#It's going to keep getting better - unevenly - but won't be better for most of a year...

[flaskoflethe]

Holy shit, pretty much exactly at the 1o the post surgery mark we're finally feeling like we can sort of do things? Today's batch of bread came out amazing, just utterly delightful, even with a few things we need to work on (going to fast/on autopilot :p)... But we COULD do it!

[sidhewrites]

21! Who even knows! but we're having fun! Also i forgot to establish that only kaz can read the fancy spell book so just kind of accept it for now.

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[Action and rising tension. Make the next scene shorter]

From our hiding place, Josie opens the book, and turns it towards me. "You're the one who bled on it, so you get to read it. What does it say?"

"I don't know -- I can't--" I fumble, looking everywhere but the book.

"You have to," Josie insists.

"You can do it," Lucy says gently. She reaches out, putting a hand near my shoulder. Not close enough to touch, but enough that I feel a certain coolness prickling on my skin. My heart flutters, and I'm grateful she doesn't say the quiet part out loud. Because if I can't do this, the entire town is doomed to be sucked off into the afterlife to be tormented by ghosts for the rest of eternity.

I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut, and let out a long, steadying breath. When I open them again, the page is exactly the same as before, but I understand the symbols on it now, as easily as if it were written in English. Ending the visitation of unwelcome Guests, it reads, which, I suppose, is the polite way of putting it.

I read aloud, desperate for Josie to understand the directions better than I do. Lucy's presence is a reassuring balm, keeping me as focused as I ever could be under potential-apocalypse-induced stress. And I think I do pretty well, since Josie's face goes from fear to confusion to bemused acceptance as I read. Once I'm done, I turn to her and say, "What's the SparkNotes version, teach?"

"We need to create a cage," she says. "Something made of this world to trick him into thinking we've given him a new bodily host, one stronger than the skeleton he's haunting now."

"Cool," I say, and then say it a few more times for good luck. "So the locks of hair or pieces of ourselves? Just -- you know, making sure I understand."

"That's to create the body."

"Cool," I say again, because I am a font of eloquence in even the most trying of times. "So what goes into a body?"

"Uh...The spell didn't clarify. Usually, though, it's kind of just..." She mimes cutting her hand open.

"If you say blood sacrifice out loud I'm going to go join the ghosts."

"It's just that it's the most powerful! You know, the blood is the life and all that. It contains an intrinsic piece of you."

"Don't use my love of Bram Stoker's Dracula against me." I hug Renfield closer. He's still unconcious, but his breathing is even, and getting stronger by the minute. If she even thinks of getting close to him with a knife, I'll -- okay, I won't kill her, but I'd do something drastic.

"We could do other things. Saliva, a personal valuable, a hair clipping."

"That one. We do that one."

Josie sighs, but ultimately agrees. "Okay. A lock of hair from all of us with a physical body.

"Aw, no witchcraft for Lucy," I say, and pull the multi-tool out of my pocket and pulling out the tiny scissors while Josie looks around for something to use. She settles on a nearby metal urn meant to hold flowers, long-since rusted over and dented. "How much hair do we need?" [Establish a bit earlier in the story kaz always has a multi-tool on her in one of her pockets, and also that she wears cargo shorts. ]

Josie shakes her head, expression tight. "Some. I don't know." I wonder if this is the first time she's ever done real witchcraft like this. I know she's done chaos magic in the past -- rituals coupled with intent that help you with things you're already doing, like study for a test or get the job she wants. But I have a feeling this is more than even she ever imagined doing.

Rather than sitting around in discomfort, I let Renfield go just long enough to cut off a three-inch-long piece of my hair, faded pink and sad-looking. My side-shave is growing in unevenly as well, but I don't know if I've ever cared less about my hair than right now.

Josie takes it from me, and places it carefully in the urn. I snip off a bit of Renfield's fur as well, and do the same. Then I hand the tool over to Josie, who adds her own hair to the urn. She pauses, looks at me, and doesn't even give me a chance to say please no before switching the scissors for the multi-tool's tiny knife and drawing it along her hand, just enough to draw a bit of blood. She hisses, but holds her hand out, letting a few drops fall into the urn before flexing her fingers and handing the tool back to me.

"Thank you for the biohazard," I say, stashing it in my pocket.

"I'm sorry."

I pause, fighting every urge to be sarcastic at her about apologizing, and nod at the spell book. "What's next?"

"We have to perform an invocation. A chant," she adds, glancing at me pointedly. I don't like that she knows I don't know the meaning of the word invocation, but whatever. "I'll write it down. Kaz, can you read it again?"

As I reread the magic words (invocation, ugh), Josie transcribes it into her notes app, much to Lucy's fascination. She leans over Josie's shoulder, watching Josie's hands fly across a digital keyboard, barely holding in her questions about how the touch-screen works.

"Okay. We have to say it together," Josie says. "Power of three. Just trust me."

I do. We both do. Josie puts one hand over her heart, and the other on the urn. Our chanting is uncertain and unsteady, and we have to pause when Josie's phone times out and goes dark.

She fumbles with the settings so it won't do that again, and we start over. It's clumsy, and I feel like this would work better if we were speaking in perfect unison, but Josie had always told me magic was as much about intent as it was the ritual itself. I don't know how this works, and I have to fight to stay focused on reading the words, rather than whether or not my intentions are strong enough or whatever. I picture a psychic beam of make this work at the urn.

After long enough, it works. A faint blue light spreads out from our hands, lighting up the old rusted metal until it glows.

I stop chanting for a second, looking around to cheer on our success, but Lucy and Josie keep going, shooting glances my way. I fumble and rejoin them, going over the last few lines and desperately hoping that I didn't fuck up everything. But the glowing doesn't fade, and we finish more or less confidently.

"Okay," Jose says. "Let's go get this guy." But when she glances up, any hint of confidence fades. "Well. Um. Hm."

Lucy and I follow her gaze, though we don't have to look up very far. Our work has attracted the attention of other ghosts around the cemetery -- half-formed specters, shapeless auras. The dead stand around us in a circle. And above us, the sky has turned a sickly green, reflecting off the clouds and giving the world an evil look.

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[motrider]

Shop the best Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper Red Online in the UK

Shop the best Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper Red Online in the UK

If you ride a motorbike in the UK you are aware of how crucial high-quality brakes are your bike must be able to stop swiftly and safely whether you're riding on calm country roads or in crowded cities like London. A fantastic option for greater control and braking is the Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper. Let's examine why motorbike riders in the UK consider this caliper essential.

The Importance of Good Brakes in the UK

Because of the unpredictable weather and slick roads riding in the UK can be challenging. Having strong and reliable brakes is very important to keep you safe. With the Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper you’ll get better stopping power which is especially useful on wet or rainy days when roads are slippery.

Why the Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper Is Great

The Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper has six pistons instead of the usual two or four. This gives you additional stopping power since it can exert more strain on the brake pads. Whether you're on UK country roads or the congested streets of London this makes stopping easier and faster.

Extended Durability

The longevity of Arlen Ness products is one of their best qualities. The 6-Piston Caliper is built to last, even under the toughest conditions. Whether you're riding in the wettest conditions in the UK or dealing with the heat of a summer ride you can count on this caliper to continue performing well. t’s designed to withstand the Dynamics and provide years of reliable service.

Perfect for UK Riders

In the UK the weather can be unpredictable and rain can make the roads slippery. A good brake system is important in these conditions. Even on rainy or damp conditions you may ride with confidence thanks to the Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper. It's ideal for riding in UK rural areas or cities like Manchester.

How It Helps You Stop Faster

The Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper helps your motorbike stop faster and more smoothly by spreading the braking power evenly. This means all parts of the brake work together, giving you better control when you need to slow down or stop quickly. Whether you're riding through traffic or going fast on an open road stopping safely is very important — and this caliper makes it easier.

In emergency situations, quick stopping can make a big difference. Some regular brakes don’t press evenly, which can make the bike feel shaky or even cause the wheels to lock up. But the Arlen Ness caliper has six pistons that push evenly, helping you stop without slipping or losing control. This improves the safety and smoothness, of abrupt stops.

It also makes your bike handle better. You'll feel more in control because the brakes are performing better particularly when turning or traveling on bumpy roads. You won't be as concerned about the brakes responding unevenly or too slowly.

If you want your motorbike to be safer and easier to handle, upgrading to the Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper is a smart choice. It gives you stronger, more reliable braking when you need it most.

Why You Should Choose Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper in the UK

1.Improved Safety: You can stop more quickly thanks to the additional stopping power which makes riding safer, particularly on winding or congested routes.

Greater Confidence: Whether you're riding in the UK's metropolis or the countryside having powerful brakes makes you feel safer.

Better Control: The 6-piston caliper gives your bike more balanced, and smoother braking improving how your bike handles.

Works Well in Any Weather : The UK’s weather can change quickly but the Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper performs well in all kinds of weather.

Conclusion

If you want better brakes for your motorbike in the UK the Arlen Ness 6-Piston Caliper is a great choice. It will help you stop faster keep you safe and give you more control while riding. Whether you’re commuting in London or going for a ride in the countryside this caliper will make your bike safer and easier to handle.

[orevatiles]

Why Bathroom LED Mirrors Are a Game-Changer for Your Routine

You would ideally start and end your day in the bathroom. So why not make this space an invigorating and refreshing one? Bathroom LED Mirrors could be the answer to a more modernized morning routine and a better bathroom experience. They promise bright, clear lighting and extra features that make getting ready easier and fun. In this blog post, we will explore how LED mirrors will benefit your morning routine.

Bright and Clear Lighting

Bathroom LED mirrors come with bright and even lighting, thus making the perfect mirrors for makeup, shaving, or brushing. Unlike other mirrors carrying terrible lighting, LED mirrors provide balanced light illuminating your face but never casts any shadows on it. This is also very helpful when doing detailed work, like in shaping the brows or application of skincare. When you have good views of everything going on, you will look great as well as avoid all those mistakes that might happen, like unevenly done makeup and missed spots when shaving.

Energy Efficient and Eco-Friendly

In LED mirrors bathroom, one of its best features is the energy efficiency that it can give. LEDs consume a considerably smaller amount of electricity compared to other lighting. Thus, saving energy and lowering energy bills. One of the main reasons to replace a traditional light bulb with an LED light for controlling carbon footprint and consequently reducing consumption is saving electricity; since they tend to last longer than other types of light bulbs. You will feel elated knowing that with this high-quality LED mirror, you are taking the initiative to make your lifestyle more sustainable.

Convenience due to fog-free mirrors

You can step out of a hot shower and glance in the mirror-entirely clear mist. Most LED bathroom mirrors come with anti-fog technology, so you never have to wipe your mirror down before using it. Any person who has ever had his mirrors fog up after a shower knows all too well how irritating it can be to sit for whatever time is needed, or to smear it away with a towel-creating streaks for the next application. With the help of fog-free LED mirrors, such frustration is eliminated. It's a convenient feature that makes a vast difference in your daily routine.

Sleek Modern Look

The LED mirrors are not only helpful but also fashionable. Their slick, modern design can create a glow of their own in the bathroom, giving a feeling of luxury. You can have your choices in different shapes and sizes for an LED mirror so that it perfectly suits your style and even the decor of your bathroom. Be it a larger rectangular mirror or a round minimalistic one, these LED mirrors add elegance to any room. Aesthetic appeal aside, LED mirrors can also make a small bathroom look bigger. The bright light blended with the reflective mirror gives the impression that it is more spacious.

Additional Features

Many bathroom LED mirrors offer additional features that may make your morning routine, which now often means bath time, a bit easier to handle. Some models feature touch controls so that you can set the lights at various intensity levels using just a tap of your finger. There are other models that include built-in clocks, Bluetooth speakers, or even just temperature displays, thus keeping you on track while getting ready. A clock keeps track of time so you won't be late. The availability of Bluetooth speakers allows you to listen to music, podcasts, or just an update on the news while getting ready.

Conclusion

Bathroom LED mirrors from Oreva serve as excellent upgrades for any bathroom.  With an LED mirror, you can make your morning routine more enjoyable and more efficient. With all the functions these mirrors have in store for you, you will wonder how you ever managed without one. So why not upgrade your bathroom, start off your day with the best lighting, and make things as comfortable for you as possible? Your mornings will never be the same! 

Summary: Bathroom is a prominent place where the day starts from, its an essential part to make it more aesthetic with LED mirrrors.

Author Bio: An author advises every user to give an attention towards the modern look of bathroom with LED mirrors.

[lasercosmesis]

6 Amazing Facts About Gynecomastia

Gynecomastia is a medical ailment sometimes referred to as "man-boobs." It is a frequent problem that many guys confront. Gynecomastia is the expansion of the chest area, which commonly resembles a woman's breast. It can be caused by either an enlargement of the breast gland tissue or an accumulation of fat tissue (a condition known as pseudo-gynecomastia). Gynecomastia usually affects both breasts, however, it might appear unevenly on either breast. The chest of a male is a representation of his pride and manliness. Every man wants to have a tight and strong chest. However, if he develops gynecomastia, this dream may turn into a nightmare. 

Getting a gynecomastia surgery done to get rid of female-looking breasts has varied benefits to offer. Those who are contemplating getting this surgery done must go through this post. This blog containing insights shared by expert plastic surgeons like Dr. Medha Bhave the founder of Laser Cosmesis clinic and renowned provider of safe and effective Gynecomastia Surgery in Thane will be helpful. Let’s straight away learn the benefits.

Top Benefits of Gynecomastia Surgery 

Give the Chest Some Form

Due to the accumulation of glandular mass and fat deposition under their areolar area, men with gynecomastia will perceive that they do not have a constant body shape. Gynecomastia surgery includes the removal of extra breast tissue, which results in the appearance of a more toned and athletic body (masculine). Wearing tight-fitting clothing and having a manly chest might help you feel more secure in social circumstances.

Your Self-assurance Represents You

A guy who has gynecomastia may grow female-like breast tissue. Because of their body position, most guys with gynecomastia will experience sadness. Body image difficulties can cause social anxiety, making it difficult to go to the pool, gym, or play activities that require participants to show their chest. Although diet and exercise can assist to some extent, they can not completely cure the illness (gynecomastia). Surgery may be an option to achieve a firmer, flatter chest and regain confidence.

Adolescents' Emotional Burden Alleviation

Men of all ages are affected by gynecomastia. In male newborns, the disease may be present at birth, whilst in others, it occurs later in life. This condition's symptoms are often more severe in young males, particularly those in their adolescent years. Their emotions fluctuate dramatically during the adolescent years. They frequently encounter scenarios from their peers that make them feel horrible about themselves because of their appearance. As a result, if these youngsters undergo treatment or surgery as soon as they are diagnosed, they will be able to cope better with the physical and mental impacts of gynecomastia. 

Increase the Pace of Recuperation

Pain medication will help you feel fully at peace for a short amount of time. Compression garments should be worn for a few weeks after surgery or injury to reduce swelling and speed up the healing process. It's also nice because you won't be allowed to skip more than seven days of work in a row. When you've fully recovered, you may resume exercising and other preferred hobbies without worrying about what others think.

Improve Posture

Gynecomastia is linked to more than simply unsightly breast size; it can also indicate the existence of other, more significant physiological disorders. Due to the presence of extra chest fat, a man with Gynecomastia will have bad posture, which may result in the construction of a permanent "hump" in their spine. To conceal their chests, some men with gynecomastia slump. You may enhance your posture and minimize the pressure on your back by keeping a flat chest with gynecomastia surgery.

Increasing the Number of Physical Activities

Maintaining an exercise plan might be especially challenging for males suffering from gynecomastia due to the discomfort or difficulty of having excess fat on the chest. Keeping your chest steady when running and jumping workouts is a lot more difficult than it seems. There is no clothing available for males to restrict their chests from moving. Many guys are too self-conscious to participate in sports such as swimming or working out at a gym because they must display their chests. Gynecomastia surgery might help you regain your confidence and return to your favorite activities.

Who Is The Ideal Candidate For This Procedure?

Gynecomastia surgery candidate is one:

above the age of 18 who suffers from Gynecomastia.

A physically fit individual in general.

One experiencing psychological anguish as a result of his gynecomastia.

One must be a nonsmoker or refrain from smoking for a short length of time before the surgery, as directed by the doctor.

The applicant should also have realistic expectations from the procedure. Unrealistic expectations from Gynecomastia surgery can sometimes lead to disappointment later on. 

Note: Although this illness is not serious enough to endanger a person's life, it can create considerable psychological pain connected with being physically perfect.

Conclusion

Do you suffer gynecomastia symptoms or are you self-conscious about your appearance because of swollen male boobs? It's usually a good idea to consult with an expert plastic surgeon regarding the gynecomastia treatment to get the expected outcomes. 

One can contact Dr. Medha Bhave at Laser Cosmesis Clinic.A renowned cosmetic surgeon in Thane can completely examine you to provide you with appropriate treatment for male breast reduction or gynecomastia. She is an MBBS, MS - General Surgery, and MCh - Plastic Surgery specialist with extensive experience in plastic and cosmetic surgery. The skilled doctor is particularly interested in controlling plastic or cosmetic issues, and he or she advises all patients through the treatment procedure to make them feel more confident and beautiful about themselves. To learn more about Gynecomastia Surgery, please feel free to contact her at Laser Cosmesis Clinic.

Original Source:- https://bestplasticsurgeoninmumbai.blogspot.com/2024/01/6-amazing-facts-about-gynecomastia.html

[mandoalorian]

Don’t Let Me Go  [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT

Summary: Spiralling in a circle of guilt and blame, Maxwell Lord reflects on the night he let you slip through his fingers. He just wishes he had seen the warning signs sooner. Then maybe he wouldn't have lost you.

Word count: 8k 

Author's note: This is my longest one shot so far oh my gosh. Please note that everything that is in bold italics are flashbacks. I hope you enjoy! Xx

MASTERLIST 

 ~ gif by: pajamasecrets

••••••••

There was simply no way to put into words how Maxwell Lord was feeling. Without you, his suburban-manor home was empty. Completely empty. Nothing but the drip of a leaky faucet echoing through the oversized kitchen, and the padding of his shuffled footsteps as he made his way to the bar to pour himself a drink. He didn't cook anymore, but he wasn't feeling the pain of going hungry. His bed wasn't made, but it didn't matter because he couldn't sleep in it anymore knowing that your scent still haunted the blankets. He would slumber around his house in a shirt that had been unevenly buttoned up and probably hadn't been washed in a week. His eyes were tired, cheeks were tear stained and he hadn't taken absence from work this long in his whole life. His job was what lost you. How could he ever want to go back?

 Maxwell was unravelling back into the mean spirited man he was before he met you— but somehow, worse. He didn't have friends, he had business associates. And he had chosen to cut himself off from his mother due the awful way she had treated him his whole life. If his own mother could see the broken shell of a man that Maxwell had become, she would laugh in his face. She would reprimand him, and tell him how she had warned him not to fall in love. Business first, always. But it was that same advice that she had ingrained into him from such a young age, which would inevitably be his downfall.  All he ever had, was you. And that was enough. That was all he needed.

 Maxwell hardly remembered life before you but he was certain it didn't hurt this bad. He had experienced loss before; with his father when he was only sixteen— but this was a different kind of loss. You were still out there. You were living your life, and you had chosen to do it without him. How could you? How could Maxwell possibly survive without you? He opened up to you like he had with no other. He softened around you and the level headed businessman had become completely dependent on you.

 When you were with him, you changed him into a better man. You encouraged him to tidy for himself, taught him how to cook meals and insisted that he even did his own dishes afterwards. You would scold him gently for not making his side of the bed until eventually, he was making both sides of the bed, and even doing laundry.

 You both shared a schedule— waking up at the same time every dawn. Sharing cuddles and kisses and intimate touches in bed under the morning sunlight. Eventually getting up and taking your turns to cook breakfast. Whether it be blueberry pancakes or eggs, or sometimes Maxwell would surprise you with an array of exciting different foods from all around the world. Then, you would head back to your bedroom and dance in your shared walk-in closet, laughing together as you picked out your outfit of the day. You’d tie his tie and straighten his suspenders before helping him into his suit jacket. He loved the way you'd style his hair on a morning. Maxwell was a perfectionist but you knew just the way he liked things and he really admired that about you. You'd brush your teeth together and he'd paint your face with your favourite face cream. When you applied your lipstick, you'd always give him a surprise kiss and make your mark on him. He'd reluctantly scrub the lipstick stain off his cheek, or jaw, or chin, or wherever you had planted it that day, but now he wished he still had every mark you had ever made on him.

 You were so understanding too. This was the longest relationship either of you had ever committed to before. You fell in love with each other hard and fast— but the honeymoon phase seemingly never ended. Everyday was a new and exciting ride with Maxwell. He knew how much you wanted children, and a family. You'd bring it up now and again. One day, Maxwell felt as though he should open up to you.

 He explained how he had never considered having children because of his own personal relationship with his family. He informed you about how absent his parents were, and he imagined himself to be like his late father; too consumed in his own work and business to give any attention to his son. Max knew that pain all too well due to experiencing it firsthand. He would never want that for his children. It was nothing to do with you— he has no doubt in his mind how excellent of a mother you would be. But to Max, being a CEO and father just didn't go hand in hand. Of course, this shattered you, but it wasn't a deal breaker because Maxwell was the complete love of your life. With kids or without kids, as long as you had Max, you believed you would live a lifetime of satisfaction and genuine happiness.

 Maxwell Lord hadn't known love until he met you, and the truth is, from the moment he laid his eyes on you, he was infatuated. He knew he just had to have you. And so he spent weeks trying to woo you and win you over. He started with all he ever known, buying you jewellery from Tiffany’s, Louis Vuitton heels and the most gorgeous crimson red shade of Dior lipstick that he dreamed of you wearing on multiple occasions. But it didn't faze you.

 "I don't need all of this," you sighed, placing the large white box on the table and re-wrapping it with the silver silk ribbon. Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "There are people out there who walk around the streets of DC in winter with holes in their shoes, mothers who can't afford ChapStick nevermind Dior Lipstick."

 Maxwell hesitated. No woman had ever rejected the material items he had purchased for them. They'd always sweep them away with a familiar glint in their eye and, to show their appreciation, would go down on him later that night. He lulled his head to the side. "Not even the necklace?" Maxwell questioned, rubbing his thumb over his lower lip.

 You breathed an elongated sigh, taking the Tiffany’s box and opening it once more with a small click. You adored the necklace. A small silver chain with a crystal heart in the centre. You could only guess that it was Swarovski. In the sunlight, the crystal gleamed a prism of rainbow colours— like a kaleidoscope. It was simply magnificent and unlike any other necklace you had seen before.

 “It is beautiful.” you hummed, admiring the way it sparkled before your eyes. Maxwell took the box from your hands and removed the necklace. He stood up and gently moved your hair to one side, his soft fingers brushing against your skin making your heart flutter. He clipped the necklace in place and adjusted it so the small crystal heart fell over your chest.

 "It brings out your eyes." Maxwell smiled and you felt your cheeks heat up at his comment. "Please, keep the necklace. I see how much you like it. And it suits you so well."

 You looked at yourself in the mirror. Still standing behind you, Maxwell swung his arms around your hips and pulled you into his chest. He gently pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. "Thank you Max," your voice was barely above a whisper. "But please, no more gifts. All I need is you."

 Your words took Maxwell by surprise because he had never heard no such thing from any of his partners before. It was true, you meant your sentiment completely, all you needed was his attention, his care, his love, and most importantly him. That is where he went wrong and what would ultimately be the downfall to your relationship.

 "I will wear this everyday!" you beamed proudly with a grin so wide. Maxwell felt chuffed with your love for the necklace. "I won't ever take it off." You promised him. "Let it be a symbol of our first date."

 "The start of our relationship?" Maxwell proposed and you let out a small squeal as your arms tightened around him and you buried your head into the softness of his chest. The buttons of his shirt poked into your cheek but you didn't care, and you felt your eyes close as he brushed his fingers softly through your hair.

 "The start of our relationship." you confirmed with a smile.

 Maxwell threw the crystalled whiskey glass to the wall at the memory, his already broken heart shattering into even smaller pieces. He didn't think it was possible, and yet. The amber liquid dripped against the white walls and the glass deflected back at him, cutting his hand. A thin stripe of blood leaked down his arm and he done nothing but simply swallow a curse. It didn't even hurt. He was completely numb.

 He hated what he had become, and there was no one to blame other than himself. Sometimes he would try to hate you. He would take a look at himself in the mirror and feel nauseated at the sight of him. He was a mess, and he couldn't stand to feel any more self hatred. He couldn't take it. He couldn't live like this. He remembered when his schedule at work became a lot more hectic and he was away on business trips a lot. He'd call you, every night without fail from his hotel room. You'd be spread out on his bed, sporting his favourite button down work shirt and pair of shorts. The sight alone would be enough to make Maxwell hurry home quicker than The Flash. But he had work commitments that he simply could not leave behind.

 "How many more business trips?" You tried to keep composed for him, but just hearing his voice and knowing he was hundreds of miles away from you felt like a knife in your heart.

 "It could be like this up until the end of the year. Canada isn't easy to do dealings with. Not even my charm can succumb the president." Maxwell chuckled lightheartedly, and you allowed a small yet pained smile to creep upon your lips. He truly had no idea how much you were hurting without him, but, it sounded like he was doing just fine without you.

 "Max, time for dinner!" You heard an unfamiliar feminine voice call in the background. You froze up, a shiver racing down your spin and goosebumps rising on your arms. 

 Silence.

 "Who was that?" you asked your boyfriend cautiously, your fingers anxiously twiddling on the crystal necklace he had gifted you months prior.

 "Oh, that was my assistant, Barbara," Maxwell explained non-chalantely. "You remember? I had to get a new assistant. Veronica couldn't come to Canada so…"

 "Oh." you replied, voice cold. "She called you Max." you stated matter of factly. You couldn't just let that slide.

 "Well yeah," he chuckled. "That's my name."

 "Everyone at work calls you Mr Lord." you deadpanned. "Or sir."

 "I mean, yeah, that's true I suppose. But Barbara's new and I never specified otherwise. Besides, I'm growing to like the informality. No doubt that's your doing." He laughed. But you weren't sharing the same energy.

 "You're having dinner with her?" You hoped you weren't sounding pushy, or clingy, but you had to know.

 "Yeah, she got us reservations at this fantastic Italian restaurant. We went last night too." Maxwell was smiling on the other end of the line but you felt like screaming at this revelation. "Actually, I think you'd love it there. I hear Canada is beautiful at Christmas time. Maybe I can clear some time off in December and I'll take you?" he suggested. Usually you'd be so excited at this proposal of his, telling him you'd be packing your bags immediately. But not this time.

 You trusted your boyfriend. You really did. But you couldn't stand the fact that he was in a different country with another woman who you'd never even met before. Jealousy riled in your stomach and you wondered what she was like. Not only that, but Maxwell had a long winded history of sleeping with his assistants and you were completely aware of how desperate his sex drive could be. The more you thought about it, the more your stomach churned. But you just couldn't escape the thoughts.

 You wondered what Barbara was like. Maxwell's assistants were always young and beautiful. They wore the nicest clothes to impress him and made such an effort every single day. Of course, this was before you. He'd select his assistants based on looks rather than qualifications. If they couldn't pour him a good cup of coffee, that was okay because they'd be gone after a week anyway. You wondered if he had employed Barbara based on her looks.

 He called your name. "Are you there?" He asked.

 "Uhm, yeah, I should go." You told him hastily, suddenly feeling the urge to hurry to run to the bathroom. You felt like you had to throw up.

 "Oh, okay," Maxwell replied. He often struggled picking up on the little prompts you would make that illustrated you weren't okay. It was no fault of his own, but unless you explicitly stated that something was wrong, the chances were, he would just assume that everything is okay. "Well, can I call you the same time tomorrow?"

 "Okay." you shakily exhaled, praying he didn't notice your growing anxiety. If he noticed, he would confront you about it. That was just his nature.

 "Okay. I love you sweetheart." You could practically hear his grin. A single tear slipped down your cheek.

 "I love you too." You told him before slamming the phone down on the hook.

 Maxwell was taken aback by your abrupt end to the phone call. He sat on the edge of his bed, processing your words. He went to dial your number again because he felt in his heart that there was a chance that something could be wrong.

 "Maaaaaax," Barbara called again, snapping the businessman out of his thoughts. "We're going to be late." Barbara sauntered over to Maxwell, his tie in her hand and placed it around his neck. She went to cross it over when he gently put his hand out to stop her.

 "That's okay," he said. "I can tie it myself."

 Barbara stiffened at his rejection but after a few seconds of awkward silence, she shuffled away.

 That was the very first time Max being away had bothered you to unmeasurable amounts. You struggled to sleep without him anyway, but that night, you were completely restless. Tossing and turning— imagining him with his assistant doing unspeakable things together. You couldn't count the amount of journeys you made to your en-suite bathroom. Not only that, but you were ridden with guilt. If Maxwell found out you were doubting his faithfulness, he would be devastated.

 And it only got worse.

 He spent more time away. Longer business trips. He had to cancel the December trip to Canada that he promised. It felt like he was slipping through your fingers.

 Maxwell fell to his knees when the memory of your break-up hit him like a ton of bricks.

 Maxwell put the phone down with a smile. “Albert has invited Edward and I over for drinks tonight." he announced. You adjusted the red roses he had brought home for you and put the glass vase in different locations around the dining room, trying to gauge where they would look nicest.

 "You said no, right?" You asked, manouvering a rose to one side, being careful not to prick your finger on the stem.

 "Why would I say no?" Maxwell asked.

 You pricked your finger.

 "Shit." you hissed, your blood dripping down your hand. Maxwell grabbed a flannel and wet it under the kitchen tap. He walked over to you and carefully wrapped it around the cut. You winced at his contact.

 "Does it hurt?" Maxwell asked, dabbing at the cut being as careful as he could.

 "That you forgot we had plans tonight and agreed to see Albert and Edward?" you asked, bitterness dripping from your tongue. Maxwell pulled away, knotting his eyebrows together in confusion. "Yeah Max, it hurts."

 "We didn't have plans." Maxwell said, folding his arms over his chest.

 "This is your only night home!" You cried out. All your emotions while he had been gone were pent up inside of you and this was the final straw. "I rented a movie, I got the popcorn maker out!" 

 Maxwell took a peek at his gold wrist watch. "We could watch half the movie and you know, I don't really like popcorn that much anyway." He was actually serious about ditching you on his only night home. You were so angry. "Listen baby, I won't be gone all night. And when I get home, we can have a little fun ourselves. I won't be too late, I promise. Besides, I've missed you-" He suggested, voice low. You let Maxwell's fingers trace your skin, and he meant it in nothing but a comforting way, and yet you had the urge to smack his hand away from you.

 "No!" You folded your arms across your chest and shook your head.

 "No?" Maxwell quizzed, confused. "But baby-"

 "Max how can you be so… so…." you struggled to even find words but you hoped he had picked up on the frustration in your tone of voice.

 "What?" He beckoned you but all you could do was hide your face in your hands. You were so close to tears. You wanted to beg him to stay with you, but the point is, you knew that you shouldn't have to beg. Maxwell awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "You know I was suggesting sex, right?"

 You narrowed your eyes in his direction. "Oblivious." you said. "You're so oblivious." 

 "You're keeping something from me." Maxwell deadpanned.

 "You're keeping something from me." You repeated.

 "No I'm not."

 "Yes you are."

 "No I'm not."

 "And so what if I ask Barbara?" you asked, but regretting the words instantly as they left your mouth.

 Maxwell blinked, completely dumbfounded. "Ask Barbara what?"

 "Ohhh what went on in Canada? What you both get up to on these business trips. You're with her more than you're with me." You accused. But it was the truth.

 "I'm not following." Maxwell said. "Are you trying to accuse me of something?" You couldn't even look at him. Then it dawned on him. "You think I'm cheating on you." His blood ran cold.

 You didn't know what to say. It was true. You had suspected. But gauging by his reaction, and the way his voice cracked, you knew right then and there you had been wrong. And that you had hurt him. Maxwell loosened his tie and leaned against the kitchen counter.

 "Tell me." He urged.

 "Yes," you whispered, looking at your feet in shame. "I thought that… I thought…"

 "Tell me," he repeated. "I want to hear you say it."

 "I thought you were cheating on me with Barbara." you admitted with a sigh, and looked up at your boyfriend with hazy, tear filled eyes. "Max…" you let your voice trail off and put your hand against your raising heart.

 "How could you?" he asked in disbelief.

 "You always slept with your assistants… before me. And you were so secretive about Barbara. You went out to Italian restaurants together. And I just thought-"

 "That I was sleeping with her?!" He raised his voice at you and oh boy, you hated when he shouted at people. He never shouted at you, that's one thing for sure, but when you had first met, he shouted a lot. He shouted at the people he worked with, he shouted at his colleagues, his secretary, his assistants. He definitely had grown out of the habit since he entered his relationship with you but Maxwell was so angry right now...

 "Well can you blame me?!" You yelled at him back feeling defensive.

 "I can't believe you don't trust me." Maxwell shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know Barbara did make advances on me." You felt your fingers curl into a fist. "But I rejected her, obviously. I warned her if she keeps at it she'll have to find another job."

 You laughed and rolled your eyes. "Because you can't resist the temptation of her."

 "What the fuck, no?!" Maxwell bellowed and his voice was so loud your heart dropped. You completely froze up. "Because I didn't want to disrespect you. I'm not going to stand for other women trying to make their move on me when I'm faithful to you!" 

 "Can you please stop yelling." Your voice was quiet— begging, almost.

 But he didn't stop. "I have never ever given you a reason not to trust me." Maxwell felt so hurt. He felt heartbroken. He would've never have second guessed you like this.

 "Will you stop fucking yelling at me?!" You shouted, tears streaming down your face in anger.

 Maxwell stood there in silence, watching you bubble up and cry. Truthfully, he was finding it difficult to keep it together himself. He'd normally come to you, pull you in a hug and wipe your tears away, nursing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But he just stood there, frozen and staring. You wiped your tears away yourself and took a deep breath before grabbing your jacket and purse from the coat rack.

 "Where are you going?" Maxwell sighed.

 "I'm leaving." you stated. You knew this was it. And you couldn't even bring yourself to look back at him. If you looked at him one more time, it might be enough to stay. And you couldn't stay. Nothing had ever hurt this much.

 "What? Well when will you be back?" Maxwell questioned.

 "I'm not coming back." You swung your purse over your shoulder and Maxwell followed you to the front door.

 "What the hell do you mean?" he called after you.

 "I'm leaving you." your own words felt like daggers in your heart.

 "What?" Maxwell asked.

 "Please don't come find me." You told him, your fingers tracing the door handle. You opened the door and set foot on the patio, looking up at the setting sun. It reminded you of all the moments you spent with Maxwell, lounging outside waiting for the stars to come out, or the evenings where you'd be tidying up the garden after a barbecue. "You know, I really did love you Max." You whispered, a tear slipping from your eye.

 "Just. Come back inside and we can talk about this. I'm, I'm sorry for yelling. Please." Maxwell begged, his voice cracking. He held his arm out for you and wished so desperately that you would turn around and take his hand. But you didn't.

 "It's not just the yelling Max, you're prioritising your work over our relationship."

 "Baby, you knew it would be this way when you got with me. I told you."

 "I just don't think I can handle it." You sniffed.

 "Come back inside and we can talk about it." Maxwell said but you shook your head.

 "Goodbye Maxwell." 

 Maxwell's grip on the bathroom sink was so tight, his knuckles went white. His own reflection made him sick. This wasn't him. This wasn't Maxwell Lord.

 Maxwell Lord didn't lose. He didn't lose anything. He didn't lose business negotiations, he didn't lose business deals and he certainly wouldn't lose the love of his life. He had to stop moping, he had to make this right.

 He ran to the dining room and swung the phone of the hook, dialing the home number of his driver, Jeeves. "Come on, come onnnn." he mumbled to himself, tapping his foot impatiently. It was the dead of night and Maxwell was aware that Jeeves would be at home with his family, asleep. But this was important and Maxwell paid Jeeves enough to be able to answer the phone at 1:30am, that's for sure.

 "Hello?" A tired Jeeves greeted Maxwell.

 "Where is Y/N staying?" Maxwell asked abruptly. Straight to the point.

 "Mr Lord… with all due respect…"

 "Jeeves I need to know and I need to know now," Maxwell cut him off. "Don't make me come down there."

 "Sir, you should be asleep."

 "Jeeves." Maxwell raised his voice sternly. "I don't have time for games. Where is she?"

 Jeeves sighed. "Last I heard, she was at the Waterfront Hotel." Maxwell scribbled the name down on a torn piece of paper and hurriedly crumpled it into the pocket of his light grey sweatpants.

 "Thank you Jeeves."

 "Will you be needing me to take you there?" Jeeves yawned.

 "No," Maxwell said. "Go back to sleep. I'll take the Porsche. Drive myself."

 "Ah, excellent choice. Okay, goodnight Mr Lord." Jeeves yawned again.

 "Send Elizabeth and the children my love. I'm sorry for bothering you." Maxwell apologised and slammed the phone down on the hook.

 Jeeves’ wife, Elizabeth, rubbed her eyes and shuffled upwards. "Who was calling at this ungodly hour?"

 Her husband hesitated, confusion evident in his face. "It was Maxwell Lord. I think he's going after Y/N."

 Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Oh thank goodness for that."

 "I know… he's really lost it without her," Jeeves admitted, shaking his head. "He told me that he sends you and the kids his love." 

 Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Maxwell Lord said that?" she asked in disbelief and Jeeves shrugged his shoulders.

 "It’s Y/N," He replied. "She just has that effect on him."

 You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss him. You thought about him every second of every day— and you weren't doing too well yourself. You hadn't left the hotel room once. You couldn't bring yourself to eat. You found it difficult to sleep. Your final words to him haunted you.

 "I really did love you."

 Why did you say that? Why would you make him believe that you no longer loved him? You wondered if he had moved on yet, perhaps initiated a relationship with Barbara. You wondered if he had resorted to his old ways and had been fucking and dumping his assistants. You wondered if he still thought about you.

 You were so worried about him because you knew how self destructive Maxwell could become. You knew about his dependency on alcohol and his tendency to lash out and yell at people when you weren't there to call him down. If he was suffering at least half as much as you were, you felt extreme guilt. You hoped he hadn't gotten himself hurt. You weren't happy, but if you had some kind of closure— if you just knew that he was doing okay without you, then maybe you would feel better.

 And yet you couldn't bring yourself to go back home. You had Maxwell's driver bring over your toiletries and clothes and tipped him enough to not tell Maxwell which hotel you were staying at. You didn't know if it was really worth it. He was Maxwell's driver, and if Maxwell asked, you figured the driver would reveal your location anyway. Your mind was racing. What if he did ask? What if Maxwell knew where you were but didn't care enough to come see you. You didn't tell him to not come and find you…

 A sudden loud knock on your hotel room door interrupted your thoughts. You sat frozen in your bed and checked the wall clock. It was almost two in the morning. The knock came again, even harder this time and you clutched your bed sheets tight around you. You took a deep breath and shuffled out of bed, padding to the door. You scoped your hotel room for something blunt that could be used as a weapon if this post-midnight mystery stranger happened to be an intruder. Slowly, you opened the door.

 Your heart sunk when you saw him.

 Dark circles under his eyes, his dark blonde hair messy and sticking up in places. He was literally wearing one of his button down work shirts (the one you used to sleep in), and light grey sweatpants. He looked helpless, and it was like time had frozen. You felt your eyes begin to sting from the brimming tears and you could only bring yourself to whisper his name. "Max…"

 Maxwell took a step forward and pressed a heated kiss into your lips. It took you by surprise, but you soon sank into his chest. This was it. This was everything you had missed. His lips tasted like a mix of whiskey and spirits. His large, ring clad hands gripped your back and pressed you tight into his broad chest. He was finally holding you again, and kissing you— and you were letting him. He couldn't believe it. He pulled away for breath but didn't let go of you for one second. He nudged his nose against yours. "I am so sorry…" Maxwell whispered, a tear falling down his cheek. You cupped your hand around his face and wiped his tear away with your thumb before pressing your forehead against his. "I was so stupid, for everything. I shouldn't have let you go." His voice was sore and it broke your heart. He was taking full accountability and blaming himself.

 "No Max," you sniffed and shook your head. "No. I wasn't thinking straight. I was so mad." 

 "I gave you a reason to be mad." Maxwell soothed you, rubbing circles into your back.

 "No no no," You curled up into his chest again, holding him tight. "I acted irrationally. Please don't blame yourself." You begged him. "This was on me. You were right. You never gave me a reason not to trust you."

 "I was so foolish, planning to go and see Albert and Edward on our only night together." His words brought back a familiar pain and you broke down into a sobbing mess in Maxwell's arms. He continued to rub your back, feeling your tears dampen in his lazily buttoned shirt. He kissed your head gently, the familiar scent of your hair making his knees weak. "I'm really struggling," Maxwell gulped. "I don't think I can live without you. I need you. I need you and your good heart helping me decide between what's right and what's wrong. I need you scolding me for my bad manners and confronting me when I'm in the wrong…" you let out a small chuckle and his heart bloomed. "It's true!" he smiled for the first time into your hair. "You're the only one who can get away with telling me what to do. I miss the way you play with my hair," you dragged your hands up to his hair and Maxwell let out a muffled groan. "Missed your touch," he said, stiffening up as you let your hands roam down his body, touching every bit of skin he had visible. "Missed your kisses," you pressed another kiss against his lips and let your arms rest comfortably around his waist. "Missed you so fucking much."

 "Maaaax," you whimpered out his name as he placed sloppy kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

 "I don't think I can be alone anymore," he said in between kisses. "You don't have to forgive me. I wouldn't forgive me. But please come home with me. And I will spend every day for the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you. You first. You before Edward and Albert and Barbara, you before all work commitments." he promised and you hummed in contentment.

 "I would want nothing more." You told him and he smiled. "No more fights. I'm going to communicate better, I can do better. And Maxwell?"

 "Hm?" Maxwell's voice was soft like velvet.

 "I forgive you. And I never stopped loving you."

 Maxwell sighed and squeezed you tight. "I never want to let go of you." he admitted. "I never want to leave you ever again. Wherever I go, you're coming with me. This has been the worst couple of weeks."

 "You have looked better." you joked with a small smile. You grabbed him by his shirt collar and dragged him into your hotel room, before locking the door behind you.

 "You…" he smiled, his eyes sparkling. "You always look so beautiful." 

 "You're lying," you shook your head feeling your cheeks heat up at his smooth choice of words. "I haven't slept in days."

 Maxwell cupped your cheeks with both hands, taking in the features he had missed so dearly. "Me neither, but I'll sleep well tonight, I'm sure of it." He said and you grinned, playfully pushing him into the plush hotel bed. He yelped as you clambered on top of him and straddled him.

 "Fuck Max," you whimpered, softly rubbing your hips over his crotch.

 "Shit baby," he mewled, his hands dropping to your hips and grabbing your ass. His eyes were locked on to your body as you lounged on top of him. "Missed this." he admitted with a sheepish smile.

 "It's been so long," you said quietly, popping open the buttons on his shirt and helping him shuffle out of it. There was a real temptation to just curl into his warm naked chest and fall asleep in his arms but you needed more. It had been months without any kind of sexual gratification and now you finally had him. You had been yearning for so long. "Couldn't stop thinking about you," you admitted and Maxwell's heart fluttered in his chest. "Every night I… I could never sleep. So I'd lay here in this bed and just think about you. Think about you holding me… kissing me… touching me…"

 "Where?" He quizzed you, his voice low at the thought of you laying exactly where he was now lying, restless because you were imagining his touch.

 "Everywhere," you breathed shakily.

 "Show me."

 He steadied you as you removed your hands from his chest and pulled off your shirt. Maxwell gasped slightly when he saw you weren't wearing a bra and you began to touch yourself in front of him. You let your fingers grace over your arms, your stomach, and then brought them up to your breasts. You let your thumb graze over your nipples and cupped them, squeezing a few times as you closed your eyes at the blissful sensation. Maxwell watched you touch yourself intently and you began to feel him harden beneath you. Unable to hide the smirk playing on your lips, you continued to softly grind over his length, gaining a gentle moan from him. "Touch me." you begged him. He ran his big hand up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and to your chest, twirling the crystal necklace he had gotten for you way back when you had your first date.

 "You never took the necklace off?" he asked, his chocolate brown eyes looking deep into yours.

 "Never," you told him and he returned your smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

 "Lean into me," his voice was rough but gentle. You obeyed him, slowly sinking forward into his body and he took one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking on your nipple and eliciting a moan from you. With his free hand, he opted to mirror your previous actions and squeezed your other breast. Your knees weakened everytime his teeth grazed your skin and you missed the way he would gently bite at you. All your senses were completely heightened and he felt amazing. You hummed in delight before leaning back, your breast leaving Maxwell's mouth with a pop.

 You climbed off him and took to your knees by his side when you began to palm his length through his grey sweatpants. "You're so cute," you giggled as you stroked him through the soft material.

 Maxwell turned his head slightly and furrowed his eyebrows together. "Cute?" he asked.

 "Mhm," you replied, dipping your hand into his sweats and pulling out his throbbing hard cock. You smiled to yourself— he wasn't wearing underwear either. You slowly began to pump at it and a delicious moan fell from his lips. "You come here in a work shirt and sweatpants," you conceded. "Not your best fashion decision. But I do love these sweats. I love to see you get hard in them, it's so hot. I can really see how big you are," you admired him and let your thumb sweep across the tip of his cock, collecting the precum that had beaded there. You brought your thumb to your mouth and began sucking on it, letting his warm, salty seed settle on your tongue.

 "F-fuck," Maxwell drawled out. "Keep talking like that. You're so- you're so fucking pretty, sucking on your thumb like that. Wish- wish you were suck-"

 "Be patient my love," you whispered, pressing a kiss into his v line and wrapping your hand around his cock once more, repeating the movements. You knew what he wanted, and you wanted it too. "We have all the time in the world."

 "Keep talking like that." he reminded you, watching as your hands graced his length. 

 "I'd lay here," your voice was barely above a whisper. "Just like you are. And I'd imagine you fucking me. Been too long. Missed- missed you so much. I missed your big hands and the way you'd caress me. I missed how good you were at going down on me… best- best I've ever had," you hummed in delight, feeling your cunt begin dampen your shorts. "Most of all, I missed this. I missed your big cock, and the way it fills me perfectly. Feels so amazing. While you were away on those fucking business trips… I’d…I’d..." you took a deep breath.

 "What?" Maxwell prompted you to continue. 

 You took one hand and began to cradle his balls as you kept rubbing up and down the length. "I'd finger myself, rub myself, do everything I could just thinking about you. Usually I-," you exhaled shakily before shooting him an innocent smile. "I'd have to use a dildo because my fingers can't ever compare to your cock. Nothing can, Max." You promised him and he emitted an earthy groan. "Your turn." you smiled at him before licking his tip.

 "Fuuuck. That- that feels so good," Maxwell gritted out, throwing his head back into the pillow. You opened your mouth slightly and started by taking the tip in your mouth, sucking softly. "More, please,"

 "Keep talking." You quoted him cheekily before reattaching your mouth to his hard cock.

 "I took those Polaroids with me," Maxwell admitted bashfully. "The- the ones you took for me on Valentine's day. You wore that lacy red lingerie set I got you and fuck, you looked so stunning that night. Found it so hard to sleep without you by my side so I'd get out the photos and jerk off to them. I- I could never really last long looking at you, you're just so fucking pretty," Maxwell praised and you hollowed your cheeks, sinking your mouth further down on him. "I'd dream about this. Baby, you know how much I love getting blown," You felt his cock twitch in your mouth just as he said that and you tried to suppress a giggle. "Dreamt about this. Your mouth on me. I- I'd cum in your mouth."

 You lifted off him with a pop. "Cum in my mouth then," you urged with a sheepish grin and continued sucking on him, bobbing your head up and down.

 "N-no." Maxwell said, lowering his hands to tug off your head. "Fuck, no. Baby. I have to fuck you." You almost came from his words alone and you could feel the electricity spark in your stomach as excitement filled your core. "I have to feel you. Feel you around me. You always- you always feel like home."

 Your heart blossomed at his words. "Can I ride you?" you asked him, popping off him again. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look into his eyes. They were so dark with lust, you could've mistaked the usual honeyed shade for black.

 "No. I want to fuck you." he growled in your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

 He kicked off his sweats that were pooled around his ankles and you pulled down your silk shorts, discarding them on the floor with the rest of his and your clothes. "Please please please can I ride you." you whimpered, letting your hand fall down to your cunt and you started rubbing your clit as you drunk in the image of Maxwell spread out on the hotel bed, his cock hard and pressed against his stomach.

 "No." he reprimanded you as he got to his knees. He pushed you down onto the bed and you lay there on your tummy, your butt perked in the air.

 "Maaaax," you drew out his name, waiting for him to do something. Max was stroking his length and this time it was his turn to get a good look of your naked body that he had missed so much.

 "Patience." he scolded, giving your ass a spank. You let out a yelp as the coolness of his rings slapped against your warm skin. That was sure to leave a bruise.

 "Fuckkk Max, I need you inside me now," You begged and started to rub yourself against the blankets on the bed, desperate for some kind of friction to ease the overwhelming sensation you were feeling.

 He spanked you again and you let out another yelp. "You will be patient," he warned again. "Are you a good girl?"

 "Yes Max," you sung, sweetness dripping from your tongue.

 "Good girls don't talk back. Now get on all fours." You listened to his instruction, scrambling to your knees and resting on your elbows. "Spread your legs. I want to look at you." You obeyed him, knowing that if you dared to speak up again he'd issue another spanking.

 Maxwell stroked himself while drinking in the sight of you. Your folds glistened under the light and Maxwell couldn't rid himself of the pride he was feeling. "All for me?" He mumbled, and aligned his cock against your entrance. You tossed your head back at the feeling of his tip nudging against you.

 "All for you." you confirmed in a whisper. Maxwell wrapped his arms underneath you and started fondling with your breasts before suddenly, and in one swift movement, thrusting inside of you.

 Your breathing hitched at the sensation of his long thick cock stretching your walls. "Oh shit Max," you moaned in pleasure. "Shit shit shit," you panted as he kept thrusting deep inside you with consistent movements. Tears pricked your eyes as he hit your g-spot with every thrust, not hilting once. He knew exactly how to make you feel good. You begged for him to go harder and he brought his hands up to your head, grabbing your hair and roughly pulling your back into his chest. You let your head fall into his shoulder as he continued fucking you, his arms holding you tight around your stomach.

 You loved hearing the noises Max made. There was something so satisfying about listening to the CEO of one of the biggest and reputable companies in the whole world, fall apart because of you. Because of your body. "Are you- fuck, you're close aren't you? I can feel it." Maxwell groaned and you whimpered back in agreement, letting your head lilt into the crook of his neck. "Baby girl, fuck you feel so good. So tight around me. Fuck."

 "G-gonna cum," you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

 "Me- me too," Maxwell replied through gritted teeth. "Can I, can I cum inside of you?"

 "Fuck Max, you don't need to ask. Please. Please fill me up." You begged.

 With only a few more thrusts, Maxwell came inside you, filling you with warmth and leaving you shuddering as you came down from your own climax. He stayed there for a moment, holding still inside you, wanting to make sure every last drop resided deep within you before he softened and slipped out of you. You moaned at the loss of his length. He turned you over on the bed and positioned his face in between your legs.

 "What are you- what are you doing?" you asked him. Before you could say anything else, you felt him bury his thick index finger inside of you. "Fuck," you gasped. "Maaaaaax."

 Max was watching your pussy intently, and as his cum began to drip out of you, he pushed it back in. "You're so perfect," Max said in admiration, still staring at your glistening wet folds. "You know that?"

 "I can't wait to go home with you." you sighed as relief and contentment washed over you for the first time in forever.

 "Can't wait to start a new life with you," Maxwell smiled and your mind buzzed with confusion. "You're all I need. This. This right here is what I need. My- my job has given me enough wealth to live more than comfortably for the rest of my life. I know that, no matter what, I will be able to provide for you. And for our children, and grandchildren, and great grandchildren…" Maxwell trailed off and you couldn't wipe the elated smile from your face.

 "Children?" you asked him, eyes lighting up.

 "Look at you," he grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek. He pressed a soft, sweet kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I think you'd be the greatest mother in the world. You take care of me well enough, that's for sure. So kind. So gentle. Such a good heart. You make me into a better person. Our kids would be so lucky to have a mother like you. I want a family."

 You sniffed, sitting up and shuffling toward him. "Oh Max, I love you so much." you gave him a teary smile before falling into his chest and curling up on top of him.

 "I love you too, darling."

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Not My Big Fat Greek Family's Baklava

This recipe is for @bae-roman. I had a great-grandmother who was 100% Greek. She emigrated here from the "motherland," as one of my dad's cousins calls it, and Greek was her native tongue. But food was her love language. She always tried to stuff you full of Baklava or Kourabiedes even if you were already full. She got them from a local deli, so I don't have any family recipes. But Emeril Lagasse's is usually a hit.

If you've never worked with phyllo dough before, that's the most challenging part of making this dessert. It has a tendency to dry out the longer it's exposed to air, so the key here is to work quickly. Here are my tips:

Make sure you give your phyllo dough ample time to thaw in the fridge. If it's still partially frozen, you won't be able to work with it.

Cook the syrup first so it has plenty of time to cool.

Follow the French practice of mise en place by getting all of your ingredients prepped and ready to go before you take the phyllo out.

Have extra butter on deck in case you start to run out. You cannot have too much butter for this dish.

Butter your pan thoroughly before you begin.

Once you're ready, take out half the phyllo dough and carefully unroll it. Trim it with a knife if needed to fit the pan.

Grab one of the ultra thin pieces of dough and slap that baby in the bottom of the pan.

You are now a brick layer, and your butter is your cement. Slather the top of your dough with butter using a silicone brush, then place another sheet on top of it. Keep going until you've placed 7 sheets.

When you hit 7 sheets, spread out a scoop of your nut filling. Side note: I use exclusively walnuts in mine and I mix it together in a food processor or Magic Bullet.

Drizzle some butter on top just to give your phyllo something to stick to and repeat with another 7 layers.

Move like you're a Greek mother passionately lecturing your child while you cook four things at once. You'll quickly develop a good rhythm for it.

If you start to run out of butter, nuke some more. If you start to get low on phyllo or filling, just try to use the rest of the ingredients as evenly as you can. It's okay to have some layers with more nuts than others.

When you lay down that last phyllo layer, brush the entire surface of your dough liberally with butter until it's drenched.

Slice the dough into diamonds before cooking. Don't you dare slice it into squares. I actually make smaller diamonds than what's shown in the photo so I can pretend I'm engaging in portion-control.

The hardest part comes after baking. You need to drizzle the syrup over the tray of baklava and then muster up the willpower to leave it alone.

The longer you let the syrup soak into the pastry, the better it will be. I usually issue death threats to the family and leave it overnight, or at least until it's fully cooled.

Do not attempt to remove a single piece for sampling while you wait. I did this once and the syrup absorbed unevenly throughout the whole batch.

The best way to serve these at a party is to carefully lay the prettiest pieces in cupcake liners. I eat them like that at home, too, because it's so much less messy.

I am not liable for anyone who develops diabetes or becomes the person everyone asks to make baklava every holiday after serving this recipe. That's just a risk you have to take.

[cinnonym]

All of you:

Me: Oh, sure you can have that SQ fic from Robin Hood's POV, absolutely no problem, here you go:

The sheets are impossibly soft as I shuffle against them, soft and silky and way too comfortable for me to find sleep in. Years of making camp on mossy patches in the forest, never completely bare of sticks that press against the back at night, have accustomed my body to rough, imperfect underground and even the few nights I've actually spent in taverns or inns couldn't have prepared me for the luxury of this world. Thick bouncy mattresses and materials called polyester or elastane are as foreign to me as the twangy accent the people from the first curse have. Even Regina has picked it up, the tendency to pronounce the Rs like nobody did back in the Enchanted Forest, sharp and rolling, like stones scraping.

I groan as I turn to my side, a sudden pain shooting through my spine. The caving bed is poison for my back, but Regina loves it like that, enormous and fluffy for her to sink in. Her body is but a silhouette in the dark, the moon shining just bright enough through the shades for my eyes to make out the curve of her hip, pronounced even through the thick blanket. Regina is facing away from me, curled into herself like usual, breathing heavily and unevenly. Her hair is splayed over her pillow, gleaming black against the white and if I leaned over I would see her eyelashes painting a similar shadow against her cheek. She really is magnificent, even in her brokenness, and I have to remind myself again that she's not mine to fix.

As if she heard my thoughts, Regina starts murmuring. She's doing that a lot these days, almost every night, at first quietly, making it impossible to understand her words, than growing louder and louder still until she's screaming. It's always the same routine, and it's always the same couple of sentences: "No! There has to be another way." Sobs. And then "I love you."

It has taken me a while to figure out the meaning of it all. At first I was flattered, thought she meant me, thought this was her way of telling me what she couldn't say at day. At first I thought the eerie déjà vu I got from the phrasing, the feeling to have heard Regina say those exact words before, came from unconsciously listening to her while sleeping myself. Until Emma crossed my way through town, smiling wearily in the arms of her boyfriend, a faint shadow of the vibrant person I had met when I first came here. Now rings have formed under her eyes, almost identical to those Regina has after a particularly hag-ridden night.

Almost a year has passed since the blonde became the Dark One, since she more or less jumped into the black vortex that enclosed Regina and thrust the dagger forward, tethering her soul to it forever. Except forever apparently doesn't apply to saviours because barely two months later Emma got rid of the darkness already and, except for the incident in the realm we call Underbrooke, has lived fairly normally since. Most people have already forgotten about the time of Dark Swan, even I find it hard to remember that particular period sometimes. Hell, even Emma has seemingly forgotten most of it, though Regina claims she's still dealing with the aftereffects of wielding that huge amount of power and fighting not to succumb to it.

And there lies the problem really. Regina is the one still thinking, still worrying about the darkness affecting Emma. Regina is the one still dreaming of the night Emma sacrificed herself and Regina is the one still regretting not to have acted, not to have told Emma what she now cries out almost every night.

"I love you," Regina sobs next to me and some weeks ago my heart would have clenched. I was furious, sad, confused, most of all shocked. Soulmates are said to be an insurance of kinds, your true love, presented to you in a flourish, nicely wrapped in tattoos and pixie dust. They're not supposed to be in love with someone else, they're supposed to be your perfect match.

One week and four nightmares after my realisation, I had enough. When she started murmuring again, I seized her shoulders, shook her awake in tears, demanding answers.

"What are you even talking about," she mumbled, still half-asleep, and she was confused herself about the wetness on her cheeks and pillow. I stopped asking her after that, it was clear she knew less about what was going on than me.

And still the dreams continued, startling me awake when I managed to find sleep for once, until my body learned to stay awake during the hours when they usually occur. I tried to comfort Regina, but she slapped my arm away, thrashing around until I retreated into my half of the bed, at which point she curled back into herself and returned to sobbing. I tried to talk to her about what she saw at night in the mornings, only to find that though she awakes grouchy and tired she's entirely oblivious to the reason for it. There was nothing I could do for her, except hoping she would get better soon.

She didn't and so, for her own good, I have to let her go.

Everything is planned. I met Emma the other day, asked her in Regina's name to stay over at the mansion, told Regina that Emma asked for a sleepover. Only by making each believe it was the other's wish, I could convince them both to agree, and now Emma is sleeping in the guest's room across the corridor.

I fold back the heavy covers and tiptoe to the door. Regina's still crying behind me and for a moment I feel a pang of guilt for leaving her like this. But then the "I love you"s begin again and I know that for her and also my own sanity I have to go.

So I slip out of the door, leaving it slightly ajar, and make my way to Emma's door. I've already lifted my hand to knock, when it swings open and there's Emma, hair tangled and clearly just awoken, nonetheless staring at me with the urgent look she only gets when either Henry or Regina are in danger. Henry or Regina and oh, I should have understood it way earlier, but I've been blinded by pixie dust and a fairy's promise.

"Is that Regina crying? What are you doing here? Does she need help?"

For someone who threatened to hurt anyone who dared to wake her up before nine in the morning, Emma seems very harmless in her spate of questions. However, the force with which she pushes me away is to be reckoned with and it confirms me in my belief that I'm doing the right thing by stepping aside and playing the helpless boyfriend.

"I don't know what's happening. She started crying and screaming, but she won't wake up, do you know what to do?"

Just as I anticipated, Emma all but runs through the door, not even hesitating at the threshold as she would normally, wary to set foot in private chambers. But not now, not when Regina needs her help, and she kneels beside the bed and takes Regina's trembling hand, whispering soothingly words I can't make out. Miraculously, Regina calms, sobbing quieter until finally, she stills.

"Emma?" She suddenly murmurs, half-asleep yet but quickly coming to. I didn't expect this but it fits quite well with my plans, exceeds my hopes to be at least stooge for my soulmate's happy ending.

"I'm here, Regina," Emma whispers back, softer than I've ever heard her talk, and she strokes Regina's sweaty brow and caresses her cheeks. I can only see her profile but the devotion in her eyes is clear as day and it is time for me to leave.

Silently, using all my skills as a thief to not disturb the two women, I turn around and head towards the stairs. Except I'm stopped before I can reach them, by a pale hand and Henry's tousled shock of hair.

"I heard Mom scream," he says under his breath, the same urgency in his voice as in Emma's before. "Is she alright?"

"She will be," I reply, "Emma is with her."

Henry calms, then looks at me with eyes far too wise for a boy of his age and nods solemnly.

"Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. You were never one to keep treasures for yourself."

I shrug, refusing to look back to the door that's still slightly ajar, and smile wistfully.

"You know she was never mine to begin with."

"See ya around Robin," Henry says after a pause and we both know this is goodbye. I will come back to the mansion, but if everything goes according to plan, it will never be the same again. I hope that Regina and I can be friends, were still soulmates after all, but I also feel that my heart will need time to heal before I can see her with Emma.

"Bye Henry. I'll send Little John to pick up Roland tomorrow morning."

Henry looks back at the smaller boy, allowed to sleep on a folding bed next to Henry's. He lies with a blissful smile on his face and I feel the familiar tug of guilt about forcing him to grow accustomed to yet another difficult family situation.

"He'll be fine," Henry whispers and I finally turn and descend the stairs. The front door is locked and I use my lockpicks to make sure it is again after I let myself out. Storybrooke's streets are deserted as I slowly make my way home to the woods.

The next day I get a message from Henry, the phone Regina talked me into pinging obnoxiously loud in the peaceful silence of the trees. I flip it open and the screen comes alive with the photo the boy sent me. It shows Regina's bed and on it two women, one blonde and one brunette, curled into each other. It's hard to make out in the pixels but it looks like both are smiling. Underneath, Henry just wrote two words:

"Thank you."

[boxdropgranbury1]

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Mesh office chair

Mesh office chair is essentially extended across a seat outline on the seat and back. ... This seat will take a load off that feels like a common cushioned office seat yet the backrest will have a network extended across the casing. The third kind is a cushioned cross section seat with a cushioned lattice back.

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📷

The Sarah Chair

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