#anyway my head hurts and i just feel kinda crappy today. had another intense relationship conversation with someone from my past

[coquelicoq]

thanks to some extremely wordy 19th-century authors i won't name, my baseline for book length has become so skewed. just finished my current library books and have a few days before i can go to the library to get my holds so i was like, hmm, what should i read in the meantime? how about...this 900-page novel i found on the side of the road?

[calaofnoldor]

Drug of Choice

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 3,790

Summary: A night of drunken rambling leads to an unexpected change in your relationship status.

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol, feelings of inadequacy, very slight allusions of alcoholism/talk of drug addiction, reader likes the sound of their voice a bit too much when drunk, fluff, implied smut

A/N: written for @deanwanddamons 1st blogiversary and 2k follower celebration challenge! my prompt was “I wish I knew how to quit you“ which is bolded in the fic. congrats on the incredible milestone, sorry this is late! also for @spnfluffbingo and it fills the mood board square for @girl-next-door-writes‘ Make Me Feel Bingo challenge!

Square Filled: Kissed to Keep Quiet

MASTERLIST

It was four in the morning when Dean finally came home, and the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat before you atop the library table was over a quarter of the way through.

The heavy thud of his boots against the bunker floor drew your dark-adjusted eyes toward his shadowy figure, while the alcohol in your bloodstream loosened your lips, "How was she?"

"Jesus- Fuck!" There was a slight commotion before the lights flickered on, forcing your eyes to shut against the onslaught of sudden brightness. "Y/N??” Dean’s gruff, alarmed voice shattered the previously eerie silence, “What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark by yourself?"

Your eyelids lifted an experimental sliver but you kept your gaze directed down at the glass of whiskey in your hands. "It wasn't dark when I started."

Dean narrowed his eyes when he noticed the slur behind your words. "Started what? Are you drunk?"

His second question prompted a dismissive snort from you, "Hunters can't get drunk; you should know that by now, Dean."

"Yeah alright, we need to get you to bed." The man of your dreams began to make his way over to you until your gravelly words ceased his steps.

"I can't sleep... you haven't answered my question yet."

"What question?"

"How was she?"

"Who?"

You looked at him like he was crazy, "You know, the girl from the bar, the one with the curly hair… the one that was climbing onto your lap when I left?"

"I don't- there was no girl," Dean stumbled. His lips were parted and his eyebrows pulled together in an ever-gorgeous expression of bewilderment, but you were too busy examining the way the newfound light danced along the lustrous amber liquid between your fingers to notice.

"Oh," you grumbled in response, sounding a bit disappointed, which only served to deepen those adorable lines of confusion between Dean’s brows. "She sure was pretty though.” There was a pause as you pondered his declaration before blurting out in disbelief, “You really didn't fuck her in the back of Baby?"

"What- No! Y/N, there was never a girl and nothing happened, OK?" He sounded genuinely serious, so you conceded.

"I'm sorry."

"Why- why are you sorry?"

"I know you needed to blow off some steam after today, after I pissed you off by fucking up the hunt." You ventured a glance up at him through your lashes and the unadulterated pain in your eyes almost had Dean reeling back in surprise.

"What are you talking about? You didn't 'fuck up' the hunt," he argued, shaking his head as if to accentuate his point.

"Course I did. I got you hurt and I nearly let that dickbag get away."

A weighted sigh escaped Dean, "Y/N, you have to know that wasn’t your fault, and it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing for me. Besides, I wasn’t pissed off, I was... I was scared, OK?”

You were about to take another sip of your drug of the night when you lowered your glass to let the irrepressible giggle leave your system, “Scared? Since when does the big bad Dean Winchester get scared? And if he did, he definitely wouldn’t be talking about it out loud. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been drinking?”

“I mean, I have been drinking but that’s beside the point. Look, Y/N, why don’t we talk about this tomorrow, alright? You’ve just gotta sleep this off.”

"Pft. This isn't something I can just sleep off. Trust me, I've tried." There was a tickle in your throat that alerted you of the oncoming word vomit, but your friend Mr. Daniels seemed to be gaining complete control of your tongue; it was all he was ever good for really, “I’ve also tried drinking it away, but clearly that doesn’t work either. There’s just- so much- of it, of you… and now, now you’re in me-“ Dean’s eyes went wide but you were no longer at liberty to stop, “and I can’t get you out. Sometimes I don’t even think I want to. But I don’t think I can keep going like this any longer either… all this waiting, and wondering, and watching.” Some fragment of sobriety within you recognized how ridiculous and melodramatic you sounded and it gave you enough sense to avoid eye contact with the subject of you’re alcohol-induced speech, as if that could help you elude further embarrassment.

“OK, you’ve gotta slow down, Y/N/N. What the hell are you talking about?” At this point, Dean had moved to take the seat across from you, subtly sliding the bottle of Jack out of your reach as he sat down.

A mirthless laugh was your reply, "Of course you don’t know. Why would you?“

“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t I? Y/N, what’s going on?”

But you ignored his questions and answered with one of your own, “Why am I never enough? You know what, don't answer that; that was a rhetor- rhetor…”

“Rhetorical?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, flailing your index finger in his direction, “Yes, that’s the word. See, even your brain is too good for me.”

“What- why would you say that? Y/N, you know that’s not true. And why do you think you’re never enough? You’re plenty enough.” Concern now painted Dean’s features. He hated seeing you this way, broken and depressed, trying to drown your feelings in whiskey; he’d figured that was his trademark amongst the bunker residents. And he couldn’t understand how someone as incredible as you would think themselves unworthy of anything. Whichever son of a bitch made you feel this way would pay, Dean swore it.

“Then how come you never pick me?” you countered simply, deciding it was finally time to call out his hypocrisy.

The accusation floored Dean. He scooted back in his seat as he stared at you with a slack jaw, utter perplexity swirling within his emerald eyes. Over the years, Dean had garnered an inkling that you felt some kinda way about him, but he never really let himself believe, and not once did he think he could be hurting you. On the contrary, he always figured it was his own hopeful heart playing tricks on him. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he was hearing you correctly, or that your drunken state could be trusted, though he remembered you once told him that you were always the most honest version of yourself when you drank, whiskey in particular.

“I watch you go out with waitress after bartender after waitress, but I’ve been here the whole time, and you never consider me. It’s like I don’t even exist, like I’m not even an option, like I could never even help you scratch that itch, at least not as good as any barfly across the Midwest could.” You were aware that this was getting out of hand, but you couldn’t seem to find the brakes. “But that’s not even the real problem – I mean, sure, a roll around the hay with you would probably be mind-blowing as fuck – but it would never solve the root of it, never be enough for me.”

Dean had been studying you meticulously as you spoke, your words starting a fire to the embers of his soul, breathing life into a long-forgotten hope that brought him both joy and fear. “What would? Be enough for you, I mean?” His tone took on a raw sultriness that matched the intense, borderline predatory glaze of his eyes. Needless to say, Dean hadn’t expected your sardonic laughter to fill the air, and your sudden frenzied, carefree state certainly took him off guard.

“Nothing!” you laughed, “I don’t think anything will ever be enough for me! C-cause you’re like this drug that I’m hooked on and it’s just so fucking hard to get off… I mean, it’s also hard to get off without you now, or thoughts of you anyway...” Your tangent was quickly overcome when you remembered the topic of your initial spiel, “But it’s like everything about you draws me in! From the way you reference classic literature even though I’ve never seen you pick up a book that’s not about lore, to the way you rebuild Baby from scratch like it’s no big deal, to the way you’re so good with kids even though you never got to be one yourself, to the dumb way you bottle up all your feelings and never let them see the light of day yet still manage to do so much good in the world, t-to the way you get excited over classic rock and crappy horror movies and pie, and don’t even get me started on the way you love Sam! I mean, it’s just all of it! It’s your strength and perseverance through literal hell, it’s your huge fucking heart despite the mask of swagger and charm, it’s that stupid grin you get when you make a dumb joke and Sam rolls his eyes at you, it’s just those god damn lips in general! And then you walk around looking like that!?” you gestured wildly at all of him, “I mean, who gave you the right?!”

Dean looked like he was about to respond, but you cut him off. There really was no stopping your tirade now, “I’m like an addict who can never get enough, and when you leave, I get feelings of withdrawal, and I don’t know how to fucking deal with those either… You’re so deeply ingrained in me; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to flush you out of my system. And I just-“ you took a rare pause to heave a large breath before admitting quietly, “I wish I knew how to quit you. I really do, because as much as I love you, and trust me, it’s a whole fucking lot – God, does it feel good to finally say that out loud – but for every ounce of love that I have for you, for every bit of you that I’ve inhaled, it hurts just as much. Because you don’t feel the same, and you never will, and I don’t blame you, because you’re Dean fucking Winchester and you could have whoever you want with just a wink and half a smile, and you deserve to have whoever you want-”

“Are you done?” Dean was quick to latch onto the brief respite in your monologue, “Fuck, Y/N, you really have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you are to me?” His head shook in disbelief while his troubled green eyes searched yours.

“What I am to you? I’m your hunting buddy, Dean. The one you call when you need an extra hand with a vamp nest or an extra set of eyes to scour the books, the one who stays up with you when you have nightmares about the souls you tortured in hell, the one you sing rock songs out of tune in the car with, just never the one you go to for a booty call,” you finished with a bitter laugh.

Dean’s head had never ceased it’s shaking, even as he got up and walked around the table towards you. “Only because you’re worth so much more than that. Y/N, you deserve so much more than me.”

It was your turn to shake your head. How typical, you thought as you rolled your eyes and stood up to meet his eye line, “Don’t give me that bullshit, Dean. I know you’re trying to let me down easy and that’s nice of you and all, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well, Dean Winchester, and I know there’s no way in hell that- Mmf!“ The rest of your words were intercepted by Dean’s lips on yours.

The feeling was unexpected but not at all unwelcome. There was an urgent force behind the kiss as he pushed his mouth against yours with gentle yet firm ferocity, bracing your head with large hands cupping both sides. It felt as if he was desperately trying to convey a message to you, to disprove your woeful words of self-pity, or perhaps he just wanted you to shut up. You, of course, responded with tremendous enthusiasm regardless of his intent, grasping blindly at his forearms while slotting your tongue and lips around his in an increasingly frantic manner. You didn’t care if the kiss wasn’t good for him; this might be your only chance to take what you need from Dean Winchester, if only a tiny fraction of it.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting for air. Dean still held your head in both hands as he leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. “Dammit, I shouldn’t have done that; you’re drunk... Do you at least believe me now?”

A slight grimace contorted Dean’s features as his mind was suddenly bombarded by a multitude of conflicted thoughts and feelings, feelings of desire and regret and bliss and unease, but when he caught the dazed look in your eyes, Dean made up his mind, “Ah, what the hell, you’re probably not gonna remember much of this anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re wrong. I do feel the same way about you; I have pretty much ever since I saw that magnificent ass of yours.” Pausing to chuckle at his own words, Dean licked his lips, still able to taste the whiskey from yours.

“The only reason I fucked around with those other people was because I couldn’t stand not being able to have you,” he continued through closed eyes and gritted teeth before filling his chest with a deep breath, “Like today, when I saw that fucking werewolf come at you, I nearly lost it. The thought of anything happening to you scares me shitless, and I didn’t know how to process that feeling, so I let that girl at the bar get close. I was trying to fill the hole you created but it was pointless cause in the end, just like every other time, I couldn’t go through with it. Every time I try to forget about you, your face shows up in my head,” he growled in that low, throaty tone that always seemed to reverberate down to your nether regions.

“But I- I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve more than me. Y/N, you know me. I’m a broken, twisted, shell of a man. I’m-“

“Poison, I know,” you finally lifted your head away from his so that you could look directly into his dazzling eyes. Dean’s hands slid down along your neck and landed on your shoulders while yours remained on his forearms, not willing to lose all contact. “I know what you’re gonna say. You think you’re poison, that being with you puts a target on my back, that loving you is a death sentence… Did I get that right?”

Dean gave you a miniscule nod and a look of resignation as he reluctantly released you from his hold, forcing you to let go as well when he took a large step back. You suddenly felt extremely sober, the effects of the alcohol and that kiss all wearing off instantaneously, “And you hate yourself. No one hates you more than you, Dean.” Your voice was hardly a whisper now, “But that’s OK, cause I hate myself too, for never being able to make you realize that you are so much more than you give yourself credit for, that you deserve all the things you think you can’t have, that you can have them all and still be Dean Winchester.”

You watched as Dean’s eyes began to water and when a single tear rolled down his cheek, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Approaching him as slowly as you would a nervous animal out of its natural habitat, you stopped directly before him before cautiously raising your arm to wipe the offending tear away with your thumb. Your eyes seemed to be locked in a silent exchange of colossal magnitude, expressing everything mere words could not, from harrowing regret to agonizing self-inflicted torment to desperate desire. It was the yearning in his shimmering eyes that gave you the courage to speak your next words, a runaway tear of your own joining the whispered plea, “Please, let me show you.”

When your eyes fluttered open the next day, they were greeted with the most beautiful sight you'd ever awoken to. Dean’s face was barely a foot away from yours, and the man himself was already awake, staring directly at you. He was lying on his back with his head turned towards you, while your body was twisted to face his. A bedside lamp was on, allowing you to marvel at the breathtaking perfection in front of you, and despite the booze having long since evacuated from your veins, your mouth still imparted the first thing that came to your mind, “You know, I've always wanted to count your freckles,” you murmured honestly, “Maybe map them out like tiny constellations so I can memorize them better, so that one day I could trace them even with my eyes closed.” Your fingertips moved of their own accord as you spoke, gliding softly over his cheeks and across the ridge of his perfect nose.

Dean caught your hand in his and kissed it repeatedly as his magical olive eyes continued to bore into yours, never once leaving your face. His pouty lips curved into the slightest smile as if he were afraid to rear hope yet couldn't fight the peaceful thrill you were bringing him by simply lying next to him. “You’re not still drunk, are you?”

“Not unless it counts to be drunk on you… Sorry, that sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.” You cringed but Dean’s smile broadened.

“And no hangover?”

“No, I told you, hunters can’t-“

“Get drunk. Yeah, I heard. So does that mean you remember everything?”

“I don’t think I could forget that kiss if I wanted to; my brain wouldn’t let me.” You glanced down at his gorgeous mouth before meeting his gaze again, “I meant it all, you know? Everything I said was the truth. Every word.” You moved your thumb to graze his lower lip and he puckered his lips to kiss it.

“So did I, every word… Especially the part about that sweet ass of yours.” The hand that wasn’t holding yours roamed down to grab at your butt cheek with a hefty yet tender squeeze, causing you to squeal in delight. When you settled down, he moved your hand to place it above his heart, “You know I’m no good at chick flick moments, but you can trust me when I say I’m addicted to you too.”

The sincerity in his voice sent butterflies through your stomach and your smile felt invincible. “I hope you know that when I called you a ‘drug’ I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Some drugs are good for you. Some drugs can save your life,” you whispered as you fisted lightly at the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that what you did yesterday?” Dean was about to retort but you sent him a raised brow and a look that said ‘don’t test me, I’ve got loads more evidence where that came from’ so he simply looked down with a small grin. “Does it still hurt?” You motioned to the white bandage on his shoulder where the werewolf had scratched him up yesterday when he jumped in front of you.

Dean shook his head, “Right now I can hardly feel it. Actually, it hasn’t hurt at all since I kissed you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted some more at his words. “See, that’s what I mean. To me, you’re like coffee on an early morning, morphine when I’m hurting, tranquilizers when I’m freaking out, Zoloft when the world’s got me down, mixed with a shot of ecstasy, and quite possibly the most potent form of Viagra known to mankind.” You might have lingered a moment to chuckle at your own joke, thinking ‘it’s funny cause it’s true’. Dean belted a guffaw himself and you were quite pleased as you continued, “You’re everything I’ve ever needed, all wrapped up in one beautiful, self-loathing man.” You stroked his stubbled jaw and caressed his cheek, letting your words waft softly across the distance between you, hoping he could sense the veracity within them, “And I just want you to let me love you, let me get high on you, so I can show you how good you are. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

A wave a sadness flowed through Dean and he lowered his gaze from yours. “This could end bloody.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But it’s so much better than the alternative... It was getting a bit too hard to bear, even if you were only eye fucking all those other suitors. Besides, if it means I get to kiss you whenever I want, it’ll be worth it. And if it means I get a chance to prove to you how worthy you are, then it’ll be more than worth it.”

“I was only staying away because I wanted to protect you from me, but I didn’t realize it was hurting you. I never wanted to cause you pain; Y/N, I need you to know that.” Dean’s warm, calloused palm ran up your arm, it’s gentleness in stark contrast to his fierce tone, while yours continued to cup his cheek.

Astounded by the passion behind his words and the utter beauty of his face, you whispered in awe, “How are you so perfect?” Seeing the cogs begin to turn in his brain, you quickly moved your index finger to press against his plush lips, “Shh, just let me say it. Baby steps, Dean.”

He took your finger and guided your arm to wrap around his wide shoulders, careful of his injury, then reached out to pull you snugly towards him until your bodies were completely flush, your chest heaving against his. “Well do we have to take baby steps with everything? Cause now that I’ve finally got you in my bed, I was kinda hoping you’d let me take you for a spin in it. Maybe find out if it’s really – how did you put it again? – ‘mind blowing as fuck’ I believe were your words?” That signature smirk of his that always brought you to your knees came out to play.

Your laughter fanned across his face, and the smile on your face was effervescent, “You really are one hell of a drug, Dean Winchester.”

thank you for reading! as always, feedback is marvelously appreciated!

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[angstymarshmallow]

it all started with tea (Mark x MC)

[A little note: I had a request for some LoveHacks fanfiction (I am happy and surprised to see that people still read and love that book - because honestly, I still do!) and I was more than happy to write some after playing it over a week ago. I know you said Mark or Ben, but I have a soft spot for Mark’s character. Thank you for your request anon!]

[Words Counted: 2751]

It all started with her morning routine and the lack of strong chai when Sage stepped into the office a little after eight am. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, and Sage had to shut the door quickly behind her in order to keep the heat from escaping their building. Her coat was drenched in rain as she shrugged it off and hung it by the front of the office.

Usually, Sage greeted her tight-knit staff with friendly smiles and donuts. But today, she barely mumbled a pleasant greeting before dropping her soggy rainboots by the mat. As she passed by their desks, she caught Leah’s quizzical stare at the lack of donuts and Felix’s eyes flashing with concern.

“Please don’t ask.” Sage mumbled quietly, still feeling defeated. It wasn’t the first time the weather had affected her quite this profusely; as it turned out – she was often sensitive to it ever since she was child.

She deposited her handbag by her desk and nearly froze. Blinking, and not believing her eyes – she moved closer to the cubby area; where her most prized possessions usually were.

Her favourite tea was missing.

“Okay, who did it?” She asked, turning around to face her coworkers. She placed her hands haughtily on her hips. The charms and bangles on her wrists made soft clink noises from the sudden movement. “Who’s the culprit?”

Isabela and Felix graciously kept their heads down, after nervously exchanging glances with each other and Leah snorted with obvious disinterest.

Sage regarded them each with narrowed eyes, unable to believe it was all in her head. She swore when she left last week Friday there had been at least two left behind.

Another minute passed until Felix cracked under her the intensity of her unflinching stare. His hands went up guiltily towards the ceiling. “It was me, okay?” He had the good sense to look away for a moment, “just keep those eyes away from here. They’re like burning into my soul, I swear.” He shuddered.

“I think you mean they would if you had a soul,” Sage corrected, stabbing a finger in the air at him as he met her stare again. “People who take other people’s tea without asking are definitely soulless.”

Felix’s shoulders dropped slightly while Isabella snickered at the insult. “Sorry Sage. I meant to replace it when I got in this morning but I forgot.”

“What happened to respecting each other’s stuff?” She placed a hand to her temple and sighed. “Don’t you have your own?”

“Yeah, fair point. But unfortunately my favourite blend was done since last week and yours was the next best thing, so –”

“But did you have to really take the last two? Two of them Felix?”

“You know me,” he replied with a shrug. “I love my tea extra strong.”

Sage sighed again, shaking her head before she massaged her temple. Already, she could feel the telltale signs of a headache and the sixth sense she always had made her think this was marking only the beginning of what was meant to be a very terrible day.

She wasn’t wrong.

It turned out two of their investors wanted updates on where they were for their biggest event plan of the year. It was only too bad that none of them had started the necessary booking and shifting of the appropriate funds for the event. And the investors were less than impressed when Sage tried to scramble and improvise some semblance of a plan.

After her meeting ended, Sage had shirked the rest of her responsibilities momentarily for  a moment’s rest. Her emotions were way too keyed up to keep herself balanced. Poking her head inside the break room, she made sure no one else was present before taking quick strides to the back. The mats she placed there almost an entire ago had eased some of her tension almost immediately.

Smiling a little, she sat cross-legged and allowed her mind to drift. She took deep breaths, as she tried to remember the little meditation technique she learnt as child.

In and out. In and out. It became her mantra; the deepness of her breaths and the slow exhale that brought her shoulders back down. Sage continued to follow the pattern she created until the constraints from her day begun melting away from her body. She felt better, lighter somehow than she had been this morning, until the sound of her phone vibrating brought her back to the present.

Sage had been half-tempted to let it go to voicemail until she saw his name. Mark. Just the sight of his name still caused a bunch of warm and strange flutters inside her chest. She thought after a solid year of living together those feelings would have changed – if not altered in some way. But she still felt just intense as she did before they became official about him.

“Hello beautiful.”

Smiling a little, she wedged it between her shoulders. “Hey, good afternoon.”

“Wow, I only get a good afternoon huh?”

She bit her lower lip. “It’s been that kind of day.”

“Aww, I’m sorry to hear that – and here I was half-convinced to send you a bunch of memes I saw on picgram today.”

Her laugh was short. Even under the crappiest of days he could still make her laugh. “Sending memes would have probably helped.” She paused. “A little anyway.”

“Good, then I’ll get right on that.” His tone softened. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Yes, but talking about it takes longer than I have.” Her eyes lifted to study the clock across the room from her. “Technically my break isn’t for another hour or so.”

“Rules, smhules. You’re your own boss.”

“Mark!”

“I’m just saying – you could give yourself a little wiggle room sometimes. It doesn’t hurt to take a breather.”

“That’s what this is, but you know I’m a stickler for these kind of things. It’s just –” she bit her lip for a moment, pausing to think.

“Tell me what’s going on Sage,” Mark urged softly. “I want to help.”

“You can’t really help,” she protested thinly. But she knew it was just the perfectionist inside her talking. She was always the fixer – in her family and even in her past relationships. She was still working on letting other people take care of her, of letting him take care of her.

“Okay,” she took a deep breath and let it escape slowly through clenched teeth before talking. “I think the crappy weather already gave me the impression that today was going to be terrible because it was raining all the way here. I’ve been stuck in meetings…for the better half of the day and usually I don’t mind – but nothing is ready because everyone wants us to move up our deadlines.” She twirled a lock of her hair; it was far easier saying what was wrong when she started talking and now that she had she didn’t know how to stop. “Plus, there’s the fact that our heater’s giving us some trouble. I’m almost certain it’s broken at this point but no one wants to admit it yet and start shelving out the money. And, to make matters worse Felix drank the last of my tea bags. Again.” She uttered a groan of frustration.

There was complete silence on the other line.

“Mark?” Had their call dropped? The entire time she had been explaining, he remained decisively silent. “Hello?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Mark mumbled slowly, “I’m….still trying to unpack everything you said.”

“..was that too much sharing?” She was still trying to get the hang of this.

“No, no, no.” He added quickly. “It’s fine – you’re fine. I’m actually pretty happy that you shared so much with me actually,” she wasn’t sure what to make of his comment until he continued, “not that what’s going on are happy circumstances to be in at all. I kinda wish I could do more than tell you everything is going to be okay. But that is what I can tell you – that you’ll get through it.”

Sage appreciated his support, but it hadn’t felt like much in the moment. “Thanks, I guess I just need to believe it.”

“That won’t be hard, you’re Sage Williams – thriving in a very young and successful company that you helped built from the ground up. If anyone can get through anything – it’s you.”

The corner of her lips curved into a smile and Sage uttered a small sigh of relief. “You don’t know how amazing it is to hear you say that.” Usually, almost nothing rattled her – but with more days like today in the near and foreseeable future, Sage was beginning to think her quiet confidence would become constantly on the line.

“I think I have some idea.” He teased.

She laughed. “Right, you do pretty much know me inside and out.” She mused. Then smacked her temple lightly. “Shoot! Here I am talking about how terrible my day is and I haven’t even asked about yours. Is everything okay at Zamble?”

“That’s okay, your day was pretty stressful but yeah it’s…more or less fine.”

“Define fine.”

“…It’s really not that important.” He mumbled.

Sage’s ears perked at the slight dejection in his tone. She knew he was deflecting. It was something she had to learn from pattern four. “Oh no, this isn’t how this works Mark. We’re not going down the rabbit hole of another pattern right now. Mark Collins, I politely demand to know what’s going on with work – as your girlfriend it is my sacred duty.”

“Funny you should mention that. Did you know when birds mate, they mate for life?”

“Mark,” She tries to soften her voice. Was he trying to suggest what she thought he was trying to suggest? “Although that is completely adorable, it doesn’t explain why things at work are ‘more or less fine’.” She knew if he was with her, he could see the air quotes she made in the air.

Silence greeted her on the other line.

“Mark.”

“Okay, you’re right. I know you’re right.” She heard his soft yet prolonged sigh. “Okay, well it all started with –”

Nearly half an hour later, Sage exchanged goodbyes with Mark then returned to her standing on her feet. She pocketed her phone after checking the time. She was all out of it and there were still several things waiting for her approval by her desk. Responsibilities here I come.

Her hand was on the entrance’s handle for nothing short of a second before the door was suddenly lurched open. She had only enough time to a slight step back and had done so as a knee-jerk reaction.

“Sorry,” Leah started before giving her an apologetic look. “Are you okay Sage?”

“I’m okay,” she reassured her with a smile. “I just needed a second to breathe.”

“After the morning we’ve had, I completely understand but our meeting for tomorrow just called. They want to meet today.” Her eyes dropped to the watch by her wrist. “Specifically, in the next twenty minutes.”

Sage went completely still. “Huh?” She croaked. “Well-well, when did this happen?” She sputtered.

Leach winced, “yeah that was exactly my reaction when they called. But we aren’t really in a position to turn them down or ask for another time. They’re in the area and they were very clear they wouldn’t be around for the rest of the week.”

Standing up, Sage’s mind was scrambling for the portfolio they had begun putting together just several days ago. “But it isn’t ready.”

“I know.” Leah sighed. “But we’ve got twenty minutes to make it ready.”

And her earlier tension was suddenly returning a tenfold. Shaking her head, Sage ran her fingers through her bright coloured hair. She wanted to panic, heck she wanted to scream to the universe of the unfairness of it all. But she couldn’t. A business like theirs couldn’t afford to walk away from important opportunities – not while they were barely in their second year. “Tell Felix and Isabel to hold off from polishing their two new articles. We’ll need all hands-on deck with this one if we’re going to finish on time.” She glanced at her watch; feeling her familiar composure when it came to difficult tasks flooding back to her. She wouldn’t find a way through this. She would get through it.

“You got it.”

-

Their second meeting had gone better than their first. It took a lot of hard work to become comfortable convince them the current stage of their project was worth moving forward. Still, she knew she had her work cut out for her. And whatever plans she had with Mark tomorrow would have to be cancelled. So much for date night.

She thought miserably. The only date she had for the next two days were being glued to her MacBook’s screen.

She sighed. What a day.

Her feet ached and the rest of her body wasn’t doing so hot either. The headache she had earlier had increased almost a tenfold as she massaged her temple and fished for her keys. All she wanted now was a nice hot bath and her favourite person in the world to cuddle up to – preferably in that order. She didn’t even want to think about cooking dinner or ordering in.

The moment she pushed the door open however, the sweet scent of her favourite candles; vanilla wafted towards her nose. She froze for a moment, blinking down at the sign of rose petals leading down the hall.

“Oh, gosh. He didn’t….” She murmured out-loud. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she closed the door and locked it behind her. She shrugged off her coat and quickly dropped her bag as well as her boots near their front door.

Although she had felt extremely tired awhile ago, the thought of following the path of these flowers renewed some of her energy and with each passing step, the urge she had to ridiculously smile grew.

“Mark?” She called out softly when her feet touched the better half of their hall.

“In here!”

She squinted at the sound. He sounded like he was in their den. Following along the flowers and his voice, anticipation gained stride until she was almost bursting from excitement. Taking a breath to try and calm her nerves down, she gingerly opened their bedroom door – and her heart leapt at the sight in front of her.

He had built a fort with all their pillows and blankets. Several of their tallest lamps helped to hold it altogether and he was grinning from ear to ear when she entered the room. “Mark!” She squealed as she raced to get it to him. “This is amazing!”

“Really?” His smile turned boyish as his ears tinged pink.

“Yes!” Squealing again she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss, one and then another before she trailed a few more across his cheeks.

She could hear his moan reverberate through his chest as his hands came to rest by her hips and he kissed her hungrily back.

When they pulled apart, Mark bent forward to press his forehead against hers’. “I’m glad you like it. I made your favourite,” he jerked his chin towards the plate she hadn’t notice on her way in; alfredo pasta just the way she liked it – with extra sauce on top and a bottle of one of her favourite wines.

God, how did she ever become so lucky? “I don’t just like it. I love it.” She sighed dreamily and twisted in his arms for a moment to admire his handiwork. They hadn’t built a fort together since their college days. “This was definitely what I needed after such a bad day at work.” She turned back to him, her smile wide enough that her cheeks were starting to hurt. But she didn’t care. He was always worth every effort, and he made her smile more than anyone else in her life. “I love it.” She repeated ardently. “– I love you. This is perfect.”

“I love you too.” Grinning again, Mark kissed her soundly on the lips. “But I wouldn’t mind you showing me just how much you love me.”

“You know what,” threading her fingers through his hair, she stood on her tip-toes to return the kiss and pressed herself close enough to feel his entire length against her. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal Collins.”

-