#(me and my friend are holding hands with her.) we stand with our problematic wife

[jinbugs]

of all the flavors of Guy on earth, when your gaze settles on the humble pierrot... does the jingling of her bells not please you? does her bumbling not crinkle your cheeks with mirth, moreso than any other kind of Guy?

caroline from "re:curse" @devpalmer

[mischievoushiddleston]

Arranged Marriage

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Arranged Marriage

Words: 2.2K

Masterlist here!

"I think I'm going to have a panic attack." Y / N leaned against the dresser and put her hand against her pounding heart as she breathed in and out quickly. "I can not do this." "Y / N, calm down and breathe in and out slowly." Y / B / F said and gently took Y / N's hands in hers. "I know you can do it." Y / N shook her head. “How am I supposed to marry a man I've never met. I never wanted to get married for political reasons, I wanted to get married when I love a man. ”Y / N explained with tears in his eyes. "I don't love the prince, Y / B / F." Y / B / F opened her mouth to reassure the princess and friend, but was interrupted by a knock on the doors of their apartments. "Come in!" Y / N called and the doors opened instantly. A gray haired beautiful woman entered the room and Y / N hurried to wipe away her tears. “Mother, what are you doing here? I have to prepare for the ceremony. " "Can't I visit my beautiful daughter on her wedding day?" Y / N forced a smile and nodded. "I wanted to give you something else." Her mother reached behind her neck and opened her necklace. "This is my grandmother's necklace, she gave it to me on my wedding day and now I want to pass it on to you." Y / N turned around and her mother put the necklace on her. "She's beautiful, thank you mother." She thanked her and looked at herself in the mirror.

"I'm so proud of you. You connect the royal houses of Asgard and Alfheim and create lasting peace between our planets. ”She gently stroked Y / N's cheek. "I know that you wished to marry out of love, but I wish for you that one day you will love him, Y / N." Y / N looked at the floor and nodded slightly. "Well then we'll meet again at the ceremony." Her mother left the room and Y / N set off a few minutes later. They stopped in front of the large doors of the throne room and Y / N looked one last time at Y / B / F, who smiled encouragingly at them. The doors opened and Y / N stepped gracefully into the crowded room. Thousands of eyes were on her, but Y / N’s gaze was on the floor, not brave enough to stand up to her soon-to-be husband. Finally she reached the altar and a hand reached out to her. Y / N gathered up their courage and looked into Prince Loki's ice-blue eyes. Reluctantly, she put her hand in his and started up the stairs. “Asgard residents. Residents of Alfheim. We have come together today to attend the Covenant for the Lives of Y / N and Loki… ”Thor, the new King of Asgard, began his speech, but Y / N could not take her gaze from Loki. "I know this marriage may not be voluntary for you, but I hope that one day you will be able to accept me as your husband." Loki spoke softly and quietly. It was unfamiliar to Y / N who had heard thousands of stories about Loki about how cruel he should be. She heard Loki being asked if he would take her to his wife. "Yes, I'll take Princess Y / N as my wife." Thor turned to Y / N and asked her the same question.

"Yes, I will take Prince Loki to my husband." The hall began to clap loudly, but for them the noise was far away. Y / N got dazed with how a ribbon was tied around Loki's and her hands and they were tied together for the evening by an old spell. Loki gently cupped her cheek and leaned over to her. He silently asked for her permission to kiss her, and Y / N granted her husband. His lips moved slowly with hers and Y / N kissed him back. The world seemed to vanish around the two of them as they kissed each other. Loki broke away from the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. He smiled slightly at her, and for the first time that day, she smiled sincerely back. Loki bandaged his fingers with hers and went together into the adjoining hall for the party. Y / N was glad that not too many people were there. The newly married couple accepted the congratulations from the guests and they hoped that it would soon be over. When the five dozen guests were about to congratulate them, Loki leaned over to Y / N. "Would you like to dance?" Loki asked, unable to keep a slight mischievous smile from his lips. Y / N smiled and nodded as Loki led them onto the dance floor. "I remember you, I met you when we were kids." Loki explained and Y / N smiled when she remembered. "You were the boy who turned the servant into a frog, weren't you?" Y / N asked with a laugh and Loki nodded with a grin.

"I hope you're not too disappointed to be my wife." Loki turned her around the ballroom. “I am not disappointed. In fact, I'm actually glad I'm married to you. ”Y / N explained and Loki raised his eyebrow in question. "Oh really?" Loki asked and Y / N nodded with a smile. He stopped on the dance floor. "I'll try to make you happy and be a good husband to you, Y / N" Loki leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. After several hours that they both spent at the festival, they said goodbye to their family and went to his rooms. Y / N was noticeably nervous when the doors of the room closed. Loki lifted her chin gently so that she was looking at him. "So?" Y / N bit her lip. "We won't do anything you don't want, Y / N." Loki promised and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Even if the people expect us to?" Y / N asked, holding his hand on her cheek. “I don't care about the people. You're my woman. I won't have sex with you tonight, I'll just hold you in my arms while we fall asleep. I'll wait as long as you need. ”Loki explained lovingly. "What if I want to consummate our marriage tonight?" Y / N looked seductively at him through her lashes. She stepped closer to him and placed her free hand on his chest.

"Are you sure?" Loki asked again, searching her eyes for the answer. Y / N nodded and bit her lip as she took turns looking from his eyes to his lips. He smiled before leaning over and kissing her tenderly. Loki put his arm around her waist and pulled her body against his. She felt his hard erection pressing against her. Loki turned her over, her right hand intertwined with his hand on her left side. He put his left hand on her neck and kissed Y / N's neck. Loki kissed her between her shoulder blades. His hand went down to the zipper of her dress and opened it. She was glad that her sleeve had a slit up to her shoulder and Loki only had to open a button, otherwise the band on her hands would have made it problematic. He pushed the dress down her body and it bundles up around her feet. She got out of her dress and was turned over by Loki. Y / N blushed when Loki looked at her body, only a pair of panties still covered her. "You are stunningly beautiful." Loki said. He caressed her upper arm affectionately and lifted her chin so she could look at him. "I can't believe how lucky I am that you are my wife." Loki kissed her and picked her up by the waist. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned into the kiss as his erection pressed against her clothed pussy. He carefully placed them on the dark green, silky paint. He gently pushed her legs apart and sat between them. Loki kissed her neck down to her breasts and took her nipple into his mouth. He massaged her other breast and rolled her nipple between his fingers as he sucked on her other nipple. Loki pulled away from her breasts and continued his way down. He kissed her stomach and lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed the inside of her thigh down to her panties. Loki looked up and silently asked permission. When he found his answer, he pulled her panties over her legs and carelessly tossed them next to the bed. He ran his finger over the already wet crease of her pussy.

"Mhm ..." Y / N moaned softly and closed her eyes. Loki licked the juices off her finger. "By the norns, you taste delicious." He leaned down and began to lick her pussy as if he were a starving man. Y / N reached into his jet black hair as her husband licked it. She lifted her hips off the bed as he started sucking on her clit. Loki pushed two of his fingers into her tight pussy and began to thrust into her. "Oh ... Loki ..." Y / N's groans filled the room. She could feel the orgasm coming, but Loki pulled his fingers out of her pussy and grinned mischievously. His clothes disappeared in a green mist and her husband was naked. He crawled over her body and put her legs around his hips. Her two hands were intertwined next to Y / N's head. "Are you still sure?" He asked and Y / N nodded, not trusting her words. Loki moved his hips to find the entrance to her pussy and first pushed the tip of his cock into her. He thrust into her a little and with each thrust he pushed his cock a little more into her wet pussy. Y / N lifted her hips impatiently and let Loki slide into her in one quick thrust. He leaned his forehead against hers and they both gasped. Loki waited until Y / N had adjusted to him before he pulled his cock almost completely out of her pussy and only the tip remained in her. He thrust back into her just as slowly. "Faster ... Loki ..." Loki wrapped his free arm around Y / N and pushed harder and faster into her. He turned her over so she was sitting on top of him, her hands on Y / N's thighs. Loki picked her up and started poking her from that angle. He bumped her G-spot repeatedly and Y / N writhed against him.

"Norns, you're so tight around my cock." Loki groaned and buried his face in the crook of his wife's neck. He nibbled at the point between her ear and throat. Y / N scratched his back with her nails and it was clear to her that she would leave marks on his back. But she didn't care if anyone could see it, after all, he's her husband. He pushed hard into her and Y / N began to tighten around him, her body starting to shake uncontrollably. Loki felt that his wife was about to climax. He loosened his arm around her waist and began rubbing her clit. His cock thrust her pussy a few more times before it stiffened and came. However, Loki was far from finished and fucked her through her orgasm. "Oh ... God ... Loki." Y / N groaned and Loki smiled. "I may be a god, but I'm your husband too," he said mischievously, thrusting his cock hard into her. Loki began to pulse against her walls and rubbed her clit, quickly her second orgasm began to build up. "Come with me and let me fill you with my sperm and our marriage will begin to fill you with our offspring." Y / N groaned excitedly and this morning she wouldn’t have expected the idea of having Loki's child like that would be delighted. He poked her hard one last time and shot his hot cum into her pussy. Y / N came over his tail at the same moment. Loki pulled out of her and his sperm flowed down the inside of her thigh. The ribbon that had tied their hands together dissolved into a golden sheen and both looked at it intently. Y / N smiled at Loki, who smiled too. She kissed him quickly and Loki gently sat her down on the bed next to him as he quickly disappeared into the bathroom. After a few seconds he came back with a wet washcloth in his hands. He quickly wiped his cum off her thigh and pussy before throwing it next to him. Loki climbed back into the bed and pulled Y / N closer to him. She rested her head on his chest and started drawing small circles on his chest with her finger. "I hope I haven't been too rough with you?" Loki asked worriedly, looking down at her.

"Absolutely not, I really liked it." Y / N said and yawned wearily. "I think your chances are good that I will fall in love with you." "I think I might fall in love with you too." He pushed a strand of hair back from her face and kissed her forehead lightly before falling asleep too.

Taglist is open! @smoke-and-sunsets @everybitch @coco-puffses @fa-me

[lothiriel84]

I Relate to the Sparrow

“Arthur,” Douglas clears his throat, the beginnings of a mildly problematic intuition stirring at the back of his mind. “You do know what ‘attractive’ means, right?”

“Of course I do,” Arthur scoffs, about as offended as he ever gets, which is to say, hardly at all. “What do you take me for?”

A Cabin Pressure ficlet. Acespec!Arthur, pre-canon. Title borrowed from Susannah Pearse's eponymous song cycle.

They’re sitting in an overpriced café in the main concourse of Prague Airport, enjoying the momentary respite from their employer’s sharp tongue – just a spot of Arthur-wrangling, nothing Carolyn couldn’t sort out in the blink of an eye, should she want to, but as they’re genuinely quite early there’s no real objection to letting the boy roam freely around the duty free area just a little longer. Not precisely the brightest of chaps, Arthur, but he’s really not all that bad, when you get to know him; and for all that he’s already witnessed countless displays of Carolyn’s maternal exasperation at her son’s misplaced attempts at making himself useful, he suspects no one would ever find the bodies of anyone who was foolish enough to dare touch a hair on Arthur’s head.

“What do you reckon?” Nigel nudges him, eyes darting sideways as a gorgeous specimen of the flight attendant persuasion walks past them, her pristine uniform doing a rather marvellous job at putting her long legs and delectable backside on display.

“Hmm. Not too bad,” he agrees easily, taking a sip of his alcohol-free passion fruit martini. “Reminds me of one of my old flames, actually.”

Well, not so much an old flame as a mutually enjoyable layover in Bern, somewhen between wife number one and wife number two. He’s certainly had his fair share of fun in his brief spells of singlehood in between marriages, not to mention his early days as a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed first officer at Air England.

“What about that one?” he drawls at length, glass subtly raised to point at a stunning redhead strolling down the concourse, her low-cut dress leaving very little to the imagination. “Ten to one says she wouldn’t think twice about jumping into bed with an airline captain.”

“Well, we could scarcely call ourselves ‘an airline’, but I take your point,” Nigel concedes at length. “Carol’s best friend’s a redhead, and she’s always on about her latest conquests. Makes you wonder, you know.”

The rustle of several bags signals Arthur’s approach, mercifully without any sign of an irritable Carolyn hot on his heels for a change. “Hello, chaps,” he greets them, looking if anything even jollier than his usual self, which is something of an accomplishment when it comes to someone whose entire personality could be summed up as ‘perpetually cheerful’. “Did you know they have four different types of Toblerone in the duty free shop?”

At his side, Nigel sighs almost imperceptibly, and downs the rest of his virgin mojito. It’s not that he doesn’t get on well enough with Arthur, he even told Douglas as much on the first leg of one of their earliest intercontinental flights together; he just happens to find constant chatter a little tiresome, and who can blame him when he’s married to the most talkative woman this side of the English Channel. Not that Douglas ever had the occasion to exchange more than a few pleasantries with Carol, which is just as well, given how Helena seems to hold some kind of long-standing grudge against the woman for reasons she never actually cared to explain.

“Care for a spot of bird-watching, Arthur?” he says instead, keen on forestalling any potential diplomatic issue between his captain and their employer’s only son and heir. “Nigel and I spotted a few truly remarkable specimens earlier on.”

Arthur blinks, confusion apparent on his face. “Birds? How did they even get in here?”

“They’re not actual birds, Arthur,” Nigel explains, only just managing to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “We’re talking about women.”

“Ooh, I get it,” Arthur nods, plainly not getting it in the slightest. “What about them?”

“Attractive women,” Douglas clarifies, as if talking to a twelve year old. “It’s who can get most in however long it takes for Carolyn to hunt us down and shout us back to our respective duties.”

“Brilliant. How about that girl sitting on the bench, the one with the book? She looks like she’d give really good hugs.”

The two pilots exchange a surreptitious, disbelieving look at that, which goes completely over Arthur’s head. Each to their own and all that jazz, but for all that he’s got a good thirty years on her, Douglas can think of at least a dozen plausible scenarios off the top of his head in which he’d very much rather take a rain check.

“Suit yourself,” Nigel shrugs at length, twirling his empty glass so that the melting ice cubes clink against one another. “I can see at least four other people from where I’m sitting that I’d rather take to bed, and I’m not even counting that gentleman in the indigo suit over there.”

“How do you mean?” Arthur frowns, looking like he’s slowly and earnestly puzzling over the meaning of that sentence in his head.

“I mean,” Nigel huffs, pinching at the bridge of his nose in what is most likely a desperate attempt to keep himself from snapping at his boss’ offspring. “We’re not all straight here. I believe we’ve been through this before.”

“Oh!” Arthur’s eyes widen, almost comically, and then he’s shaking his head. “No, not the you being bisexual bit, I know that. I meant the bit about taking random strangers to bed.”

“Arthur,” Douglas clears his throat, the beginnings of a mildly problematic intuition stirring at the back of his mind. “You do know what ‘attractive’ means, right?”

“Of course I do,” Arthur scoffs, about as offended as he ever gets, which is to say, hardly at all. “What do you take me for?”

As luck would have it, Carolyn picks that exact moment to emerge from the crowd, phone still in hand. “Ah, there you are, drivers. I bring good news.”

“Absolutely not, Carolyn,” Nigel interrupts her before she can get another word in. “I don’t care if it’s the Queen herself, tomorrow’s our first day off in weeks, and I’m not going to give up on that.”

“O ye of little faith,” Carolyn sighs dramatically, and just like that, the entire conversation is forgotten.

.

A week later they’re on standby, and it’s just the two of them in the Portakabin – Nigel having apparently decided he feels lucky enough to brave the airfield canteen for a latte and whatever it is they’re trying to pass off today as pastries – when Arthur approaches him, and from the look on his face, he’s been ruminating about this for quite a long time.

“Douglas,” the boy begins, somewhat hesitantly. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he sighs, putting his pencil down and pushing the crosswords further away on his desk. “Go on.”

“I mean, it’s kind of a personal question. You don’t have to, if you’d rather not.”

“I’m not telling you how I got your mother’s Talisker off the plane, if that’s what you’re planning to ask,” he ventures, and that seems enough to momentarily derail Arthur’s train of thought.

“Wasn’t going to ask about that, actually,” Arthur shakes his head at length. “You know that game you and Nigel were playing in Prague?”

Douglas nods, slowly. “Bit sexist, I’ll give you that. Still, just a spot of harmless fun, hey? No harm done.”

“Yes, no, I mean – I’m still not sure what it was all about.”

“Come on, Arthur, I distinctly remember you mentioning at least two different girlfriends ever since I started out here at MJN Air. You can’t be seriously suggesting you didn’t at least have an idea as to what was going on there.”

“But,” Arthur pleads, a faint note of distress starting to tinge his voice. “You and Nigel, you’re both married, right?”

Douglas is suddenly reminded of everything he’s managed to piece together about Carolyn’s ex-husband – Arthur’s father – so far, and quickly realises he’d better tread carefully now. “Yes, we are, Arthur. I promise neither of us was seriously planning on cheating on our respective wives; it was more of a hypothetical question, you know – something along the lines of, who would you rather sleep with if you weren’t married. Not one out best moments, as far as game material goes, but there you go.”

“Yes, but – I was wondering, how can you tell?”

“How can I tell what, exactly?” It’s Douglas’s turn to start feeling confused, if he’s perfectly honest. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

“That you’d like to, you know. With them.”

“Arthur,” that half-formed idea from a week ago is back now, and it’s getting more and more disturbing by the moment. “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never – ”

He trails off, struggling to reassess the situation to the very best of his judgement. “Not,” he hastens to add, “that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Oh, you mean sex,” Arthur nods his head sagely. “Yes, I’ve done that.”

“Right,” Douglas feels pretty much like he’s grasping at straws now, but he’s still determined to see this through, whatever this is. “So, you must have been able to tell, that you wanted to. That you were attracted to them.”

“Well, that was easy. They were my girlfriends, of course I knew I fancied them. How does it work with someone you’ve never even spoken to?”

“Surely, with each of your girlfriends, you had to go through a stage in which they were but strangers you’d only just met?”

Arthur tilts his head to one side, considering. “I suppose so, yeah. I still didn’t know I wanted to have sex with them back then, though.”

“It’s not – you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is. You were attracted to them, that’s the point. Doesn’t matter the exact moment you decided to act on it, so to speak.”

“But, I mean – with your wives, you didn’t just – I don’t know, look at someone walking past you on the street and go, oh, I know I’d like to have sex with them one day.”

“It was precisely like that with the current Mrs Richardson, in point of fact,” he points out, though he elects to omit the – neither small nor insignificant – detail that he didn’t so much bump into Helena on a stroll through the park as she was one of the bridesmaids at his second wedding.

“Oh. Okay. No, it doesn’t work like that for me at all.”

Douglas can almost hear the wheels inside his own head finally click into gear. His daughter would be appalled if she knew he’d put most of her half-hour lecture on sexual orientations and gender identities out of his mind as soon as she was finished with it, but he hasn’t precisely forgotten it, either. “If I recall correctly, some people experience sexual attraction differently than most. As in, some might not experience it at all, while others do but only occasionally, or under very specific circumstances. I’m not saying that might be your case, but I believe it could be something worth looking into, should you feel like you want to.”

For the longest of moments, Arthur stands stock still, turning the idea over and over in his mind. “Wow,” he exhales at length. “That’s just – wow. Thank you, Douglas.”

Before he knows it, he finds himself with an armful of Arthur, looking for all the world like he’s out on a mission to put the ‘bear’ into ‘bear hug’.

“Oh dear,” Carolyn’s voice makes itself heard from where she’s only just materialised in the doorway, clearly debating whether or not she has the energy to deal with whatever nonsense is going on in there. “Please tell me it’s not Hug Your Pilot Day, again.”

“That’s not even a thing,” Douglas protests, only to think better of it. It’s Arthur they’re talking about, after all.

“Don’t be silly, Mum,” Arthur grins, unrepentant. “That’s not until May.”

“Someone give me strength,” Carolyn huffs under her breath, even as her son plants a quick peck on her cheek and dashes off, only narrowly avoiding knocking Nigel – who appears to have finally found his way back to the Portakabin – over in the process.

“This is going to be a long day,” Nigel announces philosophically to no one in particular, and resumes his usual place behind his desk.

[la-luna-es-hermosa]

Squirt (Kai x Reader)

※ Title: Squirt

※ Businessman!AU || Businessman!Jongin || Rich people AU!

※ One-shot || Genre: Smut || Just plain smut || Squirting

※ Paring: Kai x Reader

※ Summary: When (Y/N) turned 21, Jongin, her boyfriend wanted to explore deeper into their relationship.

※ Warning(s): Age Gap

※ Word Count: 2,278

※ Note: I’m sorry I wasn’t able to keep my promise. I just didn’t have any motivation on what to write since I am also arranging my writing commissions, I hope you can check it out! I’m just gathering interest as of right now since I have not arranged my PayPal yet (probably it will be open as soon as next year starts)

※ Main Masterlist || Commissions 

Just right after her 21st birthday, (Y/N) and Jongin went on a hotel suite. Being her long time lover. Their relationship is quite secretive. Of course, Jongin has a name to maintain, as a CEO of a real estate company, he would never let anyone know their relationship and ruin his reputation. Their age gap alone is problematic, what more if they know Jongin’s into BDSM? They’ve been having connections since she was 18. (Y/N) being the daughter of one of his business partners, his main contractor, Robert.

Laying on her eyes was something Jongin never thought. When he saw the girl with Robert. Coming from school and sitting in the field office working hard on her school works, he immediately fell hard on her. He even frequented her country, (Country) to just see her. He fell madly in love with her. But, just like him, she fell hard on him too. But she stops herself. Seeing him remove his safety hat, his forehead was dripping with sweat, damn! That is where she fell really hard for him.

But as a CEO, Jongin was pressured by his parents to get married. 

“Jongin, baby, please get married already. Your father did not die and give this company to you if you’re just going to make it your life.” His mom said in dismay.

“But who am I going to marry?” Jongin asked. He already has someone in mind, but he doesn’t want to get married to (Y/N), yet, we mean, he can’t.

“The daughters of our business partners. There are a lot of them. Jennie and Seungyeon are really pretty.” His mother responded to him. Both women are his type, but it ain’t it.

“No. If I’m going to marry someone, I’d like that someone to be someone I want to be with forever. I want (Y/N).” When those words came out of Jongin’s mouth, his mother was shocked.

“Sweetie, no. (Y/N), she’s too young for you. Please understand that.” His mom thought of a reply. He can’t marry (Y/N) that is what his mom knows for sure.

Agreeing on a daddy-babygirl kind of relationship is intense in itself, but they never did the deed. Jongin felt bad about fucking her. - Right timing. Right after they arrive on the beautiful island of Amanpulo, Jongin will execute his other intentions. It was a night beautifully planned. Jongin has been waiting four goddamn years to execute all of this. He will surely devour the woman in front of him.

While Jongin was carrying her, - bridal style, of course, she knows it already. She knows what will happen. Jongin finally arrived at the suite’s huge bedroom, he just kicked the door open. He dropped her in the Narra wood desk. Her hands are holding on the table, scared of what is happening next. The impatient man started undoing the lace that tied the beautiful long gown together. The dress was insanely beautiful. - it was in a lavender purple, with white pearls decorated around the long beautiful train. Though admiring the beauty of the dress, Jongin wants her out of that dress. - instantly.

When the lace was done being undone, the dress instantly fell on the brown carpeted floor. But Jongin was in for a treat. The beautiful dress soon revealed the lingerie. - The oh-so cliche lingerie girls wear on the night of their lives, she was extremely waiting for it. (Y/N), herself was skeptical about wearing it. Thinking it was too risky, it was her friend Rose who suggested she wear the lingerie. 

After seeing the beautiful black lace corset, hugging her curves just right, paired with matching black lace thongs and black lace stockings, Jongin’s eyes and erection were in for a treat tonight. His ever-growing member stood still, having the tight feeling in his black pants. He can’t stand it. He’s so impatient… he wants to ram his not-so-little Jongin on her little pussy.

He unbuckled his black belt immediately. Then he unzipped his pants. - Barely removing it. His hard member immediately stood up. The man didn’t wear underwear, a stupid decision on his part. His member was around 8 inches long, fat and veiny, dripping with precum. Then, he grabbed something from his pocket. - A small tube of lube. “Daddy’s gotta lube up or else I can't fit it.” He had a bigger smirk in him as he started putting lube on his hard cock.

“Why can’t you have sex with me without lube? I’m wet enough daddy, am I? I want it inside of me too, not just you.” The debutant asked him. In a very seducing voice. Where did she fucking learn that from? He asked himself. Maybe from watching porn? He continued his doubts. But hot damn! She really wants him just as much as he wanted him. From the beginning, Jongin knew she’s only stopping herself from doing that.

“Sorry baby girl, but daddy’s impatient.” Before the girl could even tell him she’s a virgin, Jongin set aside her panties. He did not even have the patience to remove it. He needs a quick release. - right here, right now. It earned a high pitched moan. He flipped her over, seeing his beautiful girl. He finally inserted his very hard cock on her wet pink folds. (Y/N) is excited and scared at the same time.

(Y/N) was quick to expect pain from Jongin. Looking that he’s already so horny and his eyes are filled with lust, she closed her eyes quickly. He saw what she was doing. So he decided to carefully insert the huge cock in her. Inch by inch. He did put the lube, just for some lubrication, though she’s really wet already. “Baby girl, please don’t worry, I won’t hurt you… and damn you’re right…” Jongin affectionately said. 

Kissing her pinkish lips. It was a soft kiss, as soft as cotton candy, but the kiss was mostly tongue, she can taste the Lechon and Lechon sauce from Jongin’s mouth. He was finished drilling his cock on her tight little pussy, earning a moan from the younger woman. He started it at a devilishly slow pace. “Daddy please faster! Let’s move to the bed…” She grabbed his back that was still heavily clothed. Unlike before she doesn’t feel the sharp pain anymore.

Jongin was quick to follow, cause he’s so fucking horny, also it turns him on when she begs on him. The guy carried the woman again but to the bed this time. Her legs spread wide. Then, thrusting, he went from 1 to 100, devilishly slow to devilishly fast. She was panting from the pleasure she’s receiving. She arched her back, ‘cause holy fuck if someone can give you as good of a sex Mr. Kim Jongin can, you will arch your back no matter what. “Fuck Jongin, fuck! Daddy oh my God!” She moaned loudly, then, she could feel a knot forming on her stomach. All from this intense pleasure of course.

Jongin did not hesitate to make her cum. The girl deserves it. Since this horny bastard is still not going to cum any minute now. Even when (Y/N), his little girl - correction his wife, already spat out her sticky come and is currently riding her orgasm, the horny fuck still fucks her real good. “Daddy, I'm too sensitive!” She moaned at him as she tried to remove his coat from him. 

While still roughly thrusting into her pussy, damn! This guy has God-level stamina, he proceeded to get his hands from her back and tear his own shirt. Out of more raging impatience, he tore her panties apart too. He kicked his own pants and now he is completely naked. He started thrusting harder than ever, earning a moan from (Y/N) who was writhing with sensitivity. “Daddy, ah! Fuck, please Jongin faster”

The young lady is about to release her own come as well. “Damn I waited so long to touch you… I’ve waited three damn years to touch you” The man exclaimed. He really waited that long to actually have sex with her. - He punishes her by butt spanking, but never sex. When he’s needy, he always asks her for oral sex. When she’s the one needy, he fingers her, but never inserts his gigantic length in her.

“Fuck! You felt so good, it was all worth it!” Jongin moaned louder as the young girl digs her sharp painted nails in his back, whimpering and silently moaning his name like a mantra. Encouraging Jongin to just slam his length on her a bit harder as his pace was getting quite slow.

His cock buried deep into her slit even more. But as much as the two don’t want the fun to stop, Jongin ends up cumming on her little pussy. It also timed in with the young woman’s release, coating his monster cock “Baby…” He hugged her tightly as he flipped their positions. (Y/N) is now on top of him, his back on the comfortable mattress. With his skillful hands, he started removing the corset from her body. Unhooking it one by one, earning a moan from the young one.

“Am I really too young for you?” She asked him. She was blushing way redder than any tomatoes. Of course, she would ask that, with their unbearable age gap of 10 years. He was distracted when he saw her small boobs pop from the restraints of the corset. It was small, yes, but Jongin likes it enough. As much as he likes sexy ladies, he does not really go for the tits. He’s an ass guy. Everyone knows that for sure.

“No… baby girl, you’re just right.” Jongin kissed her boobs and started sucking on them. Just like that, he can earn a moan from her. Everything he does turns this horny bitch on. Then, he drifted on her neck, sucking it in. Since her beautifully curled hair was getting out of the way, she grabs a conveniently placed black hair tie on the Narra wood nightstand.

When her hair was sloppily tied, Jongin began planting butterfly kisses on her collarbone. Earning a moan from the little girl. He found her sensitive spot and left a hickey on the area. “Round 2?” Jongin asked, smirking, he was turned on yet again when he saw his cum dripping all over her. It was dripping all over her little pussy, Jongin was fine with it, her pussy had sparse pubic hair over it, but nothing is different. - He saw her grow in every aspect.

“Oh my God, really…” She smirked at him as she got on the other side of the bed. She grabbed one of the white pillows, laying her head on it. Then, she lifted her ass up, laying her head on the pillow, looking into Jongin’s eyes. She wanted Jongin to fuck her doggy style this time.

Jongin was immediate to respond. He stood on his knees and got on her ass. “Baby girl, wanna film ya?” He asked her in a very seducing voice, slapping her. If (Y/N) can seduce, definitely Jongin sounds like he’s a sex God or something with his seducing abilities. He’s absolutely charming indeed. That is the reason why she fell in love with him.

She immediately responded to him, smirking, “Sure daddy”, Jongin immediately grabbed his phone from the nightstand and opened his camera app. His member was showing as well as (Y/N)’s ass, which he slapped. When the video started rolling, she was moaning loudly as he thrust his member yet again in her hole. He can never get enough of her. It gained, even more, moans from the young lady.

"Daddy… Please… I'm near." The young girl begged. He thrust harder as he started rubbing her clit with his calloused fingers. She started gripping onto the bedsheet as she arched her back. Jongin growled as he could feel her g-spot. He moved his phone on the nightstand, the camera still rolling in front of them.

Her velvety pink walls clenching at every thrust he makes. "(Y/N), you're so tight… please know that I love you!" He told her as he got his cock out of her tight hole and entered his three big fingers in her little hole. He went on her back, the said fingers snaked on her hole. He started roughly thrusting his fingers back and forth on her.

Legs spread as wide as ever, (Y/N) arched her back and gripped on the silky bedsheet. Arching her back so sexily in front of the beast that is devouring her. Her eyes rolled above with so much pleasure he is giving to her. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I think I am in heaven!" Her soft yet fragile voice said. His fingers had thrust enough and just as expected, watery substance started to leak out of her pussy. It was like an explosion."Fuck! You cum so well!" Jongin expressed.

Then, he moved out. He walked in front of her as his tongue went on her pussy to leak her cum clean. "Daddy is so good with his tongue, isn't he? Ah..." (Y/N) teasingly said with a moan as her fingers ran through his silky black hair. His hands opening her legs wide. - Showing her milky thighs. When he finished licking all of her cum clean, "You're so delicious." Jongin said as he licked his fingers in front of her.

Right after he cleaned his fingers, "Are you ready?" He suddenly asked her. "Yes." She firmly answered, panting heavily on the bed. She can feel her body shaking with all the action they did.

"Let's continue, this time, privately," Jongin said with a smirk

[kaypeace21]

I have a question but I just want to say first that I love your theories. They’re very well thought-out and interesting. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you could explain how Mike is queer-coded? I’ve seen you mention it and I’ve seen others talk about his attraction to androgynous El, but is there more? Thanks!

ALOT MORE! I talked about it here in the past- but without getting too much into s3 (since I’ve already talked about s3 byler extensively).I’ll just have links for everything I noticed in s3 at the bottom of this post. In regards to s1 and 2, Mike was heavily coded as queer. But most significantly this was done in s1- arguably he was more queer coded than Will ever was. I won’t get into all the details (we’d be here all day) but the highlights, at the top of my head are-

s1

- Mike in his his basement has a red heart being propelled by a rainbow.

- 4 separate characters said El looked like a boy, but Mike doesn’t care! Even one of the men thought El might be the missing ‘Byers boy’. When El loses her wig , Troy said “she doesn’t even look like a girl” to the cops. But Mike just calls her “really pretty”

-Nancy says “I thought you were acting weird, but I thought it was because of Will” And Mike responds “I thought you were acting weird too I thought it was because of Steve … Do you like Jonathan now”?” Nancy: “No, do you like Eleven?”. They literally compared the explicit love triangle between Steve/Nancy/Jonathan to the Will-Mike-El dynamic!

- Mike literally uses gender inclusive pronouns when talking about crushes using the word “someone” (3 times), and embarrassing himself because he can’t articulate the difference between friendship and romance. When he could of simply given the 80s heteronormative  answer of ‘when a boy likes a girl’.

Mike: “ you go to school dances with someone. 

You know someone that you like” 

El: “a friend?”

Mike: ‘not a friend uh … uh someone like a” (gives up and kisses her)

-Mike’s mom said “ What’s been going on with Will, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you. I just … want you to feel like you can talk to me. I never want you to feel like you have to HIDE anything from me” (she even emphasizes the word ‘hide”  (which is heavily queer coded)

- when Will ‘dies’, “we can be heroes” by David bowie (a bisexual singer) plays,   “And we kiss as though nothing could fall and the shame” is the lyric that plays when Mike returns to his house and cries in his mother’s arms over the ‘death’ of Will. Do I have to explain how ‘kissing and shame’ are queer-coded . And how such a lyric is oddly romantic- if we’re supposed to see their bond as nothing but platonic XD

-his dad jokes “Absolutely not” *turns to wife* “our son with a girl?”.

- when Lucas makes fun of his crush on EL, Lucas gets down on one knee  and says “ I love you so much, will you marry me?” and literally 1s later, we’re introduced to the bullies and the idea (for the first time) that Will is ‘gay’, and Mike is in the forefront of the scene and unlike his friends he is THE ONLY ONE physically assaulted (like a gay-bashing) .  They leave Lucas and Dustin unharmed. Even though Lucas just proposed to another guy- which should have gotten him a beating by the homophobic bullies.

It’s supposed to subconsciously hint Mike is queer like Will, and likes Will. The first interaction with the bullies, they mention Will being ‘gay’ right after they mention Mike’s crush on androgynous El and have a guy propose to Mike. Mike says to “ignore them” ( the homophobic remarks) but is assaulted anyways. And when asked what happed he doesn’t want to tell El the details cause he’s ashamed . 

2nd time the bullies talk about Will, Mike is once again in the forefront, unlike his straight friends who are in the background . But this time Mike initiates the confrontation), as the bullies say Will is “flying in fairyland with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay”. Mike was literally on the verge or tears at this comment (despite being happy a few moments earlier , telling the others to ‘act sad’ because they’d look suspicious other wise). But this is the comment where Mike snaps and pushes Troy back (because he took it personally/wanted to defend Will). 

The framing of Mike once again being in the front and snapping at the homophobic remarks (these gifs don’t do it justice, just rewatch the scene -Mike eyes water at the remarks). Then the last time the bullies appear , Mike jumps off the cliff and “flies like a fairy” (like Troy said) thanks to El . Troy at the police station even uses the word “fly” not levitate.

- Mike proclaiming “I’m the only one who cares about Will!” Seems like something a kid with a crush might say ( because obviously his other friends care about Will). But he thinks he cares the most.

-Mike sneaking out to find Will, as Steve sneaks in to Nancy’s. They both even make eye contact (and pretend not to have seen each other).

- they share dinosaur toys , in s1 and 2 they appear to be the only ones with dinosaur toys.

- The s1 mom hug scene where Mike feels he lost Will is paralleled in s3 - signifying how he lost him a 2nd time.

- Mike in the 1st ep being the one to insist on looking for Will in the rain (callback to s3). But he never went looking for El when he saw her through his window? Even when Mike saw Will’s dead body, the second he heard his voice he convinced his friends to help rescue him!

- You remember the binder (from s1) that Mike keeps, filled with 100s of Will’s drawings, and how he caresses the drawing after thinking Will was dead. That’s totes platonic.

s2

- Will in all 3 seasons identifies as a wizard. But in s2 Mike (the paladin) says Will is a cleric. Meaning this reflects how Mike actually feels about Will. In d&d, they have similar moral values, powers, and generally need and depend on each other in the lore of d&d. Paladins have similar healing powers to clerics, but clerics have stronger healing abilities - which is interesting since Mike has always been viewed as the protector. But to Mike Will has helped him (maybe deal with the loss of El and other trauma) , just by being there. And if Mike says Will is a cleric,despite Will still identifying as a wizard in s3, it shows how deeply Mike actually feels about Will. It shows he views Will as one of the only people who understands him and views him as a healing presence and his moral compass.

“ strength of conviction gave many paladins a sense of common fellowship but did not always endear them to others. In many cases, paladins did not get along quite as well with other non-paladin adventurers, with the exception of clerics with similar beliefs.”

“A Paladin tries to hold to the highest standards of conduct, but even the most virtuous Paladin is fallible. Sometimes the heat of emotion causes a Paladin to transgress his or her oath (of honesty, courage, compassion, honor ,and duty). A paladin who has broken a vow typically seeks absolution from a cleric who shares his or her faith or from another paladin of the same order. After a rite of confession and forgiveness, the paladin starts fresh.

-Mike stands next to Will under the rainbow poster

- Mike forces Will to dance with a girl, but you literally see Mike’s shocked expression like  ‘what,why’d I do that ?’ And after this, they show Dustin looking sad about Max/Lucas dancing and then they have Mike get into the frame (next to Dustin) and look sad when Will/girl are dancing in the same exact frame as Max/Lucas. As they switch between these 2 shots.

- All the mileven byler parallels or byler scenes were almost ALL initiated by Mike. If the parallels were meant to show a one sided love triangle (on Mike’s end). They would of made Will the instigator not Mike! Parallels can be watched here , start at 6:50)

-Mike initiated the “crazy together’ line- and in s3 he said ‘blank makes you crazy’. So subconsciously he knew the line had romantic connotations.

-Mike initiating the hand hold (with a zoom in shot) and in the show this is only done for romantic pairings. Also Mike being the one to initiate the ‘arm thing’ which is generally romantic. But in s3 , Lucas also does this, saying “I am spending quality time with my girlfriend’

-Mike saying, asking him to be his friend was the “best thing I’ve ever done”

-Mike constantly following Will around, asking if he’s okay or biking to his house to check on him. In s3 running out to chase Will to the garage and apologizing, and running into a storm to apologize a 2nd time.

YOU SEE A PATTERN! Mike is whipped! And is the one constantly chasing and pursuing Will, not the other way around! Before s3, people always portrayed Will as the (stereotypical- problematic trope of ) a sad-pinning-gay in a one sided love with Mike. It’s like people didn’t even watch the show (and just assigned tropes/stereotypes they wanted, that weren’t actually there). Will (probably too shy or scared to- because of homophobic taunts) never initiated a single byler moment- it was ALWAYS Mike!!! If people were actually objective, they would of thought it was Mike who was the one pinning! I talked about it here. 

We literally only saw Will pine or be jealous in s3 when Mike was in a relationship with El/when they fought.  

The cannon Spotify playlists

called ‘Mike’s basement beats’- These are character playlists that Spotify and St worked on together after s2.

-his first song is “small town boy” an 80s LGBT anthem about living in a small town and being queer and bullied. Every band member was openly gay.

-his 11th song is ‘don’t you want me’ from a “celebrate your gay pride” album

S3

I’m not repeating my literal essays so here are the links to pretty much all my s3 byler meta.  (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

- brief s3 mentions) it’s implied Will and Mike go on movie double dates all the time (right after he makes out with El). He celebrates the holidays (generally associated with introducing s.os) with Will/El. The breakup with El is treated comedically - and all Mike does is complain and burp on the couch. The byler breakup is serious (with the backdrop of rain)while Mike was visibly upset he hurt Will and apologized twice almost immediately . Running to the garage and then into the rain and banging on his door (s2 callback). The “it was the best thing I’ve ever done “ shed scene was shot purposely more romantic than the pool shed scene of “you’re the most important thing in the world to me”. The fact he think “blank makes you crazy”,and he used a similar line on Will in s2. The fact that Mike equates falling in love with girls as a part of growing up and his love for El as something “old people” say. While his affections for Will , he believes are childish (like d&d) and something he has to grow out of. The “I love her” scene was treated comedically. The last Mike/Will exchange vs Mike having his eyes open and not kissing El back . Not remembering he said “I love her”, and dismissing it as something he said in the heat of the moment. Mike looking back at the Byers house , then flashing to Will crying, than flashing back to Mike hugging his mom. Then those scenes having a monologue about not wanting feelings to change but how it’s inevitable.

Also we see in s3 (in El’s room) the return of the heart being propelled by a rainbow.

No hate, but I’m honestly flabbergasted when people think Mike is straight when he’s literally MORE queer coded than Will. Is it just my autistic brain seeing things as obvious, that others easily miss- or just people refuse to see it … or heteronormativity getting in the way?

gif credit : (not sure about the first 2, tell me if they’re yours so I can give credit), last 3 by  eggogorgon , the last gif by cath-avery

[yurimother]

Our Dreams at Dusk: Shimanami Tasogare - LGBTQ Review

Writing reviews is generally pretty simple for me. I set up the story of the work, discuss the characters and their dynamics, talk about the art, overuse the word “adorable” and then analyze about whatever romance or LGBT elements are present in it. However, Our Dreams at Dusk: Shimanami Tasogare deserves more than that. This is not some fluffy schoolyard romance, it is an honest, powerful, and stupendous work of queer literature. I spent almost a full day slowly working my way through the original volumes in preparation for the English adaptation’s release and words can hardly capture the sheer power and raw emotion contained in this series. I feel perfectly comfortable in saying that Shimanami Tasogare is the greatest manga I have ever read.

WARNING: this review contains spoilers for all four volumes of the manga

Our Dreams at Dusk: Shimanami Tasogare is written and illustrated by Yuhki Kamatani, who is a member of the LGBTQ+ community themselves and identifies as X-gender and asexual. Their illustrations are breathtaking. All the characters designs are distinct and the environments are detailed. But careful use of visual storytelling and employment of gorgeous surreal imagery is nothing short of artistic genius. These striking moments (literally) illustrate the characters’ emotions in ways far more complex and powerful than words ever could.

For example, the four pages which close the third chapter begin very minimally, with no background and only close-ups of character’s faces without words. Suddenly, it explodes into a visual representation of the protagonist's feelings, his realization, his fear, his overwhelming panic, and his confusion. Excerpts such as this are visceral, brutally effective, and hauntingly beautiful.

No matter how much praise I have to offer the remarkable illustrations, it is nothing compared to the commendations I give the story. It begins just as protagonist Tasuku Kaname stands over a bridge, contemplating jumping. People are making fun of Tasuku at school because of a rumor that he is gay and he believes his life might be over. However, he does not jump after he sees a strange girl in the distance leap from the window of a drop-in center.

Rushing over, he finds that this girl, called Someone, is the mysterious owner of the drop-in center. She tells him that the center is a gathering place for LGBTQ+ and that he can tell her anything, but that she will not listen. Soon Tasuku begins spending his summer at the center, working to fix up an old house with some of it other patrons, and learning everyone’s story. Each of the people at the center has an LGBTQ+ identity. In small arcs, which naturally cross and interweave with each other, Tasuku comes to better understand them and their identity as they work to navigate the world as a queer person.

One of the first stories told is that of Haruko Daichi and her wife Saki. Although they have not been able to get hold a ceremony, they consider themselves married. Haruko used to be guarded and quiet, lying to herself about being happy. When she finally came out and told her parents that she was a relationship, their relationship fell apart, a story far too common in the LGBT community. However, it is in this community that Haruko found solace and acceptation, thanks to participating in online forums and circles she accepted herself.

In one of these online groups she meets Saki, and they fell in love. Haruko’s greatest wish it to have a real wedding celebration so that everyone who knows her and Saki can celebrate them and their love together. Saki, however, feels differently. Although she is very much in love with Haruko, she does not want to risk starting fires by publicly coming out to her parents and relatives or holding such a brazen display of their love. This fear is held by many queer people, “how will I be seen if I come out? No one will accept me.”

Volume two of the manga follows the story of Shuufi Misora, a young child questioning their gender identity. At the center, Misora dresses as a girl, wearing dresses, makeup, and wigs, but outside they present as a boy (the gender they were assigned as at birth). They are initially somewhat hostile towards Tasuku, who is kind and compliments Misora regularly on their clothing while at the center, but one day asks to go to his house.

While there, Misora asks Tasuku some questions about being male and expresses their fear of their voice changing and getting body hair. Tasuku asks them, “do you want to be a girl?” Misora tells him that they do not know, but more than anything they feel so isolated and misunderstood. Before they can leave, Tasuku takes their hand.

After this, Tasuku encourages Misora to live as a transgender woman and eventually pushes them to go outside while presenting as feminine. The two go to a festival together and enjoy themselves. However, when someone gropes Misora’s butt, Tasuku remarks in an offhand comment that they did it because Misora looked cute. Misora, feeling angry, confused, and pushed by Tasuku explodes into a homophobic tirade, shouting at him before running away. After that, they do not return to the drop-in center.

Tasuku pushed Misora too much to come out, to take on the identity of being transgender. But, nobody can force a queer person to accept their identity or come out before they are ready and sure of their identity. Misora was still questioning themselves and Tasuku’s attempts to put them into a box and have them live a certain way was happening too quickly. I think that this is the chapter during which I broke down crying at the end, it resonated with me so deeply (it was two in the morning at this point and I had been up all day translating the Japanese text). I remember how much I struggled with my sexuality before coming out as queer. I think that the words a colleague once told me years later apply best, “ everyone comes out at the perfect time for them, there is no 'too early' or 'too late', just ‘ready’ and ‘not yet.’”

Volume three tells the story of Utsumi. He is extraordinarily kind, gentle, and charismatic. One day, while working the renovating the house with several volunteers, a woman comments that she knew him in high school, but that he presented as female back then, revealing him to be a transgender man. She asks him to attend a high school reunion, which he does and encourages him to speak at her daughter’s school. It becomes clear that she is a problematic ally, seeing queerness as a sort of illness and believes that he should work to teach everyone else about his identity.

Utsumi responds that she is reducing him to being only a trans man and that this is only one part of his identity, that he is so much more than that. Often allies want queer people to act as the voice and teacher of their identity and reduce that person to only being the token gay or token transgender person. They are not given the freedom to be their own person. This is what she is trying to do to Utsumi. However, he refuses and after that, she no longer interacts with the group.

In the fourth and final volume, the story of Tchaiko is told. He is the elderly visitor of the center and enjoys playing compositions by Tchaikovsky for everyone to listen to. He is gay, and his partner of thirty years, Agawa, is passing away. Agawa left his family, including his son to live as a gay man and be with Tchaiko. Unfortunately, he was not able to have both a child and live as who he was, and was forced to make a decision between the two.

Fortunately, Agawa’s son has begun to visit him in the hospital room, but while he is there Tchaiko stays away, as the son is not aware of their relationship. Tchaiko however, does not resent this, and loves texting Agawa and visiting while the son is not there. However, he acknowledges that, as he is not legally a member of his family, he cannot be there while Agawa dies. The legal rights of gay couples is a long source of grief for many.

I recall my friends getting ready to move to England with their two young children. They were married legally in the State that we live in (Massachusetts) but they had no federal rights and one of them was soon to be deported. Luckily for them, same-sex marriage was legalized across the country just weeks before they were to be evicted, and they were allowed to stay. The story I tell is a victorious one, but for so many people and their partners, they have so much tale. The law and discrimination keep them from experiencing every aspect of their life together.

Through Tchaiko, Tasuku learns of Someone’s past. He describes her as a person who wanted to live in isolation. In the past, before adopting the name “Someone” she tells Tchaiko and Agaway that she is most likely asexual, but that she is unable to find a place where she belongs, that whatever she does she cannot explain her identity.

The two men comment how strange it is that nobody is allowed to just live their lives in solitude, to live without having to explain, educate, and identify oneself, to just be “somebody.” It is at this moment that Somebody realizes that this is exactly what she wants. She takes the name Somebody and chooses to let go of labels and lives the way that she wants to.

I can hardly explain how much I identified with Somebody. I am not asexual, but I never found that labels worked for me, that I needed to be able to identify myself as straight or gay or fit into any of those boxes. For that reason, I do not identify my sexuality. I am queer, as a person who falls under the LGBTQ+ umbrella, but no more than that.

This final volume begins to bring about resolution to many of the conflicts and issues introduced in previous chapters but I will not go into detail about those here. Just know that I found each solution to be believable, well written, and satisfying. What I really want to talk about, is Tasuku’s journey and his relationship with Tsubaki.

Tsubaki is Tasuku’s classmate, whom he has a crush on. Tasuku struggles so greatly with coming to terms with these feelings and is helped greatly by his friends at the center. But these difficulties are exacerbated when he and Tsubaki become friends. His situation quickly takes a turn for the worse as Tsubaki starts to toy with Tasuku. Soon he begins making homophobic and transphobic remarks about the frequenters of the center. Tasuku stays silent, standing there tortured and wounded by his friend's hurtful remarks.

Things only get worse when Someone starts talking to Tsubaki about his sexuality, acknowledging that he is repressed and lashing out. Tsubaki angrily dismisses the idea. Finally, he confronts Tasuku, acknowledging that obvious fact that Tasuku is gay and verbally assaulting him and the center. And then, in what is absolutely my favorite moment from the wonderful manga, Tasuku stands up to him! He confesses his sexuality and affection for Tsubaki, tells him how much the center means to him and how much good it has done, and that what Tsubaki is doing is wrong. “I want you to know that what you’ve said has hurt me. It’s not like I want your sympathy or apology! I just don’t want you to hurt anyone else!”

My. God. YESSS!!

This is such an incredibly powerful moment, to see the struggling Tasuku stand up and tell off his friend, the person that he loves. To tell him that his actions are hurtful and wrong. This was such a triumphant moment for the character. The sheer number of people that I, that every queer person encounters in their lives that hurts us and that we want to tell off. Seeing this was cathartic and affirming for me in so many ways. Not only do we see Tasuku take this stand, but Tsubaki listens. He understands and realizes that his actions were ignorant, and hurtful, and cruel. After this, he begins to hang around the center more and become more accepting of the others and himself.

Our Dreams at Dusk: Shimanami Tasogare expresses so many realistic and relatable stories of LGBTQ+ people that are told so beautifully and fully. If you are a queer person you need to read this manga, if you are questioning you need to read this manga, if you are an ally you need to read this manga, if you are a parent you need to read this manga, if you have no idea what LGBT life is like you need to read this manga.

Yuhki Kamatani has created the most honest, emotional, and affirming portrayal of living as an LGBTQ+ person that I have ever read in a manga. My feeble attempts to analyze it and express my appreciation here are laughable. My advice, get your hands on a copy right away!

To try and quantify this work with categorical scores would be nothing but insulting so I will end with only the overall rating: 10/10

Our Dreams at Dusk: Shimanami Tasogare Volume 1 is available now in at major North American retailers digitally and in print and volumes 2-4 are available for pre-order

Support yuri and LGBTQ+ content, news, and reviews by funding YuriMother on Patreon

All images are used for review purposes only and are owned by Yuhki KAMATANi, Shogakukan, and Seven Sea’s Entertainment. Please support the manga’s official release

[timebuzzer]

Ever After Chapter 15.4

Disclaimer: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. SKIP IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS KIND OF CONTENT.

This is Sage and Alex again, okay? They are married and on HONEYMOON. Don't forget that. AND this is just a product of our imagination. Play the music to add feels? Hahahaha! Enjoy?

This will be the last 🙈

_________________

3rd Person POV

"And anywhere." He utters against the skin on her neck as he tightens his arms around her waist.

"Your smell was so inviting." He whispered, soothing the area with his tongue and a kiss. Unconsciously, she began to shift closer to him, angling herself to give him more access to continue.

Sage's eyes glistened mischievously. She was too lost in the moment with her eyes wistfully closed as he trailed light, soft, and open-mouthed kisses onto her neck, beginning from the back of her ears, down the sides of her throat, and to her shoulder blades.

"You smell so intoxicating as always, Love." He whispered into her ear, his warm breath tickling it, which made her shiver and clutch his arm.

She gasped when he bit the area where her neck met her shoulders, feeling him suckle that sweet spot he's so accustomed to now. She let out a small whimper when he kissed the spot and nipped it again, creating a mark. "Sage, the mosquito is at it again", she thought.

His lips brushed against the sensitive area, "You really do..." His feather-soft lips were teasing her. She was growing dizzy and could barely hold up her own body. Her legs wobbled, but his firm arms held her in place. His torturous seduction was doing things to her that she did not know was possible.

She gasped when his hands left her waist and cupped her bosom without warning, squeezing. Her body melted and her knees gave out even if she was still wearing her satin robe but he held her up. He moved his lips higher up and settled on the side of her neck, lavishing the area with his attention. She let out a quiet, pleased moan, his fingers digging against her robe.

He turned her around and she automatically pressed her body against his chest. His pupils dilated when he felt every curve of her body beneath her clothes. He was supposed to be seducing her, but he felt it was the other way around, and she was doing it effortlessly. "More." She whispered, standing on her tippy-toes, wanting a kiss.

He bent his head as if he was about to kiss her lips. But he didn't. His lips landed on her forehead, her eyes, her nose, and on her cheek, trailing a path to the edge of her soft lips. She was going insane, her hands traveling up his chest and clutching his shoulders.

"No." She sharply breathed in when he squeezed her behind, drawing her closer. He was not playing fair and he knew it too. A devilish smirk was on his face when she attempted to move her face for a kiss, but he moved his mouth first. She groaned in a protest.

After seeing how much she wanted him, he crashed his lips onto hers, one hand traveling behind her neck to angle it better. Their lips feverishly met in a passionate, lustful kiss. She moaned against his mouth, opening her lips for his tongue to dive in and explore every nook and cranny. He pulled back to let her breathe and continued to kiss her closed eyelids, starting from the left to the right. He then peppered her face with gentle kisses as her hands tugged at the ends of his hair. She was driving him equally crazy. He wanted her, every part of him did, but this time he is going to take his time.

Sage remained still for a while but the next second he moved, he untangled the satin robe slowly, letting his fingers trail on her slightly exposed milky skin, sending shivers down Alex’s spine, as the robe was now partly revealing her body, As if she wasn't already aware of his touch, he followed it with warm kisses, starting from her neck moving towards her back and straight down to her waist. As he kissed the base of her spine, he undid the silky cloth off while staring deeply into her eyes and a second later, her robe fell with a soft swoosh, revealing a pair of black lacy lingerie.

The moment he saw her almost naked skin, he sucked in a breath, trying to control his raging little friend. Alex was more comfortable with her pajamas. She had a few pairs of satin lingeries but she rarely wears those and Sage knows that. But when she does, Sage would always lose his mind. However, tonight is an exception because it is a sheer black lace paired with lacy underwear for Pete's sake. Sage could clearly see what's underneath, her white as snow skin and her pink rose ready for him.

This is actually one of Paris' belated bridal shower gift. Alex never knew that the time would come and she would wear these kinds of revealing clothes. But there would never be another night like this again so she would take this opportunity to show her husband just how much she would be willing to offer herself to him and only him.

Sage slightly moved away from her to fully ogle at his wife. He gave her a lingering gaze from top to toe, which made Alex feel slightly embarrassed at being half-naked in front of him but this paled in comparison to her desire to be one with her him.

Alex stared at him seductively, as if noticing his burning desire, and looked at him with her pure, clear eyes. But she decided to break the staring contest and look away as she could not rival his intense burning gaze.

Sage moved closer and touched the tiny bow design in the middle of her chest. His fingertips then moved to slowly trace from the bow of her lingerie to the skin between her bosom, up to her chin, tilting it that made her meet his brown eyes burning with desire.

She felt her heart skip a beat when he gently smiled, "I believe I haven't complimented you enough." He murmured, "They're beautiful." She thought he was referring to her breasts or the lingerie itself, but he was staring at something else, he was staring at her. "I used to own a telescope when I was younger," He leaned in and kissed each of her eyelids, "Yet, none of the stars I've seen in my life could ever rival you. I love every bit of you. I can't seem to fathom how vast these feelings are but I know that losing you will be the death of me, both literally and figuratively, Alex Lee."

Alex's heart pounded against her chest, warming up at his words. His hands then trailed up to her face, his fingers touching every inch of her features until they brushed against her lips. "You never fail to leave me breathless, as always. Thank you..."

As she could no longer contain his words, she then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck before she planted a soft kiss on his lips. Then her hands went down to the hem of his shirt, underneath it, touching his well-sculpted abs.

After that tease his wife just did, Sage burnt from the contact of her delicate fingers on his skin. He then slowly removed his shirt, revealing his perfectly sculpted torso while his eyes were glued to her as she also moved her gaze to his grandeur. Alex would never get tired of admiring his physique. She has seen a lot of men'ss bodies on magazines, TV, or movies, but none could rival his. He was just so well-built, lean, and muscular... It screams perfection that she felt the fire of desire ignite within her.

He gazed at Alex as if asking her for permission to continue what they've started earlier and she answered him by pulling his head down to her so she could devour his lips. It wasn't long before a moan escaped from her as Sage’s hand roamed all over her body. His movements were gentle, almost too slow to caress her like he had all the time in the world.

His hand then wandered down below, to confirm if she was ready for him. His finger graced over her lacy underwear and he was delighted to know that she was excited and he loved it.

However, knowing how long their day had been, Sage didn't want to lose control this time. He wanted to savor this night and he planned to take her slow, gentle.

Sage then led her to the pool in all his grandeur. “Let's try the pool, Love. Want to join me?” He then removed his shorts revealing his gray underwear concealing his on high alert ‘friend’ as he looked at his half-naked wife, teasing her as he dipped into the pool.

As he enjoyed the water, he looked back, expecting to see her follow his suit but found her still standing in the same position he left her beside the pool, looking hesitant and problematic. Alex was contemplating. She was wearing lingerie, as she thought they would go inside after their wine night. If she only knew that he has plans of swimming, she could have just worn a swimsuit underneath.

"But I'm not wearing a swimsuit...You could have said that you have plans of night swimming beforehand." She scoffed at him while crossing her arms on her chest.

“So am I. Come here now, Love. It’s just us here. We set our own rules." He called out. His voice, his gaze, everything about him was hypnotic. He was bewitching her again.

Alex swallowed. The lights around the pool glowed yellow and the atmosphere here felt different at night. It was like it was more romantic than during the day but Alex could tell it was mainly because of the presence of that alluring perfect creature right there.

"I believe you, okay? I know I am beautiful because you are head over heels with me," she told him and when Sage smiled, she immediately stuck her tongue out then let go. She turned and was about to go back to her spot when Sage’s hands wrapped around her tiny waist and pulled her into his embrace, trapping her between his legs.

The first thing Alex felt was his hardness onto her stomach and her face burned. "I'm glad you know that I am head over heels with you. I thought I need to show it to you again." Sage whispered in her ear.

His hands slipped gently teasing her smooth skin, brushing against the edges of her exposed hips before it slowly inched upwards. Her body tensed up in anticipation, waiting for him to do something, but he didn't. Just as she had tortured him before, he was going to do the same.

She let out a soft, contented sigh when his lips inched along her jaw, then dipped down to the spot where her shoulder met her neck, his favorite spot as always. Her fingers entwined into his silky locks, her hips subconsciously moving closer to him, wanting more of him again.

"Are you going to torture me all night?" She asked him, watching as his hands trail down her sides. She shivered at his touch, her body wanting and waiting. He just chuckled upon hearing that his little wife is growing impatient already.

Alex yelped when Sage suddenly scooped her to level with him. She wrapped her arms onto his neck, and her legs onto his waist, instinctively. The water in the pool seemed to become warmer.

He teasingly nipped the most sensitive part of her neck as he squeezes her behind, causing her back to arch, holding onto him. "You're such a tease…" She whispered when he didn't kiss the spot she desperately wanted his lips on.

"Now you know how I feel." He hummed against her skin, his hands exploring over her body. Everywhere he touched ignited her skin. He was taking his own sweet time with her and she knew it too. She trailed off, eyes closing when he began to show her collarbone attention.

They continued the teasing game as Sage moved towards the stairs of the pool and sat there, half of their bodies were still submerged in the water. Alex is now straddling on him. His rough hands on her behind slowly moved upwards to catch her twin peaches softly. Alex bit her lips, suppressing her moan, as she felt the heat from his palms on top of the lace material. He played with her peaches, the lace material against her peaks added sensation that hardened his member, even more, wanting its release. His skillful tongue and hands did wonder to her heating body, including his "friend" that is greeting hers, making her lower region aching a bit.

However, her eyes opened when his hands left her body. "I believe we should take this off." He told her while resting his fingers at the edges of her lacy brassiere. Then he trailed kisses on the blades of her left shoulder, making the strap of her lingerie fell off the sides. He did the same to her right shoulder making the "covering" on her bosom loose, his eyes burning with desire. When he can't take it anymore, he pulled the lingerie up then threw it to the side while his onyx eyes were dripping with lust. He kissed her lips as he continued playing with her peaches directly.

"Can we do it here, Love? Under the starry night," he whispered against her lips with his now husky voice, his hands not stopping from doing their delicious magic, which is now going south.

"B-but… we're outside, ah… not here, Sage…" Alex's tiny bit of reason returned and suddenly felt shy. Not because of her husband, but with the thought that they would do it here, under the moon, the stars. They never tried this before, outdoor.

Sage’s hands, one on her behind squeezed it while the other one busy teasing her sensitive lips making her let out a cute moan. "I'll dim the lights if you want. No one is around here to see us. I wouldn't even dare to let anyone else see your sexy body, this is for myself alone..." He negotiated while his hands continued doing magic on her body. "Consider it logged in our little book of adventures, shall we?"

Alex's mind is getting hazy with his touches that with just one plea, Alex gave in and nodded at him.

Sage smiled. His “friend” began rubbing her down there, on that sensitive spot. The friction from their underwear played havoc on both of them.

He began sucking her lips and she responded, wilder than ever. His wife was beginning to make a move on her own and he loved it, so damn much. Her fingers were tugging his hair as she pulled him closer. Sage wanted it slow but he can't seem to get enough of her that he started increasing his pace as he leaned his forehead with hers with eyes closed.

She pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress her moans. He didn't like that. "Don't bite your lips, Love, moan for me. Don't restrain it. Besides, the butler said the next occupied villa is 5 villas away from us. So we are alone in this villa, no one can hear any sound we make." he uttered and Alex obeyed. She stopped biting her lips and let out soft, yet cute and seductive moans he would never get tired of hearing.

Alex was feeling overwhelmed. She hardly recognized herself. His touch and everything he did to her body felt too good. Every time they got lost in each other's arms, everything in the world just disappeared. No thoughts, no worries, just them, feeling each other and becoming one whole soul.

But he was not going to enter her just yet.

"Sage…" Alex started calling out his name. She felt him become hard against her and the pleasure that she had felt a while ago was starting to resume again.

"Do you want us to continue?" Sage asked her.

Alex’s eyes wandered and in the end, she meekly nodded. She was embarrassed but her body and heart wanted him too. And she thought there was no reason for her not to want it or to hide her want for it.

She saw Sage’s eyes glimmer the moment she nodded and she blushed again. Then his lips went back onto her mouth, capturing it in a gentle kiss. He was slow and sensual, lazily kissing her, allowing her to drown in his seduction. Before realizing it, Sage scooped her into his arms again while their lips never parted.

"I've changed my mind. Let's just continue exploring the outside world during day time. It's getting cold now." He explained. But before she could say anything, "Don't celebrate yet, wife. We are not yet done. Not even starting to collect my dues." He said mischievously as he led her to the en-suite bathroom.

------------------

For visual purposes

Alex's lingerie:

[thatsabae]

Salus - Chanyeol (mafia!au) | Chapter 1

genre: romance/drama/angst

summary: The thought of being back home always tormented you, ever since you left. You thought about all possibilities, but not one where your ex-boyfriend would want to be your friend again, just like before all that mess, as if it would be easy to ignore how your heart still races just by seeing him.

prologue |

Later that day, you would remember how it felt looking at Chanyeol again. It felt warm, the same as it always were, but it also felt different. You couldn’t explain it with words. The same way that it was good, looking at his handsome face again, it was dangerous. Dangerous because of how much your heartbeat increased. 

Before Chanyeol had his chance to say his own ‘hi’ back, you felt Minseok’s hand pressing your arm, pulling you behind himself so fast that you had to hold onto him to not fall from your high heels. 

“Don’t!” He whispered, pointing his finger to Chanyeol’s face. You felt the world twisting, leaving you sick. “Stay there”. 

Everyone was shocked at his reaction. The last time they all saw each other, that was not the mood. They were all friends, if not, at least friendly. What could have changed?

“Minseok, what’s wrong with you?” You whisper angrily, trying to hold back your tears, these you couldn’t tell if were for embarrassment or the pain on your heart. “Please, stop, you’re making a scene.” You ask him, pulling his arm but not able to move him. He was so angry, you could feel his arm shaking.

“Don’t dare.” He simply said, in the same tone. The guys were confused, Minseok was not the kind to these reactions. They could expect something like this from anyone else, but never him. Never the smiley and sweet Minseok. He was the one to control everyone else’s temper during negotiations. The softest of them all. 

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun tried to find words. “What did you do?” 

“What are you guys doing?” Junmyeon asked, his face red. You look at the other side of the saloon and find too many curious looks, staring all the scene he was making. And there’s Maria, worried. What a great first impression. You close your eyes, trying to pretend they do not exist. Breath.

Minseok seems to realize that too, so he put his hands down. 

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun tried again, catching his attention. 

“I don’t know.” His eyes finally leaving you to stare at his friend. He looks confused. Shocked.

Your hold gets tighter on Minseok’s arm, nails craving on it, and you realize only when his hands force you to lose your grip.

Inspire, expire. No tears. 

He didn’t even know why would Minseok react like this. You take another look at his face, to be sure if he’s being honest and really don’t know or if he is just pretending, so the others wouldn’t ask anymore, making the whole situation get worse. What you see makes the pain grows bigger in your chest. Tears back in your eyes. 

Chanyeol is just as confused as the others.

It’s better like this. Breath, please. 

You can feel the salty flavor in your throat, left there by the tears you didn’t allow to leave your eyes. 

“Minseok, please…” 

“I have no idea what happened, but please, not here. Later.” Junmyeon whispered, with the voice that leaves no open space for any other saying. He was not asking. 

“Can we talk?” You almost miss Chanyeol asking, daring, realizing he was talking to you only because of Minseok’s body tensing again. 

You look at Carla, beside you, scared of how Minseok reacted. She never saw him this angry before, not even in their worst fights. You needed to do something, this was all your fault. You felt like a scared cat, that would do anything to take the next flight back home and hide under the bed. Just like you did these last eight years. 

Forcing a smile, you said: “I would love to talk with you, guys. I missed you all so much.” You look at your old friends' faces, pretending. Seeking help while running from Chanyeol.

Still not prepared for talking with them, you force yourself to walk into that balcony. Too much time spent in the ladies’ restroom, gaining time. You had your answers to most of their possible questions, but they were not good enough. They would never be enough to explain. 

“Where are the others?” 

“I shooed them away” Jongdae answered, rolling the cigarette on his lips. “Thought you wouldn’t be honest if they were here”. 

You chuckle, nervous. 

“What would I lie about, Jongdae?” 

Since when does he smoke?

“So many stuff. Starting from the reason about Minseok’s outbreak?” He offered you his cigarette and shoved it back into his mouth when he declined.

Your lungs were burning. Jongdae has always been the closest to you growing up, so you expected him to be the softest with you with questions. To at least try to be comprehensive.  

“How could I know that? Maybe one of the clients that Chanyeol sent him was a problem”. You felt the need to complete it. “You know how he is. He doesn’t like when his clients are too problematic”. 

“I see. Guess I was wrong, after all”. 

You sigh. 

“What did you thought?” You smile at him, trying to see his smile that you were so used to. It would help you calm down and think straight before answering. 

“That you wouldn’t lie to my face”. 

You had no words to reply, feeling like there was a steel knife on your windpipe. You could only face him the moment he passed through you, leaving behind the smell of his cigarette mixed with his favorite colony and alcohol. He still wore the same colony when you were both teenagers. 

“Are we still friends?” He paused at the door, before opening it and thought about your question. You couldn’t see his face, just his back, broader than how you remembered. Jongdae wasn’t a teenager anymore. 

“You will always be my best friend, no matter what, but it doesn’t look like I’m yours, Y/N. And it’s been a long time.” And he left you alone on the outside. Just you and the breeze. 

You couldn’t help thinking he was right. Before the very ending, he was not your best friend. Not anymore. That was Chanyeol’s position. There were things you just couldn’t talk to Jongdae but were so openly shared with Chanyeol.  At least Jongdae never left you. But you did it. You left him before and after, too. When things got too heavy, you didn’t think twice.

Junmyeon would have to forgive you, but it looked like you wouldn’t handle staying until the marriage day. Not that you felt welcome, anyway. 

You left the balcony too, to find Minseok and leave that party that felt like hell on Earth to you. 

“Good morning, Carla”.

Having breakfast was not something you looked forward to, never, and probably the worst part of your days, but living with two other people made you get used to at least sitting there before the work day start. Created a habit. Talk about useless things, interact. 

“Morning.” Her sad look worried you the same amount that made you feel guilty. Carla was always at her most happy state of mind. You would, very often, envy her. “He left just now. Office stuff to do with Junmyeon. I think he’s meeting Yixing after, at the office, contracts and boring conversations. We’ll have lunch alone today”. 

“I’m sorry. About that mess yesterday”. 

She took a sip of her coffee before looking at you, finally. 

“It’s not your fault, I know. It’s totally his”. 

“Don’t blame Minseok, please. He was just mad.” You try defending your cousin, but you knew this would be pointless. His wife was the most stubborn person you knew. 

“Not Minseok’s. He was right. Excessive? Maybe, but he wasn’t wrong”. 

Your mouth went dry, it was good that you were already seated. That was the first time that Carla made clear she knew, at least a little bit, about the whole mess with Chanyeol. You were the one mad at your cousin now. God have mercy on him because you wouldn’t.

You were not that silly to expect that his wife was still on the dark about it all, but you couldn’t help feeling fooled. You couldn’t even open up about it with Jongdae, or Alec, while Minseok simply told her how heartbroken you got after Chanyeol choose Meri instead of you.

“Will you visit your father today?” She asked, breaking your focus on her plate. You were probably staring it for way too long.

“I.” You started, not interested in keeping a conversation, but the doorbell caught your attention. “I’ll answer it”. 

You did not care who was at the door so early, it didn’t matter. You would thank the person for helping you to get out of there. You were hurt that Carla knew and you were not warned about it. How long did she know? Did she know it was very recently that you had stopped crying over it? Not that the night before counted.

Looking through the peephole, you find Baekhyun standing there, looking impatient and sleepy, as always. You were not in the mood to talk, but you opened the door anyway.

“How did you get inside the building?” 

“I’m an estate agent, don’t forget. I showed this apartment more times than I could remember. They all love me”. 

“You’re not that great if you couldn’t sell it”. 

You give him space to enter, but he didn’t move. 

“Is Minseok here?” He sounds tense, trying to look past you. Maybe afraid of the older one. You smiled. 

“Carla said he just left. Why?” Baekhyun seemed relieved and that worried you. 

“Then let’s go.” He pulled your hand. “Didn’t you say that you would love to chat with us?” His smile was ironic but you ignore it. “That’s your opportunity”. 

“Where are we going?” 

“To our favorite place in this whole big city.” You closed the door behind you, waving bye at Carla, that came to see what was taking so long. “Your father’s restaurant. He’s dying to talk to you”. 

You felt bad for leaving Carla all alone, but you were not ready to have that conversation yet. 

The moment you entered the restaurant, you felt silly for thinking that the ‘he’ Baekhyun mentioned was your father. You really had to make your legs work the moment you saw Chanyeol sitting at the most distant table with Sehun, chatting so casually. Like their world was not falling apart. 

While you waited for the waitress move so you could start walking again, you felt Baekhyun’s hands holding your arm. 

“If you feel uncomfortable, just tell me and we leave, okay? Don’t think I’m doing this because I want to.” He whispered to you. “You need to trust me, Y/N. I’ll always be your friend”. 

At that moment, you realized that Baekhyun knew it too. Of course, he would, Chanyeol and him were like hand and glove before. Things like this wouldn’t change. But there was no time to feel ashamed, you had to face something worst. 

Chanyeol got up so fast, the moment that you reached the table, that the chair would have fallen if Sehun wasn’t too quick holding it. 

Sehun, that wasn’t even legal when you moved, was the first to give you a hug. So tight, that you felt hope, you felt like things could get better. Maybe you could all be friends again, probably not like before, but… friendly.

“I’m glad you’re finally back”. 

You smile at him, trying to show you felt the same. 

“Jongdae didn’t want to come, right?” 

“He is…” Baekhyun tried to find a good excuse. “Busy with paperwork, you know, right? Many houses selling.” You saw on the news about how the market was doing terrible. 

Yeah. You understood. 

“Sehun, why don’t we wait outside?” Baekhyun called the younger. 

“What?” You felt the panic grows in you. “Why?” Realizing by their expressions, you add: “I mean, I thought you both wanted to talk to me too.” 

“We will. After.” Sehun just said, and you had nothing else to say, so they just left, leaving you alone with Chanyeol, except for the staff of the restaurant, getting ready for opening at lunch. 

The restaurant here was not very different from the one in China, that you’ve been administrating since you moved. You tried to make yourself worried about how things were going since you left, but your focus still was on the problem in front of you, literally. 

You sit, upset. Only then you realize that Chanyeol was silent the whole time and that you haven’t heard his voice for almost nine years, except for a few words the night before.

“I heard you are engaged. Jongdae told us last year”. 

Your pride didn’t let you deny. What use would it have? ‘Not anymore, seems like I couldn’t forget my first heartbreak after more than ten years’. 

“Yeah. But we don’t have the day yet”. 

“I’m happy for you. He must be a great guy”. 

“Alec is.” You feel a bitter taste in your tongue. “He’s also a lawyer. Works with Minseok”. 

There was no reason to add that, but you felt the need to. Showing off how great you were. Like you were not pitying yourself since he left you to be with Meri, thirteen years ago. Thinking like this, you felt you should seek help. You chuckle of the idea. 

Abroad, most of the times you didn’t even remember you had a different life, a different lover. It was just sometimes, an old memory that would happen to appear, uninvited. You didn’t need help, you need distance. 

“I’m not sure why Minseok is so angry at me”. 

“Neither do I.” You lie. “But you know how he is. When he’s stressed…” 

Chanyeol just nod, and you both stay silent. Not an awkward silence, but one of those that you know way too many secrets of the other one, so there’s nothing else to be said. 

“That’s what you wanted to say?” 

He looks at your eyes and you know your face is hot and red. Damn. 

“Actually… I just wanted.” He sighs. “I wonder why we are not friends anymore. I want it back”. 

“Oh.” You move uncomfortably in your sit. “I don’t know how to answer this. We never really had a point that we stopped being friends.” We just stopped being lovers. “You just… stopped calling. I know you were in a very bad time, but… You didn’t call me and I was mad…” 

“Give me one chance, to be your friend again. I can’t promise I won’t let you down again, but I promise I will do my best.” Chanyeol sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You have no idea how much I missed you these years. Someone to talk to. The guys… They never understood me like you did”.

He missed me. Like a friend.

“If you wanted to talk so badly, you could have called me, like you used to, before. You had my number. I never changed it”. 

“You know why I stopped calling you, Y/N”. 

He was right. You did. 

You didn’t feel cruel for saying it. He was the one being cruel, talking like it’s easy for you because he felt nothing at all. 

“I don’t.” You lied. “When I left eight years ago, I thought we were still friends.” You lied again, just wanting to hurt him, make him feel guilty. “We have grown now. I guess we must face the truth. We are not friends, and it may have been a lie back then, too”. 

Not wanting to face the cruel truth anymore, you left him and went outside, after Baekhyun. You were done talking and he promised to be your rescuer. Before your memories consummated you more, you needed to get out there.

Hi guys! My original plan was to only post it when the story was finished, but... Change of plans! I hope you guys like it and giving it love <3 

Also, I couldn't find the same gif, so I’ll try this one 😢

@jjong-dae77 @portietomednalynn @xcharlottemikaelsonx

[etaeternum]

Fathers and Sons

If you are enjoying this story, please let me know! I have not been posting often because I worry about spamming newsfeeds with content no one is interested in. This entire fic is already written and I can post more often if people are interested. Bond of the Grey Chapter 8 The Inquisitor and Queen reflect on their meeting. Morrigan finds Alistair and Caoilainn to share her discoveries. Alistair remembers the first time meeting Maric.

“I told you we shouldn’t have trusted her from the beginning. She wasn’t here for the Inquisition; she was here for herself.” Arms in the air, Alanna walked to the other end of the War Table across from Josephine. The Inquisitor kept the ambassador after dismissing the War Council to discuss tying loose ends before their former allies departed.

Josephine’s quill tapped against her chin as she watched the Inquisitor’s rant. Small sounds of agreement and understanding accented Alanna’s upset. Though Josephine had a different opinion, her lips remained sealed.

The Inquisitor stopped, chest heaving, she tucked her blonde hair behind her ears, face red, nostrils flaring. Alanna released a snide huff. “At least her and her husband seem to be better.”

Caoilainn had arrived at Skyhold days before the troops she provided. The Wardens and Highever soldiers arrived together, followed by the Ferelden Army the next day. With the utmost strategic manipulation and sheer tenacity, Caoilainn had orchestrated the Ferelden Army to arrive without its King. When Alistair received word, he changed his plans to follow, unable to communicate with Caoilainn for close to five years. The palpable tension between the couple had been easy to detect upon Alistair’s arrival to the stronghold.

“I’d like to take the opportunity to remind you, Inquisitor.” The low level and gentle cadence of Josephine’s voice contrasted Alanna’s. “You are referring to the King and Queen of Ferelden.”

“And?” Alanna responded without taking a breath. “We are not allied with any country. We owe them nothing.”

“This is true. Yet, if you do not wish to obtain another enemy, it is best to maintain diplomacy. Forgive my forwardness, Inquisitor, but having Ferelden against us may be problematic in the future.”

A sigh of defeat released from Alanna. Acknowledgment of her chief diplomat’s wisdom expressed through the exhale. Alanna’s shoulders slouched. “What do you recommend?”

“Another meeting,” Josephine’s eyes lit up; wheels turning, determining the most effective strategy, she leaned a hip against the table. “You will need to apologize. The Queen of Ferelden is a difficult woman and remedying the situation will be a delicate matter. But her absence from the throne gives her less influence. Your concordance with the King is my concern.”

Arms crossed, the Inquisitor shook her head. “I’m not apologizing. She was using us; I know it.” She looked at the anchor on her hand, relating it to the tasks ahead. “We’ll just have to get this over with before they have a chance to make things difficult. For now, I need to talk to my cousin. Could you make arrangments for tomorrow?”

“As you wish, Inquisitor. I will arrange for a meeting with the young Warden in the morning.” Josephine bowed and departed from the War Room.

“She dismissed us!” Caoilainn turned to face Alistair as they walked into their room near the tavern. Alistair secured the door shut behind him and leaned against it, observing his wife in distress. “Can you believe that? She just,” Caoilainn nodded to the door, mimicking Alanna’s motion for them to leave, “and expected us to leave.”

“I know.” Failed attempts to refrain from grinning displayed in his amusement. His head turned side to side, showing his humored agreement with Caoilainn’s offense. “How dare she.”

The spectacle of Caoilainn’s outrage made for a livened divergence from the last image he had of the room. The bucket and cloth he washed her with sat the center of the room, her robe amidst the sheets on their bed, but this time she was here. Mournful days spent wallowing in grief and self-pity when he thought he lost her now contradicted by her zealous presence. Ablaze with anger, Caoilainn’s bright and fiery temper illuminated the energy in the room. He beheld her with charmed gratitude, tickled by her conviction.

Lost in her rage, Caoilainn overlooked Alistair’s joviality. “Exactly! Doesn’t she know who I am? Doesn’t she know I’m the fucking Queen of Ferelden?” Rushed speech stopped when she took a deep breath. “For the love of Andraste, Alistair what is so funny?”

“Oh, nothing.” Alistair pushed off the door to be near her. Caoilainn’s rumpled brows expressed dislike of his entertainment with her displeasure. “I don’t think the Inquisitor handled her decision in the savviest way possible. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like hearing you claim your place on the throne.”

In the years spent avoiding Alistair, Caoilainn separated herself from her title as Queen. She often reserved her use of the position as a last resort when all other means of influence were unsuccessful.

Alistair reached out. Loving hands found her hips, joining at the small of her back. Caoilainn’s forearms applied passive pressure against his chest. Resistance to his affection indulged her anger. Cheeks flushed, face scrunched, she struggled to endure her foul attitude longer. “She accused me of endangering their mission. I nearly doubled her army! A quarter losses,” Caoilainn rolled her eyes, “that’s good for a battle that size! And who is she to insult my mages? Accusing me of abandoning my post.”

“There, there, my Queen.” The playful rocking of her frame tried to soothe. Caoilainn glared up, her scrunched expression replaced with a dead stare. He smiled down at her. “This might be hard to hear. Brace yourself,” he hugged her tighter. An annoyed huff joined the extension of Caoilainn’s arms around his neck, finally relaxing into his embrace. “The Inquisitor told the truth,” he concluded.

“But-” Caoilainn attempted to defend her dishonesty.

“No,” his tone teased as he shook his head. “No buts. Your mages failed to perform in that battle and you abandoned your post. Remember that part where you scared everyone and almost died?”

A defeated sigh released, and Caoilainn rested her face against his chest. Leather armor and fur brushed her cheek. “My mages did the best they could.” Her voice neared a whine, attempting to prolong her defensive anger. “I went to save you. You're the fucking King.”

He shushed her, calming through his light-hearted condescension. “I am. Try to have patience, my dear. The Inquisition's mission is important- even if they don't want our help. I'm sure we'll find a way to make things inconvenient for them at some point after this Corypheus thing is taken down.”

Caoilainn leaned back, creating some space. Her hands clasped his arms. Lines of heartfelt worry crossed her face. Fair skin, strong and elegant features, decorated by fear. The rush of anger from the meeting with the Inquisitor drifted away. The helpless emotions underneath drained as exhaustion settled in. Weeks of traveling had impact. Caoilainn’s tired body relaxed as she sighed.

“But the cure, Alistair. I'm not ready to leave yet,” she murmured, her eyes glazing as she stared at him. “Morrigan-”

A knock at the door interrupted her statement. The couple’s heads turned to look the direction the knock came. Firm hands steadied her hips as Alistair broke from their hug to open the door. Before he reached it, the visitor knocked again and announced her presence.

“I know you two are in there. I heard your voices just a moment ago. Let me in, I need to speak with you.”

Stopping mid-step, Alistair glanced over his shoulder to his wife. An annoyed grin stretched across his face. He spoke loud enough for their visitor to hear.  “Maker, Caoilainn. You've summoned the witch.”

“I heard that, Alistair!” Morrigan called again from the other side of the door. “Stop making us wait out here in this blasted hall.”

Holding eye contact with Caoilainn, Alistair's brows wrinkled in question. He mouthed ‘us?’ to Caoilainn who shrugged in response. She had a small suspicion who Morrigan may have brought, but couldn't be certain.

Alistair took a breath and opened the door. Morrigan stood, brows raised, annoyed with the delay. Beside her stood a boy. Alistair and Caoilainn’s exhaustion vanished.

“Oh.” The only response Alistair could muster, he stared at the mother and son in the doorway. “Morrigan-”

She interrupted with motion. Bending to meet the boy’s height, Morrigan spoke to him. “All right, little man. Say hello to the King and Queen.”

“Hello,” the boy gave a polite bow. Eyes wide, Caoilainn and Alistair froze as they stared at the young man. “Again,” he murmured to Caoilainn. Their previous meeting when Caoilainn arrived at Skyhold had been brief.

Alistair glanced at Morrigan, stumbling over words. “Now’s not the-”

“It’s polite to introduce yourself to one such as the King,” Morrigan gave the boy another direction before Alistair could finish his sentence. The irony of Morrigan being an enforcer of manners did not have a chance to resonate for Alistair. He remained dumbfounded.

“I'm Kieran,” he followed his mother’s order. His hands touched behind him as he glanced up to Alistair and gave another small bow.

Breath held, Caoilainn witnessed Alistair and his son facing one another on opposite sides of the threshold. Something she could not offer- a child- Morrigan had conceived with one try. Despite certainty of Morrigan’s use of magic, Caoilainn suffered a tinge of jealousy. But the envy did not interrupt their harmony; negative emotions cooled and swathed in the unique love she had for her friend. Deep friendship, formed more from understanding and action than spoken affirmation, found camaraderie in unusual circumstances. Morrigan and Caoilainn exchanged a curious glance, standing on either side of the father and son.

Far different from the prior image he had of this meeting, and equally unprepared, Alistair found gratitude. The mood, brighter, absent of the daunting despair of losing his wife, Alistair noticed details of this interaction. Even with his faculties unhampered by grief, he had difficulty finding adequate words.

Certain of the boy’s identity from the moment Alistair laid eyes on him, the taint in his blood activated. Strange, the sensation felt different from the bond with other Wardens, and not threatening as with darkspawn. Mature for the age of 10, the boy stood well-dressed with the Warden insignia on his chest. Kieran resembled his mother, dark hair and fair skin, but Alistair recognized his eyes staring back; unsettled peering into a hazel gaze so similar to his own. Alistair thought the boy might have inherited his nose. He scanned the little man’s appearance in the few seconds he had before replying.

“I’m Alistair,” the King replied, dipping his head to reciprocate the greeting.

“I know.” Kieran’s brows came to a subtle crease. “Mother told me about you.”

“Oh,” Alistair’s eyes darted to Morrigan. She smirked in reply and tipped her head forward, agreeing with Kieran’s statement without divulging detail. “And what did she tell you, exactly?”

Often one with a list of humorous ways to lighten uncomfortable conversations, Alistair found himself lacking. He bent forward at the waist, hands resting on his knees, better meeting the boy’s eye level.

“Mother said you are a good King and a kind man.” Kieran started, his face calm despite what most boys might find an exciting encounter.

Alistair’s glance wandered to Morrigan, though he stayed at Kieran’s level. A raised brow and a slight grin crept through Alistair’s neutral expression. “Did she now?” The news of Morrigan giving compliments for Alistair required him to double check. His look intended to tease.

Head tilting to the side, Kieran’s curious gaze searched for answers. “Yes, but she didn’t tell me your blood would be so loud. The song it sings is familiar.” His head swayed to the side.

Alistair, unprepared for the unique similarity of this moment to the one from his waking dream, stared at the boy, curious about what connections he might detect. “About that,” Alistair mumbled.

Before he could answer, Kieran changed the subject, glancing at Caoilainn and back to Alistair. He grinned, rocking on his feet, an arm gesturing toward the Queen. “Your wife is very pretty.”

Unable to withhold a laugh, wrinkles forming at the corners of eyes, Alistair’s smile resumed and widened. “Really?” He shrugged, “I think she looks well enough. I certainly didn't pick her for her looks.” A glance over his shoulder to Caoilainn found her grinning back, brow arched.

“All right, little man. Time to go play. Say goodbye to Alistair and Caoilainn.” Morrigan called to Kieran. He huffed, slumping his shoulders as he glared at his mother. Morrigan’s brows lifted, her head tipping to the side and her eyes traveling out the doorway, ushering him to leave.

Kieran released another begrudging sigh as he turned back to Alistair. Once again, such a familiar pair of eyes stared right back at him. A pit sunk in Alistair’s belly, tugging his attention to this somber emotion hindering what would have otherwise been a pleasant meeting.

Kieran inclined his weight to be closer to Alistair; the boy lowered his voice. “You’re funnier than Mother said you would be. Goodbye, King Alistair.” Speechless, Alistair could only nod. Kieran’s eyes traveled to the floor in front of him, his cheeks flushed. “Goodbye, Queen Caoilainn.”

“Goodbye Kieran,” she answered, giving an unnecessary wave Kieran didn’t see.

“Run along now, Kieran,” Morrigan ordered with a soft tone. Kieran shuffled from the room and down the hallway.

Dumbstruck, Alistair stared out the way the boy left. The moment flashed by, over before he realized what happened. It made for an odd alliance with his memory of Maric the first time Alistair met Cailan.

9:19 Dragon- Denerim Palace

Snow piled in the corners of the exterior hallway. The outfit they made him wear itched; clothes much nicer than those he wore at home. Alistair couldn’t feel his gloved fingers from the cold, let alone the hand he was holding. He noticed the splitting wood of the frost covered doors he counted as he walked down the hallway. Denerim Palace, a place he had heard of, seen in passing the few times he visited the city, wasn't as nice as Alistair expected.

Unsure why Duncan brought him here, he followed the order to hold the man’s hand. Inconsistent but caring, Duncan had visited Alistair at Redcliffe at least once a year Alistair’s entire life. But this was the first time Duncan took Alistair from Redcliffe. Eamon had approved, and Alistair trusted Duncan.

A boy older than Alistair waited by a bench in the courtyard. The boy’s clothes, pressed and layered with ornate detail, looked even fancier than Alistair's itchy outfit. Uncertain, Alistair’s lingering glance wandered up to Duncan. With a silent nod, Duncan’s eyes urged Alistair to walk to the other boy.

Taking tentative steps, Alistair released Duncan’s hand and walked to the bench, noticing another man sitting across the courtyard. He was large, donned in royal regalia and spoke with someone Alistair assumed was his assistant. The large man’s eyes flickered to Alistair even while he was talking. Alistair knew who the man must be. But why is the King looking at me?

“I’m Prince Cailan Theirin.” The older boy announced, his right hand extending in a professional manner Alistair had seen grown-ups use to introduce themselves. Alistair’s eyebrows bunched, his gaze following the movement of Cailan’s hand before glancing to Duncan again. Why is he doing that?

Cailan glanced at his unreciprocated handshake and brought his hand back to his side. He attempted another greeting. “Your name’s Alistair, right?”

How does he know my name? “Yeah,” Alistair answered and met Cailan’s gaze. Blond hair and blue eyes, something about the older boy looked familiar. “Do I know you?”

“Nope,” Cailan answered with a weak smile. “But I’ve heard about you. Do you want to play?”

Having long since been taught his insignificance, the idea of an older boy, let alone the Prince of Ferelden wanting to play with him seemed laughable. He couldn’t hide his humor. Alistair snorted, not noticing Duncan sitting next to the King. A bashful smirk preceded Alistair’s question for the Prince. “Why would you want to play with me?”

Bold and brazen, Cailan grinned before he held up his hand. The motion suggested Alistair allow Cailan to whisper something in his ear; Alistair nodded and leaned in. “Don’t tell anyone. But you and me, we’re brothers. Forever.”

While Cailan whispered, Alistair’s eyes landed on King Maric. Undistracted, he appeared interested in the meeting of Alistair and Cailan. Leaning forward, King Maric’s arms rested on his knees as he watched.

Alistair would never forget King Maric’s pensive smile.

The recollection encouraged the differences Alistair made from his father. Something akin to anger spurred within. Shouldn't we tell him? Morrigan wouldn’t allow it. Part of their agreement from the night of the ritual, Kieran wasn’t to know Alistair as his father. It served Alistair too. As King, having a bastard son with the Witch of the Wilds would be frowned upon. The fact he cared sparked more discontent. Even without a mirror, Alistair recognized the heavy-hearted smile he wore from the one he saw on Maric in his memory.

Acknowledging the similarities between Alistair's childhood and Kieran’s roused regret. Not given a choice, the option of having a father absent, Alistair spent his life pondering what could have been. He didn't wish the same for Kieran. But without a plausible alternative, Alistair evaded emotional discomfort with humor.

“I think he likes you, Caoilainn.” Alistair stepped to her, standing by her side with a hand resting on her hip. He gave a sideways glance. “He was definitely flirting with you. Quite awkwardly, I might add.”

Caoilainn hummed, her head tilted back, eyebrows creased,  mocking surprise and intrigue with Alistair’s assessment. “Ah… so he’s a flirt. Like his father.” She watched his reaction from the corner of her eye.

Alistair squinted, mocking displeasure with the connection she made. His free hand adjusted the position of the cord of his spaulders. He watched his hand with rapt and aimless attention. “Yes, well.... I suppose it runs in the family. I hope he uses that ability with care as he gets older. Right then.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes and sauntered into the room from where she stood in the doorway. Unamused by their banter, her low and impatient voice interrupted.  “If you two are done, I have news.”

Caoilainn's heart jumped. Cautious excitement teased by potential fulfillment of her initial goal. The solution to her strife and what felt a deep-seated inadequacy relied on a cure to the Calling. Caoilainn held her breath, unable to speak.

Aware of his wife’s sudden tension, her body freezing, muscles flexing into rigidity, Alistair spoke for them both. "The good kind, I hope?”

“‘Tis good as it can be,” Morrigan stood across from the couple. The slight angle of her hips, joined with her lifted arm reflected her nonchalant attitude. She explained more detail about the information she learned from her journey into the Temple of Mythal. “I gained knowledge from the elven temple, ages of wisdom whisper a new understanding of the world. I can hear the taint in your blood, and I know why it keeps you barren.”

“Well that’s great,” Alistair broke his gaze to look at Caoilainn. He joked in a loud whisper. “At first I thought she was kidding, but she really is hearing voices."

Morrigan scowled at him, but Caoilainn’s movement interrupted her reply. Eyes wide with intrigue, Caoilainn stepped from Alistair’s side to stand across from Morrigan. “Why? Morrigan, what do we need to know? What do we do?”

“The Old Gods are not concerned with your reproduction. Soldering with your blood, charring your insides, the taint grows and strengthens.” Morrigan’s matter-of-fact explanation provoked blank stares from the couple. “You have borrowed power from the Old Gods and alas, they will call you to the Deep Roads to reclaim it.”

“Well, that sounds hopeful,” Alistair laughed as his hand met his brow. “Don't be too blunt, Morrigan.”

“So what do we do?” Caoilainn's voice eager, eyes sparkling with the excitement she failed to maintain.

Whispers of rituals and blood magic, Morrigan spoke of absolution of the taint for the King and Queen. A cleansing of their bodies, freeing them the disease and its hold. Morrigan provided a hazy description of her plan. The process would require an altar for their purification and a drop of Kieran’s blood. Even with the vague report, Alistair refused. He resisted yet another ceremony to follow what Caoilainn already required to purge the red lyrium. The condition of blood magic set his dissent; his opinion strengthened by the need to use his illegitimate son’s blood.

Concerned brows furrowed, Morrigan asked about the other ceremony and Caoilainn described. Philippa and Aiden’s details, unclear and confusing to Caoilainn and Alistair, incited worry in Morrigan.

“Don't be a fool, Alistair. As I am sure you are both aware, the taint is accelerated for those who complete the Joining during a Blight such as yourselves,” Morrigan reported, her critical stare passing between both Alistair and Caoilainn. A new comprehension of the world and its function included a new understanding of the taint. “The red lyrium will expedite it.”

Caoilainn nodded, her brows creased with intent. A deep breath in and a purposeful sigh, she turned to Alistair. “I want to try the ritual.”

“Caoilainn,” Alistair sighed. His hands lifted, palms up, an indirect plea for her to rethink her decision. "We don't even know all it entails."

“I don’t have time to wait, Alistair.” Her head shaking, she took his hands into hers. “We might have a few years left as it is. If what she says is true, I’ll have even less.”

“Make this decision with care, Caoilainn.” With her warning, Morrigan’s expression changed. No longer cool and detached, now she showed empathy. Displeased with the news she must deliver, Morrigan frowned, her brows relaxed. “You may not heal enough from the damage the taint has done to have a child. The cure may be for naught.”

Heart sinking into the pit of her stomach, Caoilainn gazed at the floor. The answer seemed simple. An attempt at the cure could save years of her life. But without guarantee for recovery, the latent risks of blood magic may be in vain.

Standing between Alistair and Morrigan, Caoilainn looked at neither. “I’ll do it.” Her gaze traveled up to Alistair, imploring his willingness. “Please, my love. Consider joining me.”

The meeting adjourned after. Morrigan gave a time in two days, justified by a need to collect supplies, secure a location, and speak with the other sorceresses. The explanation made Alistair cringe.

[peacefrogg]

Being a therapist is lonely and difficult.

Let me just say, I love my job. I work with delinquent youth at the most secure facility within my state. That's the most descript I can get in terms of describing the facility. My office is on the mental health unit where I'm assigned, so I'm in the thick of it, sometimes having to get involved in restraining these youth when they're acting violently. Compared to the other facilities in the state, we look like a prison (barbed wire fences, individual cells with a metal bed frame, desk, and toilet, must be buzzed through each door by a person in the security booth). However, we are a treatment facility and in my state, juveniles are not considered to be "inmates" and employees are not considered "correctional officers." We are staff. They are residents. This is a human services field.

Side note, I know some believe that adults should never put their hands on kids. I agree. Its hard to explain this job to anybody who has never been in it firsthand. I'm dealing with extremely violent youth. Yes, oftentimes (most times) many are acting out of emotion or trauma, and it is so hard to watch when you know they're not intending to harm others or when they're trying to stay safe themselves. Intervening in a physical manner is sometimes necessary to ensure and maintain safety when these youth are actively violent. There are some staff who go overboard or use restraints in, to put it gently, an entirely unacceptable manner. I've seen it firsthand, but I've also seen how higher up within the system they are embracing a no tolerance attitude whereas in the past a blind eye was turned. However, there is a time and a place where having to physically manage these youth in a safe way is unfortunately necessary, and in my specific position I have the advantage of teaching these kids ways to prevent themselves from becoming harmful as well as standing up for them if staff become out of line. Unlike others, I know these kids are just that, kids.

Back to my original point, this is a lonely and difficult job as a therapist. I end up playing multiple roles because of the nature of the job and where my office is located. To give some idea of what the specific youth I work with are like, they are (generally) between the ages of 16-21 (can be as young as 13, though that's rare), they have varying diagnoses. Most common being ADHD, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Autism Spectrum Disorder, Bipolar, and Intellectual Disabilities. Though we do often see other diagnoses such as Schizophrenia, Schizoaffective Disorder, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, and Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Many of them are violent. Many of them have problematic sexual behaviors (anywhere from exposing themselves to others to rape). Most of them have a history of trauma and abuse.

Although this sounds like a lot to deal with, they're still just kids who are struggling, and due to the nature of their histories and cognitive abilities, it's sometimes like working with younger children. They are needy, which is understandable due to their histories. Some of them have been completely abandoned by their parents and are completely alone.

Because of my caring nature and being around them frequently outside of therapy sessions, I'm considered the "mom" of the unit, which feels weird because I'm only 29 and nowhere near old enough to be a parent to these kids. I think that line gets blurred from therapist to "mom" because I also have to be an authority figure and hold them to their daily expectations and behavioral standards when I'm outside of sessions. I have to get involved in deciding consequences for major offenses committed while they are in the facility such as assaults and sexually acting out behaviors (law states there is no consent in placement/facilities). But I also am the person they want to see the most due to the nature of my position. I'm naturally good at what I do (the one time I feel confident enough to toot my own horn) and I'm as supportive, caring, and genuine as possible, which makes them form emotional bonds/attachments toward me. So I think because I have to be an authority figure on top of being their therapist, it gives off that motherly vibe. Which in any other setting I would say is problematic because it blurs the lines of my role, but its impossible to avoid in this environment, so I have to find creative ways to navigate this.

I do truly care about these kids which is hard to work through, especially because I have minimal supervision. When I say minimal, I mean my supervisor saw me in person three times last year. So I don't have any help in navigating how to properly maintain my boundaries.

On top of this, staff do not understand my role at all. There is only one other therapist in the facility. She used to be the only one for several years, and then two more were hired but left within a year (two years ago, which is when I was promoted). Most therapists do not want to work in this environment once they see what its like and how their offices are directly on the unit and how they have to get involved in restraints (blurring the line even further). I began as a line staff for a year before I was promoted (when the two other therapists left), and I was a line staff for three years at another facility, so I knew what I was getting into. But because there is such a high turnover for therapists and because we only had one for several years, staff have never seen what my position is supposed to look like, only what they've assumed. So I get a lot of scrutiny from staff. They criticize because they have no idea how difficult this position truly is. They believe its just therapy sessions. They don't understand that I also have to be an authority to residents, work on staff development, be a liaison with various probation officers, placing counties, judges, CYS workers, write court reports, testify in court, administer assessments, write psychological and psychosexual reports, etc. I have to train staff on various mental health topics, which is rough because I'm young for the position, so I'm often looked at as if I have no idea what I'm talking about.

Its hard for me to rely on the other therapist. On one hand, shes been in our facility for 10 years, so she knows the position inside and out. It's a very political position at times, and she is a big help for that. However, she doesn't connect with the kids. She's very invalidating and unsupportive of the emotions of her residents, and she's one of those people who are always right. So the kids don't enjoy her as much, and in return, she handles that by criticizing everything I do. Her way is the right way, even though many approaches can bring about the same result. But if it's not her approach, it's wrong. She's very traditional in the sense that she's very pro-medication and mainly talk therapy. I'm more holistic (I'm called the hippy therapist, and it's not inaccurate) and creative with my interventions, because I know the kids understand it more and it reduces their anxiety, helping them feel more safe to talk about their problems. Keep in mind these kids didn't ask to go to therapy or be here, so you have to get them to buy into it on top of finding a way to get them to trust after feeling like they can trust nobody (remember, trauma and abuse histories). So although I'm effective in what I do and I'm proud of it, I'm constantly facing scrutiny from those who don't understand and judgment from the other therapist, who is also 16 years older than me.

I feel like I have these super high standards I have to meet just to be taken seriously, and since nobody else understands my position, I don't have anybody to vent to who gets me. Even my own therapist doesn't truly understand. It's a very lonely feeling. With my own mental health issues on top of it all (anxiety, depression, abandonment issues, PTSD, life-long emotional neglect), its like I have no escape. I'm constantly anxious that I'm doing horribly. I just began working through my own trauma in therapy, so sometimes I end up feeling triggered by or identifying with my residents. Which again is hard to navigate on my own without supervision. My own therapist just abandoned me (I'll save that for a later post). My friends are line staff, so their job is safety and security. I have to train my own friends on mental health approaches, and they see it as more of casual conversation and suggestions instead of training and necessity. It feels like my own friends don't take me seriously.

I co-run the unit with a supervisor of two counselors (essentially case managers who also do individual sessions to address behaviors) and two lower-level supervisors of line staff. He is my equal, but he focuses on behavioral issues and structure of the unit, where I'm in charge of mental health. He has power and control issues, so he tries to take over completely and he tries to supervise me. As if that's not enough, his wife is the other therapist so he's constantly trying to push her agenda on my unit (she works on the unit that specializes in sexual behaviors, and she and I "share" the general population unit essentially for the city thug type kids involved with drugs, guns, robbery/theft, and violence). He's super critical, which sucks because all I want is his approval and to hear that I'm doing a good job. I know I'm effective.

I know my kids enjoy me and I want to cry just thinking of how much they are growing and progressing. It makes me super proud of them because all I do is validate and support, and teach them the tools and resources they need to be successful. But they're doing it on their own and it's so heartwarming. Where that makes it all worth it in the end, its still a difficult and lonely journey.

I wish it didn't feel so lonely.

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

/1/ 

Chapter 2

“Oh, well look who it is!” My brother Danny calls out from the top of my father’s driveway. Palming a basketball, he dribbles it once on the concrete before he stretches up and shoots over my sister’s head, sinking it in the hoop attached to the garage.

“Alright. Don’t start,” I mutter, but I feel the sideways grin on my face anyway as I make my way over.

“Mister Sunshine State in the house,” he goes on, letting Erin have her chance with the ball. He drops a firm hand on my shoulder in an attempt to rock me off my balance.

“Yeah, did you miss me?” I smirk, easily catching the ball against my chest when Erin passes it over. With a quick dip, I straighten up and shoot, following through as the ball makes a smooth swish into the net.

“Look at this kid,” Danny muses to his ever-present invisible audience. “What’s with you? You waltz up in here with that face and act like it isn’t suspect that you missed Sunday dinner last week.”

Coughing out a laugh in disbelief, I glance at Erin. “I didn’t do anything. What do you mean, what’s with me?”

She retrieves the basketball and props it against her hip. “Yes, we missed you.” She smiles, as if to finalize the discussion the way she alway does. “You want to play?”

“I just wanna know who goes to Miami,” Danny cuts in.

Needing something to distract me, I take the ball from Erin and dribble a few times as I back up a step. “Is it so unheard of?”

“For you? Yeah.”

“I’ve got friends, you know.” I make the cryptic admission as if Danny’s not going to take that information and grill me about it. How I’m going to duck out of an irritatingly expert detective and a prosecutor ganging up on me for a confession, I have no idea.

I see my brother and sister look at each other with this exaggerated give me a fucking break scoff just before I hook the ball one more time for another basket.

“I went with Vinny,” I add, figuring it sounds a little more believable. “He’s got family down there. I got a friend from law school who just moved there.” Then I shrug before I pass the ball over to Danny. That should convince them.

“Uh-huh,” he grunts before shooting the ball himself.

“What? I told you I was going,” I defend. “It’s not like I just didn’t show up to dinner and made it some big mystery. Quit trying to make it out like it was questionable.”

“Where’d you stay?” Erin wonders.

I swallow hard and watch as she leisurely bounces the ball a few times, then glances up at me from under an arched eyebrow. Fuck, I’m a terrible liar. This family, sometimes, I swear. “Vinny’s cousin’s house. I forget the neighborhood.”

“You go to the beach?”

“Of course.”

“Which beach?” Danny questions.

I look at him. “South Beach.”

“Yeah?” He nods.

“I mean we went all over.”

“So what, Surfside? Sunny Isles? Haulover Beach?”

I latch onto the last one because it sounded vaguely familiar, even though Noble and I spent exactly zero time at any beach. “Yeah, we were at Haulover for a while.”

“Really? So you and Vinny spent the day at a nude beach,” Danny says. “That sounds legit.”

“The fuck, what, do you work for Miami tourism or something? Suddenly you’re some expert?”

Danny smirks. He can needle me to this point so easily, I can’t stand it. “I’m just asking--”

“It was a quick trip.” I shrug.  “We saw some friends, went out for drinks, stopped by the beach for a few hours. It wasn’t a damn nude beach, so I don’t remember which one, man.”

“Alright--” Erin chimes in, holding up a hand. “Jamie’s young and single, Danny. If he wants to jet off to the beach one weekend, he can do that.” Then she looks at me with this attempt at assurance. “Danny’s just on your case because those days are behind him. He’s jealous.”

“Even in my single days, I never took off on weekend getaways to freakin’ South Beach for no reason--”

“Yeah, just Atlantic City to go get drunk on the boardwalk so that dad couldn’t do anything about it,” I shoot back. “At least I didn’t get a summons for public urination.”

“Ha!” Erin chirps. “Yeah, God only knows what you would have gotten into on a nude beach in Miami when you were single, Danny. You couldn’t even stay out of trouble on the Jersey shore.”

“Some of us were busy defending our country with two tours in Fallujah--”

“OH!” Both Erin and I tip our heads back with a dramatic groan.

“Excuse me.” I fix him with this dubious look, my brows furrowing as I mock him with a stiff-handed salute. “Maybe those tours left you with a selective memory, but go ahead and believe that.”

He pushes my hand away, grumbling his comeback. I turn my head to sputter a laugh, twisting from his grip to dribble the basketball. “You asshole,” he chuckles, hovering over to guard me before he quickly steals the ball. He spins around, throwing his elbow back at my chest before he makes his shot.

Amused, I go for the ball, dribbling as I circle him. With a crossover dribble, I pass the ball once between my legs. “Get off my case and I wouldn’t have to be an asshole.”

Just as I shift my weight to line up another shot, he blocks me and swats the ball away. “Tell the truth and I wouldn’t have to get on your case,” he reasons.

I spread my hands to glance at Erin. “Can I get a lawyer present?”

“Leave him alone, Danny,” she laughs.

He brings the ball into his chest as it expands with heavier breaths and points at her. “You know, when we were kids, you used to take my side.”

“There’s no sides!” She insists. “You’re hassling Jamie just to hassle him. What do you think he was off doing?”

“You wanna see my boarding pass?” I offer. “I’m not lying about where I was.”

“Oh, I believe that’s where you went. I just don’t think it was entirely innocent.”

I manage a smug look just to mess with him. “I never said it was.”

“So what?” Erin wonders.

“He’s the good one, that’s all,” Danny gestures to me. “I don’t need my kid brother getting into some shenanigans he can’t handle and I have to go bail him out.”

“Fine. When I get myself into any shenanigans, I’ll call Erin.”

Danny passes the ball hard and I catch it against my chest. “We’ll see about that.”

My sister rolls her eyes and backs away. “I’m going inside to see if they need help. Pizza will probably be here any minute.”

I turn back to him with open arms. “Are we gonna play, or what?”

“Alright, Miami Heat, let’s see it. We’ll play to seven.”

***

“Uncle Jamie, I missed you. But you smell.” Nicky, my sixteen year-old niece -- Erin’s only child-- informs me by my side at the dining room table.

“Yeah, we're in the same boat, Nick.” Danny's wife complains. I glance over to see Linda nudge her elbow into Danny's side. Our impromptu one-on-one left him to park himself at the table with his dress shirt unbuttoned over his white t-shirt, the both of us undeniably sweaty. “Did you guys really have to play that hard before dinner? Thought you were just shooting around.”

“Jumpshot here was playing to win.” Danny gestures his wine glass toward me. “I had get serious on him.”

“Not serious enough, old man,” I tease. “That was a swift defeat.”

“Listen to this one,” Danny muses, aiming a look at my father. “Give your youngest a little pride goeth before a fall, will you?”

“Sore loser,” I whisper, my brows drawing together to offer my brother a meaningful squint.

My dad chuckles. “As long as Jamie won fair and square. But yes, next time wash up a little before you sit down to dinner.”

“Ah, it's just pizza night,” my grandfather decides, seated to my right at the other end of the table. “I think a little competitive physical exertion is good for anyone. These days, people won't let boys just be boys.”

Unexpectedly, my chest feels hot from his words and I hold my breath a beat. It's a typical moment of Grandpa’s misguided nostalgia and it sits heavy with me. I know what he means. But I can’t help be reminded of his firmly etched conservative mindset, one that I have to wonder if I’d disappoint if he knew the truth.

With a smile, Nicky angles forward to talk across me. “That's sort of a problematic expression, Pop.”

“Don't give me that. You know what I mean.”

I take my time with a long gulp of ice water, then exhale hard before I turn to Nicky. “I'm sorry I smell.”

She scrunches her nose, making a face at me before I lean closer to her. She recoils with a giggle and complains, “Ugh, no!” Then nudges me away at my shoulder.

“Jamie's a little too sparky for me today,” Danny announces. “You got some kinda spring in your step that's got me--” And before he bites down on a forkful of salad, he offers me a playfully narrowed gaze which I return.

“Got you what?” I ask, over my glass.

Chewing his food, he simply makes a gesture where he points two fingers at his own eyes, then turns them my way.

I smile, glancing down and can't help the way my free hand passes over my mouth and up the side of my face. Then I rub the back of my neck as I study my plate. It's an easy tell to my brother, and I have to wonder if he would ever guess the things I'm guilty of.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s weekly politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

micah (Micah Cohen, politics editor): Welcome, friends! I hope everyone had a thankful Thanksgiving!

harry (Harry Enten, senior political writer): I had turkey. I wish I had duck.

clare.malone (Clare Malone, senior political writer): “#sex-misconduct-2020” — what a name for a Slack channel. My god.

micah: Sign of the times.

For discussion today: A wave of sexual misconduct allegations has hit political and media figures. So we’re going to take the long view today and talk about how all this might play out in the context of the 2020 presidential campaign. One much–talked–about 2020 prospect, Al Franken, has already been accused in multiple incidents.

So, first we’ll talk about how sexual harassment and assault allegations could directly affect the 2020 field. Then we’ll discuss how the issue generally could affect the 2020 race.

harry: Sounds good to me.

micah: Let’s start with Franken …

clare.malone: He can’t run for president.

micah: Cards on the table: I think this is a huge blow for Democrats.

clare.malone: In what sense? As a party, because he can’t run?

micah: Yeah. I thought he would have been a really strong 2020 candidate against President Trump.

harry: You drafted him very high in our potential 2020 Democratic nominees draft.

clare.malone: But there are a lot of other strong candidates too, so I’m not sure it’s a huge loss in terms of Democrats’ chances in 2020.

Now, did how Democrats reacted to the Franken allegations hurt them? Maybe.

micah: Hold that thought!

perry (Perry Bacon Jr., senior writer): Franken himself has not been high on his 2020 chances. He has repeatedly said that he will not run. Maybe he knew that some parts of his comedy career and pre-Senate life would emerge and make it difficult to run.

clare.malone: Or he was just saying that, playing the coy politician game of demurring until …

micah: Are we all in agreement that he can’t run now?

perry: Not fully. No. Politics is a male-dominated field. Even the Democratic primary, the donor class is men.

clare.malone: I think so … Harry?

Should Franken launch a comeback bid??

micah: I mean, there is a loooong time until the 2020 primary heats up.

harry: The allegations will make it very difficult for him to run.

clare.malone: Democrats have enough other competent candidates that Franken is just not a good investment, given other options.

harry: A majority of Democrats think that sexual harassment within their party is a “very serious” or “somewhat serious” problem. I don’t think they’re going to choose someone accused of it.

clare.malone: There are a lot of powerful women’s advocacy groups out there in the Democratic universe, guys …

micah: Is Joe Biden in the same position?

clare.malone: Has he been accused of something I’m unaware of?

harry: Biden’s performance at the the Anita Hill hearing is problematic.

micah: Yeah, I was talking about the Hill thing.

perry: There are videos — and I think it was featured on “The Daily Show” — of times that Biden has touched women in odd ways, like Ash Carter’s wife during Carter’s swearing-in as the defense secretary in 2015. And, yeah, his handling of the Hill hearing.

clare.malone: I mean, I find that stuff not all that convincing if I’m going to be perfectly honest and out there.

It seems very different from what Franken is accused of — forcibly kissing someone, grabbing breasts.

micah: Yeah, that seems right to me.

clare.malone: Now, that’s not to say that if someone said “he grabbed my ass” I wouldn’t believe it.

But I just don’t find the argument that he’s a hugger and maybe too much of a shoulder-rubber to be all that convincing.

perry: Biden is not the same as Franken, of course. But would I want Anita Hill publicly criticizing me during a Democratic primary in which I’m running against Kirsten Gillibrand, Kamala Harris and/or Amy Klobuchar. No.

clare.malone: Yeah, of course.

micah: Yeah, let’s just take the Hill part of this. How big a problem would that be for him?

harry: I guess I wonder whether the party will nominate an old white guy who has a history of seeming to be non-supportive of a woman accusing a powerful man of sexual harassment at a critical point in his career.

clare.malone: The Hill stuff would be brought up, but here’s the thing: Democrats are going to choose Biden if they think they need a person to cross over to the disaffected Obama-Trump voters. And I think those voters wouldn’t care all that much about Anita Hill.

Now, do I think Biden is going to be the candidate? No way.

micah: But not because of Hill?

clare.malone: Not necessarily, Micah. I just think Democrats want fresh blood.

perry: If there were a Democratic primary debate, say next Wednesday, I think Biden would be on the defensive, big time. But it’s hard to imagine we are in this moment on accusations of sexual harassment two years from now.

micah: Interesting. That’s sorta the big question: How lasting is this moment?

clare.malone: In politics and media, at least, very lasting, I should think.

BUT

It remains to be seen what the American electorate thinks of it and whether they will take this moment to heart. Democratic primary voters are likely to take it seriously.

perry: The specifics of that Hill hearing, how the male senators jumped on Hill, how Biden basically prevented other women from testifying against Clarence Thomas in public, are really damning.

If there was sustained, detailed coverage of that, I think it would matter.

harry: And the “Resistance” is largely led by women, so I expect a lot of power to come from that part of the electorate in the primary. And sexual harassment is a big deal for those voters.

micah: Particularly, as Clare notes, in a Democratic primary.

micah: Before we turn to Trump, are there any other potential 2020 Democratic candidates who have been accused of anything?

clare.malone: Sen. Sherrod Brown’s ex-wife accused him of domestic abuse — hitting and threatening her.

The fact that his ex-wife is now friendly with him might make it easier to handle, though.

But, it’s still a thing that has come up for him in a couple of elections. I wonder how it would play in 2017.

perry: I hadn’t read that full account around Brown.

clare.malone: Yep. It’s not that well known outside Ohio, I don’t think.

perry: Hard to see him running in 2020.

harry: Anything and everything relating to a male candidate’s relations with women will be brought up in a way that perhaps we aren’t used to from the past. We’ll see.

clare.malone: Yeah … I can’t wait to talk about how politically savvy Gillibrand has been in this moment.

perry: I disagree. So I’m eager to discuss this.

micah: DEBATE!

clare.malone: OK, so Gillibrand said that Bill Clinton should have resigned over the scandal involving Monica Lewinsky. That statement brought down the wrath of the likes of Philippe Reines, a Clintonworld person, in a string of truly amusing late-night tweets.

But the idea here is that Gillibrand is trying to capitalize on the current political moment — kill your idols. This is smart, in my book, because frankly: (i) a lot of people hate the Clintons, (ii) it makes Gillibrand seem woke to the moment, (iii) it’s a way to make her seem like a more appealing anti-establishment liberal to the younger folks (uh, she is not).

micah: Ooooh, I had not thought of that last point!

clare.malone: But I also think Obama-Trump voters would like the Clinton slam — and as we know from her early pro-gun record, Gillibrand isn’t afraid to court the center.

perry: Gillibrand, who has flip-flopped on basically every issue from her time as a more conservative member of Congress to a very liberal member of the Senate, has accepted all kinds of support from the Clintons for basically her entire career. There was a way to criticize Bill Clinton’s conduct without becoming, I would argue, a leader of the “Bill Clinton should have resigned movement,” a role she doesn’t have a great deal of credibility for …

But as I was typing the above and reading what Clare wrote … I think I’m convinced. Most people don’t know Gillibrand’s history. Younger people won’t care. The Clintons are done.

I think Clare is right.

micah: That was a fast debate!

perry: Yeah, Gillibrand is very establishment, but this makes her less so. Clare is right.

micah: I now officially give Clare this chat’s debate

clare.malone: Oh, I think it was SO SMART to bite the hand that fed her.

Cleansing fire!

Burn that bridge!

micah:

clare.malone: Anyhow — I think she’s looking like a 2020 front-runner. There. I said it.

micah: BAM!

harry: Clare, of course, picked Gillibrand in the first round in our draft.

perry: Massive flip-flops are generally bad. But Gillibrand is moving in the right direction and taking a stand that will matter. It also fixes what I thought people would see as her biggest problem: She’s Hillary-Clinton-esque, a blond female senator from New York who is tight with Bill Clinton.

micah: OK, so let’s pivot for a sec …

The likely GOP candidate in 2020, of course, has his own problems with allegations of sexual harassment and assault.

clare.malone: Who?

micah: Those problems didn’t prevent him from winning in 2016, but that’s not the same thing as saying they didn’t cost him electorally. So … does Trump’s history take on a different role in 2020 in this new context?

clare.malone: Mmm

micah: Harry, we got polling on this?

clare.malone: I don’t think it does for a lot of people, to be honest.

micah: You think it’s baked in? Or that it will be treated as “old news”?

harry: A majority of people believe Trump is biased against women.

clare.malone: They already elected him knowing a lot of this stuff and made allowances for “Trump being Trump.”

Al Franken is the kind of guy who will read an act of contrition. Trump is not. And the people forgave him (or something) anyhow.

micah: Well, enough people did for him to win.

perry: Is it possible that all of the accusations happening now are, to use a word I hate, “normalizing” what Trump did? If Roy Moore, John Conyers and Franken are in Congress in 2020 — a real possibility — will at least 50 percent of voters be able to look past the allegations against Trump? (46 percent already did.) And all of this stuff on race and gender is part of Trump’s brand.

harry: The big question is whether the Democratic candidate is in a position to capitalize on Trump’s weaknesses. Clinton, who was so unpopular, was apparently unable to.

clare.malone: My esteemed colleagues both make good points.

There is certainly a danger, from the Democrats’ point of view, that many swing voters will just think: “OK, we already knew politicians were rotten. Now we know they’re all a little pervy, too. C’est la vie!”

micah: Couldn’t the allegations against Trump be more damaging in 2020 if they receive more sustained focus — i.e., throughout the campaign?

Remember that in 2016, they broke late and then were overtaken by other news.

In 2020, the Democratic candidate will be able to run ads on it throughout.

perry: It will be hard to cover in a sustained way because it’s not NEW news, assuming that there won’t be any new accusations.

Everyone can re-interview the women from before and publish those stories with more details, but it’s going to be tough to make news with that. Also, I feel like Roy Moore is running “f— the media, vote for me” and that might be appealing to a lot of conservatives. Trump has and can do the same thing.

clare.malone: Yeah, I just don’t think his alleged harassment will be at the fore.

I frankly bet that it will be overshadowed by claims of incompetence.

micah: Won’t Democratic Candidate X mention it in every stump speech?

perry: No. Is Doug Jones mentioning Moore’s stuff in every speech? Not that I’ve seen.

clare.malone: Right.

micah: Well, OK then.

harry: I’m not sure what the top issue will be in 2020. If the economy goes south, it will almost certainly be that. With the economy doing OK, it could just be a mishmash of issues.

clare.malone: Oh god, Harry, tempting fate.

micah: IDK, I feel like you all are underrating the extent to which old news becomes new news because new details emerge, or Trump says something stupid, etc.

clare.malone: Hm.

Do you really think there is a shortage of news these days, Micah?

perry: The details about Trump that we learned in 2016 were kind of, well, detailed. What do you think we can learn, Micah?

The guy explicitly said he would grab women “by the pussy.”

micah: I mean, I don’t know. Maybe there’s a video somewhere. Maybe new accusers come forward. I really don’t know.

perry: A video I guess would be different

clare.malone: I really need to do a lot of yoga before 2020 so I’ll just be blissed out.

micah: That, or the pharmaceutical route.

perry: I think what you are getting, at least from my point of view, is this: Does this new climate around sexual harassment provide voters, particularly women, who maybe regret voting for Trump the first time with a sort of permission structure not to vote for him next time? I.e.: “He wasn’t the president I thought he would be. I didn’t realize how bad the allegations of harassment against him were in 2016,” etc.? I think this is possible. Yes.

harry: My own guess would be that sexual harassment as an issue will move far more voters in the primary than the general election.

clare.malone: For Trump? Or are you talking Democratic primary?

harry: The Democratic primary.

clare.malone: (We haven’t even talked about a GOP primary situation in which a candidate runs, knowing he’ll lose, but to weaken Trump. And that candidate would maybe use the Trump moral failings/harassment charges as ammunition.)

perry: My guess is that the Democratic primary will be clear of any people who have harassed anyone. And I don’t think John Kasich should run against Trump based on sexual harassment.

micah: I guess my point, as Perry noted, is that the bounds of what’s “acceptable” can change. There was a group of people who looked past the allegations against Trump in 2016. Maybe some won’t look past them again in 2020. For example, these Republican women who Clare talked to last year before the election.

perry: I think this is correct.

clare.malone: Tri-bal-ism, people.

micah: Partisanship is a helluva drug.

clare.malone: I also think older women have a different attitude toward harassment, even if they’ve experienced it. I say this from personal and reportorial experience.

Women are no exception to society’s historical leniency toward male harassers.

harry: To Micah’s point: A lot of voters down in Alabama have shifted their votes based on the Moore allegations. (Whether that holds, I don’t know.) So I won’t say it won’t be an issue. It could be, especially if a candidate makes it a focal point of a campaign.

clare.malone: Yeah, I think I want to see whether it holds. I’m genuinely curious.

micah: Yeah, how Alabama plays out may provide clues as to what to expect in 2020.

perry: OK, unless Micah has a question, how about this: Will Bill Clinton speak at the 2020 Democratic National Convention?

micah: Interesting question!

I think … no.

clare.malone: HELL no.

perry: I say yes, but not in prime time.

micah: Oh, that’s a good answer.

clare.malone: Well, as I’ve said often, Democrats are bad at politics, so, sure, they might do that.

harry: I’d block him from entering the state.

perry: Lol.

micah: OK, to wrap, we’ve already hit on this a bit, but let’s talk about sexual misconduct as an issue, rather than how it will affect candidate selection. Will it be part of the mix in 2020?

Will Democratic or Republican candidates have to be for certain policies? Or just “anti-sexual misconduct”?

clare.malone: It strikes me that much of the debate hasn’t actually even involved policies to solve harassment issues — for instance, what the legal definition of sexual harassment is.

micah: 100 percent.

clare.malone: I.e., it’s very difficult to prove in court that you’ve been harassed.

So it will be interesting to me if candidates act on it from a policy point of view and put that out there front and center on their platforms.

perry: Well, this past month, I read lots of articles about what does not work: training. Good thing that is what Congress is literally implementing right now.

clare.malone: yeahhhhhh …

harry: It starts on the Democratic side. If one candidate wants to make an issue out of this, then it is likely that the others will follow. That is just as key as what’s in the zeitgeist. (Granted, an environment in which sexual harassment is still brought up in the news every day makes it more likely that a candidate will bring it to the forefront.)

micah: Final thoughts?

perry: My final thought is that politicians in both parties are struggling with this issue. I was surprised how Nancy Pelosi, a trailblazing woman in politics, struggled to talk about Conyers this weekend. So it’s hard for me to predict what will happen.

harry: I think the chance of a woman being the Democratic nominee in 2020 has gone up over the past few months.

clare.malone: Yes.

[imaginarybird]

Unwilling and unable to face everyone on her own when it comes time to attend Auggie and Ava’s wedding, Riley Matthews hires a solution in Lucas Friar. Loosely based on The Wedding Date.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four

Rating: Around a PG 13/14

Notes: As always,  thanks to everyone who has read, reblogged, commented, liked…whatever you’ve done to support the fic. It means the world to me. And just a reminder, I’m more than happy to chat about this or any of my other fics if you pop into my inbox.

In this chapter, Lucas gets his introductions to Topanga. And Maya. And then he and Riley do some sharing. 

“It’s lovely to meet you Lucas.” Riley’s mother is the picture of poise as she smiles and shakes his outstretched hand--warm and not at all what he’s expecting after making the rounds in the dining room. “It’s always nice when Riley actually gives us a peek into what her life is like now.” 

The barb, presented behind the veneer of courteous small talk lands just as intended; Riley’s grip on his hand tightens and out of the corner of his eye, Lucas sees the edges of her smile draw in.

That’s more like it.

Meeting the rest of the Matthews family, from her grandparents on her dad’s side to her aunts and uncles and their families (most of the Matthews family now live scattered across the country according to Riley, and are using the destination wedding as a vacation and quasi-reunion) has thus far been a mixed bag of awkwardness, passive-aggressive needling towards Riley and suspicion aimed in his direction. They’d just been running out of small talk to go over with the only surrogate uncle invited to the full family experience, Shawn, when Topanga and Maya had returned to the dining room. Maya had gone back to her husband upon entrance but Topanga had zeroed in on and them to greet Riley and receive her introduction.  So far, Topanga only checks off the box of passive-aggressiveness, leaving Lucas curious. Of all Riley’s blood relatives in the room, only Auggie and Riley’s Uncle Eric had been genuinely at ease and warm with her (and him), but Topanga would come across as such to anyone not paying close attention.

 Is her relationship with Riley not as far gone, Lucas wonders, or is she just better at hiding what’s wrong?

He instinctively leans towards the latter option; when she’s not flustered Riley has a mask that could fool almost anyone. She had to have gotten that skill from someone.

 “I’m just glad I was able to get the time off to come out with her.” Lucas says. “Riley has become so important to me over these last few months and I really want to meet everyone who’s important to her.” The comment is a bit cheesy, he knows, but most of the time when he throws it at parents of his clients, they eat it right up, and he figures it makes for a pretty decent litmus test. How Topanga reads the implication could give away a bit more about where she stands with Riley.

 “And yet you’re here.” Topanga swoops her head in a single nod. Her smile doesn’t falter, but her voice is just a pitch too bright. “Riley must not talk to you very much about us.” 

“No, but she paints a picture.” Lucas drops Riley’s hand in favor of wrapping his arm across her shoulders and bringing her a bit closer. She stretches an arm around his waist in return. 

“I’m sure she does.” Topanga’s eyes narrow, ever-so-slightly. Her attention quickly focuses on her daughter. “Riley, you and I will have to have a lunch while you’re here, just the two of us. I feel like there’s a lot we need to catch up on.”

“Sure.” Riley nods, pressing her lips together. Her eyes go just about everywhere except for her mom’s. “I mean, if there’s time.”

Topanga scoffs. “I’m sorry, are you really not going to make time for your mother?”

It’s the first crack in Topanga’s perfectly pleasant facade, Lucas notes. Her eyes flash and her voice gets louder...more strident. Meanwhile, Riley seems to shrink back, even without moving an inch.

“That’s not what I--,”

Topanga cuts Riley off. “We haven’t even been on the same coast of the country in over a year and you barely call twice a month, which I graciously forgive because I know how hard you have to work as a young woman who’s the low man on the totem pole, but now you’re here on vacation and you still can’t carve an hour out of your busy schedule to catch up with me. Are you really that--,”

“I think she just meant that we’re here for Auggie and Ava’s wedding, ma’am.” Lucas steps in before Topanga’s words can get too hurtful, a path they are obviously starting to barrel down. He doesn’t bother trying to tamp down his displeasure or hide it in any way; bonding so quickly with Riley is going to be problematic, particularly when he’s usually so capable of not feeling anything real for his clients) but right now he’s not going to complain that it’s making his job fairly effortless. The protective ire that bubbles up in his chest at Topanga’s practical emotional bullying of Riley is exactly what a caring boyfriend needs. “And as a member of the wedding party, Riley’s schedule has pretty much been planned out down to the second. However, I’m sure if anything changes, you’ll be Riley’s first priority.” Unlikely, but he can’t afford to alienate Topanga entirely.

Topanga’s mouth is opened, poised to deliver what promises to be a diatribe of a rebuttal when a soft, repeated clinking cuts through the chatter of the room.

Ava’s at the head of the dining table, water glass and fork in hand. “Thank you. Everyone is finally here, so if you could all take your seats by the appropriate place cards, we can get the meal underway.

Lucas takes the moment of distraction to gently pull Riley away to the table. A cowardly move? Possibly. It’s obvious that several members of intimidated by her, even afraid of her though aside from her crafty ability to disguise guilt trips and condescension as part of her perfect mom and super woman thing, Lucas has yet to see a compelling reason why. But he also doesn’t want to cause a scene and draw attention, something that could easily happen if he and Riley stay in this conversation, and he’s fairly certain that they won’t be seated anywhere near the elder Matthews’.

Lucas’ second priority is to get Riley’s train of thought away from Topanga; part of having him as her boyfriend for the week should be that she gets to relax and impress her family and former friends--be every ounce of the warm and bubbly personality being stifled beneath her yearning to please the people that by his count, aren’t interested in being please. “I thought this was an informal dinner…” He leans down slightly to comment in Riley’s ear as they walk. “Is she serious about place cards?”

“Ava doesn’t joke about parties she’s involved with.” Riley answers him. As she continues to talk the stiffness slowly bleeds from her posture. “She’s a planner. Very detail-oriented. She has a Pinterest board about how to make the perfect Pinterest Board.”

“So I should double check that my suit and tie won’t clash with the wedding colors?”

“If you don’t want to be barred from entry to the ceremony, I would.”

The meal starts well enough. They’re sitting closest to Riley’s Uncle Eric, a Senator who Lucas recognizes from the news and myriad appearances on late night talk shows (though he never would have made the connection to Riley without the introduction) and his wife, Linda.  Riley’s relationship with Eric seems quite normal and even affectionate compared to the rest of her family, it’s easy enough for the foursome to hold a conversation--Riley and Eric giving each other updates on the goings-on in their lives with Lucas and Linda occasionally interjecting-- and block out the rest of the room. By the time salad comes out, Riley appears to have put the encounters with her parents at the back of her mind and is starting to enjoy herself, laughing as Eric recounts a dating mishap he and Linda had back in high school, the first time they had gotten together. 

Riley doesn’t even falter when Linda smiles sweetly and comments, “So Riley, Eric didn’t know very much at all when I asked him about you and Lucas and you’re so sweet together… I am dying for details. How did you two meet?”

After all, Lucas thinks, this is a story that they came up with together. They’ve practiced telling it and Riley is comfortable so she answers without pause. “At the hospital. I was at the main desk working on my charts and Lucas had just brought in a coworker of his that had gotten sick during their shift together.”

“And I’m trying to help him fill out his paperwork,” Lucas cuts in, angling his glance towards Riley occasionally as he speaks, “but I keep getting distracted by this beautiful nurse with a stuffed bunny rabbit around her neck.”

“My stethoscope cover.” Riley rolls her eyes. She leans to the side as she giggles, her shoulder bumping his and Lucas is impressed; he hadn’t been sure that she’d be at ease enough--with him or the situation--to forget about the play-acting element of the week let their interactions happen naturally as they would with most couples but she’s surprising him the more the evening goes on by starting to show a bit more of herself. “And you were way more distracted by that...I don’t think you even noticed my face.”

“Oh I noticed you too, but I had never seen one of those before.”

“Because they’re for pediatric patients. Anyway,” Riley continues after their shared look, “I’m working away and he’s ogling my rabbit--,”

“Which is not something I approve of my niece’s suitors doing in public.” Eric interjects.

Riley flushes brightly, but doesn’t stop talking. “We’re both doing our thing and this guy comes up--the boyfriend of a patient I’d been working with earlier--and he’s upset, asking all these questions about his girlfriend that I can’t answer. I’m not allowed to, but that’s not the response he’s looking for. He gets really mad and he grabs my shoulders and starts shaking me. Lucky for me, Lucas was there.”

“I just wanted to get the guy off of her.” Lucas clarifies. “He was a kid, but he was huge, and I didn’t see security anywhere so someone had to do something.”

“Oh my gosh, so you stepped in and saved her?” Linda’s rapt expression melts into a smile. “Oh Riley, no wonder you fell for him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was instant or anything...” Riley giggles and nearly stammers. It’s the first part of their story that reads like a bit of a lie, which Lucas finds interesting. It’s almost like she’s defending herself against the claim of falling for him though he can’t imagine why. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with the scenario they’ve concocted it’s not unusual at all for a person to become attracted to someone who does something like intervene is they’re being threatened. Whatever the initial spark of attraction to someone is caused by, it doesn’t make the subsequent relationship less real. Not as long as you build a solid foundation on top of it. “I still had to get to know him.”

“Still…” Linda gushes. “What a way to meet. And you’ve been dating ever since?”

“It was three months last week.” Lucas nods. He lays a hand on top of Riley’s, brushing his thumb across her knuckles and causing her to glance over at him. There’s a brief flash of the same uncertain, deer-in-the-headlights look the gesture had caused on the plane in her eyes, but just as quickly it retreats, making way for her small, bashful smile to return.

Her really adorable, bashful smile.

The really adorable, bashful smile he finds himself returning and wanting to see more of.

Lucas has to tear his gaze away when Eric starts to speak.

“Three months in, a week-long trip to meet the family...sounds pretty serious.” Eric peers pointedly over the glass he has raised near his mouth. “Riley never introduces us to her boyfriends so for her to bring you here to face the entire firing squad...she must think you’re something special. Maybe the next wedding we get together for will be for you two.”

“Eric!” Linda and Riley admonish him in unison, while across and a little farther down the table, a blonde groans and rolls her eyes.

“Oh please.”

Eric loses some of his convivial nature at the muttered comment and lifts his chin at the woman. “Something you want to add to the conversation, Maya?” The edge in his voice is unmistakable; Eric is not his sister-in-law’s biggest fan, and Lucas wonders why.

Across the evening he’s gotten the feeling that Maya plays a role in the story of Riley’s estrangement from most of her family--she just hasn’t featured in the snippets that Riley has given him. But the mention of her is enough to cause an increase in tension, and despite the fact that she’s Riley’s age and her aunt by marriage, there had been no attempt to greet her thus far; if anything Maya had seemed to deliberately avoid being near Riley until they had taken their somewhat adjacent seats at the table.

The blonde seems to get along with everyone else and fit in well with the rest Matthews’ family, so there has to be something causing the unease and disquiet. Unless it’s just the fact that Riley doesn’t get seem to fit in well with them, but that seems unlikely. They’re all adults after all.

“I just think it’s hilarious that you think Riley and this...Norman Rockwell rip-off are gonna get anywhere near marriage.” Maya says, stabbing at a cherry tomato in her salad with her fork. “We all know Riley doesn’t do the relationship thing anymore. And even when she did it was not with guys like him.” She pops the tomato in her mouth, and talks around it. “It’ll be a miracle if they make it to six months, let alone to an engagement or a wedding.”

Josh, who Lucas has only interacted with enough to form the opinion that he hero worships Cory and worships his wife, leans over to quietly chastise her at the same time that Riley shrinks back in her chair.

“Guys like me?” Lucas asks. He’s careful to leave his tone friendly enough and a smile on his face but he nearly squares his jaw just the same; he can’t see how Maya’s comment is meant to be anything but a jab at Riley, even if she wasn’t directing it towards her. He has to reach for her hand again when Riley tries to pull away.

The table starts to hush as the conversation continues, everyone else catching on that something more interesting than general family catch-up is happening.

“You’re crazy hot.” Maya blinks, like she can’t figure out what he doesn’t get. “Like, stupid hot.”

“So?”

“Riley has a type and you’re not it.” Maya shrugs. “She’s never dated anyone like you.”

“That’s funny,” Auggie comments from a few more seats down the table, levelling a sharp stare at Maya, “I don’t remember you having any complaints about who she chose to date when you were in high school.”

That’s it, Lucas realizes. That’s where the story is. He should have known. It always goes back to high school 

He knows that the secret to the story lies in Auggie’s words because Cory and Topanga both immediately start demanding that he apologize to Maya, and most everyone else seems to be caught up between joining in on the fight that brews when Auggie refuses and making sure that Maya’s OK. Meanwhile after a few moments of this building voluminous explosion where her name gets thrown around more than once, Riley, face burning bright pink and eyes shining with tears pushes away from the table and rushes out of the dining room.

Lucas is the only one to notice.

He doesn’t understand the situation--doesn’t understand what a girl like Riley who seems to be so soft and caring and full of exuberance could have done to have such a polarizing effect on her family--and the more he watches the Matthews, the less sure he is that he needs to; it’s not his job to fix them anyway and Riley never asked him to. She asked him to be her companion for the week and make everyone think that they’re a couple.

With all of that in mind, no horse in the game, and starting to give in to his distaste for the Matthews and the way they treat Riley, Lucas stands and walks out of the room without a word.

After a detour through the kitchen where he snags something they can eat (as the meal hadn’t really been underway when they had left) Lucas finds Riley sitting out on their room’s balcony, staring out at the beach with her knees pulled to her chest. He observes the situation for a brief moment (she’s not crying as he was sort of expecting), and raps his knuckles twice on the doorframe.

“You want to talk about it?” 

Riley doesn’t turn to look at him when she answers. “No.”  The one syllable tells Lucas everything he needs to know. It’s dull and wet; she’s swallowing it all down, something she’s obviously used to doing. For every snide comment, dirty look, or outright attack she had faced from her family, not once had she been the one to fight back, not in any meaningful way. She made a few token attempts to defend her current life, but otherwise took everything they had to throw at her in shrinking subservience.

When did she learn that? Lucas wonders, though he shakes his head as soon as the thought emerges. If the family’s conflict isn’t his problem than neither is the history of Riley’s behavior. Diving too deep into that rabbit hole is just another way of getting too close and becoming attached, and there’s no room for that in a business arrangement like theirs.

“Do you want to be alone?”

“Not really.”

Again, not what he expects. But Lucas complies, and steps out onto the balcony, taking a seat next to Riley on the small bench seat. After a brief moment of sitting in the thick silence, contemplating his next move since she doesn’t want to talk about what just happened, Lucas presents his (slightly stolen) plate of food. “Do you want cake?”

This at least gets her to turn and look at him.

Riley’s eyes go from his, to the plate he’s holding with a genuinely massive slice of cake and two forks on it, back to his eyes. “Why do you have cake?” The corners of her mouth twitch up, though the expression doesn’t grow further.

“I wanted to make sure you got something to eat.” Lucas replies, grabbing one of the forks and holding it out for her to take. “But the most portable options were either the basket of dinner rolls or...cake. And I thought given the choice…”

“Yeah, cake is good.” Riley nods, taking the fork.

Lucas watches as she cuts into the cake with gusto, taking one large mouthful of red velvet, and then a second. After a moment, he joins her using the second fork, and although the dessert is a bit sweet on his largely empty stomach, it’s moist and rich and exactly the sort of thing he likes to eat when he’s treating himself. Judging by Riley’s reaction, she feels the same way and they eat in the relative silence of the crashing waves for a couple of minutes before Lucas decides that they’re settled enough and comfortable enough that he won’t be overstepping to speak.

“I grew up in Texas,” he begins, feeling more than a little awkward. This isn’t a conversation he normally has with his clients; it’s not a conversation he normally has with anyone although his business partner knows most of it. “In this little tucked away pocket of a town near Austin where everything just felt so backwards and stuck in time compared to the city. A small town like that… everyone knows everyone and everyone knows everyone’s business… Appearance and what people see you do is everything. And my family owns the biggest ranch in the town so we’re kind of at the center of that microscope.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It...wasn’t great.” Lucas confirms. “I had a family legacy to live up to and as much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t do it. And the whole town knew.”

“Is that why you left?”

“One of many reasons.” He waits a moment to see if she’ll say anything else and when she doesn’t, he continues with his story. “When I was five, my dad entered me into my first mutton busting tournament.”

“Mutton busting…?” Riley quirks an eyebrow.

“It’s like a rodeo except instead of adults it’s little kids, and instead of riding bulls you ride sheep.”

Riley smiles as the explanation sinks in. “So...the most adorable miniature version of a sport ever.”

“You don’t really see it as adorable when you’re trying to be the very best and uphold the family name.” Lucas says. “Then it’s just…”

“Impossible to focus on anything other than the anvil of pressure that your family is laying across your shoulders?” Riley fills in, lowering her fork back down to the plate.

Lucas doesn’t respond to Riley’s explanation directly, although he’s not surprised that she has such an innate understanding of the situation even without many details; it’s becoming increasingly evident to him that although their actual experiences have been different, their situations are actually quite similar. “If a Friar was entered in the tournament, they always made the strongest showing. My dad, my uncle, Pappy Joe, his dad… mutton busting is a rite of passage in the town and the first step to upholding the Friar family legacy. And I wanted to do it. I thought I was ready. I trained hard as a five-year-old could, watched videos of other tournaments… I was ready to be the best damn mutton-buster they’d ever seen. Then the tournament came and I drew Judy the Sheep as my ride.

“And I know what you’re thinking,” he continues. “With a name like Judy, she had to be an easy one, right? Just a cute little innocent fluffball.”

“I’m guessing not.”

“Judy,” the name still nearly sends a shiver down his spine, “was an unhinged and violent sheep disguised as an innocent fluffball, who bucked me off within two seconds.”

Riley’s hand is on his before the explanation is even complete. “That must have been awful…”

“Just like that I was the laughing stock of the town.” Lucas confirms. “A failure. And Friars can’t be failures. After that it didn’t matter what I did… all anyone ever saw was the kid who fell off Judy.”

“I think disappointing people unlocks their memory banks.” Riley sighs. She takes her hand back and starts playing with the hem of her skirt. “You do something that doesn’t meet their standards and it’s like they’ve got an infinite loop of every mistake you’ve ever made playing in their brains.”

Lucas still can’t wrap his head around what Riley could have done to disappoint anyone. She’s a successful nurse, so it can’t be that they disapprove of her career, and personality-wise… she’s got a family that uses every opportunity to remind her that she doesn’t fit in and that they don’t think she’s trying hard enough and she doesn’t ever seem to fight back or get mad or really try to defend herself. She just keeps playing nice. If that’s their idea of a personality flaw…

Lucas considers himself to be very good at reading people and an excellent judge of character but this not something he can figure out how to understand without a lot more help.

He leans forward and rests the remaining cake on the small table in front of them. “I spent years trying to make them see past all that. Swallowed every piece of myself that they didn’t like to try and fit in... turned into the worst possible version of myself and it still didn’t change a thing.”

“And that’s why you left.” Riley fills in.

“Same reason you did, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah.” She shifts in her seat, looking askance. “Only I get the feeling you don’t go back anymore. And that you think I’m pretty stupid because I do.”

Lucas half-nods, half-shakes his head. “No, I don’t. On both counts.” He tacks on, nudging her shoulder with his. “We’re two different people, Riley. Leading two different lives. My solution isn’t necessarily yours.”

“I just… don’t know how to stop caring about them. They’re my family.”

“That’s the thing. I never stopped caring about them. I just started caring about myself more.”

They sit and talk for several more hours until long after the sun drops down below the horizon. Riley doesn’t share the history of what happened with her parents, but she tells him how a summer internship with her Uncle Eric while he was working on healthcare reform led to her choosing to study nursing. They finish the cake and talk about movies and music and when a slip of the tongue reveals his secret love for Cuddle Bunnies, they spend a good chunk of time talking about their favorite characters and which episodes they go back to watch when they’re having a bad day. 

It’s the most open and relaxed he’s ever been with a client and Lucas isn’t sure how to feel about that. He’s always kept boundaries in place for a reason --things just get messy when you get too involved and at the end of the day this is his business. His livelihood. But it’s just so easy to blur the lines with Riley and forget that at the end of the day, she’s just another customer.

They talk right up until they’re both yawning so much that they aren’t even getting full sentences out, and at that point he urges Riley inside to get ready for bed.

Bed. Which they still haven’t discussed and definitely don’t have a plan for.

Given the day they’ve had and Riley’s obvious lack of comfort earlier, Lucas thinks the smart thing to do and the only real options is to go with his original default plan. When he sees Riley go into the bathroom with a bundle of clothes and close the door behind her, he ducks back into the room and grabs a pillow from the bed. From there, Lucas sets to work turning the small sofa into something more comfortable for sleeping.

He does that, changes into some sweatpants (and after a small amount of mental debate leaves his undershirt on though he would usually sleep without it) and is just about to consider settling in when Riley comes out of the bathroom.

She’s got light purple short set pajamas on and her hair in a side-swept braid across her shoulder and Lucas feels his mouth go dry. Then she looks at what he’s doing and crinkles her nose in a confused frown and he nearly falls back onto the seat.

He is in so much trouble.

“Why does it look like you’re planning on sleeping on the sofa?” She asks.

She’s just a client. Part of a business transaction, nothing more. Don’t go falling for something you can’t have, Lucas. It’ll only be you that gets hurt.

After giving himself the mental pep talk, Lucas coughs once into his hand and answers, feeling slightly re-secured in the nature of their relationship. “I thought you might be more comfortable if you had the bed to yourself.”

“Oh.” The syllable falls from her mouth and she glances at the floor. “Won’t you be uncomfortable? It’s just that...you’re so tall and that couch is pretty short, and I wouldn’t feel right about that. If we’re gonna do this, I should be the one on the couch.”

There are many different parts of him that won’t stand for that. “What? No. Riley, that’s ridiculous. This is your trip, your family, you’re the one who needs to get the best night’s sleep possible and you’re the one in charge, so you need to take the bed.”

“If I’m the one in charge, then I can insist that you take the bed.” Riley argues. “I’m already making you put up with my family for a week, I’m not gonna make you put up with back pain from a poor sleeping surface on top of that.”

“You’re not making me do anything, you’re paying me.” Lucas counters. He nearly frowns when he sees something flash in Riley’s eyes but continues his piece of the debate. “And I’ve told you before, that as long as it’s not illegal I’ll do pretty much anything for a client.”

Riley squares her shoulders and crosses her arms over her chest. “Then what if I said I wanted to share the bed with you?”

“Then we’d share the bed, but I don’t think that’s something that’s really--,”

“I want to share the bed.” Riley nearly stammers when she makes the assertion but she makes it all the same.

“Riley…”

“I want to share the bed.” She repeats, a little firmer this time. “We’re both adults. I’ve shared a bed before and I’m sure you have too. You said nothing would ever happen without my permission and I trust you. There’s no reason we both can’t be comfortable tonight.”

He sighs, mentally adding ‘stubborn’ to the list of traits he can confirm about her. “I can agree with all of that, but I just don’t agree that you’ll be comfortable. You’re still adjusting to holding my hand.”

“And if everyone’s really going to believe that we’re together then I have to be more comfortable with touching you. All of you.” She blushes and turns away in a rush to continue talking, pulling back the sheets. “Consider sharing a bed immersion therapy. It’ll be fine.”

Lucas kind of doubts that, but there’s only so many ways he can make the argument. Riley doesn’t appear ready to back down, and they need to get some sleep to face the day tomorrow; in many ways, it could end up worse than today was, given how the dinner had ended. If she’s gonna insist on sharing the bed, he figures he either has to do it, or go for a walk, come back when she’s asleep and take the couch anyways. And quite frankly, he’s tired enough that he doesn’t want to go for a walk. “All right. We’ll share the bed.”

As they both get into the bed, Riley’s bravado fades a little bit and they share several glances where her nerves are more evident, and Lucas thinks about offering the couch one last time but she doesn’t say anything and before he can, she turns the light out.

Comfortable where he is (he really has been able to sleep pretty much anywhere) Lucas closes his eyes, but he doesn’t get anywhere near falling asleep. For the next several minutes Riley is finding a position staying there for a little bit and then shifting, and it’s all too much movement within their shared space for him to relax and fall asleep.

Finally, she lies flat on her back and sighs. “Lucas?” She whispers.

Figuring this is the moment where she gives up and asks him to move, Lucas starts to sit up. “Yeah?”

“I was...it was nice out on the deck when we were talking. Could you…?”

Oh. Lucas lowers himself back down onto the bed, and takes a moment to think. “You know how I told your dad I’m putting myself through vet school? That was true. I’m gonna be a veterinarian someday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. One day when I was in the sixth grade I was home alone after school and I went to the barn to hang out with the horses, and one of my favorites, Sofia, she started foaling…”

[random-imagines-blog]

British Blood, American Heart {Sherlock Half-Sister Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2300

The digital clock on your computer went from 6:59 to 7:00 and you let out a sigh of relief. It was finally time to return home, curl up on your couch and binge watch Netflix to your hearts content. It took you a couple of minutes to shut the computer down, gather your things in your bag and start to head towards the exit. It was a bit strange today - usually some of your co-workers invite you out to some sort of event and keep you here coming up with polite excuses until well after you could be home. But all you got today was a couple of smiles and a ‘Have a great weekend’ from them. Not that you were complaining. You could easily get used to this change.

There was something about the common people that you worked with. You didn’t really consider yourself to be a snob but you always somehow believed that you were above them. You were certainly smarter than the whole lot of them put together but you weren’t ready to apply it because you didn’t want the attention of being the know-it-all geeky girl. It was bad enough people had already called you Hermione throughout University.

The office that you worked for had a shitty parking garage. There were always spraypainters down there, people hanging out and doing drugs. It wasn’t very well patrolled by the security guards either so you opted to just rent out a space in a public parking lot down the street. It was worth it, knowing your car was safe and being able to get a bit more fresh air in the process. As you went out into the late afternoon sun - weak, much like the tea that was left in your thermos - you eagerly planned out your night. A couple more chapters of your Clive Barker book, an episode or two of something on Netflix, your favorite TV dinner and then at last - your bed.

But your plans seemed to be foiled quickly. As you turned the corner to get to the block where your car was waiting for you, your work-required heels clicking against the sidewalk, you felt a sharp sting on your arm, and then things started to get blurry. It was like trying to look through binoculars that weren’t adjusted properly. Everything was moving, blurring together. The building next to you no longer seemed to be solid and the ground felt like you were walking on a pool cover while it was still on the water. This caused a major migraine and you closed your eyes instinctively to fight against it, but it would be a while before you opened them again. You remembered the sound of a bell as you were dragged through a door, you felt something bump into your leg - or maybe your leg bumped into it - and then nothing more.

The telephone in Mycroft Holmes’s office rang. And rang. And rang. Nobody was there to pick it up. The building was utterly silent, with only the sound of the London rain against the windows and the electronic buzz of the security system to break up the ringing. An automated voice asked the caller to leave a message or to call another number in case of emergencies, two beeps and then a hushed, mumbling sound from a female, calling out for help. It was cut off as the time limit for messages came to a close, and then it was only the buzzing and the rain once again.

Sherlock gets a call the next morning. He didn’t want to answer it but John had rudely shoved the telephone in his face. He had heard Mycroft say something about family, and John thought it was important enough to really require Sherlock’s attention, and broke his concentration from .. whatever it was that Sherlock was studying at that moment. Different fibers in brands of ribbons, it looked to be.

Sherlock did not give any of his sarcastic remarks, but rather looked confused, and then enlightened at something. “I knew it.” He said, standing up, phone clutched in his hand, held close to his ear. “We’ll meet you at the airport. John - we’re going to America.”

“What for? John asked, reaching for his cane. He knew that something was afoot, and he was going to need the damn thing to keep his body steady, since his mind was going to be racing at whatever it was that was making Sherlock leave not only the home, but the continent!

“You’ll learn - go and pack our bags. I have some thinking to do.” He disappeared into the kitchen, calling for Mrs. Hudson to make him a cup of tea, rather than do it himself.

An hour later, when Sherlock and John met Mycroft at Heathrow, Mycroft was not alone. Behind him, with their cases packed, were his parents. They both looked very nervous, which did not give any indication to John what was going on. And he continued to ask. He had his passport in hand, and they were being rushed off to one of Mycroft’s own private planes. Nothing about this was telling him where he was going on this plane. He couldn’t even guess.

Once they were all situated on the plane, Mycroft looked over at his parents. “Why don’t you explain to John what’s going on? I think I’d like to hear this story.” He adjusted his impeccable suit, and gave the impression that he was about to hear something that he had heard a hundred times before, like he would not be surprised by any line of it. John, as well as the three other people in the private plane, all looked towards Mr. Holmes with expectations. The well-dressed man adjusted his tie and started his tale nervously.

“I could never bear the thought of telling you all about this,” He said, holding onto his wife’s hand.

“I had an affair.” Mrs. Holmes said, surprising everyone. “I know, monstrous of me. I do love your father very much boys but it took some time. I had to do something to get out of the house with you playing your Detectives Sherlock, or you berating your brother Mike.”

“Mycroft.” The older brother said, sniffling distastefully. He always did hate that nickname.

Mrs Holmes refrained from rolling her eyes. “Another maths professor who helped me edit my book . I got pregnant and went on a vacation for a while, you’ll remember, I went and stayed with Aunt Jean-”

“We don’t have an Aunt Jean. I just thought you left dad.” Sherlock said, remembering the time apart from his mother now.

“Yes, well, I had the baby and we had decided it would be best if the father raised it, so he brought your half-sister to America.”

“Did something happen to her?” John asked, trying to figure out why he was being told this and why they were headed on a plane to America.

“I got a call from an old friend of yours. Sherlock. Moriarty. He’s found her and is asking for a trade. I’ve thought about it-” Mycroft started.

“Me for her?” Sherlock stated. “That’s preposterous. Why would I trade -”

“You’re not.” Mycroft said, leaning forward. “We’re going to get her back. I’ve done a bit of research on her. Quite smart, wasted talent, seems like a Holmes trait.” He looked over at his brother. “We could use her.”

“We are not using anyone.” Mr. Holmes said, getting attention again. “We are going to find her, and bring her home. With us or with her father. Any questions?”

The plane was silent as the information was processed. There was a long way to go, and plenty of time for questions later.

You woke up to complete darkness. You had to raise your fingers to your own eyes to feel that they were open, that’s how black the room was. You weren’t tied down, you could tell that much. You felt heavy but it was from the drugs that were in your system, not from restraints. You reached around you and felt nothing. You crawled a couple of feet and finally, your shoulder hit against bars. Hands grasping out to feel your surrounds, you could feel the metal rods now, jutting up. You got to your feet, holding onto them for support, and like you suspected they were buried both in floor and ceiling. Stepping to the side, you felt wall, and so you went the other way, and more wall. Some steps away from the bars made you come to the conclusion that you were in a cell of some sort. It felt like an old jail.

You didn’t make a sound. It might be beneficial if the kidnappers thought that you were still asleep. You could perhaps overhear them, but you heard no voices.

You sat down to conserve your strength. Your stomach growled and your mouth grew dry but you didn’t make a complaint or ask for anything. Someone out there was surely watching over you, and you did not want them to know that you were awake.

You got a little sleep - you thought. With the silence and the darkness, it was hard to tell whether you were conscious or not. You had no way to tell the time, your phone had been taken from you and there was no ticking clocks. Damn this digital age, at least it would have given you something to count.

Moriarty was nowhere to be seen but this was where all the tracks had lead Sherlock to. He was a detective, not a hound dog, so tracking wasn’t his specialty but he was able to figure out where Moriarty might go. Where Sherlock himself would go. He’d poked around your office, your apartment, gone through your things. He’d seen pictures of you, as had John. John saw the family resemblance in the eyes, the curly hair, the stiff posture.

With these few times, Sherlock started to feel like he was getting to know you. He understood your head. Your exasperation, your lack of meaningful friendships, he related to your self-isolation and did not see it as problematic as your father and his family had.

He really was determined to get you back to that life safe before this turned into a murder case.

The beams from flashlights caught your attention. It could easily be a trap. You’ve been in the dark for hours, holding in your bladder, feeling the pain of it but you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction of having to sit in a cell with your own urine drying in the corner, oh no.

But you hoped rescue would come soon so that you wouldn’t pee your pants either.

You sunk down lower to the ground, closing your eyes to pretend to sleep. There was nothing at all in here you could use as a weapon except for your very own fists. With at least twelve hours gone by without food, perhaps a day or more but twelves hours definitely, you weren’t at your strongest.

There were voices. British. That made you think that these men definitely with the kidnappers. No American cops that you knew of spoke in those accents.

The beam went over your cell and passed over your face. The brightness hurt your eyes, despite them being closed. You did your best to keep your face calm, like you were sleeping, and not show the anger that you were feeling at being kept here. Or the fear. If your eyes were open, they surely would see.

“She’s in here!” A loud, posh sounding voice said. There was scrambling of feet. More voices. Loud ones. You waited the sound of a key unlocking the door to this cell but it did not come. Just the sound of grunts as they tried to bend the metal. Guess there wasn’t a door.

You finally opened your eyes and risked looking. It was a mess with the flashlights pointing everywhere. Some had been set down on the ground to face the bars. You sat up and tried to make out the shapes. You doubted it would be anyone that you recognized, but you thought you saw some police hats on some of the heads. You covered your eyes against the light.

“We’re going to get you out, y/n.” An older voice said, sounding desperate as they tried to get at the bars.

“It’s no use.” One of the cops said. “They’re too strong. Won’t bend.”

“He got her in there somehow.” A calm, British voice said. “So there has to be a way out.”

A couple of the police looking ones disappeared. In their absence, a shorter man - you could still only see silhouettes, rolled a flashlight between the bars towards you. You took it and used it to look around the interior of the room, see where you had been sitting. There didn’t seem to be a way out, and there was no door in the bars. You had no idea how you had gotten in here.

“How’d you guys find me?” You inquired right away. “And who are you? Did I get flown into England without realizing it?”

“No,” The one with the curly hair said, as the police came back with the proper tools to cut the bars to finally get you out of this hell hole. “I’m Sherlock Holmes. I’m-”

Someone cleared their throat in the background, and a man came forward who was dressed in an impeccable suit. He looked more out of place than a sword at a gunshow.

“I’m Mycroft Holmes and we are your half brothers.” He introduced.

[pendragonfics]

Luck of The Draw

Paring: Sam Winchester/Reader

Tags: female reader, fluff, angst, prophetic visions, happy ending

Summary: Reader never really has that much luck. Except for the time Ash sends her on the same hunt as a few familiar hunters...

Notes: This was a request, asked to be something alike my story Tough Love (which I will disavow forever and ever, amen).

Word Count: 1,371

Posting Date:  2016-07-28

Current Date: 2017-05-21

The first sign of your very not normal, supernaturally-inclined life began one night, where instead of dreaming, you saw something else behind your eyes. It was...surreal. Like something someone straight out of a LSD trip would be hit with, rather than you, a retail worker from Indiana. But it happened, and, it happened again and again, and...again. More often while you were awake, and once while driving to work. You thought nothing of it. You just saw things that came true; like a small-town minimum wage freak show.  

You thought nothing of it for three months until one of your visions of your fiance came true. You thought nothing of it; it had been just a daydream compared to the other flashes you'd had, much alike migraines. But as you pulled up in the driveway of your little house in the suburbs, it felt off.

That was because, laying in the backyard, the hose still watering the rose garden, was your fiance, body in shreds and heart missing from his chest. You had run away after that: everyone had spread rumours around the small town that you had done it to him, or that the house had been cursed. But whatever it was, you were gone.

Goodbye, day job.

---

Fourteen Months Later

The day had began with a text from Ash, sending you 50 miles out of your way cross-country to a small lakeside town for a problematic skin changer clan. You didn't mind; you'd already had the vision of the call, and were nearly in the area before Ash had even called. Your friends at the Roadhouse called you a freak of nature, sure, but there was no greater hunter than you. Not everyone could see the future in snippets, sometimes all at once or in stages, through smells or sounds, phrases or pictures. Whatever it was, you saw what could happen.

Before you made it to the bar, though, you couldn't help but sigh at the sound of sirens.

"If only my psychic abilities excluded me from speeding tickets," you mutter under your breath. But, because you were such a model citizen, you pulled your pickup truck over.

"Ma'am, thank you for pulling over, we'd like to ask you a few questions," a grizzled older man approached the driver's side of the car. He had a kind face, and a beard growing in like a redneck. But he was nice. "Is that okay with you?"

You take a deep breath. "Is it about my speeding? Because my odometer is slightly off, and I will defiantly get it fixed tonight." you reply, and squinting, you hit the steering wheel. "Bobby Singer? How long has it been?"

Bobby wipes a hand over his face. "Too long, ________. I didn't recognise you in this truck."

You laugh. "Bought her myself. So, what can I help you with, Officer Singer? You here for the same thing I am?"

He nods. "Yeah, along with the Winchester boys, but they're way ahead of me. Already at the bar, lucky bastards." he motions back to the police car, "I'll get Rufus to drive that to the motel. Care to give an old man a lift to drink top shelf?"

You reach over and open the passenger door. "I'd be delighted to be a model citizen."

Walking into the bar, Bobby motions to you the two suited men sitting at a table. There's one digging into a burger like it's the first thing he's eaten in his 30 years of life, and the other is calmly reading something from a laptop.

"Boys," Bobby addresses them, "This is ________. She's in town for the same job. Sent in by Ash, would you believe it?"

The cheeseburger-eating man smiles. "Hi. I'm Dean," he greets you with a mouthful. "You look too pretty to be a hunter."

"Quit it Dean, looks aren't every-," the other man looks up at you, and is startled at your appearance. "Sorry. I - I'm Sam. Hi."

Bobby chuckles, and patting your back, goes off toward the bar. "I'll leave you to the greetings and stuff," he huffs.

Dean shuffles over, and grabs a seat from a nearby table. "So, where do you know Bobby from? Old friends?" he prompts you. Slowly, you take a seat, but at once, the smell of the cheeseburger perpetrated your thoughts with the tell-tale feeling of a vision coming on. Not now, you whisper internally.

"I was a sales assistant turned hunter," you smile at Sam, who seems to have a hot flush taking over his face, it's quite rosy. "Bobby trained me up and got me connections to the Roadhouse and a couple of other hunters." you smile. "So, from what I gather, you two are the famous Winchesters?"

Dean chuckles. "Well, darling-,"

"Yeah, I guess we are. We're just doing our jobs, and trying to make the world a safer place." Sam interrupts his brother, "I mean, isn't that what all hunters work for?"

You take a deep breath, and gaze into Sam's eyes. "I think I like you, Sam Winchester."

A week later, and four skin-changers put to rest later, you found yourself standing by the side of Sam's car, hand on the bonnet. And, unlike many other hunts, you can't manage to get the words of farewell out and drive away into the sunset in your pickup. The taller man approaches you, and before his mouth opens, everything turns black.

A vision.

---

Your hand is warmed by another hand, one that is not yours for a change. You had not felt this secure since...since the passing of your fiancé. But here you are, and looking up, the person keeping your fingers toasty...is Sam Winchester.

"I know you said we spent it all on the wedding, but I had a backup bank account," he starts off, pulling the car over in the middle of the street, in amidst houses in the suburbs, "...this is my present to you, _______, my beautiful wife."

You glance away from his beautiful eyes, to see a green house, complete with a garden -

---

"________! Are you okay?" Sam is holding, kneeling down like you had just been a limp sack of potatoes. "You just...went out like a light!"

You rub your face, nodding. "Please don't hurt me for this, but I get visions, of the future." you admit. Never had you admitted that before with any other hunter. But from what you just saw...

Sam's eyes widen. "I used to get those," he blurted out.

You chuckle. "We match!"

Sam smiles. "Well, before you went out cold, I was going to ask if you wanted to trade phone numbers to keep in touch, but now...I want to make sure you don't black out driving."

You blush. "You don't have to - it's not like that it would be the first time for that. But I would love your phone number. And possibly a kiss for the road. Two?"

From the other side of the car, Dean chuckles. "Keep this girl, Sammy."

---

The house is quiet, and for once, that isn't terrifying. It's quiet because for once, there aren't the sound of gunshots reverberating in your ear, or the sound of footsteps that aren't made by a creeping creature you have to kill on sight. No. You are right where your vision predicted: in safety. In love. In paradise on earth.

You are on the lounge, reading quietly. Across your lap, lies Sam; he's been quiet lithe, slow, like a normal tall American, and not a Veteran for a war nobody knew existed. He reads the same book you are, head tilted to read the pages at the same rate you are. If you had thought your life with your passed previous fiancé had been perfect, you had been sorely mistaken.

This was perfect.

"Sam?" you whisper, glancing down at your husband.

He hadn't spoken for a while; whenever the pair of you did this sort of thing, he would complain at your slow reading. But instead of staring at you with his adorable pout, his gorgeous eyes, they are closed, his chest rising and falling with every sleepy breath he takes.

"I freaking love you, Sam Winchester."

[my-mystic-messenger]

Mystic Slice of Life: Ep. 1

Mystic Slice of Life is a project me and a friend - who as of now wishes to remain anonymous - will be working on together. It will focus mainly on the relationships between the characters of Mystic Messenger as opposed to the relationships they have to their significant others. Of course those will play certain roles as well, but they will be minor. It is something that hasn’t really been done before and something we wanted to explore further. What do these people do while they aren’t online? What happened in their past and what will happen in their future? All of that shall be explored.

Fandom: Mystic Messenger Rating: General Warnings: None Categories: platonic Relationships: Jumin/Zen Word count: 1900 

MC’s mentioned Masterlist

“I can’t believe I agreed to this”, Zen mumbled to himself, trailing off as he looked at himself in the mirror. He turned to every side, looking at himself from every angle. Despite his body doing everything in its power to reject the ridiculous costume he’d been put into, Zen attempted to remain positive about it. “Even as a damn furball I still look good!” It was a feeble attempt. The actor was supposed to be a model for one of Jumin’s cat projects and the corporate heir insisted he dress up as a cat. A cat.

Zen let out a flustered sigh as he adjusted the cat ears that adorned his head. Although he’d tried everything humanly imaginable to get himself excited, the prospect of being photographed dressed like he was left him feeling uncomfortable. Needless to say that the actor was hesitant. The very thought of these animals sent him into a sneezing mess but Jumin was prepared. He’d made sure there was enough allergy medication on set to start a pharmacy of his own.

This didn’t stop Zen from having small sniffles although it did stop any swelling around his eyes and kept his skin free of red patches. “He better appreciate me”, Zen muttered to himself as he paced around the room. Even though it was time for him to go out to the set, he couldn’t bring himself to. “I’m putting my name on the line for him!”

It was in that moment that Jumin knocked at the door of the changing room, not waiting for a reply before stepping in. Zen was being tardy and the shoot hadn't even begun. "If anything it is me putting my name on the line for you, but let us not focus on such semantics", Jumin said to announce himself. Zen's expression soured immediately as he heard Jumin's aloof statement, the tone that always seemed to rile up the young man. “I didn’t say come in.”

"You are late, Zen, and every minute you decide to stall I have to pay for." The words were spoken without mean intent. To Jumin it was merely stating certain facts in order to hurry the process up. However, it was rather obvious that Zen seemed unamused by the corporate's words. Still, as much as the actor wanted to prattle off petty insults and rebuttals he straightened up to look towards the door, "Of course, I apologize for the delay”, Zen replied curtly.

"I do not understand where your issue lies, Zen. The costume has an impeccable fit and your fans most certainly won't be disappointed." It was true, however silly some people might think the costume, the fit was perfect. It hugged Zen's body in all the right places and the cat ears and tail added a charm that appealed to girls as well as Jumin. Not that the way he was holding his chin and smiling at Zen's outfit in appreciation did anything to make the situation any less awkward.

If the color in Zen's face could have gotten any more pale, it would have. He was almost terrified at Jumin's seemingly lusty gaze, the kind that a man would give to a beautiful woman passing by. "C-could you not look at me like that? You're creeping me out!" Jumin rolled his eyes, huffing at the other man’s remark.

"I am not looking at you, but the costume you are wearing. I was trying to imagine how it would be possible to remodel it. I would love to see Madeleine in it", Jumin explained bluntly, letting his hand fall from his face to fold behind his back. Letting out a soft shudder Zen hurried past to leave the room, "This is the only time I'll ever do anything like this for you, understand?" He took a deep breath, put on a sparkling smile, and walked onto the set.

Jumin frowned a little, perplexed at Zen’s behaviour. He refrained from commenting on the other man’s obviously irritable tone of voice. While he had no understanding as to why the job was such a hardship for Zen, everyone in the RFA - especially their respective partners - had blown up Jumin’s private messenger, reminding him time and time again to be polite and tone down the arrogance. Apparently the job was 'degrading enough as it is' and didn't need Jumin's commentary to make matters worse.

While he’d refused to understand why anyone would call him arrogant, Madeleine had begged him to be a little more understanding so naturally he would try his best. In an attempt to mend the tension, Jumin stepped up to Zen. "Thank you, Zen", he spoke up as the lighting was adjusted. "I appreciate your cooperation. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." It was a an attempt at offering a truce for the duration of the shoot.

Zen hesitated momentarily as Jumin changed his tone. This wasn't the response he’d expected from his rival. "You're welcome. What's with you? I don't see you as the type to act nice in front of others just to make yourself look good." Grabbing the tail that hung from his backside he held it to his person as he subconsciously wanted to keep it as far away from Jumin as possible thinking the man may try to reach for it at some point.

Jumin merely shrugged. "Call it a fleeting moment of compassion", he explained, an actual smile curling about his lips. "That and the influence of the people that have recently entered and thereby enriched our lives. Despite being grown men the two of us are ever evolving. We still have a long way to go, but I'm attempting to make the effort and take a step towards you, as you took one towards me. Now enough of such things. We are here to work and I have a schedule to keep up with."

Zen simply nodded as he was taken back by the sincerity of other man’s words. Had Madeleine really affected Jumin that much? She had asked him to try to understand this man and get along with him but it seemed to be harder for the actor to bite back his tongue. "She better be glad that I like her”, he grumbled under his breath before walking to towards the photographers. Zen waited for any instructions or last minute touch-ups to his face and upon seeing Jaehee standing behind the crew he waved to the familiar face.

Jumin frowned when he followed Zen’s gaze only to see his Assistant standing in between the crew members. He distinctly remembered giving her a lot of tasks to make sure that she would not be on set, for both his and Zen's sake. It was a precaution, an attempt at stopping her from taking unauthorized photos that might end up in the wrong hands; namely Saeyoung’s. He didn't put it past him to hack Jaehee's phone for those photos to have his strange spam bot post them somewhere or sell them.

The moment Zen waved she was interupted of her daydream and before she could return the greeting she felt a familiar presence approach her. Jumin walked up to Jaehee, frown in place and arms crossed over his chest. At least she had the decency to look ashamed. "Why are you here, Assistant Kang?" Scrambling to compose herself, she handed him the clipboard in her hands along with a pen, "Apologies, Mr. Han. I simply came by to get you to sign a few documents”, she replied quickly.

“I need to send those out before the end of today. I have a lot of work to do so if you could place a signature here." She pointed towards a dotted line. Jumin bit his tongue not to reply, knowing full well why she'd come and his signature most certainly not being it. He took the pen and signed all the documents she'd given him and purposefully ignored the glances she kept throwing the actor’s way. Maybe they should find someone for Jaehee as well?

Zen had a girlfriend, Yoosung too, Luciel - no, Saeyoung - was soon to be engaged, if Jumin was right in his behaviour analysis of the hacker, and he himself had only recently gotten married. Meanwhile Jaehee still seemed hung up on a man she would quite probably never have. It was a little miserable, Jumin realized as he thought about it. "Assistant Kang, why don't you take next week off", he suggested while signing.

"Yes!" She exclaimed loudly which fostered the attention of the people around them. Clearing her throat she spoke in a more composed manner, "I will accept the time off if you will allow it. There are many things around the house that I have neglected. Are you sure next week would be ideal? The deadline for two contracts is next Friday." Jumin nodded. "I am certain. I can handle the workload by myself. Otherwise I'll just ask my wife to assist me.”

"Take the time off and use it to take care of personal matters." Jaehee bowed towards him, "Thank you, Mr. Han. I will get going and try to prepare as much as possible before this week ends." As soon as she straightened up, she felt a bit odd. It wasn't like Jumin to do willingly offer vacation time but she decided not to press her luck and have him change his mind.  Stealing a few last glances of Zen, she hurried off to return to the office.

Meanwhile, Zen was still posing in front of the cameras but an audible claim of disbelief would be heard as the photographer instructed him to emulate a cat licking it's paw, "You want me to do what?!" It was those words that greeted Jumin upon his return behind the camera. He let out an exasperated sigh. Actors could be so problematic and irrational. "Zen, don't make this any more complicated than it needs to be. Be a cat."

Zen shot a glare at the man but all that ran through his head was the sweet-natured pleads of Jumin's wife for him to try his best to suck it up and go with the flow. He closed his eyes as he let in a deep breath. Upon opening them he smiled that smile that he swore could shatter cameras before doing as he was told. "Wow! Perfect! How about giving us a few cat sounds? Here kitty, kitty!" If there were ever a time he wanted to murder Jumin Han in cold blood, it would have been that moment...

Or so he thought...

Jumin: The photoshoot was very successful.

Wouldn't you agree? Yoosung★:

Jaehee: It's just as magnificent as I thought it would be. 707: Can I play with this kitty?

Macy: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH Saeran: Can I please leave this chat, Saeyoung? 707: But this is so much fun!

Saeran has left the chatroom Madeleine has entered the chatroom Madeleine: It's...interesting.  Darling, is that really the final concept? Jumin: Oh this? No, my father rejected the whole concept. He thought of it as too cartoonish. Zen, you have to come in tomorrow again. We'll re-shoot the entire thing. ZEN:  I'd like to apologize in advance, Maddy. I'm going to strangle your husband tonight. TAKE IT DOWN, TRUST FUND JERK. AND IM NOT DOING THAT AGAIN.

He did.