#and now there are perfectly good jobs in a growing city that no one applies to?

[apleasurableillusion]

A grand total of one viable candidate applied to be our articling student this year which is insane. Like aren’t there supposed to be too many law students and no one is going to get a job???

[sheogayrath]

so imagine a child from a family just straddling the border of the aristocracy, juuuuust not-quite-there enough to instill every one of them with a deep sense of insecurity that drives them to aggressively flaunt what wealth they do have in extremely conspicuous ways. and he grows up with the parental dynamic of an upper class british family in the 1800s where you are raised by a rotating cast of nannies and speak to your parents like twice a year, in which they just keep giving you expensive gifts and paying for private lessons and shit in place of showing affection.

he attends a good school and does well for a time because he has a natural aptitude for rote memorization but immediately gives up when he can no longer excel in a subject by simply throwing his brain at it. he picks up hobbies and abandons them when he is not immediately skilled enough to earn him praise. he is really thirsty for praise. he does however show a genuine interest in art and literature that the adults in his life make no effort to kindle, nonetheless takes up sewing and enjoys it, writes poetry that he doesn't show anyone, et cetera

has a short phase in which he actively tries to build a reputation for himself as an interesting and dangerous person who flouts the rules, and he is on some level aware that the juvenile delinquents he is hanging out with are only humoring him until they realize he is genuinely useful to have around: he is the most innocent-looking eloquent little tween and he's good at talking his way out of trouble, he pawns all of his old expensive stuff off on his friends, and he's weirdly good at quietly sneaking into places without getting caught. it also turns out that the manual dexterity needed for embroidery is transferable to lockpicking. he is the equivalent of a bored private school kid picking up shoplifting as a hobby.

when he grows up he begrudgingly lets go of this little phase and goes off and studies law, because it's what all the men in his family do, and finds he's actually pretty good at it. the most common criticism he receives is something along the lines of 'if he just APPLIED himself...' winds up with a good cushy legal job due in no small part to our good friend nepotism. he's perfectly competent but doesn't really care about his job; his real passion is in wheedling his way into upscale parties and and sucking up to whoever looks important, trying to climb the social ladder, you know. becomes known as a shitty person who is nonetheless really fun to go out drinking with. eventually a family emergency or somesuch compels his parents to move back to whatever city or country they originated from, which doesn't bother him too much because he was never very close with them, but it does begin to set in that he is in now in his late thirties and completely friendless. his days are punctuated by good food and wine and theater trips and impulse purchases and lots of unfulfilling casual sex. regarding the cushy legal job: of course he is completely unsympathetic to the plight of the common man, not exactly a good quality for a person in his position to have. he is casually bigoted in the way that someone who has never ventured outside of their social bubble or been forced to question their beliefs tends to be. utterly bored with the career that he has locked himself into, he starts turning a blind eye to corruption and generally making decisions based on what will generate the least friction for him. he gets sloppier about hiding his motivations until finally he accepts a bribe and makes a completely unfair ruling that actively endangers a marginalized group of people, and said group of people murder him. and that guy was His Honour Magistrate Astarion Ancunin. ok thank you for listening

[meditating-dog-lover]

Pushing myself

I''m on vacation in Cyprus right now and am happy and relaxed. I really like it here. I have the chance to relax and be at ease. It feels nostalgic here because it reminds me of the happy days I had living in the Middle East as a child minus the childhood trauma. I had a good trip there last week, but the trauma never leaves unfortunately. Cyprus is a simple and relaxing country. I love the streets, the weather, the warm people, the food (especially the fish) and cafes, the beaches, the small shops, the Christmas villages and decor. People here are also nice and the country is very safe (I go out for walks late at night as a woman and I feel very safe). People here are religious but without the fanaticism and backwardness. I may be an American but I'm open to other people's cultures and chatted with people here (mostly the cops) and they have this warm traditional personality (traditional as in an elder giving you wise advice, not traditional as in bigoted and close minded). That's also something I love. It's completely different from my "traditional" aunt who asked me who cooks for my dad and got surprised when I told her I want to establish a career before I get married. It's like talking to an adult who is wise and cares for you. So overall I like it here and am relaxed.

This is what brings me peace in my life. Being on my own in a relaxing area, especially by a beach or a nice Mediterranean village, drinking coffee or eating European style pizza, going out for walks, journaling, and being around warm people brings me peace. Even running my own small business. Or enjoying the night life with a lover either in a nice city or street or a nice hotel room. Away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, tension, materialism, large crowds of people, and stress.

I get to spend time with my dad who has become extremely relaxed and laid back compared to how he was when we were growing up. He used to be strict and yell at us and even hit us. It's not excusable and I have no doubt in my mind that my grandmother made him extremely stressed and on edge. So he took it out on us. Those "dad's side of the family" memes perfectly apply to us unfortunately. I don't hate his family, I get along with them. But I know they have their own deep complexities I absolutely do not want to get involved in and they drove my dad crazy (and me too!). But I am free now and my dad gives me a lot of freedom because I am an adult and very responsible. He even encourages me to go out for late night walks and he lets me do whatever I want without controlling or worrying about me. So I no longer have to be a part of their mess. But my dad is in a great mood and we sit in the TV room together watching the news and Smurfs and Angry Birds (this is his taste in movies). It reminds me of the good old days before college. He also convinced me to try intermittent fasting, which was nice given that we were not raised on healthy foods and habits.

So overall the trauma is still there, but it doesn't impact me as much because I am free and on my own now. In the US with a good job and a nice house with 2 beautiful dogs. No one controls my money and expenses. No one has access to my bank account, nor my phone or laptop. I'm free and independent.

I get pretty stressed when I'm in the US over work and expenses. Feeling like I am so behind in life because I just started working and am working an entry level position. Also worried about money and if I come across a day where I am broke in the future. I know my parents have money and will never leave me without any sense of security (for all my dad's faults he is very financially responsible and never left us hungry or homeless and paid for out college tuition). Thanks to him I have never been in debt. But I know I am doing a great job even though I am young. I am responsible and eager to learn more.

I had the misconception that I am only academically smart as opposed to life smart. I am a cell biologist and worked hard in school and college to be where I am. It was absolutely worth it. However I'm still working on gaining life lesson, but I need to tell myself that I already have a lot of that.

According to City Personnel: "Book smart people have a lot of knowledge and can excel in school, but they don't handle real-world situations well. On the other hand, street smart people may not know much about books and tests, but they're experts at handling every situation that comes their way". I used to worry that despite having book smarts, I felt like I lacked life smarts (or street smarts) because I felt I didn't know how to handle real world issues. Especially someone like me who has anxiety. These include skills in career, finances, health, relationships and dating, and whatever life throws at you in general. These include valuable lessons worth knowing despite not having a complete education path nor the most academically leaning job. For example, my aunt is a college drop out and works as a waitress but has a lot of street smarts. And she's doing perfectly fine in life despite "college dropouts are losers" which is a total myth. If you have a PhD in engineering yet you cannot establish social skills, emotional intelligence, financial stability, then I don't think this guarantees a fully successful life.

I'm still learning in life and am doing great. And I need to stop pressuring myself. But again I do have concerns over (a) being deficient in life skills and (b) worrying about finances. Things will be okay, though.

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Hello! can you do a scenario with fem!reader and father's best friend!namjoon? I totally understand if this is a concept you're uncomfortable with. All the armys are going crazy with the dilf!bts concept so I need to have this 😭

Tbh that's a hard concept (like absolutely don't do this irl y'all plss it's not okay if it's not fiction– go in the notes to read my PSA pls) so I had to write a bit of plot at the beginning just because I wanted to make it as less weird as possible lol

Namjoon wasn't the type of family friend you got to see a lot growing up. He was, however, the type of friend you got to hear about a lot. Your dad had spent his high school years being in a band that never really had its break, and Namjoon had apparently been the youngest member and your father's favourite. He kept talking about how he "raised" him, meaning he helped him get his first kiss and taught him about girls. Then your dad got your mum pregnant right after graduating, and they both decided to move to the US to find a job and start their family. Your family. And so your dad lost touch with his best friend.

He talked about him quite often, and you knew he had even visited once when you were still too young to have a memory of it. You had only ever seen a couple of pictures of them together; Namjoon looked like a very cringy 13-year-old with a terrible haircut. Not that your dad as a teenager looked any better. But that's beside the point. It doesn't matter what he looked like back then, today you probably wouldn't be able to even recognize him even if he passed you on the street.

"Did I tell you? My best friend moved here from Korea! The band kids are back together!"

Namjoon came back into your father's life at around the same time as you left it– moved away for college. And you kept getting all these updates on how great it was that they found each other again, how many things they did together and in general how happy your dad was. When you visited home for Christmas, Namjoon was away so you didn't run into him. And almost a year after he had moved there, you would finally meet him during the summer. Your father invited him for dinner one hot evening in July.

You opened the door to find him standing outside, your mother just a step behind to greet him. “Joonie! So glad you could make it. Come on in, come on in... Ah! As you know, this is our daughter.”

The man was tall and handsome, nothing like the pictures you had seen. And familiar. His eyes met yours and he smiled, making your blood run cold— you had seen that man before. Not even a week ago, staring at you at the bar while sipping his whiskey until you decided he was too hot and couldn’t be older than 30, so you walked up to him and gave him a napkin with your number and a lipstick stain of a kiss on it. He never called.

“Wow,” Namjoon said without his tone matching his words. “She has grown up so much.” And he looked you up and down again, checking you out kind of like he had done that night. Your entire face was burning, turning on your heels to get away. What the fuck kind of luck was that? He was your dad's friend? You hoped– you begged that he didn't recognize you. He wasn't saying anything, though his eyes kept on stealing looks, and so you thought you might have had a close escape. Until you run into each other in the kitchen. Alone. "Come here, young lady," he said in a deep voice that sent shivers down your spine. You already felt like you were in trouble. "Does your father know you go around giving your number to men almost twice your age?"

He was so close, eyes travelling lazily down your form with a smirk on his lips. "No," you choked. "I– I don't– You were staring at me, that's why I thought..."

"I was staring at you because I was trying to figure out if you were my best friend's daughter."

Hearing him say the words made your cheeks burn. Defeat. He had a logical excuse and all you had was that he was a little too much your type. And he sounded like he was scolding you, reminding you of your place. You lowered your head, really wanting to get out. "Please don't tell him."

Don't tell him I hit on you. Don't tell him I wanted to fuck you.

Namjoon didn't reply right away, but late that night you got a text from an unknown number. "I won't tell him anything."

He won't tell him anything. Perhaps that could be applied to what had already happened, or what would happen in the future.

You didn't text frequently, but you did nonetheless. And even though you were sure both of you would say they were simple, innocent texts, how innocent could they really be when the man already knew how you felt about him? Maybe you were crazy, but you thought he might like you too. Maybe he liked the fact that you liked him. It wasn't evident in anything he did or say, just the vibes you got from him those days he visited your house, or the way he looked at you when you were left alone for a second. The summer passed by so fast when every other day you met your father's best friend in one way or another.

When it was time for you to move back to the city where you attended college, Namjoon just so happened to be going there for some work too. And your parents were grateful that you had someone to travel with. The car ride was long and mostly silent. You had never been left alone for so long and suddenly you realised how hard it was to keep a conversation going without talking about how horny he made you feel just by being in the same, tight space with you. But the farther away you got from home, the less you cared about keeping your good reputation up.

"Where will you sleep tonight?" you asked him after he helped drop off all your stuff at your apartment late that night and was already at the door, ready to leave.

"I'll find a hotel," he told you, hand still on the door handle.

"You can stay here if you want to."

"Don't–" His plea was soft-spoken, in contrast to the intense way his eyes were piercing yours.

"Don't what?" you acted dumb. "All I'm saying is I'm sure dad would rather you stay instead of paying for a room. You're like family, anyway."

You noticed how he took in a deep breath, grip around the knob getting harder. "Don't bring him into this."

Saying that you two shouldn't mention your father was like admitting what was going on right now was beyond innocent. And even though your stomach clenched at his harsh tone, you bowed your head and whispered. "I'm sorry."

"This is so wrong," you heard him call loudly all of a sudden, making you look back at him. He was chewing on his lip desperately. "I was there when your dad got your mom pregnant. Do you know what I said? Fuck, man, how are you gonna get out of this bullshit? I shouldn’t be…"

You blinked at him, waiting to hear the end of the sentence. "Shouldn't be what?" You weren't gonna let him slip away that easily. You would push him until he had to say what he wanted to say. It was your only chance, anyway.

Namjoon sighed. He pushed the door closed and walked up to you steadily all while he was staring straight into your eyes. "Why did you give me your number that night?"

Your breathing was already getting heavier. You wouldn't back away. What was the point? He knew already. "Because you were hot. And I wanted you to fuck me."

He chewed his lip for a few seconds, watching your face as he contemplated his next words. "Why do you want me to stay over tonight?"

You gulped. He was so close, closer than ever. "Because you're hot," you whispered. Glance down on his lips. "And I want you to fuck me."

He closed his eyes momentarily before he was exhaling loudly. "Fucking– hell!"

And he instantly moved forward, one hand grabbing the back of your head as he brought your face to crush on his, mouths smashing against each other after all the times you had dreamed about it. It was so much better than you could have imagined, lips full and soft parting yours for his tongue to slip in between, making you moan. And you were trying to get closer and closer, almost tripping as you walked blindly further into the apartment. His jacket was discarded on the floor before your shirt joined it, and Namjoon was growling before attacking your neck with his teeth.

"Daddy..." The word truly slipped out of you, and he was pausing for a moment, pulling away to look at you.

"Really? You're really gonna call me daddy?" Your eyes were wide and cheeks burning, squirming away from him before he grabbed your wrist to keep you close. "Shit," he grunted, not sounding mad at all. "Alright, baby. Show daddy where your room is, need to get you in bed right away."

And you mewled at his words. You were there in no time, pulling the rest of your clothes off as Namjoon undressed too. Big and thick, he was even hotter like that, making you press your legs together as you took the sight in. And when he removed his boxers too, you got to found out his dick matched the rest of his body perfectly, long and thick and so hot it made your mouth water.

"Daddy," you whined as he started crawling over you. "You're so big. You're gonna tear me apart."

His large hand grabbed your jaw. "That's what you get for playing with big boys." And he kissed you ruthlessly again. His other hand travelling down your form until he found your pussy, fingers playing with your folds and humming in satisfaction. "So wet. Is that all for me, baby?"

"Yes, daddy," you moaned, hips trying to grind on his hand for some more friction. "I've been wet for you since I first saw you."

"Fuck. I know, baby," he breathed into your ear, two fingers slipping slowly inside you and stretching you out. "I could tell. You weren't hiding it very well, baby. How much you wanted me to ruin you. Which is why daddy's been hard for you all this time, too." Your breath was hitching as he was moving his hands slowly, not even trying to fuck you like that, just trying to get you ready for his cock. And he stopped. "Are you gonna let daddy fuck you raw, baby?"

You almost screamed. "Fuck, yes, daddy, please! Fuck me open with your cock."

Namjoon was growling as he retrieved his fingers from inside you. "What a dirty mouth! Who taught you to speak like that, you dirty, little whore? I thought you were a good girl."

Your nails were scratching his back as you whined and squirmed underneath him. "Oh, daddy, please! I need you! I'll be good for you."

And you felt the tip of his dick press against your entrance as he shushed you. "Alright then. Be a good girl for daddy and take this big cock like the good, little slut you are." And he shoved himself in you.

"O–oh my god!" you yelped. Namjoon didn't go easy on you, didn't go slow or gentle, he started pounding you fast and hard right away, truly fucking you open like you had asked him to. You were squirming underneath him but his body was so big and strong, it was caging you completely. And just to shut you up he kissed you again, tongue so deep in your mouth he was choking you. Namjoon was fucking you so hard he brought tears to your eyes, and you felt euphoric being used by him like that.

"My dirty, little cunt," he rasped after he freed your mouth. "Like taking my cock like that?" You were nodding, mewling, unable to speak. "What a good girl. Letting daddy fuck her as hard as he wants." He leaned back, grabbing your arms until he had your wrists pinned above your head and the new position gave him the ability to piston his hips against yours even faster, diving even deeper.

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum," you cried, legs shaking as they fought against his abusing thrusts between them.

"So easy," Namjoon panted with a smirk. "So easy to please you. Gonna cum cuz you've never had dick like daddy's before, huh? No one's ever fucked you this good? Those little boys your age, I bet they don't know shit about pleasing a nasty girl like you." He spat on his free hand and brought it right down on your clit, pressing on it hard. And you were moaning even louder. "There you go, baby. You can cum on daddy's dick now."

"Namjoon–" you yelped, and you felt your orgasm pop, gushing all your juices over him as he kept fucking you through it. He slowed down a bit, coming down to kiss you sloppily as you continued to whine with each thrust against your sensitive, tight walls.

"That's my good girl," he whispered, kissing you almost lovingly. "Don't worry, baby. We're not nearly done yet." And his thrusts slowly got deeper and deeper. "You really shouldn't have let me fuck you, baby. Cuz now I don't ever plan on stopping."

Masterlist | Part 2

[trashytummiez]

Maybe catwomen stuffs herself too much and tries to break into a building while hiding her belches and trying to fit in small spaces with a bloated middle

Selina was usually better about watching what she ate before a job but the poached salmon was just way too good to eat in moderation. Part of her knew she should have held off on the next heist until later that evening but when word came down that the jewels were being moved within the hour she knew she had to pounce like the sly kitty cat she was. But right now the mere thought of pouncing made her ill.

Catwoman was deep inside the underground vault of a criminal collector within Gotham City. She carefully crawled on all fours in her skintight trademark catsuit to avoid making too much noise and alerting any of the many armed guards patrolling the vault. Of all the times to feel so heavy tonight was not one of them.

Even when she crawled Selina's usually perfectly sleek stomach was visibly pushing out after her heavy fishy meal. Catwoman felt the contents of her tummy sloshing about inside of her when she navigated the vault and grimaced unpleasantly.

There was a patrol on standby that she needed to bypass so she pressed her back against a pillar and waited until he left the area. But as she waited her stomach churned audibly. She silently hissed and hugged her bloated little tummy in a desperate effort to keep the guard from hearing her gastric distress.

As if the gurgling wasn't enough now Selina could feel a pressure building in her chest.

Oh no.

As if things couldn't get any worse. It seems Selina's stomach was hellbent on making its displeasure heard because Catwoman could feel a burp desperately trying to creep its way up her throat. She clenched her eyes shut and swallowed down so nothing would worm its way up. It was a deeply unpleasant feeling that made her chest and throat hurt but it at least caused the pressure to subside back down in her tummy if only temporarily.

Catwoman silently huffed feeling a little nauseous from withholding the pressure like that. But it paid off when the guard standing by finally passed and gave Selina a window to slip past his line of sight and behind some shelves. She cringed when her belly erupted with a sickly burble but tried to ignore it again because she'd need to squeeze between several precious crates of cargo to get to her destination.

This would normally be easy peasy for Catwoman. But while her tummy wasn't super bloated it still stuck out enough that it could be a tighter fit.

Dammit Wayne. You just had to show a girl a good time... Selina cursed her date internally.

She tried to suck in her stomach as much as she could but doing so made her feel sick. There wasn't much she could do except bare the brunt of things. So Catwoman took a silent breath and tried to slip through the cracks between the cargo. Just as she'd feared she was too bloated and because of that her tummy was being squeezed by the cargo. It was such an unbearably tight fit because of the added weight to her stomach and all that pressure against her belly wasn't doing anything for Catwoman's growing bout of nausea.

There was so much pressure being applied to her belly as she navigated that it began to gurgle anew. Selina cringed because she had to burp so badly. She could feel the pressure mounting up her chest while she tried to squeeze her way through. At first she tried to hold it down like before but because her belly was being pressed by the cargo she couldn't get the gas down in time and had to muffle it in her mouth. Catwoman clamped her hand over her mouth as a deep burp rumbled in her mouth so hard her soft cheeks puffed out.

And unfortunately the sound was just loud enough to get one guard asking, "Did you hear something?"

Selina cursed to herself and moved faster and faster which made her feel greener and greener but she managed to slip through the cargo just in time to avoid the flashlight of an approaching guard. When he passed by out of sight Catwoman's turbulent tummy groaned heavily which caused her to cringe again. Catwoman grabbed her belly and muffled what sounded like a really big burp that almost worked its way out of her mouth.

She blushed profusely and nearly audibly excused herself for how big that was because she was typically far more "ladylike" some of her peers in the Rogues gallery of Gotham.

Fortunately it didn't catch anyone's attention. So she very quickly but quietly made her way to the heart of the vault and found the jewels. They were locked behind an automated system which she very fortunately knew how to hack after a favor for Nygma. She disabled the security measure just long enough to swap the jewels for very convincing fakes.

She just had to escape now.

Selina couldn't alert anyone to her presence or else the entire job was bust. The truth couldn't break until the fakes were long out of Gotham. But the fast pace of her sneaking around was murder on her stomach which was bubbling even more heavily in response.

Catwoman couldn't even crawl on all fours anymore because she had to have one arm wrapped around her bloated belly the whole way out in order to silence it as best she could.

Having to hold in the gas wasn't making matters any easier either. She held the burps trying to squeeze their way up down in her tummy for as long as she could whenever guards were nearby. When Catwoman had made her way past enough of them to be a little more isolated she tried to bring herself as much relief as she quietly could. Catwoman grabbed her taut bulging tummy in one hand and firmly wrapped her other hand over her mouth and squinted when a rumbly burp erupted in her mouth and made her cheeks puff. She maintained that pose when another longer burp rumbled in her mouth for about three seconds. Even after a big one like that another long burp came dangerously close to escaping her lush lips.

Selina blushed even harder than she'd blushed in years. She felt so gross and had to remember to get payback on the restaurant one night for making her tummy such a wreck.

When she was done burping Selina continued on. Once again she was forced to squeeze through crates and crawl in some very tight corners which compressed her bloated stomach intensely. It was so hard not to burp or worse whenever she was moving through those cramped spots. But she always managed to hold it in long enough to wait until there was space between her and the guards to stifle the release of whatever pressure she could in her limited time windows.

It was messy but Selina was still Catwoman and Catwoman never let any obstacles keep her from her prizes and her freedom. No matter how much her stomach hated her right now for it.

She finally managed to break out of the vault as carefully as she had entered and ended up safely outside on the rooftops. Selina breathed a heavy sigh of relief with a hand atop her pooching little tummy.

"Finally! Unnngh what a pain in the aaAAAAAHOOOOORRRHP!!!!!"

Selina's stomach cut her off by causing a deep raunchy burp to finally forced its way past Selina's lips. She blushed as red as Poison ivy's hair and held her belly tightly when it churned. Catwoman hunched and held a hand over her mouth like she was going to be sick. A big one was coming and despite her best efforts Selina couldn't hold back what was the loudest burp she had ever uttered in her whole life.

BBRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPP!!!!!!!!!!

It was a very good thing she was a few buildings away from the vault by that point because every one of the guards would've heard that one.

Poor Selina couldn't help sigh with intense relief. Despite how embarrassingly unladylike that was it felt so good to finally get out. She gently rubbed her tummy and felt it gurgling a little less.

"Nnnnnf...excuse me..." Selina finally uttered.

Next time she and Bruce went on a date she was getting a salad. Poached salmon did not taste as good coming up as it did going down.

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Twelve: Family

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: THE FINAL CHAPTER! very emotional, new beginnings, bullying mention, poverty mention, abuse mention, allusions to pregnancy.

Word count: 3000>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Masterlist 

Previous - Chapter Twelve - Epilogue [coming soon!]

“I don’t know if I could do it,” Maxwell sighed, pacing around in anxious circles. He looked different, in his denim jeans and khaki-green cable knit sweater. It made a change from the oversized powersuits he once donned. Alistair was sat at the dining room table, colouring in, and Max was having a nervous breakdown about getting his haircut. “I’ve had the blonde in for so long.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his shaggy and unstyled hair. When it wasn’t perfectly coiffed, it was wavy and glossy, and smelled distinctly like the freshest green apples. “It’ll be okay. Think of it as washing away all the terrible things that went on in the past and starting anew. Like… turning over a new leaf.” 

You made a very good point. Maxwell knew he had to suck it up and just do it. It would be okay. He didn’t have to be Max Lord anymore, and he didn’t have this television persona to live up to. His main focus now was just being a father, and that’s all that mattered. All he needed to be, was himself. Maxwell Lorenzano.

“Daddy look!” Alistair smiled, waving around the piece of paper he’d spent the morning drawing on. It was stained slightly from his breakfast, and crinkled in the corners for where he’d applied slightly too much pressure when colouring, but all-in-all, it was perfect. Maxwell took the artwork and looked closely at it. Another typical family portrait of you, Alistair and Max. But this time, Maxwell was doting brown hair, and it reminded him of his younger days when he was first starting out as a businessman. “This is how you’ll look when you come home from the salon!”

“Wow Alistair, I love it!” Maxwell praised, unable to contain his grin. He held the portrait to his face and showed it off. “What do you think?” he asked you. “Do you think I’ll look good with the brown hair?” 

You giggled and nodded your head, before pressing the palm of your hand flat against Maxwell’s chest and brushing your lips against his. “You’ll look so handsome, I’m sure.”

“Ew!” Alistair cried, pulling the paper from his father’s hand as you kissed him softly on the lips. The curve of Max’s nose nudged against yours and he laughed at his son’s reaction.

“Alright,” you said, pointing your finger. “You better go. Don’t want to miss your appointment.”

Maxwell nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” he announced.

The second Maxwell left the house, your stomach began to twist. You’d been living at Lord manor for a month now but truthfully, it felt like a lifetime. It felt like you had always been there. You were adjusting to your new life pretty well, but this morning sickness that you had started to get was an unwelcome experience. Amazon’s never got ill, so this was brand new to you, and you weren’t enjoying it one bit.

You rubbed your stomach and took a sip of the glass of water that you’d been nursing. Sliding down to sit next to Alistair, you watched as he finished his drawing, adding a few final perfections. Once it was done, you hung it to the refrigerator and praised him for his hard work.

“Ali, why don’t you grab your shoes and we’ll have a walk down to the Smithsonian?” you smiled, grabbing your jacket that was hanging over the kitchen door.

“Ooh! Is there a new exhibition?” He enquired curiously, hopping onto his feet and fastening his shoe laces.

“I don’t think so,” you admitted sheepishly. “I have to go meet with some friends.”

Taking the bus was a new experience for both you and Alistair. Joe, Maxwell’s driver, would normally drive Alistair around to and from places. But not today. The bus was slightly smelly and the seats were sticky, but by the looks of it, Alistair was having the time of his life. He pointed out the window, grinning, and talked to you about all the different D.C. landmarks the both of you passed as you were driven into the city centre. He might have only been six years old, but that was six years of living in the world of man. You’d only been here for a month, and so Alistair could teach you a lot. 

Driving past the park, Alistair gasped, and shuffled into your body. “That’s the park where we first met,” Alistair pointed. You narrowed your eyes as you took in the sight of tall green trees and shrubbery. He was right. “Do you remember that day? You were wearing an awesome superhero costume like something out of my comic books. And you wore a tiara, and I asked if you were a princess. And you scared my bullies away, and helped me look for dad.”

“I remember.” you smiled, ruffling Alistair’s dark hair.

You remembered asking Alistair what his father looked like, and the only thing the boy could say was ‘strong, cool, and the best dad in the world’. Counting your lucky stars, you were so thankful you had found your forever family. You had come so far from that moment.

“Did you ever tell daddy… about those bullies in the park?” Alistair asked you hesitantly, his voice suddenly small and timid.

You pulled off him and looked him in the eyes. “No. Why?”

Alistair paused for a moment and glanced back out the window. “I was afraid he’d be disappointed in me.”

Your heart shattered in your chest. “Ali,” you said quietly, tears threatening to prick your eyes. “Your father could never, ever be disappointed in you. You know that, yes?”

Alistair nodded his head silently.

“He loves you so much,” you continued. “And the whole bullying thing… I think he’d understand better than anyone else.”

You remembered all the visions you had of Maxwell, even seeing him as a child at one point. You remembered him wearing rugged clothes that were too small for him and how he was picked on for his broken shoes. 

“Really? You think so?” Alistair asked.

“I know so,” you confirmed, pressing a kiss into Alistair’s hair. “Those bullies will never amount to anything if they continue doing what they’re doing. But you are so much better than them. Stronger. Your power lies in your heart, and in the truth, and in love.”

Alistair smiled. “You’re a real hero, aren’t you?”

“We’re all heroes.”

————

Yourself, Maxwell and Alistair loved trips to the Smithsonian. Diana always organised special access for the three of you, to go after hours when the entire museum was empty. Alistair was admiring the fish in the aquarium, when you noticed Barbara and Diana, and waved them over.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Diana smiled.  

“It was sort of an impulse thing,” you explained. “Uhm, actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

You pulled Diana to one side and left Barbara with Alistair. “Remember how you said ‘I owe you one’, since I like… got your girlfriend to renounce her wish and kinda helped you save the world by destroying the second dreamstone?” you grinned, trying to hold back a laugh.

Diana rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you plotting?”

“Max has been… worried, to say the least. We’re going to have to sell Black Gold and it’s a real shame because-- he worked so hard on it. We have some money and well, I haven’t exactly ran this by him yet but I was thinking about investing what we do have into the Smithsonian. Just like what Maxwell promised to do in the first place.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Diana sighed. “The gemology department is doing just fine.”

You shook your head, your smile only growing. “No Di, that’s not what I was getting at. How would you feel about… expanding the gemology department?”

“I’m not quite sure I follow…”

“I’ve heard Barbara talk about how there’s a lack of space to facilitate all the rocks and stones the Smithsonian keeps bringing in. She has a real fear that the entire paleontology department could be shut down and replaced with something else.” You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

“That’s true…”

“So what if we use the Black Gold building as an extension for the Smithsonian, and have it specialise in all these fancy rocks and gems and stones. We could transport everything over and then we could utilize the leftover funds that Maxwell has, to keep all the palaeontologists and geologists employed. Hell, with a whole new building, we could even create more jobs for people. It would also mean that we wouldn’t have to fire Max’s old employees and-- Oh Di, I just know Max would love it. He really does have a passion for gemology. And his son, Ali… he has an interest too.”

“So I heard,” Diana rolled her eyes, but, to be frank, she liked what you were getting at. An expansion wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing… “It’s a big responsibility though, and it seems you haven’t even spoken to Maxwell about it. You would get funding from the Smithsonian as an institution, yes, but… it would still be Max’s business. Do you really think he could handle that? After what happened to his last business?”

“He’s smart,” you assured her. “And he’s a good businessman. He knows all these things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Last time he just got unlucky. But this, this could really be something great. We have the building, and the passion, and enough money to get started. Please Diana… I know you could make this happen. Please.”

Diana spent a moment pondering the possibilities before shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “Alright,” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You grinned and squealed excitedly, wrapping your arms around your half sister and squeezing her tight. “Thank you Di!” She laughed and rubbed your back before you pulled off her. “Oh, and Di… there’s one more thing.”

Diana tilted her head and gazed at you with fresh bewilderment. Looking around the museum to make sure no one was around to hear what you had to say, you leaned into the Amazon and whispered a confession you’d been keeping to yourself for the past month. 

————

Maxwell sat in the chair and frowned upon seeing his reflection in the mirror. “What can I do for you?” asked the stylist as she smacked her lips on a piece of gum. Max wasn’t sure if he could really bring himself to do this, until he remembered your words. This was ‘turning over a new leaf’-- a new start and fresh beginnings. 

“Uh, a trim please,” Maxwell requested before taking a shaky exhale. It was now or never, he just had to take the leap. “No, that’s not everything,” he sighed. “Could you perhaps take the blonde… out of my hair?” The question left his lips with an air of unsurity. Could one even do that? Take the colour out of hair?

“You want the colour stripped?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. Maxwell supposed that was one way of putting it.

“Yes, I do.” he confirmed.

The stylist processed Maxwell’s words for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “As you wish.”

As the stylist wrapped Max’s shaggy golden locks into foil, he closed his eyes. He’d come so far since the whole dreamstone debacle. His whole life had been a rollercoaster of up and down events but now, finally, things were evening out for him -- in the best way possible. He’d fallen in love and secured his family and home. The only thing he was mildly worried about, was the issue with Black Gold. But he knew that he’d somehow figure it out, especially now that he had you by his side to help him.

He’d always seen himself as an independent man. He fought hard to be as successful. He escaped his hometown, his abusive father, he ran away from poverty and was discriminated against by upper class white businessmen who told him he could never amount to anything. He proved all of them wrong. Because now, he had everything he could ever want. He didn’t need stacks of money or material possessions when he had you and Alistair. Maybe he wasn’t as independent as he once thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, he liked the company of others. He liked having you and his son around.

In his fight for wealth and success, he’d lost everything that mattered the most. But most importantly, he had lost himself. Maxwell swore that he’d never let that happen again.

As the stylist removed the silver foil from his hair, Maxwell nervously anticipated the result. His once bottle blonde hair was now a chocolate brown colour, and it reminded him distinctly of his youth. Max couldn’t help but feel like he looked younger, and he wasn’t going to complain about that. 

He just hoped you liked it as much as he did.

————

“I just don’t understand why mommy is taking so long,” Alistair grumbled as he and Barbara waited outside the ladies restroom. “And why did auntie Diana have to go into the toilet with her?”

Barbara stifled a laugh. “You’re inpatient, just like your dad.”

Impatience must’ve run in the family because you were sitting on the toilet seat, tapping your food as anxiety flooded your body. You didn’t expect to be this nervous. You’d wanted a child for so long -- in fact, your whole life to be exact. But now that there was a chance of it actually happening, you were beyond terrified. Maybe it was the fact Maxwell didn’t know about your symptoms, but you knew better than to feel alone. You were never going to be alone.

“How long left?” you asked Diana, who checked her wristwatch. It was an antique from the early 1900’s, something very special and something she kept very close to her heart.

“It should be ready now.” she told you, handing you the stick you had just peed on.

“I don’t want to look.” you squirmed, covering your face with your hands.

“Wow,” Diana hummed, her jaw parting slightly when she took in the results. 

“Wh-- what is it?” you asked, nervously.

“You’re pregnant.”

————

When Maxwell came home, you were shocked to say the least. His brown hair was absolutely gorgeous, and it suited him better than you’d expected. The deep shade was identical to the colour in his sparkling eyes. Jokingly, he tossed his hair and you let out a laugh.

“I was right,” you giggled, running your fingers through his locks. “So handsome.”

“I love it daddy!” Alistair cheered.

“Thanks buddy,” Maxwell grinned. “I like it too.”

Taking a deep breath, you took Max’s hand and pulled him into the living room, shutting the door behind you. It was quiet in there -- the perfect place to tell Maxwell your news. It had been a nostalgic day, and even standing in the living room reminded you of the time Max first brought you home. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked you, slightly concerned. But your warm smile soon eased him. You felt the need to wrap your arms around him and envelop him into a hug. Max had taken a big step today, and you were proud of him, but now it was your moment. It was now or never.

Harnessing every ounce of confidence within you, you took his hands and looked him in the eye. “Max, I’m pregnant.”

Max’s brown eyes widened and he was completely lost for words. “I-- you-- you’re--”

“Yes.” you smiled, taking his hands and placing them on your stomach.

His shocked expression turned into an elated grin as he processed the good news. “You’re really--”

“I am.” you confirmed.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Maxwell so happy in your life. He wrapped his arms around you and held you so tight, like he was afraid to let you go. He swore in that moment he would never leave you, or his growing family, ever again.

This was it for him.

This was the start of Maxwell Lorenzano’s new life.

————

THE END.

————

Author’s Note: “I won’t cry” she says while sobbing into her Google Docs document. Thank you all for reading I Believe In Love. It’s a story I have wanted to share with you since I saw WW84 in the theatre, and I just can’t believe it’s finally over. This fic will always have a special place in my heart. The themes and plot points mean so much to me, but not only that, I’ve had the most amazing feedback on this fic and I will honestly cherish that for the rest of my life. I poured my heart and soul into writing I Believe In Love and it honestly one of my biggest comforts. I want you all to know that an epilogue is coming and if you have any requests for these characters I have created, feel free to send them my way. I adore my Amazon Goddess!Reader and I would absolutely love to continue their story at some point in the future. If you’ve followed me on this journey over the past four months, all I can really say is thank you. I love you so so much.

————

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[plaidbooks]

Witness Protection - part 2

A/N: And here’s the conclusion (for now)! I didn’t do the reunion with the squad, but if anyone wants that, I could. Again, I split the story in two, so this takes place right after last part. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Tags: none

Words: 2716

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy  @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867  @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas  @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner

There weren’t a whole lot of applicants—most people worked at the grocery store or in one of the other little shops in town. But Mike’s eyes lit up when one day, you came in, resumé in your hand.

“Hello! I hope you’re still looking for help? I’d like to apply,” you said, a bright smile on your face.

Mike grinned back, holding his hand out for your resumé. He scanned it quickly, noticing your name, the fact that you were close in age, and seeing that you’ve worked in customer service before.

“I am, yes. Tell me; do you know the difference between a mystery novel and a thriller?” he asked. He wasn’t going to throw you—or anyone—into that position like Gerry had to him. He’d vet you at least a little bit first.

You scrunched up your face as you thought about it, and Mike thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “Well, I don’t have a dictionary definition for you, but in my opinion, mystery novels are more of a…whodunit. It’s the puzzles, the twists and turns until the villain is revealed at the end. Thriller is more…the game between the protagonist and villain. It focuses more on the tension, rather than figuring out who the killer is.”

Mike blinked in surprise. “That’s actually…you’re dead on. And seeing as you’re the only one who gave me a straight answer, I think you’re perfect for the job.”

“Wait, really?” you asked, your hopes soaring.

Mike nodded. “It’ll be working every day, but I’ll let you choose if you want morning or afternoon shift. Either way, I can only pay $15 an hour. If business keeps steady, though, I may be able to give you a raise down the line.”

“What’re the hours?” you queried. The pay would be fine for your little house. Plus, the owner was waaay too cute.

Mike blushed. “Right, that would be useful information, wouldn’t it?” You laughed and he chuckled. “Morning shift is 8am until 1pm. Afternoons are noon until 5pm. I don’t mind working either shift, so it’s entirely up to you and what you can do.”

“Mornings work perfectly fine for me,” you replied, smiling. You were an early bird, anyways.

Mike gave you another bright grin. “Excellent. Come back at 8am tomorrow morning, and I’ll show you the jobs the morning shift does. And welcome aboard.”

 ***********************

Hiring you turned out to be the best choice Mike could’ve made. You caught on quickly; by the second day, Mike didn’t even need to be there training you anymore. You were great with customers, quick with a joke, and were incredibly well-read. Like him, you often filled the empty time with reading. Though, it was less time than Mike had when working for Gerry; you had to make the coffee and tend to the bakery goods, rearranging them when things sold. And with the higher volume of people, books were left on shelves randomly, making you put them in their correct place.

But the best contribution you made was your own pastries. You told Mike you enjoyed baking, and you brought him in a cupcake one day. It was probably the best thing Mike had ever tasted in his life.

“…would you be willing to sell your confections here? I can’t give you extra time off, not unless I hire someone else. But we can have a limited amount, and once they sell out for the day, they’re out—”

“I’d love to,” you replied, smiling. “Maybe not every day, but I usually make a batch of a dozen in my free time. I could always do two dozen, or a dozen of one thing, a dozen of something else.”

Mike nodded. “How about we start off slow, only selling things on Sunday? And if it turns out to be too much work for you, we can stop.”

“Sounds like a deal, boss man.”

 ************************

Your Sunday Special Treats became so popular, that it was obvious one day wasn’t going to cut it. You’d open the store at 8am with two dozen cookies, and they’d be gone within an hour. It got to the point where you’d show up at your normal 7:30am, and there would be a crowd by the doors, eagerly asking which treats you brought in that day. After discussing with Mike, you agreed to bake for both Sunday and Wednesday, for a mid-week treat.

Mike even offered to come by your place after he closed the shop to help you bake, if you wanted another pair of hands.

“Just so you know, though, I’ve never baked a day in my life,” he said, chuckling.

But he was so damn cute, and you were kind of hoping for more than a work relationship with him. Which is why you replied, “I’d appreciate all the help I can get. I can teach you.”

 ************************

It became a biweekly routine. Tuesday and Saturday nights, Mike would come to your place, around 6pm. You would be just starting baking, and he’d wash his hands before jumping in with you. At first, it was a struggle for him to figure out what to do with all the ingredients in front of you. You handwrote all your recipes—recipes passed down through generations of your family—and Mike followed them to the letter.

“The thing with baking, like cooking, you can add a little bit of this or that if it needs it, whether it’s in the recipe or not,” you told him one night.

He gave you a smirk. “But I don’t know when something needs a little this or that.”

“You’ll get it; you’re incredibly smart, Mike.”

He ducked his head, but you saw his cheeks turn a bright pink, a grin on his face.

Working so close together, not just baking, but in the bookstore as well, it was no shock that you fell head over heels for the sweet man. And it was no surprise when he fell just as hard for you. Both of you were afraid of the implications and the power play of Mike being your boss. But it never felt like a boss/employee relationship. It was always just…a partnership.

Eventually, you stopped eating dinner before he showed up, instead offering to make dinner for him. He stopped picking things up to eat on the way to your place, opting to have dinner with you, whether homemade or takeout, it didn’t matter.

One night, you were feeling playful, and you flicked flour into Mike’s face. He gave you a look of disbelief before breaking into a grin. He threw a pinch back into your face, and you let out a laugh so pure, it had Mike’s heart melting. He was leaning against the counter next to you, close enough that your clothes were touching. Your laughter came to an end, and you glanced into his face, smiling at the white powder on his nose and cheeks.

You couldn’t say who leaned in first, but soon enough, your lips were brushing against his before he pushed his more forcefully against yours. One of Mike’s hands went to cup the back of your head, and you grabbed his shirt, holding him to you.

Suddenly, the timer dinged loudly, and you gently pulled away from him, giving him a small smile before going to pull the brownies from the oven. You didn’t mind being interrupted, though; it was the first kiss of many that you would share with Mike Jones.

 ***********************

It was like you were both on the fast track in your relationship. You dated for only a few months before you found a house together. You both ran the shop, Mike raising your pay—while cutting his—until you were equal. And you never thought you could be more in love with someone in your life.

One day, Mike told you that he wanted the shop closed on the next Saturday. When you asked why, he said that he needed to have an important talk with you on Friday night, and that he wanted a free day afterwards; so that you didn’t have to be in bed early, and you had time to process things. He had seemed nervous, and it wasn’t the first time it felt like there was something on his mind while he was with you.

You were slightly worried, but also excited; was he going to propose? You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you had no other explanation to what this talk could be.

Mike came home after closing the shop on Friday evening, carrying takeout in a plastic bag. You greeted him with a kiss, and he gave you a smile. But you could see the nerves and concern in his eyes. After scooping food into a bowl, you both sat at the dining table in the kitchen.

“What I have to say isn’t…easy. And I must stress that it doesn’t leave this house, ever,” he started.

You nodded. “Whatever it is, I’m sure nothing will change, Mike.”

He sighed, closing his eyes. “My last name isn’t Jones. It’s Dodds.”

“What? All this is about a name change—”

“It’s more than that. I—I’m in witness protection.”

You sat there, stunned into silence as Mike gave you his entire life story. He gave you every little detail about himself, about growing up in New York City, about his overbearing father and his career in the Army, boxing, and the NYPD. He told you about his parent’s divorce, about his brother’s drug problems. He told you about his fiancée, about how the hit out on him was probably one of the best things that ever happened to him.

“I miss my family and squad, will always miss them. But until the Western Italian Mafia is dealt with, I can’t go home. And that syndicate is huge; I doubt I ever could go home.” He let out a small chuckle. “After meeting you, though, I don’t know if I want to go home, either.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Why did you tell me all this?” you muttered, conscious of how loud you were talking. “Aren’t you supposed to keep it secret?”

“Technically, yes. Only the FBI and that doctor who pronounced me dead knows. But I…I couldn’t give you all of myself until I gave you, well, all of myself,” he explained, his expression pleading.

You felt goosebumps on your arms. “You really trust me that much?”

“Darling,” he said, shaking his head. He took your hands in his. “I trust you with my life. You’re it, the end game for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Tears sprung up in your eyes. “I don’t care if your name is Mike Jones, or Dodds, or anything! I love you, and only you. I want to grow old with you, too.”

The widest grin stretched across his face before he got up from his chair. He came around the table and kneeled in front of you, releasing your hands to cup your face. He used his thumbs to brush the tears from your face before pulling you to him in a kiss full of love and passion.

You leaned back slightly. “You’re safe here in California, right?”

“I should be, yes.”

You nodded. “Good, because I don’t want to lose you. And I’d fight a mafia for you.”

Mike huffed out a laugh, and you tugged him back in for another kiss.

 *****************

Something that Mike learned a few months later was that his driver’s license and birth certificate were enough of an ID to get married. It was a small ceremony, just you, Mike, and your parents. You both agreed that Mike’s parents had both already passed, and he was an only child. Mike got to wear a tuxedo once more, and he dimly thought about what it would’ve been like to marry Alice back in Manhattan. But then he saw you in your simple dress, and those thoughts faded away. He had never been happier as he stood next to you, signing the marriage license, then bringing you in for a tender kiss. For legal reasons, you decided to keep your last name, but that didn’t stop him from calling you Mrs. Jones, or wifey.

 *****************

It took only a month after your wedding for you to wind up pregnant. Both you and Mike were over the moon with excitement and joy. He built the nursery in your home while you made a list of baby names. You were set to have a little boy, and Mike’s only contribution was to veto William and Matthew.

“I don’t want to think about my old family—” he started, but you held up a hand.

“I understand. But what about as a middle name?”

He thought about it. “I guess that’s okay…. Have you chosen a first name yet?”

You smiled softly. “I’m thinking about my father’s name, Phillip. What do you think?”

“I like it. Which do you like more; Phillip William, or Phillip Matthew?” For the same legal reasons, Phillip would have your last name, rather than Mike’s fake one.

You gave him a look. “I chose the first name; this one is on you. Besides, I like them both.”

“You’re a lot of help,” Mike teased, chuckling.

 ******************

Eight months later, Phillip Matthew was born, happy and healthy. He was absolutely perfect, and neither you nor Mike could be prouder or more in love with him. Of course, you both had closed the bookstore for a week while you were in labor and afterwards, both of you doting on your newborn. And when Mike went back to work, it was for limited hours. The town was understanding, almost overtly so.

In fact, you never had to buy diapers—at least for the first few months. Your neighbors gifted you diapers, clothes, food, anything you could happen to need. The bookstore’s hours change to 8am until noon. Then it closed for an hour and reopened until 5pm. Mike worked mornings now; you were busy with Phillip and pumping milk for the afternoon. Then he’d come home, and you’d eat lunch together before you went to the bookstore, leaving Mike to watch and play with Phillip. It was a perfect arrangement, and you were both happy and in love.

Time seemed to fly by; soon enough, Phillip was crawling, then standing, then walking. He was a Daddy’s boy through and through, always following him around the house. His first word was “dada,” and Mike started taking Phillip with him on his evening jogs—he didn’t take morning jogs anymore, instead wanting to spend his mornings with you and Phillip. And when Phillip saw Mike working out, he would attempt to copy him, much to your amusement and worry.

One day, Mike was doing pushups in the living room, and Phillip couldn’t look away. He was still just under two-years-old, and he got down on his knees. You came into the room just in time to watch Phillip, on hands and knees, slam his face into the ground in an attempt at a pushup. You gasped and went to make sure he was alright, but Mike held up a hand, watching his son intently. Instead of crying, Phillip looked up at his father, waiting for praise.

“That was great, Phil. But try not to hit your head on the ground,” Mike said slowly, as if Phillip would understand what he was saying.

Mike got back in a pushup position, and Phillip followed. “Watch me, big guy,” he muttered, slowly going down to the ground. Phillip mimicked, eyes wide and locked on his dad’s grinning face. And when he pushed back up to his knees, Mike’s smile grew.

“Honey, did you see that?! Our little man did a pushup!” Mike announced, moving to sit and pulling Phillip into his lap, hugging him and murmuring encouragement.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I can’t believe you’re having him do pushups with you. You’re going to make him a bodybuilder by five!”

Mike guffawed, picturing it. “Nah—I can get him there by age three.”

You grinned, gazing at your happy family while Mike rolled onto his back, holding Phillip at arm’s length above him.

[dianapana]

SH Day 3- Addicted to your touch

Day 3 – Addicted to your touch Separation Anxiety

WARNING: MENTAL ILLNESS

Disclaimer: I am not a therapist, the advice I gave in this piece might be very faulty, please take it with a grain of salt.

Modern AU, OOC

@sasuhinamonth

It all started small, when one day Sasuke announced that he’d be gone for 2 weeks due to work, the news alone made Hinata’s heartache but she smiled and wished him good luck on the project and a safe trip. Each day the feeling of missing him would grow and grow and grow until it was too big for her body to contain, and the feeling turned to pain. Her longing made her physically sick by the end of the second week.

The next stage was composed of excessive calls and texts, Hinata constantly needed to know where he was, what he was doing, whenever he’d take too long to reply the longing would come back and she’d either sink into sadness or lose herself to anger, both feelings she had not experienced much since dating Sasuke. Whenever he’d reply after a longer break, she’d ask him to come over to her house and stay the night.

That was the case on August 3rd. Sasuke came straight to her house after a long day at the office and Hinata ran to hug him, all of the negative feelings almost forgotten the moment she laid her eyes on him. His touch alone made all of her worries disappear. That was the feeling of home, in his arms.

They spent the night normally, eating dinner while watching a movie, changing and going to bed because they both had work in the morning. The issue came with the sunrise, for Hinata refused to let him leave. She cried and begged and screamed the moment he brought up work, she tore his shirt apart reasoning that he couldn’t go to work without one. The moment the white fabric hit the ground; silence fell over the room. Both of them were shocked, unable to speak due to her outburst of emotions.

Her cried aggravated, she fell to her knees and crawled to where he was, hugging his waist, apologizing over and over again. Sasuke was in deep thought, remembering all the small signs over the past month and a half. It hurt him to think that he had hurt her in any way to drive her to this moment, he patted her hair lovingly, took a deep breath and said in a broken voice “I think there’s something wrong Hina”

She looked at him with big round eyes, they were glossy and red, she blinked and looked down at the floor. “There might be…” Sasuke picked her up by her armpits and placed her in his lap, continuing to run his hand through her hair. He continued doing so until she calmed down and fell asleep, her emotions must have exhausted her. He didn’t move her from his lap for fear of waking her up, however, he picked up his phone from the nightstand and send Itachi a message telling him that he will not be going to work, he proceeded to text Kurenai as well informing her of Hinata’s absence at work too.

He spent the following few hours reading about similar situations, which mostly led to the same piece of advice, that a specialist was needed. So, he went on to search for therapists in Konoha, texting them all, asking whether any of them were free that day, two of them didn’t reply, another one was full for the week and could only see them next Wednesday, thankfully the last one agreed to meet with them after closing hours at 8:30.

Having all of that plan, all he needed to do was find a way to approach the topic when talking to Hinata, she had to agree that paying a visit to therapy would do them both good. Hinata had been asleep for about two hours now, so Sasuke took the liberty to move her onto her side of the bed and go to the kitchen to make some food for when she’d get up.

He managed to make scrambled eggs and toast and was about to go and wake her up when a cry of distress came from their room. He hurried to her side, Hinata was holding onto his pillow on the verge of tears.

“You weren’t here when I woke up” Her voice was meek and trembling. “I could hear movement in the kitchen, I knew you were there. So why, why does your absence hurt this much, despite me knowing you are here?”

He wished he had the answer, but he didn’t. He moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed, cupping her face with one hand, slowly brushing the skin under her eye with his thumb. Sasuke leaned in slowly to hiss her nose, cheek, forehead and finally the corner of her mouth. “I think to find out why, we might need some help from the outside” he closed his eyes and sighed, his breath fanning over her lips. “I talked to a man named Iruka, he’s a therapist and agreed to meet with us later today, would you be open to this idea?”

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

Hinata looked at him, searching his eyes and expression for any malice or negative feelings, but there was none, his openness and desire to help led her to agree to his plan, maybe they did need help.

“From what you’ve told me, this is a severe case of separation anxiety,” Iruka said, he looked kind and bore no ill feelings, Hinata had been afraid of the judgmental look he’d give her after hearing about her actions, but his eyes remained warm and understanding. “This usually manifests itself in small children, they are afraid to part from their caregivers even for a moment. In certain cases, it is believed it could appear in pregnant women as well, and usually the caregiver is their partner. Is there any possibility of this being true?”

Both Sasuke and Hinata’s eyes opened wider at the word pregnant, there was most certainly a possibility of that. They were always careful while having sex, however, Hinata was not on birth control, for they affected her badly whenever she took them as a teen so their method of contraception were condoms alone. There’s always the possibility of one breaking, a faulty one, or just them being part of the 0.01% of the population for which condoms did not work perfectly.

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

“I suggest you take a pregnancy test as well. As I mentioned, this is known to happen now and again so do not worry too much; however, this anxiety can affect you negatively” Iruka continued while looking at Hinata “the best way to deal with this is steady growth. In the early stages constant contact is preferred. Think of this as building up trust once again. Constant reassurance is important, always keeping promises, separation needs to happen slowly over time; from constant touch to simply being in the same room but at a safe distance, then being in separate rooms, then Hinata being alone but in a familiar and comfortable space for short periods of time. Of course, this process takes months. For some women the anxiety dies down with the birth, for others in continues after but through steady built of trust it can disappear”

They followed Iruka’s advice and went to Hinata’s gyno the next day and Iruka’s assumption proved to be true, Hinata was indeed pregnant in week 7. They were currently in the first stage of their trust-building, being in the same room, always touching. Hinata sat in his lap while they watched a movie, they held hands whenever they were outside, they’d keep bumping feet under the table as they ate. Sasuke had basically moved into her apartment, neither of them went to work. Sasuke was able to do most of his job remotely, however, Hinata applied for medical time off. Everything was going great, Hinata no longer experienced that painful longing, however, her pregnancy turned out to be a quite difficult one, as soon as they found out she was indeed pregnant, her morning sickness started, she had constant back pain and her appetite was very volatile. They’d often wake up in the middle of the night and drive around the city to find one of her cravings. During a particularly bad night 2 months after, her craving for watermelon in the winter proved difficult, to add to the issue her back pain was excruciating so she could not stay in the car for however long it would take them to find watermelon.

“Do you think…you would be all right if you stayed here and I went to find it for you…?” they had barely moved on from the ‘always touching’ stage, the process was slow but it was there.

“I…don’t know…”

“What do you want me to do Hina? You can’t even sit up properly, being in the car for maybe an hour would we awful, but being here alone would too…but it’s unwise to not follow your cravings either” He was spiralling, the situation was stressful and all he wanted was to be able to help her, he wanted to take her pain away, he wanted to give her everything she’d ever want and more.

“I think, I will be fine” Hinata finally said after thinking for a bit longer. Almost in slow motion, he nodded, ‘ok, ok, ok’ he murmured to himself as he put his winter coat over his pyjamas and stood on the bed to put his boots on. “I’ll go find you watermelon, ok? I will be back as soon as I can. I love you” he kissed her cheek and then the top of her head. She smiled and waved, but the moment his back turned to her, her smile wavered. Would she really be ok…?

Sasuke ran down the stairs to the car, he wanted to be away for as little as possible. He pulled out of the driveway and sped up as much as possible. Firstly, he’d look at the local non-stop supermarket, at the ‘exotic’ or ‘out of season’ shelf, if it wasn’t there he’d go to the local Korean market and buy some watermelon flavoured things, just in case there was nothing else anywhere; before he could think of where he’d go next his phone rang. Seeing Hinata’s name he answered immediately.

“come back…please” she was trying not to cry, he could hear it. He did an illegal U-turn and sped even more towards their apartment “I’m coming, I’ll be there in 5 minutes” Hinata replied with an ‘ok’ however she didn’t hang up, she needed to at least be on the line with him. Sasuke didn’t hang up either, not when we pulled into the driveway, not when he stopped the car, nor when he ran up the stairs. He only hung up when Hinata was in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I could, but you left and I…” she was sobbing so hard it was even difficult to understand her. “It’s ok, it’s not your fault, we moved too fast. Iruka said it’s slow. It’s no problem Hina, we can just start over” If her constantly touching him was what made her feel safe, he’d hold her close until she was ready. No more rushing of things. Once Hinata calmed down, Sasuke called Itachi.

“I’m sorry to wake you up but I need some help…could you look for some watermelon?”

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 9

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Book~

Damian gets a book recommendation, it’s only going to get worse for Bruce from here.

Ao3

First < Previous > Next

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“So I’ve drafted up the new policies, the lawyer we hired is looking over it,” Damian explains from his desk, “Do we want to handle branch manager interviews ourselves or delegate,”

“Delegate,” Marinette hums, trying to narrow down her first fashion line, “We still need to visit the manufacturer for the line,”

“Can’t you do that yourself?”

“I suppose,” Marinette circles the one she likes best, tabling the others for later, “What are you going to do?”

“Wait,” Damian sighs, “Everything needs to be looked over before we can proceed,”

“Well don’t bore yourself out of your mind,” Marinette close her sketchbook gathering her stuff for her trip, she makes a detour to the bookshelf in search of something, “Here,”

“I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself,” Damian huffs, as she places the book on his desk.

“I’m sure you are,” Marinette says teasingly, getting a withered glare, “How about you entertain yourself with this book, don’t worry you're still doing all the heavy lifting, besides it’s really good,”

“I’m sure it is,” Damian rolls his eyes placing the book to the side.

 ---

 Well, he had said he was sure it was; if sarcastically. Damian sits in the cave as the others dawdle in their preparations for patrol, reading the book recommended. It was fine not his usual preference. Besides he could put it down whenever he wanted… it’s just the sooner he finished the sooner he could put it down and Marinette wouldn't bother him about it anymore. Plus he has a stakeout tonight, there's nothing else to do. That's the only reason why he brought it on patrol. The only reason.

“Ohhh~ that's a good one,” Damian leaps up to attack, brandishing his sword right to Ladybug's neck… he immediately implodes, “What? didn’t hear me coming?”

“Tt, of course, I did,” He did not.

 Ladybug steps away from his blade, Damian hastens to put it down. 

“Is there another Akuma?” He asks, having only seen her at battles, he looks around warily.

“Not right now, just patrolling trying to get a lay of the city,” Ladybug looks out over the skyline.

“Don’t let Batman catch you,” Robin warns taking back up his vigilant stakeout position.

“You gonna tell on me?” Ladybug teases, fixing him with her dazzling smile. 

“No,” It’s not blushing, just shadows cast in the dark.

“So stakeout?” Robin nods as she comes to sit next to him, “A good book is a great way to pass the time,”

Damian is about to deny his enjoyment, as he would to Marinette when she inevitably asked. But… this is Ladybug and they actually have something to talk about, and neither of them has any place to be.

“It is,”

“That's great! I keep trying to recommend it but everyone turns their nose up at it, saying it's for kids,” Ladybug rants, “Even today! I’m glad at least someone enjoys it,”

“I’d hardly say it fair to relegate it just to children,” Robin frowns, “There are complex themes of freedom seamlessly interwoven into the narrative,”

“Right? A relative of mine gave it to me when I was little, it really helped me break out of my shell,” Ladybug smiles, Robin listens keenly at sharing part of her life. It was hard to imagine the confident amazing woman ever being shy.

“It’s hard to imagine you being shy,” Robin startles as she breaks down laughing.

“You have no idea! When I first started out as Ladybug she was so confident it felt like I became a different person, a hero of Paris, a savior of the people!” Ladybug strikes a pose before shrinking in on herself, “But outside the mask, I was timid and shy, not even able to stand up to a liar or a bully,”

“Bully?” Robin's hand itches towards his sword.

“Yeah back in Paris,” When’s the soonest flight to Paris? “But since being in Gotham I don’t have to be who I was, I feel like the gap between me and Ladybug is getting smaller and smaller, so it’s great being here, even if the weathers terrible,”

“That’s good,” Damian sighs, “Not the weather bit,”

“It’s just so cold!”

“I feel that's an opinion shared among many Parisians,” … I feel like I’m missing something.

“Well it will be nice to go back to Paris,” Damian's heart sinks, “When this is all over,”

“Why,” He bites out, “It doesn't sound like you were happy there,”

“Oh, I was,” Ladybug assures with a smile, “Even if I was bullied I had the love of my parents, my friends were still supportive even if they fell for a liar,”

“But you weren’t yourself,”

“Pfft, I was just as much myself as I am here, just more confident,” Ladybug shrugs, looking at something beyond the horizon, “Freedom gives you the confidence to explore parts of yourself you didn’t know, it doesn't change who you were,”

“It doesn't?”

“No- hey what's wrong,” Ladybug leans over, closer to him.

“Nothing,” Robin shifts away, only slightly, “I just thought we were more similar but I guess not,”

“Did I say something to upset you?” 

“No,”

“Correction,” Ladybug says firmly, “What did I say to upset you?”

Do not compromise your identity, do not compromise your identity.

“... I wasn't raised in Gotham, I was raised… elsewhere, not to be a hero,”

“Well that's dumb,” Robin rears back at her bluntness, “Was batman raised to be a hero?”

“No?”

“Oh good, I took a shot in the dark at that one,”

“He wasn't, but I was raised to be the opposite,” Do not compromise your identity, “By assassins,”

Great job Damian

 ---

Wow lots of kids in Gotham were raised as assassins 

This would be the point Marinette feels she is missing something.

Or maybe the league of assassins was planning something with it, not like it’s unusual for them to train kids. “So you must be pretty strong huh?” The league's training is brutal, Marinette knows her Maman did everything in her power to protect her from it for a reason.

“What?”

“Well you have an assassin's training, bet your sneaky, good at taking criminals down swiftly,” Robin was now opening and closing his mouth trying to find something to say.

Worst than the training, she had been told is the lack of freedom. You don’t get to choose who lives who dies, your own fight. Those orders come from the top, the people with the power to take you down. Or not so much in her Mamans place.

“Unfortunately the swiftest way is murder, and here that’s frowned upon,” Ladybug cracks a smile, lightening the mood.

“True, I’m sure there can be more creative uses though,” She had been trained first and foremost by her Maman, Tikki had told her no other holder fought like her. The only new ingredient was a small helping of assassination, minus the murder… well we’ll see when she takes down hawkmoth.

“Unfortunately Batman would rather I forget that particular training than apply it,”

“That doesn't sound good you shouldn-,” She's about to add more when the comms crack to life and Robin motions her to be to stay quiet.

“Robin,” She picks up on Batman's voice over the comm, “Move to the west side,”

“I’m on a stakeout,”

“I’ll send Red Robin,”

“This is my target,”

“The west side Robin,”

“Fine,” Robin stands, a sour expression on his face, “I have to go,”

“Do you?” She for one never listened to Batman.

“... it’s orders,” With that Robin leaves.

Still, following orders huh?

Of course, Batman would be nothing like the league, no matter how much he annoyed her. But still was similar in ways. Lack of choice. Following orders. He didn’t even create his own identity as a hero just following the mantel of Robin. Marinette had formed her identity as Ladybug long before she knew there was a mantel to uphold, and if she had known? There's no way she could have handled it.

How was he expected to grow this the same base structure? Her Maman was the most amazing person she knew, but though cryptid stories missing crucial details Marinette had pieced together that wasn't always the case. No, she had become the person she was by striking out on her own, by being brave enough to step out. By getting the chance to fall in love. Marinette could only wonder what kind of person Robin could be if he allowed himself to do the same.

--------

No taglist I cant keep track of them :P

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (12/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Caf�� and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11]

A few minutes before closing time the next day, Clarke was waiting at the end of the counter for surprise customers. Gaia was already wrapping her scarf around her neck and Wells was pulling out ingredients for the next day. He had stayed much later today, going over resumes for their interviews tomorrow, but also reorganizing the kitchen.

After giving Gustus a call to offer him the job, Wells had realized that things would get crowded quite quickly. Gustus was a big man and the kitchen was on the smaller side, but it was workable with a different layout. Clarke thanked her lucky stars for her best friend's ability to adapt to situations, as she herself disliked big changes. Regardless of the possible growing pains ahead, it was an exciting time for the café.

Right after Gaia left with a tired wave, Wells found Clarke absentmindedly drawing the branches of the weeping fig. The last customers had left as well and the sun had already set. The mugs were clean, the plates drying, and the day's crumbs swept from the floor. It hadn't rained at all today; a small mercy given that Clarke couldn't stop thinking about her date with Lexa. She wasn't sure where they were headed, but heavy rain might've halted Lexa's plans and she didn't have the patience to wait another day.

Wells peeked at her drawing pad and sighed. "God, she's a beauty," he said dreamily.

Clarke snorted. His fondness for their Ficus was a running joke between them. "Weirdo."

Wells gave her a tired grin as he buttoned up his wool peacoat. He always looked so sharp in winter wear, whereas Clarke always felt like a bulky bear. She'd dressed up a little today - fitted dark pants and a knitted sweater with a nice scoop neck. Her boots were clean and if her hair's curls had loosened over the day, she had still clearly made an effort to look presentable.

“So, you had your vision," said Wells.

Clarke dropped her pencil. "Wh- I- what?"

"It was a few weeks ago, wasn't it? When you came in looking like you hadn’t slept a wink."

Shame gripped her. "Wells, I-"

“You’re looking more crimson than cranberry juice,” he pointed out with a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to bring it up," she said. She'd always felt guilty for keeping it from him, but it wasn't the easiest topic either. "Did Raven tell you?"

"Nah, she even deflected when I wondered aloud. You just started acting weird whenever someone mentioned visions. You hate lying, so I figured you didn't want to be asked if you'd had one."

Clarke closed her notepad. She should have known he'd catch on. "I didn't mean to be secretive. You know I would've told you the minute it happened, it just wasn't… family friendly."

"Yeah, I figured. It's good though? I mean, you're happy, right?"

It was a surprising question, though it shouldn't have been. Clarke hadn't really thought about it. It wasn't something she asked herself or even expected. For so long happiness had just revolved around the café. Finding the right name; the right building; the right theme. She'd judged her days based on their achieved goals and for a while it had been a thrill. And it still was - her work made her proud and it made her happy too - but it wasn't everything. She'd come to face that recently, and though the wake up call had been… unconventional, certainly, she was grateful for it.

"I am. I'm seeing her, actually. The woman from my vision. You'd recognize her - she's a regular."

Wells nodded as if he'd already put two and two together. “At Octavia and Lincoln's party I saw you talking to her. Then it clicked she wrote that article on Finn - I remembered checking her profile on the Gazette when it dropped."

"Yeah, she works there. She's writing a piece on the visions actually."

"So it's getting serious?" He asked hesitantly.

And really, Clarke couldn't fault his curiosity. She'd been so wrapped up in Lexa that she'd neglected their relationship and now he was unsure if he should gently prod or wait.

“It’s new and we’re taking things slow, but yeah, I'm hoping it'll work out. I really like her."

Wells looked over her shoulder toward the entrance and smiled. "Seems like she really likes you too."

Clarke turned around and saw that Lexa had parked her car and was just crossing the street toward the café.

"Are you coming in tomorrow?" He asked her.

Clarke whipped around, her cheeks flushed. "What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?"

"Dunno, you tell me." He laughed as he checked for his keys in his pocket. "Gaia and Harper have the early shift, in case you forgot. We just have those three interviews in the afternoon, but you already know that."

"I do know," she replied with a frown. "There's no reason I wouldn't be here earlier. I'm always here. What are you saying?"

He shrugged, entirely too proud of himself, and walked toward the back exit. "No one will fault you if you take a break. Enjoy your date!"

"I will! And I'll see you in the morning!" Clarke replied stubbornly.

"I'm sure you will!" he retorted, still snickering, before closing the door behind him.

A hand touched Clarke's shoulder and she startled.

"Sorry," Lexa said with a gentle smile. She'd put on her black coat today, the top buttons undone to reveal her sweater - a reddish brown this time, perfect for the fall. Her hair was down and her eyeliner perhaps more pronounced than usual. Clarke wondered if she'd applied it in her car. She looked beautiful.

"Hi, baby," she softened, forgetting all about Well's teasing. He didn't know what he was talking about. Tonight was just going to be a nice date. Some food, wine - whatever Lexa had planned. They were still going slow. Clarke didn't have any expectations other than enjoying their time together. She liked their pace. It was… frustrating at times, sure, but it was working. They had both opened up to each other.

"Hi," Lexa whispered before she inched forward so that she could kiss her over the counter. Clarke sighed into it, having imagined such sweetness all day long.

"Am I too early?" Lexa asked. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

Clarke brushed her thumb over Lexa's jaw. "No, I'm done. I just need to grab my coat and close up."

"Was that Wells who went out back?"

"Yes, he was being ridiculous."

"I thought he usually left earlier?"

"He does, but he's been rearranging the kitchen. I think he's worried Gustus will find it too small."

"Gus has an entire farm and acres of land at his disposal, but he sleeps in his shed because it's warm," Lexa said. "He won't mind."

Clarke beamed, delighted to hear it. "I'm going to give you Wells' number and you're going to text him just that. "

While Clarke left to grab her coat, Lexa worried her lip. "Oh but he doesn't really know me…"

"He will."

Clarke came out from the back with her coat and scarf on. She pulled out her set of keys. "He's my best friend and you're my-" she stopped herself. "I think you'd get along great. He loves theater, devours literature, and he already thinks you're amazing for taking Finn down. So don't worry about it."

"Well, that reminds me: Collins went ahead with suing the Gazette."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

They made their way to the front, where Lexa opened the door for Clarke. "No. It'll never stand, but he aims to waste our time and money."

"Waste of time and money - that's been his motto since birth."

Lexa wrinkled her nose. "Let's talk about something else."

"Please. So where's my carriage?"

Lexa laughed.

* * *

Lexa may not have found a pumpkin to turn into a carriage after all, but her car smelled like apples and she drove so smoothly Clarke could've closed her eyes and imagined they weren't moving at all. She had never thought 'great driver' would do it for her, but here she was eyeing Lexa's hands on the steering wheel and feeling hot.

"How's the writing going?" Clarke asked, clearing her throat when her voice started off slightly rough.

Lexa took a left, which would've surprised Clarke if she'd paid any attention to the road. But all she could think about was Lexa's razor-sharp focus and how she yearned to be the reason for it.

"Good, I finished a first draft. My writing partner is looking at it for now. I need it out of my sight for a few days."

"Partner, huh?"

Lexa smiled as she kept her eyes on the road. "Echo. She wrote most of the FC&B article."

"Did you write for other newspapers before?"

Lexa nodded. "Two. I've been lucky, professionally. Smaller papers have always been more interesting to me, so I stayed away from national ones. I was able to climb the ladder a lot faster than some of my old classmates."

"The Gazette must've been a change of pace. New city, new job - I don't think I could handle it."

"When they hired me I was so happy to be working I just threw myself into it," Lexa admitted. "I got the idea on the Mountain Men soon after, just from reading old archives about them. That kept me busy, so I didn't have time to worry about fitting in. It was nice. Exciting. It felt like falling in love with my job again. Then one day Echo invited me to grab drinks with other colleagues and… I realized things had fallen into place already."

"Costial is pretty magical like that," Clarke said with a smile. She loved it when Lexa talked about her time here. Sometimes it was easy to forget she hadn't even been here a year yet. Clarke remembered her first year in the city - how she'd felt like she'd always belonged here. How she couldn't wait to build her life here. And college had been fun, and sometimes she walked by the campus just for the nostalgia of it, but it was the years after that had really shaped her life into what it was today. There had been many tears and failures before the café, but she'd never once thought of leaving. She hoped Lexa felt the same.

One glance outside the window and Clarke finally had an idea where they were headed. They were quite far from the center of the city now, just a few miles away from Busy Moose Park and its lake on the outskirts. Lexa took the road that led to the park, but she didn't make the turn Clarke had expected and instead continued straight.

"Are we going to the factory?" Clarke asked.

The chocolate factory and its surroundings were certainly a sight to behold, and popular with teens because of its smells and aesthetic quality, but there wasn't much to do unless you brought a picnic. Which was unlikely to be comfortable anyway in this cold.

"Not quite," Lexa answered with a secretive smile.

A few minutes later she finally pulled over into a small parking lot, checking for Clarke's reaction as soon as they got out of the car.

“I know I said I’d take you somewhere more upscale, but I thought you might really like this place."

Because the factory was just a ways down the road and it was windy tonight, the bold smell of chocolate permeated the air. They had stopped in front of a rustic restaurant surrounded by a garden. Small lights glowed softly against the brick walls, complimented by the dancing shadows from a few lanterns. There was a patio with beams covered in twining vines, the plants and wisteria also covering the top like a ceiling. Powerful heaters kept the biting cold at bay, no doubt, making the entire place look like a winter fairytale.

It was the kind of romantic setting Clarke would have made fun of in front of friends while secretly hoping to experience it one day.

“How the hell have I never been here before?” She asked in astonishment.

With a hand on her back, Lexa led her toward the entrance.

“Did you know Icicle? Italian restaurant?”

“Yeah, that rings a bell.”

“This is it. The owner retired and her son took over - revamped the whole place from top to bottom and gave it a mountain lodge theme. He figured they should capitalize on the location more, especially the constant sweetness in the air. It just reopened a few weeks ago. Featured in the Gazette and everything.”

“Oh, that might’ve been when I was a bit angry at you," Clarke remembered and gave Lexa a teasing grin. "Deleted the app like it was some kind of statement."

Lexa scrunched up her nose, not too eager to remember that time. The hostess seated them inside at a secluded table for two. The light was dimmed and there was a candle between them; and even two squares of chocolate wrapped in gold foil.

After they took off their coats and sat, Lexa bit her lip. “It's not too much, is it?"

"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous." Clarke reached for her hand. "You're always surprising me."

A waiter gave them a menu and a basket of bread. They looked like mini baguettes and Clarke was temped to steal one for Wells.

“God, I almost forgot about this smell," she said, taking a deep breath. The chocolate from the factory still wafted faintly in the air, and mixed with the smell of food it had Clarke already salivating for dinner. "In college we used to hang out by the lake a lot. If the wind was on our side we’d always get a whiff from the factory. Not even edibles could beat that.”

Lexa arched a brow. “Edibles, huh?”

“Please, I know you’ve dabbled," Clarke scoffed.

“What makes you think that?”

“You have the vibe.”

“The pothead vibe? I thought I was unreadable.”

“Oh you have that vibe too," Clarke laughed. "But then there’s the tattoos, the plants, the way you write about nature. You’re curious, open minded, andyou went to a liberal arts college. You must’ve tried it at least once. I think that’s how you approach most things: don’t knock ‘till you try it. Am I close?”

Lexa looked away, slightly flummoxed. “It sounds like I’m more of an open book then.”

"Maybe that's a good thing…" Clarke offered with a hopeful smile, thumb caressing the back of her hand.

"Maybe it is," Lexa agreed.

They both picked the apricot glazed chicken with roasted potatoes, pairing it with a white wine. Throughout dinner Clarke felt such pleasant warmth, both because of the wine and Lexa's steady gaze on her. She was relaxed and unfairly charming; a great listener by all accounts, but also coming out of her shell when it came to her own past. Clarke knew it wasn't easy for her, which made it all the more special.

"In retrospect I should've figured politics weren’t for me when I started screaming at my television every time the news came on."

Clarke grinned, knowing the sentiment all too well. "Good thing you don't work for a newspaper or anything…"

Swallowing the last of her wine, Lexa gave her a playful smirk. "Local news. I can take the city hall drama. I actually enjoy it with my morning pastry."

"That I can believe. You always look so deep in thought when you read. Harper dropped a cup once and you didn't even flinch."

"Really?" Lexa asked. "Is there anything else I do that I should know about?"

The waiter stopped by with their desserts: molten chocolate cake for Lexa and a slice of pear tart for Clarke.

"It's not like I stare or anything," Clarke clarified as she grabbed her spoon. "Your seat just happens to be in my vicinity."

"Mm." Lexa smirked. "I guess I just pop up sometimes…" she trailed off, her tone heavy with implication.

She did this occasionally, but more boldly recently. Alluding to Clarke's vision seemed to greatly entertain Lexa.

"Ha, you're funny," Clarke deadpanned.

"Did I also crack jokes while I was kissing you - and I quote - everywhere?" Lexa goaded.

Clarke shrugged as she chewed on her tart. "Actually you were a lot more suave than you are now. Pity."

Lexa laughed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Please, you're very proud of yourself. And it's not fair all I have to go on is your distaste for coffee." Clarke remembered how frantic she had been after her vision, her mind firing questions every second. “Did you know I went to a vision reader right after?”

It had been an impulse and she'd regretted it, but she figured Lexa was familiar with them.

"Really?" Lexa asked, surprised.

“Yeah, the one by the market. Becca’s Reading or something. I bailed at the last minute.”

“I actually haven’t spoken to one. I was toying with the idea, but it might be an entirely different article.”

Clarke grimaced. “They’re just opportunistic money grabbers.”

Lexa offered a spoonful of her cake, which Clarke took before plopping a bit of pear on top of it. The warm chocolate melted the pear in her mouth and she sighed at the taste. Lexa smiled.

“It’s a different point of view. Besides, listening to so many stories might’ve given them some valuable insight even if they opened a shop for the wrong reasons. If my job’s taught me anything it’s to not judge a book by its cover.”

"Hmm you're good at it - your job. And I'm not just saying that because you're wining and dining me."

Lexa looked bashful. "You know, I remember when you yelled at me to get over myself."

"Not our finest moment…"

"No," Lexa agreed. "But it was needed. Before that there was so much I wanted to tell you, but… couldn't."

"I know." Clarke remembered that feeling as well. After the vision she'd look at Lexa and be so certain there was so much left unsaid between them, yet neither of them knew where to start, or if it was reciprocated. "I should've let you interview me - just ripped off the Band-Aid. It would've explained a lot."

"I would've never made it past the first question," Lexa said. "Can you share what you saw, Clarke?"

Clarke smiled cheekily around a mouthful of her tart. "Well, I would hope that kind of confession would score me a date at least."

"Oh I would have asked you out on the spot," Lexa replied with a smirk.

Clarke gasped. "How very unprofessional of you."

"If you hadn't noticed, my professionalism hangs by a thread whenever I'm near you."

Clarke let out a small laugh. "Well, that's one thing I'm glad for."

* * *

After their dinner, Lexa suggested they walk in the park before it closed. It was cold but their coats were thick and the wind was minimal. Clarke had no desire to part just yet, and so took Lexa's hand in hers as soon as they left the car by the park's entrance.

They had a little less than thirty minutes before it closed, but enjoyed every second as they strolled by the lake. The half-moon was reflected on the quiet surface, and though there were a few other people, Clarke felt like they had just stepped into a world of their own.

Clarke nudged Lexa toward one of the Beech trees, its autumn leaves still clinging bravely to its thick branches. They settled beneath it, lying down on the soft ground where leaves piled atop the grass. Between the branches they could see some stars, and Clarke wondered if maybe the park could close and leave them be. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

She heard some rustling and then saw Lexa look down at her, her face framed by her wavy hair and the stars above. She took Clarke's breath away.

"You're so beautiful," Lexa murmured, struck by a similar thought it seemed. "You have the kindest eyes and the warmest smile. It's the first thing I ever noticed about you."

Clarke reached up to kiss her, parting only when she felt Lexa's hand on her stomach. Even atop her coat and thick clothing, she could feel its warmth.

"I think you're drunk on wine and chocolate."

"Then you'll be relived to hear I'm a very sincere drunk."

Clarke giggled, which made Lexa's smile stretch in such a fond way. She pressed closer to her, the tip of her nose brushing against her neck. She kissed the small spot, as if to apologize for her cold nose.

"I wonder so much about you, Clarke."

Clarke hummed. "What do you wonder about?"

“I’ve spoken with a lot of people. Heard the visions about reuniting with loved ones, getting over addictions, graduating. There’s been some romance of course,” Lexa said. “Aden’s first kiss, though he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s face. Echo celebrating a wedding anniversary with her husband. But so few - even online in anonymous circles - so few like yours.”

Now Clarke felt warm again, mostly from the blush on her cheeks. “I don’t believe that.”

Lexa lifted her head from her shoulder. “Have you personally heard of any?”

“Raven saw Wells naked.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Okay, so I'm a pervert, what can I say?”

“No,” Lexa replied, tickled by Clarke's little huff. “You’re a mystery. You intrigue me.”

Clarke cleared her throat. “Well I’ve had a bit of a dry spell. I had flings, but… I didn't allow myself anything more. The café was taking up all my thoughts and for a while it worked for me. Then the days got long again, and lonelier… Raven said it was probably just my body wanting me to snap out of it.”

“And what do you think?”

Clarke did wonder about it then, or at least differently than she had in the past. It wasn't so long ago she'd asked these questions herself. She'd been so frustrated she couldn't discuss them with the person she'd shared it with, and here she was, lying right next to her in a bed of leaves.

She touched Lexa's hand on her stomach, lacing and unlacing their fingers, gently playing with them as she tried to make sense of everything.

“Have you never fantasized about a stranger?" She asked quietly, catching Lexa's eyes. "Someone who knows nothing about you and yet knows exactly how to make your body soar?"

“That’s not what you saw though, is it?” Lexa murmured. “I wasn’t a stranger in your bed. I knew you and you knew me."

Clarke felt her heart beat faster. She wanted so badly to kiss Lexa again; to feel her body against hers like the night on her couch.

"Lex…"

Their lips were just a hair's breadth apart now. To anyone else, they would've looked like they were kissing.

"How was it different, Clarke?"

Clarke swallowed, trying to find the words. “How? The way you handled me - needy and possessive, but tender and attentive too. Like you were in charge of my pleasure and you had to remind me."

She saw Lexa swallow and so continued, eager to share everything this time: "You said my name and it almost sounded like a prayer - like you couldn’t believe we were together. I never heard my name like that before. I never thought I could make someone feel lucky."

"God, Clarke, you have no idea." Lexa exhaled before closing the gap and kissing her. It wasn't like any other kiss they'd shared tonight. It felt like a promise, almost. Lexa tasted so sweet on her tongue and Clarke could only wonder if all of her was just as heavenly.

She cupped the back of her neck and felt herself throb with desire, her mind filled with both the reality of Lexa and the last of her vision.

"I can even remember the smell of us," Clarke sighed between kisses. "How sticky my skin felt, like we'd been in bed for hours."

"Clarke - fuck."

Clarke pushed Lexa on her back and cupped her cheeks, claiming her lips quite quickly again. She licked into her mouth and moaned at the silky feel of Lexa's tongue.

"Sometimes I'd try to picture us again but you'd disappear," Clarke continued, eyes closing when Lexa started kissing down her neck. "I wasn't sure if it was you anymore. But then you'd come back. I'd feel your hands, your mouth on me… lower, and lower…"

Lexa let out a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose before falling back on the ground, the leaves rustling beneath her. Something in the way she set her jaw made Clarke frown.

"Baby…" she said, tracing a finger over her cheekbone.

"Did you call her that?" Lexa asked without thinking.

Clarke retracted her hand and paused. A grin spread on her face. “What? Are you jealous… of yourself?”

Lexa glared petulantly. “No.”

“You are."

Lexa remained quiet, so after a moment Clarke poked her arm. “Well what about yours?”

"Mine?"

"I wasn't even in it - how do you think that makes me feel?"

Lexa shook her head. "You were in it."

"You said you were just standing in a random kitchen making coffee."

"Yes."

"So?"

They heard the echo of a bicycle's bell on the pathway and turned to the sound, but the couple soon rode away. Clarke looked at Lexa again, finding her staring at the sky.

“What are you keeping from me?”

A small smile grew on Lexa's face - but she remained tightlipped.

"How was I there?" Clarke asked again, deeply curious.

"The doodles," Lexa simply replied.

Clarke remembered that she'd found that to be a strange detail before. She didn't put up her doodles on walls and she didn't frame them. These had to be important. Something that made her identity unmistakable in Lexa's eyes. Sure it could be that her style was recognizable, but Lexa made it sound as if it was something else.

“Lex…"

She lifted Lexa's chin to catch her gaze.

“If I tell you, I worry it might not happen," Lexa admitted.

Clarke bit her lip, finally understanding. It was almost like saying a wish out loud - fearing it might not come true if you broke that single rule.

“You want it to happen?” She asked instead.

A breeze passed as Lexa looked at her intently, leaving no room for doubt. “Yes.”

There was no waver in her voice. Not even an ounce of hesitation. The sheer confidence set Clarke alight. She’d forgotten how it felt to feel so wanted. Whatever it was in that frame… Lexa clearly hoped for it in their future. The fact that she wanted it with her, and no one else, made her desire swell.

She leaned down and kissed her right against the grass and by the slumbering tree, forgetting all about the doodles. Lexa believed it was her - that was all that mattered. After weeks of being unsure of where they stood, if her feelings were even shared, she didn't need anything more.

Lexa wound her arm around her waist, her mouth still as hungry against Clarke's. When they pulled away, she pressed their foreheads together.

“I wish I could see us like you did," she murmured wistfully.

"What would it change?"

“Maybe… maybe if I knew I was good enough for you… If I was sure that I wouldn’t- that I wouldn’t hurt you-"

Clarke shook her head. "Don’t fill your head with thoughts like that. Let's just be here, together, and worry about the rest when it comes. I know it's hard for you, but this - us - right now… it's good, isn't it?"

Lexa nodded. "It's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

Relieved, Clarke tucked her head beneath Lexa's chin. "Then just be with me. You can be happy, baby. You have a right to it. Don't let anyone or anything tell you otherwise."

Eventually they made their way back to Lexa's car, neither of them interested in picking up their leisurely pace.

"I'm sorry we ended up walking so much," Lexa said.

"You fed me beforehand, so it's forgiven."

Lexa smiled. "Good to know."

Before they reached the parking lot, Clarke decided to ask what had been on her mind: "I know you said Costial feels like home to you; that you found your place here, but… do you see your future here? Because this is it for me. And I'm… I like you, Lex. I like you a lot. I don't want to be an interlude. I don't think I could take it."

"Clarke," Lexa stepped closer to her. "You're not an interlude, you're - God, you've been in every act of my life here. I don't want to go anywhere. I- I want to be with you. That's what I know for certain. Is that alright for now?"

"It is."

Lexa kissed her softly and then smirked. "I may not have had erotic visions of myself entwined with a hot local, but I still want to stay here."

Clarke shoved her playfully. "I don't even like you anymore."

They laughed the whole way to the car.

* * *

It seemed like a tradition already; Lexa walking her to her door while Clarke racked her mind for a way to linger. When they finally arrived she leaned against her door and sighed.

"Tonight was amazing."

Lexa hummed. "I'm glad."

"I'm definitely taking you out this weekend," Clarke said.

"You are?" Lexa asked, tilting her head to kiss her again.

Clarke closed the gap as she wrapped her arms around her neck. The kiss was slow; amatory, but as always it could not go on for too long before hands wandered.

"I hope you have sweet dreams," Lexa said, her eyes hooded and her lips slightly redder.

"Oh I will."

Lexa glanced at her mouth. "If I pay you a visit again maybe you could keep a journal close by. I'd love some notes on my performance."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Remind me why I ever told you?"

"What? That we lasted hours?" Lexa husked.

Right. Clarke narrowed her eyes and let her hands slowly drag down Lexa's arms. Now, Clarke wasn't innocent. She knew fully what made her look good, even when her coat was buttoned up. She had let Lexa tease her and goad her about the vision all night, and she had kept her retort to herself. But no more.

She pressed her body closer to Lexa's, unmistakably provocative with the way their breasts touched.

“Make fun all you want, Lexa, but remember this: I’ve seen all of you while you haven’t seen an inch of me.” She felt Lexa’s hand tighten on her waist. “I’ve felt your body against mine. Your mouth on my thighs. I’ve felt your tongue inside me.” She glanced down at Lexa's lips and then back up, proud of the gobsmacked look on her face. “So you can tease me. You can push my buttons. I can take it. But you? You only have your imagination." She stepped back and gave her sultriest smile, "And trust me, it’s got nothing on reality.”

She turned around and quickly unlocked her door, then looked over her shoulder. "Thanks for the date, baby."

As soon as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, Clarke knew she'd just played a dirty hand. But Lexa had teased her at all night and all was fair in lust.

With a wicked grin, too pleased by the night's events, Clarke took off her coat and slipped out of her shoes and socks. And because she just couldn't resist one last look, she walked to her window and waited. Finally she saw Lexa walk out of the building. She seemed unfocused, going right and then left, forgetting where she'd parked.

But then she stopped and turned around.

Clarke's smile fell. Just watching Lexa like this, seeing the effect she had on her… it changed something. She had closed the door in the spur of the moment - because they were good at testing each other. Because she had thought tonight should end there, on another game of theirs.

But she didn’t want to play anymore.

And maybe Lexa realized it too. She looked up and found her apartment's window.

Their eyes met.

Clarke reached out for the curtain, gripping it so tight her knuckles went white. She couldn't look away from those eyes in the moonlight if she tried. Even if the ground started shaking beneath their feet.

"Lexa-" she started before stopping herself. It had to be Lexa's decision. Clarke had already made hers. She couldn't call out to her. Not for this. Lexa had to choose.

Clarke held her breath, unsure she'd even be able to leave this spot if Lexa did walk away after all. Until-

Lexa bolted back toward the building.

Clarke watched her disappear from view and then heard her intercom. She rushed toward it and pressed the buzzer, her heart in her throat. Still barefoot, she pulled the door open and waited. Footsteps thundered up the flights of stairs, closer and closer.

Tonight had not ended. Not yet.

[stay-tinystars]

Office Wars: Love and War

Ship: San x fem reader

Warnings: Angsty, Y/N is a jerk most of the time. Female reader

Enemies to Lovers. 

words: 3,289

A/N: I found a post last week which assigned you an AU for your birthday. So I wrote this Slice of Life Enemies to Lovers because of it. Though to be fair, it’s kind of a one sided enemy situation. It ended more abruptly than I expected, but I hope you guys like it.

----------

The tension was obvious. As he sat across from you.

"You two will just have to deal with each other til we move to the new place next month" your boss, Mr. Kim said. You supposed it made sense, since you had the only solo office in your building, and being as San held the same position as you.

But it isn't your fault the two branches of your work are merging to a central location triple the size of your current office space. Nor is it your fault that the other locations lease ended 4 weeks early, due to some weird clause within the contract.

You sighed as you left your bosses office.

"Look, I know you’re not happy about this, and neither am I, but we've got to make this work" San said as he followed you. You stopped abruptly, and turned on your heel. His shocked face ended up being closer to you than expected.

"Look, I will be as nice as I can," You glared. "But that’s only because Mr. Kim is the best boss I've had."

You started storming back to your office, leaving San staring as you walked away. The bane of your existence was now sharing an office with you. If he only wasn't so 'perfect', you'd think you could manage.

He started at the company almost a year after you did, and started moving up the corporate ladder quicker than you had. He had skills, that you could admit. You only wished he hadn't gone and applied for the same position you wanted a month after he started. You both got considered, and ended up being the top two for the position. You had been working so hard that when San got the position over you, that is when the hatred really started. Once the company got larger, they decided to open a new location, you hoped that meant your dream position, and maybe a change of scenery. Well, you got the position, but San due to his sweet talking got the new location. Worse of it all, being as the boss considered San to be an attractive man, as did everyone else in the company, he became the face of the company on the advertisements. So, no matter where you turned in the city, there he was. San seemed to get it all, and everyone seemed to fawn over him, except you. To you he lived up to his name "mountain", because all he ever seemed to do was be something you could never beat, and he was always in the way of your goals.

They had moved your desk and items all to the right side of the room, and had placed an unfamiliar ornate desk flush with the front of your desk. So now you not only had to share the office, but now you had to look at him the whole time. Everything seemed so cramped, instead of spread out like you enjoyed. You sat down on your chair grumpily, as you decided to start to work.

"Wow, this actually looks nice" San said, entering the room, and smiling at you.

"It will do" you grumbled.

San sauntered over to his desk, and sat down. Everything he did just seemed to grind on the last nerve you had. So, you decided that you would just do your best to keep to yourself, and stay focused on your work.

"So, where do you usually go for lunch around here?" He questioned, as he gazed at you over his computer monitor. You took a deep breath trying to hide your annoyance at being disrupted.

"Well lunch is usually at 12:30, and I usually bring my own, or go to the small Cafe next door" you responded dryly.

"How about I treat my new office mate to lunch then." He said cheerily, showing his million-dollar smile, complete with dimples. You considered lying and saying your brought lunch today, then your tummy grumbled. You glanced at the clock 12:15.

"Sure, I guess." You muttered, as you continued typing. It seemed too quick when lunch came, but the thought of free food was your only motivation as you and San walked together to the small Cafe next door.

"I never came here when we worked together before" San said as the waitress showed you to your normal booth.

"That’s because everyone else tends to want to go somewhere fancier. I’ve always just liked the small soups and sandwiches here." You said looking over the menu, even though you got practically the same thing every time you came here.

"Oh gosh, Y/N! You brought a date! That's so exciting! You never bring anyone around here!" The overly excited waitress Jin said. You were about to correct her, when San reached over and placed his hand on yours.

"Yes, she told me how amazing this place is, and I just had to try it" San said, oblivious to the daggers you were glaring at him.

The waitress just looked at San, with the same admiration as everyone else did.

"Well, she usually gets the Gilgeori toast, and a water." The waitress said, never taking her eyes away from him.

"I will take that as well" San said happily, and the waitress nodded and skipped away. You ripped your hands away from him.

"What the hell was that?" You fumed wiping your hands on your pants.

"Just trying to get to know my new office mate." he smiled.

"That doesn't include touching me! Nor does it include making the staff here think I'm on a date!" Your words dripping with venom.

"Well they seemed so excited that you were on a date I didn't want to let them down." He smiled, "but I’ll refrain from touching you again." rolling his eyes.

"Here are the waters, and the food will be out shortly" Jin smiled, as she placed the drinks on the table.

"Thanks Jin" you smiled at her. She nodded, then looked at San raising her eyebrows, then winking.

You folded your arms and sat back in the booth, as San laughed.

"You definitely don't ever bring anyone, here do you?" He asked.

"Why would I? It’s my lunch break."

"By the way they are all acting, you must never date." he chuckled as he watched the small staff gossiping behind the counter as they all kept looking towards the two of you.

"My love life is none of your business" you glared, fists tightening in my crossed arms. He leaned back putting his arm over the back of the bench. A smirk dancing across his face as he stared at you.

"Why do you act as if you hate me?" He questioned.

"Because I do"

"Why"

"Because, you.... ugh” you almost yelled.

"In my 23 years on this fine earth, I have never heard a worse answer. I expect more." His smirk growing, as well as your anger.

"So not only are you so perfect, besting me at my own job, you're also younger than me!" You snapped.

"So you hate me, because I'm perfect, Noona, tell me more" he said emphasizing the fact that you are older than him. He usually was so nice, but oh boy was he enjoying pushing all your buttons.

You went to stand up, when Jin brought your food over. Along with a piece of chocolate cake.

"The cake is on the house, for your date!" she squealed, oblivious to the body language and tension in the air. You just stared at her.

"Thank you, Jin! That’s a lovely gesture" San said, his voice sounding like honey, overly sweet. It made you sick.

You looked towards San as he smiled and picked up his toast, biting one corner. You looked down at your food, the warmth and smell helping you calm down.

A smile reached your lips as you savored the warm sandwich. This meal was always one that comforted you. Despite the stress of your job, or anything else going on in your life.

"You look very happy, I don't know if I've ever seen you smile like that" San stated as he continued on his toast.

"Overall, I'm a happy person" you replied, taking another mouthful.

"I've never seen you happy." he thought aloud. You decided against responding as you continued eating. He was really pushing all your buttons, but you couldn't let him win, not over lunch.

You wiped your mouth as you finished your sandwich. A content sigh leaving your lips as you looked towards the slice of cake. San grabbed a fork, and scooped off a piece.

"Here " he said, moving his fork towards you.

"I can feed myself." you stated, grabbing the other fork.

"But we're supposed to be on a date" he raised his eye brows, then gestured towards the counter where three employees stared at the two of you like a k drama. You debated shoving his fork towards his face, but decided against it. Leaning towards him you ate the piece he offered you. The sounds of excitement rang through the small Cafe as the three employees freaked out.

"Now it’s my turn" he smirked. You imagined picking up the plate and shoving it in his face. Instead, you scooped up some cake with your fork. Lifting it towards him, he went to eat it and you purposely moved it to smear it on his face. "You want to play dirty?" He chuckled, and grabbed some cake with his hands then shoved it into your face, with laughter.

"You’re wasting a perfectly good cake!" you hollered as you went to grab some, only to have San move the plate away from you, holding it high above your head.

You took a deep breath, and looked down at yourself. You had chocolate all over. You prayed it was just crumbs. You quickly left the table and went to the bathroom. Your face was covered in cake and frosting.  You quickly grabbed some paper towels and got them wet and started cleaning your face off. Once that looked acceptable, you did your best to brush off the cake from your blouse. Luckily there was only a small spot of frosting, unfortunately it was dead center on your chest. You did your best to clean it off, only succeeding in making your shirt damp and the spot slightly larger. Today was the wrong day to wear lavender.

"You and your boyfriend are too cute!" Jin said as you exited the bathroom.

"He's not my boyfriend, he's barely a friend" you mumbled, knowing she wouldn't even care what you said.

"He already paid, and is waiting outside" she giggled.

"Thanks, and sorry for the mess." you waved, as you exited the door. A quick glance told you San had already headed back to work. You sighed grateful for the short but peaceful walk alone.

~~~

The rest of the week San continued to smile at you, he tried going to lunch with you again, but you brought your lunch from home the rest of the week. He knew how to push your buttons, but most days he held back, being just overly sweet to you, which almost made it all worse.

You began counting down the days til the office move, because every day meant one less day sharing an office.

"Noona, want to join me for lunch today?" San asked the following Monday.

"I swear San, stop calling me noona!" You threw a pen at him. He dodged laughing.

"But you're older than me noona." A smirk gracing his lips.

"I have told you to just call me Y/N" you said, as you continued on your work.

"Ok Y/N, would you join me for lunch today"? he asked again.

"I brought my lunch today San"

"So did I" his dimples seeming to swallow his face.

"So how would I join you?" You asked, looking over the document you had just finished.

"Well I was thinking we could go sit at the park just down the street. We can have a picnic” he stated, lifting up a blanket he pulled from under his desk.

San was starting to wear you down, and you hated admitting it. He was so nice most of the time, despite every harsh and mean thing you said, he would always have a smile.

"It does seem like a nice day, so I suppose I'll join you" you said looking outside.

Once outside, you felt the warm sun, and smiled. It was a perfect day to sit outside and soak up the sunny rays. Most work days you sat in the small break room, and ate while reading. This was a nice change of scenery.

San set out the blanket, and you sat atop it. Legs straight in front of you, crossing your ankles and leaning back onto your hands, closing your eyes, you basked in the sun.

"Wow" San said.

"What" you said opening your eyes and looking around.

"You" he said, you just rolled your eyes.

"Me?" You sighed, as you grabbed your lunch bag.

"Yes, you! Have you seen yourself?" He asked.

"Yes I've seen me." You scoffed, pulling out your food.

"You are gorgeous, especially when you let go. When you are just enjoying the moment, it’s just wow" he smiled.

"You are officially crazy" you said, shaking your head.

"I'm not crazy. Well, maybe I'm crazy about you."

"San, you know I hate you, right?" You said narrowing your eyes, and taking a bite of food.

"If you hate me so much, why are you having lunch with me?"

"Because I'm trying to be somewhat nice to make this forced office situation work, plus it’s a nice day"

"I think you're starting to like me" he said raising his eye brows.

"You’re so full of yourself." you said.

"No, I'm just seeing your wall crumble more and more every day" he said triumphantly.

"Doubtful"

~~~

Tuesday was going quite well, San was being nice, you were being pleasant, when there was a knock at the open office door.

"Come in" you said as you looked up. You saw a beautiful bouquet of wild Sunflowers, your favorite flower. You stood up, smiling.

"Delivery, for San" the man said. As he placed the flowers on San's desk. Your smile faded.

Of course, Mr. Perfect got flowers.

"Wow," he muttered, as he picked up the card. "Congratulations on your new advertisement! I see it every day on my way to work. Love, H" he read aloud.

"So you have an admirer, who gives you flowers" you grumbled.

"No admirer." he said, smelling the flowers.

"Then who are they from?" You asked.

"Are you jealous?" He questioned.

"Of you, no. The flowers, maybe" you responded.

"They're just sunflowers."

"They are the best flowers."

"You can have them if you want" he offered, sliding them towards you.

"No, they are yours, and your admirer would be heartbroken if they didn't see you carry them out of work"

"I told you, I don't have an admirer. And she lives on the other side of the city, she won't care if I don't take them home."

"So the admirer is a girl" you teased.

"No. The girl is my sister. I don't see her often." He sighed.

"Oh" you said looking down at your desk.

"Here have the flowers, I'm more of a roses guy" he said, walking around the desks and handing the flowers to you.

"You really don't have to"

"The way your face lit up when you saw them, you need them more than I do". He said returning to his work.

~~~

By the following week, you had grown comfortable with San. You still despised him, for being the golden child of the company it seemed. Yet he was kind, and you both saw the wall you had built crumble further every day.

"Morning, Noona" San smiled, as you entered the office Friday morning.

"I really wish you'd stop with the noona stuff" you said as you sat at your desk.

"But you are my noona, and doesn't every girl want that noona K drama to come to life?" He laughed.

"Not every girl, some girls just want to be treated well, and not be called noona" you shook your head as you began working.

"So, Y/N." San said, as the work day started winding down.

"Hmm" you acknowledged, as you continued typing.

"I want to.... Can we.... I mean" he stumbled over his words, you looked at him puzzled. He looked flustered; you'd never seen him like this.

"What is it San?" You asked, trying to make eye contact with him.

"Well.... I have these dinner reservations tonight" he started

"Ok?"

"They are at Han Pine" he stared down at his hands.

"Isn't that the new five-star place? How did you get reservations there?" You asked.

"It is the new place, I kind of know the head chef. I made the reservations for two" he looked at you.

"Cool, who are you taking?"

"I was hoping you" he asked. You just sat there for a second.

"Are you asking me out, San?"

"Yes" he said timidly. You sat back. You had never seen him like this, it took you by surprise. The date also took you by surprise.

"I, uh... sure. I'd love to go" you stammered; his face lit up.

"Wonderful!" He smiled, and took a deep breath. "So uh, I'll pick you up at 7, the reservations are at 7:30"

Panic set in at 6:30. What where you supposed to wear? It’s super fancy. Was this a date, or more of a casual thing? What if San just needed a date because of the reservations?

"Y/N, calm down" Yeona your best friend, and roommate said, as you rifled through your closet.

"I can't calm down, he was my enemy. Now I'm going on a date with him! What if this is all a prank?"

"It’s not a prank. I really think he likes you" she reassured.

"But how could he, I've always been a jerk to him. Plus, I'm nowhere near a model like he is. I'm average."

"You're not average! You are gorgeous." She said as she started grabbing your dresses, she tossed them on your bed next to you, "Now put on a dress, and don't smudge your makeup."

You knew better than to argue with her tone. You grabbed your simple plum purple knee length dress, and put it on with some cute black wedge boots.

"Do I look alright?" You asked Yeona.

“You look great!” She nodded while smiling.

"Wow" was all San said, when you opened the door. He was in a nice black suit, a white shirt, and a gray tie. He pushed his hair back nervously.

"You look nice" you said as you stepped out of your apartment.

"You look, just wow" he smiled.

“Thank you” you said looking at the floor.

“Shall we go?” He offered his arm, and you wound your arm in his and started walking.

The new restaurant was beautiful, and the head chef had prepared a special menu, which ended up being delicious.

"This has been incredible, San" you said as you placed your spoon back into the small empty dessert cup.

"It has been" he smiled, as his hand reached towards yours. He stopped, looking at you, as he set his hand on the table.

"What is it?" You asked, moving closer to him.

"Last time I touched your hand you kind of freaked out" he smiled at the memory.

"Well, things have changed." you smiled placing your hands over his.

"Do you still hate me?" He asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Just a little." you teasingly winked.

[randomoranges]

the first half of this is like haha oupsee and the second half is like But Also

Dress Shirt

Étienne mindlessly tugs on the sleeve of his sweater, as his second group of the day trickles in. It’s Edward’s class and he’s always privately amused when he has his boyfriend’s group. They don’t know, obviously, but he does and the knowledge amuses him.

 He’s busy giving out instructions when one of the students’ comes up to him and says, “Hen, M Étienne, vous avez le même chandail que M Édouard?!”

 He pauses, mid sentence and looks down to the shirt he’s wearing underneath the sweater and feels a split second of anxiety.

 It is, indeed, Edward’s shirt. Kids can be so – observant when they want to.

 There’s a perfectly good reason for the shirt.

 Kind of.

 Not one he’s about to share with the kids, who’ve now noticed that their art teacher has the same shirt as their teacher and who are making a Big Deal out of it.

 Last afternoon, like every other afternoon, at the end of the school day, Edward had set out to drive him home, like he does nearly every afternoon and as he’s been doing for the past year and a half. However, halfway through the ride, after their discussion on what they were each making for supper, Étienne had made a comment about how much better Edward’s supper sounded, and his boyfriend had asked him if he wanted to stay for supper.

 Étienne had said yes, obviously, and supper had turned into watching some television together, which had turned into making-out on the sofa, which had led Edward to pull Étienne to his bedroom, which had turned into more fooling around, which had culminated in Étienne spending the night on a weekday night.

 It had been a really good night, though. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex on a school night.

 Therefore, seeing as he hadn’t been prepared to spend the night and seeing as they’d gone to bed past their normal bedtime and had rushed in the morning, Étienne hadn’t really thought anything when he’d asked Edward if he could borrow a shirt for the day. He’d picked his favourite one, Edward had driven them to school, and all the while Étienne had thought that maybe he should leave a change of clothes at Edward’s – in case this happened again. He’d like for it to happen again. Especially the impromptu version.

 “Ah oui?” He plays dumb. Thankfully, the shirt is a simple button down in powder blue. “J’imagine qu’on a du l’acheter au même magasin. C’est drôle, hein?” He laughs and the students giggle as well, before he ushers them to their seats so that they can start the lesson.

 No one else brings it up and the rest of the period goes off without further incidents.

 There’s half an hour left before lunch, when he happens to see the light blinking on his cell phone, alerting him of a message. His third group is busy working on their projects, and so, even though he’s not supposed to, he checks his phone and sees that Edward has sent him a text. Curious, he opens it up, wondering what it says.

 “Can we do lunch?”

 They hadn’t discussed eating together, but Étienne is never one to say no, unless he legitimately can’t.

 “Sure : )”

 He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer and goes back to his lesson.

 Edward shows up to the art room ten minutes after lunch started, after he’s brought his own kids to the cafeteria, and knocks on the door as he always does. Étienne looks up from the paint pucks he’s been setting up and grins, before he motions him in. He walks over to the door and makes sure to lock it behind Edward, before he pecks his boyfriend’s cheek in greeting.

 “Nice shirt,” Edward offers and Étienne lets out a semi-embarrassed laugh.

 “I guess you heard?”

 “It’s all the kids were talking about.”

 There’s a point of seriousness to Edward’s voice and Étienne wonders if maybe his boyfriend is bothered by this. If he hasn’t had a change of heart.

 “I’m sorry if I made things weird – I promise I didn’t tell them anything – just that we must have gotten it at the same store.”

 They both take a seat on the couch at the back of the room and Edward lets himself slump over with a deep sigh.

 “No – it’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I played along as well and it’s fine, but – is it stupid that I got scared for a moment? That they’d figure it out and react?”

 Étienne blinks, confused for only a second and then it hits him. What it could mean. What it could look like. What it could lead to.

 “It’s not stupid,” Étienne says after a moment, a quiet little admission of defeat. “This is still school. People like us have been fired for less.”

 It’s a sobering fact to remember. It leaves a chill in the room that even the coziest of sweaters can’t whisk away.

 “I don’t know – maybe it would be easier if there was a precedent. Some queer kid in the school. Queer parents. Something that would let us know it’s okay,” Sure, the union has an ally branch – but for the kids. There’s never really anything mentioned for staff. Even when he tried to look, he’s found nothing.

 Edward picks up, “Yet, in all my years here, I’ve never heard of a student having queer parents. Or even mentioning a queer family member or friend. I mean, I get we’re in elementary. Kids coming out happens more frequently in high school, but still. It would help. Would ease the tension and the anxiety.”

 He remembers hearing stories growing up. He remembers the fear he had felt, even then, without knowing. The sleepless nights afterwards. Wondering, always, how would it impact him, even though this was a new millennium. It’s always easier to say that one is tolerant, another to apply it when faced with the facts. Would the school accept two queer teachers? Would the parents turn on them? Would the school ask them to leave, politely, before they caused more damage? Because parents would talk? Would they even?

 Étienne reaches out and gives his knee a squeeze. “I hate that I get what you mean,” He sighs out and spares him a glance, “And that we have to choose – between being ourselves or going back into some proverbial closet. Potentially losing a job and causing a scene, or keeping our heads down and passing by.”

 “Yeah...” He’s relieved Étienne gets it. He would, obviously, but he’s relieved regardless. If anything, at least, he’s not alone. He’s not going back home to some other boyfriend who doesn’t have to worry about this one issue and who won’t understand. He’s been there before.

 “I know it’s not ideal, but I’m not – I don’t think I’m ready. To be out. Here.” He casts a worried glance around the room and then to Étienne, afraid his boyfriend will get annoyed. They’ve only been dating for a few short months and he knows he should have brought this up over summer, but – he’d forgotten. “I know you’re more – out than me. In your style and way of dressing... and I know it’s asking a lot.”

 “Hey, no, I get it – I really do.” Étienne says and tugs at Edward’s body until his boyfriend is leaning on him, using his chest as a pillow, “The school institution in itself is still a very conservative place full of archaic rules. I’m fine with playing it safe and testing the waters. Not rocking the boat and all. I might be the art teacher and get away with some things, but believe it or not there are still things I keep to myself as well.”

 They’ve spoken some about this over the summer, once they’d started dating. Of certain things they both enjoy doing that wouldn’t be accepted by the school’s dress code. Certain hobbies that might be frowned upon by more conservative minded people. It’s exhausting, really and they both hate it. Yet, even if they decided to take up arms to fight the stigma, it would take a lot of time and they’re both uncertain they have the drive in them for it.

 “Sometimes, I wish I had a different job. One where I could – dress the way I wanted and just be me. No one would question it.” Edward admits, his head on Étienne’s shoulder where it’s nice and safe. “I mean, I know that there are issues everywhere and that even if I worked at a bank a client could decide not to touch money I handled because I’m gay, or something, but I feel that there’s an extra layer in a school. Because of the kids.”

 He’s heard stories – on the news, online, of parents accusing teachers – hell, even more open-minded straight teachers of turning their kids “gay” because of class discussions or certain books they’d make their kids read or some other stupid thing. He knows they live in a pretty tolerant and open-minded city, but it doesn’t mean everyone is on board and there’s no way of knowing which parents would be on their side and which ones would want them out. Unfortunately, there is no survey that’s sent out at the start of the year along with photo authorisations.

 “I hate that I always have to fucking lie and pretend.” Edward concludes with another frustrated sigh.

 “Me too,” Étienne adds.

 They fall quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, imagining what their lives could be like if there wasn’t this constant stress, simmering in the back of their minds, dictating their every move – watching and waiting for them to tumble and fall.

 “I don’t know if it makes things easier or harder that we work in the same place and that we’re together, but I know I’m glad I’m not alone – that if anything, we can at least get support from one another and maybe, hopefully, with time, we’ll find out who the allies are.”

 Edward looks at him and scrubs a hand over his face, before he offers him the smallest of smiles. It’s not much, but Étienne will take it.

 “I guess you’re right,” He pauses and then looks over to Étienne, “Okay, but what were the actual odds that in a job composed mostly of women, the only two male teachers would not only be queer but end up together?” He huffs a laugh and Étienne grins, joining him.

 “Probably very little, but I don’t regret it.”

 He means it, truly. He’d obviously enjoyed being friends with Edward, but he likes where their relationship has been going and he hopes that – even if it’s a little unconventional, that they’ll manage to overcome whatever hardships and insecurities will come their way.

 “Me neither.” They might have to make concessions because of their work, but Edward has vowed to himself, years ago, that he wouldn’t stop himself from being happy and living his life because of what others might think of him. He might not be willing to go to battle over every issue, but he’ll find ways to make this work. They both will.

 “For the record, you can keep the shirt – it looks really good on you.”

 Étienne laughs, this time for real, and it’s closer to his usual carefree laugh, before he playfully hits Edward on the shoulder.

 FIN

[thexfridax]

Translated interview (with omissions)

The female gaze: An interview with Céline Sciamma

Michael Ranze, filmdienst.de, 2nd of November 2019

// Additions or clarifications for translating purposes are denoted as [T: …]. A couple of omissions in the first interview, but I provided links to existing articles with more information. I’ve also added extracts from two more interviews with Céline below. Aaaaand... I believe this is it for German Portrait interviews! 😅 //

A conversation with the French director about ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’.

The French director Céline Sciamma already garnered international attention with her debut film ‘Water Lilies’. She is now a regular at the big film festivals. Her recent film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ is a multi-layered love story between a female painter and a young noble woman, whom she has to paint.

Interviewer: Your first three films ‘Water Lilies’ (2007), ‘Tomboy’ (2011) and ‘Girlhood' (2014) are about the coming-of-age of female characters, about their search for identity, including sexual identity. Where does this great interest in the world view of young women come from?

Céline Sciamma: I was lucky enough to make films as a young woman and to talk about things that I know about and understand. That’s why my first three films were closely connected to the childhood and youth of the heroines, and their female identity. I’m also pursuing the same theme in my new film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’, this time with grown women. In the other films there was always the desire for love, which is also self-discovery. Love is fully lived out this time – this creates some kind of dialogue. I am 40 years old – I now have to talk about these things. (laughs) [T: Also see here, here, here or here about her previous films]

I: But there’s also the theme of female solidarity, especially in ‘Girlhood’…

CS: Yes, indeed. The more my work develops, the more it deals with the theme of friendship, sorority, but also the ability to enjoy life to the fullest. This also includes solidarity, these small islands that women can establish together. My films open up the space for this idea, this is much more radical in ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ than in my previous films.

I: But you also wrote the screenplay for André Téchiné’s film ‘Being 17’, where the two main characters are adolescent boys.

CS: That’s the same kind of work for me. It’s about creating characters without objectifying them, and to find access to their experiences. The female gaze is not only about filming women. It’s also about being aware about the images and representations. You have to pay a lot of attention, when you are inventing or composing something. Otherwise it becomes conventional, or you create characters that are empty. That applies to men and women. The male gaze is damaging for male representation in my opinion. I thought that it would be interesting for me to do it differently.

I: How did you work together with André Téchiné on the screenplay?

CS: This was the only time in my career as scriptwriter that I worked on the script with someone else. I admire Téchiné’s work. My first cinephile emotions are linked to his films. It was therefore a lot of fun to enter his matrix and get access to his thinking, on the one hand to participate, and on the other hand to support his goals. The fact that he wanted to do a film about youth motivated me to make him a young film director. [T: Also see here about her work on ‘Being 17′]

I: He is now 76 years old.

CS: Yes, exactly. He was 73, when we worked together. But it never felt like there was a huge age hierarchy between us. I admire him very much, he really fuelled my ambitions, we have a very intense relationship.

I: What do you like more: writing scripts or directing films?

CS: This has changed. I always liked the balance between the two, also the fact that I didn’t always have to follow my own wishes, but could immerse myself in another logic and worlds, and distract myself. But over the years I realised that I don’t want to lose any more time. It’s of course not a waste of time to work for others. But you sometimes have to put up with long project delays. For the first time in a long time I don’t have any screenplay assignments, and I like this feeling. But you never know what may happen. I was really blessed with some projects. For ‘My Life as a Courgette’, it just gave me joy to write a film for children. If something like that comes along again, I would do it immediately. [T: Also see here about her work on ‘My Life as a Courgette’]

[T: Omitted Q&A about the reasons why she did a period film, but see here, here or here]

I: What are the challenges when you recreate a period, which was so long ago?

CS: You have to do a lot of research, especially about the situation of female artists. You really have to dig deep, because no one wrote a thick book on it. The other challenge was the collaboration with others. That is the beauty of cinema. The costume designer does research about that period, so does the set designer. This is my third collaboration with Thomas Grézaud (he also worked with Sciamma on ‘Girlhood’ and ‘Tomboy’, editor’s note). He always suggests something, which is then incorporated into the film. When it is about historic films, then accuracy is very important. But sometimes it’s also interesting to consider what is not in the picture. For example, there is not much furniture. We built the few pieces ourselves, out of wood and with cotton. It was more about believing in cinema, in action, in clear lines.

I: So you work closely with the costume and set designer?

CS: Yes, there is a close coordination. I wanted some kind of uniform for the characters, for example. We then looked at various costumes. They were not supposed to be out of silk but rather heavy fabrics, which restrain the actresses, force them into their roles and at the same time describe the sociology of their characters. I also wanted pockets for the costume of the female painter, even though others told me it would be anachronistic or too modern. Fact is that pockets existed back then and that they vanished in the 19th century. The ‘femme bourgeoise’ [T: middle-class woman] was invented, and fashion went backwards. I liked the idea of this silhouette, which was even accurate. That is our job: We try to give a presence to these women from back then.

[T: Omitted Q&A about how the actresses were recruited, it mentions the circulation of gazes between the three, the physical and psychological contrast between Adèle and Noémie, Céline describes them both as strong, intense, determined and courageous actresses, she also wanted to create an iconic and fresh couple; see here or here]

I: You spoke about the ‘circulation of gazes’. Between the actresses there are short and long gazes, shy and curious ones. How did you conceptualise this ‘ballet of gazes’?

CS: That was already in the script, especially the rhythm of the gazes, when they look at each other. The actresses were very much aware about that. It’s not about dictating what they have to do. But it’s rather a way to start the conversation, to show their connection or communicate their intentions. They have to ‘dance’. I call it a collection of gazes. As you already said: We have this gaze, we have that gaze. It changes with every scene. And it shows how good the actresses are. If it’s in the script, then the actresses are very, very good [T: this was weirdly worded]. Otherwise they might suggest something that doesn’t fit. You have to see straight away that they desire each other. And it’s brilliant how they do it.

I: I liked the beginning of the film, when Marianne jumps out of the boat to retrieve her large case. A woman isn’t supposed to do that, so it shows that Marianne is different than others…

CS: And the film also shows that: She is not a woman who follows the rules. She jumps into the water to get her things. The important thing is: The film also jumps into the water. The camera also dives in, we swim with her. That’s two pieces of information: This character will be an active one, and the film will join this jump. [T: Also see here]

I: There are only women on the island…

CS: No – we just don’t show the men.

I: The island seems like a refuge or even a utopia.

CS: Yes – that’s true. In cinema, it is about what you decide to show in the picture. I didn’t want to show men, because then it would have been about the pressure and dominance that existed back then and still does. We now look at what is possible, at the potential of the women. You can also call it utopia, but these are not imaginary futuristic dreams, it is based on life experiences, maybe on a higher level, if it was more based on reciprocity. And political utopia – there has to be a place, where the economy doesn’t determine everything, where there is no sexism or racism. These places exist, in families, communities, maybe in a city. This culture has to grow. This utopia arises from experiences that we make and transform to ideas.

[T: Omitted Q&A about the cinematography of Portrait, but see here or here]

—

Interview with director Céline Sciamma (extracts)

Sportello745, moviebreak.de, 9th of October 2019

[…] Interviewer: In your debut film ‘Water Lilies’ you contrast the uncontainable, awakening hormones of the main character with a perfectly synchronised swimming team. In which way does the landscape characterise the emotions in your new film?

Céline Sciamma: In Water Lilies, it was about what’s on the surface and what’s hidden below. I guess, even with synchronised swimming it’s less about control but more about what you don’t see and the effort you have to make underneath. I don’t think I rely on symbolism too much, I get often asked about the meaning of, for example, colours. That’s not really how I think, I try to embody certain things and be less metaphoric. But maybe in this film the tension is between love and art and beauty. The landscape does fit into this tension very much. [T: Also see here or here for Water Lilies]

I: Did the paintings that you researched have any influence on the language of the film, and if yes, which paintings in particular?

CS: Yes, they did. It was especially the self portraits of female painters, because these pictures were quite different from what you would expect. There was a specific painting, which was actually not from the 18th century but from the 17th century, it was from a woman called Judith Leyster, a [T: Dutch; also see here]. Her work was misattributed to her husband. In the picture, you can see her painting, she smiles, you can see her teeth. I have never seen something like that. It helped me to be courageous, which means it made us invent something new and not be scared of being unconventional. That is exactly the kind of female contribution to art history: When Virginia Woolf writes, she reinvents literature, she revolutionises it [T: also see here or here]. When Chantal Akerman films ‘Jeanne Dielman’, it is a revolution for cinema [T: also see here, here or here]. The voices of women are not only limited to ‘Hey, we have a little story to tell’, but it is always about reinventing art. It is about creating something new instead of the same old. […]

I: When did Marianne paint the eponymous ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ in your opinion, shortly after her encounter on the island or many years later?

CS: I think, she painted it a couple of years later. That is her memory. When I commissioned the painting, I originally wanted to have 20 frames, maybe even that Marianne’s whole work is based on this moment. A kind of ‘usual suspects’ situation, where everyone reappears. But this moment [T: at the bonfire] is definitely the matrix for what she will do next, and I think, [T: the painting] was made years later […].

I: At the end of the film the love story between the two is ‘concluded’. On the one hand, the ending is bittersweet, because the love has been immortalised in a painting. On the other hand, it is also quite sad, we see Héloïse crying. It felt as if this great piece of art, which tells the story of the two women, can never be exchanged for the love that was lost. What do you think?

CS: We tried to spark a dynamic where the end of the love story doesn’t mean that they spend eternity together or die. It was about getting rid of the sentiment that the victory of love is mutual possession. Their love for each other made them curious about love itself and art. For me, the last scene addresses how art deeply affects us and how love makes us more emotional towards beauty. […] At the end, Héloïse feels the music she would never have felt if she had not loved. Love as curation for being curious about the future, about art, about beauty. That for me is a positive dynamic, even though it is heartbreaking, which was on purpose. At the end, both women are more open, and that is the dynamic of emancipation, which I love. And it is positive to talk about it.

—

Sciamma: ‘I want to show images of daily life that are missing’ (extracts)

Patricia Batlle, NDR.de, 29th of October 2019

Interviewer: You had a very lively screening of your film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’. There were standing ovations from the audience, and there was an animated conversation with you and the lead actresses Adèle Haenel and Noémie Merlant. Were you surprised to be so warmly welcomed in Northern Germany?

Céline Sciamma: It’s funny because you are sometimes cautioned that other countries have a less welcoming culture, but not to take it personally. So you prepare for different types of audiences. But then the reception in Hamburg was really, really warm. It doesn’t surprise me, because I believe that film is a nation, that film culture is unique and unites the viewers [T: PORTRAIT NATION FTW]. A cinema is sometimes like a country. I travel around a lot with the film and I feel the warmth, this fire in the cinema across countries. […]

I: You address topics like menstruation and abortion that are rarely shown in cinema – especially not in love films.

CS: Yes, why is that? That is crazy! This clearly is part of the pleasure of the film, part of its political intention. To show images that are missing, although these are images of daily life. Our story should put our audience on an emotional rollercoaster, where the images have an unusual relationship with the story and are surprising. That is the power of new images.

I: Four women play an important role in your film, men are on the sideline. The names of the women stand out all the more. The self-confident painter is called Marianne. The name is synonymous for the Republic of France – was this on purpose?

CS: I have to admit: I didn’t think about that. I didn’t think about the Marianne of the Republic, when I wrote the script. The names of all my characters are related. In my debut film ‘Water Lilies’ my main character was called Marie, in ‘Girlhood’ she was called Marieme, and here she is called Marianne. It’s like a thread that runs from film to film. But it’s true: It is France! I like the fact that you noticed this. (laughs) […]

—

Articles:

https://www.filmdienst.de/artikel/38732/interview-celine-sciamma-zu-portrat-einer-jungen-frau-in-flammen

https://www.moviebreak.de/features/interview-mit-regisseurin-celine-sciamma/item?item=2

https://www.ndr.de/kultur/film/Sciamma-ueber-Portraet-einer-jungen-Frau-in-Flammen,frauinflammen106.html

Picture sources: [1], [2]

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

Girl Crush

Chuck Grant x OC (not exactly a happy ending, Floyd Talbert & Luz fluff tho)

She was absolutely beautiful. She drew the attention of everyone in the room, and rightfully so. She was radiant with confidence and charm. Her long, blonde hair quite literally looked like a halo and those perfect cupid bow lips were painted a sumptuous red. She was even wearing real, silky stockings. Where in the hell did she get those, Virginia thought. And of out of all the guys in the room why was she sitting with Chuck?

Sure, Chuck was handsome in that sturdy all-American way. But Virginia had a realistic view of her best friend; he wasn’t the most charming, nor the most outgoing or flirtatious. He was quiet, polite, and thoughtful. Those were some of the many wonderful things about him and reasons why Virginia knew she was falling in love with him. However, they weren’t traits that she thought a bombshell like Adrienne would have picked out of a crowd of dashing young soldiers.

Adrienne was the type of girl that George Luz or Skinny Sisk drooled over, the type of girl Floyd Talbert would sneak away to a corner of the bar.

Of course any guy would have love to have her on his arm, she was perfect. But Chuck was not the obvious choice.

Adrienne was like all the girls Virginia and Chuck had grown up around; California beauties that had never seemed to tempt Chuck before. Chuck wasn’t one to ogle girls on the beach or take them out in his car every weekend. Whenever he had had free time between school or work, he just hung out with Virginia and their other friends.

Their friend Mary got engaged the same month Chuck and the other guys enlisted. There was nothing in California for Virginia once all her friends left so she decided to join the Women’s Army Corp. as a switchboard operator.

Chuck had been so proud of her when she finally qualified. She had walked over to his house only days before he was due to ship out to show him her letter of certification. Right there in his yard, he had picked her up and spun her around.

“I’m so proud of you, Ginny! And now you’ll be able to come with me!”

Butterflies fluttered around her stomach, he wanted her to be with him. “We don’t know where I’ll be stationed or where you’ll be!”

“They have to put us together, I just know they will. I have a feeling.”

He had been wrong, then he had been right. Virginia worked her way up the eastern seaboard while Chuck trained in Georgia. Their letters were constant exchanges between good friends sharing the stresses and challenges of their burgeoning military careers.

Where do you think they’ll send you next?

North Carolina.

I’ve been in New York for a while now.

Big city girl.

Definitely not California.

Where will you go after the war?

California.

Me too.

What will you do after the war?

Wouldn’t it be nice to have a house by the beach?

Very.

We could get houses by each other.

Maybe.

I’ll get a good job, a nice wife, and you’ll find a nice guy.

I’ve already met lots of nice guys.

Not a husband though.

Virginia and Chuck had always been especially close, but Virginia had fallen in love with him through those letters. He was her home and her adventure all in one.

Eventually, he had been right. They were reunited on a troopship destined for England. They had been on the ship for a week before they realized.

I’m on a boat destined for England.

So am I!

The moment she received the letter with his shipment details she had run into the soldiers bunk room to whoops and hollers and shouts of “nurse!”.

“Charles Grant? Officer Grant?” she asked as she forced her way past men throwing baseballs and stretching. They all pointed her in the same direction until she reached his bunk.

“Ginny?” he dropped his cards in shock as she threw herself on his bunk.

“I can’t believe we’re on the same ship!” she squealed. He wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug.

A voice cleared above where they lay unceremoniously embracing, “who’s your friend there Grant?”

A handsome young man with dark brown eyes propped his arm against the steel pole of the bunk.

Virginia quickly got up from Chuck’s cot, smoothing her skirt. Chuck swung his legs around so he sat to face the new arrival.

“Floyd Talbert, meet Virginia Wilson.”

Floyd offered his hand, “nice to meet you.”

Floyd Talbert was a flirt and everyone knew it. But Virginia liked him a lot, they clicked from the very start, which made sense since he was a good friend of Chuck’s. Just like Chuck, Floyd was very polite, and always made a point of introducing his girlfriends to Virginia - at least the girls he would see more than once.

He would sneak down to the switchboard room to say hi or to the officers building where they would rendezvous for a cup of coffee. So would Chuck, and Virginia always looked forward to those surprise chats. Occasionally, Chuck and Virginia would find themselves on breaks at the same time and would go for walks around the base. The rolling English hills made them both homesick and it was nice to have each other to reminisce with.

Adrienne worked as an officers secretary and they would pass her every time they left the officers building. It didn’t occur to Virginia until later that every time Chuck came to see her, he would have passed Adrienne too.

On one autumn evening out, Chuck invited Virginia out to get drinks with him and some of his friends. She knew it wasn’t a date but she let herself get more excited than she should have. She gave herself extra time to bathe, to pin up her hair, and even took the time to apply red lipstick and to draw thin brown lines down the back of her legs. She had the army regulation stockings but the dark line down the back of her calves gave them a more alluring look.

“So who you dressing up for?” Floyd asked over his beer. He and Virginia were the only ones remaining at their table after Chuck got pulled into a game of darts.

Virginia flushed, “who say’s I’m dressing up for anyone?”

Floyd just looked at her, waiting for her to cave.

“I just wanted to look nice, I haven’t been out in a while.”

Floyd just nodded, his eyes searching hers before she broke eye contact.

“Ya know,” Floyd cleared his throat, “he’s been seeing Adrienne.”

The blood ran cold in Virginia’s veins. She knew exactly who he was talking about, but technically he hadn’t said who so maybe it wasn’t Chuck. She did her best to sound nonchalant, “who’s seeing Adrienne?”

“Your boy,” Floyd nodded his head at Chuck, “Chuckie.”

Virginia swallowed hard to keep the lump from growing in her throat, “that’s exciting!” and she did her best to sound excited.

Floyd shrugged, “sure.” He paused, “exciting for him I guess,” Floyd sighed.

If Virginia said anything else she would’ve broke, so she stayed silent. She took a sip of her beer to keep her eyes from welling up with tears.

Suddenly, Adrienne was thrust into her life. Adrienne was sweet and said hi to her every time they passed at work. She was out with them every time that Virginia joined the soldiers for drinks. All the guys loved her because there was nothing not to love! Adrienne was like their own personal movie star; a kind and busty blonde always dressed in a neat suit working for the officers.

At the bars it took all of Virginia’s power not to stare at Adrienne. Her fingers were long and thin, like a porcelain dolls. Somehow, her finger nails were always perfectly manicured with cherry red paint. Was that even regulation? Maybe the secretaries didn’t have to follow WAC standards. Virginia hadn’t painted her nails any color since she left California. The red looked so beautiful curled around the olive drab of Chuck’s arm. Every now and then Virginia would catch Chuck and Adrienne leaving the bar alone together. It was a punch to the stomach just imaging what they might be doing or where they might be going alone like that.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” Chuck confessed to her once on one of their walks. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings too much, he was always so mellow. Virginia knew that this confession was the rawest, most surface level expression of what he may actually be feeling.

“How long have you known her though, Chuck?” she asked gently.

“I know, not very long, I’m not rushing into anything,” he smiled his little half smile at her, “trust me.”

For the first time ever she didn’t trust him, not regarding Adrienne.

“Hey, drink,” Floyd placed a full beer in front of Virginia, breaking her out of her trance. He took a long drink of his own beer, surveying the room. He had yet to date any of the women in the bar at the moment, which was huge for him. This was his night to find someone new without breaking any hearts.

“Where’s Lucy?” Floyd asked.

“She’s up at the bar.” Virginia gestured to where her friend and co-worker was chatting with Buck Compton.

“Will you be good on your own here? If I socialize?” Floyd asked right as George Luz sat down. 

“All good with George here!” Virginia reassured him.

“Good, ol’ dependable George,” George slurred slightly. However, things were not all good with George Luz, depending on who you asked, because the night quickly took another turn. While the company was divided between the dart board and flocking around Adrienne, George Luz bought Virginia shots of gin.

“Fuckin’ disgusting,” George shuddered as he threw down his third shot.

“I don’t know how they drink it,” Virginia added, recovering from her second.

“Okay, something to wash it down,” George gestured to the bartender.

They drank their beers at the bar and Virginia felt the warm, creeping feeling of the liquor start to take hold on her body.

George finished his beer, leaving only the froth at the bottom, “another?” he asked, his eyes only slightly crossed. Virginia nodded solemnly.

“No more of that gin shit. Two whiskeys neat barkeep!” The bartender raised a suspicious eyebrow at Luz but served them anyways.

“Much better,” Luz smacked his lips. Virginia’s head was spinning now.

“How we feelin’?” Luz asked her. Virginia allowed a wide grin to spread across her face. 

“Feelin’ good, George.” 


She linked arms with George and they traipsed around the bar sloppily greeting friends. They interrupted a game of darts before slumping into a corner booth with Joe Liebgott, Popeye, and Lucy. But George and Virginia were in their own world. They sat cozied up chatting, dumb to the jovial world around them. That’s when Virginia found herself revealing everything to a very sympathetic George.

“I gotta girl like that too,” George sighed.

“Like what? Like Adrienne?”

“I wish,” George slumped in the booth, resting his cheek on Virginia’s shoulder, “nah I gotta girl who doesn’t notice me.”

“Chuck notices me,” Virginia pouted.

“Does he know you like him? Like love him like him?” George slurred.

Virginia considered this, “I don’t think I told him.” 
“Ever?”
 Virginia shook her head. That was a mistake, the world began to spin slightly. She sat up abruptly, trying to steady herself, and consequentially knocked George off her shoulder. Joe and Lucy eyed them cautiously.

The world settled again and Virginia leaned back into the worn leather of the booth. George shifted so that his legs were up on her lap and his head knocked against the corner of the booth.

“I think you should tell him.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just in case,” George encouraged her.

Virginia glanced over to where Adrienne sat next to Chuck, her hand on his thigh. The alcohol had made her weak. Virginia felt the tears begin to prick at her eyes.

“No, no no,” George caught her face in his hands, “no crying! Don’t cry, not unless you’re alone with the guy!”

Virginia sniffed and blinked her eyes rapidly, “okay, yeah, maybe I will say something to him.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll come with you.” George swung his legs off of her lap and they scooted out of the booth.

“Where are you guys goin’?” Joe called after them. George just waived his hand dismissively as he followed Virginia into the crowd towards Chuck.

Virginia reached Chuck with her heart thumping in her ears, this was it. She was going to tell him. But maybe she should do it in private? Would he come with her if she asked him for a private word? Or would he leave her standing there? Panic rose up in her just as Chuck noticed her presence.

“Hey, Ginny,” he smiled sweetly up at her. Virginia tried to focus on him but she was distracted by the redness of Adrienne’s full lips. The woman’s face swam in perfect lines of red and black and blonde in Virginia’s intoxicated vision.

“Chuck - I, could I -“ she stammered. She lost all focus at the sight of Adrienne.

“Are you drunk, Ginny?” Chuck chuckled good naturedly.

“No, kinda, maybe- but actually I wanted-“

“Hey Virginia, I need ya over here.” Virginia hadn’t even noticed Floyd arrive at her side until suddenly he had an arm wrapped around her waist. “Sorry Chuck, just gonna steal her real quick.” Floyd whisked her away, and Chuck didn’t even seem to notice that anything was off. He turned right back to talking to Adrienne.

“Hey sweetheart,” Floyd murmured, “come over here with me.” Floyd sat her down at the back of the bar next to a disgruntled looking young woman. He reappeared in seconds with a large glass of water which he made Virginia drink.

“Let’s get you home,” Floyd said. He helped Virginia into her coat and led her outdoors. The cool air and water helped to sober her up.

“Shouldn’t have left ya alone with Luz should I?” Floyd teased half-heartedly.

Virginia smiled, but the tears were coming again, “I’m sorry for ruining your night, Floyd.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” he put a comforting arm around her shoulders, “you don’t need to be sorry.”

“I just- with Chuck -“

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Floyd was quiet, the sound of gravel crunching beneath their feet filled their silence.

“I think you’re going to have to get over him, Virginia.”

Virginia let one tear drop down her cheek. It ran all the way down her face to the edge of her jaw, where it hung for a moment, before she wiped it away with a gloved hand. She nodded.

“You’re right.”

“I know it won’t be easy, but you’re tough. And you’ve got friends, including Chuck. He’ll always be your friend, and so will I. You’ve got me here until, and when, things are normal between you and Chuck again.”

Virginia smiled and the tears flowed hot down her cheeks. The tears were no longer sad, they were bittersweet. She slung her arm around Floyd’s waist and they continued down the quiet, dark English road back to base.

[utterlyinevitable]

Please can you continue the angst and do Bryce and MC breaking up after OHSY?

OK but... why would anyone break up with Bryce Lahela????? 

Bryce and MC (Becca) OHSY/OH3 Breakup 

Bryce and Becca’s relationship has always been easy. Everything flowed - their bodies fit together divinely. It was natural. 

So natural that they didn’t need to verbally define anything. They didn’t need to. 

Now that Keiki was at boarding school Becca could stay over more freely and more often. Nothing could have been better than evenings curled up on his couch with the duvet and a bucket of kettle popcorn.

As soon as they got the official letter that Edenbrook would not be operating any longer, Bryce put in for a transfer at Mass Kenmore. He’d applied to other places but Boston is where he needed to be. He has his apartment and needed to be close to Keiki. 

He was happy and a weight lifted off his shoulders when he got his acceptance letter. 

He kept the news mostly to himself, only casually dropping the info one night when he was grilled about his plans by the gang. 

He was attacked with a hug. Everyone was so happy for him. They celebrated with shots and then the afterparty in Becca’s room was slow and sweet. Savoring. 

For purely selfish reasons Becca would not apply to MK. She did not fit in with the likes of Tobias, June and Landry and really couldn’t trust a hospital that did. The idea of working beside them made her skin crawl.

But she didn’t want to be too far away from the life she built in Boston. 

So she applied everywhere within a 3-hour drive.

Nothing. 

No responses from anywhere, or bland rejections to try again next term. 

So she threw caution to the wind and applied to other cities: LA, Miami, Dallas, San Fran, Phoenix, New York.

Still, she hadn’t heard back from a single one.

In the office one night, while reassigning paperwork, she spoke of the issues with Ethan. 

He considered things and offered to reach out to Chief Fredricks at Weill in NYC.

She wasn’t thrilled about moving back home, but she accepted the gesture nonetheless.

The next week, she had a truly competitive offer from Weill.

The salary package and benefits were astounding. She couldn’t believe it. This opportunity was too good to be true.

She called Bryce immediately. “No way! That’s awesome, Becks!” “I know! And it’s not too far either, we can still spend long weekends together” “Totally. Look at us getting our lives together!”

Then, unexpectedly, Edenbrook was saved and Ethan offered her her position back.

She wanted to accept. Oh, man, did she want to stay. But the Weill gig was too good. Edenbrook could never match that. She’d be a fool to throw this opportunity away.

She declined and Ethan told her the position will still be available whenever she wants it. “You’re one hell of a doctor, Lao. When you’re ready, we’ll be here.” 

She thanked him and promised to revert back after her final year. “We’ll be on the same level then, you ready for that?” “No,” he huffed with a smirk. “You’ll always be a rookie in comparison.”

Later that evening, Bryce was waiting for Becca at her apartment. Every staff member at Edenbrook got the same email about their jobs being reinstated should they want them back. 

He was miffed she didn’t take the Edenbrook job. 

He understands her issue with the MK internal team but... her old job was safe. Nothing has to change for her.

That was the start of the longest goodbye.

They still made the best of their moments together.

He packed up all her things and they took a road trip down to move her in. She stayed in a family-owned apartment in Brooklyn and was lucky enough to save money that way.

It was a cute one bedroom. They christened it immediately.

As they settled further into their residencies and the weeks turned into months. The weekend meetings became less and less. 

Becca made a whole new group of friends and even ran into a few from her youth. She had a new local bar and 24/7 eatery. New parks and food trucks and cocky colleagues to help her destress after an egregious shift. 

Bryce couldn’t stand some of the MK doctors - they were arrogant and cocky, and not in the wholesome way he is. He tried to see the gang as much as possible. But Donahue’s was a bit farther now.

He spent most nights commuting home and leaving Becca video messages about his day when she’s unable to pick up his call.

Bryce never really noticed how lonely he was before Becca and Keiki made his apartment a home.

They’ve spent 4 weekends together before the distancing feelings started settling in. 

They were growing apart.

For their 5th weekend, Becca had to cut it short one day because of a case and then two hours before leaving Bryce was called into emergency surgery. Besides Tanaka, he was the only one available that knew the procedure forwards and backwards. 

Instead, they had a video chat date. They got in their pajamas and snuggled on their respective beds with a snack, some beer and started watching Deadpool 2 together.  

“I was thinking of coming back to Edenbrook next year,” she said randomly during the movie. That week was one of the toughest she’s ever had and all she wanted was the comfort she found in Boston. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in months!” “Better than when that hair product company sent you a free gift basket?” “100%. Without a doubt. I can’t cuddle my hair gel every night and leave kisses all over it’s body. I mean... I could but it’d be weird as hell.”

They talked about what that would be like and how fun living together for real would be.

Everything seemed good. 

They seemed happy. 

They seemed like they were planning a forever. 

Well, one of them was. 

Three months later Bryce finally made it down to see her. Their last few trips had been rescheduled again and again and again and it was finally here. 

He ran out of MK so fast no one dared to stop him. 

Becca planned a very lowkey date night for them in Williamsburg. They had Tacos at a pop up and drinks at an improv studio. Nothing seemed to be different. They held hands over the table at dinner, she rested her head in the crook of his neck perfectly carved to fit her. They joked and laughed as they walked arm in arm back to her place. 

Then why did they feel so distance? 

Why was she having trouble look him in the eye? 

Why did the edges of her lips curl down when she smiled now? 

He held her in his arms, folded her around him as they snuggled on her couch. 

That’s when she told him. A mumble into the heat of his skin. 

“I thought you were coming to Boston when you’re done?” Bryce was stunned. 

He thought they had settled on a plan weeks ago that she’d be back in Boston and they’d share his apartment and they’d start their lives together. 

“I was. But they offered me an opportunity of a lifetime, B. And it’s kinda nice being close to my family... I didn’t realize how much I was missing out on..”

He said the next words so quickly and full of honest intentions: “Do you want me to move?” 

She didn’t expect him to offer that. He knows how important his career is to him. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” “Sure you could. I still have three years left of residency. Could transfer nearby.” “Another transfer? Don’t you think that’ll put you behind?” “I’m the top resident at MK and was at Edenbrook. Didn’t you know?” 

He tried to joke but the way she wouldn’t look him in eye has his chest constricting.

“Do.. do you not want me to move?”

Tbh she hadn’t given much thought to her relationship or goals in months. It was all just wishful thinking when she spoke of things with Bryce. 

She had her eyes on the prize and that was becoming the best doctor of her generation. She’d been much too busy fabricating her new life.

“I don’t know.”

Bryce sat back. He thought she was the one. “What are we doing, Rebecca?”

She gave a confused furrow of her brows.

“Are we end game?” he clarified, trying to keep his calm. 

Her jaw opened and closed, trying and failing to find all the words she needed him to hear; “I don’t know.” “Okay. I’ll tell you what I DO know. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life making you snort and smile. I can transfer residency and move here for you. All I’m asking, is if you feel the same way.”

There was a wall of silence between them towering so high. 

“I love you so much, Bryce.” 

It was said so softly he might’ve missed it if he kept talking.

The sadness etched on her face and the light reflecting off the glistening in her eyes told him she wasn’t ready to commit.

She wasn’t going to commit. 

Bryce grabbed his bag, snatched his keys and wallet from the table, and walked out the door.

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Nara Shikamaru/Temari Characters: Nara Shikamaru, Temari (Naruto), Yamanaka Ino, Sai (Naruto), Akimichi Chouji, Karui (Naruto), Nara Clan Additional Tags: Mafia AU, Romance, Eventual Smut, BAMF Nara Shikamaru, Explicit Language, Smut

Hello deers!  I absolutely love Mafia AU's so I got inspired to write one for ShikaTema.  It gets pretty steamy from the beginning and this theme will pretty much carry through the whole story.  Still, I hope that you enjoy it!

I’m going to be updating this post as I add new chapters. :D

Summary:

Money, power, and women were all at Shikamaru's fingertips as the head of the Nara Crime Family. He had all that he could wish for as he ruled his empire with an iron fist. An encounter with a troublesome blonde was enough for him to risk it all on one night.

Chapter 1:  Opening Move

Chapter 2:  Queen’s Gambit

Chapter 3:  Luck

Chapter 4: Castling

Chapter 5: Protecting the Queen

Chapter 6: Deflection

Chapter 7: En Passant

Chapter 8: Capture 

Chapter 9: Checkmate

*

**

Shikamaru’s midnight eyes surveyed the crash of sweaty bodies moving and pulsating to a heavy beat. He took a long drag of his cigarette overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and heavy bass. It wasn’t often that he made the trek out here.  Typically depending on his associates to check on their businesses.  His father told him though that it was important for the king to be seen by his people.  

For so long his family had to operate in the shadows.  That was no longer the case.  The Naras, Akimichis, and Yamanakas ruled this area.  Government officials, police officers, “powerful” people were all on their payroll.  Very few things happened in this city without them knowing.  Everyone knew who they were and they no longer tried to hide it.  

When he was younger he’d complained constantly that this was a drag. He never wanted to become the head of the Nara crime family.  It wasn’t his choice, it was his destiny.  Still, he grew into the role and had accomplished more than they’d ever dreamed. Their empire was now strong and vast. Power and money were his.  And yet there was an emptiness in his chest. 

He didn’t delight in the benefits of being an infamous crime boss. The club was far too loud. The women who threw themselves at him were too troublesome.  A lot of strings and losses came with power. And it was all becoming far too tiresome. 

His eyes continued to scan the room before they fell upon one person in the crowd. His heart began to beat wildly and an excited shiver ran through him. From where he stood he could tell she was a striking blonde but there was something different.  Like a beacon drawing him in. A feeling unlike he’d ever experienced before. 

He studied her for a while.  She was clearly a good worker never taking a minute to rest between drinks.  He typically didn’t involve himself in the day to day operations of their various businesses. He trusted his associates to do thorough background checks and to hire the best. Once he got a name he’d have to check through her file. 

Shikamaru became increasingly frustrated as she flirted and smiled at the club patrons.  They didn’t deserve her attention especially when all of his was on her. His hands clutched painfully around the balcony railing as he tried to keep his anger in check. 

Shikamaru called his security detail over.

“The blonde bartender, bring her to my office.”

“Yes sir.” 

Shikamaru continued to stare as she gazed up towards him with a confused glare. Part of him hoped that when they met she would bore him like the rest. She’d be good for a quick fuck and then he could send her on her way. The intellectual side of him knew that wouldn’t be the case. 

Temari took a deep breath as she followed the large man down the dimly lit hall.  

She’d only started working at the club for a few weeks now.  It was an easy enough job.  She was able to make a pretty decent amount of money, especially from tips.  It was amazing how easily these men opened up their wallets when a pretty girl smiled at them.  

She couldn’t imagine what she had done in such a short time to gain the interests of the Nara clan head. 

When she applied for the job she had already been well aware of who actually owned it.  Their family owned everything in this town. She wasn’t worried though.  What interest could they have in a regular bartender?  As far as she knew it was just a popular club with lines out the door on most nights.  It was a veritable pot of gold.  She needed the money for herself and her brothers. So whatever reason that Nara had for summoning her she knew that she needed to play nice. 

This was despite her natural inclinations.  She had to remain calm and quiet lest she enrages the infamous mob boss.  Their reign and crimes had been known far and wide and she didn’t want to be a victim of his anger. 

The room was small but well furnished.  Despite the fear in her bones it was warm and inviting.  

Temari looked up, finding him sitting in a large chair with a cigarette pressed between his lips.  She’d never known what he actually looked like but he was undeniably handsome.  Sharp features with a hint of darkness around him.  His hair was pulled back away from his face as his deep eyes studied her. The expensive well-fitting suit framed him perfectly. He seemed to be younger than her but his eyes held a lifetime of painful memories.   

The Nara wasn’t what she expected at all.  She’d imagine some sort of large overweight cartoonish figure that wore an obnoxious outfit.  This dark and dangerous man was like something out of her fantasy.

A delighted shiver ran through her. Unlike the fear she had experienced before there was a tinge of excitement and want.  

He placed his cigarette down in favor of leaning forward to stare at her, his chin resting against steepled fingers.  She could see dark swirls of a tattoo peeking from beneath the shirt cuffs. 

 “Your name?”  Even his cool voice was making her wet. 

“Temari, sir.”  Surprising her he grinned.  

“I have enough yes men in my life.  You are allowed to speak freely here, on my honor you will not be harmed for anything you say.”

“You mean your honor as a criminal-”  She bit her lip feeling her stomach drop.  Her father always told her that her mouth would get her in trouble. 

Surprising her yet again he chuckled in response.  “I have no shame in what I do or what my family has done.  Criminal might be an overestimation.  Your elected officials, police officers, those who are meant to uphold the law.  They are all under my command, so who is the greater criminal?  The one who knows the crimes that they commit or the ones that believe themselves to be above them?”

“I doubt that you came here to discuss ethics.”

He smirked at the response, this interaction so different from what he was familiar with.  He strode over, his shadow falling over her.  “Are you not afraid of me?”

There was now hardly any space between them and the once warm room felt far too hot. He was too close and she could smell the cigarette on his breath. “If you were going to kill me, it would have been done already.”  She replied breathlessly but instantly regretted it.  

Despite his promise, she knew that she should still watch her words. The self-preservation part of her was too slow to stop her mouth. Or perhaps she was becoming drunk off his intoxicating scent of pine trees and smoke. She took a deep inhale wanting to commit the smell to memory. 

“You’re sharp.”  Temari breathed a sigh of relief that he seemed to be amused by her.

“You have to be growing up the way that I did.  If you don’t mind, I am on the clock and the time that I am wasting here I could be making money.”  She needed to get away.  This devastatingly attractive man was doing something to her and she wouldn’t be able to take care of it till she got home. 

“How much do you typically make a night here?”

“On a good night $300.”

He pulled out a stack of bills from his pocket before placing it in her hand. “Here, there’s at least a grand.  Is it enough to stop you from trying to leave?”

Despite needing the money her arms crossed.  “I’m not some hired whore.”

“I never said that you were.  Seeing that I am technically your boss, I am just paying you for any lost wages.”  

“Do you always have something to say?”  

His lips curved into a grin.  “My mother always told me that my mouth would get me in trouble.”  For some reason imagining that this larger than life man had a nagging mother made him seem...normal.  

“So, why am I here?”  She prayed that it was for the same reason that she wanted. 

“I don’t quite know myself.  I saw you there and something just made me want to meet you.”  His fingers casually trailed over the length of her throat along to her shoulder.  Traveling over the skin her dress left exposed. Goosebumps erupted where his hands moved. He’d barely touched her and she was already soaked. 

“Why?”  She breathed as his hand came to take a possessive grip on her waist.  “I’m no one.”

“I highly doubt that.  Even speaking with you for just 5 minutes has shown me that you are really something quite special and I've learned to read people quite well.”  He replied as his face buried itself into her hair as he took a deep breath.  She smelled like an ocean breeze and it was disorienting.  

“Do you do this to all the women who work for you?”  Temari demanded trying to keep her wits about her.  

“Jealous?”  He asked as his fingers trailed beneath the hem of her dress.

“Of course not.”  She replied sharply trying to fight back a moan at his warm hands traveled to grab the swell of her ass. 

“Good, because you’re wrong.  This is the first time someone has ever interested me in this way.”  Flutters erupted in her stomach at the idea that she could have captured the attention of someone in his position.  

Taking her own chance, her hands moved up his chest to cross behind his head, her fingers playing with the stray hairs at his neck. Lust and want were pushing her. How long had it been since anyone had made her feel this way? Had anyone even come close? 

“So what now…”

His lips traced along her throat as he pulled her flush against his chest delighting in her gasp of shock.  She was surprised to feel how hard he was and had to still her hips from moving against him.  

“It’s up to you.”  His voice was hot and desperate against her skin.  “Because of the position that I am in I don't get to imagine tomorrows.  So all I ask is just for one night.”

“Just a night”  She panted as he continued to layer kisses along her skin from her shoulder towards her exposed cleavage.  

His tongue and lips left a wet trail along her skin.  

“That’s all.  No strings, no expectations, just us.  Whatever your conditions are is fine.  I need to fuck you and It’s pretty obvious that you want me too.”  She felt his smug smile between her breasts.  His thumbs rubbed the tight nubs.  She held her breath as his hands massaged and manipulated her sensitive tits. 

In spite of herself, she couldn’t help the moan that fell from her lips.  

“Fuck, you don’t know what that sound does to me Trouble.”

“More, please.”  She begged thoughtlessly and his hands made quick work of pulling her dress down below her tits.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”  He breathed before his mouth descended over her.  She cried out as he bit and sucked at her heavy chest. She arched up chasing that delicious feeling. 

Despite what she actually wanted she managed to ground out. “Wait.”

Shikamaru immediately released her, taking a step back. “Sorry, Temari-”

She shook her head before pulling him back. “No trust me that was perfect and I do want you.”  At the admission, he returned to worshiping her heavy mounds.  

She had to bite back a moan to get her point out. “But if this is really just going to be a one-night thing let’s make it interesting.”  

“How so?”  

“Let’s go out, get something to eat.”  Temari couldn’t believe what she was asking for. Yes, a quick fuck would be more than enough. For whatever reason though, she didn’t want the night to end. 

He was in shock and just a bit of awe at the situation.  Most women easily spread their legs if he showed any interest. Why did he relish in challenges?  Why was he entertaining the idea? 

“I don’t just go out or go on dates.  I’m not a good man. I could easily take what I want from you.  Why can’t I?”  He groaned against her flushed chest. 

“You tell me.  You seem to have an answer for everything. Here’s what I think. When I asked you to wait you did.  You’re a criminal but you’re not a monster.”  She told him with a soft smile with her fingers in his hair. That smile could bring him to his knees. 

“You think much too highly of me. Trouble.”  He replied taking deep inhales in her hair. 

“I don’t think that I do.” 

“A date.” 

If he was right and they did only have one night together Temari was going to make it last.  

“That's what I want to do.  And you said that any of my conditions were fine with you.  Maybe get to know each other just a little bit first.”  

His finger slowly grazed her face before drawing her gaze back up.  It was like those teal eyes could see right through him.  “You might not like what you find.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”  He met the challenge in her eyes with his own steely glare.  She was so damn troublesome and it would be much easier to find some other willing woman to help him get off.  That person wouldn’t be Temari though. 

“Fine Trouble if that’s what you want.  We will go out but if you think that this silly attempt at keeping me from what I want is going to stop me you’re mistaken.”

She made a show of fixing her dress before drawing him into a kiss.  His lips were hot and demanding against hers but she responded in kind. Aggressive and lustful, her tongue slid against his. She felt him walk them back. Her back hitting the door so he could put his full weight against her.  

Shikamaru very rarely kissed his conquests. Fucking could be emotionless and raw. Kissing felt far too intimate. Kissing Temari though he couldn’t help but crave.  She was so soft and pliant against him.  It had been so long since he’d had anything so sweet. 

“Are you just used to getting what you want immediately?”  She teased him, her lips still against his.  He hiked her leg around his waist grounding his erection against her overheated pussy. 

“Most people know better than to push me.”  He groaned, taking quick bites along her neck. His cock was already so hard in his pants and this troublesome blonde was only making it worse. 

“Don’t be a cry baby about it. Maybe waiting will make it that much sweeter.” 

“I can’t imagine your pussy being any sweeter than it already is.”  He replied with a grin as his fingers moved up her thigh and towards her wet cunt teasing her hard clit.  Wanting to draw out those sweet cries from her.  

“We don’t have to go out to eat. I can eat your pussy right here.” 

She pulled him back into a demanding kiss. It wasn’t a bad idea but she’d already made her move. “Fuck, your mouth won’t get you in trouble. That tongue will.”  She cried, throwing her head back. 

His thumb rubbed against her kiss swollen lips. “And that’s exactly where I’ll expect it to be later on tonight.” 

“Come on, let’s go.”  After a few more heated kisses Temari was able to pull back wanting to see her request through. Needing just a little space. This man was far too disarming. 

“Well you’ve sucked my tits and felt me up, I think that I deserve a first name Nara.” 

He threw his jacket over her shoulders before leading her back down that dimly lit hallway. His arm wrapped protectively around her waist. 

“It’s Shikamaru.” 

“Shikamaru.” She repeated back and the sound of his name on her lips sent a shudder through him. 

This Temari was dangerous. He knew that she couldn’t actually physically hurt him but the damage could be much worse. Still, when she looked at him with that all too charming grin and excitement in her teal eyes he couldn’t help but want to take the risk.

Once they reached the streets she stopped him to pull him into another kiss. It was far more gentle than the lust-fueled ones that they’d shared.  A genuine smile crossed his lips when she looked up at him. 

“Be careful, a date with me can be quite a drag.”

*

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I was going to write this and keep it to myself but I loved it too much and I hope that you do too!!  I have another story for Sai/Ino and one in the works for Chouji/Karui that will all happen in this same universe. It's going to go fast because I have no patience or energy for a slow burn. There will be some twists and turns though!  Thanks for reading!  Love, love you all!

Update: I have a Stalemate/ShikaTema playlist on spotify but is there a way to share it but it’s not associated with my personal account?  Hmmm either way if I decide to share it I’ll add a link here.