair opposite of you. You share your lives with each other, stories of your past, hopes for your future. A friendship blooms.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Do you actually want to take the grandmasters place?"

"What?"

"Its been months, you haven't really spoken to me about it since the first time we talked."

"Well of course dear," he becomes ever so slightly sheepish "I just don't want to ruin our friendship by asking for your assistance in the matter. I've kept you out of it, if this fails he doesn't need a reason to punish you as well."

"Aww, the god of mischief has a friend that he cares for?" You tease him with a wide grin.

"Oh hush. Consider yourself lucky. Few have been so honored as to be this close to me and have my full respect." The scowl on his face breaks quickly when you laugh, and he follows suit.

"I would help you, you know? If you asked."

"No, I couldn't." He sighs "You really are too dear to me."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"You look troubled. What's going on?" Another few months have passed and you've continued your routine with Loki.

"I think the head of archives has figured out what I'm planning." His brow furrows and he pinches the bridge of his nose screwing his eyes shut tight.

"Let me help you, please? I could just go down and ask them a few questions, just make sure you're clear." You offer hopefully, at this point you've grown very close, and all you want to do is help him.

His eyes shoot open and he searches your gaze for a moment. "No," he shakes his head as if to push the thought away. "I told you, I can't let you. I'll find a way through it. Don't worry about me darling."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next morning when your shift is over you immediately head to the archives. Loki is going to get your help whether he likes it or not.

You've encountered the being he's talked about before. A large humanoid that stands a solid 8 feet tall with grey skin and antlers. They can be intimidating when necessary, but they know you are a personal servant to the grandmaster himself.

"Shill! How are we today?" You greet them as you normally would.

"Can't complain," their gravelly voice echoes in the wide expanse of the archive. "What do you need today?"

"Just a quick task. Need to ask if you've heard or seen anything suspicious lately. You know the song and dance. Been a while since someone attempted a coup, think the man's a little on edge." You whisper the last part.

"Nah, nothin' on that front." They say with a chuckle, "You'll be the first to know if I hear anything."

"Thanks Shill, I appreciate it." You say with a smile, slapping the desk before you leave.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I have good news for you!" A smile lights up your face when Loki sits in his chair.

"Do you?" His curiosity is peaked as he looks to you.

"Shill has no idea what you're up to."

"I told you I didn't want you involved," he buries his face in his hands in exasperation.

"I wanted to, and I'm glad did. I can do more."

"Norns, you are stubborn." He looks up to you, "No, I'm almost ready, I don't need your help."

"Too bad." Defiance drips from your words, "If you don't give me something to do I might get myself into trouble trying to figure out how to help you."

"Fine." He thinks for a moment before speaking again. "I need to get into his private study for one last thing. Would you be able to keep him occupied for a time?"

"Well, when his bed is empty he asks for my company. Maybe you take a night to yourself. I can keep his night busy while you make your way in."

"Perfect. Here's the plan, I will make my way into the room at my usual time, just before he arrives, and hide myself away. I will speak to him with a sort of doppelganger of myself to reject him for the night, and the other me will leave the room. Once he has you in, you keep him distracted so I can grab the key to get in and out. Then I can hide out in your chamber until everything is clear."

"Wow, you already planned this out? I thought you didn't want me to help you?"

"I was going to find someone else to fuck him, but if you're offering..." He shrugs.

"That's settled then. When do we set this plan in motion sir?" You say in mock seriousness.

"Tomorrow night."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Large room that houses the Grandmasters chamber is lit to set a mood, the warm dark colors on the walls and wood floors make the atmosphere cozy even in the massive space. The walls house floor to ceiling shelves of books and trinkets from all over the universe. His four poster bed sits in the center on a raised platform, and here is where you sit.

Nude, you straddle the Grandmaster, his limbs are tied to the bed posts, a silky blindfold covering his eyes.

"God's your cock is huge sir!" You scream out, giving Loki the signal to begin.

From your vantage point you can see him making his way to the discarded set of keys on a shelf, when he is ready to grab the keys you make eye contact with him and let out a loud moan to drown out any noise they might make. You see Loki's eyes quickly flit to your bouncing breasts and his jaw visibly tightens before he begins to move again.

His approach to the door signals your next move. You remove yourself, from the bed, much to the grandmasters discontent, moving around the room playing dumb.

"I think I need to find that delicious little toy you got off world, you know the one, makes it look like I have a tail."

He hums in approval before telling you exactly where it resides. You open and close random drawers, making him wait several minutes, giving Loki just enough time to slip in and out of the study before returning to your chamber.

"Ugh, you're such a tease!" The grandmaster says desperately before begging you to return. With Loki's mission safely accomplished you get what you were looking for and spend the rest of the night in pleasure.

At the break of dawn you return to your room to find Loki still there, his face is etched with anger.

"Did you get what you needed?"

"Yes." He replies curtly.

"Then why do you look like you want to murder someone?"

He stands and makes his way across the room, standing right in front of you. "Because I do." He whispers.

You're speechless, wondering what he means exactly until he continues.

"I don't like the thought of him touching you, let alone what you were doing to him." He turns around leaving you confused. You place your hand on his shoulder, touching him for the first time since you met all those months ago. He feels... electric.

"What are you talking about?"

"Seeing you with him made me realize something. I didn't know exactly how much I wanted you until it was clear that you aren't mine." He turns to face you again, "but I have to tell you some-" he is interrupted when you close the distance and your lips crash into his. He's momentarily startled before his hands cup your cheeks and pulls out of the kiss. The confusion in your eyes makes way for fear before you push yourself away and immediately start apologizing.

"I thought you meant-" you start frantically before he grabs your face again to speak to you.

"I did," he sighs, "but I don't want this to go any further until I've told you the truth."

"What do you mean? You can't lie to me..."

"I uh...I found a way to." He releases the hold on your face and returns to his chair. His hands run through his hair and he looks to the ground with a deep sigh.

"My doppelgangers. If I'm not in the room with you physically, I can-I can lie to you."

"So everything was bullshit." You say flatly.

"Yes... No. I mean, the only thing I really lied about was not wanting your help. I wanted to get close to use your talents to aid me in my quest, but I was- I am your friend. Your friendship is important to me... You are important to me." He finally lifts his eyes to meet yours and sees the tears streaming down your face.

"I don't want to see you ever again. We're Strangers and nothing more."

"I understand. I'll respect your wishes." Before he can leave you return to the Grandmasters chamber and climb back into the bed.

"Where'd you go?" He turns over sleepily before pulling you to him.

"I need to tell you something."

"Can it wait until after we go another round?" He teases as he grips your ass and grinds against you.

"No. Loki is planning something. He wants to replace you." He releases his grip on you and sits up suddenly wide awake.

"How do you know?"

"He's been coming into my chambers to see me on occasion. Just to talk... I just found him in my chamber when I went in to get a drink. He wanted my help and confessed to me." The hurt you feel from Loki's betrayal masks any guilt you feel for exposing him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The grandmaster immediately sends his guards to find the god, but he's gone. A new lover has taken his place, and everything has returned to how it was before. The only difference being the numbness you feel.

[alotofteez]

Sphallolalia | Part 9

Series: ⇢ Pairing: San x fem!Reader ⇢ Genre: flirty af fluff, hints of angst, suggestive, kinda smutty, older reader (noona) ⇢ Synopsis: As your best friend’s maid of honor, you must endure the shameless best man’s flirting until after the wedding. It’s just sphallolalia… right?

Part 9: (Un)Expectations - Moodboard ⇢ Genre: fluff, angst, & suggestive ⇢ Warnings: Language, adult themes ⇢ Word Count: 6,639

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

taglist: @joongiebug (url doesn’t exist), @simluvbot​ , @kimtae-bae (can’t be tagged?), @justsayk , @sunsethw4 , @baguette-atiny​ , @youre-a-wallflower-charlie , @knisterlicht, @nevieatiny, @laylasbunbunny, @brown88​, @rihannon14​

Your finger moves quickly across the tablet screen and repeatedly stops as you figure out the best shelving layout with the store’s data from last month. You are lost in thought behind the registers occupied by sales associates. Their chatting is mostly blocked out, but their sudden giddiness and posture change slightly grab your attention.

“He’s so cute— Fuck, he’s walking over here,” one of them whispers in a panic.

“Language,” you warn before looking up to see who they are freaking out about. 

The unfortunate sight of San strolling through your store welcomes you. He already has a smile on his face, and it only gets smugger the moment you lock eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You sigh defeatedly, putting the tablet down and stepping around the counter.

“Is that how you greet all your customers?” He asks, “I think I need to speak to the manager.”

“I am the manager,” you deadpan, leading him away from the prying ears of your employees, “Why are you here?”

“I happened to be around, so I decided to drop by to see if you’re a hardass at work as well,” he jokes, “I got you coffee. Happy birthday.” He smiles, holding out the cup.

You’re caught off guard by the sweet gesture and hesitantly take it. 

“Oh- Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

You didn’t think he even knew when your birthday was. You’re going to end up with a sweet tooth for this man.

“Yeah, but I wanted to,” he says with his smile turning into a smirk, noticing he has made you sappy, “You know what else you get for your birthday?”

Knowing exactly where this is going, your index finger presses against his lips before he can get out another word. 

“Don’t. I’m at work. I don’t need you here talking about birthday sex,” you warn, voice wavering between seriousness and laughing because goddamn, does the devil work hard but Choi San work harder.

His tongue sneakily licks your finger effectively removing it from his mouth, much to your dismay. While groaning and wiping his spit off on his shirt, you briefly notice the scoop neckline of it and how his defined collarbones peek out from underneath. Thoughts of peppered marks on them and being the one to do so cloud your mind as he speaks.

“I was gonna say a kiss,” he starts, mischief sparkling in his eyes, “But now I know where your mind is at.”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you try to play it off, “Your mind is always in the gutter-”

“If that’s what you want for your birthday, I think I can arrange that.”

“Hell no. Get out before someone hears you.”

He sighs, stepping towards you and making you back up, “If you change your mind about the birthday sex, you know where to find me.”

“San!” You smack his shoulder, making him chuckle.

“Impact play?”

“Get out!”

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says with a wink before turning to leave the store.

“Is he your boyfriend?” One of your cashiers asks excitedly.

“Definitely not.”

“Why not?”

“He likes being single,” you answer and give them warning glares.

“What’s happening tonight?” They tease, wiggling their eyebrows.

“We’re making decorations for our friends’ wedding. Would you busy yourselves? Go tidy up shelves or something.”

They grumble under their breaths.

“I’m your boss, not your bestie,” you remind them.

Behind the counter once again, you take a quick sip of the drink he brought. You’re surprised by the familiar taste. How does he know your favorite coffee drink? Since when did he care about your birthday? Why is he being so nice to you? It’s not that you’re mad about it, but it just seems suspicious.

San occupies your mind, which is unfortunate for your productivity. You can’t get his stupid face out of your head like he now lives there rent-free. The new shelving layout needs to be done so that you can figure out where to move things for a display of upcoming trends. Shipments are coming in next week, and your store is a bit behind schedule.

Although you try to refocus on the tablet, thoughts of birthday sex with San lure you down a raunchy rabbit hole. For a moment, you entertain those ideas. In your little scenario, you invite him over after work, blowing off your plans to go to Mina’s. Already on his way, he responds with “No one has to know.” Upon answering the door, you pull him inside your apartment by his shirt and crash your lips into his. He lets you take control, allowing you to use him as you please. You can almost hear him say with a smirk, “Don’t take it easy on me,” as you push him up against a wall. Mina blows up your phone asking where you are, but San simply puts it on silent. “Just tell her your battery died,” he murmurs against your lips before continuing to kiss you deeply.

What the hell is wrong with you? You’re at work! Due to confirmation bias, it’s all San’s fault. He is like quicksand. The harder you struggle to get out, the more you sink into him. Almost like he has been spying on your thoughts all day, San texted you while you were working.

From: San🖕 Take a nap because I’m gonna keep you up all night😉 3:17 PM

-

From: You Omfg shut up 4:53 PM

You didn’t know exactly how you would spend your birthday, but making so many decorations for the wedding was not on your radar. To make it worse, Yujin invited herself to Mina’s apartment after hearing Mingi say something about wedding decorations. The hidden upside of the night is that you will see San, and it will fuel your dumb crush on him.

That same crush clouds your judgement enough to have you reaching for a coral blouse out of your closet as you’re getting ready to head over to Mina’s. When you arrive, only a few members of the wedding party are present. Kyungmi texts that she’s running late. One by one, the rest trickle in… Except for San.

Mina sends the guys into the kitchen to cut out sticker decals on her many cutting boards. Apparently, no one in the friend group owns a cutting mat for crafting. The plan for those decals is to put them on wine glasses Mina bought in bulk, but that is a task for the girls because Mina doesn’t trust them to line the decals up perfectly. The cups are for the wedding guests to reuse during the reception and to keep as gifts.

When you hear one of the guys say San’s name, you glance in their direction. This crafting ‘party’ has been going on for almost an hour, and it’s killing you to know what he’s doing. 

“Where’s San?” You ask, trying to hide your interest.

“Yunho isn’t here either,” Mina counters, and you nearly slap yourself across the face. How could you be so careless? Your brain almost short-circuits racing for a rationale.

“Well, I figured the best man would be here,” you stammer out.

“He’s out with his other friends. You’re welcome,” Mina playfully answers.

Those words stab at your heart. He knows it’s your birthday and still changed plans? But why are you upset? He’s not your friend. This shouldn’t personally bother you so much, but it does. He even said he would see you tonight…

“He has other friends?” Sejeong jokes.

It doesn’t completely bring your mood back up, but you chuckle a little.

“He might be making a new one right now.” Mina wiggles her eyebrows.

“You look stupid when you do that,” Yujin grumbles, voice laced with what you assume is jealousy.

“Well, he is out with his party friends, so…” Mina emphasizes, making sure Yujin hears loud and clear, “Wooyoung is basically a copy and paste.”

You like that Mina also rubs salt in Yujin’s wounds, even if it’s for a different reason to keep her from him. But then again, it feels like salt in your wounds too. You can’t stand the idea of him in bed with some girl he barely knows all over him. Even though that’s his business, jealousy can make you think ugly things.

Looking down at your shirt, you feel so fucking stupid.

You pull yourself back together and start lining up the wine glasses on the table. Just after Seonghwa delivers a few dozen decals to you, Kyungmi busts through the front door.

“Guess who just won custody!”

You glance around at the other bridesmaids, who are just as confused as you.

“Huh?” Sejeong finally says something.

“My parents are giving my dog back. They had her while I was in college, and I broke them down enough to get her back. Wanna see pictures of her all cuddled up on my bed?”

Kyungmi doesn’t even wait for an answer. She must have pictures of her dog on deck at all times.

“Aw, what’s her name?” Yoojung coos, looking at a photo.

“Talulah.”

The dog is absolutely adorable, but there is something abnormal about her throughout all the pictures that has you hesitantly asking, “Does her tongue always hang out like that?”

“Yeah, she’s got a medical issue.”

“Wait, how old is she? You said your parents had her while you were in college, but she looks like a puppy.”

“She’s, like, seven, I think.”

Mina gasps as she remembers something and quickly whips out her phone.

“Do y’all want to see some pictures of Mingi from high school?”

“No, but don’t let that stop you,” Yujin deadpans.

“Was he a dork?” Kyungmi kids, putting her own phone away.

Mina pouts as she hands her phone to Yoojung and Sejeong, “Don’t be mean.”

“I mean, I was an anime kid, so…” Kyungmi trails off, lips pursing to make an ugly face, “It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Really?” Yoojung exclaims.

Kyungmi nods, “Yeah. Then, right before my sixteenth birthday, I was like, ‘What if I was hot?’”

“Yeah, what if,” Mina repeats, receiving a smack to her shoulder from Kyungmi.

Sejeong passes the phone to Kyungmi, and Mina peeks around the screen to swipe to another photo.

“He was on the basketball team?” Kyungmi is surprised, probably because she can’t picture him not being clumsy on the court.

“Yeah, but he was only on it because he was tall.” Mina swipes again.

Sejeong tilts her head next to Kyungmi’s and squints. “Wait, is that San?”

Your interest is suddenly piqued, but you act casually as you lean into Kyungmi to catch a glimpse. His long, dark hair covers half of his eyes, but his dimples give away that it’s him. There’s a boyish charm about him in the photo that makes you want to smile, but you suppress the urge. 

From the other room, you hear the refrigerator open and Jongho yelp, “Oh, shit” followed by the other guys gasping.

“Be careful!” Mina warns with an eye roll.

“Can you come here for a second?”

Mina stands while muttering under her breath, “Oh, my fucking god.”

They crowd around the kitchen island as Mina searches through some cabinets. Finally, Seonghwa emerges from the huddle with an adorably pink cake topped with lit candles, icing, and macarons.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” you say with glassy eyes as Seonghwa sets the cake on the table in front of you.

“Make a wish,” Mina smiles with the flames twinkling in her eyes.

It has been years since someone has said that to you. The last time was probably when you were a preteen. You can barely remember the things you wished for then. It was probably toys, a cell phone, or makeup. 

What should you wish for now? Money; a raise at work; stumble upon a wad of cash; a distant relative you’ve never heard of left their life’s fortune to you? A new job, preferably one that exercises your college degree? Good health and a long life? To fall in love? There is one thing all these ideas have in common. If somehow, this can manifest something, you just wish to be happy.

“Just blow out the candle. It’s not rocket science,” Mina jokes with a chuckle.

Right. It’s not.

“Alright, who wants a slice?” Mina claps her hands together as Seonghwa brings over plates and utensils. 

“I just want a small piece,” you inform Mina before she cuts one for you.

She furrows her brows, “No, you’re getting a slice thick with two C’s.”

You don’t want to waste it, so you might as well eat it. As much as you want to regret consuming these treats, they taste so good. The white chocolate rose macarons complement the vanilla cake with chocolate mousse filling well.

“Oh, my god, Seonghwa. Where did you get this cake?” Mina inquires, mouth full of cake with her hand hiding it.

“A little bakery over by my apartment.”

Mina nudges Mingi’s arm, almost causing him to drop his next bite in his lap, “We should check it out for our wedding cake.”

Once most of you are done eating, Sejeong suggests that you open your birthday gifts. You move a chair into the living room for your friends to watch comfortably on the couches.

“Hang on. I gotta go get my present. I hid it in the neighbor’s potted plant,” Kyungmi says in a rush to retrieve it.

Sejeong scrunches her face in confusion. “Why didn’t you just leave it in your car?”

“I wasn’t about to go all the way back down there.”

“There’s an elevator?”

“Yeah, and I wasn’t about to go all the way back down there,” she repeats as if it should be obvious that it would be too much work.

When she returns, you ask, hands hovering above the gifts, “Which one should I start with?”

“Save the big one for last,” Mina dismisses the large box.

“Start with the smallest one,” Yoojung suggests, and Kyungmi gets a large grin on her face.

You pick up the smallest bag and take note of how light it is. When you pull out all of the gift tissue paper, you’re met with something you weren’t quite expecting. A weird little stuffed creature with beady eyes stares back at you. As you take the plushy out, you find an envelope at the bottom of the bag. Your friends whisper among themselves asking what the gift is.

“It’s your adopted wombat!” Kyungmi chirps.

The paper inside the envelope confirms that it is a symbolically adopted wombat, specifically one named Gertrude. There’s even a photo of the wombat that benefits from the “adoption.”

“Why did you get her that?” Yoojung questions.

“She said she didn’t have a pet.”

“That’s cute,” Seonghwa approves.

As your friends discuss Kyungmi’s gift, you open the box from Yoojung. It’s a duffel bag; you remember her drunkenly pointing out at the bachelorette party how grungy the one you have been using is. Despite being put on blast for it, you’re thankful for the new one because truthfully, yours was disgusting.

“Those next,” Sejeong points out the matching gift bags. 

Her present is actually three separate bags containing a trio of fake plants. One is labeled as a spider plant, another as a pothos plant, and the last as a rubber plant. They’re cute and require no maintenance aside from dusting every now and again. There are a few places in your apartment that could use some decoration.

To give your friends a hard time, you sigh, “I’m starting to think you guys think I can’t keep anything alive.”

“You know, I’m honestly surprised you’re still here,” Mina jokes as she hands over another gift bag. You toss her an unimpressed glare.

“Because your apartment is always freezing,” Seonghwa chimes before you remove the tissue paper.

The gift bag feels heavy and full but not like it contains a hard, solid object. Inside is a thick, plush throw blanket that makes a grin grow on your face.

“Are the blankets I have not enough?” You challenge as a joke.

“Those shouldn’t even be called blankets. They’re like bed sheets.”

“So you got me a present for yourself when you come over?”

He starts stuttering out arguments now that you’ve put him on the spot.

“Hwa, I’m just teasing. Thank you.”

Mina slides two boxes in front of you; one large yet flat and one small. Tears spring to your eyes when you tear away the gift wrapping from the bigger one. Dozens of photos of you and Mina over the years are collaged in the shape of a heart in a large picture frame. There’s even the picture of you holding her at the hospital after she was born.

“Don’t cry.” Mina shuffles over to wrap you in her arms as you look at all the different pictures.

“Where did you get all these?”

“Me and my mom dug through all her photo albums in the attic.”

“Minnie Beanie, this is so cute,” you say wiping away a stray tear. The use of her childhood nickname makes her grin.

“Don’t forget the little box.”

Inside the box is a silver necklace with a small heart pendant.

When you look up at Mina, she excitedly says, “Let me help you put it on.”

As she does so, Sejeong slides the giant box to you with a bit of struggle. The birthday card is signed off by Mina, Mingi, Yunho, and Seonghwa.

“Oh, my god. This is huge,” you say in awe as you reveal the present’s box packaging. It’s a pretty sizable espresso machine. Mina has always criticized your caffeine addiction, and now here she is enabling it. But you won’t call her out on it. Currently, you can’t wait for the morning to test it out.

“Did you bring anything?” Yoojung quietly asks Jongho.

He clears his throat to announce, “My presence is your present.”

“Did you keep the receipt?” Kyungmi quips.

“You gave a full-grown woman a stuffed animal.”

“At least that has value.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but she cuts him off, “Yunho isn’t even here, and he still got her a present.”

“Children, please,” Sejeong attempts to shut down the argument.

“In his defense, we didn’t tell him we were doing a little party for Y/N,” Mina steps in.

“I would have gotten you a boyfriend if I could,” Kyungmi says to you as Mina and Seonghwa clear up the party mess.

You assure her while moving back to the dining table, “I don’t need or want a man.”

“I mean, they’re kinda fun to have around.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“What’s your type?” Sejeong is the first one to actually ask about what you are into.

You hum as you think for a second, “Mmm, I just want someone who listens and understands. A deep emotional connection would be nice, you know?”

“We all want that, but that kind of man doesn’t exist,” Kyungmi sighs.

“You’re being too picky,” Yujin adds, and you really want to be petty and snap back that not everyone is willing to hook up with anything that has a pulse and a dick. Besides, you really aren’t asking much of a person; it’s like the bare minimum of being a decent human being. There have to be people out there who can do that.

“I mean, look at Mingi. He listens but, like, selectively listens,” Mina jokes as she plops down in the chair next to you, and you force a chuckle.

“I can hear you!” Mingi shouts from the kitchen accompanied by his groomsmen cracking up.

“Pay attention to what you’re doing with that craft knife, babe. I don’t want to take you to the ER again,” Mina yells back and then quietly tells your group, “He dropped the knife and tried to catch it.”

“What if your perfect person is right in front of you and you just haven’t noticed?” Sejeong redirects the conversation, ignoring the other bridesmaids’ horrified expressions and Mingi’s loud complaints from the other room.

“If they are, please point them out because I’m oblivious.”

She hums as if she’s thinking about something and squints her eyes at you. Sucking her teeth, she says, “I don’t know.”

It doesn’t sound convincing, and you don’t miss her cautious yet subtle glance at the boys around the corner. Before anyone can ask about her cryptic reaction, Yoojung decides to throw out an option, an unavailable option.

“What about Mingi’s brother?”

Mina snorts, “He’s married with kids, and even if he wasn’t, there is no way in hell I would let Y/N date him.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing, that’s just fucking weird.”

“We could have been family,” you say, feigning offense with a hand resting on your chest.

Mina pushes at your shoulder, scoffing, “Shut up.” 

“He’s not really my type anyway,” you comment, chuckling a bit.

But your lighthearted mood comes to a screeching halt at Mina’s next words.

“What about San?”

You can’t help the panicked look on your face as all of the other girls start laughing. Your heart feels like it’s going to pound right out of your chest. There’s a gooey feeling in your stomach like you could throw up if provoked any further. For a moment, you think your secret crush has been found out.

“Did you see the absolute terror in her eyes?” Mina asks between laughs.

“There’s a special place in hell for people like you,” you warn your best friend.

“I’ll save you a seat,” she says, punctuating with a blown kiss and wink.

“There are still plenty of fish in the sea,” Yoojung says with a reassuring smile.

“The ocean is starting to look more like a koi pond,” you mutter quietly.

For some reason, Yujin instigates, “Are you sure you’re not aiming too high?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice is frail with confusion and surprise.

“Do you even deserve someone like that?”

“Yujin, what the fuck? Why would you say that?” Mina’s voice pitches with anger.

“Somebody has to be the voice of reason.”

“That wasn’t reasonable. That was just rude. You don’t know Y/N that well if you think she doesn’t deserve someone who will treat her right. On top of that, it’s her fucking birthday, you heartless cunt.”

You all sit in stunned silence. Even the guys have frozen in the kitchen. Yujin’s pretentious expression doesn’t waver.

“You know what? Just leave,” Mina says, standing from the table, “You weren’t even supposed to be here. You weren’t invited.”

The entire apartment is silent as Yujin grabs her things and exits through the front door. You have seen them fight many times but not to this extent and in front of so many non-family members. Yujin’s time at this little party is finished with a slam of the door behind her by Mina.

“And you told me to swear less,” Mingi comments as Mina replants herself in the seat next to you.

“That was the nicest I could be. If you want to be next, keep talking.”

Maybe Yujin is right. Maybe you don’t deserve anyone. Maybe that’s evident in you being unlikeable. What is there to like about you? What do you even bring to the table? You’re a stressed mess that’s possibly a little depressed.

You could probably think of some more adjectives that rhyme, but the guys suddenly distract your mind as they head to the parking lot to see Yunho’s new car. So, you digress.

But before they can make it out of the door, Sejeong stops them with a question.

“Do any of you know someone to set Y/N up with? Someone we would approve of?” 

“Seonghwa, who’s that one really good-looking guy you work with?” Jongho elbows the oldest of them.

Mingi and Seonghwa look at Jongho, asking with their eyes for him to stop talking. But he persists in repeating the question. Talking about you and finding a new love interest is now the cursed conversation subject of the night.

“Minhyuk?” Seonghwa says, shutting Jongho down, “He’s seeing someone.”

While Mingi visibly relaxes, Jongho deflates. Seonghwa shoos them out of the apartment, the door closing a lot softer than the last time.

“I’m not supposed to tell you, but Mingi told me the other night Yunho said his ideal type is basically Yoojung,” Mina gossips quietly as if the guys might miraculously hear her.

All eyes flick to Yoojung who is now making an awkward face.

“You don’t like him?” Kyungmi asks.

Yoojung shrugs, “He’s not my type.”

“How?! I’m scared of heights, but I’d still climb that like a tree.”

“You’re not that much shorter than him,” Sejeong notes.

“I’m a big bitch who just wants to feel like a little bitch, okay?”

“He knows how to play guitar,” Mina offers up that information to sweeten the deal.

“Oh, shit. He’s good with his fingers.”

“Kyungmi, honey. Chill,” Sejeong laughs, wrapping her arm around the other bridesmaid to keep her from falling out of the chair in hysterics.

Mina continues, “He also has a dog.”

“Oh, my god. Let me marry him!” Kyungmi bemoans.

Yoojung is sweating bullets at this point, so Mina finally gives in, “I’m just teasing. I don’t want it awkward within the wedding party.”

“Then you shouldn’t have said anything.” Yoojung fans her face with both hands to cool down before the guys return.

The front door suddenly swings open, and Yoojung nearly jumps out of her chair.

Kyungmi leans next to your ear and whispers, “If I get left alone with Yunho, I will devour him.”

“You don’t even look him in the eye when he says ‘hi’ to you.”

“Give me time,” she murmurs as her eyes land on her prey.

You swiftly remind her, “Mina will kill you.”

“Only if it turns out badly…”

“You’re a little late to help,” Mina playfully scolds as Yunho walks over to greet all of you.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he pouts.

“It’s fine. You want a piece of birthday cake?” She offers, already standing to head to the kitchen.

“Sure,” he smiles and looks to you, “Happy birthday.”

You thank him as he makes himself comfortable in the chair next to you.

“Mina was sitting there,” Yoojung mumbles from across the table, clearly shy knowing what she knows now.

“She’s not going to let me eat in the living room.”

As Yoojung opens her mouth, Kyungmi cuts her off.

“Show us a picture of your car.”

Yunho grins, pulls out his phone, and turns the screen around. 

“You think you’re in Mad Max or something?”

He confusedly hums.

“Why did you get a car with all those bars, lights, and gigantic wheels? Who are you fighting on the road?”

“Everyone, I guess,” Yunho laughs, “I like to go hiking, and sometimes you have to off-road a bit to get to the best paths.”

His attention goes back to his phone to close out of all his apps, and Kyungmi mouths to Yoojung, “You can have him.”

Yoojung pleads with her eyes for Kyungmi to stop.

“Yunho, get out of my seat,” Mina demands, withholding his cake.

“Where am I supposed to eat then?”

“The living room?” She answers as if it should be obvious and hands off the plate when he stands.

“'Master has given Dobby a sock.’”

“I have no idea what that’s from, but get the fuck out of here.”

He scurries off to join the other guys on the couch.

“God, you’d be a terrifying mom,” Sejeong laughs.

Kyungmi piggybacks off that, “When are you gonna have kids?”

“We don’t know yet,” Mingi answers from the living room.

Mina’s head jerks in his direction before she corrects him, “Not anytime soon. Maybe like a year or two after we get married.”

“Why?”

Her man’s dumb question summons her, and the bridesmaids follow the drama into the next room.

“We are not raising our kids in an apartment. Do you not remember our conversation about saving for a house?”

“We didn’t have that conversation?” His eyes shift around looking for anything to spark his memory.

“I told you to start putting money aside!”

Her angry rant fades into the background as Sejeong turns to you.

“That’s my cue to leave.”

She yells goodbyes over Mina to everyone else before exiting the apartment. The lively conversation in the living room continues, but you don’t bother joining them.

Alone, an all too familiar depression falls over you. You knew Mina didn’t want to raise kids in an apartment, but she never told you that she is making actual plans for it to happen. You can’t even imagine affording a house… or a nice car.

And what pisses you off the most is that San is somehow creeping around in your mind amidst this life crisis. How does that man have you in such a chokehold? Him just looking at you has you thinking about him for days. 

You want him to feel how he makes you feel. You want the little things you do to drive him insane and the things you say to linger in his ears. You want to be the only thing living in his mind as he tries to fall asleep at night but can’t because of you. You would be satisfied if he even thought of you out of the blue, unprovoked. Sometimes, he’s the only thing you can think about, and it isn’t fair.

To distract yourself, you decide to be more productive and grab some other decoration crafts out of the cardboard box tucked away in the corner of the dining room. You struggle to open the bag of glass rocks and with one particularly hard tug, rip it almost in half. The rocks skitter across the dining table, some falling off the edges. Sitting down adjacent to you, Seonghwa laughs and starts brushing the rocks on the table into a pile.

You urge him, “Don’t do it like that. You’re going to cut-”

He interrupts with a hiss, quickly retracting his hand from the table. Just as you are about to scold him, he flashes the woundless palm of his hand.

“Just kidding,” he says with a grin and resumes cleaning up.

“I’m getting too old for you to be pulling pranks like that. One day, I’m just gonna drop dead from a heart attack because of you.”

He chuckles at your dramatics, “You’re not that old. I don’t remember you being this clumsy when we worked together.”

“I didn’t have that much on my mind back then.”

“What are you worried about?”

You can’t talk to him about the wedding, your inexplicable loneliness, or the gray hair you found in your hairline this morning. You definitely can’t say anything about San. 

“Just things.”

He stares at you, hoping you’ll indulge more, but you don’t and change the subject.

“I remember when you were hired,” you say, reminiscing on those days when he was fresh out of high school, learning how to live on his own, “I was surprised to see you that night Mina introduced me to Mingi.”

“Yeah, suddenly my serious, hardworking colleague was a goofy girl horrible at board games.”

“Hey, I’m not that horrible now.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You softly chuckle but it fades, “You were my favorite sales associate, and you always brought in so many customers.”

He gazes at you, trying to suppress his smile.

“I miss you working at the store.”

“I miss it sometimes, but I went to school so I wouldn’t have to work in retail.”

Involuntarily, your face drops, your reflexes failing to bring up your usual facade.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”

“I know you didn’t mean it like that,” you reassure him and quietly continue, “I went to school for the same reason.”

As he sits there trying to find the words to undo what he has said, you resume working on the decoration. You know he wasn’t thinking in the moment and wasn’t trying to be malicious, but it still hurt. He only confirmed your negative thoughts about your unsuccessful career growth. After a few silent moments, he timidly changes the subject.

“I heard Mark has been texting you.”

“Yeah, he did a while back, but I ignored him.”

“Good… He was a piece of shit to you.”

You hum quietly in agreement.

“Are you seeing anyone?” He asks, his puppy dog eyes meeting yours.

“No, much to Mina’s dismay. I don’t have the time.”

“Same.”

“How’s grad school going?”

“It’s… going.”

“Is it hard since you’re also working?”

“Yeah, I barely have time for myself.”

Maybe you going back would be a bad idea. If Seonghwa, the most diligent student and worker, is struggling, how would you survive?

“But I’m managing,” he adds, “I finished a paper right before coming over here.”

“You must be tired.”

He nods enthusiastically, his focus on the vase in his hand as he carefully drops some glass rocks inside.

“I know you haven’t been able to be involved in the wedding stuff, but you could’ve stayed home and rested. I’m sure Mina and Mingi would understand.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t miss seeing you on your birthday.”

“I would also understand.”

“That wouldn’t stop me.”

His smile as he says that stays in your mind the rest of the night, but something else looms heavily over your thoughts. Choi goddamn San. Even after you return home, that little shit is still pissing you off.

“’I’ll see you tonight,’” you mimic as you enter your bedroom, “Fuck off.”

You pull out a fresh set of flannel pajamas from your dresser and begin your nightly routine. Traces of Seonghwa’s cologne are faint on your shirt. Warm vanilla and spice bring you comfort in knowing how good of a friend he is.

But your mind drifts back to this morning. The image of San ambling through your store with a small, endearing smile is stuck on replay in your head. He was technically the first to tell you ‘happy birthday’ in person, Mina having beat him by texting you at midnight. He even remembers your stupid first kiss story. His playful words ring in your ears. You think about his scoop neck top and how defined his collarbones are. 

A part of you wants to give in to him. This could be like a hall pass, couldn’t it? Just a one-time thing. The two of you know damn well you can’t do that, but that doesn’t mean you don’t desire a small taste of what he can give. 

A knock on your door this late at night has you confused. Through the peephole, you find San standing there, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. Did you just manifest him?

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you open the door.

“I heard you were asking about me.” He grins before inviting himself in like before.

“Yeah, because we had a lot to do today, and you were out being a fuck boy,” you say with unnecessary spite.

“Fuck boy?” He repeats with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah.” You cross your arms over your chest and watch him make himself at home on your couch. Following suit, you stiffly sit on the opposite end.

“Is that really what you think I was doing?” He asks and receives silence, “A friend I haven’t seen in a while invited me to dinner. I wasn’t going to go, but Mina told me I should.”

You feel a pang of guilt in your chest. You always assume he’s doing something of that nature when he’s not around; it’s an immature tendency of yours.

“You always shame me for the things I’ve done, but I have never judged you for your past actions. I know that I flirt and tease a lot, but I have feelings, too, you know. I didn’t want them and avoided them with one fuck after another,” he pauses, “But that doesn’t work anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

His eyes are fixed on the floor, him seemingly in deep thought. He shakes his head after a few seconds, and you offer up the only piece of advice you can remember off the top of your head.

“Sex never solves anything.”

He slightly nods, “I didn’t think I deserved love.”

“Why not?”

He faintly shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve already done what I did… I guess I’ll just always be known as a fuck boy.”

The look in his eyes completely fills you with guilt.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He stands from your couch.

“It’s whatever… Anyway, I got this for you for your birthday.” He pulls a small box out of his jacket pocket, and you immediately feel sick to your stomach. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

He leaves you alone in your apartment to drown in guilt. You don’t know if you want to cry or throw up. This sinking feeling consumes you quickly. As you open the box, the logo of your store stares back at you on a $5 gift card. Any regret you have for berating him is thrown out the window as you reach for your phone.

From: You I fucking hate you. 10:08 PM

-

From: San🖕 😘 10:09 PM

-

From: San🖕 Tell Sammy I said thanks for the help! 10:09 PM

Him mentioning your employee by name absolutely sends you reeling.

From: You Fuck off. 10:10 PM

-

From: San🖕 I’m joking. Your real present is at your door. 10:11 PM

He brought another one? Opening the front door, you find a large gift bag that is surprisingly very heavy. A part of you thinks he has given you a giant rock just to drive home the fact that he’s an asshole. But what’s actually inside makes you laugh in a good way. 

There are several refill bottles of coconut, rose, and dessert food scents for your wall plugins, a few different coconut-scented candles mixed with other scents, one candle with a vague scent name, and a sparkly birthday card. Of course, you have to smell all of them, but first, you reach for the candle that sticks out. The moment the smell reaches your nose, your jaw drops and your cheeks heat up. It smells just like his cologne.

Knowing you’re not going to bed for a bit, you light one of the candles and let the warm, musky scent consume your apartment. It makes you feel like you have a man around the house without actually dealing with one. Although, as nice as it is to live without planning your life depending on someone else’s, it wouldn’t be so bad to no longer be alone.

You watch the flame flicker as you recall San’s vague responses to your questions. What happened to make him believe he didn’t deserve love? Millions of reasons run through your mind, but one keeps coming back up, mostly because you don’t want it to be true: he hurt someone who loved him. You don’t want to become an accidental victim of his. That thought is suppressed as you blow out the candle because your heart is drained from thinking about him.

Unfortunately, those thoughts are replaced by his face as he told you he will always be known as a fuck boy. Why couldn’t you have just kept that to yourself? He’s just so frustrating sometimes. His words and actions contradict each other. He doesn’t really open up while simultaneously prying into your life. You let all of that get the best of you and run your mouth. Yet, somehow, he doesn’t seem too angry with you.

Falling asleep, your brain pretends the lingering aroma is from San laying next to you like the chimerical dream he is.

[whumpflash]

Penumbra: Unchained

for Angstpril, Day 5: (alt) Serious Injury

cw: torture, hand whump, general brutality, broken bones

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

§•§•§

Two priests, each trained in truth and the magic of the mind, were but a few days' journey away, and Cerus remained as stubborn as ever.

The fallen king had been a prisoner for weeks now, denied all but that which kept him alive and under constant abuse at the hands of the guards. Beaten and tortured, then healed only to have the cycle start anew. And despite it all, he refused to yield even an inch.

Every time Nisha removed the bit, they were met with curses and threats and insults. It didn't matter if they were asking questions or offering sustenance. Cerus would not bow.

Though they knew the soon-to-arrive priests would take care of the kingdom's worries of blood magic, Nisha still felt as if they'd failed at their task. Granted, they knew it wasn't wholly their fault. Breaking a man took time, especially someone so steeped in pride and immorality as Cerus, but despite that, they wished they could've given the holy mages someone more…pliable to work with.

Perhaps they still could.

The Shadow King was lying on his back when Nisha entered the cell, chained limbs still spread wide to further restrict movement. His torso and thighs were littered with scourge marks from the previous night's session, half-healed by a mage to keep him from sinking too far into delirium. Weeks of meager food and near-immobilization had left his body visibly weakened, and one would be hard pressed to find even an inch of unbruised skin.

"Our time together is drawing to a close, you know," Nisha said, kneeling to remove the bit in Cerus's mouth. "In a matter of days, your fate will be decided. How does that make you feel?"

"I'll strike your men down the moment I step out of this cell. And I'll save you for last so you can watch them d—nghhh!"

Nisha dug a finger into one of the gashes over his ribcage, turning his threat into a strangled scream.

"And why haven't you struck down any of my men yet, hm? Biding your time?"

"If I weren't in chains you wouldn't dare be so bold," Cerus snapped.

Suddenly, Nisha had an idea. "Then perhaps I'll remove them and prove you wrong," they said.

"You are a fool."

"Perhaps." They stood, moving to the gauntlets that rendered Cerus's hands immobile, and began to unlatch them. The Shadow King flexed weak fingers as Nisha removed each metal glove, seemingly at a loss for words.

"You're mad," he said at last. "What are you hoping to achieve?"

"I only wish to see if you're capable of following through with your promises."

"Unchain me and see."

"Not yet."

Nisha made a point to take off the blindfold before moving to the wall of implements and selecting a heavy cudgel. They decided to leave the bit out. They wanted to see if Cerus was capable of begging after all.

The fallen king's face went ashen when he saw the weapon in Nisha's hands, and they relished the barely-concealed fear in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Cerus said. It sounded more like a threat than a question, but Nisha didn't care, encroaching slowly, silently on their target.

"What are you doing?" Cerus demanded again, louder, more desperate.

"If I'm going to remove your chains, I need to ensure you can't run away," Nisha said plainly, stopping at Cerus's feet, raising the cudgel over a pale, bruised shin, and bringing it down just above the ankle.

The crunch wasn't unlike a sound they'd heard in battle, the scream that followed much the same. The only difference was how both sounds cut through the quiet in the cell, undiluted.

Once Cerus's screams died out, Nisha moved to the other leg, waiting for the look of horror to cross the chained man's face, the realization that it was going to happen again, before bringing the cudgel down a second time.

The resulting scream was just as rewarding as the first had been, something gutteral, animalistic. More than Nisha had been able to drag out of him so far. As before, they waited for the screams to soften before moving on. This time, to Cerus's exposed right hand.

Enclosed as his hands had been, they were unmarred, looking out of place compared to the rest of his body. Nisha would remedy that.

Cerus's eyes were wild with pain and fear, body shaking and straining against the chains, as if he were capable of doing anything to save himself. Nisha tapped the hand gently, as if marking their target, then raised the cudgel high in the air—

"D-don't— stop, stop, or you'll regret this night—" Cerus gasped out. Still making threats. What a pity.

Nisha brought their weapon crashing down onto the hand, and then, when the first strike didn't quite satisfy, hit it again, drawing another inhuman shriek from Cerus. And as Nisha moved to stand next to their final target—

"No, please, please stop, please!" The words came out as sobs, barely intelligible, but they left Nisha grinning broadly. A victory at last.

They raised the cudgel—

"Please! Please!"

—and brought it down, twice in quick succession. 

They drank in Cerus's ragged whimpers as they hung the cudgel back in its place, then moved to unlock the manacles that bound him.

His chest heaved as they moved from shackle to shackle, unclasping each in turn.

"What— why?" He barely got the words out.

"You're unchained," Nisha said. "Strike me down."

Cerus didn't respond, shaking arms folding in to cradle shattered hands to his chest, legs curling as he rolled onto his side with a great effort, eyes glazed over with pain.

"Strike me down," Nisha repeated, not taking his silence as an answer. They delivered a hard kick to Cerus's torso, then another. A scream tore itself from the man's throat as their foot connected with his wrist.

"Will you?" They continued their assault, heedless of Cerus's choked cries. "Will you?"

When at last they stopped, they were panting heavily, sweat trickling down the back of their neck. Nisha swallowed.

"I thought not." They ran a hand through their hair, tucking wayward strands back. "Count yourself lucky that the priests are expecting answers, or I would've cut out your tongue too."

They left without reattaching his chains; a small mercy. 

He'd be back in them soon enough.

§•§•§

@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles

[squidlykitten]

D A Y T W O

TRUST ISSUES | Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

He never could bring himself to lie. He had never been any good at it, for one.

“Mother is not hurting today,” he would tell the Council, his hands folded primly behind his back. “She has not expressed any dissatisfaction with our work here this quarter.”

It was the truth, after all. Her hollow shell, still tucked within the blankets of her nest, was feeling no pain at all.

“Would you take the quarterly report to Mother for me, Blade?” Rek asked, his eyes sparkling cruely above the steeple of his jeweled fingers. “I’m afraid I do not have the time to visit her myself this afternoon.”

“…Of course,” Kajj mumbled, inclining his head.

“Oh, and do make sure you read it to her this time, won’t you?” Terr added, the slightest chitter of laughter to his tone, weighed down by the heavy press of Command that slid inescapably into place in his head. "You know how difficult those small screens are for her eyes…" Anger roiled within his chest at this additional cruelty. This casual flick of the knife. They knew exactly what they were sentencing him to.

“…sir,” he acknowledged tacitly. Bitterly.

The walk back to the Motherguard’s warren was long and dark, the hallways lit with guttering lights he had long since ceased to replace. What point was there, in lighting an empty hall? It would only invite speculation, curiosity. The more folks who entered this abandoned place, the more chance that they would catch the scent of rot upon the air…

Deeper in, the lights gave out entirely, leaving Kajj alone in the vaunted hallways, echoing footsteps giving the room dimension, giving the darkness its own weight. He could feel it pressing heavily down all around him, a cold embrace that welcomed him Home.

It was ridiculous to think that a stranger in these halls might still smell the rotting. Mother had been dead for nearly a century, and time had long since completed the monumental task of her inner body’s erasure. There was nothing left now but dust and cracking shell, the environmental scrubbers have long since removed any trace of it upon the air.

And yet, he could taste it still. A heavy sickness that curled in his chest and his mind, binding his feet to the floor outside of her bedroom chambers more firmly than the maglock on his boots. He hesitated, trying to fight the order. Trying to find a way to wiggle himself out.

The doors loomed before him, two stories high and once brightly painted and gilded, a sight as familiar as the face of the Shield, who stood Guard at it beside him. The paint was cracking now, the floor littered with curling flakes, revealing the dark, heavy metal beneath, the once-happy memories now tainted with the knowledge of what lay beyond.

He had made it here, report in hand. If he left it within her box, he could claim that as giving it to her, surely. Perhaps if he shouted, he could claim he had read it to her as well.

But… no. He could feel the pressure curl within his mind, the building headache that warned of more pain to come.

He entered the security code. The massive doors swung open. He held his breath, instinctively, even knowing.

The lights flickered on at the movement, revealing the mound of her back, still draped in graying blankets, the shimmering, fragile remains of her wings draped loosely down onto the floor. Her shell, though cracked and graying, still looked as if it might shift at any moment, might turn the great void of its eyes upon him, hollow and gaping, that he might feel the weight of her accusations, the weight of his sins.

His Mother. His failure. His fault.

He took a step forward into the room, the report clutched firmly in still shaking-hands.

“Mother…?” he sang softly. “I am so sorry to disturb you. But I must give you the report…”

[greentechpropertycare]

The Ultimate Nanaimo Cleaning Guide: Restore Your Home's Exterior!

Your home's outside needs maintenance just as much as its inside does. In addition to raising the property's overall curb attractiveness, it also provides safety. Maintaining the exterior of your property not only enhances its curb appeal but also helps protect and extend its lifespan. By hiring the best concrete driveway sealer, you can extend the life of your driveway while enhancing its appearance.By entrusting these tasks to experts, you can ensure that your property remains clean, attractive, and well-maintained.

What Does a Driveway Sealer for Concrete Do?

House Cleaning Outside:

If you wash your home's exterior often, it will appear a lot nicer. Over time, the surfaces may become weathered, filthy, and unclean, giving them a worn-out look. In order to restore the luster and vibrancy of your home's exterior, exterior house washing utilize specialized techniques and cleaning products. This enhances curb appeal and preserves the integrity of the structural elements Maintaining a clean and appealing exterior is essential for both residential and commercial properties. Exterior house washing services in Nanaimo specialize in deep-cleaning the exteriors of buildings, including vinyl, stucco, brick, and stone surfaces.

Pressure Washing:

Over time, exterior surfaces, such as siding, decks, patios, and walkways, accumulate dirt, grime, mold, and mildew. Regular pressure washing is an effective solution to restore the pristine condition of these surfaces. Pressure washing Nanaimo offers professional pressure washing services that utilize powerful equipment and environmentally friendly cleaning agents to remove stubborn stains and debris. These experts can revitalize your property's exterior, leaving it looking fresh and well-maintained. Whether you need to clean your home's siding, deck, or driveway, pressure washing in Nanaimo can help you achieve outstanding results.

Gutter and Roof Cleaning:

Your roof and gutters are two of your home's defenses against water damage. Over time, the buildup of garbage, moss, algae, and leaves in the gutters and on the roof can cause leaks and water penetration, among other issues. In order to ensure the greatest performance and lifespan of your roofing system, professional  roof and gutter cleaning Nanaimo can safely and effectively remove these contaminants. Regular maintenance and cleaning can help your roof last longer and prevent more costly future repairs.

A well-maintained lawn adds charm and value to any property. In Nanaimo, you can find lawn maintenance Nanaimo services that offer a range of services, including mowing, trimming, fertilization, and weed control. These professionals have the knowledge and equipment to keep your lawn healthy and vibrant throughout the year. 

Final Words

In Nanaimo, a variety of professional services cater to your property's maintenance needs, from  best concrete driveway sealer to pressure washing, exterior house washing, and lawn maintenance. By relying on experts in these fields, you can enhance your property's overall appeal, protect its structural integrity, and enjoy a well-maintained and visually pleasing environment. Whether you require a concrete driveway sealer, pressure washing services, or lawn maintenance, Nanaimo has a range of trusted professionals ready to assist you in achieving the desired results. Invest in these services to ensure that your property remains beautiful, functional. for more information visit us - https://greentechpropertycarevi.com/

[silentiaray]

Moon settlement

Masterpost

The moon settlement is an ecosystem completely isolated from the external environment, a significant part of which is occupied by a Slime Lake, which fills not only the reservoir allocated to it, but also seeps into the adjacent layers of soil. Water circulation occurs naturally due to the fact that it evaporates from the surface of the lake and condenses on the dome, collecting in gutters specially designed for this purpose. Part of it is sent to the reservoir at the top of the tower, the other part flows into the ditch surrounding the entire settlement, from where it is distributed among the residents in the volume they need. Each sector is permeated by a dense network of water and sewer pipes. The sewage system is not directly connected to the lake, but first passes through treatment ponds filled with special plants that remove organic matter from the water. For the residential sectors and Garden/Greenhouse (marked in gray and green), only this type of treatment is sufficient, while the industrial sector (marked in red) is separated from the lake by an additional ring of treatment facilities, since its waste may contain more harmful and hazardous substances.

The main part of the settlement space is organized in tiers, where the roof of the lower one is at the same time the street of the upper one (each tier is 10 meters high and 30 meters wide and contains 2 living floors above the ground and 2 below it). In each of the sectors there is a square with teleports (60x60 meters), connecting the most remote parts of the settlement with each other. The central tower is also partly residential, but first of all it is a huge “office center”, where the hospital, royal library, architectural bureau, law enforcement and other departments are located.

On the lowest underground floor of the tower you can find that same teleport leading to the planet. It is constantly surrounded by water, so it was easier for the guards to hold the defense, however, the room with it is reliably isolated and cleaned manually so that the water, in case of poisoning by the infected, does not leak into the lake.

[specialsituationsgroup]

Patrician's palace v1.1 + extras

So I made acouple of changes, hopefully improvments.

First, swapped the warm yellow and metalic gold for pearl gold. Swapped metalic silver and black for regular light gray and black. Moved Old Stoneface into a dynamic pose. Changed the stair fence to reach waist high and flow better. Lowered the "wood" arcs so they don't cover the gutter rail.

Bigger arches to make the attic cleaner and more spacious.

Main cast in minifigs.

Far back row: Angua, commander Vimes, palace guard, Detritus, Rincewind Back row: Foul Ole Ron, place cook / Emma / Glenda / Grace Speaker, Death / mime, lord Rust, Igor Mid row: Otto, Tears of the Mushroom, Sybil, Erol, Moist, Mr Pump Near row: Dwarf king, Drumknott, Vetinari, Leonard, food taster / young Sam. Front row: head for young Vetinari

Changed Igor's head to yellow and a different face (no glowing eyes), to fit with yellow hands and to differentiate from the golems. Changed Rincewinds face to a scared expression.

Removed print on Vetinari's robes, changed Errol's color to lime.

Back row: Drumknott, Death v2, Adora Dearheart, Albert Spangler Mid row: Charlie, assasin Vetinari, patrician Vetinari, stoker Blake Front row: lizard Vetinari.

Back row: Vimes under Summoning Dark, constable Vimes, commander Vimes, sargent Keel, sir Samuel Front row: young Sybil, BLT Sybil, dragonbreeder Sybil with Erol, diplomat Sybil, young Sam

The rank and file. Taller Detritus with loincloth, without different armor. Same peice for Peicemaker and Fred's bow and arrow. New Igor/zombie head. Sally Humpeding.

Far back: Queen Molly, Foul Ole Ron, young Rosie, mrs Palm, madam Back row: Groat, Moist, Stanley, Gladys Near row: Stibbons, Ridcully, Rincewind Front row: Otto, Scarissa Chrisplock, Wiliam de Worde

The terrible trio.

[lbibliophile-sw]

Avoidance

Also on AO3 (670 words) For @foxquinweek - day 7 / altprompt 1: NSFW - except Fox is at work so is not thinking about it

What is not commonly known, is that Fox has two sets of armour. He has his Commander armour, with its visor and distinctive paintjob. And then he has his back-up set, the same red-and-white as the majority of the rest of the Guard.

While usually he finds it easier to be readily identifiable, to be able to visually flaunt his authority such as it is and draw attention so the others can get on with their jobs, sometimes anonymity has its advantages. To be able to move around or observe as simply another faceless meatdroid. Senators and officials passing him with barely a glance, rather than accosting him with any and all problems.

He keeps that thought in mind as he traverses the familiar corridors of the Senate Dome, smoothing out the slight hitch in his step. He is just a Guard. Nothing in his bearing or mannerisms to give away his rank, nothing to suggest that he is different to any other Guard running errands or temporarily separated from his patrol partner.

Unfortunately, simple armour and body language are not going to be enough to hide him from the one hunting him this time. His disguise has to go deeper.

He is just a Guard. Tired at the end of a long shift, a bit bored. Still alert for danger, but looking forward to getting back to the barracks. To chatting with his brothers as he grabs latemeal from the mess. To removing the encasing armour and stripping off sweaty blacks, water-ration refreshingly cool as hands –

Hands! He glances down, double checking that his gloves are covering every scrap of bare skin, muffling the traces he leaves behind on buttons and doorhandles. Reassured, he presses the button to call the lift. The chamber when it arrives is empty, but he still forces himself to focus, he can’t afford to slip up now.

He is just a Guard. Tired at the end of a long shift, looking forward to getting back to the barracks. Force, he didn’t get enough sleep to deal with today, despite finishing his paperwork earlier than usual yesterday evening. He needs more caf. He can almost feel his hands wrapped around the warmth of the mug; taste it, hot and smooth and bitter on his tongue, surprisingly similar to –

No, caf. Caf to wash down a chalky ration bar as he works his way through a new pile of paperwork back at his desk. The lift doors open and he goes to step through of them, that much closer to escape, only to find his way blocked, the person entering leaving no way past as the doors close again behind them.

He gulps at the familiar figure standing far too close to him, suddenly doubly grateful for the shield of his helmet and armour, helping him cling to his composure.

“General. Is there something I can do for you sir?”

He is just a Guard. Same armour, same body language, same voice. C’mon, c’mon. Just a Guard. Just a perfectly ordinary Corrie Guard.

“Hey Foxy.”

Kriffing Jedi and their extra senses. And kriff this Jedi in particular, his persistence and his ‘magic hands’ and his infuriatingly smug grin.

“Yes, General?” Vos pauses and takes a step back, suddenly serious.

“Fox, Commander. Look. If you want me to drop it, to pretend nothing happened, just say the word and I will. But,” and his grin returns, if slightly more tentative, “if you are just avoiding me because you’re embarrassed, or if this is some sort of cat and mouse game, then I’d really like to talk about my chances at a reprise of last night?”

Kriff. Wait, no, they did that. Double kriff. Ooh, now that’s an idea…

Fox valiantly resists the urge to hit his helmet, hoping to knock his brain back out of the gutter.

“Well, sir… um Vos… Quinlan? My shift has just ended so we could ah... go talk over latemeal?”

Kriff Quinlan Vos and his persistence and his sexy everything. He hopes.