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loggiepj · 6 months ago

Text

illicit affairs

Summary: What happens if you fall in love with a married woman? Nothing good, of course.

"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us, I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."

YOU DIDN'T intend to fall in love with a married person.

It was the last thing on your mind. You'd never put yourself in such a dangerous position — destroying what happy couples had. If only the old you could see you right now, she would have thrown you off a cliff in an instant.

She was the wife of your Classic Literature professor — Wanda.

She had the most mesmerizing greenest eyes you had ever seen, the kind you want to just spend hours or even days just staring into. Long brown hair that would cascade down to her shoulders and back, the kind that falls into place like dominoes as she'd run her fingers through her hair, as if she never needed a comb in her life.

You and Wanda first met when Vision, your professor and her loving husband, asked you to drop the book reviews he instructed the class to do for the day.

It was just a simple meeting. No out of the ordinary. There were few exchanges of smiles between you and Wanda as you handed the papers to Vision. Then you left.

The second meeting was somewhat rather different. You knew you should focus at what Vision was saying at that moment but your eyes could only betray you as they darted towards the revealing creamy legs of the woman sitting in front of Vision's desk.

You didn't mean to ogle. But you swore Wanda raise her skirt rather intentionally to reveal more when she noticed you looking.

The third meeting was the awaited moment, the actual beginning of the book where the protagonist meets the love of her life.

Vision was nowhere to be found. And in his desk, sitting on his chair was his wife.

"Vision left for a meeting," Wanda said as she stood, making her way towards you.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stark."

"Oh, please, call me Wanda."

Wanda approached you, her perfume lingering in your nose as she took the papers from your hands.

"Y/n, right?"

You nodded back.

There was an awkward silence as you both just stood there silently, a weird tension you couldn't comprehend. Or maybe you were only imagining things.

Like a curious child, you didn't know what to do. Wanda seemed like she was having fun on the other hand as she watched you struggle. Her eyes finally took mercy as she began peering through the papers.

"Mmmm, Anna Karenina. What do you think of it?"

Your brows furrowed deeper. "About the book?"

Wanda only nodded as she stepped closer, making you swallow a nervous gulp.

"Well, I think it's one of the greatest works of literature ever written."

She stopped. "And do you think it's appropriate? What she did with Vronsky appropriate?"

"No . . . She's married and—"

"Even when it was an arranged marriage to a man beyond her years whom she didn't love?" Wanda interrupted.

"Even so, I don't think it's still right. Although I couldn't blame Anna if I were in her shoes and I lived in the 1800s, the heart doesn't follow the laws in marriage. And the law doesn't apply to love."

There was a small pause. Wanda's eyes met yours and you had never seen it in the deepest and darkest shades of green before.

"You're an interesting student, Y/n, you know that right?"

"Interesting how, ma'am?"

A smirk only grew on her face. But before she could reply, Vision suddenly entered the room.

"Oh, Y/n, I'm sorry, I got caught up in an unexpected meeting." He took the papers from his wife as he left a kiss on her cheek. You said it was okay as you bid goodbye to both, to Wanda rather hesitantly.

"VISION'S looking for a nanny," Kate suddenly announced when she arrived at the table. You and your friends were in the cafeteria for lunch. "He's basically convincing his students to apply, handing out flyers. Don't you think it's a bit unprofessional?"

You didn't think it was unprofessional. You thought it was an opportunity, a blessing in disguise. But of course, you didn't tell your friends that.

SO, THERE you were sitting in Stark's two-storey house playing video games with their twins on the living room carpet. You couldn't complain choosing this work over some part time job you had at a local comic book store, considering Vision was paying you more.

You thought it was a consensus agreement between the two of them though but when you met Wanda's widened eyes later that night upon seeing you with her kids, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, you had thought wrong.

Wanda and Vision had a fight that night too, about why Vision hired one of his students for the job. It wasn't your business, but you'd probably be fired from the job after that night.

When you had already tucked the boys in their bed, the house had now gone completely silent. You quietly prepared yourself to get home. Hurriedly leaving the house you shouldn't have come in the first place, you accidentally bumped into Wanda in the hallway.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking—"

"No, I should be the one who's sorry. Forgive me, Y/n. You shouldn't have heard all the things you probably heard earlier. I was just not expecting him to actually do it."

"It's okay, ma'am. I don't really mind. And I needed the money anyway." Technically, it wasn't a lie.

There was a short moment of silence before you smiled and bid goodbye. Wanda stopped you the very second you stepped out the door.

"What time will you be here tomorrow?" she asked.

You swallowed as she walked closer. "I. . . I don't remember Professor mention to babysit tomorrow."

"Well, I will be out for business the whole day tomorrow and the twins need picking up from the school. But if you're busy, I can just ask—"

"—No, it's completely fine, I can do it—"

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose," she said as she suddenly arranged the collar of your shirt. The feather like touch of her fingertips against your skin made you almost internally combust. "I don't want you missing out on your studies."

Your cheeks must have gone red the entire time as you eagerly shook your head.

"It's surely not a problem, Miss Stark."

"If you say so. I'll see you tomorrow then. And please . . . call me Wanda."

Little did you know you'd start calling her other endearing names two weeks later.

YOU STARTED becoming close to Wanda the following days when you're babysitting their twins. With interesting conversations at night whenever she and her husband got home, it was a miracle how you'd never seem to run out of topics. And in the University as well, what with her regular presence in Vision's office, it would appear as though you and Wanda couldn't handle to spend some time apart from each other.

Your friends had teased you about taking the babysitter job, of course. But they were more concerned about Vision, truly unaware that your intentions were elsewhere, that a certain brunette has plagued your mind for days, that you were so head over heels over your professor's wife.

No, they had no idea about the nights you two had spent together talking, or the prolonged touches that ignited the wick of most carnal desires in your head, or the way she slurred your name behind you as she taught you how to bake the cookies the twins liked. Of how you could almost taste her. No, they certainly had no idea.

But of course, falling in love with a married woman wasn't an easy task.

You weren't supposed to be entering Vision's office without knocking. But being used to be always welcomed in there, you didn't expect Vision to be preoccupied with his wife.

There they were kissing passionately, Wanda on top of his desk while Vision in front of her. Your sight immediately darkened. You hurriedly apologized and left the room.

Vision talked to you the next day about what happened, and how sorry he was for not being professional. He was talking about trying to resolve the cruel woes of a married life but you had already stopped listening when she mentioned Wanda started what happened yesterday.

You asked to take absence from the babysitting job for a while, saying that you needed to focus on the upcoming midterms. Vision said he understood, never questioning how it was more important than the exams.

Fortunately, you didn't have to go to Vision's office anymore. Ever since the incident, Vision never instructed you to.

That was why you had more free time on a Saturday night, making you agree to your friend's invite to another college party. Plus, you needed to move on from something that wasn't even there in the first place.

You met some girl that night too. But you were too drunk to remember the name. She was kissing you against the wall in the dark alley, or even more as you heard your belt being unbuckled.

"Stop," you muttered with a weak voice.

But the girl didn't seem to hear you. She might have taken it as a moan as she hastily fastened the way she was devouring you that moment.

You pulled away from her face as you tried to say it louder. "I can't do this here—"

And then there was a blur before you as the girl was suddenly shoved away. You didn't get to see what happened next because darkness had already enveloped your surroundings.

YOU WOKE up in a nearby motel wearing clothes you knew weren't yours. You were starting to hyperventilate, millions of thoughts running through your head, scolding your past self that this was what's going to happen when you get drunk.

It only stopped when Wanda entered the room.

"Miss Stark?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing making out with strangers in dark alleyways?"

You hadn't seen her mad before. Of course, you had heard her yelling during her arguments with Vision, but never towards you.

"You could have been—... you could have been—"

Suddenly, memories from last night quickly swarmed back into your head. How someone was about to take you out in public.

"I'm so sorry," you said back so softly, holding back tears. "I . . . I didn't mean to get too much drunk."

Wanda let out a sigh, calming herself down, as she carefully approached you then sat on the corner of the bed.

When you started crying, you felt her hand slithered around yours, squeezing you with assurance and safety you didn't know you needed.

"Hey, it's okay now," she said. "You're alright now. And that's what matters."

Then Wanda leaned forward, engulfing you into a hug as you cried into her chest. She rubbed circles soothingly on your back, murmuring sweet nothings as if she was more than just your professor's wife.

"You're safe now. I'm here. I'll always be here."

You didn't know what she meant by that, but through the days that followed, you finally understood.

You started to return as the twins' babysitter a week after the incident. Wanda insisted she'd been having a hard time finding someone to replace you. So you finally relented and caved in.

And one night, one lonely sensual night, it all made sense.

Wanda just got home from work. Vision was away for a professors retreat and wouldn't be back until the following day.

"In a hurry to get rid of me?" Wanda chuckled as she poured herself a glass of white wine. You had just tucked the kids in their bed.

You apologized. "Sorry, my friends are just having this party and I . . . Well, they set me up to meet with someone there—"

You jumped when you heard glass breaking. Upon seeing the source, how red looked so much darker unto the white kitchen counter, your feet instinctively darted towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

When you got back into the kitchen carrying the bag, Wanda finally spoke. "It's fine, Y/n. It's just a scratch—"

"No way that's just a scratch." You pulled her hand regardless and started to tend to it like a professional. You had been trained to do this back in highschool as a volunteer. Good thing it wasn't an open wound. You gently rolled the gauze around her hand after you had finished dabbing some alcohol on the wound, unaware that Wanda has never let her eyes leave you.

"There. All done." You smiled then looked at Wanda, finally noticing the distance between the two of you was too inexistent. You swallowed a nervous lump, not realizing you were still holding her injured hand. You let go rather reluctantly and you swore you could see the disappointment on her face.

"Y/n," Wanda called softly.

"Yes?" Avoiding her gaze, you busied yourself cleaning the mess.

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

"What do you mean?"

And as you lifted your head to look at her, Wanda was already starting to lean forward. Suddenly, you couldn't breathe, rendering you immobile as the gap between the two of you was reduced to an inch.

"I'm about to do something stupid," Wanda said. "But please, don't push me away or tell me you don't want the same thing."

Then she kissed you. And of course, you didn't push her away. The kiss was just a soft one, so feather like that you thought maybe you were only dreaming it. And you didn't want it to end. But before you could respond to the kiss, Wanda had abruptly pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Wanda said as she turned her back at you to leave.

Suddenly you forgot why you were there, that Wanda was a married woman and that you shouldn't even be doing what you were going to do. You followed Wanda to tell her you felt the same, that you had wanted her all this time but she had already gone upstairs and locked herself in the bedroom.

YOU HADN'T heard from Wanda since. Vision said they had found another babysitter so you could just relax for the meantime before the upcoming exams. But relaxing was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

Determined to get another taste, you knocked into Wanda's door one night. And fortunately, she was the one who opened it.

"Why would you do that when you're gonna avoid me afterwards?" you asked. Demanded, to be exact.

Wanda was surprised at your behavior but she maintained her stance.

"Who's at the door, dear?" Vision's voice came through the hallway.

"No one, Vis. Just a prank," Wanda answered as she kept her eyes on you.

You couldn't believe what you just heard, but maybe it was all a prank, just some stupid thing that should have never happened. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell her that it didn't mean anything to you so it would hurt her too. But you hesitated. It was rather easy to pretend nothing happened that night rather than convince someone that you would reciprocate the advances presented to you.

When you heard nearing footsteps coming from the house, probably from Vision, you hurriedly left.

Little did you know what awaited you later that night when you come back into your dorm room. Putting on your pajamas as you get yourself ready for bed, you didn't expect someone to knock at a very late hour. You were determined to fight with whoever it was outside the door because you were still filled with rage caused by a certain brunette.

It was Wanda, looking worried and anxious.

"Forgive me" was all she said as she quickly barged through the door and pushed herself against you. The frustration you could have fired back immediately dissipated, as if the touch of her skin against yours was a drug that could cure any negative feelings, any hatred you had for the woman.

You did more than just kiss that night. You performed a sacred dance against your sheets, worshipping her, drinking her as if you had been suffering from drought for ages. It surprised you how eager and deprived Wanda was as she pushed your head between her exposed thighs, begging you to touch her. And you were very compliant.

It didn't stop from there.

The blazed nights continued through the days that followed, each day met with unsatiated hunger. It was either in your dorm room or in the guest bedroom of her house, the house she shared with Vision, the guy she's married to.

You weren't an idiot. You knew what you were. You were that exact person you had despised your entire life as you watched news and heard gossips about married life, never expecting how hard it really was now that you're wearing the shoes of the mistress.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Wanda asked one night as she noticed you stop responding back to her desperate kisses, her straddling on top of your hips as she craved for another round.

"What are we, Wanda?"

Wanda didn't answer for a moment. She took ahold of her ragged breathing, calmed herself down as she cupped your face to look up at her.

Pressing your foreheads together, she whispered as if she was scared anyone could hear her confession. "I don't know. I just know that I want to be here with you."

And that was good enough for you. For a while, anyway.

YOU AND Wanda spent more time than the usual nights of fulfilled desires. You had conversations about what your future would look like after murmuring tiny i love yous post bliss from your love making. Whenever you finished your classes, you'd immediately go to the Stark's house and spend time with Wanda in the kitchen as she prepared for dinner. If you two weren't that careful enough, either Tom or Billy would caught you stealing kisses in the kitchen counter. You became a regular to their household, unbeknownst to Vision, who thought you only needed the babysitting job more now that you're graduating.

Your friends started to worry about you when they finally found out about the affair. They thought it was overrated and wrong, falling in love with a married person. You were a believer of that too. And it made you hate yourself as you looked at yourself in the mirror, as you listened to Vision's classes and saw how enthusiastic he still was, not knowing you were worshipping her wife on your knees.

You weren't stupid. You had attempted to discuss it with Wanda, even one time you thought you had begged.

"End it with him please," you asked, as she rode the silicone toy between your legs. "Be with me. Be mine, Wanda, and only mine."

Wanda gasped as she eagerly nodded, looking at your eyes with hooded ones as her fingers dug through the back of your scalp and shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Yes, Y/n, I'm yours and only yours."

And you thought she really was and that she would finally end it. But maybe it was just the wonderful effects of orgasmic pleasure that made her think you two would be more than just an illicit affair.

THEN IT happened. The one thing that finally extinguished the guilt you had been carrying for months. The one thing you thought would finally save you and Wanda.

Vision had been kissing another professor from the university rather passionately when you entered his office one unexpected afternoon. He begged and begged for you not to tell her wife about it, pleading you he'd tell her eventually and that he just needed some time.

But that was not what you did.

The first thing you did when you saw Wanda was told her about what Vision did. Desperation and selfishness could do such a thing.

You thought she'd finally wake up and get some sense that staying in that marriage would only worsen the consequences. But you had thought wrong when you woke up in your bedroom and Wanda wasn't there beside you.

Through the days that followed, Wanda had never replied to any of your messages or calls. When you went to knock on their door, nobody would answer.

Is that it?

Is that how she ends things?

When you saw Vision in class the next day, it appeared as if nothing happened, as if he didn't just commit a sinful act like his wife did. Vision was still wearing his wedding ring as if nothing happened.

So it killed you to ask about Wanda.

"She's okay, Y/n," Vision said hurriedly, as if he wanted to get rid of you and the conversation. "What happened shouldn't have happened. And we've agreed to save our marriage for the sake of our kids. And sorry, but we no longer need a babysitter. I hope you understand we need privacy at the moment."

You thought whether Vision finally found out about you and Wanda's affair or maybe he was just angry at you for telling her about his own affair.

BUT YOU were too adamant to find out. So when it was their twins' birthday, where you remembered how Wanda wanted just a house celebration for their day, you bought a nice gift for the twins and went to their house without an invitation.

Luckily, the house was open to guests that you found yourself invisible as you went inside the house.

You could see Wanda from a distance, chatting with some guests as she drank a glass of white wine in her hand, the hand that still wore her wedding ring. You knew you should be mad but you missed the woman so much that you only wished to touch her and kiss her, to feel her against you.

When yours and Wanda's eyes met, time slowed down. As if this moment was it — the start of another chapter or the ending of the book that was your love affair.

"What are you doing here?" was what greeted you in the kitchen as you busied yourself getting some refreshments. You knew she'd excuse herself and follow you. You could feel her breath at the back of your neck, wondering if she was eye fucking you in the revealing dress you decided to wear for her that day.

"That's something I didn't expect coming out of your mouth after weeks of not seeing and talking to each other."

You faced her this time and drank a gulp from your cup, suddenly feeling emboldened.

Wanda could only sneer as if in disgust but you mistook it as challenged.

"You're not invited. I think you should just leave."

You frowned. "Why? After all that I've done for you and your twins. I'm sure they'd be happy I'm here on their special day—"

"I need you to leave, Y/n."

"Why so hostile? I haven't done anything wrong."

Wanda paused for a moment as she let some guests pass their way.

Then you got serious. "I thought you'd end it with him."

This time she glared at you, her nostrils flaring. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Y/n?"

"I never thought of it—"

"Do you think I'd believe some kid over my good of a husband that he could do such a thing towards me?"

And your whole world just crumbled. "What?"

"Vision told me everything. You're so good, so desperate to have me that you would concoct such a creative story."

"I didn't make it up. It was true. He was cheating—"

"Shut your mouth," she hissed, turning her head to see if you two were still alone.

"I can't believe you won't believe me," you said aloud, more to yourself than directed at her.

Wanda exhaled as she took a step back from you. "Besides the point, I'm trying to save our marriage by putting a stop into this nonsense—"

"Nonsense?" you asked incredulously. "You literally had your tongue and fingers inside me not two weeks ago."

Wanda flared again and cornered you, her fingers wrapping the front of your dress. "You better shut your mouth or else—"

"Or else what?"

You thought you'd broken her resolve as she stared at you. You thought the look on her eyes was hunger and longing. You thought she'd kiss you like she always did. But you had thought wrong. You'd thought wrong all this time.

"You might not believe me," you spat on her face. "But does Vision believe how innocent and faithful you were of a wife?"

"You wouldn't dare." Her grip tightened around you and you wished you hadn't worn that dress.

You were almost crying, but you stopped yourself as you fought back. You didn't want her to see how weak you were.

"What if I might?"

"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us," Wanda went on, her face only an inch or less from your face, lips barely touching, "I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."

You searched her eyes if she meant it. If she was only bluffing. And you wished she were.

But the hatred and distaste in her tongue proved otherwise.

"You would be expelled," she whispered. "Legal actions would be taken against you, for creating such false gossip between married couple. No one would hire you with your records. And no one," she paused, her thumb tracing your lower lip, "no one would trust you. I'm sure you don't want that, right?"

You hadn't seen this side of Wanda. And maybe this was what your friends were warning you all along, that married couples weren't meant to be dealt with.

The woman you loved so much turned into someone you wouldn't thought would ever do something cruel to you.

"You wouldn't," you said but you didn't sound sure anymore.

Wanda finally let go and stepped back from you. "I'd do anything for my family."

And you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. Fortunately, that ground was in some sort of a guest interrupting Wanda as she asked for some paprika spice.

Before Wanda left to tend to the guest, she whispered so low that only you could hear, "Don't do anything stupid I wouldn't do."

But you weren't listening anymore. All became white noise as you looked at your surroundings. You were frozen on the spot, suddenly realizing you didn't belong there at all.

And what little of dignity left inside you fuelled your legs and feet to move on their own accord. You left their house silently, promising yourself you'd never ever dare set foot unto that house again as long as you lived.

YOU DELETED her number, your photos together, any memories that the two of you ever shared. You requested to transfer to another dorm just to eradicate the nights you spent with Wanda in your old room. Your friends were helpful. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't have lasted another two months until you left that shithole of a place.

You never dared to be alone with Vision, nor cared when you still saw him and that professor locking tongues together. You just needed to leave. To forget that you just got your heart broken by someone you shouldn't have been having affairs in the first place.

And that day finally came. It was graduation day and you never thought Wanda would come but she was there, in all her glory.

"Don't worry, Y/n, we won't let her come near you," Kate promised. But the fear inside you only worsened. What if she'd tell everyone in the university how much of a slut you were?

You couldn't believe you could ever love someone so empty as your eyes finally met. Time didn't slow down this time.

You were the first to look away as it already pained you how stupid you were.

When the ceremony was over, you immediately left the venue as if scared Wanda could still make a scene if she wanted to.

Something inside you urged to go to the comfort room to get changed first before heading back to your dorm. So you did just that.

And when you were already leaving through the front doors after changing, there Wanda was with her back at you already waiting outside, her neck craned around her searching for something. As if she was looking for you.

You could have just done it. You could have just walked outside and talked to her.

But you couldn't, not after what she did.

You stepped back from the door and went to another exit instead, vowing to yourself never to come back.

Author's Note: Not sure I'd be writing a part two for this because I just want to read angsty stuff nowadays 😂😂😂😭😭😭

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda #elizabeth olsen #wanda angst #cheating

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ddejavvu · 7 months ago

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Hello Mei!! I had an idea for Eddie and Venom where reader cooks for Eddie one night, something nice, much different from what they normally eat. Venom obviously doesn’t like regular food but Eddie makes him compliment it and eat it anyway <3 I hope this strikes inspiration my love

"I hope you like it," You peer worriedly at Eddie, who's staring at the artfully-decorated plate like it's from another planet, "I know it looks a little rough but bear with me."

"Rough?" Eddie blinks up at you, "Babe, this looks like it's in a different tax bracket than I am."

"You are poor." Venom supplies helpfully, "Are you the lowest one?"

"Pretty damn close," Eddie nods, no longer phased by the symbiote's brashness, "This is lobster, you said?"

"And gritz- uh, gritz with cheese and lemon in them, and there's aioli for the lobster in the little cup there."

Venom begins retracting into Eddie's shoulder but the man's hand shoots up to grab the symbiote by the throat, "And Venom is super excited to eat it too, honey. This looks amazing, thank you."

"Eddie," Venom whispers, which is a new skill he's learned, but he clearly needs more practice, because the gravelly tone of his voice is loud enough for you to hear, "I only eat lobster when it is alive."

"You eat whatever she makes," Eddie hisses, much quieter than the symbiote, "Or so help me, asshole, I'll start buying you milk chocolate."

"Milk chocolate?" Venom roars, "Milk chocolate is for losers!"

"He loves lobster," Eddie turns to grin at you, ignoring the fuming symbiote only inches from his face, fangs bared and maw dripping, "Here, see? Eat, Venom, eat the lobster."

Eddie thrusts a forkful of your meal at Venom's face, and the symbiote's jagged teeth reluctantly part to let the fork pass through. Venom is not a quiet chewer, and when his animalistic grunts have subsided, you peer nervously at him, awaiting his review.

"It is not bad for a dead animal." Venom muses, "But I would like there to be blood next time."

"Yeah, she'll whip up some bloody aioli for you, bud," Eddie rolls his eyes, the gesture aimed at Venom but turned towards you so that you have to hide your giggle behind a dishtowel, "I'll eat any dead animal you give me, babe- uh, I'd just prefer 'em cooked first."

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

Text

Unraveled 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: thanks for waiting on this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The carriage stops outside a brick building. A walk-up in Marleybone, just along Upper Baker Street. An address you couldn’t even dream of living near, let alone within. You peer up at the facade, the orange brick unstained by the coal and smoke of the backstreets.

Gavin appears to open the door and sets a step down before you can emerge. He offers his hand gallantly and you let him assist you down to the road. You thank him as you peer up at the arched front door of 221b.

“You need only knock, miss,” Gavin goes to pat the horse’s haunch as it kicks. “Ask for Mr. Holmes, he is expecting you.”

You grip your bag tight and set your chin. You might not belong but only you are troubled by it. You climb the steps alongside the iron rail and lift the heavy knocker mounted on the thick wooden door. It’s clang rattles even you.

You wait, both hands on the handles of the bag. Gavin appears behind you with the rolls of fabric, breathless as he struggles to keep them from touching the ground. You return your attention to the door as it opens.

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr.--”

“Holmes,” the very man you’re seeking stands before you, “forgive me, my housekeeper... resigned.”

“Not to worry, sir,” you assure him.

“Come in,” he backs up, gesturing you within with his large hand. “And how was your journey? I hope you didn’t come upon any scoundrels.”

“Only upon her destination, sir,” Gavin japes as he steps in behind you.

“Eh,” Holmes tilts his head at the driver, “allow me.”

Holmes takes the rolls of fabric from Gavin. He hugs them effortlessly in on arm as he faces you again, dismissing the driver with no more than a nod. You stand rigidly by the wall, hesitant to go any further. The door closes and the click makes you flinch.

“Allow me to show you around,” Holmes offers, looming in the tight space of the entryway.

“I need only see your sister,” you insist.

“Ah, yes, Enola, you will, but it only polite to get you acquainted with the space,” he rebuffs.

“With respect, sir, I’ve come out of my way and without warning to this appointment. More work does await me at my shop,” you squeeze the leather handles until they squeak, “it is a lovely home, I’m sure, but I’ve come upon business, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t take very long,” he counters, “yet, if you’d rather keep this formal, by all means, I will take you to my sister.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You bite down, wondering if perhaps you were more curt than you should be. The apartment is rather far from your neighbourhood and the travel time alone will impose upon your ongoing commissions. You don’t expect he considered that. He does seem the type to command rather than ask.

He directs you to the stairs, just across from the door, and waves you onward. He follows as your skirts brush the top of your boots with each step. The wallpaper is tightly decorated with framed newspapers and portraits, cluttered together but not garishly so.

You get to the top and he advises you to go left. You obey as he keeps pace.

“Did you... discover what led to that woman’s fate? Or who she was?” You ask as you take measured steps.

He isn’t demure as he walks next to you, crowded against you as his broad figure allows for little space, “sadly, yes and no. Not her name. Only that she was a factory woman. I won’t say much on the matter as it is ongoing and confidentiality is a part of my contract, I would only gird you to keep your doors locked and yourself alert.”

You chew on his answer. It makes you nervous. You know the woman was found close to your shop and home. The news has been whispered for blocks.

“I will be sure to hede your advice,” you say.

You walk past a door as he stops to knock on it. You spin back, skirts swirling around you, and he glances at you as he plants his hand on the door frame. There is activity from within, scratching and creaking. He sighs and stands straight as he slides his hand down the pillar. He raps with his knuckles again.

“Enola,” he booms through, his voice shaking you. “I told you to be ready.”

You hear furious footsteps and the lock flicks back with similar furor. It opens and a young woman with a slumping bun greets Mr. Holmes. Strands fall loose from the clip and her blouse is half untucked as her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. She has a long oval face, flushed as she shows her teeth.

“I told you, I’m busy--”

“Not so busy that you would waste this good woman’s time,” Holmes insists, “she traveled all this way. We discussed this.”

She flutters her lashes and huffs. Her eyes flit over to you and she softens her expression, “if her time is wasted, it is hardly my fault.”

“Hm,” he hums flatly, “isn’t it? It wasn’t I who fed your dresses to the furnace.”

She smiles, a smug look that pinches her cheeks, “I was cold.”

“Sister,” he warns dangerously, crossing his arms, his breadth wider than ever.

“You know what, I welcome her company. Much preferable to your own,” the woman sneers and turns her shoulder to her brother, “come on, then. Suppose I need a dress for the banquet.”

You inch forward. A flare of resent burns in you at the position Mr. Holmes has put you in. Plainly, this appointment was not upon his sister’s behest. She holds the door for you and her brother exhales deeply.

“All you need do is stand still, I’m certain you can handle that, sister,” he rebukes, “do let me know when you are finished and I will call the carriage.”

“Thank you,” you utter without looking at him. He sets the rolls just inside the door and backs up to watch you.

You enter the bedroom and find it cluttered and cramped. There are books in stacks with more littered around the bottom. A dried-up paint palette and an easel draped over with several jackets and unpaired stockings. There is a four-post bed with scrambled covers and a canopy twisted around the poles. Vials upon vials line shelves and an inkwell stands uncapped over untidy sheets of paper.

“Very well,” the woman shuts the door, “I am Enola, the famous detective’s ne’er do well sister and you are the seamstress who will make me a peacock.”

You stare at her and swallow tightly. You offer your name before you begin, “I’ve only come upon his request--”

“Ah, yes, I’m certain you have. He’s still trying to make a lady of me. I see through his guise, though he doesn’t think it. He underestimates me, see. He lies but I will go along for I will more easily avoid his snare if I do.”

You nod and narrow your eyes. The wealthy can always afford to be so eccentric. You don’t think any woman you know would view a new dress as such a curse. She is young, she cannot know.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll only take your measurements,” you offer, “I can always fit upon the dress form.”

“Do what you must,” she sighs, “shall I strip down?”

You put your bag on a chair as she unbuttons her blouse, “not-- if you--” You look up at her as she reveals a corset and reaches to undo her skirt. You focus on your bag and scoop out your measuring tape.

You approach her as her skirt heaps at her feet. She is tall, her legs on long, her figure lithe. You begin your work silently. She raises her arms as you request and puts them back down.

“Suppose if I wasn’t here, I might’ve become a dressmaker. I always enjoyed stitching,” she muses as you scribble down each number, “it seems lonely work. Quiet work.”

“It’s work,” you say as you take out the envelope and unfold the page to examine the dress again. You hold it up and glance past it at Enola.

“May I see that?” She asks but doesn’t await an answer before she snatches the paper. “Oh, is this really what he chose? No, no, no, this won’t do. I want my shoulders covered.”

You slip the envelope back in your bag, “it is only what I was given. If you prefer adjustments, it is your dress.”

“Yes, my dress and my body,” she crumples the paper and tosses it onto the rug.

You close up your notebook and go to the rolls of fabric, “would it be too much for me to do some piecework?”

“If you insist,” she pouts.

You take out your scissors and turn your back to her. She isn’t rude, per se, but you’re not in the habit of associating with this sort of clientele. You get numbers on a sheet and you sew. A living form is not quite your forte.

-🪡

When you finish, you can sense Enola’s agitated impatience. You don’t blame her. It’s plain she didn’t want the dress or your visit. It is more so upon the shoulders of her brother. Mr. Holmes. You’re similarly irked that he would put you in this position.

Enola is already fiddling with some instrument before you can go. You emerge and pull the door shut after you. You stand in the hallway, bag at the crook of your elbow as you hug the fabric. You move with hampered steps towards the stairs. As the top creaks beneath your weight, your name is called from further down the hallway.

“Ah, are you set then?” Mr. Holmes asks as he stops just outside a door, “I was thinking, to make up for your efforts, you might want to stay for tea.”

You look down at your armful and back to him, “that’s very generous, but--”

“I believe I paid an adequate fee for the appointment,” he strides slowly towards you, “but I am open to a barter if it was not sufficient.”

You feel the heavy sovereign tucked into your jacket. You crook your lips and raise your chin, “no sir, it will do for today and the making of the dress. The fabric... I don’t have any as rich as the style requested.”

“Another service I may require of you. If you wouldn’t mind to select the material, I would be happy to reimburse the expense.”

“Would there be a colour? A fabric preferred? Velvet? Satin? Chiffon?” You prompt, “I solely work in cotton and wool, as I forewarned.”

“Perhaps we might find a fabric seller at Covent Garden? You could accompany me on my next sojourn--”

“I don’t know if I would have the time. I could write down some fabrics which would suit the silhouette we agreed upon,” you offer.

“Mmm,” he hums, “you are rather professional. How about tea, then? Melinda from across the road sent some mutton over.”

“The hour should see me back to my shop,” you shift your bag.

“You are fastidious,” he stops before you and puts a hand on the fabric, “please, allow me, you are overburdened.”

“I’m--”

You can’t argue as he takes the fabric from you. You let him have it if only to avoid disaster you lean back on your heel. He angles the rolls under his arm easily and grins. A curl strays down his forehead.

“I suppose you are right, given recent events, it would be best to see you home before the evening sets,” he says, “I would gladly see you home safe, miss.”

He is overly polite, or perhaps you aren’t used to it. It is his home, he supplied the carriage, and he has paid generously. It makes each denial feel trite.

“If you must, but I would be just fine on my own comportment,” you accept.

“It isn’t any fuss, I will fetch a jacket and the driver,” he extends his arm past you, “after you.”

You spin on your heel and face the staircase. You descend with your hand on the railing. As you come to the bottom, you wander towards the entry way and take in the fineness of the decor. Is much more becoming than your slanted rooms.

Mr. Holmes places the rolls just beside the door and takes a jacket from the rack. He pulls it on and tells you to wait before he disappears outside. You linger as you are, sliding your bag down to your hands.

When he returns, he reaches within to retrieve the fabric first. “Gavin is bringing up the carriage,” he declares and offers his free arm, “shall we?”

You consider him. You wouldn’t want to be unkind. You step through the door, pulling it shut as you accept his bent arm, your hand in the crook. He accompanies you down the narrow steps, each step crowded by his.

Gavin appears in the driver’s seat and reins the horse to a halt. The beast looks miserable. Mr. Holmes escorts you to the door and releases you to open it. He helps you with a strong hand and you sit within with your bag on your lap. He shoves the fabric in ahead of him, his head bowed as he fits through the small door.

He closes it with a snap and settles on the bench on the other side of you. You stare across at the cotton, expecting he’d have taken that seat instead. His leg is on your skirt.

You keep your hands on your bag. He knocks on the ceiling and the carriage rumbles into motion. You rock with it along the street, silent as you wring the leather handles.

“I hope my sister did not cause too much stress. I know she can be a lot but she’s old enough now. She should start behaving as a lady,” he spreads a large hand across his thigh. “Perhaps, once she finds a husband, that will be easier.”

You nod, uncertain of a proper response.

“Not to mean... I don’t mean to assume, I am known however for my observations, and I have concluded you are not married,” he continues, “I gather if it were the case, you might not have a shop to sew in.”

“Suppose not,” you reply dully.

“It is only to say that my opinion of my sister isn’t general. A woman such as yourself is admirable.”

“A spinster?” You supply.

“I didn’t--”

“I’ve chosen not to marry, that is true. I am not bothered by that fact,” you say, “isn’t that what you deal in, detective, facts?”

“Fair,” he shifts on the bench, “but not everyone can detach emotion from facts.”

“And why should I be emotional about that fact? I am much more happier than any woman could be with a husband,” you stare at the opposite wall of the carriage. “And I will assume, sir, as I am no detective, that you have neither taken to the altar.”

He curls the fingers on his left hand, “I have not.”

“And I’m certain you enjoy your bachelor lifestyle in your grand apartment,” you return, “while my own is not so extravagant, I find solace in it. On that, I think you might understand me.”

He takes a breath and lets it out with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose we are similar in some way.”

#sherlock holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #unraveled #enola holmes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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why-animals-do-the-thing · 1 year ago

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I just wanted to drop a note to thank everyone who has supported the Patreon over the years, or signs up for things like my (free) Substack. It really means a lot.

I update both of those platforms infrequently. I’ve tried to build better habits about that over the years and continually run into the same problem: I don’t want to post anything about what I’m working on unless I’m 110% sure my opinions is informed as possible and I am not sharing anything erroneous. There is so much misinformation out there regarding animals in general and zoos and exotic animal politics especially that I absolutely do not want to add to it.

What that means in practice is that topics often take months to years to research, and big projects need multiple years to end up with something I’m comfortable publishing. (That accreditation reporting writeup was an idea I chewed over for easily two years prior to starting work; then it took spent six months to researching write it up). I have one project in the wings where I can’t even start a major part until Feb 2024, because data collection has to happen after the implementation of a new set of federal regulations. These things are great for creating quality work, but less good for providing people who are supporting your work with something tangible on a reasonably frequent basis.

Also, at this point? Most of my current big projects are so complex - and such novel things to study about the zoo industry - that I’m taking the extra time to really cross every t and dot every i with the research, and then get them peer-reviewed through credible academic journals. I think there’s four or five different projects that will be papers I’m working on simultaneously (and sporadically) right now. And as many of you know, this is a hobby, not a paying profession.

So. Thank you for sticking around through the long silences and the intermittent publications. I have so much I want to talk about, but it has to wait until I can do it right. I have so many cool things planned (like, multiple interactive websites) for once everything is finished and published. Whether or not you’re on the Patreon or just awaiting infrequent Substack updates, I really appreciate all of it.

#my work #rambles #crowdfunding is a really awkward way to support longitudinal work #and I absolutely have no hard feelings when people feel like I don’t update the Patreon enough to be worth supporting #doing this work is something I am trying to figure out as I go #but thank you for being here and being supportive in whatever capacity feels good for you

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bean-bean2000 · 9 months ago

Text

The Maid - Part 1

Pairing: Loki x reader (on going series)

Warnings: Angst, abuse, mental health (depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts). Eventual loki x reader pairing.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Part 2 Series masterlist Main Masterlist

🧹🧹🧹

You stare up at the ceiling as you lay in bed next to the man who calls himself 'your saviour'. Every time he stirs in his sleep, you gasp and wince in fear of waking him. He is far better asleep than he will ever be awake.

Three years ago, you fell into the arms of a man you thought would help you. You were alone, homeless and desperate. Your parents had died in a house fire, which left you with nothing and no one. Naive, you trusted the first person that showed you an ounce of kindness. You had fallen intro a trap, one you thought was love, but was in fact a cage. Your parents had left you with a significant debt to repay to the crown. He forced you to work for him, do whatever he wants, in exchange for money to help pay off the debt. You have been stuck in this horrific home since, unable to do anything without consequence.

You haven't had a proper night's sleep in years. Your eyes are sunken with deep dark circles beneath. You hardly eat anymore.

You stopped feeling anything at all, years ago. All you feel is numb, like a zombie, a shell of your former self. A life that is so far away, the memories have long faded.

You're so lost in thought, gazing into nothingness when you're suddenly yanked out of the bed.

"Get up. You're leaving. I finally found a use for you." he spits at you.

You don't have enough energy to question him as you get up sluggishly and head to the bathroom to change.

As soon as you exit the bathroom, he is dragging you outside where a a dozen soldiers await; people are lined up in front of them.

"Here. Take her." he says to the guard as he shoves you towards him.

The soldier looks you up and down and nods. You're swept away by other men and hoisted onto the back of a carriage. Other men and women peer up at you in fear.

It doesn't take long for you to realize what has happened. You've been sold to the crown to be a worker. You stare at the floor and zone out, wondering if you will forever be forced to be at the mercy of others that are powerful and wealthy. As the carriage takes off, you feel nothing, you hear nothing, all you see is your so-called 'home' slowly fade behind the trees.

The others have fallen asleep as you stare out the carriage. You have no idea how long it has been but the sun has long set and it is deep into the evening when you arrive at the castle. The guards shuffle you out, line you up and assign you your duties.

"You." The woman points at you. "She will do." she says as she hands you a pile of clothes. You stare up at her as she clarifies your new job: maid.

The guards lead each group of workers to their designated quarters.

"You are maids. You will follow the schedule, with no excuses. You have been sold to serve for the crown. You will receive no pay. Your pay is the right to live in the castle. You will be provided food and shelter. Any act of disobedience will be punishable by any means appropriate that is decided upon the guards or anyone of higher status. You are to speak to no one. Do your job and stay quiet." The guard finishes explaining your new life then turns around and shuts the doors closed behind him with a loud bang.

The silence is deafening. Everyone too scared to say a word. They all choose a makeshift bed on the floor and prepare to get some sleep before the new day.

You sit in your cot and stare at the floor. You don't realize how much time had passed until the sun shining on your face and the guards are yelling at you all to wake up and start the day.

Will I ever know freedom? Will I ever find happiness? Or am I forced to succumb to this measely life until I die?

The first two weeks seem to pass without problems, until the guards decide to take it upon themselves to 'discipline' as they deem fit.

Most guards resort to name-calling, degradation or sometimes physical punishment. Nothing, nobody was as terrible as one who we called "Snake". He would slither his way into the chambers and choose his prey for the week, sometimes longer. He did as he pleased, if met with opposition, he would often beat them into submission.

You managed to avoid him as long as possible until one night, his large finger points towards you.

You stare at him, expressionless. You refuse to give him the pleasure of seeing your pain, your fear or your desperation. His eyes turn cloudy with anger as he watches you approach him, emotionless.

The others look at you with fear and pity as he drags you out of the maid's quarters towards his room.

He throws you on the floor and closes the door behind him.

"You think I don't know your little game, you harlot?" he sneers at you as he picks you up and slaps you so hard you fall to the floor, your cheek pulsating in pain.

He grabs your cheeks tightly with one hand and squeezes "You will fear me. You will obey me." he threatens you.

Once again, you stare at him blankly. You feel nothing, you haven't for a long time now.

He growls in frustration and punches you again, searching for any reaction; tears, a grunt, a whimper, anything, and yet you show nothing.

"You witch. Impossible. Everybody fears me." he yells at you as he strikes you again. You lay on the floor motionless, your nose and mouth bleeding.

"You will answer me when I speak to you!" he growls in anger as he strikes you again.

You stare up at him and remain silent.

"Are you deaf? mute? Useless! Maybe, you will be useful for other things instead...." he sneers at you as he smirks disgustingly with a knowing look.

Again, you stare at him blankly again. As he begins unbuckling his belt he says "Submit to me. You will do as I say, maid."

You start laughing which makes him look up at you in rage.

"You dare laugh at me?! You filthy servant!" he grabs you by the neck and holds you down tightly, slightly cutting off your airways but enough for you to remain awake.

"Submit to me!" he yells at you.

"Never." you croak.

He screams in a fit of rage and strikes you again. You continue to laugh.

"Witchcraft! You're a disgusting witch! Submit to me or I will have you burned at the stake!" he spits at you.

"I promise you, I will bite your dick off if it comes near me. The human jaw can be so powerful, sometimes a crowbar isn't strong enough to pry it open and I promise you I will not let go until my jaw is pried open." you threaten him as you begin laughing hysterically.

He stares at you in confusion, disgust and fear.

"I knew it! You're a witch!" He screams.

"Are you sure you want to test that theory?" you laugh at him.

He yells in frustration as he strikes you again "I said submit to me!"

You stare him directly in the eyes "No matter how loud the wind howls, the mountain will not bow down to it."

His eyes turn red with rage, he picks you up and throws you across the room. He kicks you on your side.

He continues hitting you as he demands you submit to him. You repeat the same word, almost as a prayer "Never".

You didn't care if you died or how, but you promised yourself that no matter how desperate you would become, you would never submit yourself to another man again, no matter the cost.

Once he is finally done he spits on you, drags you back to the maid's chambers and throws on you the floor as he slams the door behind him.

A few women crowd you and help you to your cot. You're bleeding from your nose and mouth. Your eye is black and swollen shut, your lip is split, your ribs hurt when you breathe.

Even after all that, you realize you still feel nothing. You stare up at the ceiling as the other women surround you to help clean your wounds.

From that moment on, you have been the subject to the Snake's abuse. You have spoken no words, except for "Never" every time the Snake commands you to submit to him. You would rather take on every physical punishment, than let him touch an inch of you.

A few weeks pass with the same abuse, except now other guards have partaken in it as well. You are now referred to as "witch" by the guards. They sneer at you when you walk past them. You keep your head held high and walk straight forward, without giving them a glance.

I am my own person. I have my own thoughts. I am not a puppet.

You repeat these phrases everyday in your head, like a chant to keep you grounded. You've taught yourself to recite small facts about your life to yourself in your head, such as your birthday, your favourite colour, your favourite author and book. It reminds you of who you are, of who they can never take away from you.

🧹🧹🧹

As the months go by, the abuse never ceases. It periodically skips you, allowing your body time to heal before being targeted again.

You have managed to be friendly with the other maids, but still keep to yourself and limit your words. You rarely speak and only do so when absolutely necessary. You decided it was safest for you this way.

You have been generally assigned menial maid tasks, such as cleaning the chambers of the guards or other members of higher status than you, until today. You’re assigned to clean King Loki's quarters. He owns an entire wing to himself, therefore you are to do it alone as he is very particular about his items. It was decided upon the head maid that you were the least likely to steal and most likely to complete the job to Loki's very high standards.

Without much of a choice, you accept the new assignment and make your way to his wing. As grateful as you are for this opportunity, to work alone and use the specialized cleaning supplies for the king, you were also in so much pain. The previous night was the harshest in a long time. The guards told you the king wanted to send you a personal message. By the end of it, you could hardly move and had to be dragged to your cot. Laying in bed, you wondered why the king would choose you for this punishment. You had done nothing wrong, what made you deserving of such poor treatment?

As you're walking to the kings wing, every step you take is followed by a limp and a wince. Nevertheless, the work had to be completed. The consequences were too severe if the work were not to be completed to his prestigious standards. If the king was willing to send you such a message the previous night as a warning for what was to come, the current pain was worth suffering through. From what you've heard the kings punishments never ended well. Nobody ever returned.

With that in mind, you headed to his wing with a slight limp and a wince under your breathe with every step.

Two week pass by and you've been permanently assigned to clean the kings wing, as per his request. You hope it is because he is satisfied with your work, rather than this be some cruel plan.

Once the guards heard of your new permanent position as the kings personal maid, their visits became daily. You were now the only maid being succumbed to their harsh treatment. You knew they were trying to sabotage you so the king would be displeased with your work and be rid of you.

Even so, everyday you wake up and perform your duties. You persevered and refused to let them think they won, no matter how painful, you always kept your head held high.

You're walking to the kings wing, products and cleaning items in hand when a guard approaches and swings his arm at you. You fall to the floor, Cleaning products go flying across the hall, splattering on the floor, against the wall and all over you.

"Tsk tsk tsk... what a shame... you better pray the king doesn't see this mess you caused...." he laughs as he walks over you.

You say nothing as you try getting up but slip on the soapy wet floor. You curse at the mess.

He can't see this. I have to clean this up. I can't be delayed, the king accepts no excuses for punctuality. He will kick me out on the streets... or worse... have me killed.

You get up shakily, holding on the wall for as much support as possible. Your body aches as you start mopping up the mess with speed that can only be explained by pure fear.

Once it's decently done you run to the next room and start cleaning as fast as possible. The pain from the abuse inflicted upon you daily is taking its toll. You decide you have to suck it up until you're done.

You're doing your final task: The king's bedroom. With one wrist against your chest, you clean the bedroom. You're trying to make the bed but can't do it with one hand. Shakily, you move your other wrist and try grabbing the sheets. You hiss in pain and pull back. You're slowing down, taking longer to do simple tasks. Your wrist is swollen wrist and throbbing in pain from the fall earlier. You can hardly move it.

You manage to finish making the bed and is finishing off by dusting the room, keeping your wrist to your chest to stabilize it as much as possible. As you were working through your pain, you didn't notice the time until you hear somebody clear their throat behind you.

You gasp in surprise and spin around.

"King Loki... your highness... I apologize for my tardiness... I-" you start rambling, your head looking down and your legs in a curtsy.

"The hall is a mess. You're late. Your work is very subpar today. I'm disappointed." he tells you coldly while staring you down.

You say nothing as to avoid accidentally insulting him or frustrating him further.

"Consider this your first and last warning. If this happens again, you will heed the consequences." He says to you, chin up, staring at you while you keep your eyes on your shoes.

You mumble another apology when he dismisses you.

You quickly run out of his bedroom. Your heart is racing, you're shaking.

You run to the maid's quarters and go to your cot, avoiding the others. You're staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you possibly escaped his wrath. Replaying the scene in your head, you realize you never looked at him. You've never seen the king in person, only in pictures.

Luckily, tomorrow is the weekend the guards go out to the neighbouring city as a security check-up. You stare at your wrist, which is now purple, blue and swollen. You go to the bathroom and lock the door so you're alone. You remove your clothes as take in a sharp breath as pain courses through your body. You use two wooden sticks you found outside earlier, to stabilize your wrist, hoping it will speed the healing process. When you look up at your reflection you notice the deep colouring littering your body. Purple, blue, yellow, green.... bruises in various levels of healing spread across your body.

You come to the conclusion that you need help... medical help. You slip on a night gown and make your way to the clinic where Dr. Banner resides. He is the only doctor the workers of lower status trust, as he is kind, caring and genuine.

He welcomes you in his room and questions why you came to him so late at night.

You say nothing. You lift your night gown and watch as his eyes widen in understanding. He turns around and files through his medical cabinet.

"Here. Take one pill a day for 3 days. It will completely numb your pain and significantly increase the healing process. Put this healing balm over your bruises and on your wrist, every night for a week." he says to you as he hands you the medicine.

You open your mouth to thank him when he lifts his hand up "No need... please stay safe... if ever you need anything, you know where to find me." his eyes filled with pain and compassion.

You nod and turn around to walk back to your cot.

You immediately spread the balm over your body once your in the bathroom and wrap what you can in bandages to keep it from absorbing into the clothes rather than your skin.

Laying down in bed, the adrenaline from the day wears off and fatigue takes over until you fall into a deep sleep.

Part 2

🧹🧹🧹

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Feedback is always welcome. Feel free to send me suggestions for scenes/drabbles that I could add into the stroy :)

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

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niki-phoria · 1 year ago

Note

Please I need Yeon sieun dating head canons.

pairing: kdrama!sieun x gn!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of parental neglect/bullying

includes: reader is booksmart/likes studying, post layout is kinda messy oops, this is my first attempt at writing hcs pls, i am begging for sieun x male reader reqs

a/n: i don't write hcs but i had a few ideas for this so i did my best lol thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

⋆｡°✩ first meeting

— he’s SO awkward when you first meet

— probably ignores you at first lmao

— sieun doesn’t care much about his peers/other classmates but you catch his eye because of your intelligence

— he still focus more on his studies tho

sieun sits at his usual seat in class, hunched over his desk as he reviews his notes for an upcoming english exam. his hand hovers just above the paper as he skims through the words and makes small mental notes about which parts to continue practicing.

the sudden halted chatter from his classmates catches sieun’s attention. he glances up briefly, setting his pencil aside when he notices his teacher standing in her usual position at the front of the classroom. beside her is an unfamiliar teenager wearing a thin black jacket draped over the school’s button up.

“class,” the teacher begins, gesturing to you. “this is y/n. they’re a new student here.”

“hello,” you say, bowing to the class.

“there’s an open spot next to sieun,” she says, gently pushing you towards him. “you can sit there for now.”

sieun lets out a small sigh in annoyance as you shuffle over before sliding into the seat beside him. the mindless chatter of your classmates resumes as the door closes, signaling your teacher’s exit. he reaches over to grab his earbuds once again, reaching up to place one into his ear when a voice interrupts him. “number four is wrong.”

sieun stops in his tracks, glaring in your direction. you had also pulled out a notebook, filled with your own scribbled notes and miscellaneous doodles decorating the corners. “it’s a dependant clause, not independent,” you elaborate before turning back to your own notes.

despite his better judgment, sieun backtracks to question four. he scoffs slightly when he rereads the question again. you were right.

“thanks,” he mumbles.

you simply smile, waving him off with the slight shake of your head. “anytime.”

⋆｡°✩ first date

— you have to ask him out. he will never make the first move

— needs a lot of reassurance. this is his first relationship and he likes you a lot. he doesn’t wanna mess it up. bare with him

— probably started off as a study hangout and turned into a study date ngl

you flip your pen between your fingers as you watch sieun continue to scribble down notes. his apartment remains silent except for the occasional noise of either of you flipping through your textbooks or the incessant noise of sieun’s pencil against the page.

you set your own pencil aside, ignoring your notes in favour of admiring the boy in front of you. sieun’s fringe is just barely short enough to avoid falling into his eyes. his eyebrows furrow every now and then as his eyes rapidly switch between his notebook and the textbook laid out beside him. his teeth catch his bottom lip between them - a particularly attractive habit you had noticed over the months of getting to know each other.

siuen pauses when he notices your lack of writing, glancing up at you momentarily. you can’t help the soft smile that spreads across your face when you notice his cheeks heating up slightly.

“you’re staring,” he says.

“i’m admiring,” you tease. sieun’s writing pauses for a second before resuming, though his blush has spread fully across his face, tinting the skin a light pink.

a tranquil silence falls over the room once again. it feels so intimate - sitting with sieun in his quiet apartment. your little quirks have made their way into his life despite your young age. a new pair of slides sits at the door, awaiting your arrival. the front pouch of sieun’s backpack has been cleaned out of the usual pencils and highlighters in favour of snacks and packets of gum for you to take at your convenience. he no longer reaches for his left earbud; the small device being reserved for you.

your feelings for sieun jumble together in a mess of half-finished love letters and detailed confessions deeply confined to your mind. after spending over a month suppressing the urge to tell him, you finally can’t help yourself anymore.

“sieun,” you reach out to take his hand into yours. you smile as he intertwines your fingers together. he stops his studying to look up at you - something he’s never done for anyone else. “i like you.”

his eyes widen in surprise. your breath hitches in your throat and your body tenses. it feels like hours of waiting for his reaction before he finally speaks.

“i like you too.”

a bright smile spreads across your face, making sieun’s lips quirk upwards into a soft smile of his own. “will you be mine?”

“only if you’ll be mine too,” he smiles as he squeezes your still-intertwined hands.

⋆｡°✩ first kiss

— “i don’t know what to do with my hands”

— has never been kissed before slkdnsl

— probably doesn’t kiss back at first but he’ll get the hang of it

— more of a peck than an actual kiss tbh

— it takes a lot of trust and vulnerability to get to this point with siuen. he’s not used to feeling love or affection so kisses mean a lot to you

you sigh to yourself, dramatically stretching before a yawn escapes you. the noise catches sieun’s attention, making him pause momentarily as he watches you attempt to blink some of the sleepiness out of your eyes. “you should get some rest,” he says.

you glance at your textbook once more before nodding with another small sigh. “so should you. you’ve been working for even longer than i have.”

“i’m fine.” the words escape sieun’s lips almost instinctively as he continues his studying. you resist the urge to roll your eyes, closing your textbook and shoving it into your backpack in preparation for school the next day.

“sieun…” you circle around the dining room table so you’re standing behind your boyfriend. you lean down to gently rest your hands on his shoulders, gently massaging the tense muscles. a small sigh of content escapes him as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his cheek. “you’re exhausted. come on, let’s go to bed.”

sieun finally relents after a few more seconds, letting his own pencil fall to the side before he stands up. your arm snakes around his waist as you help him tidy up; rhythmically packing up his pencils into the case and sliding each textbook back into its rightful place inside of his bag.

you set your backpacks beside each other as you guide sieun towards his bedroom. his bed remains in the corner, still perfectly tidied from his morning routine.

sieun climbs into bed first, sliding underneath the covers before you join him. his arm finds its familiar home around your waist to keep your body closely against his. you bring your hand up to cup sieun’s cheek, brushing your thumb against his soft skin. he smiles as your fingers trail down his face to trace along his jawline before they finally settle underneath his chin.

sieun’s breath hitches when you brush your thumb against his plump bottom lip. he’s grateful for the darkness covers the blush burning on his cheeks. your voice is quiet when you break the silence. “sieun,” you whisper.

“what is it?”

“can i kiss you?”

his body tenses beside you before he forces himself to relax. sieun can feel his heart beating erratically in his chest. “i’ve… never kissed anybody before.”

“it’s okay.” even in the moonlight he can see you softly smiling at him. “we can take it slow, okay? i won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

he knows. sieun has never felt safe with anyone like he does with you. but he nods nevertheless. “please kiss me,” he whispers.

your hand moves from his chin to cup his cheek once again. after a few seconds you finally lean in, gently pressing your lips against his in a sweet kiss.

sieun brings his own hand up to your cheek, hesitantly leaning in and replicating your movements. this one lasts much longer than the first. you can nearly feel all of the love being poured into it.

you both smile when you finally pull away, pressing a final peck against his lips. you lean in closer, nuzzling your face into the crook of sieun’s neck. you press a chaste kiss against the exposed skin of his neck as you let out a small content sigh, finally letting your eyes flutter closed as you begin to fall asleep. “i love you,” you whisper.

sieun presses a kiss against your forehead. “i love you too.”

⋆｡°✩ general dating hcs

— not a huge fan of pda. he doesn’t like the attention and would rather keep your moments together private

— not very touchy but he likes when you hold his hand/intertwine your arms together (especially if it’s an unconscious thing)

— SO PROTECTIVE. sieun is 100% willing to throw himself between you and any bullies

— his kisses are short and sweet. kiss him as a reward for a good grade or reassurance and his face will light up

— sometimes if he’s feeling extra confident he’ll kiss you in public

— has moments of insecurity pretty often. siuen was neglected as a kid and bullied as a teenager. he needs to know that you love and care about him for him and not out of sympathy

— he needs reminders to eat/sleep/drink water. falls a little more in love every time you do little things for him

— his love languages are quality time/acts of service. quietly studying together until you get up to make him some food as he reviews your notes for you are some of his fav moments with you

— gets clingy when he’s tired. pull him away from his studying, help him wash up, kiss his forehead, and pull him into your arms and he will MELT

— also pls pls pls play with his hair he’ll fall asleep immediately

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mikailys · 1 month ago

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MCL NewGen Ep 8 Commentary

Ik it's late and that several days have passed since the episode's release, but I wanted to wait a bit to let my thoughts simmer and write my review with a cool head. I need to rant about it so sit tight 'cause this one in particular is though lol.

As it was advertised, the whole episode revolves around Roy and a peculiar hobby of his: skinny dipping. Thomas is the one who spills the beans -as always- and everyone is curious about it. Roy explains that he only does it after the swimming pool closing hour and you know what: that is fine by me. Is it weird? Yes, but I'm not supposed to care what my co-workers do in their freetime so I personally don't mind.

And, unfortunately, that's all. To sum up, the plot is "co-workers try to go undercover to spy on their other coworker while he's skinny dipping :|

Since I don't like Roy, the premise of this ep didn't really appeal to me at all. But, weirdly enough, it had the opposite effect 'cause I've spent its whole duration feeling sorry for him. He gets the possibility once a month to train alone in a professional pool, and the six of us -which I recall you are his co-workers and his boss- have nothing better to do than to go spying on him? Just because they thought he subtly implied he wanted them to come see him?!

One. It is false since during the whole workday they kept "catcalling" him and joking about it and he wasn't really pleased to say the least. He put on a brave face, endured the working hours, and then left the office asap.

Two. You're adults, fully grown adults that are acting like literally teens. It's not normal for grown-ups to feel excited, see Elenda and Thomas, to play spies to see your co-worker naked. It is weird and creepy.

I'm glad at least I wasn't the only sane person to comprehend this was wrong and absurd on so many levels. Paradoxically enough, the only one I found myself agreeing with was Amanda, a character I couldn't stand until now, she gained a tons of points in my eyes + she's also a girl's girlie so gg.

Also, special mention to the hint of peer pressure put on Candy and Amanda by the quartet. I didn't like it at all and it shouldn't be even a thing considering the context.

No is no, even if Roy supposedly enjoys voyeurism, I personally do not.

This is really a shame cause they butchered so many characters with this unnecessary sketch, Thomas being the worst of them in my eyes. I'm not sure if my perception of him was wrong from the start, but I don't recognize this character at all. Silly jokes, creepy hobbies, and an immature, teenage-like attitude were never traits I would have attributed to him. I know I keep repeating myself but it's truly a shame that such poor writing has impacted the perception and development of the characters, which now seems clearly different from how they were portrayed in the beginning...

Going forward, I made then the choice to leave with Amanda and warn Roy about their ambush. It was nice to have that option tbh. The whole scene afterwards, sneaking into the public pool and hiding in the lockers, was utterly embarrassing because it’s not the kind of behavior you’d expect from people in their late twenties, but whatever the problem it's the whole context so I can't complain about it too much.

Then Roy catches the sextet and pulls off his counter-prank. After snitching on us, we all decided it was a good time to play with water guns. Again, the idea was fun and silly in a good way, but context-wise mmh...

Now the long-awaited moment I've been patiently waiting for: the encounter with Jason.

Look at him I love him sm nsgsg

I had no idea how they would include him in the episode since he practically had nothing to do with the Devenemential gang. And honestly -unpopular opinion- they probably should have left him out of this messy episode because the reason they gave for his involvement didn’t fully convince me, and the special scene was disappointing.

Apparently, he also has deals with the guards -worst security protocol ever if you ask me- and he goes there once a week to train. And here I was thinking that the CEO of a famous and well-known company would have a private pool or the means to rent one lol. Looks like everyone's feeling the pinch these days. Good job Jason, saving money like the rest of us poor unfortunate souls, such a relatable boss.

Fun fact, it appears one of his dreams is to defeat Roy? In a swimming competition?? Like, okay? I'll gladly be there to root for you the day you actually succeed then dear.

Well maybe not everyone shares the same hobbies as you and Roy, Candy. Besides, why would he know about Roy's interests?? He's not as deranged as Thomas, who keeps tabs on his colleagues' private lives...

ANYWAY. Candy feels cold and needs to get out of the pool if she doesn’t want to catch pneumonia. Jason offers to help her by closing his eyes, but she’s not fully convinced. Again, NOT EVERYONE IS A PERV, CANDY. You're just the unlucky girl who's got to work with them. In fact you should bring him to Devenemential to have him teach your colleagues the art of not being crazy maniacs, I'm sure that could be of help.

I won't spend too many words on the next scene since I've already made a whole ass post ranting about it and sharing my headcanon. However, regarding the mistress scene, I will say that yes, it was poorly executed. But if the entire episode had followed this direction I would have gladly signed off on it because, all things considered, it’s not even remotely comparable to the plot we've endured so far.

Now for the special scene I am conflicted. Ngl I really thought for a split second that we actually managed to kiss him, but I quickly snapped back to reality when I realized it was just Candy being delusional and I am just as much as her. She must have ingested way too much chlorine to be having such a mental trip lol. Anyway, I didn't like it very much because it was clear that BV didn't know what to come up with. The fact that they managed to incorporate Jason into the plot was something, but asking for a well-written special scene was apparently too much.

On a side note, I’m DEAD TIRED of having to endure the worst humiliations in every single episode when we’re on Jason’s route. It's pretty embarrassing, and, at lest for me, it’s not easy to move forward without cringing every few minutes. Moreover, it always seems like he has to have the upper hand in every situation. When is our Candy going to stop acting like a fool and step up her game??

And that's all, the episode ends with Candy leaving the pool, wondering if she and Jason will ever stop meeting in the most weird way spoiler: you won't i assure you.

Now for the next episode I fear we’re in for another ‘fun’ plot since it’s called A Child at Heart, but honestly I have no idea what these interns will actually get up to. Maybe the theme will revolve around generational differences, since they seem to be Gen Z while our colleagues are more on the border of being Millennials? Idk but I do really hope the writing will be better than in this ep.

All things considered, I still have faith in BV. I know they have the ability to write a good story with a solid foundation when they want to—it’s just that I don’t know what’s happening with this series in particular. As other players have pointed out, it feels like this plot was originally conceived when NG was still set in a high school, and now they’re trying to repurpose it in a more 'adult' way. The problem is, it’s just not working.

The Halloween event is approaching, and let’s hope it can alleviate some of the discontent in the community. Hopefully the upcoming episodes will be better since they’ve addressed the topic in the forums but we'll see.

#ah another reminder: candy has a pool at home #and i remind you she had the whole home for herself for three whole episodes...#i wanna forget everything and only think about jason's sprite #they already spoiled us but to see it in game with my eyes was *insert seagull meme*#mclng #mcl new gen #amour sucre new gen

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studentbyday · 1 year ago

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D-38 DAYS TO FREEDOM

today we "go" to the library to salvage an unproductive day. remember how i was saying leaving my phone has made me lots more productive? hehe, now i spend more time in the mornings and nights on it to "catch up" 😑 smh. 🙌🏻 THERE IS SO MUCH I WANNA DO WITH MY LIFE WHAT AM I DOING WASTING IT ON MY PHONNNEEEEE 🙌🏻 anyway, the goal today is to study for 4+ hours. (hopefully i can make it to at least 6.) update: i only made it to 4.

learning:

chk + send mol bio asst ✅🤞🏻

peer review biochem papers ✅

write biochem discussion replies 🟡 (i wrote one. one more to go but my brain is fried.)

other than that, i tried to work on last psyc ch from last week. got stuck. awaiting reply. worked a little bit on the next psyc ch instead which reads a lot like me when i get philosophical. it's weird to read in a "science" setting.

self-care:

physio exercises ✅

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tomorrowxtogether · 6 months ago

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SHOW REVIEW: TOMORROW X TOGETHER KEEPS THEIR PROMISE TO FANS AT SECOND LOS ANGELES TOUR STOP

With so many K-pop groups on tour, their final stops tend to land them in Los Angeles. However, Tomorrow X Together decided to switch things up, beginning their Act: Promise tour on the West Coast. Their second night at Crypto.com Arena was a perfect storm of fan favorite songs, tracks from their latest comeback and a bigger and better show for their screaming (and barking) MOAs.

The typical introductory video preceded the start of the show and Soobin, Yeonjun, Taehyun, Hueningkai and Beomgyu’s faces set off a wave of screaming that summoned the group to the stage. They rose from under the main stage and walked purposefully to their secondary platform in the middle of the floor to begin a two hour extravaganza with “Deja Vu” and “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away)”. The arena was awash in the coordinated colors from hundreds of lightsticks as fans twirled them aggressively to match the energy of the group.

After a quick speech and the first of several costume changes, we’d barely scratched the surface of what was in store. TXT’s stunning synchronization and airtight harmonies put them head and shoulders above many of their peers and the stage setup- including the shapeshifting center platform- allowed their strengths to take the spotlight. From the pulsing beat of “Devil by the Window” to the poppy goodness of “Magic”, TXT highlighted their forays into English songs to the delight of the audience.

The group kept the energy levels high with their hugely danceable songs before bringing things down a notch for the slow by soaring “Trust Fund Baby”. The units then had their moment in the sun, with the pop punk inspired “Quarter Life” performed by Hueningkai, Taehyun and Beomgyu before Yeonjun and Soobin had the entire arena screeching through their sultry performance of “The Killa (I Belong to You)”. The boys gave themselves and their MOAs an intermission to catch our collective breath and returned to the stage for the final part of a truly memorable night.

They also took many opportunities to address the fans, talking about the food they’ve had on their travels, funny stories and constant expressions of love towards the crowd. The audience never let up in their determination to shower the group in words of love and affirmation and it was their strength that propelled them towards the finish line.

TXT chose surprise songs as part of their encore each night and closed LA night two with their Jonas Brothers collaboration “Do It Like That” along with the English version of “Cat and Dog”- and this triggered a band-endorsed wave of barking that continued even after the group had said their final goodbyes. We’ve seen them before and we’ll do so again and that’s simply because TXT are still on their stratospheric rise to the top of the game in K-pop and beyond. The world tour continues through the summer and we’ll be eagerly awaiting the next installment of the group’s wild live show.

#txt #tomorrow x together #240530 #article #atlas artist group #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #taehyun #hueningkai #act: promise

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carolinahope · 1 year ago

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I was peer-pressured and peer-reviewed into watching Young Royals. But I'm not mad. I'm delighted.

I have a lot to say, and I will, but for starters just general thoughts.

I watch so many USAmerican shows that every time I put on something not that, it takes me a hot second to adjust my optics. It is not bad at all. Just really refreshing.

As for the show, I think the first season was more emotionally satisfying. Because the main story were Wille and Simon and this unexpected relationship they found themselves in.

Second season was more story-tellingly engaging. As the characters were established and they could dive into them more. We got more of all their hopes and dreams and fears and flaws. There was a lot of scheming and pressure and mistakes and small victories and big losses and learning.

I liked how the seconds season showed even clearer that these are pretty much just kids who are put under undue pressure and how that both breaks and makes them. I liked that adults were pretty much just furniture or the cause of pressure throughout the whole show.

The tradition aspect that was woven into the show was really interesting as well and managed to paint an even fuller picture. The stupid initiations, the St. Lucia, Valentines, etc. It was a lovely insight into Sweden. But mostly into the rigidity of uncontested insistence on doing it all the way it has always been done.

The visuals and music were amazing as well.

And I fucking love the casting. Especially Omar and Edvin are a delight to watch, whether together or separate. But there really is no one where I would say, meh.

I also liked the relationships portrayed. It is interesting that there really wasn't much male friendship there. They all seemed to be more associates or teammates or accomplices. On the other hand we got some really solid and interesting female dynamics.

I watched the show in two sittings during work week (otherwise it would have been a very pleasant if full Saturday). But who needs sleep, right? And now I'm here not so patiently awaiting S3.

#Young Royals #Wilmon #Wille/Simon #Edvin Ryding #Omar Rudberg

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leafsbabe · 3 months ago

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fanfic got sent to peer review and I am anxiously awaiting response but the jury is only people who are responsible job havers so it’ll be a few hours, I shall attempt to use the time to make a cover and clean up the movie blog a lil more

#hanna talks

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solomonssock · 2 years ago

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I Know Joy Because I Know You

I didn't specify the type of alcohol so imagine whatever you'd wish! I imagine I’m enjoying a nice Shirley Temple to my heart’s content, cherries courtesy of Luce

Pairing: gn!reader x Lucifer (at last, an established relationship!)

TW: Alcohol use, some brief discussion of Devildom politics, some intense wooing, very brief mention of violence, uhh let me know if there's anything else, ty!

Word Count: ~4,400

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Now then, MC." A faint click sounds behind you as Lucifer locks the door to his office. "What have you brought for me tonight?"

"Something I hope you'll enjoy." You spare him a coy glance over your shoulder, raising your brow with a knowing smile. "You're a fan of classical, no?"

The iron railing underneath your palm is cool to the touch as you begin to journey downstairs. Your hand drags against the grooves, feeling how some of the iron has dimpled in its wear over millennia. You hold a flat brown paper bag that you've tucked into your arm against you as you descend, trying to minimize the inevitable crinkling sound that follows every step you take.

You peer over the railing to the space below. The fireplace crackles every so often as it casts its light across the room, bathing everything before it in a warm orange glow.

“That, I am.” You shiver at the gruff timbre of Lucifers voice, his footsteps trailing close behind you.

He sounds as exhausted as you expected him to be after a full day's work. How he even remains upright among constant chaos forever remains a mystery to you. Really, you had insisted you two meet another night. Insisted that he rest with what little free time he was granted.

But his pride wouldn't have it.

"Don't be absurd." He had said then, will unyielding. "Such time would best be spent in your company. I am not so fallible as to push myself beyond my limits. I assure you; I have tested them enough to know them well."

At the bottom of the stairs awaits your shared reflection, crystal clear imitations in the perfectly polished tile. You've long forgone your uniform in favor of loungewear. Lucifer, however, remains as pristine and presentable as ever. At the very least, he has freed himself of his coat and gloves.

He comes to stand beside you, placing a bare hand onto the small of your back. The touch warms your skin as he rubs away the tightness he finds there in small, tight circles. You too, are quite terribly exhausted.

He presses a kiss upon your head.

"Please, have a seat."

He nudges you forward, toward the pair of chairs turned away from the fireplace. You set the bag onto the low table before plopping down and reclining into the plush red cushions. You can't see him, but you can feel Lucifer standing behind you, his presence heavy over the backrest.

"Thank you for joining me."

The indistinct sound of shuffling catches your ear, but the comfort of your current position persuades you from peeking. "The past few weeks have been stressful, I'm sure. Midterms at R.A.D., for a human no less, are no easy feat."

"Yeah." You hum, eyes drooping at the pleasant warmth prickling your skin from the flames flickering behind you. "They were tough, but everyone was helpful in reviewing all the material."

"Everyone?" You're well acquainted with the suspicion underlying that tone.

"Yes, Lucifer. Everyone." Your eyes slip shut. "Even Mammon and Leviathan." He huffs somewhere above you.

"I'm certain their motivations were more in the interest of monopolizing your time than in helping you succeed." You can feel Lucifer bend down behind you, the force of his breath rushing against the shell of your ear. "However, it seems their efforts have paid off."

"You have done well, beloved. Nearly perfect marks on most of your exams."

You take a deep breath, fighting the blush threatening to spread across your cheeks at his praise. You're still not quite used to these pet names.

"I'm just glad it's over with. It was a lot, but I bet it's nothing compared to what you've been dealing with on a daily basis."

Your eyes shoot open as you feel Lucifer's hands latch onto your shoulders. You groan at the pressure built in there as he prods at the space with his thumbs, mapping out all of your tension. Slowly, but surely, his fingers begin to press into the skin there, unrelenting on the sore muscles that lie beneath. Unable to hold your head up any longer, you flop backwards and peer up at the demon.

With his back to the fireplace, a darkness overcomes his features. The shadows fail, however, to mask the sinful gaiety swimming within his eyes. From this position, you watch as the warmth awaiting behind him twists and turns, fighting against itself. Flames flickers to and fro, as if his presence alone commands hellfire.

You're pinned down by his gaze. His heady eyes are like a glass of full-bodied red wine, and being their sole focus makes your head all hazy. Yet, you catch on to how they crinkle at their corners, accompanying his wicked grin as you become all but pliable in his hands. As your head rolls a bit to the right, you note the lack of strain that accompanies the action.

Lucifer is a damn good masseuse.

But really, he should be the one receiving such lavish treatment. Hopefully, you think, he'll come around to taking pride in your desire to care for him so that you can return the fa-

Your heart nearly leaps into your throat as you catch a glimpse of bare forearm in your peripheral. You conclude that must have been the shuffling you heard earlier - the rolling of sleeves. A snort of amusement sounds above you in response to your shock.

"Are you so easily distracted by the sight of bare skin?"

Well, no, you think.

"Just yours."

You curse your loose lips and brace yourself to be lectured by your lover. But nothing comes. A small "hmph" draws your attention towards Lucifer and your pulse quickens at the captivating sight before you.

His brows pulled together, eyes flickering between you and the wall, and a blush warming his pale cheeks makes you swoon. You coo internally at the pout that pulls at his lips; the same one you had mistaken as a frown for so long. You reach up and place your hands upon his forearms, hands squeezing the skin tenderly.

"Beautiful." You mumble.

Had you not been watching him so intently; you'd have missed how his eyes had widened. As they come to settle once more onto your own, you still. You're not sure what to make of the dangerous glint bouncing within them. Lucifer smirks as his hands pause in their task.

He cocks his head before he descends upon you. You breathe him in, the familiar scent of frankincense and leather leaving you dizzy as his lips brush lightly against your own.

You close your eyes, lips pursed.

"While I appreciate your admiration in all its forms." Your breath hitches as Lucifer's form shakes above you with a snicker. "It is well beneath you to undermine your achievements."

As you feel his form recede from you, you sit up, mouth agape. That's what you get for teasing him, you suppose.

"Seriously though, Lucifer. Such stress can't be good for you." You had found him nearly half asleep at his desk at least two times this week.

Lucifer waves off your concern as he saunters over to his desk. Papers are piled into neat stacks, an open envelope can be found here and there, and within the coffee mug that holds his pens you find one you'd gifted him from a museum in the human world.

"We have already discussed this at great length. Unfortunately, there are some roles which only I can, and must, fulfill." Bending over his desk, you watch Lucifer reach for something on the seat of his chair. When he turns to face you again, a large wicker picnic basket dangles by his side. In just a few strides, Lucifer comes to stand before you. He reaches a hand out to your cheek and you hold it there, leaning into his touch.

"I only ask that you humor me in these moments when I have the rare occurrence to mix business with pleasure."

Pulling away from you, Lucifer uses the space beside your package on the low table to lay out what he's packed for the two of you. You soon recognize the assortment of treats to be your favorites from Hell's Kitchen. You gasp when your eyes happen upon the wrath beast tartar. You'd only had the privilege of tasting during the very far and few private dinners between you, Lord Diavolo, and Lucifer himself.

"Lucifer." He simpers at the way you call out to him, looking quite pleased with himself as you gaze in awe at the spread before you. "A few treats are fine, but this is too much. At least let me pitch in next time."

"You will do no such thing." You know better than to push him when his tone is so firm. "Such costs are miniscule in the face of your accomplishments this semester. " He lays out one final dish, giddy goop pie, before closing the basket and resting it on the floor beside the low table.

"Your grades are impressive. But your ability to corral the others is an achievement all of its own, especially on days when they insist on being endlessly troublesome. Such order seems beyond my means without disciplining them." On a plate, Lucifer piles a couple of pickings for you to partake in before he hands it to you with a soft smile.

"I hope they are all to your liking."

Sauteed wild hare liver, shadow goose meat, egg lasagna, and so, so, much more. Every bite goes down smooth, flavor bursting across your tastebuds. There's no way you'll be able to work through every course, so you ponder over what you'll pack into a plate or two to stash away in the private mini fridge hidden within your room.

"Ah, it's all so good!" You murmur absentmindedly, stabbing your fork into another piece of whole roasted havoc devil and popping it into your mouth with a happy hum.

A chuckle to your left catches your attention. Lucifer sits in the seat beside you, reclined against the cushions with an arm resting over the backrest. Despite the feast before him, his gaze consumes you whole. You begin to chew slower, feeling self-conscious that you are the only one eating.

"Do you not want any?" You set your fork down and face him more fully.

"If it pleases you, I'll take a plate. Although," you fidget in your seat as his eyes rake down your form, "I am sated as is. Indulging you is quite filling."

"O-oh." You smile shyly before looking down at your plate. You lift your fork, using its prongs to poke at the egg lasagna. "I'd like for you to enjoy this with me, not, you know, just me."

"As you wish."

Without another word, Lucifer stands and prepares a plate for himself. Steadily you two work through the dishes, never finishing, but at least sampling each plate.

"I am grateful, really," you laugh, belly full, "but why buy this much? You must have known we wouldn't finish it all."

"Well," you flush at the fondness with which he takes you in, "I was unsure which you would prefer more. It would have been a shame to lack in anything you might have desired." You are humbled by the admission. All of this, just for you, so that there was little chance you'd be disappointed.

"No matter. Whatever we do not finish, will be finished, eventually." The amusement in his tone makes you giggle.

"Yes, I'm sure the others will be all too happy about this." Lucifer sits up and begins to re-package the dishes. Although he protests, you join him and soon enough develop a rhythm that has the low table back to its original state in no time. You go to sit down again as you hear a ping echo in the room.

Lucifer reaches into his back pocket, fishing out his D.D.D. He heaves a heavy sigh as he looks over the screen.

"Back to business?" You see the briefest hint of annoyance overcome his features.

"I've been tasked with surveying candidates to fill a vacant teaching position." Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "There is a high volume of applicants. However, I must ensure that they are capable of honoring Lord Diavolo's demands and are up to standard before I pass their files over to Barbatos."

"Up to standard?" You tilt your head to rest it against the cushion. It's rare for him to divulge working matters to you.

"Whoever is selected will be within close proximity to the future king." He answers, clicking off the phone and shoving it back into his pocket. "Credentials are important. But my concern lies with their motivations for teaching at R.A.D. now that we've begun this exploratory program."

"Because of Solomon and I?" You feel a small pang in your chest. You know you're not to blame, but you hate creating more work for him, even if unintentionally.

"It is a matter beyond the students currently in attendance. This is, of course, only the initial stages for our Lord's desire to begin open communication between the three realms."

"As one can imagine, when such channels become open, problems will arise. Those in opposition of current leadership are likely to rebel and having connections within the school will only further increase their chances of contact with the Student Council, or worse."

Your mind spins with the revelation that even your relationship with Lucifer carries a political undertone. You know not all demons have been favorable of the program, but having witnessed the strength of the Avatars, the thought that any of them could be defeated, that Diavolo could be defeated, had escaped your mind. Your shoulders curl forward as dread begins to seep in. It's a terrifying realization and a reality you hope this timeline will never face.

"Calm yourself."

A finger hooks beneath your jaw, lifting your head to meet Lucifer's brooding gaze as he appears before you on one knee.

"I do not wish to instill unnecessary fear within you. I will not allow any of us to be put in such a precarious position. Of that, I give you my word."

You nod, reaching up to take his hand within your own. You and the others have been up to your usual antics, unaware of the potential severity of internal conflict brewing under Lucifer's watchful eye. The weight he bears is more oppressive than you could even begin to understand. You can't imagine a single soul who could handle the immense pressure of such a grave task in stride as he does.

"I don't fear for myself." You press a kiss to the back of his hand and feel his fingers wrapping tighter around yours. "But that does put me at ease. Thank you, Lucifer. I know..."

You do not doubt where you stand in his heart, but often question your place in matters dealing with Diavolo.

"Know what?" He asks. You take a deep breath, and steady your gaze upon his. You want him to take this seriously and know that you mean it.

"I know there might not be much I can do for the time being, and you have done well on your own. But, if there comes a day when I can help you, regardless of the task, I ask that you don't hesitate. I understand these matters are way beyond my understanding, but I want you to place your trust in me."

Your chest seizes as silence fills the room, but Lucifer is merciful enough to stop you before you can stew in your anxiety. Carefully, he pulls your hand within his to his lips, pressing a kiss of his own onto the skin.

He says nothing as he stands, but that is much better than rejecting you outright. He's acknowledged your request, and that is enough for now.

"Since we have finished dinner, shall we move on to a review of your performance? I would also like to set aside some time to address expectations for the remainder of the semester." You perk up as he steps over to the liquor-lined shelves.

The actual reason you'd been called to his office had slipped your mind. Each semester, Lucifer conducts a one-on-one midmester progress check-in with each brother. Having come to live under his household, you have not been spared from the formality.

"Is that what I hope it is?" You'd agreed to the meeting, but that didn't mean you two couldn't enjoy it thoroughly. Lucifer shakes his head softly with a snort.

"If you are suggesting that it is your favorite alcoholic beverage from the human realm, then yes. That is what we agreed upon."

You feel excitement welling up within you as he walks back with two glasses. You've wanted to drink with him for some time, but demonus has no effect on humankind. So, he had proposed an exchange in preparation for your meeting: human liquor for acceptable grades.

You spare a look to the bag that sits on the table.

You couldn't just leave it at that though, so, you had asked that he allow you to put in a private request. You've selected something else to exchange with him, something you have wanted to share with him after your time back in the human realm.

You two sit for some time, sipping on your drinks as you go through the usual routine. With each course and thorough grade evaluation, time seems to slow. Warmth bursts from within your chest, whipping wildly throughout your body, and radiates from your cheeks. Having paced himself, Lucifer appears much the same as before, but his face is not unaffected by the same flush that has overcome you.

"It pleases Lord Diavolo that you have adjusted so well and have decided to continue your studies here in the Devildom." He sets your report down onto the low table before reclining back into his seat.

Oh. It seems you two have finally finished. How lovely.

"You have made a rather fine impression for humanity, despite this unexpected arrangement. Such performance bodes well for us all."

"It pleases just Lord Diavolo?" You quip, raising a brow at him over your glass.

Lucifer turns to you, a wry smile on his face as he takes a swig of demonus.

"You would have me put my praise into words when I've already laid it out for you here," he motions to first to your glass, then to the basket still resting upon the floor, "and here?"

When your eyes have finally caught up to his motions, you look to him, a wicked grin rivaling his own.

"Would that be so terrible, Lucifer? I do love the sound of your voice." You tease, brain unfiltered as you sway in your seat.

"How brazen of you to question my opinion of you. Do you not wear my mark upon your skin, Master?" A pleasant shiver crawls through you as he purrs the title only reserved for moments like these, hidden away from world.

You reach for your collar. Beneath it, a thrum of magic buzzes against your fingertips. You can only make out the faint glow of royal blue, but do not doubt that Lucifer can see his pact mark in all its glory as he calls it forth.

Even so, you pay it no mind, gaze unflinching as you keep your attention on him. You do, however, trace your finger over the markings you have memorized. Beneath Lucifer's black buttoned up, skin starts to glow.

Lucifer sighs heavily, but his tone is filled with adoration. "You are insatiable."

You scoff. "And you're not?"

Your mind flashes with all the stolen kisses the demon has sneaked in between meetings, in hidden hallway corridors, and on early morning walks through the garden before the others have risen. With the countless days you've found notes hidden within your room wishing you a good morning, in the kitchen to remind you to eat, and in the common area requesting that you not stay up too late on the days he is called away on business.

Your favorite, however, are the late-night texts he sends when you are out for the night, always wishing for your wellbeing and safe return to him.

Your jaw drops as Lucifer combs his fingers through his hair, chortling in amusement all the while. The unrestrained display assures you that he is tipsy.

"Yes, as am I. There is much to do with so little time. It has kept me from you longer that I find acceptable most days." He muses as you finish the last sip of your third drink, quickly moving on to melting the ice that remains in your mouth.

"As selfish of me as it may be, I'd like nothing more than to keep you by my side."

Your focus returns to him alone as he leans forward towards you on the chair, forearms resting upon his knees. The image feels absurd as Lucifer's tie, loosened from the confines of his half-buttoned vest, simply dangles in the air. Truly, you laugh to yourself, it looks as free as he must feel right now.

"You think my desire for you to be insincere? Were you not the one clambering for my affections?" Your eyes widen and you try to suppress another laugh at his defensiveness to your personal amusement.

"Clambering?!" Yet, you go quiet as Lucifer stands and stumbles over to you. Once more, he kneels before you.

"I will make it certain that you never doubt my feelings for you." He sets his glass onto the table before his hands come to cup your face. You feel yourself burn up at his touch, and it only worsens as he begins.

"I adore you. I would rather be torn apart limb from limb than ever have to watch you leave my side. There will never be a day that I stop loving you and never will I cease my desire to pass the rest of my existence within the comfort of your embrace."

You feel faint.

"The thought I may ever disappoint you destroys me; that you might ever be angry with me causes me to lose all reason. I would live for you, die for you, kill for you if you ever wished it."

Your heart feels as if it's going to burst if he looks into your eyes like this any longer.

"I know joy because I know you. I loath to ever be apart from you and think only of how quickly I can return to you when I am away. Your mind, body, and soul have bewitched me for all eternity. I am forever devoted to your happiness, as it is my own."

Oh yes, you really think you might faint.

"We could rearrange this space." You have a brief respite as Lucifer's eyes flitter around the room in contemplation. There is no doubt in your mind that he can feel the warmth emanating from you, and not just from the liquor. "Maybe a desk to join mine so that I might have the pleasure of your company for as long as I'd like."

"Lucifer!" You whine, but he hushes you with a tender kiss.

"Yes, I'm quite taken with the idea. To gaze upon the holder of my affection as I wish with little interruption from others. How does that sound?"

You're breathless as he gazes into your eyes once more. You chide yourself for ever having questioned the depth of his affections in the past. All he does, he does for his family. A family that has claimed you as their own.

You are too tipsy to pour your heart out in a dignified manner, so you tuck away the idea to do so properly when you are sober. But you cup his face in your hands as he holds yours.

"Wonderful." You reply. "Nothing would make me happier than to love you, forever, and be loved by you, forever." It's not as grand as his prose, but it is enough to make Lucifer purr some. The quiet rumble shocks you. Rarely does he allow himself to be so carefree.

You are reminded that he has in fact had at least four drinks as his head droops down onto your shoulder. You hold onto him so that he does not fall, content to remain in this peaceful moment that belongs solely to the two of you.

After some time passes, Lucifer lifts his head off you.

"Might I confess something to you, my love?"

"Yes, Lucifer, dear. What is it?" You think you might like the way the term of endearment rolls off your tongue.

He glimpses to the low table beside the two of you. "This request of yours has tormented me for some time. Finally, will you share what you have been keeping from me?"

"Don't misunderstand me." You murmur, smoothing a finger over his brow before it furrows further. "It was never something to be kept from you."

You move to stand, and Lucifer rises. Upright, you pick up the package off the low table.

"It was always something I planned to share with you." You turn and hold it out to Lucifer.

"A trade is only fair if what is exchanged is of equivalent value. You brought me entertainment I am only ever able to enjoy in the human realm. So, I thought to bring a form of entertainment you could enjoy."

He takes the paper bag from you, raising a brow as he feels around inside.

"Could it be?" He pulls out a record sleeve.

Lucifer looks at you with a pleased smile. "How considerate of you." He leaves the bag back on his desk as he walks over to the record player.

"As much as I am dying to hear your cursed record collection, I have no desire to actually put myself in mortal danger." Gently, Lucifer pulls the record out from the sleeve.

"It's a copy of a classical jazz record I have at home in the human realm. While I was gone, I would listen to it a lot cause it reminded me of you."

Lucifer places the record, lifts the stylus, and sets it down onto the record to cue. It starts off with a ballad.

He walks back to you, finally flipping the record sleeve over to check the playlist. You're sure he's seen your note when he comes to a stop just before you. You wrote it in blue ink to make sure it stands out from the sleeve's white-gray coloring.

Thinking of you too <3.

Your heart stops as his eyes soften, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Was the message too much?

"I-" You step towards him.

"As expected of you, to do the unexpected. Whatever will I do with these unfamiliar feelings you stir up within me?"

"Well, first, you could kiss me?" You're giddy with the mirth that lights up his eyes at the suggestion.

"That's true, isn't it? Yes, I think I will kiss you." Closing the gap, Lucifer reaches for your hands and holds them in his.

"I think I will kiss you, and then you and I will dance. I think I shall have you recount just what it is you thought of while you listened to this record, and that I will share in kind just what thoughts the music brings to me."

Lucifer guides your hands, placing them where he would like you to hold onto him.

"After, I think we will have another drink or two, pick at the food even, if you wish. Then, before it is too late in the evening, I will take you to your room. It is only a Thursday night, and you must be up early tomorrow."

He steps back, and you two stumble into a waltz that carries you throughout the room. He leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

"And I hope that then, you will grant me the pleasure of a goodnight kiss."

You grin, leaning your head onto his shoulder. Work prevents him from being as selfish with your time as his brothers are. But he makes the most of these moments he shares with you.

"Yes, dear. As many as you'd like."

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