special thanks to bea for being my beta, and to Jen for great sex toy advice, lol. The toy featured in this fic is the womanizer and everyone should have it.
He hadn’t been snooping. Truly.
He’d just been using her computer to check his email, just to make sure nothing pressing was happening in that full week between Christmas and New Year’s. He’s taken the whole week off after Christmas Eve, and despite it being a verryyy last minute vacation, his employer had understood, assuring him it would a slow week, and it would be unlikely any clients would call with pressing needs. Besides, as his boss Carmella had conveyed, he needed another mini-honeymoon with his wife.
So he had just been reading over his emails, calming any anxiety about his impromptu holiday. And then the chat window had appeared out of nowhere.
Hey, beautiful. Long time no chat! I texted you but I didn’t hear back. Just checking— are we still meeting next week?
His breath is still caught in his chest, heart still racing as he pours over the message for the fifth time..
He shouldn’t click that chat — he really shouldn’t. But he does anyway, because he’s a weak, sad little man.
It takes him to Regina’s profile.
He can’t breathe. Good god on high, she’s so bloody beautiful in the photos she picked. It’s nothing sexy, just these very natural, candid shots of her — two of which he can remember taking himself — and she just looks, well, perfect.
Roland is not pictured on her profile but she mentions him, and the fact she’s a package deal and those who cannot love children need not contact her.
It seems this requirement has done nothing to take down the amount of suitors, however.
He should not be looking, but he’s so hurt and scared, he can’t help him himself. He goes to her inbox and checks recent messages. Of course her page is full of messages from men. Of course it is.
He swallows down the bile rising up his throat as he reads messages from men to his wife, his, dammit.
It cuts deeply, and it’s terrifying. He knows Regina is a catch, he’s never lost sight of that fact.
But these men, some of them aren’t really bad men (he shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be looking at this). They are good looking professionals. Doctors and engineers and architects, a vice president of a large tech firm… wealthy men. Powerful men.
Men who might be able to give her a better life than he can.
It’s strange, though. She doesn’t reply all that often. He can see a day or two where she responded to a couple of men, with something short, but there are no long conversations (he should not be looking at this, should not at all, the voice repeats in his head like a dull drum beat he’s set on ignoring, apparently). She’s very selective. But there are a few men she’s responded to, and this guy who recently messaged her appears to be one of only a handful that she’s ever written back. Someone she talked to quite a bit (he sees the string of messages and resists reading it and pouring through every last word).
Robin snoops on this guy’s profile (his name is Andrew, but the man doesn’t deserve a name at all in his opinion).
This is a man who, he recalls, has Regina’s phone number, fuck, she trusted him that much. He’s a pediatrician who works in the city and lives in Mclean, Virginia. He’s has dirty blonde hair and these bright blue eyes and has a six-year-old son of his own.
Robin hates him. Hates him, despite the fact that on paper they seem like they would get along just fine. They both enjoy rugby, a good lager, and activities Robin has come to enjoy in the states like whitewater rafting, skydiving, and mountain climbing. And he loves his family, two brothers and a very loving mother and father who love their grandchildren.
He thinks of his wife going on long camping weekends, his child playing with this guy’s child, and it’s enough to send him into a mini-panic attack.
He almost lost everything.
Almost, but he didn’t.
It’s been three days since Christmas Eve, and Regina and Robin have… been a little preoccupied. Each day has been filled soaking up every activity they can milk out of Roland, and quite frankly they have fucked each other into exhaustion every night (not that he is complaining).
They haven’t really talked too much about the future yet, besides the little talk on Christmas Eve where Regina made it clear she wants him to live with her. She made her choice, he knows she did. She’s not leaving him. They are together.
But some deep rooted insecurity inside him has him wondering why the ivy-league, all-American doctor with a mansion in McLean and a beautiful family isn’t a hell of a lot better than Robin. He won’t be able to afford that, he can’t give her first-class trips to Rio and Peru and Tokyo. He can’t give her a picture perfect family right out of a Hallmark movie. His family is broken and messy and complicated and not what she deserves.
And it sounds silly but he worries maybe she didn’t make the right choice.
He closes the browser and deletes the browser history, his mouth dry and his stomach flip flopping.
He should not have seen this. It’s an invasion of her privacy, and shamefully pathetic that he even looked at all. He should just pretend he never saw it, right?
He shouldn’t talk to her about it. He has no right to be upset or hurt. She did nothing wrong.
But frankly he promised her honesty and the thought of keeping this from her seems worse than confessing.
He’s still trying to work out what to do when she comes into the den, oblivious to what has just happened.
“Hey, babe,” she leans over to kiss his cheek. “Roland is out like a light.”
He swallows thickly, tries to put what he’s seen out of his head. “He had a busy morning,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady and nonchalant. But she can tell something is off right away, raising an eyebrow and looking rather concerned.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen with work?”
“No, everything’s fine at work,” he says. He’s still sitting at her little desk, laptop opened to his work email. He shouldn’t tell her, it’s just going to start a fight, she’ll be so mad at him for this, and she has every right to be so, yet…
He takes a deep breath and turns to her, swiveling the little chair away from the laptop.
“I… uh, saw something I should not have,” he says, motioning back to the screen.
She looks genuinely confused, searching her mind for what he could have seen.
“A message for you popped up, and I know I shouldn’t have, but… I looked, and…”
“What message?” she asks. She sits on his lap and motions at the computer, and okay, this is a good sign. She doesn’t seem terribly upset.
He sighs and types in the address of her profile. He doesn’t look at her face, so he misses the way she frowns at the sight of it.
She takes his hand off the laptop and replaces it with her own, and checks her inbox.
He grimaces. He doesn’t like hearing that man’s name out of his wife’s mouth.
“Yeah…” Robin says dumbly, not sure how to voice exactly what he’s feeling.
She sighs and turns to him, looking a bit defensive as she reminds him, “Robin, we were broken up. And you fucked Marian. And at the time I thought you two were still dating and this is none of your—” she starts to get off his lap as she speaks, but he is a weak man and the idea of her leaving him is awful, so he reaches out for her, urging her to sit back on his lap. She does.
“I know, I know, I’m not mad at you and you had every right to move on. I mean, you have every right to… you still have that right.” His voice sounds high and pitchy, and he hates it.
“What are you saying?” Her head tilts as she stares at him half-annoyed, half-curious.
“I… looked at his profile,” Robin explains, holding his hand up as she stiffens and opens her mouth to protest, “I know, I have no right, but it happened so fast, and I just…” he shakes his head. “I have no excuse. But he’s a good man, it seems, with a good family, and plenty of money, and…”
She furrows her brows. “Are you jealous of Andrew?”
“Not just Andrew,” he says before he can think better of it. “There are so many guys who want you—”
“You looked at other messages?”
“No, I just… I saw them and looked at the profiles of some—”
That’s enough, it seems. She gets off his lap, putting her hand in her head as she walks away. He feels the loss of her immediately, and it leaves him cold and anxious. Shit, this is a mess. “You read those, oh god…” She sounds less angry than he expected more… upset. The way her cheeks pink and flush he’d almost swear embarrassed is the emotion she feels, but that can’t be it. She has nothing to be embarrassed about.
“I didn’t read them, I just…” He sighs. God, herself ’s an ass. “I visited some of the profiles of those you wrote back to but I didn’t read the conversations, I swear, and I’m not accusing you of anything, that’s not what that is about.”
“Then what is this about?”
“I’ve always known that you could have anyone you wanted, never doubted it for a second, but seeing it, it’s just…”
A shy smile spreads over her face. “Oh. I was quite popular on that site.”
“Of course you were,” he says emphatically. “You’re a catch in every way. And those are men who… they can give you things I can’t.”
She sits down on the couch, that smile splitting wider across her face. “You mean like a summer home in Tuscany and a six-bedroom home in an exclusive neighborhood right outside of D.C.,” she surmises.
“When have I ever cared about that sort thing?”
Never. If she had cared, she would have married one of those men her mom kept trying to set her up with.
He knows this, he should know this, but hearing her say it brings him more relief than he would care to admit.
“You still deserve it. And I want to be the best for you.”
“You already are,” she assures. She walks back towards him and takes a seat back on his lap. “You give me things no one else can.”
She’s too good to him. She knows he needs affection now and she gives it freely, nuzzling into his neck and cuddling him as if he were a child (he is, at this point). His fingers skim down her back.
“Like what?” He cannot help but ask, insecurity bleeding into the question.
“Do you want to read the conversations?” she asks. “I feel like all jealousy you have will be gone if you read them. Though I’m dreadfully embarrassed of my flirting skills in text form.” She cringes, and so does he, but for different reasons.
re: that previous reblog…..it’s so gross and sappy i know but i just headcanon that once ulysses and the courier become friends he stops calling them courier and starts calling them by their name :) and it’s a pretty big deal, too, because the one reason why ulysses calls courier six ‘courier’ (aside from it sounding cool and to allow room for player customization) is that, well, that’s all they are to him: a Courier, The Courier, messenger and message, builder and breaker of nations, someone who he’s put on a pedestal and doesn’t really recognize as the flawed, complex human being that they are. but once he gets to know the person behind the title, once theyve unpacked all the issues they need to unpack between themselves, he just calls the courier by their actual name and ‘courier’ just becomes a nickname, one that he uses whenever the courier’s annoying him lmao…….and then once they become lovers he just calls them ‘love’ or ‘my love’ because that’s what they’ve become to him and he just! loves them so much!! god, they love each other so much ok thanks for listening :))
What about a one shot from the "grinding" Regina did with a stranger while thinking about Robin from Signed, Sealed, and Delivered? *adjusts halo on head*
OK I had fun. RATED M
She’s tired of those worried looks, the hushed tones of concern asking Are you sure you’re alright?
She’s tired of Emma Swan looking at her like she sees right through her, offering to stay in and order takeout with her instead of going out for the night with the girls because she knows she’s going through a hard time right now.
Regina is going through a hard time right now, of course. She misses her husband terribly, but what’s even worse than the dull, and sometimes acute ache of missing him is seeing pity in everyone’s eyes, and having to continually answer their incessant questions as to whether she’s alright by telling them that she is just fine.
But if she continues to withdraw and avoid all nights out, no one will believe her, and the questions will never stop. If she can’t move on, she should at least be able to play the part of a woman who has done so.
The idea of a bachelorette had been….seemingly perfect. A night of ogling beautiful people and drinking and spending time with girls, without any lovey-dovey couples reminding her of what she has lost. Plenty of distractions, with less opportunity for people to focus nervous glances in her direction.
But the thing about bachelorettes is, they are filled with conversations of weddings and marriages and all that stuff that she is really trying to avoid, and she didn’t really think this through when she accepted the invitation. Excited talk of marriage reminds her of how lovesick she had been as a young, engaged woman, head over heels for her husband.
So she dulls the pain and annoyance with liquor. Lots of liquor.
Etta James: At Last K-Ci & JoJo: All My Life Whitney Houston: I Will Always Love You John Legend: Stay With You Patti LaBelle: If Only You Knew SWV: You’re Always On My Mind The Isley Brothers: For the Love of You John Legend: You & I Beyonce: Halo Faith Evans: I Love You Four Tops/Whitney Houston: I Believe In You and Me Tammi Terrel & Marvin Gaye/Cheryl Lynn & Luther Vandross: If This World Were Mine Anita Baker: Sweet Love Percy Sledge: When a Man Loves a Woman New Edition: Can You Stand the Rain Rufus & Chaka Khan: Sweet Thing Jill Scott: He Loves Me Nat King Cole & Natalie Cole: Unforgettable Whitney Houston: You Give Good Love Jaheim: Anything Rose Royce: Wishing on A Star Ginuwine: Differences The O'Jays: Stairway to Heaven Mariah Carey: When I Saw You Aaliyah: At Your Best (You Are Love) Dru Hill: These Are the Times Babyface: Every Time I Close My Eye Brian McKnight: Back At One Minne Riperton: Loving You India Arie: Ready For Love Troop: All I Do Is Think of You Prince: Adore Kindred The Family: Where Would I be Chaka Khan: Through the Fire Jagged Edge: Promise Dondria: You’re the One Kevon Edmonds: 24/7 Kem: I Can’t Stop Loving You Stevie Wonder/Luther Vandross/Donell Jones: Knocks Me Off My Feet Tony! Toni! Tone!: Whatever You Want Musiq Soulchild: Dontchange Beyonce: Speechless Seal: Kiss From A Rose Case: Happily Ever After Kem: Share My Life Keyshia Cole: Love Gerald Levert: Made to Love You Musiq Soulchild: Love The Deele: Two Occasions Mawell: Fortunate Xscape: The Arms of the One Who Loves You India Arie: The Truth Tendy Pendergrass: Love T.K.O Kenny Lattimore: For You SWV: Weak Musiq Soulchild: sobeautiful Mariah Carey: Vision of Love Aretha Franklin: You’re All I Need Gladys Kinght & The Pimps: Best Thing That Happened to Me Beyonce: Rather Die Young Luther Vandross: Here and Now Pressure: Love And Affection Heatwave/Luther Vandross: Always & Forever Chaka Khan: Ain’t Nobody John Legend: All of Me Alicia Keys: If I Ain’t Got You Luther Vandross: All The Woman I Need Ruff Endz: Someone to Love You Stevie Wonder: You and I Beyonce: Dangerously In Love Avant & Keye Wyatt: You & I Shanice: I Love Your Smile Maria Carey: Open Arms Musiq Soulchild: Teachme Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway/Beyonce & Luther Vandross: The Closer I Get to You John Legend: P.D.A. (We Just Don’t Care) Stevie Wonder: Signed, Sealed Delivered (I’m Yours) Atlantic Starr: Always Luther Vandross & Mariah Care: Endless Love Blackstreet: Let’s Stay in Love John Legend: So High Lionel Richie & Diana Ross: Endless Love Whitney Houston: Greatest Love of All Mariah Carey: Underneath the Stars Jagged Edge: Good Luck Charm
Just letting you know that I re-read Signed, Sealed, Delivered this morning for the tenth time because it is so f**king epic. I absolutely adore it and, even though angst between Regina and Robin makes me all squirmy inside, you resolve it beautifully and in a way that I think is so true to their character so this is just a gush and a thank you for writing it.
This made me so happy, because it’s a verse I struggle with, I sometimes love it and sometimes think it’s so dramatic and over the top, and I get why it’s not for everyone, or particularly the original story isn’t for everyone. I loved writing it, but I second guess a lot in it when I reread it (which I do often since I’m writing the story all over again from Robin’s perspective lol).
So when someone says they love it, it hits me hard in the heart. I put so much into this fic it’s hard to really explain, but as an artist you probably understand. The fact that a writer I absolutely adore is complimenting it is just icing on the cake I have a few writers crushes, and ya’all’s opinion means the world to me, so thank you so, so much.
Look SugarBaby Chic without Breaking Your Bank Account
So I’ve come across a lot of questions in the past on how to look good without compromising your bank balance. Sugaring is competitive, and as much as we love our sugar sisters… We’re all in the same bowl. There’s sugar babies who are stunting in red bottoms flaunting Rolex arm candy, and there’s sugar babies running around in denim and tops. (Totally not looking down on either.) We often forget that men are visual creatures, and most of them are attracted to a woman that knows how to dress well. If you want to be a rich man’s choicest arm candy, then you best start dressing the part. You can’t expect to have the Ritz Carlton experience with a Holiday Inn & Suites package. Money attracts money. Starting out not many of us have designer this and designer that. I certainly didn’t own anything designer starting out. Other than a few presents from family & vanilla men. So here’s how I started out… Firstly I got myself a vanilla job. Retail is great for this, plus one for those employee perks! I worked a few months to save some money for a decent wardrobe. I shopped at places like: Ross, TJ Maxx, Marshals, Nordstrom Rack, Plato’s Closet, Amiclubwear, HotMiamiStyles & Tradesy. This allowed me to purchase new, previously loved, and discounted clothing at a fraction of the MSRP (manufacturers suggested retail price). I purchased dresses, ankle pants, chiffon tops, blazers, accessories, & lingerie (new of course). The key is to avoid anything flashy for instance a black top with Boss B#%* or something like that written on it. The key is to dress professional, chic, & keep versatility in mind. When I say versatile, I mean a blazer that can be professional with a collared shirt but still look chill with a pink chiffon top when you roll up the sleeves. As a sugar baby you’ll be exposed to things women your age aren’t. Things like flying private or taking weekend/ day trips with your SD for pleasure or work. Each and every occasion needs to have an appropriate outfit. Think of all the scenarios you could possibly be in and purchase outfits accordingly. A sugar baby can never be over dressed. These men are willing to pay top dollar for women out there. Your first few sugar daddies are like your foundation pillars. Make sure you sift the salt daddies away! The first few ones need to be taking you shopping for items you cannot buy without breaking your bank account. For example, it’s Cocoa Cathy’s 22nd birthday, and her daddy asks her what she wants. Cocoa Cathy should be saying, “Well Daddy, for my birthday I’d like my allowance as usual, but I would absolutely love it if you’d be able to get me a handbag I’ve been eyeing for quite a while!” If Daddy is pure sugar he will say, “I’d be more than happy to buy you that handbag! Look it up & I’ll forward you my card details.” This is sugar! Cocoa Cathy knows that this daddy just went through a brutal divorce so she knows not to ask for a Celine. She instead opts for two handbags from the $800-1K range. She lets Daddy pick which one would look better, and of course daddy goes for the expensive one. This shows how much Daddy enjoys Cocoa Cathy’s company, and he knows that Cocoa Cathy has sophisticated taste. (just an example) You should utilize your allowance to purchase staple sugar clothing items like palazzo pants or cardigans. There’s no need for a sugar baby to be a brand ambassador wearing 20 different designer labels. Often, this gives your sugar daddy the vibe that you already have it all. Be smart when purchasing your initial sugar wardrobe. You don’t have to break your bank account doing so. We all know we’re sugaring to one day run into a Whale Daddy, but until then those 2-3K/ month daddies aren’t bad! Also make sure you still have personality! Your wardrobe can only sell you so much! Your personality really signs seals and delivers your arrangement. For my new babies, please do not wear your heart on your wrist. These men are brutal and will try to talk down to you. They will try to make you feel like you’re not worth that 2-3K allowance. That’s a huge red flag for you to move on! Never compromise your allowance range.
hi. I've been having a lot of trouble finding meaning for my life lately. assuming we live in an inherently meaningless and arbitrary universe, how do you (specifically you, a concrete example of real, living person) create meaning for your life? how can humans reconcile the knowledge that the universe is arbitrary with the human need to find meaning in life? how do you bring yourself to care about anything when every human action is essentially pointless in the big picture?
The universe, in the broadest perspective, does indeed appear arbitrary, indifferent, and meaningless. If we zoom in a little closer, though, the frame of reference shifts. We–you and me, concrete examples of real persons–are, after all, part of the universe. So when we create meaning for ourselves, when we feel elation at hard-earned accomplishments, when we feel the pangs and pains and joys of love and connection, when we feel allied to our brothers and sisters and nature at large, when we feel and express purpose, it is the universe itself expressing purpose. And I don’t mean that in some New Age-y, mystical sense; I simply mean that our very beings are real-deal examples of fragments of the universe experiencing meaning. That’s as real as it gets.
We are raised with this notion–perhaps it’s even innate to human psychology–that we need external validation for meaning; that God or something God-like must sign, seal, and deliver meaning to each of us, or else it’s fabricated and fake and we’re kidding ourselves to think otherwise. I call bullshit. We are our own gods. We are the authors of our own meaning, insofar as we have the privilege and capacity to actualize it. Though random and meaningless, the universe still managed, as Ray Bradbury wrote, to shout itself to life. We are one of the shouts. That is real, as real as it gets, as real as it needs to be.
So, for me personally, I create and experience my own meaning. I strive to cultivate gratitude that this random cosmic void has happened to bestow upon me a slice of space-time to bask in and make my own. I care because this is all we got. I didn’t choose to be thrown into existence, but here I am. And I’m going to make the most of it. And cross my fingers that I have made and will continue to make the world, in whatever tiny, insignificant, fleeting ways I can–perhaps by extending a helping hand to a stranger in need, or providing a shoulder to cry on, or saving the life of a wounded critter, or bringing smiles to the faces of loved ones–a better place. That is meaningful to me. Sure, my time here is finite, and because the universe at large is indifferent, I am inevitably facing (and have faced) much cruelty and suffering. But there’s also so much good out there, so much purpose to derive. For that, I am privileged and thankful–even if it will ultimately come to an end. It’s still real, profoundly, palpably, intensely real, while I’m here.