#I just spent the last few hours printing articles

[artemismatchalatte]

Bipolar Impulsivity is starting to Ruin my Life...

Is it August yet??? I just want this class to be over and done with. Give me my degree and get out of my face!!!

I'm so tired and irritated by how everything I do feels like nothing or the wrong thing (This class is so fucking overwhelming). I've been a bit impulsive lately and I'm still kicking myself out of the stupid things I did lately.

I can understand now why one of my friends from when I was younger wants nothing to do with me now. I was trying to talk to her last week but she left me on read for a whole week. I was going to try to invite her to a concert with me but if she doesn't even want to talk to me then I'm obviously NOT going with her. (She's an IRL friend who I grew up with). So now I'm stuck with these tickets I bought and scraped the hell out of my savings for. Not her fault, of course, my dumb ass should NOT have bought the tickets b/c I can't really afford them. 200 dollars is SO MUCH Fucking money. Especially because I make almost nothing. I'm going to have to either return or resell the tickets. >:(

One of my online friends goes to concerts a lot and I thought it would be fun to go see Avril Lavinge but I basically shouldn't have bought the tickets. He has a real job so he can afford the concerts- I can't. My shitty part time job does not pay enough for me to do things like this. I think I was just so stupid and impulsive and bought the tickets because I wanted to do something fun. My life is SO boring right now. But wow, it was so stupid to splurge on something I really cannot afford.

My impulsivity also led me to talk to a bunch of people on reddit too and I REALLY regret some of those conversations. I'm so pissed at myself. I've been taking my medicine like I'm supposed to but I'm actually being affected by bipolar symptoms any way. Fuck. Being tired of my life/bored/lonely is a very bad combination and I've been feeling it lately. I guess this is what I get instead of the more predictable spring hypomania that I used to get on my old medication???

[mcufan72]

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU)/ 18+

Chapter 10

Chapter 9

Warnings: contains fluff, smut, unprotected sex, alcohol and cigarette consumption, angst, soft!dom/sub vibes, angry-fucking (consensual), stubborn reader

I played a little bit 'what if...' and no, I'm not retelling MCU stuff, I always create my own

It took you some hours to find sleep last night. You didn't even remember when and how you returned from the library back home. You were kind of paralyzed after you had found out the truth about Luke… no, Loki was his name. It wasn't the fact that you had fallen in love with an alien or that he was maybe the demi-god from the myths. It was the fact that the newspaper articles, which you didn't even read completely, were saying that he was a bad guy, an invader, evil, destructive and a ‘war criminal’. Maybe he had been all of this but you weren't in a position to judge him for that and also you'd never do that. What confused you was that it absolutely didn't fit the impression you had gotten of him in all the time you've spent together. Loki was the most attentive, caring, loveable and sweetest man you've ever met. There must be more to it, something like a change of mind on his part.

You wished you could talk to him just one more time to ask him all the questions you had. But you had destroyed this path and the possibility of him finding you was low. Besides, you were sure he'd stopped looking for you. You were sure with him paying you for fourteen days and nights, which was a hella lot of money, and your refusal to take it, he was done with you once and for all. Understandable because in the end you'd just offered him a service and your body and your kisses might never have meant anything to him.

The next morning a knock at your door ripped you out of your work. You were already sitting in front of your laptop again writing your thesis, a mug of freshly brewed coffee next to you and several textbooks and already printed pages of your thesis lying spread on the table. And not to speak about the clothes which were spread around your apartment, on the floor and the sofa or the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and the several empty packages from the Indian and Chinese takeaway or the pizza and pasta boxes. Your nutrition was a catastrophe these days but you hadn't any time for doing groceries and cooking some fresh and healthy food. Living in the chaos, too much coffee and junk food wasn't the best thing but the easiest until your exams were done and tidy-up you could do later.

“Coming!” You answered the knocking and stood up from the chair. You didn't expect a visitor at this time but you guessed it could be one of your neighbors.

“Hi, y/n I'm so sorry for disturbing you,” your lovely neighbour Karen greeted you after you had opened the door. She was still in her pyjamas like you. It was still early in the morning.

“Hey, Karen, no issues, you're not disturbing me. What can I do for you?” You asked her.

“I don't wanna be annoying, dear but could you lend me some flour and sugar? I want to make some blinis before I leave for work and I don't have enough flour and forgot to buy sugar…”

“No problem, of course I can lend you flour and sugar…wait, I'm back in a minute,” you laughed and vanished into your kitchen. You came back with a bag of sugar and a bag of flour and passed both to Karen.

“You can keep it and bring me some new flour and sugar in the next few days, there's no hurry,” you said and smiled brightly at her.

“Oh dearest you're a lifesaver,” she answered thankfully. “I'll bring you some blinis tomorrow when I'm back from my night shift,” and she waved you goodbye.

“It's alright, dear, thank you,” and you waved her goodbye, too. You closed the door and went back to your laptop, sat down again and continued writing. You had just finished a couple of sentences and drunk your coffee when it knocked at your door again. You looked up from the screen towards the door and a smile curved your lips.

“Coming,” you called towards the door and opened it with a bright smile on your face. “Have you forgotten something,” you asked while opening the door because you assumed it would be Karen again but when you had opened the door completely your smile died immediately and your face froze. After a second of realization, you slammed the door shut and leaned with your back against it. That couldn't be. How the hell did he find you?

Walker had told Loki in which apartment he would find you before he got out of the car. Loki didn't know which doorbell he should ring. Walker hadn't told him your real name because he thought it wasn't his job to do so. You had to tell Loki your name yourself. He already brought him here, to your house and it was more than he was allowed to do. It would cost him his job if Rhea found out about this and he considered himself as already sacked. But he wanted to help you both because he thought you two were a wonderful couple and that Loki and you had great chemistry. He also had the impression that Loki was the right man for you to help get you out of danger and out of the escort business. He still was convinced you didn't belong there and he was also convinced that Loki's obvious feelings for you were genuine.

Before Loki could think about which doorbell to ring first, someone left the building and he could get into the hallway. He used the stairway to get to your apartment and took some deep breaths, adjusted his jacket and raked his hands through his hair before he knocked at your entrance door. He was nervous. Would you open the door and let him in? Possibly not and he wasn't really prepared for your possible rejection. He yearned for you and he just wanted you back.

“Coming,” he heard you happily calling. When you opened the door it seemed you were awaiting someone else who had maybe forgotten something and instead of greeting him, your beautiful smile vanished immediately, your face froze and you slammed the door shut right into his face. Damn, that was rude but relatable. He came unannounced and maybe much too early in the morning so he should've expected this reaction of yours. And no, he wasn't prepared for your rejection. Absolutely not.

“Sugar…please open the door. I just want to talk to you. But not through a closed door. Sugar…let me in, sweets…please,” he begged you, sadness in his soothing voice. How much you had missed his voice, talking calmingly to you. How much you had missed him.

“I've searched for you everywhere and for so long… Sugar, I need you back, please… sweets, open the door. Please!”

Should you open the door? He sounded so sad and desperate.

You turned around and slowly, very slowly you opened the door just a crack and lurked through it at him. He looked so unbelievably beautiful in his dark trousers, the dark-grey t-shirt with a V-neck and his black pea coat. It was the first time that you saw him in casual clothes and you were well aware that you were still in your white loose-fitting sleep shirt and your pink pyjama bottoms with the butterfly pattern, your face undone and your hair untamed and tousled. The real you, at least in the morning. He hadn't seen you like this either. And you looked anything but sexy.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him shyly, some wariness in your gaze.

“I wanted to see you,” Loki answered whispering, utterly delighted that you had opened your door for him. “And I need to talk to you, sweets.”

You slowly opened the door completely and stepped aside so he could walk past you and come in. Loki followed your wordless invitation and entered your apartment. You closed the door and turned around towards him, looking at his broad back and strong shoulders which radiated so much safety, watching him take off his pea coat and hang it up in your wardrobe next to your jackets and bags. You already knew that your jackets would later smell like him and that was a comforting thought. Loki looked lovingly at you and a slight smile appeared on his pretty face, studying your loveable appearance.

“They're very tousled…they always are, except when I'm Sugar,” you said quietly when you saw him staring at you and twirled a strand of your hair around one finger, looking at him embarrassed.

“You always look adorable, sweets and I like your hair when you wear it open. I always wished to see you like this,” Loki said, smiling lovingly at you.

“Take a seat, please…oh, wait…,” you offered him after some moments of awkward silence and you hurriedly took several clothes off the sofa to make room for him to sit down.

“I'm so sorry for the untidiness, I'm in final preparations for my exams and I barely have time to clean up… and I didn't expect any visitors,” you apologetically explained the mess of your apartment.

“Don't worry about it, sweets. I'm not here to judge about the condition of your apartment,” and he took a seat on the couch.

“Fancy a tea or a coffee?” You asked, playing with the hem of your t-shirt. You were curious about how he found out where you live. Someone must've helped him.

“Some coffee would be great,” Loki answered, leaning back against the sofa's backrest and spreading his legs. Him sitting like this and his amazing thighs would always do things to you. Memories of what he had made you do on his thighs flashed back into your mind and made your mouth watery and your cheeks blush. You would never get over him. A shiver ran down your spine and made your core tingle and your nipples tighten. You quickly went over to the kitchen to pour some coffee for him in a mug and you felt his gaze following you.

While you were walking toward your small open kitchen to get him a coffee, Loki let his gaze follow you. You looked adorable in your comfy sleeping clothes. He loved to see your face without any make-up and your hair open and undone. Probably he wouldn't have recognised you in the streets because you looked different like this, and you were more beautiful than he could've ever imagined. Your casual clothing makes you look so comfortable. He could sense your slightly peaked nipples under your t-shirt and he felt waves of arousal running through his body. But he wasn't here to get horny, he was here to talk and get you back.

He let his gaze wander further through your small apartment. It was truly a mess right now. On your desk, a chaos of textbooks and printed pages of your thesis around your laptop and an empty coffee mug next to it, clothes everywhere, empty food packages and pizza boxes. It wasn't to miss that you were focused on your studies only. But he also saw the order in your chaos and he could relate to it. Being the god of mischief also meant that chaos was a great part of his business as well, among other things.

The only tidy thing was the evening gown he had given to you, neatly on a hanger hanging on the open door of your bedroom, right next to your dresser. On your dresser, he saw some photos in a frame. In the pictures were you as a child in the arms of a woman who he assumed was your mum, both laughing and presenting self-made cinnamon rolls to the camera and in another one where you stood with your mum on a beach with the sea and an old castle on a hill in the sea in the background, you both brightly smiling into the camera again. Your childhood must've been a wonderful one. You looked so happy in the pictures.

Next to the photos he discovered the small bouquet of his self-picked wildflowers, well-done dried and nicely decorated on the top of your dresser. A slight smile curved his lips because it touched his heart that you had kept his little gift and that you'd decorated it so lovingly. Next to your dresser, he saw your shoes, relatively neatly placed. The black high heels, the golden high heel sandals, the knee-high leather boots… and a pair of dark-green trainers. He frowned and raised his eyebrows. He was sure he had seen them before somewhere and more than once.

“Here, your coffee. Black and pure, the way you like it, I assume,” you passed him the mug, ripping him out of his thoughts. You sat down next to him and let your gaze wander from the patch of his chest hair up to his pretty face with this chiselled jaw and cheekbones, framed by those incredible black curls, his gaze piercing but heartwarming as always. There was so much longing in it. Nonetheless, you felt stripped by his staring. Maybe it was because he saw the real you for the very first time. You were in your comfy clothes, undone and vulnerable and you couldn't hide behind the pretty mask named Sugar. You felt so fragile and you were at the brink of crying. On the other hand, how dare he come here? You had forbidden him to search you and suddenly you felt angry too.

“How did you find me,” you asked him sternly. Loki sipped his coffee and placed the mug on a free space on the coffee table.

“I looked everywhere for you, sweets and there isn't a place I haven't been to find you and I didn't want to wait until our next appointment to see you again,” Loki answered genuinely and calmly.

“This is not what I meant. Who told you where to find me? Was it Rhea? You don't know my name, you didn't even know how I look when I'm not Sugar, so who told you?” Your anger and anxiety grew, your voice got louder and tears welled up in your eyes. This always happens when you are angry or scared.

“Rhea didn't tell me anything about you or where you live. Walker brought me here. I asked him for help. I knew no other way anymore and he's the only person who knows where you live. I've been to Vivian's Velvet more than once but nobody there knows Sugar… They know just Candy. I don't know what to think about it…”

“There's no relevance to it and should be none of your concerns. And Walker…it'll cost him his job and Rhea… didn't she tell you to stay away from me, that I don't want to see you again? Didn't she send you the money back? I also told you in my letter that I don't want you to be involved in my shit. Why don't you just leave me alone?” you continued ranting.

“Did you really think I wouldn't look for you after that incredible night we spent together and the letter you left behind, telling me that someone is blackmailing you? And please don't be mad at Walker. He's concerned about you too. He wanted to help and I had to convince him that I need to find you, that I have my reasons for it and that my intentions are good. He didn't do it lightly. Rhea didn't tell me anything, she just sent my money back to my bank account with that note ‘acceptance denied’. I don't understand…”

“Oh yes, talking about that… who do you think you are? Did you want to buy me? Seriously? Giving me all your money to ‘save’ me so you can own me and tell me what to do or not to do? Forbid me to escort other men? Because I owe you then?” You got off the sofa and walked some steps away from him. You needed some distance. You turned around to face him and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I might be a whore and you can buy my services but you cannot buy me, loverboy and I'll never take any money from anyone without working for it. It's the last bit of pride I have left and you…,” you pointed with a finger at him, “...won't take this from me. I'm not your property. I won't depend on your mercy, I don't need this ever again,” you yelled at him and some tears ran down your cheeks. You didn't want to yell at him or push him away like that but your anxieties and your saved emotions took the better of you. Also, you feared the consequences it could have when you asked him for help. Consequences not only for you but for him.

“And I'm not mad at Walker, I'm mad at you. Mad at you because you didn't stop looking for me, mad at you because you forced him to bring you here and risk his job, mad at you that you tried to force me to take your money without consideration.” You knew you were overreacting and you shouldn't treat him like that, he didn't deserve to be treated like that. He had always been kind and loving with you but you became more and more overwhelmed by everything that was threatening you for months now.

“Are you done now?” He asked resentfully.

“I didn't want to buy you. I just paid for the time you may have spent with me and escorting me if you would have been bookable. I don't demand anything from you, you owe me nothing, sweets,” he vehemently explained but you shook your head in disbelief.

“Everything in life has its price, ‘Luke’. Life gives you nothing!” You spat.

“Why are you implying I did something bad? I did it because I care about you, because… I don't want you to meet other men, because I can't stand the fact that other men look at you, touch you, desire you,” Loki stated. Why were you so angry and stubborn? And why have you emphasized his name like that?

“And why is that? I'm an escort, it's my job to meet men and you're a client like them. Why can't you stand it?” You wanted to know but maybe you already knew the answer, and he was definitely more to you than just a client.

“Because… because I fell in love with you and I want you all for myself. I know it wasn't supposed to happen…but it happened nonetheless. And I was jealous, so damn jealous of your other clients, all the other men who were horny for you. Now it's out, now you know why!” He just hoped you would finally give in now and let him help you.

“No, you don't love me. You don't know me. You love my fake identity, the carefree, tempting little shit named Sugar, who escorts other men and who escorts you and also fucked with you for a living. That's not love, Luke. That's just lust and passion…” Angry tears ran down your cheeks and you ran your fingers through your hair. You wished you could give in and tell him everything. In the end, you just wanted to be with him.

“Just lust and passion you say? What were your kisses then? Were they just fake too?” Loki's heart sank. This conversation didn't go as he expected and escalated quickly.

“They were just…kisses and without any meaning...probably,” you stammered. It was a lie but you couldn't admit the true feelings you had for him. He still didn't know everything about you and at least he wouldn't stay. So why give in to the feeling of love when he would leave you anyway? “I told you right from the beginning that you mustn't fall in love with me!”

“I never wanted to fall in love with you, yet I did,” he whispered under his breath.

“Why didn't you listen to me?” His answer to that was just a huff and a headshake.

“Ah, and about your kisses, Sugar … so they were kisses without meaning, you say. Didn't you tell me you only ever kiss a man when you're in love with him? So that was a lie then?… Well, interesting because I know whenever you're lying and it didn't feel like a lie when we kissed. But it's okay, I'll accept that you don't want me and that your kisses were fake.” It broke your heart further when you heard him saying that because contrary to what he said you wanted him and your kisses had been genuine but this pain now in your heart was the price you had to pay for all the fucked up shit.

“Nonetheless you can accept my help and my money. Consider it a gift. Nothing can change my ambition to keep you away from other men.” His anger grew and he just wanted to grab you and shake the stubbornness out of you so you would finally let him be there for you. “The worst thing is you're still convinced you can solve your problem alone. Girl, someone is blackmailing you and this piece of shit who does this to you with whatever it is wants a lot of money you don't have and will never get on an honestly or legally way. How many men do you want to fuck to earn all that money, hm? Ten, fifty, hundred?” He angrily questioned, waiting for your answer.

“I'd sleep with every filthy rich guy in Manhattan if necessary, my only issue is that I don't have enough time anymore for that,” you said desperately and sternly, more tears slowly running down your cheeks. The truth was you only wanted him to grab you, fuck you properly and wished immediately afterwards everything would be alright again.

“Are you kidding me? You're never going to do that. You aren't a whore, you've never been. And even if you were, according to your letter you're just my whore, aren't you? So who are you kidding?” He asked you too loudly and he was really sorry for that.

“Do I have to fuck some mind into you first so you finally take my money and let me help you?” In one quick move he stood up from the sofa and with two big strides he stood in front of you. “Come here, then work for it, you sweet stubborn whore! Be a good girl for me!” He growled angrily and darkly, grabbed you by your upper arms and walked you backwards towards your kitchen. His sudden action took you off guard but actually it was exactly what you wanted him to do. All of the pent-up frustration, anxieties and longing for each other needed to be released. Words couldn't do it for you two right now so you two had to act.

“You know what? I've had enough of your stubbornness!”

He quickly turned you around and bent you over the kitchen counter tugging your pyjama bottoms hastily down and your linen panty quickly aside. He then pushed two of his fingers purposefully into your cunt, pumping them in and out a few times before he rubbed them, slick with your juices, back and forth through your folds and over your clit, making you moan lasciviously. He wanted to make sure that you were ready for him, to hurt you would never be his intention. He wanted nothing else than you listening to him and making you happy again. He would make you listen to him, he would make you believe that he wanted to help you, that he loved you and that he would never leave you alone. But he was so angry and worried and he wanted you to feel it physically because his words didn't reach you. And besides all that he just needed you, now.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, still angry and panting heavily. His dominant behaviour turned you incredibly on.

“I do just what you need right now and the only thing you'll understand because you don't hear what I'm trying to tell you, you stubborn girl,” he growled into your ear and he continued pumping his fingers deeply in and out of you.

“Look at you, my little brat, so wet already, you're so shameless and horny, eager to get fucked, aren't you? Want me to have my way with you? Want me to make you work for me, hm? So you can take my money with a clear conscience? Does this make you so wet or is it just because of me and the knowledge that I'll fuck you properly and relentlessly into oblivion? Tell me, sweet thing, want me to take you?” His arousal got bigger with every second he had you under his tight grip and he just waited for your consent. He wouldn't continue without that.

“Yes, oh god, yes, fuck me, that's what I want. Make me listen… make me believe,” you whimpered with genuine longing, trying to get a grip on the kitchen counter. You wanted him to make you forget about everything even if it were just for a short moment.

“Oh yes, your god will take you, never doubt me, sweet thing.” Loki snarled lustfully and tugged your panties finally down. He unfastened his belt quickly, opened the zipper and freed his manhood. He stroked himself a few times, kicked your legs further apart and shoved his steel-hard, pre-cum dripping cock straight into your wet cunt. He fucked you hard and deeply but carefully to not hurt you. He was so deep yet not deep enough, his swollen balls were slapping against your clit and his cock slid powerfully over your special spot inside of you. It wouldn't take you long to reach your climax and your obscene moans were witness to it.

Loki grabbed you firmly by your hips and penetrated you faster and faster until one of his hands slid quickly up at your flank and over your shoulder. He grabbed the front of your throat and closed his big hand around it. He pulled your upper body backward against his chest, still holding firmly onto your hip and your throat, slamming his needy cock into your silken heat as violently and deeply as possible, almost breaking you in half. Your one hand clasped his nape, your other hand his forearm and you couldn't do anything else than let him fuck you pretty hard. His dominance and his deep demanding thrusts let you spiral deeper into arousal and lust.

“You better arch that back if you want to cum, sweet thing,” he commanded seductively and you just obeyed and confirmed your will to come by arching your back and letting out a long moan.

“You feel so good, make me cum, please make me cum, I need you,” you begged him breathlessly. His hand around your throat and his merciless thrusts brought you quickly to the brink of climaxing. The violence and impetuosity of his love-making surprised you and you already knew you wanted more of it, more of him. You wanted him to play with you, to punish you, punish you for running away, for refusing his help, for being a brat and arguing with him.

You knew he was desperate for you as much as you were desperate for him and you also knew that he would never hurt you. Angry-fucking was your secret kink you never dared talk about to your ex and you were glad that Loki was the one who fulfilled your dream. You would feel so much better afterwards, you just knew it. Once he promised you pleasure and didn't disappoint you, he never did and as soon as you were together with him you felt safe. He released your throat and his hand wandered down to one of your breasts, firmly cupping and kneading it and pinching and playing with your nipple.

“I'll fuck the stubbornness out of you, girl and when you're about to cum you'll say my name … did you hear me?” He commanded.

“Yesss, yes I heard you,” you moaned breathlessly.

He felt your cunt massaging his cock and he knew he wasn't going to last long and your permanent moans and whimpers nearly sent him straight over the edge.

“Oh god, I'm about to cum,” you squeaked and you couldn't hold it back anymore. He felt so good and you felt so heavenly full of him.

He fucked you like an animal and a wolfish grin curved his lips. “Then say my name… say it,” and he tried to get deeper while his thrusts became sloppier.

“I'm coming, Loki… please don't stop…”

“Say my name…” and you felt him heavily panting against the sweaty skin of your neck.

“Loki…,” and with an obscene scream you came hard around his throbbing cock.

He gritted his teeth and threw his head back when he came undone with an animalistic groan. He filled you to the brim and enjoyed the silky grip of your cunt milking him. His knees were buckling and he collapsed against your back, carefully guiding your upper bodies towards the countertop so you could both rest there for a moment and catch your breaths.

“Fuck, that felt so good,” Loki groaned and pressed a kiss to your sweaty neck and heard your quiet sigh.

He slowly pulled out of you and watched his cum dripping out of your well-fucked pussy. He was more than pleased. He cleaned himself with a sheet of paper towel which he grabbed from the kitchen counter and put his cock back in his briefs and trousers.

You were still dizzy and bathed in the aftermath of your orgasm and his domination and you still craved for his touch. You felt his cum running down your legs. You raised your torso from the kitchen counter and reached for a sheet of paper towel to dry your inner thighs. Loki looked satisfied at you and smirked.

“Can we talk like adults now?” He asked you teasingly, his cheeks rosy and the blue shimmer under his skin was gone. You both felt much better now and that's what you radiated. Sometimes a good fuck was all you needed.

“Yes,...yes, we can. I just want to clean myself quickly, please excuse me for a moment,” you said quietly, turning around to face him. He looked exhausted but satisfied and you were sure you didn't look any different.

“No,” he answered softly and shook his head.

“No?”

“No, my cum stays inside of you,” he smirked and he helped you into your panties and your pyjama bottoms and pulled both up and over your butt.

“I want you to feel how seriously I want to help you and how much you mean to me.”

He pulled you gently against his chest and wrapped his arms around you, cradling you carefully. You reciprocated his embrace and buried your face in his chest. You breathed in his familiar scent you had missed so much. Not only the scent of his skin or his cologne, or the musky after-sex scent. It was the scent of love, comfort and safety.

He dipped his head to kiss you and latched his lips onto yours and when you opened your lips, his tongue slid into your mouth exploring your warmth and your softness. Your heart felt like it had to explode and you reciprocated his loving kiss with utter passion.

To have you back in his arms, feeling your softness, inhaling your sweet scent and kissing you passionately again was the greatest feeling of all and the only thing he ever wanted. This ugly feeling of anger and tension was gone and you were closer to each other again. There was a lot you had to talk about and it seemed that the time had come now.

“My kisses were and are genuine, please believe me,” you whispered after that amazing kiss and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“I know and I do believe you. Are you okay, sweets? I hope I didn't hurt you,” he asked you softly and concernedly.

“No, you didn't. I feel good. Maybe it's what I needed and was necessary to get my conscious mind back,” you answered soothingly.

“I didn't want to go too rough on you, I'm so sorry, sweet thing …,” he murmured.

“It felt good and I liked it. I know I call myself sugar but I'm not made of it,” you told him softly and you raised your head to look smilingly at him. You kissed him on his soft lips and raked one hand through his soft curls.

“I'm sorry that I yelled at you, it wasn't fair,” you said apologetically. “I didn't intend to rail you up.”

“It's alright, sweets I get that, I was angry, too,” and he gave you an extraordinarily soft and long kiss on your lips. But there was something he was wondering about so he let go of your mouth and looked quizzically at you.

“I told you to say my name when you were about to cum and you did but… did I… did I hear you right or did I just imagine it in my incredible excitement?”

Instead of an answer you freed yourself from his embrace and went past him to your dresser. You opened the drawer and took his scarf out of it, gently touching it. You weren't ready to give it back to him but it was his and you had no right to keep it. You turned around to face him and closed the distance between you two. When you stood closely opposite of him, you took your gaze from his scarf and looked him into his puppy eyes. You could barely stand the way he was looking at you.

“I'm so sorry that I lied and told you I hadn't found it. I should've given it back to you much earlier but I couldn't. I loved the feeling of having a piece of you in my home,” you said quietly, your voice trembling.

“I knew you had it, I told you that I know. I knew that you lied,” and you both smiled at each other, unsure what to do now. You showed him the embroidered initials, your smile slowly fading. You were afraid to tell him that you knew who he was, how you found it out and that he could be very mad at you because you had browsed through his past.

“These initials don't stand for ‘Luke Larsson’, they stand for Loki Laufeyson and no, you didn't imagine it, in my ecstasy I screamed your real name,” you explained, your voice merely audible.

Loki swallowed thickly. You had found out who he was and he was sure that now the time had come to say goodbye to you because you would never want someone like him by your side. He lowered his head and took a deep breath before going on.

“How did you find out?”

“I did some research in a library. I told my best friend about you and she was sure she had seen you somewhere many years ago but couldn't remember any details concerning the Avengers. Just that you had something to do with them.”

“You talked with your friend about me?”

“Yes, because you became more to me than a client and I needed someone to talk about it. She's the only person who knows mostly everything about me and what I'm doing for a living. And so I told her about us. And through old newspaper articles, I found out that you are Loki and not Luke.”

“Yes, you're right. I'm Loki Laufeyson. An invader, a war criminal, a sinner and definitely not worthy of you. Want me to go?” He asked quietly and sadly, and raised his head again, looking at you with teary eyes. It broke your heart to see him like that.

“No, I want you to stay. And I ask you to help me. Not with money or anything like that. I need your words, your support and your soothing hugs and touches and yeah, I need your kisses, too,” you stated genuinely. “I can't anymore, Loki, I'm so tired,” and you felt him pulling you into his arms again. You hugged him back, desperately clutching his t-shirt, your face buried in his chest, his scarf still in your hand. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you on your forehead before he loosened his grip on you again.

“You know I'll never give up on you. Otherwise I won't be here,” he murmured with his deep velvety voice.

“I think, the time of revelation and truth has come,” you noticed and looked deep into his bright blue eyes.

“I think so too,” he answered, nodding approvingly.

You took him by his hand and led him back to the sofa to sit down again.

“Wait, let me clean you first and get you some fresh underwear. I want you to feel comfortable when we talk because I'm sure it's going to be a long conversation. And I know how much you like to be cleaned after having sex with me. And I think I stayed long enough in that pretty pussy,” he smiled and kissed you tenderly. You could just smile too and you adored him for his care. His kind of aftercare always surprised you anew and you truly enjoyed it. To make it more comfortable for both of you, you decided to take a shower together and you cleaned each other silently and with utter tenderness.

Refreshed, with still damp hair and Loki just dressed in his trousers and you in just a t-shirt and panties, you sat down on the sofa and looked intensely at each other. Now it was the time to tell each other's truths and you offered Loki your hand for a handshake.

“Hey, I'm y/n y/l/n. Nice to meet you,” and you gave him the loveliest and most genuine smile you could give.

“Hey, y/n. What a beautiful name you have. I'm Loki Laufeyson and it's a pleasure to meet you.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. He loved your real name and it suited you so well. You answered with a cute smile and reddened cheeks. This man would never fail to make your skin tingle and your heartbeat quicken.

“Tell me your story, Loki. Tell me who you are,” you asked him, holding his hand in yours and waiting for him to begin.

He told you everything, about his heritage, about his raising in Asgard and how it all led to the invasion of New York City until the point where only two options were left to decide the fate of Earth and his life.

“I had a fight with my brother on the outside of Stark Tower and he asked me to stop and to fight with him and the Avengers together. And I did. I don't know why I listened to him, but I did and I made this decision within seconds. And instead of stabbing him and continuing the destruction and trying to get power over your world, I helped them to fight against the invasion and at least against Thanos. It cost me all of my mental and physical strength and skills but somehow I made it. It didn't prevent me from ending up in the dungeons of Asgard but it avoided lots of more death and destruction. And then I got a further chance of redemption. I got the chance to get out of the dungeons of Asgard to become a negotiator and an ambassador for international and intergalactical security because they all thought my silver tongue would be good for something.”

“Oh, your tongue is very good at French kissing,” you teased him and you both laughed lightly.

“Yeah, you might be right, sweets and not only French kissing but this is reserved for later and for you only,” he said softly, winked at you and squeezed your hand.

“The only condition was to live and work under the eyes of my brother and the Avengers with Tony Stark as my ��parole officer’,” Loki continued. “I agreed and lived here under the radar and with a fake name for many many years and people forgot about me or left New York and new people settled down here. And after some years when other duties were waiting for my colleagues, they left NYC except for Tony and my brother. He had a love interest here, you know. I have to stay here until my debts are paid and that will be in three years. Then I'll be free to go wherever I want.

My brother or Tony just comes sporadically to see me and it's more like a visit then. I earned their trust so I was allowed to live in my own penthouse and in solitude, just as I wanted it…until I met you. Now I don't want to be alone anymore. I wished I could have you around me all the time.”

“Wow, that's quite a lot… it'll take me some time to process everything you just told me,” you said and sighed smilingly and deeply. “You made yourself the most hated man in your and my world but you took the chance of redemption. Be proud of yourself, Loki, this is a great achievement,” you praised him.

“Maybe it is,” he confirmed.

“You're wonderful, Loki. I got to know you a little bit and I can tell you, you're a good man and you deserve all the love someone can give to you. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, sweets.”

“You said the Avengers all left the city but I had dates with three of them. Did you send them to meet me because you knew they're nice so I don't have to meet strangers?” You questioned curiously. Loki shifted on his seat and swallowed dryly.

“You… you never met them, sweets.”

“Of course, I did,” you answered unbelievingly and chuckled.

“No, sweets you didn't… it was me you met.” Loki's gaze settled on your face. How would you react now?

“I think I don't quite understand. What do you mean by that?”

“One of my magical abilities is shape-shifting. I can change into the appearance of another person,” he explained carefully. You could just frown because you didn't understand anything of what he said.

“Please explain… Why were you doing this? Did you want to control me or test me?” If that was his intention it would be creepy.

“I did it because I wanted to see you and be together with you. It also was a possibility to protect you from other men.”

“Why didn't you meet me as yourself?”

“Honestly, I don't know. Maybe because I didn't have many events to attend and didn't require an escort, maybe because I didn't want to make it obvious how much I like you… the first time we met I told you I'm not interested in a relationship with you or anything else. I didn't know how to get out of that. I think I was afraid of losing face or scaring you off. You might have thought that I was stalking you,” he explained genuinely and you nodded understandingly.

“Were you also responsible for my cancelled appointments?” You weren't dumb, it fit into the whole thing and so it was an obvious question.

“Yes, guilty,” he admitted.

“How?” you wanted to know.

“I gave Rhea calls with a different voice and told her, the client which I imitated, wanted to meet an escort with a specific hair colour that was completely different to yours so she sent someone else instead of you...”

“ …and gave me a call that my appointment got cancelled,” you added.

“Yes, and two times it was too late and you had already sat at the bar at Vivian's. I intercepted your clients and told them you couldn't come for whatever reason, paid them and sent them away. I always made sure that you would get your money and I knew if a cancelled appointment isn't your fault, you still get your money. I'm sorry for that, sweets. Maybe it was selfish what I did but I just wanted to protect you and have you all for myself,”

Loki felt guilty and he knew he shouldn't have done this. It was stalker-y but he couldn't help himself, he was head over heels for you from the first time he met you at Vivian's Velvet. There were still some questions you needed answers to so you kept consulting him.

“When I met Steve and danced with him, I danced with you? Because it felt familiar somehow. It reminded me of our first dance at the business dinner.”

“You did.”

“When I had that fantastic conversation with Bruce and was invited to that extraordinary delicious dessert, it was you I talked to and it was you who spoiled me so wonderfully?“

“Yes. I know about your weakness for desserts so I couldn't resist ordering you one of the best desserts in Manhattan.” The gaze of his puppy eyes was killing you. He was adorable and you just wanted to straddle his lap and kiss the heck out of him again. But it had to wait.

“When I laughed with Scott the whole evening when I had so much fun and wondered over the magic tricks he showed me, it was you I laughed with. And Scott aka you asked me for a kiss… why? Was it a test because you knew I'd just kiss a man when I'm in love with him?”

“It wasn't a test…or maybe it was. I wanted so desperately to be kissed by you and at the same time, I was afraid you could fall in love with someone else. I just gave it a try. And then I had the confirmation that you definitely had not fallen in love with ‘Scott’ because you denied the kiss.” Loki's heart sank and pondered achingly in his chest. You would never forgive him for all his tricks and lies. He never wanted to lie to you or play games with you but for you and for love he'd do anything.

“So when we met the real Scott at the nightclub, he didn't pretend to not know me, he really didn't know me,” you concluded.

“Yes, that's right,” Loki answered, nodding approvingly. “I was just glad he stayed with the use of my fake name.”

“I think I should be extremely mad about you and all that… but I'm not. Somehow I feel flattered. Nobody else ever did something like this for me. You really just always wanted to protect me, didn't you?” Loki nodded sadly. He was so afraid that he would finally lose you though he had just found you.

“Are you still desperate for a kiss from me,” you asked him softly and leaned in to kiss him. You were just a few inches away from his tender lips.

“You still want to kiss me? You still want me after all of that? I'm a liar and a sinner, sweets. And I'm not sure if this will ever change,” he asked, unsure what you were going to answer now.

“It doesn't bother me what you did in the past and I'd never judge you. I always wanted a dark prince on his black war horse and it seems that wish might come true. You always tried to be there for me and you treated me with such care, attention, and tenderness and that's more than I deserve. If you're a sinner, I'm a sinner too. You know that I'm not a decent girl, and when you learn about my past you might not want me anymore,” you whispered, your lips almost brushing his.

“You're an angel, Sugar and you treated me so well, too. You're my purpose, my obsession and I want you, decent or not,” he mumbled and you pressed your lips gently on his, your hands trailing over his bare shoulders and chest, making him tremble. Your touches would never fail to make him shiver or to make him feel good and safe. He pulled you closer, caressing your head and your soft hair and kissed you so deeply that you nearly began to cry. When he broke the kiss, he looked quizzically at you again and ran his thumb over your cheek.

“You really took me off guard when I took you home with me and you wanted me to read to you from the book of Norse Myths and chose the part about me,” he laughed and you tilted your head to smile at him as well.

“Who could've known that I had been so close to the truth,” and you gave him a peck on the cheek.

“May I ask you something too?”

“Sure!” you said encouragingly.

“When you met Steve, Scott, Bruce aka me, Matt and the real Scott you told them your name is ‘Candy’. Even your coworkers didn't know who ‘Sugar’ is when I asked at Vivian's Velvet for you. What does it mean, sweets?” You took a deep breath and smiled slightly at him.

“When I met you for the first time at Vivian's, when we negotiated the conditions of our deal, I felt that you were special, different. And I liked you very much. Sympathy at first sight so to say. And after our conversation I decided to choose a name only for you, and only you call me like this.” Loki's eyes teared up. “You're incredible, sweets,” and he pulled you in for a further soft kiss.

“You're the only one I ever slept with, Loki. No other client ever touched me intimately. If I would've done it, it would've felt like I'd cheat on you,” you stated sincerely and tears were shimmering in your eyes. “Since I know you I only have eyes for you,” you murmured.

“I know. I feel the same way.” Loki answered with his soothing bassy tone, holding your hands in his and his thumbs grazed tenderly over the back of your hands. His eyes were looking directly into yours and you were locked in his gorgeous blue gaze.

“Tell me your story, y/n. Tell me who has hurt you so much, who's threatening and blackmailing you. Tell me the reason why you were forced to become an escort lady and have to earn that much money,” Loki asked you. You felt his sincere desire to get to know your truth.

You looked at him, swallowed, took a deep breath and then you began to tell him how it all started nearly six months ago.

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂❤️‍🩹🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂🌃

Taglist:

@lokisprettygirl @faesimps @gruftiela @anukulee @fandxmslxt69 @foxherder @depressedpolishgirl @buttercupcookies-blog @chantsdemarins @fictive-sl0th @justjoanne242 @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lovingchoices14 @wheredafandomat @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger

[amymbona]

hey! :-) just wanted to say that I love your work <3

Also, I was wondering if you listen to Ariana Grand for at least her newest album cause “I wish I hated you” gives me failedmarriage!au with Patrick & I would love to see you bring that to life

no worries if you choose not to <3 love your work!!!

Hiii you're so so so kind I'm sending you lots of kisses! :33333 🫶🫶🫶🫶

I don't really listen to Ariana but took a look at the lyrics and get exactly what you mean! Failed marriage is one of the best angsty tropes that there is and I always eat that up. All the years spent together that crumbled into smithereens, and suddenly the bed next to you is empty.

Life without Patrick is so empty to you. Despite having to move on and continue going to work every day, as if nothing as happened, your days feel infinitely more boring, more meaningless. There's nobody waiting for you with a cup of warm tea and there is nobody you could wake and make dinner for. Nobody's watching the sports channel on TV and you don't have to race to the bathroom each morning because there is one who would spend half an hour applying the right amount of gel into their hair.

Nobody steals your blankets and hugs you when you're cold anymore. You haven't felt the touch of another person in weeks, aside from your overly friendly coworker who's always eager for a high five. Nobody has stroked your hair nor kissed you when you cried, clutching onto the last bits of your husband... Ex husband.

The sheets don't smell like him anymore, there's not a single clothing article of his in your wardrobe, aside from two pairs of sneakers that are too small his feet anyway, so he never asked you to send them his way. His coffee cup is gone too, the one you got him at a charity shop, with a little best husband written on the front side.

He generously allowed you to stay in the apartment, insisting he's rich enough to buy two more houses and saying he travels a lot anyway so it would be pointless if he kept the home you shared, only collected his personal belongings and left. All traces of him are gone, aside the two pairs of shoes, the printed pictures of you two that you had to hide into the depths of your closet (for your own sanity), a few pieces of jewellery and the other precious gifts, and, of course, the wedding ring now hidden in the drawer or your bedside table.

It would be stupid to claim you're over Patrick, because it's obvious you aren't. Your friends see it, your family sees it. They know you're fucking miserable, unable to function without that man by your side. And does anyone actually blame you? You two had been together for so many years, you were not only each other's partners but also best friends, supporters, lovers... You used to be each other's everything.

And what hurts the most is the absurd reason of your break up, the mutual understanding that you simply can't fulfilling whatever there was expected from this marriage. The mutual agreement of deciding to split ways because Patrick's career is at its peak and he doesn't have as much as time for you as he used to. Not that it ever made him love you less. Quite the contrary, he learned to savour each and every moment spent with you, each time he got to hold you in his arm and smell the vanilla shampoo from your hair.

But he knew that you were hurting, that you couldn't just take a month long break from your work and travel the world with him (even though he offered to provide for the both of you, confidently trying to convince you that he'd love nothing more than for you to be his stay at home life and just look pretty and cook for him). He knew you were missing him deeply, that you were - even when you claimed not to - jealous he'd find a prettier, wealthier and sexier woman and fall for her. Because he had the reputation of a ladies' men, and you knew what he was once like during high school. But despite all of that, he always remained loyal.

Patrick always wanted the best for you, even though you couldn't quite see it, and that is why he had to break up with you. Perhaps it was selfish, but he couldn't bear to see you like that. It broke his heart to hear you cry to him on the phone about how much you missed him, how much you wished he was next to you. And he could never give you all of that. He knew you should find somebody who could give you everything you need. Someone who wasn't him.

[im-not-batman]

Since Ao3 is down, I thought I'd post an old fic on here in the interest of keeping us all sane. Enjoy <3

Bloomed into Blue | Ronance | Rated G | 8,399 words

Nancy wanted to scream, tear out her hair, throw a tantrum and yell about how unfair it all was. Being in a professional work environment made that difficult though.

Instead, she smiled and clapped as she watched yet another of her colleagues collect on the rewards of her hard work. She sat in her seat for as long as she could stomach, and then broke away to hide in the bathroom until she felt like she could be in the office without feeling the urge to break something.

This marked the fifth time that one of her coworkers had gotten recognition for her research, her writing, or her investigating, and she was sick of it. After her stint at the paper in Hawkins, she had expected some disadvantages in her working life, but this was ridiculous. She had put more hours of work into that last story than anyone on the team, it had even become a running joke in the office that she spent more time here than at home! How could she have gone unrecognised again?

If only it was socially appropriate to send your boss into the hell dimension underneath your hometown, she thought fancifully. He certainly wouldn't underestimate her or her mettle ever again, but it would likely raise other issues.

So instead of doing what she wanted to do, what she felt like doing, she muscled it all down, dusted off her skirt, straightened her already perfectly laid blouse and looked at herself in the mirror.

"You deserve better," she told herself, firm and assured, "go out there and demand better."

She gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and left the bathroom, beelining for her manager's office across the floor. She caught a few comments from the piggish men in their cubicles about how 'it must be that time of the month' or about 'how sensitive women are these days'. These were the sorts of comments that had become commonplace, really. Ordinarily, she'd have a quip or scathing remark to throw their way, but right now, she was on a mission.

Seeing that Jerry was free, she walked straight in without knocking. By way of greeting, she planted her hands firmly on her hips. Robin would call it a power pose and point out how odd it was that polite and demure Nancy Wheeler had grown into who she had.

"Miss Wheeler, what can I do for you?" Jerry started, but it wasn't a genuine question. He wasn't even paying the courtesy of looking at her and was instead polishing a tacky golf ornament that he kept on his desk.

"I want it on the record that I should have received a share in that raise," that was generous really, she should have received the entire raise. Frank had spent the last three weeks making unhelpful comments and sleeping through group meetings, instead of organising them like he should have been. Nancy decided, though, that if she made that observation known to her boss, she'd be on the entire company's shit-list.

"Wheeler, Frank was head writer on that project, it was his story, he got the raise," he already had the glazed-over look in his eye that she recognised all too well. She'd seen it enough times when she'd tried to engage her father in any kind of conversation that involved her passions.

"That's just it, sir, I did more work than anybody on this one. Ask around. I've worked more hours than anybody else in the department, I spent all my free time researching and I wrote almost the entire article–"

Jerry put up a condescending hand to stop her, "you chose to do those things, no one asked you to, darlin'." He said deliberately.

Nancy ground her teeth and lifted her chin – Lord knows she's put up with worse than a little misogyny. She poured all the false respect she had into her voice as she replied.

"All due respect, sir, but it never would have made it to print if it weren't for me."

"Fortunately, we'll never know," he said with a smugly patronising smile.

Nancy seethed. She opened her mouth to argue again, but he raised that damned hand again. This time he made a shooing motion. Like she was little better than a misbehaving child. Worse than that; like she was a creature he didn't care to even feign his respect for.

Without hesitation, and with all the surety she could muster, Nancy stood her ground and with a deep breath announced: "Jerry, I quit."

The moment the words were out of her mouth an overwhelming sense of relief washed over her. A heavy burden was lifted off of her shoulders and she felt like she could straighten her spine for the first time since she'd taken this god-forsaken job.

"Don't be stupid, Wheeler," Jerry warned, still with the tone of condescension, like it was his default when he spoke to her.

"Oh this is the smartest thing I could possibly do, right now, I deserve better than this." A smirk was fast-developing across her face, the apathy she had now that she wasn't worried about her job caused a little of her ruthlessness to slip through her crafted 'girl-next-door' veneer, "this paper will drown without me."

"Hah!" Her boss chortled, "you won't last a week out there in this business."

"I've faced down serial killers and won, Jerry. I'll be just fine."

Taking more than a little satisfaction in the astounded look on her ex-boss's face, she turned on her heel and walked out. Without slowing, she hooked her bag over her shoulder as she passed her desk and then walked out the front door. Not so much as a glance back before she stepped out into the crisp Chicago air.

Walking away from the building, Nancy felt like she could finally breathe properly. She'd spent her entire tenure there shaping herself into the boxes they wanted her in, squeezing herself into categories that made the men around her comfortable. When she thought about it, she'd done that her whole life.

She always made herself smaller to be more acceptable to those around her. People struggled to handle her competence and drive – it tended to make them feel inadequate – and so they found ways to limit her to make her more palatable. And when she'd gotten used to people reacting to her that way, to them wrestling down those parts of her personality, she'd started doing it preemptively.

Walking out of that no-name paper had been a wake up call. An opportunity to reset. Remove the mask.

She felt powerful.

So when she got home, jobless and pretty much penniless, she was smiling.

"What are you doing here so early?" Eddie asked from his spot on the sofa, guitar in hand, when she walked through the door.

"I just quit my job," Nancy replied. She was a little breathless, likely owed to the four flights of stairs up to their place, but it was also partly because she felt a bit giddy saying it outloud.

"Alright, Wheeler," he praised, setting down his prized guitar and holding up an appreciative fist for her to bump. She grinned and did so proudly. If she could count on anyone to be delighted about her joblessness, she could count on him. He'd been encouraging her to quit for almost as long as she'd worked there. Eddie wasn't one to suffer fools and so the very first time Nancy had come home seething about the blatant unfairness she was experiencing, that had been his immediate suggestion.

To begin with, she had found it infuriating. The fact that Eddie thought she could be content in giving up so easily and letting them win was insulting. She was too good for that; she was too smart, too stubborn.

Nancy refused to give in so easily. She was determined that once she proved herself useful, if she did what they asked, went above and beyond, they'd have to take her seriously. She thought she'd finally be given the lead on the important stories. She was a talented, hard-hitting, investigative journalist. She was wasted on boring puff pieces that only existed to fill in the gaps on the pages. She was naïve enough to think that her boss would see that in time. Clearly she had been wrong.

As she flopped down onto the sofa beside her best friend, she resented him a little. Things were so much easier for him – since they'd left Hawkins and the people who called him 'murderer' and 'Satanist' behind, at least. While he'd certainly understand some prejudices and unreasonable roadblocks in his day to day, his life would never be complicated by sexism. When he was good at things, that was taken at face value; he was allowed to be good at them. When he felt something, he didn't have to reign himself in or risk accusations of 'hysteria'. He didn't have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing, and having that mistake reflect on every woman in the field.

She loved Eddie dearly, but he would never truly understand. So when he gave his advice, it was sometimes a bit too flippant, a bit too blasé.

But even when he couldn't help, he'd always be there with Nance to celebrate her wins. So she leaned against his side and smiled when he squeezed her tight and told her (not for the first time) that she was the baddest badass in the history of badassery.

"Alright, alright," Nancy grinned, pushing him away playfully. Eddie had a very physical way of showing his support and affection. Sometimes, it was a little stifling. She gave him a warm smile anyway, "Do you know what their shifts are today?" She asked, gesturing towards the ceiling. Robin and Steve lived in the flat above them, which conveniently concentrated all of Nancy's favourite people (bar a few) into one apartment block.

Eddie smirked and leaned back, picking up his guitar in one fluid motion, "Robin has today off if that's what you're asking," he said, playing a guitar riff that was vaguely familiar.

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him as she stood to head upstairs. She ignored it when he affectionately flipped the bird in her direction.

When she knocked on their door, it took a second for there to be a response. Nancy understood why when Robin came to the door dressed in coveralls that were more paint than fabric.

"Hey Robin-a-Roo, busy day?" She chuckled, a little sarcastically.

"You don't even know the half of it, Nance," Robin sighed with false weariness as she turned to walk back into the apartment with a broad grin.  She left the door open for Nancy to follow her.

Nancy smiled with amused shock when she reached Robin's room.

Every surface was covered in sheets of tarp, save for one wall which was smattered with splats vibrant colour.

There were open cans of paint in every colour you could imagine lined up on the floor (also protected with plastic), and there were various paint brushes and tools strewn about. When she looked at Robin again though, she saw that clearly she had leaned in favour of using her bare hands for this endeavour.

"Voilà!" Robin announced, waving her arms dramatically at the wall. Her face was adorned with a broad and bright grin that reached her eyes. Nancy's chest flowered with warmth.

"Cool," she said with a smile of her own, "there's almost as much paint on the wall as there is on you."

"Oh, excuse me for getting excited at the prospect of flinging colours around," Robin rolled her eyes good-naturedly and turned to admire her messy work.

Nancy laughed again and looked at the set up Robin had going.

She grinned, "looks like fun."

Robin beamed and turned to face Nancy again, "it's a great stress reliever. Wanna join?" She wiggled her eyebrows in challenge.

"Oh I wouldn't want to ruin it," she replied, suddenly feeling sheepish and vulnerable.

Robin's voice dropped a little, and she smirked, teasing, "ruin my completely random, zero skill required, messy, impulsive, paint splashing?"

Nancy frowned, "Impulsive? Didn't you get the landlord's permission?" She asked.

"There wasn't time! I had to go to the hardware store to get the tarps and paint and then I was deciding which wall to do it on and covering everything else with plastic and tape!" She spoke while waving her arms around dramatically, clearly just trying to make Nancy laugh. It worked.

"Don't worry I'll paint over it when I move out," she promised and wiggled her fingers ominously as she asked, "so are you getting your hands dirty or what?"

This time it was Nancy who rolled her eyes, "Fine, but I don't really have any clothes I'd be okay with getting paint on."

"Just borrow mine," Robin offered without hesitation, already dipping a hand into a truly alarming shade of bright green and admiring the way it dripped from her long fingers.

She grinned at Robin's ease at offering up her clothes for her to essentially ruin. The trust that Nancy would know the right clothes to pick, the inherent intimacy of sharing clothes, shocked her a little.

An indescribable warmth spread through her chest as she rifled through the drawers. She grabbed a grubby old work shirt that she knew Robin only kept for messy projects like this, since it was embroidered with a company logo. And she recognised a pair of dungarees she'd seen Robin wear before – she had a habit of drawing on the knees and wiping dirt and dyes and all sorts all over them, so she assumed a little paint would be fine – and took them to the bathroom to change.

When she came back into Robin's room, Nancy lingered at the door. Robin had put on some music (apparently not minding her tape deck getting a little colourful) and was jumping around dancing to David Bowie. With her eyes closed, she didn't see Nancy return and so was unencumbered by embarrassment or shyness.

Robin smiled bright, she occasionally flicked out her arms towards the paint wall, leaving a splatter of neon green from the arc of her hands as she danced. It was pure joy. Nancy couldn't keep herself from joining.

As the chorus hit, she jumped into Robin's room, dancing like no one was watching and she started singing along. Well, shouting would be more accurate.

At first her friend looked caught. Like she didn't mean for anyone to see her goofing around dancing to one of her favourite songs, so Nancy made sure to act even goofier. Even out the playing field.

Robin's face then transformed into something akin to awe. Like she couldn't believe that Nancy was there. Finally, her expression turned into one of sheer happiness as she started dancing again and joining Nancy in her shout-singing of the chorus.

As the song faded out, they found themselves theatrically falling to the ground out of breath, the plastic rustled beneath them. Any of Nancy's lingering annoyance for the people at her old job had been drowned out by the utter joy that coursed through her now.

She sighed as she finally regained her wind, "I needed that," she smiled as she sat up to look at the wall again, "so what do you want me to do?"

Robin mumbled something as she sat up herself, but it was garbled by the sound of the effort she took. When Nancy turned to look at her, Robin looked confused. "What do you mean? Just do what you want, man. Go with your feels, let the music move you."

The last words were said in a floaty sing-song that made Nancy giggle, as she watched Robin rock back and forth, out of time to the new song that had started playing, "sometimes I forget your parents were hippies, and then you go and say something like that."

Robin chuckled as she got to her feet, offering Nancy a hand, "seriously, Nance, just do what feels right, there's not a pattern to follow or a quota to meet, just–" She bent over abruptly, dunking her hands in a paint can and threw her arms out at the wall again, "dip and fling."

Nancy's smile felt like it'd rip her face in half. "Dip and fling," she tried to say seriously and failed.

She did exactly that, though: dipped her hands into a lovely shade of bright sky blue, and swung her arms out, watching the paint drops flick from her fingers in an arc and hit the plaster with a satisfying splat. She threw her arms about in every direction she could think of until the paint on her hands ran out and then she stood back, admiring her handiwork. It was messy and dripping down towards the ground already. It was perfect. Nancy looked over to Robin for her approval but she was already looking right at her with a huge grin, bouncing in place.

"Atta girl, Nance," she said, quieter than Nancy had expected her to speak. There was a strain behind it, like she was holding back. Nancy didn't really know how to respond, so she flicked the tiniest bit of remaining paint at Robin's chest playfully and then bent to get the next colour to decorate the wall.

For the next few hours they remained there, in a bubble, goofing around, listening to music, making a mess. The world may as well have disappeared for all they knew. In their little room, with Robin's ratty old speakers blasting Blondie and Bowie and Bonnie Tyler, Nancy felt freer than she had in months.

Only when they started to get hungry did they realise how much time had passed and by then, Robin's bedroom wall looked positively psychedelic.

"Wow," Nancy chuckled when she stood back and took a proper look at the project. She hadn't really expected it to look as beautiful as it did, a little worried that the paints would congeal and dull into brown. Instead it made up a maelstrom of brightly coloured nonsense. Something like glee bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

"Right?!" Robin exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet and wriggling her fingers in that cute way she did when something excited her. Nancy found herself hiding a private smile behind her curls before Robin could see her blush. Get a grip, Nancy.

They went off to clean themselves up in the bathroom, rinsing off what they could from their hands and arms. Robin hand shrugged off the top half of her coveralls and tied it around her waist. It was unbearably attractive. Nancy endeavoured not to stare by staring diligently at her own hands as she scrubbed them.

"So," Robin said, breaking the silence, "how are you now?" Robin asked and Nancy snapped her head back up in surprise at the question.

"What do you mean?" Nancy asked, acting as casual as she could manage.

Now Robin seemed to shrink a little, like she was embarrassed, "I mean – um – well, about the paper, I guess."

"Oh," she sighed, biting her lip, and Robin looked abruptly away. Nancy tried to lighten her tone "did Eddie somehow tell you when I wasn't looking?" 

"No, no, he didn't," Robin assured her quickly, "I just assumed. Since you're here… in the middle of the day. And I know you've been really unhappy there and you've been thinking about talking to your boss which I can't imagine going well since he's, like, a rich, old, white man. Not that I think you'd have said anything to get fired! It's just that that is what men are like, you know?"

Nancy found herself laughing at her companion's rambling and put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from rambling herself in circles, "I know. But I feel great, Robin."

She seemed to release the tension from her shoulders then, and relaxed under Nancy's hand. Robin was smiling but wouldn't look her in the eye, a sort of bashfulness overtaking her. It was painfully cute.

All Nancy could think about at that moment was how effortlessly Robin had re-routed her day to include her and help her forget the terrible day she'd had up until then. How easily she had brightened her mood, lifted her out of her anger and upset, by knowing exactly what would cheer her up.

"Thank you," Nancy said, and without her brain's permission her throat knotted which doused the words in emotion. She felt her lip quiver and took a breath to contain herself.

Before she could process what was happening, Robin had engulfed her in a hug. Her arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, face buried somewhere near Nancy's collarbone. One hand brushed up and down her back while the other held her close, and both movements were immensely soothing. She felt safe, cared for. Tears began to fall.

"I'm sorry," Nancy apologised, looping an arm around Robin's waist while the other was trapped against her chest.

"You don't need to apologise."

"I'm just so angry, you know?" She gasped in a soggy breath, "I work so hard and do so much and it's never even noticed."

"I know," Robin whispered.

"It's not fair."

"It's not, you deserve better."

Nancy pulled away, not even enough to break their hold on each other, to look at Robin when she admitted, "That's what I said when I quit."

Robin's eyes lit up, "you quit?" She surged forwards again and held Nancy so tightly, her ribs complained.

"Nance, I'm so proud of you," she was whispering into Nancy's hair again but this time, it was cheerful.

Nancy's smile was watery but genuine when she tightened her arms around the person that always made her feel so much better.

She avoided visiting home as much as she could these days. She'd left Hawkins for a reason, so of course coming back was always slightly sour.

She'd outgrown this town years ago and being back was suffocating. There were a few moments of reprieve; when she got a moment alone with her mum and she gushed about how proud she was of all Nancy had accomplished, when she could get away to see Robin or the Byers-Hoppers (Steve and Eddie had stayed back in Chicago for the holidays, Wayne insisted he come up to them). Mostly though, it was horrible.

She only had to get through two more days. Two days and then she'll be free – she'll hightail it over to the Buckleys', grab Robin and haul ass straight back home.

Until then though, she had to sit through conversations with her family members. The questions she could handle, the small talk was mind-numbing but bearable, but when they started proffering their opinions on things? She hated it. Not so much from the more distant family members, random cousins and uncles that felt the need to put in their two cents – that much was expected and easily ignored. When it came from her dad though, the man she was supposed to look up to, the man whose thoughts had meant so much to her once upon a time (and still did if she was honest with herself), it was a much harsher blow.

She'd just finished recounting the story of how she'd left her job a few months ago and gotten a much better one for another paper. She had thought that her dad would be proud of her, would praise her for knowing her own value and succeeding because of it. Instead he'd hardly looked away from the television, and when he did, he regarded her with derision.

"What's the matter?" Nancy asked, her excited smile from recounting the tale beginning to drop.

"I don't understand why you bother working at all, Nancy. You ought to get married and settle down. You need to be tamed."

She felt like he'd slapped her across the face. He may as well have. She didn't think there was anything he could say that would have hurt worse than that. Ted turned towards the TV again without a second thought, probably already forgetting what he'd said to his daughter. Nancy felt the threat of tears prick her sinuses so she stood and made for her old bedroom before anyone could see her cry.

Despite her fury, she tried hard not to slam the door behind her, instead taking out her frustrations on the drawers. She gripped the wood until her knuckles turned white, her breathing turned erratic as she wrestled her instinct to shout and fight and make him understand.

She wished she was home again. Not for the first time that day, and likely not for the last.

She wanted to be back in Chicago with Eddie and Steve and Robin. The people who understood her, supported her, bolstered even her most outlandish ideas. She missed Eddie's look of awe at everything she did – it was disastrously nourishing to her ego, but she loved that he thought she was "the coolest cat since sliced bread". His words.

Nancy missed talking things through with Steve, she loved his level-headedness and balance. It usually meant that whatever scheme she had cooked up somehow ended up much more effective. He'd occasionally try and talk her down, but he knew her well by now. Knew her stubborn nature.

And she missed Robin. Just Robin. The way she'd always be there. Always cheering her on, always holding her hand when she needed it.

Right now she just wanted her friends.

Unfortunately, whatever higher power was up there felt differently and instead sent Mike.

He lightly knocked and then let himself into the room, seemingly completely unaware of how upset she was.

"Nancy, can you drive me to Will's later?" It was clear that he didn't expect any answer other than a happy 'yes'. He had barely stepped into the room and was already turning to go, knowing he'd not need to fight his case.

Nancy gritted her teeth against the instinct to snap at her brother. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong; she was angry at Ted, not at him.

"Sure," she answered through gritted teeth, giving him a false smile that would fool no one.

Mike looked to take it at face value for a moment, considering whether he should ask her or not. He wavered on the threshold  and eventually decided. He looked at her again, this time actually paying attention.

"What's got you all bent out of shape?" He asked. It wasn't unkind, just sort of… thoughtless. It annoyed her all over again.

"Nothing," her voice came out tight and strained, "dad's just– god, he thinks I need to be 'tamed'!" She didn't mean to say it, it wasn't Mike's problem, she knew he wouldn't understand, but she felt like she was going to explode if she didn't let some of her rage free. Like letting steam out of an over-boiling pot.

Mike looked nonplussed and simply stood there as she recounted her father's words and ranted a little. She gestured wildly in her fury and paced the floor. When she was done, she looked to her brother, hoping for sympathy, maybe even understanding.

She was disappointed.

"I mean, he's not wrong. When you have a house and a family, you won't have time to work. That's what girls do, right?" Mike looked like that was the most sensible thing in the world. Like it was fair. Expected. Nancy wanted to throw him out of her window.

"No, Mike, we don't," she spat, "we tend to be living, breathing creatures with brains and ambitions of our own."

Mike looked shocked, he didn't expect her to react so bitterly. He must have noticed his error because he quickly added, "well, that's just what mom did, I guess you can do whatever you want though."

It should have been enough to placate her, really. Mike was young, a product of his sheltered, privileged upbringing. He didn't know better unless someone taught him better. But Nancy was so tired of teaching people things. Sometimes she wished they'd just know.

So she turned away, silently fuming. She gazed out the window, briefly fantasising about an escape plan.

"Can you still give me a ride?" Mike asked, voice small and cautious. This time unsure of what the answer would be.

She put effort into making her voice softer this time, "Yes, Mike, be ready in thirty."

"It can be later if you want, I don't mind," he didn't sound sure, he was clearly still tiptoeing.

"Don't be silly," Nancy rolled her eyes with a sigh, "you'd rather be at Will's than listening to Aunt Carol sing White Christmas badly."

That managed to share a smile between them, tension dropped as they complained together about their very annoying relatives.

When her brother left to pack his overnight bag, Nancy was left to her own devices. A dangerous thing for a woman of her brains, capability and desperation to escape.

In the end she didn't need a grand plan. She was an adult. With her own home and her own car. She could just leave. So she gathered together her things haphazardly and while no one was looking, snuck outside to sling her bags into the back seat.

As she looked back at the house, hoping that Mike would be ready to go, she caught sight of her mum gliding across the window with Holly on her hip. Suddenly she couldn't allow herself to just leave without saying goodbye to them.

Ducking back inside, she managed to dodge beckons for her attention by pretending to need something in the kitchen, but she knew that would hardly work for long. So when she found her rearranging a couple of decorations absently, Holly had since gone off to do her own thing, she grabbed her mum by her wrists and dragged her along.

"Nancy, sweetie," Karen chuckled, trusting her daughter and going along without a fuss. Safely tucked away, she turned to her but clearly hadn't schooled her features well enough.

"You look… thunderous, Nance, are you okay?" She swept a hand down the side of Nancy's face, taming a stray curl and then moving to hold her chin gently.

"I can't be here after what dad said. I can't." Nancy admitted, "I'm leaving, but I needed to say goodbye."

Her mum's face softened in sympathy and she pulled her into a comforting, motherly hug, "it's okay, I understand."

There was no heat in her mother's voice. No strain of upset, no anger, no disappointment. Just love and compassion.

It made sense, really; if anyone was going to understand how it felt to be on the receiving end of her father's soul-crushing remarks and almost neglectful disinterest, it'd be Karen Wheeler.

Nancy squeezed her a little tighter.

"Okay, Wonder Woman," Karen huffed out a small laugh, "best get going before the crowd thins and they notice you leaving, eh?"

Nancy nodded with a sad smile, "thank you," she said. The words were small and broken, her heart broke a little bit too.

Her mother rubbed her back soothingly, "can I see you again before you head home? Or are you leaving tonight?"

"I'm just going to Robin's for now," she assured her. She pulled out of the hug but kept their hands gripped together, "I'll come see you before we go home."

"No no, I'll come see you, we can go for coffee or something." Something in the way her mum said it made Nancy want to cry. Like she was just as desperate to get out, even if only for a few hours.

"Sounds perfect," Nancy smiled knowingly, and before she lost her resolve she took a deep breath, "you know, you and Holly are always welcome in Chicago. Eddie can stay at Robin and Steve's and we'll have the apartment to ourselves."

Tears welled in her mother's eyes, and her lip quivered but she was smiling and nodding gently, "that would be lovely, Nance." She surged forward and wrapped her daughter in a bear hug, "I'm so proud of you. You are a wonderful, wonderful woman."

Nancy pulled back and beamed at her mother, "I got it from my mom," her voice was warm and thick with affection. She hoped it came across in those simple words, just how much she meant it.

Karen's eyes were still welled up but she was stoically fighting them back, determined not to cry. Nancy had seen that look in the mirror.

"I love you, mom," Nancy said, with one last squeeze of her mother's hand.

"Love you more, honey," she smiled through glistening eyes, "now go go go!"

Nancy did just so. She found Holly over by the unsupervised plate of cookies, kissed her goodbye and slipped out in the middle of a loud argument about who sang 'White Christmas' originally. Mike was waiting by the car with a bag slung on his shoulders.

As she pulled up to the Buckleys' house that evening, having dropped Mike off, she'd had plenty of time to consider what she was doing and work herself into knots.

It was unfair of her to spring this on Robin, for her to invite herself over until they decided to go home. It was the holidays, the Buckleys were probably busy with family things. Family that didn't include her.

Nancy was seconds away from driving off without even knocking the door when she caught movement from the corner of her eye.

"What are you doing here, Nance?" Robin asked, running up to the car and flinging the door open a broad smile lighting up her beautifully freckled features. She yanked Nancy out of the driver's seat to pull her into a bone crunching hug.

When she could breathe again, Nancy answered without answering, "I'm so sorry to just turn up like this."

Robin waved her off dramatically with a scoff, "you're always welcome, Nance, my parents love you." The thought made Nancy grin.

"So are you staying the night? Or is this a flying visit? Because if you're staying that'd be super helpful because we've got an odd number so games are a little harder. You can be on my team? I bet my dad will try to steal you though. For your brain." She said the last part with a strange seriousness that was rarely found on her face. Nancy laughed.

"I was hoping to stay the night?" She admitted, "I promise I'll be on your team," she added to sweeten the deal. Robin made a not-so-subtle fist pump and then leaned into the car to grab Nancy's bags. She headed into the house without another word, so Nancy assumed that it was okay. That she was welcome. She trailed up the path behind her friend.

When she stepped inside, she was sweetly assaulted by the smell of gingerbread and wintery herbs. The warmth that spread from the hearth in the living room bled into her bones and warmed her soul. There were carols playing delicately from the radio in the kitchen. Robin had disappeared into her bedroom down the hall, deposited Nancy's bags and returned, stopping through said kitchen, to pick up a bounty of cookies that she offered up.

Nancy took one with a smile. It was such a stark contrast to the chaos of Christmas at her parents'. No overbearing relatives telling her that she looked tired and hadn't done her hair right. No screaming cousins trying to hang off of her arms the moment she appeared. It was peaceful.

Only now, in the lull, did Nancy realise that Robin was wearing the sweater she'd given her for Christmas. It was mostly blue, slightly faded in places, with grey sleeves that frayed at the cuffs and in embroidered lettering across the chest, it read 'I'm a bottomless sea'. She'd found it in a thrift store back in Chicago and immediately imagined Robin wearing it.

Nancy was suddenly overwhelmed by how happy she was to be there.

"Are you sure it's okay with your parents that I'm here?" She asked, worried that she'd disrupt the atmosphere like a hostile species introduced to a thriving ecosystem.

"Let's go ask, Nancy-pants," Robin said through a cheekful of gingerbread. Nancy rolled her eyes at the moniker but followed her as she made off towards the living room.

Robin placed the cookies onto the coffee table and spoke along as she signed to her mother on the couch, "Nancy's here, can she stay the night?"

Mrs Buckley seemed to bolt upright at that and Nancy flinched, preparing to be kicked out. But as she turned and their eyes met, it was clear her worry was for nothing. Mrs Buckley beamed at her with a familiar smile that she'd obviously passed onto her daughter.

Nancy had only been learning sign language for a few months but she had a grasp on the basics. So when Mrs Buckley signed enthusiastically – "Of course! Have you had dinner already?" – Nancy was already bringing up her hands to respond when Robin started to translate.

Nancy felt something flutter in her chest at Robin's surprised, perhaps even impressed, expression.

It was senseless, really; she was sure that she signed like a five-year-old. Robin had no reason to be impressed. Still, though, she felt a blush begin to burn her cheeks.

To Nancy's horror, Mrs Buckley was looking directly at her. A knowing, sly smile encroached on her usually soft, amiable features; she looked downright devious.

This time when Nancy's stomach flipped, she knew it was a concoction made up of embarrassment, nerves and general inner turmoil. She shot a (hopefully subtle) panicked glance at Robin's mother who responded in kind with a subtle wink.

Dear God, I'm screwed, she thought, disastrously aware of her own inability to mask her fast-growing crush. And now said crush's mother was also aware. Fantastic.

She signed an incoherent excuse and all but sprinted to the bathroom to escape the scrutiny of Mrs Buckley's gaze. She pointlessly hoped that the reaction wasn't too transparent. But Robin wasn't a fool. For all the nonsense she rattled out in a day, there was twice as much going on in her mind that was useful. Nancy hoped in vain that the revelation of her feelings were shrouded in the layers of nonsense.

She splashed some cold water on her face and laughed a little hysterically.

She came here to escape the crushing weight of being misunderstood, of being a disappointment, and the claustrophobic press of expectation from her family. Now, here with the Buckleys, she was having a hard time being seen. Ironic, really.

There was a light tap on the door, loud enough to be heard, quiet enough not to startle. Robin's voice came through the door.

"Nance, are you okay?" She sounded worried. Nancy didn't want that.

"I'm fine, Robin-a-Roo," she said with wavering cheer as she unlocked the door, giving Robin a reassuring smile as she came in and closed the door behind her, "it's just weird being home."

Robin just nodded, looking down at her fingers where they fidgeted with the rings there. Nancy fought the urge to take those restless hands into hers.

She was nervous, fidgeting in that way she did when she had pent up feelings that needed to be let out. Robin shifted foot to foot, rhythmically swaying in time with a heartbeat. Nancy grinned and started moving along with her, the monotony peaceful and calming.

After a moment, Robin's eyes lifted up to Nancy's, determined and she spoke a little hurriedly – like she didn't want to not say it – "Why'd you come here, Nance?"

A little taken aback, it took Nancy a moment to realise what she'd been asked. She just blinked, calibrating and considering.

The truth was, the only time she felt relaxed was around Robin. The only time she felt completely herself was existing in the warm glow of Robin's presence. There was nothing she needed to do, nothing she had to explain or justify, she could just be. Any time spent in Robin's company was soothing, she came out of it feeling better, not worse.

That was more than she could say for anyone else in her life.

Mostly, her mother was kind, supportive. But there were times she'd make a needless comment about how skinny she was, or she'd sideways glance at something Nancy had said.

Then there was Steve. Sure, she and Steve were close. She trusted him with her life. But he knew her before. There was still a part of him that thought she might be happy living the small-town life. A part of him that still saw delicate and dainty little Nancy, whether he knew it consciously or not. She could see it, though.

And of course, Eddie was her best friend, her confidant, but he couldn't get it. They were fundamentally different: he followed his heart while she followed her head; he was happy to say a firm "fuck you" to society and live on the outside forever, she was determined to force society into submission until it accepted her, moulded around her. She sometimes felt like he was telling her to give up. Not outright, but it felt that way.

The kids still had a lot to learn. There was a lot they didn't understand just by virtue of their youth. And Nancy would never want to burden them with her own worries.

Robin never let her feel like a burden. She always understood her goals and ambitions. She always reminded her of exactly how much she was capable of. Never put her down or questioned her expertise.

"You get me," Nancy over-simplified, "and I'm happier with you than I am with anyone else."

That seemed to cause some sort of a crisis. Robin suddenly stopped rocking, her fingers stopped fidgeting. Nancy ducked to look her in the eyes, trying to decipher the reaction, and was surprised to find a glint of pride, and a whole lot of happiness bundled into the blue of her eyes.

"I don't have to be 'Nancy', you know?" She tried to explain, but she knew it was an asinine attempt, "I can stop being 'me' for a bit…"

Robin's mouth hung open slightly, toying with a sentence that Nancy could already tell would be rushed and chaotic and jumbled. It made her smile.

Just as Nancy was about to break the silence herself, Robin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her voice still sounded strained when she spoke, though. Like she was fighting something back.

"I feel the same about you," the rasp in her voice was more pronounced than usual.

"Really?"

Robin nodded gently, starting to rock again, "you never tell me to slow down when I talk too fast. You let me go off on pointless tangents and talk about random things I find cool. You've never told me to stop moving around – actually you copy me sometimes, and I love it." Her smile was back, but she couldn't look Nancy in her eyes still. Instead, her gaze darted around the small room, settling on anything but Nancy's face.

"You've never made me feel like I'm too much or too loud or too annoying," Robin admitted, Nancy felt her own breath catch and her ribs constrict, "I can be myself when you're here. I kind of want you around all the time."

"You do?" Nancy asked, sounding a little broken.

Robin nodded again with a private smile. It was unsure and quiet. At that, Nancy knew that she needed to be honest.

With a sudden rush of clarity, bravery and affection, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I want to be around you all the time," Nancy confessed breathlessly – even to her own ears it sounded more like a plea than a statement.

Only then did Robin's eyes meet hers. There was a hint of something like hope or nerves or excitement in them. Perhaps all three were swimming around in the glassy blue at once; Robin always had kept her feelings in shallow waters. The smallest ripple or break in the surface tension and all came spilling out of her in a crashing cascade of consciousness.

Right now, she was keeping an awful lot at bay – Nancy could see the strain of it in the curve of her raised shoulders, the way that she was curled in on herself.

Nancy took a step forward, something bold taking her over. She reached out to rest her hands on Robin's, hoping that the tremble in them wasn't too noticeable.

She didn't think too much about how automatically she had pulled their clasped hands up to her lips, kissing Robin's knuckles gently. Nancy's entire being thrummed with anticipation at the shiver Robin was unable to suppress at the contact.

The bathroom suddenly felt very, very small. Too small to contain the unspoken words, the inescapable tension, the feelings that were building up to a fever pitch. Nancy felt the pressure of it all squeezing the air from her lungs until she could only draw ragged breaths.

She'd been circling her feelings for Robin for months, only able to keep her distance this long with conscious and continuous effort. The moment her concentration had slipped, her brain had been sucked into the whirlpool that was her obsession with Robin Buckley. Now that she'd gotten this far, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to pull away again.

They drifted closer still. Nancy's hands had found their way to Robin's waist now, holding on to her belt loops and pulling her ever closer. She struggled to keep her eyes from honing in on Robin's full lips. Their height difference made that hard; they were directly at eye level, and so she got a front row seat to her tongue darting quickly across her bottom lip.

Nancy was hopelessly staring now.

Just barely registering that Robin's hands were shaking, Nancy could feel them slide up her shoulders and settle at the base of her skull. Leaving trails of goosebumps behind with the touch. She fought a shiver. Her entire body pulsed with energy.

She slowly, deliberately pulled herself to her full height and rolled up onto her tiptoes. The distance between them was negligible now, but Nancy kept it there for the moment. Instead of pulling them together completely, she moved her grip, balling her fists into Robin's sweater. The sweater Nancy had gotten for her.

It matched Robin's eyes almost perfectly.

In a broken whisper, Nancy confessed, "I would really like to kiss you."

The words tore a half panicked laugh out of Robin's throat. Nancy almost laughed too, at the look of irritation on her companion's face, like she was inwardly cursing herself.

"Sorry about that," Robin said once she'd gathered herself, and then made an over-serious, sobered face, "I think you deserve to have everything you want, Nancy Wheeler."

A grin broke across her face as she watched Robin's head bob up and down, like that was an absolute. Like it was obvious and unquestionable. Something joyous bubbled in her gut.

Finally – finally – she used her grip on Robin's clothes to pull her down to swallow up the last little bit of distance between them.

When their lips met, Nancy's mind exploded with light and colour and vibrance. Robin's mouth was warm and soft and inviting and so Nancy pushed further up into the kiss, all but begging for more.

Robin seemed happy to oblige, and while keeping one hand curling into Nancy's hair, she wound one arm around her waist, hoisting her up a little more. Nancy thanked her with a whimper that escaped without her permission.

A whimper that descended into an all-out moan when Robin's tongue grazed her top lip. Nancy couldn't be more enthusiastic in opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. The hands that were holding tightly at Robin's chest loosened and found their way up to her shoulders instead, wrapping around them to pull her closer.

Nancy was very aware that she'd need to come up for air soon but by-and-by thought that this would not be a bad way to go: suffocating with Robin's lips on hers, arms strong and desperate and needy wrapped around her.

All good things, though…

When they parted, they were both breathless and hazy, foreheads pressed together still. Neither wanted to separate from the other completely. So they panted and grinned and blinked away the daze, sharing their space, their air and their stability.

Robin managed to speak first, of course, "I'm so glad that that's what you wanted."

Nancy giggled airily, her brain was still a little mushy, "'want'," she corrected, "present continuous."

"Ugh, you nerd," Robin chastised before swooping down to catch their lips into another blistering kiss.

Nancy tightened her arms, still slung around the taller girl's neck to pull them closer but moved to part them again. They remained in each other's space, breathing the same air.

"We should go back out before your parents notice we've been gone," Nancy reasoned.

Robin whined in a way that Nancy shouldn't have found attractive, "but they'll be all annoying until we tell them what's going on."

It made her smile. The fear from earlier forgotten, "let's just go tell them then, your mom already knows about my embarrassingly huge crush on you."

"She does?" Robin seemed genuinely shocked. And then her features softened into something teasing, "I can't believe you have a crush on me, that's so weird."

"I know, right?" She laughed, placing one last chaste peck on Robin's lips and pulling away.

"Wait, just so I'm clear: you have a crush on me?" Robin's voice was a little shrill.

"That's probably understating things," Nancy said while she fixed her hair in the mirror and then spun to face Robin again, "I'm pretty sure you're my favourite person on the planet."

The little "oh," sound that Robin choked out was unbearably cute, and so Nancy felt the need to hold her face in her hands.

"Are you okay?" She asked delicately.

Robin's eyes were watery, moments from spilling over, but she kept her eyes on Nancy's. Gentle and loving and awed.

"Hell yeah, Hot Wheels," she replied softly and Nancy's answering giggle was a bit watery too.

[kintrash413]

my father died when I was young, and his father was too senile to give advice, so when it came to be my turn taking care of the snail I had little idea how.

at first, I tried just putting it under a glass bottle. it was immortal, so it wouldn't die of starvation, so so long as I put it high enough that the glass wouldn't get knocked over, it should be fine.

this idea lasted a matter of hours before I felt bad. what if I were immortal, and some being beyond my comprehension decided to let me starve in a small room?

so I went over to petstop and bought a glass snail terrarium of sorts. it was empty now, but I also bought lots of accessories that I thought an immortal snail might like.

when I parked in front of my house, I realized the front door was slightly ajar. I knew for a fact that I had closed it when I left, just as I knew in this gated community a burglary was unlikely.

slowly, I turned around, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.

around my car tires, were shattered pieces of glass and shell.

I immediately backed up the car a few inches and ran back outside, already hyperventilating and panicking before I even saw the sorry state of my immortal pet.

its shell was gone, except for some sharp pieces that had stuck to its flesh. the snail itself still twitched, alive of course, but it was flat and bleeding.

I grabbed it and cried and ran back inside.

several youtube tutorials and wikihow articles later, I had the broken bits of shell extracted and the snail was already looking better. i placed it in the terrarium i bought, filling it with food laced with medicine.

I mustve stared at the snail, now more of a slug, for hours until finally it slithered forth and ate some of the food. I breathed a great sigh of relief.

"we're not off to a good start are we buddy?"

I 3D-printed a few shell designs I found online, and placed them all in its cage, waiting intently until it chose one. the rest I stored in case of another incident.

the next few months passed without issue. the snail healed and ate well.

I didn't work nor have much in the way of friends, so most of my hours were spent trying to keep the snail entertained. reading to it, watching TV with it, sometimes offering it food I cooked without worrying if such food was healthy. if it was going to live forever, it at least deserved delicious food.

the snail tried to escape a lot during those first few months. I learned quickly that putting the top back on was absolutely imperative.

a full year after my grandfather died I decided I was done grieving, and wanted to move from his house.

I sold the house for cheap- money was no objective after all- and moved several states over. the house I'd picked out had a decent few acres of land and was well isolated, surrounded by woods as it were.

I packed everything I wanted to keep. the back seat of my car was filled with clothes, stuffed animals, and blankets. the trunk held an air mattress and all of my carefully bubble-wrapped electronics.

food sat underneath the passengers seat, and books were stacked on top of the seat. on top of the books, i kept the snail's cage, high enough so it could see out the window. when immortal, did one still care to see such sights?

we spent a few days on the road, running out of food faster than I thought and surviving off of fast food.

I spent a lot of time thinking about immortality those few days. did the snail care when I offered it the best morsels of food if itd surely already eaten everything Earth had to offer? I knew my family history involved a lot of travelling, so did it even care when we passed through empty fields or big cities? had it seen it all already?

we slept in my car most of the time, I'd read aloud before passing out or just talk about any thought on my mind. but whenever I did find a hotel to stay in, I made sure to bring the snail with me.

I enjoyed snipping off bits of cloth and foam from pillows and sewing them together to make a snail-sized bed. the snail seemed to like it. did the immortal even need to sleep?

"we're home," I announced, excited and exhausted.

that first night, all I unpacked was my air mattress, a blanket, and the snails cage. we slept in the foyer, lacking the energy to even explore the house.

the next few weeks were unpacking and getting services in order. connecting the internet, changing my Amazon address, setting up a twice weekly maid service.

within a single month I'd unpacked everything, which honestly wasn't much. I still needed to go furniture shopping, but that could wait. today, was the real reason I wanted to move to the wood.

I opened the snails cage and stuck my hand inside. "cmon buddy, were going on an adventure."

once we were outside and covered by trees, I placed the snail on the grass and let it explore. I watched it for hours until it got dark and wondered if it was happy.

the first time the immortal man visited me, was a year after I'd moved in. I'd gotten around to purchasing some basic furniture, and the snail was rarely in his cage anymore. today, he was sat on my shoulder while I was sat on a beanbag and we were both watching TV.

the knock at the door couldn't have been anyone else.

unsure of the man's feelings on uncaged pets, I put the snail back in his terrarium for the moment while I opened the door.

"Hello, Booker," he greeted. he called everyone in my family by the same name, despite the fact that Booker hadn't been our last name in decades. "I noticed your card was only a few thousand short of running out." he then handed me a new card, which I took gingerly.

"do you... uh, wanna see the snail?"

"is it sufficiently caged?"

"yes?"

"then yes."

he admired the snail's cage for some time. "and youre certain the snail can't escape?"

I nodded, confident in this. "yeah, it hasn't escaped yet. plus the whole house is free of cracks or anything so even if it did..."

the man was nodding approvingly. finally, he stood back to his full height and met my eye. "you know, Booker, you are currently the last in your family. I do suggest you start cultivating a new one soon."

"oh- yeah, I guess..."

"it wasn't a suggestion." and then he left.

I slowly locked the door behind him, let the snail out again where it crawled on my arm, and downloaded a few dating apps.

getting dates was easy, having money made that part trivial. the main problem was when I brought them home and tried to express the importance of my pet snail. at that point, I was usually ghosted. and if not, they'd definitely leave when I tried to bring up the concept of immortality, no matter how casual I tried to make it.

it took a full decade before I met someone who took me seriously.

her name was Freya, and she called herself a witch. it seemed obvious, in hindsight, that I shouldve been looking in witch circles.

it's worth noting that I never shared much interest in romance or sex. even friends seemed difficult when my mind was always so occupied with the infinite. Freya was the first person who not only took the snail seriously, but also seemed to share my sentiments.

whenever she came over shed usually read in a separate room, and we'd take turns cooking meals. I'd never tell her, but I thought myself the better cook.

the next time the man came to my door Freya and her child had moved in. the child was being taught to be respectful of the snail. it seemed a miracle, but Freya had believed me about its immortality.

again, he brought me a new card, and again he asked to see the snail. he seemed pleased to see it still in its cage.

"hey, um..." I began awkwardly. to ask the man for something felt wrong, but Freya's child, Angel, had been pestering me about this. "does the snail have a... name?"

the man cracked a smile at that. "you wish to know this snail's history? tch, a rarity among Bookers."

the next day, a large dusty journal had been sent to my front door. Me, Freya, Angel, and the snail sat around the table and began to read it, for it was sent by the immortal man.

'hi. some time ago a man asked if I could care for his immortal pet snail in exchange for keeping me and my family wealthy. I thought he was crazy at the time but he's been paying up and it's been a few decades now so... I thought I'd write about the snail a bit.'

the snail, it seems, had been around since at least the 15th century. it went by many names, many pronouns, and been all over the world. a few different people had wrote in the journal, usually centuries apart.

"you should add something," Freya suggested.

I hesitate, looking at the snail. even though I knew, now, many of the names it had gone by... it seemed rude to give any immortal a name at all.

I took a deep breath, grabbed my pen, and started writing.

'my father died when I was young, and his father was too senile to give advice, so when it came to be my turn taking care of the snail I had little idea how...

at first, I tried just putting it under a glass bottle. it was immortal, so it wouldn't die of starvation, so so long as I put it high enough that the glass wouldn't get knocked over, it should be fine...'

Due to a pact between your family and an immortal businessman, the man keeps your family wealthy throughout the generations in exchange of safeguarding his immortal pet snail from escaping. You have just inherited the sole responsibility of being its guardian for the rest of your life.

[magnetarmadda]

WIP Wednesday Thursday because time is fake lol, thanks @blasphemous-lies-and-deceit for tagging me! I’m not tagging anyone since it’s not Wednesday anymore, but for all my writer friends, if you’ve got a wip you wanna share, consider yourself tagged

I’ve been finding writing very hard lately (anything, not just fic, which is rough because my job right now is all about writing research proposals and reports and articles), so this is a piece of what I’ve got for the next chapter of Love Like Gravity, which I will finish someday

The kitchenette is quiet at half seven, just Jon and the sound of the kettle to fill the small space. He's only half paying attention to the motions of his hands as they prepare his mug, a worn blue one Gerry gave him years ago when Jon started grad school. It lived on his student desk and has followed him ever since.

He's probably mostly awake by now, but it's hard to be sure. As the newest junior faculty member, Jon, of course, is teaching an 8 AM, and he's considering switching to coffee to get him through. This level of exhaustion on the everyday? It might kill him.

The click of the kettle draws his focus from daydreaming about his soft bed, and he pours hot water over the tea bag. He stirs in sugar and then pulls the mug close, the scent of the steeping tea a poor substitute for the caffeine, but he knows he'll be grumpy for hours if he drinks weak tea.

Jon turns to head back to his office and is startled by a colleague opening the door. He hasn't yet learned everyone's names, but he does recognize the man who gives a quick wave hello—Jon saw him speak at a conference a few years ago about developments in dark energy research.

"Jon, right?" he asks, his hand pausing between them as he spots Jon's mug.

Jon feels himself flush a bit. "Ah, y-yes," he says, half-grimacing. "Jon Sims. You're Oliver Banks, right? I saw your talk on—"

"—dark energy and the modifications of gravity. Yeah, one of my more popular ones," Oliver says, grinning. "Big mistake, giving the plenary at an international conference. People keep recognizing me."

"O-oh," Jon replies, his stomach sinking at his accidental faux-pas. "I'm s—"

Oliver raises his hands and makes quick calming motions. "Sorry, sorry," he says gently, like Jon's a spooked cat. "I forget most people aren't aware of my sense of humor. No, it's nice to meet you, and I'm glad you remember my talk."

Jon offers his best attempt at a polite smile, his tired brain struggling to figure out what to say next. "What brings you in so early?" he finally lands on, shifting his mug to one hand.

"Conference call with a couple of colleagues in other timezones," Oliver shrugs. "India, Japan, Germany—getting us all for an hour each week meant some sacrifices."

Jon snorts, thinking of a colleague he's trying to finish a paper with who moved home to Russia a few months ago. "I can sympathize," he says.

"Meetings for you as well?" Oliver asks, now moving to the kettle to refill it. Jon shift his body, following Oliver as they talk.

Jon laughs now. "I wish," he admits, shrugging. "I was assigned the 8 AM first year astronomy course."

"Ouch," Oliver replies, also laughing. "I wish I understood why someone decided astronomy should be taught in the morning. I spent years pushing to move it to the evening."

Jon nods, thinking of the conversation he had last week with Elias asking for the same thing.

"Maybe we should start a petition," Oliver adds. "Get enough faculty on it, maybe we can convince someone."

Before he can answer, Jon's phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees his calendar reminder. He grimaces as he dismisses it. "Speaking of," he says, waving his phone half-heartedly as Oliver looks over at him. "I have to go unlock the door."

With a matching grimace, Oliver wishes him luck, and Jon hurries to his office for his bag and the file folder of freshly printed problem sets.

[quotes121sworld]

Keanu Reeves gave the stunt crew on the set of John Wick personalized t-shirts after filming -->#KeanuReeves

Keanu Reeves gave the stunt crew on the set of John Wick: Chapter 4 personalized gag t-shirts after filming

By Kenzi Devine for Mailonline Published: 05:56 EDT, March 31, 2023 | Updated: 06:02 EDT, March 31, 2023 --> --> --> He is often known for his generosity to Hollywood performers and crew.And Keanu Reeves sent his thanks again as he wrapped up production on new film John Wick: Chapter 4.The 58-year-old actor gifted the film's stunt crew personalized T-shirts, each printed with the number of times they "died" during filming.Many of the action film's shots had to be reshot during production, which meant stuntmen had to perform a risky scene and "die" multiple times.As some were killed up to 20 times, Keanu took note and made sure they would remember the experience with a souvenir.

Stunts: It has been revealed that Keanu Reeves gave the stunt crew on the set of John Wick: Chapter 4 personalized gag t-shirts after filming (pictured in John Wick: Chapter 3 from 2019).The latest installment of John Wick was released just last week, and Keanu is once again transformed into the legendary killer. But not all daring tricks can be pulled off alone, with a number of stunt crews on set to make that leap - featuring a 35 stuntman stair fight scene.The film's fight coordinator, Jeremy Marina, recently explained to The New York Times, "You want 100 guys to fall down the stairs and you want me to do every reaction and fall differently. 'Of course you do. It was like we were fair another day at work.'Adding that Keanu made sure their work was noticed, he continued, "At the end of the shoot, Reeves made t-shirts for the stunt performers that had the number of times they'd been performed over the course of the entire shoot emblazoned on them film were killed.”Often known as one of Hollywood's "nicest guys," the t-shirts aren't the only thing Keanu has spent on the crew.After completing John Wick 4, he also gave each stuntman a Rolex watch, one of which reportedly cost around $10,000. Following the success of the 1999 film The Matrix, the actor reportedly made a whopping $75 million in profits and gave every member of the production crew $1.

BTS: In a recent on-the-spot conversation with the New York Times, the film's fight coordinator Jeremy Marina shared details about Keanu's talent

On set: He is often known for his generosity to Hollywood cast and crew (pictured with director El Roth)He does not save with his fortune, but also donates large sums to medicines and children's hospitals.In 2009, Keanu explained, "I have a private foundation that's been going for five or six years that helps help a few children's hospitals and cancer research. "I don't like putting my name on it, I just let the foundation do what it does."When John Wick: Chapter 4 hit theaters last week, a new report from The Wall Street Journal said Keanu's character said a total of 380 words throughout the film.Fans were impressed with the film's running time, which clocked in at a whopping two hours and 49 minutes including credits. The publication states: "As the John Wick films got longer and longer, they became stingy with the main character's dialogue."With a running time of 169 minutes, the fourth film pushes itself to three hours, but only contains 380 words from Wick."About 10 percent of those words are in the trailer, with the article stating that it "makes the hero seem almost garrulous." Director Chad Stahelski told WSJ that it was Keanu, 58, who edited out about half of the dialogue that was written for his character in the early script.

Genorous: After completing John Wick 4, he also gave each stuntman a Rolex watch, one of which reportedly cost around $10,000 Share or comment on this article: Read the full article

[faghubby]

"Go ahead baby, I know you need this" Linda laid next to me fully clothed. As I was naked jerking off.

"Your doing great, I feels good doesn't it" Linda told me.

"Are you going to cum, all over your tummy?" She asked

Lighty touching my chest. I spurted all over my stomach

"There all better" Linda told me.

"Go get cleaned up Tim" Linda continued. Linds got out of bed and went back to her home office. She had a big meeting in the morning.

I got up and showered. I crawled into the bed still naked. I read alittle and drifted off to sleep. I woke a few hours later as Linda came to bed. She wore a satin nightie. I became aroused again.

"If this is a problem for you I can find you somewhere else to sleep." Linda teased. But turned her back to me and pulled her panties down. I spooned her my hard dick rubbing against her soft ass. I dry humped her. Rubbing my didk against her soft cheeks.

"Don't cum on me" She tells me. As I get close I pull back and again cum all over my stomach. I kiss her ass and pull her panties back into place. I get up and clean up. Linda is asleep when I return.

In the morning I role over and see Linda wearing a tiny black thong with a matching bra pushing her perfect breast out. She rolled stockings up her legs.

"Are you going to get up" Linda said without even turning around.

"You look amazing" I told her.

"Thank you" She winked at me.

"I will be home late" She informed me slipping on a simple flower print dress and slipped on her shoes. A kiss to my cheek she grabbed her bag and was off.

Linda had cut me off from sex since she had started sleeping with Malcolm, her boss. It had been two months. Linda had confessed the first night. I forgave her but it also excited me. She realized it that very night. That was the last time we had sex. She felt like a slut sleeping with two men, so she had me choose which it would be Malcolm or me. I choose Malcolm after she told me how he had made her cum with his big cock. I hoped one day she would allow me to have ses with her again. I got up and showered. I had been unemployed for the past six months. So other then filling out applications online. I had taken to keeping the house clean. This left me alot of free time during the day. I often found myself watching porn. Often cuckold themed these days. I fantasied about eating a creampie but could not bring myself to even ask Linda. Today I clicked on a link to an instructional site. How to make a cuckold articles. Submission ideas. I spent hours reading. I wonder if Linda would like me to be more submissive. Wear her panties, become her sissy. I sent Linda the link.

/this is how you spend your day/ she texted back

/sorry didn't mean to bother you/ I replied

/ we will talk about this later/ Linda texted

Had I offended her? What if she thought me crazy? I spent the rest of the day cleaning, I wanted her not have any other reason not to be cross.

It was after ten when Linda came home. She headed for the shower.

"Anything to ask before I shower." She teased. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. She stripped and showered. Linda came to bed in flannel pj's. I was just wearing shorts.

"Is this more to your liking?" Linda asked. "Not being allowed to see my body? While you are naked in front of me?" She lifted the covers to see my shorts. I took them off.

"Whatelse?" She asked

"Eat Malcolm's seed from me?" She asked

"Maybe if I made you wear panties" She continued

"Lock up your little pee pee" She teased.

"Show me you want this" She said. She handed me a pair of pink bikini panties. I got up and put them on. I was rock hard. But the panties held my little dick. I crawled back into bed with her.

Linda rubbed my butt.

"Maybe even take your virgin ass" Linda teased.

"Tell me you want me to make you my little cuckold sissy" She told me.

"If you want me too" I answered

"No more masterbating unless I tell you too" She informed me. We held each other and fell asleep.

Linda gave me another pair of panties in the morning.

"I don't know what to do yet, but I want you in panties all the time though." She informed me.

I got up and went to shower.

"Maybe trim that hair" Linda pointed to the hair sticking out around the panties.

She stepped close behind me. She held out her phone. Showing me a pic of Malcolm's big cock. Her hand wrapped around it. Mine fit in her hand his would not fit in both her hands.

"This is why you belong in panties" She told me. She smacked my butt and I went to shower. I grabbed her tiny scissors and trimmed my pubic hair. Then thought why not shave it. So I did. Linda had left already. I shaved my self smooth, but I looked ridiculous with the hair on my belly and my thighs. So I shaved it off as well. Then went and put on the panties. These where different giving me a wedgie as they rode up my cheeks. I took a selfie to send to Linda and still thought I was too hairy. So I waited for the water to get hot again. Then took a bath. And shaved the rest of my legs and chest. Even my pits. I was smooth from shoulders to toes. When I finished. Only then did I send Linda a selfie.

/ so cute/ was her only response

I felt very submissive and feminine the rest tof the day. Even picky flowers from the yard for the house. I planned on a special dinner for Linda. I got a message at lunch.

/I found this, (a pic of a pink plastic chastity tube) is it small enough?/

I read the description,

/yes/ was my only reply

After dinner that night she laid me on the bed. "Rub yourself thru your panties." Linds told me. I did as she said

"Want me to help?" She asked.

"Yes" I begged. She grabbed some lube and squirted it on her fingers.

"Role on your side" She laughed. I did knowing what was coming. My panties pulled down in the back her cold lubed fingers rubbed my hole. She worked a finger in

"This what you want?" She giggled and pushed in a second finger

I moaned as her fingers massaged my prostate. I stopped rubbing myself as I focused what Linda was doing.

"A box is coming tomarrow. You are not to open it" She didn't make me cum instead leaving me wanting. I spent the rest of the night in just my panties. Ironing Linda's work clothes. Again I slept in only panties. In the morning I woke to Linda appling lube to my ass. She rubbed her vibrator against my ass. The tip slid in. And I moaned

"That's right you like your ass fucked" Linds told me. She pushed another inch in. I was moaning as she worked it in and out.

"My little faggot husband" She laughed. She had worked all six inches in then removed it.

"I have to get to work." She informed me. Linda was gone when I got out of the shower. I found a purple thong waiting for me. I also found sticky notes all over the house. With tasks on them. Chores I was to complete.

Linda called several times wanting updates. Encouraging me to send her pics of me first in just panties, then getting me to put on a bra. Then pantyhose. Then at the end of the day

"HI, sweety, I am going to see Malcolm this evening. Why don't you pic out one of my dresses. And wait for me."

"I was hoping" I whimpered

"Don't be sad little one, I will be home early" She told me. She sent me pics of Malcolm and her together mostly nudes. I did put on one of her dresses, I had never worn woman's clothes before. I picked a pink dress from the back of her closet.

Linda was home before 8. She came in and burst out laughing at me all dressed up in pink with lace and ruffles.

She opened the box that had been delivered. She pulled out a strapon cock. And adjusted the straps. It was 8 inch long toy jutting from her groin.

"Suck my cock, like I sucked Malcolm's" Linda told me. As I tried Linda gave me pointers on how.

After a few minutes she had me bend over the table and fucked my ass for the second time today.

"I am in more need of a wife then a husband. So you will become my wife. With all the duties that requires." Linda told me.

"You will clean up everything" She informed me. My ass was sore when she pulled her cock from me. She pulled off the toy and her clothes. She lowered her shaved pussy to my open mouth I tasted the now dry cum around her hole. I stuck my tounge in and cleaned her with my tounge and lips. When I finished she stood and pulled out a small satin bag inside it was the chastity tube

"I got the smaller one" She smiled and started fiddling with it. Before appling a small lock.

"Your my wife now I expect you to start acting like one."

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Ch. 24 of 27: Graduation

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

Choose Me Instead Masterlist

Words: 3.2k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, post-war Warnings: mentions of mental health issues incl. self-harm (only in like 2 sentences tho)

Four weeks until graduation …

Draco Malfoy and you were over. Whatever glimpse of happiness and fleeting bliss had been bestowed upon you – it was gone. It was gone and you were alone again. In your head, you replayed your last time together over and over and over until you felt sick to your stomach. For months did you pretend not to feel anything for him beyond friendship but damn, you loved him. You loved with him with every fiber of your body. Every thought on every day was devoted to him and him only. You looked for him in the hallways, glanced at him during class and each time your eyes met, another piece of your heart broke.

To be quite honest, you weren’t worried about yourself as much as you worried about him. You spoke to Theo from time to time, asking him about Draco. He told you exactly what you had suspected all along: his dreams had gotten worse. He skipped therapy sessions, spent his days scribbling in his black notebook instead. You knew it wasn’t fair to you but you still couldn’t help but blame yourself.

During meals, you watched him with Astoria who was glued to his side. To your surprise, she seemed happier. Even though she grew paler with each day she wore a smile on her face. An honest, happy smile. You heard her laugh and wondered if it had been this beautiful all the time. You watched her talk to Draco with a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. You wanted to hate her but seeing her like this? It certainly made it harder for you to do so. Still, each time you saw them walking to class or sit outside on the grass, your stomach plummeted and on particularly bad days, tears filled your eyes.

Eventually, you grew sick of feeling this way. You had fought hard for your own happiness to return after all the shit you went through and to now have it taken away from you in an instant by him felt humiliating. The whole mess started because you wanted to hurt Ron. So how did you end up hurting instead?

You tried tuning out the pain by burying yourself in work. Studying, quidditch training, stupid parties in the Gryffindor common room – you tried anything and everything to numb down the pain. It worked. For the most part. However, your thoughts always began to stray after a while. As soon as his image popped up in your mind, you pinched yourself as if you were trying to wake up from a bad dream. One time, you did it during a therapy session and Merlin, did you regret that. The lecture about self-harm that followed was definitely not worth it.

The days grew warmer. Sunlight fell through the dusty windows of the Hogwarts classrooms, the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass filled the air. Summer had begun to knock on the door. You weren’t ready to open it yet. Once summer arrived, your life would change once again.

However, before that happened you still had to get through your exams. You dreaded the thought of taking them. These past months … well, to put it gently, your focus hadn’t been on school exactly. Sure, you spent hours upon hours in the library but you weren’t sure how much of the things you read actually stuck with you.

“Ready?”, Ginny asked you the morning of your final exams.

You glanced at her and shook your head. She laughed. “Come on, it won’t be that bad. We’ve taken thousands of exams, we’ll get through it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Y/N doesn’t achieve the grades she needs to become an auror,” Hermione chimed in matter-of-factly. “That’s the worst that can happen.”

“Thanks, Mione,” you said dryly.

She smiled at you apologetically. “It won’t come to this, don’t worry. You got this. We all do.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

 ***

Two weeks until graduation …

You sat together with Ginny and Hermione at the Black Lake, feet dangling in the water, eyes closed as you enjoyed the sunrays warming your face. Ginny kept on talking about the tryouts for the Holyhead Harpies that would take place just a few days after graduation while you and Hermione only occasionally commented. You reassured her that she would do just fine. After all, there was no doubt in your mind that Ginny Weasley would join the team and have a successful quidditch career ahead of her.

After a while, the conversation shifted. Hermione worried about the amount of reading she had to do before her internship at the Ministry of Magic started, and you snorted. “They don’t expect you to know everything about the job beforehand, y’know?”

“Well, good impressions are important,” she replied.

During the whole afternoon, the topic of your future plans didn’t come up. Your friends sensed your apprehension regarding that particular topic. After the utter debacle that was your exams, you tried to forget that you were supposed to have an idea of what to do with your life in just about two weeks. You still waited on a letter from the Ministry, waited for the news that your plan had worked out. That you could become an auror, a dream you had since you could think. Yet, you screwed up and you weren’t sure if your performance in the final exams was enough to get you a placement. Thankfully, your parents were still too wound up in the whole drama Alissa brought with her. They didn’t even ask how your exams went and you weren’t mad. The importance of exams paled in comparison to the prospect of a life sentence in Azkaban.

A bee buzzed close to your ear and you opened your eyes again.

 ***

One week before graduation …

“You look horrible, darling.”

You rolled your eyes when Theo appeared by your side. You were on your way to the Great Hall, earlier than usual in an attempt to study a few more minutes in the library before your first class. “Thank you, Theodore. Just what a woman wants to hear before breakfast.”

He snickered. “Apologies.” Then he held his hands out, motioning you to give him some of the books in your arms to help you carry them.

“Accepted,” you said and gave him the whole pile of books instead. He groaned and you chuckled at him. “How are you then?”, you asked.

“Relieved about the fact that school is almost over.” He dodged a first year student who ran past him and one books slid dangerously close to the edge of the pile. You were surprised by how many students were already awake.

“Any plans for what comes after?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Travel.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Travel?”

“Blaise and I are going to travel around Europe for a few months,” he explained. “I need to get out of the country where everyone knows me as ‘that Death Eaters kid’ and Blaise is simply loaded with money and doesn’t want to work.” The two of you laughed at the last statement. “And afterwards …” Theo shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“That sounds nice,” you sighed. “When will you leave?”

“After Draco’s wed-” He stopped midsentence. “Ah, shit.”

You bit your tongue. Actually bit it. “It’s official then,” you said softly. “I haven’t seen the announcement yet.”

Theo stopped. You had almost reached the Great Hall. The Slytherin looked at you with sympathy. “It’ll come out today.” He lowered his voice: “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You avoided his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Theodore stayed quiet until you resumed your walk. “For what it’s worth, he doesn’t love her,” he finally said. The statement hurt even more.

“What a fucking mess we made.”

Theo nodded. He didn’t say anything else. When you walked into the Great Hall, he handed you the books back and softly squeezed your arm before mumbling: “I’m really sorry.”

He was right – the Daily Prophet printed the announcement of the wedding on that same day. Yet, when an owl dropped the paper onto your plate, you were oddly calm. You lowered the glass of orange juice carefully and rolled up the newspaper. Their picture was on the front page.

Astoria’s beauty was unlike anything you had ever seen. She wore a simple black dress and was glowing in the picture. She smiled widely as her gaze switched between Draco and the camera. Spooky how different she looked. You wondered if they had used magic to hide the circles underneath her eyes and the sunken-in cheeks. Draco stood beside her, wearing his trademark simple, black suit. His back was straight, his eyes focused on the camera. He didn’t smile.

As if you had felt his stare, you looked up. Draco sat across the hall at the Slytherin table, Greengrass – his fiancée – by his side who excitedly showed the article to Parkinson. You forced yourself to smile but it didn’t reach your eyes. He turned away. Just in time to miss the tears you had to blink away.

This isn’t right, you thought, none of this is right.

 ***

One day before graduation …

Tears streamed down your face as another sob shook your body. You stared at the letter in your hand, reading it over and over again. At this point, you had memorized every word but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,

When an owl brought you the letter, you didn’t open it immediately. You didn’t want to do it in front of your friends, already sensing what was written inside of it. So instead you grabbed it and went to the bleachers of the Quidditch field. High up above, where no one would interrupt you.

We regret to inform you …

It wasn’t entirely unsuspected but it didn’t hinder the tears from dwelling up. Before you knew it, they streamed down your face. Cold fear gripped your heart. This is it, you thought, it’s all over now. Your entirely life you wanted to become an auror. You had no plan b, no other option, it had always been this. And now you failed.

“Y/N?” The voice caused you to whirl around. “What happened?” Draco. His eyes widened in shock and concern when he saw your face. With three long strides he crossed the distance between the two of you.

“Draco …”, you whimpered and then he was there, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered and held you tighter. Instinctively, you relaxed against his body and let him embrace you. It felt so right. “Shh, it’s fine, it’s all going to be fine.” He repeated over and over. Sobs shook your body while your tears drenched his uniform. It felt as if hours had passed until you finally began to calm down. With each shaking breath, the scent of his cologne wrapped itself around you.

“What happened?”, Draco asked again when no more sobs escaped you and you quietly buried your face in his shoulders. Without a word, you held up the letter. A few seconds passed and Draco snorted. “Well, their loss,” he said, audibly disgusted.

You whimpered another time. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve done more, I-I …” You wiped over your eyes. “What do I do now, Draco?”

He sighed before he answered: “Anything you want. Y/N, you’re intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful – you can do anything you want.”

“Except for becoming an auror,” you scoffed.

“Maybe. So what?” He shrugged. “Fuck them. It’s their loss.”

You remained silent. Draco had his arms still wrapped around you. In this position, you almost forgot your situation. This felt so … normal. So right, so natural. As if it was meant to be. As if he was the one to hold you in this exact moment. You thought about asking why he was up here on this night but held your tongue. A part of you wanted to believe that it was because of you. Everything started up here on the bleachers, last year in September. Right here, the two of you talked for the first time in years. A conversation, you could recall to this day. Everything began here. Maybe he came back because he hoped to find you here. You wanted to believe that.

“It’s all I ever wanted to do,” you whispered after a moment. “I don’t have a plan b. I –” Another tear rolled down your cheek. He looked at you, his grey eyes full of love and adoration, and wiped it away.

“You’re hurting, I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s going to be alright though, I promise.”

You smiled sadly. “Everything goes to shit in my life, everything! The fucking war is over and yet I can’t seem to catch a fucking breath.”

“I believe, the war will stay with us for a lot longer than we thought,” Draco whispered. He didn’t let go of you as he watched the castle in the distance. The sun begun to set and drowned the Scottish landscape in its golden light. It was a marvelous sight.

Sudden music caused you to flinch. A group of seventh year students had arrived on the Quidditch field. Loud voices and laughter mixed with the rhythm of a new popular song. They weren’t from your house, you realized.

“I should leave,” Draco said. And when you recognized Astoria’s high-pitched scream as a drunken Blaise picked her up, you knew why he was here to begin with. Not for you. For them.

“Yes, right, I’m sorry.” You cleared your throat and sat up straight. Draco let go of you reluctantly before he got up. He looked at you and you wondered if he was going to say something. But even if he wanted to, he didn’t. He only nodded and then made his way towards the stairs.

“I feel as if I should congratulate you on the engagement but …”, you suddenly spoke up.

Draco stopped and glanced at you. “Don’t.”

You saw how a shadow flickered over his face. Then you remembered something else. “Wait, I have something for you.” You reached inside your back and pulled out a picture. He looked at you in surprise when he gave it to you. It was a picture of you two from the last Christmas, taken during a dinner. Draco had his arm wrapped around you and raised a glass of wine, an amused smirk on his face. You laughed in it, covering your mouth with your hand. It was the only picture of the two of you but you loved it. It showed Draco the way he truly was. The way he made you feel every time you looked at him.

“You carried it with you this whole time?”, he asked softly. He held the picture so carefully as if he was afraid to accidentally damage it.

You gave a half shrug. “Only for the last few days. I hoped to catch you alone at some point.”

“Thank you.”

“Will I see you?”

He looked up at the question.

“After graduation, I mean?”, you clarified. “Maybe send me an owl once or twice a year? I need to know you’re okay.”

“So you can rip out my heart again, little Gryffindor?”

You opened and closed your mouth at the statement. Draco chuckled. “I’ll do it. If you promise me to reply.”

“I promise.”

You didn’t know it yet but Draco would keep his promise. However, when you received his first letter, you broke yours.

 ***

A few weeks after graduation …

The last day of school came and went. Funny how you had expected it to be filled with tears and laughter when, in the end, it was just another insignificant day of the year. To be fair, some tears had been shed. Long hugs with your friends and promises to stay in touch were shared on the train station in King’s Cross before all of you parted ways.

Your parents picked you up. They looked like mere shells of themselves as they kissed you on the cheek. A lump formed in your throat when you saw their sad faces. They had aged immensely in these past few months, the stress had left deep wrinkles and tired eyes behind.

They didn’t speak much on this day. They only hugged you when you told them about the rejection from the Ministry. “I’m so sorry, darling,” your father had mumbled, “you’ll find something else, I’m sure.” A part of you was relieved they didn’t ask any further questions.

The next morning, your mother had asked you if you wanted to see Alissa. You didn’t. You couldn’t. The mere mention of her name made you grit your teeth. Alissa was the reason for all the suffering in your family’s life. For all the heartbreak and tears. All the sisterly feelings had shrunken during the past year. Now you were left with rage and hatred when you heard her name.

“Will you please come to the court hearing in two weeks then?”, your mother had asked when she noticed the expression on your face and you had agreed.

And here you were. Standing in your kitchen, a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hand while you listened to your parents screaming at each other upstairs. You had just come home from the hearing and now looked outside into the garden. The roses, once your mother’s pride and joy, were neglected, you noticed. Their heads hung, most of them dried up from the summer sun.

“Twenty-five years in Azkaban,” you mumbled to yourself. Alissa’s future. Twenty-five years locked away on an island. You had hoped the sentence would give you satisfaction. It didn’t. Instead it frightened you. Would Alissa survive this? Twenty-five years without seeing her family? Would your mother survive it? Or would she wither like the roses in her garden?

You took a sip of your tea and wondered how your life changed once again, now that the problem of Alissa was finally … resolved. It ended. The anxious waiting, the not knowing … it all ended. By now, she would have already arrived in the prison cell that would be her home for the years to come.

You hadn’t spoken to her. You had watched her in the courtroom while she didn’t look up at your family. During the whole hearing, her eyes were locked on the ground and she remained silent. It was the strangest sight – the broken-down woman in the dirty dress wasn’t your sister. The fiery spirit inside her had left a long time ago together with her beauty and wits. You stared at Alissa, desperately trying to find a glimpse of the sister you once knew and loved. You were unsuccessful. This woman was a stranger and your sister was dead. And you wanted nothing more than to simply move on.

“The nerve this family has,” your father muttered behind you. “Unbelievable.”

You sat the tea cup down on the counter and turned to him. The screaming had stopped, you realized. You had been so lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed how your father came downstairs again.

“What are you talking about?”, you asked.

Your father shook his head and handed you an envelope without another word. Your gaze fell onto the dark green emblem printed on the back and suddenly, your throat felt very, very dry. You’d recognize the sign anywhere. With shaking hands you opened the envelope and pulled out a card. 

“Can you believe it?”, your father asked. “They actually have the nerve to invite us to his wedding?”

***

A/N: I hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated! We’re almost finished with this story, I’m so sad btw.

CHAPTER 25

CMI Masterlist HP Masterlist

The tag list for this story is closed! <3

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[yoongiboongipoongi]

one night stand

REQUESTED by anon: ok ok can i request for a one night stand smut for cho seungyoun? thanks 😊

synopsis: the two of you get a lil too drunk and end up messing around in seungyoun’s bed. UNEDITED

pairing: dom!cho seungyoun x reader 

warnings: sub reader, cursing, drinking, unprotected sex? it’s not implied that they used protection but you can still imagine whatever you want lol

this is my very first request so i apologize if this isn’t good lol. smut starts under the read more line. lowercase intended 

the two of you weren’t dating, and you both considered each other as “acquaintances ”. however, the rest of your friends thought differently. literally anyone could see the sexual tension between the two of you. as yoomi, your closest friend, says: the two of you are going to start fucking any minute. seungyoun was a goofy kid that always cracked jokes with you, but there was always that one moment where silence enters and the two of you just awkwardly shift in your seats. 

“anda is our driver so let’s drink all we want tonight!” yoomi cheers and jumps up, acting crazy despite not even being at the club yet. you let out a small cheer after her and put down your makeup brush. you would usually put on fairly heavy makeup when you go to the club, but not when seungyoun was there. even though you consider him as a friend, it wouldn’t hurt to impress him at least a bit. you made sure your makeup was subtle but still showing your beautiful features. you put on light eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, foundation, and your favorite lip tint. 

the colorful lights were spinning around as loud music played, you looked around your surroundings, seeing crowds of people having the time of their lives (cue the day6 music). 

you, anda, and yoomi went to the second floor to find your other friends. according to yoomi, seungyoun was going to be there too. you bit your lip in excitement and walked into the private room. your eyes wondered around the group of people and on the very right you saw him. he was wearing a white button down shirt, a few buttons undone, plain black pants, and a black denim jacket with graphic designs printed all over it. simple, but extremely hot. the way he was sitting already drove you crazy. he was laid back slightly, legs spread out. you could already imagine you sucking his big fat di- 

“y/n? come sit down!” yoomi pulls you to the seating area. you feel a bit flustered, and you leave a little imaginary slap on your face for letting yourself get carried away into the world of horniness. 

the rest of the time you spent there was full of dancing, drinking, and constant glances towards seungyoun. you just couldn’t help it. it’s HIS fault for looking that good. he seemed to notice your glances, without even turning your way. you could tell by his small smirks occasionally. 

after everyone had left the club, you stumbled outside and looked around for anda and yoomi. when you looked to your right, you sat yoomi stumbling around with her boyfriend. 

you called out to her, “hey yoomi! where’s anda?” 

“i don’t know! i think she got drunk this time. i told that hoe not to drink, fuck,” yoomi walked off into the distance clinging tightly on her boyfriend’s arm. 

you sighed and stood, waiting for absolutely nothing. 

“what are you doing, standing there?”  seungyoun walked beside you, confused. 

“uh? i don’t knowwww” your speech was weird because of the large amounts of alcohol. your cheeks were extremely pink. 

“you know i noticed you looking at me the whole time,” he chuckled. 

“it’s cause you’re really hot-” you slapped your hand over your mouth in surprise. if you were sober you would probably run away in embarrassment, but instead you giggled and said: “oopsy, didn’t mean to say that”.

he turned his head over to look at you with an unreadable expression. 

“you think i’m hot?” he slowly walks towards you, another smirk slowly building on his face. you giggle again and nod aggressively. you were definitely going to regret this in the morning. once he was close enough to you, he bent down to match you height and tilted his head slightly. 

having a slight pout on your face, you matched his actions and tilted your head in the same direction. you blinked slowly, still feeling drunk. you noticed he also had a slight blush on his face from the alcohol. 

he slowly moved his face closer to you, until you dived forwards into his lips. he was a bit taken aback, but he quickly adjusted and grabbed your waist. it went from 10 to 1000 quickly, but neither of you cared. both of you were expecting this to happen anyways.

his lips were now stained a bit from your lip tint, but that didn’t matter. the two of you continued sucking the hell out of each others lips, not caring that you were both making out in an alleyway by a club. both of you roamed each other’s bodies with your hands, knowing what’s about to happen later tonight. 

after being in the alleyway for who knows how long, you ended up in his bed an hour later. he was on top of you with both of his hands by your head. the two of you were breathing heavily, eyes both filled with lust. 

immediately the two of you started removing your clothes, too eager and impatient for the foreplay. seungyoun threw his clothing to the floor, not really caring where it lands. 

after the last article of clothing was removed, your hands went to grasp his shoulders, already dripping wet with excitement and arousal. 

he used two fingers to circle your clit the gradually enter you. thrusting his long fingers. you were squirming in pleasure, burying your head in the pillow you were laying against. 

“fuck you’re so wet already,” he spreads your legs and grips your thighs with his hands. 

“put it in already,” you whine. 

“if you say so,” your curses were cut off with a sharp gasp. he entered his cock into you and started thrusting. he was the perfect size for you, hitting all the right spots. you moaned in pleasure and grabbed the bedsheets. your back was arched, giving seungyoun a closer view of your boobs. he brought you closer to the wall and leaned your body against it, so instead of you laying down, you were sitting slightly upright. he kept thrusting wildly while sucking on your boobs, leaving hickies on them occasionally. 

you pulled on his hair, lost in pleasure. “i’m about to cum!” tears threatened to spill as you were approaching your high. your legs were begining to shake and you pulled seungyoun into a heated kiss. 

“fuck you feel so good around my cock,” he groans. 

“cum on my cock,” your eyes roll back, letting out a pathetic moan. both of you came at around the same time, seungyoun coming after thrusting wildly for a few more seconds. 

the regret will hit you in the morning, but hey, at least you got good dick. 

[sankyeom]

the c in ceo stands for cute | k.yh

pairings: kim younghoon x reader genre: ceo au, secretary!reader x ceo!younghoon, strangers to lovers summary: in which your handsome boss is often mistaken as cold due to his good looks and forward personality, but is actually the sweetest introvert you’ve ever met word count: 7.2k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

“It’s been such a pleasure working for you, Mr Kim,” you told the CEO of the company you worked for, genuinely meaning every word.

Mr Kim beamed at you, eyes bright behind the large frames of his glasses. “The pleasure was all mine, Y/n,” he assured you. “You’re a marvellous help. My son is going to love you,” he was sure.

The heir of the Kim corporation, Kim Younghoon, was returning from getting his Masters degree from Harvard Business School just in time to take over after his father retired. He was a little young to be the CEO of such a large corporation, but Mr Kim had a lot of faith in his son, and spoke very highly of him.

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” you smiled, even though you were lying through your teeth.

There had been enough rumours about Kim Younghoon going around for you to know what to expect. His schoolmates said that he was often cold to them, giving blunt answers instead of mingling with his peers, and having an air of superiority around him. You asked some of your older coworkers if they knew much about him, since you had only been Mr Kim’s secretary for a little over two years, and they feared him too much to have ever really approached him.

Of course you knew that it was unfair to judge a person by the rumours surrounding them, especially if you never even had the chance to meet this person, but there seemed to be no positive stories about Kim Younghoon at all. Sure, his face was plastered across billboards for being an excellent businessman and for having great instincts when it came to the stock market, but he never smiled in any pictures; not even the ones on his social media (which had millions of followers).

Mr Kim seemed to know you well, giving you an intentional smile. “He’s not what people expect him to be. You’ll see when he arrives,” he promised. You decided to take Mr Kim’s word for it and give the new CEO a proper chance, despite the fact that Mr Kim was very biased in this situation.

“I think it’s time for me to get home,” Mr Kim admitted, handing you his almost-full champagne flute.

The Seoul division of the corporation’s office had held a farewell party for Mr Kim, celebrating his many years of building up the company and all the people whose lives he impacted while he was CEO. “So soon?” you asked, helping him up from his chair. “You’ve only had one slice of cake.”

Mr Kim laughed. “I’ll take a good night’s sleep over a second slice of cake,” he assured you, taking your arm and letting you walk him to the elevator. “You know that I like you a lot, don’t you Y/n?” he asked you.

You couldn’t help but smile back at the man who was almost like a second father figure, and your most influential mentor. “Yes I do, Mr Kim. It’s been a pleasure.”

“I consider myself quite lucky,” he replied, saying his farewells to you before letting his chauffeur walk him to his car.

You waved as the elevator doors closed and sighed to yourself when Mr Kim was gone, looking around to see what was left of the office party.

You knew you were good at your job. Throughout high school and college, you found it difficult to figure out what you wanted to do with your life. All you knew was that you had good organisational and people skills, and you wanted to do something creative and exciting. At first, the idea of being someone’s secretary sounded dreadfully boring and time-consuming. But as you started to learn more about the profession, you liked the idea of being able to be apart of different projects as well as organising someone’s time.

“Hey, Y/n,” your coworker Kevin called over to you. He was someone you worked with a lot because he was a part of the design department, and no design ever went out without Mr Kim’s direct approval. “Where did Mr Kim go?” he asked.

You smiled, making your way over to him and the group of people he stood with. “Home,” you informed him. “I think he appreciated the party, but when he said he wanted to retire, he really meant it.”

Kevin laughed, raising his champagne flute in the air as a toast. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “Did he give you any details about the new boss?” he wondered, quirking an eyebrow in inquisitiveness.

“Not really,” you admitted. “He said that he thinks we’ll get along, and that he’s not what people expect him to be. But aside from that, he didn’t give me much.”

“Damn,” Kevin sighed. “I just want to know if he’s as scary as people make him out to be. I mean, attending a prestigious business school overseas and not making any friends? That seems kind of weird.”

“A little,” you agreed, accepting the champagne he offered you and sipping it. “I don’t know. I guess if you already have a decent set of friends at home, and your priority is to finish school as quickly as possible, then I can see why he might come across as unfriendly.”

Kevin hummed. “I suppose,” he agreed, downing his champagne. “Now c’mon. We need to dance and actually have fun at the party that you spent weeks planning,” he insisted, letting you finish your drink before dragging you over to where you had pushed chairs and tables away to make room for dancing. “Tomorrow, the new boss arrives. And if he’s half as bad as people say he is, you’re going to wish you had partied.”

You arrived at the office the next day an hour earlier than you usually did. You weren’t sure what time the new boss would be arriving at, so you just decided to be early. Fidgeting with your clothes, you smoothed them down as best as you could as you waited in front of the CEO’s office for Younghoon to arrive. You had already printed out a plan of things Mr Kim had left him to finish up for the next three months, but you didn’t have any more specific plans after that.

After half an hour of waiting around, hushed whispers rang around the office area. Taking this as a sign that Younghoon was on his way, you stood up tall with all of your papers, planner, and clipboard, and took a deep breath in to calm down. Not long after, Younghoon’s familiar face – which you recognised both from billboards, magazines and articles, as well as Mr Kim’s framed pictures in his office – appeared in front of you with two men trailing after him.

He was handsome in a chic way, with deep set eyes and high brow bones. His cupid’s bow was slightly pointed, and his lips in general were turned down into a sort of passive frown, as if he had a mild case of resting bitch face. All in all, he was intimidating. Tall, handsome, and rich. You dealt with men like this every day, but none of them looked at you as indifferently as Kim Younghoon was.

You put on your best smile. “Good morning Mr Kim,” you greeted. “My name is Y/n. I’m here to assist you with whatever you need. I’d like to go over your schedule for the next few months based on what your father already had planned, if now is a good time,” you told him, wanting to get that over and done with.

“Now is perfect,” Younghoon replied, allowing you to open the door for him before he let himself into his new office. You breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when he was inside, recovering quickly to smile at the two men he came with.

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Y/n. I’ll be Mr Kim’s secretary,” you introduced yourself again.

Both men returned your cheery expressions. “Nice to meet you, Y/n,” the one with the dark brown hair greeted. “My name is Sangyeon. I’m the head of Younghoon’s security, but I’m mostly just an old friend,” he admitted. “This is Juyeon,” the man with the black undercut smiled, which made his otherwise angular face seem soft and cute. “He’s Younghoon’s chauffeur but he’s another old friend.”

“We’ll see each other a lot so I hope we get along,” Juyeon chimed in.

“I’m sure we will,” you promised, already feeling comfortable around them. The two men exuded positive energy and a carefree attitude, which helped to calm your nerves just a little bit. Following them into Younghoon’s office, you motioned for them to sit in the two seats in front of Younghoon’s desk, where he was already sat in his office chair.

“We can talk about redecorating the office after we discuss your schedule, if you’d like,” you suggested to Younghoon, noticing the way his eyes were darting around the office. It was left the same way that Mr Kim had wanted it, only most of the belongings that he cherished had been moved into his personal office at home.

“Don’t bother,” Younghoon replied in a quiet voice, leaving you to smile awkwardly at his friends. “You said something about my father having plans for me?” he added.

“Right,” you nodded, taking out Younghoon’s agenda and placing it down in front of him. “Your father had already agreed to a few things before he retired,” you explained. “As the new CEO, you’re expected to carry out these events. I’ve colour coordinated everything that you have set, as well as given you the time and location of every event,” you pointed to the different coloured sticky tabs. “Since we’re going into the last quarter of the financial year, it’s not as busy as the rest of the year but there are more charity-related events than at the start of the year.”

Younghoon held your gaze, taking in your worried eyes and your shaking hands. “How kind of you,” he decided, sending you a half-smile before thumbing through the rest of his journal.

You thanked him quietly, feeling even more deflated now than when you were waiting for him. “Just so you know, I’m going to be arriving the same time everyday as I did today. You don’t need to arrive before me, we can arrive at the same time. And please don’t call me Mr Kim. Mr Kim is my father, you may call me Younghoon,” he said in his calm drawl, done looking through his schedule and glancing up at you. “Can I keep this?” Younghoon motioned to the planner.

“It’s yours,” you assured him.

“Then that’ll be all for now,” Younghoon gave you another half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be familiarising myself with my father’s previous system of organisation and then I’ll meet the main teams this afternoon after lunch. Send the word out that I expect an update on what they’re working on right now, but I don’t want any presentations. Just an informal chat.”

“Of course,” you nodded, placing the stack of papers you were holding on his desk. “These are from legal, they need you to sign off on some patents by Thursday. I figured I’d give you some time to read through them and I can collect them from you Thursday morning,” you informed him. “My schedule for the day is always on this,” you tapped his desktop screen. “We have access to each others’ electronic calendars. It has everything that I put in your planner so far in it already. You can add whatever else onto it so I’m up-to-date. You can see my calendar so you know where I am if you ever need something and I’m not around. I’ll call the team managers right away and schedule your meetings with them.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” Younghoon said.

“Can I get you anything to drink or eat?” you offered, extending your words to Sangyeon and Juyeon as well.

“We’re good,” they assured you, Younghoon nodding in agreement.

“If you need lunch reservations, just let me know,” you smiled, exiting the room and almost collapsing onto your chair. After a moment to catch your breath, you picked up your phone and began to dial the number for Kevin’s cubicle.

“What’s he like?” Kevin exclaimed instead of answering.

You rolled your eyes. “Mr Kim wants a meeting with all the main teams. I’m having the design team go first so. How does 1 o’clock sound?”

“Fine,” he agreed, so you opened your laptop and updated Younghoon’s digital calendar. “Seriously, though. What’s he like? Apparently he didn’t smile when he came into the building at all.”

“Sound accurate,” you mumbled quietly. “I don’t know, Kev. I’ve only met him once. He seems like he’s focused and willing to do the job, so there’s not much I can say.”

“Yeah, okay. But is he a jerk? Unsociable?”

“Well, he’s no fairy princess,” you allowed. “That’s all I’ll say. Like I said, I’ve only met him once. And he’s the CEO of a huge corporation. We’ll have to see.”

“I guess so,” Kevin sighed. “Oh my god. He wants a meeting with all the main teams? I don’t have enough time to make a presentation, what am I supposed to do?”

“I think he wants to be caught up on the current projects and put some faces to the names, is all. Don’t worry too much. You’ll do great,” you motivated your friend. “Now I have to make some other calls, so don’t freak out, okay? Bye.”

As you hung up, Juyeon stepped out of Younghoon’s office. Automatically, you stood up to give him a smile. “Do you need anything?” you offered, earning a grateful smile from him.

“No, no, I’m just on my way to do some errands for Younghoon,” Juyeon waved off your concern. “Thank you, though.” You nodded, sitting back down and going back to organising the team meetings. “You seem like you’re good at your job,” Juyeon complimented. “Very organised. Colour-coded, even,” he added.

“That’s me,” you laughed. “Was it too much?” you wondered. “I mostly did it to kill time waiting for him to come into the office.”

“You’re all good,” Juyeon assured you.

“What errands are you running?” you inquired. “If Younghoon needs anything, I can do it for him. It is my job, after all.”

“Just picking up some stuff for his office,” Juyeon said vaguely, giving you a sheepish smile. Recalling the way that Younghoon disregarded your offer to help him redecorate his office, you felt the nervous feeling in your stomach rise up again.

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?” you said gloomily.

“He doesn’t know you,” Juyeon retorts. “And you’re great, really. If you were my secretary I’d be jumping for joy,” he promises. “You just… need to get to know him. He takes time to get comfortable with people.”

“Okay,” you smiled sadly. “Well, let me know if I can help with your errands. You can call the lobby and ask for me, they’ll forward your call.” Juyeon waved goodbye and you watched him walk out, slightly upset that Younghoon wanted his chauffeur to do your job, even if they were old friends.

“He’s scary,” Kevin told you when you came to check on him after his meeting with Younghoon. “The new Mr Kim is nothing like the old Mr Kim,” he added.

“What happened?” you asked, wondering what wound Kevin up so much. You knew that Kevin often overthought social interactions, as most socially awkward people do, but you had never seen him so jittery at work before.

“All he did was stare at us and take notes,” Kevin revealed. “He didn’t make any comments or expressions or anything. He just sat there, listened, then dismissed us like we’re school children.”

You winced. “That must have been tough,” you sympathised. “But I mean, it’s only the first meeting,” you tried to find a way to defend Younghoon, giving him the benefit of doubt.

“Sure, but first impressions are kind of important,” Kevin argued. “It’s not like I need to be his best friend the second we meet, but a little communication would have been nice.”

“I’m sorry, Kev,” you sighed. Just as you were about to offer to grab him some coffee, knowing how much he adored the bitter concoction, your phone rang. “Mr Kim,” you answered, seeing that it was forwarded from from your office.

“Younghoon,” he corrected.

You grimace. “Yes, Younghoon. I’m sorry, sir, force of habit,” you said, making Kevin cringe when he realised who you were talking to.

“Where are you?” Younghoon asked, his tone even.

“I’m taking my break,” you explained. “It’s on my schedule.”

“Yes, I see,” Younghoon hummed. “I’m looking at it right now. It doesn’t say where you are, though. I thought it was supposed to say that.”

You cursed silently. “You’re absolutely right, sir. I’m sorry. I can come back immediately,” you offered.

“Please do,” Younghoon said before hanging up the phone without saying goodbye.

“It is Mr Sunshine?” Kevin said sarcastically. “What’s up with you calling him by his first name?”

“He asked me to,” you shrug, putting your phone back in your pocket. “I gotta run. I’ll see you later?” Kevin waved and off you went back to your desk. “Mr- Younghoon,” you corrected yourself, finding Younghoon leaning against your desk waiting for you. “I’m sorry. What did you need me for?”

“You didn’t have lunch,” Younghoon said, tapping your laptop, which was open with your schedule on it.

“Pardon?” you asked.

“You didn’t take your lunch break, which means you haven’t eaten lunch,” your boss elaborated. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to lunch.”

Startled by his offer, you started shaking your head. “That’s alright, sir, I’ll just make a reservation for you.”

“I insist,” Younghoon retorted, taking his phone out of the pocket of his slacks. “Do you feel like eating anything in particular?”

“I’m not picky,” you said quietly, realising that you wouldn’t be able to get out of this.

“I’ll order in,” Younghoon decided, handing you his phone. “Pick whatever you want, it’s on me.”

“That’s really not necessary,” you attempted to argue, but Younghoon insisted.

Half an hour later, you were sat in the plush chair in front of Younghoon’s desk in his office, eating your noodles slowly as you observed your new boss. You weren’t sure if you were just misunderstanding him, or if he really was as blunt and cold as people said he was. However, you respected his father too much to make assumptions based on the first day of meeting him.

“My father speaks very highly of you,” Younghoon broke the silence in between bites of food. “He says that you’re the best secretary he’s ever had. And that you’re one of his favourite people he’s ever worked with.”

“Wow, that’s very high praise,” you said, stunned that Mr Kim even shared his compliments to you with his son. “I’m sure you and I will get along once we get to know each other better, too,” you offered.

Younghoon nodded. “People often misunderstand me,” he began. “I know that people think I’m cold and antisocial. Some people even think I’m arrogant,” a smile graced his face, one that was full and genuine. It lit up his sharp features and softened his entire face, causing him to practically glow. “The truth if that I’m just not very good at what I do yet. A lot of people have expectations of me and I want to meet them. But I’ve always been more reserved and introverted, so expressing that is hard for me.”

Pleased that he was opening up to you, you gave him an encouraging smile. “I understand,” you assured him. “I found this job really scary and hard when I first started. Mr Kim helped me a lot, and he made the office a warm environment where I felt comfortable.”

“I want to do that too,” Younghoon said. “But I also want people to take me seriously. I know I’m taking over much earlier than everyone expected me to, myself included, and I want to make a good impression.”

“You will make a good impression,” you told him. “It will just take some time.”

Younghoon nodded. “I think I scared the design team this afternoon,” he mumbled.

“You did,” you confessed, having just heard Kevin’s experience. Younghoon’s eyes filled with worry, brows furrowing together slightly. “But I think they would’ve been scared no matter what you were like.”

“I have a lot of positive things to say about them,” Younghoon told you, taking out his tablet and handing it to you. You took it, scrolling through the notes he took during the meeting. It was filled with compliments and suggestions to better the project.

“Kevin would love this,” you exclaimed. “These notes are very conceptual and visual, that’s exactly what helps him.” Handing his tablet back, you had to ask. “Why didn’t you say anything? Apparently, that’s what made the meeting the most daunting.”

“I didn’t want them to think that I thought I knew how to do their jobs better than them,” Younghoon confessed. “Because I don’t. That’s why they’re here.” The realisation that Younghoon was truly misunderstood hit you hard, and somehow it made you feel quite relieved. “I must have scared you this morning, too, then.” You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said easily. “Everything is still very new. Anytime you need help with this kind of thing, or if you’re unsure about anything, just talk to me. That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

Younghoon smiled again, and you observed how his handsome face could actually look quite cute. “Thank you, Y/n. Now eat your noodles before they get too cold.”

“Yes, boss,” you agreed, grinning before digging back into your lunch.

You first heard the news that the cost of company shares had plummeted from one of your friends in the finance department. Chanhee was good friends with you and Kevin, and he practically ran to your desk when he first saw the numbers going down.

“What happened?” you wondered, confused as to why the shares were going down in value all of a sudden. “Our most recent project was incredibly successful. Our shares should be going up in value more than anything.”

Chanhee bit his bottom lip, eyes flitting to the large oak door that led to Younghoon’s office. “He’s at a lunch meeting with a prominent fashion designer,” you explained, causing Chanhee to nod in relief.

“It’s Mr Kim,” Chanhee admitted, lowering his voice.

“Mr Kim?” you echoed. “Did he do something before Younghoon took over?”

Chanhee rolled his eyes. “No, I mean the new Mr Kim,” he corrected. “He only lets you call him by his first name,” he added, something that you hadn’t known. “When the news broke that he’s taking over, people started selling their shares at low prices. So, the value went down.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, confused. “But, he hasn’t even been here for a month yet? How can the public make such quick decisions on how he’ll impact the company?”

“Reputation is just as important as skills,” Chanhee reminded you. “You know that well. Mr Kim’s reputation is… Well, you work with him. I’ve been in meetings with him. He seems a little…”

“Cold?” you offered, sighing at the predicament at hand. Chanhee merely smiled, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Okay. We can fix this. I can talk to Younghoon when he returns from his meeting and-“

“Talk to me about what?” Younghoon called, stepping into the room with Sangyeon and Juyeon in toll.

Juyeon waved. “Hi, Y/n,” he greeted you, Sangyeon nodding in acknowledgement.

“Hi Juyeon, Sangyeon,” you replied, standing up from your chair as Chanhee trembled. “Younghoon, I was just talking to Chanhee about the company’s finances,” you said vaguely, giving Chanhee the chance to bow and duck out of the room.

“I’m assuming you mean the share and stock values,” Younghoon nodded, motioning for you to follow him into his office. “I saw it before heading into my lunch meeting. I don’t think it should be a big deal,” he decided, taking a seat at his desk as you closed the door behind you. “I can just have a meeting with the investors to explain my situation and get things straight. Once they know I’m reliable and competent, the matter will surely be resolved.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” you confessed, causing Younghoon to pause in his action of opening his planner. “It’s just that reputation is very important here. Especially in large companies such as yours,” you added. “I think it would be best if we focused on stimulating your image more. So far, people only have rumours about you from your business school peers, as well as magazine and newspaper interviews to go off of. You’re still a mystery to the public.”

“I like my privacy,” Younghoon explained, a small pout forming on his mouth.

You averted your eyes from his lips. “But image is still important. Your father had the image of a friendly family-oriented man who raised money to build homes for the underprivileged population,” you recalled. “We could have some events to stimulate your own image. Parties, charity events…”

“You really think this will help?” Younghoon asked, eyes resembling those of a scared puppy.

The fact that he had terrified you so much upon your first meeting felt like a hundred years ago to you. Now that you had been working together for almost a month, you had seen how nervous Younghoon was. And how cute he could act. Seeing him around Sangyeon and Juyeon also helped. The pair was hilarious and they always brought out a happier, more relaxed side of Younghoon that you were pleased to see.

You knew that Younghoon just wanted to do well and make his father proud. He was less confident in his abilities than you thought he should be.

You nodded. “What should we do?” Younghoon wondered.

“I think we should find something that you enjoy and promote it,” you began. “What do you like to do, other than work?”

“I don’t have time for much else,” Younghoon thought. Whenever he was deep in thought, his head tilted to the side and and his eyes looked up at the ceiling as he mumbled under his breath. It was a truly cute sight.

“He likes music! He’s actually a pretty decent singer,” Sangyeon supplied for his friend, giving him an encouraging smile when Younghoon stammered a denial,

“That’s great,” you exclaimed. “We could talk to our charity department and look into funding music programs at schools. Arts are always underfunded and could use our help,” you suggested. “And I think that meeting with the investors is a good idea. But instead of talking about your qualifications and experience, you could talk about the direction you want to take the company in. Focus on the fact that you took over from Mr Kim the second he needed you.”

“Does that makes me sound soft and emotional?” Younghoon asked. “I don’t want to look weak in front of the investors.”

You smiled. “The investors are here because they trusted your father’s vision for the company, and they trusted that he was a family man who wanted to do good with the assets his company had.” You recalled the many meetings you sat in on with Mr Kim, and how much everyone adored him. “You take after your father. The fact that you finished business school early to help him with the company, and that you want to do well will please the investors.”

Juyeon laughed. “Your secretary knows this company better than you do,” he teased his friend.

Younghoon managed a smile, meeting your eyes amongst his giggling friends. “That’s why I need her,” he reminded Juyeon, a comment which made you beam.

“Y/n!” Sunwoo from advertising called out to you as you walked down the hall. He came rushing in your direction, despite the fact that you stood still to wait for him, holding a stack of papers in his hand. “Could you get these to Mr Kim for me?” he asked you, passing the papers on. “They’re the final proposals for the advertising of his charity event,” Sunwoo explained.

Younghoon’s meeting with the investors had gone really well, and he had definitely won their favours and respect. He mentioned wanting to invest in art and music programs because of his own passion for music, and had many ideas for a charity event to promote their program. The investors, always happy to go to a party and excited for the direction Younghoon wanted to take the company in, were overjoyed with his suggestion.

“Um, sure,” you agreed with furrowed brows. “Why don’t you just bring them to him, though? Your office is on the same floor.”

“Oh,” Sunwoo stared at you with large, round eyes. “Can’t,” he stammered. “Meeting. Gotta go. Thanks, Y/n!” he called, waving at you as he darted away in the direction of the elevator.

Ignoring his odd behaviour, you flipped through the pages to make sure everything was there before making your way back to your desk. When you arrived, you sorted out the notes you had photocopied for Younghoon from Sunwoo’s proposals, just as you heard another person call you name.

“Would you be able to give these to Mr Kim?” Changmin from human resources asked, showing you a thick stack of papers, stapled together in the top left corner. “They’re the human resources policies for the next financial year. He wanted to see them before the end of the week so he could sign off on them.”

“I can,” you agreed. “But his office is right there. Why don’t you just go in and give them to him? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you since he’s cooped up in his office all day.”

Changmin gave you a nervous smile, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “I would, but I actually have someone on hold at my desk,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened. “Why did you bring me this while waiting for someone? Go, go! It could be important,” you shooed him away, earning a loud thank you from him before he rushed to get back to his desk.

Sighing, you stacked his papers on top of the ones you were organising and made your way into Younghoon’s office, knocking on the door to let him know you were coming. “Woah,” Younghoon stared at the large pile of papers in your arms as you entered, leaving the door open behind you. “That’s a lot of photocopied notes from your meeting with Mr Park,” he observed.

You laughed at his comment, spreading the papers out in three neat piles in front of him. “I also have Sunwoo from advertising’s final proposal for the charity event ads, and I have Changmin from human resource’s policies for the next financial year.”

At your revelation, Younghoon groaned and buried his face in his hands. “They hate me,” he whined, looking at you from in between his fingers. “They don’t even want to come into my office. I always wonder if people are meeting their deadlines, since nobody ever comes to see me. But they just like you better than me.”

“They don’t like me better than you,” you deny, causing Younghoon to laugh ironically, removing his hands from his face so his pout was visible. “They just know me better than you! You’re still their new, cool, super educated boss. They haven’t gotten to know you yet.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled, flipping through your notes. “How do I get them to know me better?”

“Well, it might help if you don’t just stay in your office all day,” you suggested unsurely. “You don’t seem very… accessible to them.”

“But I like being in my office,” Younghoon told you. “It means you’re just a single door away. I like when you’re close by. It makes my day better.”

Your eyes widened at his unexpected compliment, causing Younghoon’s expression to follow suit. He laughed awkwardly, pink dusting his cheeks in embarrassment. “Was that inappropriate? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he apologised quickly, clasping his hands together and leaning slightly away from you.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’m glad that you’re comfortable around me.”

“I’m more than comfortable with you,” Younghoon corrected, standing up from his chair to be at eye-level with you. His tall presence used to want to make you cower away, but now that you knew Younghoon personally, you felt secure enough to meet his eyes and lean into him. “I’m… safe. Happy, even.”

The admission made you grin, not minding the way you could feel his breath against your cheek or the fact that you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. “I make you happy?” you whispered teasingly, relishing in the way that Younghoon’s cheeks darkened even further, a nervous laugh leaving his lips.

“Blissful,” Younghoon corrected, his eyes shining with warmth.

“This is cute,” a voice called behind you. You startled, turning to see Juyeon and Sangyeon standing in the doorway of Younghoon’s office, smirking at the two of you. Sangyeon had spoken, looking like he was ready to burst into giggles at any moment. “Do you guys always make fond eyes at each other when we leave you alone?” he teased.

Ignoring his comment, you greeted the two with a smile and excused yourself from Younghoon’s office to go cool off; you could feel your face heating up with embarrassment and wanted a moment to catch your breath.

In the time that Younghoon had taken over as CEO, you had gotten to see many sides of him. On the first day, he was open with you after making a bad first impression on you and you had decided that you would give him a chance. You hadn’t realised how shy and cute Younghoon could be. Of course, he could be loud and carefree around old friends like Sangyeon and Juyeon as well, and he was slowly starting to make jokes with you as well. Now, he was saying that he felt downright blissful when you were around.

The change made you really happy.

On the night of Younghoon’s charity event, you had arrived early to make sure everything was in order. Dressed to the nines, you had to admit that you were pleased with how you looked that evening, putting in a lot of effort since you knew that the event meant a lot to Younghoon.

After discussing how the dishes should go out with the catering company, you allowed yourself to take in the large ballroom now that it was empty and before it would be overcrowded with rich investors, businessmen, and press. Just as you were going over the schedule for the evening with the event planner, you heard a sharp intake of air behind you.

“Wow,” you turned around, revealing Younghoon standing there breathlessly.

He wore an elegant black suit and tie, topped off by perfectly styled hair and his usual silver watch that his father had given him for getting into Harvard Business School. Younghoon always looked handsome, but in this moment, he was absolutely radiant. He looked like he belonged at this event, like he was the CEO of the Kim corporation.

You smiled. “I could say the same,” you complimented, motioning to Younghoon with your hands. “You clean up pretty nicely.”

“Ah, well, my secretary did get my suit perfectly tailored to fit me,” Younghoon said, smoothing down lapels of his suit jacket with a beam.

“Your secretary must be smart,” you replied, stepping towards Younghoon and adjusting his tie properly. “Because you look great. Dignified, sophisticated-”

“Handsome?” Younghoon asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You know you’re handsome,” you retorted with an eye roll.

“Maybe,” Younghoon shrugged, placing a hand on top of yours on his chest. You froze at his action, glancing up at him through your lashes. “But I want to hear what you think.”

“You look very handsome,” you allowed, trying to speak as smoothly as possible without indicating how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“If I look half as good as you, I’ll be happy,” Younghoon replied, gently releasing your hand and clearing his throat. “You did a really great job arranging this event. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Well the event planner organised it, I just told her what you wanted,” you said humbly, denying the large part you had in the event.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Younghoon told you. “If I know you at all, then you were constantly jotting down details that I mentioned vaguely and made sure that the event planner fixed everything to my preference,” he paused. “And I’d like to think that I know you quite well.”

“Believe me, you do,” you answered. “And thank you. For seeing the work I put in.”

“It’s you,” Younghoon shrugged. “I always see you.”

As the event began and more guests started coming, you were delighted to see Mr Kim enter with Younghoon’s mother on his arm, beaming at all the familiar faces he saw. “Mr Kim!” You called out to him, not having seen your old boss since his farewell party.

“Y/n,” Mr Kim replied, accepting a hug from you and releasing you so you could greet his wife. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“I’ve missed you, Mr Kim,” you admitted. Of course you loved working for Younghoon too, but you hadn’t seen Mr Kim in far too long.

“I’ve missed you too, Y/n,” Mr Kim promised. “Although, I’ve heard a lot about you from Younghoon any time we meet. It seems that you’re all he has to talk about, more so than his company,” Mr Kim narrowed his eyes at you playfully, a knowing glint in his eyes. “He seems quite taken with you.”

Taken with you. You could feel the butterflies start to wake up in your stomach as your heart beat a little faster at Mr Kim’s implication. “He’s wonderful to work with,” you told him, brushing off the way Mr and Mrs Kim were both giggling at you. “You’ve raised an amazing man.”

“Well, he certainly make us proud,” Mr Kim allowed. “You look nervous. You should be relaxing, Y/n. You planned a very successful charity event.”

“I’m more nervous about Younghoon behind nervous,” you admitted. “I just want him to know that he’s doing well. He always thinks he’s not doing good enough even though he’s gone above and beyond.”

“He might relax if he sees you have some fun,” Mr Kim said, stopping a passing waiter to get champagne for himself, Mrs Kim, and you. “A toast to Y/n and Younghoon’s partnership,” he proposed, causing the three of you to clink glasses and sip the bubbly beverage.

“Mum, Dad,” Younghoon appeared at your side, greeting his father and then his mother with hugs. “I didn’t know if you two would make it tonight.”

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Mr Kim assured his son, causing Younghoon’s lips to spread into a wide smile. 

“You did great today, Younghoonie. You and Y/n have a lot to be proud of,” Mrs Kim added.

“Thank you, Dad, Mum,” Younghoon was ecstatic to hear praise from his father. “I couldn’t have done it without Y/n, though. I’m grateful that you hired her.”

“I bet you are,” Mr Kim hummed, winking at his son before facing Mrs Kim. “How about a dance?” he offered, excusing themselves and making their way to the dance area.

When you turned to face Younghoon, his face seemed to have reddened. “What did my dad tell you?” he wondered.

You raised an eyebrow. “Um, just that you talk about me to him a lot. And that you’re quite taken with me,” you recalled, realising how romantic Mr Kim’s descriptions were.

Younghoon whined embarrassedly, shutting his eyes as if it would make him disappear. “I told him not to talk to you about any of that, I wanted to tell you all that myself…” he muttered, opening his eyes to see your curious expression.

“All what?” you asked dumbly, hoping that you weren’t just getting your hopes up at Mr Kim’s implications.

“The way I feel about you,” Younghoon explained nervously. “I wanted to tell you… Tell you that I’ve loved working with you these past few months. That you make me nervous and excited and happy whenever I’m around you. How hearing your voice makes my day and how I can barely contain a blush any time we’re alone. That I’m falling in love with you more and more every single day…” he trailed off, gently taking your hands in his. His touch was familiar now. “I didn’t want my declaration to be in such a public place, though,” Younghoon’s eyes flitted around he crowded ballroom.

You laughed, tears blurring your vision just slightly. “It’s fine,” you promised him, lacing your fingers through his. “I don’t care where you tell me, as long as I know.”

Younghoon nodded, taking your comment as permission to pull you closer to him. “This is the part where you tell me that you feel the same,” he whispered, close enough in proximity for you to hear his murmur above the noise in the ballroom.

“You seem confident that I return your feelings,” you mentioned, trailing your hands from his up his arms, across his shoulders and eventually to rest on the back of his neck. “What happened to the sweet, introverted Younghoon that couldn’t even smile at me when we met?”

“Precisely that: I met you,” Younghoon told you. “Now, if you’re not going to tell me that you feel the same, you should at least kiss me,” he added as an afterthought. “It would only be fair.”

“Well, in the name of fairness…” you trailed off, lifting onto the balls of your feet to lean up and press your lips to Younghoon’s. 

The pounding in your heart only intensified, encouraged by the way Younghoon smile against your lips before returning your kiss. In that moment, it didn’t matter that you were in public at all. All you could focus on was the way Younghoon’s lips felt on yours and how he pulled you impossibly closer to him with each bruising kiss.

“Disgusting,” you heard a voice mutter, easily recognising it as Juyeon’s after months of seeing him almost every day. Reluctantly, you pulled away from Younghoon, glancing sideways to where Sangyeon and Juyeon were sipping on champagne to hide their excited smiles.

“You guys know that you’re in public, right?” Sangyeon added.

“It’s my event,” Younghoon shrugged. “If I want to kiss my secretary then I will.”

“I hope you don’t go around kissing all of your secretaries,” you retorted with a laugh.

“Just the one I’m in love with,” he replied, sending you a wink that made your heart flutter.

note: this was a long one but i hope you still enjoyed it!

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Twelve Months - Good Omens fanfic

Happy 31st Anniversary of Good Omens! :D

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I have posted a slightly-sad, slightly-sweet Wake the Snake fic on AO3, because our demon has been napping for a whole Twelve Months, and sometimes Angel gets a little lonely!

Thank you all for another fantastic year in this fandom!

--

Twelve months.

Aziraphale pushed open the door to Crowley’s flat, a simple shopping bag tucked under his arm.

The lights were still off, the curtains drawn in the awful empty room he called a study. Nothing had changed.

He passed through the enormous, rotating section of wall and into the solarium. This was still bright—many of the plants flourishing despite being unattended so long, despite clearly not having enough water. A few had started flowering. They waved their branches at him as he entered, perking up eagerly.

The angel waved back, but first he peeked into Crowley’s bedroom.

He was still where Aziraphale had left him, on his last visit a month before. Bright red hair spilled across black pillows, grown into a stringy mop. Duvet pulled up to his messily-bearded chin. One hand curled up beside him on the bed.

Still asleep.

With a sigh, Aziraphale crossed over to the plants, who greeted him excitedly, unfurling their newest leaves, a few vines hanging down to brush his face.

“Hello, my lovelies. How are you all doing? Look at you, grown at least a foot since I saw you, I’m sure. And you! What beautiful pink buds. Very impressive.”

He didn’t think Crowley would approve of how he spoke to the plants, but the poor things had been so distraught on his first visit, straining to keep upright, trying to hide their yellowing leaves. So much healthier now, much happier for just a bit of attention. He picked up the watering can and gave them all a quick splash. He didn’t know how much water each needed, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“You keep it up, dears. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Picking up his shopping bag again, Aziraphale headed down the hall to the kitchen. The kettle sat on the island where he’d left it, and he quickly refilled it and set it to boil. While he waited, he pulled his latest creations from the bag: a small pumpkin spice cake from a recipe he’d been perfecting since fall, a lemon coconut cake, and a few apple cinnamon muffins.

Two plates—a muffin for each, a slice of the coconut cake for himself and the pumpkin spice for Crowley.[1] The rest went into the refrigerator, where they would never go bad or stale.

Aziraphale put the plates onto a tray, along with forks and napkins. Next he found two mugs and pulled the little tin of his second-favorite tea out of the bag just as the kettle boiled.

For himself, a teaspoon of the expertly blended leaves, steeped for exactly three minutes, resulting in a pale brown tea with a slightly spicy aroma. For Crowley, he dropped a tea bag into boiling water and let it sit until it was almost black.[2]

He carried the tray back to the solarium and selected a bright red-and-gold tulip that was nearly vibrating in its eagerness to be noticed. A moment to assure the other plants that they were still doing fabulously—particularly a self-conscious little succulent that had rather drooped over the winter but was making a fine recovery—and he once more headed into Crowley’s bedroom.

Crowley had rolled over, and now sprawled on his back, sleeping soundly. He’d apparently kicked a bit, too, as the blanket had slid down past his stomach. Aziraphale smiled as he set the tray on the chair he’d brought in some months ago and got to work.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, dear,” he started cheerfully, carefully rearranging the objects on the little bedside table. “I have a few things for you again, I hope you don’t mind.” Just enough space to slide the mug and the little plate. Perfect.

“I received a package from Tadfield again. Everyone wrote a note and then gathered them all together, really quite clever. They’re all doing well, if a bit bored.” The table was nearly overflowing with little items now, brought in by Aziraphale to cheer the place up. Framed pictures of their human friends, quarantining with their families, clustered in one corner so tightly you could hardly see them anymore.

He pulled the latest out of the shopping bag. “Anathema has started a garden,” he explained, pausing to show the photograph to Crowley’s sleeping form. It showed the witch, kneeling outside her little cottage, working on growing several rows of herbs. “I got the impression she was off to a rough start, but she hopes to send us some mint in the next package. Although Newt warned me not to expect too much, as they’d already forgotten which patch is mint and which is oregano.” He set the picture with the others, and slid the potted tulip alongside it. “I’m sure she could use some advice from you, when you’re ready to share.”

“Nnnnh.” Aziraphale spun eagerly, but no, just Crowley shifting in his sleep again, rolling onto his side.

The angel paused to pull the duvet back up to Crowley’s chin, tugging it straight and smoothing a hand down his back. In a way, his friend was nearly unrecognizable, with that hair and ridiculous beard, but in another way looked the same as ever. That was always Crowley’s way, of course, constantly changing yet somehow always the same.

He lingered, taking in the shape of that face, leaning close, lips hovering above his cheekbone—

Aziraphale pulled back, quickly digging into his bag again. “Oh! Ah, the, um, the children have been making projects for their art class. This past month was sculpture, and they sent us some. Look!” He pulled out four little figures of oven-baked clay. “Ah, young Wensleydale has made a very clever model of a train car. Brian’s is…abstract.” He turned the next a few different ways. “And Pepper’s is, ah, either a very complex symbolic representation of the Patriarchy, or…a troll, I think.” They just fit on the edge of the table, all in a line, a very mismatched tableau. The fourth, on the end, was the best, in Aziraphale’s opinion. “Adam made a little Dog, and it’s very well done, don’t you think?” The canine figure posed with one leg raised and head cocked, ready to play, but the shadow it cast was just a little too large, too ominous, for such a small creature.

With a sigh, Aziraphale shifted the row this way and that. “I sent a letter to Warlock, over in America, but haven’t heard back since Christmas. I believe they’re very busy with something. Politics. You know how it is.” When the Dowlings had left England, they’d planned to return for a visit the following summer. A global pandemic had had other ideas.

“In any case, that just leaves Tracy and Shadwell. I understand he’s decided to hate the concept of literacy this month, so no word on how his war with the squirrels is going. And Tracy has declared she will spend the summer making a fairy garden. I thought her sketches looked very promising, and she promised to send us an update in June. I’m sure you’ll find it charming.”

“Hrrrrm.” Crowley sank under the duvet, nestling down a little deeper. Aziraphale smiled, settling into the chair with his plate and mug.

“Things are loosening up again,” he explained, taking a bite of cake. Delicious, if he said so himself. Sharp and not too sweet. “People are getting vaccinated, shops opening up. It’s really a lovely breath of fresh air, at least when you’re not wearing a mask.” A long sip from his mug, then he held it, fingers tapping. “It’s been nice walking through the park again, just in time for the baby ducks. And that record shop at the corner, they’ve had some wonderful new additions. Which reminds me.”

Putting aside his mug, Aziraphale dug through the bag again and pulled out a handful of square plastic cases. “They had a whole shipment of those little records the Bentley likes. Modern music. I picked out the ones with the rudest names. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them.” He pulled out the first disc and placed it atop Crowley’s phone. The device blinked in confusion a few times, then obediently copied all the music.

“Of course, it’s not all good news.” He stacked the rest of the discs atop the phone and returned to his tea. “Reopening means the customers are coming back. Yesterday, this one individual spent almost an hour browsing the same three shelves. And then he tried to make off with one of my books.” Another long sip. “Granted, he offered to pay, but still. What sort of establishment does he think I’m running?”

Aziraphale paused, waiting for Crowley to respond, not that he ever did. The demon’s eyelids moved a little, but no more.

Sighing, Aziraphale turned to his muffin. “You know, many times in the last year, I’ve wished you were there. Particularly during reopening phases. You could have posed as a customer, and then I’d be able to tell people I was at the capacity limit. Oh, and the people who would call to try and buy my rarest books. Collectors, or so they claimed, but then they just turn around and sell to anyone for twice the price! I’m sure you’d have some biting things to say about such people.” He smiled at Crowley’s sleeping face. “I’ve missed that, and your jokes. Rather more than I expected to.”

When his plate and tea were finished, Aziraphale set them on the floor and reached again into the bag. “Now, I have been attempting to teach my computer how to use the internet. I think it’s going quite well. Adam and his friends gave me a ‘homework assignment’ to find articles on recent news events, and I made the most wonderful discovery. Did you know that humans now share their news through humorous pictures? I printed out my favorites to show you.”[3]

He flicked through a few. “Ah, to start with, a few months ago there was this American politician with amusing mittens who showed up everywhere for a few days. It was extremely droll.” He leaned closer, holding them up for Crowley to see. “Ah, a few more from America. The murder hornets arrived, though by that point everyone had forgotten them. The election became increasingly confusing, and it all ended in a parking lot. For a little while everything was ‘This-or-That Total Landscaping,’ and before that everything was cake.” He showed a few extremely clever illusions. “I did try to make my own, but couldn’t manage it without miracles, which I felt was cheating.”

Really, leaning like this was starting to strain his back. Aziraphale shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, the better to share his pictures. “Ahhh. Also for a time everyone’s calendars were stuck on ‘March.’ And then earlier this year, a group of people learned how the stock market works, but sadly not how to spell it. The whole situation seemed very much like the sort of thing you’d be involved in. And…Oh, this angel from a television show was sent to Hell for…reasons.” He glanced at the shape beside him. Crowley had curled in slightly, pressing against Aziraphale’s back. “Yes. Various reasons. And then this musician, I suppose, went on his own. Both had many people extraordinarily upset.”

The next few images would really tickle Crowley, if he could actually see them. “The biggest news is that a large ship got stuck sideways in that canal in Egypt. Stopped half the world’s shipping for a few days while they dug it out! I’m sure you would have liked that very much. Exactly your sort of trouble. The humans were all very excited.”

The final photo was another of the ship, an image Aziraphale had made himself, printing out a blank version and writing on it in felt-tip pen. The hull of the enormous ship was labeled, “An eternity putting up with the tedious bureaucracy and frequently conflicting commands of my superiors until I begin to doubt my own judgement and sanity,”[4] while the small digger working steadily beside it was “Crowley.”

Aziraphale watched the demon beside him, not really expecting a reaction, certainly not getting one. He reached over, brushing brilliant hair back from Crowley’s forehead. “I think you’d have had rather a lot of fun last year. Or perhaps you’d have been upset you could only watch from a distance. Or…”

He’d leaned much closer than he’d intended, hovering just above Crowley’s forehead.

“Well!” Aziraphale stumbled to his feet. “I suppose that’s just about everything.” He picked up the tray from where he’d rested it on the floor, starting to re-load it with everything he’d brought in. Crowley’s cake and tea sat untouched, as always, but Aziraphale wouldn’t dream of skipping them. “We’re all very optimistic for the summer. Two months and everything should be just…just tickety-boo. Perhaps we can go for that picnic soon, if…yes…”

They’d made such plans for 2020. All the things they would do now they were free. Plans, and other thoughts carried in their minds, possibilities that would play out in their own time. Not too fast, just a slow, steady exploration of everything they could be…

“Well. Pleasant as that idea is, best not to—to plan too much, as the previous year made fools of us all. I just…” He turned away from the tray and watched Crowley sleep, hands clasped before him. “I miss you terribly. And I wish…very much…”

He picked up his shopping bag. One item still inside. The same one he’d been carrying for months, trying to find the courage to bring it out.

With a shaking hand, he reached in and drew forth a soft hand-made doll. He’d spent much of the winter on it. Simple white cotton for the head and body, wooly curls for the hair, and stiff white lace for the wings. Dressed in waistcoat and bowtie made from Aziraphale’s favorite tartan.

He still wasn’t sure why he brought it. He’d stitched several little toys, particularly a lovely black-and-red serpent with gold button eyes that had watched him from the sofa since November. But this, for reasons he couldn’t articulate, this one was for Crowley.

“I, ah…” He shuffled closer, doll clutched in both hands. “I made, um…” Back to the edge of the bed, one hand fumbling across the duvet. “…thought you might like…”

Crowley’s face stood out in stark contrast to the pillow, pale skin and bright hair. Aziraphale wanted to drink it in, memorize every detail, to hold him over until next month. The curve of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones. His lashes flickering as his eyes moved. His lips, pursed ever so slightly…

“Bless it, Angel, are you going to kiss me or not?”

Aziraphale gasped, pulling back from the bright gaze of slit-pupil eyes. “You—you’re awake!”

“Nnnh. Half.” Crowley shifted, head moving across the pillow, eyes threatening to shut again. “Wouldn’t miss your visit.” One hand reached out, plucked the doll from Aziraphale’s unresisting fingers. “For me?”

The angel nodded. “If…if…you like it…or I could—I could just…”

Without a word, Crowley pulled the doll under the duvet and curled up, tucking it under his chin, a faint smile on his lips.

“If you were awake you—you should have said something! I’ve been going—going off like a fool all this—oh!” Aziraphale could feel his face turning hot as he recalled a few times his tongue had been a bit too loose for propriety.

“Mmmmmh.” The golden eyes were shut again.

“Crowley?” No response. “Crowley!” Aziraphale scowled. “Anthony J. Crowley, if you’ve fallen asleep again, I swear, I’ll—”

He’d do what? The angel fumed, but what could he really threaten? To stay away? Never.

“Alright then, I suppose I’ll see you in June. I’ve had several new requests for extremely rare manuscripts and I need to go pen some responses reprimanding these vultures for their cheek. I can—”

“You can stay.”

He spun around. Crowley had one eye barely cracked open. Gently, he pulled back the duvet, showing there was just enough space for Aziraphale beside him.

“I…I couldn’t.” But he stepped forward, not back. “I have business tomorrow, things to—”

“Just tonight then.”

His fingers brushed the mattress and pulled back as if burned. “You—you don’t really mean this, you’re just talking in your sleep.”

“Nah.” Crowley settled the doll by his pillow, making space. “Why else would I give you my key?”

“I…to…water the plants?”

“They take care of themselves.” Crowley held open his arms, eyes shut once more. “I missed you, too.”

Well. What could he say to that?

Aziraphale took off his shoes and slid into bed, into Crowley's arms. They wrapped around him gently as Crowley wriggled closer. “Mmmm. Y’r softer than the doll.”

“Oh.” He’d been called soft many times, generally as a way to imply he was a failure as an angel. But just this once, it made him feel rather pleased. “Soft is good?”

“Verrrry good.” Crowley twisted a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to rest his long limbs, and finally settled curled up against Aziraphale’s chest, tucked below the angel’s chin with a leg hooked over his knees.

The angel smiled. “And you’re…you’re noodlier than a stuffed snake. Err…”

A chuckle, just a stirring of breath across his throat. “Can’t wait to hear the story behind that.” Crowley nuzzled against his shoulder with a sigh. “Good night, Angel.”

Aziraphale swept the brilliant hair back again and bent down, pressing his lips to Crowley’s forehead. A soft, gentle kiss that made his friend smile a little more broadly. “Good night, my dear.”

Crowley drifted off again, burrowing close, as the angel continued to gently tease the back of his hair. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps tomorrow's work wasn't so very urgent. Perhaps a bit of rest would do him good. And perhaps...

Well. Don't plan too much. But for the first time, Aziraphale felt a bit of optimism about the coming summer and its possibilities.

“Sleep well, Crowley.”

[1] Crowley had invented pumpkin spice, and Aziraphale assumed he must like it. In truth, Crowley despised it, and regretted every autumn how it took over the entire world. He missed apple cider season. [2] Aziraphale had suspected since the early 1950s that Crowley secretly took his tea with several lumps of sugar, but would continue to pretend he didn’t know until Crowley confessed. Considering current circumstances, that was unlikely to be any time soon. [3] Aziraphale’s fax machine, revived after over three decades of disuse, had been somewhat confused to be asked to perform any task at all, much less to print memes onto photo paper with perfectly balanced color; but like the plants and Crowley’s phone, it couldn’t stand to disappoint the angel. [4] It was possible he hadn’t quite mastered this new form of communication.

[newtonsheffield]

Thank you for the wonderfully angst Benedict and Sophie headcanons you wrote! Perfection, as always.

I was wondering if you’ve done anything about the start of Bridgerton Wives Club and how they came up with their nicknames. Did Kate do them all when she made the shirts? Did they have a girls night and talk about them? Did they pick each other’s?? Did they base them off of comments their husbands have made?? I love BWC so much and I need all the headcanons

(Sorry if you’ve already written it and I’ve missed it!)

Hello! Hello! Hello Again!

Ahh the Bridgerton Wives Club. My proudest legacy. The BWC is a truly manic pool of energy capable of everything from drunken roller skating rink parties to charity fundraisers. And here’s how They started following the mention of them in the newspaper that named them as such!

Kate Bridgerton was certainly not as embarrassed as she should be about how long she spent on her iPad doodling away at a logo for the newly dubbed Bridgerton Wives club. Kate had seen the article dubbing them such, and found it truly hilarious. Maybe it was that she still got a secret thrill at seeing her name connected with Anthony’s family, as though she was truly part of it, maybe she enjoyed the comparison to The First Wives Club, or perhaps it was just that Maternity leave was driving her absolutely insane. She couldn’t be certain, but she could be certain that this was what she’d needed to do.

She’d spent a solid three days carefully designing the logo, another few days scouring the newspaper gossip columns for clever little comments about her and her sister in laws until she’d seen them. Lucy’s was the most obvious. She was described as Heiress Lucy Abernathy on almost every mention. Something that always had Lucy rolling her eyes. Penelope had been mentioned in a supposed war with Eloise Bridgerton (completely false) and the writer wondered if she’d choose the Pen or the sword in retribution. Kate, who had known Penelope since she was 19 knew that she would choose both. Sophie’s came not from a newspaper article but from drinks they’d had a few weeks ago when Kate had drunkenly spilled the beans about her and Anthony and an...encounter on the staircase. And Sophie poor, sweet Sophie, had turned fuchsia when she told her own story about getting caught with Benedict on the lawn of a bed and breakfast they’d been staying at. Sweet, but a little psycho. And Kate’s had naturally come by way of Anthony who had muttered several times about Generalissimo Bridgerton,

She’d spent another hour and a half screen printing the tshirts as her sister looked on as though she’d lost her mind. And honestly perhaps she had.

“Maternity leave has been very rough for you, hasn’t it Kate?” Edwina said a little primly as she bounced Edmund happily. Kate scoffed

“There’s no need to be jealous, Eddie.” Edwina had looked back at her as though she’d never been less jealous of anything in her life.

Anthony had given her an equally odd look when she’d unveiled them later that night.

“When did you even have time to do this? Are you not supposed to be looking after our Child while on maternity leave, Kate?” He’d said dryly though she could see him fighting a smile.

“Babies sleep a lot Anthony.” Kate said just as dryly, rolling her eyes at her husband. Anthony scoffed.

“You mean your sister was here today.”

“Edwina was here today yes, she’s a very supportive Aunt. The two are unrelated Anthony.” Kate scoffed with an air of finality gathering up her shirts and sweeping from the room leaving Anthony looking yes, a little adorable with Edmund on his lap whispering

“Mummy’s never going to get the other girls to wear those, Edmund.”

“You’ll see!” She called out from down the hall.

Even so, she was a little startled at the enthusiastic reception her idea received from the other members of the little club she was forcing into existence. Lucy had laughed brightly though her eyes had rolled when she saw the name printed across the back of hers

“My Uncle Robert’s going to love that.” She said, fiddling with the engagement ring on her left hand “Though it is nicer than the name he called me last night. Apparently I’m just Gregory’s tart now.” Kate had scoffed.

Penelope had smiled happily, already pulling the shirt over her head. But Sophie had stopped. Staring at the shirt, despondently. Concern had welled in Kate’s chest.

“Sophie, if it’s the nickname I can change it I just thought it was funny.” Kate said gently sitting down beside the woman who looked as though she was about to cry. Sophie took a deep breath.

“No it’s just... I’ve never really been part of a club before, even a stupid, kind of made up one like this.” She all bit whispered in disbelief . Kate felt tears prick at her eyes and had to clear her throat to dislodge the lump building there.

“Excuse you, the BWC is not made up. And we’re very glad to have you, now Penelope, get that blender ready, Lucy brought the good tequila and we’re celebrating.” Kate said firmly.

And she had to admit, when they showed up to Violet’s garden party a week later, Anthony’s look of annoyance was well worth her effort.

[soyforramen]

If you have time/energy, 41 for the bughead prompts pls! It’s the “overhears they have feelings for you.”

Now that i finally have the time, here’s some fluff to counter the angst!

-

             Betty paused at the door to the Blue and Gold office when she heard voices.  This late in the day, it was usually only her and Jughead still working on the college newspaper. Or, rather, while she continued working diligently on page layouts while he worked on homework on the couch.

             “It’s not that big of a deal,” Jughead said.  “Right?  So I should just say it.”

             She peeked in through the crack in the door and saw him pacing back and forth, his hands waving wildly in the air.

             “If it’s not that big of a deal, why haven’t you said it?” came a reply from Toni.  

             Strange; Toni was always the most punctual person on their team.  Her photos had been ready to print for over a week, and she rarely spent her free time in the office..  Unless Jughead had dragged her into his usual shenanigans regarding things that went bump in the night?

             “Because –“

             Jughead stopped and made a pained noise. Unsympathetic, Toni snickered, and even Betty had to cover her mouth from laughing.  As much as she enjoyed his company, even Betty had to admit it was amusing to see him get so wrapped up in himself.

             “It’s just three words,” Toni pointed out.  “And it’s not like it will kill you to say it.”

             “She might.”

             “Betty is not going to murder you –“

             “Not her, Cheryl.”

             This time, Toni burst out in peals of laughter that covered up Jughead’s response. Curious to hear her cousin’s name, Betty leaned closer to the open door.   The fiery tempered red-head was as much of a fan of Jughead’s as he was of hers, and that wasn’t saying much of anything.  

             “Cheryl is why you’re afraid to say ‘I love you‘?”

             Jughead grumbled something inaudible, and Betty glanced up and down the halls to make sure she was alone.  This close to information so pertinent to her life – Jughead was in love???? When did that happen??? Why??? - the last thing she needed was someone as boisterous as Kevin or Veronica yelling her name down the hall. Pressing herself against the door frame, Betty bit her lip and tried to calm her pounding heart.

             “The last time someone even mentioned asking Betty out –“

             Betty had to bite her tongue to keep from starting.  A pen fell from her pocket and echoed in the empty halls. There was a silence, and she waited to be found out.  

             “That was because it was Reggie Mantle doing the asking,” Toni pointed out, completely ignorant of being eavesdropped on.  She continued in a less than sure voice. “Besides, Cheryl … doesn’t dislike you.  She’d probably even be happy with you if you got Betty out of the apartment for something that wasn’t school or work.  You know, like a date?  The thing people ask about when they like someone?”

             Now too nervous to stay still, Betty rushed from the door, clutching her bag to her chest, and fled to the bathroom.  As soon as the door closed behind her, she couldn’t help but clasp her hands together in glee.  She and Jughead had danced around each other for over a year now and the closest they could get to anything called ‘dating’ had been a late-night stake out to see if the Dean of the Journalism school really was moonlighting as a click bait writer for BuzzFeed.

             She breathed deeply to calm her nerves. Try as she might, she couldn’t contain the thrill of hearing that Jughead Jones, the guy she’d been crushing on since freshman orientation, liked her.  Not just liked.  He loved her.  Betty couldn’t help but hug herself.  

             Straightening her shirt and steeling herself to be as forward as she imagined Cheryl would be, Betty stepped out of the bathroom and made her way, once more, to the Blue and Gold office. As she neared the office, Toni emerged and sent her a wink.  

             “Good luck in there, boss,” Toni said with a salute.

             Betty bit down a response and opened the door.   Jughead jumped up as if electrocuted, his face white at the sight of her.  Any other time, Betty would have rushed towards him, asking him twenty different questions to try and figure out why he looked so ill.  Now, though, it was all she could do to keep from smiling.

             “Good evening, Jughead,” she chirped.  

             He stammered a reply and she set her backpack on her desk.  

             “You know what I really love?” she asked, unable to help herself, especially when a faint blush rose to his cheeks.  “Those wontons you got last week.  Where was that from again?”

             “Klump’s Kafeteria,” Jughead said.  “Did you get my article?”

             Betty nodded, disappointed he’d jumped so quickly to business.  “I did. I really love,” she paused, sitting down on her desk and pulling her laptop out, “the way you captured the emotions in your review.  Especially whereyou talk about the mise-en-scene and how well it pulled everything together. It made the recommendation that more meaningful.”

             “Honestly?  I couldn’t stand the movie,” Jughead said.  He rolled his eyes and sat on the corner of her desk.  

             And suddenly, the spell was broken, and her regular, normal Jughead was back in front of her.  She watched his face as he complained about plot pacing and script-incongruities.  Only half paying attention, Betty wondered if he’d finally make a move.   It would be even better, though, if he’d finally notice that she’d been flirting this whole time.

             “Regardless, it was a very well written piece,” Betty said when he’d finished.  “You know what I also love?”

             Jughead raised an eyebrow at her, finally beginning to notice a trend.   “Those weird blue macaroons that taste like Peto-Bismol from Chez Bonuit?”

             She flicked her pen at him and scowled.  “You just have a warped sense of taste after eating all that grease and sugar at Pop’s.”

              “And yet who’s the one also asking me to bring them a strawberry milkshake whenever they find out I’m eating all that grease and sugar?”

             “It’s one of the little things I love you for,” Betty said, slipping it in as casually as she could. “That and the lattes you bring me after a late night editing.”

              Jughead’s eyes flew open and heat bubbled up in her cheeks.  Pressing on, Betty opened up a browser on her computer and turned it to him.

             “I also love, and I hope you will too, that R.R.J. Swift is putting out a new Play of Chairs book next month.”

             His face light up and he crowded in next to her, their faces a few inches from the screen.  “How did I miss this?  There’s no way they could get that to print so quickly.”

             “Everyone in printing was told it was a new Donna Sweet novel,” Betty said, clicking a few times until a different website came up, “so it’s been hush-hush until he broke the news an hour ago.”*

             “Finally, we can see what happens to Trienne of Barth.”

             She elbowed him lightly.  “I can’t believe you still like her after she betrayed Don Ice.”

             “I can’t help it.  I love her storyline,” he shot back, his eyes searching hers.

             Undeterred, Betty thrust out her chin.  “And I love –“

             “Yes, yes, we get it,” Toni said.  “You two are trapped in a bubble of love.”

             They both turned, blushing, to the door.  

             “Sorry to interrupt the futile flirting, but I forgot my notes,” Toni said, walking towards the couch.  She held up a notebook and shook it at them.  “Just kiss her already Jones, or I will.  And since the last time that happened I ended up going to prom with your girlfriend...”

             “She’s right, you know” Betty said when Toni left.

             Jughead cleared his throat.  “About which part?”

             “You should kiss me.”

             “I –“

             Whatever his protestations might have been, Jughead smartly decided to ignore them.  Instead, he leaned towards Betty, who happily met him more than half-way.

             A few months later, when Jughead claimed their first date was at a Play of Chairs release party, Betty couldn’t help but cover a laugh.  She loved that he was technically correct, even if it was only a party of two.

*(No, I do not know how printing works, nor do I care enough to Google this or other characters from the series.  Apologies if I’m wrong.  If I am, just pretend they’re talking about Minecraft.)

[demivampirew]

Say no to this.

Henry x Reader (wife) x Reader (the other woman)

Triggers: Angst; cheating, breakup, divorce (and crying).

A/N: This was inspired by two songs from the musical Hamilton: Say No to This and Burn, and it’s told from the perspective of the characters (Henry, Reader (Wife), Reader (the other woman)

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist 

Having the chance to portray one of his favourite characters is an honour for which Henry will forever be thankful. Yet, he must admit that having to spend time apart from his family was not an easy task. 

He sat on the bed in the dark hotel room, only enlightened by the moonlight. On his phone screen, he saw the picture you’ve sent him earlier that day of you and your daughter playing, you dressed as a princess and the six-year-old as a dragon. “Oh, your mighty witcher, come and save me, please,” read the message under the picture. Henry missed dressing up in costumes and running around the house with his little angel, who would laugh uncontrollably every time he caught and started to tickle her.

It’s been over two months since he left for work; 60 plus days without feeling the lovely touch of your hands on his face, too much time without feeling the warmness of your body against his.

He laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling for an hour, unable to sleep when his phone announced that he had a new message.

“Are you awake? I can’t sleep,” y/n wrote. She was a friend he made on the set of the show - she worked as a personal assistant for one of the recurrent directors of the show and she was staying at the same hotel that Henry. “Yes. Can’t sleep either. Come if you want,” he replied, thinking that some company would help him to feel less lonely.

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. Henry opened the door and invited y/n to come in. Once inside, she faced him and smiled as she showed him the content of her bag: a PS and The Witcher 3 game. “I know you’re more into pc, but l don’t have a gaming pc here, so we will have to play with this, okay,” she said grinning.

“I remember you saying that you were good at this,” y/n while rolling her eyes, teasing him. “I am, but in the pc,” Henry defended himself with a playful smile.

They played the game for two hours before she suggested that it might be time for her to leave. Henry tried to disconnect the console from the tv but she told him to keep it, for now, so he could keep practising.

“Well, good night. I hope you can have a good sleep and tomorrow enjoy your free day,” y/n told him. “Same for you,” he said goodbye, but neither of them moved. They stared at each other for a long minute in silence. Henry’s hands reached for her face bringing it closer to his, culminating in a passionate kiss, while her arms embraced him.

Her naked body, covered only by the bed-sheets rested on the mattress as she slept. Henry looked at her for a moment and then walked towards the bathroom. He washed his face on the sink and then stared at the mirror, finding it hard to recognize the person that was reflected in the mirror. “I promise you that I will be forever faithful to you, my love” he once promised you, his lovely wife, and now the words echoed inside his mind, as stabs on his heart.

How could had he broken the promise he made you? Did he not loved you any more? No, that was sure of that, he loved you more than he had ever done. You no only made him happy and supported him through tough times, but you also gave him the thing that he treasured the most in the world: his daughter. But, he had to be honest with himself, for the first time in a long time and admit that things were not as they used to be. Before the birth of the little girl, you used to be inseparable. You would go with him everywhere in the world, game and laugh and made love every second you could. Now, you were parents; your lives centred on the precious angel and work and were often too tired and since the kid would like to sleep with you, often lacked intimacy.

The worst part of all: he wished that he could say that it was a one time mistake, but it became an affair that lasted for months.

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You hated yourself. In the past, you’d constantly criticized “the other woman” for being malicious women who stole men from others. Now you had become one of them. Well, no completely. Sure, you were carrying an affair with a married man, but you weren’t a fool, you knew that you would never be able to “stole” anyone and he would never leave his wife for you; he never made such a promise and you knew him well enough to know that he loved his family more than anything in the world and he was being vulnerable due to the distance between his true woman and him. Were you a bad woman for being with a taken man knowing that he was in such a delicate emotional position? Maybe, but to be completely honest, so were you. Months before you met Henry, your fiancé cancelled the wedding because he had fallen in love with somebody else. You were feeling lonely and undesired and you had developed a crush on him before that first night. So, you didn’t find the strength to fight the desire and succumb to the temptation.

Every night you’ve spent together, with his strong arms embracing you as his lips caressed your body, felt amazing no matter how wrong it was. And, even if your heart ripped every time you remembered that he wasn’t truly yours - and you were reminded of that constantly, since there was no a single time in which he hadn’t unconsciously said his wife’s name as he reached climax, you couldn’t find it in you to put it a stop.

You knew that this would have a bad end. No matter the outcome, someone would get hurt. 

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That day, your sister offered to take care of your six-year-old so you could have some time to yourself to process things.

Desperate to get some distance and to be alone, you rented a small cabin outside the city.

The sun was coming down when you lifted a bonfire outside the place and sat in front of it with a box that you’ve carried there moments before.

Your fingers caressed every picture - of your first date, your first anniversary as girlfriend and boyfriend; vacations, birthdays and even your wedding. Every photo would get wet with your tears before you threw them into the fire. All objects that reminded of the love you once shared, ended up becoming ashes. Letters, poems, teddy bears, roses that you dried; everything. The only surviving things were the pictures you shared with your daughter, but you would make sure to send them to his mother because you didn’t want to see them any more, the pain was too great.

Finally, you took from your pocket the pictures you printed before to look at them for one last time. They were screenshots from a celebrity news website and the headline read “The Witcher star Henry Cavill is seen kissing a mystery woman”, followed by paparazzi photos of him with someone on the balcony of his hotel room. Angrily, you crashed the prints and let them burn into they became nothing.

With nothing more to do, you watched the flames, as you let your tears fall, feeling completely and utterly broken.

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The production was over. After the news crashed, Henry had to continue filming, pretending that nothing happened, while some people looked at him as if he was a monster. Could he blame them for that?

When the article about his affair was published, his brother Charlie was the one who delivered the bad news - his stepdaughter had seen it and told him about it.

He didn’t know what to do. He called his wife over and over, but she never answered. All-day long he tried to communicate with his love, but every time without luck.

 Y/N tried to call him, too, but this time he was the one who ignored the call. He had nothing against her. Henry knew that she could no be blamed for his mistake, but he couldn’t talk to her right now. His wife was his priority.

Unfortunately, the only response he got from her was from her sister, two days later, letting him know that she was going to file for a divorce and she never wanted to see him or talk to him again. That she would only allow him to contact her, through her or another family member and elusively for things related to their daughter. She was going to share custody with him, but he would have to pick up and leave the girl on her sister or parent’s house.

Now, months later, he driving to his sister-in-law’s house to pick up his daughter and to leave the divorce papers that he had to sing.

There were no words to explain how much it hurt him to lose the woman he loved deeply. The only consolation was that his family continued to show him love and support as they always did. And, his daughter, unaware of the reason why her mommy and daddy decided to go separate ways, still love him enormously and would fill him with joy every minute of every day that he had her.

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It was obvious that there was no going to be a good end to the affair - it never does. You knew someone would get hurt, but you’d never imagined that it would be all three of you.

Terrible didn’t even begin to explain how bad you felt. Of all the three of you, you were the one who got it the “best”, since luckily the pictures only showed your hair in a bun and your back, so only a few close people knew that it was you and they were polite enough to keep the secret to avoid you getting harassed. Although, just in case, you dried your hair and got a new haircut.

Henry’s wife filed for the divorce after she found out about the affair. He let you know via text when he put an end to things and told you he could no longer see you. Even if there was no chance to get back with her, he couldn’t be with you because he loved her too much and you reminded him of the mistake he made. As he suggested, you continued working for a few more weeks there to avoid people finding out that it was you, but later quit.

That was by far the worst mistake that you’ve ever made. So much people got hurt; a girl now has two parents that can’t be in the same room, two people who loved each other who can’t be together because the ghost of you would always be present to remind them of the mistake and a person who’s affection was never truly corresponded and caused the break of a family.

Therapy has been truly beneficial in helping you heal and leaving the past in the past.

Today a new article about Henry was posted online. It consisted of pictures of him and his cute girl buying a Christmas tree and he was laughing at his daughter's funny faces.

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#BlackExcellence365 Spotlight: Aundre Larrow

Hey Tumblr! Our first #BlackExcellence365 Spotlight of 2020 is Aundre Larrow (@aundrelarrow), a Brooklyn-based visual artist whose work has been featured on Adobe, Walmart, Verizon, and more. We got a chance to talk to him about his favorite projects, including his @teenvogue​ series showcasing the lives of formerly incarcerated women.

Tell us about yourself. When did your passion for photography start?

My name is Aundre Larrow and I’m a black artist based in Brooklyn, New York hailing from South Florida. I’m a Jamaican immigrant, an only child, and a Triscuit lover.

I started taking photos on borrowed film cameras from friends until I turned 15 and my theater teacher gave me his old Minolta SRT 101 as a gift. After that I would use my money from working at Old Navy and whatever I could talk my mom into donating to buy film and get it processed at the Walgreens a mile walk away. The passion started when I realized I could freeze moments I held dear and capture them. I loved getting my film back. I loved sharing it; Making little yearbooks and giving them to friends. I still have some of those prints in my childhood room.

Your work tells many stories, primarily of Black bodies which some photographers find it difficult to capture. What inspired you to make your series about shooting against darker skin tones?

Whew, I don’t know what it is about the phrase Black bodies, but it always hits me hard. I read an article on Mic. And it got me thinking.

I thought back to this teachable moment I had after college. I was interning at the Gainesville Sun. The photo editor had tasked me with taking portraits of the high school athletes in the fall feature, but I didn’t use a hair light. When I came back with the images, he looked at me sideways like “what’re you doing?” We can’t tell where their hair stops. (To make matters worse, I had used a black backdrop.)

I later learned from trial and error, from assisting photographers like Coty Tarr, and from studying the work of folks like Michele Walker, Joshua Kissi. Street etiquette paved the way for me at bevel, TBH.

You recently did a story with Teen Vogue featuring formerly incarcerated women. How did that project impact you and the work you create?

Maaan. You don’t know yourself until you’re in a small room listening to women discuss how painful it is, not being able to see their kids for months and months. One woman explained to me that one parent had abused her, and the other was enraged that she reported it. These women built new identities for themselves while separated from everything they knew. These two quotes will always stick with me:

“When I got out, it wasn’t like a walk in the park or whatever. When you’re in penitentiary, there are certain hours of the morning that you have to stand up to be counted. So I would automatically wake up and stand up. Sometimes, I would get up and lock myself in the bathroom. I spent 18 years in a room with a toilet and a sink. This was the closest thing, you know, to feeling safe. Can’t nobody get to you. It wouldn’t be until my kids would start knocking like, ‘Hey, are you okay?’”

And: 

“Our struggle has been from the beginning of time. Like I said, we’re a nurturing species. This doesn’t go for just the Black mother or person. Everybody, every racial background, has their own struggle. But, I think we’ve been beaten, raped, and downtrodden for so long that our will to survive and save the world has become like our bank.

You might not be my son, but if I see you in trouble, I am going to help. If I see the police run up on you, I’m going to throw myself in front of you. If I can save somebody’s son, I am going to do it because that’s how we’ve been built.

We, you know, from the slave ships, we were the ones singing them love songs, belly to belly and all the feces and stuff. We held on and kept everyone together and told them, ‘I love you and just hold on ’cause we gon’ make it.’”

How do you embody the mission of #BlackExcellence365 in your everyday work?

Existing is a form of resistance, no?  No, but for real, excellence is something I can’t determine for myself. I simply try to embody the process of creation. 

How has Tumblr allowed you to showcase your work and connect with other Black creatives?

Tumblr has brought so so many Black creatives together. Just to name a few, @skinnywashere, @stewyiscool, and Tutes; Tumblr OGs telling the New York story for so many of us to follow along. That community will last forever. Those connections are unbreakable.

When I interviewed @lawrenceagyei he spoke so fondly of finding the work of Joshua Kissi and how it inspired him. It brought a smile to my face 

Tumblr gave me the ability to shoot Fashion Week and a platform to share the full story. It’s one of the best things about the platform. Photo stories pop because you decide the weight of each image. It’s easy to share, reshare and show BTS.

Thank you for sharing your story, Aundre! 

Tumblr, do yourselves a favor and make sure to check out his photography and follow his journey. And, hey, we wanna hear from you. What other Black Tumblr artists or activists should we spotlight? Use the tag #BlackExcellence365 to let us know.

This interview has been condensed for clarity