#Client Perception Management

[marketxcel]

Shaping Perceptions: Brand Positioning in Wealth Management

Explore our case study on brand perception and strategic positioning for a prominent wealth management company. Witness the art of building trust and value in financial services.

[kiyoomiee]

one. two. three. four. five.

After that pool party incident, Sukuna tried his best to stay away from you. But how could he when you're literally everywhere?

Walking into the kitchen in the morning to find you cooking breakfast in one of his oversized shirts that Yuuji must've mistook as his and let you borrow it. The way it barely covered your thighs had him gripping his coffee mug too tight. Fucking sinful.

Running into you in the hallway after your shower, hair wet and skin flushed from the hot water. The scent of your shampoo and body wash lingering in the air long enough for him to get addicted to it even after you're gone.

Sukuna can sense that you're trying to avoid him too.

You started waiting until you hear his bedroom door close before going out of your room. You would sometimes eat your meals alone just to avoid him in the kitchen.

It was driving him insane. He wanted to avoid you, yet he can't stop seeking you out when you're gone from his sight.

He couldn't stop thinking about you, and he hated it. Hated how his body reacted every time you were near. Hated how his eyes followed you whenever you entered a room.

But most of all, he hated how you made him feel things he never felt before.

“You've been spacing out a lot lately. Everything okay?” Yuuji's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Shut up.” Sukuna grunts. They were watching Yuuji's favorite movie, yet Sukuna's focus was anywhere but the screen in front of him.

His brother was more perceptive around others, contrary to other people's thoughts. Yuuji noticed his lingering eyes whenever you're around.

Where are you? You aren't home yet.

“She's sleeping over Nobara's dorm tonight, if that's what you're worried about.” Yuuji mentioned as if he can read thoughts, and watched as his brother's expression darken.

“Not worried.” Liar. Just the mention of you had his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He needed to get his shit together. You were his brother's best friend, for fuck's sake. Off limits. Forbidden. Young. Not his type.

Lies. lies. lies.

One night, Sukuna came home late from work, pissed over a client who tried to lowball him about their tattoo design which he spent fucking hours on.

He found you in the kitchen, humming softly while washing dishes. He went straight for the cupboard, he desperately needs a drink tonight.

“Oh, you're home. I saved some food for you in the fridge. Have you eaten dinner yet? I'll heat it up for you.” You turned the faucet off and faced him when a gentle smile on your face.

Even after being rude to you in countless occasions, you still manage to spare him that smile of yours. Fuck, you're too good for him. Add that to the fucking list of reasons why he can't have you.

“Are you looking for liquor? I moved it over the next shelf.”

The sight of you in his space, looking so comfortable and domestic, made something snap inside him.

“Can you stop moving my fucking things around?” he growled.

“I was just cleaning-”

“I don't care what you were doing. This is my house, I want my shit exactly where I left it.” You flinched at his harsh and spiteful tone.

Why did he have to be so mean?

“What the fuck is your problem, Sukuna? Why do you hate me so much?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Sukuna froze, his jaw clenching. Hate you?

“I stayed out of your way. I avoid bumping into you everyday. I tried to do something nice yet you still look at me like I disgust you. I live like a fucking ghost in this house. So tell me what I've done to make you hate me so much?”Your lips quivered as you rambled on.

You were right. You're like a ghost that haunted him even in his dreams. In his dreams where he can touch you and own you freely, a beautiful nightmare that he doesn't want to end.

As he stares at you, his thoughts became more clear. If only he could actually hate you instead of wanting you so desperately that it made him feel like he was losing his mind.

“I don't hate you.” He said through gritted teeth. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “That's the fucking problem.”

—————————————————————

taglist: @emyyy007 @thebumbqueen @domainofmarie @cheriiepies @jumpinjaxx @mothstvrnz @grveyrd4 @tojisbabymommasblog @realalpacorn @starriesworlds @go-go-gadget-autism @ieathairs @oidloid @krispywhisperswhispers @satorupied @zeunys @chosos-prettyprincess

[satzumosupremacy]

Elite Bodyguard Series: Pt.10

Desperation

Male reader x Jeon Somi

Tags: Smut, literally face fucking, daddy kink

2.8k Words

You have a history with Somi. Back when you were a freshly new bodyguard, she repeatedly sought out your services. Regardless of whether the close relationship you shared with her is just a distant memory for you, she still thinks of you from time to time—perhaps more often than you'd expect. And here you are, reminiscing about the old days and walking in front of Somi as she follows behind.

“Oppa, y’know my song was inspired by you.”

“Fast Forward?”

There’s a reason why Somi isn’t your client anymore—she switched agencies, that’s the only reason. You advanced quickly, gaining many celebrity clients along the way. It’s the law of attraction: when people seek top talent, companies turn to you. And when Somi needed to make a decision on her own career as an idol, she only had two choices: move to a different agency or continue to have you by her side. It was a hard choice for Somi until she came to the obvious conclusion. You didn’t hold any resentment; you understood her decision. This was all business anyways.

However, the glares in your eyes weren't always so friendly. Your presence was already intimidating, with the black suit, sunglasses, earpiece, and sometimes even a holster at your hip. You didn't smile much, but you got the job done. Initially, Somi thought you were a cold person, but that changed once you became her regular bodyguard. The more time she spent with you, the more her perception shifted. Despite your cold and intimidating appearance, you cared for and protected your client. That was the job you had signed up for.

“I took part in the lyrics,” Somi says, causing you to stop short before opening the door and look back at her.

“What do I have to do with your song?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Just.. just missed you, Oppa. Don’t you miss me too?”

You couldn't give her an answer when she expected a 'yes,' but you remained silent. Was it wrong to forget about her? You had her phone number, but you never called or texted. Not even to wish her something like a 'Happy Birthday' or 'Happy New Year.'

Somi glances around to make sure no one is watching. Once she's certain both of you are alone, she takes your hand. “I know we are parting ways again after this. But can we catch up? I don’t want you to leave.”

“I think your manager is waiting, Somi. We can catch up next time. Promise?”

“But remember the promise you made with me last time?”

You're clueless. Her question was too vague. It's been years. "What promise?"

“May I come over, Oppa? You’ve seen my place. I never saw yours.”

Somi never slept with you, but it was obvious that she wanted to fuck at the hotel when you went overseas with her, which didn't went her way anyways since this was all business. “Does Chaeyoung talk about me to you, Somi? I’m sure she said something.”

“Oppa, just once. Please?” Somi’s begging for you straightforwardly, you can tell from her eyes that she’s been lonely for far too long. “Aren’t we close? How many years have we not seen each other? It’s been too long, Oppa.”

There’s also not a single lie that you can tell Somi was interested in you, not just sexually, but also romantically. When times change, it’s questionable when you and Somi parted ways.

“Ennik,” you say softly. “Somi.”

“Yes?” she smiles and lets go of your hand.

“Come home with me.”

She chuckles, “finally, you’re not playing hard for once.”

———

“Daddy?” Somi says cautiously out of the blue as you pull into the driveway.

“Is that like one of your kinks?” you chuckle.

“You don’t like it?”

“I’m not judging. I don’t mind it, Somi.” You turn the car off and close the garage door. “Let’s go inside.”

She's unusually quiet, waiting impatiently as you both exit the car and walk inside. There's no doubt that Somi won't let you off the hook the moment you step in. She's hungry. She's lonely. As you shut the door calmly, before you can even turn around, she gets on her knees with her hands in her lap, looking up at you desperately.

"Give it to me, Daddy," she softly pleads once you see her kneeling, slowly placing her hands on your pants and pulls down slowly.

“Somi,” you take a breath, "how much did you missed me?"

"So much." Somi leans closer, staring right at you from below and getting a whiff of your crotch.

"Then show me how much you missed me. Be a good girl."

Somi doesn't respond, but you can see it in her eyes that she wants to be proven worthy. And slowly, Somi bites onto the waistband of your boxers, then pulls it down with a wicked smirk, and you felt her nose dragging against your skin.

She’s not someone who you just met. You know that she's a horny one at heart. Somi didn't want to waste any time. Her breaths came shallow and quick, as if each breath were full of desperation. She gulps and stares at your cock the moment it flings out of your boxers. But before you give her a taste, what's the fun without a small tease? You already have her in a chokehold, and she wouldn’t want to escape it.

"Take off your shirt," you demand, caressing her cheeks. Somi didn't even hesitate and takes off her shirt, revealing a black bra as you stare at her cleavage. Her tit's are round and perfect, more than enough to where you would want your face in between.

“Good girl.” you say, smirking.

She leans closer again and only stares at you after a quick kiss on the tip of your cock. “I’ve been fantasizing about you. I thought about you late last night."

“I’ll make it come true, Somi.” You say, brushing her hair and getting a clear view of her beauty. Once her mouth opened, she wanted only one thing: to taste you. But knowing how desperate Somi is, you're not letting her. Not this easily. You pull her hair back and she gasp, staring up to meet your gaze.

Somi gulps, which was loud in this quiet house. “Daddy,” she whispers. You saw your own reflection in her eyes as she looks at you.

“Open your mouth,” you say, wanting to be in control. Quietly, she opens her mouth without hesitation and you slap your cock right on her cheeks, not once, but twice as she flinches and smiles, then Somi wickedly chuckles.

“I’m such a slut for you.”

“It should be that way,” you say, a deeper tone that made her heart to start fluttering. Your cock was right in front of Somi. She’s impatiently waiting like a good girl. “Keep your mouth open and your tongue out.”

Again, she listens to everything you demanded. Her eyes gleamed, begging you so desperately to the point she’ll do anything just for a small taste. And as you’re curious to how desperate she was, her salvia starts to drip off the tip of her tongue.

You slap your cock right on her tongue, then held her nape with no intentions on letting Somi have it her way. You’re planning to ruin her face. She deserves it. There’s no excuse if Somi’s been waiting for this day. And with a small thrust into her mouth, she chokes once you reached the back of her throat. You push harder, slowly every few seconds without pulling out your cock.

Somi's throat expands, and you could feel her trying to choke, when it’s only a weak one with your cock deep in her throat. She leans back, almost falling behind, and you intentionally did it to pin her against the wall. She closes her eyes shut, face trembling to how deep your cock was in. Well, you weren’t trying to make her pass out, but you did start to worry and gave Somi some room to breathe.

She takes a deep breath with your cock still in her mouth. Without a response, Somi grabs onto your hips, bobbing and tilting her head slowly. You couldn’t help but smirk at how much of a slut you made her. There was no sense of pride from Somi. She's going crazy for your cock.

“Good girl,” you groan, complimenting Somi. “Go ahead, have it. Take it.”

“Mhm,” she murmurs. Then there’s a long hum, the type of hum of tasting something delightful. You felt her perfectly manicured nails digging into your skin as she grips harder and harder, cock disappearing in and out from her mouth. Saliva drips down from her chin and right onto her cleavage. You give a hard thrust and her head’s now against the wall, perfect as you smirk to what wicked intentions you have for her face—a hard face fucking.

Somi closes her eyes, letting a tear out by how hard you were thrusting into her mouth. It’s the tears of happiness that everyone gets after getting what they’ve been longing for. You decide to suddenly stop, still with your cock deep down in her throat. And with your thumb on her face, you wiped her tears, smudging her mascara in the process. She looked more of a slut at this point, and you aren’t complain of seeing Somi like this when her hair is sticking to the wall.

“Good girl,” you say, more softly with a deeper tone. “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” Praising her is a cheat code, she loves being complicated and praised at, especially if it’s from you. You’re well aware of how much you meant to her. It’s no secret.

And it’s clear that you’re using her mouth like a toy, she’s choking and gagging. You could care less while you chase this peace of mind from a singer’s mouth. Somi’s not stopping you, neither would you want to.

“Fuck,” you groan softly, taking a quick breath, and seeing how much of a mess her face was and pulls out. Saliva drips down to her tits after she spits more out to make a mess. You love it how she’s just a slut taking your cock like there’s no tomorrow. Her lips are coated in saliva as she worships your cock with her lips pressing right on it.

“Am I being a good girl, Daddy?” she mumbles, lips on the tip of your cock.

��You are. Maybe you should stop talking and show me that you’re even better than a good girl.” Somi’s face was all fucked, a whole hot mess. She’s even more beautiful like this.

“I want it all over my face, Daddy.”

“Should maybe get ready then.”

You grab onto her face, squeezing her cheeks with your fingers and palm right on her chin to make Somi look up at you. You were once her love interest. You were her protector. And now, she’s on her very knees, in a mess taking your aggression. Somi couldn’t say anything, she’s more mesmerized by your glare. You push your cock back into her mouth to make Somi gag and continue to choke all over your cock.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” you groan. Your cock was shoved deep down to the point it bulges out her throat. Her eyes are closed, tears slowly coming down her face. You felt saliva dripping all the way down to your balls. Her small mouth couldn’t take it, but she's not stopping you from using her like a toy.

Your cock begins to throb, violently more as you keep shoving your cock into her mouth. There’s a whole mess on her tits as it’s drying out layer by layer. Somi’s taking it like a slut that she is. It doesn’t matter how rough you were, Somi loves the way your cock throbs. After a deep gasp, and a moan, you pull out. Webs of saliva flows out her mouth and on your cock down to her chest.

She grabs onto your cock to start stroking it. Somi knew what to do. She wants to make you cum all over her face. Her hands squeezes your cock, stroking it faster and faster while looking up at you.

“Make me cum, Somi,” you uttered quickly. “I’ll cum on your pretty face.”

“Give it to me, Daddy,” she murmurs. Her mouths wide open, tongues out, eyes all closed.

You cum by her small hands squeezing and stroking your cock, releasing all the built up sexual tension for years, but all Somi can feel was how much cum there was on her face. With a bright smile, and a couple flinches from cum shooting onto her face, she finally got her fantasy to come true. It’s warm. It’s thick. Just what she’s been craving for.

Somi’s face is the definition of getting face fucked. Her hairs a mess, cum all over her lips, cheeks, and even up to her hair as she couldn’t open her eyes but smile. Then strands of cum stretch and drip down her chin to her tits.

“What a mess,” she utters after swallowing your cum, and the biggest smile you saw from her today. Somi scoops all the cum on her face and licks every single finger.

“You’re missing more, Somi,” you say, wanting her to lick your cock clean. She crawls on her knees to suck you off without a word. “There’s some on your hair too.”

“It’s fine,” she says after pulling off your cock with a loud pop. “You taste good.”

“Was I too aggressive?”

“Kind of. Tolerable thought. But why should I complain?” She then leans in again to give your cock a quick kiss. Her chest is pumping after being used as a toy.

“Water?” you say, wanting to give her some care.

“No,” she whispers shyly.

You grab your pants and gently hand Somi her shirt. She’s still on her knees with the shirt rolled up into a ball as she covers part of her chest. “It’s not a problem if you want get in my panties if you’re thinking about it right now.”

Well, you did give her a hard face fucking. It’s only right that you give Somi a time to rest. As you put on your pants, she’s just staring down at the floor, lost in thought.

“What are you thinking, Somi?”

“Are you gonna kick me out?” she says, looking up at you. There’s a pure moment of silence, you couldn’t believe what she just said. After face fucking her? Why kick her out?

“Do you want me to, Somi?” you smirk, teasing her when you aren’t planning on kicking her out.

“You want my pussy? I’ll give it to you right now for as long as you want. Please let me stay for a while, Oppa. Please, Daddy?”

You’re dumbfounded to why Somi thinks that you’ll kick her out. “Calm down, let’s go sit on the couch. I’m not telling you to leave.”

“Oh,” she embarrassingly says and puts on her shirt. After Somi stands up, she follows you to the couch and sits right beside you. Somi couldn't belive that she got naked and took your cock like a slut. Neither did she want to fully admit of being one.

“How was it since you changed agencies, Somi?”

“I really missed you. I couldn’t stop thinking that I might of made the wrong choice to leave you behind. And now you’re with Twice.”

“I’m just a bodyguard,” you chuckle.

“So what? You’re so comfortable to be around with. Isn’t it obvious?”

You shrug, “don’t know.”

“Oppa,” she takes a deep breath. “Was it also obvious that I was interested in you?”

“It was. Why are you bringing this up, Somi?”

“If I can’t buy your love, I’ll sell you my body. That’s the most I can do for you to want me in a way.”

You sigh, “there’s gotta be a better way to word that, Somi. C’mon.”

She then sits closer to you and puts her head on your shoulders, “we never had a proper farewell to each other. I want to thank you for everything.”

“It’s..not like I’ll never take you in as a client again, Somi. If both our schedules are right, I don’t mind taking you.”

“Really, Oppa?”

“When’s your next concert? I’ll come with Chaeyoung.”

“Why come with her when you can be alongside me like we used to? Be backstage and we can eat at a restaurant after with my manager. I want to treat you for everything you’ve done with me.”

“Just text me, Somi. I’ll be there if your agency reaches out to me.”

“Mhm, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Do you plan on spending the night here?”

“I’m busy tomorrow morning, Oppa,” she sighs.

“I’ll take you home later, Somi.”

A/N: Lost motivation to write more, but hope this is enough. Half ass edit too.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Twenty-Five

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour/toy use. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.9k

A/N : 😅😅😅😅😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | CHAPTER NINETEEN | CHAPTER TWENTY | CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Master List

Chapter Twenty-Five

“It’ll be okay.”

The voice cut through your sobbing, pulling your attention from the water that had reached your feet and was soaking through your shoes.

“Sebby, baby, get your sister out of her car seat.”

“The clip’s stuck,” he answered, choking back a sob of his own.

You looked down and, sure enough, your brother's hands were tugging at the clip - the clip that always caught, the clip that only your mom could get to cooperate.

“Keep trying, I need you to get your sister out.”

“Mommy,” the word tore from your lips, some part of you knowing that you weren’t the six year old girl in the car seat, some part of you knowing that this was the last memory you had of your mother.

“I know. It’s okay. Everything will be okay, I promise,” your mom said, over and over. “We’ll all be fine.”

A wet, gasping sob tore from you as you were pulled from the nightmare before the water could creep any further up your legs. Your face immediately pressed into Billy’s chest as you cried, holding onto him like he was the only stable thing you’d ever know.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he muttered, running his hand up and down your back. “You’re safe.”

He let you cry, holding on until you were done and your sobs became little more than awkward sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, voice trembling. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“You didn’t,” Billy said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He was silent for a few seconds before asking; “what was it? Your nightmare, I mean.”

“The crash, I was in the car and...”

He knew the story without you needing to finish, and his arms instantly tightened around you, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re safe,” he said. “You’re always safe with me.”

You weren’t sure how, but you knew it was true, that you’d always be safe with Billy.

Snuggling closer, you tried to relax and, eventually, you managed to fall asleep again.

After that night and despite the conversation you’d overheard, things slowly returned to normal. You didn’t mention any of it to Billy, and he didn’t say anything about it to you. All you could do was hope that, when the time came, he'd be willing and able to have the conversation with you.

Over the following week you recovered enough to return to work - though Billy insisted that you work from home the first few days, wanting to make sure your immune system had time to fully recover. You didn’t argue, you were just glad of something to do beside laying in bed all day watching daytime TV.

Even though you were better, you didn’t return to your own room. Billy didn’t mention it, and you didn’t want to ask because... because it was nice sleeping with him, night after night, and Billy didn’t seem to mind it one bit.

You’d heard from the Van Der Koy's over the course of your recovery, but you hadn’t seen them. That is, until Faye turned up at Anvil three weeks after your trip to the Hamptons.

Security called and let you know she was there, and you quickly told them to send her up. Nothing quite prepared you for the almost frantic look on her face and, for a few seconds, you assumed that she was about to tell you something terrible had happened.

“Faye? Is everything okay?” You were on your feet before she was even two steps out of the elevator, ushering her towards a chair.

Your concern was enough to draw Billy from his office, but he said nothing and waited in the doorway to see what was going on.

Fortunately, Faye was just being melodramatic.

“I really need help and I didn’t know who else to ask. I know you RSVP’d and said you couldn’t make it tomorrow, but one of the models has broken her leg,” Faye said and she might as well have been talking a different language because you had no idea what she was telling you.

“Model? Tomorrow?” You repeated, glancing at Billy who had the good sense to at least look sheepish.

“VDK is throwing a charity fashion show tomorrow,” Billy said through an awkward smile. “I - I said we couldn’t make it because I didn’t know if you’d be feeling up to it, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to go...”

If Faye cared that Billy hadn’t even told you about the event, she didn’t let it show. Nor did she seem to care about the look you shot Billy that silently told him you’d be discussing it once she was gone.

“I hate to ask at such short notice, but I need to find someone to stand in a model one of the dresses,” Faye continued. “Normally, I’d just pull the dress from the show, but the grandparents of the designer are donating a lot of money, and this is the first time that mother has let me take point on an event.”

“You want me to model?” You asked, sure that you’d misheard her.

You weren’t model material. You weren’t graceful, and just the thought of being in front of a crowd gave you heart palpitations. Why would she even think to ask you?

But there she was, nodding at you and waiting for an answer. 

Your mouth went dry and you struggled to swallow around the lump that had lodged in your throat.

No. You couldn’t.

Only... it was for charity, and you didn’t want to disappoint Faye (or Billy).

“Okay,” you managed to choke out.

“Really? Thank you. Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver,” Faye said, clasping your hands in hers. “I’ll email you the details; we’ll need you an hour or so before the show to do hair and make up,” her eyes flitted to Billy, “and, of course, I’ll get you added to the guest list.”

“So, I just show up and wear the dress?” You asked.

“That’s it. Wear the dress, do a lap of the runway - it’ll literally only take five minutes, then you can enjoy the party, “ she said, already getting back to her feet, phone in hand. A woman on a mission.

She rushed through the goodbye, telling you that she’d see you tomorrow. Then she was gone.

You turned to face Billy, fighting to contain the anxious feeling that was already welling inside of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, clearing the distance between you. “I should’ve told you we were invited. I just... I was worried. You’ve only just recovered and I didn’t want you overdoing it or feeling like you had to go along with it for my sake.”

“You can’t keep me hidden away forever,” you said as he stopped in front of you.

Maybe you should have been angry about it, but your concern laid elsewhere.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “You’ve got a look...”

You almost smiled at just how easily he could read you now.

“Why did I just agree to that?” As if you thought he might know the answer.

He looked at you for a moment, his expression softening before he pulled you against him, hugging you. 

“You’ll be fine,” he said, holding back a laugh.

“I’ll look ridiculous...”

“Why would you look ridiculous?”

You frowned. After all the time you’d spent together, how could he ask you that? Soon enough, his expression mirrored yours.

“Because... look at me...” you muttered.

Hands framed your face and he urged you to lift your face so he could look at you. 

“I am looking at you,” he said before shaking his head. “You have no idea, do you? How beautiful you are? How you make me feel every time I look at you?”

Your cheeks instantly grew hot beneath his touch and you wondered if he could feel it, feel the embarrassment welling inside of you.

All you could do was shake your head.

“Are you disagreeing with me, little dove?” He asked, his voice taking on that dominant tone you hadn’t heard in weeks.

Yes. Only the word wouldn’t come.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, unable to answer.

Billy shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’ll look stunning tomorrow. No one will be able to take their eyes off you. I won’t be able to take my eyes off you.”

“You’ll be there?” It was a silly question - of course he’d be there, it was a VDK event, and he was so close to getting what he wanted.

“If you’re going, I’m going,” he said. “And if you don’t want to stay for the party afterwards, we can leave, okay?”

Finally you managed a nod.

His teeth scraped over his lower lip as he stared at you, his dark eyes seeming to look right through you, down to your very soul. The look had heat filling your body, need starting to prickle and ache within you. It made you think about that moment, three weeks ago to the day that he’d bent you over his desk.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“When I get you home tonight, I’m going to show you how beautiful I think you are.”

Your breath caught but, before you could think to respond, the phone in his office started to ring. When it didn’t stop after the third ring, Billy reluctantly pulled away from you and returned to his office, leaving you in front of your desk with weak legs and wet panties.

It was all you could think about for the rest of the afternoon, counting down the hours as you tried to get your work done.

While things were somewhat normal between you again, you knew Billy had been holding back. There had been no punishment, no moments where he let himself get completely lost in you and the control you offered him. He gave more than he took and, while it was hard to complain when he woke you up with his fingers or tongue between your thighs, you didn’t just want it to be about you.

You missed his dominance and craved the calming static that filled you whenever you submitted to him.

More than anything, you missed knowing that he was sated and happy, missed seeing him relaxed.

The car ride home was quiet, tinged with expectation that neither of your dared address. You kept his hand in yours, discussing dinner options, trying not to think about his earlier promise.

It was surreal how you managed to sit calmly and eat Chinese take out, making small talk about work and the fashion show tomorrow, going over the details Faye had sent. It started late afternoon, would last a couple of hours, then the evening portion of the event would begin. But, again, Billy told you that you’d be able to leave whenever you wanted.

You finished eating, sat for a few minutes to let your food go down, then you helped him clear the dishes. And, once that was done, he took your hand and led you into his bedroom.

Without needing to be asked, you unzipped your skirt and let it fall to the floor while Billy unbuttoned his shirt. You’d both stripped down to your underwear before he spoke again.

“I want to try something new,” he said, letting the tips of his fingers graze your cheek. “But I need to know that you’re ready, that you’re... okay.”

“I’m fine, Billy,” you said, even though your heart was racing a mile a minute.

His hand moved down, skimming over the lace cups of your bra. “Do you want to leave this on?”

Given a moment to think about it, you shook your head, and Billy’s eager fingers reached behind you, unclasping your bra. You let it fall down your arms, and watched the way his eyes took in the sight of you.

“Lay down on the bed, on your back,” he commanded and you obeyed.

You laid back on the pillows and watched as Billy followed after you, crawling over your body. It took every ounce of restraint you had not to start panting for breath with the way he looked at you.

He leaned towards the nightstand, pulling open the top drawer and pulled out a dark blue tie. Before you could even think to ask what it was for, he took hold of one of your wrists and gently urged it over your head where he attached it to the headboard with the tie. Then he did the same with the other wrist.

The knots weren’t particularly tight, and you were certain you could slip them if you felt like you had to, but it left you feeling completely at his mercy regardless. Arousal and trepidation soon went to war inside of you. He gave the silken bindings a tug before pulling back to look at you.

“Comfortable?” 

“Yes,” you answered, somehow managing not to stammer.

He looked to the still open drawer, then back to you, clearly considering.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said again, more confidently.

Your eyes followed as his hand dipped into that drawer again and pulled out another piece of fabric.

“Lift your head.”

You did as you were told and quickly realised what he had in his hands; a blindfold.

“You’ve had this stuff in your nightstand all this time?” You asked, trying to be playful as the world went dark around you.

Billy laughed and, despite the blindfold, you could picture his smile clear as day. And that helped settle you. Knowing that he was happy, that he was enjoying himself, settled you.

You felt his breath on your ear when he spoke again. “I’ve got lots of toys, little dove. This isn’t even scratching the surface.”

He pressed a teasing kiss to your nose, then one to your lips as his hand slowly began ghosting down your body.

You did your best to remain still beneath him, but the feeling of his fingers trailing over your breasts, teasing your nipples, had you squirming. Every touch was slow but purposeful, building the anticipation or what was to come, and keeping you guessing. He trailed down to your stomach, circling your navel, then down again, only to surprise you by pulling his fingers away.

Then his fingers were on your thigh, slowly trailing upwards while his lips pressed kisses to your shoulders and down your chest. Tremors coursed through your body the higher his hand got, but he pulled away again before reaching the apex of your thighs, before reaching where you were desperate to be touched.

His touch returned on the opposite thigh and the process began all over again as his lips continued to blaze a trail down your body. When he reached the edge of your panties, he pulled back completely and returned his lips to yours. A sound at your side told you he was reaching into the drawer again, but you had no idea what he’d pulled out until you felt it against you, pressed between your thighs and the wet scrap of lace that covered you.

There was something familiar, but you didn’t figure it out until Billy spoke again.

“I told you I had ideas for this,” he said.

Your vibrator. The one he’d stolen the moment you’d moved in with him. Now he was going to use it on you while you were tired down and blindfolded beneath him.

“So wet already,” he muttered as his fingers hooked your panties and slid them down your legs.

The slow drag of the toy between your folds was almost more than you could bear, your hips bucking as the length created a delicious friction against your clit.

“I won’t lie,” he said, continuing to torment you, “I’ve been thinking about this for days, needing it, needing you completely at my mercy.”

There was a strain in his voice, some emotion that he was trying to hold back. You didn’t need to ask what it was because you’d seen more than enough of it over the last couple of weeks; you’d worried him, left him feeling completely out of control in a way that nothing could fix.

You felt a pressure on your thigh, a silent warning that he would hold you down if he had to as he continued to tease you and make you feel things you hadn’t thought were possible before him.

“You’re going to be good for me and only come when I let you.” An order, not a question.

A threat of punishment lurked behind those words and it just made you feel more needy, the familiar static slowly starting to fill your mind, shutting out everything that wasn’t this moment. You let it wash over you, losing yourself in the calm, and surrendering to the knowledge that Billy would take care of you.

“Do you understand?” He asked, fingers curling into the flesh of your thigh.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation.

Then he turned the vibrator on.

Your hips jolted off the bed at the suddenness of it, but you quickly settled again, thanks to that hand on your thigh. It had been a while since you’d used the toy but, still, you knew it well enough to realise he’d gone through the effort of recharging it. Clearly he really had been thinking about this moment.

The toy was pulled back until just the tip remained against you, barely grazing your clit, but even that was enough to have you fighting the urge to squirm and writhe against it.

The effort must have shown on your face because Billy muttered; “that’s it, stay still.”

And you wanted to.

You wanted to be good for him, wanted to lay still and give him everything that needed so that he would keep touching you, so that he would let you feel the pleasure that only he could coax from you. You had missed this, missed playing with him and how connected you felt to him in these moments.

Your breathing quickly became shallowed, more laboured as he easily pushed your arousal higher. But then everything stopped.

He pulled the vibrator away and asked; “are you okay?”

He wasn’t asking if you were getting close or if you needed a reprieve. No, he was asking if you were physically able to continue. He was worried about you, about your scarred lungs.

“I’m fine,” you said, almost begging, “please, don’t stop.”

You didn’t have to see his face to know that he was hesitating, second guessing everything that he wanted. And you didn’t want that, you didn’t want him to worry and fret every time you got a little out of breath.

“Billy, I’m fine. I’ll tell you to stop if I need you to.”

Thankfully, that was enough, and you almost jolted again as the tip of the vibrator returned to your clit, filling your whole body with that buzzing sensation. You bit your lip trying to stifle the desperate sounds that were already starting to spill out.

And Billy didn’t like that. His hand moved from your thigh, thumb coaxing your lip from between your teeth.

“Don’t,” he said in that commanding, warning tone, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to hear you.”

To make his point, he increased the pressure against your clit and pulled a gasp from you.

Billy laughed and the mattress dipped as he leaned over your again. You could feel his breath against your face, his lips seeming only inches from yours. Unable to stop yourself, you lifted your head and tried to find his lips with your own, only for him to pull back again.

You whimpered.

“So needy,” Billy said.

“Please...”

Billy swore and, the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours. The kiss set a fire inside of you. If the vibrator had been slowly stoking sparks, then the kiss created a burning inferno of longing and want, and you knew he felt it too.

You gave up on trying to stay silent and, instead let out gasps and moans against his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth. And soon - far too soon - you felt yourself getting close, your whole body shaking and tensing in anticipation of the orgasm he was pushing you towards.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he said, pulling away from your lips and pulling the toy from between your thighs, leaving you on the brink but unfulfilled. “I said you’ll come when I let you... or maybe I should have said if...”

“Billy...” 

He didn’t answer your plea.

The bed shifted beneath you as he pulled back, ghosting his fingers up your thigh again, this time reaching the apex and actually touching you, slowly running a finger through your folds and then -

Fuck. You heard him sucking his finger. 

“Ready to keep going?” He asked.

All you could do was nod because you didn’t trust your voice not to break.

Billy pressed the vibrator to you again, this time dragging it through your folds, grinding it against your clit with each movement. It wasn’t long before you were trembling again, your toes curling as tension coiled within you. And, the moment you thought he was going to let you release that tension, he pulled back again.

Over and over.

Two denied orgasms became three, then four. Five had tears soaking through the blindfold, your legs giving an involuntary kick.

“If you can’t stay still, I’ll have to tie your legs,” Billy warned.

You dug your heels into the mattress, not sure you could handle being completely immobilised by him. It was getting to be too much, and with the blindfold you had no concept of how long you’d been laying there and, as much as you were enjoying yourself, you felt primed to explode.

Suddenly the buzzing stopped and, for a terrible second, you thought that he was done, that he wasn’t going to let you come. Then you felt it, the tip pressed against your slit, slipping inside of you.

Billy groaned at the sight and, as your back arched, you tried to imagine that it was him inside of you, that it was his cock and not the toy that was filling you, The thought had you falling so deep into the static that you didn’t know if you’d ever come out of it again. You almost didn’t want to.

“Billy -” you moaned.

“That’s right, my little dove,” he said as he started to move the toy, slowly pulling it almost all the way out before sinking it inside of you again, making sure you felt every single spark of pleasure. “You’re mine.”

Yes. 

His

You were his.

“Aren’t you?” He asked.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before kissing you again, stealing away the last of your sanity. Your hands pulled on the restraints, desperate to touch him, to pull him close and hold on tight. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t get to him. You couldn’t even see him.

Something cracked open inside of you and the uncertainty started to spill out. You were his but he would never be yours. He’d never understand the depths of your feelings, and this would never be anything more than physical for him. 

The uncertainty quickly turned to panic inside of you and caused your breath to hitch. You wanted to keep him, wanted to keep this, but you knew it was going to end.

He’d leave you.

You were his and this was going to end.

(Oh god, what if this was the last time? What if Catherine offered him the contract tomorrow and everything came to an end?)

You were his, but you wouldn’t be forever.

You couldn’t even hold him now.

“Stop,” you managed to choke out against his lips. “Red… red light… walnuts.”

Bill had already been pulling back the moment you asked him to stop, but your panic had your safeword falling from your lips regardless. The blindfold was pulled away and your wrists were quickly unbound, and the first thing you did was throw your arms around him, pulling him down and burying your face against his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying in vain to fight back the tears. “I’m sorry, I -”

“What’s wrong?” He asked, holding you tight. “Did I hurt you?”

Your heart almost stopped, hating that that was his first thought. You shook your head.

“No - no - I just... I don’t know...” you struggled to explain through your growing sobs and the lingering static. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay, it’s -”

“It’s not -” you couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t find a way to express the panic that rattled beneath your  ribs at the thought of all of this coming to an end. You held him tighter still, never wanting to let go. “I just... I can’t -”

Billy shushed you softly, holding you tight. You had no idea how much time had passed, only that he was holding you almost as fiercely as you held him. He didn’t move until you started to settle and calm.

He scooped you off the bed and carried you into the bathroom, just like he had a dozen times before. You clung to him as he started the bath, and buried you face against his neck as he sat on the closed toilet, waiting for the bath to fill. Billy didn’t speak, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him for fear of falling apart again.

Stupid.

That’s what you were. You were stupid and selfish. You’d ruined it. You’d let your feelings get in the way, and now he was worrying about you again.

You remained silent as he lowered you into the tub, pressed a kiss to your forehead, then left you alone.

It was strange not having him sat by the tub, taking care of you, but you understood why he wasn’t there. He was giving you space. He thought you needed space.

You laid in the water for at least half an hour, turning everything over in your mind, again and again, trying to figure out what had happened. 

He’d said you were his. He’d wanted you to admit it. And you had wanted to, you’d wanted to tell him the truth right then and there. But it wasn’t that simple. For Billy it was all part of the game, it was another act of dominance and control over you but for you... for you it was love. A love that he hadn’t asked for, a love that wouldn’t last. And, faced with that thought, you’d crumbled.

You’d caused him to worry, made him feel out of control again, and you couldn’t - you wouldn’t - do it anymore. He needed to know the truth. You’d tell him everything, you decided as you slowly got out of the water. You’d confess your feelings and hope that your honesty would be enough to keep him from hating you completely.

You’d always thought that, at the end of it all, you wanted to keep his friendship. Maybe if you were honest, he’d let you have that much.

But, as you stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped tight in one of his big, fluffy towels, your confession on the tip of your tongue, you realised that Billy was gone. He’d left the penthouse.

You dressed and waited, expecting him to return, to find out that he just went to the foyer to collect a delivery, or he needed something from his car, but minutes turned to hours and there was still no sign of him.

Of course, you thought about calling him or texting him, but the longer you left it, the more you realised that he was trying to get away from you, and you didn’t want to make things worse by forcing him to deal with you. So, you waited. You sat on the sofa and stared blankly at the TV, and hoped that he’d be back soon - especially as rain started to batter the windows and the weather forecast started giving storm warnings for the weekend.

At midnight, you had no choice but to give up and go to bed. His bed. Despite the sudden uncomfortableness you’d created between you and him, you didn’t feel like you belonged in the spare room anymore. So, you slid into his bed and pulled his pillow to your chest.

You fought against sleep, rousing at every little noise until, finally, you heard the ding of the elevator.

You almost fell in your haste to get out of bed, to get to him.

Turning on the main light as you slipped out of the bedroom, you found Billy standing by the elevator, looking lost in his own home. Your heart broke as you took in the state of him, his jacket hanging limply from his hand, his hair and clothes soaked and plastered to his body.

When you dared to move towards him, Billy almost flinched, taking a step back. You froze, watching him as he tried to look anywhere but at you.

“Billy?” You said softly, daring to take another step, slowly reaching for his hand.

He looked up the moment your fingers closed around his, and the shuddering breath that followed had your stomach in knots. You held his gaze, silently telling him that you weren’t going anywhere.

He smelled of alcohol and smoke over the dampness, and it told you all you needed to know about how he’d spent his evening - though you weren’t sure if the wet glaze to his eyes was from alcohol or upset. The words you wanted to say, the confession that you wanted to make, died inside you. You couldn’t tell him, not when he seemed so utterly defeated.

“Come on, let’s get you out of those clothes,” you said softly.

Thankfully, he let you lead him into the bedroom, but that was as far as his compliance went.

You turned to face him, taking his jacket from his hand and tossing it in the direction of the bathroom to be dealt with in the morning, then you started to unbutton his shirt. He let you undo two buttons before his hands gripped your wrists to stop you. The broken look on his face caused a stab of pain in your chest, and Billy shook his head.

He was saying no to what you were doing, saying no to you taking care of him as he had so many times in the past.

“Let me take care of you,” you said softly.

Billy shook his head again, awkwardly inhaling through his nose.

“Why not?” You dared to ask, pressing your hands to his chest, letting him feel your touch.

His fingers remained firm around your wrists. “I - I don’t deserve it.”

In one sudden movement, you managed to wrestle your hands from his grip and took his face in your hands, forcing him to keep his eyes on you.

“What are you talking about? Of course you deserve it.”

Again, Billy shook his head.

“I hurt you.”

“No - Billy, no - you didn’t hurt me. You just... I was overwhelmed and it was my fault,” you tried to explain without telling him everything. “I promised I’d tell you if things got too much for me and I - I fucked up. It was my fault.”

If your words reached him, he didn’t let it show. 

“I’m broken. I hurt people, then they leave me...”

“No,” you said firmly despite the way your heart was fracturing in your chest. “You’re the kindest and sweetest man that I know. You always look after me and make me feel safe. I know you’d never hurt me.”

“You’re going to leave me...”

Your hands squeezed, pressing on his cheeks, trying to pull him out of the darkness that was consuming him.

“No, I won’t,” you promised. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“You’ll - you’ll stay?”

Finally, you saw a glimmer of something on his face, a sign that he was listening to you.

“Of course I’ll stay. We’re a team, right?”

“I want that. I want us to be a team,” he said, his voice threatening to break. “I want you to stay...”

“Then I’ll stay.”

He took a shuddering breath and, finally, nodded. Somehow, you managed to hold back your relief and blinked back the tears that had started to prickle at the corners of your eyes. It broke your heart to see him this way and know that you were the cause of it, that you’d made him feel so out of control that he had started to crumble.

Slowly, you returned your attention to his wet clothes, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off his shoulders. Your gaze found the faint scar on his shoulder and you felt sick and angry, hating anyone and everyone who had ever made him feel like he wasn’t worth caring about.

You were slow and methodical, keeping your eyes on his, making sure that he understood you were right there and that you didn’t see him as a burden. Every single item of clothing came off and, when he was completely naked and sat on the edge of the bed, you quickly dipped into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to dry his hair.

Once he was dried off, you ushered him into bed and climbed in behind him, pressing your body against his back and wrapping your arms tight around him. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol still clung to his skin as you pressed your face to the crook of his neck, but there was nothing in the world that would have made you pull back from him in that moment. You needed to show him that you were there, that you weren’t going to leave him.

“I’m here, Billy,” you muttered softly as you felt him finally start to relax. “I’m yours... for as long as you want me, I’m yours...”

You didn’t know if he’d heard or if he’d even remember come morning, but it felt good to finally say it.

A/N : 😅 so... if everything goes to plan, there will be two more chapters of this story and then, probably, a epilogue. But, don't worry, there's still plenty of drama to come and I can't wait to share it!

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

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[eminardo]

Emi Yoshimoto | 14 y.o

Emi is a calm and focused individual who prefers to stay in the background, observing more than speaking. She carries herself with quiet confidence and tends to keep her emotions tightly guarded. Though she may come off as distant, she's thoughtful and perceptive, often noticing what others miss. There's a quiet strength in her presence, steady, deliberate, and not easily shaken.

Pre-Season 1

As a child, Emi was kicked out by her parents for reasons no one really knows. Left to fend for herself, she learned quickly how to survive. One day, after defending herself against a group of kids who picked a fight, she caught the attention of Big Mama. Impressed, Big Mama offered her a place to stay. Emi grew up in the shadows of the Grand Nexus Hotel, learning through observation and quiet guidance. She eventually began fighting in the Battle Nexus, building a name for herself. But as she got a little older, Emi started questioning the life she was living. She eventually broke away, choosing her own path. Now living on her own, she takes on bounty hunting jobs—most of them from the Hidden City, with clients like Big Mama herself and even Baron Draxum.

Season 1-2

Emi’s first encounter with the Turtles happened under orders from both Baron Draxum and Big Mama. Tasked with capturing the brothers in the Bug Buster episode, she approached the job with a plan: make them compete to see who could offer more money for their capture. She failed, of course, as things never quite go as planned with the Turtles. After that, she became just another one of their enemies—facing off against them more than once, keeping her distance while still being a notable opponent.

However, things took an unexpected turn during Insane in the Mama Train episode, when Leo managed to save her from a dangerous accidental attack by one of the Foot Clan members. His unexpected act of kindness made her reconsider everything. Grateful but conflicted, she found herself slowly warming to the idea of joining their side, with Leo playing a pivotal role in guiding her there.

Emi started spending more time with the Turtles, observing them closely. In Lair Games, she grew more familiar with their dynamics and the way they worked.

In the Bad Hair Day episode, Emi’s feelings for Leo began to change. With Leo and Emi spending more time together. His easygoing nature gradually wore down her walls, and she found herself feeling comfortable around him in a way she hadn’t expected. As they worked side by side, Emi started noticing things about Leo—the way he cared for his brothers and his quiet kindness toward her. Though she didn’t say anything, she could feel her feelings for him growing.

[periwinkla]

Maya Fey's character is written in such a charmingly, heart wrenchingly subtle way. She has to face all manners of tragedy, but she always has that smile on her face and presses on, feigning happiness and lightheartedness. It's honestly somewhat disturbing. How can someone smile so seemingly easily after such tragedy? Can you imagine going to your sister’s workplace, expecting to spend a quiet evening together, and instead... you see a slumped silhouette against the wall of the window? She spawns the most crazy things out of her mouth just to fill the silence sometimes. Why? Sure, it may be for the game's comic relief… but sometimes it appears a tad forced? Like it’s because she wants to build a relationship with Phoenix - like her sister asked her - and doesn't quite know how to. He’s the only person that can understand what she’s going through. She’s suffering. He’s suffering. So she needs to fill the silence somehow. And she drags him along most times, she is the one that decides they should take Power’s case, after all. After Edgeworth's trial she feels useless (even though she clearly was the reason Phoenix could save him... can you believe she just charged in against Von Karma? that's insane) and goes back home to resume her training so she can help Phoenix again. After Edgeworth's ‘death’, Phoenix didn't keep in touch. Although she didn’t know about Edgeworth, she knew that the whole year had been hard on them both in the first place... so she grew worried, and basically bargained with her client to go and get him and drag him to Kurain. Phoenix can get back into taking cases just because she's there to cheer him up. So she needs to be strong! Even though she's suffering tremendously as well. Mia isn't there anymore and now she also needs to take care of her cousin because apparently she can’t even have her aunt to rely on, because for some reason the universe decided to give her the most complicated family drama imaginable. When they face Franziska? She's awfully perceptive. She's only 18, and instead of being angry at Franziska's behavior, she wonders how she can be so strong? And she seems to admire her? Would a 18 year old accused of murder think that of the accuser? That's frankly baffling. It shows maturity far beyond her age, to think of the true feelings behind people’s behavior despite what it means for her situation. And then she gets kidnapped. And still, she feigns being fine… Then then Hazakura happens. All that and she's still thinking about other people! She tries to protect Godot, even though it's a moot point. She tries to be strong for Pearl - as Edgeworth points out - and she tries so hard to not make everything affect her. She takes everything in stride but also suppresses her feelings. And she's very very good at it, even. She seems fine. Franziska is baffled at her nonchalance, and somehow Edgeworth is the one who needs to explain it, perhaps because they had similar experiences and their tragedy is linked to the same root. Edgeworth tried to repress his feelings as well (although he is, by contrast, very very bad at hiding them) so he knows what he's talking about. I quite like that scene at the end of AA3 because that makes it deliberate on Takumi’'s part that he wanted to write her that way from the start. (it also adds to the development of 3 characters at once: Maya, Miles and Franziska) Her misfortunes don’t end here, either. SOJ happens. Kidnapped again, accused of murder again. People she trusted betray her and she finds it in her heart to forgive them? And now she also has a ton of responsibilities. And she needs to appear even stronger now in front of other people, because they depend on her. She’s still cheerful though. Because she needs to be. She first needs to be strong for Phoenix, then Pearl, then for the whole village of Kurain. And she manages to be, somehow. I love when characters are written this way. Once you have all the pieces together, if you go back and analyze their behavior, it makes the experience so much richer and so much more meaningful.

[mykingdomforapen]

It would be easier for Lu Guang to simply swallow it down and bear it. But it wouldn’t be right. 

In truth, nothing felt right. Heels of his hands pressed against his swollen, dry eyes, a crick in his neck, his heart trapped in his throat. One side of his head felt like it was being pulverized, the pain of the migraine stirring up trouble in his stomach. And Cheng Xiaoshi’s dulcet tones in his ear, his pleas no longer endearing. 

Lu Guang squeezed his eyes shut at Cheng Xiaoshi’s insistence. 

“Lu Guang, come on,” he said urgently. “We need to finish this.” 

This was a pile of photographs lined up across their coffee table, marked in chronological order, detailing the lifespan of a relationship between two cousins. The boys had grown up together like twins, Qiao Ling had told them when she outlined the case for them, but then grew apart after one of the cousins developed a gambling addiction. The last straw was when he stole money from his cousin’s mother to feed the insatiable beast, and the cousin cut ties. 

He suspects that his cousin also stole their grandmother’s jade, Qiao Ling told Lu Guang in preparation for the case. He wants us to help confirm if that’s true, and if so–if he sold it. 

Which would have been straightforward enough, if the gambling cousin was still alive. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. 

Hence, the ten plus photographs on the living room coffee table. 

Lu Guang shifted his hands from his eyes to his temples, giving them a sorry massage that only made him more miserable. He had been poring through photos for hours now, each of them a photo uploaded to the gamblin cousin’s cloud that the client had managed to pull, dating from five years ago–when the grandmother’s jewelry had gone missing–to five months ago, when the cousin had been found dead in his tiny apartment reeking of alcohol and debt. He scoured every interaction the cousin had with their elderly grandmother for any sign of theft, while Cheng Xiaoshi dived into any photo where he could root around the cousin’s apartment for proof. 

Even after five hours straight, they could neither confirm nor deny anything. The instant noodles that Qiao Ling had brought over to them had grown cold and untouched on the side. Lu Guang’s scalp scalded with the migraine, and Cheng Xiaoshi stank heavily of eucalyptus oil smeared under his nose to assuage the nausea that came from back-to-back diving. Lu Guang could smell its medicinal chill when Cheng Xiaoshi came too close to his ear. 

“Can you please back off?” Lu Guang said through gritted teeth.

Cheng Xiaoshi huffed as he threw himself backwards on the chair. Lu Guang avoided looking anywhere in his direction as he unscrewed a bottle of soy milk to ease his chapped throat. Cheng XIaoshi fared none better, but he had the self-perception of a goldfish to mask it. 

“We’re so close, though,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “There were addresses to jewelry shops on his Baidu Maps search history. If we can find a photo that happened either right before or right after that one, I’m sure I can find more–” 

“Cheng Xiaoshi, we’ve been at this for almost six hours,” Lu Guang groaned. “Taking a break for at least thirty minutes won’t make a difference.” 

Cheng Xiaoshi huffed until his bangs flopped carelessly across his forehead. Lu Guang wiped his lips with the back of his hand, gagging slightly. 

“What if I forget?” said Cheng Xiaoshi.

Lu Guang exhaled deeply, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring so that it came more as the exasperated hiss of a steamer. 

“Then write it down, idiot,” he snapped. “Am I your mother?” 

Cheng Xiaoshi’s jaw clenched instinctively, just as Lu Guang’s did the same–for a moment, hesitating, ready to bite down on the words before they escaped his mouth. But they had punched their way through his teeth nonetheless, and at the end of the day, Lu Guang would have let them. Even if he knew that, while he never commented on it, it stung Cheng Xiaoshi. 

Because Lu Guang had said the same the first time they had this argument. 

-

The first time they had this argument, Lu Guang was still only twenty years old. He and Cheng Xiaoshi muddled through their abilities with curiosity and bravado. The only thing Lu Guang was afraid of was drowning, and it was abstract. 

The first time, Lu Guang grumbled at Cheng Xiaoshi. I’m tired, asshole, he said. Can’t you give me a break? Cheng Xiaoshi said something tone deaf–but you don’t even have to dive, you can just sit there and tell me what to do, it’s easy for you–and at that, Lu Guang stomped up to the bedroom, muttering it’s useless trying to argue with you to himself as he locked the door behind him. He burrowed himself angrily in the bedsheets and didn’t emerge until Cheng Xiaoshi cooked an entire apology dinner. 

I’m sorry, Cheng Xiaoshi said quietly when Lu Guang stuffed his mouths with softened carrots. Do you–do you want to talk about it? 

He said it with his back straight, even though his spine was shaking. Arguments rarely ended well in his experience–usually with a fist to the cheek, or a door slammed in his face while all the neighbors looked disapprovingly at him with full assurance that he was in the wrong. For Cheng Xiaoshi to be able to talk to Lu Guang took a bravery and a faith that he had to fight for, that he had to learn with blood, sweat, and tears to get through this life. 

Yeah, Lu Guang mumbled. I do, and they had finally laid their abilities on the table next to the pot of pork shoulder soup and small bowls of dipping sauce. This was new to the both of them, their magic of a great price, and they were learning their breaking points together. Lu Guang shared his needs to be met, Cheng Xiaoshi his fears of being of no help to others, opening their hearts to make space to grow, and at the end when Cheng Xiaoshi asked Are we okay now? Lu Guang said, Even better. 

So Lu Guang couldn’t grin and bear it, as much as he hated this frustration, this headache, the thought of tossing and turning on the top bunk with a heavy, hurting heart. He and Cheng Xiaoshi needed this moment where they grew so that the other could take up more space in their lives. Cheng Xiaoshi needed to learn that he would be loved even if he was upsetting. Lu Guang needed to learn to be honest. They were precious truths that would have carried them through the rest of their lives, if Cheng Xiaoshi had lived long enough for it. 

-

Except this was the second time Lu Guang was having this argument. Everything should be the same, but he wasn’t. 

He wasn’t because Cheng Xiaoshi was dead, and yet alive for now. Because Cheng Xiaoshi’s mission-driven stubbornness was what got him killed, and Lu Guang now could see the all bloodred flags leading up to September. Because Lu Guang could now name the anxiety that drove Cheng Xiaoshi into doing things now, before the wait of them consumed him alive, but Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t yet and Lu Guang had to keep it to himself. Because he and Cheng Xiaoshi were plunging into the photos of a dead man over and over again, and every time Cheng Xiaoshi said something honest about it, Lu Guang had to swallow down how sick it made him feel. It’s so messed up, Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi had said, that this guy has been dead for half a year, and I feel his heart beating in my chest. Lu Guang buried his face in his hands and tried not to cry, even when Cheng Xiaoshi was not here to see it. 

“Then write it down, idiot,” Lu Guang said, only realising belatedly he never said the last word the first time round. “Am I your mother?” 

Cheng Xiaoshi flinched. Lu Guang didn’t remember that. He thought Cheng Xiaoshi only gritted his teeth. There was a gleam in Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes that could either be tears or nausea, but Lu Guang knew better than to point it out. Any time Lu Guang pointed out where Cheng Xiaoshi was falling apart at the seams, he would dismiss them like they meant nothing, like they weren’t the reason Lu Guang couldn’t sleep at night, terrified of morning. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” Cheng Xiaoshi muttered. 

“I’m tired, asshole!” Lu Guang snapped. He didn’t need a script for this. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt like nothing was ever going to be right, and he didn’t know how to make it better. He didn’t know what to do. “Can’t you give me a break?” 

“But you don’t even have to dive!” Cheng Xiaoshi protested. “You can just sit there and tell me what to do, it’s easy for you!” 

Was it easy? Was it easy to watch Cheng Xiaoshi throw himself into the past over and over again and shrug off Lu Guang’s concern as unnecessary, until he ended up on the wrong side of the bullet? To try again and again to look for what went wrong in the past, obsessing over each detail and torn butterfly wing until he scrounged for the right answer? To feel old and young at once, helpless and culpable simultaneously? To constantly lie, even though he was supposed to have grown to be honest? 

Go upstairs, his memory urged him. Lock the door behind you. Go. 

But something fiercer, louder than his memory took hold of him, balling itself into a fiery pit in his throat and scalding its way out of him. 

“It’s easy for me?” Lu Guang choked out. “Is it? I’m the one who has to try and figure out how to fix everything! I have to fix everything, and you never think twice!” 

Lu Guang felt the tears bully their way to his lashes, no matter how much he tried to fight them back. He stared at Cheng Xiaoshi until his vision blurred with sickness and fury, the boy he was supposed to save and couldn’t help but fail. I don’t know what to do, his soul cried out. I’m the only one who can fix this and I don’t even know what to do. 

“Useless!” Lu Guang hurled. 

He didn’t know to whom he was shouting it, but he knew as soon as it landed that he aimed it at the wrong place. Cheng Xiaoshi froze, breath stuck midway up his throat, eyes wide as if he had been shot in the stomach, and Lu Guang knew that look too well. He went as still as stone, scarcely breathing as Lu Guang’s voice settled like the remains of an earthquake, leaving behind silent wreckage. 

Lu Guang caught up with his breath, dizzy with the catharsis, until its tingling numbness gave way to sudden realization. This was not how any of this was supposed to go.  

Cheng Xiaoshi blinked rapidly, looking away–the tightening of his jaw could not mask the way his lips shook. 

“Forget it, then,” Cheng Xiaoshi muttered. “Let’s just–yeah. Break. Sounds good.” 

He stood up from the seat and left the room quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. He hurried out the front door of the shop, the twinkling of the door bell the only thing keeping Lu Guang company as he was left behind in the sunroom.

[yingdu-lover]

Right now, I can't cite those sources, I'll paste the link when I find them.

Rambling time!

Omg, I have always thought about this! Cheng Xiaoshi is

1. Tall, tanned and handsome (fork in the kitchen, surprise!)

2. Talented singer, so much so that Lu Guang closes his eyes and then sincerely compliments with a solemn expression. (ref - ep 8, season 1)

3. Skilled basketball player, athelete

4. Also skilled in martial arts

and something, SOMETHING even I misinterpreted very much, and this is coming from Li Haoling himself,

5. Cheng Xiaoshi is also academically gifted. Lu Guang and his first meeting was in high school and after qualifying university entrance examination, they got into the same tier university. Haoling describes Cheng Xiaoshi as someone who will perform badly in class, getting 60 or something in class tests and will pull an all nighter before exams and score 90 or above.

So the kind of 'good for nothing' image of Cheng Xiaoshi (ik not all but there are people) is not true. He is truly a multi-talented guy with a charming and cheerful personality (I mean come on his mbti is ESFP).

About his popularity and having friends...

I have always headcanoned that Cheng Xiaoshi chose Lu Guang one day and just never let him go. His choice to spend time with Lu Guang is an active choice and not out of his status of being 'friendless'. I have no one so I'll hang out with lu guang because he only tolerates me/gives me 'patta'. Nope.

The host asks Haoling why Qiao Ling said that before Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi didn't have any friends...and Haoling replies with,

"There is a difference between ordinary friends and true friends, Qiao Ling is referring to the latter. The kind of friend you would open your heart to, embrace with your body and heart, show your most vulnerable core..."

So Lu Guang is that to Cheng Xiaoshi.

I mean, yes, people have different interpretations but I have always been very uncomfortable with that discourse which undermines the intimate bond Shiguang share, it's very underwhelming.

It's both psychological and physical. Season 1 is full of these moments. For Lu Guang, I can say he is the kind of person who just doesn't care about people (I think people might misinterpret it. let me explain. I am not implying he is a sociopath, he is responsible, he manages a lot of things and he considers a given situation with due seriousness BUT he is never actively trying to discuss his extremely personal judgement with anyone EXCEPT your name is Cheng Xiaoshi. He is rational, aloof, respectful towards others as it is a general decorum he follows; all of these have an avalanche breakdown while interacting with Cheng Xiaoshi. I can tell you ( as a fellow introvert scorpio who almost shares his mbti, he judges, I prospect) Lu Guang will probably never curse anyone who is not Cheng Xiaoshi. Decorum and etiquette gives away when he is with him. He does not care about what kind of impression others get of him, but his otherwise solemn demeanour just deliciously fails- he gets angry, frustrated, extremely angry, he (sharply) mocks, he calls him names because he can. Cheng Xiaoshi can install all those feelings in him which he never really publicly displays. Throughout season 1, we often forget that we witness extremely intimate and private Shiguang moments. The stories of the clients progress as it leaves room for Shiguang to interact. The way Lu Guang straight up yells at Cheng Xiaoshi sometimes when he doesn't seem to understand something is so relatable lol. There are fools who allude to that chibi episode where Cheng Xiaoshi asks Lu Guang with hopeful™ eyes " do you think I am handsome?" and Lu Guang goes like "😨🤢🤮" and try to argue that Lu Guang is het 😭 man. Get some IQ. Lmao, Shiguang bicker like an old married couple, and tbh I would react similarly if I had a partner like that.), he cares about Cheng Xiaoshi's morals and perceptions. He seems to be very possessive of Cheng Xiaoshi but Cheng Xiaoshi being Lu Guang's Cheng Xiaoshi does not mind it.

I can't fucking forget that scene when inspector Xiao Li approached Cheng Xiaoshi for Emma's case and Lu Guang just grabbed his wrist and straight up said to the police inspector with all seriousness,

"Before talking to him, you have to talk to me."

I mean- bro-

Cheng Xiaoshi is an adult goddamnit. Lu Guang has no interest in negotiating or discussing the case, and no that is NOT the behaviour of a business partner/manager.

Yingdu episode 1 : Normal friends do not move into your house as an act of apologising. Lu Guang went - I was the reason you were injured, I apologise, I will stay with you (as compensation?). And the conversation escalated to the point where he said "I'll never leave."

heh?

And in ep 8, season 1, he is telling Cheng Xiaoshi to sleep on the couch 😭 bitch it is his house.

(ok, while writing I just suddenly teared up thinking that Lu Guang's Cheng Xiaoshi died. We will never see their original interaction, the Cheng Xiaoshi Lu Guang probably imagined his future with...there was a violent separation and everything stopped altogether. This Cheng Xiaoshi-ok ok it's too painful to think rn I can't )

um, I might have had a shiguang meltdown and I can't continue this rn. will edit later

hi, I came back

so,

about lu guang, we get to see 50 shades of lu guang only because cheng xiaoshi is there.

on the other hand, cheng xiaoshi...

I can't stop thinking about the earthquake episode. Cheng Xiaoshi slapped lu guang. Then hugged him while crying. Then lu guang calls him 'silly melon'. Can you fathom this level of emotional intimacy with someone? what level of intimacy would you need to achieve to let the very person hold you gently and intimately and call you by sweet nicknames who offended you in the first place? it's huge. Cheng Xiaoshi's trust in lu guang is beyond comprehension and no it's not just portrayed in life and death situations, rather shown in vignettes of everyday suffering.

[hcgossips]

Doubts?

There is no doubt  Cavill’s team has been dropping the ball, messing up in different situations. But, it was just a matter of time. What to expect when you turn your celeb client into a professional escort? And, they continue messing up by making Cavill stage a fake steady relationship with Viscuso.

Viscuso is not Cavill’s responsibility, unless he was responsible for her negative exposure since she became his PR stunt. And, based on his PR team’s efforts, he is. All we have to do is observe the many different manipulative and malicious strategies being used in this PR since it started, and how fandom paid for Cavill’s team stupidities.

I’ve never seen such a sloppy job. From the choice of the PR stunt to the last promotion move. Every single damage control strategy ended up screwing him. What to expect when you, as a celeb, accept putting Fame before Dignity? What to expect whe you, as a celeb, accept to be manipulated by your manager?

You are probably asking yourself if I believe @exposing _henrycavill was reliable. My initial answer would be “no”. Because, Cavill always seemed the guy who is afraid of facing consequences, afraid of having to be involved in polemic and wrongdoing. And, at the time, I found the idea really similar to Hammer’s scandal: A mysterious lover, all of a sudden, coming out online to spread the tea about intimacy with a celeb. Cliché.

But, the damage control strategies his team adopted, clearly trying to manipulate social media and people’s perception (because of the page or of Viscuso’s bl*w j*b photo), by using malicious diversions, called my attention and made the page more relevant. His team screwed big time. They messed up with this PR in ways no PR professional can imagine. Why so many sloppy strategies?

Of course, Viscuso’s promiscuous photo helped. But, that could have been avoided. My observations are not related to the content of the page @exposoing_henrycavill, but to what his PR team made of it and how they managed it, how Cavill and team reacted to it and to Viscuso’s public promiscuity.

Cavill’s single status allows a lot of gossip about his intimate life, motivated by his team, most of the time, when not planted by them in the media to promote him as this stallion, this guy who bangs a lot of women and has his specific preferences: young (What I doubt). Cavill probably prefers older maternal women.

Being single was never the problem. The problem was trying to mask his single life with fake plots. He's a sole man, far from being the marrying type, who prefers smoozing and boozing with his friends and enjoying his solitude gaming for hours in front of a computer, rather than being with a woman. He will only get married to a woman who can understand and respect his childish needs. I might be wrong, but he probably doesn’t miss them that much and is very comfortable being single and free. At least, he was.

This stupid PR with a tramp could have been avoided. If not, could have been insignificant, but his PR team’s incompetence made him vulnerable, exposing his true Character. And, what he considers vulnerabilities and always wanted to hide (and what many consider charming and attractive) were wrongly put in evidence.

His team stupidly, thought they had to respond to the massive comments that pointed them out:

a)      By making him go through humiliating situations

b)      By using immoral, malicious and narc damage control strategies,

c)      By changing his persona into another far from who he is.

It was a mistake after mistake. And, making him stage a steady fake relationship with the tramp, won’t help. On the contrary. It is an admission of guilt. These last five years were an intensive PR course on how to avoid screwing your client’s image and reputation.

Now, seriously! Whoever planned this, whoever selected Viscuso and hatched all those narc strategies as damage control should be fired and publicly exposed, because it is the worst PR manager I’ve ever seen and heard about.

[inmydeluluimagination]

Turbulent Fate Ch. 2

A/N: This is a story between Squid Games Recruiter/Salesman and Y/N-Reader

In this story his name is Ji-Won Cho. Hope you enjoy. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

You manage to come up with the most compelling argument as to why Ji-Won just had to go to Hyun-woo. Luckily for you your boss agreed, understanding your position. 

You’re happy when you don’t hear from Ji-Won. You assume that he probably thought you were silly and you accept that will be his perception of you moving forward. It wouldn’t be any different from your high school days anyway. 

You see him have a seat in the waiting area thanks to your glass office and you can’t thank the gods enough that you were with Mr. Park, an older gentleman COO of a company that scrutinized his portfolio from top to bottom. It didn't matter day or month or year. His appointment was a minimum hour long and it had just begun. 

You get into the details regarding Mr. Park’s portfolio when there is a ping on your computer. It was your manager followed by another and another. 

Kang-dae: Y/N

Kang-dae: Can you step away from Mr. Park for a second? 

Kang-dae: It’s urgent!

Y/N: Uh let me see. whats the issue?

Kang-dae: Your client

Your stomach drops

Y/N: Give me a minute

“Mr. Park, can you please excuse me for a second? “ 

“What is it?"

“I have to talk to my manager about an urgent issue.” You hand him the tablet filled with your notes. "I wrote down some notes for you to review when I come back we can resume"

“Fine hurry up!”

“Thank you! Mr. Park” You bow and walk out of the office on your way to your manager

In the corner of your eye you see Ji-Won and Hyun-woo standing in his office Ji-Won throwing his hands around 

“Y/N” your manager calls to you pulling you in  “he is threatening to pull out his money and go to a different bank please just take him” he pleads 

“Hyun-woo is a much better investor than I am”  

He scoffs at your reasoning that wasn’t true hadn’t been true for the past few years. “Thats not the point Y/N I can’t have 1 Billion Won pulled out or its all our asses please I am begging you free lunch on me for a month “

You sneak to look into Hyun-woo’s office “What is he saying?” 

“He is saying he doesn’t want anyone else but you and unless he is reassigned to you he will be pulling his money out all of it today!” 

Your head whips around to look at your boss “He can’t do that!” 

“He knows that!  He doesn’t care! He said the money is going to come from somewhere either the banks or us"

You groan internally “did you offer yourself?” 

“YES!”

“He still doesn’t” the sinking feeling in your stomach resumes again 

“NO! Please I’ll buy you lunch for a month”

“A year plus dinner” you bargain 

“What?” 

“I want free lunch and dinner” you affirm 

“1 year free lunch and 6 months free dinner and you got a deal” 

You roll your eyes “Fine I have to go back to Mr. Park” 

“I will smooth things over. Do you have space in your calendar for today?” 

“I don’t know later in the week maybe or next week” 

“I’ll look into it!” 

On your way back you from your peripheral you notice his body following your movement from Hyun-woo’s office you train your eyes on the floor and resume with Mr. Park

“I’m back apologies on that Mr. Park” 

“Great notes Y/N!”  He smiled at you 

“Oh thanks!”

“Can we add these moving forward?” he asks

“Notes? Yea sure. Okay I know we left off on the Tech Company” 

“Yes I want to buy more stocks”

“Sure let’s look at the current stock prices” 

You get so wrapped up in Mr. Park you don’t notice Ji-Won leave the building and you’re thankful for that.

After work you leave and head for the nearest luxury shopping center. You splurge a little buying good smelling perfumes and lotions not that you weren’t already smelling great but there's something to be said about bullying and how it affects your behaviors. You buy some more high end work clothes before heading home

At home you pull up your work laptop to catch up on any missing items when you realize you had a new meeting scheduled for Friday with Ji-Won. You release a frustrated sigh. Why you? Why now? Why here? All the other KB banks he could have gone to he chose yours specifically. Hell Seoul had a better team. Was this all a coincidence or intentional? Was he returning for round 2 of bullying? There's no way you would agree to being bullied again as an adult at that! 

Friday comes along and you don your new outfit and perfume maybe if you felt confident you could push through this. With the hopes that eventually you wouldn’t be nervous around him all the time

“Mr. Cho”  you call to him from the sitting area. He doesn’t smile or anything just gets up and walks to your office

“How are you?” you ask as you step into your office. He doesn’t say anything instead takes a seat in your office. Your mind races and flashes back to when you left his house. You cringe internally before focusing on the computer pulling up his portfolio “Here is your portfolio. Doing good so far projected profit for end of year is 200 million won of course the longer you invest the better it will be” He nods looking at the screen "There was a slight decrease in the Kia portfolio due to the recent recall, but that is projected to go back up once the company provides information on what parts need to be fixed.” He still says nothing fixing his eyes on the screen “for the Genesis portfolio the stock is steady they plan to release a new vehicle by end of year so that will swing back up tremendously. You take a pause to allow him to ask questions but still he says nothing “Uh for the real estate theres new land being bought and looking to add luxury townhomes along with single family homes in the surrounding area outside the city, for the tech the...” 

He interrupts you “Was it you?” he asks sitting back 

“Excuse me?” 

He leans back on his chair not interested in talking about stock anymore. “Were you the one who asked for me to be assigned to Hyun-woo?” 

You feel your face flush and answer quickly “well n-n-no, because you’re a new investor and my calendar being so busy we thought Hyun-woo would be the best portfolio manager for you” you repeat the same lie that was told to him when he came in earlier this week

“Hmmm” he hums with a suspicious tone

“But that won’t happen again Mr. Cho"

“Told you to call me Ji-Won” he remarks

“Oh I can't do that Mr. Cho...” He smirks in response. You clear your throat “So about the tech portfolio..”  he leans back in 

Ji-Won continued to drop in month after month until the warm spring months hit, it was nothing crazy and you had gotten used to his mannerisms, from time to time you would catch how he looked at you. For quick moment he would look at you with soft eyes before he returned to his stoicism. 

“How’s it going?” your boss asks you after Ji-Won left the office

You shrug “it's going”

“Nothing bad?”

“Nope he’s happy” you smile typing away 

“Good so what's lunch today?” 

You smile “Oh I don’t know I’m gonna get something expensive though” you beam rubbing it in. He rolls his eyes and walks away 

The next month you sit watching the waiting area waiting for Ji-Won, he was already 20 minutes late, luckily you don’t have any other clients. When the hour mark reached it was closing time. 

From: Y/N L/N@ KBKBank.com  To: Ji-Won.Cho@gmail.com Subject: Missed Meeting Today  Hi Mr. Cho,  I hope all is well. Our meeting was missed today. I have attached notes to go over the portfolio. Please let me know if you need anything else. Best Regards,  Y/N L/N  Portfolio Manager KB Kookmin Bank Busan Branch # 10

“Ugh it's raining outside” you comment to Kimberly 

“I’m gonna wait till the rain stops” she comments 

“I have to go” you state, pulling out your umbrella. Your car was at the mechanic and you needed to stop by and get an update on the issue 

“Be careful”

“I will, see you later Kimberly” 

You walk out the door grasping your umbrella and coat close to your body as the rain was coming down hard but you didn’t have time to waste as you had to make it to the mechanic before it closed and the time to get home adding rain would be around 1 hour due to traffic. 

As you hastily walk making your way to the metro you hear your name and look up from the crowd 

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” 

You look up following the sound it was Ji-Won in his new Genesis G-Sport SUV waving you over standing on the passenger side where he called you from

“Mr. Cho! Sorry I missed you today” he had gotten used to you calling him Mr. Cho and no longer fought you on that

“I got tied up!” He waves his hands urging you to get closer you thought 

You step closer “It's okay I sent an email with notes if you need me to reschedule ano...” 

“Get in!” He looks at you as if you have 3 heads, he was nowhere interested in discussing stocks at the moment

You step back instinctively “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said get in!” He repeats more forcefully 

“Oh I can’t do that Mr. Cho I’m not too far from the metro really it's fine”  by this time you were soaking wet despite the umbrella and coat the wind made the rain go everywhere and anywhere 

“Y/N I insist”

You look between him and the seat rapidly. You shake your head again “No really” you point to the metro station. “I don't want to mess up your new car Mr. Cho.”  You politely bow hoping he would accept your reasoning and let you go because you were being battered by the rain. You see his head droop down and he opens his door and you rapidly shake your head. You hadn’t made it too far away from the office. Anyone could be watching hell half the people on that street could be people from adjacent buildings/offices who knew your job. 

“Really Mr. Cho it's fine, I’m wet and your new car” you begin to speak as he approaches you 

Without saying a word to you he opens up the passenger door as he is also getting rained on “get in Y/N” he speaks with an assertive tone 

“Uh this isn't allo..” 

With his hand on your back “come on” he gently ushers you into the seat  taking the umbrella form you tossing it in the back. When he gets in he wipes his face and turns to face you 

“Thank you Mr. Cho you, you can just drop me at the metro” bow politely 

“It’s no problem” 

“Your new car”

“I said it's no problem  didn’t I?” he retorts slightly miffed that he had to get wet just to get you into his car. He brings up the GPS app and turns to look at you “where do you live?” 

“Oh you can just drop me off at the metro”

“You think I got wet just to drop you off less than a mile from here?” 

“I uhh” you try to come up with a reason

“Where do you live?” 

“Sasang-gu” you mumble  

“Ahhh” he smiles “Cute neighborhood” he closes the app and begins his travel to Sasang-gu as you listen to the radio. From time to time he looks over at you as you sit still like a statue 

“Can we go over the notes you sent?” he asks 

“Yes of course!” you pull out your work phone and start to read through the comments you made for each portfolio he asks a few questions here and there but nothing too serious that would require you to follow up in detail

“Here is fine”  you say motioning to the little shopping area that held a pharmacy you say as he pulls into the neighborhood. You would follow up on your car the next day. 

“You sure?  I can wait and take you home directly” 

You shake your head “No no it's fine I have a meeting with the pharmacists thank you Mr. Cho” 

“Don’t mention it” he says half saluting you as you exit the car. 

You grip everything tightly and walk into the pharmacy. Admittedly you stay longer than usual asking nonsensical questions so that if he indeed waited he would get impatient and drive off. Before you leave the pharmacy you peek outside to see his car isn’t anywhere close to the vicinity. 

You take in a deep breath and continue walking to your house a 15 minute walk and you're home glad that the day is over. 

A/N: Please tell me what you think. Please only repost or like don't post without giving credit.

[avoidantrecovery]

my thoughts on rejection sensitivity, fawning, criticism and how i want to get better about them

these are just some notes/me thinking aloud/me writing notes to myself and putting things into perspective/connecting some dots. maybe others can relate.

✦ abandonment/rejection based trauma leads to... ✦ needing to be accepted and liked by any- and everyone (fawning) to restore safety/ensure feeling safe which leads to... ✦ due to being stuck in trauma response/having a trauma rewired brain: strong sensitivity and fear of any kind of rejection or criticism, which leads to... ✦ responsibility for your emotions and self-perceptions are outsourced (for the lack of a better word) to (random) third persons (who are not even aware of this). which leads to... ✦ difficulty to interact and communicate with people without crushing hypervigilance, anxiety, numbing, strong emotional reactions... leads to... ✦ random third parties and their reaction to us (be it via facial expressions, tone, conversation, action or inaction, etc...) now makes or breaks our emotional state ✦ a positive reaction gives us (if we're lucky) positive emotions (dopamine, safety, elation) a negative reaction however leads to the exact opposite -> we are at the whims of random people ✦ inevitable negative feedback then leads to severe negative emotions including anxiety, shame, self-devaluing and self-abuse ✦ this becomes a cycle of wanting others to reflect that "we are good" back to us in places where it's not relevant and will lead to negative feedback and rejection, isolating and then doing it all over again.

what to do instead?

✸ realize that this is a cycle that is happening and why (trauma) ✸ be mindful and have self-compassion for your past (fawning) behaviour to avoid shame and self-hate (you were stuck in a trauma response, not doing it on purpose) ✸ realize that minute reactions of all people doesn't have to matter to you. this is something you have to practise day in day out, because your brain is stuck in this mode. ✸ it's fucked up that we often have to deal with people who are outright hostile and having a negative reaction to that is normal and healthy. however, everyone who has ever felt the overwhelming crushing sensation of rejection sensitivity knows there is a difference between that and "a healthy negative reaction". ✸ we shouldn't have to internalize and emotionally tattoo every minute thing someone else says or does to us, esp. if they are hostile ✸ it shouldn't control us for the rest of the day, week, month or even longer ✸ there is nothing we can do to control others behaviour (even by prostrating and fawning to the max), it is not even our responsibility, but we can try to better manage and process our own emotions to ensure we are not constantly dysregulated. ✸ use "the levels method" to sort to what degree someone's feedback matters to you ✸ realize that you will probably fall back into old behaviour patterns because "nerves that fire together, wire together". meaning it is through repetition that we form new habits and it's by reducing "firing" old behaviour patterns that we are able to eventually let them go.

the levels method

✸ level 1: random strangers on the street: 0.5/5 ✸ level 2: random people you see daily (neighbors, barista, etc...): 1/5 ✸ level 3: work/school people 2/5 (only professional/educational stuff matters, do not take things personal or internalize professional critic as personal critic, i know this is hard and often unfair) ✸level 4: acquaintances and friends: 3/5 ✸ level 5: family and good friends: 4/5 ✸ level 6: your own selected loved ones 5/5

☞ i just came up with this little method that i will try to use to weigh my emotions and how seriously i have to take people's reactions to me. again, it's not easy and it's something that has to be practised to get right. however, the idea is to get away from processing the random reaction of a stranger, or even of a co-worker or client, with the same intensity and seriousness of selected loved one whose feedback i obviously care about a lot.

what if i don't have loved ones?

✸ this is one thing that has been bothering me ✸ i think for some people the "outsourcing" of emotions onto other people and that whole cycle, is intensified by not having any selected loved ones due to isolation etc... ✸ it's likely that you will, perhaps without being aware of it, begin to look for emotional feedback (to feel safe due to trauma brain) from people who fall within level 1-level 3 or 4. ✸ people need social contact and if there is nobody else around we might look to have our emotional needs met by people who aren't even aware or responsible for that ✸ i am currently in this situation and all i can do for now, until i do find new selected loved ones, is to be aware when i do it and steer away from it when it happens. ✸ if you are in contact with family or friends, this can be a better outlet as random strangers or classmates/co-workers

(not medical advice, just thinking out loud)

[iamsherlocked-1998]

NUTS AND ENGINES

SUMMARY: A visit to the mechanic and a new beginning.

WORDS: 1200

WARNING: Nope, only that the reader is a Mandalorian here and not Din, so when I say "Mando" it´s about her.

In the bustling spaceport of Mos Eisley, Din Djarin worked diligently in his small mechanic's shop, surrounded by the hum of engines and the clatter of tools. He was aware of the fame he had built up over the past few years, known for his ability to repair all manner of spacecraft, Din considered himself a quiet and solitary figure, but affable and cheerful, content with the mild isolation of his work.

One day, a mysterious figure dressed in Mandalorian armor entered his shop, seeking repairs for her ship. He couldn't help but shudder a little, his scant knowledge of them based on perceptions from childhood when he was rescued from the ashes of what used to be his forgotten home before being sent to this piece of land to live with a relative he barely knew.

The first day she just hung around the workshop and briefly introduced herself as Mando, but an old friend from an adjacent cantina managed to find out that the enigmatic woman turned out to be a renowned and legendary bounty hunter with a reputation that preceded her. Intrigued by the enigmatic Mandalorian before him, the next day Din offered to work on the ship, eager to test his mechanical prowess.

"It could use a tune-up and my usual mechanics are taking a break, how many credits would that be?"

Djarin offered a sardonic smile.

"Well, that's something you can't know until you check it out in depth, sweetheart, but I promise I'll give you a good price" (That was accompanied by a slight wink in a crude attempt to get attention).

The Mandalorian just nodded softly and left without another word, leaving the man blushing intensely. That wasn't even close to what he regretted the most. As Din delved into the intricate repairs of the ancient ship, which could well be described as a relic, he reflected on the other, much more interesting things he could be doing, but he was still a man of his word and he wasn't going to give up. Despite the two brief interactions, he couldn't help but feel drawn to the stoic yet captivating presence of the Mandalorian warrior. Their conversations were meaningful, with an unspoken understanding floating in the air between them, especially when the woman simply rolled up her sleeves and began to help him.

"Where did you learn?" (The question surprised the dark-haired man, but he wasn't going to waste the opportunity).

"Well, when I was young I spent a lot of time alone because my uncle wasn't a man of many words and even less with alcohol, so one day I went to the city and signed up as an apprentice, that's how I earned a living and killed time".

The woman turned her visor to the ground thoughtfully.

"Is that where you got the necklace from?"

He was about to ask when she looked where the jacket was leaning, it was a kind of tool box where he kept an amulet from the worst day of his life. A mythosaur.

"No... I don't like to talk about it but your people helped me in a time of need and I preferred to keep it".

"I could say the same".

The man reached for a dirty rag to remove the oil dirt from his hands. A sigh of understanding left his lips.

"Is it true what they say, you always wear that helmet?" (He pointed to his own face inquisitively).

"This is the way".

The days passed in apparent tranquility, the young woman had become a little more vocal and was proud of having gotten a kind of laugh out of her once. However, before Din could finish his work, chaos erupted in the spaceport as a group of bounty hunters descended upon the girl, seeking to claim the bounty on her head. Instinctively, Din sprang into action, using the few skills his uncle, a man better with his fists than with words, had instilled in him, upbringing to support Mando and fend off attackers.

He and his peculiar client barricaded themselves behind a set of scrap metal. The woman had a sharp aim that made him think with pity of their targets if they weren't in this situation.

In the heat of battle, Din entered the ship for added safety while his partner dealt with several stray undesirables mercilessly. He inadvertently discovered a secret Mando had been hiding: a small, green creature emerged from a cubbyhole of sorts, looking frightened and immediately turning its face away when the mechanic approached.

"Hey... little one, it's okay" (the man extended a finger for the boy to hold, which helped, as he was able to pick up the baby and find a better place to hide).

So that was the reason the woman was so scrupulous about emptying the warehouse before starting work and always left for a while, maybe she knew someone nearby who helped her with the child.

Once she understood that the man was inside, the child's guardian (mother?) entered the ship abruptly and prepared to take off. Apparently the rescued pupil was named Grogu, he had a connection to the Force like nothing Din had ever seen before, although the Mandalorian never heard of it. This revelation struck a chord within Din, awakening emotions and memories long buried in him, when he lost his parents as a tender infant.

A few hours later Grogu entertained himself by floating Din's necklace through the air, the only thing he could rescue when the attackers were too many and left without further delay.

"He is amazing" (Djarin meant it, he understood that any self-respecting person would want to keep him safe).

"He is" (The woman used a surprisingly soft tone) "You can't go back to that place, now they will look for you too".

With no choice but to leave the safety of Mos Eisley behind, Din made the fateful decision to accompany Mando and Grogu on their journey, his heart torn between the prudence of duty and the new connection he felt towards them.

“I suppose there is no other remedy, at least for now. Would a mechanic suit you?”

The hunter said nothing but the playful clicking of fingers on the control panel expressed all he needed to know.

Weeks turned into months. As they traversed the galaxy together, facing danger and adventure at every turn, Din and Mando found themselves growing closer, their bond forged through trials and challenges that tested their resolve. In the quiet moments beneath the starry sky, Din found solace in the reserved woman’s unwavering strength and determination, while she discovered a depth of compassion and loyalty in Din’s open character that touched her heart. Casual touches turned to frantic kisses in the darkness of the ship’s belly.

Amidst the chaos of their unpredictable lives, love blossomed between the stoic Mandalorian bounty hunter and the intrepid mechanic, tying their destinies together in a story written in the stars. And as they sailed across the vast expanse of the galaxy side by side, Djarin and Mando knew that in each other they had found something worth fighting for: a love that transcended the boundaries of space and time, binding them together in a bond that was as unbreakable as beskar steel.

NOTE: This was really funny to write, maybe I'll write about this universe again, the fic is an idea of @toomanystoriessolittletime for the 8k celebration, hope you like it 🤗💕

[multidimensionalguidance]

📚💸 Career + Wealth Analysis 💸📚

One of the most frequent questions astrologers receive from their clients when doing a chart reading is about their career, profession or work.

The labor we do on an everyday basis is essential when it comes to our finances and self fulfillment. It can either be something we enjoy doing that meets all of our needs, or what brings a paycheck yet lacks inner satisfaction.

There are several ways to confirm if the work you are doing is activating your Venus properly, and you may wonder why that planet in particular? Simple! Venus is related to finances, luxury, and comfort. The jobs that align with our Venus sign tend to be the ones that not only fits into our financial needs, but also provides a genuine feeling of contentment.

So, if you want the straight forward answer to “What career/field/job/hobby can help me create wealth and feel joyful about it?” Then Venus is your short answer. Remember that wealth will look differently for everyone since we all have different perceptions of how much money is truly enough to have the lifestyle we dream of.

Look for the Sidereal sign that your Venus falls in, find below the careers or fields related to it, and confirm for yourself the difference in your wealth accumulation once you incorporate it into your life.

Note: please keep in mind that if your Venus is conj, square or opposite a malefic planet/s (Mars, Saturn, Rahu/Ketu), there will be some natural resistance or challenges that you will experience throughout life with work, job, profession, or financial matters. Venus in Virgo, Scorpio, and Capricorn to a degree could also experience similar experiences.

The house where this planet is placed also tells a lot about the way your job manifests in your life (places, people, etc). Now, there are many ways to remediate any negative effects, so no need to be concerned or feel doomed.

There are many advanced Vedic Astrologers who mostly focus on remediation of planets that are in difficult or challenged positions, so take a look at the options available if you ever feel like there's an extra difficulty for you in those matters.

♈️➡️ Vocations that require independence, daring and the pioneering spirit: entrepreneurs, pioneers in any field, idea people, those who initiate new projects, troubleshooters, directors, adventurers, executives.

Firemen or fire fighters, forest rangers, engineers (metallurgical), members of the armed forces, firearms experts, police officers, machinists, mechanics, iron and steel workers, locksmiths, welders, athletics that involve speed and daring, race car drivers, contact sports, boxers, dancers, movement therapists, physical education instructors, surgeons.

♉️➡️ Vocations dealing with the earth and substance: farmers, ranchers, agriculture instructors, landscape architects, gardeners, rock collectors (semi-precious gems), builders, carpenters, building contractors, concrete pourers, chiropractors, massage therapists, computer programmers.

Occupations involved with money and finance: bankers, bank tellers, stock brokers, financiers, money managers, investment advisors, security analysts, treasurers, economists.

Artists, sculptors, jewelers, pottery makers, fashion designers, tailors, florists, musicians, singers, voice teachers, throat specialists.

♊️➡️ Vocations involved with communication or transportation: authors, proofreaders, ad copywriters, screenplay writers, editors, reporters, teachers, lecturers, linguists, speech therapists, librarians, bookstore owners, publishers, magazine employees.

Radio operators or disc jockeys, television producers, telephone operators or repair persons, telemarketers, stationery store owners, journalists, salespeople, printers, book distributors, clerks, office workers, secretaries, typists, typesetters.

Messengers, mail carriers, taxi drivers, bus drivers, railway employees, plane pilots, accountants, jacks-of-all-trades. Can engage in two or more occupations at once.

♋️➡️ Vocations that nurture: physically or emotionally (especially through food): caterers, restaurant owners, chefs, cooks, bakers, waiters and waitresses, confectioners, dairy farmers, grocers, food distributors, nutritionists.

Social workers, counselors, psychics, nurses, family therapists, preschool teachers, children's writers, tioners, caretakers, water-related occupations, plumbers, swimmers, lifeguards, fishermen.

All careers dealing with the home: realtors, hotel managers, innkeepers, homemakers, governesses, maids, laundry workers.

♌️➡️ Performers of all types: actors and actresses, playwrights, entertainers, dancers, singers, musicians, movie stars, circus performers, jugglers, clowns, sports figures, teachers (good teachers are entertainers), amuse ment park owners, speculators, gamblers.

Leaders of all types: executives, managers, government officials, politicians, foremen, judges, athletes, salespeople, the profession of selling, promoters, dia: mond and precious metal brokers, gold workers, heart specialists, all vocations involving children.

♍️➡️ Vocations dealing with analysis, detail and technical expertise: statisticians, accountants, book-keepers, computer programmers, teachers of technical subjects, stenographers, critics, inspectors of all types, draftsmen, graphic artists, technical illustrators, crafts-people, specialists.

Health occupations and the social services, mental health workers, therapists, psychiatrists, psychoanalysts, social workers, employment counselors, nurses, doctors, massage therapists, respiratory techairians, dental hygienists, dentists, secretaries, office managers, food service worker, nutritionist, waiters and waitresses, dieticians, veterinarians, zoologist, sanitation workers, janitors, public health officials, house cleaners, butlers.

♎️➡️ Vocations that pursue balance, harmony and justice: negotiators and counselors of all types, marriage counselors, wedding related businesses, diplomats, labor arbitrators, judges, lawyers, managers, salespeople.

Occupations dealing with beauty: artists, architects, painters, illustrators, photographers, fashion designers, fashion industry workers, milliners, color consultants, clothing store owners or salespeople, beauticians, hairdressers, cosmeticians, interior and exterior decorators, cosmetic manufacturers and dealers, jewelers, florists, candy makers.

♏️➡️ Vocations that focus on uncovering hidden secrets: researchers, muckraking journalists, investigators, detectives, physicists, occultists, those who work behind the scenes, espionage agents, psychics, astrologers, all matters dealing with death, funeral home directors, morticians, cemetery workers, insurance salespeople, soldiers, those working under the earth, undertakers.

Those who work as healers. all medical practitioners, physicians, nurses, psychiatrists, psychologists, surgeons, pharmacists, pathologists, past-life investigators, hospice workers, chemists, music therapist, musicians.

♐️➡️ Vocations dealing with exploration, travel and adventure: explorers, astronomers, travel agents, airline employees, flight attendants, astronauts, import-export agents, foreign correspondents, language interpreters, traveling salespeople, promoters, customs officers, athletes of all types, archers, sporting goods manufacturers, horse trainers, breeders and jockeys.

Occupations dealing with higher knowledge: philosophers, college professors, ministers, theologians, missionaries, preachers, orators, publishers, metaphysical writers, philanthropists, lawyers.

♑️➡️ Vocations dealing with administering and organizing: administrators of all types, managers, business owners, executives, government officials, politicians, judges, manufacturers, coordinators, principals at schools, wardens, disciplinarians, buyers, consul-tants, vocational counselors.

Occupations that work with form and structure: architects, contractors, builders, carpenterivil and rivil and get industrial engineers, economists, chiropractors, orthopedic specialists, osteopaths, miners, landowners, mountain climbers.

♒️➡️ Vocations dealing with progress and inven-tion: inventors, scientists, educators, researchers, astrologers, social workers, psychologists, futurists, humanitarians, social reformers, United Nations workers, employees of world relief organizations, future-oriented occupations, astronauts, airplane pilots, aviators, parachutists, hang glider pilots, solar energy researchers, physicists, radio and television technicians, electricians, electrical engineers.

♓️➡️ Vocations of a spiritual, healing or artistic na-ture: religious workers, priests, monks, nuns, sisters of mercy, rabbis, clairvoyants, mediums, charity workers, prison workers.

Physicians, faith healers, psychic healers, nurses, hospital workers, psychiatrists, psychologists, hypnotists, anesthesiologists, podiatrists. Poets, musicians, writers (inspirational, fantasy, metaphysical, science fiction), actors, dancers, painters, artists, entertainers, comedians, singers, filmmakers.

Water-related activities, fishermen, sailors, divers, swimmers, lifeguards, marine scientists, oceanographers, bartenders, oil industry workers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is your Venus sign all you need to know to find all the clues and perfect descriptions to tailor your ideal professional life? No, but it is a huge start in a small way and with short information.

If you guys would like to go more in depth with career astrology, then also take your time to check the following, and find the common theme:

•10H sign + where its lord is located

•D10 Lagna (Dasamsa chart)

•Mahadasha planet in your chart, the house its located, and where the lord goes.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Two

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy on this chapter. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.5k

A/N : ... yeah, Billy is pretty clueless 😅

CHAPTER ONE

Master List

Chapter Two

It all felt like a fever dream and, by the end of it, you were left wondering just what the hell you’d agreed to.

The moment you’d accepted his offer, Mr Russo had switched into what you liked to call his planning mode, becoming hyper-focused on the task at hand, and everything that would be required to make his crazy scheme work. It felt like something straight out of a Nickelodeon show from the 90s, and you could only half keep up as he started making the arrangements.

You knew enough from experience that there was no stopping him once he started on something like this, and all you could do was stand and watch, hoping for the best.

By the time you finally managed to return to your desk, you knew that there was no way out of it and that it was far too late to change your mind.

Still, after his initial flurry of excitement, he got on with his day. To say you were relieved when he left for a meeting across town was something of an understatement - he’d be gone most of the day, leaving you with some time to wrap your head around what you were going to have to do.

But that feeling of relief was short-lived.

Not long after you’d returned from lunch the elevator doors slid open and a package was placed on your desk in front of you. While it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for Mr Russo to have more sensitive packages sent directly to his office, you quickly discovered that the package wasn’t for Mr Russo.

After some back and forth with the delivery guy, mostly confirming that it was your name on the box and that he wasn’t going to leave until you signed for it, you conceded defeat.

What happened next could only aptly be described as a staring competition with a cardboard box.

Despite it bearing your name, you didn’t want to open it just in case there was some mistake. So, you checked through your emails, making sure you hadn’t accidentally ordered something and had it shipped to the office, but there was nothing.

Then you picked up the box and gave it a gentle shake, trying to see if you could tell what it was that way.

Of course, you couldn’t.

Finally, you were left with no choice but to open it, and immediately found yourself confused by what you found.

It was a dress.

A chiffon dress in a gorgeous deep purple colour with a label that told you it was from a boutique in Brooklyn. And a quick google of that boutique’s website left you feeling queasy when you saw just how much they charged for similar dresses.

You only dared remove it from the box for a few seconds, long enough to ascertain that it was a halterneck, midi-length dress with a cinched waist in your size, and long enough to find the invoice.

The invoice solved one mystery but left you with several more unanswered questions. 

Mr Russo had bought the dress.

He’d bought you a dress for your fake date, without even asking your opinion or preference.

(Not that it wasn’t gorgeous or something that you wouldn’t have picked yourself if you had that much money to throw away on a dress, but it was the principle of the matter.)

You carefully folded it up, making sure that it was safely wrapped in the bright pink tissue paper it had arrived in before lowering it back into the box and closing it up, grabbing some tape and resealing it. You couldn’t keep it - you had your own clothes and the last thing you needed was Billy Russo dressing you up like... like you were a doll, a plaything.

You’d tell him to send it back the moment he reappeared.

At least, that had been the plan. Over the next couple of hours, your annoyance was mostly pushed aside in favour of getting through the last of your work before the weekend, and when Mr Russo finally reappeared, you weren’t given much of an opportunity to raise your grievances.

He came bustling out the elevator, barely sparing you a look but immediately noticing the box on the floor beside your desk.

“Oh, good, it’s here,” he said, already halfway into his office before you could get to his feet. 

Clearly his meeting hadn’t settled or slowed him down.

Normally, you stayed well out of his way when he got like that, when he started rushing around the place like a stressed headless chicken, but you needed to say something about the unwanted gift.

He was rummaging through his desk by the time you entered his office, clearly looking for something. 

“The dress -” you started, trying to remain calm and polite.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Had to pull some strings to get it delivered today, but it’ll be worth it,” he said, barely looking at you as he pulled a bottle of scotch from his desk - one of the older ones by the look of it, one of three bottles he kept on hand for various occasions.

“But, I don’t -” you tried again.

“Do you need me to send a driver for you tonight?” He asked as he stepped away from his desk and started back towards the door. “I’d collect you myself but something’s just come up, so I’ll have to meet you at Bianchi’s.”

“Bianchi’s?”

As in one the most exclusive and expensive restaurants in New york? That Bianchi’s.

(He was taking you to the same restaurant Ethan Hawke had been photographed at only a month ago?)

“Yeah, on Madison?” He said as he moved to grab his coat from the coat rack outside his office door and started to pull it on. “The table is booked for seven, so if I send a car -”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll take a cab.”  

“Okay, excellent, I’ll see you there at about six fifty-five.”

And, then, before you could even think to say another word, he was stepping back into the elevator, leaving you alone again.

Fuck.

He left you feeling worse than you had before, with more questions and worries to contend with.

Of course, it was impossible to get any work done after that; all you could think about was the dress and Bianchi’s, and how you had never before stopped to think about how you and Billy Russo lived in two very different worlds. How were you going to fit into his world for six months? How could you fake it for that long?

But, you also had time to remember why you were doing it and what you were going to get at the end of it all, and that would have to be enough to get you through it. 

Besides, it was one fake date - you could keep the tags for the dress and he could take it back after you’d worn it. And, maybe it would all go terribly, maybe he’d realise how out of place you were in his world and he’d reconsider the whole silly idea. There were so many ways that things could play out and, as nervous as you were, some part of you couldn’t help but feel a little excited.

People like you didn’t get to eat at places like Bianchi’s, and you loved Italian food.

You snuck out ten minutes early and took a taxi home, knowing that you didn’t have much time to get ready and not wanting to carry such an expensive dress on the subway.

The moment you were through your front door, the panic set in.

First you found yourself rummaging through your wardrobe, desperate to find a pair of shoes that might work with the dress. You settled on a pair of strappy heels you wore to a wedding a few years ago, they pinched your feet but they were all you had. Then you threw yourself in the shower, struggled to do your hair, and finally did your make-up.

When you pulled the dress on, you didn’t know how to feel. It was beautiful but you didn’t feel beautiful wearing it. You stood in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, trying to pull your stomach in even further than your spanx already was, and smoothing the front of the dress down, hoping to find a way to conceal your obvious curves.

The dress would probably look amazing on one of the beautiful, leggy, thin women Billy usually surrounded himself with. You just looked like a poor imitation.

Deep breath, you told yourself. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t real.

Six months. That’s all it was. 

Six months of playing pretend, of laughing at Mr Russo’s jokes, and convincing everyone that you were a loving, respectable couple.

You could do it.

(For your brother’s sake, you had to do it.)

He was already waiting when you arrived and quickly moved to greet you as you climbed out of the taxi. You felt your cheeks heat as he looked at you, and your stomach knotted uncomfortably; was the make-up too much? Did the cheap shoes you’d picked look terrible with the dress?

For a second you felt your usual, forced smile start to waver, but you managed to keep yourself from losing control of it, wanting to appear as calm and collected as possible.

Before you realised it was happening, he had your hand in his and he was slowly leading you towards the door, but he stopped just shy and looked at you again.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

It was as if he could sense your nerves and he was offering you one final chance to escape, and some part of you desperately wanted to take it.

“No, I just...” you started and trailed off, for a few seconds, “well, we didn’t exactly get any time to plan this out.”

You were going into the situation blind and you were sure what was expected of you or what you were supposed to do if anyone asked you any questions.

Hell, you hadn’t even been given the chance to make sure he understood that sex was entirely off the table. (Not that you really thought Billy was interested in anything like that from you.)

“I know,” Billy said with a sigh, “but we should be able to talk over dinner, I asked for one of the quieter tables in the back.” His hand gave yours a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, it’s just dinner. We just need to be seen together - everything else can come after. And, you should know that they do amazing tiramisu here.”

That had your smile warming and turning into something far more genuine.

“Tiramisu? Are you trying to make up for something, Mr Russo,” you joked, echoing his words from the day before.

He let out a laugh, seeming amused that you’d remembered.

“It’s Billy,” he said quietly, smiling at you in a way you weren’t sure you’d seen before. “You have to call me Billy from now on.”

“Oh, yes, Mr - I mean Billy.”

And that was going to take a lot of getting used to.

“Come on,” he said, finally reaching for the door and holding it open for you, “our table should be ready now.”

As you stepped into Bianchi’s, you found yourself trailing half a step behind Billy, immediately feeling out of place, like someone was going to ask you to leave and offer you directions to the nearest Burger King. But, with Billy in front of you, you were rendered almost invisible to the staff who all seemed to know him by name.

Still, you managed to keep a smile on your lips as you were slowly led towards the back of the restaurant to a candle lit table that, for reasons you didn’t want to think about, reminded you of that one scene from Lady and the Tramp.

Once you were both sitting at the table, you found yourself wanting to look anywhere but at Billy. It felt weird to look at him in the gentle flickering light of the candles, the soft glow adding a warmth and depth to his features and making his dark eyes seem all the darker. But you immediately regretted allowing your gaze to wander.

You noticed the looks from other diners straight away, though you told yourself that it was Billy they were not so subtly glancing at - he drew attention wherever he went and, well, he looked extra sharp tonight in his charcoal suit and light blue shirt. 

Looking down, you wondered what you must look like sitting across from him. Ridiculous, probably. 

“You okay?” He asked, his voice cutting through your spiralling thoughts.

“Yeah,” you answered automatically, forcing your gaze back to him, “yeah, just feeling a little out of place.”

Billy shot you a questioning look, but didn’t comment on it. Instead his eyes dropped to the menu in front of him.

“Do you prefer red or white?” He asked after a few seconds.

You stared at him blankly, before realising he was talking about wine. “Oh, white.”

Finally, your attention turned to the menu but found that you couldn’t focus on it. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this wasn’t you; you didn’t get flustered over silly little things.

So what if people thought you didn’t belong there with him? 

(It’s not real. It’s not real.)

By the time the waiter appeared, you still hadn’t decided what you wanted, so you decided to defer to his judgement and, if nothing else, it seemed to ingratiate you to the waiter.

“So,” Billy finally said, once your wine had been poured and the pair of you had been left alone to wait for your food. “What do you think?”

“It’s nice,” you answered, reaching for your glass and taking a slow sip, hoping to calm your nerves.

“Just nice?”

“It’s a restaurant, I can’t exactly make a judgement until I’ve actually tried the food,” you  told him, managing to affect a playful enough tone. “The wine’s nice though.”

“I mean, is it nice enough that you think you’re going to be able to stomach six months of this?”

It was difficult to discern if he was talking about the restaurant or his own presence, so instead of answering straight away, you took another drink.

“Why? Is this what you do every night?” You asked jokingly, despite already knowing the answer.

More often than not, you were the one tasked with finding him reservations and responding to invitations on his behalf. Put kindly, Billy Russo had a very active social life, and that was exactly what you were supposed to be helping him change.

After a moment of silence you continued; “it’s fine. Just as long as you don’t expect me to be at your beck and call every single night.”

“What days are you available to be at my beck and call?” He asked, grinning at the ridiculousness of the question. 

“Any day except Wednesdays and Sundays.”

You leaned forward a little, wanting to to seem to anyone who looked that you were having some intimate conversation and not planning out the finer details of your fake relationship.

“I’m usually busy on Thursday evenings,” Billy offered.

It was strange that neither of you asked what the other did, but Billy didn’t pry so you didn’t either. If it was ever something you needed to share with him, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“I’ll check your schedule on Monday,” you offered, comforted at the thought of being able to slip back into your role as PA instead of fake date.

“There’s a charity event in a couple of weeks - there’s going to be representatives from VDK there, so I’ll need you for that.”

“Yes, Mr - yes, Billy.”

You feel your cheeks heat as the corner of his lip pulled upwards and, for a moment, he looked ready to make some awful joke, but before he could get the words out, he was interrupted.

“Ah! William!” 

It was a loud, booming voice, and it caused your eyes to shoot upwards and towards the kitchen doors. There were two waiters, carrying what seemed to be yours and Billy’s food, and a large, grinning man dressed in chef’s clothes.

“Marco,” Billy said, getting to his feet and throwing an arm around the chef.

You remained seated, frozen, feeling utterly out of the loop and out of place in Billy’s world. 

The two men started to talk while plates were placed down on the table in front of you - far more than you’d actually ordered but, from what you could gather from their conversation, the chef had prepared extra just for Billy.

You were left ignored until the waiters disappeared.

“William, you always bring the most beautiful women to my restaurant,” Marco said, moving to your side and taking your hand in his and pressing a light kiss to your knuckles.

Your cheeks instantly started to heat and you found yourself entirely lost for words.

Billy introduced you and you sat there silently, your stomach knotting as he referred to you as his girlfriend, earning a fond laugh from Marco. But, still, you kept a smile on your lips.

“You have exquisite taste,” Marco said.

The rest of their brief conversation became white noise as you fought against all the unsettling and uncomfortable thoughts that started to fill your head again. But it was hard not to feel a certain way, to not feel like everyone who knew him, everyone who saw you together, would be comparing you to the women who’d come before - the women he’d actually wanted.

It was a feeling you weren’t used to, a feeling you didn’t even understand. You blended into the background, you were a side character, you weren’t the love interest or the woman that people called pretty. You were just... you.

And, in a way, it made you angry. You hated that he was putting you in a position to be compared to the other women to begin with.

“Are you okay?” Billy asked as he finally sat back down.

“You've -” you hesitated, taking a moment to really consider whether you wanted to ask the question, “- brought other women here?”

“Of course,” Billy answered, oblivious to how that was making you feel.

You looked down at your plate and considered just leaving it at that, but you didn't want to. Six months of this would be unbearable. You needed to say something, if only to protect your own sanity. If you were going to do this, if you were going to help him, you couldn’t just let him carry on as normal.

“I'd suggest if you want people to believe that this,” you waved your hand in the empty space between you, “is real, then you shouldn't just treat me like one of your one night stands.”

He looked at you, completely confused, not sure what you were trying to get at.

“This is one of the most exclusive restaurants in New York -”

“Exactly, and I'm sure that fact is a real pantie-dropper, but that's not the message you need to convey if you want to sell this.”

“So, what? I'm supposed to take you to Pizza Hut?”

You rolled your eyes and resisted the urge to slump back in your seat. “If you want people to believe it, then it shouldn't matter where we are, just that we're enjoying each other’s company.”

Billy continued to stare at you blankly and you found yourself wondering if he'd ever had a real, meaningful relationship before.

“If you treat me like them, everyone is going to assume that I mean as much to you as they did,” you said, trying one last time.

“Why are you assuming that they meant nothing?”

He had you there. It wasn't a fair assumption to make, not really. All you knew about him and his life away from work was what you picked up through gossip that you only ever half paid attention to. Maybe they had meant something to him, maybe he wasn't the one always ending things. Maybe he was genuinely clueless.

“I'm sorry, you're right, I don't really know anything about you outside of work,” you conceded. “But that doesn't change the fact that you need to alter people's perception of you, and bringing someone like me to a restaurant like this isn't going to cut it.”

"Someone like you? What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, starting to sound exasperated.

For a moment you looked at him, betraying that awkward flicker of hurt that you felt for reasons you didn't entirely understand. Then you looked down at yourself, at the expensive dress he had chosen for you, paired with your own cheap heels and jewellery; you felt fucking ridiculous, like a kid playing dress up in one of your mother's dresses.

“I mean, I'm not the sort of woman you can put in a dress like this and bring to a place like this, Billy,” you said, only to earn an even more confused look from him. “Look at me, I - I clearly don't belong here, people are looking at me thinking I'm either after your money or I'm someone you need to fuck to get a contract.”

The irony of the second option wasn't lost on you.

“What?” He asked, still not getting it.

You sighed. “If you bring me to places you've brought other women, all anyone is going to do is compare me to them. They're going to want to know why you downgraded from runway models and wealthy heiresses to... to me.”

Billy's lips parted instantly, and you knew he was about to say the very first thing to come to mind, but then he surprised you by saying nothing. You weren't sure if his silent agreement made it better or worse — you didn't want him lying to you, trying to compare you to other women, but at the same time, his silence just seemed to confirm all your worst feelings about yourself.

“Okay,” he said finally, “how about, from now on, you decide where we go?”

There was something in his voice that you didn't want to think too hard about, an uncomfortable resignation. Billy Russo was a man who liked to be in control, a man who didn't like being told what to do but, in this situation, he was allowing himself to trust you.

You both started to eat, making little comments about the food and, every so often, you’d catch Billy looking at you, like he was trying to somehow figure you out. By the time you finished eating and dessert was on the way, you felt like you needed to break the silence.

“Do you like movies?” You asked.

“Depends,” Billy answered, confused by the sudden question. “Why?” 

“There’s a horror movie festival in Queens in a couple of weeks, they’re going to be showing loads of the old classics...”

It was meant as a suggestion, an invitation, but it went right over Billy’s head.

“Oh,” was all he offered.

You sighed. “I meant we could go. Together. If you want...”

“Like a date?” He asked, and you nodded. “Isn’t that a little childish?” 

For a moment you forced yourself to bite your tongue, offended on more levels that you could really hope to verbalise.

“I happen to like old horror movies, and if you want anyone to believe this is real -”

“Right,” he conceded. “Okay, fine, I guess we could do that.”

Then, again, you slipped back into that awkward silence through dessert. 

Still, you kept smiling, all the while thinking about how it was going to be a really long six months.

Once the bill was paid and you were ready to leave, you found Billy taking your hand in his again, holding you a little tighter than he had before as he led you out of the restaurant and into the cold night air. You were about ready to pull away from him, to get yourself a taxi when his hand gave a gentle tug on yours.

You turned to face him, confused, and you found yourself getting lost in his dark eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he muttered softly.

In the time it took for the words to register and for you to come to terms with the fact that he was the one saying them, Billy’s lips were on yours. It started softly, a testing peck before pulling back an inch or two, then it became something else entirely.

His arm slipped around your waist, pulling you against him. Your own arms ended up around him - though you couldn't rightly say if it was to pull him closer or to keep yourself from falling over. At some point your eyes drifted shut and you allowed him to part the seam of your lips with his tongue.

Fuck, if this is how he kisses, it's no wonder he's got so many women falling over themselves to be with him, you thought. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, the treacherous organ knocking against your ribs with each desperate thump. You were pressed so close to him, you wondered if he could feel it. It stoked a fire in your belly, something you knew you shouldn't be feeling, that you couldn't stop or control. You almost dared to want more, for the kiss to become some wild and untameable thing. 

When the kiss finally broke and your eyes fluttered open, you were greeted by the sight of his smile, and it did little to quell the awkward feeling of wanting that had started to grow inside you. His hand tenderly cupped your cheek and his thumb caressed your lower lip and - fuck, you had to wonder if he was deliberately trying to drive you insane.

Your breath hitched, and, for a moment - a really fucking stupid moment - you almost let yourself wonder if it had been real.

“That should sell it,” he muttered softly before pressing one more gentle kiss to your lips.

Right. 

It wasn't real. It was all just an act. A really convincing act. 

Still, he lingered, one hand pressed to the small of your back while the thumb of the other traced your lips.

“Right,” you said just as softly, unable to tear your eyes from his. 

Neither of you moved for a second more until Billy finally pulled away and took your hand in his again. 

Your heart continued to pound in your chest as he led you away from the restaurant and towards his car, not stopping to even ask or offer you a lift home, and you found yourself idly wondering if his driver had been sitting out there waiting the whole time you'd been eating. He sprang out of the car the moment he saw you and Billy approaching and quickly opened the door for you. 

Billy held your hand, helping you into the car like a gentleman — and, honestly, you really couldn't get over seeing that side of him. Then he moved around to the other side of the car where the door was being held open for him.

You’d been in his car before, but never like this, never for anything other than work. (Though, you grimly had to concede that this was like work in a very fucked up way.)

You didn’t even have to give the driver your address; with one word from Billy you were on your way. As the car started to move, you found yourself looking out the window at the streets of New York, all the bright lights and bustle of people going about their evenings. It had been an overwhelming evening to say the least, so you barely even noticed when Billy took your hand in his again.

It was for the driver’s benefit, you assumed. Everyone was going to have to buy the fact that you were dating, including all the people you came across in your day to day lives. And it quickly occurred to you that you still hadn’t really discussed much of anything about the arrangement - you’d been so preoccupied with your own awkward feelings that you’d spent half of the meal in silence, instead of figuring things out.

“So,” Billy said - and you were really starting to hate the way that he did that, “what did you think of Bianchi’s?”

Your attention turned back to him, though you quickly found your gaze dropping to your hand in his.

“You were right,” you said, forcing your smile again, “the tiramisu was amazing.”

A laugh seemed to spill out of him unbidden and, for a moment, he looked as surprised by it as you were. It sounded so real, so genuine and, suddenly, you found yourself wondering something odd; was he just like you? Did he fake his way through the day in the hopes that it would make things easier for him?

Of course, you didn’t ask. It was far too personal and gave too much away, but it felt like, for the briefest of seconds, you’d finally seen something real, something you hadn’t even realised existed.

Your smile softened and you sank back in your seat, allowing your fingers to tighten around his just a fraction.

“What’s your favourite movie?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug, a little surprised that he was finally making an effort. “I guess it changes? I like a lot of movies.”

“Well, what’s your favourite right now?”

“Probably the first Omen movie?”

“Isn’t that movie older than I am?” Billy joked.

Strangely, it was the first time you’d even thought about his age - though, now that you had, it would no doubt add another weird level to the way you were thinking about your fake relationship.

“There are lots of movies that are older than you, Billy,” you said. “Besides, I like the classics.”

“I’ve never been called a classic before.”

The comment had you laughing unexpectedly and Billy quickly joined in. What a sight you must have looked to the poor driver, the pair of you giggling uncontrollably at such a terrible line.

“That’s awful,” you finally managed to say, awkwardly trying to wipe the tears from your eyes without smudging mascara all over your cheeks. “I didn’t know you made such terrible jokes.”

“I’m a man of hidden depths,” Billy answered.

“What about you? What’s your favourite movie?” You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going now you’d finally managed to escape from the awkwardness.

“I don’t know. I’ve always preferred reading.”

“Really?” You asked. You didn’t mean to sound shocked, but it wasn’t something you’d expected. “Well, what’s your favourite book then?”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

“Huh.”

“Huh?” He repeated, almost laughing again. “What’s ‘huh’ mean?”

“Nothing, it’s just -” you felt your cheeks heating again, “- I don’t know, I just never pictured you enjoying something with such a downer ending?”

“You’ve read it?”

You nodded. “And I’ve seen at least two of the movie adaptations.”

“Okay, well, what’s your favourite book?”

“The Count of Monte Cristo,” you answered without hesitation.

“Huh,” Billy said, obviously fighting to keep a smile from his lips.

“What?” You asked, contending with a smile of your own.

“Oh, nothing...”

You opened your mouth, ready to demand an answer when the car came to a stop and you realised that you were outside your building.

Clearing your throat, you reluctantly pulled your hand away from Billy’s and watched as the driver rounded the car to let you out. You moved slowly, taking extra care not to snag the dress or do anything that might ruin it, still intent on returning it to Billy.

You didn’t notice Billy move as you got out of the car, but, by the time you were standing on the sidewalk, he was at your side. His hand found yours again and you shot him a confused look.

“I’ll walk you in,” he said. A statement, not a question or an offer.

“It’s fine, I -”

“It’s not fine. Your building doesn’t even have a doorman.”

If you didn’t know any better you might have thought he was worried, but the show was probably all for the driver. Still, you really didn’t want Billy to see your apartment.

“Most normal apartment buildings don’t, Billy,” you said, rolling your eyes before lowering your voice.” Besides, I don’t think anyone is watching.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m walking you in.”

And, with that, he started towards the door to your building, leaving you no choice but to fall into step beside him. 

Once inside, there was no missing the way he looked around the place, judging it. Judging you. The only small mercy to be found in the situation was the fact that the elevator was working and not plastered in the usual Out of Order signs. 

You tried to leave Billy at the elevator and, again, he refused. He followed you in, watching as you punched the button for the fourth floor. And, by that point, the situation seemed so surreal to you, that you didn't even think twice about the fact that your hand was still in his.

A/N : 😅 Poor Billy has no idea what women want. Don't worry, reader's not going to forget about the dress issue. I'm definitely going to have a lot of fun playing around with their dynamic while they slowly get to know each other. Also I genuinely didn't intend to end this chapter here, I planned a lot after but then this got really long 😅

I had a busy week so I didn't get much time to do much of the other stuff I wanted to do and get this chapter done on time so I'm still getting through my 500 follower celebration stuff (I think I've got 5 things left to finish?)

As always, thanks so much for reading! I really loved seeing all the comments on the first chapter!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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[meowcats734]

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Ana said.

I glanced over at her. Sampson began to sprout vines from the cracks in his bones when he got too close to her altered body, so Ana was watching him gnaw at a stick with an achingly empty expression.

“Are you saying that because you think I’d rather be somewhere else? Or because you want time to yourself?” I asked.

The only sound was Sampson’s teeth gnashing around the stick. He tried to bring the stick to us, but Ana whistled sharply, pointed downwards, and he dropped the stick, confused. The blue flames around his ears dipped a tiny bit lower.  “I… I want time to myself,” she said.

“Of course.” I made sure not to stand up too quickly or look away. Made sure to hide the way my stomach dropped and the doubts that never dared show themself around Ana whispered she wants you gone, you hurt her by existing, you should never have dated her. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Tsu?” Ana asked, and fuck, there was nothing more beautiful than the simple fact that she wanted me to stay a moment longer. She met my eyes and said, “I’ll be back by sundown. Promise.”

“It’s a date,” I said, and she closed her eyes, basking in the words.

I let that warmth carry me out of the cemetery. I think I got out of her line of sight before the anxieties came back.

You need to help her.

“This is helping her,” I muttered to myself. 

This is your fault.

“What’s my fault?” I asked.

Everything.

“So the good stuff’s my fault too?”

The nattering anxieties quieted down for a second. Then, as if the past few seconds had never happened, the thoughts came surging back. You don’t deserve to exist.

Fucking hell. There was a reason I related so much to Thom. Speaking of which… that was when Ana’s spectivity started, wasn’t it? The guilt around hospitalizing Thom? Maybe I could reach out to him, see if I could arrange a meeting. I had the right to follow up on a previous client…

Ugh, not right now, though. Not when I couldn’t tell how much of what I was thinking was me and how much of it was a desperate need to fix and save and protect because how else can you repay the world for the cost of your existence, how else can you justify continuing to exist—

“Ana would be miserable if I died,” I said, slowly. A construction worker in a reflective vest gave me a quizzical look as I passed, and I shook my head. “It’s not like I’m physically capable of dying, anyway.”

The anxieties, of course, ignored such minor things as whether or not something was actually possible. She wants you gone.

“She wants time to herself. Not the same thing.” There was no reasoning with the buzzing chorus in my head, but I could maybe convince myself that was true if I said it aloud. Still, I’d probably be better off trying to distract myself. Ana had come into her spectivity while in another dimension, and that mingling of magics had mangled the process. Even if she managed to let go of the moment that conceived her new form, it was tainted by mixing with Erishen’s strain on the local worldskein. If I could convince Erishen to help us, though, we could unweave both aspects of Ana’s spective form—

I inhaled. Held it for three beats. Exhaled. Held it for three beats. Obsessing over Ana would admittedly soothe the anxieties, but it wouldn’t be good for me. 

Doesn’t matter what’s good for you. It would help her.

“She loves me,” I whispered. “She wants me to be okay. And this isn’t me being okay. It would hurt her if I never gave her space.”

Maybe that’s okay. 

I flinched.

Maybe you need to keep an eye on her. For her own good.

“So that’s what this is about.” I think it was almost a relief, realizing that part of me was an overbearing control freak. It fit well into my perception of myself. “You don’t really want to help Ana. You want to know she’s okay.”

What’s the difference?

“I can walk away.” And I did. This was far from my first time having to deal with the thoughts that thrived in the emptiness where Ana should be. If I couldn’t help her, I’d find someone else to aid.

A.N.

This is part of a longer story, check out the rest below if you liked this one!

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[teufelsabbiss]

Story-idea: Shen Yuan and his sister transmigrate

There are a lot of good stories already with Shen Yuan transmigrating into a young child that gets adopted by Shen Qingqiu. Most don't account for a glaringly obvious problem in this setup - Shen Qingqiu's hate of men. And I think boys are very much included in that sentiment. So what if Shen Yuan and his meimei transmigrate and she's the reason they get picked up?

Shen Yuan and his sister could have a traffic accident, maybe she's driving him while he's furiously tipping his last hate reply. Both are transmigrated into siblings that are sold to a brothel. Luckily they are both too young to offer full services yet and do chores instead. Shen Yuan doesn't recognize the brothel's name from the book, so he thinks they are at least out of the way of any revenge or wife plots until they can escape. Turns out they won't stay there long enough to even come up with a good plan.

A few days after they were sold, his little sister has to wait on one of the clients. Said client is very displeased to see such a young girl there. To make it worse for the brothel owner, the little Shen sister is very cute and funny and so apparently somehow manages to immediately worm her way into the guys heart and he promptly buys her contract.

He tells her that he has no bad intentions towards her, but will instead take her to his sect to learn cultivation. She doesn't really believe him at first and also refuses to leave without her brother. He's not overly happy that he has to buy a boy as well, but does it readily enough anyway.

Miraculously, after their contracts has changed hands, the brothel owner dies under tragic circumstances. You see, he was killed by a resentful ghost. But luckily the aforementioned client just happens to be a cultivator who was on a mission and just got there on his way back to his sect. And while he was too late to prevent the tragic death, he got rid of the ghost quickly after the murder. Case closed; what a relief for the local authorities! One of the prostitutes is happy to take over the establishment.

The Shen siblings aren't stupid, their new owner obviously murdered the guy and fooled the guards with this bullshit ghost story! No complaints about that, really. It does however also mean that this guy is unscrupulous and it will be more dangerous to get away than before. Learning that the man is actually the scum-villan Shen Qingqiu definitely doesn't make the situation better.

But then they get to Cang Qiong and are officially accepted into Qing Jing peak. The Shen sister immediately becomes good friends with Ning YingYing, who is about the same age as her new body. Which means Luo Binghe isn't there yet and everything awful can still be averted.

I think it would be really funny if the sister got very attached to Shen Qingqiu, who dotes on her as much as Ning YingYing, and Shen Yuan freaking out about this. Not only because he's constantly worrying about her getting molested and she vehemently insisting that's never going to happen, but also! How can his sister like the Scum-Villain of all people in the slightest!!! “Why, meimei? You're usually so clever and perceptive! What's wrong with you?!”

And then one day Luo Binghe joins and the Shen sister is now almost constantly clinging to Shen Qingqiu's skirts and he's not mistreating the protagonist (no matter how much he wants to) because it would upset his little babygirl. Can't have that.