#this small take out restaurant does not have the capacity to handle the kind of rush we get on recent Fridays | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milenadaniels · 3 years ago

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Before the Night Fades, 8.6k - POV Outsider on Buck/Eddie double date shenanigans (AO3)

“I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who."

---

Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.

The nearly-post-COVID return to normal rush is going exactly as well as management at the Tilted Cactus expected it would, which is to say it’s going as miserably as the waitstaff at the Tilted Cactus expected it would.

The owners lost a lot of money to lockdowns, diminished capacity and the general (extremely warranted) paranoia of co-mingling in public during an international plague for the sake of overpriced appetizers. And despite accurately predicting the business would boom once the doors re-opened, management didn’t feel the need to account for more staff to serve said business.

So despite owing $34k on her student loans (that’s after a generous gift from both her parents and her maternal grandmother), barely being able to afford rent in LA, and the utter lack of career prospects, Mere is taking a break in the backroom, next to the dirty mop bucket, mentally running through her finances before she officially gives her notice.

She can’t quit, she knows that.

Turns out leaving New Zealand for LA with nothing but a dream and the idea that if Taika could do it so could she was not the most future-proof plan she could have come up with. The starving artist thing was so 2010.

But Mere’s made up her mind. She’s not made for this abuse. This is bullshit. She’s going to pack up, go home, and you know, do...something else. She’ll figure it out.

Mere pulls herself up from her indelicate crouch on some empty crates and goes in search of a piece of paper — or a fucking napkin, who cares — on which to write up her official resignation.

“No, in section 3A,” she hears Tomas fake-whisper. He’s one of the few new hires to grace these hallowed halls and still thinks it’s disrespectful to talk shit about customers even in the backroom. Umida, a five year veteran of this distinguished profession, has been trying to disabuse him of this particular nonsense.

“Where the fuck is section 3A, Tommy? We have sections 1 to 9, we don’t have any letters.”

“The new sidewalk sections have letters, to distinguish them from inside.”

“You mean sections 10 and 11?”

“...Mr. Peters said they’re using letters.”

“Mr. Peters can swallow my entire ass. The sidewalk sections are literally right outside the door from 9, why would they not be called 10 and 11?”

“Or ‘Hell On Earth’ and ‘Kill Me Please’, as we call them colloquially,” Mere offers, startling Tomas as she pushes through the swinging door she’d been hiding behind. Patio dining is highly encouraged and an excellent way to dine if one has patios. The Tilted Cactus does not have patios. It has a temporary license to put tables on the dirty sidewalk outside their restaurant, where waitstaff get to weave around pedestrians, dogs, and carts like they’re completing an obstacle course.

“Yeah, those work,” Umida agrees, emphasizing her point with a dispirited index finger in Mere’s direction.

“Okay, whatever,” Tomas says with a pained eye roll. “Can you please just check it out and let me know?”

“What’s happening?” Mere asks. She’s leaving this popsicle stand (ideally, on fire as she walks away slowly into the night) but she’s also starved of both human attention and the inherent drama of the culinary world so she’ll be damned if she misses out on one final showdown.

Tomas takes a breath to steel himself. “I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who.”

“You don’t have gaydar where you come from?” Umida asks in perfect deadpan.

Tomas glares harder, crosses his arms and juts one hip out. “I come from San Francisco. We invented gaydar. I’m saying I’m pretty sure the guys are together, but I’m also pretty sure they’re each with the women they’re sitting next to. So figure that out.”

“Like a double thruple?” Mere asks, now actually becoming curious.

“Like a ‘I don’t know what y’all are smoking this far north but I don’t understand your weird relationship dynamics and I’m still on probation and I can’t lose this job because I can’t move back in with my brother because I will murder him and I can’t be an only child with aging parents in this economy so can you please just go out there and tell me what the fuck is happening so I can throw this ring at the right person and punch out sometime before I ‘accidentally’ fall on the meat clever downstairs?’ kind of situation.”

Umida and Mere share a glance.

“Okay, well, don’t despair, new guy,” Mere says with a pat on his arm. “Save the meat cleaving for the capitalist elite. We got you. Let the pros handle this.”

“What did the note say?” Umida asks. “One ‘e’ or two? We can at least eliminate half of our options.”

Tomas does not check the note to spot whether the note-taker had written ‘fiancé’ or ‘fiancée’. He stares them down and fips the note in his fingers so the text faces them.

“It says ‘finance’.”

“Ah.”

“We’re going to need a more hands-on investigation, then,” Mere announces.

—————————-

Mere goes first, only because Umida was on her way to swap a side dressing for her table when Tomas intercepted her.

Mere carries a jug of water and makes the rounds of the outdoor tables, trying to hold in her visible distaste for the pseudo-patio vibe the owners tried to make happen out here. There’s a bike stand and a taxi stand two feet from where people are trying to have a romantic dinner. Every now and again, the LA traffic gets rowdy and noisy, completely butchering the atmosphere. There’s a shitty speaker funneling in some Frank Sinatra but it really does nothing to help.

But after this mystery is solved, none of this will be her problem anymore.

Like Tomas said, there are two men and two women sitting like cardinal points around a round table. The women are on the north and east ends, the men on the south and west ones. Two of them are brunets, one a redhead, and one a blond. They’re all disgustingly gorgeous.

And that’s all she’s got.

“The ravioli sounds so good,” the brunette woman says, casting a look at the brunet man to her side.

“Yeah, it does,” he says.

“Mm,” the blond man disagrees. “It’s got feta.”

“What’s wrong with feta?” Asks the redheaded woman.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong with feta,” he responds with a superior smile directed at the man next to him who’s preemptively adopting the look of someone ready to hear some bullshit. “Unless you have an underdeveloped palate and are simply overwhelmed by such strong delicacies as a moderately salty cheese.”

“Okay, don’t talk to me about an underdeveloped palate, Pennsylvania,” the other man responds, posturing despite the softness of his eyes.

“Hey, I said nothing to besmirch the great state of Texas. Texas is a wonder of culinary delight. I’m saying you’re...a simple man.”

“Feta’s disgusting and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on,” the brunet says with smug finality, holding the other man’s eyes until they’re both smirking and looking back at their menus.

Well then.

Mere’s a little bummed as she fills the water at table 36. She’d been hoping the mystery would run longer than 2 whole minutes, but these guys are definitely together. So the mystery will only come down to who’s getting eng—

“Thankfully Chris inherited a more refined palate,” the blond man — Pennsylvania — chirps as the last word.

“He did,” the brunette woman chimes in with a playful smile. “He loves my cooking. You both loved that greek salad I made last week, didn’t you? That had feta in it.”

“It did!” the brunet man replies, slipping his hand overtop hers. “And I loved it. So clearly context is a factor.”

Mere almost spills the rest of the water all over the lady at table 38 as she takes in the man and woman mooning at each other. Though if it’s any consolation, the redheaded woman looks as unimpressed as Mere feels.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Mere reports back to Tomas.

“The redheads are playing footsie under the table now. That’s one couple at least right?” Tomas asks. The two of them are parked behind the bar where they can see through the window outside but the exterior tint prevents anyone outside from seeing them. The bar is still used for pouring drinks but the stools are gone — can’t maintain 6 feet between them — so the staff pretty much have the run of this corner of the restaurant.

“He’s not a redhead,” Mere mutters, looking out the window to catch the action. “It’s like a dark blond. And I don’t know, I’m pretty sure the two brunets are together, but then blond guy’s foot is way into the other guy’s space.” For a moment she’s distracted by just how damn long his legs are. “That’s certainly...familiar.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida declares when she returns from dropping off plates at table 32.

“They’re lesbians?” Tomas parrots skeptically. “I did not get that vibe.”

“I could see lesbian for the redhead, I think,” Mere says. “Don’t know about the brunette.”

“Lesbians come in all flavours,” Umida informs them haughtily. It’s the start of Pride month and her hijab is held together by an “Ally” pin. “You can’t tell someone’s orientation just by looking at them.”

“But you’ve declared them lesbians,” Mere points out.

“Because lesbians are approaching their table and only lesbians know other lesbians.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Tomas reproaches.

“No, she’s right, lesbians coming up!” Mere watches as two more unfairly gorgeous women approach with two young boys in tow. Honestly, screw LA and their beauty standards. The parties look surprised to see each other, but they clearly know each other well. One of the boys stays with the women, but the other one breaks off to join the table.

“No, I mean you can know lesbians without being a lesbian.”

Umida and Mere ignore him.

“Okay, that’s one of their kids, right?” Umida asks. “Lesbians babysitting for date night?”

“He’s got Pennsylvania’s curls,” Mere agrees. "That's the blond guy, by the way, I think he’s from there. Brunet guy is Texas for the time being."

The boy reaches the table and is pulled into a strong hug by Texas, who then directs him to a hug with the brunette.

“Oh, unexpected.” Mere would have sworn he was a dead ringer for Pennsylvania. “But okay, that confirms the hand-holding I saw. We have a set of parents. And unless this is a super modern table, I don’t see the parents being here on dates with other people.”

“Mm, I don’t know.” Umida dithers. “That’s like an auntie hug, not a parent hug. Like if she is the mom, the kid is not happy with her.”

“Wait,” Tomas says.

The boy is wiggling out of Brunette’s grasp and rounding the table to Pennsylvania who’s waiting with a wide smile and open arms, and instead of letting go after, the boy finagles his way onto Pennsylvania’s lap to steal a breadstick. Pennsylvania reaches into the basket for another breadstick to pass to the little boy still waiting with his moms and Mere’s heart tugs a little.

Texas watches on from across the table with unrestrained fondness. His leg shifts to press against Pennsylvania’s who looks up with a smile.

“Boom, gay dads!” Tomas crows.

“And lesbians,” Umida adds.

“Redhead definitely has no part of this,” Mere notes. The woman is smiling but it’s polite and practised, not warm or welcoming. “I guess the brunets could be siblings maybe? Really close siblings?”

Finally, the babysitters make to leave so Pennsylvania kisses the boy’s temple and guides him back to his feet. Texas presses his own kiss to the boy’s curls as he passes, saying something they can’t make out from behind the glass. Brunette gets only a wave as he leaves.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida concludes smugly.

“Okay, good,” Tomas sighs with relief. “So we know who the couples are, now who’s gettin—”

“Um,” Mere interrupts, pointing at the table.

Redhead’s foot is making its way up Pennsylvania’s leg and he shoots her a grin.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tomas spits as he walks away.

“Did you even take their order yet?” Mere calls after him. He doesn’t answer.

———-

Mere gets pulled away because now that she’s not quitting in outrage until this table 34 drama is over, she figures she should actually get back to work. Happily, having not seen her for the last 20 minutes, Mikael figured she had left or died and had taken over her section. She agrees to split half the tips with him and lets herself be pulled back into the tide of madness.

“Got it figured yet, Tim-Tam?” she asks when she passes him near the bathrooms.

“The guys are sharing their orders,” he says despondently.

“That’s not that incriminating. I split my orders with people. I’m not about to pay full price to discover if I like something.”

“No,” Tomas glares before gesturing to the window with disgust. “They’re sharing their orders.”

Tomas stalks away to hopefully take an herbal break to calm down and Mere goes back to the window just in time to catch the insanity. Mere feels Umida come up behind her and tries to suppress her shiver when her “what in all that is holy” skates across her bare shoulder.

Pennsylvania has just finished piling some of his spaghetti on Texas’ plate, which is exceedingly normal. But now Pennsylvania is reaching for Texas' burger.

“He didn’t cut that,” Umida notes.

“No, he did not.”

They have pretty messy burgers at Tilted Cactus, ones that are hard to share because if you cut them down the middle they tend to lose structural integrity. Of course, this isn’t a big concern if you’re sharing already-bitten-into burgers. Which these absolute freaks are doing.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida declares again, the earlier smugness replaced with an air of disgust.

But when Umida walks away, Mere watches Brunette wipe something off Texas’ cheek and frowns. One throuple and redheaded side piece? Maybe?

————

“I’m struggling with lesbians as a theory,” Mere tells Umida the next chance she gets at the pickup counter. “I want to believe, but…”

“Yeah, I’m doubting now too. They’re almost exclusively talking to each other. But then I realized it was more getting-to-know-you conversation and this would be a hell of a weird first date.”

“Huh, so heteros all around?”

“Well, I also caught on that they’re spending all this time talking to each other because the guys are like in their own world. Finishing each others’ —”

“Sandwiches?”

“Exactly,” Umida grins, unexpectedly delighted by the reference. “So I don’t know. I really don’t envy Tommy.”

“Me either.”

“Hey Manish,” Umida yells out to the other side of the pickup window, “I’m picking up for Lenore but she’s got a two-seater, why do I have four dishes here?”

“Because Lenore can’t write for shit,” Mere says, picking up the order slip and squinting at the scrawl. “These are for table 24, not 29. It’s a four-seater.”

“Alright, well I guess you’re helping me, then,” Umida says with a wink.

Umida is fully capable of carrying four dishes on her own but she’s asking Mere to come with her so Mere’s already reaching for the plates, hoping the blush on her cheek can be written off as heat from the kitchen.

————-

During a slow stretch, Mere takes it upon herself to refill water and wine glasses in section 10.

From table 32 she can hear them talking about elementary school workloads.

“Oh, ah, I meant to let you know,” Pennsylvania says to Redhead, sitting up in his seat. “I can’t make it to the movies next Friday, can we move it to the next week? I should know my schedule by Wednesday.”

“Sure,” Redhead says with a hint of bite to her pleasant smile. “But I thought you had Friday off.”

“I do,” Pennsylvania says, his lips curving into a small, excited smile, “but Christopher won his class’ public speaking competition and they’re doing a kind of show of all the winners for the parents, and it’s on Friday.”

Mere moves around table 34 and heads for table 36 next, but catches the looks of discomfort on every face aside from Pennsylvania’s. He doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong, but the rest of them have.

“Isn’t that just during school hours?” Brunette woman asks.

Texas hesitates before saying, “yeah, but we’re taking him to Universal after to celebrate.”

Out of pity, Mere doubles back to table 34 and reaches for his water glass to fill. People tend to keep their drama buckled while the waitstaff is there. And sure enough, Redhead glances up and paints a tense smile on her face.

“Yeah, not a problem. That sounds exciting.”

There’s a bite to her words, and by the way his shoulders tense and his fingers curl more tightly around his fork, Texas seems to have picked up on it.

————-

By the end of the entrees, most of the staff have caught onto Tomas’ predicament and one by one everyone from the table-bussers to the cooks have gone out for a smokeless smoke break to try to be the one to divine what the hell is happening at table 34.

None are successful.

“This isn’t even like a romantic date,” Mani laments. “Like none of them are that dressed up and they’re talking about like natural disasters and shit. I don’t get a proposal vibe from like any of them.”

“Who even goes on a double date to propose? Who does that? It’s so tacky!” Gabby says from behind the bar where she’s helping herself to a quick nip before she heads home.

“Who still thinks the ring in the champagne bit is a good idea, is my question. It’s a choking hazard!” Mere says. “How romantic to start off your engagement with a trip to the ER.”

Tomas ignores them all. He looks about 10 minutes away from saying to hell with his probationary status and drinking the next hour away straight out of the vodka bottle at his elbow. “I know it’s Pride and I should be representing but I could really do with a little heteronormativity right now.”

—————-

Tomas is stalling.

Table 34 asked for dessert, of course, and when he vaguely floated the idea of champagne, Texas had readily agreed, so this is happening. The champagne flutes are lined up on a tray, the champagne in them is warming with every minute that passes, and he is no closer to figuring out what to do.

“What if I put all the glasses in the middle and they have to pick which one they want?”

“Okay but the person getting proposed to tonight likely doesn’t know?” Mikael says.

“What if you pretend you didn’t see the instructions?” Shania pitches. “As if we can ever write stuff down correctly anyway. Just say it said to bring out the champagne but nothing about the ring being in a flute! Just hand it back to the proposer and let them get it done.”

“You think we don’t know who the proposee is but we know who the proposer is?” Tomas bites. “If I knew that, Shania, I could have just called them away with a phone call or something and asked them who to give the flute to.”

“Geez,” Shania exclaims, hopping off the bar counter to walk away. “You try to help…”

“And then there were three,” Mario announces as he comes back from another completely unnecessary round of filling water glasses outside.

Tomas’ head snaps up from where he’d been staring into the countertops. “What?”

They all rush to the window and sure enough: Redhead is gone.

“I didn’t see her come in,” Mere says, almost breathlessly. If she’d come in to use the restroom, they would have seen her.

“No, she’s gone-gone,” Mario supplies. “Said she had to get back to work but I’m pretty sure she just wanted out. That’s the chick from the news, you know?”

“People still watch the news?” Mere wondered aloud.

Tomas tsks. “Redhead was the least probable suspect!”

“Well we can rule out Brunette and Pennsylvania as a couple, right?” Umida asks, waiting briefly for the gathered crowd to nod. “Okay, so we’re down to the brunets together, or Pennsylvania and Texas.”

“Or polyamorous,” Mikael sniffs. Mikael is trying polyamory. He doesn’t know there’s a bet going on how long he’ll last. It’s a fine relationship style to get into but one he and his jealousy and insecurity issues are deeply unsuited for.

“Apologies, Mikael, or polyamorous. So you have...yeah, 3 of 3 options left for that ring,” Umida grimaces.

“Wait!” So-Hee cries. She’s supposed to be hosting at the entrance but COVID-19 protocols mean people don’t show up earlier than 5 minutes before their reservation so the podium isn’t very backed up. “What does the ring look like? That could be a clue, right?”

They look to Tomas, whose face is blank.

“You didn’t look?” Mere accuses him, though to be fair it never occurred to her either.

So-Hee pounces on the deep purple velvet box without waiting for Tomas to answer.

“Please god,” Tomas mumbles, grabbing the box out of her hands and prying it open with almost reckless enthusiasm.

All six members of staff currently on duty at the window crowd around, many heads bumping together to catch a glimpse. The ring nestled in the box has a slim, dainty band with a solitaire diamond jutting out proudly, with filigree details on either side.

“Oh thank sweet baby Jesus, that is a woman’s ring!” Tomas nearly yells.

“It could be a man’s ring,” Umida protests weakly, almost sad to see the drama come to an end.

Mere’s a little put out too if she’s being honest. But even if they couldn’t tell from the design, the sizing is way too small to fit on either of table 34’s men’s fingers, as So-Hee demonstrates by plucking the ring up and sliding it onto her own tiny finger.

“Yeah, get it stuck on your sweaty fingers, So-Hee,” Tomas protests almost hysterically, feeling his win come into danger. He wrestles it back off her finger and shoves it back in the box before taking a deep cleansing breath.

“Okay, I’ve got a dessert course to deliver,” he says, the picture of calm professionalism as if he hasn’t spent the last hour losing his entire shit.

———-

They should disperse then, but like brothers in arms after battle, all of them feel the need to stand guard as Tomas prepares to deliver the goods.

Some of them, like So-Hee, stand because they’ve foolishly become emotionally invested in the upcoming nuptial bliss.

Some of them, like Umida, stand because they fell in love with their version of events and they feel the need to properly mourn for what might have been.

“They’re co-parenting that boy,” Umida grumbles. “We all saw that! They can’t deny that!”

And some of them, like Mere, stand because they really can’t be bothered to get back to work.

But stand together they do as Tomas plops the ring in one flute and carries the tray out.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice off to the side of their group.

So-Hee, ever the consummate people-pleaser, actually turns to take care of the customer. The rest of them stay fixed at the window. “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

“Maybe? I couldn’t help but notice that young man taking some champagne out.”

“Yes, would you like to order a bottle as well?” So-Hee pokes Mikael. “We’d be happy to bring some out to you.”

“Ah, no,” the man says. “Well, yes. But I’ve already ordered some. I called earlier, when I reserved my table.”

Mere stiffens, her sixth sense borne of years of customer service piquing. Beside her, Umida takes note as well.

“I asked that champagne be brought to the table with dessert, and I left a box...one that looks a lot like the one on your counter there. And I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but I couldn’t help but want to make sure it’s not my ring that just went out to that other table.”

Mere’s wide eyes spring to Umida’s.

“Oh my fuck,” Umida whispers.

Then they’re both racing for the door.

“Wrong table, wrong table, wrong table,” Mere mutters under her breath as she dodges a stroller and a dog walker trying to reach Tomas —

“Oh, Edmundo!” Brunette exclaims brightly.

Umida’s hand braces Mere like a soccer mom in a car.

It’s too late now.

There’s nothing they can do but watch this trainwreck happen.

Happily, Redhead vacated the seat nearest to them so they have an unobstructed view of Brunette’s eyes filling with tears, of Texas’ wide eyes, and of Pennsylvania’s face losing all colour.

From context, Texas is the Edmundo Brunette is so pleased with.

But Edmundo is shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “I...wha— ”

Pennsylvania comes back to himself first, though the smile he paints on his face is strained and frail. “Ah, con — congratulations.”

“Wha— Buck, no.”

Pennsylvania — Buck — stands up from the table like a colt learning to walk, his eyes darting across the table without landing anywhere. “I — ah — I should let you guys celebrate.”

“Buck, no, I—” Edmundo’s voice is firmer now, his hand darting out to reach for Buck, and Brunette starts to catch on that nobody’s getting down on one knee with a flowery speech.

“Edmundo?” she calls, her bright smile dimming.

Edmundo looks torn and trapped in equal measure, and Mere wonders for a heartbreaking moment if maybe he’s as confused about his relationships as the Tilted Cactus employees have been tonight.

With a sigh, and a reminder that she’s out of this place like Cinderella at midnight, Mere falls on the proverbial meat cleaver. Stepping around Umida’s still outstretched arm, Mere weaves herself in front of Tomas just in case there’s any physical fallout, and pitches her voice low so the neighbouring tables will have to strain to listen in.

“Excuse me, my name is Mere, I’m the assistant manager. I am so sorry to inform you there’s been a terrible mistake. We’ve delivered a ring to your table that was destined to another this evening. We apologize deeply for any confusion this has caused and we will of course be comping your meals.”

“It—Oh.” Brunette’s eyes land on the ring on her finger, and her remaining excitement implodes into embarrassment so quickly and resoundly that Mere’s surprised it doesn’t produce an audible sound. The fingers of her opposite hand grip the ring and pause for a moment before slipping it off. There’s no box to slip it into so Mere holds out her hand, the other tucked neatly behind her back.

“Thank you,” Mere says quietly. “Please forgive us for the mistake. We will be investigating what happened so it never happens again.”

“Of course,” Brunette says lightly, forcing some life back into her voice. “I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Her eyes lift then and take in the scene across from her. Edmundo and Buck still standing, Edmundo’s hand wrapped round Buck’s wrist to keep him from leaving, and her eyes shutter once more.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up,” she says politely, rising from her seat and escaping into the restaurant.

Edmundo watches her go but says nothing, frozen still, holding onto the man beside him.

With all eyes more or less off them now, Mere gathers Tomas and Umida and hauls ass back into the restaurant.

————-

The ring is cleaned and inspected by Gareth, its actual owner, who is amiable enough to not escalate the situation further. His fiancée-to-be is none the wiser on any of these happenings — luckily their table, 29, is indoors — so his proposal is still on for the next course. But, just in case it doesn’t go the way Gareth hopes and he turns on them, Mere preemptively comps their meal too and congratulates him before he’s reseated.

On her way back to the kitchen, she grabs Lenore and uses the last hour of her completely fake authority to formally bar her from ever answering the phone again, or taking notes from the phone, or writing anything anywhere ever again. Lenore, having heard about the drama at table 34 and having seen the crying woman rush to the bathroom just now, accepts with little resistance.

And Mere, heart heavy with the weight of what they’ve done to this poor woman, mentally shakes her fist at her own curiosity and need for schadenfreude. If she’d bailed on this place an hour ago, she wouldn’t be leaving with this heartache by proxy.

As if beckoned by her thoughts, Brunette emerges from the bathroom just as Mere is crossing in front of it. She looks better, her tears packed away, and her cheeks only slightly reddened. Mere is about to offer her something — a glass of water? wine? a whole bottle? — when Edmundo steps into view. Mere doesn’t break stride until she’s behind the protection of the pay terminal privacy partition where she can see them but not be seen.

“Hey,” he says softly, his frame pretty loose and relaxed for a man who looked so troubled moments ago.

“Hey,” she returns with a forced smile.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know—”

Brunette cuts him off with a hand. “It’s not your fault. They made a mistake. It happens.”

Edmundo nods.

“But…” Brunette continues, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “For a moment, it didn’t seem far-fetched that it...might be real, you know? I know we’ve been taking things slow, but we have been seeing each other for nearly a year now. And I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it...it didn’t seem so far-fetched.”

Edmundo’s shoulders have grown tense, and it doesn’t escape Brunette’s notice. She smiles sadly.

“But then I looked up and you weren’t even looking at me. You were looking at Buck. You were so scared he would leave and that — that just doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, even if the...the ring was a big misunderstanding, wouldn’t it have been better that he leave so we could talk about it privately? But you were scared, because he was upset… And if he was...I don’t know...upset that you hadn’t told him about this, you could have caught up later and discussed it, cleared it up.”

Edmundo says nothing, but he hangs his head and gnaws on his lower lip.

“But you were scared. Scared of him leaving in that moment. Scared...that he’d leave with the wrong idea? That he’d leave thinking you were — we were... ” Brunette sighs sharply. “I think I’ve been a fool.”

“You haven’t—” Edmundo tries to say.

“No, I have. It’s felt so many times like there’s been a third wheel in this relationship, and I genuinely didn’t realize until now that it was me. And maybe I’m naive but I’d like to think you didn’t realize it until today either. That you’re just as big a fool as I am. And maybe Buck is too.”

Edmundo opens his mouth twice to say something but nothing comes out. In the end, he settles on, “Ana, I’m sorry. I...didn’t realize. I don’t even know if I understand what I realize. But I...I know you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and you didn’t deserve this.”

Brunette — Ana — smiles again sadly, and if a touch bitterly, she’s entitled to it.

“Thank you,” she says softly, before fidgeting with her purse strap again. “I’m going to go. You’ll...say goodbye to Buck for me?” Edmundo nods.

“Goodbye, Edmundo.”

“Take care, Ana,” he responds.

Ana takes a few steps before stopping and turning. “Good luck. I think…” she shakes her head before repeating, “good luck,” and leaving out the side doors.

Mere unglues herself from the privacy wall and slinks sadly back to the bar where she finds Tomas and Umida already halfway through a glass of red each. There’s a third, untouched glass waiting for her.

“We’re horrible people,” Mere decides. “Brunette and Texas just broke up.”

“We didn’t do this,” Umida protests half-heartedly. “Technically, Tomas did.”

“Ugh, you ass,” Tomas sputters. “The note said table 34, you all saw it. It’s Lenore’s fault.”

“It is Lenore’s fault,” Mere agrees before downing half her glass like a shot. Out the window, she can see Pennsyl — Buck — slumped in his chair, staring at the tablecloth. There’s a fresh bottle of wine on the table, two empty glasses at his and Edmundo’s places. Mere raises a glass at Tomas for the gesture.

“If they don’t end up drinking it, I’m taking it home,” Tomas says, “I already wrote it off.”

That’s fair.

Unfortunately for him, when Edmundo gets back to the table, he immediately pours them both a very full glass.

Buck straightens out in his chair, looking concerned and looking around for Ana, who doesn’t materialize. Edmundo says something that has Buck relaxing but looking guilty. Then Edmundo shuffles closer and puts a hand back on Buck’s wrist.

“Okay, back to work,” Mere orders. “We’ve intruded on this drama way too much already.”

When she finds her way back to the bar some twenty minutes later for a totally appropriate reason, table 34 is empty.

————————

A year later, Mere finds herself sitting on the Tilted Cactus bar counter on a Friday night, legs swinging and popping olives like they’re mints. She ended up not quitting her job the night she intended to. Between the excitement, the drama, and the on-duty alcohol, she was feeling pretty chill about sticking it out at the Tilted Cactus a while longer.

But she ended up quitting two days later when the owner found out about how she impersonated an assistant manager and gave her hell for it. She could have stayed, he wasn’t really going to reprimand her. But listening to him talk down at her while her stomach filled with dread at the idea of having to apologize and walk back into that hell hole…nah. Fuck the Tilted Cactus, fuck the owner, and fuck two weeks’ notice. They weren’t getting a minute out of her ever again.

She took the gamble of taking out more student loans and was wrapping up her EMT certification. She’d be in an ambulance soon enough, actually helping people. Not the dream that got her to America, but one that would suffice for now. Make up enough karma to get her feet back under her.

“The lesbians are back,” Umida announces excitedly in a whisper as she fits herself between Mere’s legs against the bar.

“Which lesbians?”

“THEE lesbians,” Umida returns, pointing out the window.

“Those are two guys, babe. Three if you count the kid.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida insists, waving her hand to dismiss the kid from her labels. “They have strong lesbian energy.”

“You’re claiming them for your people?” Mere grins fondly. It’s the start of Pride again and Umida’s Ally pin has been traded in for a lesbian-flag coloured hijab secured with the updated BIPOC Pride flag pin. She’s very pretty in pink, right down to the lipstick Mere isn’t allowed to kiss off of her until her shift is up.

“I am, they’re mine. I claim them.”

“Wait,” Mere squints, trying to pin down the familiar feeling she’s getting, “are those…”

“The guys! Eddie and Buck. I told you they were semi-regulars now. And we were right, that’s totally their kid. I don’t know how, especially since we know they weren’t together before that night, but he’s their kid. My money’s on one of them being trans because he’s literally their spitting image combined.”

Mere sighs happily and hugs Umida to her. “Well, I’m glad some good came out of that night.”

“Umida?” a young voice asks from across the bar. In the year since the reopening, a slew of new hires have joined the ranks to replace all the veterans leaving and Mere barely recognizes anyone anymore. She saw Mikael (unsurprisingly single again) a couple of weeks ago but he’s clearly on his way out too. Tomas lasted until his probation was over before quitting. Umida, in no small part because she was the longest lasting employee, was rightfully promoted to the role of assistant manager. Mere still hopes she’ll leave this hell hole soon but in the meantime, at least she’s getting paid. And authority looks really good on her.

“What up, Jerome?”

Jerome pushes his dark blue fringe back and holds up a sheet of paper. “I have a note here to deliver a ring to a table with dessert but it doesn’t say who’s supposed to get it.”

“Oh my god, no, no way,” Mere laughs and tries to push Umida away. “Let me out of here.”

Umida’s arms close around her hips, preventing her escape.

“Calm down. I created a form so that night doesn’t happen again. Jerome, did you use the form?”

“Um, yeah.” He shakes the sheet of paper in his hands. “I mean whoever took the call did. They checked off the table number, and it’s a ‘fiancé’ not a ‘fiancée’, but it’s a table with two guys so…”

“Okay, but there’s a field for the name, did they fill it out?”

“How am I supposed to know who they are from a name though?”

“Oh my god, kid, you schmooze,” Umida says. “You roll up to their table, you lay on the customer service thick and introduce yourself and ask their names. People are idiots, they’ll tell you, just like that.”

Jerome cocks his head in contemplation. “Yeah okay, but no, there’s no name. It’s blank.”

“But you made a form,” Mere mock whispers.

Umida turns on her, her eyeshadow catching the bar lights as she narrows her eyes. “This is not the form’s fault, don’t you blame this on the form! The form has a field for a name! The form provides!”

“The form is flawless,” Mere agrees quickly, running her hand down Umida’s arm soothingly. “You can’t account for user error.”

Umida glares harder before looking up to the ceiling in supplication.

Mere, who has never in her life been able to resist picking at a scab, asks, “what table is it?”

Jerome checks the paper. “34.”

“The cursed table. The cursed lesbians!” Mere gasps, squirming out of the way when Umida tries to pinch her side.

“Well it’s not like the kid is a contender, so it’s 50/50,” Umida points out. “Much better odds than last time.”

“And to be fair, if the wrong guy gets the flute, he can just improvise and propose with the ring in hand,” Mere continues. “Overall, much less exciting drama than last time. 3/10 for me.”

“Thank god. Yeah, let’s do that.” Jerome walks away with his marching orders and Umida turns to Mere. “I have to actually go work. You gonna hang out here?” She’s off in a half hour and they have tickets to the back row of the latest Marvel nonsense.

“I got booze, olives, and an unobstructed view of my favourite drama. I’m all set.” In lieu of a proper kiss, Mere lifts Umida’s hand and kisses her wrist, delighting in watching her girlfriend’s eyes soften. She blows Mere a kiss and flits away to put out fires.

Mere is usually on her phone while she waits for Umida but tonight she watches table 34. The guys — Eddie and Buck, Umida reminded her — are across the table from each other, Eddie is relaxed in his chair but Buck is leaning forward, elbows on the table as he tells their son a story that has him cackling in his seat. They’re not holding hands, but anyone looking can see they’re together. They have ridiculous heart eyes for each other, and from her vantage point she can see those long legs intermingling again, one knee occasionally jostling into the other. Little tangible reminders that they’re there and together.

She saw hints of this that night, and to see it have taken hold and blossomed...suddenly she’s really invested in them having a great night. One of them planned this night out, wanted to surprise the other, and she doesn’t want that going to waste because of a blank field on a form.

Mere’s wearing a dark long-sleeve blouse, not too far off the dress code, so slips off the counter, snags the backup apron they always leave behind the bar and ties it around her waist. One of the newbies whose name she doesn’t know watches her from the host pedestal and Mere raises a fierce eyebrow at them until they go back to minding their own business.

She rinses out a jug and fills it with water and ice and slips back into her customer service posture to make the rounds of the tables in section 10.

“Well now, I recognize you handsome folk, don’t I?” she schmoozes when she gets to table 34, picking up Eddie’s glass first to fill.

Eddie doesn’t place her and she doesn’t blame him, he was under a lot of stress that night. It takes Buck a second but he gets it.

“Oh hey, yeah! Weren’t you — “ Buck cuts himself off awkwardly and casts an eye to Eddie and the kid. “You, ah, gave us our meals for free! Because of the, um, mix-up.”

That’s enough for Eddie to place her, and where Buck relaxes back into his chair as she fills his glass, Eddie goes stock still.

Bingo.

“What mix-up?” the kid asks.

“Ah, they put something in our drink by accident,” Buck lies without lying. “Real choking hazard! So they gave us our meals for free.”

“That’s dangerous,” the kid says.

“It was dangerous,” Mere agrees, filling his glass. “Choking hazard was right. Could have turned a really great night all wrong with a trip to the hospital.”

Eddie’s brow furrows slightly and Mere struggles to keep a neutral face.

“It’s never a good idea to hide things in food. I don’t know why people keep trying instead of just calling us for advice. We have tons of ways to help people with surprises.”

“I completely agree,” Buck says. “We’re actually firefighters and you wouldn’t believe how many accidental choking calls we get.”

Eddie swallows, his eyes looking mildly panicked.

“Firefighters!” Mere schmoozes harder, smiling at the kid as he gets excited again. “Well I certainly feel safer then.”

“Ah, you probably shouldn’t. I was actually one of those calls once,” Buck says halfway through a smile and grimace, pointing to his throat where there’s a faint scar. “Emergency tracheotomy on the floor of a restaurant. But that wasn’t a surprise, just, ah, too enthusiastic about the breadsticks.”

Eddie’s looking decidedly gray now, eyes laser focused on the scar.

“Okay, well I’ll just go ahead and clear these,” Mere says, jokingly reaching for the bread basket until Buck laughs back.

“I’m better now, promise! Small bites, chewed thoroughly!”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she dithers dramatically, nodding to the kid. “If I leave those here, can I trust you to keep an eye on your dad?”

“Yeah!” the kid agrees with a toothy grin.

Buck’s cheeks redden quickly but he’s still smiling, his head ducked shyly in a way Mere doubts is due to her teasing. Eddie, meanwhile, is still looking poleaxed though fondness is fighting its way back in.

“Well, I was just subbing into this section so this will be goodbye for us but it was great to see you guys! Enjoy your evening!”

“Thanks, you too!” Buck says with an easy smile. Eddie manages a “thank you” and Mere has to restrain herself from patting his shoulder as she walks away.

She’s only just returned the apron to the bar when she sees Eddie walk in and head straight for the host before being led to the back.

“Ready to go?” Umida asks, back in her unsensible heels and cross-chest messenger bag.

Mere takes the hand she extends but tugs her closer instead of following her out, before saying the worst thing she’s ever said in her life, “Actually, do you mind if we stick around a little longer?”

“Something good about to happen?” she asks, peeking out the window.

Mere tugs her in closer and leans her chin on her shoulder. “I think so.”

Twenty minutes later, when Jerome passes by with a tray of assorted chocolate treats and two overturned coffee cups, Mere and Umida find themselves bracketed by half the front and back staff. Gossip still spreads like wildfire it seems.

Buck’s overturned coffee cup and plate is the last thing Jerome puts on the table, and as soon as it’s down, he excuses himself. He keeps a professional pace until he’s past the exterior doors and then he’s racing to take a front seat at the bar.

Eddie turns over his cup but doesn’t reach for the carafe, he wipes his hands on his jeans instead.

“Oh my god, he’s so nervous,” Jerome whispers.

“The kid is so in on it,” the host whose name Mere never caught says, and they’re right. Where Eddie’s tensed up, the kid is bouncing in his seat like he knows something’s coming.

“Come on, guy,” a bus boy mutters, checking his watch. His break is almost over.

Mere’s heart is beating hard in sympathy with Eddie’s as they all watch Buck ignore his coffee cup in favor of serving their kid from the tray. Then he signals to Eddie’s plate, who can’t not lift it for the offered chocolate tortes. Finally, there’s chocolate on everyone’s plates and Buck sits back to try a piece of brownie and Eddie can’t take it anymore.

He motions to the carafe and Buck perks up, finally reaching for his cup. But just as his fingers close around it, some idiot’s dog barks on the sideway, calling his attention away. His fingers flip the cup without ever looking at it, or the plate underneath it.

“Oh come on,” Umida moans.

The dog passes with its dumbass owner and Buck puts his cup back down, or tries to, but finds something in the way. He tries again, pushing the intrusion away with the bottom of the cup.

“Oh my god,” is whined in Mere’s left ear and when she turns her head she’s surprised to find not another Tilted Cactus employee but a customer dressed to the nines, pearls and all.

“Ma’am, did you —”

“Shh,” the woman returns, her eyes never moving from the window. Mere turns back too.

Finally, Buck has managed to push the offending items off the plate and settle his cup down and it’s a nail-biting few seconds where it actually looks like he’s going to reach for the carafe and go about his business.

But like a true wingman, the little kid points directly at it, prompting Buck to push the napkin aside and pick up — the ring.

Buck freezes, holding the ring between his thumb and index. His cheeks flush and a smile begins to break over his face before he looks startled and the smile falls abruptly away.

It’s about this time Eddie realizes that proposing by recreating the night they got together was never going to be the best idea when the impetus to their relationship was an engagement ring accidentally sent to the wrong person.

Eddie vaults out of his seat and into the empty one next to Buck, wrapping his hand around the one holding the ring, and bringing his other hand to his cheek to gently turn his head until Buck is looking at him. They can’t tell what he says, but they can watch Buck’s eyes fill with tears, watch as Eddie gestures to their son who’s smiling wide and reaching out for a hand, which Buck instantly provides. His attention comes back to Eddie then, who’s saying something that gets them both looking a little fragile and it’s hard to say if he actually popped the question yet but Buck is surging forward to kiss him hard and fast. Eddie gives as good as he’s getting for a moment before he slows them with small, gentle kisses. And when they finally break apart, Eddie plucks the ring from Buck’s fingers and slides it onto his ring finger as Buck watches, his eyes wide and half incredulous.

Outside, the nearby tables break out into applause, startling the trio and reminding the two men that they are indeed out in public. Eddie acknowledges the applause with an embarrassed hand and waits until they have a modicum of privacy again before taking Buck’s hand and kissing right near the where the ring now sits. He then reluctantly shuffles back into his seat.

Inside, Mere is hugging Umida to her with a strength buoyed by love. Around them, the staff are starting to disperse, some wiping their eyes, some with goofy grins on their faces.

“Young man,” the lady in the pearls says to Jerome, holding out her credit card, “I want you to charge that family’s meal to my card.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s very generous of you.”

The woman sniffs delicately and leaves without another word. Hopefully Jerome knows where she was sitting…

“I’m glad she did that,” Mere says into Umida’s shoulder, “I was going to, otherwise, and I’m a broke-ass student.”

“I would have pitched in,” Umida says, her voice soft and pensive. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Mere agrees, sliding off the bar counter for the last time. “Oh, hold on.”

She gets closer to the window and turns the flash off of her camera before taking a pic.

“I think that’s bordering on creepy now,” Umida says without judgement.

“It’s not for me.” Mere sends the pic off with a note and three ring emojis.

They don’t make it out of the restaurant before her phone dings.

“What does Tomas have to say?” Umida asks with a smirk.

Mere pulls up the text and reads, “Gays and lesbians. Both, at the same time. Never doubting Umida’s gaydar again.”

Umida laughs victoriously, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and Mere lets her drag her by the hand down the street, letting the nostalgia from tonight settle in her chest.

If there’s anything she misses from working the restaurant scene, it’s getting this glimpse into people’s lives.

Yeah, most of the work was gross, obnoxious, or mind-numbing. But every now and again, she got to be a part of strangers’ stories. Got to be there for the happiest days like graduations, or bridal showers. And even the sadder stories could be beautiful sometimes, like when she got to be extra kind to the elderly woman coming into the restaurant alone for the first time in ten years, or watch a family have their last supper together before their kid moves away for school. It’s just all so human and some kind of wonderful.

She hopes her career as a paramedic will have just a little bit of that kind of magic.

#911fic #buddie fics #buddie #my fics #okay this is fic 2 of 2 for pov outsider for me!#completely opposite tone of the last one this is just fun and dumb :P #hope y'all like it!#my posts

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themorphine · 3 years ago

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The Picnic-Feysand Date <3

So happy to announce that me and @wintersouldier57 teamed up and wrote a feysand fic in celebration of both hitting 100 followers! Go say congrats to @wintersouldier57 SHES AMAZING

It had been a long few weeks for the high lord and lady of the night court. Between their regularly scheduled meetings and taking care of Nyx, things had been hard. They had scarcely found any time for themselves in the midst of it, hardly any to just be together, enjoying each other’s presence. When Feyre wasn’t at a meeting, Rhys was in the Illyrian mountains handling the armies with Cassian. When Rhys was home, Feyre was at the art studio. Their schedules never seemed to line up.

They often spoke mentally, providing each other as much comfort as they could in that capacity, but they soon found that even psychic communication had its limits when it came to comforting one another. Feyre missed the way his arms felt around her, the way he would whisper soothing words into her ear when things became too much to handle. She understood that they had their responsibilities to their court. They were high lord and lady, after all. Still, she was restless. She wanted nothing more than to feel his embrace, nothing more than to drown in a pool of the transcendent love he offered her.

There was a dull ache in her heart that she knew only he could alleviate. She longed for him. She had not known desperation so deep since her days before coming to Prythian. That desperation, that hunger, had burned, but never like this. It had seared from the inside out, but never straight from the heart. Not like this did. This killed slowly, she thought, deliberately. She felt as though she had been traipsing around Velaris with half a soul, never quite able to get comfortable anywhere she went.

She would see him today. For the first time in weeks, everything lined up. Cassian and Azriel had agreed to take Nyx off their hands for the day for what Cassian called “much-needed uncle time”. They would pick him up as soon as she returned home for the day.

She was a bit surprised that Cassian had not said anything, no teasing. She didn't say anything though, she did not want to give him any ideas. He probably does not want to lose any time with Nyx, she thought, and chuckled silently.

“What’s so funny my High Lady? Rhysie has some good jokes for once?” Rhysand must have heard that from wherever he was, because he responded in Feyre’s and Cassian’s head, At least my jokes don't have every female in all of Prythian running for the hills Cassian. Feyre laughed harder, Cassian chuckling as well.

“Well have fun you two, and be sure to be home at a respectable time, and PLEASE use a sound barrier, I do not want to have to explain what noises are being heard all over this cauldron-damned city to this little one.” He said in his most “mother hen” voice, and tickled a giggling Nyx in his arms. Feyre glared at him while he laughed, and Rhys must have said something in his head, for he laughed even harder.

“BYE CASSIAN” Feyre shouted, making a beeline to the door. She could still hear Cassian's laughter,

Once she was outside, she took a deep breath of the fresh air. It was a nice day, perfect for a walk in the park or a trip to the market squares. Perhaps she and Rhys could take a walk when he returned. She would love nothing more than to walk through Velaris hand in hand with her mate. She missed simple intimacies like that, little touches.

You look simply delectable in that dress, Feyre darling.

He had spoken into her mind. Could he see her? Where was he? She looked around but could not find him. Suddenly, there was a pressure underneath her knees, lifting her into the air. She yelped, surprised that he had picked her up.After the initial surprise, she spoke;

“You should have given me some warning, you prick.”

He chuckled, “Now what would be the fun in that Feyre Darling?”

She tried her best to look unaffected by the nickname, and replied “The fun would be that I wouldn't have to scream and not fall on my face for all of Velaris to see.”

He put on a face of mock hurt. “You really think I would drop you darling? I would never!”

She glared. “Based on what you did last time, I won't trust you for another 1000 years, 900 if your lucky.”

He laughed harder, burrowing his face in my neck, to try and silence it. Once he calmed he breathed in my neck, savouring her smell.

“If I could bottle your smell I would drink it every day.” He sighed, hugging Feyre tightly, as if she could disappear any moment. And to be honest based on how long they had been apart, they both felt as if they would disappear, but thank the cauldron they wouldn't.

Finally, after all this time, they were together. She smiled as she nuzzled closer to his chest. Through the bond, she could feel the pure happiness coursing through Rhys. Her grin widened as she felt the wind blazing past them.

She wondered where he might be taking her. They hadn’t discussed their plans beyond spending the day together. Wherever they were headed, though, Feyre knew she would love it. She would love it because he would be there with her. For the first time in a long while, she was home. An unyielding warmth welled up in her heart in the place of the ravenous longing she had been experiencing before. She was with Rhys now, and all was well, at least for the day.

She looked down and watched the vibrant landscape of Velaris fly by beneath them. She could easily fly herself, but she didn’t want to. At least for now, she wanted to be held by him. Judging by the way his arms were wrapped around her more tightly than usual, it was clear that he was enjoying it too. There was something about him holding her like that. It always gave her butterflies, no matter how long they had been together. Even with the centuries stretching out before them, she could be sure that that would never change. Not this, and not the way they felt for each other. She would always look at him as though he had hung the very stars that shone above Ramiel on the Night Court’s insignia, and he would always look to her and see his darling mate, his salvation.

They continued their flight. When he landed and sat her on her feet, she mourned the close contact. She took in their surroundings. They stood on a hill overlooking the city. From the vantage point, she could see it all. She saw the rainbow and the Sidra, twinking as it reflected the sun’s light. What she took the most note of, though, was the blanket laid out on the grass, a small basket sitting at its center.

A picnic.

Rhys had planned a picnic.

She didn’t realize it was possible to love him more than she already did.

He watched her intently, taking in the shift in her expression. He grinned widely. He loved seeing her like this, happy and content. For once, she looked her age. She looked like the 20 year-old girl she was, and without eyes that looked haunted or scared. Their duties could wait. Right now, as they stood on this hill, things were for once simple. The world was quiet, save for the slight breeze that occasionally brushed against their ears. They were happy. War and politics be damned.

“Happy, my love?”

She looked down to find that her hand was glowing. It seemed that her body was speaking for itself. Instead of answering, she took a few steps toward him, placing her shining palm on the side of his face, stroking his cheek. His violet eyes were alight with the spark of love. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. It wasn’t like things had been recently. It wasn’t the quick kiss of someone trying to make time between meetings or the kind of kiss she would give him as she passed him on the way to feed Nyx. The kiss they now shared was sweet, unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world to stand there and relish in what they were feeling.

After what felt like a millenia, he slowly pulled away from her, once again meeting her eyes.

“I’ve missed that,” he said.

“I’ve missed you,” Feyre replied, tears brimming in her eyes. But she was smiling, a broad, indestructible smile that made Rhys look at her in wonder

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Rhys motioned to the blanket.

“Let’s get more comfortable.”

They made their way over to the blanket and they sat next to one another. She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. With his other arm, he reached for the basket, producing several sandwiches and a container of what she assumed was some sort of stew. He sat the food in front of them before he tilted his head and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

She knew she was likely still glowing. She didn’t need to look down to know. Rhys picked up one of the sandwiches and held it to her lips. She took a bite, savoring the taste. She quickly realized where she had tasted it before. It was one of the sandwiches from her favorite restaurant. She beamed. Her clever, loving mate had gone there and procured it for her, just to make her happy. She recalled a time when such a thing would have been an ordeal, a time when her former lover had refused to so much as let her leave the house. She wished more than anything that she could go back in time and tell that girl that this was waiting on the horizon, that such a love awaited her beyond all the turmoil.

He put a hand on her hair, lightly stroking it as he held up the sandwich once again for her. She took another bite, turning slightly.

“I can feed myself, you know,” she laughed.

“What kind of male would I be if I didn’t care for my lovely hardworking mate?”

She reached over, grabbing a sandwich and holding it up for him. They spent the rest of the picnic like that, feeding each other bits of food and staring into one another’s eyes. When they had finished their meal, Rhys put what remained back in the basket and pulled her closer, pushing her head down onto his lap as he continued to stroke her hair. They stayed like that for a while, him stroking her hair and occasionally leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. It had been going on for some time when he finally said, “I don’t know what I’ve done in this life to deserve this. To deserve you.”

She looked up at him. His eyes were tender.

“You do deserve this. You’ve done so much good in your life, Rhys. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

He smiled.

“You are my happiness,” he said, his voice shaky, pressing another kiss to her brow, “and I will spend the rest of this eternity showing you how much I treasure you, my love, my mate, my salvation.”

She looked into his eyes. She wanted to say something, but she was at a loss. No words in her vocabulary could accurately describe what she was feeling, the depth of her affection for the male in front of her. She hoped her face and the glow of her skin said enough. They seemed to, as a moment later he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“My Feyre,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “my light.”

“I love you,” she said. She had never meant anything more.

“I love you too,” he responded, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

He continued trailing light kisses down the column of her throat, smiling into her neck as he heard her breath hitch slightly. He readjusted, laying her down on the blanket. Her face was flushed as he stared down at her. He knelt down on top of her, pressing a long kiss onto her collarbone.

“Now prepare yourself, darling,” he said, “I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

She was not prepared.

Tag List:

@feysandandnyxsworld

@that-sociopathic-hufflepuff

@emikadreams

@highladysith

@cardansfae

@aelin-bitch-queen

tagging some ppl who wanted to be in my jealous rhysand fic just in case u wanna se thisss

@live-the-fangirl-life

@story-scribbler

#feysand #feysand fluff #feysand fic #the picnic #feyre #rhysand

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Demon Brothers Meeting the MC’s Family

I mean, if they have any family at all, what could they even tell them anyway? “Sorry Mom, still in Hell so I won’t make Thanksgiving but I’m doing great though!” This is another long one folks, but I lowkey kind of love it a whole lot. Sooo fun to write. One of my favorite posts so far.

Lucifer

Thinks it's a little weird that they’re so adamant to introduce their family to a literal demon but also kinda gets it. Family is the most important thing to him too.

Is very focused on making a good first impression, from image to attitude. Their approval isn’t going to do jack to stop him from being with the MC but he’d still take pride in being able to charm them for a night. Besides, if the MC cares then so does he.

Has more experience with the human world than the others so he’d know a lot of the do’s and don'ts already. They won’t need to worry about him making some kind of slip up.

Would love the irony if the MC’s family is religious at all. Christian/Jewish especially. May or may not play along with their little rituals but is going to make a lot of thinly veiled, passive-aggressive comments towards his "old man."

Would be most comfortable in a setting where there’s a lot of intellectual discussion or debate. He loves to steer a conversation down towards politics or other controversial things to get a rise out of people. The MC may need to reign him in if that’s a big no-go zone.

Isn’t really going to get along with any younger siblings the MC might have. Either he’s too stiff or too scary. If they’re looking for a playmate, look somewhere else.

Also not going to be particularly fond of any pets they have one way or another. Though he may take a shine to pitbulls or rottweilers because they remind him of Cerberus.

Mammon

You sure about this, MC? Him? Really? Are you really sure? He’s going to think they're crazy but he’s not going to refuse.

Will be so freaking excited if they’re from a well-to-do or, dare say, rich family. So much stuff to steal admire. Yeah, yeah no stealing from the MC’s family, he gets it... He’ll really try his best but it might be good to keep an eye on him.

Surprisingly though, he’s not going to be disgusted if they’re from a poor family either because the dude gets it. Money is hard to come by and things can be tough. He might even… pay... for some stuff while he’s there... You know, if he can. Don’t make a big deal out of it… He's got an image to keep.

He’ll try his best to not come off like a total scumbag and it may actually work. He’s rough around the edges but there’s plenty of chances for his better side to shine through as long as he stays on good behavior.

They will have to be sure that he doesn’t get to talking too much because his dumbass will let it slip that he’s a demon.

Mammon may not love kids but kids love him and any younger siblings are going to do the same. Even if he calls them little gremlins, he’ll let himself get roped into whatever game they’re playing and make it a lot of fun in the process.

Bring on the pets! He’s more of a dog person but he’ll play with a cat too. He may not be as animal-obsessed as Satan but he loves a good furry companion every once in a while.

Leviathan

NOOOOO and you can’t make him!!! A social event involving strangers where he has to make a good impression?? Fuck no, that sounds like actual hell and he doesn’t want anything to do with it!

… But he also can’t just let the MC go back to the human world alone because what if they meet someone better than him and get reminded that they’re with a good-for-nothing otaku…? Okay he's going. But he’s going to pout about it.

His first impression is going to make him come off like a nervous wreck no matter what. There’s really no polishing this bundle of anxiety. The best he can hope for is to ride this thing out until it's done.

Will be pretty quiet and cling to the MC like a life-raft the entire night. Refuses to be left alone with their family in any capacity, he could not handle the awkward silence. If they’re going to the bathroom, then he’s going too damnit.

If they have a pretty nerdy family then he might be a bit more comfortable. Especially if any of their siblings/parents game or are into anime. Steering conversation more towards his comfort zones will help him out a lot...

If they have little siblings who play a lot of video games then he is going to be the coolest person in the world. Period. He knows all the best strategies to practically any game out there, demonic or human. He may even loosen up a little bit and start smiling if he gets to wow an audience with his gaming prowess!

Like Lucifer he’s not going to be all that impressed with pets either way. He’ll think fish are pretty neat and probably even reptiles too but don’t expect him to get too cuddly with a dog or anything.

Satan

Doesn’t hate the idea but agrees that his name is going to have to change if they’re really serious about it. “Hey everybody this is my boyfriend, Satan!” is only going to be appealing to very niche circles...

Like Lucifer, he's going to be mindful of how he comes across. He'd rather the MC's family likes him than didn't, even if it's irrelevant, so expect him to be very polite and sociable. Damn near the perfect gentleman.

… Until something/someone sets off his temper. He may not go full Wrath on the situation but it's probably best to get him out of the room real quick so he can cool down.

Would love if the MC comes from an super educated family but it’s not a must. He's the kind of guy who will ask a lot of questions about any person's profession/skills and how things work regardless of background. He's curious that way.

Either way, he is going to show off his smarts and make sure that their family knows where his intellect is at. He wants them to know that the MC picked someone with a good head on their shoulders, after all.

Best keep him away from small children and bratty teens. He isn't exactly opposed to kids, but it takes one little shit to set him off and NO ONE looks good yelling at someone else's kid. Deserved or not.

Will there be cats? Do you have a cat? Please say you have a cat! He's okay with dogs too but if the MC has a cat this man will be ecstatic. The cat will love him and he will love it right back. Honestly, he's already adopted it. It's his now. Who's MC?

Asmodeus

Baby, you can take him anywhere and he’ll be the life of the party! A little family gathering doesn’t matter to him.

Is going to make sure that the moment he walks through the door the MC's family is in awe of what a catch they've got for themselves. He wants them to be proud of their little MC! To him, that translates to looking good and being fun!

Hope this is a house used to physical affection because he will not (and probably cannot) turn it off. Everyone gets hugs. Everyone.

Extra affectionate the whole night. He'll hold the MC's hand or arm or waist or really any part he can get away with. Kisses on the head and cheek aplenty. He may also lowkey butter up their parents with loads of compliments no matter what situation they're in.

If he's told to cool it on the touching though, he may get offended.

Is going to be better with teenage siblings than little, little ones. The man lives to give dating advice, fashion tips, or makeovers, you name it. Though he has to be careful to mention just human products and not some of the stuff he has back home.

Animal fur on his clothes? After he dressed himself so carefully?? No thanks. You can have your cute puppy or your little kitty. He'll take pictures, but he's probably not going pet much.

Beelzebub

Is honestly kind of honored by the suggestion. The MC is already a part of his family so it only seems natural to make him part of theirs. Though he has some reservations, mostly around his appetite...

He doesn't go up to the human world very much because it's really hard for him to stay fed. He's well-known enough in the Devildom that restaurants know what to expect when he walks in. Not so much up there.

Arrange the meeting around a state fair, festival, or carnival where the food is plentiful and he's golden. Hopefully their family won't be too disturbed by how bottomless his stomach is…

Beel is a sweetheart through and through but his lack of knowledge about how the human world, or humans in general, work might come back to bite him. He may need a little 101 about human manners before going.

Truthfully, their family is in for a real treat! This giant may look intimidating, but he's as gentle as they come. The kind of guy who will carry their grandmother’s bags with a smile on his face just for the sake of being helpful. 10/10 Sweetie, mother will approve.

Ooooh little kids are going to love Beel. He'll let their siblings hang off of him like a jungle gym. Will also play games with them if they want him to. Doesn't matter to him, their family is his family too and he wants to see them all happy.

Man wants dogs. Preferably big ones that he can rough-house with but little dogs he can cuddle work too. Do remind him that he can't just rip a whole-ass branch off a tree to play fetch like you could with Cerberus.

Belphegor

Really? You want that? Lol, okay but no promises. This is pretty much the equivalent of sticking two unlabeled chemicals together in a beaker and leaning in to see what happens. Who knows, but now you're stuck in the middle of it.

He's not going to try especially hard to make a good impression or change himself in any way. If their family is into people who are kind of chill and sarcastic then he'll get along swimmingly. If they were expecting more of a Satan type, yeah. No. He's not holding open any doors.

Won't be taking the whole thing all that seriously to be honest, like, what are a bunch of humans going to do if they don’t like him? Tell MC? They're certainly not going to be able to make him leave. He's humoring them at best, even if he's nice, so why bother fussing about it?

Might be a disrespectful little troll at times like pretending to fall asleep or making casual jokes like "Oh no, ma'am. I'm not all that comfortable with that cross over there because I'm a demon. …. Got ya, didn’t I? That'd be silly." *shit-eating grin*

Would appreciate a quiet, slightly introverted family the most. He's going to start getting annoyed if people in the house are too loud and may speed the whole thing along as a result.

Kids are things he'd rather avoid than have to interact with, but if pressed he will humor the little ones too. Don't expect him to do a whole lot of moving, though. If they're happy to just show him things that he can semi-pay attention to, that works for him.

MC has a pet? Is it fluffy? Is it lazy? Bring'em here. Like Beel, he likes big dogs but would rather just bury his face in fluff than try to wrestle it. He may actually fall asleep with them if they lay still enough for it.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #shall we date #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #whoyoubringinghome?

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wintersouldier57 · 3 years ago

Text

The Picnic - Feysand

So @thebonecarver and I wrote this to celebrate hitting 100 followers a few days ago!! Thank you to everyone who has followed us! 😊

“BYE CASSIAN” Feyre shouted, making a beeline to the door. She could still hear Cassian's laughter,

You look simply delectable in that dress, Feyre darling.

“You should have given me some warning, you prick.”

He chuckled, “Now what would be the fun in that Feyre Darling?”

She tried her best to look unaffected by the nickname, and replied “The fun would be that I wouldn't have to scream and not fall on my face for all of Velaris to see.”

He put on a face of mock hurt. “You really think I would drop you darling? I would never!”

She glared. “Based on what you did last time, I won't trust you for another 1000 years, 900 if your lucky.”

He laughed harder, burrowing his face in my neck, to try and silence it. Once he calmed he breathed in my neck, savouring her smell.

A picnic.

Rhys had planned a picnic.

She didn’t realize it was possible to love him more than she already did.

“Happy, my love?”

After what felt like a millenia, he slowly pulled away from her, once again meeting her eyes.

“I’ve missed that,” he said.

“I’ve missed you,” Feyre replied, tears brimming in her eyes. But she was smiling, a broad, indestructible smile that made Rhys look at her in wonder

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Rhys motioned to the blanket.

“Let’s get more comfortable.”

He put a hand on her hair, lightly stroking it as he held up the sandwich once again for her. She took another bite, turning slightly.

“I can feed myself, you know,” she laughed.

“What kind of male would I be if I didn’t care for my lovely hardworking mate?”

She looked up at him. His eyes were tender.

“You do deserve this. You’ve done so much good in your life, Rhys. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

He smiled.

“My Feyre,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “my light.”

“I love you,” she said. She had never meant anything more.

“I love you too,” he responded, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

“Now prepare yourself, darling,” he said, “I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

She was not prepared.

#acotar #acotar fic #feysand #rhysand #feyre #feyre x rhysand #feysand fic #i love these two so much

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missmentelle · 4 years ago

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COVID-19, Inequality, and You

This pandemic has been a bad time in a lot of ways, but one of the most devastating impacts we’re going to see besides the death toll is the economic impact - the economic impact on real, working people, not on stock index numbers. Unemployment rates are skyrocketing, and people are being thrown into financial chaos as a result.

But for all the talk we’ve heard during this pandemic of “we’re all in this together”, and “we’re all in the same boat”, it’s important to remember that, financially, we’re really, really not. Job losses, evictions and health crises are not equally distributed; if anything, this pandemic has been a stark reminder of inequality as the wealth gap grows wider and wider.

My own life has been a weird cross-section of the ways that the pandemic has economically affected different people in very different ways - my mother has completely lost her job at a seasonal tourist restaurant that will likely go out of business, my brother’s hours at his campus security job have been cut as the school moves online, my boyfriend is seeing his savings rise as he goes out less but makes exactly the same salary at his financial tech job, and I’ve fielded multiple job offers through this pandemic as government grants for social services boom in my region in anticipation of a coming homelessness crisis.

The news has been reporting on unemployment numbers and shuttered businesses, but there hasn’t been a lot of in-depth coverage about the ways that this is really going to affect people’s lives. There will be a lot of unexpected consequences to this pandemic if governments don’t step in to provide relief, including:

‘Eviction freezes’ are throwing tenants into debt without protecting their housing. Many places have put moratoriums on evictions during the pandemic, which is great. You don’t want a sudden surge in mass homelessness during a pandemic. But “no evictions” does not mean “no rent” - people who are currently being protected from eviction are still being charged rent, and their arrears are growing every month. As soon as eviction protections expire - which is set to happen very soon in many places - landlords can move forward with evicting tenants, going after their back rent, sending their debt to collection agencies and destroying their credit scores.

A lot of people are about to lose most of their possessions. If you get evicted, your parents or friend might have room for you to move in with them for a while. They probably do not have room for your couch, dresser, bed, table, desk, bookshelves, TV and an entire apartment full of stuff. Putting your things in storage is an option, but you need to be able to pack and transport all of your things to the storage unit and pay for the unit every month. You could try selling the stuff you can’t take with you, but it may be difficult with so many other people also struggling financially, and you may have to leave on short notice. A lot of people who get evicted will end up abandoning a lot of their stuff, which they’ll have to re-purchase all over again to get back on their feet.

People with low wages are disproportionately likely to lose their jobs. If you work as a software engineer, you’re probably still employed. If you work as a hotel maid, there’s a good chance you’ve lost your job or had your hours cut to nearly nothing. The jobs that are most impacted by shutdowns are jobs in the service and hospitality industry, and they tend to be low-wage, hourly jobs that cannot be done from home - bartenders, servers, hotel clerks, and dishwashers are way more likely to have lost their jobs than lawyers, accountants, engineers and college professors. In many ways, the people who are getting kicked the hardest right now are the ones who could least afford it.

Not every university will survive this pandemic. With a lot of universities and colleges scrambling to figure out whether to have in-person fall semesters, the future of a lot of post-secondary institutions looks bleak. Many students are choosing to take a year off or defer their admission rather than deal with online courses that have been haphazardly thrown together. On top of that, it’s not clear if international students will be able to attend university abroad this year, or if they even want to take the risk. This adds up to a whole lot of lost tuition money, leaving some universities with no way to keep operating - at least one American university has already permanently closed its doors because of the pandemic. The big players - Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Columbia - will probably pull through, but smaller colleges are at serious risk of going under, leaving their students in limbo and at risk of not finishing their disrupted degrees.

A lot of people are about to go from “poor” to “disabled”. The people most likely to contract coronavirus are the workers who have to interact with the public every day - not only nurses and doctors, but grocery store workers, delivery people, ride-sharing and taxi drivers, transit workers and janitorial staff. Those who survive are at risk of life-long complications of coronavirus, including permanently reduced lung capacity - that’s not great when you need to work a physically demanding job. A lot of people are about to find themselves in a situation where they are no longer able to do their jobs due to a virus that they contracted because of their jobs.

Many women’s careers may never recover from this. Daycares and schools are closed, and women are bearing the brunt of it. In a world where women still tend to earn less than male partners, it’s women’s careers that have taken a backseat when things get rough. Even when both partners are working from home, women are the ones overwhelmingly taking on most of the domestic and child-rearing chores, which hurts their work performance and leaves them more vulnerable to layoffs. And that’s a relatively privileged position to be in - without childcare services available, many working moms and single moms have had to quit their jobs, whether they could afford it or not, because they have no other options for their children. This kind of career disruption is something that these women may never totally recover from, especially as they try to re-enter an increasingly hostile job market.

Black and brown people are the most affected by rising unemployment. People of colour - especially immigrants and women of colour - are facing higher rates of unemployment than other groups. Hispanic and Latina women are in particularly dire circumstances, which is alarming, as they are also the most likely to be dealing with an uncertain immigration status. People of colour - particularly women - are disproportionately likely to work in industries that have been impacted by the pandemic, like the hospitality, food service, retail, child care, beauty and personal care industries, and they face systemic racism that makes it difficult for them to advocate for safe working conditions or access adequate medical care.

College and tourist towns are at risk of complete economic meltdown. A lot of towns or small cities depend on their local university or annual tourism to survive. A huge crowd of strangers flocks to their town for a few months per year and gives local businesses the money they need to pay for necessities year-round. My hometown is one of these places - most businesses are only open from May - September, and they make enough money during that time for everyone to scrape by for the rest of the year. Those tourists aren’t coming this year, which is something that locals have only learned as they begin to run out of last year’s money. You don’t need to work for a university or a hotel to be impacted by school and tourism shutdowns - the ripple effects will be felt by entire communities.

Escaping domestic violence will be difficult even after lockdown ends. It’s not exactly a secret that domestic violence has skyrocketed since the global pandemic began, a fact that many experts attribute to the fact that everyone is trapped indoors together and under a lot of stress. But even as lockdown regulations start to lift in areas that handled the pandemic responsibly, victims of domestic violence will face higher-than-usual barriers to escape - many victims may have lost their jobs and burned through their savings, and may have difficulty finding a new job that can finance their escape. Victims with health issues may also be wary about going to shelters for fear they will be further exposed to the virus.

Poor children will fall even further behind their upper-middle-class peers. I come from a part of rural eastern Canada where reliable internet access is simply not available. So for young children in the region, school effectively ended in March - they do not have the resources needed to connect to online learning. And children from rural areas aren’t the only ones missing out - more than half of all students in the United States aren’t accessing their online classes regularly, and marginalized kids are especially likely to be absent. Poor kids are staring down the barrel of an enormous education gap; they are less likely to have a stable internet connection and a device for their online learning, they are less likely to have books at home, and their parents are more likely to be essential workers who still have to go to work right now and don’t have time to teach them. Middle-class and wealthy families can afford laptops, educational software, tutors, books and time at home to educate their children - when schools are eventually back in session, the gaps between children from different socioeconomic backgrounds will probably be the widest they’ve ever been.

Don’t get me wrong - I am not arguing that we should end lockdowns prematurely to ease the economic impact. Public health measures exist for good reason, and I don’t think any of us want to even imagine, much less live through, the personal, physical and economic devastation of letting a pandemic rage out of control and melt down our healthcare systems. Despite what many people seem to believe, managing a global pandemic is not about “health vs. economy” - letting the virus rage out of control and kill millions would devastate every economic and social system we have. The preservation of human life has to come first.

What we need instead is comprehensive action to recognize and address the issues that come with long-term quarantines and economic shutdown - we need rent relief, social safety nets and basic assured income programs to get our most vulnerable friends and neighbors through this pandemic. The world will probably never return to the “normal” that we knew before the pandemic struck, and it shouldn’t - it’s time for a new, better normal that doesn’t leave our most marginalized people behind.

#missmentelle #askmissmentelle #coronavirus #COVID-19 #pandemic #social justice #social work

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gasp-iwrotesomething · 4 years ago

Note

Can you please do R8 for cal please

Sure thing, anon! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

R8: “How about a good ol’ game of rock paper scissors to settle things between you and I?”

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“Come on, don’t you know basic decency? A man always pays the bill.”

“I do know basic decency, excuse you. I just don’t follow it. You’re perfectly able to pay it, so pay it.”

“I don’t see why when you’re the one who suggested going here. I think you’re the one here who’s perfectly fit to pay. Stop arguing and just pay already.”

“No, I don’t like your attitude. Be more convincing and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“Cal...”

MC groans. The two of them had been going back and forth since they had cleaned their plates, right when the waiter brought their bill. Neither of them wanted to pay, even if the amount was barely twenty dollars. We’re both stubborn like that. Cal sits back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest, expression stagnant except for the small smirk on his lips. “Will it kill you to be the gentleman for once, MC?” That smirk transcends his usual capacity of cockiness, the naturally carved lines in his face stitched with the ego of a thousand kings. MC hated how smug he was. It was as if he knew that he’d win no matter what she said. But I’m not about to let that happen. “Will it kill you to be a gentleman for once, Cal? That’s the only real question here.” Around them, the standard bustle of customers clanking their silverware against glass plates and smooth, jazzy music playing over the speakers continues, simultaneously locking them in a bubble of banter. MC lost touch of the reality beyond that frolicking sea in Cal’s eyes--they seemed so alive with mischief and amusement under the soothing atmospheric lights. Why’d I ever let this circus performer take me out to a fancy restaurant for a date? I should’ve known it’d be a mistake. “There’s no such thing as a ‘real question’,” Cal argues as he prods the few scraps of food he has left on his plate with his fork, “only dumb questions. I don’t think I’ve been the one giving them out so far.” MC frowns and loads her fork with some parsley from her plate, slinging them at the gunslinger. To absolutely no one’s surprise, he catches them in his mouth and grins with his victory as he chews. “Yeah, well, neither have I, so I guess we’re tied on that.” That grin sours as the taste and papery texture settle over his taste buds. Ah, his reflexes aren’t sharp enough to recognize that he’s catching and eating garnish. MC snorts behind her hand and snickers as Cal discreetly spits out the parsley into a napkin. His glare is as sharp as the laughing pains she feels pierce her gut. “Ha ha ha, what a comedian you are, MC…” He deadpans.

MC gulps in air and dabs at her eyes with her napkin, still cackling like a villain. She didn’t think Cal’s glower could get any deeper; he looked like steam would shoot out of his ears. Finally, after another minute or so of attempts to calm down and Cal most likely plotting on how to get his revenge, MC quiets down though she can’t quite peel the grin off her face as easily.

“You know, if you didn’t want to be laughed at like that, you should just let it hit you in the face. Besides, my aim is trash. It would’ve bounced off your shoulder or something like that.”

Still, Cal remains sulky. He folded the napkin with his saliva-and-parsley concoction and rolled his pearly blue eyes. Apparently even the reassurance of a poor aim could do no good to wash the taste of a prank out of Cal’s mouth. He must notice a prickle of secretive laughter in her expression because he scowls. “It’s not my fault you suck at aiming, so don’t even think of blaming that on me. If you can’t make a shot with a weightless leaf, then it’s no one’s fault but your own.” Cal transitions into his scolding mode, the mode that said he was annoyed about something incorrect and was to fix it. MC doesn’t even have enough oxygen coursing through her to laugh at that. “Whose fault is it if my target eats the projectile then? I don’t think your lessons touched on that yet.” She could imagine the eye roll Cal does before he even does it.

“Like I said, a real comedian you are.” His flat tone returns and it’s hard not to see a counter in his gaze, like a secondary emotion in the shadow of his anger. Could he be… amused? The way his eyes shined and his mouth twisted made MC think so at least. But that feeling is washed away by his deflated sigh, a hand raking through his hair. The windswept curls catch on his fingers; a detail MC wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been staring so intently into his face. But she doesn’t even flush; after spending so much time watching Cal go through every tick he had, it was hard to get flustered when she was too intent on admiring the languid movement. “You know what? I’m super tired and I bet you are too,” though fatigue weighs heavy in his eyes, a sliver of liveliness worms its way in as his mouth curls, “how about a good ol’ game of rock paper scissors to settle things between you and me?”

MC crooks a brow. He says this lazily, though his face sharpens with the smirk that pieces together on his lips. His eyes become alive, almost as if revived, and brighten with the promise of a challenge. She could sense his cocky attitude before he even says anything else, evident in his easy posture and eyes that peer at MC through lashes. Mirroring his growing smirk, MC offers her fist braced on her palm--the initiation position of rock paper scissors. Cal follows. “Don’t try anything funny.” MC warns, her brown eyes intense as they narrow. As expected, the slingshooter follows her example. “You think I’m some kind of cheater or something, MC?” He feigns offense and places a hand to his chest, right over his heart, as if her stern warning hurt him there somewhere. She doesn’t falter in the slightest. If a game of rock paper scissors gets me out of a bill, then I’m not taking any chances. “If the shoe fits,” she says, flat and devoid of the playfulness Cal probably wanted to hear from her. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, maybe, but I think that it’d look better on you by far,” his eyes flick to her shirt and in that brief flash of interest, MC’s chest seizes up like there was a clot in her heart and her blood flow was interrupted, “after all, ‘cheater’ seems to be your color.” Her eyes fell to the plate, smeared with the remnants of her meal, and she was suddenly so interested in how one piece of it resembled the state of Texas. Her face felt red and she hoped that her blood wasn’t bursting to her face because of his admiring remark and was just the result of the clot in her heart. Why does that seem like a better fate than to let Cal see his effect on me?

Inhale. Exhale. Cool your mind, she silently directs. And dear body, don’t do stuff like those...kinds of things. You’re selling me to the slaughter, you know. MC pastes a grin on her face like nothing happened and gingerly brushes the tip of her shoe against his calf, just enough for the pressure to be felt through his pant’s material. She watches his face combust and his throat bob slightly; it was so darkly satisfying to watch him fall from that cloud of smug Cal-ness every once and awhile. The tips of his ears even burn scarlet--something MC didn’t see too much. “So you’re saying the shoe must fit me then, is that right? Wow, that’s impressive how you found out my shoe size from just playing footsie with me under the table, Cal.” She remarks, resembling his tone, as she withdraws from his leg. Just to be that much more of a tease, MC knocks his foot playfully as she retreats to its standard position under the table. Cal opens his mouth but just flaps his jaw a few times, the words ashes stuck to his tongue, before huffing and shutting it. “...I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, MC.” At this point, the clatter of patrons digging in eagerly to their pricey meals is barely loud, the crowd having been deducted by the few groups leaving for the night. Looking around, only a few tables were occupied besides MC and Cal’s, which meant that they were among the last throng of people who stay at restaurants minutes before they close. Which overall meant that they were running out of time to decide who pays the bill. Meeting Cal’s eyes tells the same quiet urgency that she feels squeezing in her rib cage--it was now or never. That’s dramatic but… fitting. Competition seems to always be dramatic with him. Their eyes meet and narrow. Their hands pose to strike. Their hearts beat just a little faster. Both anticipation and determination reflects and bounces back and forth in their shared gaze; an intense stare-down.

Then they chant, muted, as to not draw attention to themselves.

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

MC’s brain jumps to scissors and she separates her two fingers and tucks the rest into her palm--but anxiety makes her thumb jab outwards awkwardly.

Cal chooses paper last minute and flattens his fingers out to align with his palm and wrist.

A moment passes, a tense, wobbly, silent moment, then MC whoops with her victory and Cal’s scowl is back with a vengeance. “Scissors beats paper and I-” she reaches across the table to catch Cal’s flat hand between her two fingers, opening and closing to mimic the blades of a pair of scissors “-win!” She gloats, alight with the glee and relief of winning, while Cal rolls his eyes so hard and so dramatically that his eyelids flutter. Her snipping fingers manage to bisect his middle and ring finger, creating a divide in his mimicked paper. “That was scissors? Since when do scissors have an extra blade sticking out from the handle?” He snipes as he swats away her hand. Cal was bitter that he lost, obviously, and scavenging for a reason to redo and win--she could see it clear as day. He says he’s not one but that fits the behavior of a sore loser, I think. The trick shooter was casual and nonchalant about the way he pointed her jittery mistake out, though MC could see the disappointment leak from his tense shoulders as they relaxed. MC nudges the bill towards him inch by inch, to which he mirrors as he pushes it back towards her, stubborn. “Since I said so, which is now, so pay, would you?”

“Hmm… how ‘bout no. You flubbed the scissors. What if that’s the sign of a cheater, hm?” Cal argues. He flicks the bill towards and it sails across the tabletop, to which MC frowns heavily at as she stops it. “I’m not a cheater just because your reaction was delayed, Cal,” she sweeps the bill towards him only for Cal to bat it back to her mid-slide, “I went off muscle memory, alright?” Still, that skeptical frown remains and for a second, they just slap the bill back and forth until it flounces to the floor. They must’ve appeared to be two children trapped in two adult bodies battling each other over something silly and childish. A few pairs of eyes flick towards them with bemused frowns while others pretend to not spot the flouncing couple just a table or two away from them. But they were so engulfed in their fleeting rivalry to spare any of their audience any mind. MC squints at Cal. Cal squints back. She swipes the bill up and stiffly offers it to him, her smile strained and her lips thin. “You lost. So. Pay.” Cal’s eyes don’t disconnect from hers as he slowly pushes the bill towards her again. “You cheated. So. Pay.” A silence stretches thin between them, just glaring at each other in an unexciting and monotone tug of war, before MC groans. Now you’re just pulling excuses out of your ass, Cal. “Fine, fine! We’ll play again and whoever wins this pays, no matter what,” she compromises as her abdomen feels like there’s dozens of hot coals simmering there. Had she ever been truly this angry around him? Who am I kidding? Of course I have!

Cal’s scowl loosens a few ticks but no clear figments of relief color his face. He plants his fist into his palm and nods towards MC, “ready?” She sighs just to snuff the angry pit of fire in her bones--though she suspected that there would be a re-ignition no matter the outcome of their rematch. I swear if Cal wins this time… I might just flip this table right now. MC bobs her head in a silent agreement. Just like before, the atmosphere thickens and the rest of the restaurant is washed away outside their bubble, the conversations and clatter of silverware distant. Only the world alcoved within Cal’s illustrious and winding gaze fills her mind. Their eyes narrow in unison as they begin their chant for the second time.

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

Cal leaves his fist clenched tight, his fingers furled into his palm. Rock.

MC levels her fingers straight out. Paper.

And just like that, MC had won again. This time, she doesn’t make a scene with her victory snug on her belt; instead, she throws him a sleazy smirk and casts a knowing glance at the bill just waiting to be snuggled with some of Cal’s money. “Well, would you look at that, Cal? Looks like I don’t even have to cheat to win against you after all.” She saw the pout outline his lips and the way his eyes swung to the bill with distaste as she coyly slid it to him. She could see how the taste of failure felt wrapped around his tongue just from his taut posture. Arms crossed, shoulders slumped, jaw clenched, face scrunched… Those are the sure signs of a secretly sore loser, I bet. His eyes only briefly brush her gaze while he huffs, exasperated, and snatches up the bill. “Yeah, yeah, you got lucky,” Cal grumbles. MC pats his hand gratefully with a teasing grin. “Thank you.” She was partially serious and partially pulling his leg just to see the oceans in his eyes swirl with indignation. I really do appreciate him paying for it though. I hope he understands that too.

His attention flickers from fishing his wallet out of his pocket to feigning a cordial smile at MC, tone clipped and falsely cheerful. “Don’t mention it.”

...well, in time, of course.

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

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#cal north

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kaepop-trash · 5 years ago

Text

AS: Pilgrimage

Rated: M for Smut, Angst.

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader xYuta

Summary: The story of secrets, deceit and greed. Three characters with unlikely alliances and one common goal; power. Jaehyun is stuck between his own thirst for power and his need for the one thing that could take away everything. Yuta has ambition growing from an unlikely alliance and convinces himself to do anything to protect it. Between both of them is her, ambitious but with one weakness, she does all it takes for Jaehyun, even if it’s putting herself aside. But how long can she hold up her own fragile games?

(A/N): This is a long overdue chapter. I hope it can make up for the time.

January, 2021

She sat in the airport on an unlikely second day of January, looking around at the mostly empty place. Everyone was home, and she was on her way to the capital to see a dirty fight play out. The few people she saw around inside the airport she was in, were obvious employees of the government and staffers; all getting back from the holidays at the eve of a new session. Her thoughts were stuck on two things that were yet to happen: the inauguration of the new session and her own testimony in front of an oversight committee.

She took in a nervous and shaky breath, it was an unnerving thought to her— the interrogation, the cameras, the very spectacle of it. She couldn’t quite put a finger on what was causing her nerves, but she was aware that this ordeal was much more than a routine investigation on behalf of the Senate. She knew that her intention was to rattle a few lawmakers when she filed a writ last fall, but she didn’t expect the jolt she provided to result in an invitation to testify for senate, (Y/N) frowned at the thought. She would have lived her entire life just fine without being on C-span. It didn’t help that she was admittedly more on the non-confrontational end of the spectrum, a hearing was about as confrontational one could get and she was displeased at the idea of being publicly humiliated one way or another by at least one Republican Senator, especially because the invitation came from the Republican Senators of a Senate that was majority wise tilted to their cause.

She rummaged through her bag, picking out a bottle of water to ease her abruptly constricting throat. The very idea of the Senate suddenly jumping on this didn’t seem right to her. For the last cycle, the Republicans were mostly restrictive forces, they were not one for action; slowly recuperating from the loss of faith in their party. But this was swift and aggressive action and her instincts told her to treat it like an attack. She felt like a small, venomous animal in the wild— a creature running only on intuition and reserving its strength.

Abortion was steadily growing as an irrational debate that snatched away an individuals rights and she felt responsible enough to see the voice against it through. She sat back in the creaky pine chair of the airport lounge, drinking her cup of tepid coffee— a shallow attempt to rid herself of dread. Through the long sip she took, she decided to put off thinking about anything other than winning this. What was right, what was moral or the contrary, was irrelevant to Congress. The government functioned on checks and balances, and while it was beyond her to balance power, she was on a mission to ensure she could orchestrate public awareness that would keep them in check. The house could provide the balance, and it was her only option. But the house cared about votes and she knew she needed enough to start a conversation. She just didn't have any control over the floor. That was him.

Him who she refused to give more than a bitter momentary thought. Jaehyun was a means at the moment, and she swallowed the bitter pill of that reminder and finished her acrid coffee and checked her watch. She left for the gate earlier— just in case; picking out her phone from her bag to make a call.

The last ten minutes since the Representative of North Carolina entered the restaurant Jaehyun had invited her to, were spent in silence and as far as Jaehyun was concerned, those were ten minutes wasted. He had spent the last three months advocating for an abortion bill and it had ended up coming to the point where he wondered why he had to fight so hard and convince so desperately for something that should be fundamental. When Jaehyun was elected as a public servant, he wasn’t unaware of the uphill battle that he faced: these days it was a challenge to get congress to do something. He wasn’t unprepared or unmotivated, this was the reality of his job. He was, at the moment though, irritated by how adverse his colleagues were to change. Change that was by all accounts inevitable as far as he was concerned, after all he had a promise to keep.

When Jaehyun first turned his attention away from the Representative of North Carolina, it was because he noticed the Representative of Utah and a handbag he found familiar. He turned back to the person in front of him and sat up in renewed attention when he realised that a number of his colleagues could be here, a number of whose handbags he has encountered on a daily basis. The place was a common brunch spot, especially for backhand agreements like the one he was trying to execute.

He shook off his distractions and spoke up, “Carol its to our mutual benefit if you support this bill. You're a woman, you'll be seen as sympathetic, the political climate is shifting now: bipartisanship doesn’t have the same nobility anymore, the people see it for what it is, after what happened the last cycle, leaning across the aisle is what we need now.” He looked at her eyes, squinting at her avoidant gaze. Something was wrong, “North Carolina already allows abortion till 20 weeks, we're simply bringing up to 23 for special cases and mandatory planned parenthoods in every state. Special cases is defined clearly in my bill as rape, physical captivity or external entities misleading the conceiver in some kind.” He stopped at the words when she looked up at him with sudden unwelcoming eyes; he mentally sighed at what was to come.

“That last bit could be misleading. What if some knocked up drop out decides they want an abortion last minute because the father packed up?” She spoke with uncaring eyes and Jaehyun tightened his jaw. He wanted to speak, but thought against it, he allowed himself a moment to look past her prejudice, looking away from her. He tried to gauge her, understand where she was coming from in an attempt to turn this around.

The second time he had to turn his attention away from Carol was when he saw her.

(Y/N), sitting at a restaurant table with the Representative of a state as irrelevant as Utah in this debate.

“I rather plan on pushing for stricter abortion laws. It's what my party wants, you know? I hope you understand.” Carol sounded polite in a way that was demanding.

“I hope you'll give me a moment. I just noticed a friend across the room.” Jaehyun stood up as he watched his perplexed lunch companion sit up, eyes impatient.

“I should be on my way–” She wiped her lip. Jaehyun smiled at her gently.

“It’s an old friend,” His voice held an edge. “Just a minute and I'll be back.” He smiled wider and she nodded unwillingly, sitting back as he walked towards a table.

“(Y/N) how lovely to see you here.” He gave her a tight glance that made her noticeably stiffen and Jaehyun turned towards her lunch companion with his greeting smile, “With Bill as well, how have you been?” The balding Representative rose from his chair eagerly and shook his hand.

“I was just inquiring about you from Miss—” He turned to her with an apologetic glance, admitting in the moment to forgetting her name. She scoffed from disbelief.

“I'm just going to steal your lunch date for a moment, if you don't mind.” He asked with a gentle coax.

“Mr McGail was just leaving.” She said pointedly and the man turned once before nodding. Jaehyun gladly took the newly vacant seat.

“Did any part of your unscheduled trip include informing me of your liaisons with my colleagues?” He asked pointedly. She turned to him for a response, with contempt in her eyes— contempt that didn't flow into her words.

“I'm here for a hearing. I don’t see why I’d have to inform you of my schedule Mr. Jung. I’m here to aid the government in public service in my limited capacity.” She spoke with no sense of agitation and he sat back.

“You can't do anything in this city without influence. You don't have any. Go back to your hotel and let me handle this without interfering.” He ordered and her nostrils flared— it was the most visible her anger could be in public and she was outraged.

“I didn't realise I was interfering. I imagined we're on the same side on this matter at the very least if not on the opposite. Or are you maybe switching sides with the conservative Catholic over there?” Her voice was all accusation. He was enraged by the sheer audacity of it, he bit down and decided he didn't want to be hurt by her anymore.

“Go home. You're a child screaming at the capitol for change. Politics isn't about belief, it's about action. All someone like you can do is decide what you want to fight for. It's harder to make someone else believe the same thing. Because everyone wants to decide, otherwise coercion makes one of us the enemy.” He turned away, his eyes not wavering the entire time and he got out of the seat.

“Till the end. I never understood you.” She sighed. He swallowed the sting of the finality and pushed his chair in.

“Utah already has laws more lenient than even Pennsylvania. He just thought he could find a way to get a favour from me if he met you for lunch. You can't act like a child like this because people here know you as a means to me.” His voice was cold, factual. She got up, unable to bear the insult, leaving without another word.

Jaehyun returned to his table with a more resolute mind. When the Representative of North Carolina noticed him she began shuffling to get up.

“I really do have to go.” She said with rushed words.

“Sit Carol. I'll make it short.” His voice was curt, no longer polite. He slid into his seat and she looked up at him unsure of his intentions.

“I have always believed that we as lawmakers should do what we believe in. And that means we pick the side we believe.” He said, smiling at the relief that seemed to spark at the seam of her delipidating eyes.

“Yes that's exactly what I mean—” She began, exasperated.

“But you see Carol. When we take less honourable means, like take money from a large corporation to fund local riots on election day? I imagine even the monsters in your party will find this a tough skeleton to handle.” He stared through her as she sat up, more and more agitated.

“Your grandfather never told me he funded those rallies. You can't just extort me!” She whispered desperately. This time Jaehyun allowed his smile to spread wide.

“The money came from your campaign if the paper trail is correct, you were also in full knowledge of the nature of the riots and you even suggested the polling stations that would vote against you. My grandfather has no say in the money he donates. This isn't extortion Carol, it's an opportunity. I'm giving you the opportunity to do the right thing.” He pointed a finger at her as she huffed in indignation, making him smile wider, “Or go to jail for election fraud. It's quite simple. I don't care how you were elected as long as you make good use of the seat. Lawmakers who play dirty have to pick the side the one who caught them believes in—that's our 9-5. Have a good session.” He greeted before making his way, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth.

After an entire day going through her written testimony for senate staffers, (Y/N) felt more exhausted than she ever had in her career. She understood now why the best lawyers never went to court, maybe she was a terrible one herself.

She crawled her way to a nearby bar, deciding the noise of living beings was better than the silence of her hotel room. The bar that was empty when she arrived slowly filled in with Capitol Hill employees as the day drew to an end. (Y/N) had to move to the bar at a server’s request— the unfortunate consequence of being alone. Slowly the murmurs turned to a chaotic amalgamation of voices: so loud that one didn’t even hear it— like incessant rain. She sighed and sank into the bar stool, regretting not picking the solitude of her hotel room over this. A drink slid across the marble bar counter gently and stopped when it touched her arm. She looked up at the disruption of her thoughts, vaguely familiar eyes were looking at her.

“I told you, you would be back.” He gave her the smallest smile. Her eyes lit up with recognition and he smiled wider, turning to face her this time, “I was afraid you wouldn’t recognise me. I’m Kim Doyoung, I didn’t have the opportunity to introduce myself last time.” He extended his arm to her.

When (Y/N) sat for a meeting with one of the representatives of Utah, she did so knowing his party allegiances. It was a hunch she had, the Conservative party was reeling from an embarrassment that was almost impossible to recover from. Yet, recovery was what they had to pursue. The future of democracy and the taste it left in people's mouth rested on the ability of the party to reform and show that the myth of government was stronger than a mistake president. It was obvious that more than anything, they needed a change of opinion. There was the re-emerge of bipartisanism in matters of the economy— truly, that was where the difference originally lay. The area of human interest though, was at the moment a grey area and her sitting down with a Republican representative was an attempt at gauging their willingness; the man himself was spinal fluid encased in skin— not an ounce of intelligence to his name and all the baseless ambition of an idiot, but the hive mentality of the party was more than skin-deep. She was waiting for the word to spread and had no doubt that her current audience was on a mission to gauge things himself, her only question was: why Kim Doyoung?

“We’ve met here before.” She said thoughtfully. Kim Doyoung, she knew that name, at this point who didn’t. Kim Doyoung, the infamous Republican Senator of New Hampshire. She realised now why this man looked vaguely familiar last time, given his relevance had risen since then. Kim Doyoung’s elder brother served as one of the most potent influences in government one hardly met— a lobbyist for the Episcopal church, the highest church in the country. It was no secret that the Republican party was reeling from a loss of faith and it was people like Kim Doyoung who were putting all their muscles into mechanising a comeback for the history books: the presidency was a natural assumption to make— at this point she could see it in their eyes.

Why would the irreproachable boy of unwavering faith even be risking this exchange?

She could tell that he was waiting for her to introduce herself, she also knew she wouldn’t need to. Instead, she waited for him to continue. He seemed to catch on after a moment and smiled to himself, his expression more clipped after the passing realisation. She smiled herself, now the playing field was level.

“It’s an admirable effort you are making.” His voice was less friendly this time.

“Excuse me?” She asked. Even for a politician, this man was condescending.

“All causes have a shelf life, more so now than ever before. It’s easy to grab people’s attention these days, not as easy to hold it. There are two things this country cares about right now, and you are on a mission for one of them.” She heard the soft clink of a heavy glass settling on the marble top and the agitation of the ice inside it, whiskey she noted. She thought over what to say, she could see the familiar glint in his eyes: when men in this city wanted something they always tried to make it seem like a favour.

“I don’t see why everyone I meet in this city thinks I’m here to start a revolution. I am a lawyer, I’m here to fight my client’s case, that’s my job.” She stared at the glass in front of her; as the condensation went from being a few beads on the transparent surface of the tumbler to a growing pool on the inky stone below it. A low chuckle radiating from Kim Doyoung’s throat.

“You are here to testify in the Senate, are you not?” He questioned dimly, she nodded at him with affirmation. He smiled to himself and nodded, “After Jung Jaehyun speaks, your testimony will have a significant raise in weight.” His voice sounded impressed, but his eyes held a subversive bitterness she couldn’t place.

“I fail to understand your implications.” She responded curtly, earning a chuckle.

“Forgive me, but we have all heard the same rumour. A bill is going to be introduced on the House floor tomorrow.” He kept his same relaxed smile, “First day, first bill.” He shrugged.

“Forgive me, but I think you are in a position to know better than me that I am no Representative. What is being introduced in the House is beyond my level of clearance.” She scoffed, sitting back on her chair. He smiled again, nodding like he pretended to understand before he picked up his own drink. He took a few sips, stretching the moment taut till it was a contention to see who let’s go first.

“Do you know why I know you would come back?” He asked. She bit her lip, he let go of the tension only slightly, urging her to the edge of caution. Then he spoke again, “You have that idealism in your eyes we all come here with." He gave her a smile like he was in on a secret before relaxing a little more into his seat and turning his amiable smile into a more premeditated wrinkle of his forehead, "A bill needs to pass in both the House and Senate, you’re already on an uphill battle with the House, you won’t make Senate.” His face relaxed but this time she could hear the edge in his voice.

“What do you want? Your threat isn’t going to do much with me. You can't scare me with the wrath of God either, so I suggest you get to the point.” She turned to gesture for the bartender, asking for a glass of water.

“We can sit with this bill, introduce it after some mediation. It will be passed without agitation and you will have your victory. Tell Jung Jaehyun to not force this bill onto the house, we will fight it with all we have if he does.” He finished his drink at that, pushing the glass away as her water arrived. She smiled to herself, now that he had voiced his intention she could finally relax— the next part was easy. She slid back the drink he had passed her way earlier, untouched. She realised distantly that the smirk on her face right now would be much like the one she'd seen on Jaehyun a few times, she wondered if this was in fact the rush he felt every time he had someone trapped between a wall of his words and it's intended meaning, like she was doing right now.

“I have no say over what happens in the house Mr. Kim, as you are making me reiterate. But as a spectator of your parties recent history, I can tell why you would want to pass a bill that can at least be pumped by biased media outlets as a bill in support of a new America. I can also make the assumption that once this cools down, you will be able to tailor the bill to your convenience and no one will care— who reads an entire bill anyway. You also will have the advantage of the issue becoming irrelevant, all issues have a shelf life right?” She paused, like she expected an answer to her hypothetical, “I am not a politician but I would assume that in that situation you would have my cake and eat it too and that is just impolite. Maybe you should negotiate the bill when it’s in the Senate and public outrage is still alive, then you will have a fight to give your all to.” She got up from her seat, picking up her purse, "*God as your witness." She mocked with a small scoff. He followed her movements with his eyes, getting up with her.

“When I entered the bar I didn’t expect a run-through of hypotheticals.” He straightened up, towering over her as he straightened his jacket and looked down at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips that flared annoyance in her for the first time since the exchange began. Something about politicians, with their need to clutch onto their arrogance like it was an extension of their dignity, never sat right with her.

“And when I entered this bar I didn’t expect to be insulted and underestimated. Nor did I expect to be threatened by filibuster tactics. Especially when I've never served a day in public office. I was expecting something more exciting. Is this how you Washington people approach everyone you recognise at a bar?” She all but rolled her eyes at him.

“Only the pretty ones with potential to make my job harder.” There was a sudden playfulness in his voice. Her day had been too long and she wasn’t attuned to flattery from any man anytime soon, nonetheless a politician. Yet her stomach dropped at the words, mostly at the lack of context it had to the conversation thus far. Her calculations so far put his intentions in one box, now she felt the onset of a headache. She gave him a blank, amused look and he let out a small laugh, still unfazed by her lack of enthusiasm for the conversation he so indelicately derailed.

“ Have a good day Mr. Kim, I hope we don’t cross paths again in the future, but I guess that is seemingly unlikely.” She asked for the cheque with a gesture, the way his lips lifted to a pleased smile made her roll her eyes.

“It’s a small town.” He chuckled and she didn’t turned away from him, facing the bartender to give him her credit card.

“We’re on opposite turfs Mr. Kim, and I don’t parley with Conservatives.” She tapped on the counter as she waited for the bartender to return, the Senator seemed to be in no rush to leave himself.

“I thought you weren’t a politician.” To this reply, she turned to him, assessing the glint in his eyes. She gave him one last radiant smile as the bartender approached, a smile she knew he’d remember.

“It’s the 21st Century Senator, everybody has a strong political identity. What a time to change the world is it not? Maybe I'll actually win. But you already know that right? Why else would you be here. Good bye.” She spoke as she cleared her tab and walked away without a glance. When she made her way out and finally looked back, he was seated again, watching her with thin feline eyes. When he noticed her gaze, he gave her one last smile before she walked away, her returned drink in his hand.

She stood at the corner of the street for a while now. The cold was slowly seeping into her bones and her teeth clattered against each other rampantly. She stood and thought carefully, letting the cold clear her head. His threat could be idle but she also didn’t know if it was her call to take that risk. She chewed on her bottom lip till it felt sore and then continued to chew on it anyway as she started pacing under the streetlamp, partially to assuage the cold and partially to aid her thinking. The Senate did have a smaller margin, but it was still very much a Republican majority. He had religion on his side, she realised with a surge of annoyance. Party loyalty would get the bill introduced, but once the church called, she smiled humorlessly at the prospect, she wondered how many would uphold political promises over loss of finances and the right to evoke the name of God in the next campaign cycle..

He also had the fillibuster. Just because he avoided the word so tactfully, didn’t mean that the intended presence of it was not noticed by her. She chewed on her bottom lip till the frozen blue skin broke and her mouth tasted of copper. He licked the inside of her lip to soothe the bleeding while she thought harder. The cold made it impossible to focus but her mind was rushing. Rushing with a mix of anger, frustration, exhaustion and above all indignation.

It shouldn’t have to be this hard. The government was supposed to protect people like Lily, but instead it sat on the threat of the seats of power, extorting and threatening in the name of not getting things done. It was something to brag when the other side curbed whatever the opposition sought to act on. One thing Kim Doyoung struck on was right, everybody in this city had idealism in their eyes— they wanted to change the world, with their names on a big banner: family name, party, beliefs— a labour of labels with which to fill a history book one day in a chapter high school kids skip.

There was a sick need for immortality in humanity that seemed to trickle down into this town, with people falling over each other, and more often than not their constituents, in search for their own glory, and taking away from others as if it added to theirs. She despised the genre that made up career politicians and she hated this town. Deep down she knew how she was acquainted with the type enough to abhor them so.

She hated this town.

“I hate this country.” She murmured to herself as she pulled out her phone. Her fingers were numb as she stared at the blank screen of her phone, there were two possible names to call on in this situation. She bit her lip again, wincing as the cold made the wound worse. Deciding on leaving it up to faith, she messaged both before stepping on the curb to hail a taxi. A reply from either would be surprising, yet the more unexpected one came through. She sighed, waving a cab to stop and gave the driver the address he sent.

She entered the lobby of the Watergate hotel, making her way to her second bar of the night— she noted. She walked over and sat down opposite a familiar face, deciding to ignore the triumph in his eyes.

“(Y/N).” The word felt wrong coming from him, like a foreign word he couldn’t pronounce and had no humility to learn how. “I would say you were the last person I’d expect to meet in the new year, but then that would mean I considered it at all.” He raised his glass to his lips leisurely— whiskey, she realised. He relished his sip before placing the glass down, “How uncourteous of me.” The cerner of her lips lifted dryly at those words, “Would you like a drink?” He asked and she shook her head.

“A glass of water would be nice.” Her voice held not an inkling of emotion, she made sure of it.

“(Y/N).” He said her name the same way again, instead of frowning she sat up.

“Jungkook?” She tilted her head and he smiled a little wider, sitting back. His flushed cheeks gave him away the moment she entered, but his laboured movements confirmed his intoxication. She wondered what she’d have to give to be respected in this town.

“If this is what I think its about, and it is, you’re asking for a lot.” The smile dropped from his lips as he gave her a pointed look, he really never had the ability to masquerade a poker face.

“I haven’t asked for anything yet.” She said simply, Jungkook smiled into his glass.

“Of course, that would be inappropriate.” He paused, when he looked up there was a trace of wistfulness, she pitied him at that moment. “But you are here. And you have an agenda.” He scoffed into his glass. She bit down her indignation in the face of his dismissal and took a long breath.

“The Senate.” To the uninitiated, that would sound odd. Jungkook raised his brow at her, giving her a laugh. “They need to vote for the abortion bill, I don’t need them all, just enough to avoid the three-fifth black hole of the Senate. Too many of them could be on the fence, they need a nudge.” She offered to him what she thought was a reasonable method of execution.

“And that’s where I come in? With my family's money?” He asked sourly.

“With your family’s influence.” She corrected him, “The conservatives will evoke their god, so it’s only fair that you evoke yours. You know you just need to ask, the fundraisers come later. Don’t make it sound like a bigger favour than it is.” To this Jungkook laughed, it was loud and laced with bitterness.

“And what do you expect me to do? Call more than half of the senate and ask them to vote against a bill that is clearly against party policy? For what? The promise of a large donation if any of them runs for president?” His brows furrowed more intensely as he was met with silence on her end, on her part she was taken aback by his stupidity, “What?” He snapped at her incredulous expression.

“Why would you even think I’d ask you to do something crass like that?” She asked with vocal confusion, Jungkook sat back with an uncomfortable readjustment of his posture, “There is one person you can call, who will do the work, and who would realistically have a shot at the presidency.” She explained to him slowly.

“Who?” She sighed at his lack of basic context.

“The Senate Whip,” you moron, she stopped short of adding, “The majority Whip, in case you’re confused.” She chimed in instead, giving him the time as his mind worked in front of her, soon enough he sat back with a grave face.

“How did I not realise how intelligent you are before? You were always so affable.” It didn’t sound like a compliment, as much it did an accusation.

“You were busy sleeping with my best friend,” She ignored the way he clutched his glass, hard enough to almost break it. “Now, will you do it or not?” She knew what the answer was, she just had learned from experience that it was better to let a man believe he had a choice in the matter.

This was her move, one she was saving all this time. Years ago, (Y/N) gave Jungkook’s grandfather some important guidance. One that saved his company from ruin. The company had just started talks to take over a steel company, that was when Jaehyun came to her— with a simple offer to get her a meeting with his grandfather. She offered to do it without the credit, in fact she would have done it just to ruin Sungjae, but in those days she still let her emotions override her decisions. She listened to Jaehyun though, and met with his grandfather. She told him that she’d been in Europe long enough to know names that mattered, Sungjae’s family had sold a part of their steel fortune to a Eastern European oligarch and the other they were planning on endowing onto him. The political climate of the time was enough for the deal to break, and some further investigation led Sungjae’s uncle to serve some time. She knew she would have gained gratitude otherwise, but meeting their grandfather earned her his respect.

“You don’t even pretend with the niceties, where did your infamous manners go?” He sat up, stalling the moment: he also knew she would leave the moment she got what she came for.

“You mistake my decorum for manners. We are not friends. I consider my decorum appropriate for our interaction. You just need to maintain yours and give me a straight answer.” She spoke plainly.

“This hotel has quite a rich history you know?” He spoke, consequently ignoring her.

“I was assuming you’d called me here for some underlying purpose, I didn’t think it was to make petty small talk.” She scoffed gently.

“She still won’t leave New Zealand, you know?” He sighed with a little emotion. She raised her brow, confused at his uncalled for confession, “We’ve been married for four years and between work, I only see her in summer when I visit her and Christmas when we go to our lodge in Aspen.” He looked up at her, a whisper of an urge in his eyes.

“I’m sure the distance at least keeps your heart fond. Or maybe you have the freedom to enjoy your free time indulging in infidelity— it is your favourite hobby.” She looked down her nose at his hunched form. He looked up at her with a frown, offended.

“You told everyone. What you did to her was vile.” His voice sounded tired.

“So was sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend.” Her own face scrunched up, hating him in the moment to bring up such hateful memories, “And one’s own father.” She held back her grimace, Jungkook didn’t look up.

“It was my fault. You could have punished me. You ruined her life because you were hurt.” He seemed to be letting out a grudge long held. Since he kept his volume, she didn’t interrupt, smiling only after it.

“You were always so foolish. I always attributed it to that silly habit of yours, of seeing the best in things, or maybe it was a habit to underestimate. Hurting you would gain me nothing. You insulted me Jeon Jungkook. When you so tactlessly exposed your affair, people had more to say about me than they would have to say about you. They expect it from you, me they judged for staying with you, while others judged for not being enough for you, why would I not serve justice the way I deem fit? I’m not a despot, but you reap what you sow.” She paused and ironed out her frowned face, tapping her nails on the arm of her chair, “The way I see it her life is fine, she got away from that repulsive father of hers and married into one of the richest families in the western hemisphere. Her father will die soon, and that leaves his only daughter his entire gold fortune, that means you. If you want me to apologise for your rushed marriage without emotional connection, save it. I’m not your therapist. You humiliated me in front of my peers and in turn I gave you your Wedding of the Century magazine cover. If you still want to continue inquiring about who was wronged here we can have a line by line retelling of the past. Or would you rather just give me your answer so I can finally be exempt from this day?” She didn’t know she still held a bit of bitterness on her part, but she felt to have won this round of accusations.

“You made sure to have an audience to display my shame, yet nobody was around when you ended up at Jaehyun’s room that night. Do you really think I’m that foolish? He walks into my room with my peers and ends up with you grieving at his door. What a truly Jaehyun thing to do that was: burn down everything in his path because he wants something he can’t have.” Jungkook looked at her with a glare of accusation. Her throat was dry and she couldn’t risk swallowing in the fear he sensed her bewilderment. The fact that Jaehyun exposed the affair was news, but she wasn’t going to express that to JeonJungkook, “One glance constantly over his shoulder like he needed to keep an eye on you, when you were with me. What a patronising bastard, acting like it was his place.” He fumed visibly this time. She was still a little shaken, a lot of new information sprinkled haphazardly in front of her like a puzzle she needed to piece together. She decided to speak on one part.

“You flatter yourself, I was never yours. Don’t misunderstand my vengeance; I never loved you, nor was I hurt and grieving for you. I exacted justice so you’d finally understand just how you underestimated me. You thought I was some polished trophy you could beat your meat into because the victory of winning over your golden cousin got you off. I gave you the leverage to use me like a shag doll because you were meant to worship me for it. I was the best thing that ever happened to you, even when I left you I gave you a gift of a bigger name.You’re so inadequate, you blame him. Jaehyun never crossed a line, not then and definitely not now. You’re the one who wants to shift your blame, you’ve always been a little boy. You have no place talking about where I went after I found you in bed with my friend because somebody sent me a message to come see what my boyfriend was upto. You are, still after all these years, wasting my time.” She watched as he leaned closer on his seat, thinking.

“You already know you’ll get what you want. You let my grandfather know before me, I’ve been compelled to say yes to anything within our means, quite the impact you seem to leave. So stop insulting me (Y/N), it’s been many years and I don’t underestimate anyone anymore. I made a mistake but you are as deliberate as a sword with your justice. Get out, I don’t want to have to think about you before I go home.” She laughed out loudly at his admission.

When her taxi finally pulled up to the driveway of her hotel, she was so exhausted that she thought that the walk to her room would knock her out cold. It had started snowing and she watched the doorman open an umbrella as her taxi drove in.

“You should go inside.” She spoke up to the man as he rushed up to the open taxi door with the umbrella in his hand. The man gave her a small smile and stood in his place, “Right, it’s your job.” She gave him a smile as she remembered what the doorman had told her previously and got out of the car. She stopped at the reception desk to pick up her key from the man at the desk.

“There’s someone waiting for you at the bar Ma’am.” He informed her as he handed her the key.

“Who is it?” She asked, jarred. She lifted her wrist and checked her watch, it was midnight. When she looked back at the man she seemed reluctant to answer.

“He didn’t give his name Ma’am. But,” His voice trailed off before he looked away, “It’s congressman Jung.” His voice lowered a little.

She stared at the man for a small moment, like the words he said hadn’t translated into information yet. Truly, she was so tired it wouldn’t be uncharacteristic. She blinked twice a little heavily— she had sent him a text, she didn’t have the authority to be displeased.

“Thank you.” She mumbled to the receptionist before turning to the bar, the embrace of a warm bed becoming a distant possibility.

The bar was scarcely full, soft jazz playing with repetitive insistence, when she walked in— eyes wandering around before landing on the figure they seeked.

Jung Jaehyun was the kind of beautiful that was hardly unassuming. Infact, ever since puberty had made its place, it was obvious that Jung Jaehyun was a very attractive person, the kind that made people turn and look: it was something to be appreciated.

She knew for a long time though, that he wasn't meant to be touched. He was always dipped in infamy that way— not a tangible entity but a name bred through word of mouth: a creature of reputation. Men like Jaehyun didn’t really exist because their reputations preceded them so greatly, he was to everyone what they needed him to be and he hid his feet in shoes bigger than his size. It was easy to admire an enigma, but she had also learned how hard it was to love the man under it. It was because she admired the enigma so greatly, with the strength of a small star in her own right. Maybe it was her fault for not accepting his fate while being acquainted to it— you couldn’t separate the man Jaehyun was from the reputation he breeds of himself; and he could never really fully transform into the creature while also being a man she could love— sometime in the last few years, she became acquainted with that tragedy.

She approached where Jaehyun sat, head buried in his phone, his lower lip protruding like it always did at that angle. The enamel of his flag pin shining under the ceiling lights and casting a blinding reflection in her eye.

"Why are you here?" She spoke up when her toes landed on his heel. He looked up, confused at the interrogation.

"You texted me." He said evidently. She clenched her jaw; it shouldn't be so obvious, that he should show up and wait— she didn’t even want to ask how long he was waiting. She watched him a little dumbly, she had sent him a message, yes. But she did not expect him to show up at her lobby, she frowned over how he acted like her expectation of that very thing, was somehow warranted.

"I had then, but you didn't respond, so." She took a step back and sat at the seat opposite his.

"So you met my cousin? I heard. It's positively touching how concerned you are that I keep my job. If only the House cared about American employment as much as you, (Y/N)." His words were harsh, sour and bitter with an entitled betrayal he did not conceal.

"If you drove all the way here to tell me about that, I'll save you time. This isn't about you, not everything is. The bill isn't about you. Even if you convince the House, what happens after that is not in your control. You should have saved yourself the trouble, and used the energy you were going to waste on preaching to me, for the floor tomorrow." She vexed. Instead of replying to her snide remarks, he noted her unease.

“What is it? Why are you agitated?” He asked with concern, she wanted to groan. The real downfall of someone knowing you well was when they thought they knew you too much.

“I’ve been here a day and every person I meet has either patronised me or threatened me. I’m not agitated, I’m angry. Nothing happening is about you, any one of you.” He wanted to ask who she meant, but she continued “It isn’t about me either. This isn't about glory, it's about security. Everyone here treats this like a game. Your job is not a game Jung Jaehyun, why don't you take this seriously? Why don't you understand why I'm taking this so desperately seriously?" She sat back, looking away and taking a large inhale to control herself.

A waiter walked by a moment later, asking for an order. Jaehyun turned to his glass, gesturing for a repeat; after which he turned to her. She considered it for a moment, before she gave in. They both ordered a whiskey each.

"Why did you meet him?" He asked about Jungkook without indulging her other words.

"Do you know who Kim Doyoung is?" She asked him, something in his expression shifted and she realised that he had to have known him well.

"What did he want from you?" He asked, sitting up and pushing to the edge of the chair, till his knee touched hers.

"Time." She looked at him, up close Jaehyun's beauty burned in the same way it enamoured— she had to look away, "And the bill. Before you introduce it, I assume." Jaehyun looked at her, there was a state of confusion which wanted to feel betrayed in his eyes, she sighed at his lack of faith, "I didn't give him either. The bill isn't mine to give." She sat back, her knee pushing away from grazing his. Jaehyun's eyes fluttered down at the movement, a second's distraction from the world, starting to shift around him with slow laboured turns.

"And what was his leverage?" He asked like he already knew but was hoping for a different answer. If Kim Doyoung had dirt or bribe, Jaehyun would handle it with finesse, like he handles his other cut throat colleagues on a daily basis. But Kim Doyoung did not play outside court. He was a dirty fighter and one of the more efficient of the Conservative pool, but he never resorted to extortion.

"He's a Senator, Jaehyun." She looked at him knowingly and he sighed, rubbing the palm of his hand on his face vigorously, till it was red and he was more agitated. He hated the ‘F’ word of the Senate with passion.

"Fuck." He snapped into his hand.

"He won't kill the bill." She said with dead certainty. He pushed his hand into his hair, pushing the mop back and around till he let go and his hair fell on his forehead with a soft drop, free from the confines of its previous pushed back style. Like that he looked younger, but it just made him look his real age, she realised. He suddenly didn't seem like a congressman anymore, no more an enigma. At the moment, he was just her Jaehyun.

"That's why you went to him?" Jaehyun asked after a moment, not looking at her.

"Yes." She didn't hesitate.

"Kim Doyoung doesn't work like that. You can't bribe him, he believes in himself." Jaehyun explained to her.

"He doesn't need to. He can be the most honourable man in the Capitol. He still needs fifty nine other people for his threat to have any basis. The faith I have in this city guarantees at least a handful of those will cave into higher authorities." She seethed with an unseen fire under her exterior.

"No." Jaehyun spoke through gritted teeth, she turned to him a little surprised, he looked at her with a lost sense of frustration and continued, "He can have his beliefs, he still works clean. Why should I be any different? This bill isn't about me, I never said otherwise. But where it goes is a matter that I will be associated with and I will not be associated with bribery. I told you to stay out of this." He didn't look at her, like an adult disappointed in a child, his gaze avoided hers. “When Republicans shy away from the abortion debate, anyone would guess some form of suppression is involved. Do you think this is a movie? Where means justify the ends?” He questioned her, clearly too angry for his voice to dare with volume, “Means are what are used to discredit rivals in this city.”

"He came to me!" She countered, the table closest to them turned to her and she sat back, sinking into the cushion of her chair. When she looked at him, he was thinking hard and she somehow felt inclined to regret telling him.

"Your hearing." He looked into his glass, "From the rumours I hear, there will be only two Democrats in the entire panel. They're going to attack you.” His eyes wandered across the room as a realisation seemed to interrupt his thoughts, he then groaned into his hands before pushing it into his hair— it made him look exhausted, “That’s why you were speaking to McGail, he’s a weak link.” He avoided her gaze and she stared at his embarrassment with an apathy she found pleasantly surprising.

"Don't be apologetic, it's not a good look on you." She remarked and the right corner of his lips twitched up.

"I'm not. You still interfered with my ability to do my job." She turned to him, but he continued, "But I understand why you did it." He sat back sighing softly.

"Okay." Was all she could say, sitting up with a deep breath.

"You know they'll ask you about me right? How the timing of the whole thing looks like. The implications of the access." He warned after a moment’s silence, “It’s also an election year.” He groaned into his palm for what felt like the hundredth time in the span of the conversation. She didn’t want to admit that it was unsettling to see Jaehyun that helpless in the face of what was his strength.

“If they ask me I’ll turn it around.” She said earning a confused look from Jaehyun. He looked up and stopped before speaking, sitting back as the waiter arrived with a tray; he placed their ordered drinks and walked away, she continued, "I'll say that when you heard about the case, you asked me to pursue it. You were so moved by the story that you had to do something." She threw down the pine stirrer she was fiddling it like it was a gesture of finality.

"You would lie under oath to the Senate?" He questioned unalarmed, carefully waiting for her answer.

"It's not a lie. You care about this, and it is you I'm fighting for." She sat up, he bit the inside of his cheek visibly.

"How is this for me?" If he was perplexed or indicated, his voice didn't express it, only his eyes.

"I don't join fights I'll lose, Jaehyun." She pushed up on her seat, the distance reducing and her voice dropping with every word, "I'm fighting this one because you're at the other end, and I know you'll meet me halfway." She paused, a stutter in her breath, "Legislative and Judiciary. It's as solid as it can be." He watched her eyes, the familiar glint of an ideal in them. "Without one, the other is nothing." She finished. He waited for a moment as he decided his next words, she waited for him to speak.

"Work for me." He spoke as he looked at her eyes, there was a pause where her breath went in sharply. He had never asked her to work for him before this, it was never a question because they were dating; and when they weren’t anymore they didn’t speak. She knew that working for him would be the final nail in the coffin in their relationship. She knew she would have to keep getting him elected while he went on to Marry his all-American trophy wife.

"This could all be easier, you want to fight? We'll win them together, I'll give you fights worth losing too." He paused, looking at her for signs of relinquishment. "Just come work for the government of the greatest democracy in the world." He spoke with his politician voice.

She sat back with a soft groan, finally picking up her drink to moisten her throat. "That's up for debate in the twenty-first century." She scoffed, shaking her head like she was shaking off the idea.

"It still is. We still are. It's what we fight for in public service, we protect the idea of this nation." He reprimanded.

"And what about the nation meanwhile?" She raised a brow.

"That's what staffers do. Whether you like it or not. Politicians care about the numbers because we work for the people, that means we can only do two things. We either do what the people want," he paused and she tapped her nail on her chair impatiently at his dramatics, rolling her eyes and emptying her drink. "Or we get them to care about what we want enough." He sighed like the thought was exhausting, she had to agree.

"And Staffers?" She filled the silence out of impulse, her voice hoarse from the whiskey slipping down so urgently.

"But staffers work for us. Their job is to find how to make people care, government staff are the most important people in this country." He almost flattered.

"Yet nobody is electing them in the world’s greatest democracy?" Her voice was a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

"They elect us to do that part." He smiled, a short laugh escaping from his chest.

"Remind me next time to file a writ to change the name to the United Republic of America. Has the right ring to it." She chuckled humorlessly. (Y/N) got out of her chair a moment later, her drink weighing her movements down and making her regret her decision to order it, "I have to go now. I'll have to meet someone from the Senate staff tomorrow.

"You didn't answer me." He questioned and she sighed a little louder, "Listen to me. You could have a future here." He proposed

"No." She halted him, "I don't. The people here are condescending and suspicious by nature. They're bad and shrewd and just plain mean. I don't like it." As she walked away from him in an attempt to end the conversation, he followed.

His voice, laced with vivid confusion, followed as he matched her fast strides, "It's not about whether you like it or not." He stepped back with a halt, realising she came to a stop by the elevator. "I'm telling you that you have a talent. Now that talent could either give you a nice comfortable job getting rich off the worst people." He sighed, looking at her a little earnestly when she turned to him, like he hoped. "Or you could use it to do something about the world we live in, to have it mean something. Come on, I know you see it, what I see." He touched her cheek so tenderly, she froze. "Living could mean something if we leave a mark. We can." He urged.

"I can't work for you Jaehyun." Her voice came out a small whisper as she stepped back, "it's not about any of this. I just can't work for you."

"I won't cross a line if you decide to. We'll keep a professional distance." He surrendered. She turned to him with confusion and contempt.

"I'm not you. I can't just turn it off, I love you too much." She paused as the words slipped out of her mouth, closing her eyes as she accepted the moment, coming to terms with her uncalled for confession, her eyes remained closed, "I love you too much and I can't just come work for you like that doesn't exist." She stepped back from him.

"Don't say that like it would be easy for me. I'm just trying to get what I can (Y/N) god damn it." He stepped back himself, groaning with frustration as he angrily ran his fingers through his hair, "Why do you make it so hard? You say it like I have to pick between loving you and giving you the job you deserve to have.” He groaned harder, pacing around a little like he was trying to walk off his emotions.

“Because that’s the reality Jaehyun. You’re in a relationship with a girl, now you want me to work as Capitol staff. I’ll be paid by taxpayers if I do, do you really think it would sit well if they found out about us? All of sudden people are going to wonder if you hired me for my talents in politics or in bed and whatever credibility I build by desperately working on this writ and talking to stubborn politicians, will disappear faster than you can say ‘conflict of interest’. This country has a vile history with political scandals Jaehyun, I do not want my head on a spike to set an example. It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything then, if even you wanted.” She stopped, letting go a deep breath like it was symbolic of the burden on her chest.

“You still don’t trust me.” Jaehyun shook his head, smiling sadly to himself.

“The last time I trusted you, you left me for your Father’s approval.” She stopped speaking, running her own hands through her hair. She regretted speaking immediately, it was unnecessary to bring up the past and she knew it— especially standing next to a Hotel elevator. But it were moments of outbursts like this that seemed to bring out the depth of affection from both sides, the polarity was currently giving her a headache.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair.” (Y/N) spoke after a silence, “I’m tired, I have had a dissapointing day, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have said that, it doesn’t matter.” She sighed again; her voice was small now, and it kept sinking in on itself. She finally turned to call the elevator.

“You didn’t answer me.” His voice reflected hers, she only stared at the elevator door in reply.

When the elevator opened he felt a sense of urgency that increased only when she got on. He ignored it and turned away. But as he walked away and heard the elevator door start to whir to close behind him, he found himself turning around and placing his hand on the door. She looked at his hand, then his face— shocked by the sudden outburst.

"For what it's worth." He paused, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment's hesitation before speaking on, "I have never given you a reason not to trust me." He stepped inside, letting the elevator door close behind him. They stood at a distance, watching each other. She waited for him to continue. He exhaled sharply, "You know that. Of course you do." He exasperated, "We don’t have the smoothest path or the sweetest story, but our problems are always situations, it was never each other." He took a step closer, she took a step back. But his resolute eyes had her attention, "You can say that you hate me, that my actions caused all if this and I’ll agree. But how can you think that?" He asked her.

"Think what?" Her voice came out recoiled and sharp, he let it graze past.

"That I would not do everything in my power to fix it." He demanded. “I need to know that you knew that all this time, all these years."

"You couldn't even admit that to the next person we encounter." She scoffed, looking up and blinking her blurred sight away as she kept her forgiving eyes in check. "So please don't do all this again. I have things to do that are more important.” She turned away from him, the sound of the elevator proceeding to be the only noise between them.

When her floor arrived she stepped out silently, turning back only at the sound of his footsteps.

"Don't get off. I mean it." Her voice was without edge but solid in its conviction. Jaehyun's steps faltered as he looked up confused, "Just go home. I have a meeting at 8 am." She sighed as he took a step on the elevator, halting it.

"The Senate," Jaehyun began like he was trying to explain.

"I don't have any political points to lose Jaehyun. All they can do is shake me up." She looked down at her shoes and smiled to herself, looking up at him, "I'm not scared; I believe in what I'm fighting for, they can't hurt me." She tried to hide a laugh, Jaehyun just watched in silent splendor. "They have politics points to lose, and I'll hit them like the cold January air." She let herself laugh. There was a pause where he just watched her a little.

"After the hearing every person, down to the interns, will know who you are. That is the day you start counting your political points. I want you to remember, when people at the hill start offering you things, remember everything you said just now." His face was numb the way it was when he was talking about politics. Her reply was confusion. "Choose the fight you believe in. Good night (Y/N)." He turned around and went into the beeping elevator. She watched as the door closed on her face. She walked away, towards her room, feeling heavy under the weight of the Capital.

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun smut #nct scenarios #nct imagines #yuta #doyoung #political!au #ambition series

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aching-tummies · 5 years ago

Text

Bloated Boba

I went out to meet up with a friend to hand-off/return books we pass back and forth. We live on opposite sides of the city and we don't drive, so we usually find time to meet up in the middle, somewhere in the city, to make the trade. They didn't have time to stick around and hang after the trade, so I was alone. I decided to make a day of it, seeing as I rode public transit to get there and it'd be a waste not to walk around town and see what there was to see. I tried out a restaurant I've always wanted to try. The meal came with a cup of cola, so I drank that. After that I walked around a bit more and I treated myself to some Milk Tea Boba. First time for me, as I usually get Fresh-Fruit mango with pearls. Mango isn't in-season and these things are really expensive, so I decided to go for something that wouldn't be affected by fruit. I got Red Bean Milk Tea with Pearls 'cuz I love cold milk tea and I love red-bean paste. It was delicious.

Maybe it was the combination of cola and dairy or dairy and boba or whatever. After the first 1/4 of the boba, I decided it was time to head home. I went to the washroom before I left and I noticed that my tummy was starting to feel bloated. Realizing that it was probably the dairy, I loosened my belt by two holes after doing my business, realizing it was the kind of bloated that would ramp up and probably cause my belly to physically inflate. Hoping that the cramps and noxious aftermath of having dairy would wait until I got home to hit me, I made my way to the nearest transit stop to head home. I'm not usually lactose intolerant. Dairy does things to my tummy in large quantities, but usually having a bit with my food or in milk-tea is fine for me. It usually passes through my system with minimal cramping and I'm fine within 2 hours. Partway through the transit-ride, I knew that something was 'off' this time. I'd only gotten through 1/2 of the boba at that point and my tummy was rock-solid under my clothes and pressing painfully into my jeans.

It felt like a constant, solid cramp or ache and I could feel something pushing against the top of my stomach, where the esophagus is. My tummy was bloated with something. Lunch was still in there, and I guess some combination made it so that my tummy couldn't handle everything in it and something had started to mix and ferment or whatnot, building up a bit of gas and inflating my tummy. Lunch wasn't even that big. As my previous posts record, I've got a pretty small capacity. It doesn't take much to fill me up and yet I was still hungry after lunch. I was still hungry after eating lunch at the restaurant I went to try and was planning on snacking when I got home. Not anymore. The insistent pressure at the base of my esophagus was my tummy telling me "No more." The thought of putting anything else in my stomach or even finishing the boba made me nauseous.

Despite the gases in my tummy, I'm not the type of person that belches easily. I can usually get a few ones small ones out after rubbing and pressing my tummy for a while, but nothing that brings much relief. I don't think I've ever managed to burp out all of the stuff inside my guts, just enough where I don't feel like my tummy's on the verge of rupturing. Maybe it'd be different if I had a partner to work on my tummy.

The ride home was over an hour long and I could feel my tummy inflating from within. Sitting down was painful. I put my messenger bag on my lap so that I could hide the fact that I was arching my spine backwards, trying to relieve some of the pressure on my inflated tummy. I didn't feel up to standing on transit with my guts the way they were. I was carrying a lot of books home with me and they were quite heavy. I didn't want to have to deal with a sore sholder from the bags on top of a sore tummy.

By the time I got home, I was 3/4 of the way done the boba. Sure, drinking more definitely upset my tummy, but I paid a lot of money for it! There were still some pearls left at the bottom of the cup when the milk tea was gone. At this point I couldn't even talk. The pressure at the based of my esophagus was constant and urgent. It felt like if I spoke or tried to belch I would throw up.

In for a penny, in for a pound. I decided to indulge myself more, seeing as I had nothing else planned for the day. I had some home-made cold coffee in the fridge so I poured that into the boba cup (to collect the pearls and other stuff at the bottom). I added some milk and sugar to the mix to make it easier to drink, took it upstairs, and at first thought I'd just nurse the stuff and throw most of it out. I set the drink aside and rubbed my bloated tummy for a few minutes. There was a lot of pressure at the top, just under my ribs. It felt like I'd swallowed a large rock and my tummy was taut under my hands. Pushing into it hurt a lot and I felt like I'd throw up if I pushed any more. Eventually, I got a couple of really small burps out. It didn't bring any relief to my stretched tummy, but it caused a shift and my tummy started to rumble and squelch as I kept massaging it. It felt like my guts had ground to a halt and everything was just sitting in my tummy, refusing to enter the intestines to be digested. All of the grumbles and squeals I heard came from my tummy and maybe from the duodenum as I manually massaged and squeezed my tummy, trying to push things through since my tummy clearly wasn't doing it. Encouraged by the noises, I decided not to waste the remaining boba/coffee mix I had and I chugged it, being sure to swallow the boba whole rather than chew them up. The stuff cost money, I was free for the rest of the day, and I don't make it a habit to intentionally indulge in my achy-tummy kink.

It's been over 24 hours since I left downtown. It still feels like I swallowed a rock, but it's moved down through my intestines now and everything is sore, like I actually am passing a fist-sized rock or something. The "rock" is down around my navel now and my tummy is no longer as inflated as it was. My guts are still sore and achy. I wonder if things would have been different if I had a partner to rub my tummy. Would all of this be over with by now if I had a partner rubbing my tummy? I could only rub it for a few minutes before I succumbed to sleep or my arms got tired. I haven't had my tummy so visibly distended in a very long time. I don't make it a habit to over-indulge.

As always, feel free to send anons. What would you have done if you had my bloated, aching tummy at your fingertips? Would you have pushed into it and made me throw up once I got home? Would you have made me consume more things?

#tummy kink #bloated tummy #stomach ache #belly rubs

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diaryofaclinicalscientist-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Couldn’t sleep, wrote a thing

22/03/2020

I’m writing a diary about what’s happening because I want to get it out of my head...Maybe getting the thoughts down on paper will help with that. Let’s start with who I am and what I do.

I’m 27 and I am a clinical scientist working in a private lab in a private hospital in Queensland. I’ve done a bachelor’s degree in biomedical science, and a master’s degree. I’ve been in the medical workforce since mid 2014.

This year, the world is dealing with a very contagious, very dangerous respiratory virus (COVID-19) that’s spreading globally at a frankly terrifying rate. Everywhere you look, from the news, to social media, to any sort of communication with friends or loved ones, people are talking about the virus. People are scared. In my hometown, people have been panic-buying and hoarding supplies and food over these last few weeks. It’s been pretty bad - there was a mass panic buying up toilet paper, of all things. Now, we’re having a difficult time finding hand soap, any kind of alcohol sanitizer, gloves, masks...My wife and I didn’t run out and buy stuff, and now I’m worried that maybe we should have.

At work, we’ve got half a box of surgical face masks and a handful of gowns. No eye protection to speak of, which is worrying as it can spread through contact with your eyes too. The last few weeks we’ve been talking about what our response was going to be to this thing - we’re a small private lab and our work is, for the most part, a non-essential medical service. Should we shut down completely? Do we see only urgent patients? How do we screen them? Up until now, we’ve been asking patients if they’ve been travelling overseas in the last month, or if they have any symptoms or have been in contact with anyone who’s in quarantine. Those questions aren’t enough anymore. The virus is in the local population, and it’s spreading. People are asymptomatic for around 14 days, but still contagious. I might even have it as I write this, and I wouldn’t even know.

I’m worried about losing my job. If we have to shut down for an extended time with things as they are now, they won’t be able to keep the place viable for long at all. We don’t make a huge amount of money, and I understand that my bosses would need to shut down. I’m not angry about that, I’m just scared. We have a mortgage, and I would like to come out the other side of this with my house. More importantly, I’d like to come out of this with my health, and my family’s health. My wife is at even more risk than I am, working in a public hospital department that can’t exactly close. They’re going to get quieter, but they��re an essential service. Eventually, the hospital is going to run out of PPE and they’re going to ask her to test patients without adequate protection. I don’t want her to say yes because she’s the only one still earning money. Her health isn’t worth that. She’s smart, and I think she knows that but I also know how much pressure would be on her if we lost my income and I don’t want her to sacrifice her well being for that.

We’re both being very cautious about hygiene and going so far as to even wipe down everything we buy from the shops with disinfectant before putting it away. Both of us see patients who are very much at risk through all this, and if we spread it to our work, people will die. I don’t want that to happen. We’ve made sure we have enough food to last us two weeks if one of us does get exposed. We don’t have a ridiculous surplus by any means, but we have enough to survive. We’ve also decided to wear masks whenever we leave the house for groceries and the like. Of course, like the majority of people here we don’t have any proper masks because the greedy few have exhausted supplies. We asked my mum to make us some out of cotton, which is only about 50% as effective as a proper surgical mask but it’s something. It won’t stop us from contracting the disease, but it will make sure we stop spreading it around. I feel completely powerless in this crisis, but I can at least make sure that the chain of infection stops with me.

I’m worried about the rest of my family, too: my parents are old enough to be in the “at risk” category. I’ve been trying to tell them what I learn from the doctors at work and different medical sources, but I feel like I’m being dismissed. I keep getting told “well, all we can do is be sensible and pray”. I don’t think they’re taking it as seriously as they should, and I’m scared for them. My sisters both have kids in school, and they’ve not yet taken them out of school. I’ve tried to tell them both that the schools are a fantastic way to invite this thing into their homes via their kids being asymptomatic carriers, but they tell me that the people in charge wouldn’t be making the decision to keep the schools open if it wasn’t the right thing to do.

That’s the biggest issue I have with this - how our government is handling it. Virtually every country a few steps ahead of ours has closed its schools and declared lock downs, but rather than see the writing on the wall and take the proactive steps to get ahead of the spread and save lives, they’ve elected to keep schools running and tell people to wash their hands and just keep their distance from each other. The health minister literally said tonight that young people had to be careful as they could be carriers of the virus, and that social distancing is paramount in our response to this. His very next sentence was that he was recommending schools to stay open. How can anyone take this seriously, when clearly it’s life as normal for kids? How is that fair to the teachers, who’re being treated as a free medical quarantine?

I understand that there’s economic considerations that go way over my head, but if it gets as bad here as it is in China and Italy then the economy won’t be standing anyway. Tonight, they announced the decision to close entertainment venues and force all restaurants and cafes to take-away only. They’ve made only reactive decisions in a time when proactive leadership will save lives.

My wife is worried about her grandmother. She lost her other grandmother just recently, and we made the very difficult decision not to fly interstate for the funeral as risk of infection was rising and it wasn’t smart for us to expose ourselves to anything we didn’t absolutely have to. Now, she faces the very harsh reality that she may never get to see her sole living grandparent again. She’s not the only one - I know that in Italy right now people, especially elderly people, are dying in hospitals alone with no family allowed in to see them. They will be cremated with the thousands of other victims, and will get no funeral. Their families will have no chance to say goodbye. It’s going to get that bad here, if something isn’t done.

Tomorrow morning, I find out if my work will continue. Part of me hopes that if anything, it’ll be a very reduced capacity and that our patients stay safe at home. Another part of me worries that it won’t continue. There are talks about an “all hands on deck” approach where they’ll put the call out to anyone with any medical background to help in any way they can. If I get laid off, I’d love nothing more than to hunker down at home safe and isolated and ride this out. What I’m scared of is being asked to help, to get back out there, to do more. I’m scared because I know I’ll say yes. If I have the ability to help, I have the responsibility to help.

#australia #covid-19 #coronavirus #diary #healthcare

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scarlett-st-james · 5 years ago

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Scarecrow || 7.6.19

WHO - Aerolyn Pierce ( @aerolynswitchpierce ) and Scarlett St James

WHERE - A Restaurant in Town

WHEN - July 6, 2019

TRIGGERS - Nada

NOTES - Scar tries to be mad about Aero freaking out on her, but ends up accepting her apology ;)

Aerolyn felt like a complete and total bitch after everything that had happened through texts the night before. She had been jealous and she had let that come through in the worst way. Scar didn't owe her anything and had done nothing wrong. And Aerolyn hoped that she could make things a bit smoother between them throughout the night; entirely too grateful that Scar was willing to still go into town with her that night. Wearing a blue dress that cut off just above her knees and a black leather jacket, her hair hanging down around her shoulders, Aerolyn made her way to the gate to wait for Scar. When she saw the redhead, she offered a sheepish smile. "Hi."

Scar still didn't understand what had happened the night before. And it had started off so promisingly, too. Self reflection wasn't really her thing, but she had spent more time than she would ever admit, reading through the texts, before letting Summer distract her. So when she received the apology text the next morning, she wasn't sure how to proceed, at first. A part of her wanted to be salty back, to take back her initial invitation. But a larger part of her really just wanted to spend time with the other girl. Which led her to the present, where she was dressed in a short leather skirt and an almost sheer sapphire blue halter top. Throwing on her trusty combat boots, and a light jacket, she grinned as when she saw Aero. “Hey, Bombshell.”

She relaxed a bit when she saw the grin on the other girl's face, biting down on her bottom lip. "You look gorgeous." Aerolyn offered, turning to head off of campus, her eyes focusing on the guard as he watched them leave. She knew that they were both allowed off of campus and so there was no reason for them to be stopped, but she still hated the way that they stared them down. She tilted her chin up and straightened her shoulders, trying not to show her anxiety and she grasped Scar's hand and led her off. She didn't know what to say in that moment, not sure how to push through some of the awkwardness holding on from the night before.

Giving an exaggerated wolf whistle, she came to a stop in front of the other girl. “Looking good, hot stuff.” Scar gave a twirl, a cheeky grin playing at her lips. “Does that mean you don't think I always look gorgeous?” She quipped, quirking one brow. “Because if so: rude.” There was something strangely intimate about walking away from the school, hand in hand, but she ignored her instinct to pull her forward. Of course, that didn't stop Scar from flipping off the guard as they went. This silence wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one on Wednesday, even she felt it, and it wasn't long before she couldn't stand it any longer. “So when am I going to get to see this mysterious tat? I saw Malia’s and honestly it looked lit af. You know, besides the puffiness and caked on blood and shit.” She said, far exaggerating what she had seen, as always.

She rolled her eyes playfully and shook her head. "No, Scar. That's not what it means. You're sexy as hell and super gorgeous. And I always think that." Aerolyn stated firmly, biting down on her bottom lip. She wasn't lying. Scar was beautiful and just the sight of her caused her heart to flutter; which was definitely a problem because it was hard for her to believe that Scar would ever in a million years have a crush on her too. The awkward silence was a huge struggle and she wanted to go back in time and stop herself from being bitchy to the submissive. When Scar spoke up, she looked over and smiled softly. "You can see it right now if you want." She stopped moving and twisted her leg to show off her ankle.

“Sexy as hell and super gorgeous? Damn, girl, you gonna give me a big head out here or something.” Scar couldn't help but preen at the compliments, a cheeky grin on her face. If there was one thing she never tired of, it was compliments- in any capacity- and god help her if anyone ever found out how deep that enjoyment of praise truly ran. Dropping to an impressive squat, considering how form fitting her skirt was, her fingers skimmed over the tattoo lightly, “Good choice. Aero. It looks mad cool.” Getting back to her feet as they started walking once more. “Ugh, now I just wanna get more ink. Was your guy good? Like obvi he does good work, but like, was he chill?” It felt a lot like small talk, but there was only so much even she could do. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn't feeling a little weary. It had caught her off guard, how hurt she felt when she'd received that first text, and she wasn't anywhere near ready to subject herself to that again.

Aerolyn winked playfully at the girl and shrugged her shoulders. "I think I can handle it if I'm the one giving you a big head." The blonde said, rolling her eyes at herself. She was terrible at hiding the possessiveness that she was feeling. Possessiveness that she had no right feeling. She licked her bottom lip as Scar squatted, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Thanks, Trouble. Had to add another nerdy tattoo to the bunch. Really round it out." She winked and hummed at the submissive's words. "Well if you need an escort, I'm more than willing to go with you. And he was definitely good. Made sure we were chill and did good work. I definitely recommend him." She said softly, biting down on her bottom lip. "Did you eat at all?" The Switch questioned, trying to relax and feel as comfortable as she had the last time she was around Scar. But she had really fucked up.

“You and your dorky ass books,” she said teasingly with a roll of her eyes. She recognized some of the references of Aero’s tattoos, but there were definitely a handful she had no idea about- even as a closet nerd. The nickname brought a smile to her face, and she grinned toothily. “Yeah? I'll have to book you out early. Make sure I can get a bit of Bombshell time, just to myself.” Scar knew she sounded a little more sulky than she ought to, but she couldn't be bothered to care. Because she was trying to be the bigger person, but there was only so much she could manage. Tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she shook her head. “Nah, I figured we could get a bite while we’re in town? I'm fifty shades of ready to eat something not a microwave dinner tbh.”

"Hey now. I have been very straight up with my nerdiness alright?" The tinge in Scar's voice caused her stomach to flop unhappily and she let out a soft sigh. Aerolyn lifted her hand and brushed a strand of hair behind Scar's ear. "As long as I'm not already taken, you can always have some of my time. I'm sorry I was a bitch last night. What I should have said was that I would be happy to come get drinks in town. Because it's true. I like getting to spend time with you." The Switch said to the submissive; breathing out slowly.

“A’ight, a’ight, that's a fair cop,” Scar said, shaking her head with a chuckle. She started to lean into the touch, before pulling away, a sort of half smile on her face. It was irrational to be upset by Aerolyn’s answer, but she was and there was no way for her to hide it- not that hiding her emotions was really her style, anyway. “I can't shade you for that, I guess.” She waved away the apology. “Really, Aero, it's fine. Like, it happens. The point is that I'm over it and we're going to chill now, right? Get a bite and some drinks. I'll still get the first round, but you've got the second.”

"Listen if it wasn't rude as fuck, I would up and leave to hang out with you in a second." Aerolyn offered, reaching the gently grasp her hand for a moment before letting it drop away. She didn't want to push any boundaries. "You're kind of one of my favorite people here to be honest with you." That's as close as she could get to saying that she kinda had a crush on her. "I will definitely get the second, Trouble. No problem at all." She mused gently.

“Who says you can’t be rude as fuck? You’re your own person.” She quipped, only a little serious. While she might be the type to just dip out of plans at the drop of the hat, she knew Aero just wasn’t that kind of person. And if she was being honest, it was one of the many things she liked about her. “Just kind of??? WooOoOOwOWWW, okay, I see how it is.” Even though Scar’s natural instinct was to be dramatic, she couldn’t deny the butterflies in her stomach, or the slight flush that had begun to crawl up her neck at the comment. “And the third, too, right? I mean, how long can I make this guilt thing last?”

"I know I am, but I'd feel too bad." She winked playfully and shrugged. "You have the potential to move up." Aerolyn narrowed her eyes slightly at the submissive, before looking away. Truth was, that Scar probably would have been able to make the guilt thing last as long as she wanted to. The Switch felt super bad about how rude she had been, how unnecessarily rude she had been. Scar wasn't hers and it wasn't proper for Aerolyn to be as jealous as she was. Especially when she herself was spending time with other people. But she still couldn't help the fact that she hated that every person Scar seemed to talk to about sex was a blonde with blue eyes.

“I mean, I’m sure I could think of a couple of ways to make you feel better. Forget that stupid guilt.” She said with a shrug. “Just saying.” Her brows shot up and she grinned. “Oh? And how’s a bitch supposed to do that without any hints? Because I hate to lose, and in the words of the briLLIANT Ricky Bobby, if you ain’t first, you’re last.” The longer they were together, the easier their conversation seemed to flow, and it wasn’t long before they were hopping off the bus in town. In a moment of unexpected bravery, she slipped her hand in the blonde’s once more as they walked through town. “So where are you taking me to dinner? You know, since you're groveling, and whatnot.”

"Oh, I'm sure that you could occupy my mind...and my body. But I'd still end up feeling bad." Aerolyn said honestly, biting down on her bottom lip. "Keep doing what you're doing and you'll work your way up." Aerolyn promised, not wanting to admit that Scar was definitely at the top of the list. Hanging around the same spot as Deni. She glanced down at their clasped hands, surprised that Scar had made that move, but not complaining about it whatsoever; going so far as to do her best to ignore the butterflies waking up in the pit of her stomach. Aerolyn rolled her eyes slightly and shook her head. "Nah, I may be grovelling but your ass can have some bar food." She offered, nudging her hip against Scar's.

“Damn, I’mma need to up my game, then. Because if you’re still capable of coherent thought, I’ve clearly lost my touch.” There was a decidedly petulant note to her tone, but she decided to let it go, for the time being. “Well, that’s vague as shit, Bombshell. Do you mean picking fights with dom/mes and flipping of the heads? Because I’m down for it, but somehow I feel like that’s not quite on the mark.” She quipped with a cheeky grin. “I mean, you say that like bar food isn’t the best kind of food in the world. This bitch needs some frenchy fries and a thick, greasy burger, stat.” She said with a laugh, the point where their hips met burning pleasantly, even through their multiple layers.

"I mean, I very much enjoy your touch. There's no doubt about that, gorgeous." She mused, biting down on her bottom lip. "That is absolutely not what I mean, ya little shit." Aerolyn said, her tone teasing and light, even though she absolutely did not want Scar to mess with the Heads anymore. "Bar food is pretty fantastic. And we will definitely get you that burger and those fries. Right away." She mused with a smile, leading Scar towards the bar, casually wondering if they would be dealing with the same bartender that she and Malia had dealt with the night before.

“Coulda fooled me, on account of the fact that I barely got to touch you, bossy pants.” She complained half heartedly. In reality, she would never complain about having Aero, in any capacity, but she wasn’t ready for her to know that, yet. “Damn. A bitch can dream, though.” Shaking her head, she followed the other girl into the bar, glad to be out of the warmth of the evening- even if the bar was warmer from sheer capacity. “Hashtag BLESS. I’m starving. You hit the bar, and I’ll grab a table? And don’t get lost on the way back.” She quipped with a wink, disappearing to try and snipe a table for them.

She giggled and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I really, really like having you cum for me. But don't worry. Maybe one night soon I'll have you over and it'll be all about you fucking me." She said, biting down on her bottom lip and humming softly. "And you call me bossy pants?" She watched her walk away to see what direction she headed in before making her way to the bar. She ordered the burger and fries for Scar, along with a drink, before grabbing herself some chicken wings and potato skins, as well as a vodka cran. She grabbed the number they gave her and then moved through the bar, eyes scanning the room for a familiar red head of hair.

“You can’t just say things like that to me in public.” She said, letting out a groan of want at the mere suggestion. While she wasn’t traditionally one to enjoy giving pleasure more than receiving it, Aero was definitely an exception. “You definitely are,” She quipped over her shoulder with a wink. The bar was busy, but not overly crowded, and it didn’t take too long for her to find a couple getting ready to leave. Perking up as she spotted Aerolyn making her way closer, she stood and waved, yelling out to be heard over the crowd. “Over here, Aero!! Front and center!!”

"And why the hell not? Maybe I want you squirmy and needy for me while we're surrounded by people. Maybe I want you eager to have me take you in the middle of the dance floor." Aerolyn said, shrugging innocently. She narrowed her eyes, swatting at Scar's ass as she walked away from her. As she tried to find Scar a little while later, her head swiveled to face Scar as she called out and a smile formed on her face. She worked her way through the last few people and dropped into the seat next to the other girl. "You found me before I could find you." She mused, setting the number down on the table and glancing around at the people.

Though she’d never admit it, Aerolyn’s words were affecting her, and she felt her panties dampen. Once she was sure the other girl had spotted her, she sat back down, shifting uncomfortably. “That was a cheap trick, Bombshell,” She said, sticking out her tongue petulantly. “These are new panties and everything.” Of course, she’d sacrifice every pair she owned if Aero would slap her ass like that again. “What can I say, I’ve got amazing radar for that kind of thing. Like gaydar, but better.” She said with a cheeky grin.

"Not a trick at all. I'm just using the tools that I have at my disposal." She mused, letting her hand reach out to rest against Scar's thigh, squeezing lightly. "Mm, new panties for a night out with me? Well, don't I feel special." She said with a smile, sliding her hand toward the inside of her thigh before moving her hand away from her again. "Radar for finding pretty girls? That's definitely a useful tool."

Licking her lips, it took everything in her power not to reach down and put Aerolyn’s hand where she really wanted it. But if she’d learned anything, so far, it was that trying to take control benefitted exactly no one. “Mmmhhmm, I thought you might like them. Wanna see ‘em?” She quipped with a grin. She groaned in displeasure as the hand drifted away once more. “Something like that. I mean, not just any pretty girls. Only the most most pretty. Like, the ones who are literal bombshells of hotness.”

"You're just so damn sweet, Scar. You know that I one hundred per cent want to see those panties." She said, completely truthful, not needing to joke or lie about it in the slightest. "I better be the only one you're calling a bombshell, Trouble." Aerolyn said, that burst of jealousy making itself known; but at least this time it was able to be hidden behind the nickname that Scar had given to her. Her hand rested back on her thigh and she licked her bottom lip, pushing the fabric of her skirt up a bit.

“Aren’t I, though? She joked with a cheeky grin, biting at her lower lip. “Maybe for your birthday, I buy a new set for you. I’ll even model it for you and everything.” A bolt of heat shot directly to her core at the tone of Aero’s voice, and she nodded, letting her sass take the backseat for once. “Of course. Just you, Aerolyn. After all, there’s no one else who rocks my world the way you do.” Feeling the hand slipping up her thigh again, she lifted her hips, just enough to allow the worn leather to be pushed up a little higher, her breath coming heavier. “Fucking hell.”

Her eyebrows raised and she licked her lips at the thought. "I have to wait for February? Damn." She muttered, shaking her head slightly; keeping it to herself for the time being that that meant that they would be spending Valentine's Day together. Because she didn't know what the future held and she would hate to make plans like that, just for Scar to find someone else she would rather spend the day with. She felt some piece of her that had been out of wack since the night before slide back into place at Scar's words and she smiled. "Good." At Scar's reaction, she bit down on her bottom lip. "I love how you just melt for me." She cooed, turning her body so she was facing Scar, pulling her legs over her lap.

“Maybe your half birthday- if you’re nice to me.” She offered with a cheeky grin and a wink. She couldn’t quite remember when her birthday was, exactly, but there were a few sets she’d seen online that she thought Aero might like, and she was more than a little excited to find out if that was the case. “Deadass, Bombshell. How could anyone even measure up? Please.” She waved her hand noncommittally. “Melt? Me?” Her protests were weak at best as she allowed her body to be manipulated by the blonde, a grin on her face. “I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me if you promise not to make me wait too long.”

The Switch let out a sigh before shaking her head in amusement. "Alright then." At her next words, Aerolyn grinned and bit down on her bottom lip. It was nice to hear that coming from the girl. She chuckled softly, her head tilting as her eyes scanned over the submissive's face. She knew what her answer would be, but she wanted to make Scar wait and wonder for a little bit. Just as she was about to say something their food and drinks were brought to the table and she smiled. "Thank you so much." She offered, turning back in her seat, but keeping Scar's legs across her lap.

“I actually have just the set in mind, too.” She confessed with a wink. “Come on, you can’t leave me in susp-” Scar almost screamed when Aero turned away to pay attention to the server instead of her. Scowling at the boy, she stared daggers at him, not appreciating how his eyes lingered on Aero a little longer than was strictly necessary. Least of all when his presence was stopping her from having fun with the blonde to make matters worse. “Yeah, thanks, dude. You can go now. And take those roving eyes with you.”

Aerolyn glanced over at Scar, her heart thudding at the little bit of possessiveness that she found in her voice and on her face. That was new. And it was entirely too welcomed. She slipped her hand underneath the girl's skirt again, looking at the boy as she did it, knowing that there was no way that he couldn't tell what they were doing. "Yeah, we are more than okay here now." She offered, pressing her fingers against the girl through her panties in hopes of getting a gasp that would really show him that she had no interest in him at all.

Licking her lips, she lifted a brow in challenge as she met the boy’s eye, letting out a breathy gasp as she felt her fingers touch her at last. “Yeah, we’ll- well let you know if we need anything,” she snapped, though any threat in her voice was subverted by the fact that Aero clearly had her hand up her skirt. “So fuck off, ya creep!” She added on for good measure. She had no problem being watched, normally, but this time with Aerolyn was for her and her alone.

After Scar's snap, the boy turned and walked away with a grumble and Aerolyn turned her head towards Scar. Her free hand slipped behind Scar's head, tangling in her hair, and she tugged her into a kiss. It was nice to have a moment where Scar was possessive of her right back. Her fingers pushed aside her panties and she brushed her fingers through her folds, circling her clit.

Scarlett was incredibly glad that she wasn't chastised for her less than polite response- mostly because she had no intention of apologizing as she wasn't sorry in the slightest. And at any rate, why should she be. Aerolyn was out with her and therefore it was only reasonable that her attention remain with her as well. Returning the kiss with fervor, she was caught off guard by the sudden sensation of fingers on her clit, moaning wantonly into Aero’s mouth inhibition.

Her hand held Scar's head in place, tugging on the smooth curls at the back of her head, simply because she could. The entire situation they were in in that moment was sexy as hell...and Aerolyn was sure that she wouldn't mind if she never breathed again. She adjusted her hand as best as she could, slipping a finger inside of her.

The rough treatment surprised the sub, but she certainly didn't mind, the mix of pain and pleasure putting her body on overdrive. Her lips moved languidly against Aero’s and she felt herself give in to the dominant, letting her take control of her entirely. Subconsciously shifting her hips, her hands grasping at any part of the blonde she could reach.

Aerolyn really, really liked when Scar gave into what she wanted, when she allowed her to take control. Though she also liked the fight for control that led to Scar giving in. Her finger moved within the girl slowly and gently, sighing into the feel of the redhead's lips against her own. It was good. Really good.

Scar let it an incredibly un-Scar-like squeak as Aero’s fingers shifted in her, her eyes slipping closed as she let the domme play with her body as she pleased. There was something incredibly hot about breathing in the same air as the blonde like this. The only downside was the space between then, which was far too wide for her tastes, but she wasn't complaining. Not so long as Aerolyn kept pulling her hair like that and fucking her like she was the only person in the world.

She chuckled heatedly against Scar's lips at the squeak, absolutely loving that she was the reason that that sound had slipped from Scar's lips. This entire situation was sexy as hell and she honestly didn't mind at all that their drinks were warming and their food was getting cold. Her entire focus was on Scar and Scar's entire focus was on her and that's exactly how she wanted it. She slipped a second finger within her and twisted her hand to rub her thumb against the girl's clit.

There was something entirely too hot about letting Aero fuck her like this- their mouths pressed together and her legs spread as much as the booth would allow. Scar has intended on resisting more, sulking and guilting the blonde a little, but at this point, she knew it was futile. Especially when a second finger was added to the mix. “Oh my fucking god,” She breathed out against her lips. “More, Miss. Please, I'm so fucking close.”

"More? Such a greedy girl." Aerolyn muttered, she nipped at her bottom lip and then let her lips kiss along her jaw. She kissed down her neck and sucked lightly against her skin without leaving a mark. She pressed another finger inside the girl and smirked. "You're so wet for me, Scar. So wet. So sexy." She murmured, noting that the waiter was watching them and giggling against Scar's neck. "We have a bit of an audience. Our little fan can't stop watching."

“Greedy? Idk her. I’m practically vi-virginal,” She quipped out, though it lost any weight, her voice breaking as she felt herself stretched so deliciously. Scar whined petulantly when Aero’s lips moved from her own, but as she turned her head to look, she felt a fresh flood of moisture settled between her legs. “You know I'm always good for a show, but no thinking about that loser when you’re fucking me, Bombshell.” Lacing her fingers through Aero’s hair, she sent a smug smirk towards the boy, before leaning forward and biting the blonde’s neck, her eyes locked with his.

"Oh I promise that I never think of anyone else when I'm fucking you, Scar." Aerolyn murmured, gasping sharply at the feel of teeth on her neck. "Fuck, I'm all yours right now, Scar." She promised, her fingers wiggling playfully within the submissive as her head tilted back slightly to offer the girl more access to her neck. If it was a choice between Scar and the waiter, Scar would win every time. Hell, it would be hard for Scar to lose against anyone.

“You’d better not.” She hissed, rolling her hips as the fingers twisted deliciously in her, her jaw dropping a moment later, “All mine. Don’t you know LA girls don’t share?” Taking the invitation without hesitation, she bit down on the smooth expanse of skin, determined to leave her mark on the girl currently making her head spin. She had no idea how Aero had managed to make her so weak for her, so pliable, but she didn’t have the braincells to commit to that line of thought. Not when she had a Switch to mark up and a boy to make jealous.

"You don't share, hm? That is -fuck- very good to know. I'm not super into sharing you either." She offered, essentially giving away the reason she had been so bitchy the night before; without actually realizing it. She whined at the delicious sting of Scar mouth and teeth working at her neck. She knew there would be a mark left there, but she couldn't find it within herself to be upset about it; even if she wouldn't be leaving any marks with her mouth of the submissive's skin.

“Nope. I’m the daughter of two infamous celebrities. I’ve never shared anything in my entire life. And why should I?” She quipped with a grin. Scar was used to getting what she wanted, and she wasn't sorry in the least. A trickle of pride settled in her at Aero’s admission, and she lifted her lips. “Yeah? Want me all to yourself, Bombshell? Think you could handle it?” She challenged, biting down sharply on her collarbone. “I've been told I'm a bit of a handful,”

She chuckled softly and shook her head in amusement. "Interesting take on the world, Trouble." Aerolyn offered, biting down on her bottom lip. "Mhm, I do. Honestly, I think from now on, whenever we come into town, I will expect your phone to be off. So that I'm the only one you're focused on. Can't have me being a distraction when you're really thinking of someone else." She quipped, trying to make light of an actual fear. "I think I could handle you."

“You gonna turn yours off too?” There wasn't much Scar wouldn't have agreed to in that moment but if she was being honest, she didn't hate that idea. “You, a distraction? Please. You're the main fucking event, Bombshell.” She breathed out with a lopsided grin. There wasn’t a situation in the world where Aero would take the backseat in her mind. Not that she’d admit it, at any rate. “Show, don’t tell, babe.” She quipped with a wink, moistening her suddenly dry lips, missing the feeling of Aerolyn’s on her own.

"Absolutely." Aerolyn said with a nod, not having any issue with turning off her cell phone as well. She couldn't help but grin at Scar's words, the admission soothing the jealous and irrational part of her that had been present since the night before. "I haven't shown you enough yet? Don't worry, I have many plans for you and they will definitely show you just how well I can handle you." Aerolyn said with a chuckle and a shake of her head. She leaned in to press their foreheads together again as her fingers moved within the girl. Despite the fact that they were surrounded by other people, the moment still felt extremely intimate and it caused her heart to lurch suddenly.

“Then its a- a deal,” she panted out. It was difficult to keep her thoughts straight with Aero working her fingers like that. “Nope. Not convinced. Keep- keep going. Fuck, I love your plans.” Scar couldn't help but challenge her, even though there wasn't much traction to her statement. But it wasn't her way to just give up and relent. Least of all when being difficult yielded such excellent results usually. “Square up, buttercup.” Feeling Aerolyn’s breath mingling with her own sent a sensation she was not prepared for straight through her body, a shiver running down her spine as her orgasm suddenly rolled through her. “A-Aerolyn! F-fuck! Oh my god!”

"It's a deal." She replied with a nod of her head, pleased that Scar didn't seem to mind that she wouldn't have access to her phone. Made her feel much more confident in the fact that Scar really did enjoy the time they spent together, seeing as she wanted to be completely wrapped up in just them. "Mm, well, guess I'll just hae to keep showing you." She offered, not mad at all about the fact that she would have to continue to prove that she could handle her. "I know you do. They're pretty great plans." She said with a chuckle. She groaned as Scar's inner walls clenched down on her fingers, her thumb rubbing her clit to help prolong her orgasm. The Switch couldn't help but be proud that she had caused Scar to cry out as she had. As she finally came down from her high, she eased her fingers out of her and sucked them clean before kissing the submissive to let her taste herself on parted lips.

In that moment, there was nothing else. No bar, no club, no waiters, nothing. Just her and Aero, tucked away in their own little bubble. It was difficult to concentrate on anything other than the sensations coursing through her body, the pleasure burning through her veins. Scar so wanted to make a witty comeback, to prove she wasn't so taken that she could let the blonde have the last word. But any and all thought of evening the scales was lost as she clamped down, stars dancing in her eyes as her world was consumed with nothing but the switch before her. She felt empty, as Aero pulled away, but watching her suck her juices off of her own fingers like that sent another shudder through her, and she gladly accepted the kiss. “Definitely good plans, Bombshell.” She said with a dopey grin on her face.

She grinned at her words and pressed a kiss to her jaw before smoothing out the girl's skirt with a playful wink. "And there are plenty more plans that I have just for tonight. But first and foremost, I think I'm ready for some food. Before it gets even colder than it already is." She teased, letting her hand run up and down the submissive's leg for a moment before turning her attention to the food that had been placed in front of her earlier and quickly forgotten in favor of giving Scar all of her attention. The night was far from over and they would definitely need the energy that the food would give them to help them last through the fun.

The voice in the back of her mind whispered for her to be cautious- not to let herself be taken in with such ease. But as she met Aerolyn’s gaze, the smile playing at her lips, she knew she was already in way too deep. Scar was still breathing heavily as Aerolyn pulled away, her heart pounding in her chest as she took in the blonde’s mischievous grin. “Yeah- yeah food. That’d be- that’d be good.” She licked her lips. “I mean, I could eat, but I’m not super hungry for food.” A shiver ran through her as she slumped back against the chair, biting her lip in an uncharacteristic show of shyness. "Did I mention I think you might kill me?"

Aerolyn glanced over at the submissive and she shrugged her shoulders. "What a way to go out though, right?" She joked, shruggng her shoulders slightly. "You will get dessert. I promise you that. But you have to eat your dinner first." Aerolyn said, leaning in to press her lips against Scar's once more before pulling back. "Eat up, Trouble." She didn't want to waste a single moment of the time that she had with the submissive, so she was determined to eat quickly to get on with their night.

“I mean I'm game if you are.” For as low that eating food was on the list of ‘things Scar wanted to’, she knew it was probably for the best. Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't whine a bit about it first. “Mmm, I'm not hungry for that, Aero. Can't we just, like, take it to go?” She asked, pushing closer to nip and suck at her neck. Feeling the blonde shake her head adamantly, she sighed unhappily. “Okay, I'll eat my dinner like a good girl, and then I get my dessert. Deal?”

"F-fuck. Nope. Sorry Scar. Eat now." She bit down on her bottom lip, pleased when Scar actually referred to herself as a good girl. But she wasn't going to make too big a deal out of it. Because she knew that Scar would most definitely retreat. She needed more time to really get used to the idea, and Aerolyn truly didn't mind waiting for that to happen. "Sounds perfect to me, Scar. I'm looking forward to it."

It was hard to back off when she was told to, and part of her wanted to throw a fit, to be difficult, but she knew that with Aero, that would likely only delay her even further. Grumbling half heartedly, she slid over slightly in the booth, turning to face her food, but being sure to maintain some kind of contact with the other girl. “Fine. Food first. Dessert second. But no takebacks.” She said, popping a french fry into her mouth.

#p: aerolyn #p: 7.6.19

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goodproofingwater · 6 years ago

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Wildfire Records - Chapter Two

Word count: 2393 Playlist pick: Longshot - Catfish and the Bottlemen Press play when you see the *

The bar was in a small area of Shoreditch, hidden away in a square of restaurants and bars and punctuated with quirky signs that made them sure that this was the place. It seemed unreal that no one else in the business had wanted to do this, but she supposed that after a few years it could get old to work late on Thursday nights seeing bands that weren’t necessarily any good. How many performers had Cindy sat through before she had discovered Nothing But Thieves? How many nights had she sat in dingy soho bars listening to off beat drums and guitars screaming with feedback?

The girls made their way into the bar, and were quick to admire just how quirky this bar was. Not only did it have an unusual name, but the entire inside had images of David Bowie everywhere. From Major Tom on the walls to Ziggy Stardust behind the bar, the place was reeling with homages to the man. Some may have said it was too much, but Juliet loved it.

“I just feel like his sound completely changed the way music is produced, yno?” She spoke as the two girls sat outside beneath the heaters, the cold London night biting down on them. It was January so they were among the only ones out there, but it was far too busy inside to have a proper conversation. They had found out that the band were due to start at 8:30, and that the venue was actually downstairs and would open at 8.

“No, I totally agree. Not even just the way music is produced, just everything changed with him. I mean look at the way he dressed - he completely challenged convention and everyone loved it.” Juliet spoke, and it was becoming clear that she was a massive David Bowie fan. The girl had great music taste, and while the two of them matched in that respect in many ways, Juliet was a little more into her 70s stuff. It was a relief that it was that way though. Victoria had had too many conversations about Arcade Fire and The Killers, and it was nice to have someone who had a refreshing take and the evidence to back up her arguments from a previous era.

They could hear the remnants of a soundcheck below, and when it had finally dissipated the girls moved to grab one more drink and make their way down the stairs.

The room below was not what they had expected given how David Bowie focussed the bar above was. The floor was wooden as above, the walls brick painted a dark grey with red curtains hung up by four booths that sat along the far wall. The bar was against the wall that sat beneath the stairs, black and white doodles decorating the wall and ceiling around it, and the stage sat in the corner, matching red curtains hanging behind the performance area, the entire thing looking far too grand to be sitting in the basement of a bar in Shoreditch.

The girls made their way across the room to a free booth, eyes running over the men who were getting ready on the stage, and if Victoria was being honest with herself it was more difficult not to look at them.

“Good evening London, we are The Dangers and this is Uppercut.” *

A thick Californian accent wrapped around the words and the band launched into their first number barely giving the audience time to settle into their stage presence. A fantastic voice paired with a solid baseline, the drummer kicking in heavily ensured the crowd went from being unsure, to dancing and loving the music by the time they had reached the second verse.

The lead singer had starkly ginger hair, obviously styled to look like he had just woken up but it somehow suited him. His black floral shirt sitting under a black leather jacket, rings adorning the fingers that pressed the cable into his bass. The guitarist was blonde with a jaw that could have cut diamonds, his smirk as he watched the crowd erupt for them was undeniably attractive, and he moved across the stage with an energy that they girls could feel from the booth. The drummer, a desperately tanned doe eyed boy who incessantly bit down on his lip, and Victoria was almost scared that he as going to rip it off.

The set was insane. Their music a perfect mixture of ambient and alternative, the front man cocky enough to make the audience love him, and the two girls could already see the makings of a small fan base of girls who were dancing close to the stage.

They finished off the last of their 8 song set with a track called Pressure, a song that perfectly allowed the band to highlight their individual talents. The gravelly vocals and plucky bass line from the front man, who had introduced himself as Andy, the rolling beats from the drummer, Danny and the quite frankly incredible guitar solos from Josh.

The girls could not believe their luck. Not only had they been able to go out on a scout for work, but they had found a band that was absolutely insane. Either Cindy had not listened to this band, or their recordings were terrible, because Victoria couldn’t see a single reason why The Dangers would not be suitable for the record label that they worked for.

They allowed the band to switch with the second band on the set, and watched as they pulled their instruments into the booth that had been reserved for it and Victoria wondered how she was going to play this. When she had been pushing for this she hadn’t realised that she had no idea how to talk to musicians in a professional capacity. What if they thought she was unprofessional or she didn’t ask the right questions?

Swallowing her nerves, the girl took a long sip of her whiskey and coke and stood from the booth, smiling at Juliet who was watching her. The other girl was clearly thinking the same thing, but Victoria was closer to the edge of the booth and therefore to the band.

Victoria swallowed thickly as her heeled boots clicked along the wooden floor, playing nervously with her hair and ensuring red strands fell as she wanted them to over her face before she stepped toward the front man.

“Great set!” She started, smiling as the man's brown eyes met her own, and jesus was he hotter than she had realised. She had thought that it was the stage persona that was doing it, but seeing him close up only highlighted his defining features.

“Thanks sweetheart,” He smirked and she moved to stop him walking away, his eyebrows raised in amusement

“My name’s Victoria, I’m from Fieldworks records. This is Juliet..” She introduced her friend as she stepped next to her and continued, quick to use the confidence she had found before it slipped through her fingers, “We were sent here to scout you tonight, and we think you sounded great!”

“Fuck!” The redhead stepped back slightly from them in shock, and Victoria felt the blonde guitarists eyes on her for a moment before he stepped up.

“What he means is thank you, it’s really great to meet you” the blonde held out his hand and she took it, smiling up at him and laughing slightly at his words.

“I’m Josh, this is Andy” Victoria shook the red heads hand, trying to ignore the way he was looking at her and she glanced over to the drummer as he ran over, “and this is Danny.”

“Nice to meet you all” Juliet smiled, Victoria nodding along before they all slipped into the booth that the girls had been sitting at.

“As I was saying, we think you sounded great and would love to take back a sample of your work to our boss. Do you have any CDs?” Andy stretched back to the booth behind, shirt riding up to show a killer pair of abs and Victoria did everything she could not to look at him. The lead singer exuded the energy of someone that knew how attractive he was, and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of catching her staring.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he spoke, the pet name falling from his lips again and she wondered if he called all women that or if he had just forgotten her name that quickly.

“Thank you.” She smiled, “so why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?” She asked the question to the group but of course Andy took over, and she let her eyes dart between Josh and Danny with a small smirk on their face that matched her own. They were obviously used to this kind of thing.

“We basically all grew up together, lived on the same block for years in California and ended up going to the same high school. It just came naturally to us to start jammin in Josh’s garage, Danny was already really good at drums and I took up bass because we needed a bass player”

“And because I was already a better guitarist,” Josh chimed in with a cheeky smile on his face, and the girls laughed along with them.

“And how come you’re in England? Bit of a way to travel to play gigs isn’t it?” Juliet spoke, her eyes running over the drummer in a way she hoped wasn’t obvious. His tanned skin, strong arms and that smile…

“Well Andy’s mom and dad own an apartment in Green Park. We were fresh out of college and none of us really knew what we wanted to do so we figured, fuck it.” He threw his hands up, more animated than the girls had expected but the adrenaline must have been high having stepped off stage not twenty minutes before. “Let’s go stay in London for a while, play some gigs, have a go at it yno?”

“We wanted to see if we could make a living off of music before we took normal jobs yno..” Andy spoke, “and Josh would literally not shut up about playing where Arctic Monkeys had in Camden ”

Victoria grinned at the blonde, “you’re playing Dublin Castle?”

His eyes lit up and he sat up a little straighter as he realised that there was someone who was speaking his language. The other boys had similar music tastes, but Josh’s obsession with Arctic Monkeys was more than either of them could handle. He would take any opportunity to talk about how much he respected Alex Turner, and the fact that this pretty girl knew that they had played Dublin Castle…

“Yeah, day after next actually. Wanna come?” The words fell out of his mouth before he could catch them, and she glanced at Juliet before nodding, “sure, we’d love to. Actually it might even be a good idea to invite our manager down to hear you guys play.”

“Excellent,” Danny spoke, leaning back and sipping his beer, eyes running over Juliet like he wanted to fucking devour her. Jesus these boys were about as subtle as a brick to the face.

Andy leaned forward on the table, his eyes glancing at the glass that Victoria’s black painted nails were tapping against before meeting her own, “can I get you another drink, darling?”

Five drinks and two shots of tequila later, the band and the girls had moved back to the bar upstairs, instruments safely locked away for them to pick up in the morning after Andy charmed a barmaid. As much as Victoria hated to admit it, he was really hot. He had unbuttoned more of his shirt to reveal a toned chest, and she was struggling with her promise to herself not to look at him.

They had found a set of couches slightly hidden from the bar which were supposed to be reserved but the person had never showed, and Juliet was sat next to Danny, his head resting on his hand as his arm sat too close to hers to be anything but flirtatious. Victoria couldn’t help but smile, her new friend was obviously into this guy and she wondered exactly how professional they had to be. Sure they shouldn’t be showing up to work the following day with a hangover, but they had stockroom duty the following morning so could hide it. As long as the reports went to plan and they got a meeting with Cindy for the following day, all would be well.

“Do you smoke?” Andy spoke louder than usual, eyeing Josh who was sat on the other side of Victoria and slipping his jacket on.

“Sometimes.. could I pinch a fag?” She spoke, and the redhead laughed, instantly repeating her and mocking her accent.

Josh held out a cigarette for her from behind her, and she grinned as she thanked him. The younger girl was about to ask Juliet if she wanted to join but it was clear that the world no longer existed to them, so caught up in whatever they were talking about.

The evening went as was expected, drinking a little too much, having a little too much fun when Victoria knew that they had work in the morning. It was when Andy had draped his arm around her shoulder and was whispering that they should come back for an after party that she realised that this was probably the time to leave. As much as she would have enjoyed finding out what that after party entailed, she didn’t want to stay out too late and supposed it was frowned upon to go back to the flat of a band who she wanted to sign.

Taking her leave, but still taking their numbers, Victoria smirked at the look on Juliet’s face when she pulled her away from the drummer. The two had spent the entire evening talking to each other. Victoria had only spoken to the older girl when they had gone to the bathroom together and although Juliet was trying to play it cool, it was obvious that she was interested. All the more reason to leave before things got out of control.

They waved goodbye to the boys and went their separate ways, already regretting that last tequila shot.

#wildfire records #original story #original characters #original fiction #fiction #writing community #introducing the boyzzzz

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morningsound15 · 6 years ago

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How do you think Beca would handle her fame in perdition? We know all the gossip magazines like to make up stuff about celebrity couples and that talk show hosts and interviewers like to prod, do you reckon Beca would be open about her relationship with Chloe bc that’s something she’s wanted for so long, and therefore would scream from the rooftops that she’s in love with Chloe Beale and that she’s hers?

i know this wasn’t your intention anon but congratulations you got a drabble i just wrote in like 3 hours:

(P.S. If you love Stevie as much as I do, PLEASE watch this video of her singing “Wild Heart” while getting her makeup done for a Rolling Stone photo session. It will change your life.)

[COVER STORY]: Beca Mitchell on Her Newest Album, Coming Out & Finding Love. “I’m bisexual, and I’m proud of it.”By Sydney Havershaw

You probably wouldn’t recognize Beca Mitchell if she walked past you on the street. Her personal style is more ‘early-20’s grunge rock enthusiast’ than ‘Grammy Award-winning musician.’ She’s dressed comfortably for our interview — in a pair of skinny jeans, combat boots, and an oversized flannel shirt. Mitchell seems perpetually youthful, and among the crowd of college students around us, she fits right in. At 5’2”, she is also certainly an unassuming figure on the street. “I’m basically a hobbit,” she jokes early in our interview, when situation demands we perch on a set of barstools while we wait for our lunch table. Mitchell’s feet dang comically off the floor, and she swings them absent-mindedly while we get to know each other.

The restaurant where we meet is a tiny hole-in-the-wall Italian bistro — the space is so small it can barely fit 6 tables and the mini-bar it confusingly insists on forcing into the already-crowded room — but it’s a favorite of Mitchell’s (who made me adamantly swear to reveal neither the name nor location of her personal haunt). The little building is charming and rustic and somehow both out-of-place and perfectly nestled within its surroundings. The atmosphere is exquisite. I find myself nearly anxious to grab my pen and begin scribbling down notes.

There’s something easy about being around Mitchell. She has this awkward energy that makes her seem jumpy but also strangely endearing. She’s quick to crack jokes and put herself down for the benefit of the group dynamic. Though her proclivity to make fun of herself is startling at first, her wit and sincerity ultimately triumph, becoming the adjectives which immediately come to mind whenever her name is mentioned in my presence thereafter. Before we even order our food she’s had me in stitches twice, both times with stories about some of her more raucous adventures with her all-female college acapella group, The Barden Bellas (more on them later). She’s an excellent storyteller, if not excellently verbose, and I cannot wait to see what she might have in store for our interview.

It’s a bright afternoon in early March, with clear skies and only the barest hint of a chill in the air. It’s beautiful, and the subtle feeling of spring is beginning to emerge in outfit choices, store inventory, and menu changes. But while most people tend to feel energized and rejuvenated with the promise of new beginnings, Mitchell is still practically reeling from the relative whirlwind of the previous month. She won a Grammy, came out, and started a new relationship — and that was all just in one day!

“I feel like everything changed overnight. I went from being, like, a club DJ to now, I’m at the point where people literally stop me on the street for pictures.” She laughs and shakes her head, like she can’t quite believe it. “It’s been completely nuts.”

For those who may be unaware: after a very public Grammys acceptance speech earlier this year, Mitchell was caught locking-lips with her date, Chloe. [Note: While their relationship is not a secret, and the identity of Mitchell’s partner can be easily found, Mitchell requested we leave Chloe’s last name out of this article for the sake of her privacy.]

Almost immediately, Mitchell’s name-recognition sky-rocketed. The image of the kiss circulated countless gossip websites, made headlines in newspapers around the country, and became a trending topic on Twitter. Videos of the night played on nearly every morning talk show. Mitchell’s social media following almost tripled overnight. Suddenly, and without warning, Mitchell has found herself at the center of a media blitz caused by her very public — and incredibly adorable (link) — public coming out. Seriously, if you haven’t seen the video of her acceptance speech yet (have you been living under a rock?) go watch it right now. You’ll cry, you’ll laugh, you’ll squeal, you’ll fall in love.

[image]

Pictured: Beca Mitchell [left] and partner kissing on the red carpet.

Since we both know where this interview is eventually headed (it would be impossible not to talk about it at some point), I figure I should ask: does she want to talk about her relationship first?

She shrugs, her leg bouncing under the table. “I don’t know. No? The… I always think of myself as an artist, first. And my personal life is my personal life. But, you guys are, like… the gay magazine. I can’t imagine it won’t come up.”

Her confidence from earlier has all-but vanished. Perhaps because her music carries with it the easy, confident maturity of an artist with twice her experience, it’s easy to forget she’s still new at this. In order to put her at ease, I start off with a few softball questions, things to get her excited and make her more comfortable with where our interview is going.

Her favorite musician growing up? She smiles, looking much less anxious. “I think this probably is gonna hurt my rep, but I gotta go with Stevie.”

“Nicks?” I ask. This is surprising to me, though perhaps it shouldn’t be. While Mitchell’s music is pretty reliably ‘Pop’, it also shows evidence of clear influence from eclectic styles of music, including jazz and alternative.

“Absolutely. She was my childhood crush. And like, she’s totally everything that I want to be, as a musician. First time I listened to the album Rumours I thought, ‘God, that’s just about the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard.’ It’s the story of a relationship falling apart, the dissolution of a marriage, about cheating and heartbreak and mistrust. But it’s also about optimism, and joy. And… well, to me, it’s also about love. And I used to sit there and listen to that album and think, ‘That’s what I want. If I can produce a piece of music even half as emotional, half as complete, I’ll be happy.’ My entire life, all I’ve ever wanted is just one great love story to tell.”

She’s passionate when talking about her music. She seems energized and excited, like she’s thrilled that anyone at all is interested in her music in any capacity. Because it seems like her preferred topic of discussion, I keep asking her questions about her most recent work. Her favorite song on the album? “Oh, that one’s easy,” she says. “Gotta be ‘Saudade’.”

Saudade is a Portuguese word that roughly translates to a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia. It is a word closely associated with Brazilian music and Brazilian culture. Its most famous usage in pop culture comes from the famous Antônio Carlos Jobim Bossa Nova song “Chega de Saudade” (the published English version is titled “No More Blues”). Mitchell uses the chord changes of Jobim’s chart as the basis for her own melody. This is a common musical practice amongst jazz composers (similar to what ’sampling’ is to Hip Hop and R&B artists), but much less prevalent in Mitchell’s more Pop-dominated genre.

“Saudade” is an early stand-out on Mitchell’s album. It’s a melancholy affair, with a Latin/Bossa drum feel that immediately conjures images of warm summer nights. And to round out the nostalgia of the instrumentals, the song’s lyrics are almost as haunting as the vocal work. Cynthia-Rose Adams, one of the album’s main featured artists, manages to evoke a quiet, unendurable kind of heartbreak while still keeping her performance subtle and subdued. The piece is more than a little impressive. It truly is a masterclass in sad, mournful, longing ballads, and puts more popular efforts by artists like Adele completely to shame. If it isn’t on every teenage girl’s “breakup playlist” by the end of the year, I would be shocked.

But when asked about her preference for that song, Mitchell’s response is less-confident than the quickness of her earlier answer would imply. “I work with a lot of really incredible musicians. My friend, Cynthia-Rose [Adams], who actually provides vocals for that track, she’s a trained jazz vocalist. She’s listed as a co-writer for that song because it’s really all because of her that it has any kind of melody. I showed her a bunch of lyrics really early on, back when I was still work-shopping, and she was in the room with me when I was writing the first draft. But, God, it was terrible.” She laughs again (always willing to joke at her own expense). “No, for real, it was… horrible. So cliché and dumb. But Cynthia just kind of on a whim suggested we try to craft a love ballad using the chord changes of Chega, and I listened to it one time and then it’s like I couldn’t stop writing. It all just poured out of me. The music tied to the lyrics and back again. It’s like the song always existed, and I just was the first person to hear it and write it down.” She pauses, as if she’s only just realizing how long she’s been speaking. “But really,” she says quickly, “without the performance Cynthia puts out on that track, it just… I couldn’t have done it with any other singer. I’m so grateful for her.”

This is a common feature of our interview. Mitchell is almost reluctant to take sole credit for her own music. At every turn she’s thanking her vocalists, her sound engineers, and her co-producers. It belies the incredible amount of time and energy and dedication she put into crafting this album. Anyone who works with Mitchell will also be sure to note both her work ethic and her unyielding attention to detail. Talking to her, you might think a great many things about her character, but ‘immodest’ would certainly not be one of them.

When I ask how she met her collaborators — specifically Adams and Emily Junk, the album’s other featured vocalist — Mitchell grins wider than she has all afternoon. The ease immediately returns to her body. She relaxes in her chair, lounging back with her legs crossed over the knee. She seems like any other 20-something again. You never would guess that, a few short weeks ago, she was a trending topic on Twitter.

“I met Cynthia and Emily in college. They were in the same acapella group I was in.” She’s talking about the Barden Bellas, the nationally-ranked all-female acapella group out of Barden University, a small liberal arts college just outside Atlanta, Georgia. Mitchell was the captain of the group for 3 years, and led the Bellas to two national championships and one world title. “We were really just a bunch of misfits,” she says when I prod her for more information. “And, y’know, being a group of only women, it’s actually pretty hard to make a name for yourself in the acapella world. The best groups are either mixed or all-male. And we’re a very diverse group, and most of us don’t necessarily fit with conventional beauty standards. So I’m just really proud we were able to break through, make an impact, and show people what a group of badass, powerful ladies can do.”

Does she keep in contact with her old group? “Oh, of course, we talk on the daily. I mean, the Bellas gave me everything. They’re my family. I truly don’t know where I’d be without them.”

But now, it’s time to address the elephant in the room. I almost want to apologize to her, though I know it’s completely unnecessary. She has made it apparent that she is comfortable answering personal questions, and has previously specified to me that she is open and completely willing to talk about her own coming out experience. But even though I know she’s agreed to this line of questioning, that’s still just the kind of person she is: she makes you want to look out for her, to keep her safe. She’s so shockingly sincere, so non-malicious, that to do anything to harm her in any way seems tantamount to blasphemy.

Almost like she can sense a shift in the air between us, Mitchell sets her shoulders. I ask her if she’s nervous about coming out. “Not at all,” she answers quickly. “I’ve been ‘out’ for pretty much my whole life. Sexuality has never been a problem for me. I’ve never talked about it before because, honestly — and I know this sounds cheesy and cliché, but I really do mean it — it’s just never come up. It’s been such a non-issue for so long. And I guess I figured it would become common knowledge sooner or later. I just never anticipated, the, um…”

“Going viral?”

She flushes. “Yeah. Never saw that one coming.”

Becoming an overnight sensation by going public with a relationship is an experience that is difficult to replicate or understand, if you haven’t been through it. I ask Beca how she feels about the sudden influx and attention she’s been receiving.

“I don’t mind the attention,” she says honestly. “It can get pretty scary sometimes, but it’s not like I have paparazzi lurking around my apartment or anything, so I feel like I got off pretty easy. I mean I don’t like the attention, but, y’know… sales have gone up, at least,” she jokes, somewhat half-heartedly.

And about her new internet celebrity status (there are dozens and dozens of Tumblr pages devoted to her alone) as an out, queer female musician?

“I mean, I hope we’re moving into a time when, like, it doesn’t matter who anybody dates?” she says, somewhat uncertainly. “I’m like, yeah, technically a celebrity, but it still shouldn’t really matter who I’m with. Man or woman. Like, shouldn’t we be past this, now? If I had kissed a guy that night, I wouldn’t have made the front page. There’s just something different about a queer artist, a woman kissing another woman publicly, I guess. And I mean I do get why. When I was a young, baby bi, I didn’t really have any musicians I could look to, to see myself represented. I know how important it is to see people be out and open about who they are and who they love. I don’t mean to imply that I’m taking that for granted. I am so thankful to every person who’s told me that they’ve connected with my story. And to the people who say I’ve helped them in any way, like… truly, that is such an honor.” She pauses, chewing on her lower lip nervously. “But at the same time, I don’t know if I like that we still live in a world where it’s, like, headline news if a low-level celebrity like me just happens to be dating someone of the same gender.” She laughs lightly. “Guess that’s not something I should say to a magazine that focuses on LGBTQ issues, huh?”

I shrug it off. Mitchell’s point is, after all, a valid one. In this modern political climate, there does seem to be something strangely antiquated (if the early-2000s can be considered ‘antiquated’, that is) about a celebrity needing to give a ‘coming out’ interview. But, despite the merits of her argument, I still have a job to do.

I ask her about her burgeoning role as an icon for other young queer women hoping to enter the industry. “I don’t know if I’m the best role model,” she says with her signature self-deprecating manner. “But I am queer. My music is based off of my life, and I am in a same-sex relationship at the moment. My last album was about a woman. And none of that’s a secret. I’m just going to continue to make the music that I want to make, and my sexuality and my current relationship are definitely a big part of my art. I’m not going to apologize for that. I’m just gonna live my life the best I can, and if people want to see me as a role model for that… yeah, I’d be proud of that.”

I wonder how Chloe feels about her sudden thrust into the limelight. Her life as an inauspicious, unknown civilian must be all-but over (at least, for the time being).

Beca is careful with her response. It takes her many long moments to weigh her words. “We both really value our privacy. And with regards to our relationship, well… I don’t want to speak for her. But I do know that she’d prefer it if she didn’t have any of the fame or the attention. Because of that, we’re really doing our best to keep a low media profile, for our families and also for our personal lives.”

[image]

Pictured: Beca Mitchell, wearing an Angela Chen Jacket, Skoot Apparel Sneakers, Gap Socks, Stylist’s own tank top, and her own jeans.

“But I… we really do want to keep out of the media, as much as possible. But I don’t want people to… A lot of people have contacted me recently, like… way more people than I expected. I get Instagram and Twitter messages every day from young fans; people approach me in the street and tell me that they’ve been impacted by my story; I get letters from people saying that it’s meant a lot to them to see a prominent queer female artist, and… I do feel such a responsibility, now. I understand how much it blows to feel alone and… misunderstood. So, while Chloe and I are trying to keep our private lives private, I don’t want people to think that I’m ashamed of who I am or who I choose to date. That’s not the reason we’ve been keeping a low profile. I’m not ashamed of who I am. So I want to be open about my life. I want people to know that I’m bisexual, and I’m proud of it. And I’m proud of my significant other. But I also want people to respect me, and what I choose to share. I’m sort of a public figure, now, and I signed on for it willingly; like I knew this was coming for me. But Chloe doesn’t really want that life, so… if people could respect my privacy, that would be amazing. I’m not going to stop being who I am and loving who I love proudly and vocally, but I want people to understand that the parts of my life I share are the parts of my life I’m willing to share. Because sometimes — and I think we forget this a lot because of how everyone’s always gotta be documenting their lives on social media and everything — sometimes I think there are some things that should just be for you.”

She shakes her head ruefully. “My publicist is gonna kick my ass. That answer was so preachy and long-winded.” She startles. “Oh shit, can I say ‘ass’?” When I nod in the affirmative, she seems more than a little relieved.

I tell her I understand her desire for privacy. I want to respect her wishes as much as possible, but I’m still dying to know something.

Does she think she’s found her one great love story?

“Chloe’s my best friend,” Mitchell says calmly, with a serene sort of smile on her face. “And she makes me happier than anyone in the world. So if you’re wondering whether I’m ‘finding love’?” She smiles coyly, and looks off to the side. The street outside our café is bustling with activity. A young couple walks by with limbs intertwined, their free hands each balancing an ice cream cone. On a nearby bench, an old man reads the newspaper to his bent-over wife. It think maybe it’s just me, noticing all the sweet signs of romance filtering through the air. (Spring, like I said, makes me think of new starts and new beginnings.)

But Mitchell finally turns back to me. Her smile never wavers. “I would say that it definitely looks promising.”

#perdition #one shots #bechloe #anonymous #asks #didn't plan on writing this but got inspired #:)#long post

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