#also i had a lot of really positive customer interactions today. and coworker interactions

[fangirlinginleatherboots]

Guess who was a trainer at work today!!!!!!

[angelanimedesaray]

Can I get a modern AU Levi scenario where reader and Levi are coworkers and Erwin and Hanji are trying to set them up knowing Levi has a crush on reader?

I really like ur stories btw!! <3

AN:  Thank you so much--I’m glad you like them!!

So...I have never done a coffee shop AU...now is THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY.  This occurred to me when I sat there after reading this trying to figure out what job they shared.  So yes, I’m going cliché for this one because I can’t resist the opportunity to FINALLY DO IT!!!  Also, in a way, its also Levi finally getting his tea shop (Cries softly behind the laptop screen).

Okay, quick rundown of who does what and where so I don’t have to spend time on it in the fic:  Levi--Owner of the coffee shop--though he also works there.  he doesn’t deal with the people, though, just makes the drinks, namely the teas.  Erwin--Business Partner, mainly the one who made the money work to get the store open and running.  He also works in the back in the little bakery/kitchen he convinced Levi to incorporate so it wasn’t just drinks and there was something to eat as well.  Hange--Cashier.  She’s the bubbly chatty on that people get to interact with and deal with.  Occasionally helps with the drinks if its busy and she has a moment.  You--Pick Up Counter/Waitress and Drinks.  You get people their drinks, the second face they see/person they deal with, and you help Levi with the drinks, leaving the teas to him since its his preference and specialty and making whatever else is needed.

Also I don’t know why this ended up feeling like a sitcom...and how we ended up seeing more from Hange and Erwin than Levi and Reader XD

Fanfic One-Shot Request is below the cut.

~*~The Perfect Blend~*~

“They work so well together.”

“I have yet to find a flaw--it’s like perfect harmony.  It’s ridiculous and it makes me so jealous.”

“Well there is one flaw.”

“You mean the fact that he hasn’t--?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, I’m running out of ideas of how to fix that, and yours are just getting crazier and crazier.”

“I still suggest we lock them in the back cooler until they can work things out.  Maybe we’ll get lucky and for warmth, they’ll--”

“Oi!  Eyebrows!  Shitty Glasses!  The morning rush is going to start any minute now--stop gossiping and get back to work!  Erwin, don’t you have another batch of scones still in the oven in the back?  Hange--you still haven’t fixed the menu for the new week, get on that!  Now!”

Erwin sighed and let out a soft ‘stubborn man’ before he disappeared into the back to make sure the scones were all right.  Hange, however, pouted in the face of Levi’s knowing glare.

“Aww, Levi, come on, loosen up a bit!  It’s a Tuesday, it’ll probably be really q--”

“AH!  Don’t you dare!” you suddenly shouted at her, running through the back room door with a bag of espresso beans in on arm and a box of coffee cup sleeves tucked under the other.  “The last time you said the Q word, we had to stay three hours late closing up and cleaning because we didn’t get enough time to breathe, let alone keep the place from turning into a disaster!”

Hange huffed.  “That’s just a bunch of superstitious nonsense.  Saying a word doesn’t effect whether or not we have a busy day.”

“Speak for yourself--jinxes are a thing,” you returned, getting up in front of the coffee machine and filling up the espresso side.  “Also, Levi, we’re out of decaf beans.  Well, almost--what’s in the dispenser up here is the last of it.”

“What?  I thought there were at least three more bags back there,” Levi said with a frown, turning away from filling his tea assortment up front to look at you with a spark of concern.  You didn’t get a lot of decaf orders, but orders were also fairly unpredictable--now that you didn’t have any more, today could be the day for a rash of decaf coffee orders.

“Well, I didn’t see any.  I looked everywhere they might be, so unless someone moved it somewhere it shouldn’t be...”

Levi sighed, following you into the back to help see if the two of you could find the missing bags of beans.  Once they disappeared from sight, Erwin stuck his head out the little window into the kitchen for communication between the front and back, one of the sliding doors in the back of the glass display cases for the baked goods open with a tray of scones sliding into place before he gave Hange a pointed look, brought his hands together with his palms faced outwards before he gave an exaggerated pushing motion.

“I know I’m usually the one for the crazy impulsive things, but we really shouldn’t lock our two drink makers in the cooler right before the rush hour,” Hange said with a sigh.  “And it was such a perfect opportunity, too...”

“Did you hide the coffee beans?”

“Maybe.”

“You should have done it near the end of the rush when no one was looking.  Then they might have gone looking for it when we could afford to shove them in a freezer for a while.”

“Erwin, you’re starting to sound like me.”

“It’s been a year and a half, Hange, I’ve lost my patience for this, it’s getting ridiculous.”

“We might have to stage a straight up intervention.  Before that, do you think we could set them up on a blind date?  Do you think they’d take that bait?”

“Levi knows what we’ve been doing, he’d see right through it...Hange, it’s taking them a while, where did you hide the beans?”

“In my car.  They’ll never find them until I want them to.  What if we just tell Y/N?  Shorty obviously isn’t going to make the first move, so maybe try to get her to?”

“No, I don’t think she will make the first move, either, they’re both too damn shy.  Hange, you should probably smuggle those back inside, it really is almost time for the morning rush, and we might need it.”

“Don’t worry about the beans, you just worry about your pastries.”

Erwin raised an eyebrow at her tone, noting that she was pretty much standing in the same place she’d been in when Levi snapped at them for gossiping when they should have been working.   “Don’t you have a menu to update.”

“Pfft,” she replied, looking like she was about to laugh it off before a now disgruntled Levi appeared through the back room doors, and she slunk away to at least look like she’d been doing it all this time.

“Just keep Hange up to date on how much decaf we have left so she knows when to stop selling it.  When it’s out, it’s out,” he was telling you, going back to his little section behind the corner where he would stay during the rush to make the teas.  The door opened with a quiet whoosh, and Hange scrambled down from where she’d been scrawling the new specials for the weak on the chalkboard menu so she could wait on the customer that had just walked in.

And just like they’d been anticipating, the rush began a few minutes later after the first arrival.

When there was a lull in the constant flow of business that constituted your morning rushes, Erwin poked his head out of the back to gesture you over to him.

“Y/N, I need a second pair of hands back here, just for a second.  Hange, can you--?”

“On it!” Hange said cheerily, taking over your position behind the coffee bar while you hurried into the kitchen to help Erwin with whatever he was having trouble with.

Surprisingly, when you came into the kitchen, it didn’t look like he had anything going.  And looking over at the glass sliding back doors to the pastry shelves, it looked like everything was appropriately stocked.  He didn’t look like he was in the middle of cleaning--everything looked spotless, his supplies neatly organized and filled...so why were you back here?

Erwin turned to face you fully once the kitchen door swung shut behind you, heaving a sigh as he wiped the remnants of flour on his hands off on his apron.  “Listen, Y/N, Hange and I have been talking about how to go about this subtly for a while now, and I’m of the opinion that subtlety isn’t going to work, so--”

“You two are dating!” you gasped, interrupting him with a flash of excitement.  With all the whispering between the two and the times they would stow away leaving you and Levi alone to do who knew what, it made you start to wonder.  Especially with the little glares you caught Levi giving them every now and then, like he knew what they were up to and didn’t approve for some reason--or at least didn’t approve of it during working hours.

Erwin blinked, taken aback for a moment before he regained that unfaltering composure of his.  “Ah, no.  We’re not.  We can discuss where you got that idea later, but right now, we need to keep this quick before another rush comes in.  Do you like Levi?”

You let out a startled laugh at his question, for a moment believing he might be messing with you before you saw the serious look in his eyes.  “Do I...um...Why, why would you need to know that?” you asked, a blush starting to creep up in your face.

Yes, yes you did like Levi.  But you tried not to think too much about it.  He was kind of your boss as much as your coworker, and those thoughts, that you didn’t think were returned, would only be distracting if you let them slip through while you were working together.  And you two worked well together, like clockwork, perfectly in sync behind the counter no matter how fast paced and complicated business got.  You were rather proud of it, actually.  And you didn’t want to disrupt that, afraid to cause a ripple, or rather a wave, in the calm waters between you two if the feeling wasn’t reciprocated.

And sure, Levi and Erwin owned the place, it was a small privately owned business, not some franchise, so maybe a workplace romance wouldn’t be some big HR mess here, but if something did happen, and then something went wrong, it might ruin the good thing you all had going on here.

“I’m asking because Hange and I are certain that Levi likes you, as well,” Erwin said, clearly deciding based off your reaction that you did like him.  Especially after he just outed how Levi felt about you like that, your eyes widening as you stared blankly at him.  “But both of you are two shy and stubborn to do anything yourselves, and Levi’s been resistant to any of our nudges to get him to make any kind of move.  We’re both at the point of locking you two in a room together until you both come clean, but, this is probably the much more tacit and practical approach.  I figured if Levi won’t make a first move, perhaps you should just be told up front, so maybe you will.”

What you were not aware of, was that a few feet away from where Erwin and you were having your conversation, Hange was doing something similar with Levi as the two of them made coffees and teas, speaking around the moments where she had to pause and shout out an order or dash off to take a table their drinks to have a much more...to the point conversation with Levi.

“Levi, you’re stubborn, and lovestruck, and it’s too painful to watch you two awkward love birds waddle around blindly like this anymore.  You’re worse than children.”

“Hange, we’ve already talked about this, it’s none of your business, stay out of it,” Levi grumbled under his breath, at least taking pains to keep his voice lowered while talking about personal matters at work, even if it was to try and keep Hange quiet.

Hange didn’t care, though, and apparently she wasn’t messing around today, either.

“If you don’t tell her yourself soon, Shorty, I’m going to tell her.”

Levi set down the empty cup he’d just grabbed for another tea a little harder, glaring at Hange with a sharp look.  “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.  You like her, Levi, and she likes you--it’s obvious.  Just ask her to go do something with you, it’s not that hard,” Hange stressed to him, assembling some of the teacups that had Levi’s freshly made tea in them to take out to some of the customers that were sitting in and not grabbing their drinks to go.

“Talk to her,” Hange stressed before taking off with the drinks, a big smile and playful laughter for the guests she entertained along the way.

“It’s not that simple,” he muttered under his breath, keeping his eyes down on the tea he was making as he thought of the ultimatum Hange just gave him.  As much as he kept hesitating and doubting himself when it came to confessing how he felt about you, and as much as he struggled to even think of what to say, he did want to finally say something.  Every time he tried, though, the words got stuck in his throat, or what he planned to say turned into something else entirely at the last second, something that had nothing to do with telling you how he felt.  However, he did /not/ want someone else confessing his feelings to you for him, even if it was meant to push him to act.  He wanted to do that himself.  So Hange threatening to tell you herself was actually a pretty smart move.  He hated how pressured he felt to say something, now, though.

But he really had been taking far too long to get this out between the two of you.  It was time he did something about it.  Now he just had to do it...even though he had no idea what he was doing.  What to say.  What they should do.  What it would mean.  If it would impact the two of you negatively, if it would even work out.

He was getting far too deep into his own head over this.  He just needed to...rip the band aid off.  Get it out and between the two of you.  As soon as Erwin returned you to the front, he would ask...ask...well, he was going to try and ask you out.  First he had to make sure you had time, though.

As if on cue, you came out of the kitchen with lightly flushed cheeks, looking preoccupied with your own thoughts as you robotically took your usual spot next to him at the coffee bar.  For a minutes, Levi kept glancing at you, suddenly hesitating because of the look on his face.  Maybe he shouldn’t say anything, it didn’t look like you were open to conversation even right now.  And you seemed a little closed off to him, like you were keeping to yourself for some reason.

Ah, fuck, but if he didn’t do it now, he might chicken out.  Or Hange might get impatient and spit it out anyway.

Levi scowled into the cup in front of him as he tried to figure out what to do before he just blurted out the sentence without even looking at you, ironically at the same time you tried to speak to him.

“Levi, can I ask you some--”

“Are you doing anything this week?”

Levi realized he’d just talked right over you, and he immediately started kicking himself, keeping his eyes glued to the tea instead of you as his cheeks started to color and betray his embarrassment as he scrambled for words.  Did he apologize?  Keep talking?  Explain himself?  You weren’t saying anything.  Wait, were you confused?  He knew your schedule--well, your work schedule, he was your boss.

“I mean, besides work--I know when you work, obviously, I just meant--mean...shit...I’m sorry, I interrupted you, um...What did you want to ask?” he said, hating himself more and more as he stumbled through the awkward words, closing his eyes and cursing himself.

“I, um...I was going to ask if you...if you liked...” Levi looked up sharply at you in surprise, heart skipping a beat as he met your gaze.  You stuttered at the eye contact, a strange little noise coming out of your throat as your cheeks burned a brilliant shade with the intensity of your blush.  “...would like to do something this week, actually.  Maybe see a movie, or grab something to eat together or...or go to the library.”

Levi stared at you.  “The library?”

Your gaze flickered up at him, appearing to scream ‘I don’t know, I panicked!’ so loud that he didn’t even need to ask.

You were both complete messes, weren’t you?

“We can.  Just...just pick a day, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

“Saturday night?”

“I can do that.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

A silence settled over the two of you, and you both went back to what you were doing, butterflies in your stomachs as you snuck glances at each other from the corners of your eyes, Levi trying to hide a subtle, pleased smile, and you brightly beaming but chewing on your lip as if you were trying to rein yourself in and have at least some decency.  It didn’t work of course.

Was that entire conversation...really that easy?  After all this time?

Hange was leaning against the wall next to Erwin’s little window, both of them staring at the two awkward lovebirds in a mixture of satisfaction and bewilderment.

It was Hange who spoke up.

“I don’t know the bigger pair of idiots are--those two who took so damn long just to say something so simple to each other...or the two of us that didn’t realize that it was as simple as telling them to talk to each other.”

“...You should probably put those beans back before Levi figures out what happened to them.”

“Shut up, you’re the one who wanted to lock them in a cooler,” Hange grumbled, quickly slinking away to try and sneak the decaf espresso beans back into the back storage without Levi noticing.

An endeavor doomed to fail from the start, but at least when he did catch her sneaking back inside with the decaf espresso beans in her arms it was quite a bit of entertainment for the regular customers who knew about Levi’s stricter, surlier attitude and Hange’s antics.

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea @hauntedhousecat @peaches-and-clouds

[myheroacademiashorts]

Heartbreak - Part 1

Prompt: After overhearing your boyfriend admit that he’s cheated on you with another, you try to move on as best as you can; with the help of one of your closest friends, who is also the guy crushing on you without your knowledge.

Pairing: ShinsoxReader, with BakugouxReader (ex-boyfriend, RIP)

Rating: (Attempted?) Angst and Slight Fluff

Words: 3,569 (lololol 69)

Part two? Hahahahaha yeah whatever......... Unless?.....

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

Some days, you’d wish for the sky to fall. Usually you’d want that to happen when small occurrences took place; rain instead of sun, tripped and scraped your knee, forgot about a homework assignment the day it was due. Small problems. Nothing deadly serious.

You never expected to actually want to die. Or at least feel like you did.

“Hey, (Y/N), isn’t that your boyfriend over there?” One of your co-workers nudged your shoulder as you placed an order ticket into the kitchen, snapping it into place on a turntable wire rack. You swiveled your head to the pointed direction, eyes wide and a warm smile growing on your face. You hadn’t told Bakugou you were working today, instead lying and telling him you were going shopping with your mom, because you didn’t want him to notice the extra hours you were putting in… Especially with his birthday right around the corner, and you know that he’s been eyeing a new gaming system. The exact system you planned to buy for him at the end of this week.

He had that familiar scowl on his face as he slumped down into a chair, the face of his companion hidden by one of the many plants placed around the restaurant you worked in. The table was right by a tall window, light streaming in and hitting your lover’s handsome face perfectly. A warm feeling settled in your stomach, and with a cheesy grin you moved towards him, as if pulled by a string. Then, he spoke just as you were about to swing behind a wall to surprise him.

“I can’t keep lying to (Y/N). It’s fucking killing me.” You froze, hand over your mouth as if you were afraid that your breathing would give away your position. You pressed  your back flush against the wall ad continued to listen. “Fuck, I didn’t want this to happen! How the hell do I even tell her?”

“It’s better to tell her straight-forward instead of keeping it a secret. You shouldn’t even have kept it as long as you have. Either way, she’s going to be pretty upset.” You’d recognize Kirishima’s voice anywhere, even when it wasn’t full of his cheerfulness and bubbly nature as usual. Instead, it sounded sad.

“Duh, you idiot! Of course she’s gonna be fucking upset. I didn’t do something small, like forgetting to get her flowers or accidentally blowing up her homework. How the fuck do you tell someone you cheated on them with one of their friends?”

You nearly choked on air in shock. A gentle hand grabbed your arm, and in a panic you wretched away, glancing up to meet a familiar pair of violet eyes. “Shinso.” You breathed your friend’s name out in relief, glad it was him instead of another co-worker of yours. The pair of you had been friends since the Sports Festival your first year, despite your differences; while Shinso was normally very quiet, you were the extrovert of your class, always aiming to talk to everyone you stumbled upon and almost always being able to get along with them. It was probably the one reason that you were able to even come remotely close to Bakugou, let alone close enough to date him. You bit down on your lower lip to stall it from quivering.

“I heard everything. Are you okay?” He placed his hand on yours once more, and this time you didn’t push him away. Slowly, you nodded, and looked up to meet his face with a glassy gaze and fragile smile. With both hands, you rubbed furiously at your eyes, cursing the tears away and looking at Shinso, determination replacing your sadness. As well as a shit-load of anger. A lot. “I’m okay! Hey, is that for table 23? Let me take it for you.” You chirped out in false happiness, spotting one of your fellow employees exiting the kitchen with a tray. You’d recognize Bakugou’s order anywhere; extra-spicy curry, so red that it looked like fresh lava. Your co-worker beamed at you as she handed you the tray in thanks, not noticing the deadly look you shot at the waiting table.

“Let me take that for yo-”

“Really, Shinso, it’s my pleasure. Just watch me.”

You plastered on a smile as you made your way to the table, Bakugou grumbling as he looked out of the window while Kirishima stared at the table’s surface with remorse. You caught the tail end of their conversation as you approached. “For the record, Mina was the one who kept coming on to me, so it wasn’t my fault when she kneeled down and-” You practically slammed the plate down in front of Bakugou, cutting him off. Both boys snapped to attention, two pairs of crimson eyes widening at you. “Oh, what a surprise! What are you two doing here? Bakugou, didn’t you tell me you were oh-so-busy training today?” Your voice was sickly sweet, deadly to any diabetic and sugary enough to give cavities.

“(Y/N)? I thought you were with your old hag today?” There was an underlying fear in his voice, which was strange to hear from Bakugou. Although not entirely unpleasant, especially since you knew you were the reason for this emotion.

“No~ope, that was a lie! So, you and Mina, huh? Tell me, was it worth it? How was she on her knees, hm?” You grinned at him, yet there was malice in your (E/C) eyes and poison on your tongue as you spoke. For once, Bakugou was at a loss for words. “Y-you heard?” Kirishima piped up nervously, twiddling his thumbs in his lap as he stared at you. You turned to him. “Oh, yes. Every word!” The happy facade was starting to wear you thin, but you continued to play the part. “Great idea for you two to come gossip at the one restaurant where your girlfriend works, and not at the other dozen down the street. A couple of Einsteins, right here.” You laughed dryly.

“Babe, let me explai-”

You glowered at him darkly, the smile dropping from your lips. “Oh, my mistake. I meant ex-girlfriend. Because you and I? Done, over, no relationship between us. Capiche?” You ran a finger over your throat, as if to bring the words to life. “I don’t want to ever speak to you again, understood? From this day forward, you’re dead to me. I’ll pack whatever belongings I have of yours tonight, and someone will drop them off to you tomorrow.” You spun on your heel, taking a few steps away from the silenced table, before turning back to them. “Thank you once again for stopping at (R/N) Restaurant. A waitress will bring you some to-go plates. Now fuck off.”

You turned away from them once more, hearing Bakugou growl in frustration as he shoved his chair back to reach out for you… Shinso stepped in his path, roughly grabbing the hot-headed boy’s wrist with his usual cool expression still on his face. “I believe that it would be best for you to leave now.” Shinso said. His voice sounded deadly, and at this point multiple other customers had turned their heads to the commotion. Even the manager, a sweet old lady who hated unnecessary drama, had been watching the interaction from the beginning and also stepped forward beside Shinsou, mimicking the same response as him.

Bakugou’s burning gaze met with yours - full of anger, sadness, guilt - before Kirishima finally grabbed his shoulder and steered him to the exit, apologizing the entire time. They even left cash on the table beside their steaming plates of food. As soon as the pair had exited the building, everyone’s shoulders seemed to slump in relief.

You manager hobbled to you, concern etching her features. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” She asked, and you replied with a weak smile. A few other coworkers held the same expression, all-too-familiar with Bakugou’s fiery temperament. As well as the fact that they also heard he cheated on you, after many months of being in a relationship. You hated the weight of their gazes, of their pity.

“I’m fine! If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go borrow the restroom for a moment.” You kept your composure with a smile as you twisted past worried gazes, quietly entering the bathroom. Silence followed you, a few whispers that you couldn’t make out trailing as well. It wasn’t until the bathroom door shut behind you that you took a deep breath, eyes darting to make sure that the two stalls were empty, before sagging to the tile floor with a bubbling sob. You were hurt; of course you were. Your heart felt as if it was breaking to pieces, shattered and unfixable. He was not only your first boyfriend, but also your first love. You loved that temperamental teenager, even if you shouldn’t have. You had planned to tell him so on his birthday, and the thought made another painful cry erupt from your lungs.

God, you felt like shit.

You clung to your knees, chest heaving as you let the tears stream down your face. You couldn’t seem to calm yourself down, which was even worse. Panic began to claw at your throat, and you tighten your hold on yourself, willing for someone to help you. To help ease the pain, if possible.

A knock rang out from the bathroom door, and instinctively you sucked in a breath, ceasing your muffled sobs. “(Y/N)?” You recognized Shinso’s voice, always so even in almost every situation. When you didn’t respond after a moment, he opened the door. Almost immediately he spotted you, huddled in the middle of the room, your usually bright (E/C) gaze filled with a cornucopia of emotions; sadness, frustration, conflict, anger. So much anger, and you had no idea what to do with it. The two of you stared at each other silently, before Shinso finally shut the door behind him to instead sink down to you. You tried to plaster on a smile once more, as if to wear the mask of the girl you usually were; happy, bubbly, always there to lift one’s spirits. The action made Shinso frown. “C’mere. Don’t hold it all in.” He opened his arms to you, and without hesitation you vaulted yourself into his chest, tears resuming as you sobbed once more. You clung to his shirt as if your life depends on it, hands balling into fists and no doubt wrinkling his black button-down. Not that he cared. At that moment, the only thing he cared about was you. He wrapped his arms around your shaking shoulders, nose buried in your hair and holding you close. “Fuck that guy. You deserve better, way better than any scum like him. You’re the whole ocean when he’s only a pebble on the shore.” For a moment, Shinso felt cheesy for saying anything. Much of his intelligence on romanticism was from soap operas and rom-com movies (not that he’d ever admit to watching either, mind you), yet he didn’t know how accurate the scenes were to real life. However, when a small laugh bubbled form you, he knew he must’ve done something right.

You lifted your head to look at him, eyes sparkling and a small, genuine smile finally overtaking your lips. There was still evidence of your sadness lingering, yet much less than before. “Shinso…” You hesitated on his name, and he felt his heart jump up for a moment after it passed your lips. “... Was that a quote from Love By The Sea?” His cheeks burned, and you laughed when you realized you were correct. Shinso didn’t even care one bit that you were technically laughing at him; instead, he stared at you in wonder, indigo eyes wide in awe as he took in your tear-streaked cheeks, blinding smile, absolutely everything. And he had the urge to lean down and press his lips to yours… But he knew that wouldn’t be the smartest action. Especially since you just broke up with your boyfriend, oh… five minutes ago, maybe? Ten? Probably less, or maybe even more. He honestly couldn’t keep track of time with you beside him, and he wondered if that was a good thing or not.

“I didn’t peg you for the romantic type.” You continued, leaning back into Shinso’s chest as your sniffles began to fade. He continued to sit in silence, instead rubbing one hand on your back while the other caressed the back of your neck, playing with a few strands of the baby hairs that resided. It was calm between you two, the only sound being the music that played overhead through a small speaker. Finally, Shinso broke the silence. “Okay now?” He asked, looking down at you. At least you weren’t crying anymore. After he asked the question, he felt you stiffen in his arms as you contemplate your emotions. Were you really okay? No. But were you better than before? Much. “For now. Thank you, Shinso. It’s kinda embarrassing that you had to see me so dramatic.” You laughed dully at your own remark. You both leaned back to look at each other, Shinso’s attention jumping all around your face, and the hand that had been by your neck came up to wipe away a stray tear. He was incredibly warm, and it was then that you noticed how close you were to one another. You laughed awkwardly once more, untangling yourself from him and making a move to stand. Shinsou was as quick as lightning, getting up first before offering you a hand. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He wrapped his hand behind his own neck at this point, a habit that he usually reverted to whenever he felt embarrassed or shy. Another smile graced his lips. “If you ever need anyone, I’m here for you. Don’t forget that.”

You heart warmed at his words, your cheeks following in pursuit. “Jeez, my hero.” You teased, knocking his shoulder lightly with your hand and you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks had a stained trail left behind, ruining what little make-up you had put on before work. Make-up meant for Bakugou, who you were planning to meet up with after. A dark look crossed your face as you thought of the heartbreaker once more, and felt another wave of sadness coming up. Shinso noticed as well, and grabbed ahold of your attention once more by making eye contact with you through the mirror. “Stay here for a second.” He muttered, disappearing out of the door. Less than a minute passed by before he returned, carrying your backpack and his own. “Manager said we could take the rest of the day off and to not worry about it. Let’s go.”

Slightly in a daze, you followed Shinso out of the bathroom and into the main area, noting a messily scrawled OUT OF ORDER sign on the women’s door; no doubt the purple-haired boy’s handwriting. Shinso shot a small wave to your manager, who demanded you to feel better or she’d “really put some spice in that meat head’s curry next time he came in.” The thought made you giggle.

You followed Shinso in dead silence for a bit, who still held on to your backpack as he walked forward with intent. “So… Where are we going?” His only reply was a quick grin behind his shoulder at you, before grabbing your hand and pulling you into a convenience store. You didn’t even notice that Shinso had grabbed a basket until he began to pile things into it - chips, candy, plastic-wrapped pastries - all while still clinging to your hand. He turned to you. “Any requests?” He asked, as if commenting on the weather. You were quiet, pushing the purple-haired boy to squeeze your hand. “It’s on me today. Whatever you want.” Your chest bloomed at his words, and with a goofy grin you dragged him to the frozen aisle, grabbing pints and random bars of ice cream.

It was deliciously comfortable with Shinso beside you, and it didn’t bother you one minute as the two of you continued to hold hands, swinging them playfully as you made your way back to the dorms. You even forgot all about your stupid ex, up until you were standing in front of Alliance’s entrance. Weakly, Shinso attempted to pull his hand away from yours, not wanting to surface bad rumors, but you didn’t let him. You tighten your grip on his hand, enjoying the warmth and confidence that it emitted for you. For a quick moment, he flinched, not used to having such physical contact, before quickly relaxing to your touch. He then remembered how you two were walking earlier hand-in-hand, and he had to fight back a rising blush, especially when he realized just how much he liked the interaction. You looked over at him with a smile. “My room okay?” You asked, earning your friend’s silent nod in return before yanking open the door and tugging him along with you.

The common room of the dorms was mostly empty, with only a familiar tuff of green hair peeking up from behind the couch cushions; and where Izuku went, Ochaco followed close behind. When you entered the building, his head immediately snapped to attention, green eyes darting to you. From his side, a second pair of eyes emerged, and you recognized your friend’s large brown eyes and pink cheeks. “Good afternoon, you two.” You sung out, leading Shinso into the kitchen and to the fridge, where you began to place the ice cream to cease it from melting any further.

“Hi (Y/N), Shinso.” His voice was weak, and Ochaco perked up when she noticed the purple-haired boy beside you. “What are you two up to today?” Her voice was soft yet excited, earning an impish grin from you. 

“Oh, you know. Just hanging out, planning to watch some TV and pig out on carb-filled snacks. And you two?”

“Pretty much the same.”

Shinso kept quiet during the conversation, his calm eyes drifting between you and the couple perched on the couch. You still clung to his hand, noting the clamminess that had arose. From his hand or yours, you couldn’t tell, yet Shinso enjoyed the warmth that came from it, no matter how much he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Izuku’s eyes flitted to your joined hands, hesitation crossing his features as he debated his next words carefully. “So… I heard what happened. With Bakugou. And in case you were wondering, he isn’t here.”

You tried to keep your face as neutral as possible, batting away the annoyed frown that threatened to overtake your features. “Yeah. Unfortunate about how everything went down, but nothing I can do about it now, right? You know what they say; there’s no rest for the wicked.” Izuku nodded at your response, while his girlfriend regarded you with pity-filled eyes. “You’re way too good for him anyways, (Y/N)! What a scumbag.” She muttered, and although Shinso had told you something similar before earlier, her words made you smile. “Thanks, Ochaco. You’re right. Maybe tomorrow night, we can have a sleepover or something? Maybe invite the other girls too?” She nodded her head enthusiastically, and continued to shout you words of encouragement as you made your way up the stairs.

Shinso had never been in your room before, despite the countless times you had been in his to study and hang out. He couldn’t imagine your room; would it be bright and colorful? Dark and moody? Or more plain than his imagination can come up with? He wasn’t able to contemplate it any more as you shoved open your bedroom door, closing it softly behind him.

It was definitely not what he had in mind, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. On the contrary, he automatically fell in love with your bedroom. It was a mix of everything that reminded him of you, from your rock posters to your flowery bed sheets to the multitude of novels that were shoved on your overloaded bookshelf. As soon as you entered the room, you dropped Shinso’s hand, much to his disappointment, and instead went to light a candle that sat on your desk. A flood of cinnamon and apple filled the room after the wick was finally lit, and with a sigh you sagged down onto your floor, patting the spot beside you as you faced the television. “Oh, come now. I don’t bite unless you ask me to.” You flashed Shinso a teasing grin, and with a light chuckle he slid down beside you, one knee pulled up and the other left to stretch out. He set the two bags of goodies in front of you two and began to unpack them as you flipped through the channels. 

“Anything you’d like to watch?”

“Whatever you’d like is fine by me.” 

You hummed in approval, landing on an anime show that you’ve never heard of before as you relax your shoulders and nabbed the closest candy bar. Thank god that Shinso was beside you, and for a while you once again forgot about the hot-headed hedgehog you’d have to deal with later; instead, focusing on the welcoming company of a certain violet-eyed boy, his arm pressed against your own and your head resting on his lean shoulder like it belonged there.

Part 2 can be found [here]!

[hickorydickkorydoc]

You Don’t Know My Name (Tim Drake x Reader)

Requested: nah HAHAHA just writing for my own pleasure :))

Word Count: 1400

Warnings: None

A/N: so I guess I’m doing a song fic?? I know I’m new here n I’m pretty sure I only said I vibe w DC n Broadway lololol- but one thing many people in my life know about me is that I LOVE Alicia Keys. This is one of my favorite songs from her and the whole “Diary of Alicia Keys” album and I just really love the MV so I wanted to turn it into this. Don’t forget to hit up my asks for requests! 

KEY: Y/N: Your Name Y/H/C: Your Hair Color indent: Lyrics from the song

————————————————————————————————

Baby, baby, baby,  from the day I saw you, I really, really wanted to catch your eye.

You run into your job with minutes to spare before you were considered late, flattening your uniform from the crinkles that were earned from running into the coffee house.

“You’re lucky, (Y/N), with seconds to spare.” 

You hear the comment your boss throws at you, feeling kind of annoyed.

“At least I made it.” You say with a hint of irritation in your voice as you clocked in for your shift.  

You threw on your apron and got ready for work. You took the 9-5 shift here as a way to make extra cash over the break before you headed back to college. This job could have been worse, but you were getting paid a decent amount to support yourself and to do what you wanted. 

 The morning was sluggish, but today the coffee house got a lunch rush. As businessmen and women entered in their expensive suits and leather shoes, you had a bit of hope that you’d get bigger tips than usual. You ran around taking orders and bringing the customers their second coffee of the day, it was normal.

Then, he walked in. 

 A young man with raven colored hair with gleaming blue eyes walked in. You spotted him from the corner of your eye as you brought a cup of coffee to table 12. You’d seen him before, but not up close. You thought he was charming, and he seemed to be your age as well. 

 You don’t know what changed in you. You wanted to say hello, you wanted to ask him how he’s doing, you wanted to ask who he was, you wanted him to notice you.

Something special ‘bout you, I must really like you. Cause not a lot of guys are worth my time.

From that day forward, he came on Wednesdays during his lunch break. He’d always order the coffee which was not a surprise to his coworkers  as he “was fuelled by coffee” as you’d hear it. You learned his name was Tim Drake through the whispers of the other customers as they watched him enter. You always put real milk instead of water even though your boss would call you out on it. This guy was worth more than the cheap instant coffee with just water, you thought he was kind of sweet. 

It was a new feeling, you never really gave much time to guys cause they weren’t worth it, but this guy was. 

“She’s quite pretty.” 

He thought to himself as he watched you converse with the customers with a smile as you laughed at the corny joke the older woman you were attending to cracked. He wanted to chat with you, but the lunch break was short and Wayne Enterprises needed the CEO present for the meetings of the day. 

 “Damn. One day.” He muttered to himself as he had to leave. Before he goes, he spots a glass bowl that was labeled “BUSINESS CARDS” on it. 

 “Eh, why not?” 

 He dropped his in there for the fun of it. Wayne Enterprises didn’t need anymore fame that it already got, so he dropped his own. 

 Oh baby, baby, baby, it’s getting kinda crazy. Cause you are taking over my mind.

 As you watch him walk out the diner, you feel a little sad watching him go. You loved to serve him the special, the short interaction of saying “Here’s your order, sir.” was blissful and receiving the smile and the faint “Thank you.” was enough to make your heart go pounding and making you smile like an idiot for the rest of the lunch rush.

 Every time he left, the rest would follow as their lunch breaks also finished. This let the coffee house go back into its relaxed state with customers coming and going. You watched them eat their burgers and fries whilst you thought about-

 “Tim Drake?” You heard your coworker say. 

 What? now Belinda has mind reading powers and is out here trying to embarrass you?

 “Sorry?” You say feeling a bit flustered with slight fear that maybe Belinda really did have mind reading powers and read through your thoughts.

 “Tim Drake of Wayne Enterprises dropped his card into the bowl. Huh, interesting.” 

 Belinda said as she dropped it back into the bowl. As she walks away, curiosity got the best of you as you grabbed the bowl and took the card.

 “Oh my God.” You thought to yourself. You knew what you were going to do with that card. You saw the number, you had a working cellphone, it was all the components of a crazy plan you were going to pull off.

 “I’m gonna have to just go ahead and call this boy.”  

 *********

 Another day at Wayne Enterprises meant endless meetings, dealing with angry ex lovers of Bruce Wayne at the concierge, and looking at a bunch of new business ventures. Tim was fuelled by coffee and ran on negative hours of sleep.

 As the day paced through slowly, it was finally over. Tim headed back to Wayne Manor to do more work. As he entered and changed into lounging clothes, he expected another evening of writing on excel sheets and attending to his duties as a vigilante.

 His thoughts as to what the next big investment would be paused as he heard his phone ring. An unknown number was displayed across the screen, he answered it.

 “Hello?”

 “Hello? Can I please speak to - to Tim?”

 “This is him speaking, may I help you?”

 “Oh hey, how ya doin’? Uh, I feel kinda silly doing this but uh, this is the waitress from the coffee house across Wayne Enterprises. You know, the one with the (Y/H/C) hair?”

 He smiles to himself as he recognized you by just that hint. 

 “Oh yes, hello! Miss...?”

 “(Y/N). So sorry to bother you but, I found your number in the business cards bowl.”

 “Of course, my bad I slipped for a bit, I just realized I never really caught your name on your tag.” He chuckles through the phone.

 You chuckle along as you would assume someone so young with a top position at a company would be sharper.

 “Yeah, well I see you on Wednesdays all the time. You come in every Wednesday on your lunch break I think. You always order the special, with the coffee. And my manager be tripping and stuff saying that we gotta use water. But I always use some milk and cream for you ‘cause I think you’re kinda sweet.” You mention that to him with the confidence that was erupting within. 

He blushed slightly at your remark and the gesture that you reserved just for him when he ate there. 

 “Why thank you, (Y/N). I really appreciate that.”

 Conversing with you even on the phone was enough to make this boy fall even harder for the girl he didn’t even know the name of at first. You take a glimpse at the time realizing it was getting dark and you probably shouldn’t bother such a busy guy.

 “Look man, I mean I don’t wanna waste your time, but...”

 “Oh no worries, I’m free the rest of the day.” He lies just so he can get a few more minutes of hearing your serene voice. 

 “I know girls don’t usually do this but I was wondering if maybe we could get together outside the restaurant one day? Cause I do look a lot different outside my work clothes.”

 His smile became even bigger with this newfound joy that erupted once you asked him. He chuckled at the last portion of you asking him out. He knew you’d look gorgeous in anything, even in Pajamas.

 “I’d love to, (Y/N). What about Thursday?”

 You smiled like an idiot once he said yes to meeting you. Your blood was rushing and you were filled with excitement.

 “Yes, Thursday’s perfect.” You smiled as you answered.

 “Great! see you on Thursday, (Y/N). Looking forward to it. Gotta get back to doing some work.” Tim answers back to you.

 “Oh yes! See you then!” You hung up the phone and screeched like a giddy child. Unbeknownst to you he was practically doing the same thing. This was gonna be great. 

[the-darklings]

—𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓;

pairing: detective loki x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: “Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

notes: Never let it be said that I am not an absolute fool!!! This is set pre-movie so no spoilers for the film itself. 

‘black coffee’ drabbles: ... | 02 |

The coffee is good. 

That’s why he keeps coming in. The diner also has that typical, cosy American feel to it and is, in fact, one of the busiest in town. Certainly more busy than the Chinese place across the street he likes frequenting sometimes. 

Coming here has become an odd habit ever since the Chinese place had to be closed for the day due to a burst pipe in the kitchen. He’d been hungry, sleep-deprived, and trying to solve a case and with no other option than to go to the nearest open establishment to escape the harsh October rain.

He came in because he didn’t have much of a choice. He stayed and kept coming back because the coffee is good. 

He’s also become rather fond of his little booth at the back too. Sometimes he would come in and sit here for hours, pouring over reports and case notes, trying to connect all the little dots and make sure bastards that deserve to rot did exactly that. 

“The usual?”

He pauses, his hand lifting from the notes he was scribbling in his notebook to glance up at the source of the voice. Your face is familiar because he sees you around the diner often—practically every day, if he comes in that often which he often does, even if only for a takeaway.

Truthfully, it’s hard not to notice you. You bounce around the place with a smile and a warm greeting to everyone who steps through the door. Like somehow working endless shifts in this shitty diner that could be paying no more than the minimum wage was somehow the height of living.  

Fake.

That’s the first and logical conclusion that came to mind the first time he saw you. There is no way someone can be genuinely this happy and upbeat all day round and mean it. It’s like you’re dialled up to 200% at all times and it’s almost irritating but—

“I have one of those?” he questions slowly, squinting at you, “The usual?”

Your head tilts slightly and a faint smile lingers around the corners of your mouth, knowing and cheerful. From where you stand, it does look genuine but he still has his suspicions. People would do anything nowadays for a good tip. 

“You’ve been coming in daily for almost two weeks, detective,” you reply amiably, twisting the pen between your fingers. “Of course you do.”

His eyebrows jump slightly and he scoffs under his breath. “And that would be?”

Your feet shuffle—nervous?—and you stare at him for a beat of mutual silence. You haven’t missed the slightly condescending note in his voice then. Good. 

“Coffee: black, no sugar,” you say pleasantly, tapping your pen once against the notepad in your hand, and eyes moving towards the ceiling like you’re visualising the order. “For breakfast, you enjoy bacon and eggs. Though I do recommend our buttermilk pancakes. Joey adds magic into them, I swear. Lunch would be a cheeseburger and double fries. Oh, and for dinner, hmm, meatloaf which I didn’t take you to be the type.”

He’s not sure if he should be worried or pleasantly surprised. 

“Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

You laugh; a warm sound, pleasant too, if a bit too loud. Your grin stretches and you simply glance at your notebook, fingers fiddling absentmindedly.

“Well, I guess my coworkers would say yes,” you admit, a touch embarrassed. “I would say that anticipating customer needs and making them feel appreciated is a sign of good customer service.”

Huh. 

He wonders if it’s really as simple as that. But every time he comes in, he does notice how you flutter around the dining room, interacting and chatting with everyone who wants to have a conversation. You do try your hardest to make customers feel welcome. Even if it’s nothing more than a job, he can at least acknowledge the dedication you have for a position most people would consider inconsequential. 

“Coffee. Black,” he states after another moment of silence between you, having to fight back a smile at the way your eyes jump to him, amused. “And I’ll try those, uh, magical pancakes. Thanks.”

Your smile is of pure delight and you hurriedly scribble the order down—almost like him somehow taking your recommendation on board just made your entire day. 

“Comin’ right up, detective.”

. . .

The coffee is good.

He can’t help but think it again—both in genuine appreciation and delight. Most places that sell coffee in this town only sell some weak, washed-out shit that’s a piss poor substitute for caffeine. He might as well add some salt and cement and mix it with water for how good or effective it is.

But as he sips on the scalding content in his cup, he can’t help but sigh. He can almost feel the dull twinge against his temple lessen. Fuck, how long has it been since he slept? He should probably try and catch at least a few hours before Captain tears into him again—though that worry has lessened with each new case he closes. As long as he makes the department—and especially the Captain—look good, very little matters outside of that. 

He just wants to get to the new case and the case after that—not much else exists for him outside his work. He’s good at it. He likes it. What more could he ask for?    

“Hard case?”

His eyes lift and he sees you approaching his booth with a plate of steaming, fluffy pancakes in hand. He’s not much for sweets but even he has to admit that the pancakes look rather good. 

“No,” he answers, lowering his cup slightly, “Not really.”

Not for me.

It goes unsaid but the way your mouth twitches slightly to the side tells him that you likely picked up on the unspoken meaning anyway. He regards you critically, accessing, as you lower the pancakes in front of him.

“You work too hard, detective,” you tell him, expression and voice empty of accusation or judgement. It’s simply a statement, and he even notes the slight, worried furrow of your brows. “You need to rest to be productive. Besides exhaustion can place your life in danger.”

He draws a deep breath, peering at you as he blinks a few times, squinting, “That’s rich coming from someone who I see here every day,” he points out mildly, fingers tapping against the rim of the cup with that slight edge of annoyance he can’t quite quell fully. “Today is your eight-day in a row.”

Your face creases with surprise—almost like someone noticing anything about you is somehow shocking, and perhaps it is; you are as invisible as you are seen in this place—and this time around your smile is softer, almost melancholy. 

“Well, we all gotta eat, right?” you ask, but he gets a sense that you’re not really looking for a reply so he keeps quiet, silently observing you because—perhaps—he is a touch more curious than usual. “Besides, I’m saving up. See, I really want to open my own place. Nothing big, just enough space for a kitchen and maybe ten customers—definitely something manageable. Somewhere where I can make fresh food, and stand back and watch people enjoy what I made for them. There would be kids and lots of sunlight and laughter. It would be warm. Someplace I can call my own. Don’t get me wrong, I do like it here—I mean I grew up in this town, so it goes without saying but…”

You trail off and the fond, dream-like tilt of your voice fades too. For a split second, he feels almost disoriented because for a moment he saw it too. You would greet all guests and know them all by their first names. You would be working every day but you would adore every moment of it. He could see you in a tiny kitchen, dancing around and creating to your heart’s content, putting all your positive energy into the simple art of creation. 

“Sorry,” you mutter weakly and clear your throat. “You’re busy and I shouldn’t be bothering you with this type of talk. But yeah, if you want a good thing, you have to be prepared to work hard for it. I will make it out of here one day.”

No, you won’t. 

It’s a cynical thought—and after hearing your dream he almost feels bad for thinking it—but he knows he’s right. If Huntington thought him anything is that life has a way of gobbling up dreamers like you and spitting them back out mangled and broken beyond repair. Time will pass, you will not leave: be it money, family, or whatever else is holding you back from going right this second. Eventually, you’ll be empty of hopes and dreams, living one day at a time in a cycle that’s like a noose around your throat. 

He should know. 

Your joy will grow into resentment, and your drive will sour into bitterness. All that’s left will be someone unhappy with their life and all they could have done with their wasted time. 

It’s a shame though. 

At this point, he can at least admit to himself that perhaps he was too hasty to assume you were playing pretend. Just an endless optimist. It will be a shame to see a fire like yours slowly dim with time. Because given time, you will wither like so many others have.

“Will I be getting a discount at this new place of yours?” he wonders idly, stabbing the fork into his golden pancakes as he takes another slow sip of coffee.

Your embarrassed expression eases, something warmer and happier taking its place, and you suit it a lot more than a frown. Some faces aren’t made for unhappiness. Tragedy and pain become rawer when reflected in them. That’s why happy people are always the hardest to deal with on cases—they don’t know how to hide their suffering the way others do. 

“That will depend entirely on how much sleep you get before coming in,” you say, something joking and teasing twisting your voice. “I would hate for those bags under your eyes to scare the little ones away.”   

His lips twitch into a surprisingly genuine smile around the rim of his cup, and he turns his head slightly as if considering your words.

“You should also smile more, detective,” you add, voice pleasant, thoughtful, “It suits you.”

His eyes lift to look at you but you’re already walking away, waving at random customers as you pass with few passing comments in between. 

His expression twitches and he blinks quickly a few times, but his gaze stays on you till you disappear behind the kitchen door.

. . .

an: anyway I love one stoic, broody detective and giving him someone happy and positive to deal with is so damn funny. hope you guys enjoyed it. this was a fun little exercise (especially writing from Loki’s POV oppose to Reader’s) so I hope you all liked it. might write another few parts for this because I had so much fun but we shall see since I still need to finish Unbecoming. thank you for reading! <33 

[mouseyfox]

[Video description] A white woman with dark brown hair down to her chin and black horn rim glasses sits in front of a cream wall with a string of mint drying behind her. She is holding a pillow with a geometric design as she turns on her phone's video camera.

[sigh] Hi, my name is Krystal. I am a disabled queer woman and I am here to have a talk with you today about what it's like being disabled in the United States and trying to keep a job. 

[Transcript Below]

So [sighs] there's some major issues with how we as US citizens and people in general, um, deal with disability and how it relates to the job force and how [thoughtful pause] we are treated as employees. Now the Equal Opportunities, um, Equal Employment Opportunities Act, um, was a major step forward as were similar things such as the, you know, Disability Rights movement, and the Americans with Disabilites Act, and even, you know, the Affordable Care Act. Those have all had positive effects on the Disabled Community as a whole, but there's a lot more that needs to be done. Now, disabilities are not just physical. They can be emotional, or psychological, and they can also be intellectual. That means you could see someone with a wheelchair, or a missing limb, or someone who has Parkinson's Disease, or someone who has dyslexia, or someone who has PTSD, someone who's missing an eye, someone who's deaf, blind, the list goes on, honestly.

For me personally I have been disabled for ohhh well over fifteen years at this point. I have experienced over fifteen years of abuse in my life which has triggered Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, um, DID, um, Anxiety Disorders, Major Reoccurring Depression, I have Trichotillomania, Excoriation Disorder, I also have physical disabilities as well. I have Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. I also have Chronic Pain and Fatigue, I have hips that don't sit right, and a back that doesn't like sitting straight, and I also have migraines that have gotten to the point where I'm having about a migraine every week or so even with medication. I'm going in for more treatment options with a neurologist to figure out why they're happening. Now, I am a person who would benefit greatly from things like Universal Healthcare, and uh Universal Basic Income because at the end of the day I am a queer woman who is disabled and who is supporting a partner who is totally disabled as much as I can, and even just saying that could cost him his benefits, and that is heinous. We are not married, if disabled people marry and they have benefits they can loose them entirely, legally, within the US as it is today. I have a Bachelor's degree I got from the University of Louisville this spring during COVID and while I am very happy that I have finally achieved something ten years in the making for a lot of reasons it was horrible on my health both mental and physical.

As a student who is independent and was relying entirely on loans aside from very few scholarships that did in no way cover the full cost of tuition. I worked [sigh] a full time job while being a full time student at a call center uh who violated my rights as a disabled person in a number of ways and when I eventually left that job and applied for full time disability benefits, which I was denied, by the way, uhm, [the call center] lied to the SSI department, and said that I had never once filed accomodation letters to them, which is very untrue as I had spoken with an HR Director on multiple occassions, I had emailed them, I had spoken to them on the phone, I had one on ones with supervisors about how the job was affecting my physical health, as well as my emotional and mental health and how it was worsening my disabilities.

I had applied for short term disability, which is something that in the United States, is only offered by certain employers and is something that you have to pay into. There is no short term disability department with the SSI. There is no way for an American citizen currently as it stands to have short term disability to get some of the medical issues under control in the US unless you have already paid into a pool.

Now, some of you might be wondering what about FMLA, the Family Medical Leave Act? I applied for that, and they really don't like you using that for short term disability unless if it's something that was happened at the job or outside. For example, if you undergo an amputation, you might be someone who would qualify for FMLA. But, for me, a person who was just dealing with further issues with my chronic disorders that are never going to go away, um, at this point my issues are so deeply imbeded that I will have to be on medication for the rest of my life to handle my disorders and as with many people, as I age, I am as likely to get more disabilities on top of everything else.

The way that our economy, the way that our healthcare works right now we don't accomodate or help or you know just give disabled people a way to live and work without highly unfair and horrible ways of treating them. I have been gaslit by employers. I have, uh, very highly insinuated that I was lying about issues with my health just so I could go home and "be lazy", or I've been told or implied by coworkers that I was lying about my disabilities and there are all sorts of negative public stigma about people who lie about disorders so they can like get benefits. And, honestly, here's a news flash for you, it's virtually impossible to get full time SSI benefits if you're lying. I have friends who have disorders that can kill them before they turn fifty who are considered not disabled enough to qualify for SSI benefits. And these are people who are dealing with horrible diseases that will kill them or just make it really impossible for them to ever work. Like, physically, mentally, some education, uhm, or not education, intellectual disorders there's no way they're going to be able to hold a full time steady job and you know with the way that our economy works part time jobs don't cut it.

Most people are working two to three jobs because our minimum wage isn't high enough. And if you're disabled you spend so much money on taking care of yourself, and spending days at home, and that's just part of being disabled. I don't like calling off of work. I don't like being drug into my supervisor's office to get you know reprimanded for constantly having to call in or leave early. I don't like inconveniencing my coworkers either because I know that makes it harder on them, but you know what's also harder on them? If I decide to power through a day even when I'm feeling like garbage, and I make more mistakes, I will get less things done, I'll be worse off with my customer interactions, and there are days where I have worked through on ten, twelve, even thirteen hour shifts as a disabled person, and it has absolutely wrecked my health.

I have been working for ten years and I've been a caretaker for even longer, and my ability to perform at a full time job has drastically diminished in just ten years of trying to support myself in the way our current economy works and I've worked in a variety of different jobs. I've done physical labor jobs, I've worked in factories, I've worked in call centers, I've been a barista, I've been a cashier, I have been a bourbon steward, I have worked in healthcare in a variety of fields, and I have worked in library science which is what I'm hoping to get for a- for my- my education goal is I want to be a librarian. I want to be someone who helps people with research and reference work, and helps with their community. I love being engaged with my community. I love helping people. I like going to work. I do genuinely enjoy going to work! But when I have to keep working to a point that would make even a- you know someone who's not disabled overly worked and wreck their health... What do you think that does to those of us who have disabilities? Huh? Cause I can promise you it's a lot worse than you initially think. And the accomodations that they offer at most jobs are a fucking joke. They really are.

Most jobs aren't even accomodating for people in wheelchairs, for people with physical disabilities, and not to mention people who have hearing problems, or who are blind, and don't get me started on psychological problems. We could have an entire separate discussion on that one because the way that workplace cultures work and the way with microaggressions with racism, and all sorts of other factors like homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, yes that counts, okay, because a lot of disabled people are just big, and you know what a lot of them are also really skinny, because their medical problem might be tied into that in ways that you can't understand either without a medical degree, or without being disabled yourself and having to do research.

Because at the end of the day the people who are most educated about their own disabilities are often the disabled person themselves. Yes doctors are very educated. Yes they know a lot. But you know who also knows a lot about the disorder, the person who's fucking experiencing it. I have friends who have been dismissed by doctors for years. Whose illnesses and issues have been completely mishandled and not at all treated by doctors because they wouldn't fucking listen to their patients. Okay. And, that's not something that we should be proud about as a country.

The way that we treat disabled people is horrible, and that's not even considering the problem with eugenics in this country because there are a number of people who are very interested in the fact of created designer babies, or aborting [disabled] babies, or you know, just throwing disabled people away until they die in a corner so you don't have to think about them. And that's a historical problem with this country and it hasn't gone away. We haven't fixed it. And it's something we need to work on.

But you know what? We're never going to be able to address those harder issues until we address the fact that working and having to hold multiple jobs to live for abled people that's inexcusable. It's even worse when you're disabled.

I can't tell you the number of times I have been almost homeless because my job had fired me because I had to call in too often, or I just had to leave a job because it was horribly wrecking my health. I have played yo-yo with all of my jobs for the past three years after I tried filing for disability, and you know what? They told me no. They told me I'm too young. I can't possibly have the disorders that I have or I'm just not disabled enough.

And you know what? You can be disabled at any age. And that possibility only increases the older that you get.  Because the older you get your systems start failing and you will be disabled at one point in your life. Period. Everyone will experience disability before they die in some way shape or form. So when we talk about disability rights it's not just about me. It's not just about friends of mine who are being killed by our healthcare system, and by our government, and by our economy, every single day. It's also about you. So when I ask you to give a fuck about disabled people and work and listen  to what we're asking you to do this is about you too. Because one day you're going to be in our position, and you know what? It sucks. And no one should have to deal with this.

[Emotional Pause] We need healthcare reform. We need it. Very badly. And when I say that it goes from everything to my own father who has been insulin rationing, and dealing with completely ludicrous insulin prices since before I was born.

It goes to my mother, you know, whose liver shut down because of black mold in a church my father preached at. I watched her slowly die for a year because she refused to go to the hospital because if she did, and she got the care that could have saved her, it would have killed my father because we wouldn't have been able to afford his insulin.

You know, and I'm not the only person, who's had situations like this, there are elderly people all over our nation who are dealing with similar issues all day. There are people who are disabled, there are families of disabled people, who are working to support people. There- Did you know that it's actually illegal for disabled people to marry and keep their benefits? Did you? Because I have a pertner who is disabled and even just saying that could rob him of his benefits.

That's not including issues with disability and, you know, being queer. Because being queer complicates everything. You know I don't say that because it's fun and I get "all the social benefits it brings" as Rosalarian would say because you know what? There really aren't any.

I'm queer because I'm queer. I'm disabled because my body is a pain in the ass, and because I've gone through things that no one ever should have had to go through and it has completely wrecked my mental health.

And I've gotten so much better than I used to be! I used to be so much worse off and put up with stuff that was absolutely wrecking my mental health and physical health because your mental health does a lot of stuff with your physical health that you might not be aware of. [Cat sneezes]

The United States as a nation is literally working itself to death, and that doesn't just affect able bodied people. It affects disabled people a lot worse. And you know what, I like working, but I like living a lot better. [Turns off video]

[frauleinsmaria]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered {1/1}

Summary: Emma is frustrated with where she's at in life, and even more frustrated with her job as a retail manager. Killian is the UPS driver who starts making deliveries at her workplace. And maybe, somehow, their brief interactions every week mean more to each other than they ever expected.

Rated T, includes references to sexual misconduct.

A/N: Kicking off @csseptembersunshine with this story I’ve been sitting on for a while! Just for clarification, the premise was based on my job as a retail manager, and the sleazy UPS driver I have to deal with on a regular basis. So, of course, I had to write a fic where Emma is me but instead gets the hot, polite driver me and my coworkers have always wanted. I know it’s a little weird, but I am pretty proud of the end result, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Major thanks to @thejollyroger-writer and @scientificapricot for providing beta duties, @shireness-says for the title and the store name (I’m letting you name everything for me now), and @let-it-raines for bringing up the “frost yourself” thing and inspiring the rom-com element. You’re all fantastic humans, and I appreciate you immensely. 

Also on AO3

-/-

Tuesdays were the worst. That’s how everyone seemed to feel about Mondays, but Emma didn’t mind those quite so much. After getting her one guaranteed day off every week on Sunday, it was a bit easier to come into work the next morning, semi-well rested and ready for a new week.

The same couldn’t be said for Tuesdays, though. Retail was far from booming at the first of the week (which Emma understood; shopping wasn’t exactly high on her list of priorities until the weekend.) Any project Elsa or Anna gave her to work on was usually simple and completed within a relatively short amount of time. So that often left her with far too much time with nothing to do but refold the same shirts, wipe down the same counters, and scroll through the same posts on her Instagram feed while waiting for business to come or her shift to end.

Emma was grateful for her job at Crystalline. She’d been looking for a new job for almost six months when Mary Margaret suggested she reach out to the Frost sisters to ask if they needed an additional cashier at their boutique during the previous holiday season. And after working there for three months, Elsa and Anna offered her a promotion to become their assistant manager. She hadn’t hesitated before accepting. Not only would the position come with a small raise, but also additional responsibilities to help her feel like she had a purpose in a season of life that seemed so monotonous and uncertain.

Turns out, though, there weren’t really a lot of added responsibilities she didn’t already have as a cashier. Sure, she had a key to the store and acted as the manager on duty for a few hours every day before or after Elsa and Anna’s shifts. And she could tell one of the part-time employees to do something and be taken a bit more seriously. Sometimes. But unless it was around a holiday or a weekend that brought in a significant amount of business, Emma found herself spending most of the day trying to conceal her boredom. The store was a typical boutique that sold mostly women’s clothes, shoes, and accessories, meaning there were significantly less tasks and responsibilities than she’d have being a manager at a corporate store.

The store had been open for less than an hour, and she was on her third cup of her coffee and hot cocoa mix since arriving earlier to open. It was only she and Jasmine working this morning, since Anna had taken the day off to celebrate her husband’s birthday with him, and Elsa didn’t come in until after lunch since she would be closing tonight.

Emma took her thermos to the front of the store and propped herself up against a rack of overpriced shirts. (They sold few things in Crystalline that she could afford at full price. Thank goodness for her employee discount at least.) It was her typical method of trying to look like an attentive supervisor when she was too tired to walk around or even stand straight up. No one had yet to call her out on it, which she took as a sign she was doing something right.

Jasmine stood in the middle of the sales floor by the cash registers, dusting and wiping down every surface regardless of whether it actually needed to be done. Emma hadn’t had the heart to tell her she was saving that as part of her personal list of things to do to keep her preoccupied later when Jasmine left for the day. But they’d had a grand total of two customers since opening, a pair of older ladies who looked around for approximately thirty seconds before leaving. She couldn’t blame Jasmine for wanting to stay busy.

While Jasmine dusted the jewelry counters, Emma sipped her now lukewarm drink and composed a mental list of everything that needed to be taken care of after work. A trip to the grocery store was unavoidable; she’d put it off for too long now and had been stuck with peanut butter crackers for breakfast as a result. The clothes she’d washed and dried the day before needed to be folded and put away. And she needed to write. Even if it was only a few hundred words based off of a random prompt she found online. Something was better than nothing, and nothing was all she’d done lately when it came to any of her stories.

“Five hundred words,” she muttered to herself. “You just write five hundred words tonight, and you can start the new season of Queer Eye.” Priorities. Some days she had to take motivation wherever she could find it.

The next half hour or so elapsed with little activity other than overhearing Leroy yell at Deputy Humbert across the street over what sounded like a parking ticket. It was mid July, and Emma could make out the sweat beading on Leroy’s brow if she concentrated enough. (At least she did have the bonus of being in an air conditioned space all day.)

To be fair, he knew damn well not to park his truck in front of a fire hydrant. Part of Emma couldn’t help but feel for Graham as Leroy hurled insults at him, even though thinking about him came with an inevitable feeling of discomfort now. The two of them had gone out a handful of times a few months prior. Each date had been a bit worse than the last as she came to realize she had zero romantic interest whatsoever for Graham, but hadn’t known how to say as much without hurting him. The moment she came clean was incredibly awkward, and he had avoided her ever since, something easier said than done in a small town. It didn’t help that she was close friends with the sheriff and his wife, meaning Graham was often mentioned when David shared recent stories about work at their weekly dinners together.

Her attention was taken away from Leroy and Graham with the arrival of the UPS truck outside. Emma sat her coffee to the side and went to prop open the door for the driver, more than familiar with this routine after her seven months on the job. They received deliveries several times a week, packages containing everything from new merchandise to supplies and equipment for the store. The days on which these deliveries happened varied by the order date and shipping location, but they almost always took place later in the morning following any drop-offs to Dark Star pharmacy and Storybrooke’s Animal Shelter up the road.

Emma heard the truck’s back door open as she used her foot to set up the door stopper. She hoped today’s drop off would be quick. Over the past few months, deliveries had been made by the same man —  Walsh, she thought she remembered hearing — who went out of his way to hit on her, calling her “baby” and “sweetheart” and sticking around to make uncomfortable conversation that she wanted no part in.

She’d come close to calling him out for it several times. Telling him “Ms. Swan is just fine, thank you,” or that she needed to get back to work. But it was the fact that she was working that always stopped her. There were a number of ways he could react to being told off. She had learned the hard way how badly men could react if their advances were rejected. Emma was hesitant to cause a scene in front of customers, despite knowing Elsa and Anna would take her side should anything happen. The joys of being a woman in retail.

Stepping back from the door, she glanced up to see the man pushing a hand truck stacked with boxes in her direction. The reluctant “Good morning” she’d prepared for Walsh died on her lips as she took him in. Because this wasn’t Walsh.

The man wearing the standard brown button up and matching pants had never made a delivery to the store, at least not during one of her shifts. She would have remembered his head of dark, messy hair and blue eyes that met her own as he reached the store’s entrance.

“Good morning, lass.”

Of course he would be English to boot. It was almost unfair.

“Morning,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“This is my first run in this part of town, but I do believe I’m at the right place.”

“If it’s 723G Greene Street, then it’s ours.” She noticed the familiar logo printed on the side of the cardboard boxes. “Unless there’s another clothing store I don’t know about nearby that also sells Steve Madden.” This must have been the new sneakers Elsa mentioned ordering a few weeks earlier.

“Aye. What I saw of the pharmacy and the animal shelter makes me think anything here wouldn’t fit well.” He gestured around the storefront. “Where would you like these?”

Emma stepped back and nodded to an open space at the window. “Here’s fine. We’ll probably need to make some room in the back office before they’ll fit with the rest of the new inventory.”

It was difficult not to stare while he stacked the boxes up where she’d indicated, the fitted uniform showing off the taut muscles in his arms and shoulders. (The pants suited him too. Not that she’d admit to paying attention.) When he’d finished, he unclipped a device from his belt and offered it to her. She’d done this enough times to know how it worked, quickly using the attached pen to scribble her last name on the blank line before handing it back.

“Thank you, Miss,” he glanced down at what she’d written, “Swan.” He smiled back up at Emma. “Quite the unique surname.”

She didn’t respond, only smiled politely as he clipped the device back to his belt and turned with the hand truck in the direction of the open door. It was better than, Thanks, I chose it myself, which was all she could think of to say. Not the best can of worms to open with a stranger.

He paused just before stepping out the door and turned back to Emma. “Perhaps I’ll be seeing you again? For future deliveries, I mean,” he added when her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Oh. Yeah. Maybe.” Such a smooth talker she was.

The man gave her a quick nod before exiting the store, a long list of delivery stops probably awaiting him. Emma watched from the window as he climbed back into his truck and drove off, disappearing around the corner.

Part of her mind was preoccupied with the fact that she’d never seen a UPS truck with its doors closed before. Shouldn’t that be a safety hazard? It was more than likely time efficient for deliveries, but she wasn’t sure if there was a point in saving time if your life was going to be threatened in the process. Storybrooke had its own breed of crazy drivers too.

The other part hoped the driver was right about seeing her again.

Emma thought about him more than she would like to admit over the next few days. The lilt of his accent, the lines around his eyes that crinkled when he’d smiled at her. She felt more than a little ridiculous for noticing such specific details after a single encounter lasting all of five minutes. If only she could have that level of concentration when it came to writing. She’d gone home that night and tried to muster up a few hundred words of something, anything. Instead she had stared at the blank screen in front of her and questioned if there was even any point.

Regardless, it was a poor decision to even give him more thought. She reminded herself of this as she went through her usual routine to open Crystalline again on Friday morning. The only information she had on the man was what he did for a living, and a vague idea of where he was from if the accent was anything to go by. For all she knew, he lived a nice, white-picket fence life with a partner, a few kids, and maybe a dog.

(He looked like a dog person. Emma believed that was something you could easily determine.)

And yet her pulse did something she refused to acknowledge when he entered the store around the same time that he’d come on Tuesday. There were several packages today, at least four or five stacked on the hand truck he pulled in behind him.

Emma approached him as he stacked the boxes at the normal spot by the window. “So you did make it back after all.”

He glanced up and her and smiled. “Indeed. It appears from the looks of it that this area is going to be part of my regular route for the time being. I hope that’s alright with you,” he added, one eyebrow inching toward his hairline. There was a hint of teasing in his remark, although it seemed to be genuine too.

It was more than alright with her eyes. Her nervous system, maybe not so much. “I think we can manage that. If you can deal with all this excitement.” She gestured to the empty store. He was the first person to enter that day besides Elsa and herself an hour earlier.

The smile on his face remained, thankfully. It would have been awkward had he not understood her sarcasm; that happened with Walsh a few times. “Sounds tricky. But I do love a challenge.”

Emma struggled with a response but came up short. If only he knew how many challenges she could present.

“Crystalline, eh?” he asked, glancing around the store. “Interesting choice. It means having the structure and form of a crystal, right?”

Was he a walking dictionary or something? “Uh, yeah, I think so. The owners’ last name is Frost, and they wanted to name the store something that went with it, so, like, ice crystals.”

“I see. It’s certainly an easy name for me to remember.”

“When Elsa first hired me, I made the joke that they should have gone with Frost Yourself since we sell jewelry, but she didn’t get the reference until I showed her a clip from the movie.”

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?” he answered, as if on cue.

It seemed this man was full of surprises. “That’s the one.” What were the chances that she’d come across a guy who shared her love for mediocre rom coms from the early 2000s? She’d tried to watch Love Actually with Graham once; he’d yawned the whole time.

A moment of silence passed between them. Emma looked down at the device she still held and realized he was waiting for her to sign for the delivery. Of course he wasn’t standing there to make idle conversation, he had a job to get back to. Like the last time, she quickly signed on the screen and returned the device to him.

“Have a nice day, Miss Swan.”

“You too, um—” she paused, not wanting to call him “UPS guy” to his face.

“Killian Jones.” She took his hand when he offered it. But instead of shaking hers, he briefly brought it to his lips.

Emma took a sharp intake of breath that she hoped wasn’t audible. The only time she’d ever seen a man kiss a woman’s hand was in one of those period movies Mary Margaret made her watch every now and then.  

But she didn’t necessarily mind it. Maybe more men should take notes from their predecessors. Or rather, the actors playing them. Technicalities.

“Right. You too. Have a nice day, that is.”

He flashed her another smile before leaving. Emma watched him return to his truck, not hearing the footsteps coming up behind her.

“I didn’t realize we were getting so friendly with the new UPS driver.”

She jumped and turned to see Elsa, who sported a knowing grin. “Clearly that paperwork didn’t take as long to get through as you’d expected.”

“No, and I’m glad,” said Elsa. “Otherwise I would have missed your little interaction just now.”

“What was there to miss? He just dropped off a few packages, one of which I hope is wrapping paper refills. Regina wasn’t exactly nice a few days ago when I explained that we only had two options for her to choose from, and neither were red.”

“She should just be grateful she got it wrapped for free. Beggars can’t be choosers. But back to my point,” Elsa continued. “He kissed your hand, and you looked like you wanted to devour him.”

Oh no. “Did I really?”

“I don’t blame you; he’s gorgeous. Although I can’t exactly allow said devouring to take place on the sales floor, even though it would probably add some much needed excitement to our day.”

“Ha ha.” She hope Elsa wouldn’t notice her cheeks reddening; it would only make the teasing worse. And she had been one of the few people who never tried to set Emma up with someone or meddle in her love life. “Don’t even get started with me about Killian, though. He’s just our UPS driver. I’ll probably see him for a collective five minutes a week max.”

“If you say so. But if you have a chance at any time during those five minutes, can you find out if he has a brother?”

Anna’s head popped up from behind the shoe fixture she’d been reorganizing. “Who has a brother? Is he cute?”

“You’re married,” Emma and Elsa reminded her in unison.

Anna rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a nice face. I’ll make it a point to be lurking the next time I see him come by.”

Despite Elsa’s insistence, the chances of finding out anything else about Killian during his deliveries were minimal. Something told Emma it wasn’t a great idea to play twenty questions while he was trying to unload packages.

At least she had a name to put with the face now. A very nice face (thanks, Anna) that she thought about often that night while she ate pretzels and watched Pride & Prejudice without any prompting from Mary Margaret. She even added a few paragraphs to one of her old short story drafts afterward. Maybe something was changing.

But even if the perceptions she’d inadvertently made were inaccurate, even if she knew more about him (or even knew him well), that didn’t mean getting to know him more than necessary was the best idea for either of them. She already received enough pity or disdain — sometimes both —from everyone else in Storybrooke. The girl who moved back home after a horrendous breakup no one knew the details of. The unsuccessful college student who’d dropped out her junior year to find herself working retail to keep a roof over her head. If only they knew.

So, yes, it was better to keep her distance. No matter what her pulse did when she saw him approaching. Or when he’d kissed her hand. Distance was best for everyone.

But distance was tricky to maintain when someone frequently came to the place where she spent most of her time. Killian made deliveries twice the following week, and three times during the one after. (Thankfully, those deliveries always happened while Elsa and Anna were busy elsewhere.) Each of their additional encounters were similar to the first, brief but with enough friendly conversation that only made her want to know more about him: What made him start driving with UPS? When had he moved to America and why? What did he like to binge watch on Netflix? Was he single?

That last question wasn’t one Emma truly needed answered. She was just curious. They were getting somewhat friendly, and friends knew these things about each other. Didn’t they?

Regardless, something about Killian Jones captivated her in a way she couldn’t explain. And she wasn't sure just how to feel about it.

As summer ended, the new fall merchandise quickly began arriving. Their tank tops and sandals were replaced with sweaters and boots Killian brought in, not to mention beanies, scarves, and jackets Emma knew she would take advantage of once the temperature dropped. On one of the first cool mornings, Killian made his delivery wearing a standard UPS jacket over his regular uniform. How he still managed to make the bulky brown option look good was something she couldn’t understand.

The two of them continued to make casual conversation when he came by, often on a number of different topics depending on the day. There was one Wednesday morning she’d worn a blush colored blouse and he made the comment that he was glad she’d remembered to wear pink. And another day when something he said reminded her of that one quote from Legally Blonde. It seemed he shared her affinity for 2000s rom coms after all. She would have to ask him about that sometime when she wasn’t overthinking every one of their interactions.

One of the biggest downfalls to retail was working almost every weekend. Emma seldom, if ever, had a Friday night or Saturday free without requesting to be off several weeks in advance. She didn’t always mind. It wasn’t as if she had a long list of prospective plans to keep her busy. And even when she did have to work, her friends occasionally talked her into doing something after the store closed, regardless of how exhausted she was or how much she’d be kicking herself for it in the morning.

Her free Saturday in October just so happened to be the weekend of Ruby’s thirtieth birthday. Her friend typically liked to do something big for the day, like a trip down to Boston or New York. This year, however, Ruby had surprised everyone by asking that they meet up at The Rabbit Hole. Her and Mulan’s wedding was the next Sunday, and they both were too swamped with the last of the wedding planning for her to feel up to doing more.

Emma found herself sitting between Mulan and Belle at the large table they’d chosen in the middle of the bar, sipping at her drink as her friends teased Ruby about being another year older.

“You do realize you’re two years older than she is, don’t you?” she reminded David after he made a joke about people in their thirties, which also should have applied to him.

He shrugged. “That’s beside the point. It’s not my birthday.”

“No. But it will be in three months, which means I’m gonna start preparing all kinds of old man jokes for you now.”

“Why do I have the feeling my wife is going to join you on that?”

“Because I most definitely am,” Mary Margaret piped up from her seat on his other side.

As much as she preferred staying home in front of the TV on her nights off, Emma had to admit it was nice getting to go out and have fun without waking up early for work the next morning. Most of the people who’d shown up to celebrate Ruby were ones she hadn’t seen in far too long.

It was hard to ignore how Graham insisted on keeping his distance from her, sitting at the far end of the table and looking away if she merely glanced in his general direction. But if that was how he chose to act, then fine. She’d done her best to break things off as amicably as possible; it wasn’t her fault he’d chosen to become so bitter.

They’d been at the bar a little over an hour when two men entered the room. The one in front, blue eyed with dark curly hair, glanced over at their table, a look of recognition in his eyes when he caught sight of David. Her friend waved him over, and it was only when he started approaching that Emma got a look at the person he’d arrived with.

“Killian?”

He did a double take when he saw her, eyes widening before his lips parted into a wide grin. “Hello, Swan.”

The other man paused in the middle of the conversation he’d just started with David and looked between the two of them. “Little brother, you two know each other?”

Emma could see the resemblance now that the relationship was clarified: Killian and his brother didn’t look identical by any means, but they had they same defined cheekbones and blue eyes, although Killian’s were still bluer somehow, probably a result of the dark blue button down shirt he wore.

(It was a bit odd to see him in something besides his standard brown uniform. Not that she was complaining. Not at all.)

“Liam, you ought to know by now that there are few people in town I haven't made deliveries to at some point or another. Emma works at Crystalline.”

“The one the Frost sisters own?” It was hard to miss the way the man — Liam, she supposed — perked up at the mention of her bosses.

“Yes, that’s the one Elsa owns, since I know that’s what you were really asking.”

Well, this was interesting. Elsa had no idea that she was onto something when she’d joked about Killian having a brother.

She turned back to David and Liam. “So, how do you two know each other?”

“Liam’s daughter is in Leo’s class at school,” David explained. “I hear stories about Harper every day. He loves her.”

“Bloody hell, don’t tell me that! I thought I had at least another decade before she and I would have to discuss boys.”

The two of them continued to chat about their children while Emma became fixated on Killian again. She wanted to say something to him, but what? That it was nice to see him outside of her workplace? She hated forced small talk and didn’t want to trap either of them in an awkward conversation.

She went back to what David had just said about Liam having a daughter, and the comments he and Killian had made that hinted he was interested in Elsa. A quick glance at his left hand showed that he wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean much. Could she broach the subject to Killian without appearing to cross a line? Elsa may be her boss, but Emma also considered her a friend. Maybe she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, but she’d want someone to do the same for her and spot any potential red flags.

Emma’s train of thought was broken by Mulan getting up and walking over to the jukebox. Soon, the opening notes of “Single Ladies” played from the speakers, and Mulan came back over to drag Ruby to dance.

Emma glanced back at Killian. He looked somewhat shy standing there alone, one hand in the front pocket of his jeans and the other scratching behind his ear. Liam had clearly abandoned him for a conversation with David, probably discussing Leo’s intentions with his daughter.

“You can have a seat if you want,” she told him, nodding to the now empty seat beside her. “Something tells me the lovebirds won’t be coming back any time soon.”

“Something tells me you’re right. I’d hate to be a bother though,” he added, seeming to notice the space (or lack thereof) between the now empty seat and her own.

“No bother. Plus, the bar stools here are ridiculously uncomfortable.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

It wasn’t until he sat down beside her that Emma was aware of just how tightly the chairs had been packed around their small table. Killian’s right thigh and shoulder were nearly pressed against her own. It normally would not have been a situation she’d object to, but she now realized how much personal space she was sharing with an attractive man she barely knew (and had embarrassed herself in front of on at least one occasion.)

“I can’t get over the irony of Mulan choosing a song that basically celebrates being single to dance with her fiancee to,” Emma blurted out when it occurred to her. “And a few weeks before their wedding at that.”

“Something tells me she’s too inebriated to care considering they’ve made their own dance floor in a bar that doesn’t actually have one.”

“Touche.”

They both laughed. Maybe making conversation with him outside of work was easier than she’d assumed.  

“I take it you have the night off?” he asked. “Not to sound intrusive; I just noticed the list of store hours on one of my last deliveries.”

“I do. Saturday’s off are few and far between for me, so I try to make the most of them. Tonight, that’s celebrating my friend’s birthday even though she’s clearly done paying attention to any of us.” They both glanced back over at Mulan and Ruby, who had started slow dancing in the middle of the room. Emma wouldn’t be surprised if they made an excuse to leave soon, Ruby’s birthday celebration be damned.

“I understand about your weekends,” said Killian. “I’m lucky enough to have a fairly regular work schedule, but Liam is an ER nurse on top of being a single father, so his free time is quite limited. He’s great at his job and an even better dad, but I like to make sure he gets to go out and do something for his own enjoyment every now and then.”

His comment about Liam being single cleared her earlier suspicion. She didn’t feel comfortable asking what had happened to his niece’s mother, so they discussed the child herself instead. Emma learned that Harper was four years old and already a spitfire, keeping both Liam and Killian on their toes at any given moment. She found out that the two of them had moved from England to the States as teenagers, where Liam went to nursing school and Killian enlisted in the Navy.

“How long have you been driving?”

“About two years. I did some truck driving in the Navy and was able to get my CDL while I was still enlisted. It wasn’t my dream career field by any means, but it paid decently, not to mention it wouldn’t keep me confined to the same cubicle or office all week long. I applied at UPS because I didn’t like the idea of being gone for days at a time on a regular basis. This way, I get most weekends and holidays off, and have an idea of what time I’ll arrive home every night.”

“Seems like you’ve got a decent arrangement there then.”

“Aye. I like having a consistent schedule most of the time. The driving helps clear my head when I need it to.” He paused and Emma saw what looked like a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “But enough about me. I’ve gathered next to nothing about you so far. Well, other than the fact that I interrupt your work day at least twice per week, sometimes more, but I don’t think that counts.”

He clearly didn’t want to discuss whatever it was driving helped clear his head from. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. If I’m being honest, your ‘interruptions’ are a nice, albeit brief, distraction from the monotony that just causes me to question what I’m doing there.”

The frown reappeared. “You don’t like your job?”

“I wouldn’t say I dislike it. Elsa and Anna are great. It’s nice knowing I get the same day off every week. And I save forty-two percent on my shoes.”

“But?”

She shrugged. “I mean, that’s about it. Nothing ever happens. It’s not that we don’t get business or anything, but it’s not the kind of store people feel the need to come into on a regular basis, like Target or something. I spend most of my shift being bored. Which really just gives me more time to think about where I’m at in life — more like where I’m not at in life —  and how unfulfilled I am with, well, everything.”

She hadn’t expected to open that can of worms tonight, but once she started, it was hard to hold back everything she’d been keeping to herself for months now.

“I take it retail wasn’t your first choice when it came to finding a career?”

“Far from it.” She laughed dryly. “I was a creative writing major in college. So many people in Storybrooke gave me hell about it, said I’d never be able to do anything with my degree. But I didn’t care. I just loved writing and knew that’s what I wanted to do with my life. Until my junior year anyway.”

“What happened then?”

“I took an upper level Writing Fiction course during the fall semester. I was really excited about it because the professor was a fairly successful author, and I’d always had a conflict with another class before that kept me from taking anything with him. To make a long story short, the class was great at first. I got along well with the professor, and he seemed to like the projects I turned in for him. He liked my boyfriend’s projects even more.”

She forced down the lump forming in her throat and took a quick sip of her beer. Talking about Neal became a bit less difficult over time, but that didn’t mean it was easy either. “He was a writing student too. We met sophomore year in an intro creative writing course. I fell for him right away despite all the warning signs: he cut class a lot, was disrespectful to me — to all women, for that matter — and thought he could get away with anything because his dad was loaded. But, despite all this, he told me he loved me. And I fell for it.

“Anyway, back to the class we had together. I noticed every now and then that the professor would make a comment or say something overly friendly that felt a lot like flirting. I never brought it up with Neal outside of class since I thought he’d tell me I was overreacting.” Emma now saw the fact that she thought that way about him should have been a red flag in itself. “So, the end of the semester comes around. Our final was to write a short story. We turned them in to him before classes ended and then were supposed to come by his office during finals week to pick them up to see our grade and hear any comments he had for us.”

She paused to take a long sip of her drink. She had told this story a handful of times since it happened, but the next part never got much easier to share. “I went by as soon as his office hours started. I had worked really hard on the story I submitted — like, spent weeks planning and pulled several all-nighters to write hard. Anyway, I get to his office and he tells me to take a seat. I figured he wanted to talk to me about the story. And he did...for a few minutes anyway.”

Killian listened as she told him about the professor quickly changing the subject and talking instead about how much he'd enjoyed having Emma as part of his class. How he'd enjoyed it so much that he came over and put a hand on her knee while making the comment that he thought he would enjoy having her in other environments too. “I bolted. I was so scared of what he might do; I never even found out what my grade was. Not that it really mattered in retrospect.”

“Bloody wanker,” Killian muttered. “I’m glad you got away from him when you did. What happened after that?”

“I went to Neal. I ran straight to his apartment and told him everything, thinking he would at least try to, y’know, help me or be supportive or something.” Emma shook her head and laughed dryly. To think she was naive enough to think he’d react differently than he actually did. “He accused me of making it all up. He said I was jealous that he and the professor got on so well, and that I came up with a story to have attention on me instead. To top it all off, he said I was a shitty writer who would never amount to anything outside of school.”

There was a sour expression on Killian’s face. “Please tell me you broke up with him.”

“I did.” She sighed and smiled sadly to herself. “The damage was done though. I withdrew from school and left the city as soon as I could. I came back to Storybrooke and had intended to only stay for a few months and then reapply somewhere else, but I never got around to it for one reason or another.” One reason being the fear of being stuck with another sleazy professor. Another being how she’d constantly questioned her potential as a writer since those comments from Neal. She wasn’t sure she could risk the time, energy, and funds required to go back to school if it was all just going to crash and burn for her in the end. It was also why making progress on any story had felt like pulling teeth ever since.

She hated that he and his words still got to her like they did almost eight years later.

“I’m sorry you were treated so terribly in both circumstances. Truly.” Something about the way his eyes softened as she’d spoken made her believe he wasn’t just speaking out of pity. It seemed that he genuinely cared. “And perhaps I’m overstepping here since I’m simply the man who makes deliveries to your workplace, but from what I’ve gathered over the past few weeks, you appear to be a strong, compassionate, and capable woman who can do anything she sets her mind to. Whether it be venturing into another career field or going back to school, I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s best for you and do it well.”

Emma stared at him for a moment, too dumbfounded to speak. She had just poured her heart out to a man who still felt like little more than an acquaintance. And yet he wasn’t judging her, criticizing her, or even looking at her like she’d lost her mind, and she would have normally expected as much. But Killian seemed to get it: her past and her fears that the future would be no different.  

She found herself thinking that maybe Killian Jones had come to understand her more during their first lengthy conversation than anyone else had in years.

The idea didn’t scare her nearly as much as it once would have.

As fate would have it, Killian came by Crystalline with a delivery first thing the following Monday morning. She’d spent most of the weekend both taking his words to heart and wondering if he’d act differently after their conversation. But, to her relief, he entered the store with the same smile on his face she’d become used to seeing with his arrival.

“Good morning, Swan.”

“Morning. What have you got for us today?” There were three or four boxes stacked on his hand truck.

“Oh, this is just the first load. There’s at least seven more where those came from.”

Emma quickly helped him move the boxes to their normal waiting place by the door while he went to retrieve the rest of their packages. She knew the rest of their winter merchandise for the holidays was supposed to arrive soon, but she hadn’t expected so much of it to come at once. She, Elsa, and Anna were going to have a whole lot of fun sorting it out over the next few days.

She stood there feeling somewhat awkward as he finished unloading, wanting to say something to him about the other night at the bar, but not knowing exactly what. She was still contemplating it when she signed for the delivery. “What do you call this thing, anyway?” she asked. “I’ve just been calling it ‘UPS device thing’ in my head, but I’m sure there’s a technical term for it.”

Killian chuckled. “It’s called a diad. Stands for Delivery Information Acquisition Device — so you weren’t too far off.”

“Huh. Maybe I should come work with you then, considering I already know so much about how things work.”

“I’d certainly prefer you to some of the ride alongs I’ve had before. Remind me to tell you about what happened on Will Scarlet’s first day sometime.”

“Will do,” she confirmed, handing the device —  diad —  back to Killian. He clipped it back to his belt and was turning to leave when she spoke up. “Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Are we friends? Sorry,” she continued when his eyebrow shot up to his hairline. “It’s just that we see each other pretty regularly and I actually enjoy our conversations, and you let me spill my guts to you Saturday night without judging me and that seems like something a friend would do. But for all I know, you might not even want to be my friend. Which makes this really awkward and—”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I would like nothing more than to be friends with you, Swan. Truthfully, I’ve thought of you as a friend for some time now. And it’s nice —  no one else I know has the same penchant for cocoa and romantic comedies.”

“I’m one of a kind, I guess.”

“That you are.”

“Will I see you at the wedding this weekend?”

“Aye. Liam and I will both be attending, him more so not to let Ruby down.” Another fact Emma had learned at the bar was that Liam and Ruby were classmates in nursing school and had remained friends since. “Weddings haven’t exactly been one of his favorite social events since Harper’s mother passed.”

Emma’s heart sank. She’d never been married, but could only imagine what it felt like to attend an event where people celebrated the very thing you’d lost. It may have stung when Neal turned his back on her, but she knew it had to be worse when someone was taken away unexpectedly, leaving you to wonder how much more time you could have had together.

“I get that,” she told Killian. “He’s really lucky to have you around, though.”

The responding smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced back to the stack of boxes he’d brought instead. “Yes, well. If that’s the last of it, I’m afraid I have to keep going. Goodbye, Swan.”

Emma stood there frozen and perplexed as she watched him go. Had something she said about him or Liam that struck a nerve? The thought nagged at her over the next few days, causing her to wonder if she’d unknowingly caused some kind of problem just minutes after confirming their friendship.

But when he arrived for their next delivery on Thursday morning, he was himself, charming and witty as ever. Emma was glad to see him act as if nothing had changed, but she knew there was much left to learn about Killian Jones.

Ruby and Mulan’s wedding took place on Sunday afternoon in the yard behind their house. The space had been adorned with fall decor in various shades of orange, yellow, and of course, Ruby’s signature red. The ceremony itself was simple, no wedding party or long introduction from the officiant. But the vows were touching and heartfelt. Emma found herself wiping her eyes more than once at both women’s words, and then again when they were pronounced as each other’s wives.

The reception that followed the ceremony, however, was anything but simple. There was a great deal of food, music, and alcohol, not unlike the celebration they’d had for Ruby’s birthday the weekend before. There was, however, a makeshift dance floor set up in the yard, where the brides once again ignored everyone else while they alternated between slow dancing and spinning each other around in circles. (Funny enough, no one was playing “Single Ladies” this time.)

Emma sat at one of the round tables placed around the dance floor, eating what may or may not have been her second slice of wedding cake while she and her girl friends chatted about a handful of different things: the recipe Mary Margaret had recently found for chocolate coconut brownies, what they’d each been watching on Netflix, and the town’s upcoming fall festival.

“Speaking of approaching events, I do believe someone has a birthday soon,” said Belle, glancing toward Emma, a warm smile on her face.

She wasn’t sure whether to smile back or sigh in defeat. Her birthday was on Wednesday, but it wasn’t something she enjoyed celebrating nearly as much as someone like Ruby or her other friends. And everyone knew this, although their knowledge on the reason why was minimal.

What was the point in celebrating a day that only reminded her of what she didn’t have? Because, in spite of any gifts or attention her friends might try to shower her with, she was never able to focus on anything but what the day signified and the questions she may never have answers to. The main one being why was she abandoned outside of Storybrooke just after (if not on) the day in question.

She forced down the lump quickly forming in her throat. Her friends’ wedding was the last place she wanted to reopen those old wounds. “I need more punch!” she announced, getting to her feet. “Anyone else?” Not waiting to hear anyone’s answers, she took her mostly full cup to the punch bowl at a table on the other side of the yard.

Emma topped off her drink and grabbed a handful of crackers she didn’t actually want just to appear preoccupied. She didn’t feel up for going back to her seat just yet.

Then it hit her: she had yet to come across Killian or his brother. Hadn’t he said they were coming?

A hand tapped Emma’s shoulder just as she began looking through the crowd for a familiar face. She turned to see bright blue eyes and that smile she’d become so partial to. “Hello, Swan.”

All of the tension seemed to leave her when he said her name. “Hey, Killian.” He wore a well-fitting navy suit with a crisp white shirt. How he kept finding things to wear that made his eyes look even more blue was lost to her. “Nice ceremony, huh?”

“Aye. I believe that was the most enthusiastic kiss I’ve ever witnessed at a wedding.”

“This is Ruby we’re talking about. There was little chance of her keeping things PG, wedding or not.”

“A valid point.”

He looked over to her friends’ table where she’d been sitting earlier. “I hope I’m not keeping you from your friends. I’d been looking for you and wanted to speak while I had a moment.”

“No, you’re not. I was honestly trying to avoid them. Let’s just say they’d brought up a subject I wasn’t up for discussing today,” she continued at his questioning look‍.

“That’s certainly understandable. In that case, I’m willing to distract you for as long as you may need it.”

“Okay, weird question. Your brother’s here, right?”

“He is. Although I’m not quite sure why you think that’s an odd thing to ask.”

“Well, that’s what I was getting to. I got the idea at The Rabbit Hole last week that he has a thing for Elsa?”

“That’s an understatement. Liam has been absolutely smitten since he was introduced to her at the Miner’s Day celebration back in the spring. But I don’t believe he’s made much of an effort to get to know her. He’s never come out and said as much to me, but thanks to a few bad experiences he’s had with dating over the past few years, it seems he thinks that she wouldn’t be interested since he has a child.’

She wasn’t sure just how to respond to that, mostly because she understood. The more a person had lost and been hurt, the harder it became to open your heart back up to something (or, in this case, someone) new again. And, truly, she didn’t know how Elsa would feel about potentially dating a single father. But she did know that both she and Liam deserved to be happy.

“I obviously can't speak for Elsa or her feelings, but I can put in a good word for Liam if you don't think he'd mind me intervening.”

(Had she gone and turned into Mary Margaret?)

Killian's answering smile made her stomach swoop in a way that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol in the punch. He was just unfairly attractive and she liked seeing him happy, that was all. “I think he'd appreciate that quite a bit. And even if he did mind, I'm sure he wouldn't anymore if it works in his favor.”

She returned to her table a moment later, this time taking the empty chair next to Elsa rather than the one she'd been sitting in before. “Hey. So, I have a question.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“You remember that day when you saw Killian for the first time and you made that comment about him having a brother?”

Elsa glanced at her and raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“Well, you're in luck. He does have an older brother, Liam. Apparently you met him at the Miner’s Day festival.”

“Wait, that Liam? He's Killian’s brother?”

“So you remember him?”

“Yes, I do. I just remember thinking there had to be some kind of catch for him to be so good looking, a wife or a criminal past or something.”

“There's no criminal past that I know of, and no wife. But he is a widower and a dad to a little girl. Would you be okay with that?”

Elsa pursed her lips. “It's not something I've given much thought to. I don't think I've ever dated someone with a kid before. But if he’s a good guy, and a good dad to his daughter,  I see no reason to object.”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.” She looked back over to where she’d left Killian at the punch bowl, where he now stood talking to Liam. Smiling at Elsa, she nodded in their direction. “He’s over there with Killian now if you want an excuse to go get another drink. You kind of know Killian already from the store, and something tells me it won’t be hard for you to get introduced.”

Her smile grew as Elsa’s face lit up. “I am getting thirsty. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood and went over to the brothers, not even remembering to take her cup with her.  

Emma watched as she spoke to Killian first, then turned to Liam, obviously feigning ignorance. Killian’s gestures indicated he was making introductions between the two of them. She couldn’t see Liam’s face since his back was turned to her, but Killian shot her a wink that said all she needed to know.                                                                                            

She eagerly anticipated hearing details about the meeting from Elsa at work the next day, not wanting to ask intrusive questions, but hoping her boss would choose to bring it up. All she mentioned was that Liam was “just as charming as his brother” and had made a comment about hoping he’d see her at the town’s fall festival the night before Halloween. But there was color to her cheeks and a gleam in her eye when she spoke of it.

Killian’s first delivery of the week happened on Wednesday, the day Emma turned twenty-eight. Per her request, Elsa and Anna had kept the surprises minimal, although there was a cupcake in the break room she looked forward to eating on her lunch break. Chocolate was a hard thing to object, even if she objected everything else about the day in question.

Seeing the familiar truck turn the corner, Emma went to open the front door and wait for Killian as she usually did. Was it weird for her to do that? She was just trying to make his delivery easier. And maybe she looked forward to seeing him. Because they were friends.

It was odd not to see him pulling in a hand truck, but instead carrying a single package. “Good morning, love.”

“Hey. Is that all today?”

“Aye. Don’t be alarmed, though. I’m sure I’ll have at least a dozen for you next time.”

“You’re probably right.” She took the package from him, looking for a name on the return address. It was just boring office supplies.

Checking to make sure Elsa wasn’t out on the floor, she asked “Has Liam said anything about Sunday? My boss is being minimal with the details.”

Killian barked out a laugh. “My brother has been anything but minimal. I haven’t heard him speak of anything else since. I’d give him hell about it if I wasn’t so glad to see him happy, even if they’ve only had one real conversation together.”

“Sometimes one conversation might be all it takes.”

It was when she was signing her name on the diad (and feeling proud of herself for remembering it’s actual name) that the idea came to her. “Killian? Are you doing anything tonight?”

He considered it for a moment. “Nothing besides going home after my shift and finding something on TV to entertain me for a bit. Why do you ask?”

“Would you maybe want to come over and watch a movie? As friends,” she quickly added, hoping he wouldn’t detect any desperation in her voice. “I was going to order pizza and find something to watch, and just figured it would be nice to have the company. I mean, don’t feel obligated or anything if you have something better to do. I just thought I’d offer.”

His following silence and perplexed expression were enough to make her regret asking. She’d made it clear that it was meant to be strictly friendly, but maybe the invitation still hadn’t come across the way she’d wanted it to.

But then after what felt like an eternity (probably a few seconds in actuality), a grin broke out across his face. “I would like nothing more, Swan. As long as you’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing on you.”

“Of course not. You’ll probably be doing me a favor by not making me eat the pizza alone since I can never finish it all and get stuck with leftovers for, like, five days afterward.”

“In that case, I expected to be well-compensated for my assistance.”

She refused to let her mind run away with that idea in public. “We’ll see.”

Emma then remembered she didn’t have as much as a phone number for him. All of their interactions so far had been face to face. “Here.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, opened the screen to start a new text, and handed it to him. “Put your number in there, and I’ll text you my address. Not that it’s that hard to find in a town this small, but still. Six-thirty work for you?”

“Sounds great. I look forward to it.”

By that evening, she was equal parts excited and terrified. She’d spent most of the day wondering if inviting him over had been a mistake. Not because she didn’t want to spend time with him, but because of how many things could go wrong.

There was a knock on the door at six twenty-eight. Emma took a deep breath and went to answer it, glancing at herself in the hall mirror and hoping she didn’t look like she was having an internal crisis.

“You’re right on time.”

“Of course. It would be bad form to keep a lady waiting.”

“Honestly, where did you learn to talk like that?”

“A number of different places. My mum had a penchant for Jane Austen, for one. Liam and I were forced to sit through that bloody BBC series so many times I practically had it memorized by the time I was ten years old.” He rolled his eyes but laughed when he spoke.

At least she knew that’s where the hand kissing had come from. “I’m partial to the 2005 movie myself. What does she think about that one?”

Killian’s smile vanished. “I’m afraid I don’t know. She passed that same year.”

“Oh my gosh. Killian, I’m so-”

He dismissed the attempted apology. “It’s alright, Swan. You didn’t know. She was sick for quite some time, but she did ensure my grammar skills were impeccable.”

“That they are. And speaking of impeccable, the pizza place was running a special. So I got garlic knots too.” Food was her go to method for deflecting awkwardness, it seemed.

“You’re quickly learning the way to my heart.”

They settled onto opposite ends of her couch with the pizza box and bag of garlic knots between them, not even bothering with plates. Emma turned on the TV and opened Netflix. Her first suggestion was going to be Love Actually, but maybe something without Colin Firth would be a better option after what he’d just shared with her.

“I’ve learned without having to ask that 2000s rom coms seem to be a guilty pleasure for you too. Any suggestions?”

“I’m open to anything. Although I did see Love Actually was back on Netflix if you’re not one of those people who thinks it’s too early for Christmas movies.”

Huh. Maybe she’d been wrong. And maybe he was a mind reader.

“Are you kidding? It’s never too early for Christmas movies.”

“As I just said, you are learning the way to my heart.”

Almost everything she learned about Killian continued to surprise her. And there was so much more she wanted to know. How he took his coffee, what his favorite subject in school had been, if he spoke any other languages, topics he had strong opinions on. He was like an addictive prologue that made her want to stop and binge read the rest of the story.

They sat in comfortable silence for the first half hour or so of the movie, eating the pizza and garlic knots and occasionally making a comment about a specific scene or line.

“What’s your favorite storyline?” she asked him. “And please don’t say the Alan Rickman one, or I’ll be forced to question this friendship.”

“Of course not. He was a bloody wanker to his wife. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

“Okay, good. Friendship officially saved.”

He let out a dramatic sigh of relief. Emma laughed and rolled her eyes. “In all seriousness, however, I do quite like Jamie and Aurélia’s story. They’re able to fall in love despite an inability to communicate, and then he goes and learns another language for the sake of confessing his feelings. It’s quite romantic.”

Of all the things about Killian that she’d learned so far, this surprised her the least. Of course he’d be the romantic type, maybe not with flowers and chocolate and other material things, but in his actions, the things he would do to to show someone they were loved.

“What about you, Swan?” His voice broke her train of thought. “Your favorite storyline, I mean.”

Oh, right. They’d been having a conversation. “That’s easy. David and Natalie.”

“Because of Hugh Grant?” he teased.

“No. Because she got the kind of support I wanted when he found out about everything with the president.” He placed the blame where it was due and never expected the victim to take responsibility for a horrible man’s decisions.

Killian’s smile instantly faded. “Bloody hell. I’m sorry, love. I should have been more considerate.”

“No, it’s fine. Really,” she continued when he attempted to protest. “I mean, that whole situation in itself isn’t fine, but I know you didn’t mean anything by asking. It’s just...well, frankly, today’s not a great day for me and I guess it’s made me reflect on all of it a lot more than usual.”

He pursed his lips before he spoke. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

Here goes nothing, she thought. “Well, today’s my birthday. I didn’t mention it before because it’s not something I really like having a lot of attention on. To be frank, I don’t have a family, I never have. I was found on the side of the road right after I was born and grew up in foster care. The only reason I was able to go to college was because I lucked out and got a scholarship through the high school. And you already know how that ended.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know I have a lot of great things in my life that I’m thankful for. I have friends who are like family to me. I have a job, that, despite my frustrations with it, still pays the bills and keeps me on my feet. But today makes it hard for me not to wonder where I could be now if things had gone differently. If my parents had kept me, if a family had wanted to adopt me, if my first love hadn’t been the kind of man to make me question every bit of my worth. Along with every other decision I’ve ever made.”

She turned to him. “I’m sorry to invite you over and then dump all of this on you. I honestly wasn’t intending on bringing any of it up. I just knew I didn’t want to be alone tonight, and, well, you seem to understand me a lot more than most people do.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Emma’s heart dropped and she felt her palms grow clammy. She’d finally done it. She’d said too much and was pushing him away without even trying.

Just as she was preparing a long, drawn out apology, Killian broke the silence. “You know Liam and I lost our mother. She took us and left our sorry excuse of a father when we were young, and we lived in Boston until she passed. Despite the fact that I was nearly grown, Liam felt as if he had to look out for me for years after. I enlisted in the Navy both because I couldn’t think of a better option after school, and so he could feel he had the freedom to go to nursing school like he’d always wanted.

“My first few years are a bit of a blur now. I was still consumed with grief over losing Mum, and turned to whatever I could to avoid facing it —  drinking, gambling, women. Whatever could distract me. Things went on like that until I met Milah when I was twenty-three and stationed on the West Coast. She was older, adventurous, free-spirited, everything my own demons kept me from being. She was also married, something I knew from the beginning but promptly ignored until I was in too deep.”

Emma listened as he explained how he received news that he would be transferred back to the northeast. How he’d gone to Milah and asked her to come with him so they could have a fresh start together. Instead, he’d been crushed when she objected —  despite whatever connection the two of them had, she couldn’t leave her husband and their life behind.

“And that was it. I assumed there was no chance of me convincing her otherwise, despite how much I wanted to. So I left and went on to my next post. I’d been there less than two weeks before I heard from one of my old mates that she’d been killed in a boating accident.”

If she’d thought her heart couldn’t sink any lower, she was wrong. “Oh, Killian.”

“I was a wreck for months. I told myself if I’d tried harder, if I’d fought for us, that she might have come with me and would have still been alive. The only thing that kept me from spiraling back into grief was Liam. When he found out, he threatened to leave school to make sure I didn’t go off the deep end. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I got in the way of his dream. And I started driving. I can’t explain how or why, but being out on the road gave me the release I hadn’t been able to find elsewhere.”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “My point behind all this, Swan, is yes, I do understand you. Our pasts may be different where circumstances are concerned, but I know all too well the feeling of questioning how your life could have been different or if you’re where you’re supposed to be. It’s okay to be confused or even upset about how some things have turned out, but I really hope you won’t think less of yourself for it.”

It was difficult to hold back the tears she felt pricking her eyes. She had no desire to cry in front of him after everything else, even though she knew he wouldn’t judge her for it. “How do you always know exactly what to say to me?”

“It’s like you said, love: you and I, we understand each other.” He considered the thought again. “Then again, maybe it’s just all part of my instinctive charm.”

She rolled her eyes and whacked his shoulder with a throw pillow.

Long after the movie ended and Killian had left, Emma found herself lying awake in bed as she considered their earlier conversation. She’d known he was nothing like Neal before she opened up and told him about her past. (Truthfully, she’d known he was a better man than Neal from the day they’d met.) Still, the way he listened, accepted her for who she was, and tried to encourage her when she needed it was nothing like she’d expected.

She also didn’t expect that abnormal thing her pulse did when the UPS truck arrived at Crystalline now. Or when he’d taken her hand earlier. Or when he smiled, laughed, or even so much as cracked a corny joke in her presence.

Everything she’d wanted but had never been able to find with Graham.

Shit. Had she really gone and fallen for her UPS driver?

The answer, she soon learned, was an absolute yes.

Killian was constantly on her mind over the next few days. She thought of him every time she passed a UPS truck on the road, or when one of the literary memes pages she followed on Instagram posted something related to Pride & Prejudice. And his deliveries, which were already one of the better parts of her work days, soon became something she eagerly awaited, despite feeling silly for it.

Emma only hoped that if there had been a shift in her demeanor or actions since the revelation on her birthday that he wouldn’t notice.

And he wasn’t the only thing often on her mind, either. She wasn’t even looking for writing opportunities when one fell into her lap. She’d been online, researching the English and creative writing programs at a handful of colleges in Portland, more for curiosity’s sake than anything else. It was still uncertain when or even if she would be able to go back, but there was no harm in looking, right? That's when she found the promotion for a Young Fiction Writing contest open to residents of Maine under 30.

A few months ago, she might have glanced over the details and moved on. But something made her stop and carefully read through the description and guidelines. It wasn't necessarily the particular contest itself that stood out to her; it was standard as far as events like it were concerned.

No, what stood out to Emma was the confidence she hadn't felt in years when it came to writing. Because, for once, her immediate reaction wasn't thoughts of doubt or self loathing. She felt as if she could actually get it a shot. Even though the deadline was less than a week away.

Within minutes, she'd bookmarked the posting and opened the word document for a short story she'd written about seventy percent of before abandoning it several months earlier. It was an adventure story about a runaway princess who leaves home after a dictator takes over her kingdom, and finds unexpected romance with a reformed pirate as they team up to overthrow him.

She had never even finished plotting the last quarter of the story. It was part of her cycle of getting excited about an idea, writing part of it, and then giving up at some point thanks to doubt and insecurity.

But cycles could be broken.

For the rest of the night, she went back and forth between her laptop and the notebook she used to jot down story ideas and managed to come up with the bare bones for the remainder of the story. The rest of the details could be filled in along the way; she had what she really needed.

The next few days passed in a blur of working, helping prepare for the town’s fall festival, and spending hours in front of her laptop in attempt to finish her story before the contest deadline.

And somehow, she managed to do it all. After one last read-through to catch any technical errors she might have missed before, Emma submitted her contest entry less than an hour before the midnight deadline.

The chances of her winning anything was minimal, she’d known that from the beginning, especially since she’d thrown together the last bit of the story so quickly. But that wasn’t important to her now. She had done it. She’d finished a story for the first time in months, years maybe, and that alone meant more to her than any prize.

And she couldn’t wait to tell Killian.

She had hoped he would be making a delivery the next morning so she could tell him first thing. Of course there was always the option of sending him a text, but she wanted to tell him in person considering how significant his encouragement had been to her wanting to write again in the first place.

At least she knew he would be attending the fall festival that night with Liam and Harper. Surely she could find a moment to talk to him while Liam was off romancing Elsa.

Since there was no delivery, she spent the rest of the day on pins and needles waiting for the festivities to start that evening. Elsa and Anna closed Crystalline a few hours early, and at six, the three of them walked to the town square where the event was being held. The space was packed with both people and various attractions, but Emma’s only concern was locating a familiar head of dark hair and blue eyes.

After half an hour of wandering around through vendors and game booths, she finally spotted him at the face painting table with Liam, and a little girl with her father’s dark curls that was having a unicorn painted on her cheek, courtesy of Belle.

She came up behind Killian and tapped him on the shoulder. “Please tell me you’re getting a matching unicorn on your cheek too. It would really bring out the blue in your eyes.”

“Hello, Swan. And, as much as I hate to disappoint you, the answer is no. With my luck, I wouldn’t be able to wash it all off and wouldn’t hear the end of it during my stops tomorrow.”

Emma sighed dramatically. “What a shame. I guess I’ll never get to find out what a cute Brony you would have been.”

She and Liam laughed at Killian’s objection as Liam took his daughter’s hand and suggested he take her to the pumpkin carving table.

When they had left, Emma turned back to Killian. “What are the chances he only wanted to carve a pumpkin because he knows Elsa is over there helping Anna and Kristoff?”

“Pretty likely I’d say. I can’t wait to tease him about it during my speech at their wedding.”

“I will most definitely hold you to that. Oh! I had something to tell you,” she said, remembering why she’d been so eager to find him in the first place. “So, long story short, I finished writing something for the first time in ages, and submitted it to this writing contest thing I found online. I’m not expecting to win or anything, but all that matters to me is that I did it.” She couldn’t hold back her smile. “And I really felt like I needed to thank you, because I’m not sure I would have done it if you hadn’t encouraged me so much and made me feel like I could have a purpose outside of being a retail manager.”

The massive grin on his face made her pulse do that thing she still wasn’t sure was completely normal. Or safe. “That’s wonderful, love. I don’t think you truly needed me to make any of that happen, but I’m honored I was able to help all the same.”

“Help is an understatement. Trust me.” She could go into a long, emotional speech about the number of things he’d helped her see differently, but she’d save that for another time, one when they weren’t surrounded by everyone in Storybrooke.

But their present circumstances didn’t stop her from taking an additional leap of faith, not unlike the one she’d taken by inviting him over on her birthday. “Will you go out with me?”

Killian’s eyes widened as if wondering if he’d heard her correctly. “Come again?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just figured that while I’m on a streak of doing things I wouldn’t normally have the guts to, maybe I should keep it up before I lose my nerve.”

His brow furrowed and he placed a hand under his chin like he was deep in thought. “Hmm. I’ll accept on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You let me take you out to dinner, but we’re having pizza, garlic knots, and cinnamon twists.”

Maybe he was a man after her own heart too. “With an offer like that, I think I’d be a fool to say no.”

[eldritchsurveys]

904.

The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for? >> A beverage.

Do you like clowns? >> No.

Have you answered all of these questions honestly so far? >> There have only been two thus far, and I can't imagine lying on a survey question anyway.

What's the third text in your inbox? >> ---

Are you listening to anything at the moment? >> No.

Do you twitch when your falling asleep? >> Yeah, sometimes. Or I have that sudden falling feeling and jerk awake.

Are your dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty? >> The dishwasher is either still running or finished running, so, either clean or about to be clean.

Are you at home or with friends more often? >> 98% of the time, I’m at home.

When is the last time you were on a bicycle? >> A year ago? At least? I don’t know. I tried to ride for a while but I’m too out of shape to enjoy it and it was discouraging. And by now, I’m worried it needs maintenance from having sat in the garage through a full cycle of seasons and I’m afraid to ride it.

What have you eaten today? >> A veggie burger and chips, a sandwich, and taco mac with Nuggs.

Would you date someone 15 years older than you? >> ---

Do you own a strapless bra? >> No.

Does the person you like know it? >> ---

Do you care if people hate you for no reason? >> I care in some circumstances, but not all.

Did anything brighten up your day today? >> I’m not sure. My day was pretty okay, though. To my pleasant surprise.

How are you feeling at this exact moment? >> Chill. A bit tired.

Are you someone who worries too often? >> I get anxious about things, but I’m not sure “worries too much” is applicable.

If you could date somebody who would it be? >> ---

Do you ever wonder how other people see you? >> Well, yeah.

What is one good thing you're known for? >> ---

How about one bad thing? >> ---

Are you taller than most? >> Most children, yeah. LOL

When was the last time you sang an ENTIRE song? >> Hmm... oh, I sang along to a Journey song while I was in the shower.

Are you the type of person who likes to be out or home? >> I like to be home.

What time do you normally go to bed? >> Between 10p and 12a.

What is one thing that is currently bothering you? >> My neck is still kind of sore, probably from sleeping wrong the other night or something. It’s getting better, but I also keep accidentally twinging it.

What did you do today? >> Read some of the book I’m on, watched a few episodes of Avenue 5, played some Torchlight 2, browsed tumblr, browsed Reddit. Not in that order.

Do you consider yourself to be attractive? >> No.

What was the last thing that you drank? >> A shandy.

Is anything annoying you now? >> No.

Has anyone ever said i love you to you and not meant it? >> How would I know, unless they told me (and in my experience people generally do not tell)?

Do you regret going out with the last person you did? >> Eh. Not really. Like, it sucks and I hate that the trauma from those interactions is still haunting me and affecting my current relationships, but it is what it is. 

Do you realize it when you curse? >> I mean, more or less.

When was the last time you showered? >> This morning.

Who did you last talk to in person? >> Sparrow.

Do you ever have days where you just don't do anything? >> No. Even when I’m deeply depressed I will move my hands to put on Netflix (and then click “yes” when it periodically asks if I’m still watching), lol. That’s something.

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? >> Yeah.

What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all? >> ---

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? >> Maybe.

What's the longest amount of time you've been stuck in traffic? >> ---

Best field trip experience? >> ---

Have you ever been to New York City? >> I used to live there.

If so, is it all its cracked up to be? >> What’s it cracked up to be, exactly? People say a lot of things about NYC, not all of it positive. It also depends on, you know... your socioeconomic standing. Wealthy folks’ NYC is a completely different place from poor folks’ or homeless folks’ NYC, despite being on the same patch of land...

What is the most amount of money you've spent on a meal before? >> I have no idea.

What museums have you visited, if any? >> In NYC: MOMA, Museum of Natural History; in Philadelphia: Franklin Institute; in Chicago: Museum of Science & Industry, Adler Planetarium (it’s also an astronomy museum); in Michigan: Grand Rapids Art Museum, Grand Rapids Public Museum. Those are just the ones I remember, mind you. Might have been to a couple of others and just forgotten about them.

Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you? >> Maybe when I was in school, idk.

What's your worst traveling experience? >> Probably every time I had to take a Greyhound from Colorado to NYC (or vice versa).

Sims 1, 2, or 3? Why? >> I’ve never played the first one. I like the vast amount of custom content resources for 2, the innovation of 3, and the continued innovation of 4. Otherwise, they’re mostly the same to me except the graphics just get smoother over the years.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? >> Yes. Poorly, obviously, for me anyway.

Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? >> ---

Best muffin you've ever had? >> I don’t like muffins.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? >> Once.

If so, was it required? >> No, it was an elective.

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? >> Hardly any. I just check it every few days or whatever, for messages mostly.

What area of math are you best at? Worst? >> I don’t know.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? >> I don’t care if people like the same music as I do, as long as they’re not rude about genres they don’t care for. I like talking about music with people, but it always ends up being this “this genre is better than that genre” or “this era is better than that era” circle jerk and that’s so fucking boring.

What is the strangest thing you've ever seen outside of your house? >> *shrug*

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? >> It can be a useful concept.

How often do you "half-ass" things (put little effort in)? >> Whenever I don’t have the energy to whole-ass something, but I don’t want to just not do anything at all.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? >> No. I feel annoyed when I have to eat around other people, because then I have to hear other people eating.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? >> Probably.

How reliable is your internet connection? >> It’s quite reliable.

Have you ever missed a meeting/event that was required/necessary? >> Yeah.

What's something that makes you incredibly nervous? >> I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.

What's the latest you've ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? >> ---

If you don't have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them? >> It wouldn’t bother me too much. Unless my vision started failing really badly, because, you know... I like seeing.

If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn't need them anymore? >> ---

How many vegetarians do you know? >> I’m not sure.

Have you ever considered going to art school? >> No.

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? >> No.

How quickly can you write an essay? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? >> In high school, i was put on multiple psychotropic/anti-depressant drugs, none of which I actually needed, so they all had pretty adverse effects on me. Including making me fall asleep in class almost constantly.

Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? >> I usually was.

If you have a job, who is your least favorite coworker/manager? >> ---

Favorite episode of Spongebob? >> I don’t like that show.

Do you have any silly/odd emotional connections to anything/anyone? >> I don’t want to call any of my emotional connections silly or odd. Especially since I have a hard enough time making them in the first place -- I want to encourage and support those connections, not disparage them. :/

Are your parents supportive of you? >> I took this survey almost a decade ago, and my answer then was that he was supportive even if he didn’t always approve. I was really on some bullshit then, I guess... because that’s just not true. He only supported what he thought was appropriate for me to be involved in, and when I invariably wanted to do or be other things, he was dismissive and almost derisive. Being supported in my being and endeavours is not a common theme in my life and it starts with that motherfucker.

How often do you take the train to go places? >> I don’t take it much anymore; the last time I took it was to go to Chicago and back, as an experiment (Sparrow wanted to see if it was truly better than driving there and back). When I lived in the City, of course, I took a subway all the time. Really miss that.

Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? >> I guess I would, if I found myself in a situation I thought was awkward. I usually don’t.

[takemealivelh]

i heard i can send mike requests so here i am. i got this from a prompt list so iMagine mike coming to the restaurant you work at and choose you as his waitress every time just to annoy you and you can’t do anything in retribution or you'll get fired 👀 pls make it enemies to lovers😭 im a bitch for enemies to lovers aus ngl ok bye ilysm❤

HONEY SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER but you know I wanna give you the best content I can create and you deserve!

I present to you: Raspberry Chocolate MilkshakeThe title is not the best but I think it sums it up pretty well.

ANYWAYS, I hope you enjoy it!

/special thanks to @angelbabylu for helping me with this! Best personal editor ever!/

“Thank you for taking your time-”

“Fuck off, Clifford.”

“Wait, what did I do?”

Michael had been going to the same restaurant for a while now, and that interaction that took place three weeks into his newly found routine had been haunting him ever since.

He liked Chloe, she was nice to everyone and never yelled back at those men who tried to shame her for the uniform she had to wear. And she looked damn good in her uniform. The little black skirt hugged her hips close to perfection, the green button down complimented her skin colour. Her hair up in a snug ponytail let the dining lights define her cheekbones even more.

She hated it.

Chloe hated the way she had to suck in her tummy to zip up the skirt. She hated the roll of fat under her bra she had to deal with when buttoning up the polyester shirt. She hated how her eyes seemed to stretch into the back of her head when her hair was up. She felt like a tight blob during working hours, but she had to keep the smile on her face to keep earning the money.

Unfortunately, most money she made was when Michael was her customer. The musician who insisted on taking the wobbly stool at the end of the bar. The one who kept ordering drinks that weren’t on the menu. The man who took forever to decide what to eat, even if he’d been eating at the same place for nearly 6 months now, and then he changed his mind at the last minute.

“It’s all the same, Michael,” she tapped the pen on her notepad. Having been his personal waitress for long, they were already acquainted with each other’s quirks and manias. Her boss was both scared and excited about their interactions. She worried that Chloe was rude to the guitarist of 5 Seconds of Summer, but also liked that Michael seemed to enjoy it. “You can’t possibly find something that you haven’t tried.”

The bell of the diner rang to announce more customers had arrived. Chloe turned her head to the door and gave the family of three a friendly smile. Michael noticed her sudden change of demeanour and was crushed by how nice she could be, just as long as she wasn’t dealing with him.

“You always seem so happy to help me with my order, I feel honoured,” the words slipped out of his mouth in a playful matter, but really, he wondered when Chloe would actually be pleased to see him. Everyone loved her, and he could see why. Whenever a table got a cold meal and started complaining, Chloe would stand there and nod, listening to the others rant. She would apologize on behalf of the kitchen and promise to throw a couple of extra fries for the inconvenience. That always seemed to calm the worked up clients. She made sure every single shake she served had been topped with either three cherries or lots of chocolate sprinkles. Michael had never had to ask for another portion of whipped cream since he started having his lunch here. He took his whipped cream seriously.

“I love it that instead of helping me choose, your eyes are glued to that couple over there and their really cool kid that has a Pikachu hat.” Michael followed her gaze to the table with the family, a grin on his face.

Even when he tried to start a flirty banter, Chloe could only take it the wrong way. Maybe, if she wasn’t his waitress, she would flirt back. Maybe, she could take his words lightly and playfully nudge his shoulder before responding with something like, “My attention is valuable, Clifford. If you were wearing that hat I would even consider you cute.”

But she didn’t say that.

“So… the burger and a salad?” she jotted down his usual order and then walked away from him.

- - -

“Chloe! The stool is tumbling again!” Michael’s words echoed through the half-empty diner he’d been sitting in for the past hour. He so desperately wanted her attention, even if it came in the form of a frown. Her chest seemed to grow red when his voice hit her ears, also red now, and she set the broom aside before making her way to the end of the bar. She could feel her coworkers eyes on her. They kept teasing her that she needed to do something drastic, like ask Michael out on a date, or spill a shake on his pants so she would have to help him clean up.

The scenarios were several and varied, and none of them bothered her. But Michael could be such a jerk. Of course, the only reason he kept sitting on that shitty stool was so he could watch her bend down and stick another three sugar packets under the rickety metal leg.

Michael just enjoyed having her near, even if it was for a few seconds. He’d tried to spark up conversations about her job, but that only seemed to irritate her more. He’d tried to ask her about her hobbies or what she did in her spare time.

“My commute is 40 minutes long, Michael. I don’t have much time to spare,” was the closest he got to a real answer.

Chloe wiped the sweat droplets that had glided down her forehead, she stood up and shook the stool a little, it didn’t wobble. “There,” she whispered, immediately turning on her heels to go back to her chores.

That small movement, that uncalculated spin, caused her elbow to collide into Michael’s glass of raspberry-chocolate milkshake, the one she had begged the bartender to make even if it wasn’t on the menu. Michael’s eyes saw the fall in slow motion. Before he registered it, the liquid was all over his pants and her skirt.

“Fuck”, they mumbled at the same time. The faint laughter from the other side of the diner was obvious. That until they heard Chloe’s boss making her way towards them, apologizing for Ms. Clumsy’s earned title.

They were told to go to the back and they obeyed, getting whistles from the other waiters.

“I’m really sorry, Mike,” Chloe had never called him Mike and he noticed. She soaked and wrung out a cloth before handing it to him, “it was an accident.”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet his, he could tell she was embarrassed, but he wasn’t good at dealing with awkward situations smoothly. “Was it really? I thought you just wanted me here in the back without my pants on.”

Clearly, the joke was not amusing. “Oh, fuck off, Clifford.”

They remained quiet as they dampened their clothes, but the stain wouldn’t come off. He had a meeting in an hour, she had her mom’s birthday after work. The room was barely bright, crammed by boxes full of imperishable goods. Chloe didn’t want to do it, but she walked around a pile of boxes anyways, and took her skirt off. At the sound of the zipper being undone, Michael quirked an eyebrow. “What are you doing back there?” He wasn’t stupid, but he wanted to hear her say it. Besides, if she was taking off her bottoms, it wouldn’t be weird for him to do it as well. The damp cloth wasn’t working, he couldn’t see properly, his boxers were also getting wet. He was uncomfortable and just wanted to take the pants off.

“My mum’s turning 50 today.”

“What?”

A sigh came from the other side of the room, Chloe was sat on a small box and trying to get the stain out of her skirt with better lighting in that position. “She’s big on birthdays and she doesn’t like it when I wear anything but formal when she has people over. This is her favourite skirt on me. It’s the only thing she would like me to wear. Otherwise, she’d shove me into this hideous yellow dress she has for special occasions. It is uncomfortable and if I can avoid wearing that, I will. I can’t go back home and grab a pair of pants because then I wouldn’t be there on time, and she hates unpunctuality. Even though, she’s never, ever on time. Ever.”

“So… ever?” Michael stripped off his pants and heard something unknown to him until now. A light chuckle.

“Ever.”

Michael sat on a box and started working on the stain, the same way she was doing, trying to reach better lighting. He didn’t say anything else, this was the most she had told him about herself. This was the girl he had wanted to get to know for months now, but hadn’t been able to because any word that slipped from his lips seemed to annoy her.

Another sigh. “It’s not like I’m scared of her, because I’m not. I just want her to be happy today. She has a perfectionist side, maybe I got it from her, and I don’t want her to be bitching tonight about me not wearing something she likes. It’s not the point of tonight, is it? She’s been so scared of turning 50. I’ve told her that she’s not old and all of that, but I don’t think that’s what scares her. I think she regrets not doing all the things she wanted to do before turning 50, you know?”

Michael hesitated for a second, he wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not.

“I don’t wanna be like that. It sounds exhausting,” she huffed and scrubbed the black skirt clean. “You’re not going to have that problem, Mike. I don’t think you will. And if you do, just remember that time you were in your twenties and had to sit in a gloomy room with no pants, listening to some waitress talk about her 50-year-old mum.”

That small chuckle again. Michael could feel his chest growing warmer. “Uh… I guess I’ll have to strike this off my bucket list,” he laughed lightly, she followed, he gained confidence. “Actually, I’m still scared.”

Chloe’s silence served as fuel to continue his train of thought out loud.

“I’m, uh… I’m scared that I’ll reach 50 and I’ll feel like that. I’m doing a lot of shit, Chloe. Like… a lot. And it’s fun, I’m having a great time and I’m putting all my energies into doing the things that I love but… what if I wake up being a 50-year-old man feeling unfulfilled? I know it’s crazy, but-”

“It’s not crazy.”

Michael rested his head against the wall behind him and sighed. He had never told this fear to anyone. “Thank you, Chlo,” he rocked his head towards her side of the room and caught a glimpse of her ponytail.  No other words were exchanged. For the first time, he enjoyed the stillness between them, unspoken complicity.

They put their garments back on when they were semi-dry and half-decently unstained. Chloe took a deep breath to suck her stomach in and zip up the skirt, Michael brushed the dust off his pants when he stood up. They felt closer to each other somehow. She hated to admit it, but Michael was actually a nice person. Once she let her guard down and was willing to accept his words, he was pleasant company. She’d been so hard on him. His awkward way of dealing with social situations wasn’t the best, but she didn’t make it easier either.

“Hey, Mike,” Chloe turned to face him before she opened the door back into the diner. His green eyes glistened through the pathetic fluorescent lightbulb. She seemed nervous, a cute kind of nervous, and he was eager to hear what she was about to say. “Do you…” she cleared her throat, “… do you want to go out sometime?”

“Oh my…” Michael’s laugh made her stomach drop and he noticed the flush on her cheeks, “Chloe, I’ve been trying to ask you out for months now! I can’t believe you beat me!”

TAG LIST

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[tryagainmv]

ad nauseam (part two)

part two: two lonely people we were

➷ you had never known the meaning of lovesickness until you had crossed paths with na jaemin.

part one: strangers in the night ❧ part three: up to the moment we said our first hello

warning: cursing, violence.

you’ve been in this town for one day, and you’re already dreading the concept of spending a summer like this.

in a town where everything mirrored the life you had just left, with the exception of the familiar storefronts and neighbourhoods and faces strolling down the sidewalks. you had worked yourself up, your oh-so-big jump, to leap a puddle and land in the corner of the muddy water. you still had the same coast, but different shops. you still had the same red brick buildings lining the main streets, but different names. you still had the same loft apartments over every single business, but with different numbers. you were living in a strange, but parallel universe.

you didn’t know if it was because you had built up your first taste of self-sufficiency, your first taste of the freedom of living away from parents and from the same cracks in the road you had caught your shoe toe in, or if it was because you had unfinished business from the night before, if you can even call that business. it felt more like comfortable anarchy, the wild beat of your heart against the steady beat of the drum fighting the smooth beat of your lips against his.

you didn’t deny that whenever you closed your eyes, you could almost picture yourselves, his arm holding you against him, your heads cradled together, silhouetted against the raging sunset orange fire, blending into one shadow as the orange flicker outlined you. between the crackling of the fire behind you two and the connection of your hearts, you didn’t know what created the sparks that floated in the night sky among the stars. however, you refused to admit that when you had driven past the cliff on your way out, you had spared a glance towards the field where your softly swaying feet had worn another sparse patch into the rocky earth.

you refused to admit that the boy named na jaemin held anything over you but a memory.

but you felt yourself wanting to reverse time and catch him before he slipped away, before he sent you that last glance and molded into the night crowd so seamlessly that made you wonder whether the boy was a human or a figment of your imagination. a guilty conscience trying to hold you back in the place that you had been so relieved to part from.

whoever jaemin was, you refused to admit that the stranger in the night had put another pair of shackles on your rubbed-raw wrists.

but for now, you’d make do in the parallel universe you lived in.

as your feet crossed the threshold from sidewalk to linoleum, you felt the cold push of the frozen air and the sweet wave of ice cream collide with your senses. you inhaled the cream-filled air and walked up to where your new coworker was waiting, his brown hair visible over the cash register as he made eye contact with you and gave you a soft wave, beckoning you to the false countertop which he swung open.

“you came ready in your uniform! i have your apron and name tag in the back, they’re folded just beside the cooler room door,” he said, pointing you down the narrow hallway lined with extra cones and napkin containers. “i’m renjun.”

he pointed to his green and pink name tag, wiggling it and shooting you a toothy smile. he had a small snaggletooth, and you felt yourself smiling back at the soft boy.

“i’ll be y/n, once i get my name tag,” you laughed back, walking past him to grab your apron and name tag and put them on, renjun coming up behind you to tie the top strap of your white cloth covering.

you thanked him and slid the pin of your lacquer name tag onto the thin white cloth, and you presented yourself to a renjun who gave you a thumbs up and another smile. he showed you the ropes quickly, the cleaning of the scoops and how to work the new electronic register. you learned that his dad owned the shop and that him and his older brother ran it now that his father was getting older. his older brother was named kun, and he was the manager that only worked the night shifts while renjun worked the days. it was obvious how much he knew about this shop and the way it had been run for years, that it was both ice cream and blood that flowed through the sweet boy’s veins.

“one more thing,” renjun says, only after he’s decided your scooping is satisfactory.

“yeah, shoot,” you respond, taking a bite of your final cone product so that the ice cream wouldn’t go to waste.

“uh, because of our… location beside the beach, we draw a pretty sketchy crowd around the early afternoons. don’t let them phase you, okay? they’re harmless, mostly.” he rubs the back of his neck and you smile, biting the rest of your sugar cone and throwing the paper shell into the trash below the counter.

“renjun, don’t worry. i’ll be okay,” you smile, giving him a thumbs up as you go to open up the shop.

renjun had told you that it was the newbie’s initiation to flip the paper ‘open’ sign and officially start their first workday at green rose ice cream parlour. you appeased him, despite your complete disinterest in the small rituals that he seemed to value so highly. you didn’t want to make your boss think of you as flippant, as disrespectful or uncooperative, and you didn’t want to make the soft looking boy upset. so you flip the open sign as the clock hits ten and immediately spot a few groups of people make their way towards the cute shop perched a street away from the tourist-filled beach.

you slipped into your place back behind the glass walls and tubs of ice-cream and took your position at the cash register, ready to ring up the first customers of the day while renjun crafted his beautiful cones. you fell into a rhythm for a while, the soft jingle of the radio a backing track as you called out order after order to the boy who whipped the cream into the wafer and passed it to the waiting customer, over and over again.

until the next ring of the door’s bell signified something so much more than another customer you’d have to serve.

they didn’t come to the register or browse the flavours, not even take a peak at the menu. they slid into a table that had remained unoccupied, almost as if they owned it, and burst into a jubilant conversation. they looked so out of place in their dark attire amongst the green tables and pink chairs, yet they blended into the scene as if they had been placed there purposefully by a hand designing a piece of art, so stark of a contrast, so different of people from who you would see in a parlour with twice playing from the loudspeakers. and yet here they were.

you stared at them, black paint splotches on a pastel canvas, until one of them flicked his eyes to you and you averted quickly, staring at the green and pink background of the desktop cash register. you didn’t even notice the single jingle of the bell echo through the shop, the racing of your thoughts creating a maelstrom in your head that blocked out the small sounds.

“uh, hello?” a voice called out, and you could have sworn you had heard that timbre before.

you flicked your eyes up and your mouth gaped. you quickly shut it and took a breath in through your nose. na jaemin, tattoos clear as day against his tanning skin, stood in front of you, gaze hooked on yours and his eyes the width of someone who was shocked yet trying to bury that surprise under a layer of confidence and nonchalance. you scoffed and plastered a thicker version of that on your face, a version of that meant for someone who had screwed you over without even knowing he had done anything, who had caused a snag in your heart that you refused to acknowledge as more of a fondness for a memory.

he’s just a stranger, after all.

you owed nothing to someone who treated your heart like it had strings.

“hi, what can i get for you?” you gritted out, shifting on your feet and starting a new order on the screen.

“a single scoop of pralines and cream on a sugar cone, please?” he asked musingly, drumming his fingers on the top of the glass.

you nodded and hummed, inputting the order and hovering over the ‘complete’ button.

“will that be all for you today?” you responded, not wanting to bring your eyes up to meet his again, not after the first time.

“no, actually. i know it’s not on the menu, but i would like a fresh order of ‘explanation’,” he laughed out, and you leaned back and crossed your arms, bringing your gaze up to his again.

“what do i need to explain to you, na jaemin?” you spat out, huffing. “it’s not like you really were interested in what i had to say about anything.”

“what are you doing here?” he pressed, and you laughed dryly before completing his order and calling it out to renjun, who watched you two interact, enrapt.

“i’m working. now, if you’d go collect your cone down with renjun, that would be swell,” you grumbled, gesturing for him to move along.

he simply looked at you and leaned further over the table, and you caught the roman numerals along his collarbone when his tank top dipped further down.

“i thought you lived a few towns over,” he questioned, more suspicion climbing into his voice than before.

he was cracking.

“yeah, well, a lot of things can change in such little time,” you shot back, tilting your head and nodding towards renjun. “your cone is melting.”

renjun hadn’t even taken the cone out yet.

“y/n, listen, if you’re mad about —“

he used your name.

he knew.

“i’m not mad about anything,” you gritted out. “i’m just swell. go pick up your cone, thanks for coming.”

“y/n!” he hissed out as you turned around, slamming his fist on the top of the glass.

you spun around, and you saw the hurt in his eyes. but you also saw two of the boys from the table behind him slide back in their chairs and climb to their feet. one of them pulled off jaemin’s baseball cap and tossed it to you, and jaemin’s carob locks flopped down in a haphazard pool on the top of his head.

the other boy grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward, leaning in and pushing him closer and closer to the wall.

“leave the girl alone,” the first boy grunted. “or i’ll make you.”

he sneered. the other boy did too.

“she’s obviously not into you and whatever you guys did together, and honestly? looking at you, shrimp? i can’t blame her.” the second boy laughed and placed his hand on the first boy’s shoulder as he held jaemin in an iron grip. “she’s cute, right? the way she stands is so confident, so detached, i’d like to tame her for a night. i’d treat her so good, she’d forget anything you two did toge—“

you absently let out a cry as you watched jaemin’s fist swung up and connected with the first boy’s nose, the crack filling the tense air of the room. you heard renjun drop the cone in his hand, and jaemin didn’t stop. he swung up and hit the second boy, jab after jab until the other two boys from the table were on him too and he was kicking and grabbing collars and snapping noses. you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but watch as the boy you had kissed two days ago beat the ever-loving shit out of four grown boys. when the first punch was landed on his face, he snapped back and the tables turned. the boys launched themselves on top of him, and he was swallowed by a pile of flying arms and kicking legs and brutal sounds of broken skin breaking skin. you screamed again and slid out under the counter, hearing renjun’s cry of dismay and fright, and you yelled out at the top of your lungs for this to stop, stop, stop.

it only stopped when you put yourself into the fight, pulling one of the boys off of a bloody jaemin who was curled on the ground, who spit out a shot of blood as the other boys backed off slowly. you slid yourself in between jaemin and the retreating boys, and you wiped off the smudge of blood you had gotten on your hands.

you stared at your hands, then up to the four boys with bloody noses and bruised eyes. they all stared back, some with confidence, some with fear and all of them with mirthless contempt.

you imagined you looked the exact same, your hands balled into fists at your sides and your eyes set in a glare.

“get out!” you yelled, and the boys didn’t move.

“get the hell out, you creeps,” renjun shouted, voice enthusiastic with a slight twinge of adrenaline. you didn’t expect that.

that’s when the boys nodded and picked their bloody faces up, running one by one out the door, taking the jingles of the little silver bell with them.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and dropped your head into your hands, sighing shakily before turning back to jaemin who was pulling himself to his feet.

“uh, y/n, do you — uh, do you want to patch him up in the back break room? i have a lot of first aid stuff, there was an accident with a scooper and someone’s eye a while ago that we don’t talk about,” renjun asked, and you heard the concern in his voice.

you looked back to jaemin, who was on his feet and limping to the table where he rested his body weight on his leaning hand. his eyes were already bloodshot and swelling, and you felt your heart climb in your throat as you catalogued every visible injury on the boy’s body.

he was defending you, your heart called out. he fought the creeps because they talked about you.

he was violent, your mind called out. he was impulsive, but you knew that already. he was just like you.

no matter how many times you tried to repeat it to yourself, you knew. when your heart spiralled, so did your head, and you had always been irresponsible when your feelings and thoughts didn’t sync up. you had always been impulsive, always been someone who had never totally understood your heart and your head. you’d always had one foot in love and the other in logic.

your feet were getting further and further apart.

you nodded to renjun and grabbed onto jaemin, pulling his arm over your shoulder and bringing him back into the break room. renjun followed and opened the first aid cabinet, and you thanked him as he ran back out to the front to go greet customers. you set jaemin down on the foldable chair that sat beside a matching table, and he laughed as you pulled down a kit from the cupboard.

“why are you laughing?” you asked, dragging another chair beside him to rest on as you began to dab a cotton ball with peroxyde on it onto his open cuts.

“i don’t know,” he laughed out, and you huffed as he continued to laugh when you put bandaids and steristrips on his face cuts.

“then stop,” you growled.

he stopped, raising a hand gingerly to tilt your chin up and meet his eyes.

“i really fucked up, didn’t i?” he said, more to himself than you. “i really fucked up when i walked away, i fucked up when i didn’t ask your name. to be honest, i didn’t think i’d see you again, and i was so ready to have my heart broken by you if i had asked. but i didn’t, and that was so smart of me, and i felt so bad that i was weak and told you my name, because now i’m someone to you, and i disappeared and i hurt you. so i really fucked up not asking anything, but i think i’ve fucked myself over so much more now that i know, now that we’re not strangers in the night.”

you didn’t dare break eye contact, and you dropped your hand from where it held the cotton ball on his shoulder back to your lap. you felt the rough skin of his knuckle turn under your chin as he rolled his lips over his teeth and sighed.

“just tell me how i can make it better,” he asked, and he pulled your head a bit closer with the crook of his finger under your head.

you weren’t going to stand down, you weren’t going to admit to anything, you weren’t going to admit a boy who was a stranger in the night became someone who you know. someone who you allowed to know you, someone who you allowed in past your walls and into your head with the reckless, destructive, confused thoughts that filled it. you would not let the boy who disappeared into the fog of pot and cigarettes and god-knows-what to have any say over what you felt, not when he turned his back on you.

one foot in logic.

“can i make it better? can i fix this?” he asked, and you let him.

you let him move closer to you and press his lips to yours, and you let the cotton ball that was pink with his blood drop to the floor. you let his lips find that rhythm again, let him cup your jaw and tilt your head to slot your noses together, and you let him kiss you and map out every corner of your lips. you didn’t stop him, and you didn’t want to, your heart didn’t want to remove your lips from his in fear that he’d turn his back on you again.

one foot in love.

you kept your hands in your lap, you twiddled your thumbs and ran your fingertips over the ridges of your nails, you kept them everywhere but on him. you thought that if you had kept your hands off him, had kept your hands away from the smooth feeling of his skin and away from the ink of his tattoos that you felt you could rub off with the pads of your fingers even though you knew that wasn’t true, you wouldn’t get yourself connected to him. you wouldn’t let a boy with a bloody taste on his tongue leave that on you, that memory, that imprint, if you didn’t let your hands wander or climb the stalk of his neck and trace the bumps of his spine like you had already. if you didn’t let him hold you by the waist and run his fingers where your shirt had ridden up and your soft, warm skin had hit the air, you wouldn’t connect yourself to the boy who had turned his back on you.

things didn’t work that way, not anymore, because it didn’t take one kiss to fall in love with someone. it took two and you had so foolishly stumbled into his trap, his lips and his gaze and his charming voice pulling you into him and refusing to let you go.

you broke it off a few seconds, minutes, hours later and drew back, standing to pick up the soiled cotton ball and walk it over to the trash in the corner of the room.

you had a pit in your stomach, because you knew that if you turned your back on the boy, you might never see him again. you might never feel him again. you might never taste the iron on his lips again. but you turned. you turned your back on the boy who was watching you from the foldable chair and you walked away, walked to the corner instead of throwing the ball. you turned your back. this time, you turned your back.

why did you turn?

when you spun back around, na jaemin had taken a handful of bandages, the cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide, and he was gone, chair empty and the air he had occupied empty. the baseball cap that you had brought in and set on the cabinet ledge was gone too.

you were convinced na jaemin was no more than a shadow who haunted you, a figment of your imagination.

was he just a stranger?

if only you could predict the future, read the cards it held. you’d be so much more worried. you were already sick to your stomach.

a/n: grammarly won’t LEAVE ME ALONE (this is a let down)

[boyqirl]

Ode à la Rose

nct - lucas x oc / oneshot / flower shop au

read on aff

Working at a flower shop in the middle of New York City is certainly a way for one to meet all kinds of people. Sometimes it’s a young child buying tulips for Mother’s Day, or it’s a kind old man going to visit a sick loved one, or it’s a nervous young lover trying to propose.

But today, one of those people happened to be the most beautiful boy Chunhwa had ever seen.

She was carefully tending to the orchids in the display window when he walked in. The familiar tinkling chime of the bell sounded in her ears as the door to  Ode à la Rose opened, and when she looked up, her gaze was met with piercing brown eyes. Chunhwa almost dropped the delicate glass plant mister she was holding.

However, to save her from embarrassing herself (and from getting scolded by her boss), she quickly composed herself, setting the plant mister down and smiling. Her customer service persona resurfaced so quickly that she was afraid of the whiplash, but it was a good way for her to distract herself from his almost blinding beauty. So she stood up just a bit straighter and gestured kindly at him.

“Welcome to  Ode à la Rose. Is there anything I can help you with?”

The boy stood at the entrance of the shop, his eyes going wide. Chunhwa mentally kicked herself, automatically assuming that she had creeped him out by her obviously fake voice which practically screamed, “Please don’t actually ask for my help.” Of course, in any other situation, she really would have meant that. Any person who worked some sort of job requiring customer service could relate to the dread of helping out a customer with strange and unreasonable demands. But for now, any opportunity she had to talk to him was one she was willing to take, but her body was practically running on autopilot in a desperate attempt to keep herself from openly ogling at him.

Chunhwa was very discreetly trying to discern how tall he was, noting how long his legs were and how perfectly proportioned he seemed to be. She was so engrossed in this task that she didn’t even notice how nervous he looked as he tried to come up with some sort of coherent sentence.

Finally, he exclaimed clumsily, “I’d like to buy some flowers, please!”

How perfect could this guy be? His voice was pleasantly deep and its rich tone wrapped around her ears like velvet.

“Well,” Chunhwa replied, laughing slightly at his response, “you’ve definitely come to the right place. Any particular flowers you’re looking for?”

The boy puffed out his chest and proclaimed, “I want to give a bouquet to someone I like.”

Aw. So she definitely had no chance. Chunhwa fought off the urge to frown and quietly made her way towards the back of the shop, trying her best to seem nonchalant as she pulled out a flower catalogue. After tucking it under her arm, she walked over to the cash register and set the catalogue down, beckoning him to come over.

“There are several types of flowers that can convey romantic feelings, and they’re all listed here. Unless you just want to go for some kind of color scheme, which I can also do for you,” Chunhwa explained, willing herself to slip completely into customer service mode.

The more she focused on her job, the less she could focus on how handsome and unavailable he was.

“Yeah, uh” the boy began clumsily, rifling through the crinkled pages of the flower catalogue, very clearly looking confused, “these are all really pretty.”

Seeing how engrossed he was in choosing what flowers to include, Chunhwa took the chance to observe him with a little less subtlety. His brows, which were almost perfectly sculpted, furrowed in concentration, creating a cute little wrinkle in between. His nose was somehow so aesthetically pleasing that she just couldn’t process it, and his lips were puckered ever so slightly, giving him a somewhat pouty look that just made her entire soul ache. He was so attractive that she didn’t know what to do with herself. It just wasn’t fair!

She was about to lose herself in the perfection of his face until he looked up at her. Chunhwa almost yelled out loud, but she quickly caught herself and cooled her expression, offering up a small smile at him. He beamed back at her but then, as if restraining himself, quickly looked away, leaving Chunhwa feeling very confused and embarrassed. Did he catch her staring?

“So, uhm,” she began, clearing her throat awkwardly, “have you decided which flowers you would like to include in your bouquet?”

“Yes,” he said, suddenly staring at her very intently. “I would really like a bouquet of gardenias and blue salvias,” he finished, butchering the pronunciation of the salvias. (He blushed profusely at his mistake, laughing nervously, but this just made her think he was even cuter.)

Chunhwa carefully gathered the blooms in her hands. The gears were whirring in her head.

“Gardenias represent ‘secret love’ and the blue salvias mean ‘I think of you.’ This is a pretty loaded bouquet,” she commented, smiling widely to make up for her increasing disappointment. She was very sad that he already had someone in mind, but the other half of her was happy that this beautiful boy was pursuing his love. She sincerely hoped he would be successful and berated herself for feeling disappointed about a guy she had literally just met.

“Yeah, uh...I mean. I have this huge crush on this beautiful girl and I want to give this to her,” he said excitedly.

He was just too cute! Chunhwa screamed inside.

“Well, whoever that girl is, she is certainly lucky to have the affections of someone as nice as you,” she replied, genuinely meaning it.

He laughed shyly, looking away slightly and lifting his hand to fiddle with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Chunhwa positively swooned.

“Would you like me to include a little handwritten message with the bouquet?” she asked, forcing herself into customer service mode again before she could confess right then and there.

“Um, you can just say it’s from Yukhei. Y-u-k-h-e-i. I’m Yukhei,” he said very seriously.

“Okay, Yukhei,” Chunhwa said, relishing in finally knowing his name. Of course, even his name was beautiful. He was so perfect it almost made her angry.

She gingerly wrapped up the bouquet and placed the little message card inside, and then rang him up on the register. It took all of her willpower to not just stop and stare at him and instead to remember how to count so she could give him back the correct amount of change. As they neared the end of their transaction, Chunhwa slowed down ever so slightly just to prolong their interaction even a few seconds more. When she finally handed him the receipt, she wanted to cry. Don’t go! she wanted to say. Let me bask in your perfect presence just a little bit more! There were countless other flower shops in the city. There was no telling whether or not he would ever come back to this one, just another little flower shop amidst Manhattan’s sprawling Flower District.

But all good things had to come to an end, and he took his little bouquet and his perfect self and walked out the door. The tinkling of the bell signaled his leave, and Chunhwa’s sad state of mind made it sound a lot more melancholic than it could ever actually be.

The rest of Chunhwa’s work day paled in comparison to the golden interaction with Yukhei, and when she finally closed up shop, she sat by herself in the middle of  Ode à la Rose for just a few minutes, reliving their encounter in her head. She was both celebrating her luck for meeting someone so beautiful and also mourning the unavailability of such a handsome person.

The next week at work, Chunhwa came in after her last class, just before her coworker was about to finish his shift. She settled herself at the cash register, cupping her chin in her hand as she watched him tend to the plants one final time before he had to leave.

“You don’t understand, Eunseok. He was the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” she sighed wistfully, trying to explain just how perfect Yukhei was. A week had already passed and she was still not over it, apparently. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.”

“Well, New York is a big city. But at the same time, it’s kind of a small world here, don’t you think? You never know. Maybe you’ll see him on the train one day,” Eunseok said good-naturedly, grinning back at her.

“I really doubt it,” Chunhwa retorted, sinking down sadly into her chair.

And then the tinkling of a bell filled the store, and the Gates of Heaven opened to reveal God Himself.

Trumpets started playing in Chunhwa’s head and the shocked expression on her face was enough for Eunseok to know that the guy she was just talking about had now appeared inside the store.

“Welcome!” Eunseok greeted, smiling broadly. Then he turned around and looked at Chunhwa with the most excited and shocked look on his face. This boy really was beautiful. 

“My shift is actually over, so I have to go. Chunhwa, could you please take care of this customer for me? Okay, thanks so much, bye!”

And with that, Eunseok slipped off his apron, gathered his things, and clocked out in record time. Chunhwa stood there, staring blankly at the space Eunseok had just been in, trying to process what had just happened.

“Um...hi!” Yukhei said, smiling sheepishly.

“Hello,” Chunhwa replied slowly, still not believing that he was right before her eyes. But then her brain switched to autopilot out of embarrassment and an automatic smile manifested on her face.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked cheerily.

This time, Yukhei chose a bouquet of pink carnations (happiness) and baby’s breath (everlasting love). Chunhwa smiled softly as she gathered the flowers into a bouquet, thinking to herself about how sweet he was. She wrapped it up quickly and rang him up at the register, trying to make the exchange as quick and clean as possible out of fear that he would recognize just how enamored she was with him. She felt kind of ridiculous, considering that this was only her second time ever seeing him, but something about him was so charming that she could just feel herself falling fast. His laugh was contagious, and the way he talked made him seem like a genuinely happy and easygoing person. His humor and positivity was infectious.

But Yukhei was just a customer. She had to constantly remind herself of this boundary.

However, it seemed like the universe had other plans for her, and it didn’t want her to rest. Her struggle to push down her little (okay, maybe big) crush on Yukhei - who obviously already had his sights set on someone else - was made harder and harder each time she went to work. He was coming to the shop every week. It was sweet that he seemed to be getting some girl a bouquet of flowers so often. Perhaps, if it were anyone else, Chunhwa would have thought of it as a bit too much, but for some reason the thought of Yukhei going to a flower shop once a week just to show his affection to some girl was both charming and heartbreaking.

Roses, honeysuckle, lilies, tulips... Week by week, Yukhei bought them all. And the symbolism of each flower that he picked out had some sort of connection to the words “love” and “affection.” It was agonizing. At one point, he asked her what kind of flower she would want, and when she answered with “sunflowers,” he bought a whole bouquet of them, looked as if he was going to say something to her, and then ran out. It left her feeling both flattered that he took her advice, and jealous that the flowers were not for her!

Chunhwa had no idea how to cope with this. Every time she thought she was about to find some sort of relief, he would walk into the shop. She was about to go crazy.

One day, when he was buying yet another bouquet, Chunhwa asked if he wanted to write the name of the girl he liked on the little message card. Maybe if she knew the girl’s name, she would have some sort of closure. It wasn’t like she ever expected anything in the first place, but it was still kind of sad to send him off once a week with a bouquet that she made for some other girl.

Yukhei looked caught off guard once she asked.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she quickly said right after, trying to keep the note of hurt out of her voice. She didn’t want to make things awkward, but she was confused as to why he suddenly looked like he wanted to run away. Did she know the girl he liked or something?

“No, it’s fine, I do want to write her name, actually,” he finally said, looking very determined.

“Okay, let’s go for it, then!” Chunhwa said, trying to sound upbeat.

Yukhei took a deep breath, his cheeks very red. If even thinking about this girl’s name was enough to put him into such a huff, then he must really like her. Chunhwa felt a sort of calm wash over her as she finally processed that she had an absolutely zero percent chance with him. This guy was whipped. She sent a silent prayer to whoever this girl was, thinking once again how lucky she was.

Slowly, letter by letter, Yukhei spelled out the name of the girl he liked.

“C-h-u-n-h-w-a.”

“Wow,” Chunhwa said, laughing slightly at the hilarity of it all, “she has the same name as me.”

“That’s because she is you,” Lucas said loudly. He sounded confident but the tips of his ears were as red as the chrysanthemums he was holding.

“Chunhwa,” he continued, practically shoving the bouquet of chrysanthemums and moonflowers in her face due to his nervous energy, “would you like to go on a date with me?”

[talabib]

How To Be On Top Of Your Game At Work

Most of us can probably picture one of those great days at work when we’re at the top of our game: we’re bubbling over with ideas, can handle any problem and even get along with that one especially surly coworker. Of course, not every day can be as smooth sailing as this. But if you follow the advice offered here, you can turn almost every day into at least a good day; you’ll feel good about yourself because you get things done, focus without too much effort and bravely withstand the urge to procrastinate. You will learn

How to get a lot done in the day,

Manage workload and beat procrastination,

Surround yourself with pleasant relationship

Address decision systematically by using thinking routines,

Give great presentations and

Deal with challenging situation at woork

If you feel concerned that you have completely wasted your day or you are not getting a lot done before the day runs out , here are a few tips to help minimize that feeling

First, clearly set out your intentions for each day and try to eliminate any activities you know tend to distract you from achieving them. Instead of turning to distracting habits like checking news websites whenever you feel overwhelmed with your daily tasks, increase productivity by identifying what those distracting habits are for you and put extra focus on avoiding them. Keep your sights on the day’s goals

Second, frame your goals in positive language. Goals framed positively can also be called approach goals – that is, goals that state the positive outcome you’re hoping to achieve, such as “make my product irresistible.” The contrast to this would be an avoidance goal, like “stop losing customers.” There is research to back up the benefits of this strategy: a 1997 study found that students using approach goals improved their performance, whereas the opposite was true for those using avoidance goals.

Third, make a when-then plan to prepare for obstacles that could come between you and your goals. For example, say you decided to start a consulting firm and you are naturally not an early bird. Since you don’t have a boss expecting you at work at nine in the morning, you can be tempted to sleep in and while away the morning.  You can commit to a when-then plan to overcome this obstacle: when I wake up, first I’ll take a short walk, then I’ll check my e-mails. This little rule will help you get out of bed and face each day in a good mood.

Another way to be on game at work is to manage overload, beat procrastination and stay focused by making a plan and scheduling enough breaks. Crammed calendars and full to-do lists at work make it easy to feel overwhelmed. Let’s look at some of the ways to deal with these situations.

First, the physical: lean back on a couch, exercise ball or even your office chair for a few minutes and focus on your breath until you’ve calmed down enough to think clearly. Then, to order your chaos into manageable chunks, make a plan and decide where to start. First, write down everything you need to do in the next few days or weeks. Mark the most important tasks and take one step toward completing that task today, no matter how small it is.

Let’s take Crystal as a case study. Crystal was an attorney who wanted to run for a post in her company, which self-elects rather than appoints managers. However, the task of “start election prep” always felt too daunting. The enormity of those three words gave her anxiety, so she kept avoiding the task and procrastinating. What eventually worked for her was splitting the task into smaller steps, breaking it down into something like, “have a talk with my boss about my idea.” Once she’d split up the big task into small, manageable steps, “election prep” became much less overwhelming and she was able to tackle it.

Another essential prerequisite for focus is scheduling breaks at least every hour and a half. Focus inevitably wavers throughout the day and needs to be recharged periodically. Over the course of 90 minutes, our brains go from highly focused to scatterbrained, which is why we end up doodling or playing on our phone if we’re forced to concentrate for longer. When famed psychologist K. Anders Ericsson studied people at the top of their fields, like world-class violinists, athletes and chess players, he found that they also practiced in blocks of 90 minutes or less, with short breaks in between.

Surround yourself with pleasant relationships by building rapport with the people you meet and resolving tensions directly. Getting along with the people around you is essential for getting the best out of your day. Here’s how to kick-start those relationships!

First, build rapport when you interact with someone at work. Don’t just awkwardly slip by them in the office kitchen when you’re both reaching for a mug – engage them and ask open questions like, “how are you spending your holidays?”

Find commonalities or shared areas of interest by showing a genuine curiosity in your coworkers, as well any other people you meet. Creating this sense of connection is important because it creates a culture of trust and collaboration in the workplace. Highlighting shared interests is also important when looking for work, as employers are more likely to hire people they share similarities with.

Let’s take a look at a study conducted by sociologist Lauren Rivera from Northwestern University, where she asked recruiting managers about their most recent hires. She found that 74 percent admitted feeling some similarities with their new hires, whether it was based on a shared interest in sports, technology or something else. This indicates that managers prefer to hire and be around people with whom they share commonalities.

To have a great day, it’s also important to address and resolve any tensions with coworkers, as they can really sap your enthusiasm. The best way to go about this is to openly explain to your coworker what you’re feeling and why in a polite but firm manner.

For example, let’s take Jeff, a real estate advisor who was annoyed with a client who kept promising him specific assignments but rarely followed through with them when the time came. Instead of reproaching his client or bottling up his frustration, Jeff was up-front and communicated how he felt: “I’m confused because I received positive feedback from you, but didn’t get the project. Would you mind telling me what you were dissatisfied with and what I can do better next time?” This approach helped his client understand him without feeling attacked and getting defensive, and they ended up having an in-depth discussion about what the client was looking for.

Another way to be top on top of your game at work is to address decisions systematically by using thinking routines and breaking down complex problems into an issue tree.The next time you feel overwhelmed because you are struggling to make difficult decisions, try the following simple steps:

First, develop a versatile routine that helps you reach sound decisions in all manner of situations. The routine might be as simple as asking yourself a set of questions like, “what are the alternatives and potential disadvantages to this choice?” or “what would the worst-case scenario be, and what are some of my options if that happens?”

Peggy is an advertising art director who developed a routine that works for her. Her trick is to always invite colleagues to give her feedback about her current work. While she doesn’t agree with them all the time, their input often helps her catch potential problems in her campaigns, thereby improving her decisions. Remember, good advice can come from anyone, not just experts. Peggy once received valuable feedback from someone in customer support about an air freshener campaign. The support representative had on-the-ground knowledge suggesting that customers didn’t understand the visuals of the campaign, and Peggy was able to adjust accordingly.

Another tip for optimizing your problem-solving skills is to break down a complex problem with an issue tree. Start by jotting down the key issue – let’s say your business is doing poorly, which might make your central question, “how can I increase profits?” That question is now the trunk of the tree. Now, write down the two possible options that form the branches of the tree, in this case increasing revenues or reducing costs. Then, think of concrete actions that would help you realize those options; for instance, you could dismiss employees to decrease costs, or launch a new product to increase revenue. These suggestions make up more branches of the issue tree, until eventually you’ll have systematically mapped out many potential next actions you can take to tackle your problem.

A bad presentation can throw you off your game. To get your message across, involve your audience and make your presentation memorable. Have you ever been giving a presentation, only to look around and see that most of the audience wasn’t actually listening? To avoid this in the future, just follow these simple techniques.

First, remember that your audience will be much more receptive if you involve them and make them feel as if they’re choosing what to learn.

For instance, Emma organizes training programs covering new pedagogical techniques for teachers. In the past, it was hard to get any of the participants to deviate from their own, entrenched methods, thus making it difficult to get anyone to actively listen during the training session. So Emma tried a new type of meeting, in which ten teachers each presented their own methods at different stations around the table. Participants were then free to walk around and stop by the stations they were interested in. Emma’s strategy gave the teachers more agency in terms of what to learn, which in turn made them much more enthusiastic about the training.

Second, make your presentation interesting by incorporating videos or posters that will keep the audience on their toes. Make sure to utilize a whiteboard if there is one; people will internalize much more of your message if you draw and write in real time, rather than just using prepared slides. An experiment at Stanford University showed that people will recall nine percent more of a chart’s content if they see how it comes together as it is drawn, rather than just seeing the completed chart on a slide.

And throughout it all, make sure to use short and simple sentences in a fluid manner to hold your audience’s attention and emphasize why your audience should care about what you’re telling them.

How you deal with challenging situations at work will determine how great your day will be. It’s Monday, you’re tired and longing for the weekend already – but you’ve got a meeting with a dissatisfied customer first thing in the morning. What do you do?

First, keep your cool by taking some distance from the situation. Imagine it’s not you but a friend who has to face the client. What advice would you give? You can take this even further by talking to yourself in the second person to gain a more distant perspective.

Next, think of a past situation you handled well and ask yourself what resources helped you then. Maybe it was your wit, fearlessness or supportive friends, all of which can probably help you through the present situation, too!

Let’s take Jacquie, a college PR officer, as an example. Once, an earthquake cut off her college’s power and water supplies. But instead of seeing it as a disaster, Jacqui spun the earthquake into a positive PR story for the school. The school still managed to hold a graduation ceremony amidst destroyed buildings, a story that the national media covered as a success story of perseverance and community – thanks in large part to Jacqui’s attitude and skills in dealing with the media.Thinking back to how she managed that situation continues to make Jacquie feel like she can handle anything.

Turning to positive thoughts in challenging times is another surefire way to inject some energy and cheer into your day. Try out these tricks next time you’re in a tough situation. Start by identifying the mental, physical and temporal patterns and triggers that affect the ebb and flow of your energy. Maybe, for example, you always feel lethargic after lunch. Then, find ways to boost your energy during the energy lows. Maybe it’s getting up to make a cup of tea, having a five-minute chat with a coworker or taking a walk around the block.

You can even try a gratitude exercise: think of three things that happened to you today that you’re grateful for, even if it’s just a small thing like remembering your umbrella – or forgetting it, and running like a little kid through the rain! Even small thoughts like this can make a big difference.

[dong-hyucks]

dating xiumin. | exo

⇴  admin. jade ⇴  masterlists. ⇴  dating series masterlist.

so, when you first met minseok, you had just begun your job as a --

you guessed it

-- barista

at the time, minseok was indeed in exo and they were promoting

so it was kind of risky for him to be out and about

but he was so stressed over exo’s recent comeback that he just had to get away for a while

so, clad in the most generic idol-like disguise, he headed out to his favourite café

ko ko kafé lmao cringe

anyway, it was winter at the time

so it was absolutely freezing out

more reason for minseok to get some coffee

once he entered the quaint building, he was immediately hit with the thing he loved most (or rather, one of the things)

a rush of warm air brushed passed him and the heavenly aroma of coffee washed over him like a gentle wave

for a moment, he stood at the door with his eyes closed, the stress sweeping off his shoulders

when someone behind him cleared his throat, however, he was really quick to move out of the way

that someone, being you

you had gone out for your lunch break, and had just gotten back

minseok didn’t pay much attention to you, at first anyway

but then you took off your winter coat and donned an apron

with your furry hood no longer covering your face, minseok was a bit awestruck

in his eyes, you were very attractive

he suddenly felt nervous walking up to the counter, seeing as you were the cute barista at the cash register

when he realized how he felt, he was just like ??

he’s been on stage more than he could count with his fingers

he’s sung in front of thousands of people

he’s been on tv

so why was talking to a cute barista so nerve-wracking?

clearing his parched throat, he made his way to the counter, making sure to keep his eyes on the menu

although, he’d frequented the café enough times to have practically memorized it

“hi there,” you greeted with a smile, “what can i get for you today?”

minseok gulped

even their voice is nice

“mocha latte, please.”

you nodded, ducking your head to enter his order

he could tell you were new -- he’d never seen you before and you hesitated as you pushed buttons, your fingers wavering over them for a few seconds

but, you finally got it and told him the cost

as he fished out his wallet, minseok struggled to pull out his change without dropping it, his clumsiness making you smile in amusement

you hadn’t recognized him, as far as he knew, so that was good

as he waited for his order, he kept glancing back at you, trying very hard not to look creepy

the way you interacted with customers was as you were instructed -- happy and always smiling

he noted that you also spoke slowly, as if you were unsure of your words

cute, he thought, watching you stare at the cashier with a slightly confused look

“mocha latte!”

his eyes darted from you to the other barista, a lanky male in his thirties, maybe

“thank you,” he mumbled, taking the hot drink and turning on his heel

his eyes scanned the café happy to see that it wasn’t too full

shuffling over, he sat down in the corner

he positioned himself so that he was almost facing the wall, not wanting to be recognized as he indulged in his beverage

“excuse me, sir?”

he looked up, pulling his mask back over his lips

to his surprise, you stood in front of his table

“you dropped this.” you held out a card, one he recognized quite well

his i.d

his eyes widened -- how could he have dropped it?

it must’ve been when i was taking change out, he thought

“thank you,” he said gratefully, taking the card from your hands

did they see who i am?

you looked over your shoulder

“you’re... xiumin of exo, right?” you whispered, making sure to not draw attention

he pursed his lips before nodding slowly, not seeing the point in denying

you had seen his i.d, after all

you nodded, a small smile on your face

you may have looked calm, but a part of you was itching to shout out in excitement

of course, you didn’t do that

“i’m a big fan,” you confessed, “i’m honoured to have served you today, even for a little while.”

before he could say anything, you were on your way back to the counter

he bit his lip, looking down at his card as he flipped it around a few times

then, he finished his latte and head out back into the world.

after that, he came to ko ko kafé whenever he could

which, in retrospect, wasn’t very often

however, after promotions were over he had a lot more free time

so he kept visiting

you noticed this after his third visit, how he would always sit at the same table

occasionally, you’d make eye contact with him, but you definitely weren’t about to go up to him and make conversation

you wouldn’t even know what to say

one day, during a particularly slow day, minseok came a bit late

about half an hour before the café closed

usually, so close to closing, there were only two or three baristas in

and the only other barista had to leave due to a family issue

so, you were alone

which you didn’t really mind, considering the fact that almost no one came in at 11PM

so when you heard the little chime of the bell that hung above the entrance, you were surprised

“ah, mr. kim,” you greeted

you were quite formal with him, considering you weren’t a friend nor an acquaintance 

“minseok is fine,” he spoke, having wanted to say that for a few weeks now

you blinked slowly before nodding, “the usual?”

minseok nodded, his eyes tracing your features delicately

over the span of a few weeks, he had gotten to know you ever so slightly, even though you’ve never had a real conversation

he knew your favourite drink was [drink] because he had heard you tell a curious coworker

he noticed you were a bit of a night owl -- you only really looked energized during his late visits

he thought you were funny too -- you had shared your sense of humour with a coworker one day, and he walked in the moment you spoke some random joke that made the baristas burst into laughter

one thing he didn’t know about you, however, was your name

the baristas all had special nametags, all except for you

after paying for his drink, he leaned against the counter and watched as you made his drink

“you’re here late,” you commented, “any reason?”

minseok shrugged, “i had to catch up on some work. still do, which is why i need the coffee.”

he let out a ghost of a laugh, a small chuckle escaping from you as well, before he peered at you

“you’ve noticed when i visit, i suppose?”

your hands froze atop the valves for a moment before you continued with the drink, “you come here so often; how could i not?”

you tried to appear nonchalant, but minseok noticed the way you hid your face, an amused grin playing his lips

“what’s your name?” he asked

you looked over curiously, “why’re you interested?” you countered, even though you knew very well that you’d end up giving him it anyway

“you could know a lot about me, so it’s only fair i get to know even just your name.”

you nodded in consideration, pushing the plastic lid over the cup of coffee

“it’s [Y/N].”

minseok repeated you, boring into your eyes as he did

the action almost made you blush as you slid the cup over the counter

a small smile graced his features. [Y/N]. it suited you.

“would you be so opposed if i were to ask you for your number?”

you nearly choked on air, expecting every response but that

“what?” you stammered

minseok grinned cheekily, his hands fiddling with his coat in an attempt to push away his nervousness

“too forward?”

“well, not really, but... why?”

minseok shrugged, not really knowing the reason why himself.

“you’re interesting, from what i’ve seen. not to mention you make great coffee. i’d like to get to know you better.”

you raised a brow, before sighing.

then, you pulled out a notepad and pen.

after that, minseok continued with his visits

except now, he said more words to you than “i’ll have the usual”

he’d text you in the mornings, making the rest of the boys confused as to why he’s so peppy so early, sending you a cute ‘good morning’ text before going on with his day

as time went on, you guys became really close

he introduced you to the rest of exo eventually, and seeing you bond with them so easily made him grin from ear to ear

the day he realized he had feelings for you, he wasn’t really surprised

from the moment he met you, he knew it’d be a possibility, catching feelings

so when he woke up one morning and his first thought was you, he knew he was sucked in

after that, he got slightly flirty with you

instead of the usual smiley he’d send you along with his good morning’s, he started sending kissy faces

and when he’d see you, he didn’t shy away from admiring you (even if you caught him)

he’d even recite some pick up lines -- half joking, half not whenever he’d say them

you definitely noticed the change

the thought of him liking you had come to mind, but you immediately pushed the thought way

you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

one day, he had gone over to your house to hang out

he just had a performance so he was tired as hell, but he wanted to see you

and who were you to deny him?

so, the two of you had a lazy day

he arrived in his pajamas and you stayed in yours

you didn’t do much physically, other than get up to get more popcorn for the movie you were watching

at some point, the two of you ended up not talking

the living room had been enveloped in a tranquil silence at this point

the only sound that could be heard was the soft breaths

you sat back to back with him on the couch, with a book across your lap and one across his

you flipped through the worn pages of your book, a small smile on your face as you slowly got lost in another universe

suddenly, minseok did something that surprised you once again

he reached over, gently placing his hand over yours as they rested on the soft cushion of your couch

you froze, your free hand hovering over your book as you stared down at it in shock

“is this okay?” he asked, his voice low and quiet

unable to say anything, you just nodded, gently squeezing his hand back

though you couldn’t see it, the both of you had giant grins on your faces as you kept reading

it was quiet for a long while, a comfortable silence that made you feel at ease

but then, you heard it. the harsh, sudden rain that had begun outside

at the first drop, minseok looked up, but when several more came he stared wide-eyed at your living room windows

the rain drops crashed upon the glass without remorse, leaving a blurred pattern to project itself into the dimly lit room

sounds of tree branches thudding against your house sounded almost silent compared ot the thunderous rain as it stomped on any surface it could touch

you sighed, glancing at your watch

11.28

you hadn’t even noticed it had gotten so late, a rush of worry piling upon you

“hey, will your manager be upset if--”

you couldn’t finish your sentence before the lights flickered before completely going out

the both of you jumped at the sudden thunder, the only light being the occasional lightning that struck the midnight sky

needless to say, minseok definitely wasn’t going back to the dorms anytime soon

not in that weather, anyway

you sighed, moving up to blindly make your way to the storage closet in your hallway

you felt around for the puffy blankets and spare pillows, smiling to yourself when you found them

making your way back, you plopped them onto the couch

“are you okay with sleeping over? it’s quite late already and--”

“yeah, i don’t mind.”

you just nodded, crouching to make a makeshift bed on the couch

before you could even offer to sleep on the couch whilst he took your bed, minseok grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him

he backed up until his legs hit the couch before he fell over, bringing you down with him

“minseok--”

he began to nuzzle his face in your shoulder, making you burn

your hands rested upon his chest, the slight thumps of his heartbeat just barely making it to you

was he nervous?

“i like you,” he finally mumbled, “i like you a lot.”

you were beyond flustered at this point, having not expected this outcome from minseok just coming over

you made fists, smiling grandly

“i like you too.”

the storm outside was drowned out by your heartbeats, minseok’s comforting warmth lulling you into a deep sleep in minutes.

in the morning, he officially asked you out, his first words of the day being “will you be my s/o?”

of course, you said yes

woo that only took 2.2k lesgo bOis

so, dating minseok would be the nicest thing ever

he would be the sweetest boyfriend ever, always making sure you were in good health and such

okay

first things first, dates

dates with minseok are the softest and domestic thing ever

he’d love to surprise you with a homecooked meal after a hard day at work

maybe even draw a bath for you while he’s at it

at one point, you mentioned wanting to repaint your walls and he was over in a hot second with paint brushes, ladders, smocks, and a whole bunch of colour swatches

and he helped you paint (lowkey starting a paint war when he ‘accidentally’ flicked paint onto your cheek)

you guys had lunch that day, eating sandwiches whilst covered head to toe in [colour] paint

moving on

you guys don’t have dates outside very often, with minseok being a bit wary regarding paparazzi and fans

sometimes you’d wish that you were able to go outside with your boyfriend like a ‘normal’ couple, but just being with him makes up for it big time

so, your first kiss

minseok had that all planned out -- when, where, why, etc.

but then

he got so nervous about it that his entire plan just flew out of his mind

because?? what if you didn’t want to kiss him? what if his breath smelled?

actually, you were the one to kiss him

he had given you a [pet], believe it or not, which was the first step to his plan that he completely ditched

and you were so hyped, and in your excitement leaned over and kissed him square on the lips

he would be quick to cup your cheeks, not letting you move away just yet

you were both a giggling mess after that, leaning your foreheads against one another

kissing minseok, i feel like, has three ‘modes’ (maybe more but three is all i’m exploring here)

first one being those quick yet meaningful pecks

these could happen in different situations; such as when either of you are in a rush, or even just those sweet and simple pecks that you give each other before you go to bed

second being soft yet long kisses that will most likely end up being those cozy makeout sessions on the couch

his hand wouldn’t be able to stay still -- one moment they’re cupping your cheeks the next they’re rubbing the small of your back

you’re addicting to him, so he wouldn’t want to pull away (although sadly, humans need air)

third being those kisses

the ones that’re kind of rough and very passionate

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

i just realized i did the same thing for lu’s whICH I FORGOT ABT NGL AJHKAJG OOPS FORGIVE ME FOR THE REPETITION 

mOvINg oN

fights with minseok

he tries really hard to avoid them

he hates fighting with you (who would like it?)

but when they do happen, he tries his hardest to stay level headed

most of the time, he’ll refuse to raise his voice and try to coax you out of your heated argument (which usually works)

but sometimes, fights go really downhill

these come every blue moon, as the two of you wouldn’t usually have the really serious types of fights

in these fights, he doesn’t raise his voice

in fact, he talks eerily calm

it completely contrasts from his demeanor and his eyes, both of which definitely showcase his anger, his annoyance

angry minseok isn’t a pleasant sight

he’d be the first to walk away in situations like these, not wanting to accidentally say something he didn’t mean

after a few hours or so, he’d come back to you and try to talk it out with you without spiking his or your anger

okay so, the first ‘i love you’ came three months after you started dating

minseok had come over to sleep because the boys were being rowdy

and when he woke up in the morning, you were lazily making coffee for yourself and for him

he thought you looked absolutely stunning, even with your bedhead and the barely visible trail of drool on the corner of your lips

the morning sun had been pooling in via the kitchen window, drowning you in its heavenly glow

he came up behind you, hugging your torso and resting his head atop yours (or against your back, if you’re tall :))

“good morning,” he’d say in his slightly rough morning voice

you greeted him back, barely turning around to kiss him before focusing on the coffee

your tired look amused him greatly, making him chuckle

“i love you,” he mumbled quietly, snuggling closer to you

your jaw dropped slightly before a huge grin overtook your face

“i love you too, minnie.”

overall

very soft and domestic relationship

he’s always treating you like you’re the most perfect being in the entire world

and he’s always there for you

once he loves you, he’d love you with his entire heart, being, and soul

:)

[fuck-customers]

More of a fuck coworkers vent, but I feel like it definitely still applies. So I work at a chain dollar store. I’ll let you guess which one, but hint, in this store, everything is actually a dollar or less, unlike other dollar stores. Okay yeah but anyways. I have this one coworker, who is seriously becoming someone that I actually hate. I have absolutely NOTHING positive to say about her. Why? First of all, she’s probably the most bitter human being I have ever had the displeasure of coming into contact with. She’s actually kind of nice to other coworkers...but to me? She treats me like we’re in freaking high school, and she’s the bully, and I’m her b****. She’s a freaking 30-year-old mother, but you know, if it weren’t for her ugly face, I wouldn’t know that based on how immature she is! (My opinion is in no way based on her appearance, but to me, she’s so bitter and hateful, that I feel like I actually see it in her face. She’s ugly to me, because of her screwed up personality.) The weird thing is too, she’s doing this to a 19-year-old-girl. She’s in her freaking 30’s, and she’s taking out all her frustrations like a high school bully on someone half her age. Seriously, the way she talks to me ALMOST tops all the shit I’ve had to put up with from verbally abusive family members. When she’s not IGNORING me, she’s criticizing everything I do. She literally got mad at me for blowing up balloons—which is, hey, part of my job, lady! I was doing nothing wrong, but she was accusing me of doing it wrong. When I explained how I wasn’t doing it wrong, she got flustered because she knew she was talking bull crap, she knew she was just trying to find a reason to get mad at me, and she knew that I knew. She gets mad at me for the most bizarre things. She gets mad at me when more customers go to her line than my line—uhhh yeah lady I’ve got no control over that, my light at the register is on, I’m standing right there, taking customers, go tell your customers to go to me if you really can’t ring them all up. The way she talks to me is so BELITTLING and infuriating. I can’t even explain it without feeling crazy half the time. She’s extremely passive aggressive, but some people can’t even tell unless they’ve either experienced verbal abuse, or maybe if it’s being aimed at them. Maybe. Lucky me, nobody else has picked up on this! The really weird thing is, she wasn’t always like this with me??? She was actually nice to me at first—but idk, for some insane reason, she just started to hate me. I think it’s possibly from my social anxiety, and my ADHD. I can be a bit awkward sometimes, because I have a harder time with interacting socially. And sometimes, because of these disorders, I get people who just end up disliking me, based on these characteristics of my disorders. I can’t say that it’s completely prejudiced, because I don’t always talk about my disorders with other people. But it still hurts, because these are things that I cannot control. Every once in a while, people end up disliking me for these things that I have no control over. Anyways, if her constant aggression towards me isn’t bad enough, it gets worse. She’s lazy as hell. She goes out of her way, NOT to do her job. She will spend lots of time at her register, but instead of taking customers, she keeps her light off and sends people to my register, claiming she’s closed. Which is funny, because instead of working, she will either play on her phone, or eat at her register. And okay, yeah, I’m guilty of doing those things too, but I don’t let it get in the way of the quality of my work. I only check my phone briefly, if things are going slow. And if I’m hungry, I’ll eat because I’m allowed to, but if a customer comes to my line, I’m gonna ring them up, because that’s my job. I’m not being paid to eat or to goof off on my phone. She literally wanders around the store, pretending to do work, when really, she’s either eating, or shopping. To add insult to injury, she has accused me of not doing enough work. She has literally admitted to me that she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t “have” to, and yet she still has the nerve to tell me that I’M not doing enough work. Yeah, okay, I’ve had my moments of laziness, but I am always asking for more work to do during my shifts. I enjoy doing stock work, because it allows me to daydream and still be productive. It makes the time go by faster. I also get to be away from people. (I hate cashiering with a burning passion, because I get a lot of assholes for customers. Not everyone of course, but I do get a lot of assholes.) She’s also a huge liar. She lies to get out of doing work. Like, today for instance. I was getting really close to the end of my shift, when a line starts to form at my register. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal for me to take them all on my own, but at this point I was literally like three minutes from the end of my shift. So, I asked her if she could take some customers to shorten the line, and I tell her I’m about to leave. She then told me that she needs to go to the bathroom really quick. I didn’t say much, because I have an overactive bladder—I know how it feels to need to go to the bathroom and not be able to go. But, as the minutes ticked by, I noticed she wasn’t coming back out. So I call my manager for backup, because I really wanted to go home. My boss comes up with her to pull my till, and that’s when I learn that my coworker had went on BREAK. Um???? Thanks for telling me??? I want her to get fired so bad. It’s just so agitating working with her, especially considering she gets more hours than any of the other cashiers. So I’m with her all the god damn time. Not only that, but I could really use some more hours, but instead someone that half asses everything she does is getting all the hours. My boss is completely unaware of how lazy, and even disrespectful she is. My coworker took a phone call today to bitch about how annoying one of our managers is, in her opinion. Nice job, taking a phone call on your cell instead of doing your job, and to add insult to injury, you’re talking shit about a supervisor. I wish there was a way for my boss to see just how incompetent of an employee she is, but I don’t want to tattle on her. I mean, what am I, five?? But it’s just agitating, knowing that she’s getting away with being the laziest employee possible. Seriously, she’s just an absolute nightmare. I really don’t know how to deal with this. I can kind of handle it, because again, I’m used to verbal abuse. I can kind of combat it while still not risking her lashing out at me. I wish I could tell my boss about this, but I just don’t think that can even do anything. I’ve finally started getting day shifts, and I don’t want to risk being saddled with the night shifts again. Despite these issues with my coworker, the quality of my life has improved a lot, all because I’m not closing anymore.

[queernuck]

I have a huge problem with getting out of my house/room. I've only held down one job but lost it when I cursed out management. I had it for a year but if I'm honest interviews is what scare me more than anything. I just feel too dumb to fulfill tasks as well. I also can't fake courtesy. I know I need a job but I keep lazily convincing myself it all doesn't matter. I'm stuck?

yeah, the thing about interviews is that they can often be taxing, they take a lot out of you even if the performative aspect comes from, is based in, honesty; I love books, fuckin love ‘em, manga too, and yet i had a lot of fear or worry or general unease or nervousness in my interviews for the job i have rn. im lucky in that i have a general aptitude for interviews but still, nerves. 

and in a lot of ways, it doesn’t matter so long as like, you have food, have a roof over your head, you can get by. sometimes getting by is all you do and honestly that’s not the worst thing. you’re already articulated within numerous assemblages of structural violence just by like, existing As You Are, and subject of those one way or another you hopefully aint doin too much harm. like, it doesn’t matter, you dont need to think of yourself as incredible or even particularly good at a job to get it done, there really isnt that much wrong with not having ambition that translates easily into a “job” tbh

but that reassurance comes along with the practical, that a job can make other things easier, that money can be good to have, that the way a job “forces” interaction can be helpful. I know that i have at the very least questioned my own identity at different times while “working” and that the type of woman I am has been focused as a result, in part, of working in a lot of stuff where I have to deal with people who come into something ready to like me and people who want someone to be pissed at

being “fake nice” can be tough and i have a lot of practice that comes from being abused and also just being depressed so like im a bad role model but hey like, the performative aspect is all about figuring out what end your actions are toward. I want to be nice to customers so they’ll say nice things and buy things and as a result help me accomplish certain things but also I just encounter people as a cashier and many people are just innocuous or in fact themselves very kind and I want to generate positive experiences with them. other people I fake nice to because I know I need to and like, what’s great is that you can feel like you have a moral high ground lmao. like seriously it’s great to be able to see what sort of people are doing shit like buying the Milo book or like what sort of person actually wears copaganda t-shirts, and knowing someone is a shithead while you smile at them and they can’t do anything about that is vaguely cathartic. it’s not some passive kill them with kindness bullshit, it’s take ‘em for whatever you can given the violent artifice of capitalism. 

but it is tough, it takes practice, and maybe you can find something which isn’t very customer/client facing. fulfilling tasks may be difficult in certain scenarios, like when you don’t know what you’re talking about, but I fulfilled plenty of tasks when working in a college campus bookstore and knowing sweet fuck-all about what was being studied but knowing well the systems by which these things were understood. Same with recommending a lot of books: I’m v v v much in a corner for book recommendations so like, when I can’t just go “Okay so like Kafka, Foucault, or some manga” I harken upon what coworkers have told me!

in interviews, at work, in a lot of places, It’s Okay To Lie. Lying can be in many ways part of an engagement with structures of “truth” that is value-neutral, that is not betraying yourself. it’s bad to lie maliciously but like, making a recommendation that you don’t wholeheartedly agree with but you know someone is relatively likely to be receptive to, one based off of things you get, that you understand? not that bad!

basically what im saying is that my boss hates pumpkin spice but said today that she’ll say she loves it if she thinks she’ll be able to persuade someone to get a PSL. interviews, tasks, completing things, having a job can just be about showing up and being willing to put yourself out there for the right price.

[jobinterviewghost]

7 successful females on the worst profession recommendations they've ever received

Whether it was being informed your industry is a male's world or that you should not smile a lot (er, OKAY), we asked 7 of our Premium members to share the career 'recommendations' they took with a huge grain of salt.

"You can't be a director AND a mum"

When I went back to work after having my very first child, I resumed the same director position in media interactions. About 2 weeks later on I was given guidance by another director-- who was also a mum-- that it would be better to put my profession on hold and bench myself down a peg as I couldn't do both.

She had actually picked to go back and desired me to do the same. I chose to neglect this advice; I didn't comprehend why I couldn't be a director and a mother! Not one customer questioned it, and my level of experience, organisation smarts and output did not change. There's nothing incorrect with stepping back-- we do not all have to walk the exact same path-- however if the business supports it and your household's happy, it's OKAY to step forward, too! I now co-own an agency and some of my clients are those I initially satisfied throughout those new-mum years. -- Jenna Lambert, Managing Director Media33

"You ought to offer your service now"

I was informed my organisation would never deserve much and I ought to accept a coworker's low-ball purchase offer since I 'd most likely never get a better deal. I didn't accept; our values simply weren't aligned. (I really cared about my clients, unlike them-- when the going got hard for them, they got going.) Anyhow, they ran out of company a couple of years after I ran away from that one. And today, although times are hard in financial services, my business is flourishing. -- Amanda Cassar, director, Wealth Planning Partners

"You'll never ever make it in the music industry"

I 'd just quit my job as a graphic designer (I had a boss who treated us like second-class residents compared to the admin and sales groups) when I went to a gig at The Orient Hotel [a popular music place in Brisbane] and was asked if I wished to replace the door individual. I said yes right now. I figured it was a pretty easy gig and might tide me over until I got work; my sis had actually played in bands and I knew a lot of artists from art college where I studied.

At the time my granddad, uncle and papa ran a family service. A lot of the male staff were misogynistic and one told me that I was a moron to take such a low-level task, which he had actually told my father not to invest money in sending me to art college because ladies either got married and the research study was squandered, or ended up not being able to deal with a high-pressure job. I was livid that he even believed he had the right to comment!

Anyhow, I disregarded it and ended up running The Orient-- the venue that was the birthplace of Powderfinger. I have actually now had a 20-year profession as a strategist for creatives with my graduates working all over the world due to overlooking that guidance! -- Andrea Smith, success strategist, Applause Genie

"You should not SMILE so much"

After beginning my business, my coach told me I make a lot of jokes and 'smile excessive' to be taken seriously as a professional marketer. It scared me since that's just my character and the entire reason I desired to run my own service was so I didn't need to phony being this actually boring and uninteresting person. Anyway, I attempted it for a while and was miserable, so I altered techniques. Now, I joke all the time. My audience likes it since it relaxes them around a normally stressful subject-- marketing-- and makes it fun.

When I'm doing things like method sessions and mentor videos it also makes things much easier to remember since it's really amusing, rather than me being extremely- serious and boring! I'm so thankful I didn't take that suggestions.-- Emily Foley, Instagram strategist

"Financial planning is a guy's world"

I began in banking 14 years back as a fired up 21-year-old. I always understood I desired to be a financial planner, and set up to meet one who worked at the same bank to discover more information about how he got there and get some suggestions. He told me, "Simply so you know, financial planning is a guy's world, and you probably will not be able to handle it."

It holds true that just 25 percent of financial coordinators are women, but we include a different set of skills and emotions to the role. And 14 years and a successful career later on, I'm grateful I did not take that guidance! -Hayley Dyson, primary monetary organizer, Dyson Financial

"You won't get anywhere without a UNI DEGREE"

After leaving school, I was told I wouldn't get anywhere without a degree. After disregarding this guidance, I signed up with one of the big 4 professional-services companies (aged 18), certified as an accounting professional (aged 22), rotated my career into professional learning and advancement (aged 24), relocated to Australia with the very same business (aged 28) was promoted to senior supervisor (aged 30), and in the in 2015 have started my own business as a facilitator, specialising in dealing with groups who desire to work much better together.

Likewise, if I had actually followed this recommendations and gone to uni in 2005, I would have finished in the middle of the GFC, when numerous of my peers were struggling to get a job and ended up spending longer getting into their desired roles or markets. Instead I had three-plus years' work experience, an expert qualification and no financial obligation by this very same time. I believe I'm doing OK without a degree! -- Steph Clarke, facilitator, Transforming Groups

"The only method you'll succeed is by operating at the exact same company for 10 YEARS"

When I began out as an accountant, I was told I had to remain for a minimum of 10 years to make partner-- that was the only profession path to being successful. What I in fact did: had an infant, quit work, began my own work-from-home accounting practice and ended up being successful within 12 months, buying a larger home to renovate for a workplace due to client needs. My spouse also stopped work to help in our household company now baby second is due quickly.

The frame of mind of an employee and an organisation owner are really different. Never let anyone determine how your mind is expected to believe and accept what others say is 'typical'. Find your own normal! -- Jen Grimsey, Establishing Director, Bean There Tick That Audit Practice

Read next: 17 badass Brené Brown quotes that will inspire you to lead

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