#so she emails me today to send over the ‘new’ pay to info (it’s been on file over a year) to correct it and bc the pay to name on the check

[leadmeastraylittlefairy]

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[petri808]

Nalu Yakuza Au *cover art by @jmoart214 💜

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

This chapter came out a little longer than usual. lemony teasing

Natsu’s secretary called her boss from the front office. “Mr. Dragneel, Mr. Avatar is here.”

“Thank you, Ms. Kinana. Send him in.”

Because no one in the organization was a computer whiz, he contracted with an independent IT person who was recommended by Yura. The guy, Jerome Avatar wasn’t skittish, didn’t care who he worked for as long as it paid well, and generally had a pleasant demeanor. As the accountant, Yura was in contact with Jerome the most, but for any major issues or changes, those had to be cleared with Natsu first. It was mostly quick, in and out of the office dealings.

Jerome shook Natsu’s hand over the desk before taking a seat.

“So,” Natsu questioned, “what brings you here today? Is there something I need to approve?”

“No, nothing new. I asked for this meeting because I came across some intelligence you might be interested in.”

“Oh?”

“I learned that your rival Heartfilia had been in contact with a new cyber security client, Mikage Kaishā who’s into a lot of shady dealings with government contacts.”

Natsu shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds like just a typical client for her, probably has her launder money for them. I don’t really pay attention to her clients because we deal with different things. But I do appreciate you telling me.”

“Should I keep an eye on them?”

“That’s fine if you believe it’s worth it. And if you learn about anything that could hurt us let me know immediately. By the way, how did you find out this information?”

“A friend in the field told me about it, then I hacked into Heartfilia’s computers to authenticate the information.”

Natsu sat forward in his chair. “You hacked into her computer? I’m surprised her employee didn’t catch that, cause I know she’s good at this stuff too.”

The man grinned. “Well, not as good as me.” He pointed to Natsu’s laptop. “If you’d like, I can set it up so you can access her system from your computer too.”

“Oh, I don’t want to tamper with her company—”

Jerome waved a hand nonchalantly to stop him. “I wouldn’t advise it either, if you touch things, that’s what’ll get attention, but you can watch what’s going on. Keep an eye on her calendar, meeting dates, whatever you want.”

Natsu sat back, rubbing his chin. The offer was a very tempting one indeed. A chance to stalk his ex through cyberspace… someone must have mentioned to this Jerome guy their history. It wasn’t exactly hidden, but not something talked about either amongst lower ranking employees. This wasn’t the first time Jerome had brought them intelligence info, so maybe he was looking to increase his usefulness, climb the ladder so to speak? Being connected to a powerful Yakuza house was certainly handy, and what better way than to tap into such a personal subject.

“That could be interesting,” Natsu finally responded. “Alright, what do you have to do to set it up? And make sure it’s nothing I could screw up accidentally cause I really don’t want her to find out.”

Jerome looked at his watch as if calculating his options. “I could do it now. Might take me about an hour if you can go without the laptop for that amount of time.”

“You have to take it back to your office or something?”

“No,” the man shook his head. “I can do it right here, so I can explain along the way.”

“Perfect.” Natsu then called his secretary and requested she double his lunch order due to an extended meeting.

While the computer tech fiddled, Natsu just sat back with his meal, watching him work. Math wasn’t his strong suit— nor academics for that matter. Growing up, his father had always told him he would be next in line as boss, so he only learned what he needed to for that world. One needed strength, cunning, street smarts, not book smarts. Though he had to admit the things these hackers could do was scary when you thought about it. Lucy was lucky in that her best friend was just a wiz at language— including computer languages. It all looked like gibberish, but the woman interpreted it almost like a savant. According to Jerome, from what he’d seen so far, Levy was not yet at his skill level, but that could easily change with time and experience like he’d been through.

“Natsu you—” Gray paused his knock on the doorframe. “Sorry, I thought the meeting would be done by now.”

“It’s fine, Jerome is hacking Lucy’s system for me right now.” Natsu responded with a grin. “Now I’ll see what she’s up to in real time.”

Gray groaned and ran a hand down his face in disgust. “I’m not even gonna respond to that. But I will tell you I told you so when it blows up in your face later.”

“Tch. She won’t know, right Jerome?”

“She shouldn’t unless you touch something.” The man answered while continuing to type.

“See. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re an idiot. Anyway,” Gray waved a hand nonchalantly as he left, “call me when your free to go over the new orders.”

“It will be fine, right?” Natsu asked Jerome a second time with a bit of anxiety in his tone.

Jerome stopped typing. “As long as you just observe they shouldn’t see you, just don’t get excited and touch something.”

“I don’t plan to; not like I’ll know how to do that anyways.”

“I’m almost finished, but do you want me to turn on her web camera so you can see through it?”

“But she won’t see me?”

“No, for you it’ll just be like watching a one-way video feed with image and audio.”

After a momentary pause, Natsu’s eyes narrowed with a mischievous grin. “Do it.”

Being able to see Lucy every day and feed his addiction was just too tempting, ‘I’m turning into a junky.’ But Gray’s words entered his mind. What if the man was right, could this bite him in the ass later? Probably… Though how bad could it really be? He really had no plans to interfere with Lucy’s business, just her personal life— and yes, he knew it sounded horrible. What right did he have to stalk his ex? None. ‘I just worry about her, is that so wrong?’ Lucy’s tough, but she’s just a woman and their world didn’t always treat women fairly. His desire to protect her bordered neuroticism, but could anyone blame him considering the underworld they worked in. ‘I’m just doing it to protect her,’ Natsu justified it to himself. Guys like Gray who haven’t fallen in love yet, ‘they just don’t understand.’ If anything were to happen to Lucy, he didn’t know what he would do. Probably move Heaven and earth and kill any in his way for what they’d done.

It took just over an hour before Jerome finished installing the spyware and making sure the systems were still secured. Just a one-way mirror that Levy shouldn’t catch unless really digging for it. Another 20 minutes were spent explaining to Natsu how to do the accessing part, including pulling up the webcam whenever he wanted to. “Or just leave it running,” Jerome noted. “It’ll just show up in this window,” he pointed towards the screen, “and as long as you don’t log out completely from your computer it’ll stay open.”

“Who turns off their computers?”

“Actually, it’s a good idea to turn them off now and then so any software updates can be completed, but since I manage your systems, there’s not really a need to.”

“Great.” The two men stood up and shook hands. “Thanks, Jerome.”

“It was my pleasure.”

When Natsu arrived each day at headquarters, the first thing and last thing he did was check to see if there was anything new or interesting going on Lucy’s side. It was like being hooked on one of their products, because the high it gave sucked him right in. But so far, he also stayed away from the video feed. Looking through her calendar or emails were cold and impersonal, but maybe the video was too close, too real, too much of a moral dilemma in crossing that line of a peeping Tom. That didn’t mean his addiction may one day require more feeding…

October had rolled around, and the air outside grew crisp and cold. It was a beautiful time of the year with the color changing leaves, reminding that winter was soon upon them. How quickly the time sure flew. The Dragneel Yakuza clan had already started preparing for their end of year Bonenkai to happen in mid-December. This plus the Shinnenkai in January were the two biggest parties the clan threw for all their members. The first is to forget the stresses of the past year, while the other was to welcome a successful new year. Natsu spared no expense on the food and drinks to take care of the loyalty and hard work their members contributed. From the emails, he knew that Lucy’s group had also started preparing for theirs. ‘Maybe I’ll crash her party,’ he mused to himself. ‘Oh, what’s this?’ His eyes fell on a new email of an appointment reminder for the next day. It was for Lucy’s monthly massage at an upscale spa. Natsu checked his own calendar and noticed he had nothing booked, no meetings, no shipments arriving— a perfect opportunity.

The next day, Natsu went to the spa early and spoke directly to the owner, paying them a nice chunk of change to allow him access and to play along. Lucy was scheduled for 2pm and arrived right on time. So, as he waited behind the scenes, the receptionist acted like normal and directed her inside. She had a regular masseuse, something Natsu knew he couldn’t fake upfront, so that person stood inside the room to greet her.

“Welcome, Ms. Heartfilia. I’ll step out while you get ready. Please lie on your stomach like normal.”

“Thank you, Kenji,” Lucy smiled. She’d been coming here for a couple years and was aware of the routine. The male masseuse had strong, but gentle hands and knew her body well by now.

Natsu had to admit he wasn’t happy to find out Lucy’s regular masseuse was a guy but held back from lashing out. He didn’t want to do anything to mess up this adventure— and oh, he planned to have his own revenge. It wouldn’t be as sexual as the soapland incident but knowing many of her trigger points meant he could do a bit of damage well enough. Now, Natsu had noted that Kenji’s voice was a bit deeper than his own, which would be difficult to fake, but the man explained he didn’t do much talking while working and played relaxing music during the session. Perfect. Natsu could just hit play and not talk at all.

“Ready, Ms. Heartfilia?” Kenji called out through the closed door.

The muffled yes was heard, and the man stepped away, leaving Natsu to his business. He entered the room and immediately turned on the pre-set music, a light instrumental with Asian undertones. It was quite pleasing to listen to. And there Lucy was under a silk sheet to cover her naked body, with her arms up and crossed, head perched on the relaxed hands, and hair up in a loose bun, revealing her beautiful neck. Natsu almost shuddered at the sight and knowledge he would get to touch her skin… it was the one thing she didn’t allow him to do at Soapland— touch. His grin grew as he rubbed his hands together to warm them before making the first move.

He moved the sheet to uncover Lucy’s lower half, up to the thighs, then applied a film of scented massage oils to his hands with a few drops over the taut muscles along her long legs, chasing the dripping liquid along her skin to smooth them over. His hands glide through several passes to the swell of her ass, then back down again all the way to the ankles, fingers applying pressure against the tendons and ligaments to gently work out any tension it encountered. Lucy sighed wispily as his hands massaged each foot, squeezing, smoothing, paying attention to each digit and every curve. His thumbs applied pressure at the arches, kneading the tight knots there from wearing heels all day long. He stayed focused on the area, her toes curling and flexing as the mewls leaching from her show their pleasure, until Natsu felt the knots give and relax away.

“Mmm, you’re getting good at that Kenji,” Lucy purred with a little huskiness in her tone.

Natsu grinned to himself as he lowered the sheet back down, so she stayed warm and moved onto her supple ass. Using both hands, he took his time to knead each cheek through the silken fabric, using his fingers to follow the gluteus muscles, starting near the leg, and following the swell of her curve upwards, slowly riding the fibers looking for any knots or tense areas. One cheek, then the other paying loving attention to and listening to the sounds Lucy made to clue him in on where to go. Every sigh a notch in his belt, each mewling purr a win. Natsu grew bolder, fanning out his thumb each time it got closer to her thighs to touch…

“Oh, Kenji,” Lucy whined, “you’re being a naughty boy today— keep it up.”

‘What?!’ Natsu’s hands paused and tensed for a split second before catching himself. Does Kenji mess with her too?! He shook his head and finished up in the area quickly trying not to let such thoughts stop him. ‘Just focus…’ Natsu grumbled in his head.

After applying more oil to his hands, he moved the sheet down to reveal Lucy’s back and for a second time, Natsu paused on what it contained. Her tattoo… It symbolized… he took a deep breath and dropped more oil on to the skin, willing away the memories breaching his mind. He didn’t want to think about it, not now. It was too painful.

“You okay, Kenji?” Lucy questioned as if noticing the slight pause or tremble in the man’s hands.

Natsu mumbled a soft Mmhmm and dived into the massage so Lucy wouldn’t grow more concerned, missing the uptick in the corners of her lips. He slowly smoothed along the skin using the base of his palms for pressure, each hand following the muscles, moving out from the waist, up the center of her back, and flaring out towards the sides just below the shoulder blades, repeating the same movement, each time increasing the speed while lessening the pressure. Next, he targeted the upper back and shoulder blades, an area he knew Lucy held a lot of tension from carrying the weight of her voluptuous bosoms. With precise ministrations, Natsu applied careful pressure with his thumbs and follows the curve of the blades up and around to the top of the shoulder. He then searched with the pads of his fingers for any knots along her trap muscles, moving up along the spine and fanning out to the top of her shoulders.

“Oh, yeah, right there,” Lucy mewled when he reached a specific spot.

The area around her spine, between the shoulder blades held the most tension and knots from constantly holding the upright, flexed posture that wearing heels will create. Her wispy sighs signaled the release of her tense muscles, bringing another wave of pride swelling in him. Natsu continued onto her neck, his strong hands kneaded the supple flesh, fingers palpating and soothing all the knots. Her neck too, held a few tense areas, especially around the base of the head, so he did his best to melt them away. He worked through Lucy’s mewls and moaning sighs, almost sexual in nature, aroused and a little heated in the face knowing his handiwork brought forth such sounds. Ugh, how he wanted to hear more of it! Lucy putty in his hands and spread between his thighs, calling out his name…

“You’ve gotten better at this… Natsu,” the cocky teasing tone, snapped him out of his dream.

“Natsu?” He tried failingly to disguise his voice. “I’m Kenji, Ms. Heartfilia.”

“Uh-huh. You think I can’t tell the difference Natsu?” Lucy quipped back with a chuckle. “Kenji’s routine is very different. Plus, I knew the moment I smelled your cologne.”

Busted.

“Tch. Well, if you knew it was me all along, why’d you let me do this?”

“Making you work is my payback.” She settled back down, relaxed on her arms. “Now, chop, chop, finish the job.”

This little minx! He was the one supposed to be torturing her this time, not the other way around! “Fine, kitten.” Natsu gritted out a smile and took hold of her neck again to placate and lull Lucy back into thinking he would go along. He massaged the sides with the tips of his fingers Both hands wrapped around, and his thumbs pushing up through her hair against the muscles on the back of her head.

“If only you’d taken care of me like this before,” Lucy mumbled.

Natsu paused and leaned over her ear. “Why not let me take care of you now?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“No, I don’t know the answer, that’s part of the problem!”

Lucy sighed. “Natsu, I don’t want to fight right now. I’m here to relax, not fight. If you’re done, then leave and send Kenji back in.”

“Oh, yeah. Why? Because he’s another one of your boy toys? He gonna be naughty again with you once I leave?!”

“Pfft, I said that knowing it was you, idiot.”

“I think you live to torture me, Angel. But you’re right. I don’t wanna fight right now either, so—” Natsu leaned down quick and latched his mouth onto the area between her shoulder blades, sucking hard.

Lucy squealed and reached back frantically trying to claw at his face, but he grabbed her hands, knowing if she struggled any harder, she risked completely exposing herself. He held her for a few seconds, and once satisfied he’d achieved his goal, let go.

“Natsu! Did you put a hickey on me?!”

“This Angel,” he trailed his fingers over Lucy’s tattoo as he spoke, “belongs to me. Will always be mine,” he whispered close to her ear. “You know it, I know it, and your boy toys will know it too.”

“I hate you.”

“Nah,” Natsu stood up and covered her back up with the sheet. “You hate that you don’t hate me. It’s okay. I still love you too. See ya around kitten.”

Natsu heard the woman’s sigh as the door closed behind him and smiled to himself. He knew she didn’t actually hate him, their relationship was just complicated at the moment, never love the actual problem between them… Though, it had been a dick move to give her a hickey, but that’s what Lucy gets for leading him on like that. She could’ve just stopped the massage immediately if she knew it was him all along, so to let him go through the entire process, it was tit for tat— and hey, at least it’s only temporary.

‘It’s your move next kitten…’

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 11 - Student Council President Sakura / Graduation Chapter

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Youtube playlist for your reading accompaniment

They held a run-through of the graduation ceremony on the last day of class and technically the last day of the trio’s high school life. Unlike their first general assembly, Uchiha Sasuke was to deliver the graduation speech but not without great sulking from Haruno Sakura who landed a close second despite ranking first in their final exams.

And obviously, not without Sasuke trying to give up his speech privileges by campaigning instead for Sakura.

In the end, all three of them were granted speech slots – one for Sasuke as valedictorian, Sakura as student representative, and Naruto as the school’s first national MVP. It was this debacle that led the three of them to brainstorm in an empty AVR after the dry run.

“Done!” Sakura yelled like the diligent student she was. “Let me look at yours!”

Sasuke presented her a blank paper while saying, “It’s all prepared in my head”, and Naruto showed her his baseball doodles.

“Oh God, you’re all so hopeless.”

Then the electricity suddenly got cut off in the AVR. Sakura expected the boys to screech in surprise and cling to each other, but she only heard silence in the dark. She jumped in her seat when the doors opened with a loud bang, a confetti splash, and the lights coming back to life.

Sasuke and Naruto were still in front of her, holding two bouquets of irises and yellow roses. Behind them were the old and new student council members with other students holding a large banner saying Thank you, Student Council President Sakura!

She started to leave her seat to come to them, but they gestured for her to stay on her seat. In front of the room, the large monitor beeped and showed a compilation of videos.

Sukehiro Aoi, an alumni and currently an intern in an animation studio. “Hello, Ms. Pres. You once asked the body to submit a publication material for an event of the student council, and I sent mine through a dummy email with no expectations of winning. I wasn’t comfortable with the public seeing my art. I was afraid of the unsolicited remarks so sending it anonymously gave me some relief. You chose it however, and you knew how big a credit was to an artist. I was really scared when you were able to hunt me down just by my watermark, but my name in the info blast caught the attention of a school board member and referred me to this animation studio. It was the littlest thing, but you handed me my dream.”

Watanabe Kota was a year below them. He has a small frame, round thick glasses, and battled with face acne. “Ms. Pres! People never had much confidence in my physical appearance, so I don’t know what you saw in me when you asked me to take over the school radio. But here we are – we’re airing daily and we even produce documentaries and radio programs. Thank you for seeing what I didn’t.”

Ito Amanaya, a typical jock in the football team, muscular and came across as intimidating, but he had the gentlest cadence. “I was bullied by the same group that bullied your dynamic duo. When you ran them off, you also saved my life. Thank you, Haruno.”

Kimura Shinze, a classmate in third year, beautiful, popular, and the captain of the cheering squad. “Hope you’re having a great day, Ms. Pres. Remember that time when the class was guessing who were our crushes and I blurted out that it was a girl, you told me thank you for telling us. That was…a big deal to me. Thank you for that gesture.”

Himurata Aoi, president of the koto club. “Sakura, I know you had many people come up and confessed to you so when I did try, I was glad that you didn’t give me a bullshit reason like you’re not into girls. You turned me down because you have someone you already love. I am thankful for your honesty.”

The biology teacher, Takahashi Kande. “Student council, thank you for your mental health program. As a single father to twins, I don’t have the luxury of time to sit in a couch and sort out my issues. To be able to do that in my workplace during breaks is a heaven-sent gift. You saved me and my family. Thank you.”

Many more messages came on, from a classmate she lent spare change to, from a staff she helped clean, from countless students who she wasn’t aware she gave kindness to.

“Why….” She asked breathlessly.

“You’ve been beating yourself lately. We thought you needed some reminding,” Sasuke muttered, under his breath, the bouquet still in his hands. “You left some pretty big footprints, Ms. Pres.

“You might not have noticed,” Naruto jested. “But this is always innate and natural to you, isn’t it?”

“Why did you bother so much?” She was reduced to tears.

“It was Naruto’s idea.”

“Huh? You did all the compiling though!”

“Shut up, it was me,” yelled the current president.

“Thank you, everyone.”

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

It was a weekend, but Sasuke requested Sakura and Naruto to meet him at the school gates. He only gave the time and place, and he knew well enough that they would be there – no questions asked.

They stood there, minutes earlier than planned, a first but nothing more unusual than homebody Sasuke asking them to go out on a weekend. Sakura wore an oversized rust shirt over a pair of muted cotton blue trousers tied with a brown leather belt and tan fisherman sandals, her long hair kept in one single braid at the back. Naruto probably expected a fancy lunch with his outfit – black silky long sleeves over gray pants and black loafers.

Sasuke, high on impulsive decisions, wore bright colors, a complete departure from his usual neutrals; mustard vest over a deep violet polo, baggy pants, off white converse, and a white fanny pack. “Well, we’re mostly dressed for comfort, except for that idiot beside you.”

“What do you mean dressed for comfort? I borrowed these loafers from my vice-captain and my feet aren’t used to them,” Naruto whined. “Besides, aren’t you taking us out to a five-star meal, Mr. Valedictorian?”

“Wow, what a way to show off.” Sakura pursed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t worry Naruto, I got your next café order.”

“Ah no. It was just something we heard from the grape vine.” Naruto scratched his head and carefully glanced at Sasuke. “Grumpy got his trust fund today.”

In bated breaths, they waited for him to respond with a scowl or a retort, but he just nodded. “Come on, we’ll miss the train.”

They traveled for three stations and disembarked on the fourth, Sasuke sandwiched in between the two, his shoulders pillows again to their heads and yet such burdens were light as cotton. The surfacing emotions since last week were taking hold of him, but he needed to pull through somehow because breaking down while commuting was one thing he did not really see doing.

“Word just got in. The house was turned over this morning,” Itachi told him over the phone.

“Impeccable timing when I’m also moving abroad next week.” Sasuke pulled out his Bleachers vinyl and anticipated another lonesome lull for the night.

“Do you miss the cream puffs?”

“Nothing comes close.”

“Hmm. I’ll pay for the rental fee of your car.”

In Itachi’s defense, while he was an afficionado of escapism, he also knew how to read between the lines. “Watch me get a Mercedes-Benz.”

“I have a good driving playlist.” This only meant math rock, and Sasuke wanted something to scream his lungs too.

“Don’t need one.”

“Treat your friends to dinner, okay? Gotta go.”

“We’re walking?!” Naruto almost limped out of the train. Sasuke took one look at his heels and saw that they were bruised red. He took off his converse and socks and gave them to him.

Sakura whipped out a small first-aid kit and covered the rash on Naruto’s heels. “Hey don’t look at me like that. Brought it just in case we’re going on a day survival tour. A camping would be nice too.”

“Did you scrub your feet, idiot?”

“You think so low of me grumpy. Of course – last week!”

With Naruto now comfortable, the three resumed walking on the unfamiliar residential area. Sasuke gestured for them to enter a bamboo forest on the far side of the main road. Hidden in the shadows of the clumped stalks were a small opening, the growth hampered and ground rid of grasses and weeds; many people have also chosen this shortcut, walked through the forest, did a little nature bathing, and emerged behind the bakery, still there, still standing, still operating.

Sasuke tapped on the large glass window cum counter on the front and bought three sets of cream puffs.

“Oh, it’s you,” the old baker greeted. “You brought your friends over? You always buy one set.”

Sasuke offered her a smile, briefly glancing to his periphery where Sakura was fussing with Naruto’s feet, and nodded as he accepted the paper bag. “It’s on the house, kid.”

“You brought us to stalk someone’s house?” Sakura dug in one paper bag, bit the puff in one bite, and with full mouth, she sighed. “This is heaven.”

“It’s our old family house, before the accident that is.” Sasuke also took out one puff and munched on it, ruminating on the sight before him, a two-story house with an imposing façade, his mom’s climbing hydrangea gone and cut by the new owners, beds of roses and daisies already withered, but the wisteria tree on the vacant lot beside continued to grow and shade what he supposed were the children’s rooms. It was in his third bite that he saw the tomato fruits he planted, alive and full with harvest. “Do you think my parents know?”

Naruto slid an arm across his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. “Then they would be happy ghosts or maybe they would voluntarily move away to give the new owners the opportunity to make it a happy a home like yours.

“What part are you gonna miss?” Sakura asked, halfway through her set of puffs.

“The sight of the wisteria before I sleep and after I wake up, and the sunlight in my parents’ room. My dad liked to make these suncatchers for my mom. The play of light was a good morning greeting, she said.”

“What’s your funniest memory?” Naruto sat on the grass, uncaring for the stains that would taint his good pair of pants.

“It was probably Christmas when I was seven, and Itachi had this big idea to bake a cake, but he swapped the sugar for the salt and we were wondering why it wouldn’t make a custard. Our parents still ate it, saying it was a very salty version of dark chocolate cake.”

“It was a good home,” Sakura patted the space between her and Naruto and Sasuke sat down cross-legged too, dipping his hand on the paper bag with the last cream puff.

“It was a good home,” Sasuke agreed as he bit into the last vestige of his family memory. He was suckling the powdered sugar off his fingers when he realized he was already crying, and the two were downright sobbing on his either side.

Such an embarrassing sight to see; he wondered what would the new owners feel if they looked out their windows this instant and saw three teenagers breaking down on the road across. It was honestly stupid and laughable to a point, considering how funny it was for grief to become lighter when someone else cried with him.

Naruto was sniffling so much that he had to offer his handkerchief to him. “I forgot to tell you guys. Hinata confessed to me during the cultural festival.”

“Oh my god. What did you say?” Sakura took a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes. She flashed an apologetic look to Sasuke who already offered his hanky to Naruto’s fluids.

“Ah, what else? I had to reject her.” Naruto sneezed on Sasuke’s handkerchief again. “I told her I was in love with someone else.” He slyly glanced at his raven-haired friend and pursed his lips which Sakura quickly caught.

“Who is it?”

“Sasuke also likes someone.”

“Shut your mouth, blondie. Point is already moot. Besides, we’ve already been rejected.”

“Who are these people and why don’t I know them?” Sakura genuinely looked offended. “I could have vetted them!”

“Exactly why it was fortunate you didn’t meet them,” Sasuke said as an excuse though he pegged Sakura for not being that naïve. She, thankfully, let it go and gathered their trash. She dropped the bomb as she was brushing the grass blades from her trousers. “My parents are divorcing. Such a travesty not to have them show up on graduation day, and I thought I did a great job.”

The two, ever so sure, held onto her hands in case she was trembling again.

“Let’s get that five-star dinner,” Sasuke suggested, “and we need to rent a Mercedes-Benz.”

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

Graduation Day

“Let’s welcome to the stage, class valedictorian, Uchiha Sasuke.” Kakashi was the officiating faculty today so she expected difficulty going through the event, but for some reason, he slipped into her mental back burner, no longer taking up room in her active consciousness. That was a good step, she smiled to herself. Her smile became wider as Sasuke got up the stage.

His fans club’s cheers were heard outside the auditorium, and the graduating class chuckled at the quick interruption. He cleared his throat and started his piece.

“Please get it on record that I was coerced to do this speech. Then again, I also had a hand on the turn of events that led me here today, in front of you. And it’s a little too on the nose, but I came to high school with a clear set of goals – have high grades and lead an uninteresting life. I accomplished the first one rather easily, and it’s a good metric for the future that’s upon us right now. Good grades land us good colleges. Good colleges land us good jobs. Good jobs land us good life.

But it’s not the sole benchmark as I have learned lately. You see, my second goal really missed the mark. Good life can also mean good friends, fun experiences, a caring environment, a complete family. If you ticked off each one, then that’s very notable. You have the four-leaf clover, and it’s a rare blessing. I only ticked off three, but that goes without any regret. If you only have one silver lining in your high school memory, then that makes us all the more human. And if there’s none, there is still is still a whole stretch of possibilities we can discover to find one. Thank you for your kind attention.”

Sakura was pretty sure she heard several sniffles across the student body. “The bastard delivered a good speech,” she muttered to herself.

“We would like to welcome our first national MVP, Uzumaki Naruto.”

Outside, the school band played the cheering anthem for his last national games. The cheerleaders also did a routine in tribute to him. That made him well up when he got to the podium.

“Wait oh my god, I’m tearing up so much.”

Sasuke grunted loudly and went back the stage to hand him a handkerchief which Naruto quickly used to wipe his snot.

“Thanks Sasuke. How can Kakashi-sensei let me follow after that rousing speech, and before Sakura too. It’s kinda evil.”

Laughter broke out.

“Well, this one’s a bare minimum. I didn’t have any goals or expectations, unlike genius grumpy over there. I just wanted to live my life like an ordinary boy. Someone said that how you spend your day is how you live your life so I did just that – ate ramen, slept in class because I am a growing kid, and played each arcade game until I won them. I also believe in serendipitous – thanks Sakura for this word, for the spelling and meaning – serendipitous coincidences. I just pitched and batted for former captain Haru one afternoon and now we landed in the national finals. I had loneliness for a friend, but now I’ve got all of you. And you know what else, the magic of working together. We wouldn’t have stepped foot in the nationals if it weren’t for your collective help. When we work towards a common goal, that also gives us common happiness, right? It’s infectious, a bouncing energy that gets thrown around and still makes it one piece. So wherever you will be after this, believe it!”

When Kakashi called her name next, she thought she was deaf, the noise around her collapsed in muted decibels. It took a minute before her fellow classmates shook her and motioned for her to quickly come up the stairs. Her silver-haired teacher looked so concerned in the shadows, but for what it was worth, she was civil and calm enough (at least in the matters concerning him) to nod at him in quiet exchange of assurance.

It was because she saw both of her parents at the side with a bouquet of roses. She struggled with the paper she brought with her although she had it memorized in her head; she even went through it flawlessly for three times last night. Tears blurred the words and the mere shock of the sight of their togetherness disabled her mental function to string coherent thoughts. She also started hyperventilating, her breaths coming faster than what her lungs could pump.

Then she felt Kakashi’s hand on her shoulder, a steady presence, and it reeled her back to reality. He tapped the mic and the feedback echoed. “Ah, Ms. Haruno had some technical issues. Again, let’s welcome former student council president, Sakura.”

Sasuke and Naruto in the front were almost standing, but she flashed them a smile as if to say she was okay now. “Hello, good day to our honorable guests and graduates. I think it’s safe to say that Sasuke and Naruto provided really good words of advice. So I have nothing more to offer, but to share my gratitude. Everyone was saying the student council did a good job in its programs, but it was actually the lot of you who made this possible – from your activity suggestions to participation and feedback. After all, you were the makers of your memories.

Earlier last week, my councilmates and friends reminded me how small actions go a long way – a smile, a wave across the hallway, a short exchange of good morning and see you soon, and I thought, aren’t we all just an accumulation of these small, little things? As such, it was what you think your insignificant moments were that pushed us to deliver you the best. It was the passing comment, the top-of-your-head tips, the interlude stories we hear during lunch breaks that allowed us to give you grand gestures and memories we hoped were worth keeping. And if we could start to use that perspective as well in our lives then maybe the uncertainties of a future wouldn’t be so heavy on us. We will face tomorrow with a lightness in being.

In behalf of the student council, thank you for allowing us to serve you.”

She bowed at a level where her torso was almost aligned at her hips, and she was confused with the lack of reaction. Sakura sighed, mulling over the deficiencies in her speech, but she straightened her back to a sight of a standing ovation and a thundering applause.

Then, she let her tears fall.

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

“Why would you let Kakashi-sensei take the pic?” Sakura hissed at them.

“Just this one time, Sakura!” Naruto grinned.

“Sakura, you’re out of the frame,” Kakashi remarked. “Okay good. Say cheese.”

In spite of her recent heartbreak with him, she permitted herself to bask in fleeting cordiality. “Cheese.”

“Grumpyyyyyy.”

“Idiot blondie.”

Kakashi took three more shots and handed the camera to the trio. He almost turned away when Sakura caught his sleeve.

“Just one more,” she said. “With you.”

Sakura shifted to the front, almost kneeling with the camera angled for a selfie, her two friends beside her looking equally annoyed as the other, and Kakashi behind them, his hands on either head, smiling with his deceptively charming beauty mark.

It was the last picture of their high school life.

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

The three were rushing through the airport crowd fifteen minutes before the immigration closes gates.

“Here!” Sakura slid a folder on the large pocket on Sasuke’s bag. “It includes your passport, your flight details, your valid IDs, your itinerary, and letters from us! Don’t forget our Friday video calls!”

“I can’t see. These tears are bullies,” Naruto said through tears. He was continuously wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“And If I don’t get on my flight because you made us eat ramen for one last time and the orders took too long, I’m gonna have you cursed by a witch and a shaman!” Sasuke growled. The guards were starting to close the gates when a sobbing Naruto sprinted and basically tackled the guards on the floor.

“Sasuke come on, hurry up!”

“Drink your vitamins! And if you miss cream puffs, I’ll teach you how to make them.” Sakura was trying hard to keep pace with Sasuke’s brisk walking, but she ended up breathless anyway.

The three of them finally reached the immigration entrance, and Naruto was profusely apologizing to the guards for the interruption. Sasuke showed his documents, wheezing as they looked at it. They gave him a thumbs up and opened the gates.

The two were already slumped at the floor, waving without words, and exhausted from the clock race. Sasuke was almost through when he remembered something he forgot. He muttered a quick sorry, ran through the opening, and hugged his two friends.

“I’ll miss you.”

[dontmindifidontt]

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Chapter 3: Nanami's POV

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 1873 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery. Chapter Summary: That Day from Nanami's pov. Warnings: None yet.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. Please feel free to ask me to correct anything in the above info, this is my first fic and I want to be sure I’m following all fic-posting etiquette. Ty!

11 am. That day.

Phone calls with angry clients. Emails with angry clients. More calls. More clients. Still angry. Pacing back and forth in the cramped office kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew. More emails. Another call, this time with a not so happy investor. Checking the clock. Still waiting for that coffee. Still only sticking around in this job for the money.

I lean back in my chair and drum my fingers atop my nearly bare desk, resting my chin in the palm of my other hand. If I quit now, I begin to muse, I'd have saved up enough to last me a few years before needing to find work elsewhere. No, I wouldn't want to return at all. I need to wait longer so I can be out for good. Though I don't know how much longer I can take...

Check the clock again, it's 11:50am. The slightest twinge of excitement escapes through the deafening exhaustion in my brain: it's almost lunch. I figure I'll grant myself the short break to think it over and come back to my desk with a clear mind.

I rise and sling the grey jacket of my suit back on, pushing my chair in and quickly making way for the elevator. It's Friday and my usual spot for lunch has stopped selling my go-to, so I ought to try somewhere new. Perhaps it wouldn't kill me to buy from an actual bakery, it's not like I can't afford to stray from my usual convenience store.

The walk isn't far, but I take the time to consider my options, consider my future. All I want is to live life on my own time, without distraction from work or other people's problems. Everywhere I look, all I see are problems. Money problems, loneliness, or even worse, all the problems cursed energy brings. I try to shut it out and stick to myself. I tell myself that's not my job anymore.

I spot the bakery ahead and the negative thoughts begin to clear from my mind. To put it plainly: food makes me happy, it's one of the simplest pleasures I enjoy. I can't help but at least briefly forget the problems of the world when I'm about to take a bite out of a favorite meal.

I pull the door open and step inside, briskly walking to the register eager to begin my lunch. Impatient, I clear my throat to signal I'm ready to pay - only to be met with a reminder of why I was so desperate to clear my head in the first place. Tilting my head to get a better view, I see it clear as day: a fly head curse wrapped around the woman at the register's wrist. In an effort to ignore it, I avert my eyes, only to meet hers.

She's a few years younger than me, though I immediately recognize the familiar look captured in her eyes. The look of someone who's tired, overworked, and waiting on the clock to crawl forward. There's something else in her eyes, though, almost a bit of wonder. Is that aimed at me?

"Just the sandwich, please," I say while taking out my wallet, trying not to stare. There's no denying she has a pretty face, a beauty that appears effortless or natural, even when overtired from what I imagine was a long week of work. How one person can manage to look so charming even when carrying around the weight of a fly head I have no idea.

I notice she looks to the side before she speaks again, as if she has to look away to concentrate on what she's going to say next. She asks if I'd like a receipt and I decline, still watching over her pretty features and beginning to feel badly she has to work with that extra weight on her wrist. I'm usually better at ignoring this... there's just something about her expression. I can almost feel a sense of silent, shared exhaustion between us. I'm sure she works just as hard as I do, and she does it with a curse hanging off her body, and yet here she is smiling up at me when I'm just a customer who makes her day even busier.

I can barely make it to noon on a Friday without threatening to quit.

I turn to walk away only to hear her voice call out behind me, "come again please." With that request, something clicks. I pause as I reach the door. I tell myself these next words are based not only off of my attraction to her, but also out of a want to help someone whose work actually means something. It wouldn't cause me any harm to remove that fly head... in fact, I'm sure helping her live a more comfortable life would end up positively benefitting a lot of other people in return. Her work brings sorry people like me even a fleeting moment of joy. "Thank you. I will," is all I say.

The rest of the afternoon I couldn't shake the thought of returning to the bakery. Not returning next week when I'd order another lunch, or even Monday morning when it would open again. I had to return today. But how do I just reappear to secretly exorcise a weak cursed spirit? I'd look ridiculous to the non-sorcerer eye. There needs to be another reason for my return. I could use the situation to my advantage and ask her out to dinner... It's a pretty selfish solution, I'll admit, but the excitement and nerves building up in my stomach at just the thought were confirmation enough. She had a certain glow about her despite the clear exhaustion of her work, I can only imagine how she'd clean up for a proper date.

It's decided then, I'll offer to give my help over dinner.

6 pm. That day.

I arrive at the door at 6pm as promised, with her appearing only a few seconds later. My prediction was correct - having changed from her flour-dusted work attire to a much less casual ensemble made her beauty bloom. Seeing her round the corner in a perfectly fitted dress and heels I had to hide a smile, she must have matched her attire to fit the occasion of my own.

After introducing ourselves I turn to lead the way, excited to share my favorite steakhouse with my date. I answer her question about where we're headed by stating I'd assume that she'd prefer to spend dinner somewhere totally different from a bakery.

"What's the opposite of baked goods? A sushi bar?" I catch her eye as she asked this question, and I see a gleam of excitement and joy that hadn't yet presented itself in the short time I'd known her. She looked so eager and somehow already grateful... I wanted this happiness to last. Sushi it was then.

"Now you've guessed right. It's just around the corner here," I answer while internally sighing in relief for knowing a sushi bar nearby. It's one I used to frequent in the evenings before work began to keep me at the office too late on a regular basis.

As suspected, the hostess recognizes me straight away and we're seated in my former usual spot. Sitting face to face with my date now, I can't help but stare.

She has her hair pulled back, accentuating her cheekbones and putting each beautiful feature of her face on full display. Full lips, long curled lashes, and an ability to stare at me with eyes that will me to hold eye contact without breaking.

"So, how exactly do you plan to heal the ache in my wrist, Not Dr. Nanami?"

I guess she wastes no time in getting to the point. I don't blame her, considering I'm still a stranger and all... I chuckle at the thought of how selfish this entire idea was of me once again. Taking advantage of a curse as an excuse to share a meal with someone this beautiful? I have to laugh.

I reply to her question with the the truth: that I'll distract her while I swat this weak curse away and heal the soreness. Though I wasn't expecting to do this so soon... I need to think fast on how to create a proper distraction.

In the brief time I've known her I have noticed her tendency to look away while deep in thought. I'm counting on my observation to hold true when I blurt out, "Why don't you tell me three things about yourself, and when you're done I'll do the same."

At first she's taken aback, but just as I suspected she instinctively turns her head to the side while deep in thought, searching for a response to my proposition. Now's my chance.

I raise my right hand just a few inches above the table, keeping it low enough not to catch any attention. With fingers aimed at the pesky green fly head I flick my wrist with a snap, sending it flying and disintegrating in thin air.

She doesn't get the chance to finish even the second item about herself before feeling a difference. I smile and ease up in my seat. She looks so pretty with that hint of amusement in her eye. I feel myself hungry for more... more of her expressive eyes staring up at me, pleasured and thankful.

It hasn't even been an hour and I'm enjoying her company more than I expected. Did I hear her say she likes to cook earlier? I want to keep hearing more about her...

"So you never finished," I offer as a means to continue the conversation.

As she shares more about herself I find myself relaxing more each second, soaking up just how comfortable I feel in this moment. I'm not worried about the problems of those around me, I'm not worried about watching the clock or wishing time would pass - for the first time in a long time I'm actually wishing for the opposite.

"So you stay out of people's business, and yet here you are providing unsolicited help to me along with asking me to describe details about myself over dinner?" she asks. I barely let out an audible laugh at the way she worded this - a fair question no doubt.

"Both of those things are correct, yes," was all I let up in my response. I could never tell her the true explanation behind this date, the way I used a weak cursed spirit to my advantage. I'd sound beyond unbelievable and absurd.

We continued to play slightly coy and stare back at one another, enjoying the solitude of each other's company. By the time our meals were finished and the check arrived it felt as if the day I experienced this morning and evening I'm experiencing right now were a part of two entirely different years. Can meeting just one person make such a difference?

I closed server's book with the signed check inside and stood to pull out her chair. "Shall we?" I ask while lifting my forearm for her to hold on to as she stood. "How about I walk you home?"

.........

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[lalainajanes]

For the square “water park” on my Klarosummerbingo card! Might be my worst title ever but it’s actually better than the original one so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Slip and Slide

Caroline speedwalks through the lobby, weaving around people who seem to think it’s the appropriate place for an early morning stroll. “Hold the elevator!” she calls, ignoring the few disgruntled looks she receives.

She hadn’t been that loud, and she’s nearly late for a critical meeting. It’s the first one with a new client, and she’d hate to make a bad first impression.

She’d had to head to the dry cleaners before work, had gotten caught in a traffic snarl in an area she wasn’t that familiar with, and it had taken her way too long to figure out the detour. She should have left her place earlier.

She gets to the security gates, juggling a garment bag, her briefcase, and a portfolio. Her ID seems to be just out of reach, and she jams her hand further into her purse. Albert, her favorite guard, murmurs, “Take a breath, Ms. Forbes.”

She blows one out, frustrated. Rolls her shoulders in an attempt to relax. “Sorry. I’m just…”

“Stressed? I can tell.”

Yikes. Caroline hopes that doesn’t mean her hair has exploded.

She smiles weakly, “Big day today.”

A brand new project, after the last one had been a disaster. Caroline’s comfortable with stress, thrives on high stakes, but she could totally use a win.

Her fingers touch the familiar edge of her badge, and she pulls it out triumphantly. She taps it on the sensor, walks through the revolving gate. “Good luck, Ms. Forbes,” Alfred murmurs as she passes.

It’s a little thing, but Caroline feels a little better knowing someone’s rooting for her.

She’s relieved to spot that one of the elevators is open, a man holding the door, his eyes on her. She doesn’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything. The building has 55 floors, offices for more than two dozen companies within it. He’s dressed in a suit, like the vast majority of the men she sees in the building. His is nicer than most, charcoal grey, perfectly fitted, with a very subtle pinstripe that she only notices when she gets closer. Caroline hurries into the car gratefully. She leans forward, punches 32. “Thank you so much,” she says to him, turning so they’re shoulder to shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver.”

The man on her other side makes a noise, a tiny scoff. Caroline glances at him quizzically. He’s stoic, eyes forward, but she’s sure there’s a hint of amusement on his face.

An arm brushes against hers, drawing her attention. “Feel free to ignore him,” the man who’d held the elevator says. His voice is low, smooth and she’d be charmed by the accent if they’d met in a social situation.

Or any situation, if she’s honest.

“My brother would probably describe me as more of a troublemaker.”

Huh. She hadn’t have figured brothers. They’ve both got attractive and well-dressed going for them but little other familial resemblance. Caroline’s head swings back, “Are you a trouble maker?”

His amusement is plain. His full lips curl, and deep dimples appear in his cheeks.

Oh yeah. Definitely a trouble maker.

“I’m about twenty minutes early for my meeting today; how much of a trouble maker can I be?” His tone is playful, a touch too innocent to be believed.

Damn it. Caroline does not have time for an attractive man this morning. At least she hadn’t changed into the frumpier outfit in the garment bag. Hopefully, she’ll run into this guy again.

“I think I need more info. Could be a one-time thing. I’m almost late for my meeting, which is wildly out of character.”

“Not the trusting sort, are you?”

Caroline shrugs, raising her brows expectantly.

He laughs briefly, “Well, I did send an email ahead to inquire about the coffee preferences of the team I’m meeting. I’m stopping at one of the cafes to pick it up now. Would a troublemaker do that?”

“Hmm, maybe. Could be an underhanded tactic to get on a good side before the trouble starts.”

Dimples’ brother chimes in again, dry this time. “I believe your assistant sent that email. And that she learned the practice from my assistant.”  

Dimples glowers, and Caroline must admit this is a delightful distraction from her anxiety. She glances up at the panel above the door and is disappointed to find they’re almost on her floor. “If you’re going to the café on 36, I recommend the oatmeal raisin cookies. Most people go chocolate chip. Trust me, that’s a mistake.”

The elevator pings, the doors sliding open. Caroline smiles, hitches her briefcase higher on her shoulder. “This is me. Thanks again.”

The receptionist spots Caroline, stands up, a sheaf of papers in her hands, and Caroline’s reminded about how much she has to do. She hurries out, her heels clicking across the shiny tiles of the lobby.

She still glances back at the elevator, can’t help smiling, pleased, when she finds her new friend from the elevator watching her as the doors close.

Even if she never sees him again, he’d made her morning a little brighter.

Now, though, it’s time to work.

* * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Caroline’s pacing in her office. She’s pinned her hair back and changed into the purple pantsuit she’d picked up at the dry cleaners. It’s a great color but not the most flattering fit. The pants are fine, but the jacket’s boxy, and she’s wearing a plain pink blouse underneath, buttoned to her throat, a thick silver necklace threaded through the collar. There’s a pair of glasses perched on her nose, and she’d changed into sensible flats.

She’d learned her lesson last time, at the first meeting where she’d been the project lead. She’d been called ‘Honey’ and other more annoying pet names and asked to serve coffee and fetch snacks. She’d received skepticism when she’d introduced herself. By the end of that first meeting, Caroline had wanted to scream her credentials – a B.A. and a Master’s in Civil Engineering, a whole pile of certifications, several prestigious internships, and stellar work references, thank you very much – at most of the people in the room.

Ultimately, the project had been successful, but Caroline had experienced frequent bursts of frustration that bordered on rage. Her suggestions were met with questions that made it clear her intelligence was doubted, her corrections with condescension, even though she’d usually been the only one in the room with any significant scientific expertise.

Expertise that’s kind of crucial in designing a water park. It wouldn’t have been a good look, or a sound investment, if guests were to end up injured or dead after paying exorbitant ticket prices and expecting a fun day.

Her skin has thickened considerably, but Caroline hopes that’s less necessary this time. Her boss had assured her that this job would be easier, and Caroline’s choosing to believe her. It’s even potentially exciting – these clients own several international resorts, the park she’s pitching on will be built in Spain.

Being project leader, she’d traveled to oversee construction on the nightmare build, but Tennessee doesn’t carry quite the same appeal as the Spanish coast, at least from the photos Caroline’s seen.

At the very least, it can’t be a worse experience. She hopes.

She hears Katherine coming her way, takes a final deep breath before Kat breezes into her office. “What are you wearing?” Kat asks, sounding both mystified and vaguely disgusted. She pauses in front of Caroline, fingers pinching her lapel and tugging. “Is this polyester?”

“Maybe. I thrifted it.”

Katherine’s face twists in the sort of revulsion one would expect if Caroline confessed to grave robbing the ensemble.

“Ew, why?”

“Figured I needed a costume. To make sure that this time, no one in there thinks to call me ‘sweet cheeks.’”

She’d been paired with another designer last time, Matt Donovan, who was a nice enough guy but had been pretty useless in the having her back department. Caroline likely wouldn’t have cried into her Ben and Jerry’s quite so often had Katherine been her partner. Kat has the unique and impressive ability to make demands and issue orders and have people thank her for it.

Kat snorts, “Elijah Mikaelson would never. He’s aggressively polite. I haven’t spoken to him yet, but I doubt Niklaus would either. I assume he has the same hot accent.”

That’s a new name. Caroline doesn’t like surprises. “And who is Niklaus?”

“A brother. And a business partner. He wasn’t originally scheduled to be here but is unexpectedly in town. What do you think the British equivalent to sweet cheeks is?”

Caroline’s eyes go wide, a few puzzle pieces clicking together. British brothers, twenty minutes early for a meeting. What are the odds?

Crap. Had she been flirting with a client? In front of another client?

There’s a tap at the door, her boss’ assistant’s head poking in, “They’re ready for you in the conference room.”

Ugh. Maybe she’s cursed.

* * * * * 

The presentation goes fantastically.

Katherine had been correct – the Mikaelsons don’t seem to labor under the misapprehension that a conventionally attractive blonde woman can’t grasp complex concepts. They’d shaken her hand when she’d arrived; Niklaus (or Klaus, as he apparently prefers) had looked a bit puzzled when they’d been introduced, Caroline had chalked that up to the outfit. He’d said it was nice to see her again. Explaining her mad dash to the elevator, and Klaus’ assistance, to the room had broken the ice nicely.

Kat kicks them off, and her design is gorgeous; Elijah and Klaus appear suitably impressed. When it’s Caroline’s turn, her nerves fall away by her second PowerPoint slide. She knows her stuff backward and forward, and she’s incredibly pleased with her innovation.

She also begins to feel less bad about the flirting once she sees that Kat throws Elijah a few looks that are borderline inappropriate for the office (that he seems pretty pleased with).

They ask questions, pour over the mock-ups and technical drawings Caroline and Katherine had prepared. Their ideas are actually good, which is a nice contrast for the last project. She’d done far too much lying and finessing to attempt to steer the previous park into a less terrible direction. The Mikaelsons have far fewer notes than Caroline had anticipated, and she promises to put together an update ASAP. They schedule another meeting.

She thinks Klaus’ handshake lingers when they say goodbye, but maybe she’s just riding high on adrenaline and imagining things.

She kind of hopes she isn’t. It’s probably too messy to date a client, but a girl can fantasize, can’t she?

Caroline helps herself to the cookie tray, pleased by the generous helping of oatmeal raisin she finds. Kat’s disappeared, but she knows their boss will want to debrief. Caroline collapses into one of the conference chairs, pulls out her phone to check her messages.

She replies to a few emails before she notices one that’s just arrived.

 Hello Caroline,

I enjoyed your presentation today. I look forward to the next.

Warmly,

Klaus

 She grins to herself, slumps lower in her chair. Clearly, she hadn’t imagined anything if Klaus is emailing her when he’s barely out of the building. She takes a risk and sends a slightly more casual reply than she’d usually attempt at this point.

If he reacts badly, she can up the formality later on. If he doesn’t, well… she’s only fostering a good working relationship. That’ll be essential if they land this contract.

And she’s like 90% sure it’s in the bag.

 Hi Klaus,

Thank you!

The photos your team sent over of the location were gorgeous; both Kat and I were inspired. I think this is some of our best work to date. I’m excited to dive into the updates and meet again next week.

Best,

Caroline

P.S. Thanks for the cookies.

His reply comes minutes later.

Caroline,

I believe it. Your work is impressive, as I’m sure your new ideas will be. Have you ever been to Spain? The pictures hardly do it justice.

Warmly,

Klaus

P.S. You’re welcome. Which coffee order was yours?

 Well, that’s the opposite of a bad reaction.

Caroline sets her phone aside, tells herself she has to be smart here. She’s reasonably sure she’s not doing anything that’s prohibited. The emails will speak for themselves, and they live on the company server. Neither she nor Klaus are offering anything untoward for the contract. If things go well, she may just have to fill out an HR disclosure form. She’ll double-check the firm’s code of conduct.

Just in case.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Worthy, pt 1 & 2

I stopped and stared up at the building in front of me. Imposing, huge, and a beacon for anyone concerned with clean energy. I had won the internship at Stark Industries research and development division by working my ass off all year, coming up with innovative and exciting ways to utilize the arc reactor technology. I’d been interviewed by Mr. Stark himself when it came time to award the position. I’d never been so excited to work in an unpaid position in my life. It was made all the better by being in New York City. And even more awesome because accommodation was provided in the tower. Even if the internship didn’t lead to permanent employment at Stark Industries after my sojourn there, it would be a resume jackpot. 

I stopped at the main security desk and picked up my passcard. Elizabeth Carmichael. It sounded much more glamourous than Ella did, but I’d never been called Elizabeth in my entire life. Always Ella, except from my Nan, who called me Bethy. I clipped the tag on my blouse and headed to the elevator. The email from the HR department had been clear: pick up your passcard, and report to the main office of R&D on the 55th floor. I pressed the button and waited for the elevator to close. A hand reached in to stop the door and Mr. Stark stepped in. He smiled, like he would to anyone he shared the elevator with, and then his eyes narrowed as he read my nametag.

“Ms. Carmichael! You’ve made it to the city then? Where are your bags? Are you not staying on site?” He spoke so fast I could barely follow him.

“My flight arrived late last night. I thought I would stay at a hotel overnight and then get organized to move into my room, sir.” I felt breathless just trying to keep up with his speech, and rushed through my own explanation.

“We’ll send someone to collect your things. We’re having a little social in the lounge tonight; you don’t want to miss it. Good networking opportunities. There are three of you that earned internships. Pepper was particularly excited about you. Not a lot of women in STEM, you know. So we’re having a meet and greet for the three of you. Mostly Stark staff, but there'll be some others in attendance. Angela will get you organized.” There was even information stored in the nuances of how he spoke. It was going to be overwhelming until I got used to it. If I got the chance to get used to it. This elevator interaction might be the last time I saw Mr. Stark for the rest of the summer. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the bright, clean research and development administrative office. I waited at the desk while the woman sitting there was on a call. Her nameplate said Angela, so I suspected she was who Mr. Stark said would organize me.

“Ella, right?” She swivelled her chair to face me. I nodded. “I’ve already contacted the concierge at your hotel to have your belongings sent over. I’ll show you to your rooms at the end of your orientation and tour. Then you can get settled.”

“I won’t be working?” I was surprised.

“Not today. Today is all about the Stark Industries machine and how you fit into it. So orientation to the labs, meet some of the people you’ll be working under, settling into your suite and figuring out your way around. There’s a meet and greet tonight.” She typed something into her computer and then rose. Without waiting for me, she headed off down a hallway. “This is the administrative floor for Research and Development. R&D takes twenty floors here, from 55 to 75. Starting at the 76th floor, the Avengers Tower begins, and you’ll only end up there if Mr. Stark wants to meet with you. Well, and for the mixer tonight. The 56th and 57th floors are all housing. Our guest scientists are housed on 56 and your suite is on 57. The project you’ve been assigned to is an offshoot of the household arc reactor project, and will allow you to work on one of your proposals. That division is on 60 through 65. Your direct supervisor is Markus Reid.” I scrambled to scribble notes and keep up with her and she led me through a maze of hallways and offices. We finally came to a halt and I was so busy scratching notes into my notebook that I bumped into her.

“Oh, god. Sorry,” I apologized. She smiled and shook her head.

“Relax, Ella. You were the top candidate. Your proposals rocked Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts' socks off. You belong here,” she reassured me. “And I’m going to email all this info to you, so you can put away your notebook.”

“Thanks. I’m feeling a bit small right now,” I admitted.

“The first few days are very overwhelming for every Stark Industries employee. It’s why we schedule nothing work-related on the first day.” She knocked on a door and hesitated just a second before opening it. “I have Elizabeth Carmichael here to sign some paperwork.” She led me into the office, and sat in a chair near the door after pointing to a chair at the desk. Another woman smiled and dropped a sheaf of paper in front of me.

“The bottom half of that is the paperwork for you that explains everything in the top half. But this is a basic non-disclosure agreement. The second one is the follow up to the initial waiver you signed when you applied for the internship, giving proprietary rights to Stark Industries, while maintaining your intellectual property, authorship and development rights. That basically means if what you’re working on goes into production, it will be a Stark Industries product, but you will be credited as the inventor. There’s some tax paperwork and a release for your university.” The woman handed me a pen. I looked up at her while I tried to process everything she’d explained.

“Tax paperwork?”

“For your pay.”

“Oh, I’m here for the internship. I’m not paid.” I thought that would be clear to an HR person.

“No, Mr. Stark pays his interns. It makes the transition when you are hired easier,” she explained.

“What?”

“Did you not read your acceptance package?” She gave me a look that suggested she thought I might be stupid.

“I did. It suggested that if Stark Industries was happy with my performance, I could be offered an extension at the end of the internship, provided my degree was complete.” At least, that’s what I’d understood from reading it.

“And you’ve already provided transcripts showing you’ve finished both your bachelor’s and master’s degrees. There were only three internships offered, Ms. Carmichael. We complete all your paperwork now with the assumption that you will be staying on at Stark Industries. If you’ve passed our rigorous application process, we feel you are a keeper. If you choose not to stay, it will be because you chose not to stay,” She explained. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I knew the internship was prestigious, but I didn’t realize exactly how incredible it was.

“Oh. Well. In that case,” I said and scratched my signature across the papers in front of me. She offered her hand. I stood and shook it.

“Welcome to Stark Industries, Ms. Carmichael.”

XXX

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Angela assured me that her email would include maps, and secret notes and tidbits that would help me remember everything, but I was so floored from the words of the HR person that I really couldn’t focus. Angela led me to the commissary for lunch and ordered for both of us. I didn’t even realize until she handed me a tray with food on it.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked. I gave my head a little shake to snap back to reality and smiled in apology.

“Sorry. I’m feeling even more overwhelmed than I was when I got out of the cab this morning,” I laughed. She took a seat at a table and nodded for me to sit across from her.

“You should give yourself some credit. You earned your place here. Pepper is really excited about having you. I suspect you’ll be the poster child for gender equality at Stark Industries for some time to come. As soon as you won that internship, your place here was secured. Probably for life,” she grinned. I shook my head.

“What if I’m a dud?”

“You aren’t though. Mr. Stark himself thoroughly vetted your application, and Pepper went through your references with a fine tooth comb. She even tracked down extra references. You deserve this more than anyone who’s ever applied before, Ella.”

“I feel like I might be sick,” I groaned. It was her turn to shake her head.

“It’s first day jitters. Once you’ve settled into a routine and have your nose into all that sciencey stuff you do, it’ll all blow over,” She laughed. I didn’t want to pick a fight so I just focussed on my lunch.

XXX

My suite was ridiculous. I’d understood we’d be provided with a room. In my mind, I had thought dormitory style, like at university. I was quickly learning Tony Stark did nothing by halves. I had a suite. First of all, the whole thing was fully furnished. The master bedroom had the biggest bed I’d ever seen in it, and an ensuite bathroom with a shower bigger than my last dorm room. There was a second bedroom, I’m not sure why. Plus an office, an open floor plan living room and kitchen and a main bathroom. There was a storage closet that I’m pretty sure could have kept a small family comfortable. And a deck with a view of the city. I opened the fridge and discovered it had been fully stocked already. I grabbed a bottle of water and stood at the counter, the overwhelming feeling of just too much washing across me again. There was a bound book on the counter, and when I flipped through it, I realized it was a Stark Tower lifestyle guide, with information about the pool, the gym, the on-site movie theatre, the commissary, and on and on. There was a tablet on the wall that allowed you to order in take-away or groceries. Housekeeping was once a week. I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream, fully expecting to awaken back in the dorm room at the university. But I didn’t.

I unpacked my bags and checked my email for the details on the get together. Casual evening wear. What was that, even? I grabbed my phone and texted Angela. Whether she liked it or not, she was my new bestie. 

“What does casual evening wear mean?”

“Nothing too fancy. Knee length dress is more appropriate than floor length.”

“I’ve been in university for the last nine years. I have nothing even remotely appropriate.”

“I’m on it. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

XXX

“I’m sorry, Angela, I just didn’t know who else to ask.” I felt like all I was doing was apologizing to her. She laughed.

“You’re my assignment for the next few weeks. And you are so much nicer than the last new hire I was paired with. I can see actually wanting to spend time with you,” she laughed.

“Really? You’re my personal person?” I arched an eyebrow. She laughed again.

“Something like that. Human Resources likes to pair someone from admin to new hires as an orientation guide. It’s a pretty awesome job, to be honest. I get to meet most of the new people on their way in the door. Make lots of new friends. Meet lots of cute science nerd guys.” She winked. I laughed.

“And yet you don’t mind being assigned me. I must be very special indeed,” I teased.

“You’re little lost puppy eyes sucked me right in,” she giggled. “Come on, let’s get you a dress.” It felt like she dragged me all over town, but the truth was, we didn’t go far, and we only visited a couple of stores. I tried on everything she brought to me, and let her tell me what looked best. I was most comfortable in jeans, a t-shirt and a lab coat, so I trusted her judgement. We were a whirlwind of activity after picking the dress. She steered me over to a shoe store, and then a make-up store. I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as a make-up store. I only kept mascara in my bathroom because my eyelashes were so light you couldn’t see them without a bit of mascara on them. 

When we finally got back to the building, I wanted nothing more than to take a nap. Angela shooed me into the shower and ordered us some dinner instead. She helped me with my hair and then sat me down to eat.

“Do you wear contacts ever?” She asked. I pushed my glasses up my nose and shook my head.

“No, they don’t make contacts for eyes like mine,” I admitted.

“Okay. I can work with that,” she looked at me thoughtfully and chewed on her pizza. Before I knew it, she was rearranging my hair, and applying make-up and amazingly, although I’d honestly never thought I’d enjoy the fuss that went along with dressing up, I did enjoy myself. It helped that Angela kept a running commentary of exclamations about how pretty I was, and how nice my eyes were. I never had thought there was anything particularly special about my brown hair and brown eyes. I changed my mind when Angela let me look in the mirror. My hair was loose and wavy, and cascaded over my shoulders. The red dress she’d found for me highlighted that my hair was more than one shade of brown, and brought out the natural glow in my cheeks. My eyes, despite being framed behind my glasses, looked big and sparkly.

“Wow.”

“You’ll have half the R&D guys begging for your number by the end of the night!” Angela laughed. I blushed.

“I don’t know about that,” I protested. She laughed again.

“Come on. I’ll be your wingman.” She linked arms with me and led me out the door and to the elevator. XXX

The crushing feeling of inadequacy hit me again as the elevator opened up to let us out into the cocktail party. I hesitated at the gap between the elevator and the large, noisy room. Angela gave me a gentle nudge, but I froze, taking in the panorama in front of me. Almost every scientist I’d ever quoted in any of my research was standing in that room, mingling with one another. When Tony Stark isn’t the biggest name in a room, it can make you pause. I’m pretty sure I recognized the most recent recipient of the Nobel Prize in physics standing by the bar. And Dr. Banner was lingering near the door to the patio and pool deck, looking exceptionally uncomfortable. At least he was near an exit where he could cool off and relax if he needed to. His research was what drove me into the sciences. In the end, I decided gamma radiation wasn’t really the area I was passionate about, and pursued research that put me in Stark’s path. But he was still kinda my hero. 

“If you don’t step off this elevator right now, I’m going to push you off, and then you’ll draw a lot more attention to yourself than if you act like a normal person.” Angela had my number already. I stepped into the party tentatively. Angela steered me straight to the bar. “Let’s get a drink into you, loosen you up a little. These people have all been where you are, Ella. What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, rocks.” My eyes were glued to the room, and I just kept recognizing more and more people. Surely they all didn’t work for Stark Industries. I would have noticed that at some point during my application process. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts saw me as Angela handed me my drink. Ms. Potts smiled in welcome and headed straight to me. I didn’t have time to panic.

“Ms. Carmichael! I’m so pleased to see you. You look a bit like a canary in a room of cats. Don’t. They’re all harmless. And some of them are very excited to discuss your proposals with you,” she took my hand and squeezed it familiarly. It was not at all like my boss was shaking my hand, but more like a friend greeting me.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Potts.” I managed, and took a sip from my glass. 

“Please, Pepper is fine. We’ll reserve the formality for press releases,” she smiled. “Are you settling into your rooms?”

“I am. They’re much more than I was expecting. Everything about this internship is more than I was expecting,” I blurted. I was nervous enough that I took a perhaps-larger-than-it-should-have-been swallow from my glass and nearly choked.

“We’re so pleased you accepted, Ms. Carmichael,” Pepper gushed. “Really. I’m sure Angela has filled you in about the women in STEM initiative Stark Industries is backing.”

“If I’m going to call you Pepper, you’re going to have to call me Ella. Angela mentioned a little about it, but I didn’t realize there was an entire initiative.” The combination of vodka and talking shop with Pepper was starting to ease my nerves, and I could feel the tension starting to melt from my shoulders.

“We’re starting summer and weekend science and technology camps for girls. I’m hoping you’ll be able to find some time to work with me on promoting them. I think Angela has scheduled a meeting for us sometime in the next few days,” she explained. 

“That would be really cool.” I took another sip. There wasn’t much left in my glass. I was going to need to slow down. Mr. Stark was watching the crowd, but I could tell that his head was in our conversation.

“I hope you’ll come out of your shell a little, Ms. Carmichael. You were vibrant during the interview process. I hope that wasn’t a one-off. It’ll be hard to sell STEM as cool with a mousy science nerd girl as the PR star.” He was suddenly back in the conversation full force. I flushed.

“Tony! It’s first-day nerves. We can’t all be the shiniest constellation in the sky all the time,” Pepper scolded him. “Don’t pay attention to him, Ella. Parties bring out the worst of his quirks.” The way she said it, I could almost see the air-quotes hanging in the air around the word quirks. I smiled.

“I promise you, Mr. Stark. I can be just as shiny as you need me to be when surrounded by young women. It’s when I’m in the presence of the likes of Dr. Banner and Dr. McCoy that I tend to get star-struck. And I think, did I see Reed Richards?” I found my voice. Mr. Stark smiled.

“Since we’re all making friends, you may as well call me Tony,” he allowed. “I make sure my best and brightest get a chance to meet the best and brightest.”

“As much as I appreciate the opportunity, it’s just a little overwhelming.” I felt it was only fair to be honest with them, since they were my employers. Pepper squeezed my hand again.

“I have no doubt, after speaking to your references, that you will be everything that we are looking for, Ella,” she reassured me. I took another sip from my glass, and Tony suddenly noticed it in my hand.

“Please tell me that’s not water. We have a strict no water at parties rule here at Stark Industries.” Mr. Stark took my glass away and finished what was left. He coughed and handed it back. “Oh, I think you’re going to fit in here quite well, Mouse.” Angela took the glass from me and got a fresh one from the bar. I reminded myself to go slow. There was no point in getting drunk in front of such an auspicious crowd on my first day.

Angela led me around to a number of people I would be working with, including my direct supervisor, Markus Reid. He shook my hand with enthusiasm and launched into a long-winded explanation of my project and how it would fit in with his project. I found myself lingering with him for longer than was probably necessary. He was passionate about his work with the arc reactor technology and he reminded me of my thesis supervisor, ready to help and happy to share whatever advances he had discovered. It was the lynchpin in making me settle for the evening. If my supervisor was excited to have me, no one else really mattered. Angela’s face lit up and she excused me from the conversation. 

“Shut up. You are not going to believe this. I have someone to introduce to you!” She exclaimed. I followed her as she led me across the lounge and toward the windows overlooking the outside deck. I couldn’t figure out who she wanted me to meet, but the last person who’d been near where we were headed was Dr. Banner, and I was sure she’d seen him earlier. She slowed to a more dignified walk and led me to Dr. Banner. He was chatting with a petite brunette who looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. Dr. Banner looked up and acknowledged Angela as he finished what he was saying to the other woman.

“Angela, you always walk with such purpose.” His tone was warm, and he gripped her hand with both of his. It was obvious from Angela’s relaxed posture that they’d worked with each other a few times.

“Comes with the job. This is Elizabeth Carmichael, one of the new interns here at Stark,” she introduced me. “Ella, this is Bruce Banner.” She paused and turned toward the woman. “And if I’m not mistaken, this is Dr. Jane Foster?”  Dr. Banner shook my hand and nodded toward Dr. Foster.

“So pleased to meet you, Dr. Banner. It was your work that led me into the sciences.” I tried not to gush. I don’t think I was successful.

“Really? My understanding was that physics and engineering were your specialties,” he asked. My heart nearly stopped. He knew my areas of study. My science geek girl idol knew my specialties.

“I got really into green energy during my undergrad studies, and my focus switched,” I admitted.

“And my accident had nothing to do with that?” He raised an eyebrow. I laughed and realized that might not have been the best response. I bit back my smile and shook my head.

“Actually, no. Your accident happened when I was in first year, and I stuck with my studies as a minor. It was when it was time to begin my master’s that I felt I could do more good, with my level of knowledge, if I pursued green energy,” I explained. He looked thoughtful.

“And once again, Bruce, I point out that your accident has significantly less effect on the opinions of others than you think,” Dr. Foster jumped in, and offered her hand. I shook it. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Ella. Tony has been beside himself with excitement about your thesis. I think the other two interns might be getting the short end of the stick.”

“Except that there is no short end of the stick at Stark,” Banner argued. Dr. Foster laughed and nodded.

“It’s so true. I wish these internships had existed when I was struggling for funding.” she looked past my shoulder, distracted. I turned and followed her gaze until it lit on the most beautiful man I think I’d ever seen. He was tall, and blond, and broad, with a big smile and an equally large laugh. And from the way Dr. Foster was looking at him, I realized he must be Thor. “I didn’t realize he was going to be here.” The smile fell from her face.

“I’m sorry, Jane, I had no idea. Why would he be here? He’s not one of you sciencey types,” Angela apologized. Dr. Foster turned to me and shook my hand again.

“It was truly lovely to meet you, Ella. I look forward to watching your project. If you ever need anything, Angela can get you in touch with me. Even if it’s just a woman-to-woman bitchfest. We STEM ladies need to stick together.” She excused herself and made her way quickly to the elevator. Angela and I watched her as the elevator doors closed. I was disappointed, but turned back to Dr. Banner. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Thor stepping up to us.

“Banner, my friend! It has been too long since we’ve met. You look well!” Everything about Thor was big. He pulled Dr. Banner into one of those one-armed-man-hugs, his massive arms straining against the confines of his t-shirt. He towered over both of us. He released Dr. Banner and turned to Angela and I. If I looked anything like Angela did, I was gawking like a slack-jawed idiot. I nudged her gently and she closed her mouth.

“Ladies, it is well to make your acquaintance. I am Thor, of Asgard,” he introduced, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Angela.

“Ella Carmichael.” I couldn’t form any other words. There was just so much of him, and it was so close. I was completely star-struck in a way I’d never been about a fellow scientist. He took Angela’s hand.

“Angela Benett,” she breathed. I was so glad I wasn’t the only one on the verge of swooning. The man was truly a specimen. Banner cleared his throat, and I snapped my attention back over to the man who had arguably been the first crush of my science geeky heart.

“What brings you here, Thor?” he asked. Thor turned back to him and smiled his ridiculous, large, beautiful smile.

“I had need to speak to Tony. I’d not realized it was a celebration, or I would have come tomorrow. Twas not urgent,” he explained. “And I am afraid I have chased Jane from her colleagues.” There was regret in his tone. Things were obviously over with them, not merely bumpy or awkward. 

“He said twas,” I whispered to Angela. She stifled a giggle. I’m not sure why it was so amusing, other than that I had finished my second vodka. I’m not sure what her excuse was; I knew she hadn’t been drinking. “I hope we’ll get a chance to talk more about what you’re studying now, Dr. Banner.” I had to excuse myself before I made an idiot of myself in front of Dr. Banner and Thor. Angela followed me to the deck. I stretched out on a deck chair and looked up at the sky. Stark Tower was so high that it seemed to be above the smog of the city. There was still loads of light pollution, but I was reassured that the stars were the same in New York City as they were at home in Washington. We sat quietly for a few minutes.

“Thanks for being my sidekick, Angela,” I sighed. “I don’t know if I’d have made it through the afternoon, let alone this evening, without your assistance.”

“Well, like I said, it’s my job. But paycheque aside, you’re alright, Ella,” she chuckled.

“I’m glad you think so. I don’t know if I can afford Stark wages to keep you as a friend.” Across the deck something caught my eye, and I slipped off my shoes to walk over to it. Angela must have seen it too because she followed curiously. It was the biggest damn hammer I’ve ever seen in my life, just sitting on a low table beside the pool. It was fancy, tooled with knotwork. I ran my hand over it. I wasn’t sure what it was made of. It had the warm feel of vibranium, but it almost seemed to hum under my hand. I slid my hand up the leather wrapped handle. The grip was comfortable. I squeezed the handle, and felt the give of the leather wrap against my hand.

“I don’t know if you should be playing with that, Ella,” Angela warned.

“What do you suppose it is? It feels like it’s got more of a purpose than just a giant paperweight, or decoration,” I thought out loud, flexing my fingers along the handle. It felt like it needed to be held. I might not be describing that properly, but it was almost like it spoke to me. Which clearly suggested I’d had too much to drink.

“I haven’t seen it before, but I don’t get up into this part of the tower much. Is it heavy? Maybe it’s a prop or a prototype or some sort,” Angela shrugged. I adjusted my grip on the handle and prepared myself to lift it, assuming it would be ridiculously heavy. I was surprised when after a slight tug of resistance, I was able to heft the thing in the air. The air around us crackled with static, and suddenly a shock ran through my body, from the hand that was holding the hammer through to my feet.  Everything around me slowed down, almost like slow motion in the movies. I looked up at Angela and saw Thor and Dr. Banner running towards us over her shoulder. Thor was reaching out, his mouth forming some kind of words, but I couldn’t hear them. I felt the hammer tug out of my hand and it flew away from me. The electricity left my body and I collapsed on the pool deck.

“What the actual fuck?” I muttered before blackness overtook my thoughts.

[fenriss]

i am so close to going full tanya harding on my psych practice’s knee so i just need to rant

first of all i’ve had 9 fucking MH professionals to deal with medication management in the last 2 years. NINE. the longest i had one was for about 7 months, which thankfully was the first one i had after my mental health crisis in 2019 so i was at least able to get my meds figured out and be pretty stable before the fucking Great Psychiatry Exodus where every single provider decided to leave the fucking practice they were at after one (1) whole session with me.

the last three i had, i told them my bad luck with providers and how they all leave the practice and i swear to god all 3 of them said “oh haha well i’m not leaving any time soon!” and then they left LMFAOO

the last 2 i had were from the same practice so i decided to switch to a different practice. especially after my most recent provider was only there for 6 months before leaving. clearly something weird going on.

new practice seems great. easy to use website and so easy to set up an appt. had my first appt, once again stressing that i’ve not had the same provider twice in a row in a year and a half now. provider was super nice and was like wow! that sucks! well i’m not going anywhere :-)

i get an email before my second appt saying i have $250 to pay still from my first session and if i don’t pay it, the appt will be canceled. what the fuck. then i figure out they don’t have my correct insurance information which is partially on me, but i always forget what falls under major medical vs behavioral health because i have two different insurances for those. so i call and explain and give them the correct info. i guess it was on me for not confirming that my appt wouldn’t be canceled….but i show up for my appt (online waiting room) and my provider is online but she never connects with me. i waited a full 45 mins and then she signs off. i was like ??? okay???

so i call the office and they’re like oh your appt was canceled because you didn’t pay. so first of all 1) you didn’t tell me the appt was canceled. fuck you for that. would’ve been nice to receive a fucking email or something so i don’t show up like a jackass 2) i explained that i called to fix the problem so what the fuck? and 3) now i’m out of medication so i need to see a provider…

(also just fucking annoying that my provider could clearly see i was signed in/waiting for her in the waiting room and didn’t bother to just send me a quick IM saying hey your appt was canceled! just let me sit there for a fucking hour)

office person is like well her next appt isn’t until july 26 (this appt was july 6) and i was like fucking great let’s do it. they sent me to the nurse to ask about medication. had to leave a message. whatever.

i ended up just paying the $250 because i didn’t want THIS appt to be canceled too. i figured once the claim went through i’d be refunded but i haven’t been home and my behavioral health insurance does everything through snail mail in the year 2021 :-)

i get a call from the nurse and she’s like oh yeah we can refill your Rx no problem so like finally some good news. but then i say i’m in florida and could they send it to the walgreens down here? and she’s like ohhhh we don’t send meds across state lines usually so i’ll have to ask your provider. excuse me? so no client can go on vacation for longer than their medicine allows? literally how is that okay? besides the fact that where i pick up my meds is none of their business. literally. like i could’ve had them send it to the walgreens in VA and then call walgreens to transfer it for me and they’d be none the wiser (i ended up doing this for one med because i was so over it). anyway. got my meds. it’s all good.

so my second appt rolls around today. everything is great. the balance was paid. i received a call friday confirming the appt.

however. lol. the portal they have stopped letting me log into the desktop version. my phone is fine. zero problems. but the exact same user name password on desktop says it’s wrong. i swear i checked it like 30 times. didn’t work. so i was like okay whatever i’ll just go straight to my provider’s online waiting room. i did so. logged in there. waiting. ten minutes past the appt i was like…..i swear to fucking god if they canceled on my and didn’t tell me again i’m gonna commit a crime. call the office. apparently if you’re on hold for more than 5 mins, they send you to voicemail. fuck that. i just called again. i get a person. yay.

i ask if she’s running late or w/e and the office person says i didn’t confirm the appt by logging into the patient portal. are you fucking kidding me? i haven’t received an email about this july 26 appt at all, let alone one telling me i need to do XYZ to confirm an appt. the phone call i got confirming the appt didn’t say to call back or go online. i literally had to hunt through my browser history just to find her waiting room address. (after logging into the portal after all this shit, there isn’t even a fucking link to the waiting room anywhere so idk where i was supposed to find that without already just knowing it).

i explain all this, how the portal isn’t working on desktop anyway (i literally put a note in my phone about it) and i was IN the waiting room on time so what the fuck. and the office person very helpfully was like oh well she can call you if there are any cancellations. okay. whatever. but i’m out of meds today so…. office person very shittily says “i will let her know” with this fucking tone like i’m the one who dropped the ball here. jesus fucking christ.

look folks i barely want to be alive as it is but having to fucking fight tooth and nail just to talk to a person so i can get the meds that make me not die is like. A FUCKING joke. i am the least flakey person ever and i look like an insane person who can’t do basic tasks to this clinic because their shit is so fucked up.

all this on top of the fact that my therapist is just. idk. the vibes have been way off and i just miss my old therapist so goddamn much especially with life returning to normal w covid and hey my dog has cancer! i’m just ready to throw in the towel.

[kpop---scenarios]

Temptations

Commissioned by: @blueblondewonhoishot​

Warning: Smut, Angst 

Word Count: 11.2k 

Everyone wants to fall in love, but sometimes love isn't enough to keep you together, and sometimes someone tries to break you apart. 

As the youngest child in your family, you were always the last one to find out anything, especially if it had anything to do with the family business that your grandfather worked so hard to build. 

Being the youngest of 3 had its perks, but honestly there were more disadvantages than anything, considering you were the only girl as you had two older brothers. It was clear since you could remember your father and grandfather groomed your brothers to become the perfect workers, and perfect people to take over the company when they passed. No one ever considered you, because with you being a girl, you were supposed to just get married and have children while being a stay at home mom. 

You weren't here for that life. It had taken you a while of begging for your father to even consider allowing you to work an entry level position in the company at the age of 20, but you were strong willed and determined to prove you had just as much potential and capability to run the company as good, if not better than your brothers. 

When you turned 25, you were made a financial advisor, and you'd finally earned a slight nod of approval from your father. It was the most acknowledgment at work you had gotten from him that wasn't really work related. Today was the best birthday you had, and now nothing was going to get in your way now. 

** 

"Lee Hoseok, graduated top of your class at SNU, majoring in Finance." Mr. Park murmurs. 

"Yes sir." Hoseok nods, holding his head up high. He needed this job, Christ did he need this job. His bills were piling up, his grandmother's hospital bills. She had told him not to worry and that she was handling it while he was in school but now it was just found out she hadn't been handling it. Hoseok's parents weren't around any longer, having taken off when he was younger, so he had no one. His grandma was all that he had, and he would do whatever he needed to do to take care of her. 

"We'll give you a shot. Come back tomorrow, 8am, 6th floor. Ask for Kim Y/N, She'll take care of you." Mr Park says, abruptly leaving Hoseok sitting there, his nerves finally melting away. 

** 

The next day, you excitedly entered the large building of Jangu. Co. You grew up but for the first time it was your first day now as a financial advisor. No more slumming it on the 3rd floor with the Analyst's for you, no, you were now hitting the big leagues on the 6th floor and you couldn't be more excited. 

"Good morning Y/N." The 6th floor secretary, and one of your best friends, Minsu smiles. 

"Ah, yes it is." You reply with a giant smile of your own. 

"Wait." She calls after you. Minsu grabs your wrist, pulling you around the corner before leaning in closely to you. "You're showing someone around today." She whispers, peaking around to make sure no one hears her. 

"What?" You ask, not quite understanding why anyone would choose you, considering this was your first day as well. 

"I don't know specifics, but just that you have to show him around until the advisors meeting at 10am." She finishes shrugging her shoulders before whispering bye as the phones begin to ring. 

You shake off Minsu's words as you walk towards your new office. 

"Oh Y/N!" You hear Minsu again from down the hall. Christ, you just want to make it to your office. Turning around you place a fake smile over your face until you notice she's not alone. Trailing along closely behind her, an extremely well built, handsome man in a tight fitted suit. 

Uncontrollably, you let out a small breathy moan as you attempt to subtly look him up and down. 

"Jesus christ." You whisper to yourself, adjusting your slightly unbuttoned top. 

"This is Park Y/N." Minsu says, bowing to the man before winking at you and taking off. 

"Hello, I'm Lee Hoseok. I was told to find you this morning. " he says. His arms made your pussy throb, and now his voice makes it throb and drip. 

You clear your throat, trying to not make a fool out of yourself. "Yes, that is right. Please head to my office and I will be there in a few minutes." You say in your most professional voice. 

You sounded like an idiot. 

"Where's your office?" He asks. 

Fuck. You didn't even know where it was. 

"Um." You pause. "I'll show you." You tell him, turning down the hall, praying that this was the right way. You look closely at each door, trying to find your name while this man follows you, likely thinking you're a giant fucking idiot. 

"Ms. Kim?" He questions. 

"Yes?" You ask, turning around. 

"Isn't this your office? Kim Y/N?" He asks, pointing to a door half way down the hall from where you currently stood. 

"Oh uh yes, good eye." You say, walking back to him. "It was, uh, test." You murmur opening the door, sneaking by him to see Mr. Park, while trying not to be too embarrassed. 

What was wrong with you? You've never been affected by a man like that before, and suddenly you become a giant mess? Get it together. 

** 

Hoseok couldn't help but laugh at how flustered you got. Honestly, he thought you were adorable, the way you furrowed your eyebrows, the way your cheeks became red when you were flustered and embarrassed. He enjoyed noticing these types of things about women, more specifically women he found attractive. And did he ever find you attractive. He knew he couldn't never act on anything, he needed this job more than anything and he wasn't about to lose it because of anything. He needed to stay focused and do what he was there to do.

Hoseok wanders into your office, wondering where you snuck off too and when you were coming back. He wanted to get straight to work but wasn't entirely sure where he was supposed to go, so he awkwardly sat in one of your chairs, and waited for your return. 

** 

"Mr. Park." You say, walking to his desk. Mr. Park was your father's very trusted secretary, and puppet. He did the dirty work your father didn't want to do, sometimes he wanted to keep his hands clean but Park had zero issues carrying out your father's orders. Honestly he terrified you a bit, but you refused to show it. 

"Ms. Kim. What can I do for you?" He asks, his expression lifeless and cold, as usual. 

"The new guy? What am I supposed to do with him?" You ask, crossing your arms. "This is not how I expected to spend my first day as a financial advisor." 

"Ah yes, Mr. Lee. There's a staff meeting in 10 minutes, please bring him there and I will direct him from there." Mr. Park tells you, looking down to continue his work. 

As you head back to your office, you think about what it would be like to have an office romance. You wondered if he would want to keep it a secret or declare his feelings for you in front of everyone? 

No, stop it. You can't get involved with anyone, you're working your way up the corporate ladder, you can't date anyone, let alone a coworker. 

"You." You say, standing at the door of your office. "Let's go." You finish turning to walk back down the hall. Hoseok quickly stands up, following behind you, but not too close. 

You enter the board room with Hoseok trailing behind you. Picking a seat, he decides to pick the one directly beside you. Your face heats up again. 

"Let's get this done quickly people, there's work to do." Mr. Park says, placing his papers on the table. "We have a new hire, Lee Hoseok." He says, gesturing towards him. "Everyone take care of him. He is our newest financial advisor, who will be working with Ms. Kim for the next few weeks as she shows him the ropes and how to handle the clients." He announces. 

Your eyes almost pop out of your head. Are you working with him for the next few weeks? Closely? You wouldn't.  You couldn't, you actually physically couldn't because you might do something you'd regret. Your attraction to him was very real, and the fact that you might do something was a very real possibility. Usually when you wanted something, you got it and as much as you tried to deny it, you wanted him. You knew you needed to keep your distance, as much as you could. 

"That concludes the meeting, have a productive day." Mr. Park says before abruptly leaving the room. 

"Well, shall we partner?" Hoseok smiles. You just about melt. 

"Y-Yes." You mumble, standing up quickly to walk out of the room. 

"Let's head to my office, you can show me how to set up my things." He smiles, moving to walk in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, his office happens to be just a few doors down from yours, and you have a perfect view of his desk, you can see your desk from his. 

"Okay, so this is the client list. You can take this half, I'll keep this half." You say, deleting your half so he's not confused. "Your email is here, your phone number here, clients info is in this folder here." You say, showing him everything on his computer. 

"And this.." you begin before being interrupted by Hoseok's phone loudly ringing. He quickly declines the call, placing it back in his pocket before he pays attention again. He leans over you in the chair, pointing to something on the screen. Though as he leans, his hard chest lands on your shoulder, sending a shock through your body and slight wetness to your panties.  

He was about to say something to you, when his phone began ringing again. Once again, he declined the call but almost immediately it rang again. 

"You should probably get that if it's going to keep ringing." You say, standing up from his desk. 

"I apologize, Ms. Kim." He says, before answering the phone. 

"Hello?" He whispers as you walk out of the room, back to your office. 

"Ms. Kim!" You hear a voice before your very best friend saunters into your office with a mischievous smirk on her face. 

"How may I help you, Chae?" You ask with a small laugh. 

"New hottie. What's his deal?" She asks, sitting on your desk. "He is a goddamn snack!" She yells loud enough for surely the entire floor to hear. "Give me all the info." 

"I don't know anything. I'm a professional." You say, pulling your jacket down. 

"Professional my ass." She snorts. "Speaking of asses, did you see his ass? It's like a double layer cake, that I would love to eat, lord." She groans, mimicking a biting motion.

You can't help but laugh because she was absolutely right. The ass on him made you slightly jealous, but also made you hot. He was definitely one hot piece of ass. Seconds later, there's a knock on your door frame, and there stands Hoseok. You and Chae's laughing comes to a quick stop as you stare at him, trying to figure out if he heard or not. 

"Ladies." He smirks. 

He definitely heard. 

"Would you like to join me for lunch?" He asks, cocking his head to the side. 

Fuck. 

"I think we're.." you begin to say before Chae so rudely interrupts you. 

"We would love to. Let's go!" She says, hopping off the desk and shakes his hand while being extra flirty. 

"Okay.." you finish, muttering it to yourself. "Let's go I guess." 

**

As the three of you sit at a table and wait for your food, Chae begins to ask Hoseok a list of questions. She starts off easy as usual and then she will begin the tougher, more intimate questions. 

"Where were you born?" She asks. 

"Busan." He answers. 

"Nickname?" 

"Wonho." 

"Family?" 

"Mom, dad, and two older sisters." He smiles. 

"Interesting. Y/N has two older brothers." She says, nudging your arm. 

"Girlfriend?" She asks. 

Hoseok looks uncomfortable, but lucky for him, the food arrives, saving him from having to answer her question. 

The table goes quiet as you all enjoy your food. Hoseok adjusts his legs under the table, accidentally brushing his knee against yours. Your head shoots up to look at him, only to already be met by his eyes, locked on your face. He smirks before winking at you and then continuing to eat his food. 

You feel like your heart might actually beat out of your chest. Your face gets flushed again as the memory of what he just did plays over and over in your head, making you blush a little harder each time you think about it. 

"Right, Y/N?" You hear Chae say, bringing you out of your daze. 

"What?" You say, coming back to the real world. 

"It's customary to take new hires out for celebratory drinks on the Friday of their first week." She winks at you. Clearly Hoseok had seen it, because he began to chuckle. 

"Yes, yep, it's tradition." You shrug with a smile. 

"Okay, I'm in." He laughs, taking another bite of his food.

You couldn't wait for Friday.  

That night you went home and did whatever you could to try to erase the thought of Hoseok from your mind. You didn't need this kind of distraction, or temptation if you would. But no matter what you did, your brain wouldn't let him leave. 

As you doze off to sleep, your brain decides what better way to get rid of him than to have a sex dream about him. 

You're standing inside the supply closet, the door propped open behind you. You're looking for paper for your printer, when you feel a body pressed up against you, and something hard in your backside. 

"You've been such a tease today." Wonho grunts, wrapping his arm around you, grabbing tightly to your shirt with both hands before ripping it open, buttons flying everywhere.

Your breath hitches as he cups your breasts, grinding his cock into your ass.

"Naughty girls need to be pushed." He spits, pulling your skirt over your ass before undoing his belt to pull down his pants. 

"You ready baby?" He grunts, coating his cock in some spit, pumping himself before lining himself up with your entrance. 

Your hands reach up, grabbing whatever shelf you could as Hoseok rams his cock into your pussy, not letting you adjust to his size. He continuously pulls himself out before pushing back in, stretching out your walks. 

"Won't tease me again, will you?" He grunts. 

"If this is my punishment, I definitely will." You breathe, as Hoseok's large hand wraps around your neck, squeezing tightly. 

"I want you to cum all over my cock." He growls. 

Beep

Beep

Beep

Unfortunately for you, the second before you came, you were woken up by the sound of your lovely alarm clock. 

You never did finish that dream.

As the week went on, you found yourself staring across the hall at Hoseok, daydreaming about what it would be like to hear him moan. How big his cock was, if he was any good at eating pussy. More than once he caught you staring, and only smiled in response. 

Everytime the two of you were in the same room, you swore you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. If you had it your way, you'd happily have him swipe everything off yours or his desk and fuck you senseless in the office, but unfortunately for you fucking your coworker during working hours was against company policy, you were sure. 

** 

When Friday finally rolled around, and you were all done work, you were sitting at a table with your coworkers surrounding you, while you each had a shot and a drink in front of you, as you all laughed at some lame joke someone made. You loved that you got along so well with everyone, but you were having a hard time concentrating while Hoseok sat beside you, especially since every time he moved, his leg brushed against yours. When he would adjust his pants, his finger would lightly graze along your bare thigh. You made sure to wear a short, yet work appropriate skirt that day. 

Your breath hitches as the last graze lasted a few minutes longer than the others. 

"I'll be back. Bathroom break." You breathed to everyone at the table, needing to get yourself together. 

You stood with your hands on the sink as you took a few deep breaths, giving yourself a small pep talk in the bathroom mirror. "You've got this. He is your coworker, that's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Get ahold of yourself, Y/N." You growl to yourself. 

Taking one more breath, you pull the door open, only to be met with a pair of strong hands on your shoulders, pushing you into the wall. You look up to see a dark eyes Hoseok, breathing heavily. 

"What are you doing to me?" He pants in your ear,  pressing his body against yours. "I can't control myself around you." He groans. 

"Then don't." You whisper. 

Hoseok leans in closer to you, his luscious lips almost pressed against yours. 

"I can't." He breathes, smacking his hand against the wall beside you, frustrated. "I'm sorry." He finishes before walking away. 

You stand against the wall for a few seconds, trying to figure out what just happened and why he left. You shake your head as you walk back to the table, noticing Hoseok wasn't there. 

"Where'd he go?" You ask Chae. 

"He took off. Something about having to be up early." She shrugs. 

You wondered if maybe you had done something wrong? Maybe telling him to let go around you freaked him out? Maybe he had a girlfriend? All the possibilities ran through your head all weekend as you went over every detail, trying to figure out where it went wrong. 

The weekend came and gone, as quickly as it began. You laid in your bed Sunday night, wondering what Monday was going to look like. Would it be awkward or uncomfortable? Would he ignore you? Maybe act like nothing happened, although would it really be acting considering nothing truly did happen. 

You fell asleep that night worried about what the next day would bring. 

** 

All morning Hoseok's office door had been closed, and he never left, giving you zero chance of speaking with him. You could just go and knock on his door, but you didn't want to disturb him or make the situation worse, so you left it alone.

You didn't see him Tuesday either. 

Wednesday afternoon, you were lucky enough to be awarded a lovely visit from Mr. Park. 

"Ms. Kim, you're going to be heading the Jung case with Mr. Lee. Do a good job on this. You'll be presenting to Mr. Jung and the board on Friday." He says, leaving without giving you a chance to ask any questions, like did you have to work with Hoseok? You didn't do well in awkward situations. 

Taking a deep breath, you stand up from your chair to make your way to Hoseok's office. You try to shake your nerves off while you stand right outside his door. You knock three times, gently, trying to not seem too eager. 

"Oh." He says. "I wasn't expecting to see you." He admits. 

"Yes well here I am." You laugh. "Mr. Park has put us on the Jung case." You tell him.

"I'm on that case? He's one of the biggest clients. The commission is huge?" He says, his eyes wide. 

"I know. We have until Friday and then we have to present to the board." You tell him. 

"That's barely 2 days." He says, worried. 

"I know. So we better get started." You tell him. 

** 

Friday came quickly, and so did the slot for your presentation. Hoseok had assured you that the two of you did an outstanding job and everyone would love it. You just hoped he was right. 

"..and that concludes our proposal for Mr. Jung." You say, finishing off the presentation that you and Hoseok had worked so hard to complete.  

As it turns out, your hard work seemed to have paid off, because Mr. Jung was thoroughly impressed with what you and Hoseok had come up with for him regarding his finances and agreed to go with the plan. 

"Celebrate?" You asked Hoseok. He happily nodded his head and the two of you set out to your favorite spot for dinner and a drink. 

One drink happened to turn into two, and then three, and continued to where the two of you were currently on your fourth drink, having finished your dinner hours ago the two of you were already slightly drunk. 

"I have a confession." He says. "I like you. I've liked you since I first saw you." He says, finishing his drink before putting his hand up for another one. 

You smile as you down the rest of your drink, going to admit the same thing to him. "I like you too." You whisper. 

"Then what are we doing? Two people who like each other should be together!" He slurs. 

"I agree Hoseok." You giggle. 

"Call me Wonho." He smirks. "Can I take you home with me tonight?" He asks. 

"Please take me home." You say. He puts out his hand for you to grab. Happily you take it, after hell places some bills on the table to cover the evening. 

You're both silent in the cab back to his apartment, not touching each other. Wonho slowly guides his hand over the seat, sliding it over your hand. He curls his fingers, holding your hand before pulling you towards him. 

Wonho leans in, going to press his lips to yours, but before he can, the cab driver pulls to the side, telling you that you were now at your destination. 

Nervously, you get out of the cab, standing on the sidewalk as you wait for Wonho to finish paying. Once he does, he grabs your hand, leading you inside and to the elevator. The doors open, and Wonho pulls you in, you two being the only ones riding the elevator up. 

Wonho turns to face you, walking towards you, making you back up until you hit the wall. "I've wanted to do this for so long." He growls leaning his head in close to yours, finally allowing his plump lips to press against yours. Within seconds, he slips his tongue into your mouth, both of you eagerly needing each other. Wonho bends down slightly, placing his large hands behind your thighs, signaling you to jump. You happily comply as you wrap your legs around his waist, never breaking the kiss. 

The elevator doors open, you're on his floor but he doesn't set you down. Instead, he carries you to his apartment, unlocking his door and heading inside with you still wrapped around him. He makes it to the kitchen before he places you on the counter, standing in between your legs. 

Wonho stands back from you, appreciating you before beginning to unbutton your shirt. Wonho never breaks eye contact as he unbuttoned the last one, sliding your shirt over your shoulders and down your arms, leaving you in your bra. He slides his hands around your back, unhooking your bra before discarding it on the kitchen floor. 

He smiles as he leans his head down, cupping your breast, lifting it up to gently place a nipple in his mouth, sucking harshly. 

"God." You moan, throwing your head back. 

You raise your hands, running your fingers through his soft hair. You slowly push him away from you, sliding yourself off the counter, allowing your tits to bounce slightly before you get onto your knees. 

You lick your lips as you unbuckle Wonho's belt, and unbutton his pants, shimmying them down his legs, along with his boxers. 

"Ooh." you squeal as his cock springs free, pre cum dripping from his red tip. You tilt your head up, looking him in the eye as you lick the cum from his cock before placing it in your mouth, sucking a few times before taking in as much as him as you can. 

"Shit baby." he groans, throwing his head back. 

Pulling him almost out of your mouth, Wonho thrusts his hips forward, shoving his cock down your throat, causing you to choke a little. 

"Fuck." he moans, letting you swallow his cock a few more times before pulling himself from your warm mouth, and standing you up. He bends you flat over the counter before spreading your legs wide. He drags your skirt and your pants down, over your ass and down to the floor. 

Wonho gently sticks his fingers inside your pussy, pumping them in and out before reaching up a little more to rub your clit. 

"Oh my god." You cry out, your legs shaking as he hits the perfect spot, each time. 

"I'm going to fuck you." He groans, pulling his hand away from your clit. 

You stand up and turn around, placing your hands on his shoulders to bring him down to the floor. Wonho lays down on the kitchen floor as you step over him before bending down and lining his cock. You line yourself up with him, slowly sinking down on his cock as he spreads your pussy, stretching you out. 

"Fuck." you both cry out. You slowly start rocking your hips back and forth, making sure to rub your clit on his pubic bone as you ride him. 

With a smile on your face, you adjust yourself, placing your feet on the floor, you begin bouncing on his cock, making him moan louder. 

"Holy shit." he cries out. 

You lean yourself back, placing your hands on his legs as you continue to bounce yourself on his cock. He reaches his hand up, rubbing your clit with two fingers. 

It doesn't take long for you to cum all over his cock, your eyes rolling back into your head. 

Wonho groans at the sight of you, removing his hand from your clit and pinching your nipple instead. 

Minutes later, Wonho cums, spilling it all inside of you. As you take yourself off of him, his cum seeps down your leg as he shows you to the bathroom. You both clean yourselves up quick before collapsing in his bed, falling asleep instantly. 

The next morning you woke up, Wonho's muscular arm draped over your body. You bite your lip and smile at the memory of what happened between the two of you last night. Although you were both drunk, you remembered it all and it couldn't have been better. 

"Good morning, beautiful." Wonho mumbles, his eyes still closed as he nuzzles his head into your neck. 

"Good morning." You respond, rolling over and wrapping your arm around him. 

"Breakfast?" He asks, his voice muffled. 

"What would you like?" You ask. 

"Let's make breakfast together." He suggests. 

Your heart flutters. 

"Okay. Let's do it." You smile. 

That morning, you and Wonho spent your time together making a large breakfast, that the two of you could barely eat. Eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, toast, pancakes. It was a meal that could feed an army, but the two of you had so much fun making it together. There were plenty of kisses shared between the two of you, along with your favorite back hugs. You could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him with every second that you spent with him, and now you'd finally decided to stop fighting it and just let yourself be happy. 

You and Wonho spent the entire day together. You watched movies, talked for hours, learning all about eachother. You even told him about your father and who he was. You had thought he would have been mad or uncomfortable with the thought of dating his boss's daughter, but to your surprise he was okay. You both agreed to leave your relationship out of the office, strictly professional. 

"Relationship?" You giggled. "What, are we dating now?" You laughed. It was Sunday afternoon and the two of you had spent the entire weekend together. 

"We are. That is if you would take me as your boyfriend?" Wonho smiles. 

"Of course." You laugh. 

He laughs as he cups your face, leaning down to gently place a kiss on your lips. 

You couldn't believe he was yours, and this was your life. 

You were in complete bliss, for a while until everything began crumbling before you. 

The first few weeks of your relationship with Wonho was amazing, you kept it professional at work and passionate outside of work. Things were just working out perfectly for you both, until a rumor started going around the office about the two of you. There was only one person you knew who was into office gossip, and she just happened to be your best friend. 

"Chae." You start, standing by her in the break room. 

"Oh hey! Is it true?" She asks with a smile, wiggling her eyebrows. 

"Did you start it?" You ask. 

"Start what?" She says. 

"The rumor." 

In a split second she began looking uncomfortable. As much of a gossip as she was, she was a terrible liar and a dead giveaway.

"I'm sorry! I saw you guys out for dinner, and I told Minsu but told her not to tell anyone!" She exclaims. "But she did and then it just spread." She finishes, looking apologetic but at the moment you didn't care. No one needed to know about your personal life and you thought it was pretty shitty of her to say anything in the first place instead of coming to talk to you. 

"I really am sorry.." she whispers. 

"Yeah, so am I." You mumble, leaving the room and heading to Wonho's office. 

"There's a rumor about us." You pout as you close his door. 

"I know." He smiles. 

"Everyone knows." You say. 

"I know that too." He laughs, looking back at his work. 

"What are we going to do?" You ask, slumping down in the chair. 

"What do you mean? Who cares if everyone knows? I love you. I want the world to know that I'm with the most amazing, sexy, smartest, funniest woman, and she's all mine." He smirks. "I want all the guys to be jealous you're mine, and all the women jealous I'm yours baby." 

Out of all of that, there were only 3 words that you heard. 

"I love you." 

"You love me?" You whisper. Wonho freezes and looks at you a little shocked. He really didn't think you would have caught that. Was it too early? You had only known each other for a few weeks but he had never felt like this about any woman before. He knew you were the one the moment he set his eyes on you, the one he was going to marry, the one he was going to have children with, the one he was going to grow old and grey with. Watching your children get married, have their own children. He could picture it all with you by his side. 

"I do love you." He says confidently. 

"I love you too." You whisper, smiling while you lean in for a kiss, squishing his cheeks together with your hands. 

If this is what love felt like, you never wanted it to end. 

** 

"It seems as though Mr. Lee and Y/N are in a relationship, sir." Mr. Park tells your father, CEO Kim. 

"Mhm. I see." Your father says, sitting behind his desk contemplating his next move. "Keep an eye on him. Report back to me asap." He finishes.

Mr. Park bows at your father before heading off to keep an eye on Hoseok. He knew your father wanted something on him, and whatever he wanted Mr. Park would do. 

** 

"I've got to get back to work. I'll see you later?" You ask, lingering by the door of Wonho's office. 

"Yes. Let's go for dinner?" He asks. 

"Absolutely." You smile, walking from his office back to your own. 

Once Wonho was alone, he picks up his cell phone, dialing a number but first checking to make sure you were out of ear shot.  

"Hi." He speaks into the phone. "Yeah of course I'll see you tonight. I've just got something to do first and then I'll be over there." He says. "Yes I know. I'll bring it don't worry. I love you too." He finishes, hanging up the phone. Wonho begins typing on his computer, not noticing the man who heard everything walking away from his office, and directly to the office of CEO Kim. 

**

"It seems as though he might have someone else, sir." Mr. Park says. "I overheard him on the phone." 

"Look into his background. Dig up whatever you can." CEO Kim tells him. 

"Yes sir." 

** 

Over the next few days, Wonho becomes a little distant and closed off, not speaking to you much, constantly on his phone and distracted. Everytime you tried to speak with him, he either had to run off on an errand, had a meeting or had to take a call. You had barely seen him, and hadn't slept in his bed with him in a week. 

You were confused. Had you done something to piss him off? Was he in some sort of trouble? 

The next day, you'd finally caught a glimpse of him sitting in his office, typing. No phone call, no meeting, nothing. You walked over there determined for answers. You push the door closed before sitting down in the chair across from his desk. 

"What's going on?" You ask bluntly. "You've been ignoring me and very secretive. Did I do something?" You ask. 

"What?" He asks, confused. "No you haven't done anything. I've just been dealing with some stuff baby, but it's done now." He smiles. 

"It is? Are you sure?" You ask to clarify. 

"Absolutely. I love you, I would tell you if something was bothering me." He laughs. He turns away from you as his work phone rings loudly. 

"Hello? Okay. Okay. Be right there." He says before hanging up. "Okay baby, I have a meeting. Dinner tonight? I'll meet you at Rizo's." He smiles, placing a kiss on your head before taking off. 

You couldn't wait to spend some time with him tonight, hopefully either stay at his apartment or have him come over to yours, since it was the weekend. Either one would work, as long as you were with him. 

** 

5:30pm rolled around, and you left work in a happy mood and headed to the restaurant. 

6:15pm, you sat at the restaurant, waiting for Wonho to arrive. 

6:45pm, you call his phone only for him to not pick up. 

7:30pm, you try calling one more time, only to be sent straight to voicemail.

8:00pm, you finally gave up waiting and went home. 

You checked your phone constantly, but heard nothing from him that night. 

Waking up in the morning, you check your notifications, yet none of them are from him. You can't help but have a terrible feeling in your stomach, like something happened. You try calling him again, and it went to voicemail. 

You call him again, and this time he answers. He sounds tired and annoyed. "What?" He snaps. 

"What are you doing? Are you okay? You didnt show up last night." You whisper. 

"I'm fine. Look, stop calling, just leave me alone." He growls before hanging up the phone. 

Frustrated and annoyed, you get up to get dressed quickly and make your way over to his apartment. What the hell happened to make him change his mind so fast? Why was he being so harsh to you? What have you done? 

40 minutes later, you're standing outside his front door, your hand up ready to pound on the door. 

Knock

Knock

Knock 

Within seconds, the door swings open, revealing a long haired beauty. 

"Can I help you?" She asks with a smile. 

Oh god you think. 

"W-Wonho?" you stutter. She was stunning. Was she his girlfriend? Fiancee? Friend? 

"Hey!" She yelled behind her. "There's a girl here for you. She looks sad." She says, giving you a sympathetic smile, that you didn't notice. 

"What are you doing here? He snaps. 

"What is wrong? What happened?" You ask. 

"Nothing happened. Christ, you're so fucking clingy. Leave me alone." He shouts. 

The girl behind him muffled a laugh as he began snapping at you. Your eyes dart over to her, giving her a confused look as she smirks at you. You try to shake it off, remembering you're there to get answers from Wonho. 

"Why didn't you show up yesterday? Something happened! You told me you loved me before making dinner plans with me!" You yell. You didn't understand how he could change his tune so drastically. 

"I lied. I don't love you. Never did. I used you to further my career, but look at what that got me. Nothing, except a clingy bitch. Now leave me the fuck alone." He spits, going back inside and slamming the door in your face. The tears that had been previously threatening to fall, spilled down your cheeks. 

Why.. how could he change his mind so quickly? He had spent the nights with you telling you his plans for the future, including you in all of them. He told you he loved you, you were the one, he didn't want to be without you. 

And now he's telling you it was all a lie, that he used you. 

Your heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces. You could barely see out the windshield as you drove back to your apartment. Your tears refused to let up, just as your heart refused to repair even a little bit. 

** 

Wonho slid down the door after he had slammed it in your face, his head in his hands as he let his own tears fall freely.

"Who was that?" Yoomi asks, crossing her arms.

"None of your concern." Wonho snaps. "Did you pay grandma's hospital bills with the money I gave you?" 

"Yes I did. Where did you get 14 million Won anyways?" She asks. 

"Again, none of your concern." He spits, walking to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He didn't have the energy for her today. 

** 

The weekend for you was nothing but a blur. After you had gotten home on Saturday morning, you cried and slept, and cried more and slept. You were pretty sure you didn't eat anything, drink anything, or even leave your bed. You were a disaster, a heartbroken mess of a woman and you had no idea how to get out of it. 

Even though you wanted to lay in bed forever, and forget the world, you got up Monday morning and put on an outfit that said professional, but was the least professional outfit you owned. You gave no fucks today. You left your hair alone, not giving shit as you looked in the mirror. Your eyes were so red and puffy, absolutely noticeable you had been crying. 

You did your best to cover up your eyes, but even makeup couldn't hide what a mess you were, so you said fuck it and decided to scare everyone today. 

**

Sitting in your office, you glance at your clock and it's only 11am. You want to die. Everytime you heard footsteps going down the hall your stomach dropped in fear that it was Wonho, but you hadn't seen him yet. 

Yet, and you spoke far too soon. You looked down for a brief second and looked out the door when you lifted your head, and there was Wonho, standing outside his door staring into your office. You thought you saw his face twist in pain slightly, but you could have been wrong since it went back to being ice cold in a split second. 

You could feel the tears slipping again, and you refused to let him see you cry again. You quickly log off your computer and grab your phone and purse, not caring about anything else before walking out of your office, past Wonho and to the elevators. You needed to get the fuck out of there and grab a drink. 

Thank god for the bar down the street. 

**

Glancing at your phone, you're a little shocked to see it's already 7pm and you've been drinking for 7 hours. Unlocking your phone, you decide to message one person back, the one person you knew would be here within 10 minutes if you asked her too. 

"Fucking Chae, telling Minsu about Wonho and I.. it's her fault. She's the reason he left me." You mumble to yourself. 

"Bitch!" You hear from across the bar. "What the fuck happened?" Chae asks as she sits across the table from you. 

"Bitch? You're the bitch." You spit. Chae's taken aback. 

"What?" She asks, confused. "What did I do?" 

"You and your loud fucking mouth had to tell Minsu about Wonho and I. You're the reason he fucking left me. Maybe if you sucked a few more cocks you wouldn't have time to gossip about me." You slur, flipping her off before standing up and staggering out of the bar.

Sober you knew that Chae and her big ass mouth had nothing to do with you and Wonho breaking up, you were sure there were much bigger issues than that but she was there and easy for you to take your aggression out on. 

You knew you shouldn't have done it, even plastered you knew you were wrong but it all came out like word vomit that you would most definitely have to apologize for another day. You cried a little more as you staggered to your apartment, flopping on your bed. 

You weren't going to work tomorrow. 

Instead when you woke up, you ate all the junk food you could find in your house before ordering more, along with more alcohol. 

This was how you spent your week. Binge eating junk food, drinking and crying while watching couples get together in your favorite Korean Dramas. 

"Fuck you Hyungsik for getting your happily ever after." You bawled. "Where's mine!?" You cried, throwing your bag of cheeseballs at the TV. 

To say you were a wreck, was a heavy understatement. 

On Sunday you were feeling a little better and had decided you were going back to work on Monday, but as you were trying to decide what to wear, everything looked like it would be too small. Surely you hadn't gained that much. You stepped on your scale, and almost fainted. In your one week of being home and bringing, you had gained 15lbs. Usually, it's not the end of the world but you were nowhere near mentally strong enough to deal with that much of a weight gain in such a short time. 

You ran to your phone, dialing the number of someone you knew could help you. 

"Chang-wook? I'm hiring you, starting tomorrow morning. Jaggu. Co gym, 6am. See you then." You finish, hanging up the phone. 

Ji Chang-Wook was an old friend of yours, one that you're not afraid to admit you found him wildly attractive but he was more like a brother to you than anything else. He had the body of a god and could easily help you get back into shape. You didn't want to be this girl, torn apart after a break up. You repeated the quote your mother always told you to live by. "If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours and if it doesn't, it never was." 

If Wonho was meant to be yours, he would come back to you but you needed to give it time and show that you were doing okay while you waited. 

** 

Monday morning rolled around far too early for your liking. You cursed yourself for binge eating but more so cursed yourself for calling drill sergeant Changwook. 

"You're late." He exclaims as you walk into the already busy gym.  

"Bite me." You snap back. Your eyes scan your surroundings, and just your luck, Wonho is standing in front of the large mirror, pumping what you can only assume are the biggest weights in the building. "Shit." You whisper, turning around. 

"Why are you attempting to hide?" ChangWook asks, looking you up and down.

"My ex is over there." You whisper, jerking your head in Wonho's direction. "The one pumping iron and the reason why I'm in this situation currently." You finish bitterly. 

"Okay, well let's get working." He says, placing a loud and hard slap on your ass, causing you to yelp and Wonho to turn and look to see you laughing with ChangWook. 

"Shithead." You murmur as he drags you over to the treadmill, making you run for 45 minutes straight, without a break. 

When you're done he drags you over to weights, and other machines you wish you could name but honestly you weren't paying attention. Part of you just didn't care, but the other, larger part was too focused on what Wonho was doing, and the fact that the two of you continuously made secret, discreet and flirty eye contact. You were pretty sure, well you hoped it wasn't all in your head. 

After spending all day in the gym, which turned out to only be an hour and a half, you said goodbye to the man who would be responsible for your death and went to collapse in the shower for a few. 

When you finally felt like you'd survive, you got dressed for your day at work, hoping the rest of your day was a little easier than your morning. 

And it was. You only saw Wonho four times throughout the day, and only cried three out of the four times, so you were making progress. 

The next few days were hard, you had to work semi closely with the man you once saw a bright and beautiful future with, while he acts like he doesn't have a clue in the world as to who you were. That hurt the most, the pretending you two had nothing but you still wanted him. Despite all he said to you, or did to you, you still loved him. 

"Ms. Kim, you'll be paired with Mr. Lee for this project. You all need to present tomorrow morning, and Mrs. Seo will choose her advisor after the meeting. Work hard." Mr. Park announces before taking off immediately after he ends the meeting. 

"What the fuck." You whispered under your breath. You were annoyed you had to work with him, things were going very well with you and him by keeping your distance. You didn't want to have to actually speak to him or work with him, but you didn't have a choice now, did you? 

"Should we go to my office or.." Wonho quietly asks, standing behind you. 

"Mine." You snap, standing up quickly and stalking off. 

Wonho silently shuffles behind you, keeping his distance from you but also keeping pace. 

You sit down in your office chair as Wonho pulls one up to your desk, ready to work. 

"So I think if we went with this approach, it would absolutely save her more money in the long run." Wonho suggests. 

"Oh would it? Would it save her more money? Thanks so much for your input." You snap. 

You knew you should be professional, you knew you were being a shithead but you couldn't help it. He was acting like he didn't tear your heart out and stop on it before chopping it into pieces with an axe. 

"I'm sorry.. I was just.." he starts. 

"No it's fine. I'm sorry. It's a great idea. Let's go with that." You say. 

The next thing you know, it's 2am, and you and Wonho are still working, although almost done. 

"End it like this?" He asks. 

"Yeah, that's good." You say with a yawn. Standing up from your chair you stretch your body, bending over to stretch out your back while forgetting your skirt happened to be one of the shorter ones you owned, that just happened to slide up ever so slightly over your ass. 

Wonho's breath hitched as he watched your skirt slide over the curve of your ass. "Shit." He murmured, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. Without thinking, he walks towards you, biting his lip as he gently presses his semi hard cock to your back side. 

You stand straight up, shocked. You try to walk away but Wonho wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you against him. He places his head in the crook of your neck, taking in a deep whiff of your scent. 

"Fuck, I miss you." He sniffles into your hair. 

"Then why.. why did you.." you start before Wonho backs away from you. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.. I can't." He mumbles, grabbing his briefcase and taking off. 

You went home that night and cried yourself to sleep. 

Wonho went home and cried in the shower, his cock still hard at the memory of being so close to, pressed up against your ass. He knew this would be hard, but he really didn't think it would be this hard. 

"Mr. Lee, thank you for joining us." CEO Kim says as he sits across from him and Mr. Park. 

"Of course, how may I help?" Wonho asks. 

"Your grandma is fairly sick, isn't she?" CEO Kim asks. 

Wonho is slightly taken aback, he wasn't aware anyone else besides family knew about his grandma. 

"She is." He answers. 

"Now, what's your relationship with my daughter?" CEO Kim asks, his face now becoming more stern. 

"Oh, um, we are in a relationship." He announces. He wasn't sure if he should have said anything, but truthfully it was his boss and your father, he couldn't lie. 

"I see." CEO Kim says, clearing his throat. "My Y/N is a sweet girl. Smart, kind, passionate and comes from a well off family. She needs to be with someone more like her, which is why I have her husband picked out already." 

"You're marrying her off?" Wonho asks, shocked. "Does she know?" 

"No she doesn't know. And she won't know until everything is ready. Her and Park Seojoon will be happy once they learn to love each other, but we have an obstacle. You." He says, pointing at Wonho. "She can't be with you. So you're going to end things with her." 

"I-I can't do that." Wonho says, standing up. 

"You can and you will. Do you enjoy living in the apartment you're in? Because one call from me, I can have you evicted with nowhere else to rent. I can fire you from this job and stop you from getting any other job in your field, you'll be slinging burgers for $5 and hour. I'll also tell her about your dirty little secrets" He threatens. "You're sweet grandma, you're very behind on her hospital bills. Agree to my terms, and your debt is covered, along with all payments every month to the hospital. Your job is safe and so is your housing. What do you say?" 

"Fine." Wonho agrees, he has no choice. 

"I don't care what you tell her, or how you tell her. End things permanently."

Without another word, Wonho walks out of his office, ignoring your calls to see where he was for dinner. Ignoring the fact that he should be at the restaurant with you, not planning to destroy you. What choice did he have? 

** 

"Hello?" You answer your phone in the morning, feeling like it was far too early to be getting a call. 

"Y/N, come for breakfast this morning." Your mother says. 

"Is it necessary?" You groan. 

"Yes. Now please. And look presentable." She says. "Love you." 

Click.

Great, a breakfast can only mean one thing. You're in for quite the surprise. 

** 

"Thank you for showing up in a timely manner." Your mother says, giving you a quick hug.

"What's this about mom?" You ask, your stomach nervous. 

"Just eat, Y/N." You father says, keeping an eye on the door. 

A few seconds later the door opens, revealing a very attractive man in a suit. He looked to be about your age, maybe a few years older. 

"SeoJoon! Thanks for coming." Your father laughs, standing up to hug the man. 

"Y/N, this is Park SeoJoon. He's the heir to Park Foods, and.." your father pauses, looking at your mother. "Your future husband." He finishes. 

You choke, you choked on your melon as soon as your father said the word husband. 

"I'm sorry, WHAT?" You partially yell. "Nice to meet you, but no?" 

"Y/N.." your mother starts. 

"Don't Y/N." your father growls. "Be kind to your future husband." 

"I'm not? I'm.. sorry, but again no. Every Time you've brought this up I've told you I'm not marrying someone for financial gain, or for company mergers. I'm marrying for love." you say.

"You'll end up loving him eventually.." your mother sighs. 

"I'm not in it for eventually. I want the reason that I marry someone to be because we love each other, not because we're forced." you sigh. "In fact, there's already someone I would love to marry." you finish with a whisper. 

Your mother perks up at your announcement, while your father seems angry. "You better not be talking about that new hire!" he yells, slamming his fist on the table. 

"I am actually." you spit back. 

"That's over. I took care of that! it didn't take much for him to leave you! Some threats, and a few million dollars? He's weak! SeoJoon is the one for you!" He yells. 

"You took care of that?" you ask, tears brimming in your eyes. 

"Oh Hyunjo, you didn't.." your mother gasps. 

"That's why he left me? Because you threatened him to the point he was terrified and took some money?" You laugh, but the humor is nowhere to be found. "I always knew you did some shady shit, but this is low, even for you." You cry. "I'm your daughter! And you treat me like my life means nothing. I can't believe you." 

Without a second thought, and ignoring the pleas from your mother, you burst through the front doors of the house and went straight for your car. You have one destination in mind, and you hoped he was home when you got there. 

** 

Arriving at Wonho's apartment, you violently bang on his front door, yelling for him. 

"What?" the woman who was there last time answers. 

"Is he here?" you ask. 

"I don't know. But what I do know is that you should leave now." She says. 

"Wonho!" You yell again. "I know about the threats and the money from my father! Please, talk to me." you yell over her. 

Seconds later Wonho comes into view, moving past the woman that had been there previously. 

"You know?" He whispers. 

"I do..and I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me!?" You cried. "I could have helped you!" 

"I didn't know what to say. How do you tell someone you love their father threatened them and paid off a large amount of debt and hospital bills? That's not something that comes easy to say over dinner or drinks." He tells you. 

"I get it. I just wish I could have prevented it." you cry. "I could have done something." you sigh.

Wonho doesn't say anything, but instead pulls you into him, tightly wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. 

"I'm sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean it." he whispers, nuzzling his face into your head. "I have never, for one second stopped loving you. It broke me to say those things to you, to physically see your heart break. I'll never forgive myself for that." He finishes. 

"It's not your fault. It's my nosy ass father, who by the way, tried to marry me off today." You scoff. 

"Oh, so you met SeoJoon?" He asks. 

You back away from him. "You knew?" 

"Kinda? I guess? He told me there was someone he wanted for your husband, but we didn't dive in any deeper than that." Wonho replies. 

"Same shit. Christ. He's psychotic." You grumble. 

"Come on." Wonho laughs, grabbing your hand to drag you inside. 

Immediately your body stiffened as you remembered the girl that's been here far too often for your liking. 

"Soya!" Wonho shouts. 

"What do you want?" She asks, coming face to face with you. 

"This is my girlfriend, the love of my life, now please get the fuck out." Wonho smiles at the woman who now looks offended. 

"You're seriously kicking me out?" She scoffs. 

"I seriously am." Wonho laughs. 

"Nice to meet you girlfriend, I'm his sister, Soya. And I'll be going now I guess." She snaps, grabbing her jacket and storming out. 

"That's your sister?" You ask, relieved. 

"Yes? Who did you think it was?" He wonders. 

"A wife or fiancee." You laugh, feeling stupid now. 

"You're the only one I want to be my fiance and then my wife." Wonho smiles, placing both his hands on your face and pulling you in for a kiss. 

Fuck you missed him so much. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled your body in close. 

"Come" you whisper, pulling away from him and grabbing his hand to drag him to the bedroom. 

You close the door, before facing Wonho with a loving smile on your face. 

"What?" He laughs. 

"I just missed you, and I want to show you how much I missed you." You whisper, gripping the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his body and throwing it out of your way. Placing your hands on his chest, you lightly push him back to fall onto his bed. Wonho moves himself up the bed, laying on his stomach while he waits for what you're going to do next. You quickly discard your shirt and bra, while also tossing your pants to the side, leaving you only in a pair of black panties. 

"I want you to tell me what you want, and how you want it. Okay?" You whisper, placing kisses along his back. "This is all about you."

"You don't have to do this baby." Wonho groans as you run your hands up and down his back. 

"I do. Now shhh." You whisper, stroking his shoulders and around his neck. You run your fingers up the back of his head and through his hair, tugging lightly. 

You move yourself down his body, straddling his ass, so you can lay yourself flat against his back, peppering small kisses along his shoulders and his neck. Your perky breasts pinned against his back as you whisper some of the things you love about him. 

"I love your smile, your eyes, your laugh." You whisper. "I love your arms, your abs, your voice. So handsome, so strong." 

Sitting up, you rub your hands down his arms that are now spread out. You lay yourself against him again before you slide off, laying closely beside him. Wonho rolls to his side, cupping your face before leaning in for a kiss, one which you dodge, moving down the bed to rub your hands up and down his legs, making sure to relax him even more. Your hand reaches down between his legs and gently rubs his balls for a few seconds before moving back to his legs and ass. 

"Seriously." He groans, rolling over abruptly. 

Now you straddle yourself on top of his front, just above his hard cock. You run your hands up and down his arms, over his chest and down his abs. 

Leaning forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, before his hand reaches up, grabbing your head to pull you in for a kiss. 

You smile as you break the kiss, looking him in the eyes. "Do you trust me?" You whisper. You stare at him until he nods yes. 

Biting your lip as you wiggle yourself down, gliding your clothed pussy over his erect cock, earning you a groan from him. 

You bite your lip as you move your panties over to the side, placing his cock in between the lips of your pussy, and grinding on him. 

"Oh my god." He groans, his hands coming up to reach for your waist, helping your hips grind against his cock. 

"You tell me what you want baby," you groan, his cock perfectly sliding against your clit. 

"Suck my cock." He groans, using his large muscles to halt your movements. 

"Anything you want, baby." You moan, sliding off him to get on all fours. You hover over him, licking up the pre cum that spilled from his cock, with the tip of your tongue. 

"God. Don't tease me." He groans, bucking his hips slightly. 

Opening your mouth, you take in as much of him as you can, making sure to hit the back of your throat as you go down. 

"Such a good little cock slut." He groans, bucking his hips harder this time.  "Come here." 

You crawl towards him, leaning down to place a kiss on his lips. Wonho lifts his hands, cupping both your breasts, squeezing before pinching your nipples, tugging on them slightly. 

"Do you like that?" He asks. 

"Yes." You breathe. "This is supposed to be about you though." You partially whine. 

"It is about me, I also like to make you feel good." He smirks. "Now put my cock back in your mouth." 

After you deep throat his cock a few times, you come up for a breath and see Wonho's eyes dark, full of lust. 

"Sit on my cock." He growls. 

Without a second thought, you line your entrance up with his cock, slowly sinking yourself down on him. 

"I missed the way your cock filled me up." You moan, your eyes rolling back slightly.

"Move." He spits, placing his hands back on your hips to make you start riding him. 

Your hands move to his chest as you lift your ass up and slowly sink back down on his cock. "Fuck. I love that." Wonho groans, lifting your ass up to do it again. 

You move yourself slowly against him, wanting to keep things loving and slow, but Wonho seemed to have other ideas, beginning to get a little impatient as he waited for you to speed up. 

"Ride my cock baby, before I take over." He growls. 

You smirk as you continue with the same pace, wanting you both to slowly cum together. 

"I warned you." He snapped, sitting up and somehow flipping you so you were on your back, without his cock ever leaving your pussy. 

"This is about me, right baby? Well I want to destroy your pussy." He snaps. "Open your legs wider." 

With no hesitation, you spread your legs as wide as that can go while Wonho fucks you harshly. His hips snap as he pumps himself into you, desperately seeking his release, along with your. 

"Rub your clit." He demands, watching your hand move between your lips and begin rubbing. "That's right baby, rub your clit till you cum." 

"Fuck." You cry out, loving the sound of his voice when he talks dirty to you. 

"You gonna cum baby? Let your pussy cum all over my cock." He groans, his pumps becoming faster but sloppy. 

"Oh my god." You cry out, your orgasm bursting through your body, causing you to shake as you ride through it. 

"Good girl." He smirks, his grunting becoming louder. 

"Cum.. cum in my pussy." You cry out. Wonho grunts as he shoots his cum into you, painting your walls. 

"Fuck." You both huff, laying in his bed together, catching your breath. 

** 

A few days later, you and Wonho were sitting in the cafeteria at work, having lunch together, when you received a message on your phone from your father. 

"My father.. wants to see us bother." You tell Wonho, surprised. 

"Let's go." He says, shrugging his shoulders. 

"What? I was going to ignore it." You laugh. 

"Well you could.. but I don't want you to not have a relationship with him because of me." Wonho admits. 

"Trust me. You wouldn't be the reason." You say, rolling your eyes and heading up to his office with the love of your life in tow. 

"You wanted to see us?" You say as you barg into the office. 

"Hello, Y/N." Your father says. 

"Hi. What?" You snap, unimpressed. 

"Look." He sighs. "I want to apologize for my actions. I have realized I was very out of line, and should have more regard for your life and what you want to do. I just want you to be taken care of." Your father admits. 

"Sir." Wonho interrupts. "I have every intention of taking care of your daughter to the best of my ability. I would and will do whatever I have to, to make sure she has everything she wants and needs. She will never be without." 

"I sure hope so, son." Your father replies. 

Nothing could take the smile off your face as you watch your father accept the man you love, and your Wonho forgive your father's terrible actions. 

** 

8 years later, and you and Wonho are still together and more in love than you were the day before. 

A few days after you had sat down with him and your father, Wonho had gotten down on one knee and proposed.

Of course you said yes. 

1 year later the two of you got married. 

2 years later, your eldest son was born. 

2 years after that, your second oldest son was born. 

2 years after that, your youngest and last child was born, a daughter. 

1 year ago, your father passed away from a heart attack. You were happy he was able to see your happy life with Wonho, and meet his grandchildren, but you missed him dearly. He had offered you the position of CEO, when he passed. He had said you were far better qualified than your brothers. 

You happily declined. 

As you sit on your deck, you watch Wonho run around, playing tag with your boys. You laugh as you watch them try to catch him, but fail to do so. Your heart flutters as you watch your daughter run to him, wanting to play but knowing she wasn't fast enough. He picks her up and cradles her in his arms as he carries her, allowing her to play with them. You never wanted your life to be anything different. 

There was never a moment of doubt in your mind where you had not thought Wonho wasn't the one for you. He might have been a temptation in the beginning, but now he was your forever.

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (1)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3400

A/N: Yay! The re-write is here! I changed it so now there are flashbacks and stuff and the chapters are longer! I’m also posting this chapter a day early because of reasons. Anyways, enjoy!

[New York, New York, March 2024]

‘Soulmates?’ You had never heard of the concept.

‘We are destined to be together. The universe made it so.’

You shot up in bed, a light sheen of sweat covered your body. Loki’s words replayed over and over in your head. You hadn’t heard his actual voice in so long but it was still as clear as if he was speaking to you now. It had been twelve years since you had seen him in Germany and he had tried to take over.

‘We are destined to be together.’

The words echoed in your mind. ‘Destined’ huh? Well, if you’d learned anything from the past four hundred and eighty-six years that you were not with Loki, it’s that the universe does a shit job at keeping you together. You ran your fingers through your hair, easily smoothing out the tangled mess. It was too early to think about Loki.

You slipped out of the silk sheets that covered your king-sized bed in your two-level, top floor Upper East Side penthouse. You were very proud of how far you had come. The view was amazing. You could see some of Central Park from one side and the stereotypical New York skyline from another.

As you walked out of your room, you caught your reflection in one of your full-sized mirrors. And that was definitely a nice view. When you came out of Terrigenesis almost five hundred years ago, you quickly discovered that you were now the blueprint for a perfect person. Straight, white teeth, surprisingly tameable hair, and clear, unblemished skin were some of the visually obvious changes. In addition to your perfected looks, you had increased senses, healing, strength, endurance, and your favorite, pain tolerance. Oh, and don’t forget you basically look twenty-five forever.

You checked your phone while you made breakfast in the kitchen downstairs. There were a couple of emails from your employees on their latest jobs. You opened one from Max, your right-hand man. You were reading over some job offers he had handpicked for you when you got a text from the man himself.

Bringing up some donuts!

Max was the only person from work to have access to your penthouse. He was your best friend. The two of you had met when you were at Afterlife nearly fifteen years ago. He was an Inhuman as well. All of your employees were Inhumans, using their specialties to carry out their jobs. Max had the power to change surfaces. It was a strange power, but he had learned to make it very useful. He could cause his pursuers to slip on the suddenly ice-like ground or climb up a glass skyscraper.

“Hello, bitch! I brought donuts!” Max called from the elevator.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Max walked in holding the goods. He always wore eccentric color-coordinated outfits. Even the times you saw him in stealth mode, he had to have some lace or frill somewhere. Today he wore a mixture of neon green and pink with matching eyeliner.

“Are Cosmo and Wanda disguising themselves as your clothes?” you asked.

“Haha,” he deadpanned. “I knew you were going to say something like that. You’re so fucking funny. Soo…” He plopped the three large donut boxes onto your kitchen counter. “Have you heard of the Avenger’s new quote-unquote recruit?”

“Um, I think it’s your job to keep tabs on heroes.” You opened the nearest box and happily pulled out your favorite donut.

“Okay. Number one: I’m not speaking to you as your right-hand, right now, but as your friend.” He held up his finger. “Number two: it’s not really a job if I do it in my free time anyways. You’re paying me to do something that I do on an hourly basis.”

“You stalk the Avengers on an hourly basis?”

“No? Anyways, number three: it’s Thor’s brother. It’s your Loki.”

“What the fuck?” you choke on your donut. Max was the only person who knew you that you and Loki had a history. And that’s all he knew. Nothing about soulmates or all that shit. “What the fuck, Max? Did you try to use donuts to soften the blow? Stop laughing.”

“I-I wish I had caught that reaction on camera,” he said in between fits of giggles.

“Haha,” it was your turn to deadpan. “Fuck, man. I guess we just have to double our efforts to keep ourselves off of their radar.”

“Do you think they’ve forgiven him for New York?” Max composed himself.

“I mean, they must have if they’re letting him join the team.” You chanced another bite of your donut.

“But lots of people haven’t.”

“Lots of people still haven’t forgiven Barnes,” you pointed out. You didn’t know when or why Loki had attacked New York. That Loki was nothing like the man who you had grown to love back in the 1500s. But you were nothing like that girl either.

 “Have you chosen a new job from the list I sent you?” he changed the subject.

“No, not yet, and you have a little…” you motioned to the corner of your mouth.

Max got the hint and wiped some powder off of his mouth. You noticed the sprinkling of grey that was mixed into his curly black hair. He displayed the last fifteen years proudly while you remained unchanged. Max was the closest you’ve been to someone in a long time, and just like everyone before him, you would outlive him. But you would remember him. You remembered everyone. You remembered everything.

Right now, you thought of Agnes, your first real friend. She was your handmaiden and you had met right before everything went to shit. She had helped you cope after you underwent Terrigenesis, although you hadn’t known what it was back then. She had helped you run away and even died for you. You had only known her for nine years, but you compared everyone to her. Max held second place, right after Agnes.

“I think we should take the Senator’s offer,” Max said, jolting you out of your memories. He pulled up the offer on his iPad. “One million to off his upcoming competition.”

“Damn,” you whistled. “He’s desperate, isn’t he? Is there a deadline?”

“No, but I assume we should get it done quickly.”

“Send over the info.”

🌹

You shoved the flower into Jake Morano’s mouth. Blood from the bullet wound in his forehead trickled down until it turned the perfect, white rose red. You snapped a quick photo on your burner phone to send to the Senator as confirmation. With a huff, you looked around the apartment. Mr. Anderson had put up a fight, although it didn’t do anything to deter you and Max. A few glass awards were in pieces on the hardwood floor, family pictures were shattered, and the wall behind you held a couple of bullets from Anderson’s gun.

“All good?” Max asked from his location by the computer. He was deleting all footage of you being there. And everything else, just to be safe.

“Yep.” You walked over to him, your boots making a satisfying clicking on the ground, and proudly displayed the picture of the dead body. “Got the confirmation picture for the Senator. How’s it coming?”

“Almost… there. We’re good to go.”

The two of you left in your favorite black Lamborghini. Unfortunately, you actually had to drive places now that Gordon was dead. You followed his advice, though, and bought a plane along with four other sports cars, a helicopter, and a couple of motorcycles. You knew how to operate every single one of them. What else were you supposed to do except for establishing your contract killing empire?

🌹

Loki stood in the middle of his assigned room with his hands on his hips. It certainly was much nicer than the last prison the Avengers had kept him in. They may say it wasn’t a prison but the twenty-four-hour surveillance from Stark’s new AI said otherwise. Even though it was nicer than the shitty glass cylinder from twelve years ago, it was empty. Thor had shown Loki the few things in his room: books, photographs, and his own goddamned merchandise. 

Would Loki have his own merchandise one day? Everyone was redeemable as shown by Romanoff and Barnes. Maybe there would be plastic replicas of his helmet? No, Loki thought that was stupid. Only heroes got merchandise and heroes had to show up to events and sponsor health drinks or whatever the fuck they do. Heroes had to be nice.

Nothing good ever came from being on Midgard. Most recently, there was his father dying, although what followed was worse. Before that was the attack he had been forced to make on the city. And the first time he had ever come to Midgard had ended with disappointment and heartbreak.

Loki sighed and waved his hand to conjure green and gold accents, sheets, and blankets. At least there was color in the room now. No doubt the AI had reported that he had used his magic. He hoped it had also told them that all he did was improve the room, he didn’t need anyone talking to him at the moment.

“Good afternoon, Reindeer Games,” the AI echoed through the room. Loki glowered at the sound of Stark’s nickname. “There is a meeting in Conference Room Five that the entire team is required to attend.”

Loki hadn’t the faintest fucking idea where the conference rooms were. He left his room and caught sight of his brother and the Valkyrie. The God of Mischief followed the pair down to where the meeting was taking place. Did he really want to go? If he wanted to be part of the team he would have to. He preferred the Revengers, though. While it had lasted. It was smaller.

Everyone was sitting around the long table. Of course, Loki would be the last to arrive. Stark and Barton both glared at him when he entered. Understandable. Romanoff remained impassive, but Loki knew she would bash his head in the first chance she got. Rogers had to remain positive that Loki could be redeemed because if the Norse God could redeem himself, then so could Barnes. Bruce had warmed up to Loki on the journey to Midgard. None of the newer members of the team outright hated him, but they were still cautious around him.

Loki found himself sitting in between his brother and Bruce. Stark went up to the screen at the front and everyone fell silent.

“This is Jake Morano.” The screen turned on to show a dead man with a rose stuffed in his mouth. “He was going to run for Senator against this guy.” The screen changed. “This guy is William Anderson, a very corrupt Senator. In the last month, Morano began to gain a lot of support including a sponsor from us. Well, a sponsor from me in the name of the Avengers.”

“Are you implying that Anderson killed Morano?” Rogers asked.

“I’m saying that Anderson hired someone to kill Morano.” The screen changed again to display multiple bodies left with a rose in their mouths. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a quick search of bodies with roses found in their mouths and we found a shocking amount of similar deaths. The first ones dating back to the nineteen twenties. More recently, some of the deaths have happened at the same time on opposite sides of the globe. Deaths include, but are not limited to, shooting, stabbing, poisoning, drowning, burning, missing organs, being found stuck in a wall, and looking like a suicide. They all have a white rose soaked in blood in their mouths.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a serial killer?” Wilson questioned.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the same guy,” Romanoff pointed out. “Especially if it goes back to before Steve looked like that.”

“It’s gotta be an organization,” Barnes guessed. “Been around for a while, a couple of deaths happening at the same time, and one constant MO.”

“Loki?” Everyone looked at the God of Mischief when Stark said his name. “You’re technically a part of this team now. What’s your opinion?”

“Barnes is probably right,” Loki said after a moment’s hesitation. “The locations are all over the place and there are many different ways the victims met their demise.”

They nodded and Loki returned to silence.

“Alright, game plan.” Stark clapped his hands. “We have to get Anderson into an interrogation room. Round one is the good cops: Steve and Sam. When he doesn’t crack, and he won’t, we up the intensity. Nat and the Manchurian Candidate will do some intimidation. If he still doesn’t crack we can send in Wanda, or even Reindeer Games if she’s not comfortable, to search his mind.”

“Are all Midgardian politics like that?” Loki heard the Valkyrie ask Thor after the meeting. Thor only shrugged so she turned to Bruce.

“I mean, I haven't been here in a while but it’s always kinda been fucked up.”

Only an hour after the meeting, Anderson took out one million dollars in cash. Stark tracked him to a small cafe where he was going to, no doubt, pay the assassin. The team rallied, but of course, Loki wasn’t going. Apparently, he wasn’t ‘cleared’ yet. The only other people staying behind were the Valkyrie, Thor, and Barton due to a recent injury. 

Loki went to his room to sulk, although he told everyone he was thinking. He didn’t want to be here. Maybe he wanted to go somewhere that reminded him of home with tall buildings that reached the sky… 

🌹

"Hello, (Y/N)." Loki’s voice was as smooth as it was in your head, but it was different. The only way you could describe it was that it was solid. It felt less intimate. Like he could bless others with his words, but it was more special because he was here. 

"Loki," you breathed.

"You look more beautiful than I ever could imagine." He stepped closer.

You touched your hair self-consciously. There were multiple knots, and it probably looked like one of those bird nests the dogs always knocked out of trees. You had woken up in a hurry and your hair being trapped in the hood of your cloak probably didn't help.

Then it occurred to you that you were wearing only your nightgown, and you tightly wrapped your cloak around yourself. Loki wouldn’t hurt you, but no man has seen you in an outfit so revealing. Still, you took another step closer.

"I do not know what to say." Fortunately, your voice didn’t shake or waver as you had feared, but Loki could probably feel your nervousness.

You both took a final step closer. You reached up and cupped Loki's face in your hand which tingled slightly when you made contact. You admired his sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. Then you shivered in the cold winter air. Loki noticed and pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him and felt a shiver, a different, better shiver, shoot through your body.

“You’re real.” Your soft voice was almost lost in the biting wind. “I was so scared that I was dreaming.”

Another goddamned dream about Loki? You groaned into your pillow and pushed a few damp strands of hair away from your face. Why now, all of a sudden? Was it because he was so close? Just a few hours upstate in the Avenger’s compound.

Pushing the dream aside, you stretched and got ready for the day. You had sent the photo to the Senator, who you had learned was very fucking corrupted, and he replied with a location. That changed your plans a bit, you hadn't physically met a client in decades, but it was for the better for multiple reasons.

The first reason was that the cafe he had chosen was next to a flower shop where you got your supply of roses. The second reason was that it meant his apartment would be empty. While you went to get the money, and eventually kill Senator Anderson, Max was going to rob his house. It wasn’t something you’d usually do, but honestly, the shitty asshole deserved it.

Your lips were painted red and you wore your usual boots and a leather jacket. Your regular hair was hidden behind a pink and green wig, courtesy of Max. A baseball cap and large sunglasses further hid your appearance. Though if somebody knew your face, the hat and glasses did nothing. There were multiple knives hidden on your body as well as a handgun tucked into your waistband and a pocket pistol in your, well, pocket.

As you walked into the cafe, Izzy, the auburn-haired florist, nodded to you. She had Botanokinesis, plant manipulation, so your supply of white roses was never low. Every once in a while, Izzy would take a job but she had told you she was very happy in her shop.

You noticed the Senator immediately. He still wore a suit and the sunglasses did nothing to hide his identity. There were two young women behind the counter and you suspected that the four other ‘customers’ were too buff not to be the Senator’s security. Anderson had his back to the door which meant you would have to get past his security to get out. You zeroed in on the black briefcase on the ground by his feet.

“Senator,” you greeted and sat down across from him.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the asshole replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“Well of course I couldn’t be,” you rolled your eyes behind your heavily tinted glasses. “My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” He didn’t notice your sarcasm. You pulled out the burner phone and showed him the messages as proof. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase flat on the table and pushed it towards you.

“Open it.” Even though small boobie traps wouldn’t hurt you much, it wasn’t a piece of information you wanted to give him.

Anderson sighed and complied. Then you turned it around to quickly inspect the contents. One thousand one hundred dollar bills. Hello Mr. Franklin. You nodded in satisfaction and comically rubbed your hands together to inconspicuously grab a knife that was hidden up your sleeve.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

You closed the case, stood up, and plunged your knife deep into his left carotid artery. As his security descended upon you, you pulled the knife out and his neck satisfyingly squirted blood. The Senator collapsed with his hands clutching his wound desperately. The pool of blood rapidly grew underneath him.

The two baristas screamed behind the counter and the Senator’s security drew their guns. You flipped the small table for cover as bullets pierced the cafe’s window behind you. Perfect. Just a bit more.

You pulled out the handgun from your waistband and with practiced ease, shot three of the four goons. The last one got the bloodied knife to the face. You elbowed the already damaged window and it finally broke, raining glass down on you. Ignoring the small cuts, you jumped out of the cafe through the window as a familiar red and gold suit landed in front of you. Why the fuck were the Avengers here? What about Loki?

You darted into Izzy’s shop and she played her part well, screaming that you had run out the back when you had actually gone into the side room. You listened as the Avengers followed her directions. One person, maybe it was the Black Widow, stayed behind to help calm down the seemingly hysterical Izzy. If she wasn’t so happy at her shop and she didn’t want to work directly for you, she could be a great actress.

You rolled back the rug on the ground to reveal a metal trapdoor. You entered the code to unlock it and climbed down into the darkness. Behind you, you heard the trapdoor’s magnetic lock click back into place. Two centuries ago, you had tunnels dug underneath Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens for easy getaways. If you went… that way, you would end up in Sandra’s souvenir shop which was a couple of blocks away from your penthouse.

With a million dollars in one hand and a handgun in the other, you walked down the concrete tunnel.

*

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Taglist:

@kaithehero @liliannyah​ @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury​ @aberrant-annie

[allthelittlelostgirlsgrowup]

Love is History

*taps mic* is this thing on? (I stole that from Obama. He was still in office last time I posted my writing). 

So fun thing I did - write an angsty sequel to Love is Fiction. If you’ve never read it, it just got over 300 notes this past week. I figured it was time to dust this off from my drafts and complete it. 

I hope you like it and my voice sounds similiar to the last election year when I put this out. Honestly I’m so different now and I think this captures the changes I’ve gone through and the way I view relationships now opposed to four years ago. 

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment.

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”  

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas.

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga.

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind.

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay.

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find.

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to.

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy.

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.”

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in  Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name.

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/- “Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week.

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand.

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days.

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth?

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months.

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid.

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him.

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut.

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence.

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment.

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.”

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place.

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth.

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma.  He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart. Finally, an email came in.

Emma, I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart. Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.”

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop.

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention?

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.”  Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly.  She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.” She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing.

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. Are you up? It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”  

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word.

-/- She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it.

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.”

-/- He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. “Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness.

“Killian...”

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it.

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil.

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps.

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book.

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end.

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold.

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love.

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters. 

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing. 

She thought she’d never write their break up. 

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US. 

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment. 

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”  

-/- 

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed. 

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas. 

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

 -/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga. 

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind. 

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay. 

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find. 

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face. 

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again. 

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to. 

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her. 

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career. 

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy. 

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal. 

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?” 

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden. 

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.” 

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in  Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.” 

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name. 

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later. 

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/-

“Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today. 

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR. 

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week. 

“We had a meeting at 2:30.” 

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly. 

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand. 

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle. 

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days. 

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called. 

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off. 

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth? 

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months. 

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him. 

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid. 

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him. 

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut. 

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence. 

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating. 

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?” 

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?” 

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about. 

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment. 

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged. 

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye. 

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness. 

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break. 

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion. 

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received. 

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall. 

She is less. 

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before. 

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone. 

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.” 

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place. 

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do. 

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.” 

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth. 

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma.  He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart.

Finally, an email came in.

Emma,

I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart.

Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is? 

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.” 

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.” 

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop. 

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention? 

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

 “Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.” 

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.”  Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly.  She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way. 

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay? 

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove. 

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly. 

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it. 

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.”

She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs. 

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing. 

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured. 

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history. 

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.” 

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. 

Are you up?

It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man. 

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.” 

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door? 

“What's the escape plan this time?”  

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart. 

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it? 

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.” 

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word. 

-/-

She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word. 

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it. 

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return. 

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.” 

-/-

He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. 

“Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous. 

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.” 

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness. 

“Killian...” 

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.” 

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls. 

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it. 

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil. 

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his. 

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand. 

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. 

Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps. 

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips. 

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear. 

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before. 

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book. 

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’ 

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end. 

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold. 

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love. 

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other. 

[wroteasongabouther]

the one when y/n visits harry while he’s making hs2 and magic mushrooms are involved

authors note: this is apart of my ‘grumpy’ series, a bit of info that is in that story does fall into this blurb too so reading it first would be good. but it isn’t necessary. on a side note, i have no personal experience of doing shrooms, but i’ve seen people on them so i sort of wrote from that little bit of info i have. hope you guys like it! :)

authors note part 2: i want to warn you it’s a bit long for a blurb, also if you’re uncomfortable with drug use than majority of this won’t be for you.

grumpy fic page // masterlist // talk to me about it!

—

Making the move from New York to LA was necessary. Not only with your career lifting up, gathering another client to manager, but also with your boyfriend now spending most of his time here o record his second solo album. Also California was home. As much as you enjoyed the city life of New York, you knew nothing would ever be like home was.

“I’ll see you tomorrow mom,” you say aloud, your call connected through the Bluetooth of your car. She had given you her typical weekly call as you were driving down to Malibu.

“Alright sweetie,” she says. “Please do call before you come over, and you’re sure Harry will like Ribollita?” She mentions, again, of the traditional Italian meal she was planning to make.

“He’ll eat and enjoy anything you put in front of him, mom,” you say. “I’m at the security booth, so I need to go now,” you explain as the security guard on duty of the studio here in Malibu that Harry had been holed up in for a couple days now.

“Alright sweetie, love you,” your mother says.

“Love you too, bye!”

The call ends just as you ease your car to a stop at the security booth, hitting the button to your left just once for your window to automatically roll down. The security guard pulls out a clipboard and gives you a short smile.

“ID please,”

“Right,” you sigh, putting your car in park quickly in order to reach over the console to grab ahold of your purse that was at the floor of the passenger seat. Searching through it, you finally find your wallet near the bottom and slide out your ID. “Here you go,” you say with a smile as you hand it over.

The guard looks it over, checking if your facial features match, before scribbling something on the clipboard and handing back the ID card. He then hands over a parking pass for you before pressing a button and then gates open for you.

It doesn’t surprise you that Harry’s recording in a beach house that half had been turned into a studio that’s highly secure. Seeing as Jeff’s father owned a few places in this community it made sense that Harry had taken over one of the homes for himself and his team. The homes themselves were stunning. A dream home of yours, of course, so you were fully enjoying stopping by whenever you had the chance and getting to experience being in one of the most gorgeous houses you’d ever step inside.

It was two levels, a full garage attached too, with a large wrap around porch to complete it. It was a grey colour with white trim along the windows and the porch was white too. With perfect landscaping around it too. The ocean was a bit away but it still made a beautiful view, so there was a backyard too with many bushes and trees lining the property for privacy matters.

After parking your car, you walk up the small path to the front doors and walk inside the house. It smells like there’s a few candles burning close by, filling the air with the lovely aroma. You’re kicking off your flip flops just as you hear the familiar jingle of one of Harry’s producers dogs. The gorgeous French Bulldog comes straight to you, breathing heavy as you bend down and give him all your love and attention. 

“Oh, Mr Judy I missed you too,” you coo at the dog, cupping his face for only a second before he’s licking at your hands. Your heart bursts at his licks, oh how you wanted a dog of your own. Too bad life was just too busy. 

You pick Judy up in your arms and begin your walk down the hallway to what would be a guest bedroom with an ensuite and full walk in closet but it was renovated into a studio. The walk in closet was now the recording booth, and there was no bed in the bedroom. Just a loveseat, a couple chairs, and many different switch boards and other confusing recording gear you had no idea about. You’re muttering silly questions that you know Judy can’t answer about his day and how he’s feeling as you walk into the room. 

It’s dimly light, curtains hiding away any daylight that could seep into the room. A few candles are in fact burning on the coffee table that’s set between the love seat and the recording gear. The usual three faces you’ve grown to know over the past month or so are all seated around the room as you walk in, smiling at each of them. While the whereabouts of your boyfriend is quickly answered as you hear his voice over the speakers set up within the room. You put Judy down and turn to look through the window that was installed to look into the recording booth. Harry’s head is hung back as he belts out another mesmerizing note into the microphone.

“He sounds great,” you sigh as Harry finishes singing whatever backing vocals he was doing and he’s then scribbling something down in that same worn out brown leather journal you knew he held close to him every single day. 

“Yeah, he’s really been on a roll today,” Tyler, one of the two producers/mixers/who plays every single interment known to man for Harry’s songs - and Judy’s owner - states before hitting a few buttons on the switch boards in front of him.

“We’ve written almost two full songs, and it’s not even the evening yet,” Kid states from where he’s sitting on the loveseat. 

“Damn,” you breathe out and rest your hands on your hips just as Harry’s eyes flicker up and find you standing in the room. 

He lifts, what you assume is a glass of red wine, to his lips for a long sip before he sets it on the small table in the recording booth and takes off the headphones he had on. He steps out of the booth and has his arms around you in an instant. You are grinning as he’s squeezing your body tight, as though he’s trying to melt the two of you together. 

“Hey,” you chuckle, brushing a hand through his mess of hair quickly before the embrace is over. 

“Hey, thought you’d be here earlier,” Harry pouts. 

“I just had to do a few things for Meghan’s bachelorette party tomorrow night,” you shrug. Your second client that you started to manage just this past year, Meghan Trainor, was getting married in a month so it’s been more personal things you’ve been helping her with than business. Not that you were complaining, you loved weddings. 

“Her big days coming up soon,” Harry hums before you two are sitting together on the loveseat with Kid. You opt for sitting on the arm of the couch, not wanting to squish with Harry and Kid already sitting on the smaller area. 

“Yup,” you nod. 

All of you continue to make talk of how things have been. Seems Harry’s a bit of a lyrical genius in the moment, scribbling down in his journal as everyone is talking. He’s sipping his red wine, smiling, and honestly in one of the best moods you’ve seen him in in a while. You reach over and touch his arm, catching his attention away from whatever he was looking at on his phone. 

“Did you guys want me to make those pizzas now?” You ask, referring to the plan you had of making homemade pizzas since Kid had gone grocery shopping to buy what you needed. 

“Yeah, we could eat now,” Harry nods. 

You give him a smile before standing up and telling the others that you were going to get started on making dinner. Judy gets up from where he was laying by Tyler and follows you out to the kitchen. You can her the light sound of whatever song they’re working on as you are making the pizzas, moving your head along to the beat and swaying your hips too. 

It’s when the pizzas are just about ready to get out of the oven that Harry joins you in the kitchen. He’s by your side in an instant, snaking his arms around your waist as you’re typing a response to another email. Harry rests his chin on your shoulder, waiting patiently for you to quit typing and pay him attention - shockingly. 

“Pizza is just about done,” you say. 

“It smells good,” he states, but then he’s rubbing his face into the nook of your neck and brushing your hair back and forth. “You smell good too,” he adds, mumbling close to your ear. 

“Do I?” You taunt, giggling as he tickles you slightly.

“Mhmm,” Harry hums, “like strawberries,” 

“It’s my new shampoo,” 

“Well, I quite like it,” 

You’re turning in his arms then, bringing yours to rest at his shoulders as he’s leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. It feels like years since you’ve last shared a long passionate kiss, in reality it’s only been about a day now but you’ve missed his touch and affection. But you supposed his focus needed to be on making this new album. 

“Missed you,” Harry mumbles as he plants a kiss to your neck. 

“I missed you too,” you sigh. 

“Will you stay over here tonight?” Harry asks, looking in your eyes now. You can see the lustful spark in his gaze. The thought of having sex causes your core to ache, sending a shiver down your spine too. But sleeping over wasn’t your original plan, you had lots of things to do tomorrow and you were hoping to get a good nights sleep tonight.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. Harry pouts. “I’m just really busy right now with work, I should get home tonight,” you explanation doesn’t change his facial expression at all. Seems your wine drunk boyfriend was feeling extra needy today.

Just as you’re about to kiss him again, Judy starts barking. You turn out of Harry’s grasp and look to see what he’s barking at. Harry grunts and groans, obviously grumpy that Judy stole your attention away from him. Looking to see Judy was simply barking at the sight of people on the beach, you reach down to pet Judy before turning back to where Harry stood in the kitchen. The scowl on his face makes you laugh. 

“Oh how I love that dashing scowl,” you joke. 

“I’m sure you do,” Harry says deadpan. 

You roll your eyes and give him a quick peck before reaching for the oven mitts sitting on the counter beside him and opening the oven to take out the pizzas. Harry mutters that he’ll go get the others for food before he’s walking out of the room, leaving you to cut the pizzas and get the plates ready for everyone to eat.

—

It’s not till after dinner that Harry and the guys bring up what they had planned for the evening. And it wasn’t something you would have guessed in a million years. 

“Magic mushrooms?” You question, eyebrows raised up. 

“Yeah, get the creative juices flowing maybe,” Harry shrugs, finishing off his glass of wine - the bottle was nearly finished now. 

“Or just have a good trip,” Tyler nods with a smile. You chuckle and shake your head. 

You’ve maybe smoked a bit of weed before, obviously have drank liquor before, but anything else was completely and utterly new for you. And not something you really had planned to give a try either. Harry nudges you with his elbow, knocking you out of your thoughts. You look at him and he smile. His grumpy mood didn’t last too long after you guys all ate. In fact, right now talking about doing these magic mushrooms he looks pretty happy.

“Let’s do it,” he says, “I’ve never tried them before either, it’ll be an experience together,” he exclaims. 

You sigh and lean back into the couch. Tyler has the bag of them in his hand, mentioning that he was going to make it into a tea before. You keep your eyes on the bag though as you think of your option here. It would be quite the experience to have. Doing psychedelics isn’t nearly as extreme as the other drugs in the world. And you were going to do them in a very control environment with people you trusted. You look back at Harry and let out another sigh.  

“Okay,” you say, “I’m in,” 

Harry grins, leaning over to kiss you as Tyler is walking out of the room to get this magic mushroom tea ready for you all to do. It was only you, Harry, Tyler and Kid now - the other producer having left after dinner. Harry’s hand on your thigh breaks you away from your thoughts again. 

“Are you excited?” He asks. 

You shrug a shoulder, “I don’t know, kinda I guess, just never like thought I’d do shrooms,” you explain. 

“I think it’ll be fun though,” he nods, giving your thigh a squeeze. 

“All I’m saying is if I have a bad trip, you’re one hundred percent in charge of helping me,” you say, pointing a finger at him. Harry chuckles and takes the hand you’re pointing at him in his hand, bringing you closer to him as he tugs you into his side. 

“I’ve got you, love, don’t you worry,” he says. 

You only respond with an eye roll, but Harry’s quick to return it. He has his arm around you and is pulling you into his side in a fact movement, causing you to giggle. He places a sweet kiss to your forehead as you snuggle into his body, His arm stays around your body, while his other pulls out his cell phone from his pocket. The two of you scroll through his Instagram together, you’d reach up a finger to double tap a few posts for him. 

And then, within what feels like no time at all, Tyler is coming back into the room with what going to be your first time doing some real drugs. You sigh while hiding your head into Harry’s side. He chuckles as you mutter something about how your father must be looking down on you, feeling oh so proud. 

“Okay,” you say while sitting up. Harry’s already got your cup in his hand, ready to hand it to you. “Let’s freaking do this,” you say dramatically and take the cup of magic mushroom tea.

“Just drink it normally,” Tyler instructs just as he has taken a sip of his own cup. “It’ll take a few moments to kick in, and then we’ll be having a good time,” he says with a smile. 

“Cool,” you mutter. 

“Cool,” Harry mocks you, smiling over the rim of his cup before taking a sip of his tea. 

You stick out your tongue at him before having the first sip of your own tea. It taste normal, just like a more earthy tea with a spoon of sugar in it maybe. You sit back and have another sip as Kid starts talking about a song they must’ve been recording earlier. As you sit back and relax into the couch, sipping your tea, you realize that you’ve nearly drank half maybe a little too quickly. Making an ‘oops’ face, you set down the tea on the coffee table just as Harry gets up to check out whatever on the switch board that Kid and Tyler had to show him.

You’re laying on the couch looking up at the ceiling in no time once you realize you have the couch to yourself. Harry’s in the booth, his voice seeming low and slow as you shut your eyes and listen to him record a few lines over and over again. When you open your eyes, you focus on your cup of tea and decide to lean up and finish it - if you were doing this, you were doing it all. 

After the cup is empty, you sit up a bit and zone out on a poster hung up on the wall across from you. It’s a Led Zepplin poster, vintage obviously, as it’s from when they performed sometime here in LA. Oh how you’d love to have lived back then, you think with a sigh. 

“Y/N,” Harry calls out your name, bringing your attention away from the poster.

“Huh?”

Harry chuckles, giving you a heart melting grin, “I’ve tried getting your attention for like five minutes now,” he states. 

“Oh,” 

“Been staring at that poster for a while,” Tyler adds, “feeling it?” He smirks, seeming to finish off his own cup of tea now before setting the empty cup by yours. There’s the other two empty on the table suddenly too. Suppose everyone finished their tea while you were zoned out. 

"Yeah, I feel good,” you say with a smile.

“We think this song’s about done,” Harry states, taking a seat beside you on the couch. “I wanted you to listen to it,” he adds. He gives you a small smile now, but it’s still as heart melting as his grin. 

“I’d love to,” you nod. Tyler turns around and hits a button on the board, one of the millions, and then the song is playing.

What do you mean, 

I’m sorry by the way

Never coming back down

Harry’s voice fills the room, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. You felt so proud of him. Just as you did when you first heard his songs for his first album. You recognize the backing vocals from what he must’ve been recording when you first arrived. It’s amazing, you think, feeling like the shrooms are only enhancing how much you love this song.

“It’s so good,” you sigh, leaning into Harry as the song ends. You close your eyes as his hand falls onto your thigh. “Play it again,” you say. Harry chuckles, then the song starts over again as per your request. Harry is tapping your thigh to the beat, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“I see,” you stop talking as you realize it’s simply word vomit from the shrooms in your system. Harry turns to you and smiles.

“What do you see, babe?” He questions.

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“No, I value your thoughts. You know what your talking about,” he assures you.

“Okay,” you sigh and close your eyes as Harry’s song keeps playing softly. “I see you surrounded by people. Sort of pulling and pushing at you, but not roughly, almost like they’re being lured to you and your aura or something. And you’re just letting them touch you and singing to the camera, maybe stumbling a bit at the contact. And,” you pause, opening your eyes and zoning out on the magazine on the coffee table. “And you’re shirtless,” you say.

“Sounds like one hell of a time,” Kid snorts, you look up to catch him smirking while clicking away at his laptop. The song starts over again.

“I like it,” Harry nods.

“Me too,” you agree.

“Well duh,” Harry teases, pushing your knee gently with his hand. You sway back and forth, it feels like you’re moving a lot slower than you must be. “You thought it up, genesis.” Harry states.

“Oh,” you giggle, “right.”

“You’re so fucked,” Harry says.

“Maybe,” you giggle again. You don’t think you’ve giggled this much in your whole life. Lifting your eyes from the switch board across the room, you look at Harry now. He’s staring right back at you. He didn’t seem as fucked up.

“M’pretty fucked up too,” he admits. It’s almost like he’s read your mind as you thought of wether or not he was as fucked up as you. “No, not as bad as you, babe,” Harry chuckles.

“Oh, I’m not just thinking this am I?” You question, realizing you were speaking your thoughts aloud.

“No,” Harry smiles.

You shrug and look over his shoulder as the little bit of daylight coming through the window behind him. The suns probably going to go down in a couple hours. You sigh and lean forward, elbows resting on your knees as you think of standing. Why did it seem like such a hard task to do though?

“Let me help you, love,” Harry mutters as he stands up first. He grabs your hands and lifts you up without warning, causing you to nearly fall right into him.

“Let’s go outside, lay out back maybe?”

“On the porch? Sure,” Harry shrugs, then turns to his team. “You guys want to come?” He asks.

The group says some sort of yes answer and then you’re leading the way. Thankfully Judy gets the memo and gets up from his bed as quickly as he can, following you out the back door and his paws make way down the few steps to the grass. You smile and skip down the steps, grabbing one of the many toys around to play with him. Not even five minutes pass before you’re giving up on fetch and sitting down on the grass, then kicking your legs out and laying on your back.

The clouds seem to be moving faster then life itself. Forming funny shapes to make you giggle to yourself. Judy nudges you’re arm a few times, to which you respond by petting him. He’s so soft.

“He just got a bath today,” Harry states as he comes up beside you. You look to him. The purple and pink skies behind him make him look even prettier than ever. “You’re the pretty one, babe,” he says with a smile.

“Can’t seem to keep my thoughts to myself,” you hum while shutting your eyes for a moment.

Harry chuckles. He’s bending down, deciding to lay down with you.

“It’s like that voice in my head is completely gone,” you say.

“That voice in your head used to hate me,” Harry states. You furrow your brows dramatically and snap your head to look at him. Harry’s green eyes are already on you. “What,” he snorts and looks back up at the fading purples of the sky, “you used to hate me. Used to yell at me all the time. I’m sure that voice inside your head would curse me out more than you ever said aloud,” he explains. You think maybe Harry has lost that voice in his head too now, maybe the shrooms are effecting him the same way. 

“I was constantly fighting my voice in my head through all those years before,” you sigh and find your gaze back on the sky too. “It was always finding the best in your grumpy moods and bad decisions ever since I first met you. And I would have constant battles with myself, usually talking to myself when I was alone even, fighting about how I could not let myself fall for you.”

“You talked to yourself when you were alone?” Harry questions, letting out a chuckle, “fucking weirdo,” he adds. You throw your arm over and smack him in the chest. He chuckles some more as he lets out a small groan. 

He’s leaning over you in more fast movements that you can’t even focus on how he moved so quickly. It was for sure the drugs effecting you. But you know that it’s not the drugs when you feel those butterflies in you stomach reacting to how close Harry’s face is to yours. You give him a smile and pucker your lips, asking for a kiss. 

“Needy,” Harry mutters. You roll your eyes but it’s cut short as Harry gives you what you want. His lips feel a hundred times softer than ever before. You could melt right there on the grass from how his kiss made you feel - maybe the drugs were effecting how Harry made your body feel.

“Do you even have anything to say on how I said I used to fight my feelings in my head?” You ask, not even realizing how you’re whining at your boyfriend. Harry folds his hands on your stomach and rests his chin on them.

“I think it’s hard to believe we didn’t end up like this earlier than just last year,” he states. 

“Really?” You snort. “We did not get along, but you are you and I can’t deny that some times I was just trying to find the good in your grumpy self.”

“And I always found you attractive,” Harry states nonchalantly. “Especially when you were yelling at me,” he adds with a quick nod. 

“So all the time then?” You joke. 

“Pretty much,” Harry says, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk.

“Cute,” you hum. 

Harry rolls his eyes at you before he’s leaning forward to kiss you once more. You sigh into the kiss and let the effects of the magic mushrooms make you feel like you’re melting into him again. Harry and you share the passionate kiss under the sunset for a while till you two decide that you need to breathe again. 

“You should go make more beautiful music,” you say. 

Harry sighs and sits up, “becomes a big hot shot manager in the industry and now you think you can boss me around, hey?” 

“Baby, I’ve always been bossing you around,” you state, propping yourself up on your elbows as Harry begins to stand up now. Judy gets excited at his actions, letting out a few barks too. “And you love it,” you add while petting Judy. 

“Only cause I love you,” Harry says, offering a hand to help you up. You take it and it feels like you’re flying into the air as he lifts you up to your feet. Letting out a little gasp, you grab onto his arm tight and let your body settle once standing fully.

“Well,” you smile at Harry. “I love you too, I guess,” you say. 

“Mhmm,” Harry hums. You roll your eyes at him before leaning to crash your lips to his yet again. You cut it short though, causing Harry to furrow his brows at you and pout. 

“Go make music,” you say and give him a little push. Harry rolls his eyes at you now, a scowl finding his face before he’s walking up to the back porch with his feet dragging behind him. “Grumpy,” you mutter, but there’s no stopping the smile that’s on your face - and there’s no blaming the magic mushrooms on the overwhelming love you felt for Harry.

[roseelise]

The Weather // Dylan O’brien

Reposting all my writings from @r0s3mm, my main blog, it is not stolen or plagiarized. All my works on my masterlist are main unless stated otherwise.

Hello! Welcome to 2-h, the back up account of @r0s3mm, I’ll be posting my works on here too until (hopefully) my blog gets restored and if not this will become my main blog.

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien x ofc!Alice

Word Count: 5129

Author’s note/warnings: break up? Swearing? Reader and Dylan talking about their relationship, a series of voicemail reader sends Dylan at different moments after their relationship ends.

Based off of the song: Lawrence - “The Weather”

Come say “Hi!” Wattpad

Masterlist

***********************

“Hey D’, it’s me, leaving you a message on your voicemail… again. Listen, I know we agreed to give each other space but I just wanted to let you know that your change of address probs didn’t go through because I got your new script at home- hum, at my place. I’ll just send it to Liz’s office… Oh, also I wanted to know if you wanted me to box up and send you the rest of the stuff you have here, there’s a few sweatshirts and other clothing items, as your mom would say. Okay, so you don’t have to call me back, you can text me, maybe even email me. I can leave your stuff at your mom’s house, I’m seeing Jules on the 23rd, so yeah … whatever you feel good with. Ok, bye.”

“I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together ‘Cause even when the sky is grey, I’m feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you”

I hung up the phone and placed it in my jeans’ back pocket and turned up the volume from the TV.

“A heatwave this week turned the city of Anaheim, home to Disneyland, into the hottest place in theUnited States. The Tick fire forced 50,000 people to flee their homes, many in the mid…” The weather man on the tv announced as I picked up the package with Liz’s name on it from a tv or movie set in LA, taking back my cell phone, I texted Liz, Dylan’s manager telling her I’d be sending her the script in the next few days, putting the block of pages on the bench next to the front door, I sat down next to it as the news kept playing as a background noise accompanied by the rain falling down harshly on the large windows.

It had been a little bit over 5 months and I still hadn’t tidy up from his big move, a lot of empty and piled up boxes were on the floor next to the sliding door, there were empty spaces on the wall and people who would be coming in the apartment could easily guess that the large white wall used to be full, filled with baseball jersey’s, many pictures, music record, stickers of liquor brand, some posters and a few music instruments.

“Hi Jules, it’s me, are we still on for the 23rd? Ok great then, I’ll pick you up. You got any news from your brother? Yeah, I know, I asked you to refuse if I asked but I just wanna make sure that with his new place he’s good and away from the fires and that he’s … that he’s safe y’know? Ok great then, just maybe tell him to- actually you know what? Never mind. I gotta go, but I’ll text you this week… alright bye!”

“There’s a fire in LA Since you moved there back in May I wonder, should I call to see if you’re alright? Yeah, you’re a million miles away But I still think of you each day And hope the weather doesn’t keep you cold tonight”

After picking up what was on the floor and actually tidying up the apartment, I put on my rain boots with my coat and an umbrella before going out the door with the trash and some things that I wanted to get rid of. I walked the streets of the city, listening to the chaotic sounds, the loud voices and the fast steps of those who wanted to escape the rain. Walking to the Blue Ribbon Brasserie, I turned left to get to Sullivan St and passed the convenience store and got myself a few stamps and envelopes for the thank you notes I still had to write after the home warming gifts I received a while back. I put my earphones in my ear as I gave the cashier the money and put everything in my purse. As I entered the restaurant, I took off my coat and held it tightly against me, my eyes falling on a couple sitting at the bar, both a drink in hand and completely enamored with each other.

“Table for one miss?” The host asks taking a menu.

“Yes, thank you.” I smiled at the young man.

I followed him to a table near the windows. He pulled my chair for me to sit. I smiled at him and thanked him.

“What would you like to start with?”

“Glass of white wine, if you have it. Actually no, I’ll get a G&T, please”

“Right away, ma’am” The waiter’s New Yorker accent came through and I smiled at him as I picked up the menu and swiftly looked through it, already knowing what I wanted to eat as soon as I had left my apartment.

The rain was still pattering against the window and it gave a nice ambient sound to the restaurant that for once was almost empty on a Monday afternoon. A few minutes later, the waiter came back with my drink, putting a squared napkin underneath.

“Would you like to order now, or would you like a few more minutes?”

“I’ll order now, thank you. So, I’ll get the chicken barley soup with the steak, please.”

He smiled, took the menu from my hands and left to another table. I watched the other waiters walk around with platters of food as people started to come in. Usually the restaurant would be busy from opening to the time it closed but today felt different. I held the glass in my hands as I sipped it slowly taking the wedge of lime off of it and biting into it and letting it drop on the piece of paper after draining it of its juice.

As the waiter approached my table and put my soup down my phone’s screen lit up with Dylan’s name and contact photo. I had taken the picture when we were out one day and waiting to cross the street. My finger swiped the screen to answer.

“Ali? Hey, it’s Dylan…” His voice rang through my ear, it was hoarse and dry. He had been smoking.

“Yeah, I know. Your contact info popped up.” I said, silently slurping my soup.

“Oh, wasn’t sure if you had gotten rid of it. Hum, I- I thought it’d be better to call you rather than text you and I don’t even know the last time I sent an email that wasn’t for work.” He chuckled quietly but didn’t hear a sound from the other side. “So, for my stuff you can keep it, I won’t really need it, but if you really wanna get rid of it, I can transfer you the money for the delivery and stuff. It-It’s however you want it.”

“Yeah, no. I’ll send it to you or Liz, I wanna start over with a clean slate. I also found a few caps of yours earlier when I was cleaning up, so I’ll send those over as well.” I said finishing the rest of my soup. It was silent on the other side of the line for a few seconds before I heard him sigh.

“A, maybe we should talk? Y’know, actually have a conversation. The only times we’ve talked in the past few months were through voicemail and-”

“Sounds good Dylan, just right now isn’t the right moment. I’m out at a restaurant and I don’t think I can actually do this right now and in public.” I said dryly my voice full of emotion. A waiter came to pick up the now empty bowl and I smiled up at him.

“Yeah okay. Is everything good up there? Are you feeling good?”

“Yep, I’m fine, we’re all fine.”

“That’s good. I feel a bit far away from everyone, y’know ?!”

“Yeah, are- are you okay? I’ve seen the news on the TV about the fires. I was worried.” I said the last part quietly.

“I’m fine too, yeah, you don’t have to worry. Pretty sure Jules or my mom would have rung you up if something had happened.”

“Yeah probably…” I whispered. “Did you start smoking again? Your voice sounded funny when I answered.” I said catching the eye of the waiter that was bringing me my steak. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, miss. Hope you’ll enjoy” The small exchange between the waiter and I was soon over, and I picked up a fry.

“Yeah, a little. It was weird being in LA, felt nervous at first and I couldn’t shake it after. Are you at Blue Ribbon?”

“You were nervous? Dyl’ you’ve been to LA a hundred times for filming and shit and yeah I am.” I said, picking at the veggies in my plate.

“I never actually lived there for more than four or five months, and usually I’m not alone.”

“Don’t.” I said loudly, I lifted my head and looked at other costumers. “Listen I gotta go.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to-”

I hung up and went to eat my dinner and finishing my drink quickly. After paying my bill, I put my coat back on, the weather would be a little chillier than earlier. Halloween was approaching and carved in pumpkins were starting to make an appearance on people’s doorstep and balconies. The rain from earlier had stopped and had been replaced by clouds and sun light.

“So, I won’t talk about the weather No, I won’t talk about the weather I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together 'Cause even when the sky is grey, I’m feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you”

Music was playing loudly in the apartment, the vacuum loud over it and it felt as if the sun had disappeared from the sky. Halloween was even closer now, only 8 days away. I checked the time, 10:37, Jules would be here in just under two hours. There were two boxes full of clothes, pictures, sports’ games tickets and damaged drumsticks, that I will have to leave in Jules’ car at the end of the day. The two of us had planned to get lunch and then hang out. She told me that some of our friends and her were planning a Halloween party and that they insisted that I come “You gotta get out of your hiding place, Alice!” They had screamed at me through the phone almost a month ago. Even if the weather wasn’t really great, Julia insisted we leave her car at my place and walk.

I had gotten ready slowly, music still blasting through the small speaker when it suddenly stopped. Thinking it was Julia texting me she had arrived I jogged to get to my phone in the other room, it was the other O’Brien child.

“Hello?” I answered the phone, putting it on speaker while I walked back to the bathroom to finish brushing my teeth. “Ali, are you busy? I tried calling you a couple times.” I looked at the screen where I had missed a few phone calls. “M’getting ready to spend the day with your sister actually. Can you make it quick?” I said spitting in the sink and rinsing my mouth. “I just wanted to know if right now would be a good time to have that conversation I talked about last week…?” I stopped and looked at my phone and sighed. “Your sister’s supposed to pick me up in ten minutes, think you can finish in ten minutes?” A silence was heard before light chuckling and I swear I could picture in my mind how he looked in that exact moment. “What?” “‘Nothing. Look, why don’t we try to set up a date and time for us to talk? I think it’d be good. Maybe clarify things up a bit.” “Yeah sure.” The doorbell buzzed, I sighed, picked up the phone putting it against my ear and taking it off speaker mode. “Listen Jules here and I’ve- wait a sec” I told him before shooting Julia a one letter text to tell her I was on my way and putting on my shoes and coat. “Ok, so your sister’s here. I gotta go but if you call me back tonight at around 5, your time I should be back home and mentally prepared to have that conversation you want us to have.” I locked my door and ran down the steps to stop in front of the blue car with my friend resting against it, excitedly waving at me, I walked to the car. “So, I really gotta leave now, but don’t think I’m excited about this. I’m doing this for you.” “I don’t want to make you do this if you’re not ready A’.” He says, guilt overflowing the other emotion in his voice. “It’s fine, I’ll talk to you tonight.” I hung up and put my head in my hand, scratching my hairline and walking the rest of the distance to Jules.

“So, I won’t talk about the weather No, I won’t talk about the weather I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together And it’s hard to say if we will ever be But I’ll admit my greatest fear is that The air will never clear So I just wish we could talk like you and me”

“Who was that?” Jules asked me as we started walking towards the larger and busier streets. “Damn you, O’Brien’s.” I mumbled as I pulled her into a greeting side hug. “Oh my god, was it Dylan? Are y’all talking again?” She was too excited for her own good. “Not really, I just wanted to know what he wanted me to do with the stuff of his left at the apartment and he started saying how we should talk about what happened.” “Yeah, I’m not still a hundred percent clear on that, by the way. I don’t think any of us expected you guys to break up after 4 years.” “Don’t remind me, please” I begged as I opened the door to the small café.

When we entered, I looked around for either an empty table or counter seats. I nudged Jules and pointed to a small table at the very back near the window and looked at her, watching for an answer.

“Sure.” She shrugged and took a newspaper off the stand we were standing next to.

We sat down and she opened the menu, looking through it as a woman brought us glasses of water.

“Hello ladies, how are you today?” “We’re good, Jane, thanks.” I asked sipping the iced water. “What about you?” Jules asked putting the cardboard menu down. “Oh, I am very good thank you” She said a huge grin on her face as she extended her left hand, on it a very beautiful diamond engagement ring. “You are fucking kidding me! Oh, my fuck!” Jules exclaimed jumping up and down. She and Jane were college friends, I had met her through Jules at a party a few years back. “Congratulations Jane!” I said leaning in for a hug and sitting back down.

Jane and Jules were standing up and talking in loud whispers as to not fully disturb the other customers. I picked up my cell phone and opened the messages app and clicked on Dylan’s conversation as a reflex before making the screen turn black and setting it back on the table.

“Hey Alice, I haven’t seen much of you in the past two months, but you and Dylan are so invited! Maybe you’ll be in my situation in a few months!” She said cheery, my head snapped up at the mention of my ex-boyfriend and I looked at Jules.

“What? What did I say?” Jane looked back and forth between us. “Y’know when I told you that my brother went to L.A to film a new project?” Jane nods, “Well it wasn’t fully true, yes he is filming something, but he also moved to L.A” Jane’s eyes go from Jules to me. “Dyl and I broke up 5 months ago …” I said picking my phone up again to play with something. Anxiety filling my body and making my fingers shake at the mention of the break-up.

The waitress just sits down next to me and pulls me to her and squeezes me telling me encouraging words before she is called back to the counter.

“The usual?” She asks and Jules and I nod with a smile. “I think we’ll take it to go, if you don’t mind.” Jules says as she finishes her glass of water, Jane’s eyes go over one last time before going to the kitchen.

When we leave the little café/diner we decide to walk through a park that’s nearby, eating our paninis and drinking our mango and strawberry smoothies.

“Hey,” Jules nudges me. “They added something to your bag…” I look at her a put my hand in the bag. “It’s a muffin?” Jules says unsure. “What?” My word stays stuck in my throat. “Pretty fucking sure Janey didn’t tell Henry that Dylan and I were broken up” “Henry? The cook?” I nod and put the muffin back in the paper bag. “Yeah, hum, when Henry started working there Dyl and I went there to get you a smoothie and Henry was there and he just started hitting on him and like he knew that we were together but I guess it was a running gag between them and whenever I went Henry would put a muffin in the bag for your brother with a note” I laugh remembering the memory. “Once,” I laugh stopping us from walking further. “Dylan went to pick up our order to bring back to his apartment, before we moved in, and he actually gave Henry his number … Anyway, yeah.”

Jules looks at me and pulls me to her side as I hold the bag tightly. “You miss him, huh?”. I put my head on her shoulder, “you’ve got no fucking idea”

We keep walking and talking, and I can see that she is trying really hard to change my ideas. We go into stores and try on stuff without buying anything, we just spend an afternoon hanging out and it feels so good.

At around seven thirty we part, and we walk back to my apartment, I put the boxes that I left in the lobby in her car and wave her off. Clutching the paper bag, I grab my keys from my coat’s pocket, unlock the main door before going to the building’s mailboxes, gathering my mail and going through the lobby’s door to wave to Sam, the receptionist, before going up the stairs since the elevator hasn’t been fixed in 4 months. As I get onto my floor, I wave at my neighbor who exits his apartment as he looks at my door. I turn the corner and see that my door is opened, fearing the worst I grab a baseball bat sitting near the door that my father forgot last weekend when he came over. I hear soft music coming from the record player sitting in the living room, the smell of ham and cheese stuffed chicken filled the place and for a moment I thought my mother had come to New York … I entered the kitchen with the bat lowered down knowing who was in my apartment from the humming they made.

“I made dinner” Dylan says turning around and leaning his back on the counter, he pushes himself off of the counter.

“I can see that.” I huff out not looking at him. “What are you doing here?” I ask him, putting my coat on the back of the chair and my purse on the table.

“I- I wanted to talk.” He says taking a step towards me.

“Yeah, I know I was about to call you … We said we would talk tonight, on the phone” He nods slowly and turns around to put food in two plates. He hands me one and gesture for me to sit.

“I’m not a fan of phones.”

“Yeah I know that, we could’ve facetimed or something.” I pick at my Brussel sprouts, usually loving the way he made them, but seeing here tonight caught me off guard.

I actually look at him for the first time tonight, he hasn’t changed that much, his hair is a little bit longer though, he is hungrily eating the food and nervously keeps his head down.

“What happened?” He suddenly says, his head lifting and eyes connecting with mine. I take in a short breath and can’t look away.

“What?” I shake my head and look down. I stand up and put as much distance between him and I as physically can while still being in the same room.

“What happened between us?”

“I can’t say that I honestly know. We weren’t on the same path; we didn’t want the same things … I don’t know” I mumble picking and my chewed-up nails, a habit I had taken up from him.

“Ok so why didn’t work, it’s not distance because god knows we’ve done that before, none of us were unfaithful” I grimace at the thought of him with another woman and look at him, he notices, and pain quickly passes behind his hazel eyes. “I- I don’t think, hope not, we’ve fallen out of love… So, what happened Al’?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say right now, showing up at my apartment at fucking 8 …” I say my voice low and full of emotions.

“We agreed to talk” He says standing up and talking another step closer.

“I agreed to talk to you on the phone because even if it’s been five months, I can’t look at you right now!” I say looking at the shirt he’s wearing

“Did you send my stuff yet?” He asks changing the subject and taking another step, now only at an arm’s length from me.

“I actually gave the boxes to Jules earlier. Left em’ in the lobby and gave them to her when she left.” He nods silently, turns around before starting to put away the food, knowing we probably would not be eating tonight. The domestic choreography started as we moved around each other with ease and habit, but I still tried to keep a distance between us. Without having to consult each other I bent down to a cupboard to grab a few Tupperware’s and set them on the counter as he passed me the now empty pots and pans ready to be rinsed off. While we were quietly washing the dishes, the music in the back changed, but still fit the ambiance perfectly. He walked to the furthest and lowest cupboard where the large serving plates used to be and opened it to now find the spices.

“You changed the plates?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Hum, yeah didn’t have much of a choice, I couldn’t reach the spices from where they were, and I don’t use the serving plates all that much.” I shrug as he picks up the utensils and dries them off. He walks around me to the drawer where they’ve always been and opens it slowly, his hand supporting underneath.

“Oh no, I got fixed, it’s fine”

“Oh okay… Did your dad came all the way from Oregon or did hum…?” He asks and I smile at what he’s really asking me.

“No, I actually asked Pat to come over a month ago, he repaired a few things here and there” I smile warmly at him and his expression that went from sad to relieved.

“You- you called my dad?” He asks as he turns around to look at me and rests against the counter.

“I mean, yeah, is that okay?” I ask him, giving him a pot to dry off.

“Of course, yeah, no- no worries, heh.” He chuckles. “I’m just happy you guys stayed in contact. They adore you, y’know, my parents. Almost like a second daughter.”

“Well that’s just wrong” I mumble quickly my eyes large, falling back into the familiarity that is Dylan.

“What why?” He asks

“That would make us “brother and sister”” I finish washing the last dish and hand it to him.

“Oh yeah, so wrong. So, fucking wrong” He says under his breath and I laugh a little as I help him put away the plates. I open a cupboard and look up to see that it is far beyond my reach and I make a noise that attracts his attention. “Oh wait, I’ll get it” He says before taking large strides towards me. I quickly move to the side and put the plate on the counter so that he can pick it up.

We finish putting everything away in silence and I go sit on the couch as he washes his hands. A few seconds later he joins me and sit on the other side of the couch. Tears pool at my eyes and I sniffle, I can feel his eyes on me, I hear him shift on the couch, so his front was towards me.

“No, I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together But I wonder if we’re ever really through 'Cause if we’re talking about whether You and I shouldn’t be together Oh, I know I’ll always be in love with you Oh yes, I know I’ll always be in love with you”

“It hurts so much” I whimper as I wipe away a tear that’s fallen on my cheek. “I don’t know what fucking happened. We didn’t get to talk, we-“

I freeze when I feel him starting to get closer to wipe away more tears that are now falling down my neck. I nuzzle my head into his large hand.

“I’m so sorry, for everything” He says his face in my hair.

“Don’t. It is not your fault. No, the situation was not ideal you having to leave for filming after the initial event, but it is not your fault. I think we just thought we were untouchable.” I say never facing him, my eyes fixed on the stickers stuck on the wooden table.

“But still, if I hadn’t talked about me moving back to L.A we could’ve talked and work things out.”

“Stop it.” I lick my lips attracting his eyes to the area as I turn to really look at him for the first time in months. “Dylan, it is not your fault, we had a weakness, we miscommunicated something got lost in what we told each other. I feel like I might’ve thought I was ready to leave the city to go to L.A but I wasn’t and maybe-“

“Say it again.” He suddenly says, cutting me off in my version of the events.

“What? Say what?”

“Say my name again, please.” His ton is full of hope and desperate at the same time.

I lock eyes with him and chuckle.

“Dylan” I enunciate each syllable.

“God. I missed you” He says, tears filling his eyes.

He grabs me by my waist and pulls me on his lap.

His face nuzzles itself in my neck and I feel a single tear rolling down my neck followed by a few soft kisses.

“I just got used to you not being there and knowing you wouldn’t come back. I didn’t like that.” I mumble against his temple. “Don’t say that. You know I’ll always come back to you.” He takes my hand in his and kiss the silver band around my pointer finger.

We part and I just stare at him, his eyes fall on me with the softest look I have ever seen.

“You almost didn’t come back once” I say softly thinking back on probably the hardest year of my life. My finger tracing the soft and ragged scar on his forehead and nose area, his eyes close at the sensation of my finger going around his face.

“I know. But baby I swear to you, you are stuck with me until the day I die, even then.” “Yeah okay, I’d be cool with that. But I want to take things slow. You have to go back to L.A for a few months.” “As soon as I’m finished over there I’m coming home.” He smiles at me and I stand up quickly from his lap and walk over where I put my stuff when I came in. “Oh my god I forgot.” I say quickly grabbing the object and walking back to him and plopping myself hard on his lap. “What’s that?” He looks at me with a smile. “It’s an impromptu welcome home gift, it might have gone stale a little though.” I give it to him and pull his face to kiss his moles that I missed oh so badly.

He opens the brown bag and puts his hand in and gets out a blueberry muffin.

“Oh Henry! My man” He says as he splits it in two and share half with me.

___________________________________

The morning after, I wake up at 9:45 in my bed, alone. I squeeze my eyes shut, not believing that I actually dreamt this whole thing. I check my phone to see if I have any messages and only one from Julia saying that she would be at my place around 11. As I text her to bring the boxes back I hear my bedroom door open and a smile stretches on my lips as I turn around to see Dylan walking in with freshly made hot cocoa and buttered toast.

“Oh, you’re too good to me, O’Brien” I smile and lean against him as he sits on the bed. “What makes you think that’s yours? You’ve got the good homemade bread and I fucking missed it” He says taking a bite.

Seeing him bite into the grilled piece of bread I only think of his lips.

“Dylan?” I say grabbing his face in my hand. “Hmm?” He swallows his piece of toast. “What’s up.” “You haven’t kissed me yet. I didn’t get to kiss you welcome back. Please, do it” I say in the most desperate tone I’ve ever heard myself talk. “Anything for you my love” He leans in and kiss me.

(ALSO HIS FUCKING TONGUE OMF)

[magpiedminx]

From above :    PSA on Britney Spears and the #FreeBritney movement for anyone that needs or wants more information on what is going on with her. It’s a fucking rabbit hole, so buckle up. A little backstory first. Britney was a child star starting at the age of 4 years old on Broadway, and then worked her way to the Mickey Mouse Club, and eventually the solo career we know today. Her career has been on autopilot her entire life. If you look back at her music, she’s been telling everyone for years she’s too controlled and treated as a product if you listen to the lyrics of most of her hits. Examples include: Lucky, Overprotected, My Perogative, Circus, Piece of Me and Gimme More. Her music videos, social media posts, tour props and photoshoots regularly show her in a cage or in chains. If anyone has ever seen videos of her when she was younger, you’d know her REAL singing voice is very similar to Christina Aguilera’s. Her record label didn’t like it, as they were both on the Mickey Mouse Club and about to release their debut albums at the same time. So they had her voice retrained to sing in the baby voice we all know today because they believed it to be more iconic and would create a brand and career for her instead of her real voice. It’s unhealthy, and it’s been destroying her voice over the years, thus why she is known for lip syncing. She wanted to make an acoustic type pop album in 2006 titled Original Doll and reinvent herself using her real voice. The album was shelved and cancelled once her label realized she would be singing in her real voice. She isn’t allowed to sing live because she will either fail terribly, or she’ll have to sing in her deep voice that she isn’t known for. Her entire career she has been treated like a product meant to sell. Now, for the real tea. Everyone remembers the 2007 meltdown. Everyone. Leading up the meltdown Britney was going thru a public divorce, had two children under the age of 2 at the time and was VERY much the focus of the public. We all saw her on every magazine cover. We all also saw the photo of her with one of her kids on her lap while driving. Go on YouTube once and look up ‘Britney Spears paparazzi’. You’ll watch her be chased and followed by hundreds of them, even trying to get into a public restroom to photograph her, videotaping her in tears asking them to leave her alone, and even filming her thru the windows of an ambulance while she was naked being taken away for her final mental health hold. After the public meltdown, shaving her head, locking herself in her home with her children, speaking in a british accent on regular basis, wearing the imfamous pink wig everywhere, and shopping naked, she was hospitalized twice. After the hospitalization, her father petitioned the courts to be a TEMPORARY conservator to her until she was mentally stable and for only one years time. 2 months after her hospitalization she did a guest appearance on How I Met Your Mother. 6 months after her hospitalization, she drops the Womanizer video and starts to promote her new album Circus with its worldwide tour that grossed $131.8 million. If she’s so unwell, why did she start working right away? Her father after one year petitioned the courts for the conservatorship to become permanent due to her ALLEGEDLY having EARLY ONSET DEMENTIA in her TWENTIES. It passed and has been that way ever since. For 12 years to be exact. Now for everyone that doesn’t understand what that means let me break it down for you. Britney Spears is a now 38 year old woman who is not allowed to do the following without her fathers permission or he can legally lock her up in a mental health facility: • drive a car • vote • get married • have children • spend HER OWN MONEY • see how her money is being spent • see her children (she has 30% custody of both of her boys due to her dad assaulting one of her sons) • leave her home • hire her own lawyer • have any control over her career • speak about the conservatorship publicly • do interviews that aren’t scripted and all final cuts are approved by her father as well • use a cell phone without being monitored • use social media unmonitored • contact ANYONE without being monitored or having them extremely vetted. (Iggy Azalea allegedly had her house searched for drugs top to bottom when they collaborated on a song together) • go shopping • go for a walk • get Starbucks A conservatorship is meant for people with mental health issues or decaying health. Most likely grandparents or people with actual dementia etc. They are meant for people who literally cannot take care of themselves. If she is so unwell that she isn’t mentally capable of doing anything for herself, why is she still working? Since the conservatorship began 12 years ago she has: • released 4 albums • done 3 worldwide tours • did a FOUR-year Vegas residency • was a full time judge on X-Factor • released multiple perfumes and a lingerie line • made $138 MILLION DOLLARS or so A YEAR In January of last year, Britney was placed in a mental health facility for 3 months after being seen driving her car to In-N-Out with her boyfriend without permission and for refusing to take the sedating medications her father has doctors prescribing her to keep her under control. She testified to a judge in documents that she was held there against her will by her father. After it was leaked to the press that she was there against her will, the Free Britney movement picked up speed causing a judge to open an investigation into the impact and legality her conservatorship has on her life. Britney’s mother Lynn was also liking and commenting on Free Britney posts saying she agrees that Britney is trapped by her father. Britney’s team had Twitter disable the Free Britney hashtag, and regularly threatens any celebrity that speaks out using the hashtag with a lawsuit if they don’t remove their support for the movement. She was seen shortly after leaving a hotel thru the front door (99% of celebrities park underground to avoid paparazzi unless they WANT to be photographed) stumbling while carrying her shoes, and out of it. Her team used that moment to justify to the public that she needs this conservatorship. She is not allowed to have any say in the hiring or firing of anyone on her team. Every year she pays $1.1 million dollars in fees for the conservatorship to continue, including paying her father a solid $100k+ salary and paying a lawyer she isn’t allowed to choose. She is allowed an allowance of around $1,500 a week for bills, shopping and essentials. Her net worth is $250 million. So, when everyone sees her on Instagram walking up and down her hallways like it’s a fashion show. That’s all she is allowed to do. She has NEVER had control over her life. I don’t care if you personally like her or her music, NO ONE DESERVES THIS. All this woman wants is to see her children, make the music she wants to make, and go get a frappuccino in her car. She is a light of sunshine in this world, and we must protect her at all costs. So please, do not make fun of her, support the Free Britney movement, and send good vibes her way. She has a court date this month to review the conservatorship and decide if it is abusive or will continue to be in place. There are so many details to this that i left out that would make this post entirely much longer than it is, but a simple search will show you what else is out there. Spread this far and wide. ❤️ Free Britney Edited to add some important links! Here’s a google doc of info https://docs.google.com/document/d/17jeZV78SCwgQGsOkad0H0PA8jqjgRsxgSqD9f_f1yAk/edit Petition by Danny H: https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/conservatorship-and-civil-liberties-britney-spears Screenshots of leaked emails, voicemails, and other helpful links: https://www.businessinsider.com/inside-britney-spears-conservatorship-freebritney-movement-2020-2 https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2019-09-17/britney-spears-conservatorship-free-britney https://www.forbes.com/sites/trialandheirs/2019/05/15/making-sense-of-the-britney-spears-conservatorship-and-freebritney/#5ce808c94b74 Jayden going on Instagram live reporting they were being abused by his grandfather: https://theblast.com/c/britney-spears-son-jayden-james-instagram-live-video-free-britney This is a news article from USA Today about her father’s child abuse allegations filed by Kevin Federline. He reportedly had an altercation with Sean in September 2019: https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.usatoday.com/amp/2362531001 Source from the opposing view pointing to the success of her conservatorship and that fans are wrong, I think it's weird she has made no formal appearances to contest the conservatorship in court but she said (link above) we were not being told the truth and the media is being manipulated: https://www.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/celebrities/2019/10/24/britney-spears-why-does-she-still-need-conservator/2288009001/ There's a lot of money at stake to keep her in this situation. Just seems too convenient that she can't care for herself considering her net worth, and considering the fact her male counterparts of equal stardom with public mental health battles have never been under this much control. This is an issue and question of abuse in conservatorships at large. Unfortunately, the princess of Pop has somehow become the poster child of this type of crisis. While conservatorships can be beneficial when the best interest is at heart, we can't ignore the fact there are companies that profit enormously from people with disabilities by keeping them under extensive legal control. Are they providing the best care? If Britney has been too unwell to care for herself these past 12 years, why would she be made to work tirelessly? World tours? Vegas? X-factor? Her perfume line? Why not let her rest? Here's a good excerpt from Forbes, it's just not clear what is going on, but my initial gut thinks there is something that is not right. "In this case, Jamie Spears did not have legal authority to force Britney into treatment or to take psychiatric medications. But that doesn't mean that Britney's reported claim that she was held against her will is wrong. Rather, because Jamie has so much control over Britney's life through the conservatorship - including decisions like whether to get married, to perform or live in Las Vegas, or even if she can drive a car - he easily could have refused to grant consent for Britney to do any number of things unless she agreed to his request to enter the mental health treatment facility. In other words, Jamie could have indirectly forced her into treatment even if he could not explicitly sign her in against her will. But, even if Jamie Spears did so, he may have done it out of an earnest believe that Britney needed the treatment. TMZ previously reported that Britney was not doing well and her old course of medications stopped working, necessitating heightened treatment." Take what you will from this, but here are a few petitions to reinstate her rights in August is here - http://chng.it/CMfngqyMBj https://www.change.org/p/team-britney-freebritney

[ciestessde]

Airhead Doorbell

This elf has racked up quite the tab at your tavern. And he’ll have to pay up before he’ll get another ounce of ale out of you!

The night is winding down, people leaving the small, smokey building in groups or pairs. Most of them drunk. Only a few stragglers are left, sitting in the corners of your tavern and finishing off their drinks. And to finish off your night, like many nights before, a certain “customer” comes trudging in the door: a sleepy-looking elf with long, messy hair, and a longbow and arrows on his back. He plops down in a stool at the bar -- and lets his head smack down onto the counter with a heavy thump. Giving a long-suffering sigh, you walk over to him, your dripping-wet cleaning rag in hand.

You rhetorically (and grumpily) ask, “Long night, Aired?” He gives a muffled, “You have no idea” in response anyway, sighs, and lifts his head up with a groan. Huh. For once, he actually seems genuinely exhausted. Normally, he’d start joking with you the second you walked over, trying to win a free drink with some laughs. Concerned, you ask, “You… wanna talk about it?” “No, just…” He brings a hand up and ruffles his hair. The long strands tangle further, making him look like he just climbed out of bed. “Just… One ale, please.” “Nuh-uh.” Suddenly, he’s wide awake and staring at you, wide-eyed in alarm. “HUH?! Why not?!”

You put the hand holding the rag to your hip -- and send him a serious glare. You just barely manage to growl out, “Be. Cause. You still haven’t payed off the last…” You take a moment to double-check your count. The rag drips an entire puddle of dirty water on the floor when, trying to rein in your anger, you squeeze it tight. Exhausted or not, there was no getting around a tab like his. “FIFTY ales this month. And that isn’t counting last month. OR the month before THAT-!” “-I-I-... I just haven’t found a good job yet, that’s all!” “And you’re still refusing to work off your debt, I take it?” Aired glares back at you. “N-no way! I told you before, I’m FAR too skilled to be seen working in a tavern -- let alone as a waiter of all things!”

You cross your arms, tapping your thumb and staring him down. He starts sweating. There’s only one reason you’d allowed him to rack up such a tab: Elves were always good for business. Whether it was because they always seemed to have money to spare -- or because whatever they lacked in money, they made up for by drawing extra business in the door just by being inside. You’d had a few other elves who had gone through similar dry spells, in fact. But never as long as Aired. And to make matters worse, the elf always came by when business was practically dead! If he just came earlier (or accepted the job offer, already!), he might be worth the trouble.

And yet, in this case, he might still be of some use. Because there was one other way elves were good for business: their skills.

You stop tapping. “... Well, if it’s a job you’re looking for, I might have one.” Aired sits up straighter at your words. His voice comes out choked, “O-Oh…?” He clears his throat. “What is it?” “A group of clients came in earlier today. They were complaining about not having a good enough archer to help them take down…” Your mouth thins as you try to remember. “I think they said it was a worm? Eh, it was that or a wyrmling. Either way…”

You reach into the pocket of your apron, pulling out a pen and notepad. You scratch something down, rip the page out, and set it down on the counter in front of Aired. “Here’s their address. Come back with some money, and I’ll consider serving you drinks again. Depends how much you bring in.” “Oh, um… Thanks?” He picks it up and inspects the note. He’s holding it as if it might bite him.

Swallowing, he tucks it into the pouch on his hip. You’ve gone back to cleaning, trying to dry up the puddle, only to hear him dare to ask from above you, “So… I don’t suppose I could get one more ale-?” You growl, “Get out of my tavern. Now.” and hear him scurry out the door.

You don’t hear from him the next day. But what you do hear, about halfway through the day after that, is your door SLAM open as you’re serving a new customer the best-tasting meal on the menu. A burly man with an axe on his belt -- the one who had opened the door ever-so-gently -- storms up to you and yells, “Are you the one who sent us that archer?!” You set down the customer’s meal with a polite, “One moment please.”

Turning from the customer, you tuck the tray you’d carried the food on under your arm. “What archer?” You lead the Angry Axe-Man over to the counter (where you at least a have weapon hidden). The man follows you, at least, but he’s still screaming. “That sorry excuse for an elf! ‘Airhead Doorbell’ or whatever!” Before you set it down in the sink, the tray hangs in the air for just a second. Hesitating, you ask, “... Aired Dorbella?” “Yeah! Him!” Axe-Man slams his hands on the counter. “Was it you who sent him?!” Trying not to chuckle, and as straight-faced as you can manage, you turn and ask, “Why? Did he do something?” “He missed the first shot!” You pause. “... He what?” “HE! MISSED! The VERY FIRST! SHOT!”

Finally, Axe-Man’s teammates join you and a guy dressed all in back adds, “Not just that. He freaking RAN AWAY!” You’re still frozen, but you manage to squeeze out, “That… Doesn’t sound right.” “You’re telling us!” Axe-Man yells. Recovering, you admit, foolishly, that it WAS you who gave him their address- but they interrupt your explanation with an even more confusing bit of info.

A female mage in the back of the small huddle asks- err, accuses you, “Why the hell d’you send us that young of an elf, huh?!” “Wait. Young?” You stand on your toes to try and meet the woman’s eyes. “What does that have to do with it?” She elbows her way to the front, Axe-Man reluctantly shuffling to the side. “It’s only the really freakin’ old ones that are any good at ANYTHING!” A dwarf on your right adds, “Yeah, and Airhead couldn’t have been more than twenty! So why d’you-?!” You wave your hands and try to salvage the situation, saying, “I swear, I had no idea -- about his age OR why it mattered! I only gave him your address for the job ‘cause he owes me a ton of money!” “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one!” Axe-Man screams, “He demanded we pay him upfront to be our archer, and then he just VANISHED!” Another teammate you can’t see yells from further back, “We should hunt HIM instead of the wyrmling!” The rest of the group gives out a raucous cheer of agreement.

And a light-bulb turns on in your head. You might be able to get something out of this after all! Aired may not be good for money -- or to recommend for clients’ jobs. But if he really isn’t “any good at ANYTHING” like the woman said… Well, now you know why he can’t seem to get any “good” jobs. Which means, with the debt he owes you -- he can’t refuse yours!

Smirking, you make yourself heard over the excitement.

And a couple days later, you’re examining the beautiful new bounty hanging on your wall:

“REWARD! “This young elf owes a large debt to the local tavern. 300 Gold will be rewarded to anyone who can bring him in ALIVE. Poses minimal threat.” There’s a portrait of Aired above the text, with his name printed directly between.

The people who made it must have misheard the name, though. Because the bounty is for someone called “Airhead Doorbell.”

~~~~~

If you liked this, please REBLOG!

You can vote for the next OSW (and/or make an OSW request) using the poll HERE until Nov. 13th, or find the current poll on my Tumblr, Twitter, or Website!

AO3 version

Buy this OSW as an ebook for $0.99 here!

OSWs Master List

{This is part of my “OneShot Wednesday” project - I’m trying to write a one-shot every week that other people have requested! Original Requests one week, and Fanfic Requests the next.

While I will try to keep track of all the requests I receive regardless of how they’re sent, the best ways to send them are: A. Through the current poll. B. If it’s a Fanfic Request, through the pinned tweet on my Twitter C. If it’s an Original Request, through either my email (CiestessDE@gmail.com), my Patreon (if you’re a patron), or my Ko-fi.

Just about everything goes – I’ll tell you if there’s a problem. But if you want to know more about how they work, you can read about Original OSWs here, and Fanfic OSWs here.

So please send me ALL the ideas!!! I will make sure to recognize whoever’s idea/request it was in the work – just ask if you want to remain anonymous.}

[auradonfairy]

WARNING DONT BUY CAT COMPANY PHONES

my dad had a rugged version of a kyrocera phone twice and the charging port fell out twice. I wasn’t upset the first time because I know my dad is typically harsh on phones [this was the 2015ish charging port for android]

We switched to a CAT phone of the same type but with the newer reversible charger so it couldn’t have the charger “jammed in the wrong way” as if my father was at fault for the problem. [which he might of but I’m highly started to doubt it due to the repetitive issues]

Flashforward 6 months later and the phone will no longer charge. It shows it’s charging but never comes back on and if it does it is in constant reboot mode. When bringing this up with SPRINT phone service. We are once again told the issue is more or likely out fault and told that we can attempt to get the original company to check it but told “good luck getting ahold of them” BY AN EMPLOYEE. Because they believe that the company will tell us the same thing.

We pay insurance and have a 1-year warranty on the device. Still not getting answers and when my mother talked to a CAT representative [after 40 minutes on hold] on a Friday, they started to open the case but when they asked for an email she gave them mind. My mother asked the lady if she would like her to spell out my first name as it can be spelled multiple ways. The lady declined and take a wild guess what happened? SHE SPELT THE EMAIL WRONG, and then we couldn’t get ahold of the company until Monday because they closed their offices.

Flash forward to getting the email switched and a week later they email me to say that they asked for info in a previous email that they never asked for. So we got delayed of service AGAIN. We get the shipping label and go through loops to print it off and finally ship off the phone. Two weeks later, no emails or calls to confirmed the phone is received.

Then a week after that they send me an email to SURVEY them and how they did on the phone. But guess what, they still have yet to ship the phone back or update us. So I call the company, once again on a Friday after doing their review and it forcing positive answers to complete the full review. [5 positive answers , multiple choice. And they won’t allow me to skip the question which forces me to say they did a good job even though they haven’t. So I can get to the negative responses.]

So I talk to a rep on Friday, after holding for another 14-30 minutes and the lady is slowly starting to panic on the other line because she’s not finding the information so she tells me she will inform her manager and get back to me later.

They call back on Monday. Telling me the phone is just then being shipped out. [so they had just left the phone lying somewhere and forgot about it]

I get an email yesterday saying the phone will be delivered by 8 am today. I’m pleased it’s finally coming back after a month.

I wake up this morning to a confirmation that the phone was delivered, TO THE WRONG ADRESS after WE CONFIRMED OUR ADRESS LAST MONDAY.

so now I’ve been on the phone for two hours waiting to speak to a representative. They’ve hung up on me once already and when I chose the option to go to their voicemail it was completely full so I had to call back again.

My phones been delivered to the wrong ADRESS, the company lines never ANSWER and if they do they don’t have any answers to our problems.

Not to mention we had to switch to a new phone while still paying for our one that we sent over. [sprint oh so kindly dropped our insurance on the phone without asking us if we wanted to so I have no clue if it’s insured.]

Safe to say I’m not a very happy camper 😡😡😡😡

[im-outdated]

MotoSupport Review – From A Real User

MotoSupport Review -- What Is MotoSupport?

MotoSupport OTO is a brilliant tool that permits you to pair your company with premium customer service without even breaking a sweat!

All the important features are accumulated in one easy dashboard. And the only thing you want to do to put them into operation is your mouse. There's absolutely no skill or complex tool required.

With MotoSupport, you'll be able to control the support tickets for almost any product with ease. You can also reply to your customers immediately through the tool's automation technologies as well as receiving real-time notifications.

Much better than doing things the old way, do not you agree?

MotoSupport Review -- Around Writer

Vivek Gour is a renowned vendor from the notorious digital market Jvzoo. Up to now, he's already launched a large number of powerful products to the market.

For examples, do you remember Motor Theme, the tool found in 2017? Through the years, it still remains among the most impressive marketing and advertising tools ever released. Thus far, it has already got 2 updates, and the third one is going to come along over the next few months.

Guess what? He had been the one behind it!

By the appearance of Gour's prior successes, I've a feeling that MotoSupport will dominate the industry soon.

MotoSupport Review -- Features and Benefits

Add multiple products

MotoSupport enables you to upload your present products to its system with ease. And all you will need to do is to import any essential information, such as the product's name, domainname, host URL, and so on.

With this tool, you'll have the chance to control the tickets for every single one of your goods separately.

Plus, you can also reply to all of the support requests mentioning the same problem at once to immediately earn customers' satisfaction. The tool even sends each complaint email a message stating that you have obtained the problems and will work on fixing them quickly to guarantee your customers.

On top of that, an analysis of how well your tickets are performing is also coming along!

Outstanding integrations

MotoSupport is also incorporated with over 20 popular autoresponders! To put it differently, with one click only, you can have all the support tickets directed to your own emails.

In case you wonder, this feature offers integrate support across social networking, email, and also chat.

Live Chats are also a good way to make your business more earnings. And MotoSupport will let you run and manage them without breaking a sweat.

I used this product as beta tester so today I'm going to make this fair review for you.

So that you can expect everything out of my review.

Note1: Before describing main MotoSupport features, I'm going to supply you a summary about it.

Please take a look to my screenshot below:

MotoSupport is essentially is a support desk that you do not have to pay monthly fee for this.

It costs you one time, you can use it to handle all your activities.

I'm going to show you 3 modules today: Admin Access, Operator Access, Customer Access.

-- Admin Access: here you can handle everything about technical stuffs of your service desk. (like add products, handle tickets, check customers, manage autoresponders, and more)

-Operator Access: here is where your assistants work, he/she only logins to it and allow you to solve all tickets. They cannot do anything more.

-Customer Access: where your customers can submit their tickets.

Now I'm going to explain one by one for you.

1/Admin Access:

This is primary dashboard of Admin Access:

From this primary interface, you can see your service desk stat like the current tickets, customer satisfaction.

Admin Access has some segments like Products, tickets, Operators, Customers, Autoresponders, Settings.

a/Products:

This is where you can add unlimited your merchandise. It means Motosupport allows you to support a number of products under same dashboard.

This feature is quite impressed to me.

Take a look to my screenshot below:

To add a new product, just insert your basic info like below:

This is where you can handle all tickets, including: tickets that are expired and tickets that are pending.

It means that you can monitor all tickets that your operators (your assistants) do.

c/Operators:

This module allows you to bring some operators who can help you answer customers' tickets.

Adding new operator is quite easy, just put email, name and choose the product that you want and Done!

From this dash, you can also check the number of open tickets and the number of closed tickets any operator is handling.

c/Customers:

This section lets you know all present customers you have on your service desk as below:

You can also add more customers if you would like.

d/Autoresponders:

MotoSupport allows you to bring some ARs to your support desk.

They're Aweber, ActiveCampaign, benchmark, ConstantContact, Converkit, CampaignMonitor, Drip, Getresponse, Hubspot, iContact, Infusionsoft, Mailchimp, MailerLite, MarketHero, Sendloop, Sendreach, Sendlane, Sendinblue, Sendy, and Verticalresponse.

This module only lets your assistants/operators answer tickets. Nothing more!

Here is where your customer can login to and start their tickets.

See my picture below:

With MotoSupport, it will only take you a couple of minutes to pair your business with outstanding customer care! Please check out this demonstration video for a closer look at how each feature function.

MY OPINION:

In my opinion, if you need one good service desk for your company, you should buy this product.

This tool is affordable, and it also offers one time fee also.

https://uprafficoto.com/