#husband will still get work calls from coworkers and clients even in those two weeks

[schreeuwekster]

It is entirely likely, quite possible, somewhat expected even, that the first act I do after giving borth to my son come August is beat my husband's employer to death with a bedpan.

[shootingstarwritings]

Couples Therapy

Marcus glanced at his client before going back to his notes. As usual, it was a young woman who looked as though she was on the verge of tears after giving him a mile-long list of grievances towards her husband. For the first few years, everything was like an eternal honeymoon until the two began to drive the other crazy. From the little info Marcus had, the blame seemed to rest on two personalities that didn't feel like compromising—as it usually was.

However, compromises didn’t put food on Marcus’ table, so it was in his best interest to pin the blame all on the husband. “Like my services advertise,” he told the wife, Julia, while sliding a sheet of his talents over to her, “I can fix your marriage to be as blissful as it was on your wedding night. All I need is your consent and I can shape your lover as you need him to be.”

The tears soon dried up. "Um, huh…?" Julia grew sheepish as her eyes skimmed over the sheet. Not good. "Shape him? My friend said your type of work was unique, but changing my husband…? I didn't hear anything about that."

Tilting his head, Marcus said, "Did you not notice how your friend's partner changed? He was happier, more agreeable, and far more pleasant overall. Always carried a strong conversation and had the manners of a perfect gentleman. Don't you want the same for your husband?"

“I-I thought you just gave them counseling!” Julia stood up from her chair, hands clasping her purse as though Marcus was a violent, money-hungry criminal. “This is crazy. A-And, honestly absurd. I'll have no part in this lunacy!"

“So you’re okay with your husband’s divorce?”

Julia stopped just before her hand reached the door. Though she didn't turn around, she said, "What do you mean?" Her voice was tinged with fear despite her attempts to hide it.

“When you made your appointment, I did a little digging on your husband,” said Marcus, lying as naturally as he breathed. “Digging into his soul, of course. My abilities allow me to do so.”

He stood up and strode over to Julia. “He’s growing increasingly dissatisfied with your union. Every little action, every little word, every little annoyance from you pushes him more and more towards the arms of another.” While Marcus remained stone-faced, he was smirking inside as beads of sweat cascaded down Julia’s brow. 

Perfect.

“A young woman your age already divorced? What will the neighbors think? Your friends? Your family? But,” he shrugged and made his way back to his desk, “if you insist that you don’t need my services, I can do nothing about that. I sincerely wish the two of you a happy marriage. However long it lasts.”

Julia excused herself to go to the bank but promised she would return with the payment.

Marcus’ target was a man by the name of Trevor. Attractive, admirable, and breakable. All it would require was a few weeks in his body and Marcus’ job would be finished. Julia had signed the contract, so his body was completely available.

That was the limit to Marcus’ powers. Without some sort of consent from one who at the very least shared the name or a bond with his target, he was unable to do anything. Now, all Marcus had to do was take over Trevor’s body.

But first, Marcus was curious about what was going to happen in their ordinary lives. While Julia had given him a whole list of things that she wished Trevor would do, Marcus skimmed it before throwing it away. For the most part, his clients didn't know what they wanted—and what they did was something ridiculous like 'makes me breakfast in bed every single day.' It was all nonsense straight out of a soap opera. Marcus preferred to just take a look at what pissed his client off and doing a few favors here and there. The only part of Julia's list that Marcus even remotely paid attention to was, "Being more open to pegging."

Other than that, Marcus would just sit by and watch how a typical morning went for the couple. He made his way to the address Julia had provided him during their meeting in an astral form and peeked into their lives.

“God, another spill, Jules?” Trevor groaned as he looked down at his stained pants. “C'mon." While Julia let out a stream of apologies, Trevor just rolled his eyes and said, "I'm trying to get a goddamn promotion here!"

“I-I’m trying…!” Julia said, backing up as Trevor grabbed the empty mug and smashed it on the ground. “Th-That was mine...”

“And so’s the mess,” Trevor shot back. “When you’re the breadwinner in this relationship, you can decide what does and doesn’t get broken.” With that, Trevor left to get changed while Julia cleaned up the kitchen.

That was all Marcus needed to see. The bastard needed a major attitude adjustment. His wife was a complete klutz, but there was no need to bite her head off for making a mistake. Marcus didn't feel any particular sympathy for Julia, but assholes like Trevor pissed him off to no extent. "Only natural," Marcus said to himself. "Assholes hate assholes. Don't like pricks like him on my turf."

Floating over to Trevor and Julia’s room, he admired the assets he would borrow for the next few days. Trevor’s pants were off, allowing Marcus to get a nice glimpse of the package he would be showing off for the next few days. Along with that were nice, juice thighs and a good chest peeking out of the nice polo shirt he wore. No longer able to resist, Marcus just dove towards Trevor.

"HNNG! What the fuuuuck?!" Trevor moaned as Marcus phased through his back. Entire body tensing up, Trevor stood in place, his back arching while his head was thrown back. Feet planted to the floor, he moaned in pleasure and panic. "Wh-Who the hell?! What the—HAA! Ahhh…! What the fuck are youuuu?!" Unable to keep his balance amidst the barrage of pain and pleasure mixing, Trevor collapsed onto his bed, convulsing uncontrollably as the foreign intruder wore him like a suit.

“Mmm,” Marcus moaned, rubbing his hard-on against the mattress. “Oh, that’s niiice. Thanks, Julia.” Still face-down on the bed, he spread his legs and let his hands wander towards a certain untouched hole. “Don’t worry, I’ll turn your hubby into the subbiest bottom in town.”

Purposefully ignoring Julia, Marcus left the house and headed towards Trevor’s place of work, relying on muscle memory and the information Julia had given him for navigation. Eventually, he arrived at some fancy insurance firm full of suits who looked like they could use a healthy dose of Viagra.

Once more, Marcus relied on Trevor's muscle memory to guide his way through work. And once settled into Trevor's impersonal cubicle, Marcus began his work. At once, he worked on smiling more in Trevor's body. Man was a creature of habit and the human mind was a sponge for information and mannerisms. Because of that, Marcus would adopt certain behaviors for the week or so he would be in his hosts' bodies. The end result was a spouse that would compliment their partner far more.

On all levels, it was wrong. However, Marcus continued without losing a wink of sleep.

After making sure Trevor was smiling more, Marcus also stretched and relaxed his muscle. "God, you're so tense," he mentioned as he rolled his shoulders back. "Or, I'm so tense." Grinning, Marcus continued chatting to himself. It was always fun getting into a role. Perhaps it was his theater kid days, but adopting a new identity was always fun. "I should get more into yoga," he said, stretching as much as he could in that uncomfortable suit. "Do some squats. It'll help me make my ass all nice and firm. Flexibility'll be nice in the bedroom for Jules," he proclaimed, repeating it to himself to make sure it remained imprinted to Trevor.

To make sure those thoughts remained in Trevor's head, Marcus headed off to the gym after each workday. He worked until Trevor's already well-developed muscles were pleasurably sore by the time he arrived back home. "Keep acting as though I'm Trevor," Marcus had texted Julia before. "It'll make it easier for these thoughts to stick to your husband." His words didn't ease Julia's awkwardness, but Marcus didn't mind. Working with pathetic actors wasn't anything new for him.

By the final day of Marcus' planned stay, Trevor's boss called him into his office. "You're not in trouble," his boss, a man by the name of Arthur said. "Just wanted to catch up with you, is all." His words were even, but Marcus noticed that his gaze was not. Arthur's eyes kept traveling and his fingertips kept grazing Trevor as much as they could while retaining that facade of professionalism. "I've noticed your recent change in attitude. Rumors travel quickly throughout the office."

“When there’s not much to talk about,” Marcus began, “it’s easy to become the talk of the town.”

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. “Your attitude and your tongue’s changed, Trey. I'm surprised but pleased. Productivity for the whole office has gone up this week. And your more positive attitude has really helped with that. I've noticed the environment in general is a lot less toxic."

“Sorry about that, sir,” Marcus said with a curt nod. Yet, he made sure to keep a cocky, inviting smirk on his face. The blood was rushing to Arthur’s cheeks despite his stony expression. “Hadn’t realized how much my attitude had an impact on the office. But I’m sure you’ll be just as satisfied as my wife about the new me.” By now, Marcus was happily rubbing his thighs, making sure they stood out alongside his bulge in those tight slacks he had purchased for Trevor. During the week, he had made a habit of dropping his things and bending over to reach for them in front of his various coworkers. If his eyes didn’t deceive him, he was certain about the office spent more than half a second staring at Trevor’s assets.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Nonetheless, just wanted to show my appreciation for this sudden turn. Always happy to see my workers in a relaxed, pleasant environment.”

Standing up, Marcus leaned in close to Arthur’s lips. “I can think of a few other ways you can show your appreciation, boss,” he whispered, unbuckling his belt. This same scenario had played out so many times Marcus was certain his gaydar was impeccable. “Why don’t you bend me over your desk and show me who the boss is?”

Arthur hesitated for about a second before locking the office door and tying Trevor’s mouth shut with his own tie. “Take! This! You! Slut!” Arthur roared as he pounded Trevor’s ass raw. Marcus, back arched, face pressed up against the cold desk, just moaned like a slut. He eagerly met each of Arthur’s thrust with his strong workout for his hips.

This is my favor for you, Julia, he thought as Arthur pulled on his hair. Your husband’s hole might not be as tight as you want it to be, but he’ll definitely be up for stuff up his ass by the time I leave.

"Make me your bottom bitch," Marcus begged, trapped in a nirvana of pleasure and pain.

The next time Marcus saw Julia and Trevor the two of them were walking down the back, arms linked. Both were smiling and laughing so animatedly that Marcus was certain the songbirds were jealous. On occasion, he spotted Julia lightly slapping Trevor's ass and her husband reddening like a tomato at the sensation.

Marcus returned home satisfied at another successful trip.

[libraryofloveletters]

Broken

Evan Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: Fem!reader, mentions of court, shitty description of witness questioning, mentions of loss of spouse, crying, character flaws, mentions of death, cheating and pregnancy. 

Category: Angst 

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Based on @venusrosepetal​‘s request! Also, this is definitely not going to be the most accurate court scene considering that I'm just going off what I can remember from watching Suits looool  

----

Idiot.

That’s what he is and that’s why you had to drag yourself to court on a Monday morning before 9am.

Buck decided that filing a wrongful termination lawsuit would fix all of his problems. Bobby had picked you up with a promise of coffee and he made good on that promise. Chim, Eddie and Hen would be meeting you at the courthouse. 

Court started half an hour after the 5 of you arrived, Buck sat to one side with his lawyer and you guys sat on the other side. Bobby was first on the stand, his questioning lasted the longest, seeing that Buck was suing the city, the LAFD and Bobby. Next was Chim, followed by Hen and Eddie, finally you were last. 

“Calling Ms. y/n l/n to the stand” Chim gave your hand a little squeeze as you got up and walked to the stand. The bailiff comes up to you, “Please raise your right hand,” you do as you’re told, “do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth ?” he looks at you, you nod, “I do” 

The lawyer begins to ask you a line of basic questions that he asked all your coworkers such as what was your name, where do you work, what is your relationship with the plaintiff. You go about answering the questions, you have nothing to lie about. 

“Do you believe that the plaintiff was wrongfully terminated ?” the lawyer questions you, pacing by the table. 

“No, I do not” 

“And why is that?” 

“Bu- Mr. Buckley was injured and unfit to return to work without proper healing and instruction to do so by his doctor. He was pushing himself further than he could go and he was going to hurt himself again, he lost his job simply for his own well being” 

“Do you still believe this to be true ? Although he’s all healed now ?” 

“Yes” 

The lawyer turns back and takes a seat at the table. “No further questions, your honour”, Buck’s lawyer stood up and walked around the table. 

“Ms. l/n, how do you know my client?”

“We worked together at the 118″ 

“And what is the 118?” he asked you, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his stupid question, “The fire station” you answered, he hums, seeming satisfied. 

“And what is your relationship with him ?” 

“We used to be coworkers” 

“Would you go as far as to say you were friends?” 

“Sure” 

The lawyer paced, before making his way over to you, his arm rested on the stand. Once again, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Your statement about your opinion on his termination and his well being, was that said as a co worker or as something more ?” 

“I don't follow, what are you asking me ?” 

“Why were you so concerned about Mr. Buckley’s well being ?” he says plainly, 

“We were friends, I didn’t want him to hurt himself more than he already was.” 

“These concerns.. they weren’t based on any romantic feelings?” he looked over at you, your brows furrowed, a look of confusion washes over your face. 

“Romantic feelings ?” you question him back. 

“Well, I know your late husband, Sergeant l/n, died in a shootout, isn't that correct ?” he asks, looking back over at you as he paced the room once again. 

“Objection, her past relationships has nothing to do with this, your honour” the lawyer called out, he could see that you were uncomfortable. Your eyes flicker over to the team, they seem confused. None of them knew you were previously married. After your husband died, you moved to LA for a fresh start, to let go of the past and move on. You never told anyone about your husband, you only confided in Buck. 

How would he even think about using that against you ? 

“Overruled, answer the question Ms. l/n” 

Taking a breath, you glanced over at the lawyer, “yes, he did.” 

“How long were the two of you married if you don't mind me asking ?” 

“2 years” 

“Hm and why didn't you pursue a relationship with Mr. Buckley when you came to LA? Was it the fear of losing him like you lost your husband ?” 

The entire courtroom went silent after that question, you couldn't bring yourself to answer him. He hit a nerve, opened a box of feelings that you had pushed deep down and never thought about. You see Bobby pull at the lawyer, whispering something to him. The lawyer nods and turns to the judge, “objection, this isn't relevant at all” the judge ignored his objection and overruled it once again. 

“Ms. l/n, was it the fear of losing him like you lost your husband the reason as to why you didn't pursue a relationship with him ?” Buck’s lawyer asks you again. Looking over at Buck, his eyes fixed on yours, “I already lost him.” you say, looking back at Buck. You felt sick to say the least. Buck’s face went blank, any show of emotion that was there was now replaced with sadness. 

“That’s all, your honour” the stupid lawyer seemed pleased with himself. Buck begins whispering to him as you get off the stand, “Court will be resumed tomorrow.” the judge calls out, banging the gavel. You make your way over to the team, Eddie pulls you into a hug. You broke down the moment his arms wrapped around you, he held you close for a few moments before whispering, “c’mon, don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this” you nodded, wiping away the tears with your fingers. Bobby turns to you, “I’m sorry” “for what ? It’s not your fault Cap” he gives you a smile, telling the 4 of you to go ahead as he talks to the lawyer about what happens next. 

The 4 of you get on the elevator, Eddie and Hen stood behind you and Chim. Buck comes running out of the courtroom and looks around, he spots the 4 of you in the elevator. “Guys!” he comes running towards the elevator, your body goes tense. Turning away from the doors, your body is facing Hen now. You can hear Chim mumbling “come on, close faster” as he pushes the button a few times. It closes just before Buck reaches the elevator. 

Hen pulls you into a hug, “he's not even worth the time y/n. Don’t let him have those precious tears” she smiles, your head rests on her shoulder. 

--

Weeks have gone by and things were starting to get back to normal. You told the team about your husband after the day at court and they understood why you didn't talk about it. They didn't pressure you into telling what you didn't want top, they simply listened. 

Buck returned to work as of last week, he dropped the lawsuit but the tension was still high in the station. Chim and Hen spoke to him like normal, as did Bobby although he was a bit harsher towards Buck, but Buck brought that on himself. Eddie was furious with him, furious because he lost his best friend, furious because he couldn’t bring himself to forgive him and furious because Buck never once stopped to think about what this lawsuit could and did to the team. 

All was quiet in the fire station, an odd occurrence. Hen, Chim and Bobby were on a call, you were laying on the couch, reading some cookbook that Bobby left lying around. Eddie was down by the trucks, you weren't sure what he was doing but you could hear him grunting and the occasional thud. You just assumed he was fixing something or working out. 

“Hey” Buck’s voice echoed through the station, it was quiet after that. He and Eddie began talking, you sat up and listened to their conversation. It was mostly Eddie shouting and Buck answering him but it seemed like they came to terms, if not back to normal than at least friendly ones, for the sake of the team. 

The sound of your boots thudding with each step caught their attention, Buck walked halfway towards you and watched as you walked towards him. 

“Y/n..” he looked at you, you walked past as if he wasn't there. 

“Tell Bobby I'm not feeling well. I’ll be in tomorrow” you say to Eddie, he nods. 

Buck turns, watching as you walk out the station, You could feel his eyes burning into you as you left. 

--

A knock on the door, rolling over you see that it’s only 7:30 and you didn't have to be in until 9:30. “I’m coming” you shout, dragging yourself out of bed. 

Who the hell keeps banging on the door? 

“I said I'm com-” you shout once more as you open the door, “Cap ?” you yawn. “Can I come in ?” he steps inside anyways. 

“Um why are you here? Not that I mind but like I'm still in pjs and I was sleeping” you yawn again, shuffling over to the bar stool by the counter. Bobby walks around to the other side and opens the fridge, he had brought you coffee too. 

“I wanted to talk, but I brought coffee too because as you said, you were sleeping and I figured if I was going to disturb yourself, the least I could do was bring you some coffee” he smiled at you. 

“Are you looking for something ?” 

“Eggs, I'm making breakfast” 

“For who ?” 

“You, until someone else is here?” he looks over at you, you shake your head and take a sip of the coffee. 

Talk about heaven in a cup. 

“I heard Eddie and Buck are talking again” he turns on the stove, his back is facing you. “And?” “maybe you should talk to him too” 

“Bobby, I'm not going to do that.” 

“I’m not saying you need to be friends but at least, hear him out. I know what he did was wrong and he knows that too. If you don't want to do it for him, do it for the team, we can't keep walking on eggshells around you two” 

“But I'm not asking y’all to do that” 

“I know. You can't tell me that you don't feel the tension in the station. Everyone scared to mention Buck around you because they don't want to upset you and we don't mention you around him because he looks like he’s going to cry every time we say your name” 

Sighing, your hand slides down your face. You were at a crossroads. One side was forgiving Buck and moving on and the other was not forgiving him and never talking again. Bobby’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. 

“I’m telling you this not only as your captain and for the sake of the team but as your friend, because I care about you and I care about Buck. I’m tired of you two not speaking to each other, I just want us to be a family again.” 

“Fine, no promises that anything good will come of it but if it means so much to you, I'll try.” 

-- 

“Heard you wanted to talk ?” his shoes squished into the wet grass as he made his way over to you. You wanted to meet somewhere public, just to ensure that you don't strangle him with the nearly available cord. 

“I did” you looked over your shoulder, buck walked around and sat beside you on the bench. “Why did you tell him ?” looking at the man across from you, you needed to know. 

“He wanted to know about you guys, everything I could tell them, I did.” 

“Everything ? So you told them about Bobby’s wife and kids? Or that Eddie was sleeping with his ex but she died ? Or maybe that Hen cheated on her wife with her ex girlfriend that just got out of jail,” you scoffed, “did you mention that Chim’s ex didn't want him but she got married and pregnant within months of breaking up with him?” 

“I-i didn’t” 

“So why’d you tell them about him ? You know I didn't tell anyone else, you knew it was hard for me to talk about and that wasn't even relevant to the stupid case!” 

“Y/n.. I'm sorry” 

“I don't want your stupid apology Buck, that isn't going to change what already happened.”

All you saw and felt was red, there was no way you could get over what he did. You loved the 118 like your family, there was no you were going to leave either nor would you expect him to leave either. Buck’s fingers drummed against his knee, he was staring off ahead at something. 

“Bobby wants me to forgive you.” you broke the silence

“Do you want to forgive me?” he asked you, looking over in your direction. Your heart broke when you looked at Buck, he looked sad. 

“No,” leaning back against the bench, he sighs and gets up. “But I don’t want things to stay this way” you look up at him. 

“Neither do I” 

“I can't forgive you buck, but I can try to move on” 

“Things won’t be the same” his hand rests on top of yours,

“They never will be.” 

--

taglist: @venusrosepetal​ @advicefromnixxxx​ @dralexreid​ @ssa-volturi​ @keenmarvellover​

[peachyteabuck]

hustle make you high (sub!lance tucker x femdom!reader)

summary: it’s your anniversary, and this is how you and lance celebrate

pairing: sub!lance tucker x femdom!reader

words: 2,395

trigger warnings: femdom, riding, restraints

ask box / masterlist / faq / ko-fi

Lance Tucker is nothing short of an absolute fucking asshole. He’s stubborn, way too observant in the absolute worst way, and blunt to a fault. No matter where he is and what he’s supposed to be doing, Lance Tucker will find a way to tell you why what you’re doing is 1) wrong, 2) that it annoys him, 3) that you’re a terrible person, and 4) that he doesn’t like you.

Anyone who knew Lance Tucker when he was still competing knows that he’s a stuck-up asswipe of a gymnast, and he only got worse when he began coaching. A control freak with a God complex, the man will push any button to remain in charge of any and all situations that he is involved in. The man is focused on his fame (or, more accurately, the perception of fame) than anything else, especially the feelings of other people.

In short, he’s a total, utter dick.

God, you’re totally and completely in love with him.

He’s a fantastic husband in every sense of the word, along with being a wonderful friend. He’s sweet and caring, always putting your needs over his own. He remembers every anniversary, every birthday, every small achievement in relation to your work.

You absolutely fell in love with him on your first date together, it didn’t even take an hour for you to know he was the one. It was a blind date, set up by two of your mutual friends. Well, actually, it was a bet between the two of them. One thought you two would be too different to hit it off, but the second person knew better - much, much better.

On your first date, Lance was a bumbling mess who could barely get out a sentence. It was positively adorable. Lance was chivalrous, sweet. Everything, and you mean everything you had heard about him had been completely and utterly false. He asked you about what you did for work, why you chose your incredibly boring field of a tax law, what it was like, and so on. He took a genuine interest in you, what you did, who you were as a person. It was so completely different from every other guy you’d ever tried to date and it was so refreshing.

When you asked about him, though, he seemed even more nervous than before. He stuttered, and it was obvious he was worried of what you would think of him. When he dropped you off at your house (and walked you to your door - what a gentleman), you kissed him on the cheek and he blushed like a schoolgirl and bit his lip like a teen caught in a massive crush.

You loved it.

Immediately after you got all your makeup off and changed into a more comfortable outfit (your first date had been a fancy dinner halfway across town and all you wanted to do was wear sweatpants, take your bra off, and wear the comfiest/grossest shirt you could find), you scheduled your next date. It was the week after when you met at your favorite small coffee shop right after the lunch rush. You and Lance talked for hours about your lives and what you wanted out of them. You asked him about training and a gym addition he was planning; he asked you about a case you were thinking of taking up. When he had to leave for a night session with a girl who missed the morning one, you went for it and kissed him. Just straight up. He seemed stunned, but after the initial shock wore off he went in for another. It was magical. His hands tenderly placed themselves on your waist, resting on your thick green sweater. You wrapped your arms around his neck, locking him close to you. The only thing that could’ve made it better was if there was a small drizzle of rain, a way to seal the romantic moment.

When you stepped away, the dopey look that flashed on his face made you want even more. You wanted to mess up his perfectly gelled hair and jump his bones.

But you were a lady, and ladies wait until the third date. And, if that third date happened to be less than forty-eight hours later, that’s okay. It was dinner at your place. Normally, you’d mind always making the first move. But something about Lance convinced you that you being a driving force was okay. You guessed that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to initiate a lot of things, it’s just that he was nervous. And if you liked anything, it was making extremely pretty boys extremely nervous. Maybe it was because you’ve always liked control. Maybe it was because your desk job made you feel useless. Maybe it was because things you’ve always liked things that made you feel like you were sexy, a feeling you’ve never really felt before.

Either way, that night, you were getting it. You were determined to fuck him (with his consent…of course…). You didn’t care if that meant some boring missionary shit or you riding his dick and/or his face for two hours; you two were cumming. Together. Coming together.

The meal you had cooked was normally pretty simple, but instead of just roasted chicken slices you cooked an entire one so you could carve it. You thought it would be a good thing to take your sexual frustration on (since you know…large knives and stuff).

The man of the hour arrived at six o’clock sharp, just as you’d instructed him to. It took all of your might not to cum right then and there, not only because he had followed orders, but also because he was punctual. It’s one of your biggest pet peeves - when people don’t show up on time, and it happens all the time at work. The last thing you want is to come home to someone who can’t find a place on time. It sent a shiver up your spine as you wiped your hands on a dish towel before you went to open the door.

Lance was dressed the sexiest you’d ever seen him. His jeans were tight, and his shirt hugged his body like latex. It was white, and you could almost see his obnoxious tattoo through it. It took all of you not to pull him in the door by his neckline and suck him off right then and there. Just a second, Y/N, let the man have dinner first, is all you could do to keep yourself from jumping him right then and there.

Ever the gentleman, he also brought you some flowers.

That’s when you decided to get your power back. As you and him made small talk (he mostly just asked about your home, which you happily answered), you “struggled” to find a vase.

In truth, you know where the want you want is, it’s up high. Despite this, you choose to look through all of the lower cabinets, so you can show off how tight the dress you’re wearing is.

It’s obvious when he catches sight of your ass, because Lance immediately stops speaking. The only sound in the kitchen is the sizzling of green beans. When you turn around, faux-perplexed as to the whereabouts of your favorite crystal vase, Lance is smirking.

“I thought you said the bank turned you down for that loan,” the line is shaky, he’s obviously nervous as he says it. It makes you quiver a little, admittedly. You love making boys nervous.”

You shake your head, confused. “If you’re trying to hit on me by bringing up the worst part of this year…”

Lance immediately backtracks. “No, no I mean, that like they said you didn’t have any…assets…”

That’s when you get it. He’s trying to creatively compliment your figure. You break down giggling, flustered. “That’s…that’s good. I haven’t heard that one before.”

When you finally “find” the vase, you realize it’s a little higher than you remember. You need help reaching it for real…and-

Shit. This isn’t how you planned for the night to go.

“I, uh,” You gulp, turning back around with heat dusting your cheeks. “Can you help me reach the vase?”

Lance laughs and gets up, moving to easily grab what you cannot.

That is the first time you see the now-famous tattoo up close, and the first time you drag his face down to your level so that you can make out with him against your kitchen counter.

Now, after three years of dating and four years of marriage, nothing has changed between you two.

He may have become an incredibly selective and successful coach; you may have become a partner at your firm. You may have moved to a house that’s better for entertaining his gymnasts and your lawyer friends/foes/potential clients. You may have adopted some cats. Everyone may have called you a power couple and banned both of you from drinking at any and all office parties at both of your jobs. Some coworkers may have also had to be convinced not to tell your respective bosses about you making out (and worse) in bathrooms and empty conference rooms and storage closets and each of your offices.

But in your relationship? Nope.

You still absolutely adore each other. Lance still gets those flutters in his stomach that always make him stutter around you. You still love making him nervous. Most importantly, you both still loving having sex. Together. With each other.

Some nights are lighter than others, some require days of planning. You’re (mostly) past hook ups in utility closets, preferring to sleep in your own bed.  

Which is why you tease him all throughout dinner, flat out banning him from clearing it of its contents and thereby not allowing him to fuck you on it.

This is likely why when you lure him upstairs and push him onto the bed, he immediately becomes pliant.

It’s cute, almost, the way he’s reacting to your touch, how his breath hitches when your nails trace over his muscles – his shirt long discarded and you looming over him.

“You want me to tie you up, baby?” you coo, heat in your center pulsing as he moans. “You want me to fuck myself down on your cock while all you can do is watch?”

Lance whines high in his throat, nodding.

“Yes, please tie me up,” he moans.

And who are you to deny him?

You abide by his wishes easily, undressing him the rest of the way before tying his arms and legs so that he lays spread-eagle in the center of the bed.

Once he’s secured you strip yourself, removing each item of clothing slowly as he strains his neck to watch you.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he moans. “Please fuck me!”

You smile as – finally – your panties are discarded. Wordlessly you climb over him once more, aligning him with your dripping center, moaning lewdly as he bottoms out.  

“Please let me touch you,” Lance groans, pulling at the restraints. “C’mon, let me make you feel good.”

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble breathlessly as you used your hips to grind down onto his cock. “Let me feel you first.”

“God I love your pussy,” he moans, hands flexing in their fixed position. “Fuck it feels so good!”

You giggle, grinding down onto his cock. Maybe it’s because you’ve forced him into abstinence for the past week, maybe it’s because it’s your anniversary and you’ve been stuck in this hazy love cloud for days.

“You want me to untie you?” You ask. Immediately, Lance is moaning and nodding his head deliriously. “You want your hands on me while I cum on your cock?”

“Fuck yes!” Lance begs, fucking harder into you. “God please let me touch you, oh my God.”

You unclick the ankle restraints first, then lean forward to free his wrists, using his chest for balance.

“Your tits look really good at this angle,” he says with one of his big, show-stopping smiles.

You laugh as you readjust, moaning as you slide back onto the cock. “Yeah? They still look good from here, too?”

Lance’s hands roam your body, landing on your ass. “Hell yeah, they do.”

You ride him with everything you have, moaning in tandem with him.

“C-can I rub your clit?” he asks, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut. “Can I please make you cum?”

You smile, tossing your hair to the side and gazing down at him. “Yes, but you can’t cum yet.”

Lance looks pained at not being allowed to cum but remains eager to give you pleasure – sucking his thumb into his mouth before quickly finding the most sensitive part of you.

It doesn’t take long before you’re coming undone with him inside of you – eyes rolling back in bliss.

It’s only when the ringing in your ears stops when you see Lance is nearly lost to his own pleasure.

You smack his right thigh to remind him of his place. “Don’t forget to ask permission, baby,” you hit the left one slightly harder. “It’s our anniversary, but it doesn’t mean our rules have been suspended.”

Lance struggles to swallow before speaking. “Please, can I come? I need to come-“

“Not yet,” you hiss, not letting him finish. You continue to ride him, slowly moving your hips up and down as your eyes roll back once more.

Lance, in all his obedience, could never give up his stubbornness.

“Please!” he cries out, tension in his voice indicating how close he really is.

You smile as you grind down on his cock once more. “Cum.”

His face immediately relaxes, head thrown back and mouth agape as he comes inside of you with moan so loud you worry the glass of water next to the bed will shatter.

“Oh, fuck that feels good,” he says, panting. “Your pussy always feels so fucking good.”

You laugh, also breathless. “I appreciate it.”

It takes a minute for you to find the energy, but eventually to grab a tissue to clean off before crawling back into bed with your husband.  

You curl up into Lance’s chest, tracing random patterns into his sweaty skin.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” he says, chest rumbling as he does so.

“Happy anniversary,” you say back, leaving a small kiss over one of his deepest bruises.

[wherearemyglassesbro]

So uhhhh lawyer au. Who's locked up and why? (like Prussia) Also are there any characters who have side jobs that come into play even if they're not regularly in the office or court? (like how N. Italy(?) was in charge of suits)

Yes....lawyer Au again... :D I’ve missed it

Inmate 44671-E-8: Alastair Kirkland is the eldest of the Kirkland brothers. As they grew up, he set a terrible example for his brothers. He still gets himself in trouble but is slowly trying to better himself. He’s in the middle of a four year sentence for an armed B&E, where he also injured three officers while resisting arrest. Prison isn’t very fun but he’s learning to mellow out and control his inner rage. He tries to keep in contact with Arthur but he usually refuses to see him. Ali also tried to hire Art to defend him in court but he refused then too. Ali was prosecuted by Natalya Braginsky two years ago. Arthur sat in the public viewing area with a coat and hat on so he wouldn’t be recognized. Alastair has a girlfriend who he met through a prisoner dating site but when he gets out, he plans on dumping her and moving far, far away.

Peter Kirkland: Peter’s a freshman in highschool who’s been to juvie twice, both for assault. He thinks Arthur is a kiss-ass and he thinks his delinquent brothers are awesome. He goes and sees Alastair in prison every other week and calls him from home if Ali’s alllwed to have phone time. Arthur rents a car to drive up to his family’s house every month or so just for peter, to check in on him. Peter’s an ass though. Last time Art went to see him, he hotboxed Art’s rental car and left burn marks in the car seats...on purpose. Deep down, Peter is afraid of being sent to prison for real but he craves attention. So he acts out. He’s gonna get a taste of reality soon enough...cause once he turns 16 he can be tried as an adult...Uh oh. Arthur is very worried but he doesn’t show it, instead he just yells at Peter or lectures him endlessly with his lawyer talk. Lammmeeeeee

Łukasiewicz, the magician: Feliks ‘Ken Ka-Dazzle’ Łukasiewicz is a traveling magician who won an American talent television show. He travels around Europe and the Americas to perform his act with various circuses or (occasionally) a cirque show. He had his own show in Las Vegas for a summer and performed in another casino for a few nights in the fall while another act fell ill. Feliks was suspected of robbing and killing another magician! He hired defense attorney Herdarvey(did not spell that right lmaoooo) to defend him!! His case was all over the news and people still believe he committed that murder despite the judge and jury ruling him ‘Not Guilty’ after a gruesome full three day trial. Because Eliza defended him so greatly, Feliks pays the rent for her law firm and the rent for her house! He also sends her flowers and cards often despite her husband hating it.

Firefighter Oxernstina: Tino is a firefighter! I talked about him a bit before! He was a firefighter in Finland before moving to LA with his parents! He went though the fire academy there (again) and was quickly hired by the Los Angeles fire department! He was welcomed in without a hitch!! His coworkers love working with him. Tino loves his job too, he works seven nights a month and gets paid very nicely. He loves saving people, it just!!! Makes him feel so good. He met Berwald at a city worker event and married him about a year and a half later. They’ve been married for a little over six years now and they’ve got an adopted son, Oscar, from Sweden! Tino’s side job is coaching the highschool hockey teams! He loves those kids! Berwald comes to every match he can to be supportive. He also brings Oscar to hopefully spark an interest in hockey for him

Eduardo Sousa-Carriedo: Eduardo is Antonio’s step brother. The two do NOT get along but when they’re forced to go to a family gathering, they act very friendly. Eduardo is a private investigator who works out of San Francisco. He lives there but he isn’t around much, he spends a lot of time in Brazil working for big businessmen there. It’s all under the table of course! He makes a pretty penny doing that but he doesn’t live like a rich guy. He has an average house, a nice car...he flaunts his wealth subtly. Diamond earrings, expensive watches, custom briefcases, sleeve tattoos, designer sunglasses. That kind of stuff. He has a handful of clients in Los Angeles so he’s forced to go sometimes and avoids his brother like the plague. And speaking of avoiding, he also has his ex-wife to worry about. She isn’t really tbag important though. After their bitter divorce, she’s been after him trying to get more and more money. Ugh. What a pest. Eduardo plans on moving to Brazil eventually, disappearing without a trace so she can’t find him. That’s how badly he wants her out of his life.

Angelique Dieudonne: Angelique is a casino chain owner! She has multiple locations, the biggest being in Monaco, Vegas, LA, Madrid and NYC. She’s never in one place for too long, she hops locations constantly. Many believe that she’s hosting a huge money laundering scheme but no one talks. She’s practically untouchable. She’s got a team of lawyers, social media managers and advisors on her side. She strikes down videos about her, she refuses on-the-spot interviews, makes employees sign contracts to keep them quiet. All kinds of stuff!!! She’s very powerful. She buys out casinos in popular areas and makes them her own. Her casinos are large and glamorous! Casino goers are usually too busy being drunk and feeling like royalty to realize how much money they’re REALLY spending on games. But that’s all a part of her plan. The prosecutors have a blast talking conspiracy, Ivan gets especially heated about it. He can’t wait for her downfall and claims that he’ll throw a party when she goes to prison

Gianni Vargas: Feli and Lovi’s younger brother. He’s a highschool student who works at the shop with Feli on weekends! He is not allowed to go to work with Lovi because he’s ‘hazardous’ and ‘inattentive’...which may be true. He has little interest in Lovino’s job cause he thinks working with dead people is gross. He looks up to Feliciano though! He wants to be stylish and suave like him! He plans on going into art school after he graduates. He wishes he could drop out of highschool to work in the clothing store with Feliciano but that would never be allowed!!! He goes with Feli to deliver suits so he’s a familiar face at the prosecutors office!! Francis is especially kind to him when he comes around “Awww! There’s my favorite style icon!!” It’s embarrassing but he thinks that Francis dresses cool so he puts up with it. When he turns 18, Gianni’s gonna get his own custom suit from Feli and their grandpa!! Only four more months!! He dreams of his soon to be suit every night!! The fitted pants...the padded shoulders....the fancy buttons...oh boy!!

((There are spelling errors but I am too lazy to fix them lmao sorry :) and there is more to add but I have fake nails on and it’s a muricle that ive managed to type this much haha

[honestgrins]

Skipping Steps || Klaroline

Katherine has been waiting forever for Klaus and Caroline to finally go from work married to actually dating, and she thought a week at a conference in Las Vegas would let them loosen up enough to make the move. Boy, was she right.

.

Caroline had barely set her coffee down when Katherine burst into her office. "Next time you go to a conference, pick a shorter one." Her friend dramatically fell into the chair across from her desk, yawning. "It was so boring here with you for a whole week. Now, please tell me you put that week in Vegas to good use and finally boned your work husband."

Silly her for attempting to actually drink her coffee; Caroline nearly choked on it. Coughing, she waved frantically. "At least shut the door," she whispered. "Jesus, Kat."

Though she seemed annoyed at the lack of an answer, Katherine reached behind her to swing the door closed with a slight rattle of the wall. "Happy now? Dish. And don't leave out the dirty details."

"Kat-"

"It had to be good," she decided. "You two practically share a brain, sometimes, I refuse to believe that doesn't help in the bedroom." With a sly grin, she gave a seductive purr. "Unless you didn't even make it to the bedroom. Tell. Me. Everything."

Turning on her computer, Caroline all but pretended Katherine wasn't even there. But she also knew better than to think she could wait out her work-inappropriate curiosity. So, she sighed and took a more successful gulp of coffee before reluctantly meeting her gaze. "It was just a conference, Kat. You went to the last one with us, it's all networking and panels and seminars. What makes you think Klaus and I acted any differently on this one?"

It wasn't a new accusation. When Klaus was first hired, they near hated each other. Marketing attracted all types, many of which led to contradictions and outright conflicts. She was data-driven, strictly following creative briefs and initial plans as expected; he favored nontraditional solutions that came out of left field. Caroline loathed when his suggestions were taken over her perfectly supported proposals that precisely fit the client ask, and she had no problem letting him know it. Those early fights were legendary in the office, to the point where they were assigned to create proposals together rather than competing against each other, lest their rivalry become a more troublesome to their department head. 

They still fought, of course, but it devolved into a bickering that most likened to that of an old married couple - a dynamic their coworkers liked to tease them about.

Some more than others.

Katherine, for instance, watched her with a suspicious glare. "Something did happen," she nodded, "and you don't want to tell me about it. Come on, we've all gone through three betting pools on when you two would hook up. You can tell me, I won't gloat unless I win."

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, I'm just...processing."

Though her eyes narrowed, a knock at the door prevented Katherine from digging further. "Come in," she called, annoyed. When it was Klaus who walked in, though, she appeared positively delighted. "Well, hello there. I was just asking-"

"If I needed any help catching up on what happened here while we were at the conference," Caroline quickly interrupted. She barely restrained herself from glaring at her friend, but Klaus helped by dropping an almond croissant on her desk. Sipping her coffee allowed her to hide a silly grin. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

He shrugged, taking the other chair next to Katherine's. "I was hoping to bribe you into completing my reimbursement paperwork," he admitted freely. 

Her lips pursed like she was trying not to smile. "Seriously? It's one page."

"You like paperwork," he shrugged again. "I thought you'd appreciate the chance to color-code my receipts."

Rolling her eyes, Caroline turned back to Katherine with a thorough lack of amusement. "Whatever betting pool you're hoping to win, I hope this shows there are no winners."

Klaus looked between them, confused. "Who's betting on what?"

"Kat, thanks for checking in. We can chat over lunch today," Caroline broke in, the Monday of it all getting to her. "Get the door on your way out? I'd hate for the whole office to hear me complain about the state of his receipts."

With a calculating look, Katherine eventually gave in. "Fine," she said as she stood to leave. "But I want to hear all about those 'receipts' at lunch."

Though she wanted to drop her head to the desk, Caroline nodded and smiled. It had to happen sometime, and at least they'd be out of the office when she...explained. What she had to say wasn't exactly breakroom news. "Deal."

The door shut behind her as she left, and Caroline sagged back in relief. "You were right," she groaned. 

"Beg pardon, love?" Klaus leaned forward on his knees with a predatory grin. "I believe I just heard you say that I was right."

"Shut up," she huffed, her hand falling to the necklace hanging beneath her shirt. A finger traced the small ring no one could see. "I don't think our plan is going to work."

Without hesitating, Klaus pushed himself up from the chair to lock her office door. He walked around her desk to stand in front of her, and he gently lifted the chain from her neck until he held the ring in his hand. As he stroked the warm metal, he dropped a reverent kiss on her lips. "It'll work," he promised. "We happen to make an excellent team, and we can accomplish anything we set our minds to."

"Like," she drawled, her voice mocking, "getting married in Vegas when we haven't even really been on a date?"

He kissed her again, soft and lingering. "Exactly that."

Smiling up at him, her hand drifted up the arm he still used to hold her ring - the one he gave her in front of a Jedi officiant and she couldn't wait to put back on. "Okay," she breathed with resolve. "As far as they know, we finally gave into our obvious feelings for each other and are dating."

"Once everyone eases into it and we become old news," Klaus continued, "we can plan another wedding. Although, I'm rather partial to calling you my wife already."

Caroline bit her lip, tugging him down for another kiss. "I know what you mean. But they will never let us live it down," she warned. "For the rest of our lives, we'll be that couple."

But he just grinned against her lips. "I happen to like the sound of that." When he stood up, he gently tucked her ring back into her shirt. "As for our first date, I was thinking dinner tonight. A proper dinner at a restaurant, tablecloths and silverware."

"I happen to like the Chinese takeout we've been living on since we got back," she teased, her hands falling to his waist. "Or maybe I just like hiding away in your apartment with you, clothes optional."

"Discouraged, really." 

She snorted. "Very true. But dinner sounds nice, too. Pick me up at seven?"

Nodding, Klaus kissed her one last time before heading back to the door. "Sounds perfect, sweetheart. I'll make a reservation, and you make sure to pack that first round of bags you were planning out this weekend."

Her heart stuttered with excitement at how happy he sounded for her to move in with him. Maybe it was fast, and their relationship was certainly unconventional, but she was so, so happy, too. "Will do."

They were too busy grinning at each other to notice her phone buzzing with notifications, not until the door handle rattled against the lock and a fist started pounding on the door itself. Katherine's voice came through, clear and angry. "Caroline, why the hell are you tagged in pictures from a freaking wedding chapel?" 

For a long second, the grins slipped from their faces and they just stared at each other in realization. "Well, crap."

[owlsoldwritingcorner]

The Ghost (Part 1)

Pairing :Wrench x Reader

AO3 Link

Summary:

The Chicago Dedsec branch struck up a deal with the San Fran Dedsec branch and the two will start working more closely from now on. The Chicago branch also believes that giving a few people from their “clean up” crew would help out the other branch significantly and luckily for both of them, you happened to already be moving to San Francisco with your family.

Funny enough. You meet the man who unintentionally coaxed you into joining Dedsec in the first place.

“Wait, hold up. As in, The Ghost? The one who helped out The Fox?” “They say whenever you took a job, the victims would disappear without a trace. A recording of their crying would be left on the premise, acting as their ghost wails.” “Oh, am I a household name already? Oh, how embarrassing.”

Note: This is the first Watch dogs fic I've written so I'm sorry if anyone seems too OOC. One big difference would be that Marcus's group doesn't kill unless absolutely necessary. Aiden and Reader on the other hand are a bit more... Morally Ambiguous at times.ALSO! Reader is Asian (Specifically Southeast Asian), I try my best to to mention it too often (Mostly with their family and a passing comment) so you guys can still relate to them more. Also, certain characters will have their own pronouns for reader cuz they don't know (i.e Marcus says He/him but Ray calls them She/her). They also have a certain kind of body type similar to mine, but like the race, it won't be mentioned too often! Different pronouns will be like this until a certain point so I am sorry if you aren't into that!

Chapter 1: Moving Day

God, who fuckin’ knew moving was gonna be hell on your back? You had already packed everything from your room and started helping your family with the rest of the packing up. Boxes are now your worst goddamn enemy, at this point a close second to Blume.

So, the Chicago Dedsec branch struck up a deal with the San Fran Dedsec branch and the two will start working more closely from now on. The Chicago branch also believes that giving a few people from their “clean up” crew would help out the other branch significantly and luckily for both of them, you happened to already be moving to San Francisco with your family.

“Hey pumpkin, could you get some of these boxes for me?” Your mother comes into the room, interrupting your glaring battle with the room full of boxes (of which you were totally winning), with a tower of even more boxes in her arms. Quickly, you took half of the stacked boxes in her arms and placed them with the pile, you can now see her tired eyes that were previously covered by cardboard.

“Thank you, pumpkin. My arms were killing me,” Your mother emphasized her point by stretching out her arms and a few popping noises accompanied the movements. “So, how are you feeling about the move? I know we’ve lived in this house since you were a baby but… A change of scenery is always nice. Right?” You let out a little sigh. You really are going to miss those places you’d go to as a kid. The Honeymoon Cafe, that Thai restaurant, hell you’re gonna miss that damn dog that would bark through the night every day.

“Plus you can always make new friends over there!” You know your mom was trying to comfort you but, making friends was never your strong suit in the first place. Plus…

“Mom, I’m 20 years old now.”

“Just cause you’re 20 it doesn’t mean you can’t make friends.”

“I take classes online and stay inside for weeks straight half the time. The other half being at work. ” Work being, well, Dedsec. Clients always preferred going at night. Granted, cleaning up the area during the day is much harder than at night considering all the bystanders during these jobs.

“Oh! You should be able to make friends with your new coworkers at the other branch then! Speaking of work, that reminds me, sweetie. Make sure to bring mace with you whenever you get back home. I don’t know why you’re so adamant on keeping this job, you work so late!” It’s not like mace is gonna fully stop someone. Especially not the kinds of guys you deal with on the daily.

“It plays really well!” Might not have insurance, but, still. Clients pay good money. “And anyway, by that logic, you should have been able to make friends with your old coworkers too.”

“That’s different, honey. I hated my old coworkers.” She gave you a sweet smile but you could feel the rage that was hidden underneath. But you just rolled your eyes.

“Yep. Had an earful of that info everyday. Thanks.”

“You’re seriously just as bad as mom now when it comes to complaining, sis.” Your aunt finally came out of the bathroom and was currently heading towards your grandmother's room to help her out of bed.

“They could barely organize their files! Madeline couldn’t even train me properly!” You and your aunt just gave each other a knowing look before giving your mom little nods as she went off on another tangent about her coworkers. After that whole spiel, you finally got around to carrying your sweet pit bull, Ripley, into the car trunk (All the boxes were in the moving truck just behind you all).

“God, she’s just a big baby, aren’t you?” Your mom baby talked to the big dog often, who in turn gave a happy bark as if saying ‘I am! You gotta love me!’, your mother then turned to you. “I’m still shocked you can carry her so easily like that… She’s as big as you!” To which you just shrugged. Finally, your aunt came, grandma in one hand and helped the elder woman in the car before taking her seat next to grandma.

“I guarantee you’re gonna love it in California, mauppy.” Your aunt said. She did live in California for almost ten years now, so she was the expert compared to the rest of you. You just rolled your eyes at the nickname and another one of these ‘hey new places to live but you’ll love it!’ talk.

“I think Uncle Scott is gonna be the happiest out of all of us, he’s gonna have his impulse control back.”

“Yeah, he ate two large pizzas by himself in under an hour just the other night.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong, that’s just a Tuesday night.”

“Sweetie. I’m going to marry him in a couple months. Next thing you know he can’t even fit into his tux and just have his whole gut out while we say our vows.” You wince at the image. Yeah that… That looks kind of sad.

“ Next thing you know you’ll have to roll around your husband to his clients !” Your grandmother joked around before taking a puff of her inhaler. You all laughed at the thought before you quietly checked your purse for your daily asthma meds and inhaler.

Good. Everything is ready to go.

Goodbye, Home.

Hello, San Francisco.

As you fell asleep during the road trip, you dreamt of a familiar masked man.

You smiled at the image of his hidden face.

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

Finally, it was time to move everything in the new house. Just as you got out of the car, you stood still as if the ice queen herself froze you.

Both your legs were asleep.

“Aw, while your legs are waking up, make sure to help Ripley get used to the new house!” Your aunt said as she helped grandma from the car, you let out a pained groan that your aunt took as an affirmative sound.

After all the boxes were in the house and you got the dog’s bed in your room, you flopped onto your bed. Exhausted to the bone. Unfortunately, you just received a text message. Limply, you flipped yourself over and reached for your phone.

Oh, It’s Clara!

It's been a couple years since you’ve seen her. She and Aiden finally got together soon after the whole Damien and Maurice situation, moving in with Aiden’s sister and nephew. Good riddance, they always gave each other googly eyes.

So gross.

Wonder how he’s doing now?

You let out an exasperated huff at the memory.

Yeah but like… The man has a justice boner sometimes. Not literally but, he tried to catch every. Single. Crime  he walks past. That man has never relaxed a day in his life.

Someone got robbed on the street over? Guess who’s already there. The almighty masked vigilante! The man’s probably never relaxed a day in his life, hell, you never even seen the dude take a nap.

God… You already missed Chicago.

You put your phone on charge on top of the nightstand near your bed, turning off the lights and finally getting into bed to sleep off all the work.

Tomorrow is going to be a long ass day.

You can feel it in your gut.

[rorywinslowpatch]

My Story of COVID-19

We all have difficult days, weeks, months, even years. Keeping it simple, I can say my family and I had our fair share of hardships in 2019. My husband and I went into 2020 with hope that it could only go up from here. January and February were off to a good start. I was happy with my job and all the opportunities it was presenting to me. Life was finally going our way.

In early March, I was invited to attend a client event in Vail, Colorado. During this time, COVID-19 was a concern but there had only been a handful of cases confirmed in the United States. I had just returned from a conference in Miami, shaking hands with people from all around the world and thought, “If I didn’t get it there, I should feel safe going on this trip”. So, I went. I met some of the most genuine and intelligent people I’ve ever come across. Walking away from that event I knew I had friends I could call when I visited Philadelphia, DC, California, Florida, New York, even Brazil. It was truly the trip of a lifetime and I’ll always be thankful for such an incredible opportunity.

The week of March 9th. I had returned from Vail that Sunday and was back in the office on Monday. I was still exhausted from the amazing long weekend, sharing stories with my manager who had also attended the trip. It was about 4:00pm when I felt ‘off’. I remember explaining to my manager that I felt weird and my throat was sore when I had woken up and continued throughout the day. I asked if she minded if I left early to get some rest and come back ready to tackle it on Tuesday. Tuesday morning came and I still had this strange sore throat, it’s hard to explain, but I didn’t recognize this pain. I started to self-diagnose myself thinking…maybe its strep, allergies, weather change? I looked in my throat and saw some white spots so figured it was some sort of infection. I took a sick day and went over to Urgent Care. Reminder, COVID-19 had not hit the United States as hard as it had internationally. I walked in and felt immediately uncomfortable. It was packed and every single person was wearing a mask. I walked up to sign in and immediately took note to everything I touched – the counter, the pen, the paper work. After I was signed in the nurse let me know it would be about 2 hours, she wasn’t wrong. I struggled to find a spot to sit while keeping a fair distance from the other coughing patients. As I sat there I remember listing out the COVID-19 symptoms in my head to make myself feel safe – fever (nope), cough (not really), shortness of breath (nope), nausea (maybe it was a very long hangover from the trip?). I even got joking texts from my coworkers – “make sure you don’t have the rona”. As my mind spun out of control, I finally heard my name called. We do a strep test, negative. We then do a strep culture (I guess it’s more accurate), negative. The doctor said I definitely have Tonsilitis which is an infection in your throat from a virus, can be any virus. I asked the doctor if he thinks it could be the COVID-19 virus. His response, “No, because you haven’t left the United States”. Feww, I felt a sense of relief. He prescribed some antibiotics and I was on my way. On Wednesday I woke up with the same sore throat with an additional symptom, fatigue. I slept from 9pm on Tuesday to 10pm on Wednesday and then 11pm on Wednesday to 7am on Thursday. In the last two days I had slept 33 hours with brief moments to go to the bathroom and drink water. When I woke up on Thursday, I felt rested and my sore throat had gone away so I figured it was some sort of infection I had fought off and was on the mend. I went to work as we had our CRO in town and wanted to at least show my face. We had a happy hour after work for a colleagues work anniversary. As I walked into the bar I was told someone from the Vail trip had tested positive for COVID-19. I remember the gut wrenching feeling and the amount of exhaustion that suddenly flooded my body. I immediately panicked and called my sister in-law crying on the curb outside. She was trying to calm me down and said to just call the Urgent Care back that I had visited a couple days earlier and see if they knew where I could get tested. There, began the downward spiral of searching for information – WHERE COULD SOMEONE POSSIBLY GET TESTED. At the time, we didn’t have the testing resources we have now. Every new number I was given gave me another number to call, which resulted in a lot of frustration and worry as my symptoms got worse. I remember crying to my husband with the panic and unknown of COVID-19. I slowly learned no one had access to the test unless you walked into a select few hospitals in Georgia. I called around and found one that did, Emory Saint Joseph’s Hospital. On Friday, I walked right up to the front desk and said nervously, “I came in contact with someone that tested positive for COVID-19 and I have some of the symptoms.” She immediately told me to back up 3-steps and to wait for my blue suit. I was then asked to sit on a separate side of the waiting room as they moved others farther away from me. You could tell everyone was thinking the same thing. Maybe 2 minutes later they escorted me to a room by myself where the nurse asked me questions through a window – I verbally had to give my social security, insurance, and physical address. I spent the next 6 hours in the room having various tests done. First, they had to test me for the flu to rule it out (negative). They then performed two tests for COVID-19 - one swab in the nose and one in the throat. They then had to x-ray my chest to make sure I wasn’t developing pneumonia. Each time someone came into the room they had a very thorough process: sanitize their hands, put on a new blue suit, 2 layers of gloves, sanitize again, a medical mask, glasses, the plastic face shield. There were roughly 30 minutes in between each test and during that time many nurses would walk by my room labeled with a big red paper and black X, marking it was for a COVID-19 patient. As if, I didn’t feel like an alien already. I will say the doctors and nurses at Emory Saint Joseph’s Hospital made me feel as comfortable as they possibly could and were amazing describing each step of the process. As I left the room the doctor goes, “You’ll get a call in about 3-5 days with the results, but I doubt you test positive”. It was 12 days. During those 12 days of waiting, I found myself gaining more symptoms, which then came more anxiety and fear. I wrote down my symptoms each day in case the doctors needed me to recall anything. I kept all of these in my notepad on my phone, but I’ll save everyone some time and skip the details.

As the days went on more people from the trip were getting positive results. I think the actual ratio ended up being 70% of the people on the trip. During those 12 days, every moment was different. One day you feel worse than the day before and then the next you feel like you’re finally making progress. With those new symptoms, came defeat. It wasn’t until day 5 (after being tested) that my deep chest cough developed. I had some ��dry cough’ on the first couple days, but nothing like this. It took 3 days to finally get a doctor to prescribe an inhaler without seeing me in person. They also sent over what I call ‘the miracle drug’, Tessalon Perles also known as Benzonatate. It was the tiniest pill I had ever seen. I immediately called my mom (which I was doing probably twice a day at this point) to see what it was. She encouraged me to take them as it would help with the coughing fits. IT WORKED, after 2 days of taking it the fits had subsided and I was slowly starting to have ‘proactive coughs’. Over the next few days I took a combination the ‘miracle drug’, mucinex-D, elderberry syrup, and a liter of water. As the coughing subsided, another symptom returned, fatigue. This wasn’t like the tiredness I was feeling before but more exhaustion. The smallest tasks were completely wiping me out – the dishes, vacuuming, folding laundry, etc.

March 18th. I remember this moment as if it was yesterday. If you aren’t someone that is open to faith, stop here.

I was having one of my defeated days and couldn’t see the light at the end. My husband was out on the porch talking to his mom. I felt the need to clear my head but couldn’t walk more than 10 minutes without having to take a break so I decided to drive around instead. I was driving down one of my favorite roads in Atlanta, bopping my head to the music because I didn’t have the lung capacity to sing along. Realizing why I wasn’t singing, I started to cry. I pulled over in one of the neighborhoods and completely let it out. I was crying, snot everywhere, and of course I couldn’t find those stupid napkins you are supposed to leave in your glovebox. I took a moment to settle my breath and started to talk. At the time, I want to think I knew Who I was speaking to. I had just started to go to church about 8 months ago for the first time in my life. To be fair, I was still skeptic but open to the idea of a higher power. I started rambling in my car at the end of some random person’s driveway. I was saying it all – how scared I was, the unknown, the lack of control, frustration of not having my results, worry of job security, everything came out. Then, all of a sudden, I found myself praying for the first time. I prayed for guidance..support…anything that would give me some sort of relief. I looked at the time and realized I had been talking to myself for over an hour. I started up the car and made my way back to our place. I walked in and my husband asked where I had been but only shared that I had taken a drive to clear my head. The next few days I wasn’t feeling any new symptoms just the constant struggle to breathe normally and exhaustion with simple tasks. Tuesday morning I got the call. It rang and I knew what they were about to tell me. At this point, I was out of the woods and whatever the results were, I had overcome the worst of it. It was positive.

Jump to a few weeks later. Georgia slowly started opening up but we still weren’t back in our offices. I had done some research and heard about how intravascular plasma was saving patients that were severely ill with COVID-19. Atlanta Blood Services was a local platelet donation center that opening their seats to recovered COVID-19 patients to donate their plasma. I immediately signed up and they got me in 2 days later. They had a round of questions and tests they needed to do before I could donate. I sat down with the research technician and they walked me through the questions – how did you get it, date of last symptom, etc. They then tested me again for COVID-19 to make sure I wasn’t still contagious, it came back negative. They then took a sample of blood from my left arm to test for the antibodies, which came back positive. They then guided me to the donation chair and I sat there for about 2 hours. I couldn’t help but watch the tubes take the blood out of my arm, recycle it inside this very noisy machine, push this yellow type liquid into these bags hanging above my chair (the plasma), and then the machine pushes the red blood back into my body. It was truly amazing seeing what medicine was doing to defeat this pandemic. I continue to go back every two weeks to donate my plasma.  

Now, fully recovered, I look back and am thankful this happened to me. I am thankful I didn’t develop phenomena. I am thankful of the person I found within myself. I am thankful I found my faith when I needed it the most. The world has a funny way of making you realize your purpose on earth. COVID-19 led me to my faith, which allowed me to see what I want my future to be. I wake up every day with a positive attitude, thankful to see what the future has in store for me, striving to have an open mind and heart. I found myself with the wrong priorities before and made it a goal to push myself to find what I love to do every day – at home and at work. I started this story with the idea that 2020 was worse than 2019. I move forward with 2020 with a new outlook and perspective. I couldn’t be more grateful for where this bumpy road has led me. Thank you, for opening my eyes.

[ill-skillsgard]

The Promise - Bill Skarsgård

Title: The Promise

Description: He is a good lawyer, a great liar and he never breaks a promise.

Warning: 18+ for swearing/sex/cheating/cuckold/impregnation/Daddy-kink etc.

A/N: This fic was 100% inspired by Qarni and is in no way original at all. Still smutty though.

"They don't know that you belong to me.”

"Are you sure you want to wear those all night?" I looked down at my black patent pumps and then back at my fiancé. "Yes. I'll be fine."

He simpered at me. "Don't you remember the Christmas party?"

Of course, I remember, I thought. Bill was wearing the best fitting black pants, a blue shirt and a black tie. He got his hair cut too. He looked so fucking good that night.

"I broke a heel. That doesn't mean I should stop wearing heels."

"I don't know how you girls wear those things."

Looking down at them again, I turned my ankle out and took a moment to appreciate the way the shoes made my legs look. I always had a big thing for shoes. I thought maybe it was because I didn't have much growing up and I always loved the way women looked wearing them. Once I started a new job at a big law firm I could afford the kind of shoes I always wanted to wear and I had gone a little overboard the first year. But I justified my obsession by comparing it to my fiancé's collections and habits so it didn't seem quite as bad. Plus, they encouraged it at work so I had another excuse to add a pair or two to my collection each month.

After applying the finishing touches to my makeup, I was ready to go. We were attending an after-hours office party in celebration of how successful the year had been so far with two birthdays mixed in. Bill made the announcement two weeks prior that he was going to allow us to have a celebration to accommodate all the happy and well-earned milestones that seemed to be in no short supply. It would also double as an engagement affair for us.

We were a little late to the party but when we showed up, there were many people excited to see us. I always thought it was so surreal hanging out with my coworkers in a non-professional setting, where everyone had drinks in their hands and worse stories to tell than the regular drivel that was spilled during our weekly nine to fives.

What was really, really surreal though was seeing Bill and my fiancé talking.

He went home to change his outfit from earlier. I wonder what cologne he put on. Knowing Bill, he probably showered and shaved too.

It wasn't uncomfortable approaching Bill when my soon-to-be-husband was already shaking his hand and exchanging more-than-pleasantries.

Fuck, he's so good at keeping his cool. I suppose that's why he's one of the best.

"And there is your beautiful bride-to-be!" Bill announced my arrival after I had found myself a drink and joined them. "We were just singing your praises."

He smiled at me, "that's my girl! Or should I say, my wife."

"Ah, ah! Not yet. Fiancé."

"Yes but, come on. How long have you two been together now? Four... Five years?" Bill inquired.

"Four," he replied.

"Three and a half," I corrected them.

Bill looked me over again but only with his eyes and it was very quick. Even but a short glance, I could see heat building behind his light green eyes. I knew the look because I had seen it many times before. Bill was a good lawyer and a great liar but I could tell the difference between his glints and glowers.

The night carried on and Bill was eventually pulled away by one of the many other people that sought an audience with him. It was fine though, I had other people to talk to; wishes to give and congratulations to receive. After a couple of drinks I had mostly caught up with everyone else and we all began to loosen up. There was music playing, food, drinks, all my co-workers and their significant others were talking or laughing together. It was easy to get lost in the din until somebody turned down the music and clanged a fork against a half-full wine glass.

"Good evening everybody," Bill's voice broke over the murmurs and dulled beat of the music. "Thank you all for coming. I just wanted to say a few things to the collective before anyone gets too out of hand. I'm looking at you, Trisha."

A dainty red-head of a secretary turned pink after being called out by Bill. The year prior, Trisha had gotten too drunk at the office Halloween party and vomited on the carpet in front of everybody. Not that any of us would judge since the vast majority of the people we worked with were also well known for getting too liquored up from time to time. It was all in good fun the way we made jabs at each other. We were a tight-knit team and everyone knew everyone's personal business. 

So far, our closeness had caused no rifts in the firm. Well... Any rifts that anyone knew about at the least. There was one scandal that had been carrying on for some time. Something that was so obvious to me but unthinkable to anyone else. Not even my fiancé suspected anything. I could tell because he treated Bill like his equal and he only did that when he perceived another man to be a non-threat to our relationship.

My fiancé was great, and he kept himself fit but he was definitely territorial; A trait that caused more problems than it solved. If he thought another man found me attractive, he would puff up like a blowfish and act like I needed protection. It got to the point where we stopped going to clubs and bars because he would get into fights with guys that tried to talk to me. If I was honest with myself, I would say that I liked the attention though I had never admitted it out loud. I liked the way he treated me usually, but we weren't without our issues.

Alas, he was there to support me and made sure all eyes were on me when Bill spoke of the happy couple during his speech. 

I had the attention of being newly engaged and earning a spot for myself as a partner which meant I got to have a nice big office all to myself. Not that it came as a surprise to anyone else in the firm. I had been doing great all year in the eyes of professionalism.

"With everything being said, I'd like to wish you all a wonderful evening! Here's to many more causes to celebrate." Bill rose his glass and everyone followed suit.

After Bill's short speech he mingled for a few minutes before inching his way towards me and fiancé again. 

"Would you mind if I stole your wife for a minute or two?" Bill asked once he had managed to break away from other conversations. "I'd very much like to show you your new office and give you the keys."

"Of course, take all the time you need. But I'll need her back by midnight!"

I smiled at him and then at Bill. With a slight bow, exhibiting his ability to appear solemn, Bill honoured the agreement and before I knew it I was following Bill away from our conference rooms and down the hall. As soon as we were out of anyone's sight he reached his hand out and grabbed my ass, giving it a firm shake as we walked side by side down the hall towards the corner office.

Bill had been promising me that office for a long time and I knew that he would give it to me if I proved myself. But he wouldn't just hand it over so easily. No, there would be a great deal of bargaining between the both of us even if I displayed enough intelligence and prowess in my position to earn us some big-name clients.

So many of our agreements had gone unspoken except for one. Our affair. The ongoing scandal of my life.

When he opened the door and allowed me in first, I turned to him immediately, waited for him to shut and lock the door and then opened my arms so he could put his hands on me wherever he liked. He backed me up against the desk, all lips and limbs tripping until he had me pinned firmly with his hips.

"Oh... I've been waiting to touch you since the moment you walked in." He whispered before kissing me hard with his hand threaded through my hair so he could tip my face up to his.

"Bill... Jesus. This is so risky."

"No, no kitten. Everything is fine. The door is locked, the guests have free alcohol and if anybody comes knocking... I'm just showing my very best employee-turned-partner her new office. Very professional. Nobody will suspect a thing."

I blushed as he ran his hand up my neck and jaw. "You're insatiable."

"Don't pretend like you weren't thinking about me. Oh... You might have them all fooled by the way you hang off your new husband-to-be but they don't know... They don't know that you belong to me... Isn't that right?"

His hand gripped my chin a little tighter as he whispered close to my ear, sending chills through my body with his voice and the way his pelvis had me forced up against the big oak desk.

"And that pussy... Mm-hm, that pretty, pink little pussy is mine too."

When he got close to me and hissed all of his nasty little words in my ear, I couldn't help but feel myself melting, breasts tingling, lashes fluttering underneath his work. All of those salacious promises that spilled from his pouting lips made it impossible for me to resist him. I had tried many times to say no to him but he made it so difficult with the way he dressed and how his fingers always got to toying with some part of my outfit when nobody was looking. Whether he was admiring my ponytail after a meeting or commenting on how my skirt was just short enough to cover what needed to be covered, he always had something to say to me in private that made me swoon.

"You wore my favourite heels too. Goddamn it. You look so fucking good in those shoes... The stockings too... Fuck. You knew what you were doing, weren't you? Putting those shoes on because you knew it would drive me crazy... You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I just want to look good for you, sir."

"Oh, fuck." He groaned. "I knew it. I knew it because you're my dirty little girl, aren't you? You're mine... He might be marrying you but your cunt will always belong to me."

"Yes... Yes, sir."

"Call me Daddy. Do it. Say, oh yes Daddy, my pussy belongs to you."

I obeyed him and earned myself another nice, long kiss. His hands ran down my hips and gripped my thighs so he could pull me up on top of the desk and force himself between my legs. He sighed as he ran his hand over the sheer material of my stockings.

"Oh fuck. Open your legs... Show me your panties."

When I spread my legs apart Bill took a small step back to see. I watched his eyes flutter and his teeth dig into his bottom lip when he saw what I was wearing underneath.

"Thigh-highs? How dare you." Bill seethed.

He reached his hand out and ran two fingers up the front of my underwear, eliciting a soft moan from my throat. "Daddy." I breathed.

"Mm, yes. That's right. I'm your Daddy. And who does that wet cunt belong too?"

"You, Daddy."

"Yes. Even though you're marrying him, that pussy is still mine, and it will always be mine. You belong to me."

He leaned over so he was at eye-level with me, making sure I didn't look off or close my eyes while he began to give me gentle little strokes over the material of my panties with the tip of his thumb. He cooed when I whined and smiled when my lips fell open.

"Does that feel good? When I just tease you a little?"

"Yes, sir."

"You want more, don't you kitten?"

I nodded my head and spread my thighs wider for him but he stood back up with a smirk on his face.

"I want to hear you beg. Say, please sir. Please touch my pussy. Please play with my clit and finger my wet cunt. Do it. Beg for me. Otherwise... I might just feel inclined to leave you like this and go back to the party. You wouldn't want to go back out there all wet and bothered, would you?"

"No, sir. Please... Please touch me. Please, I want to feel your fingers inside of me."

Bill groaned as he listened to the words he wanted to hear. He was a man that truly enjoyed indulging his senses. From visual to auditory to the way certain materials felt against his skin, I knew he was an intense creature of passion. Stimulation was something he always craved and when he had found out about my little crush on him a couple of years ago, he had used that information to get me to fulfill all of his little office fantasies. Although, the fantasy was becoming more and more muddled and marred by our own selfish lusts. It had become less of an obscene chimera that we would occasionally sneak off to and more of a blinding everyday reality.

"I think you can do a little better than that." He told me.

"Please, Daddy. Please, I need you to make me come. I need you inside of me. I'm so wet for you."

"Oh... You're such a good girl... and I'm not mad that you're marrying him. In fact, it makes me even more excited to take you whenever I want. Just knowing that he has no idea how much of a filthy little whore you are for me makes me so fucking hard."

Bill got down on his knees in front of me and began kissing my stocking-clad thighs. A small sweet kiss on one and then he would switch to the other side, gradually working his way until he was inches away from my aching wetness. It was another thing he loved to do; teasing me until I couldn't take it anymore. Until I felt his hot breath right there against me.

I brushed my fingers through his soft brown hair, pushing it away from his forehead as he stared up at me with those big, enthrallingly green eyes.

"You want my mouth?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Promise to keep quiet?"

I nodded my head again, but it wasn't a good enough answer for him.

"Say you promise."

"I promise."

With that, he hooked his long index finger underneath the fabric of my panties and pull them to the side. He immediately had this look in his eyes like he was seeing me for the first time, sitting on the desk with my legs spread. Like he was in love.

There was something irresistible about Bill. I had to have him. He had to have me. I wasn't sure what to do about it besides give in to my desire. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't care. Not when it came to him.

"What to do? What to do?" He sang. "Should I... Finger you? Lick you? Should I just... Fuck you? What do you think, honey?"

"Whatever you want."

"Oh yeah? Is that what he does? Does he do whatever he wants to you? Huh? Does he make you this wet? Does he know how to eat your pussy just right? Can he make you come as hard as I do?"

"No." I whispered, squirming against the fingers he used to hold my panties over.

"No," He growled. "Nobody makes you come like I do. Because this..."

He leaned in closer to me, lips so close to my clit I bristled beneath his heat. "This is my pussy."

I let out the most helpless whimper when he stuck his tongue out and licked the slowest, hottest and wettest trail all the way from my opening to my clit. Then he moaned against me and it felt so good I thought I could turn to liquid on the desk.

I watched him, his lips, his tongue. I watched how he used his mouth against me, lapping at my clit and licking up the juices he helped draw from the wells of my weakness for him. He made it look just as good as it felt.

The sounds he made were dripping with carnality. He moaned incessantly as he tasted me and made sure I knew just how much he was enjoying every second of it. It sent sweetly sick vibrations through me every time he groaned or whispered against pussy.

He pulled away for a moment and said, "fuck... I love the way your cunt tastes."

"Mmm, yes Daddy. Yes."

"Oh, my good girl. My sweet, sweet girl."

His lips hung open as he brought his other hand up, turned his wrist and stroked two fingers up over my folds a couple of times before slowly working them inside of me.

"Oh yeah. You like that feeling? You like it when my fingers are inside of you?"

Hooking his fingers up, he rubbed that sensual little spot inside of me and smiled up at me like he was happy to do so. Really the reason he was smiling was that he knew he had complete control of me and when he started working those digits in and out my head fell back and I moaned.

"Quiet, kitten. Remember your promise."

It was a challenge not to make any noise after he started fingering me rigorously. Clapping one palm over my mouth, I watched with choked breaths as he worked those two long fingers in and out for a minute or two before flicking his tongue over my clit again. All of it was enough to leave me gasping and clenching my muscles. My thighs started to shake and Bill let out a soft giggle.

"Are you going to come for Daddy?"

I nodded my head, hand still clamped over my mouth. It was so easy to get to the edge with him. Nobody could make me come as fast or as hard as he could and it only took another minute before I was close enough to climax that he could feel me tightening around his fingers, angling my hips up so I could watch him slather me with his wet tongue.

"Yes, yes, yes... Come for me, baby. I need you to. I want you to come. Right in my mouth."

His free hand grasped my thigh, wrenching my legs further apart so I had a full view of what he was doing to me. It only took one more cast of his eyes up at me to bring me to my peak. I rode the deep tingling sensation until it was too much and my body began convulsing in orgasm.

"Yes! Oh, fuck. That's it, baby. Give me all that cum, yes. Mm, so good."

I shuddered and relaxed my body after he took his fingers out of me and began kissing my thighs again. His lips were red and when he stood up, I could see he was hard.

"Are you ready to get heading back? Surely people are wondering where we went off to?"

I shook my head. There was no way I could hop off the desk and go back to the party without at least giving myself a minute to calm down. When I saw the look in Bill's eyes I could tell he also had other plans. 

"Get up. Turn around then, I'm not done with you."

The clinking of his belt sounded after I scooted off the desk and turned around. He pulled my skirt up again and yanked my panties all the way down, palm on my back forcing me to bend over for him.

"Daddy's going to give you something," Bill whispered. "Something that will remind you every single day that you're mine."

I felt the head of his cock pressing against my opening and ever so slowly he pushed himself inside of me, teasing every inch until he was engulfed in my warm wetness. He groaned as he did so, relishing the feeling of how tight I had become from my recent orgasm. After giving me a light slap on the ass he started thrusting into me forcefully and I had to plant my palms on the desk to keep my balance in my black high heels.

"You like getting fucked hard, don't you? You love it when Daddy gives you his nice hard cock, isn't that right baby girl?"

"Yes, Daddy," I drawled.

"Yeah... You're going to take my cum too. All of it. That's right..."

My chest tightened, as did his grip on my hips. When I looked back at him his expression had changed. Normally he looked so euphoric when we fucked but this time it was different. His eyebrows were knit together like he was angry and his teeth clenched as he forced himself into me with a renewed ruthlessness.

"You heard me. You're going to take my cum... Yes. Yes, you are." Bill pulled my hair back, bringing his lips to my ear so he could whisper, "you're going to have my baby."

"Bill..."

"Yes. You will come to work every day, go to meetings and meet new clients and soon enough you'll start showing and everybody will think it's his but... you and I know that's not true. It will be my child inside of you."

I whimpered as his thrusts grew faster and harsher. Try as I might have to turn around, he only wrapped me up in his arms so I couldn't struggle against him. He had the height and power over me and when he sighed against my neck I felt every hair on my body rise.

"You will always be mine." He told me. "Always. It doesn't matter who's ring is on your finger. You're my good girl."

The sounds of his hips slapping against my ass filled the office and mostly drowned out my whining. I gasped as he bucked into me hard. It wasn't too late to stop him but he squeezed me when I tried to push off the desk.

"You're going to go back to the party... Back into your fiancé's arms with my cum still inside of you. Nobody will know except for us."

"Bill, please."

"Who do you belong to?"

When I didn't answer he slapped my ass hard and asked me again. "Who does that filthy, whore cunt belong to? Hm? It's mine and I'm going to fill it up with my cum."

When his thrusts grew faster, I knew he was almost there and the faster he came the quicker we could go back to avoid suspicion. I leaned my head back on his shoulder and he kissed my neck lovingly. 

"Oh, fuck... I'm gonna fucking blow. You ready to take it all, baby?"

My emotions started to get the better of me and I closed my eyes to stave off tears and whined. "Daddy..."

When he tensed up and pulled my hips back onto him I felt the throbbing sensation of him unloading every drop of cum he had inside of me. The way he shuddered and wrapped his fingers around my neck was as obscene as it was playful. He released with a storm of fucks and low growls that resounded through my entire body, reminding me I was just as filthy as he told me I was. With long, languid thrusts, he fulfilled his promise and poured himself inside of me with no remorse.

After he pulled out, he started to giggle again and bent down to pull my panties back up from around my ankles. He kissed my cheek and forced me to turn around so he could press me against the desk once more.

"Tell me one more time... Who do you belong to?"

"You, Daddy."

"That's right. You will always belong to me, that is a promise." 

[burningscge]

( amber heard, 30, cis-female, she/her ) Have you seen SAGE CAULFIELD-PROUVOST around ? I hear they’re an ASSISTANT TO THE MAYOR who can sometimes be BLUNT & ALOOF. But I also heard they can be LOYAL & SHARP-WITTED if you catch them on a good day. They’re usually hanging around LINCOLN PARK ZOO in their spare time. I sure hope they’re alright !

This is Sage I love her and have missed writing her so get ready. Buckle in this gets long but I’m gonna try to skip over some things.

She’s a gemini and is exactly what you’d expect from that, could be called an alpha bitch but she uses it for good. It’s tough for her to make female friends but she treasures them and her life long hobby has been sleeping with shitty men, getting them to fall in love with her the blatantly cheating on them and smashing their hearts. 

Sage comes from Frostford, Alabama a small town where her family owns the bed and breakfast. She was happy there but she didn’t necessarily love it. Growing up she had her Mom and her Grandfather, her Dad being a career military officer and often deployed. 

It was a picturesque town, she helped out at the front desk and would sneak away for late night parties and sit on the roof to look at the orchard in back of the bed and breakfast, when the flowers bloomed it almost looked like a vast sea. She was popular in that knew everybody but didn’t really have a group of friends sort of way. Not that she didn’t try just her personality is a bit strong for most so when she did manage to find people who’d call her friend she’d have their back instantly ready to bite the head off of anyone who was rude to them. Due to her popularity she won Homecoming Queen multiple times and Prom Queen easily enough. 

But then one year she turned into that small town cliche. Sage got knocked up. and to make matters worse she truly had no idea who the father was between all of her heart breaking and cheating. She considered terminating the situation early on unsure if it was something she wanted to deal with, after all she was already the subject of enough town gossip. However her best friend and one of the babies possible fathers Ethan Prouvost brought up the idea of adoption, something Sage immediately felt was the way she wanted to go.

Okay so Ethan was an interesting person, he was half french his Mother having been born and raised in the richer side of their small town, a founding family sort of situation. She’d fallen in love with a wealthy frenchman and boom Ethan and his older brother were born. The family eventually moved out to California but they made a habit of spending Summers in Alabama along with thanksgiving with her Mother, winter break and spring break also ended up with the family back in France.

Ethan was a huge romantic, he loved the sea and fish, dude was obsessed with fish and clicked instantly with Sage, he indulged her constantly and fell in love. He had some fuck boy tendencies which first attracted Sage to him under the impression that she could ruin him next but it was always ruined by him consistently being one of those nice bro types. 

Either way whenever he’d roll into town she’d drop whoever she was seeing like a hot rock and spend time with her best friend/constant hookup and they were happy that way. He loved hearing about who she was sleeping with and messing the hearts of because he not only fully enjoyed the drama but also sucked in people’s secrets like a sponge being fairly nosey. 

By the time Sage gave birth the baby was handed over and honestly she didn’t feel much of a connection to it, a la Juno it never felt like her baby really to begin with and now the family that she picked out a few towns over would be happy as well.

After graduation with her best friend off at college and the few others she made as well out of town, Sage felt at a loss. Higher education wasn’t for her and sure she had working the front desk at the Inn as a stable job, handling finances and being meticulously organised was never a problem for her. 

Still it didn’t feel like enough for her SO one day a town over she stumbles across a gentleman’s club. She was immediately entranced, selling sex for money seemed perfect for her. What was even better was that she discovered at times people just wanted to talk, and as someone who was always a great listener the clients opened up to her more and more. As she rose in the ranks she decided to move onto a better establishment. Specifically one in California.

Ethan had been calling her asking her to move out west and see the ocean like he’d always promised he’d show her and Sage missing her best friend and tbh the great sex decided why the hell not, packed up gave her two weeks notice and moved to a nice apartment something she was able to afford with her earnings and savings.

So she starts working at a higher class establishment growing more and more into the top spot in LA. Reconnects with her bestie not that they ever really lost contact and he’s as big a fan as ever of her career choice.

He graduates and becomes a marine biologist working at an aquarium loving fish as much as ever she’s proud of him.

She begins ruining his relationships, they often attend his family’s gathers together and make a show of shocking and horrifying his parents. Often leave with many bottles of expensive champagne.

His parents hate his career choice because it’s not bougie enough and hate that he’s still sleeping around with a ‘hooker’. They love his family’s reaction.

some things happen and there’s a fight she admits that she does love him it’s the one time in their lives she ever said it.

the next day she agrees to marry him. she’s pretty pissed about it but he’s a romantic and it makes him happy so she’s willing to compromise by doing this one thing for him because she knows it’s important to him.

she keeps working as a prostitute and they’re both happy, he’s getting all the gossip and things are honestly just good?

they consider having children possibly another child together??? things are still unclear if he’s genetically related to the baby she gave up but whatever. could have gotten it tested but who wants to do that. no one.

at 28 Ethan gets in a car crash and Sage loses her best friend. 

She quits her job and moves to Chicago to where a huge aquarium is that Ethan always confessed wanting to work at. The ocean makes her a bit sick to look at now.

Considers seeing if there’s openings at Eden, Genesis or Skyfall it seemed like an easy enough gig to get with the sort of high roller and celebrity client references she could pull from LA. But in the end decides to stop. Everything about her old life is a bit hard to bare when you lose the person you were best friend’s with your whole life.

Begins working as the assistant to the Mayor of Chicago, it’s a good place to put her focus and takes advantage of some of her skills and ability to pull secrets from those around her. 

-----

Random Facts

Sage is really into minimalist decorations so she doesn’t really spend a lot of money unless it’s on shoes or baking supplies. Girl loves baking and has an easy bake oven on display in her apartment somewhere just sitting on a bookshelf.

Her closet is 98% shoes.

Sage’s last name Caulfield comes from Catcher in the Rye where Holden Caulfield hires a prostitute and then spends the entire time just talking to her. Some of Sage’s clients were like that and she did have a slight affection for them.

She doesn’t hide the fact that she used to be a prostitute and would honestly return to the career one day maybe as a madame to make sure girls are being treated right.

added her husbands last name to her’s only after he died and now wears black only because she’s a dramatic bitch like that and knows that drama hoe would have loved it.

still wears her engagement and wedding rings but that’s just more of a soft hearted personal choice. he was her best friend this is incredibly painful even if she refuses to show it.

donates frequently to the Shedd Aquarium.

She has a huge saltwater tank in her apartment with her husband’s fish in them.

Demi-romantic, and pansexual. has no interest in falling in love again, she’s good. didn’t even want to the first time still says Ethan was an asshole for getting her to fall for him.

Never talks about herself, she’d rather listen to what’s up with you.

only drinks cheap wine because she can’t tell the difference but loves champagne. Dry only.

learned french so she and her husband could shit talk people right in front of them.

she attends church and is christian, sins often and without guilt she fully looks forward to hell sounds like a fab time.

knows how to wood carve thanks to her grandfather.

she does have a slight southern accent.

hyper organised, she has folders and backups for everything and knows how to intimidate press into backing the hell up or off.

Still uses Mrs. instead of Ms. even if she’s a widow.

tells people her dead husband haunts her and doesn’t want her to move on, just because she’s possessive af and knows if she died and he tried moving on she’d be pissed. also because they’d jokingly discussed it once and he said he’d be offended by the suggestion and wanted her to haunt him if she went first.

she has that $$$$ from her rich husband 

-----

Wanted Connections

female friends

maybe coworkers?

honestly idk she’s not the most personally social person. 

[huntertales]

I Don’t Need Saving | Chapter Two.

Pairing: Superhero!Dean Winchester x Journalist!Reader

Word Count: 3,369.

Warning: Slight mention of violence.

Summary: To friends and family he’s known as Dean Winchester, at night he transforms into the Red Hood. The vigilante of the city beating up criminals and saving damsels from danger. Nobody has seen his face, nobody knows his true identity. Except for a few helpful allies. The reader is best friends with Dean for long as she can remember, and head over heels in love with the man. But she doesn’t have mutual feelings for the Red Hood.

However an encounter with the vigilante starts to change her opinion on the hero, and soon, she grows a fascination with him. Somehow she finds herself growing a strange friendship with the vigilante she once was supposed to hate, not realizing it’s someone she knew. Dean, hiding behind the mask of the Red Hood, shows his true feelings for the reader in disguise. Little do they realize both of them are holding a secret from each other that will put them in danger.

*Based upon Jensen Ackles as The Red Hood.

Previous Chapter | Story Masterlist

A/N: I’ll admit this chapter is kind of...meh. Mostly backstory and stuff, promise the next one is gonna be better/more focused on the plot!

The Red Hood was called many different names over the years since the masked stranger had seemed to come out of nowhere in attempt to make the city he lived in a safer place. Criminal, psychopath, murderer. A vigilante with a death wish. Some even went far as to call him a hero. Dean thought the title was a bit pretentious and far fetched. He was just some guy wanting to do his part to help the common folk and make the lives for the police a little easier. It took some experimenting and what he was willing to do to accomplish his goals, but he found a way.

During the day he was known as Dean Winchester; second generation private investigator and one of two employees at “Winchester Investigations." The company name was always a conversation starter for clients to try and break the awkward tension for the reason why they were seeking his help. The man would always crack a friendly smile and tell them about how his father was the one who started this. While his father didn’t put too much thought into the name, Dean liked to say it was because the effort and attention were put into finding answers to the problems they came to him for. It worked like a charm every time.

Dean had to admit that being a private detective wasn't what he thought it was going to be. His father drilled it into the back of his head that he was going to run the family business when he grew up. And ever since Dean was little he wanted to do just that. He wanted to be exactly like his old man. His childhood hero that wasn’t around a lot. Dean blamed it on the big and scary crimes his father was solving out in the city. But it wasn’t all that bad. Dean and his little brother spent most of their time after school and into the early evenings at the Singer household where they would get a home cooked meal and to play with you for hours, pretending to solve crimes like the ones you saw on Scooby Doo.

Dean realized that he created a fantasy in his head about how life was going to go. He thought the family business was going to be him, his little brother and you. His father could retire and put what started all of this to bed. Maybe he could find some sort of closure and live a somewhat happy life. But that wasn’t what happened.

Sam decided that he wanted to go into law and you still followed the crime, but you wanted to write about it. So Dean was left all by himself to help solve cases of rich spouses trying to get dirt on their partners and tracking down people who went missing a decade ago. The cases weren't great. And it sure wasn't what his five year old self thought when he wanted to beat the bad guy and save the day. They kept a roof over his head. And then there were cases that he couldn't solve...but the Red Hood could. He felt like he became the person he aspired to be when he was younger.

The death of his mother wasn’t just the reason why Dean became the Red Hood. It came about in a way that made him feel guilty to this very day for what he couldn’t stop...what he let happen after agreeing to a case that sounded like it was just a husband looking for his mentally ill wife, or as he claimed she was. After taking that case and discovering the truth it made Dean realize that those old cartoons be used to watch as a kid lied to him. The monster he was supposed to be looking for didn’t wear scary masks. They wore friendly smiles and offered you an alarming sum of money to get what they want. It could be the sketchy looking man he passed on the street trying to find the right victim to mug at knife point. Anyone was capable of doing the worst things to get what they desired, no matter the price they or others needed to pay. It was human nature. But there was also compassion in a time of crisis and wrongdoing, a need for justice to put the wrong behind bars. Sometimes the cops were able to do the job they signed up for, sometimes they were stuck behind the red tape to help people. There was so many different reasons why they couldn’t help a victim get justice. Not enough evidence, they might not have gotten in there on time. Maybe they disappeared into the wind without a trace, never to be seen again. Sort like his mother’s killer. But not when the Red Hood was around. He made sure those got what they deserved. It started with Dean roaming around the streets in a zip up sweatshirt with the hood up to cover his face. His head down as he aimlessly wandered the city looking for someone to save. To hear a cry for help others would ignore. For a short while Dean thought it was all in vain and guilt for trying to make up for the mistakes he made, but it wasn’t. He lost count the first year how many people he saved from being mugged and poor women harassed by creeps on the streets. While it felt good to make the world a little less dangerous of a place, he soon realized that he couldn’t do it alone. Like every good hero there was a trusty sidekick behind them to count on when they needed it the most and to lend a helping hand. And for the Red Hood/Dean, it was his best friend Charlie Bradbury. It was sort of an accident of how she got to learn his secret when people only thought of him as a bystander trying to do the right thing in a time of someone’s need. Charlie needed helped that night, and at the end of it, so did Dean.

The redhead was walking home one night after working late on a big project she’d been heavily invested in and told by her boss, Dick—his name matching his personality—that needed to be taken care of by the end of the week. There was a security virus in the security system that posed a possible problem. It was Charlie’s job as part of the I.T. department to fix it. She worked well after her coworkers left for the night. She stayed behind, burning the midnight oil, and trying to figure out what the problem was. There was an opening she wanted. And if she didn’t want to end up on the streets, she needed to figure out the issues before the deadline. Charlie called it quits when her vision started to grow blurry and her eyelids heavy.

Charlie never liked to wander out this last at night and far away from her neighborhood where she knew mostly everyone. She lived a decent walking distance from her workplace and would often enjoy the city's scenery during the warmer seasons and early autumn to and from work. Because most of the time when she left there was still a decent amount of people out. When she stepped out of work that night there seemed to have been almost no soul around, making Charlie feel a little on edge. Because while she was walking home she felt the sense like she was being followed. It was one of the those nights that she mentally wished she spared a few bucks to grab a cab home. She brushed it off thinking that she was just being paranoid.

But she had to find out the hard way that she wasn't be paranoid at all. One block she was walking down the street with her earbuds in and minding her own business, and the next one she turned to continue her route to her apartment was when disaster struck. She felt someone grab a hold of her by the arm and pull her into an alley, shoving her against a brick wall and a knife into her face. The man that was twice her size demanded her to give up all her valuable possessions. Charlie made the mistake of trying to scream for help, but it only ended with the man putting the knife dangerously close to her throat.

Charlie thought Lady Luck wasn't on her side that night. Of all the times she had to be mugged it had to be when she was carrying home her work laptop that was worth more than her rent and stupidly walking around with most of her paycheck in bills she had every intention of depositing into her bank account tomorrow. But it seemed she would never get the chance after tonight. She’d be out a couple hundred bucks and a job after she tried to tell her boss about how she got an expensive laptop stolen that she technically wasn’t supposed to bring home. Charlie was preparing to hand over the things in exchange for her life, but before she could, the knife to her throat seemed to vanish. Along with the attacker from her sight.

It was dark that night an the alley she was standing in didn’t provide enough light to see the face of the person who attacked her. That’s probably why he chose this place to pick his victim. But it seemed the man never thought to consider that someone heard Charlie’s distant screams that only lasted for a second, but alerted a heroic bystander. The person who saved her life was wearing a red sweatshirt with the hood covering half of his face, but that didn't stop him from kicking the mugger's ass like he was straight out of an action movie.

From what Charlie could see in the street light just a few feet down the sidewalk, it seemed that the stranger was winning the fight. But the mugger had a defense of attack that he used against her before. He shoved the blade of the knife into the stranger's shoulder when least expected, and threw a punch as a last ditch effort to get away. That night Charlie had her first experience of danger while living in the city, and how she learned her best friend since her sophomore year of high school was the Red Hood. Back when he was running around the city in a sweatshirt without a real purpose of what he was going, and without the proper gear to defend himself.

Dean tried to get away that night and bad to safety before she could find out his secret, his worst fear if she discovered his secret would be that she’d freak out. But he never made it only a few feet before falling to the ground from the pain. Charlie helped him back, but somehow, she convinced him to go to the hospital and report the robbery. Mostly because it would explain how she got a thousand dollar laptop smashed and his stab wound would be properly treated. When everyone found out what happened, all of you rushed to the hospital.

“Chicks dig the wounded hero.” Charlie said to the older Winchester while they were in the emergency room after you explained to a nurse how Dean got stabbed and a busted up lip. She was half joking, half serious and ushering the man to use this opportunity to his advantage.

Charlie knew about you and Dean having feelings for one another long as she knew you back in high school. She might like girls, but she knew well enough about how crushes worked. And no matter who you were trying to impress, a life threatening danger was the perfect chance to get closer. Dorothy Baum, the woman that the redhead had been dating for a few months, was all over her in a panicked frenzy when she got the news about the attack. The happy couple had been together ever since then and still going strong.

You were overwhelmed with panic when you got to the hospital after you were told that not only was Charlie almost mugged, but Dean had been there and saved the day. You were in near tears as you embraced Charlie into a tight hug as you thanked your lucky stars that the only thing that happened to her was a broken laptop. You reassured her that if her dick of a boss was going to give her any trouble you'd march down there and kick his ass. But it was Dean that had made you a nervous wreck on the drive down to the hospital.

Seeing him stitched up with and bandaged made your heart skip a few times over in your chest. And you knew you shouldn't have, but you squeezed him hard as you could, burying your face into his neck as you told him what an idiot he was. But the smile on your face when you pulled away was a look that made him realize that you were proud of him for what he did. You were at his side every single day while he recuperate, making sure he followed the doctor’s orders of not lifting too much and cleaning his wounds properly. You honestly did consider Dean a hero after what he did in order to save Charlie’s life. But you would have never guessed he did it for others. And he wondered if you would have felt the same way if you learned the truth.

Charlie never breathed the word of what really happened to either Bobby or their friends. Because he saved her life, Charlie felt she owed him hers. But the woman had questions she asked him in privacy when the situation died down and he started to heal. Mostly of how long he'd been doing this, why he started and all of those kind of things to ease her curious mind. And out of the blue, when she gathered the courage, she asked him if she could help him on the side. So he offered her a job to not only work cases with him, but to help use that big brain of hers to hack into things that he couldn't. She agreed without hesitance.

The both of them got planning on how Dean could become a better vigilante and not risk the chance of him getting hurt and bleeding to death. And that’s how Dean got to where he was today. Thanks to a nerdy cosplayer and her extensive knowledge of the right people to help them make a badass outfit that would help keep Dean safe if someone tried to attack him. Not to mention a few nifty gadgets that helped him find a cry for help or a crime to stop.

Dean knew the comic books that he used to read every chance he could get as a kid, mostly underneath the covers with a flashlight when his father thought he was sleeping, and superhero movies he watched were a work of fiction. He wasn't bitten by a radioactive spider. He wasn't from a different planet and he didn't have billions of dollars as his disposal. (Much as he'd like that.) He was just some guy wanting to make the world a better place. And then Dean realized that he was sort of like Superman in a way. He lived a double life and nobody knew. If Dean was Clark Kent, you were his Lois Lane.

+ + +

For long as you could remember you’ve always wanted to be a journalist. There was something about uncovering the truth and putting it out there for the world to see that drove your passion. And you’ve been writing for long as you could hold a pencil. Your parents had countless pictures and home videos of you conducting interviews with relatives, along with every single school newspaper you had been apart of since middle school. Maybe the reason why you were so driven was because your father was a police officer. And he always told you that honesty was the way to go. Because you knew that then things started to make a little more sense.

It was confession that put people behind bars and let the guilt of the crime they commited to lessen, the evidence that put the pieces together. Without factual proof all you had was an opinion, a speculation on what might have happened. And there was enough of that going around in this day and age. You liked the old fashion journalism where you put effort and time in your writing to give the people the whole truth and nothing but. And that's how you did things since you got your job at the Daily Insider. Well...until the Red Hood came about. The mention of his name made you want to throw all your morals out the window.

You didn’t know who your real parents were, it was a miracle you were alive from how Bobby found you. He never went into details about what happened, he just told you that your biological parents were killed before you were born, and it was one look at your infant face that made him and his wife, Karen, to adopt you as raise you as their own child. They had done just that since you were only a few days old and took you home from the hospital. You never looked deeper into what happened to your parents because it wasn’t your business. They got the justice they deserved, and even if they didn’t, it wasn’t in your control to try and make it happen.

All you knew that life sucks. Sometimes people got justice for doing the crime, and sometimes they got away without a single headline to draw attention. It meant that the law didn’t belong into someone’s hands. Much as you would love to give people the justice they deserved by knocking their lights out or trashing their name in the paper, you couldn't. You had to be like everyone else and hope that justice got served like how you wanted. Sometimes it was, sometimes you had to hope and pray to God that He would give them the rightful punishment after death.

You rolled out of bed a little after noontime, feeling more rested than you had after you dragged yourself back into your apartment after running around for the past four hours with little sleep. You fell right into bed without changing your clothes. And you still didn't when you rubbed the crust from your eyes and fixed yourself a cup of coffee to make yourself feeling more focused. You still had an article to write that was due by tomorrow morning. And the topic of the story wasn’t just about a serious bust where four men got arrested on kidnapping charges. No, that might have sold some papers, but that’s not what the city wanted to hear about.

It was about the person those girls had swore up and down who saved them that night and put those men behind bars. And your editor, Gabriel, wanted you to write about. The Red Hood strikes again to do another good deed. You hated yourself just thinking about it. But if you did agree to this, then you got the front page. Cas’ picture would be all over thousands of copies. You swallowed what pride you had and agreed to tweak the story to include the vigilante.

You clicked on the top of your pen as a small smirk began to spread across your lips when the brilliant thought hit you. The Red Hood would get his fifteen minutes more of fame and the city could applause him for his good deed. Even you had to admit this was a win for the city and the police department. But to you this was still a crime, and you were going to expose this man for who he was. Because if there was anything you liked better than an investigative story, was ruining someone's life and seeing justice serve like they deserved.

IDNS Taglist:

@godmuffin @hopefulcolorcollectorsthings @albot-eh​ @thewinchesterchronicles @vidzbyemz​ @sophieasaurus @faithfullpanicmoon@saltygoof @kaylinfayezink @ria123love @cunning-girl @hungry-eyed

Message me if you’d like to be added!

[quicksilversquared]

How to Fake A Marriage Ch. 29

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(AO3) (FF.net)

Marinette was in the middle of puzzling over a kid's summer romper at work when she noticed her phone flashing with a new message next to her elbow. She set the design to the side for a moment to check it, and found a new email waiting in her inbox. Marinette clicked on it and found another commission request, this time from what was apparently a symphonic metal band.

Nibbling on her lip, Marinette considered the email for a few minutes before opening a new tab on her computer and emailing the band name to find out a little more about them. It didn't take long for Marinette to skim the first page and find out that they was a relatively well-known band in their genre, as far as she could tell. If she took the commission and did a good job with the outfits that they were asking her to create- a few stage outfits and some screen-printed t-shirts, and wow were those ever some interesting concepts, her imagination was already sparking- then maybe they could become a long-time client, or at the very least another strong point on her resume for when she was applying to things back in Paris again.

Maybe she could do it. If she set a long deadline, pointing out her normal job and vague other obligations (read: the commissions she had already committed to), then she could push to finish her other projects while getting the initial sketches done during her breaks at work and then approved. The cape they had asked for- well, there would be some screen printing on it, and bedazzling, but overall it wouldn't take long. The rest of the pieces would take a little more time, but nothing too bad.

Marinette really wanted to say yes. Sure, it would be a busy few weeks to catch up, but requests had been slowing down after that initial burst right after Jagged Stone's album dropped (and half of the requests had been dropped after people who wanted custom designer outfits but didn't want to pay custom designer price learned that yes, she did actually expect to be paid fairly, oddly enough). They would no doubt slow all the way to a stop soon, and then Marinette would be left with nothing to do in the evenings while Adrien studied.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She could do her own for-fun designs, and she did have some mending that she could do as well- her pajamas had a rip at the moment so she had stolen an old t-shirt of Adrien's to wear instead (and Adrien had looked a bit surprised when she told him that she was too busy to do the mending, but he definitely hadn't protested her wearing his clothes). But neither of those things would result in her getting paid extra money, which she needed right now if she wanted to build up any real savings by the time she and Adrien left London. Sure, next year they wouldn't have the expense of her apartment to pay, but that was still months away.

Giving herself a good shake to refocus, Marinette read over the email again and reminded herself to not get ahead of herself. She hadn't even given these people a quote yet and she didn't know if they would be willing to pay the right price. They might drop off when she emailed them back, just like so many others had.

Marinette made a mental note to get back to the band over her lunch break- she could use the general response email that she sent out to everyone requesting a commission and just tweak it a little bit to fit their request- and then set her phone aside to refocus on her design.

With that spark of inspiration still lingering from the band's aesthetic, it didn't take long for Marinette to make a few tweaks on the romper to make it unique. She cleaned up the drawing, and then got it uploaded into her team's shared folder so everyone else on her team could see it and give her some feedback. With that assignment done, Marinette turned her attention back to the pile of runway designs that she had to alter into streetwear looks.

"Nice design, Marinette!" Emily called from her cubicle thirty minutes later. Marinette glanced up from her work and grinned in Emily's direction, even though the junior designer wouldn't be able to see her.

"Thanks!"

"Dibs on making a dress for that line!" Sarah called. "I already have an idea for one to go along with the romper!"

"I'm making overalls!" Abbey chimed in. "And a sun hat. Whatever your inspiration was for that romper, Marinette, I approve."

Marinette ducked her head, grinning shyly as she did. She hadn't expected her piece to be the focal point for their summer kid's line, but it was a good feeling to be so appreciated.

By the time lunchtime had rolled around, Marinette had drafted up three potential runway-to-streetwear outfits. She headed to the break room and powered up her laptop while the leftovers she had brought heated up in the microwave. It didn't take long to alter her basic letter to fit the band's requests, and then it was ready to send.

Before she hit Send, Marinette paused one more time, wondering if she should really even be considering taking the commission. After all, she was already pretty busy, so much so that Tikki had even argued with her about Marinette insisting that she plan at least part of her and Adrien's Valentine's Day date. Tikki thought that she should leave all of it to Adrien, since he was clearly eager to do it, but Marinette hadn't been about to just sit back and not put in some effort for Adrien on their first Valentine's Day as a couple.

Besides, it had been nice to have an excuse to take a break from the designing and the commissions to bake a cake. It was really nice to have the near-instant gratification that came with starting a project and finishing it in only a little over an hour and a half.

"I can handle it," Marinette assured herself, hitting send. Most of the commission would be the screen-printing, and that wasn't hard at all. In fact, she rather enjoyed those kinds of commissions, because just like the cake, they were relatively quick to do and check off the list. Besides, she had already seen how the band's aesthetic inspired her. She wanted to work with them.

Right after her email sent, her phone lit up with another message. Marinette set her laptop aside and grabbed her phone, just as a second and third text came through in quick succession. They were from Alya, and Marinette grinned as she read the messages.

"What is it, Marinette?" Tikki whispered so that the sewing room workers who were taking a break wouldn't hear the voice coming from Marinette's pocket. "What did she say?"

"Alya was just told that she got past the first round of the competition," Marinette whispered back, grinning.

Tikki perked up. "Oh, that's amazing!"

Marinette shook her head, checking her phone again. "Not really. About half to three-quarters of the entrants make it past the first round. The first cut is just to make sure that there's enough research that they've done and recorded to justify needing a trip. Alya knew that she would make that first cut, but it's good to have that confirmation, at least." She texted Adrien with the news, just on the off chance that Alya hadn't let him know as well. "It'll be the next two cuts that we're more interested in."

"Working over lunch again?" Sarah asked, appearing at Marinette side with a sandwich and Marinette's food from the microwave. She slid the hot dish over to Marinette before sitting down to eat her own lunch. "You gotta take a break sometime."

"I was just responding to some email," Marinette defended herself, though she knew Sarah was right. Every other day of the week, she had had sketches to work on over their lunch break. "And I was responding to a text from my friend Alya back home- she's made it past the first cut in this research competition."

"Oh, cool!" Sarah said immediately. "What is she researching?"

By the time Marinette finished telling Sarah about the kinds of things Alya was researching, the rest of her team had arrived and most were listening.

"Oh, I remember hearing about the superheroes in Paris," Abbey said. "Only vaguely, though. Some of my classmates were super excited that there were real-life superheroes. But I bet you know all about them, since you were there and all."

Oh, the irony. "Yeah, they were at my school all the time," Marinette said, only years of practice allowing her to keep a straight face. "There were a lot of akuma fights in my neighborhood."

"Oh, I would hate that," Emily said, shivering. "That would be so scary, to have superhero fights nearby all the time!"

The rest of her team nodded. Marinette managed to just smile and nod, trying not to laugh at what her coworkers' reactions might be if they ever found out that she had been right in the middle of every single one of those fights.

The rest of the afternoon flew by as the entire team came together to toss ideas around for the summer lines and to discuss the upcoming spring/summer Runway week. They ended the day with a strong plan going forward, a good start on their summer kid's line, and a bunch of sketches for the runway-to-streetwear pieces.

(Marinette also ended the workday with a response from the band- they had already heard about her prices from one for the other bands Marinette was already working with and were fine with it, so now she had a whole slew of new outfits and screen-printing screens to design.)

"How's the husband?" Sarah asked, appearing at Marinette's side as she walked towards her apartment building. "I've seen him in passing, but we haven't be able to talk for long. Either he's trying to get somewhere or I am. Or both. Often both."

"One of these days, one of those annoying reporters is gonna overhear you calling Adrien that and they're going to take you seriously," Marinette said, rolling her eyes fondly. Plagg would get along well with Sarah, what with his insistence on calling Marinette Adrien's wife and Sarah's insistence on calling Adrien Marinette's husband. She had even gotten the rest of the team in on it from time to time.

Sarah shrugged. "Eh, who cares about them. I'm not going to say anything to them to get you in trouble, though," she added quickly. "And if they do overhear me, I can just explain that duh, I'm referring to the prank because I was there, don't they recognize me from the bridesmaids photo? I won't say anything about how ridiculously married you two are."

Marinette thought about protesting that and then decided against it, because Tikki had said that in the past, too. If it weren't for the fact that they apparently couldn't hide their "married-ness" from everyone else, acting married would be quite a good thing, really. To her, acting married meant that she and Adrien were comfortable with each other and worked well together, and that was a good thing.

"Have a good evening with your husband," Sarah told Marinette as they separated once they were in the building. She grinned at Marinette's groan. "Don't be too cute."

"Right, right, of course," Marinette grumbled, waving her friend off and trying not to grin as she did. She headed through the door to her floor's hallway and made an immediate beeline to Adrien's door. Her boyfriend would surely be working on homework- he had a lot of projects and papers to do this semester on top of his usual studying- but that didn't mean that he wouldn't welcome the interruption.

And just like she suspected, Adrien was hunched over in front of his computer at the dining room table, headphones plugged in as he worked. Marinette grinned, dumping her bag on the couch and heading over to greet him.

"Hey, kitty," Marinette sing-songed, sliding up behind Adrien and sliding the headphones off. She dipped down to press a kiss to his cheek, and he twisted in his chair to return the kiss. She didn't miss his wince of pain when he twisted and she frowned. Clearly he had been sitting and studying for too long. Again. "Where's your heat pad? You should be using that if you're going to be sitting for so long."

Adrien jabbed a finger over his shoulder. "I was using it when I was sitting on the couch, but Plagg claimed it when I got up to use the bathroom and threatened to bite me if I moved him off of it. I think he likes the heat, because he does this whenever I have the rice pad out."

Marinette huffed and turned to glare at Plagg. Sure enough, he was napping on top of Adrien's rice heat pack on the far end of the couch, looking deeply content even though the heat from the pack was sure to have mostly dissipated by now. She stomped over and grabbed the pack out from under Plagg, ignoring the kwami's squawks.

Tiny god or not, she was not letting him steal Adrien's heat pack, especially not when Adrien clearly needed it. And even worse, it sounded like the stealing the rice pack was a common occurrence.

"I was sleeping!" Plagg complained, floating after her. "And there was some lovely residual heat still, and-"

"This is Adrien's," Marinette scolded as she brought it back to the microwave. "And he needs it. Go sit in the sun or something."

"But I like the heat!"

"It's not yours!"

"But I'm-"

Tikki zipped up after Plagg and twisted his tail, making his squeak. "You can't steal from your Chosen, Plagg!" she snapped at him as Marinette set the timer on the microwave. "You can maybe perch on the pad if Adrien allows, but you can't claim it and not let Adrien use it. And your poor Chosen is in pain right now because he couldn't use his heated pad!"

Plagg scoffed. "No, he's in pain because he was hunched over like an old man all afternoon. If he ever got up and stretched for a bit then he wouldn't have this problem."

Tikki let out a wordless shriek in Plagg's direction.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Plagg is at least partly right," Marinette said as she removed the newly-heated bag out of the microwave. She swatted Plagg away when he started drifting closer, drawn by the heat. "Adrien has to stop sitting in place for so long without getting up and stretching and taking breaks. But having this available to him would have helped." She tugged her (ridiculous) boyfriend off of his chair and face first onto the couch. Once he was settled, she draped the heating pad over the small of Adrien's back and he let out a happy sigh, relaxing into the couch.

"You gotta take better care of yourself, Adrien," Marinette sighed, rubbing his shoulders. A quiet purr floated up into the air between them. "I know your classes have really stepped up this year, but you need to take breaks and stretch. You're all tense."

"I have an exam on Friday," Adrien explained, voice muffled by the couch. "I was studying for that, and then trying to work on my paper. I swear that once I get both of those done I'll be able to relax a bit more."

Marinette dug the heels of her hands into the knotted muscle in Adrien's shoulders, making him yelp. "You'll be able to study better if you aren't stiff as a board, you dweeb."

"Rude."

They fell into silence, broken only by Adrien's quiet purr as Marinette worked on his tense muscles. Plagg floated over and settled on top of the hot pad, burrowing around to make a little divot in the heated rice. After a few more minutes, Tikki joined him.

"Feeling better?" Marinette asked after several minutes. She ran her hand up Adrien's back and into his hair, mussing it further. She adjusted the heating pad so it wasn't in danger of slowly sliding off. "I'm starting to think that I should have made two of these things. Then you could have one on your upper back, too."

Adrien made a happy little noise and wriggled slightly.

"I want one, too!" Plagg announced, rolling over and staring up at Marinette with pleading green eyes. "One that I can carry around wherever I want!"

Marinette gave Plagg a Look. "Will you stop stealing Adrien's if I make you a heat pack of your own?"

"Yes!"

Marinette made a face and gave Adrien a few light scratches behind his ears. She didn't want to reward Plagg by giving him a gift when he was stealing from Adrien (and she didn't exactly have a ton of spare time to spend making a kwami-sized rice pack, especially with the newest addition to her list of commissions to do), but Adrien was apparently unwilling to cross Plagg and risk being bitten. If she gave Plagg a miniature heat pack of his own, then Adrien wouldn't have to deal with his spoiled kwami stealing his when he needed it.

Fine. She would make a mini heat pack for Plagg, then. Maybe Adrien could occasionally steal it for his neck or something, just because turnabout was fair.

"D'you wanna order takeout tonight?" Marinette asked after a few more minutes. "I don't think there's much in the fridge right now and I don't really feel like cooking." She really wanted to get a good chunk of work done on her commissions tonight, and cooking and cleaning up just took up time that she didn't really have at the moment. She reached for her phone, scrolling with one hand as the other rubbed up and down Adrien's back. "Sarah recommended this Greek place. I've actually been there before with the people from work. It's not too expensive and they deliver."

"Sure." Adrien reached his arms forward and stretched, arching and twisting back and forth. "Mmm. I think I'm gonna bring this thing to bed tonight. If I stay here much longer, I'm going to fall asleep."

Marinette giggled and ran a hand up Adrien's spine as he stretched again. "You can take a little cat-nap while our food comes. It might help you focus better once you wake up again."

Adrien laughed and started to wriggle his way upright. Marinette hopped off of his legs so he could sit back up. "It's a little too late in the day for a cat-nap, I think. I'd just end up tired."

"If you say so."

Marinette went to order their dinner while Adrien moved his study materials to the floor so he could lay down and finish some assigned problems for one of his classes while keeping the hot pad on his back. Once their order was in (maybe Marinette had ordered a little more than they would eat, but she liked leftovers for lunch and so did Adrien), Marinette grabbed her tablet and settled down on the floor next to Adrien so she could draw with one hand and rub his shoulders with the other hand.

It was comfortable. Adrien leaned his head to the side, resting it against Marinette's knees as he worked. Partway through their wait, Marinette got up to reheat the rice bag and then resettle it on Adrien's back.

"Thanks, bug," Adrien said as she settled the bag across his shoulders. He smiled over at her as she settled back down at his side and picked up her new tablet again. "My back is feeling a whole lot better now."

"Promise me you'll take better care of it this weekend, when you have your test and the paper out of the way?"

Adrien grinned. "Well, then I'll have another two papers to focus on and another test to start studying for... but I suppose I could manage to screw up my back less than normal once my test on Friday is done."

Marinette sighed. She supposed that that was as good as she was going to get. "It seems like you have a lot more tests than normal this semester." Normally he just had a cluster of exams around the middle of the semester and again at the end, but now he had exams and paper due dates sprinkled through the semester. Adrien always seemed to be studying, but that wasn't a huge problem.

After all, she certainly had enough commission work to keep her busy. More than enough, even.

So much for their be-done-with-classwork-and-projects-by-a-certain-time pact from the fall. It seemed that these days, they worked up to it or over regularly, but it really couldn't be avoided. At least they did try to spend a chunk of time together without commissions or studying distracting them several times a week, even if those times had been shortened somewhat. And of course they tended to try to go to bed around the same time, too, and early enough that they didn't have to go to sleep right away.

"Yeah, I seem to be having tests at the end of every large unit for one of my classes," Adrien agreed. "I think it's because the units are so different, it wouldn't make sense to stick them together. And there's some other classes with a strange exam schedule, or that just have papers instead of exams."

Marinette hummed in acknowledgement, and kept sketching. She was currently working on finishing up a set of preliminary drawings for an earlier commission, and she wanted to get them down and approved soon so she could go and get the fabric and other things she needed at the same time she was picking up the stuff she needed for yet another order over the weekend. Not getting feedback and approval in time would mean that she would have to waste time going on a separate trip to the fabric store, unless she wanted to put to put off getting supplies for that commissions off until she was getting the things for her latest commission.

Needless to say, she would rather not have to do more trips than strictly necessary. And sure, maybe she should be focusing on finishing up her in-progress commissions first, but it was nice to have options for when she got to the fiddly work on a piece and she was too tired to do anything but sew long straight seams for one evening.

She had just finished the basic sketch when the take-out arrived. Marinette grabbed her wallet and trotted downstairs, meeting the delivery guy at the front door. One exchange of food and money later, and Marinette was trotting upstairs with her prize.

"That's a lot of food, Marinette," Adrien said with a laugh after Marinette set everything out on their table. He rolled to his feet with a quiet grunt, snagging his rice bag before it could fall to the ground. "Are we expecting guests?"

"It's not that much." In her defense, she had kind of thought that the serving sizes would be a little smaller. She must have misremembered how large they were. Whoops. "I mean, we'll have enough for two meals, but that's not a bad thing."

They dug in eagerly. Adrien still wasn't looking completely comfortable in the chair- clearly his back was still bothering him at least a little bit- but the discomfort hadn't affected his appetite at all.

Maybe they wouldn't have enough for two full meals after all.

"I might go to bed early tonight," Adrien told her as he scraped his plate clean. "I think that with all of the work I've done this afternoon, I should be in good shape."

"Lots of homework?"

To her surprise, Adrien shook his head. "Well, some. It was mostly cleaning up a rough draft for one of my papers this semester and writing up a lab paper for another class. That stuff always takes forever."

Marinette could understand that. Writing in English tended to take an annoyingly long time as she puzzled over the right words (and the right tenses, and the right form of the word to use, in some cases), and while Adrien had Ben to help get things polished up, he didn't like to give his papers to his tutor in too rough of a shape. "When are your papers due?"

"Most of the rough drafts are due close to midterms, but the lab paper is due next Thursday," Adrien said, making her start in surprise. That was ages out- right? Or had more of the semester passed her by than she realized? "I just want to get the bulk of the work out of the way now, because I never know what will come up closer to the due date. Ben has said that sometimes things can get intense around midterms and that people who tend to put stuff off until closer to the due date end up pulling all sorts of all-nighters. I've been trying to avoid that."

Marinette was of the opinion that Adrien was going a little over the top with trying to be prepared, but maybe Ben was right. Since it took Adrien longer to research and write in his second language, maybe it was a good idea for him to get that as much out of the way as he could now.

"I'm going to stay up a little longer, I think," Marinette said, glancing over at where her sketchbook and tablet sat side-by-side on the small side table. "I have some stuff I want to finish up tonight for commissions."

Adrien pouted at her for a moment, then sighed. "Okay. Honestly, I'll probably just take that rice pack with me and end up falling asleep straight off anyway. And I'll take better care of myself tomorrow, I promise. Really. I don't like my back hurting, either. It make it harder to focus. And it makes me feel old besides."

Only half an hour after they finished dinner, Adrien started getting ready for bed. He wandered into the kitchen to get Plagg his evening cheese chunk and to heat up the rice bag, then paused to kiss Marinette good night before heading back to the bedroom. Marinette watched him go, then turned back to her tablet.

One last cleaned-up sketch, and then she could send the files to her client. It still wouldn't be that late by that time, as long as she didn't spectacularly mess up and, like, delete the file once she was most of the way through it. Saving her work periodically would keep her safe from that, and then she should have time to start on the album cover art that she had just gotten the details ironed out for earlier in the week.

Hopefully.

"I thought you were just telling Adrien about how he shouldn't be overworking himself," Tikki said disapprovingly once Marinette had sent her email with the six attachments and immediately started some quick outlines for the cover art, general sketches and lines to get an idea of where she wanted different elements to go. "And now you're working later than you two agreed on your commissions."

"I'm not overworking myself," Marinette protested. "I just have some things that I need to get done to even come close to staying on track with the number of commission requests that I've been getting. And this particular art needs to get done sooner rather than later, since the shirt designs depend on it."

Tikki did not look impressed.

"I just want to get my general ideas for this drawn out while I still have them in my head," Marinette added. "I'm not going to complete the whole thing tonight. It'll be two hours at most, and you know Adrien went to bed really early."

Tikki's expression didn't change. "One hour more, tops."

"One forty-five."

"One fifteen."

"An hour and a half, and that's all I'm willing to budge."

Marinette went back to her work, drawing and re-drawing lines as she tried to get a rough sketch done. Fifty-seven minutes in and Marinette's rough outline started taking on more detail- though not too much, because then it would get too difficult to replicate as a print on a shirt. Since the band had also commissioned her to do the screen-printing of their shirts for them, Marinette had to make sure that she delivered an interesting, unique cover while still keeping it clean enough that it wouldn't be a pain to print.

Needless to say, Marinette was very happy that the band had wanted the cover in only black and silver, because having to print multiple colors on one shirt was just a pain. It would be simple enough to print in silver-grey on a black shirt or black on a grey shirt, as long as she didn't give in to the temptation to add too much detail.

"I thought you said that you weren't going to design the whole thing tonight!" Tikki complained as Marinette cleaned up more of the sketch. Slowly but surely, it was starting to look less like a quick sketch and more like a proper album cover, though it wasn't anywhere close to completion yet.

"I still have five minutes to work on it!" Marinette protested. She carefully erased a section and redrew a line. "And I'm not going to finish it tonight, you don't have to keep mother-henning me about that. I've still probably got two hours of work left on this for another night, and more than that if the band requests any changes."

Tikki let out a little hmph and zipped off. Marinette checked the clock one more time- now she only had four minutes left to work- and then worked on evening out a line. She had just finished cleaning the upper corner up when her watched chimed, letting Marinette know that her time was up and she had to go to bed.

Trying not to grumble (if she didn't have work the next day, then she definitely would have tried to power through another hour or two of work), Marinette saved her work one last time and powered down the tablet. It got carefully tucked away in her bag, in the carefully padded pocket that she had made just for it, and then she headed back to the bedroom to wash up. It didn't take long, and then Marinette was slipping into bed next to a sleeping Adrien. He was sleeping on his stomach, which puzzled her for a moment until she remembered that he had mentioned going to sleep with his rice bag.

Sliding her hand over, Marinette felt for the bag. It was cold under the blankets, so Marinette carefully tugged it off of Adrien. After a moment's consideration, she headed back out to the kitchen to warm it back up again. Adrien didn't stir when she replaced the pack on his back, but he did let out a happy sigh that trailed off into a purr.

He was such a cat. Marinette couldn't deny that it was really, really cute.

It only took a few minutes more to set up her alarm for the next morning and get it arranged on the bedside table, and then she was sliding back between the sheets. Marinette could feel the heat from both Adrien and the heat pad as she curled up next to his side. His face was relaxed and angelic in sleep, finally free of stress and tension.

"Sleep well, chaton," Marinette murmured, leaning over to press a kiss to the part of his forehead that wasn't obscured by hair. "You need it."

[cheollies]

Rent A Boyfriend!Joshua

the gentleman types. the boy you’d bring to your family gatherings to show off just how sweet he is to you. extra services include him performing a little acoustic guitar or even playing the cute clueless American foreigner.

this wasn’t his ideal job but what can he do,he was a broke college student and decided why not

sure, it wasn’t the ideal job but heck, he’s

come to enjoy free food, free gaming, and making money

But most of all, he enjoyed his new coworkers and friends.

Joshua has become to be known as the ‘sweetheart’ of the company

he helps clean up, helps organize clothing, buys round of coffees and take out on busy holidays, bought everyone amazing and personal Christmas gifts

everyone in the building just adores this man

he’s really just the sweetest thing ever

his whole profile and persona doesn’t stray from his own personality which is probably why he’s one of the most popular and busiest of all the boys

his schedule is often packed from breakfast dates to brunch outings to family dinners and sometimes to some late-night clubbing

It’s safe to say that he makes bank

sometimes it gets to the point where people must actually be put on a waiting list

valentine’s week is a struggle for the company because suddenly everyone wants a piece of Joshua

‘wow look at you mister popular. Stealing all our clients’ hisses Jiangshan who’s been off work for two days now because he hasn’t gotten request in a while

‘I’m positive you’ll get clients soon, keep

your head up.’

‘STOP BEING SO POSITIVE. IT’S HARD TO BE MEAN TO YOU WHEN YOU’RE NICE’

Joshua prefers simple dates, like maybe a park date or something cute like window shopping

but he never gets those dates, nah he’s so high profile that he gets the fancier jobs

ones where people are in suits and ties, and there’s small talk, and champagne

he really thinks these jobs would be better for Jeonghan, but he doesn’t really like turning clients down, so he sticks through it

he also travels a lot

because he gets clients from the high end of the spectrum, sometimes his dates insist on traveling to foreign countries

brings back souvenirs for the guys

they all get so damn excited like

Hansol: I GOT A SNOWGLOBE FROM NORWAY

Soonyoung: LOOK AT THIS KEYCHAIN

Jihoon: wow I got a postcard

They always wait for Joshua with big eyes when he comes back from trips (who’s the real dad of this group)

Met you on the job

you were actually one of his clients

you see, you actually found out about this from your one self proclaimed best guy friend Seungkwan

and he’s always like ‘if you ever just want a fake date, just call this number and request for me.’

you kind of laugh because when would you ever need a fake date

cue to weeks later when you’re invited to a huge family gathering and lo and behold, remember that ass of a boyfriend you had months ago, looks like he’s snagged a new partner that just happens to be your cousins

what an ass indeed

you knew it would be utterly embarrassing for you to see him again without some person attached to your hip

you spent hours literally stressing over the entire thing until you rammed into your desk corner by accident and in the midst of cursing and screaming in pain, you spot Seungkwan’s work card on the ground

‘um, hi, I’m calling to request Boo Seungkwan for a date next Saturday afternoon’

It was so painfully awkward requesting your own friend for a fake date, but you really had no other choice

cue a week later, on the day of the family event, you get a very hasty call from Seungkwan apologizing about how his work decided to switch around the schedules

‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M GETTING SOMEONE ELSE. BOO SEUNGKWAN’

‘IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY. I’M NOT IN CHARGE OF SCHEDULING I PROMISE I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU’

‘I CAN’T JUST GO ON A DATE WITH A RANDOM GUY. SEUNGKWAN!’

‘I have to go now, I have work but trust me, you’ll love Joshua. He’s a professional’

‘SEUNGKWAN’

At about half passed noon is when your door bell rings. You’re adjusting your earring when you open the door to greet this mystery man

and when you open the door, your hand lets go of the earring because damn this boy was beautiful

‘you dropped your earring’

Even his voice sounded like heaven is what you think before you sheepishly pick up the earring

Joshua was so pretty, you couldn’t stop staring. Even in the cab you kept taking glances at him.

Even though the whole event was casual, he dressed in a blue and white stripped button up tucked into black jeans with a nice jacket on his shoulders, and damn he still looked so good

‘Seungkwan says you and him are friends’ Joshua initiates conversation

In the thirty-minute ride, it began with small talk, to stories of seungkwan, to work, then school, and suddenly laughter and smiles began to build between you two

‘well, time to enter the hellhole’ you say with your arm linked around Joshua’s

But while you were talking you know what he was doing, he was staring at you, at your lips moving, the cute tip of your nose, the light blush on your cheeks, he was marveled by your soft touch, your voice

Everyone, and I mean everyone is so captivated by Joshua the moment he steps into the large home.

All the aunts, grandmas, and mothers become attracted to the sweet boy that they all end up telling you what a catch of a guy he is

Everyone is literally swooning seeing Joshua fix your hair, or seeing him feed you some fruits he had gotten, and it really makes people’s hearts melt when they see Joshua taking his jacket off to drape over the front of your dress when you sit down

The best part of it all, seeing your ex get infuriated when Joshua comes over and pecks your cheeks, his hand on your shoulder with a big smile on his face while he holds out his other hand at your ex ‘hi, I’m Joshua.’

‘did you see his face. He looked like he was going to kill you’ you were laughing into the night air

Joshua couldn’t help but laugh along with your contagious laughter

You and Joshua ended up walking around before ending the night

‘also, I think your aunt might have hit on me in front of her husband’

You broke out into more laughter, your palm pressed against your mouth, your other hand clenched onto the fabric of Joshua’s shirt

‘cute’ that’s what Joshua thinks when he’s with you

‘did you just call me cute’

‘DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD’

you begin to laugh even more than ever, and Joshua can’t help but laugh with you once again because now he’s so embarrassed

after a while, your shoulders are bumping against Joshua’s in the night air, a shy smile on your lips before you whisper, ‘I think you’re cute too’

boom, now you and Joshua are a thing and cue Seungkwan saying it was his plan all along because he wants to be called a matchmaker

Joshua’s the ‘sweetheart’ of the company, well now you two are the ‘sweetheart’ couple because when you meet Joshua at his work, you always bring snacks or freshly baked cookies for everyone working and everyone’s just like

‘Joshua’s literally dating an angel’

Also, it was like three months into the relationship that you discovered Joshua was a giant weeb and he got all embarrassed and blushy like ‘nah no that’s not mine’ but then you come out as a giant weeb and now you two have weeb nights together

When he goes on trips, he tries to take you on with so you two can spend some couple time together

It took him two months to move passed the hand holding and onto the kiss because he’s so shy about it and didn’t want to do it without your permission

so, when he was going to kiss you he asked if he could kiss you and you didn’t say anything because you close the distance for him

you’re so sweet like Joshua that the guys don’t have the heart to tease you since you’re so nice

also, you’re parents and extended family, still believe the fake meeting story you guys told at the party so you two basically must keep up the lie because it’ll be really awkward now

‘it isn’t fair that your birthday is five days after Christmas’

Joshua chuckles into your neck while you two are lying in bed, ‘I can’t change my birthday’

‘what do you want for your birthday’

‘anything from you is fine’

You pout ‘you said that about your Christmas gift!’

So, you spent weeks planning the surprise, it was going to be a huge party

Okay it wasn’t your planning, it was more of the boys wanting a really big party that combined Christmas, Joshua’s birthday, and a new year’s theme

And the result, the entire company building of floor one was covered in balloons, someone had gotten a live DJ, there was a large banner with Joshua’s face on it, it really was over the top

‘where are we going’ Joshua holds onto your hands as you led the blindfolded man into the building

‘alright, you can take it off now’

‘SURPRISE’ screams friends, family, and coworkers

A cake is brought out in the process of Joshua trying to comprehend everything, especially the large banner with his picture on it

His face is lit up the entire time he listens to the whole building sing Happy birthday

And he squeezes your hand when he blows out his candles, he looks at you with such fondness that you know just means that he’s so thankful for everything

Then suddenly everyone begins to cheer, ‘kiss, kiss, kiss’

Joshua’s blushing so much when you lean up into him, pressing your soft lips onto his in front of everyone

Everyone cheers, the DJ starts up and the partying begins

But Joshua stays connect to you, nose touching as he whispers, ‘I love you so much’ against your lips.

[artificialqueens]

Follow Your Arrow Pt.1 (Trixya) - Pichitinha

A/N: I am back with even less plot than the last two times! I bet you didn’t think that was possible, but it is. Anyway, Trixie’s an aspiring country singer and I am obsessed with Brandy Clark ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It’s on AO3 as usual and you can find me here as @pichitinha. Enjoy!

Katya has spent the entire afternoon checking the clock behind her every five minutes, yearning for it to go faster, to reach 5pm soon so she can log-off her computer and get the hell out of the suffocating building.

It’s nearing 7:30pm when she manages to do so. She’s tired, all the muscles in her body hurt from sitting down on her horrible chair and her mind has practically given up at this point. She’s angry, she hates the place and the job and, okay, she doesn’t hate the people because she doesn’t really hate anyone but by god are they boring and no help at all in making the day any better. She’s also sad, she’d been looking forward to going over to Alaska’s so they could watch the new episode of their reality TV show together but she’s missed it because one stupid client had kept her for over two hours longer than she needed to stay.

She wants to quit so bad. She really wishes she could.

As soon as she hits the sidewalk and looks over to the bus stop where she’s supposed to go, she sees her bus there already, the last passenger climbing in. She makes a motion in its direction, considers running and yelling and raising her arms to call the driver’s attention, but she’s a bit far and knows the chances are small. Her body aches and she doesn’t have it in her. She settles for the fact that the next one will take at least thirty minutes and that she’ll be home in just a bit over that if she walks, so she starts walking in long strides.

She’s never walked home from here before, but she knows the city and she knows the way. She takes this opportunity to look around, to see what’s changed in the streets she’s known since she was a child but hasn’t visited in a while. She’s surprised by the amount of new stores and bars and clubs in what she remembers being a fairly residential neighborhood.

She comes to a stop in front of a bar. It looks like it’s themed, part sci-fi, part medieval, sort of steampunk style. She can faintly hear the sound of music coming from the inside and it sounds live. It’s a man and he has a nice voice and he’s singing some sort of acoustic version of a song from N'sync.

She can’t say she isn’t curious.

Usually Katya avoids bars, thinks it’s easier to not tempt herself even though she’s fairly grounded in her sobriety for a long time now and can easily be around alcohol with no issues, but she needs to go in and see what this place is about, thinks about having a cool new place to bring her friends one day so they’ll stop saying her outing choices are always weird and the same. Maybe then they’ll just be weird but new.

She enters and she immediately loves the crowd around the bar. It looks like a regular bar - as in, non-gay, which is a type of place she hasn’t visited in a while - but everyone seems weird which is something she appreciates and it makes her feel at home. There are people dressed in steampunk costumes, there’s a crowd on the biggest table that is all in cosplay and Katya thinks they’re celebrating something, and around the bar there are people dressed in all possible different styles.

Near the stage she sees the sign: Variety Amateur Cover Tuesday. The guy on the stage is finishing his cover of Bye Bye Bye as she sits down and soon a girl in punk clothes comes in and starts singing something that Katya thinks is from The Clash, but she might be wrong. She figures that that’s what variety means, that they have all different musical styles, and Katya looks around to see that everyone is there for that, that everyone is simply enjoying all the songs from different styles and she smiles.

She orders herself a ginger ale, decides to sit in for a few songs before heading back home to take the shower she so desperately wants and needs, and upon closer inspection she sees that there’s a list close to the bar with the names of the people that’ll be performing and what musical style they’ll be doing. She figures which one is the girl singing right now, and if she’s right the next one will be country.

That’s a drastic change. She hopes the girl - Trixie Mattel, says the paper - will be able to hold the crowd.

Soon enough the girl is leaving the stage to a round of applause and oozing country style comes in the person Katya assumes to be Trixie. She has her guitar on her hands, she’s wearing blue cowboy boots that don’t quite go but don’t quite clash with her yellow dress either, and her hair is definitely going for full Dolly Parton fantasy.

“Hi, I’m the gal that’s not here a long time, but I’m here for a good time, Trixie Mattel!” she says to introduce herself and fixes her guitar on her lap as she sits on the stool, and Katya can’t help but laugh at her remark. “Despite the hair and the style I will not be doing Dolly today. I hope you enjoy, though.”

Trixie adjusts her short pink nails on the guitar strings and starts a slow but catchy melody. When she starts singing, Katya is blown away by her voice. She doesn’t know the song, has no idea who the artist is, but she finds Trixie’s choice good because the lyrics are incredible. She sings with emotion and Katya finds herself wondering how much of the song applies to her own life.

“- it’s been a forty-hour week, and it’s only Tuesday -”

“Uhuh,” Katya hums in agreement to the words and raises her glass slightly, and she’s mildly surprised when she realizes that Trixie notices it and smiles a bit at her as she keeps on singing.

“- she lights a cigarette out on the balcony

When she gets a couple minutes to herself -”

She raises the tone at that, the words leaving her mouth in a beautiful strong tune, and Katya nods again, but this time Trixie’s looking down at her guitar, her fingers looking agile and natural on the strings as she keeps singing to the crowd, never once faltering.

When the song is nearing its end she stops playing the instrument and follows the rhythm using only her voice, and Katya knows that that’s a fairly common practice for singers, but as someone who sounds like a strangled eagle, she’s in awe.

“- So she’s a mom and a dad and a taxi driver

When the baby’s sick, she’s an up-all-nighter

A hand and a shoulder and a referee

A real life hero if you ask me

‘Cause those kids ain’t gonna raise themselves -”

She plays a couple of final notes on the last verse, lets the sound end together with her singing, and Katya finds herself clapping louder than anyone in the room when she bows. Trixie’s eyes turn to her and she smiles one more time, and then she’s leaving the stage, going on the opposite direction from Katya.

Katya bites her lower lip and looks down to her watch. As much as she wants to get home, it’s still early and she can spare a few minutes. She looks around, checks every corner to see if she can find Trixie, but the singer is nowhere to be found. Soon the stage is taken again, this time by a guy to whom Katya pays no attention at all as she orders another soda and keeps looking around, convincing herself she’s not waiting for Trixie to appear again even though she most definitely is.

The guy on stage finishes his R&B - in the back of her mind Katya thinks he sounded good and she claps, but she’s not really sure - and the next person on stage seems to work for the bar as he’s giving an announcement.

“Hi, everyone! I hope you’re enjoying the songs, we’ve been getting really good reviews on our Tuesday night variety shows. Please don’t forget to vote on your favorite artist of the day when you leave, we wanna know who to invite back for our other shows. Enjoy the rest of your night!”

Katya glances around the room one more time, and when she fails to see a high blonde Dolly Parton hair, she drinks the remainings of her beverage and moves to the exit. She sees the voting poll on the wall, and looks carefully for Trixie Mattel on the list.

Check.

*

Katya has never, ever in her entire life worked late unless she absolutely needed to, so when she insists to her coworker that she can stay and finish her report on the following Tuesday, everyone thinks she’s going crazy. She shrugs though, doesn’t want to explain because for one thing they’re not her friends, and also she feels a bit silly.

Katya’s never, ever willingly listened to a country song before either, but as Three Kids No Husband remains on the repeat, she guesses things can change - although this is not the version she wishes she was listening to, no matter how good the singer’s voice is or the fact that the song is in fact hers.

She leaves around the same time as last week, just a few minutes early just in case, and speeds up to the bar. She looks for the same spot on the counter, it has a good view of the stage, and glaces at the list of the day. She figures they’re at the person right before Trixie, and she sighs in relief at not having missed her, although she immediately scoffs at herself. What is she, a teenager?

She claps as the person on stage finishes her song and soon Trixie appears. Her hair is a lot different this time, it’s tied on a messy bun - the kind that for sure was made to look that way, as the front frames her face perfectly - and the rest of the outfit fits together better. She has on yellow cowboy boots this time and a cute white dress with yellow ribbons on them. Just the same as last time her lips are pink, and she brings them to the mic to greet everyone.

“Hi, I’m the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe, Trixie Mattel!” Katya doubles over laughing and it doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by Trixie. “I hope you guys enjoyed last week’s song because I’ve got another one from the same artist. Thanks for voting for me!”

She once again hits the strings with dexterity and Katya notices they’re not painted this week. She starts singing and her accent seems stronger in this song, which starts slow but soon builds up and, as this time Trixie’s standing up, she starts swaying to the sound. It’s incredibly cute and Katya’s hypnotized.

“- There’s no crime of passion worth a crime of fashion

The only thing savin’ your life

Is that I don’t look good in orange and I hate stripes -”

Trixie doesn’t sing only with her mouth, she performs the song as the words leave her and the face she makes in the chorus is so perfect you’d swear that said cheating guy from the song is right in front of her at the moment. Katya is once again wondering how much of the song applies to her life, doesn’t think anyone can sound so sincere without relating to the words to a certain level, and she really, really hopes that today she manages to at least say hi and ask her that.

When Trixie finishes singing she claps loudly again and Trixie still makes a point to let her know she saw it. She leaves the stage and Katya finally looks at the bar, realizes she hasn’t ordered anything and asks for a virgin cocktail, her mind to focused on where Trixie could be to fully care which one.

As the bartender hands her the glass, though, she feels a tap on her shoulder.

“Call me out on stereotyping but you do not look like a country enthusiast.”

She turns around fast, recognizes the voice, and in the fast motion manages to spill part of her drink on her own hand.

“Oh! Hi. Uh, yeah, I guess I’m not really a country fan. I like your renditions, though.”

Trixie smiles again, and maybe it’s because she’s close, but it looks so much more honest now. It’s at the same time smug and shy and Katya finds herself smiling back.

“I’m Trixie,” she says raising her hand.

I know, Katya thinks. “I’m Katya.”

“Well, Katya, can I join you for one drink? I gotta go soon, but my throat is really dry.”

“Of course.”

Trixie orders her drink and only once she has it in her hands that she turns back to Katya, who’s sipping on her straw and staring at her like an idiot.

“So, you like my shows?”

“From the bad jokes at the beginning to the last strum of you guitar.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t laugh, I see you from up there!” She’s laughing as she says it and it’s the first time Katya notices she has dimples. She loves them. “But anyway, I love when non-country folk like my country music. Well, not mine, but you know.”

“It’s quality music, though. You sound very sincere when you sing it, almost like you’ve lived it.”

Trixie smiles lightly at her, takes a second to sip her drink and Katya can see her thinking about what to say.

“Well. There’s definitely no husband, but there are no kids either. And I’ve definitely never found my boyfriend with another woman in our bed. But I do think I look bad in orange.”

“I doubt that,” Katya replies without thinking, then clears her throat quickly before continuing, doesn’t give time for Trixie to reply to that. “You have a boyfriend, though?”

Trixie laughs so hard that her head falls back and no sound escapes her mouth.

“Oh. Oh wow. No. I most definitely don’t.”

Katya knows that tone. She knows that laugh, knows that look, understands perfectly what her body language is saying. She recognizes every bit of her actions in herself, many many times before.

“Cheers to that,” she offers raising her glass, hopes Trixie will get it and that she’ll be as excited as Katya is right now.

She smiles and raises her glass, her blue eyes as clear as day. “Cheers.”

*

Katya has a total of six blouses, three skirts and two pairs of pants that she uses to go to work, combining them absentmindedly every morning, not really caring much whether they match. She sits behind a desk all day, shoulders down in boredom, and the only people that see her daily outfits are the bus driver, a few people on the streets, and the receptionist.

So, yeah, she feels a little self-conscious when it’s Tuesday morning and she’s wearing a dress. It’s not a fancy dress by any means, and it’s definitely not new, she wears it quite often to all types of events such as visiting her parents or having friends over to her place. She’s never worn it to work though, and she wonders if anyone will notice. She hopes they don’t, she hopes no one asks what’s the big event as she knows they normally do, because she can’t really find it in herself to say that she wants the country singer from the weird steampunk bar to notice it.

She does, though. She really hopes she notices it. And she feels a rock at the bottom of her stomach at that thought, that feeling. How long has it been since she’s felt interested in anyone beyond a mere sexual attraction? Real fucking long.

She plugs in her earbuds as she steps out of her house and for the first time since she got this job and started making this route to the bus stop she doesn’t hear the sounds of the city around her. She never listens to music on her way to work, always minds her surrounding and the life going on around her, always pays attention. Today she has a deep country singer blaring two songs on repeat on her ear, and she closes her eyes to see if she can hear Trixie’s voice over it.

The day itself drags, uneventful as usual, and Katya is ready to leave by 5pm even if she knows she’ll probably be waiting for over an hour at the bar just to see one performance. She waits for maybe half an hour but finally gives in, tries to walk calmly towards the bar and wonders where this infatuation came from when she’s never been one to develop feelings before being with someone. She’s much more of a one-night-stand-turned-into-relationship kind of person than a pining-for-ages-before-sex.

She likes adventures though, likes the unknown, the mysterious side of life. She’s excited about this, and she doesn’t let its uncertainty deter her.

She enters the bar and it’s a lot earlier then she usually arrives; it looks like it literally just opened. They’re setting up the stage and the ambience music is pleasant, and either way Katya takes a moment to once again appreciate the crowd, takes a deep breath as she sits down and decides to eat something while she waits, doesn’t want to hang around for so long just waiting for Trixie to appear.

She can’t stop herself from looking around, finishes her food and her drink and tries to move her eyes away from the door where she thinks she’ll come in unless there’s a back entrance for performers. It’s still early and she’s anxious, so she exits quickly for a cigarette because she’d need one anyway but also because she wants to calm down a bit.

She’s almost done with her cigarette when she hears the faint sound of a guitar. She curses and runs back in, can’t believe she sat there for so long just to almost miss her now.

She comes in in time to see Trixie start singing, she’s once again standing up and she has on a pink dress with a full skirt that dances around her legs as she plays and sings, and Katya doesn’t miss the way that her eyes keep moving to the spot where Katya was sitting the two weeks before.

She also doesn’t miss her smile as she sees Katya by the entrance, bites her lips as she considers whether or not she imagined that wink.

“- There ain’t no mall - no Waffle House

But there’s always something to talk about -”

Trixie doesn’t falter though, whether she winked or not, and she actually laughs a little at the lyrics as she sings them, as if they bring a story to mind. She imagines it briefly, a town with nothing going on, one school and one factory maybe, wonders if that’s the kind of place Trixie grew up in and how she presents herself so poised and outgoing on stage if that’s the case.

“- Yeah, it’s a big day

In a small town -”

As usual, Katya doesn’t even notice she’s clapping fiercely until everyone quiets down around her and she only stops her palms when Trixie looks at her before leaving the stage. She looks for the closest seat, doesn’t want to move and have that as an excuse for Trixie not finding her, and wonders if - hopes - Trixie will come find her.

She does and she has a big smile that makes Katya’s stomach give a somersault - but she also has two drinks in her hands, which makes Katya’s stomach drop.

“Hi, Katya.” She sits down as she slides one of the glasses to her and Katya takes one second away from her dread to consider that Trixie remembers her name.

“Hi!” she says as she takes a hold the beverage, but doesn’t near it to her face. “I missed your entrance joke.”

Trixie squints her eyes mockingly. “It was on purpose, wasn’t it? Don’t lie to me.”

“Of course not, how would I know if your jokes are improving if I miss them? Duh!”

Trixie laughs and sips on her beverage, and Katya knows she should do the same, but she keeps her hands steady on the glass, both resting on the table.

She might as well just say it, right?

“Uh, thanks for this.” She nods towards the glass. ” I don’t drink, though.”

“Oh.” Trixie raises her eyebrows.

“I just-”

“You don’t have to explain. If you don’t drink, you don’t drink. I’ll order you something else.” She moves her hands to take the glass back to herself but Katya holds it possessively, not really sure why.

“You don’t have to-”

Trixie just rolls her eyes. “Tell me what you like, I want to buy you a drink.”

Katya’s in the middle of protesting, but closes her mouth shut at that. I want to buy you a drink. She gulps and lets go of the glass, which Trixie takes to herself.

“A virgin version of whatever that is will be fine.”

Trixie nods and goes up to order it and Katya feels herself relax again.

Is this a date?

Trixie sits back down with a new glass now in front of Katya and she takes it thankfully.

“So, are you from one of those small towns you were singing about, Trixie?”

Trixie considers her, gives off a tiny smile before looking at her again.

“I don’t know, would you say that an hour drive to the nearest McDonald’s would qualify it as such?”

“Oh my god.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, to be fair I’m from Milwaukee. But like, the middle of nowhere part of it.”

“Hah! Of course. How did I not notice it before.”

“I mean, I’ve lost my accent, so.”

She says it seriously and Katya isn’t sure whether she’s joking or if she really thinks she did, so she tries not to laugh. She fails though, finds it adorable the way she flushes a little and smiles back as she giggles.

“Humf, don’t talk to me about accents, miss Boston.”

Katya leans in. “If you must know, I’m Russian.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Da.”

Trixie squints her eyes. “Are you serious?”

Katya nods and sips on her drink, searches for Trixie’s face to see if her eyes are following her lips. She thinks they are, but she’s always been one for projecting. “I moved to Boston when I was three, though.”

Trixie rolls her eyes and slaps Katya’s arm playfully, and so what if she thinks she feels sparks where their skin touches? “That doesn’t count!”

It’s easy, natural talking with Trixie. Flirting, she considers - maybe. It’s been so long since she’s felt this immediate type of connection with someone, she’s not sure if she’s seeing to much into it.

She sips on her drink again, smiles around the straw at Trixie, and her heart’s as light as a feather when Trixie does the same.

Oh boy is she screwed.

*

Katya ends up leaving the bar much later than she intended for a Tuesday night and still when she gets home she realizes she didn’t ask Trixie for her number. She feels like an idiot for the rest of the week, walks past the bar a few times in hopes of running into her, but apparently she really only goes over on Tuesdays. She settles for the fact that she’ll only see Trixie the following week, isn’t exactly comfortable with how sad she is at the thought, thinks it’s completely crazy she’s already this deep into something - is is even something? - with someone she’s practically only spoken to twice.

It had been for hours though. So much laughter, so much in common. It’s rare that people will get her dry humor so effortlessly, that they’ll laugh so hard and give her all that attention. She wants to repeat that so bad, wants to sit at a bar for a few more hours and then maybe a restaurant and then a café and then anywhere really.

She might want to date Trixie. God, what is happening to her.

Next Tuesday she gets to the bar early again, but this time she refuses to get up from her seat. She won’t miss Trixie’s entrance again, wants to hear every word she has to say and wants to be very attentive to her eyes. She hopes they look at her.

She’s looking so forcefully to the stage she almost misses it. But there’s no way to not notice her pink jumpsuit and long wavy beautiful hair. She’s stunning and Katya’s is unsurprised.

“Hi! I put the pal in high school principal, Trixie Mattel. My first song of the night is going to be a sad one, so please forgive me.”

First song? Katya sits up straighter at the thought. There’ll be more.

She starts the first few chords and the tune itself already saddens Katya. She doesn’t know what Trixie will sing, but she knows she’ll get emotional.

Trixie’s voice is raw as it runs over the words, it’s pain and it’s earnest and Katya knows Trixie’s said she doesn’t always relate to what she sings but that just makes it more awestrucking, really, that maybe all of this emotion in her voice might not be real. How does one fake that? And how could Katya possibly know when she’s being real considering this?

“- Since you’ve gone to Heaven, I’ve struggled with goodbye

And broke a lot of promises I made the day you died

Wish I was more like you, less like myself

And I wish that I could talk to you 'cause I could use your help -”

Katya can’t particularly relate to the words at this moment, thankfully has her entire family living close by and finds happiness in their presence. She can imagine it though, what would be like if a tragedy like that were to strike. She wonders briefly if Trixie’s lived it. The thought saddens her.

When she finishes singing she comes down by the front of the stage, doesn’t bother with going backstage to drop her guitar or whatever it is she usually does in there. She makes a beeline for Katya and sits down by her side, her lips curved in a beautiful smile that makes Katya almost forget all of the sorrow that her words just cause her seconds ago.

“Hey! I’m glad you got here in time to see my first song.”

She’s glad Katya’s there. Maybe it’s not so bad that she’s infatuated.

“I’m glad I did, too. I didn’t know people could convey so much emotion through a song.”

Trixie blushes slightly, almost imperceptibly below her makeup, and Katya is delighted at the sight.

“Yeah, well. I went to drama school.”

“Oh? So you don’t really relate personally to the song?”

Trixie chuckles a little, and Katya knows that whatever joke she’s about to say, it’s gonna be sort of depreciative. “I don’t even have a dad!” And she laughs awkwardly, as if that’s ok as opposed to just not.

“Oh.”

“I had a step-dad growing up. But it wasn't… let’s just say that the chances of my brother being an alcoholic were higher with him than without.”

Katya remembers those lyrics in the song, something about a brother not being sober, and she gulps down the lump in her throat. Trixie doesn’t notice though, for the first time seems to be solely focused on herself, and she takes Katya’s silence as an indication that she should tell more.

She doesn’t have to, but Katya’s happy to listen.

She tells her things that Katya thinks she herself would never tell a stranger, maybe not even a friend, if she was in her place. Tells her childhood traumas and long lost dreams and the hardships that she went through before finding herself in a city she still can’t call home.

And she’s real, she’s so real. Katya can now see the difference between the stage honesty and this by a million miles. It’s astonishing really, it’s beautiful and heartbreaking the way she’s holding herself now, so vulnerable and sincere, and Katya keeps thinking back to how true she sounded as she sang earlier. Goosebumps raise on her arms.

Katya gathers the courage to touch her arm, decides to share a bit too because it seems only fair, but right then they announce Trixie’s name on stage and she remembers that she’d said she would perform again tonight.

“I… I’ll be right back, if you’ll stay?”

She looks uncertain as she asks, sort of in a hurry as they’re waiting for her upstage, and it baffles Katya that she even has to ask. She’s deviating from her regular way, putting on nicer clothes, listening to country music. She’s not leaving that bar before Trixie finishes performing.

“I’m not leaving this bar until you finish performing.”

She’s lost control of her mouth apparently, but as Trixie simply laughs before dashing off to the stage holding her guitar, Katya can’t help but giggle to herself.

“Ok, so this one will be a little more chipper than the previous one. I hope you enjoy it!”

Katya knows she will, is convinced that Trixie is somewhat a sorcerer for getting her hooked up on country music, and she can admit she’s pleasantly surprised at the topics of the songs Trixie’s been choosing.

She loses it when Trixie sings “rolls herself a fat one”, though. This might just be her favorite.

“- You know life will let you down

Love will leave you lonely

Sometimes to only way to get by

Is to get high -”

Katya can’t stop her smile as Trixie sings, almost laughs because yes, she agrees wholeheartedly, but also because Trixie definitely doesn’t look like the type that does.

Katya enjoys the song throughout, and she’s pleased to realise that so does the rest of the bar, as they clap and agree as she sings, send her off with a round of applause at the end. This time she goes to the back of the stage, probably off to put her guitar away and drink some water, but before she does she searches for Katya’s eyes, as if confirming she’s still there.

Katya feels her gaze at the bottom of her stomach. She readjusts on her seat.

Trixie is back within minutes, seems happy that Katya’s still there. She’s happy, too. “I should’ve known that the way into the audience’s heart was to talk about weed.”

Katya laughs but feels a bit ashamed because she also felt more enthusiastic today. Instead, she deflects, “Well, which one are you? The woman getting high on her kitchen table or her teenage self that’d frown upon it?”

Trixie shrugs. “I mean, I got high once.”

“Once?” Katya wants to hide her surprise, but she really can’t.

“Yeah. It was stupid, I was trying to impress this friend. It made me impossiblyhungry-”

“Yeah,” Katya agrees, but apparently Trixie’s not finished.

“I mean, horny.”

Katya almost falls off her chair. “What?”

Trixie doesn’t seem to notice how dry Katya’s mouth has gone, only nods as she moves the straw around on her drink. “Yeah, like, full-on horny. If I were ever to have a threesome, that’d be the day.”

Katya can’t do much but stare, does not want to picture Trixie being high and horny, but can’t really help it. She gulps and focuses on her drink, hopes Trixie can’t tell how bothered she is at the moment, hopes further that if she does, that she’s not uncomfortable with it, but when she finally manages to look back at Trixie, she can’t help her surprise when she sees her smirk.

Oh, okay.

“How about you?” Trixie asks when Katya still can’t find anything to say.

“Thanking god everyday for the mary jane.”

She laughs, but doesn’t break their gaze. “Maybe we could smoke together, someday?”

Katya’s breath catches on her throat, her hands freeze around her glass.

It made me impossibly horny.

Maybe we could smoke together.

She looks inside of herself for the Katya that usually doesn’t get flustered and that goes to bars and can easily get a girl. She really wants that Katya to help her now.

“Absolutely. I always have a joint at home.”

This time Trixie’s the one that stares, her eyes searching and considering. Finally she grins and sips on her drink.

“I guess I’ll have to come over.”

*

Trixie doesn’t come over that Tuesday, but Katya didn’t expect her too. And she’s not too bothered when they part ways, because Trixie tells her she’ll be performing there Saturday as she won the weekly polls and she invites Katya to watch her. And Katya manages to agree immediately and to offer her phone number just in case.

Trixie says she’ll text her so she can have her number too, but she doesn’t, and it’s not until Thursday that Katya realizes she’s an idiot who managed to give her old number.

She gets to the bar Saturday on the agreed time and looks for Trixie everywhere, wants to explain herself before she goes on stage, doesn’t want that stress roaming on her head stopping her from enjoying the show.

Then she sees a short pale blue dress and massive wavy blonde hair and she knows she’s found her. She tries not to stare at her figure as she strides over, wants to reach her before she disappears.

“Trixie! Hi!”

“Oh, hey.” She seems uncertain when she sees Katya. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Of course I came. I fucked up last time and ended up giving you the wrong number, that’s my old phone. I’m sorry.”

“Oh!” Trixie exclaims, readjusts the guitar strap on her shoulder. “That’s fine, do you want to-”

Whatever she was about to say, she’s interrupted. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Trixie Mattel!”

She looks over at Katya, bites her lip, but Katya just reassures her.

“Go on, I’ll sit down somewhere.”

She watches her go and then she looks around. It’s a full house - it is a Saturday - so there are no tables, but there’s an empty stool on the counter and she hops on it.

“Good night everyone. Thanks to all of you who voted for me on the weekly cover night. I’ve been singing songs by Brandy Clark and today I’m just gonna shift a bit and sing a song she wrote for another singer. I hope you enjoy.”

The crowd cheers and Trixie smiles and Katya can’t help but smile, too. It’s another cheerful song, still undeniably country, and Trixie’s voice once again takes the room in stride.

The lyrics are great, too, and Katya feels confident today when Trixie looks over at her when she sings the chorus.

“- Make lots of noise

Kiss lots of boys

Or kiss lots of girls

If that’s something you’re into

When the straight and narrow

Gets a little too straight

Roll up the joint, or don’t

Just follow your arrow

Wherever it points -”

She orders herself a water, drinks it without stopping to breathe and orders a second one.

It’s today.

When she least expects it Trixie’s saying her goodbyes and leaving to the back of the stage. Katya straightens her back, waits for her to appear. She’s there quicker than ever, looks for a stool and when she can’t find one just stands leaning on the counter really close to Katya.

“When the straight and narrow gets a little too straight?” Katya asks her, watches the small dimples appear on her face again as she laughs.

“I’m not really a fan of straight things.”

Katya laughs. “Me neither.”

Right then the person on the stool next to Katya gets up and Trixie sits down, ordering a drink.

Katya’s not backing down.

“So, kissing lots of girls?”

Trixie shrugs, Katya sees her trying to stop her smile. “I’m more interested in kissing this one particular girl as of recently, actually.”

Katya nods, swallows down the nervousness. “Yeah, me too.”

“Maybe we could roll up that joint, now?” Trixie offers, looks expectantly at Katya.

She takes a deep breath and smiles. “We definitely should.”

[dcnativegal]

Autumn in the Oregon Outback

It’s autumn here in the Oregon Outback. I’m writing this in mid-December and it surely feels like winter. The snow is so beautiful and stays white. In DC, by day 3 the snow is grey and black.

We started burning wood in the stove right after the equinox. Much of the wood we’ve bought is stacked in the wood shed but then we were away for a weekend and it rained and the wheelbarrow wheel is flat and Valerie’s hand isn’t quite healed from surgery… can you hear the excuses? So, we gather the wood from the driveway AND the shed at the moment. All in good time.

We had a little trouble locating someone who’d deliver wood all the way to Paisley. We were on a waiting list, but I got anxious since wood is our only source of heat. A client knows somebody who knows somebody who desperately needs the work, and next thing we know, we have a pile of wood. When Valerie organized it, she realized it was not quite a cord, and we’d paid $160, which is a lot for a cord, though more reasonable with the 90-minute round trip from Lakeview factored in. We gave him another chance and he gave us than two and a half more cords.  That were not cut quite right. So we have a stack that needs more chopping, and a lot of misshapen bits with tree branches sticking out that make them very hard to stack. We are making do. He was deeply grateful. And we have heat.

When I got up this morning, it was 23 outside and 62 inside. It may get warmer than freezing today, and with my beloved pyromaniac, Valerie, at the stove, it might get as warm as 78. Which means it’s over 80 in the loft if you want to take a nap. I go from wool socks, warm jammies and a sweatshirt to a tank top and shorts in the course of a day. If we ever lose power in winter, we’ll be fine.

Valerie had a medical adventure this past summer in which she woke up and couldn’t get the world to stop spinning. I called her daughter, Hope, an RN at the one hospital in this county, and she met us in the emergency department. The 45-minute ride down to Lakeview with poor Val puking in a bucket was not fun. With a shot of Zofran, she stopped puking, and after an overnight stay to see if she’d had a stroke, an MS flare or “just” loose crystals in her ears, she saw a neurologist to establish care with one out here in Oregon. And it was the neurologist who said, you know you really should see a hand surgeon about those lumps in your left hand. Which hurt when she bonks them. So she did. And the hand surgeon, in Bend, went WHOA NELLY you need those lumps out. Can it wait until after my grandson Adam’s wedding in September? Nope. We’ll schedule the surgery for next week. That’s how fast she came to have 22 schwanomas removed very delicately; they apparently cluster like grapes along nerves. The surgeon had to cut her hand like Zorro because straight-line scars would contract and she’d have even more trouble opening her hand fully. The presenting problem of dizziness turned out to be a temporary issue of rogue ear crystals, but what came out of all the hullabaloo was a hand that no longer hurts.

She’s fine now, and stretches her hand out with the use of heat.

++

Recently, Valerie spent hours with 3 neighbors killing chickens, then defeathering them, and finally putting them in baggies to freeze. For her labors, she got two whole chickens (minus their heads, and innards), and two livers. Valerie does love liver and onions. (The big animal vet she sometimes works for says eating liver is like sucking on an oil filter. I’ll take his word for it and avoid the whole situation.) The neighbors, who’d bought chicks to grow them into meat chickens (not egg-producing ones) now have 35 chicken carcasses frozen for winter meals. Valerie invited me to help. Ha! Ha, ha ha HA!  That would be a no. I did take over our new-to-us poodle named Griffey. He’d have LOVED to smell all the feathers as they were drifting to the ground. The whole business was a revelation. I didn’t stay long. (Shudder.) If I’m going to eat chicken, I need to appreciate where the poor bird on my plate came from. I just don’t need to pluck the actual feathers off myself.

Later that same day, after Valerie’s chicken-plucking and a long shower, we drove to the Lakeview Elks Lodge for a fundraiser for the senior citizen meal program. (The Elks Lodge is the largest venue for big gatherings in the county.) There are 350 senior citizens living below the poverty line. The program serves less than a third of that, and although the meals are offered for free, they are not entirely subsidized by tax revenue, therefore, fundraiser. I’ve come to know the folks at the Senior Center through my many requests for transportation, and they are hardworking, smart women.

Val and I sat and chatted with a husband wife pair we’ve gotten to know from St. Luke’s Episcopal. And then, my coworker, fellow knitter, and Valerie’s primary care provider walked in with her husband. I gestured wildly and they joined our table. She’s the health care person who refers the most clients to me for mental health assessment. I got to know her when I worked in Christmas Valley, those 18 months when I drove north each workday instead of south. She referred clients to our tiny mental health outpost up there. Other things we have in common: she’s a liberal. She’s lived and worked on the east coast. She grew up with a high ACE score (which means, many Adverse Childhood Experiences.) She’s a serious introvert and has a very busy, stressful life in the same clinic that I work in. I admire her very much. Her name is Kathleen.

The Lakeview Senior Center program started and we heard about services to folks 65 and older in the county, which include home delivered meals, transportation to far-flung doctor appointments in Bend and Medford, and daily meals with socializing. Right before dinner was served, there was a loud clatter and thud at the edge of the tables. A man had collapsed. A small group surrounded him. Kathleen asked, is something wrong? Yup. She went over to the man, and stayed there until the EMTs took him out on a gurney to the emergency department. She came back to the table, regretful that she’d had half a beer and had to breathe that breath onto this guy, who’s had trouble with dehydration since his car broke down and he wandered around in the desert for days. Despite the Hebrews’ and Jesus’ success at wandering in deserts, it’s not recommended.

We finally chewed on our tamales, beans and rice, followed by sheet cake. Manley, and Valerie, talk old haying equipment, and tell stories. One of my favorites is about the time when young Valerie worked as a ‘hooker’, that is, she hooked lumber so that it could be lifted by a CAT(erpillar) onto a truck… she tells this story so much better than I do… A guy in a caterpillar hoists her up by large hooks which she holds onto, and he lifts her over to the log he wants her to put on the truck next. She puts the hooks where they go and up goes the log onto the truck.

One day, she’s swinging in the air above the logs still waiting to be loaded, hanging on by her hands, and she sees that the guy running the caterpillar is slumped over the enormous steering wheel. Has he had a heart attack? She swings herself around to see the other crew member to find out if he notices the slumped guy, and guy #2 is slapping the side of the truck in paroxysms of humor. Uh oh. She looks down and her bra straps had snapped and her bra was now visible as a belt around her waist. The caterpillar driver managed to catch his breath and graciously swings her up and over a bush and she drops down. After she’d gotten her bra back up where it belongs, she came out behind the bush and bowed.

A great story. One of many that show how a tough woman gets out of a pink-color trap to work alongside cranky menfolk who learn begrudging respect for this ‘hooker’ and ‘millwright’ and shoe cobbler and… my partner is remarkable …

At the benefit dinner, we listened to the brief explanation of how Meals on Wheels is a program of the triple A which has nothing to do with the American Automobile Association, despite the importance of ‘wheels’ in home-meal delivery, but is rather the Area Agency on Aging. Which is a governmental entity. And that’s all that’s said about that by the director of the program. Because we are in an anti-government, very “red” county. But I know that it’s the Older Americans Act that funds all the ‘triple As’ in the country, one covering every county in the USA. (Since Lake County is the red headed step child of Klamath County, that triple A covers 2 counties.) And I know that the Older Americans Act was one enduring program signed into law by Lyndon B Johnson as part of the Great Society Legislation which also brought us Medicaid and the Voting Rights Act, to name just two more important bits of ‘government.’  

Just ask Valerie. My blood pressure goes up when people disparage ‘government’ around these parts. I know too many very good people who served in ‘government’, how many laws are so deeply helpful to everyone, like the Americans with Disabilities Act, the Affordable Care Act, and the Family Medical Leave Act. How most things that we complain about are due to the influx of corporate control over government, and how reluctant the government is to tax corporations. Campaign finance reform would be the way to drain the ‘swamp.’  

Nevermind. I’m trying to chew all my food and not eat too much of it since my bariatric surgery in April as the evening wears on.

(I will post about the weight loss adventure one of these days…)

I’m glad we went. I’m glad to show my face in support of the senior center. Plus we got to visit with two folks I like. One of whom knew just how to care for a man who collapsed.

The other day, Kathleen walked into my over-decorated office and said, Jane I really need your help. Expecting to hear about a patient who was crying in the examining room and who would soon be ‘warmly handed off’ to me for counseling, I was surprised to hear she needed help with the first couple of rows of a 90-stitch knitting project. Could I cast on? Why of course. “Other duties as assigned.”

*****

In other news, we are adjusting to life with a dog. Since Valerie’s faithful Westie, Dudley, died about 7 years ago, she’s dog-sat various pooches and lived happily with my 13 year-old cat, Moe. Since Val’s pretty much retired from ranch irrigation, she’s now able to spend time with a dog. She was vocal about wanting some sort of poodle mix, because they are smart. Lake County is full of cow dogs, pit bulls, and lots of chihuahuas for some reason. When her daughter Hope saw a message on Facebook about a family needing to rehome a poodle mix, she signaled Valerie, and next thing we know, we have a dog named Griffey, named after a baseball player. He’d been born 6 years before in Maryland, and flown by a coworker’s father to a ranch here; Erin has a poodle breeding business. Poor Griffey apparently didn’t like being in a herd. That family rehomed him with a young couple who had a baby and worked long hours away from home. Griffey pooped in their bed. So Griffey came to us.

This pooch is very well behaved. Aside from chasing the cat, which we are trying to discourage, he obeys Valerie’s voice, loves going gallivanting in the desert every mid-day, and enjoys the cat food Moe turns her nose up at. We take him with us to town for church, and he sits in the truck, waiting for our return. Moe gets the house to herself for a few hours. We’ve become a family who lives with a dog. His current names include “Nickelplate” (which is cheap jewelry), “poor, sad dog”, Snicklefritz, and “Your dogliness.”

I swear there are 2 rush hours in Lakeview every weekday: one at lunch to let the dogs out to pee, and one at dinner for the same purpose, even if folks are going out to dinner later. The homeless people have dogs; the owners won’t go into subsidized housing if their dogs can’t come, too. Dogs and guns. Everyone has them. We don’t have guns. But we do have Griffey. Currently, Griff and Moe are negotiating how to sleep on their humans without hissing and growling at each other.  This is not going well; however, Moe, who’s never lived with a dog or encountered dogs in her sheltered life, is learning to hiss and swipe, which may be far more effective than us ordering Griffey to resist a primeval impulse to chase.

The other thing I’ve been doing is starting up and nurturing a group of women who knit, crochet, or want to learn. I miss knitting in a group, chatting, sharing stories about anything. These gatherings have been called “Stitch and Bitch”, but there is no bitching that I can tell. Occasional complaints about the wait service at the first venue we tried, which had but one worker and one cook for the entire restaurant. We moved to the bowling alley, a large building that has a cavernous party room with a wall protecting us from the racket of big ball bowling. The food has been better and the waitresses take good care of us. So TJ’s Family Fun Center is where we can be found on Wednesday evenings right after work.

I’m surprised by the enthusiasm, and we’ll see if it lasts. The very first gathering, there were 11 of us, and a couple women came to learn. I’m a pretty patient teacher, as long as you’re right handed. I’ve listed youtube videos in our facebook group for lefties, and lots of projects. Here are a couple that I finished this fall.

[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…”