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originalhybridloverfics · 3 years ago

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I'll Always Remember You

Summary: [AU Canon Divergence - if Serkan had met his daughter in the wake of a true tragedy]

Serkan's world is turned to shambles with devastating news. Mistakes etched in stone. Consumed with regrets he has to find a way to survive and be the father his daughter needs him to be in the wake of her mother's death when on he wants is Eda, smiling back at him.

[This will break your Edser heart. Consider yourself warned.]

A/N: I apologize in advance if this fic makes this cry but I did warn you. It's Serkan and Kiraz heavy with Edser dreams and flashbacks.Also I am no expert on the legal matters or turkey funerals and I am sure I got it wrong on so many levels and for that I apologize once again in advance.

“Serkan Bey!” Layla rushed into his office with an urgent look. The telephone clutched in her hand.

“Not now, Leyla!” Serkan said sharply. “I am in the middle of a meeting.”

“But Serkan, they say it’s urgent and won’t stop calling until they get in touch with you.” Leyla insisted clutching the phone tight in her hands.

Serkan’s annoyance was high. He had been getting calls all morning from an unknown number and he ignored it because it was more than possible it was reporters and he did not want to deal with those vultures today.

He has been having a bad week ever since he woke up in a cold sweat, his heart hurting. He went to the doctor and was told there was nothing wrong with his heart. Furthermore, he couldn’t explain it but there was an empty feeling inside him. An emptiness he never felt before.

He forced a smile for his clients. “I��m sorry for the interruption.”

He held his hand out for the phone and Layla nearly tripped over her feet in her haste to hand him the phone.

“Hello,” he spoke sharply into the phone.

“Am I speaking with Serkan Bolat?” A woman’s voice echoed down the line. Her tone is professional.

“Yes, you are. What is this about?” Serkan asked.

“My name is Ayla Yavus and I am with Child Protective Services. I am calling on the behalf of a young child. Kiraz-”

“I don’t understand.” Serkan cut her off. “Why are you calling me? I have no children.”

“Well, according to Kiraz’s relatives. You do. You are from their understanding her biological father.”

Serkan pushed his chair out abruptly and walked out onto the terrace. Layla followed, closing the door behind him.

“Explain,” Serkan demanded.

“Kiraz is five years old. She was being raised by her mother in Italy unfortunately, the child’s mother was in a fatal car accident a little over a week ago. We had her in our custody for only a few hours before placing her in the temporary custody of her mother’s aunt.:

Serkan’s heart pounded, fear lancing through him. “And her mother’s name?”

“Eda Yildiz.”

Serkan’s phone clattered to the floor as she spoke the one name he would have given anything for her not to have spoken.

His knees gave way beneath him and he caught himself on the ledge, sinking to the ground, he turned pressing his back against it.

“Serkan Bey!” Leyla called out in alarm. “Are you alright?”

“Tell everyone to go home.” his voice was low barely above a whisper.

“Serkan Bey?” Leyla questioned.

Serkan looked up at her and Leyla fell back a step by the devastation written on his face. “I want everyone out of the building. Now!” His voice was loud, like a clap of thunder causing Leyla to jump.

There was something so terrifying about his demeanor that Leyla immediately rushed to clear the building.

Serkan didn’t move, he felt like the world was falling away and not in the good way he remembers when he was with Eda.

He felt like everything around him was dying while he was left to suffer in agony in a world without light and sunshine, without flowers and kindness. Without his star and the beauty that brought him to life.

“Serkan Bey,” Leyla returned, speaking tentatively. “Everyone is gone.”

“I want you to leave too,” he said not looking up.

“Serkan Bey, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in this state.” Leyla protested, fighting back her fear of his anger.

Serkan looked up at her. “I don’t care what makes you uncomfortable, Leyla. I want to be left alone,”

Leyla didn’t want to leave him. Especially, after witnessing the devastation in his eyes but if she continued to refuse Serkan’s anger would erupt.

“Okay, if you need anything. I am a call away.” Leyla reluctantly grabbed her things and left the building.

Serkan wasn’t certain how long he stayed there, but he felt the wind pick up as the sky began to rumble.

With an effort he pushed himself up, grabbing his phone from the floor, and headed inside.

Mindlessly, he climbed the stairs to his office, and pulling out a bottle of liquor off the shelf he kept for guests, he grabbed a glass, setting it down on his desk.

He moved to his safe, pulling out a box, not bothering to close the safe he moved back to his desk taking a seat behind it. He sat the box down and opened it.

Side by side incased in the fabric were his and Eda’s engagement ring, his platinum band with her name inscribed into it, and sparkling flower engagement ring.

He reached, his chest tightening as his fingers brushed her ring.

Serkan swallowed hard, the phone call haunting him. Eda was gone, leaving behind a child.

Their child. A child he never even knew about.

How was he supposed to handle this? He could barely hold it together after learning that the only woman he ever loved was gone.

How was he supposed to be strong for a child and raise her? What was he supposed to say to her? How would he look at her and see her mother and not break down every fucking time?

He was on a cliff and he felt like he was going to slip off it at any given moment.

His phone rang again and he reached for it blindly, not checking the caller id. “Hello,” his voice was hoarse.

“Mr. Bolat, this is Ayla Yavus. I’m with-” “I know, we spoke earlier.” Serkan cut her off, he pulled the phone away to clear his voice and sound more presentable.

“I thought I give you some time to deal with the news from earlier. I know this is difficult-”

“Difficult? It’s impossible. You have no idea what this feels like.”

“Maybe so but you need to pull yourself together and gather your strength. You have a little girl who is going to depend on you for everything.” Ms. Ayla replied matter-of-factly.

“How is this going to work?” Serkan asked. “Do you bring her to me? Do I just take custody? Do I come to her?”

“As I said during our first phone call, currently, Kiraz is in the custody of her mother’s Aunt, Ayfer Yildiz. While it is believed you are the father of Kiraz we will need to perform a DNA test and a background check to ensure it is safe for the child to be in your care.”

“It’s my child. Of course, she will be in my care,” What the hell did they take him for?

“After all this is taken care of you will come and take your daughter into your custody. Now, if you do not wish to take responsibility you can sign over your rights and custody will be given to Ms. Ayfer.”

“No, I won’t be giving up my parental rights.” Serkan hadn’t even seen a picture of his daughter but she was the last thing tethering him to Eda. There was no way he would let her go.

He knew absolutely nothing about raising a child but he knew he would do anything to protect her and give her a safe home. He would love her as much as he loved her mother.

“Thank you for your time, Serkan Bey. We will be in touch.” the line clicked.

Serkan dropped his phone onto the desk and he reached for the bottle of liquor and filled the glass in front of him.

He made a few calls after downing the glass. Using his contacts to find out if a funeral has taken place and if not where and when. He needed immediate results.

When he ended the call he poured himself another drink and another.

Later he was awakened to the sound of his phone ringing. It was his contact calling to tell him that the Yildiz family was returning to Istanbul.

It was all Serkan needed to know. Ayfer was having Eda brought back to Instanbul to be buried next to her parents.

He didn’t know how he was going to bring himself to attend the funeral but he owed Eda that much and so much more.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Two days later his head pounding and feeling like he had the worst hangover of his life, he was pulling up outside the cemetery, sunglasses over his face, dress in his best black suit.

He stepped out of his car and saw a gathering of people. There was a lot. He saw people from his company. Serkan wasn’t surprised. Nearly everyone who ever met Eda became enamored with her. In his eyes, she had to be the most beloved woman in the world.

He scans the crowd and nearly froze, Melo stood next to Ayfer, a little girl in between them, she had her face, buried in Melo’s side, her shoulders shaking as she cried. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, his eyes bounced around and landed on the closed casket and he froze, ice keeping him still.

Then as he locked eyes with Melo, he was moving.

He turned away. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be here.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

His eyes snapped up and Engin stood before him. A frown on his face. “Leyla called and Ceren told Piril about today’s services. I’m sorry brother.”

“I can’t do this.” Serkan shook his head.

“You have to,” Engin tightened his grip. “For Eda. You will do this. I know it means little right now but I am here. Right beside you.”

For Eda.

The words echoed in his head and he nodded slowly. This wasn’t about him. It was about Eda and the respect she deserved from him.

He moved forward slowly, seeing more people he knew but couldn’t bring himself to greet them. There were art life employees, Eda’s friends, Efe. Her grandmother and so many more people but he ignored them. He ignored everyone.

He walked up to the casket and placed his hand upon the wood, his mind working as an enemy against him as he recalled with perfect clarity what it was like to touch her skin.

His eyes slid shut and he could picture her so clearly, the light shining behind her, her smile bright, eyes shining, her dark hair falling down her back in long luxurious waves, her skin perfectly tanned.

His knees grew weak, an ache in his chest. He couldn’t breathe, his vision darkened.

“Serkan.” Engin was there wrapping his arm around his shoulder, steadying him. “Breathe, brother. Breathe.”

Serkan shook his head. “I can’t! I cannot. What right do I have to breathe when she isn’t.” He shook Engin off and moved back toward his car. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t watch them put his star in the ground.

“Brother!” Engin was hot on his tail.

Others had noticed his pain but it went unnoticed by Serkan. Babanne was angry that a Bolat had come and was being blocked by Efe. Ayfer wanted to make Serkan leave believing he had no right to be there but her path was blocked by Ceren and Fifi wanted to tear into him but was being stopped by Melo who stood in front of her Eda’s little angel holding tightly to her hand.

“You don’t understand, Engin!” Serkan whirled around. “She was my breath and now she’s gone. I cannot be here. It’s too real and I need it not to be.”

Serkan’s fell back against his car, and his breaths came quickly. He recognized he was on the verge of a panic attack.

He slumped leaning against the vehicle heavily.

“Serkan, breathe,” Engin said and tried to show Serkan by taking a breath and releasing it slowly,

Serkan shook his head.

“Serkan,” Melo’s voice appeared suddenly and he froze, his eyes went past her to the little girl just a foot away, her cheeks wet with tears.

Melo crouched in front of Serkan and took his hand in hers. “Son-in-law. You need to breathe,”

Serkan looked at her blankly. “I don’t want to.”

“I know.” Melo saw the pain in his eyes, he looked so lost. She knew him. She never truly understood why he and Eda couldn’t make it work. But what she knew without a doubt was that Serkan and Eda had never stopped loving each other. “But you have to. Eda would want you to.”

“Eda,” Serkan’s voice trembled on her name. “She’s gone.”

“I know but she loved you. She loved you until her last breath and she would want you to be okay and for that to happen you have to breathe.”

Serkan nodded slowly and took a shallow breath and released it, he did it again and again and again until he started breathing normally just as a soft voice penetrated the air, the voice of the little girl.

“Melo,” the child sounded so heartbroken and lost.

His eyes snapped back to the little girl. “Kiraz?”

Kiraz stepped closer to Melo.

Melo’s lips trembled. “I see social services contacted you,”

Serkan nodded, frozen.

“Are you well enough to meet her?” Melo asked.

“I’m never gonna be ok again but I am well enough.” More so Serkan wanted to look in his daughter’s eyes and see Eda. He needed something solid that connected him to her to hold onto.

Melo nodded and gently took the little girl’s hand and urged her forward, “Come, Kiraz, I want you to meet someone very important. This here is Serkan Bolat, he was a very precious friend of your mother.”

The girl sniffled, taking small steps forward until she stood in front of Serkan. “Are you sad, too?” Kiraz asked. “Mom’s gone and she’s not coming back.” the little girl lifted a hand to her heart. “Does your heart hurt like mine?”

Serkan couldn’t keep the sob in even if he wanted to, his child’s heartbreaking words tearing it from his chest.

“Oh, Serkan,” Melo murmured squeezing his hand.

“Do you want a hug?” Kiraz asked as her shoulders shook. “Mom always said hugs were like bandaids for sadness.”

Serkan couldn’t bring himself to respond as he pressed his hand over his heart that was so broken beyond repair he didn’t know how it was still beating.

Kiraz tentatively approached Serkan and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Serkan was shocked and stilled but then this feeling overcame him and he couldn’t explain it. All he knew was he was connected to this girl and even if he hadn’t know the truth he would have felt it.

He wrapped his hands around the girl softly, and he heard her sniffle as her tears drip onto his neck, her shoulders started to shake. “My heart won’t stop hurting.”

“It will be alright,” he found himself trying to comfort his daughter, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. He didn’t think he was going to be alright again but his child, Eda’s child needed to believe that it would be. She needed someone to be strong for her and hold her when she needed it.

Serkan didn’t think it was possible but the pain in his chest became worst. He wanted Eda and he wanted to protect his little girl from the pain she was feeling.

The world was too cruel and he didn’t understand how life could be so brutal and unforgiving to take Eda away from him and especially away from the little girl in his arms.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay. Your heart hurts now but this will pass. In time you will find it won’t hurt as much.” he said and began whispering soothing words, even as his voice choked.

“How do you know?” She pulled back to look at him with a tear-stained face, and devastated eyes.

Serkan wanted more than anything to be able to answer her but he couldn’t. He said the words to comfort her but they were empty. He was certain the pain ripping through him would never stop.

Serkan looked desperately to Melo for help.

Melo moved closer and ran her hand soothingly through Kiraz’s hair. “Because pain like this doesn’t last forever, we live through it, we survive and it makes us stronger.” Melo smiled weakly, a tear sliding down her cheek. “The most important thing you have to remember, love, is that your mother will never truly be gone.” She placed her hand over her heart. “As long as you keep her in your heart she will always be with you.”

Kiraz’s shoulders started shaking again. a fresh wave of tears overtaking her and she reached for Melo.

Melo took her in her arms and stood. “Son-in-law, I know it’s hards but you should be here.”

Serkan stared at the broken girl in her arms and he nodded, forcing himself back to his feet on unsteady legs, he followed Melo back to the proceedings.

Engin kept close to him, ready to be there for him if need be.

During the proceedings, a small hand slipped into his and he clung tightly to it, he looked down at her and her shoulders were shaking as she cried silently.

He ignored Ayfer’s and Babanne’s glares and lowered himself to the ground, offering her a shoulder to cry on and she took it.

It was then as he watched the woman he loved being buried, holding the child created in his arms that he knew with absolute certainty he wasn’t going anywhere. He would do anything to protect his daughter from any more suffering.

He will never be able to make up for his mistakes with her mother but he could, protect her, raise her, love her. Do right by her.

And truth be told he needed her. He needed something to tie him to Eda.

Her small body leaning into his side was the only thing keeping him grounded.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Melo looked around Kiraz in her arms as she prepared to get in the car and leave. She looked toward Serkan’s car, knowing she needed to talk to him. There was so much that needed to be discussed. Especially regarding Kiraz.

He wasn’t by his car but she saw Engin and Piril, standing next to it.

She looked back to Eda’s fresh grave and her breath hitched. Serkan was there, kneeling in the grass, his head bowed.

“Isn’t mom’s friend going to leave, too?” Kiraz sniffled.

“I don’t think so,” Melo shook her head. “I think he wants to stay awhile with her.”

Kiraz squirmed out of her arms. “I want to stay too. He’s hurting. You’re not supposed to leave someone alone when they’re hurt.”

“This is a different kind of hurt,” Melo reaches to take her hand and usher her in the car but Kiraz was already moving away from her back toward Serkan.

She watched as Kiraz moved in front of her father, her little hands reaching up to wipe his tears before she put her arms around him.

Serkan went rigid but then he was folding forward and she watched as his whole body shook with grief, holding tightly to his daughter.

Melo lifted her hand to her mouth, her hand shaking.

She didn’t know how any of them were supposed to get through this. She was barely holding it together but she had to for Kiraz.

Nothing was ever going to be like before again. It couldn’t.

She only hoped Serkan and Kiraz would make it out on the other side. Together.

A/N: Did you cry? If you did I'm sorry. My muse is evil but I am a slave to her.

#sen cal kapimi #edser #fanfic #eda and serkan #eda yildiz #serkan bolat #serkan x kiraz #kiraz bolat #edserxkiraz fic

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robronsecretvalentine · 7 years ago

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The universe I’m helpless in

Title: the universe I’m helpless in Rating: PG Recipient: @rankgal Tags: fluff, Hogwarts AU Summary: Robert and Aaron share a quiet afternoon on the Hogwarts ground

Robert weaves easily through the throng of Ravenclaw students, by now in his seventh year a seasoned pro at circumventing the huddled masses of first years littering the corridors. It seems a lifetime ago he was one of them, scared and uncertain, following the Slytherin prefect like a shadow.

As it is, he’s enjoying watching Holly Barton, one of the current Ravenclaw prefects, trying to wrangle some of the first years into a neat line. She’s failing, badly. He passes her over with a nod, biting into an apple he made Victoria swipe from the kitchen that morning, Holly shoots him a nasty look. He smirks at her.

Robert costed their house twenty points during their joint double Potions class this morning so he can’t really blame her. In his defense, Holly had been distracted and that’s on her. He doesn’t dislike Holly, not really, she’s probably his favorite Barton, but even then, there’s not much competition. Still, they’re playing against Ravenclaw next Sunday and a little preemptive psychological warfare never hurt anybody. If the Ravenclaw team wants to try and make him pay for it, well, best of luck to them.

Robert reaches the grounds and keeps walking past a group of giggling girls, nodding a greeting to Leyla, the only Slytherin there, and ignoring everyone else. He’s not antisocial, no matter what Victoria and his dad say. There’s a reason why most Slytherins like to keep to themselves, reasons that Victoria, their dad’s pride and joy in her yellow and black Hufflepuff robes, could never fully understand. People assume a Slytherin will walk on anyone to get what they want – it’s not a wrong assumption, but what they don’t understand is that Slytherins will always protect their own.

Robert still remembers with a pang of reflexive anxiety the day he was sorted into Slytherin, how sure he was his dad was going to kill him. Jack Sugden had only ever found two Hogwarts houses acceptable. Ravenclaw, where he’d spent his school years, and Hufflepuff, the house of hard workers. Gryffindors were rash and pigheaded fools. As for Slytherins… the less said about them the better.

But the other Slytherins had welcomed him. He isn’t an outcast here. No one compares him to his father or his brother or his sister.

In a way being sorted into Slytherin has also given Robert a sick sense of accomplishment. He is the first Sugden ever sorted there. Slytherin is his in a way nothing else is. In a way he doesn’t have to share with anyone. Especially not with Andy, a muggle, and still, inexplicably, Jack’s favorite son.

Well, it’s not the only thing.

A gust of wind ruffles Robert’s hair making him snap out of his thoughts. It’s a warm day, not warm enough that the grounds are swarming with students, but enough that walking outside is almost pleasant. It’s been raining for weeks now, so the sun peeking out from under heavy rainclouds feels like an earned reprieve.

He keeps walking until he can’t hear the other students’ voices anymore, until he reaches the point where the trees start getting denser and the Forbidden Forest meets the Great Lake. There, past the first couple rows of trees is a clearing. It’s not far enough into the forest to be dangerous, but just enough that most students don’t want to go in to avoid getting in trouble.

Aaron’s lying on the green grass, his eyes closed, sunlight warming his face, his red and gold tie more than already halfway off. There’s bits of parchment strewn around him, the paper covered in Aaron’s huge and messy handwriting. He’s lying still, almost like he’s sleeping, but Robert can tell he’s awake and he knows Robert’s there.

“You’re late.” Aaron says without even opening his eyes. “I haven’t got the time to wait around for you indefinitely.” He continues with fake annoyance.

There was a time, around Robert’s fifth year and Aaron’s fourth, when he thought Aaron just really despised him. He doesn’t think that anymore.

Robert gets closer to Aaron, takes his bag off, and then without warning, drops on him, chest to chest. Aaron lets out a breath and a cough, and Robert’s grinning, but Aaron can’t see it because his eyes are still stubbornly closed.

“Sorry, Holly Barton tried to barricade the corridor using the first years as human furniture.” Robert says.

To this, Aaron finally cracks open an eye. “One of these days someone is going to hex you and you’ll deserve it.” Safe to say he probably heard about the Potions incident.

“Will you sit at my bedside in mourning of my youthful good looks?” Robert asks, getting closer to Aaron’s lips. It comes out breathier than intended, almost a whisper by the end.

Aaron’s face is warm from the sun and his eyes are amused. This is Robert’s favorite Aaron. The sun on his face, his clothes damp from lying on the grass, a smile in his eyes just for Robert.

“I’m the one hexing you.” Aaron says, but he still hasn’t shoved Robert off and his lips stay parted while he looks with anticipation at Robert’s.

Robert smiles and kisses Aaron, soft at first, just a press of lips, before Aaron gets annoyed with it and shoves his tongue in Robert’s mouth. It’s not always like this between them, but this is what Robert likes best. Especially when Aaron finally does shove him off, hard enough to topple him and switch their positions. Suddenly Robert’s on the ground, with damp grass tickling the back of his neck and the weight of Aaron’s body on his chest and stomach.

“Are you coming to the Slytherin and Ravenclaw match on Sunday?” Robert asks, one of his hands resting comfortably in the space where Aaron’s neck meets his shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m cheering for my best mate’s sister.” Aaron replies, his serious face betrayed by the grin threatening to break from his lips.

Robert wants to protest, but before he can, Aaron’s mouth is on his again, effectively silencing him.

“You taste like apples.” Aaron says with a grimace. Robert can’t help but laugh at that.

“I ate one. You should try it sometimes.” Robert says, blindingly looking for the bag he dropped earlier. When he finally finds it, he starts rummaging through it, Aaron looking at him amused.

“If you take a bloody apple out of your bag I’m dumping ya.” Aaron says. This time it’s Robert’s turn to make a face as he takes a chocolate frog out of his bag and tosses it to Aaron.

“I’m not an idiot.” Robert says as Aaron unwraps it.

“Could have fooled me.” Aaron replies, popping the whole thing into his mouth. Robert chooses this specific moment to shove him, playfully but hard, off of him.

“Oi!” Aaron protests once he manages to swallow the chocolate.

Robert ignores him and lies back down, resting his head on his hands and closing his eyes. He can feel Aaron settle next to him, their bodies touching.

“What card did you get?” Robert asks idly, his foot tapping gently against Aaron’s ankle.

“Didn’t even look at it.” Aaron replies and Robert grins.

“You could give it to Finn Barton then, I hear he collects them.” Robert says and he laughs, Aaron right behind him, both of them remembering the time Aaron had been intensely relieved to find out that when Finn had invited him to look at his chocolate frogs card collection he had meant just that. Robert still maintains that despite there being an actual card collection, Finn had been trying to flirt with Aaron.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep it. It was a good chocolate frog.” Aaron says, resting his head on Robert’s shoulder. Robert’s arm reflexively goes to hold Aaron.

It’s peaceful and soothing, something neither one of them has had enough of lately, or ever.

Of course, that’s when it starts raining.

The first drop is cold and huge and it hits Robert square in the left eye.

A few seconds later both Robert and Aaron are scrambling up, both gathering as many papers as possible and shoving them into Aaron’s bag. Robert is cursing Aaron’s messiness, and Aaron is cursing Robert.

Aaron takes his wand out and grinds out a “Protego totalum!” at his bag, trying to avoid it getting soaked, but to no avail.

“That’s not what that spell’s for!” Robert shouts under what is now the roaring sound of pouring rain. The rain is flattening his hair and his robes are quickly getting soaked, his bag feeling waterlogged already. If he loses his Charms essay because of it he’s gonna make Aaron come with him to the library while he writes it for the second time.

“You could always help, you know!” Aaron shouts, already legging it for the castle.

Robert’s curse is lost in the wind.

They run, it’s not that far, but still when they finally do get inside they’re dripping water on the pristine corridor floor.

Robert’s catching his breath, but Aaron’s not even winded. Aaron keeps telling him that Quidditch practice is not an actual workout and as of now Robert might be inclined to believe him.

Robert looks at Aaron, his hair flat on his head, water dripping down his cheeks, a few drops trapped between his dark lashes. He’s beautiful in a way Robert may never be able to vocalize, like a heavy something lodged in his chest fluttering its wings every time Aaron walks into a room. Robert smiles because he’s cold and dripping wet and happy, so happy he doesn’t really know what to do with it. And it’s because of Aaron. Aaron’s smile, and his eyes, and the way his hands hold Robert like he’s precious.

“I love you.” Robert says, he’s known it for a while and wanted to wait for the right moment, but every moment with Aaron is right. They’re surrounded by a world of magic, and all Robert can focus on, has ever been able to focus on ever since they met, is Aaron. Aaron is a different kind of magic altogether.

There’s a flutter of anxiety moving from Robert’s stomach to his trembling hands. He’s cold and too warm and the room seems to be shrinking around him. He’s never said it to anyone, not out loud, it’s his first and it’s Aaron’s, it was always going to be Aaron’s, even if Aaron doesn’t feel the same.

But then Aaron smiles, big and open, and time stops.

“I love you too.” Aaron says and his smile is blinding and beautiful and it reminds Robert of the first time he saw the castle, illuminated by the moon and by a myriad of candles. It’s overwhelming in the best way, the way that makes him want to never move again instead of running away.

This time Aaron kisses him first, his cold and wet hands on Robert’s neck, in his hair, on his shoulders. Still, Aaron is warm and solid and real, his body flush against Robert’s. And they should move, anyone could come in at any time and he’s not sure either one of them would notice, but they don’t.

They stand still, holding each other close and swaying, just for a moment.

#rangkal #katsukiviktor #robron #robron secret santa #robronsecretvalentine #fanfiction

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amandaj718 · 7 years ago

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Emmerdale Live and Organized - December 8, 2017

Welcome to the preshow! Well, I’m sure fandom is freaking out. People are upset. So, I’m here to be positive. Let me start by saying that I freaked out. I got upset. I said things that only certain people will hear. Your feelings are valid. Don’t think because I’m all ‘rah rah’ that I think people that are upset are wrong. Not at all. Everyone can feel how they feel about a television show. There is no right or wrong way to feel. Anyway, here is some positivity for you.

This is needed. Robert needs to get into a new frame of mind. He needs to grow stronger on his own and for his son. He needs to love and respect himself before he even considers loving and respecting someone else. As for Aaron, he needs to be with someone else. Yes, it hurts to hear and see, but it needs to happen. Aaron needs to be with someone and figure out for himself how he feels. How being with a different type of person (different temperament and different background) feels. He might find out more about himself (how he is stronger than he appears) and find out what his heart really wants.

The Whites are officially on a countdown. So is the doctor. I will be mocking them until their bitter ends, so you don’t have to worry about that. I still love Robron. That isn’t going to change. I may be frustrated and say things that upset people, its just me being human.

So, everyone. Shall we join forces to get through his final push? I think we should!

SO…lets crack on.

I wish I could write some adverts for the beginning of Emmerdale. I have so many ideas that would be funny to see play out on screen. Oh well.

I want my life to be like that one Chanel commercial where its all romance, Paris, and dramatics. I want. I need adventure and crazy in my life that isn’t self-destructive or hurts others.

The Bartons

Awww. Pete is doing what I want to do every time I think about my future and read the news! *SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS*

Harriet still has guilt over the Emma stuff. Interesting. I want this to stick around because I want Harriet to question her faith. That is good television.

OH GOD. Pete is down. The PETE IS DOWN. *Takes a Whiskey Drink. Takes a sour drink. Takes a lager drink. Takes a cider drink*

OH LOOK WHO IS BACK. Where the fuck have you been Ross?!?!

Did you leave your beard behind?

“I will not be responsible for your death as well.” – Ross *BIG EYES*

Oh. The Barton Brothers. Useless.

HERE WE GO. WHO KILLED EMMA WEEK HAS BEEN SET UP. *LETS DO THIS PEOPLE* *SPOIL ME AND I WILL BREAK YOUR LEGS*

Beauty shot of Adam. *HA*

Vadam/Harriet

Harriet is acting…weird. Very weird.

Can't talk ill of the dead. I mean, I don’t know when that started but yeah.

Adam: The Charm of Emmerdale. *sips tea*

Eric/David

Anytime I see David I think…BOYBAND. That hair man. Frosted tips. *Snort* He is still very good looking. *Hey David…What up?* *Gives a Danny Miller style wink*

Oh, Eric. Seeing Eric in love and heartbroken. It gets to my cold cold tiny heart.

Eric and Robert should hang out. GIVE ROBERT SUGDEN FRIENDS 2018.

The Café Crew

I love Faith's hair today. It's so retro and cute. Me love.

A nice scene with Faith and Chas. I’ve been waiting for more scenes between the mother and daughter.

BOB! I LOVE ME SOME BOB.

Vadam doesn’t have a house to have this interview in. Let’s point and laugh at them *POINT AND LAUGH*

The adoption stuff is confusing to me. We know Adam is leaving. Victoria won’t have a kid alone.

My dad’s birthday is this weekend. We never give him parties. He wants to go shopping for new pants and have a steak. *HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!*

Moira’s Farm

ISAAC! This kid is beyond cute.

Harriet. It’s ok. Back off Moira right now.

Harriet seems to be on tour right now. She isn’t doing so well.

OH. OOOOHHH….COIRA MOMENT. Kind of. Let me have this.

Bob at Moira’s? IM LOVING THE BOB CONTENT. I LOVE ME BOB CONTENT. BOB! *Chants*

BOB. Oh. Moira isn’t doing better. Oh, Moira. Honey. You need professional help. There is no shame in asking for help.

“I never appreciate what I got till its too late.” – Bob

Maybe she needed a 3rd party to talk to that is why Bob is working out better.

This is what I love about Emmerdale. Those quiet moments among the chaos. This is why I get confused when people say all of Emmerdale is crap. It's not. You can’t live for one couple. I love other characters and couples on the show so while Robron get their crap together I have Lydia. I have BOB! I have Faith. I love Coira and Sam/Lydia.

Bob and Moira crying and pouring their hearts out about their children. *WARMS MY HEART*

The show is using history! That’s good. *claps for the show*

“Got to forgive yourself.” – Bob “I can’t.” – Moira

This was a good start, but someone needs to get her some help! NOW.

David’s Grocery

Pete is on a world alcohol tour. *SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS*

Tracy is promoting Star Wars I see. WHY IS EVERYONE's HAIR SO AWESOME IN THIS VILLAGE. *cries to myself*

I know Leyla has to leave because of her ‘maternity leave, ’ but this makes me sad. I love Leyla.

I think Tracy and David have a clock on their relationship and its counting down.

The Pub Crew

Rhona doesn’t need a man. She needs to get herself on track and be awesome. Rhona and Vanessa: Best Friends AHOY!

I don’t find Paddy/Chas interesting. When will this end? When will this pairing die off?

Oh. At least Belle is safe.

‘It’s Just Speculation!’

On the fifth day of hell week, my Happy Robron Place gave to me...

As per usual: Stay off the message boards, respect each other’s opinions, breathe, reboot and eat a Snickers. If you want to talk theory or the show come on over to my twitter and Tumblr @AmandaJ718

Until next time, see you around in Emmerdale!

#Robron #Emmerdale #Live and organized #review

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birbwrites · 7 years ago

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Title: Time Waits For No Man Pairing: Leonard Snart x Female!Reader. Words: 2,009 Rating: T.

Time.

Time was always the problem. And it was time that brought her love and support, but it was also time that brought her pain and suffering. In this situation time is exactly what Emily was trying to beat.

There was less than 18 hours to find an extremely powerful and regenerative source to energize the Speed Force Bazooka. Everyone at S.T.A.R. Labs was working hard to find it, but all seemed hopeless. Emily had spent hours searching and calling in favors, that all turned out to be dead ends.

Suddenly, it dawned upon her, hitting her like a freight train. Emily rapidly started typing away at her keyboard. She held her breath and hoped to God that this would work. A moment later there was a ping on the computer. Without hesitation, Emily rolled over to the speaker.

��Cisco, please come up to the cortex. This is something you might want to see.” She spoke, trying to keep herself composed. Within a few minutes, Cisco appeared in the cortex and walked over to where she was sitting. “What did I might want to see?” Cisco asked looking at Emily expectantly as she turned around to face him.

“Well, I was thinking of any solutions to help us with the power problem after my assets couldn’t find anything and then I had an idea. What if we task the S.T.A.R. Labs satellites to scan for anything that emitted 3.86 terajoules of energy?” She explained looking up at Cisco as he crossed his arms. “Okay, what did you find?”

“I found a possible source and lucky for us it’s in Central City.”

“But...?” He asked, sensing a ‘but’. “Buuuut, the only place we can find it is at the ARGUS headquarters.” Emily responded sheepishly, pushing up her glasses. “That’s real good! Leyla could hook us up!” Cisco laughed excitedly. “Great job Emily! I’ll tell Barry, you go home and get some rest, okay? You earned it.”

Emily watched Cisco walk out of the cortex and once he was gone she sighed, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. “Rest, huh?” She gave a humorless chuckle got out of her seat.

Emily gathered her stuff and exited the large building, walking to her car. The ride to her home peaceful and short. She walked up the steps to her apartment, her keys jingling in the silent night.

Once she was inside and away from the cold, a content sigh slipped past her lips. Emily sloppily dropped her bag on the floor, followed by her coat, and made her way to her bedroom. As soon as Emily was out of her clothes and into her pj’s, she slithered into bed and embraced the wave of exhaustion that rolled over her form.

Sleep welcomed her to its domain as sweet dreams wove their way into her mind. However, nightmares always find a way to invade and completely shatter her peace. And every time it was the same recurring nightmare.

She could see him so vividly, standing there, holding that damn button, saving all of time, and telling her he loves her. But what haunts her the most was his face. It held so much pain. His eyes, pooled with sadness and longing. They stared into her soul and burned her that day. That was how the nightmare usually ended. With his crystal blue eyes staring deeply into her own emerald ones.

Emily sat up with a start, sweat dripping down her forehead, heart racing a mile a minute. She sighed and looked over to her clock that sat on the night stand. It was currently 8:00 am, which means she slept about 4 hours give or take. That is more than she has slept since his death.

Determining she probably couldn’t fall back asleep, Emily decided to take a nice soothing shower to ease the her tense and aching muscles.

By the time she was done it was 8:20 am. This particular morning was chilly so Emily grabbed a gray sweater, some black leggings, and a pair of white socks. After she was done dressing down, Emily threw her hair up in a messy bun and made her way to her kitchen to prepare some breakfast.

Once she was done with breakfast, Emily put on her black converse, and headed out, wallet and keys in hand.

Halfway down the stairs of her apartment, Emily felt a sudden weight of dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She paused for a moment assessing her discomfort. However, Emily deemed that her unsettling feeling of dread did not hold as much importance as saving Iris’ life.

On her way to S.T.A.R. Labs, the feeling increased ten times fold. Once more she pushed it aside and continued her drive. When she arrived it was 10:00. Emily dragged herself through the lobby and to the elevator.

Before she joined everyone else in the cortex she stopped for a cup of coffee. There she saw Tracy, probably making her 5th cup of coffee. “Emily! Good morning!” Tracy beamed. Emily gave her a lazy smile. “Morning Tracy.”

“Come here for a cup of coffee, I see.”

“Yeah, I didn’t feel like stopping at Jitters for some hot chocolate so I settled for the S.T.A.R Labs brand coffee.” She replied, pouring the coffee into a beige mug. After putting in some sugar and stirring it, she headed towards the cortex. “Ooh! Emily, could you tell Barry that we’re out of coffee and he needs to order some more!?” Tracy called out towards Emily’s retreating figure.

“Sure!” Emily called back, taking a huge gulp of her coffee to properly wake her up. As she neared the corner, she could her several voices speaking, and a deeper one that sounded very familiar.

“Hey, Barry, Tracy says we’re out of coffee and that you should b-” Emily began but was soon cut off by the sight in front of her. “Len…” She gasped almost inaudibly. He half empty mug hit the floor and splattered pieces of ceramic and coffee all around her.

Everyone's attention turned to her as she stared unwaveringly at Leonard. He stared back and a look of confusion flashed on his face but it was gone as fast as it came.

A long moment of silence passes before Leonard clears his throat. “Awkward. I can see you all have a lot to talk about. I’ll be down in your lab getting everything ready.” He says looking briefly at Cisco before turning his gaze back to Emily. Leonard stayed there for a second then made his way to Cisco’s lab.

“Barry, are you out of your mind?” Iris started once Leonard was out of earshot. “I thought he was with the Legends.” Stated Joe. “He is.” Barry answered, his hands firmly grasping his hips. “No, he dead.” Cisco said, catching his words too late before a wave of regret hit him. He looked toward Emily who looked like she was about to cry. “Cisco…” Iris whispered. “I’m sorry Emily, I didn’t me-” He began, but Emily cut him off.

“Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?” She looked at Barry sending him a harsh glare. “How could you bring him here Barry?” Said man looked at Emily with eyes full of remorse. “Emily, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think of how this would affect you.”

“No, Barry, you didn’t think. That was your problem. This doesn’t just affect me. It affects time. There will be consequences for this. This could cause so many problems Barry! You’re lucky he knows how to keep his mouth shut.” Rage seethed out of Emily.

“Emily I think tha-” H.R. started but was also cut off. “No, I’m sorry Barry, I didn't mean to snap at you.” She said, rubbing her face. “It’s alright. But if you need someone to ta-”

“What I need is just a minute to recompose myself. Alone.”

With that, Emily exited the cortex and jogged past Cisco’s lab towards the Speed Lab. Unfortunately for her, Leonard saw her rush past Cisco’s lab in a hurry. Having the sudden urge to follow her, Leonard abandoned the white board he was writing on, and followed Emily to the Speed Lab.

When Leonard entered the Speed Lab his gazed went straight to Emily who stood in the middle of the room with her back to him, hugging herself tightly. A small sob escaped her lips as she held a hand to her mouth to muffle any other painful cries.

“Emily.” Leonard called, making her gasp and hurriedly wipe the tears that stained her cheeks, putting her glasses back on, before turning around to face him. “Yes?” She replied, moving her left hand to hang off on her right hip as her right hand went to play with the necklace of Leonard’s ring he gave her just before he died. He was silent for a minute as he observed Emily. Leonard was always adept at reading people and noticing the small differences in their body language.

Emily for one, is usually more confident and her pose suggested so. However in this case, she was holding herself as if she was insecure. Her usually bright and shiny eyes were now dark and dull. The bags under her eyes suggest that she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long while. Emily’s face also held no trace of her beautiful smile but instead was replaced by a frown. She also looked a bit older.

Once Leonard was done picking out the differences he made a conclusion that this isn’t Emily from his time, rather Emily from the future. “You aren’t my Emily, are you?” He drawled, but the look in his eyes said that he already knew. Emily gave a breathless chuckle and sniffled. “No, I’m not.” A small silence filtered through the room as he still gazed at her intently.

Emily cast her eyes down too look at the ring in her fingers. She couldn’t bear to look at him, not when he wasn’t the same Len.

Leonard followed her gaze only to see that she was fiddling with his ring. He briefly glanced down at his pinky finger, the same ring glinting in the sunlight that shone through the windows. “Future Leonard, he meant something to you, didn’t he?”

Emily nodded weakly, a few tear escaping her eyes. “What happened then?” Leonard drawled out, stepping closer to her. “You know I can’t tell you that.” Her voice cracked.

“Must have been something terrible I presume.” A sigh escaped his lips, as he leaned on one foot. “You have no idea.” Emily whispered more to herself than to Leonard.

“Well if there’s one thing I sure, it’s that you’ll move past it as you always do, presuming you’re still stubborn?” A hearty laugh made its way up her throat as she looked up at him. His eyes still held that unmistakable mischief and thrill along with the sadness that hid behind all of that confidence.

Emily’s eyes brightened slightly, regaining some of its former brilliance. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He smirked, towering over her. Truth be told, this version of Leonard had attracted some sort of feelings for his Emily. The way she challenged him all the time and how she always had a sharp tongue to match his sarcasm, made him look at her in a completely new light.

“For being you.” She replied smiling softly at him. “Who else would I be if not myself?” Leonard quickly retorted. Emily snorted and kissed his cheek. When she pulled back his smirk had widened a bit. “I think you missed doll.” He raised a hand to his mouth and tapped a finger against his lips. Rolling her eyes, Emily brushed past him and out of the lab calling back to him. “Save it for your Emily! I know she’d like it.”

“Good to know.” Leonard said watching Emily’s back retreat. He chuckled huskily shaking his head. Well it looks like he has a theory to test when he gets back to the Waverider.

Okay! This is the longest one-shot I’ve written so far and I’m so sorry it’s late! I also know this isn’t really an x reader but you can totally imagine yourself in her place. I bestow this gift as a happy belated birthday to a very good and close friend AND fellow tumblr user. She whished to stay anonymous so I will respect her wishes. Sorry for any typos and enjoy!

#leonard snart #Leonard Snart imagines #leonard snart x reader #dc legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow #birbwrites

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anavoliselenu · 8 years ago

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Manwhore chapter 21

I wrap my arms around my legs and put my cheek on my knee, exhaling as I try to push the part-dream, part-memory out of my mind. I go into the bathroom, splash my face, look into my eyes and I’m still the lost girl in the elevator. When did I become this girl? I’m not this girl, I think in frustration as I stamp out to my room.

I go back to bed and cover myself with the sheets all the way to my neck, rolling my cheek into the pillow and punching it as I stare unseeingly in the direction of my window. A stream of streetlight filters inside. If you listen hard enough, you can hear the sounds of the city outside. I wonder where he is right now.

You’re fucking haunting me, Sin.

You’re fucking haunting my every second.

I can’t sleep, can’t think of anything but the way I feel when I stand close to you. When you look at me. When we’re in the same room.

The way you were in your office . . . I couldn’t read you. I couldn’t read you and it’s killing me.

Turning on the light, I lose a battle I’ve been waging with myself for a whole month.

I go get my laptop and boot it up in the darkness, then I do something I haven’t done in a while. Gina had forbidden me to. I had forbidden myself, for survival. And sanity. I haven’t checked in so long it’s not even coming up in my browser. But now I brave Justin’s social media and brace myself for what I find as I skim through. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Or maybe I do. I’m looking for anything, anything that links me to him.

Hey @JustinJustin I’m Leyla, Danis’ friend ;)

@JustinJustin Hey bro meet us at Raze

@JustinJustin is better off without that bitch who betrayed him

Marry me @JustinJustin!

@JustinJustin I’ll be your slut and I’ll mud wrestle your lying bitch ex to the death, if need be!

@JustinJustin are you going to forgive your girlfriend? PLS forgive her, you look beautiful together!

Speaking of bitches @JustinJustin should know

@JustinJustin please tell me you told your exgirlfriend to go fuck herself! YOU DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER YOU DESERVE A PRINCESS

Interface wall:

Bro! Call us when you’re in town, there’s someone we’d like you to meet

And then, there’s the picture of a woman blowing him a kiss.

I scowl over her protruding nipples, clearly visible in her wet designer top.

Then, I scroll over his tagged pictures and find one of him. Him flipping off the reporter who asks him about my betrayal, a pair of cool aviators shading his eyes, his jaw as tough as a granite slab.

God help me. Now that I’ve started looking I can’t seem to stop. On a famous local vlog, I find this:

“Indeed there has been speculation on whether his daredevil attitude for the past month has anything to do with the recent breakup with journalist Selena Livingston, what is rumored to be his first relationship ever. Livingston, who had been investigating Justin when they met, had a huge fallout with the tycoon when her investigation leaked and her own version published shortly after on Edge. Rumors of whether M4 is integrating a news section into their Interface media website were abuzz when Livingston was spotted back at M4 . . .”

“In the meantime Justin himself has been skydiving, and, according to a witness, taking over businesses at a speed that has been alarming to the members of his board . . .”

And on Facebook:

#TBT ThrowbackThursday: remember this picture? We had bets going on how long it’d last but nobody bet on it lasting as long as it did! I know it seems she played you but we know better than that, nobody plays as hard as you do—hope you used her good!

I stare at my computer screen. I’m suddenly sick with dread wondering what he’s read too. Is this how he thinks of me? A bitch? I’m a bitch and a slut, who “whored” myself into his bed for information? I’m stunned to realize that even when I poured my heart into my article—it was, like Helen says, a love letter to him—the words I wrote didn’t matter. My actions trumped it all.

Justin values truth and loyalty.

I can’t take it.

I open up an email and search through the several emails of his I’ve got.

Even if it’s suicidal.

Even if he’s the most unobtainable thing in the world, placed so far off, I’d need a satellite to hoist me up high enough to snatch him. He’s my own personal moon . . .

In End the Violence, I’m always waiting to see what I can do to help those who’ve been exposed to loss. I always seem to be waiting to see if my mom’s health is stable. Waiting for the right story.

I don’t want to wait anymore.

I don’t want to wait for the story, wait for the right time, wait for the muse, wait to forget him, wait to be wanted by him, wait to see if time will be on my side and help me fix things with him.

With all the nerves in the world but a determination to match it, I select his M4 email. The early one we used to use when I started to interview him. I have no idea who will read this email, but I keep it business and type out a message, knowing that keeping it simple is the best chance I’ve got.

Mr. Justin,

I’m writing to let you know how much I appreciate your offer. I’d like to discuss it further with you. Would you please let me know if there’s any convenient time I could stop by your office? I will adjust my schedule to yours.

Thank you,

Selena

WORK & WRITING

I’m running on three hours of sleep, but I’m determined to make something good out of my day the next morning. I even smile at a few strangers as I get out of the cab, take the building elevators, and walk into Edge. I chitchat with a few colleagues as we get coffee, call my mother to say good morning, answer a few emails from my sources.

But there’s that tiny little buzz still in my body.

I still stare at green eyes whenever I stare at . . . anything, really.

I see a full mouth.

A full mouth, smiling in the way he used to smile at me.

I exhale slowly, do my best to push the thought of yesterday aside, and stare at my computer screen.

My very blank, very white computer screen.

Keyboards are clacking, reporters talking over their cubicle walls. Edge has been doing a little better after my love letter to Justin. The job cuts have stopped, two new journalists have been hired, and although there are only a dozen of us, we still somehow manage to make noise. Oh boy, do we make noise. We’re the specialists of making every event of the day seem more monumental than it is. It’s our job to hunt for news, after all. Create stories.

Write something¸ Selena.

Inhaling, I put my fingers on my keys and force myself to write one word. And one word becomes two and then, my fingers pause. I’m out of juice. Out of ideas. Empty.

I read what I wrote.

JUSTIN JUSTIN

It’s the first time in my career I’ve hit a dry spell. All the love I had for telling stories—a love that was born when I was very young, piecing together stories about my mother—left the day one of those stories took something priceless away.

Something called . . .

JUSTIN JUSTIN.

I’ve been begging Helen to give me the good stuff. A good piece that could motivate me, make me realize the words I write can make a difference. But she’s been stalling and popping out excuses by the dozen. She tells me that if I’m having trouble with the little pieces, then it’s definitely not the moment for another big one.

Hitting the backspace, I watch the name disappear.

JUSTIN SAIN

JUSTIN SAI

JUSTIN SA

JUSTIN S

JUSTIN

Oh god.

I squeeze my eyes and erase the rest.

On impulse, I reach for my bag, slung on the back of my chair, for the folded paper I carry inside. Taking it out, I unfold it and scan right to the bottom. To the very elaborate, male signature on it.

Justin KPL Justin.

The guy who sends my world into a tailspin. The sight of this signature on the page gives me all kinds of aches.

“Selena!” Sandy calls from across the room. Tucking the paper back into my bag, I peer out of my cubicle and see that she’s pointing into the glass wall separating Helen, my editor, from all of us.

“You’re up!” she calls.

I grab my notes that I also emailed her recently, then go and stand by Helen’s open door. She’s on the phone, signals for me to wait.

“Oh, absolutely! Dinner it is. I’ll bring my best game,” she assures, then she waves me in as she hangs up, beaming.

Well. She’s in a good mood today.

“Hey Helen,” I say. “Did you look at the story options I sent?”

“Yes, and the answer is no.” Her smile fades and she levels me a look. “You’re not writing that.” Sighing, she shuffles the papers on her desk. “Selena, nobody wants to know about any riot.” She says the word riot like one would say excrement. “You have a lively, energetic voice!” she goes on. “Use it to bring happiness, not focus on what’s wrong in the world. Tell us what’s right. What’s the right thing to wear when dating a hot man? Use what happened with that hot ex of yours to teach girls how to date properly.”

“I’M SINGLE, HELEN—hello? Nobody wants dating advice from someone who screwed her only chance at . . .” I trail off and rub my temples. “Helen, you know I’m having a little problem.”

“That you can’t write?”

I wince.

It hurts because for twenty-something years, writing was all I wanted to do.

“Go on.” Helen points at the door. “Write me something on how to dress for the first date.”

“Helen . . .” I take a few steps forward instead. “Helen, we discussed this before. Remember? How very much I want to write about things that are wrong in the world, in Chicago. I want to write about the underprivileged, the violence in the streets, and while you promised me opportunities, you have given me zero. In fact, lately, the Sharpest Edge column is all about being single and dating in the city. I have no boyfriend and no dating life. I’m not interested in the dating life, especially after what happened. I keep wondering if maybe you gave me a story that impassioned me again . . . I’d hit my stride. In fact, I’m sure I would,” I plead.

“We can’t always write about what we want, we must think of others, and your audience,” she reminded me. “The loyal audience who’s followed you throughout your career is interested in dating advice from you. You dated a very physical and renowned man; don’t throw all that life experience away. Other opportunities will come, Selena. We’re barely catching our first breath of fresh air. And I need you on more stable ground before we shift your direction again.”

“But weren’t we all about taking risks now in order to take us somewhere?”

“Nope. The owners don’t want more risks right now, while things are stabilizing. Now please. Can I get a break from this riot and safety talk for a few weeks? Can you do that for me?”

I force myself to nod, pursing my lips as I turn to leave. I try not to feel angry and frustrated, but when I come out and hear all the keyboards clacking and watch all my colleagues writing their stories, some with bored faces, some with happy or engrossed faces, I can’t help but ache to write something that gets to me so much, you could see it on my face too.

“Hey. You, there. With the golden hair, gorgeous body, but absolutely gloomy face,” Valentine calls from his cubicle as I walk by.

“Thanks,” I say.

He motions me forward to his computer and I end up standing behind him and bending over to peer at his screen.

And there’s Sin.

A video, which shows the power in even his smallest gestures. I’m melting when I hear him answer a question in some sort of interview about his opinion on the state of the oil prices. Stupid, stupid melting bones.

After we both watch for a moment, Valentine says, “Your ex.”

He’s not my ex, I think sadly, wishing that even for a blink I’d have had the courage to wear that title.

“He really knows how to fill up a room. He’s keynote speaker this weekend at McCormick Place. I’m thinking of asking Helen to let me go. Unless you want to?” Val peers at me over his shoulder.

I shake my head, frustrated. Then shrug. Then nod. “I’d love to, but I couldn’t.”

Valentine’s eyes cloud over at that; I’m sure it’s because he remembers all the hate mail that came through the servers after Victoria’s article. “You need to get out more. Want to come clubbing with me and my current this weekend?”

“I’m going to camp out this weekend. But proceed living dangerously for me. I’ll find a way to bail you out of jail.”

He laughs as I go back to my corner and settle down in my chair. I’m determined to work past this glitch. I want this to be an excellent dating piece, one that can help every girl like me meet and attract the guy she wants.

Inhaling, I pop open my browser and search the dating forums. I mean to find out the most major concerns girls have when going out on a first date, for starters, but before I know it, I’m opening another tab. Then a press conference link. Then I plug in my earphones and hike up the volume and stare at Justin on the video.

He’s behind a podium erected outside. People are standing in the back—every chair is occupied. Most especially with businessmen. Though I spot a few fawning fangirls nearby too.

His hair moves a little with the wind. His voice comes through the speaker, low and deep. Even though he’s talking through a computer and not talking directly to me, my skin prickles in response. Stupid, stupid skin.

When the camera zooms in, I look into his eyes as he connects with the audience, and feel an ache. The look in his eyes as he talks to all those strangers, so much more personal than the wariness in his eyes when he looked at me yesterday.

But I think of how his eyes would burn so hot when he peeled his shirt off my body that I’d be in cinders by the time I lay naked and waiting for him to touch me . . .

And the way his eyes would glimmer with teasing, boyish hope as he looked at me when he asked and asked, patiently and ruthlessly, for me to be his girlfriend.

I hate that I will never, ever be his “little one” again.

I play the email roulette all day . . . and there’s nothing from him.

I end up with two sentences for my dating article. Valentine and Sandy are hitting a nearby sandwich place and as we cross the building’s lobby, Valentine says, “Come with, Selena.”

“I think I’ll just . . .” I shake my head. “I’m going to try to get some work done at home.”

“Bullshit,” he says as we hit the sidewalk.

Sandy stops him. “Let her go home, Val.”

“I worry about this girl. She’s been kind of blue lately.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m perfect,” I assure them as I flag a cab. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

FRIENDS

Valentine isn’t the only one “concerned.” So are my friends. And later that night, they insist on Girl Time.

Wynn was adamant we discuss this “job issue.” I assume Gina’s told her about the job offer on the table from Justin since nobody else knows about my other writing problem. Not even my friends. I just really dislike being the one knocked-out on the floor after life struck her out. I’m trying to get back to normal even though I don’t know what normal is anymore.

But at least one of the fixtures in my life is drinks with Wynn and Gina during the week. We sit at a high table near the windows. It’s comfortable.

Still, I’ve been refreshing my email like mad.

“I don’t know why you thought he’d want to talk to you about what happened so soon, it’s only been four weeks and what happened was kind of . . . well, it could take years,” Wynn says.

“Wow, Wynn,” I groan.

“Well, I’m being honest, Selena!”

I toss back the rest of my cocktail. My mind flashes to his hand, reaching for my leg under the table . . .

Twinkling green eyes, teasing me until I can’t bear it . . .

I love my friends; we’ve been together forever. They call my mom “Mom” and know everything about me, but now as Wynn asks me to relate the “job issue” and Gina tells her all about it, I keep draining my cocktail in silence, sadder than I’m letting on. My friends know everything about me, but at the same time, they don’t know it all.

They don’t know that as I sit here I remember all the ways he used to tease me about how I play it safe. He used to tease me to come out of my box, that he’d catch me. But would he catch me now?

“It doesn’t matter why he took four weeks,” I cut in when Wynn and Gina keep arguing over why he took so long to contact me. “I just want him to talk to me. I want to know if I hurt him so I can make it better. I want a chance to explain, apologize.”

“You doubt you hurt him?” Wynn asks, aghast. “Emmett told me there’s no way he’d give you the time of day right now if you weren’t under his skin.”

“Interesting,” Gina says. Then, looking at me, “You’re not the only one haunted by Justin, do you think that you’re haunting him too?”

“I don’t want us to be ghosts for each other. I want us to go back to the way we were when he . . . trusted me.”

Wynn whistles admiringly. “You can get that man in bed, maybe he’ll reluctantly love you, but you won’t get his trust if his life depended on it now.”

I wince at the thought of that. “True, trust is important to him; if I can’t prove to him I’m trustworthy I’m doomed to be one of his four-night girls.”

“Did you get the impression he’d give you another chance?” Wynn asks.

I stay quiet.

“Selena?”

“No, Wynn. He doesn’t want me anymore. But I need to apologize. I just . . .” I shake my head. “I just don’t know what to do.” I look at Wynn when my refill comes, frowning as I realize something. “So you and Emmett have been talking about it?”

“Um. Well, yes,” she says uncomfortably. “Everybody’s touched on it, you know? It was public.”

I press on, “Did Emmett have any advice for me?”

Wynn shrugs. “He doesn’t think a man like Justin would give you another chance. But then, he did offer you a job, so . . .”

“What does Emmett the chef know about a guy who literally owns Chicago?” Gina tells Wynn, rolling her eyes. “Plus Emmett’s a guy. He’s telling you this so that you, Wynn, don’t turn out to be a reporter and reveal that he wears pink undies and shit.”

“Gina.” Wynn scowls.

Gina grins, then turns to me. “Tahoe says—”

“Tahoe?” Wynn and I say in unified shock.

“Tahoe ROTH?” Wynn asks. “The oil tycoon and Justin’s bestie?”

“He’s not Justin’s only bestie, Callan Carmichael is too,” Gina specifies, then she cuts me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Rache. I’m not supposed to talk to you about this. But he’s concerned and so am I. And . . . well, from what Tahoe told me, Justin’s pretty messed up. Colder than usual. Really withdrawn.”

I sit here listening, aching.

“He loves Justin as much as I love you,” Gina says, and when Wynn opens her mouth to ask about the obvious elephant in the room—her plus Tahoe—Gina holds up a hand to stop her. “I don’t care for Tahoe, but he hasn’t enjoyed your breakup any more than I enjoy watching you mope. He called me to ask what was up, ’cause of course Justin’s not talking and he says he hasn’t seen Justin like this since his mother died.”

Knowing what I know—that his mother was the only one who probably genuinely cared for Justin while he was growing up, how he felt he’d failed her, how he’d failed himself in failing her, how he’s been trying to fill up an empty hole ever since—Gina’s words wreck me.

Wynn chides, “Stop talking to Tahoe, he’s just using this as an excuse to have sex with you.”

“I know, right?” Gina laughs.

“So? Are you going to let him?” Wynn asks, curious.

“No! He’s gross. I mean, he’s hot, but his attitude is gross.”

I stare at my cocktail and wonder if I’m already getting drunk to the point where I’m getting emotional too easily.

I’ve cried so much I don’t even have to try. The kind of crying where the tears just spill. With no warning. With no effort. They just come. I cry at the thought of never being with him again. And I cry because I know I hurt this beautiful, ambitious, intelligent, generous, caring man. I used to rest my cheek where I could hear his heart. Now it’s locked behind iron doors and ten-foot walls that I put there.

“Selena, men like Justin never commit. Not for the long term. But . . . he reached out to you. Offered you a job. If you reach back, maybe . . .” Gina trails off and sighs. “Hell, I don’t know. I don’t know how to help you, Rache.”

“Justin is very physical. You know what would do you and Justin a world of good? Tyrannosaurus sex: mean, violent, delicious, painful, and cathartic.” Wynn adds, “That will lead you then to spooning. Emmett and I are still so new though, we can’t even spoon. It’s more like sporking.”

“What the hell is that?” Gina asks us, frowning.

“When they’re hard when they spoon you!” Wynn rolls her eyes. Then she looks at me and giggles. “Did he do that to you too?” she asks me.

“He used to . . . um, pull my ear.” I tug one of my ears absently, helpless not to be drawn into my memories.

“Now that’s because you have really small, cute ears. Emmett likes kissing my nose.” Wynn crinkles hers for emphasis.

My heart has turned into an empty eggshell. It feels ready to crack as my fingers fly up to brush one corner of my mouth. “Justin used to give me these torturously slow ghost kisses . . .”

“Oh, you two!” Gina says in dismay. “You’re making me want to barf.”

Wynn laughs, but I fall quiet as the hurt and the regret and the heartache come back with a vengeance.

“Say, have you heard from Victoria?” Gina asks. “She lost her job after Justin canned her reveal article and all she does is tweet now and complain. She’s just some Tweleb now, but I bet she buys likes for her tweets, ’cause who’s even reading her?”

Then, alarmed by what she said, she adds, “BUT DON’T GO ON SOCIAL MEDIA. Nothing good can come out of that.”

I purse my lips and don’t tell them that I’ve already had a social-media fest recently and now I can’t stop.

“I don’t understand why he didn’t can my article too. Why just hers?”

“Obviously he didn’t care what they said about him.” Wynn shrugs. “Maybe that’s why he only canned Victoria’s, because she talked about you.”

I play email roulette again several times, refreshing and refreshing, checking to be sure I have all the signal bars lit up.

“Rache, we worry, you and those sad panda eyes,” Wynn says.

“I’m not a sad panda, come on.”

“The only times you don’t have the panda eyes is when you get the googly eyes from thinking of him.”

“That, or the screen-saver face when she thinks of him,” Wynn counters.

“Ha ha,” I say, rolling my eyes and pushing my cocktail away. “It’s just that I love him. I love him so much. It breaks me to think I hurt him. I’m so confused, I just don’t know what to do.”

They fall quiet, and I find myself back at M4.

Trapped again by forest-green eyes, cold as winter.

MESSAGE

I wake up in the middle of the night to hear the soft buzzing of my phone on my nightstand. Feeling for it in the dark, I tap it awake and my heart pumps when I see the message icon and then the name “Justin�� on it.

Wings flap against the walls of my stomach.

Selena,

Thursday at 2:15 works for me, I trust we can wrap this up before my 2:30.

Oh god, he answered me himself.

A part of me doesn’t miss the time he’s answering. It came in at 3:43 a.m.

Was he out?

Turning on my lamp, I lean back in bed and check Tahoe’s Twitter because that man is a living newscast.

My man @JustinJustin has a new babe crying for his attention

My heart stops in my chest. I feel like a horse just kicked me.

A new babe?

I groan and bury my face in my pillow. Holy god. He’s ruined me. He’s ruined my sleep. He’s ruined the word dibs. And elephants, and grapes, and men’s white dress shirts—and suits. He’s ruined me for other men. He’s ruined sex with anyone else—something I don’t even want to try—and he’s even ruined sex with myself. I can’t go back to sleep.

I reread the tweet—my stomach squeezing painfully—and I force myself to click the link once and for all. And then, I stare at a picture of a beautiful car with shiny wheels that looks like it could sprout wings and fly.

I smile to myself, exhaling in relief.

Tahoe goes on to say the “beauty” is a Pagani Huayra Gullwing. Pagani Huayra is an all-handmade, top-of-the-line luxury sports car, only six cars produced a year, worldwide. Worth close to $2 million, Justin’s has a black interior with red stitching, and a shiny red outer color. By the revealing way in which the doors, the hood, and the trunk open, the car is a real-life equivalent of a Transformer—designed to showcase what lays within it by cracking open.

I’m not a car buff, but even to my untrained eye, it’s exquisite.

Chosen with exquisite taste by a man who wants and appreciates the best.

I think of Justin and how he loves using his cars fast, and a pang of longing to be with him hits me in the chest. What I’d give to sit again in his passenger seat as he takes me on the ride of my life, driving those fast cars like a young billionaire with too much confidence and too much testosterone does. And me, just holding on to my heart while he steals it.

TRUTH

I’m early to Edge on Thursday. Using my First Date piece as a distraction, I avoid a group of gossiping coworkers as I go get coffee, then I settle down in my spot and get to work.

l��3

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