#literally during the busiest year of your early life

[jamithiel]

> get invited to do this day of science thing

> have a lot of fun

> you get to apply to a summer research lab that’s an actual science lab

> somewhat confident you’ll get in because you know most of the people just want to do it for the money

> application takes forever to open

> takes like 3 weeks for them to tell you if you got it

> you didn’t get in

> it’s already fuckin april and most other internships applications have closed

> your backup plan changed the rules so you’re now to young to apply for that

> wtf

> what a waste of time

[makncheese12]

Top Shelf

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warnings: my writing, language(bad words😯), my attempt at being funny, mention of gun shots and head shots, mentions of my favorite book(literally love Ruta Sepetys sm omg.

A/N: part 2? I am going to make you all suffer through the most oblivious slow burn. R if going to be so dumb/oblivious it’ll hurt you all🫶🏻

Word count - 3.6k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

You were born to it.

The books. The films. The music and video games.

It was your life, literally. With your parents being owners of the infamous establishment called ‘top shelf’, you had no choice but to.

And you wouldn’t ever change.

Books upon books, movie after movie, games old and new and music that could last you weeks. Who would want to change such a life?

Your father was the first to start it.

He was poor man in Washington but had just enough money to buy it from the man who owned the small movie shop before he retired. He slowly started added book shelves and video games to the mix. Getting few customers but enough to survive day to day during the time of his early years

Your mother was a wealthy run away. Wanting something different and new in her life when she met your father. The man was playing on his game boy behind the counter before he saw her.

The poor boy and his run away wife, a classic really.

The rest after that is history.

As soon as they found out your mother was pregnant with you, they used the rest of her money they saved and went to New York where they bought the huge abandoned apartment complex.

They broke all the insides down and built what you now know as your second home. Hundreds of video games, films and music in one section and thousands of books in another.

Thus, Top Shelf was born only two weeks after you.

You met many friends there in the comfort section where students and business people worked as you all goofed off.

Your had also met your small friend group during your younger years, the four of you all never letting your father have the peace he wanted and dragging him all over New York.

With the thousands of books and hundreds of video games and films your parents sold, you had money. Lots of it.

But your mother made sure you never let that get the best of you, never. It went against everything she went for when she ran away.

She would make sure you would work for and earn everything you got, always.

She never let you have too much online activity, in case her family found you and made sure you were both street smart and book smart.

Your neighbors made sure you were street smart more than anything but you still gave her credit for trying.

Though, the book store was beautiful in every season. Winter was a favorite and when it was busiest. It was too your favorite.

Your father lighting the public fire place, your mother setting soft seasonal music, hell even the cheesy Christmas cartoons on the TV’s set the mood for the perfect bookstore vibe.

The lights dim just enough to where it almost felt like dark academy yet the plants that grew down the upstairs railing made the entire place feel more alive.

————

“Bullshit!” You yell out as you throw your head back onto the head rest of your chair, groaning loudly as the photo sound of your death snapped in your ears.

“Man, he’s fucking using cheats!” Dru calls out through the mic before his name pops up above to yours in dark red on the screen as you respawn.

“Of course he is, he’s a pussy.” Mj says, as her name, too, pops up on the screen.

“Oh come on, guys!” Lyle says through his staticky mic. “You all just suck.” He laughs

“Now I know your cheating, dude. Your mic is acting up again, just like last time!” Dru says, the sound of his voice booming louder than needed and you roll my eyes.

“DD, just because you like to replay games without using cheats doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Lyle says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s multiplayer, stupid! It’s meant to be fair for everyone!” Dru says making you snort. “Says the guy who chases around little kids and steals their horses making them cry.” Mj says making Dru blow into his mic making loud, unnecessary noises.

“Quit that!” You say taking one head phone off your ear. “Tsk tsk tsk,” Lyle starts. “Such a sore loser.”

“I’ll show you sore loser, get on Elden ring and we’ll test your irritation.” Dru says, mic now muffled by his own spit.

“Your tank build is not enough to stop me, comet azur will always save the day.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“And you call me a try hard, yet you’re the one always using a broken spell.” Dru complains. “Theres nothing I have to try hard at when I can just hold a simple button.” The sound of Dru’s groans become louder as his spit clears out from his Mic. “Same thing!”

You laugh once again before picking up your phone and looking at the time.

“Shit!” Your eyes go wide at the sight, 8:48 AM.

You quickly throw the head set off and push yourself out of the chair, opening your closet grabbing a quick pair of jeans and a hoodie before rushing to put it all on.

Your cat skids across the floor, startled by your sudden movements before a crashing in the your pile of books and out the door.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble as you jump up and down to put on your shoes, failing at not falling and race toward the door. “Sorry!” You call to your cat who yells at you next to his food bowl.

You grab your keys and rush out the door before slamming it shut and locking it.

“Ay, y/n!” Your neighbor, Rosa, shouts from beside her door. “Quiet will you! I just put Nona to sleep!” She yells raising her news paper tapping your head with it.

“Sorry! sorry, Señora Rosa.” You whisper yell as you try to push her weaponized hand away. “I’m just a little late.”

“And I just got a moment of peace! Quiet!” She says giving you one last wack making you try and shrink away from her as you rush toward the stairs.

“You got your pepper spray, right?” She calls and you raise your key chain to show her the attached small can. “¡Buena niña!”

You rush down the stairs and push passed the glass door, almost slipping on the ice before running down the street.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket making you quickly take it out.

“Hello?” You ask without knowing who it was.

“Arthur Morgan would be very disappointed at your sudden disappearance from an important mission.” Lyle says before sighing.

“It’s multiplayer, there are no main missions.” You say, trying to avoid the ice on the ground before stopping at the red hand across the street. “Plus, we were in the middle of four way 1v1. He’d be more upset that we were going against each other.”

“Loyalty is everything in such a game,” he says, sarcasm in his voice and you imagine him shaking his head. “Of course he would be upset at my bullet in DD’s head.”

“Why’d you call me exactly?” You ask watching the hand turn into a green man walking before taking off again.

“Well, you just yelled ‘shit!’ Before disappearing on us, had to make sure someone didn’t break in and kill you.” He replies casually as if he knew that weren’t the case. “But after hearing you continue on your ‘shit’ rant and the door slam I figured it was okay, just had to call and make sure, y’know?”

“Ever heard of a text, loser?” You ask, barley missing a man walking and looking down at his phone. “Gross,” he says before making a gagging noise. “why waste such time typing when I can simply just hit one button?”

“You’re so lazy.” You laugh out loud as you run across another street. “Work smarter not harder, Y/N. You should know this with that big brain of yours.”

“What if I want to work both smarter and harder?” You ask, running up to the glass window to see the books lined up. “Well, then your just weird.” You roll your eyes.

“Just kidding. I guess you can do both, I just personally prefer the alternative.” He says as the sound of guns shooting fills the phone. “Yeah, also sorry about leaving.” You say pushing into the store being greeting with the familiar smell of books and the warm smile of my mother.

“I forgot I had to get ready for work.”

“You’re at top shelf?” He ask and you reply with a ‘mhm’. “I might stop by later to say hello actually, I need a new game anyway.” He laughs as the sound of Dru yelling in the back ground becomes more prominent.

“Sounds good, see you loser” You say as you take your sweat shirt off, leaving you in your tank top you hand before leaving. “Later,” you hear him say before hanging up.

“Good morning,” you hear your mother say as you pull the staff sweat shirt over your head and pull up your sleeves. “Mornin’,” you reply before kissing her cheek.

“Wheres dad?” You ask looking around before your eyes setting on the woman stack a pile of books into one pile.

“He’s going to be out of town for a few days,” she says carrying the pile to the check back station. “A vacation, I insisted as I continue your training.” She says making you smile.

“We both know he needs it, he’s getting older.” She says and your smile fades as you nod. “So are you.” You mumble and she, too, nods.

“You know him getting old is different from me getting old.” She states, sighing quietly.

“What’s todays task?” You ask, quickly changing the subject at the sight of her sad frown. She looks at you for a moment before smiling once again.

She moves to storage closet and unlocks it, allowing you to see the boxes upon boxes along with stacks of different other things.

“To be a good store owner, you have to know your customers.” She says returning with a large box that you quickly take from her.

“Just put it on that table — and to know your customers, you must socialize and help them throughout the store.” She finishes as you take the box to the table noticing the label romance written across it.

“That also means having to work while helping the customers, so you’ll be on stock duty as well.” She says with a smile.

Yes.

You mentally say to yourself. Stock duty required work of you finding the places of different books, movies and games which also meant finding new things you didn’t know about before.

“One more thing,” you mother says as she walks behind the counter to finish opening up the store. “No head phones.” Your eyes go wide.

“But ma!” You call out to the lady who switches the sign from closed to open. “What else am I supposed to do when I stock!” You call, holding onto the white cords and swinging them around.

“Help the customers and socialize.” She laughs out making you frown. “I should call CPS.” You mumble carrying the box to the sorted area before hearing the woman’s laugh.

“Sure, call ahead but don’t be disappointed when they decline a twenty year old.”

You roll your eyes before continuing down the aisle.

“And after you sort those, get the others out of the storage closet!” You huff quietly as you glance back with a small playful glare on your face.

“If I wanted to work out, I would have gone to the gym.” You say and she rolls her eyes. “You’ll be just as sore in the morning, trust me.”

————

Hours hand passed, since you last seen the romance box having moved on to the horror section of the films.

You search through their placement areas, looking at all the old cinematic master pieces, the many Dracula films placed neatly next to each other, in order of both year and name.

Horror was one of the favorites when coming here, your father being a collected through his years he had many people couldn’t get their hands on.

Sure you could watch it online now but where’s the fun in that when you have a real copy with the static noises and written voices on screen. Some people still had some class left in them.

You hear a book hit the floor making the library echo as heads turned toward the cause of the sudden interruption of their silence.

“Shit—” You hear someone say quietly, making you roll your eyes as you place the rest of the CD’s in their rightful places before making your way toward the aisle the noise came from.

You subtly make your way toward the aisle while acting like your checking the books before taking a peek around the corner.

You see a rather short girl — shorter than the third shelf — craning her neck to look up at all the books in front of her.

Just to your luck, your mother placed a box for that genre next to the end of the shelf and you picked it up.

You make your way down the aisle and set the box toward the middle before looking up the girl who was already staring, and boy was she something.

Freckles littered across her tan skin, strands of her short hair fell from her half up half down style, her eyes — damn her eyes — they were the prettiest brown you’ve ever seen.

You smile lightly before picking up the first book and reading both the authors name and the title while trying to slow down your racing heart.

Who was this girl? Matter of fact, what was she? She wasn’t a regular, that’s for sure but you always get random people coming in so it didn’t exactly matter.

After putting away a few books, you glance up to see the girl a few feet away and on her tippy toes, reaching for a book on the fifth or sixth shelf.

You snorted quietly catching the girls attention making you quickly look away to keep yourself from laughing.

“You think this is funny?” She asks and you begin shaking in quiet laughter.

After a few moments, you compose yourself and stand shaking your head.

“No, not at all. Would you like some help?” You ask taking step toward her. She narrows her eyes. “Are you making fun of me right now?” She asks, both amusement and annoyance in her voice.

“Why would I do that? It’s poor customer service.” You say with a smile before watching her own smile grow.

“It’s poor customer service to laugh at a customer.” She mumbles before stepping back. “Please.” You walk up and grab the book.

“Look how easy that was.” She says, taking the book you held out for her. “Being six-foot-two does have its perks.” She says looking over the back of the book.

You roll your eyes but your smile only grows. Looking down at the book you nod and raise your eye brows, “that’s a good one, read it a few years back.” You say, making your way back to box of books.

“I’d hope so, for all the work I had to do to try and get it.” She mumbles making you smile and shake your head. “Anything else good?” She asks, looking down to you.

“You’re asking me if there’s anything else good in here when there’s just by the look of it thousands of books here?” You ask, smirking at her when she rubs the back of her neck.

“Yes, there is, I’ve read more than I can count. My recommendation board is up by the front desk if you want to check it out.” You say before placing crave by Tracy Wolff into the slot.

“You must have come here a lot before working then? If you’ve read so many books from here.” She asks, following hot on your trail with the book tucked between her arm. “Oh, for sure,” you say nodding. “The owners and I are real close, we were together a whole nine months before I was born.”

Her eyes widen slightly at the information. “You’re parents own this place?” She asks, gesturing to the entire book store and you nod, smiling.

It felt like you were a teenage boy, flaunting his muscles to a girl he finds attractive.

“Wow,” she says looking around once again. Book still tucked tightly into her arm as she did so. “Just wow. Your parents have taste.”

“More like their people pleasers.” You say shaking your head. The real other reason why horror is so popular in the movie section is because of their request.

Every week they check their request list and buy everything people ask for. New books, new movies, new music and games, there’s always something new. You’re surprised there’s still room, then again the place would be as big you supposed.

“They like having their customers choice their number one priority. It’s good business.” You say looking up to the girl who had a look of wonder in her eyes as she stared down at you but there was also something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

She stares at you for another moment before speaking again, “do you.. know who I am?” She asks and your furrow your eye brows in question.

“Should I?” You ask tilting your head. She stares for another moment again, eyes scanning your face and it’s features as if searching for something.

Her smile then grows, as she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t, or rather shouldn’t have to. It’s just a surprise.” She says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

You knit your eye brows together in confusion.

She walks out of the aisle and you catch the light smile on her face as she does.

What the hell? You wonder to yourself as you place the last few books away.

You were pretty sure that was the last section, unless your mother put out some more stuff you didn’t notice. You’d just check out the to-do list.

Your mother and father always had one for both you and their own sake. Adding things so no one would forget.

As you made your way to check out, you see the girl walking in the general distraction as well.

“All set?” You ask, placing the box inside the others, moving past the small door attached to the low counter.

“Yep,” she says once again staring at you.

You take the book you got for her earlier along with another you recognize almost immediately. “Between shades of gray?” You ask, looking at her as if she were serious.

“Your description seemed trust worthy enough to make me interested.” You glance over to see your board clearly flipped through before nodding.

You scan both books. “Careful, it’s sad, dark and traumatic. It’s one of my favorites though.” You say looking up at her, she pauses for a moment, staring at you once again and just smiles and shakes her head.

“I think I can deal with a few of those.”

“Bartering or buying?” You ask. “Bartering,” she replies and you nod. “Good, I need to get a review on what you think.” You say with a smirk and you see a glint of something in her eyes.

“Name?” You ask and she looks at you a little confused. “We have to know whose using our books, how else do you think we send emails threatening to charge or get them back?” You snort.

“Oh, your totally right.” she says quietly before taking out her credit card.

“Jenna Ortega..” she says and you nod, typing in the name before reaching for the credit. Her grip on the card tightens at your lack of response.

You pull the card gently but her grip is to hard for you to take.

“Can I… get the card?” You ask, looking around slightly uncomfortably with the stone like stare she was giving you.

“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” She asks letting go allowing you to swipe the card.

“Again, should I?”

You both stare at each other, both confused and entrapped by the other.

You find is strange how she thinks you know who she is or why you don’t know her.

Maybe she was some big deal somewhere off and you still have yet to hear about her.

Her name did ring a bell but you weren’t sure. Was she a person you knew from your child hood? An old friend trying to reconnect? Maybe some relative on your moms sent by the older ones to investigate if it was really you.

“Miss Ortega?” You’re both broken out of your thoughts as two large men stand behind her. “Time to go.” he says gesturing to a few people who were standing and staring in your general direction.

One grabs the bag off the counter before quickly walking towards the door.

“Looks like I gotta go,” she says, smile now suddenly shy with others watching. “Don’t worry, I’ll return your book Y/N.” She says before walking toward the door, one of the men right behind her.

“Yeah, you bet-“ you pause after the the realization hits you. “Wait, how’d you-?” You begin to ask before watching her gesture to her chest.

You knit your eyebrows together, you look down to see the name tag right under the library symbol.

She was strange.. cute.. but strange

Read next sort here!

A/N : Some parts once again rushed🧍🏽‍♀️This is just an introduction I suppose, the details will get better I tried my hardest🥲

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Wildflower

What should Ghost give during Valentine's Day to Jade when she's an actual florist who sees flowers literally every day?

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC) Word Count : ~ 6.4k words Warning : Full on fluff-fest, a slight angst, and the good o'l cursings.

Title and story inspired by the song 'Wildflower' by Clay Finnesand and 'La Vie en Rose' by Louis Armstrong.

February 14th. 

Fucking Valentine’s day - a day full of love, they said. 

He never really celebrated or cared about any of those kinds of days where people commemorate shit like love. For him, it's just like any other day. He woke up today and did his workout before he went on jogging.

However, that day is different as he saw countless red and pink decorations in every store in his apartment neighbourhood, offering Valentine's day discount for couples. He swore he saw more couples walking down the street than usual, that he even saw a man propose to his girlfriend when he was jogging. 

Looking at them, Ghost remembered,

He already confessed to Jade during the New Years. 

Yep. He did.

Across the London Eye, when the fireworks painted the infinite black, the chimes of Big Ben rang throughout the Thames River, he said it to her, 

‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’

Only to disappoint her again by saying, ‘But I don’t think I’m ready yet.’

Had he been a coward for not being ready to commit yet? Jade was a shining light in his life. She knew of his struggles, and she treated him with kindness and fondness no woman ever did to him. All his life he never thought to fall in love with someone, yet here he was. 

He wanted to be in a relationship with her. Fuck, he wanted to. But she deserved the world. She deserved certainty and stability while his job was nothing but that. He could get deployed out of the blue anytime – die anytime. He had a lot of things to sort out first.

He saw tears in her green eyes despite the smile. She only hugged him in response, saying, 

‘I love you, so I’ll stay right here.’ Jade muttered shakily while pressing her body to his in a tight hug, her fingers grasping the back of Ghost’s jacket. 

‘When you’re ready, I’ll be here.’

‘Let’s be friends, yeah?’ She had added, to which he answered with a smile. “Yeah. We'll always be friends.”

That was New Years. 

It'd been two months since then. Ghost and Jade had been texting each other regularly all the while continuing their lives. They met occasionally for a food tour as Ghost was a food enthusiast. Their chat was full of ‘Let’s try the new Korean BBQ around the street’, ‘You ever tried a fried ice cream?’, ‘There’s a new movie about a lady becoming a superhero across multiple universes’, and more casual stuff like those. Meanwhile Jade would take him to physical activities such as take him to a zoo, hiking, and even go to arcades. 

Johnny had been such a tease on it. He’d been bothering Ghost the whole time in the base as the Lieutenant looked at his phone and typing away on it more frequently than ever. ‘Yer’ lookin’ very happy these days, Sir.’ , ‘How’s Jade doin’?’, ‘Another ‘meet-up’ with Jade?’, 

‘Yer’ so full of rubbish. That’s called a date.’ Soap had said. 

'Shut your gob. We’re just friends, Johnny.’

‘Friends who go on dates together.’

Soap ran away before Ghost could smack the shit out of him. 

But was it really? Ghost and Jade frequently walk together, as friends, Eating at places together, as friends. Watch movies together, as friends. 

But seeing that one guy propose to his girlfriend lit up a spark in him.

That's when Ghost texted her for a meet-up somewhere, Jade replied back with,

‘I would LOVE to if it's not the busiest time of the year T_T and every Valentines we'd open from early morning to midnight, so I'm really sorry. We have all our employees working, but it doesn't seem to make any difference.’

He forgot that Valentine’s day is literally the most important day for a florist. Fucking idiot.

Ghost sighed as he looked up from his phone, right in front of the Le Jardin floristry. He wore a black hoodie and a face mask, the black face paint absent from around his eyes as he was on leave, a rare occurrence from his line of work. Inside the garden was an organised chaos, to say the least. Ghost saw at least 6 customers inside the garden, around 4 employees going around the shop to accompany them. Even as one person went out after buying a flower, two people would enter the shop to replace them. The place was positively crowded.

He looked far and wide for Jade inside among the sea of people, until a woman with ginger hair came out of a room with a big rose bouquet, giving it to a man in an expensive suit that was tailored to perfection for his figure. The man paid for the humongous flowers and left the shop with a nervous face, meanwhile Jade instantly attended to another customer. He could tell that she's a leader based on how she commanded her employees with such confidence and authority, yet still had that kindness and gentleness in her way of talking. Her legs brought her around the shop with utmost speed and precision, not a single step was wasted on her feet.

He could only smile proudly beneath the mask. 

For about 15 minutes he observed the shop, until a truck pulled up in front of an alleyway right beside the floristry. Didn't have to wait long to understand that the vehicle was meant to pick up flower decorations for a wedding as an old man came out from the alleyway (presumably connected to the backdoor of the shop) brought out a very big, white bouquet in his arms, which size was so big it concealed his head - surely he couldn't see where he was stepping. Ghost noticed that he was struggling to lift the giant decoration onto the truck, his knees looked like it was about to tumble, until his prediction turned into reality.

The old man's knees failed him, and the big white flower decoration would turn into a mess on the ground, if not for Ghost, who quickly leaped in and held the flowers from falling. Ghost huffed in relief that he jumped just in time. 

The man leaned to the side of the decoration to see who had just saved him, and saw a big, tall man dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, whose face was concealed by another black face mask.

Regardless, the elder smiled wide, "Oh good heavens! Thank you so much for the assist! My knees aren't as strong as they used to." The old man said as they both put the white decorations into the truck box. "Ah~ being young is so much easier innit?"

Ghost only nodded, avoiding eye contact to hide his identity. Why'd he help him? probably just from reflex, but then again, how could he just leave an old man stumbling to his fall?

"I'm really sorry for the trouble. I wish I could repay you." The old man's expression was so kind it's almost blinding. He wasn't that short or frail for a man with entirely white hair, probably a 5'9". Judging by his quite muscular arms from his rolled sleeves, he could tell that he's not weak, his knees just betrayed him at a bad time. 

Ghost didn't say anything to the man as he was about to walk away to avoid more interaction, before a familiar feminine voice called.

"Papa! Are you okay!? I saw you trip!"

Both men turned their attention to the shop, where a woman with braided red hair and dark blue apron was talking from the main doorway. 

"Don't worry, Lottie Dear. I got it, but only thanks to this young lad right here." He gestured to Ghost, where he stood right on the elder's left. "If not for him, we'd have to replace all the flowers." 

Fuck.

The old man is her father. 

It's Mister Le Jardin. 

Her green eyes caught the sight of a man whose built and sense of fashion she would recognize from a mile away. "Wait... Ghost??" Jade exclaimed, her face filled with surprise, "What are you doin' here??" 

The SAS lieutenant looked up to her with a tinge of panic on his concealed face, while Mr. Le Jardin observed him up and down. "Oh? You know him?" 

Jade nodded slowly, still shocked, "Yes... he's uh… he's a friend from work." 

He never intended to be noticed by Jade, afraid of disturbing her work, let alone meet her father out of all people. 

The father noticed that word. 'From work'. 

"Really now? What's your name, young man?" Mr. Le Jardin asked, his voice went higher in delight. 

He lowered his head to bow a little, before answering, "Simon... Sir."

"Ah. Nice to meet you, Simon! I'm Eli, owner of Le Jardin along with my wife Gracie – she's inside dealing with the clients." He introduced himself with a handshake, which Ghost reluctantly accepted. 

"Sir! Where're the rest of the flowers?!" The truck driver shouted as he got off his vehicle, prompting Eli to walk to the back door through the alleyway, leaving Ghost and Jade at the front of the shop, her face still painted with shock. A lady walked in front of Jade to enter the shop, so she made some way for her and approached Ghost. 

"Hey Ghost." The red-head started, happiness filling her voice. 

"Hey." 

"So… What brings you here?" She surely knew that he wasn't there just because he 'happened to be in the area', so he deleted that reply in his mind. 

"I wanted to see you."

Jade's eyes widened, surprised at his straight-forward answer. "Oh." 

"Your old man lost his balance loading this decoration into the truck, so I helped him." 

"Oh." Still with the same answer, Jade couldn't tell him how fast her heartbeat was, as her father just came in contact with Ghost, the man she fell in love with.

He looked inside the shop, observing the clients and employees walking around. "Busy day innit?"

"Yeah, it is. To be honest we've been busy since the last 3 days. Had to pick up tons of fresh flowers from our fields back in Norfolk, then arrange them for this day. Today's the busiest day, so it's an all-hands-on-deck situation. Also a big wedding is coming up tonight, and we have to transport these humongous flowers to a hotel ballroom for decorations. Biiig money. This is the third truck." Jade explained as her father and the truck driver walked out with two exact copies of the same white flower decor, lifting them up into the truck before immediately running back in. Third truck? The client must've had too much money on their wallets.

Seeing the scene that's happening in front of him, Ghost took a deep breath and blew it out. 

"Seems like your Da can use an extra pair of arms and younger knees." His deep voice suggested, making Jade's eyebrow rise. 

"Oh? Are you willing to help us out?" 

A nod was all she needed as a confirmation. "Got nothin' else to do or to be."

A wide grin fell on her lips as she grabbed Ghost's right hand and pulled him into the alleyway and to the back door of the shop, where a vast storage room was packed full of flower decorations similar to the ones that were being lifted to the truck. There were only flowers where the eye could see, save for the door that led to the front shop. There were huge boxes and boxes of flowers that had big 'Ian & Gia 14/02's written on them.

Ghost turned to the woman beside her. "Big money, eh?"

"Suuuuper big. Businessman and a big shot pianist. Wanted all the jasmines of blue white and red, and we gotta lift them all to the truck." She explained smiling to him, "Think you're up for this?"

"Won't even break a sweat." Ghost began stepping into the storage room, lifting three big boxes at once in his arms. Jade was left impressed by his show of strength as he ran to the truck at an impressive speed, before coming back and picking up more boxes like a machine, his hoodie still up and his mask still on. 

Jade scoffed at his feat, as her father came to pat her shoulder from behind, "A soldier huh?"

"...Yeah."

"It's basically written on his whole figure and posture. Is he any special in his regiment?"

The daughter could only let out a light laugh, "Very, very much so."

"Get out of here." His father looked at her in disbelief, "SAS?" 

"Yep. One of the strongest, and I'm not even exaggerating." 

His loud laugh filled the alleyway as Ghost ran back and forth lifting the flower boxes without a second wasted and tiredness showing. Jade smiled before heading into the shop to aid her mother and her co-workers with the regular customers. 

------

“Chacha, the pink wrapping paper and white 2.5 is out! We need more from the storage, please!” shouted Fiona, her co-worker and best friend of southeast asian descent, who mainly works in the front counter, preparing the flowers right in front of the visitors (which worked as an added value to attract more people). Her wrapping skills were second to none in the shop, even to Gracie, Jade’s mother, who sat right beside her counting the incoming revenues and accepting orders by call. 

“One minute!” Jade shouted back from the studio room, which was right behind the wall of the main display room while her hands also swiftly moved to arrange roses inside a heart-shaped box. The order had come in pretty fast; she had to make three of them at a time, and now she had to go up to the second floor to get the items Fiona requested. 

“Let me get it.” A deep voice came from behind her, making Jade flinch and look back to the source of the voice, where Ghost stood. 

“A-Are you done with the loading?” Jade asked him with a start, as it was not even 20 minutes since he started to help her father lift all the flowers inside the truck. 

“Just finished. Truck left just now with your dad to arrange the decorations in the ballroom.” 

“Oh.” Jade leaned back to take a glimpse of the back storage room, and true to his words, it was empty. “Wow.”

“Where are these… pink wrappings and the ‘white 2.5’s’?” Asked Ghost with a tone of confusion in his words. Jade could only giggle as she never thought she’d hear the word ‘pink’ out of his mouth. 

“Okay, so go to the second floor. On your 3, duck down and the pink wrapping is on the 3rd shelf from the bottom - take 4 rolls of ‘em. ‘White 2.5’s’ means the white-coloured satin ribbon with a 2.5 centimetres width. Don’t mistake them for the rest as there are the .5, 1.2, 4, and 5 centimetres as well. From the shelf go to your left and there should be a high rack and you can find the thingy there. Take two rolls. Don’t forget to close the door before you go down.” 

Ghost stood in silence as he processed the information.

Before Jade could ask him if he remembered all that, he answered: “Affirmative.” 

The man walked to the side stairs and stepped over 2 stairs, disappearing from her sight to the upper floor. Jade scoffed at the sight before going back to her handiwork. When else can you command an SAS officer like this?

----------

“Chachaaa~ Where're the pink wrappings and white 2.5s?! I need ‘em no–” Fiona noticed the new pink wrappings and white ribbons on the table as she worked. That was fast. 

She then looked up, expecting to find her red-headed best friend who was shorter than her, only to find a big, tall man dressed in a black hoodie and a face mask instead, who exudes danger in the way he stands. Fiona, Gracie, and the clients looked him up and down with mouths agape, as they never saw this giant man around, ever. The scene looked too damn comical for his liking.

“...Is this correct?” Ghost started with a voice lower than the depths of hell, which surprised the whole room. Fuck. Being looked at by people was the one thing he wanted to avoid, but here he was.

“Lottie dear, Who’s this?” the old lady beside Fiona asked Jade with a quite high volume, who was still inside the studio arranging the heart-shaped roses.

Judging by the nickname and those braids in her gray hair similar to Jade's, this lady could only be Gracie, her mother. 

Mrs. Le Jardin. 

“H-He’s a friend from work! I called him up here to lend a hand!” Jade shouted back from the studio. Even with the answer, all the people were still staring at him, especially Jade’s mum, and it felt like having ten laser sights aiming at him.

He swore he saw a smirk from Gracie.

So before he attracted more attention, Ghost repeated, “Is this correct?” 

“Y—yeah.” Fiona answered nervously, meanwhile her mother was still eyeballing him like she found a leprechaun. Upon hearing that confirmation, Ghost left the items in the counters and fast-walked back to the studio where Jade was, disappearing from sight. 

-----------

“Chacha, are you serious? ‘A friend from work’?” Fiona asked her best friend as she threw a piece of french fries into her mouth. The Le Jardin floristry was currently having a lunch break, and most of the employees went out to get their own meals, while the two stayed inside to talk about the man who was currently sweeping the floor of the studio alone, silently.

Fiona stared at his back from where they were eating at a counter, chewing at her fries. “Are you saying that you have a friend built like that with a voice like that working as a volunteer in the orphanage dealing with kids???”

“Nooo no no, that’s not it–!” That was where Jade messed up. She forgot that neither her best friend, nor any one of their employees know that the Le Jardins used to be MI6 black agents, except the fact that Jade was adopted. They both started to become friends when Fiona applied for the job 3 years ago, right when Jade just retired from MI6. All that she knew was the fact that Jade only had two jobs: Floristry on weekdays and in the orphanage for weekends. She never mentioned the other work that she did for the last two decades of her life. “I didn’t mean from work, I mean I met him when I was at work.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.” 

“When and how did you meet him? Heck what is his name?” Shit. She needed to make up stories about him at this point. But what?! Jade hated lying. Sure it’s super easy to manipulate people by changing reality, but she didn’t want to lie to her best friend! Fiona’s the one who’s been helping her adjust to the life of being a florist and a normal life for the last three years (after saying that she’d been living abroad). 

However, how can Jade just say, ‘oh so actually I was an MI6 agent. Both of your bosses were too, actually. Not only agents – we were black agents who were trained since we were not old enough to make our own decisions to do the illegal stuff! I retired three years ago and that's when I met you, but they called me back again, and that’s when I met that guy who happened to be an officer of one the most elite task forces in the world!' 

That’s just absurd!

How did she meet him? How did she meet him?! 

"Ja– I mean Midg– I mean Lottie, where do I put these–"

The two women turned their heads to Ghost, who came out of the studio with the broom and dustpan in his hands. Looking at the two women's expression, he knew he fucked up. He didn't know what to call her outside of work. Her call sign 'Jade' was directly tied to her work as an MI6 and he couldn't know for sure if Fiona knew about that name. 'Midget' was the name he called her regularly, but he thought it was too harsh in front of her best friend, while 'Lottie' was…

"Why did you call her that?" Fiona asked him while chewing her fries, suspicion painting het face, while Jade sucked her lips and widened her eyes in shock.

Fuck. He thought right. It's a pet name used exclusively by her parents. 

"Wait. No way." She turned to Jade and Ghost back and forth before standing up abruptly, startling Jade, meanwhile Ghost stood calmly, still holding the cleaning tools in his hands.

"Chacha… is he your secret boyfriend?!?" 

That sentence shocked both of them as Jade quickly denied in panic, "No! No, he's not!! Just– sit down will you?" 

"That name is exclusively used by the bosses, ya know." She started walking towards Ghost slowly. 

Jade followed her from behind, trying to hold her friend back. "Fiona, he isn't! I swear!"

"No, seriously. How did you meet her? When?" She started closing in on Ghost excitedly, looking up at him. "What’s your name, by the way?"

“Simon.” Ghost answered deadpanly, as the last question was literally the only question he can answer casually. As long as he didn’t give out his last name, it’d be fine. “Name’s Simon.” 

"Ooooooh so he's the reason why you've been going out a lot after closin' up! You've been on dates!!" 

"NO!! We haven't–" 

"Yes."

Ghost's deep voice interrupted the two girls' argument, making them look at the man. 

"We've been on dates." 

Jade's face turned as red as her hair, and her heart beat so fast and so hard she swore Fiona and Ghost could hear it. Why was he suddenly doing this??? All the while, Fiona's jaw dropped to the floor, eyes glaring at her best friend in shock. 

Jade glanced at Ghost, but that damned hoodie and face mask did not help her at all. "I KNEW IT!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU'VE BEEN DATING BEHIND MY BACK??? I mean– I am happy for you, Chacha, but WHY ARE YOU HIDING IT FROM ME???" Fiona excitingly chimed to her best friend, grabbing Jade's shoulders before shaking them like she's a ragdoll. 

"Wait– Fiona I can explain–"

"Okay! Explain then! Tell me everything! And don't you dare try to hide anything from me." That's right. She deserved to know. Fiona had been with her for the past three years. She's her first best friend ever. Jade knew she could trust her.

Jade relented with a big sigh and glanced at Ghost with a questioning look. He caught her cue before he himself took a deep breath. "As long as she can keep her mouth shut."

Fiona turned to Ghost, "Wh-what? What is this about?"

"Fiona. My dear best friend. My very beautiful friend that I trust. I love you, so, so much, so I will tell you the truth." Jade started before Ghost cut her again. 

"Jade where do I put the broom and the dustpan."

"Owh just put it on the side there yeah. Thanks."

"Who's Jade?"

—------------

"Okay. So let me get this straight." Fiona clapped her hands together in front of Ghost and Jade, who were sitting on the chairs behind the counter together while Fiona was standing up. Jade sat like she was being interrogated, while Ghost folded his arms in front of his chest.

"You, Chacha, had been working as an MI6 black agent for the last twenty years, since you were a wee kid, and then retired three years ago." Jade nodded.

"But two years ago, they called you back to this city called… Verdansk, and that's where you meet… Simon." She gestured to Ghost, who nodded.

"You only met briefly, until last October, you got called back from retirement again, and that's when you met him for the second time. But this one was special, as you guys started to develop feelings for each other, am I right?" Both of them nodded. 

"GOD this sounds like a Wattpad type of shite!!" Fiona grasped her hair from frustration, "And you're an MI6 BLACK AGENT??? REALLY???"

"Was. Papa and Mama were, too, actually." 

"Oh my Dear Lord in Heavens. THE BOSSES WERE BLACK AGENTS TOO?????" Jade nodded again. Clearly she didn't have any single clue of the burden that came with the words 'MI6', 'agent', especially with the added word 'black' in front of it.

"And you, Simon. So you're a soldier. Which one are you from? Navy? Is it the Royal Artillery? Or is it Life Guards like James Blunt?" Fiona asked with her very limited military knowledge. 

"You promised to keep your mouth shut so keep your promise." That voice came out harsher than he intended it to be, prompting Fiona to be taken aback.

"SAS."

The black-haired woman gasped so hard, covering her mouth in shock. "...like Bear Grylls?"

Jade couldn't help the giggle, as Ghost was utterly flabbergasted at her reaction as that was the first thing that came to her mind from the revelation. "...Yeah. Like Bear Grylls. And no I don't know him."

"Wow. Okay. So why the face mask? Does this have anything to do with secrecy and stuff?" Fiona asked him again as Ghost still had the hoodie up and face mask. She hadn't seen his face at all. "Am I not allowed to see his face? Wait Chacha you have seen his face right?"

"Of course I have! What do you mean by that!?" Jade countered, clearly overwhelmed by the barrage of questions. "Ghost. it's up to you."

Ghost huffed, lifting up one hand to the upper hem of his face mask. Fiona observed as Ghost pulled down the mask for a good 3 seconds, catching a glimpse of his strong jaw, his light brown stubble, the faint scars on his face, before putting the face mask back into place again. "Happy now?"

"Oh. Wow. Okay. I am happy." Fiona confirmed with start, turning to look at Jade again, "Chacha you hit a jackpot on this one – so you guys are a couple, right?"

The man and woman looked at each other for a long time, Jade bit her lower lip as her expression fell. Ghost could only close his eyes in regret. 

"Wait, no way you guys aren't a thing already. Whaaaatttt?" Fiona expressed her confusion because, for the last two months, Jade had started to buy more makeup and clothes, and the sudden interest in her looks had made Fiona suspicious. She really thought her best friend was dating a man secretly, but now that he's right here, both of them could not say that they're in a relationship?

"Look, Fiona… it's complicated, okay? We're just taking things slow right now. Our… jobs have their own risks, and we're just trying to enjoy things as they are now." Jade tried to explain with a bit of a sad tone to her voice. 

"So… you guys are friends, who happen to go on dates occasionally?" Fuckin' hell. Ghost thought. How could she say the exact same thing as Soap? Was it really weird? For two friends to just go together doing whatever they liked? 

After both of them nodded for the hundredth time that day, Fiona sighed in acceptance. "Chacha, Luv, I might not understand what you guys are going through right now, but Simon," she turned to Ghost, who lifted his head to see her clearly. "You better not make her cry." 

The man glanced to his side, where Jade silently sat on the chair. He knew she'd already hurt her feelings by saying he wasn't ready for a relationship yet, but if he wanted to be honest with himself, was ‘scared’ and ‘afraid’ the right word for it? As Soap and Fiona said, they’re literally doing what couples do. 

He’s just afraid to put a name on it. 

“I’ll try.” 

—------------

Jade had texted him earlier that during Valentine’s, Le Jardin’s floristry would open until midnight. Ghost wondered why as it had been a while since the employees had gone home, including Fiona (who told her that they were going to have a long chat on the phone) who had to go home and have dinner with her family. The sun had long drowned, replaced by the moon that accompanied the cold winter of London. Warm lights from the shops and a few street lights were the only thing lighting up the streets - one of them coming from the floristry. 

The sales peaked around 6 PM to 9 PM when people finished their work to be with their loved ones. Ghost had absolutely no skills in flower arranging or wrapping, so he did all he could to help the other employees to pick tools or items from high shelves, and even change the lightbulb when one of them died. Ghost didn’t mind it one bit as he found simple domestic things like this relaxing compared to what he did in the military - full of pressure, stress, and blood. 

Meanwhile, the utmost form of stress in Le Jardin’s (at least what he saw today), was a customer who kept changing the flowers that he wanted, and then lashing out at Fiona when his bouquet wasn’t tied the way he wanted to. Ghost almost wanted to step in, drag him out of the store, and throw him out to the streets, but Jade stepped in and calmly asked the customer for references, dealing with the situation one at a time, and finally, the man stomped out. Ghost knew that there were more variety of problems in retail, but at least he got to experience one today. To be honest that was probably the least angry person in London. 

That was 3 hours ago. Now, there’s only the Le Jardins and Ghost; the father had come home at around 4 PM after finishing the decorations. He took a photo of the ballroom and showed it to his family and Ghost, who was quite amazed at the old man’s sense of composition and aesthetic. 

The four of them were all in the front room, Gracie counting the revenues, Jade tidying up the display flowers, Eli wiping the windows, and Ghost sweeping the floors (again). The clock showed 00.23, the shop was empty, and even the cafe opposite them was already closed. As Ghost finished his chore, he put the cleaning tools to the side before approaching Jade.

“Are you not closin’? It’s past midnight.” He muttered to her, who was tidying up the edelweiss display. 

Jade smiled, “We usually extend about an hour.” 

“Why?” 

“You’ll see.”

Just as he was about to question it, the phone rang besides Gracie, who picked up the call immediately,

“Le Jardin Floristry. Yes, we are still open. You might be our last client, Sir. We do have tulips available. What colour? Red and pink, got it. The bouquet will be here when you arrive. Yes. We’ll be here, Sir, don’t worry. Thank you!” After confirming the order, Gracie smiled towards Ghost as she put the phone back. “That’s why, Simon Dear.”

About twenty minutes later, a man entered the shop in a hurry, dressed in a dirty fire brigade jacket. He clearly just finished his work and then drove to the floristry immediately after he extinguished whatever fire broke out somewhere. The moustached man approached the counter, where Jade had his order ready. “I’m here for my tulips?” He muttered, clearly tired from the way he panted. 

“Here it is, Sir. That’ll be 18 pounds.” 

“Thank you so much. You guys were the only shop open at this time. I’m forever grateful. I already told my wife and children that I’ll be late, but I truly felt bad.” He pulled out his wallet before putting a 20-pound note on the counter. 

“A pleasure for us, Sir. Have a good night!” Gracie chimed as he took the tulips in his hands, exited the shop and finally drove off. With that, Eli flipped the ‘Open’ tag to the ‘Closed’ tag.

“Delightful! Now.” Mr. Le Jardin put his hands on his hips, “Let’s have dinner.” Once Ghost heard that, he immediately planned his escape from the floristry like he needed to escape an enemy’s vicinity. 

“Simon Dear, you’re joining us, aren’t you?” But after hearing the gentle yet commanding tone coming out of Gracie, he decided against it, as what he heard in his ear was, ‘We’re going to have a conversation about you and my daughter’. 

—-------

“So, Simon Dear.” Gracie's voice startled Ghost as he was cutting the carrots for the chicken soup they're making, all the while Gracie was stirring the ladle on the pot. His hood was still up on his head, but he's taken off his mask to smell the chicken broth in front of him. He figured that if there's a civilian he'd let see his face, it's an ex-MI6 whose daughter he loved.

It was only the two of them in the kitchen on the third floor as Eli and his daughter were still tidying up the first floor. “Are you Lottie’s boyfriend?” 

Fuck. There’s the question. “No, Ma’am." He replied slowly, "Not yet."

Ghost expected a questioning look followed by a 'why', but instead she gave him a light nod. “She’s very fond of you, I think you should know."  That one caught Ghost's attention, briefly slowing down his slices. Did Jade talk to her mother about him?

"The way she talks about you, I know how deeply she really cared for you. She saw her future with no man, at all, until she met you. Had to do with 'understanding one another' she said." Gracie put in more black pepper into the pot.

“May I know, what stopped you from committing to her?”

More questions to answer, but this one, he didn't know how to answer. 

“...I don’t know, Ma'am."

Not long, Gracie muttered with a tone he almost forgot. Motherly. “...Are you afraid?”

And that's when he found himself so vulnerable, so open. And the weird thing was, he only felt like this when he's with Jade. He thought Gracie's her adoptive mother, but this magical familial trait where people could instantly open up to them was almost scary. 

Was it a yes? No, he's not afraid. He just thought that if they started dating, she might be wasting her time with him. Well, he's afraid that all this love that he's feeling and all these moments with be for naught if he's just dead after a deployment gone wrong. He can't promise anything to her. Ghost knew how serious Jade was about a relationship. She wanted a long-lasting one.

Ghost didn't mutter a word out of his mouth. Only continuing his work. He could feel her gaze on him, but he still chose to stay silent.

He expected judgement, but what came was a light smile. “You remind me of Eli and me, back when we were still with MI6."

"He was afraid of the life we’ll lead. Constantly running, followed by death everywhere we go. Stability and domesticity was a dream impossible to achieve.” As Ghost listened and wondered how the fuck did she read his mind, he lifted the cutting board and poured the cube-cut carrot into the pot. 

“However, I can tell him anything, he can tell me anything.” Gracie continued, looking up at him. Her gaze was as soft as Jade's, grey eyes softly gazing into his soul. “Eli had his own problems, I had my own, but what mattered was the fact that we both tried to be better, for my own sake, and for his sake.”

“He was my best friend, and I was his. It was a leap of faith to be together.” She said as her palm tapped his shoulder firmly.

“I’m saying this as her mother. If you love her, then go all in. She deserves all of you.”

---

Dinner was eventful, to say the least. The Le Jardins, plus Ghost, ate their dinner together in their house on the third floor. Chicken and vegetable soup accompanied by warm cups of tea was enough to fill their stomachs. Ghost, of course, had to take his hood down and took off his face mask to eat with the three of them.

It felt odd. 

When was the last time he had a family dinner like this? Eating a delicious meal without having to find a place where there's no other people? A place where he could freely show his face to others, the warmth of a family? 

It didn't take long for Eli to finish his meal, as he stood up and put on 'La Vie en Rose' by Louis Armstrong on the classic gramophone. Gracie scoffed loudly, stood up, and took Eli's hand in hers. 

"Heeeere we go." Jade rolled her eyes, seeming like she had to watch this for the thousandth time.

As Louis Armstrong started to sing, the two old couple put out an amazing slow dancing show in front of Ghost and Jade. Seeing them so unashamedly happy, and the fact that both of their eyes only stared at each other with so much love, Ghost unconsciously smiled.

And when he turned to look at Jade, there was she, two hands holding her phone horizontally, taking a video of her parents, grinning ear to ear while her eyes gleamed with joy.

It's such a warm scene to witness. 

He only hoped it was him and her in place of Eli and Gracie.

—------------

The time showed 02.13. Ghost and Jade were standing in front of the shop, a long scarf wrapped around Ghost's neck as the cold was harsh that time of the day. Jade insisted that he wore them, or she said he would catch a cold. 

"Thank you, Ghost. For today. My dad had been having regular trouble with his knee, so thank you so so much." Jade started, cheeks blushing that was certainly not because of the February winter. 

"Well, I doubt that, considering how well he danced with your mum." Ghost replied, making Jade laugh. Her smile was a sight he'd never get tired of seeing. “Are you going anywhere tomorrow?” 

That question quite surprised her. “Well… Tomorrow my shift starts at 3 PM. So I'm free in the morning. Why?"

“I want to make do for today. We haven’t had a proper… date. Yet. I honestly had wanted to bring you flowers, but I remembered you're a florist. So I felt like a prat.”

Her face turned as red as tulips at that. “Honestly, you helping out in the shop was more romantic than anything you could ever give."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah! So… what are you thinkin’ for tomorrow? What do you wanna do, Ghost?”

“What do you wanna do?” He asked back.

“Oh? W-well… Hmmm." Jade contemplated, pouting her lips, glancing at the moon high in the sky. "Ice skating. And then Korean barbecue after.”

“I-Ice skating?” Ghost stuttered, not expecting that answer. 

“Yeah. What, you afraid you’re gonna fall?”

“I have no clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold you if you do.” 

He wanted to say something along the lines of 'fuck-off' or 'sod you'. But he deleted that reply before it came out of his mouth, instead saying, "Please do."

Jade grinned ear-to-ear at that response. She was anticipating a clap back from him, but it was such an unusually warm reply that she couldn't help the blush in her cheeks.

No matter how much she wanted him to stay close to her, he had to go, and Jade said her goodbye. "Thank you for today. See you tomorrow, Simon."

Still standing still, Ghost muttered, "It was fun."

She thought he was going to start walking away towards his apartment, but instead, a glimmer of light reflected on his brown irises, still gazing at hers with such hopeful and wistful eyes.

And before she knew it, Ghost leaned in closer to her face, and placed a soft peck on her cheek.

As he stood back, Jade saw that his face burnt red, seeming like what he just did took great courage and resolution. His face still so close to hers, Ghost left her speechless.

And before she could say anything, he said his last words to her that night,

"See you tomorrow, Lottie."

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

Hope you like it! (❁´◡`❁)

[starryyskies]

Lil update in case y’all care ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

I’m moving from my shit apartment starting the beginning of august, and my current semester ends near august 13th. My next semester starts almost 2 weeks after (classes start on the 22nd but it’s good to get it started earlier since most classes open early).

Hopefully by then I’ll be moved out, feel more organized and less stressed, and manage my time a bit better.

Classes are going well despite being super fucking stressful, I’m at the very least passing for now lol

But as for drawing, besides that one doodle I finished and coloured, I haven’t been able to do anything at all. It really disappoints me because I see all this amazing art and my fomo (fear of missing out) gets so bad lol. But I am being responsible and doing my best (╥ᆺ╥；)

Thank you guys for your support and kindness and understanding ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

So in case you’re curious my struggles currently read below lol

So, the place I work at, my store is a corporation and we’ve been basically getting babysat by managers from other stores who are also watching their own store, getting paid a shit amount for creating and maintaining not just the scheduling for both stores, but also managing any issues that arise. So we’re on our 4th manager now, and while he’s the sweetest and fucking raddest manager of all times, he is doing the bare minimum for our store. And trust me, I do NOT blame him. To be honest, he is getting paid salary for being a manager of his own store, and it’s like 56k a year or something which isn’t bad at all. But watching a completely different store?

75. Dollars. A WEEK?! That is LITERALLY a slap in the face. That is the CEO saying a big ass fuck you to its employees. So of course he’s doing the bare minimum. Coping and pasting parts of the schedule, he never comes into our store, and while he’s attentive when it comes to issues, he’s our only source of upper management support we have.

We have workers who have worked with the company for 3+ years, 8+ years, and 20 years. They know what they’re doing, but when I am running the shift by myself, I can’t rely on my coworkers to get back to me, because they are not obligated to.

So the schedule is pretty awful sometimes. Sometimes we’re over staffed when we could’ve used the help other times, sometimes we’re severely understaffed. Like for example, today was a shit show. We had 3 people during our busiest time. (I work at a coffee shop) and so we have one person on register who also takes care of the food and packs the deliveries, and then one person on the coffee bar is not enough to handle the amount of drinks they get, so I was basically running back and forth to support both positions while also making sure my coworkers got their breaks. Icing on the cake was when we realized it was way too hot inside the cafe and learned our AC is broken AGAIN! It was 84 degrees before I left work. That is miserable running around taking care of hot drinks and food.

This is something I deal with at least 2 times a week

While also doing school work full time, having a strict deadline to follow to submit assignments (thankfully it’s all online so I can be somewhat flexible)

And on top of all of that, I’m moving in 2 weeks, school finals will be going on by then, and life has been kicking my family in the ass.

My step dad, who I’ve know since I was 6-7, he’s been that second dad to me, I think of him as a hero. He unfortunately has been diagnosed with single cell lung cancer. It had spread to his ribs and femur. While he’s still fighting and going through aggressive treatment, I’m not sure what the outcome will be. He’s putting on a strong face, so I can’t tell how serious it is.

My grandfather is also in the hospital. He’s had a heart condition that requires him to wear an AED pacemaker in his chest, and recently it was used because he had a seizure. He’s not doing too well, and who knows what will happen.

Oh! And my older sister’s wedding is IN TWO MONTHS! I’m the damn maid of honor, and I do nottttt like the attention. She’s the kinda person who likes big fancy weddings but she’s doing her best financially to make it happen, though she also was promoted to manager for her store (we work for the same company) and going through that crazy long training is surly not fun lol.

But anyway, thanks for reading my rambles. Sometimes I feel like nobody really cares but I get reminded that there are people out there who are wondering how I am. So this is for you people

(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[phantomato]

10 Lines Tagging Game

I was tagged last weekend by @yletylyf and had to sit on my hands for a week until after FFFX reveals to do this. ✨

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics. I’ve been naughty and stopped at six, simply because it got long enough as-is and I was a little bored.

At King’s Cross in early January, I engaged a porter with a small cart to transport my nephew’s luggage, for although he had brought very little home for the duration of the winter holidays, I was sending him back to his school with another traveling bag of gifts. My Darling Nephew, Explicit - 10k - My Mysterious Mademoiselle This is a very sweet setup for what becomes an incestuous relationship, and I think it establishes the tone of the fic. This incest, much like its original canon, is a farce!

Frank Koscianski didn’t have much going for himself as the fifth-busiest plumber in Stow, Ohio, but when a guy he knew called about selling him a used Camaro, Frank was determined to make good on the sale. That was the sort of thing people would notice in Stow, something to pull him back to his old high school glory. Twenty-two with no car and a fridge full of pizza and beer hit different than sixteen dealing weed under the bleachers. How Do You Start, Where Do You Go?, Explicit - 11k - Original Work Writing original characters was a new challenge for me, because it means establishing setting and personality early and without a common text to fall back on. That means signposts! We see right out that Frank is from the midwestern US, he’s got a modest sort of ambition in his life (used sports car, small business owner), and he’s shadowed by a scummy reputation.

“Knoxious, looking tall as ever,” Charlie says. He slides into his seat with a little slouch, an impressive feat for a bar stool without a back, but it’s pure Charlie and Knox would never expect otherwise—this isn’t something that changes in four years, no matter what else might. Perceptible, At Last, Explicit - 6k - Dead Poets Society Ooh, look at that expectation-setting, again. Immediately we learn about the post-canon time skip and the fact that our leads haven’t been in contact during it. Also, Charlie is still a smartass. It’s really all about what Charlie still is, as seen by Knox, which will need to change in order for them to get together.

“This is your brother,” God says. Waiting For That Final Moment, Mature - 2k - Locked Tomb Just the literal first sentence on this one because I think it’s the heart of the fic. There are three people the story balances, and they’re all named here: you (Augustine), Augustine’s brother, and God.

Thoros Nott wouldn’t join. A Sense of Self in Decline, Explicit - 16k - Harry Potter This one is also the full first paragraph! How’s that for a thesis. Thoros Nott continues not joining for the remaining 16k, stubbornly asserting his disagreement with the political cause even as he and Voldemort fall in love, separate, and crash together again. Thoros is a man for whom the personal is not political.

“Oh, miserable.” Where and When, Explicit - 5k - Another Country Hahahaha. God. Another single-sentence paragraph, and isn’t that just a perfect summary of what Bennett and Fowler make each other? The glimmer of possibility for change at the end of this 5k shines more brightly in light of this opening.

[maemelany]

Fixing The Broken Series (Prologue)

Masterlist 

Prologue, Part 1 , Part 2 

Author’s note: Guys! After reading sooooo many stories on Tumblr, I’ve decided to write one myself. It’s my first one, and I hope one of many more to come. I hope you like it. I thought about this one after realizing how short the break was before the filming of Infinity War and Endgame (Literally one month). I thought it must have been hard for all of them. And then it made me think how harder it could have been for Chris if he was married. So here it is, Fixing the Broken.

It’s a love story full of angst, very sad parts (because that’s my thing) but remember, it’s a love story. Here’s to the happy, the tragic and the tears (there will be a lot of tears) and I really hope you like it!

Summary:

People say that time heals all wounds. In your case, time made it worse.

You’ve been married to Chris for five years, but his absence spoke louder than his words. After 5 years of trying, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough, and you left him. But Chris doesn’t want to let you go; he doesn’t want to give up on your marriage.

Would he be able to fix what you consider irretrievably broken?

Hope you enjoy! 

word count: 925

Absence, that common cure of love – Lord Byron

This time, you’ve had enough. You’ve been through everything with your husband, but this time you have to call it quits. As you pack your clothes in a big travelling bag, you realize you’re really doing it, you’re leaving your husband after five years of marriage.

It’s not that you don’t love Chris. You love him more than your whole life. When you said yes at the altar, you meant it. You said forever, and you meant it. But last night, as you were sipping your wine in front of another Netflix tv series you’ve started out of boredom, you’ve realized you never signed for this.

This being loneliness. When you got married in front of your families, you promised to be there for each other for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death do us part. The keyword here is to be there. How can you even respect your vows if you’re not present?

Of course, you knew you were getting married to one of the busiest actors in Hollywood, but frankly, you naively thought he would make some effort for you. Of course, you would never ask him to do that. Essentially for two reasons, first, you loved Chris too much to keep him from doing the thing that gives him the most joy. Your husband loves what he does. The way he gets excited about every project in which he’s involved. The light in his eyes when he talks about his characters, you would never take that away from him. Secondly, you wanted the decision to come from him. When you first met him, you bonded on your mutual love for Boston. Naively you thought that marriage would deepen his roots in the city, and he would prefer to stay here more.

Well, needless to say, that you couldn’t have been more wrong. You got married right before the beginning of the filming of Infinity War. It made you laugh when you realize you didn’t even have a proper honeymoon. Then there was the week you spent in Scotland because Chris thought it was a good idea for you to come since they were shooting some scenes there for the movie. You have always been something he scheduled between his busy life. He only wanted to spend time with you when it was convenient for him. When there was some spare time in his busy schedule.

The worst part was actually after Infinity War. You thought you would finally have time with your husband. A time you could both spend enjoying your early marriage days, but again you were wrong.

You had one month, and that was it. Before you could even blink, Chris was gone again to film End Game. Of course, That one month was amazing. The thing with Chris was that whenever he was near, you felt on top of the world. You loved him so deeply. Just him being there was more than enough. During the month between filming Infinity War and Endgame, you and Chris would spend days in bed, around the house playing with his nephews. You would watch them playing in the pool, Chris making them laugh. You imagined him doing the same with your own children, and the thought made your heart so full of joy.

But before you could blink, the bliss was already over. He was gone again. You tried to hold on that month. Every time you felt lonely, you would watch the videos of you both on your phones, but it wasn’t enough. As much as you wanted it to be enough, it just wasn’t. You also visited his family, spent time with Chris’ mother and sisters and children. Again, it was nice, comforting while it lasted, but not enough.

You needed your husband, and your husband was simply not there.

So, when after Endgame, when Chris got involved in more and more projects, it hit you.

It would never end. Chris will never stop being everywhere but with you. You would never be enough for the love of your life.

So, there you were, so tired you couldn’t even cry anymore. Honestly, you didn’t even have tears left to cry, as Ariana would say.

With your bag ready, you went downstairs. You were so grateful that Dodger was with your sister-in-law. You couldn’t bear your baby watching you leave. As you passed by the open living room, you saw the picture of you and Chris hanging on the wall, and your heart fell even further. You realized you were actually doing it. It took all the courage you had inside of you not to back down and call him. You knew that even the sound of Chris’s voice would make you want to stay.

But you also knew that you weren’t really making the decision. Chris made it a long time ago. He chose to be away; you were only respecting his choice now.

You close the entry door, and it felt like you were closing a huge chapter of your life: the happiest and yet most tragic one.

You meant it when you said forever. You really did. But forever cannot happen when the person you’re supposed to share it with is not here. There’s a reason the vows say till death do us apart. Death was supposed to be the only thing that could do us apart. Chris chose to not be here. Chris chose absence over love.

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

The Feathered Edge

Crowley was well-aware of the fact he wasn’t human. He also knew better than to even try to pretend. Sure, he covered his slitted eyes with dark glasses, and made sure his tongue didn’t split at the end, but that was the bare minimum.

No need in starting another witch hunt after all. Salem was bad enough.

But Aziraphale. Looked human. Acted human, to the point that other angels were annoyed by it. Fooled almost everyone he talked to.

Except for Crowley, who admittedly, took a long time to notice anything otherworldly about Aziraphale outside of his obvious miracles.  

They had spent centuries together, true. But their meetings were often brief and to the point. It wasn’t until Aziraphale moved to Soho and set up his bookshop that Crowley started to - pick up on certain characteristics of the angel. 

___

The first thing Crowley noticed was the glow. Not the glow of a tacky neon light in a 24/7 diner, but – something else.

He first noticed when he was at the angel’s bookshop. It was early in the morning, the first of May, and they were meeting to discuss the blessing and temptations of the month. Aziraphale was holding his ridiculous ceramic mug with the angel wings, and was blathering on about the importance of peace at the local farmer’s market being enforced or something along those lines. Crowley wasn’t particularly listening. He was watching the angel’s mug.

Every so often, when Aziraphale tilted it at just the right angle, the coffee mug seemed to slightly shine, reflecting the light of –

Reflecting the light of Aziraphale’s hand.

He had the softest glow, so soft it was hard to pick up on just by looking at him.

If Crowley was a romantic person, he might have described it as the glow of the sun peaking over the horizon during the dawn of humanity.

But he wasn’t romantic. Obviously.

So when Aziraphale huffed and said “Are you even listening, my dear? Do you agree?”

Crowley smiled with an “Of course, of course,” not at all knowing (or caring) about what he was getting into.

If Crowley’s eyes hadn’t been hidden, Aziraphale would have known Crowley’s eye’s never left his hand.

___

Once you noticed the glow, it was hard not to notice the hum.

Crowley was at his flat, debating on whether or not to drop by Aziraphale’s. It had been a bit since he had talked to the angel, and he was running out of ways to entertain himself in this deathly silent room.

He slowly stood up, closing his eyes and stretching his hands above his head. Maybe he could convince his angel to go to-

Suddenly, there was a whoosh of air, and Crowley opened his eyes to find Aziraphale nose to nose with him. Aziraphale hastily took a step back, and there was a dash of pink on his cheeks.

“I apologize for intruding like this, really!” The angel wrung his hands together. “But I’ve just received word that the new Thai restaurant down the corner currently has a two hour wait! And it closes in three! We must get in line immediately if we wish to make it in time!”

Crowley said nothing. His eyebrows furrowed together, as he tried to figure out why his room was no longer quiet. Aziraphale was talking, obviously, but there was something more. He strained his ears, and started to faintly detect something else.

Sort of like the buzz of a florescent light, only not as obnoxious, Crowley decided. More like a hum. It was almost soothing in a weird sort of way. It was a hum that pushed light and warmth into every dark corner. It spread like a blanket, soft and welcoming. It brought life into a room that otherwise felt lifeless.

The hum pushed its way into Crowley as well, and his mouth fell open as he audibly inhaled.

“That sounds divine, angel.”

And a table for two opened up.

___

It was right about then that Crowley started actively looking for glimpses into Aziraphale’s angelic side. Each time he saw the glow of his skin, or heard the hum of his breath, Crowley felt floored. He would stammer, and loose his train of thought. He would make a terrible fool of himself, and worst of all, Aziraphale would barely seem to notice. So he started to look closer.

And there was so much more.

If they were walking together through the busy streets of London, Crowley was never bumped into like he was when he was alone. The ordinary humans seemed to part for Aziraphale, even the ones that were on their phones. Aziraphale could stroll through the busiest corner of Times Square (if Crowley could ever get him to visit,) and never once brush shoulders with anyone.

On a different note, toddlers in the midst of a tantrum would quiet as soon as Aziraphale approached. Younger children would turn their heads toward him almost instinctively, and they would smile toothy grins that even Crowley found charming.

The wind never seemed to affect him, either. Storms would rip through the neighborhood in the early spring, and often they would be caught in a rain storm. In this particular instance, they were huddled under a store front, waiting for the clouds to pass. Crowley kept reaching up to brush his hair out of his own eyes. The wind was making it impossible to see anything, which meant he needed a haircut. He glanced over at Aziraphale, and couldn’t help but smile.

His angel’s curls were impeccable. Not a strand out of place. His coat didn’t blow in the wind, and cheeks still held the same glow even in the biting cold. He was a pillar in the storm, untouchable.

It was, in a word, intoxicating.

___

Then the world ended. Or tried to, at least. There was a flash, and Crowley and Aziraphale were back in their respective bodies, their plan to evade heaven and hell having worked. They stood in the center of Crowley’s flat, their hands grasped together to aid in the transition.

“I can scarcely believe it,” Aziraphale whispered, his hand still holding Crowley’s. “I had faith in her prophecy, of course, but to live it was-”

He was cut off by Crowley, who slowly raised a hand to brush across the angel’s face.

“You’re warm.”

“I beg pardon?”

“You’re warm. You’re warm to the touch. Always.”

“I suppose I-”

“I didn’t notice until I was literally in your body. You – you radiate warmth, Angel.”

“Crowley dear, what’s gotten into you?”

And there was so much that Crowley wanted to say in that moment. So much had gotten into Crowley, it was hard to put into words.

So he swallowed up 2000 years of pride, and put it into a kiss instead.

___

It was later.

Things had progressed. In retrospect, it progressed quite quickly, but to Crowley and Aziraphale it felt like a long time coming. They were on the couch in Aziraphale’s book shop. Well, Aziraphale was. Aziraphale was on the couch, and Crowley was on Aziraphale. Not the Aziraphale was complaining, mind you. His hands were slowly traveling up Crowley’s back, and there was a fully furnished bedroom upstairs where there hadn’t been before.

He doubted upstairs would be keeping tally of his miracles now anyway.

Crowley reached down and kissed the underside of Aziraphale’s jaw, and the angel decided that they would be in need of that bedroom now, thank you.

He stood up, hoisting Crowley into his arms effortlessly.

Crowley’s glasses had long since been lost, so Aziraphale had the joy of watching Crowley’s eyes widen impossibly.

“Angel, I-” he stammered, trying and failing to keep composure.

Aziraphale smiled as some pieces started to fit together in his mind.

“Yes dear?” He hummed as he lifted Crowley to his chest.

“Heaven above Angel, like this, don’t take me anywhere. I want you like this. Keep me like this.”

Aziraphale leaned up to Crowley’s kiss, tightening his grip on his demon. He would listen for now. But soon they would move to the wall soon, where Crowley would see just how strong the angel could be.

___

Crowley knew about halos. He had been an angel himself, albeit brief. He knew that halos were kept private, only to been seen when appearing to a human in an official capacity.

Crowley sat on the edge of Aziraphale’s new bed, gazing on the rare sight of Aziraphale sleeping. His curls fanned out above his head, and a soft ring of light surrounded them. He was, in a word, beautiful.

Crowley, breathless, tried to run his fingers through the glowing halo. A warmth, not unpleasant, swept through his body.

Aziraphale opened one eye.

“My dear?”

And Crowley threw himself back in the Angel’s arms.

[of-another-broken-heart]

I was randomly possessed to just. Do some squats yesterday? I was waiting on the microwave. I did 10 squats. Just to move. In the kitchen.  And then I did a little walking later with my friend. Maaaaybe a half mile, if I’m being generous??

I’m so out of practice. My thighs are having a rough time today. And my right hip, especially. 

It makes sense, obviously. Years of being sedentary due to fatigue and financial reasons and social reasons. Of course 10 squats and a half-mile walk all of a sudden have done this to me. 

Still feels bad. 

I miss exercising. I miss going to the gym. 

Shit’s so fucking expensive. 

I’m over here, slightly giddy because I’ve got “st*mulus” funds hoarded right now that are as high as I ever actually managed to save when I was working. So I know, technically, I can afford a few things. 

But years of poverty trauma mostly won’t let me. The $10 fruit smoothie indulgence yesterday was a combined celebration. First time seeing a friend in years. Early birthday for us both. 

I still looked up the pricing. Because I want to be able to do it, again. 2021 really coming through on the “Let’s remember how to WANT! And SUFFER for it!!” front.  The Black Card membership price is way higher than I remember. Basic is still $10/month (plus $39 annual membership fee - but “no contracts” somehow??) and the Black Card is more than double that - $23/month (same annual membership fee - same “no contracts” claim).  Basic isn’t really worth it. Tied to one single location, not allowed to use a lot of the facility’s perks, can’t bring a friend. So the Black Card would be the only plan I would actually consider. But not when a year clocks in at fucking $315 (plus taxes and fees*). The Basic ends up just about half that - $159 (plus taxes and fees*). But you go alone, locked to a single location, and can’t use more than half the stuff the place offers. 

I can’t believe there was a point in my life where I was doing well enough that I could afford that.  And I wasn’t even doing that well!  I looked through my old records. I think the most I ever took home in a year was a little over $9k. That was my income during the busiest of my years in my last job, making $15/hour.  And I thought i was doing well. I thought that was great.  My boss tried to make me feel guilt for doing that much work and earning less than $10k a year. He, who owned not one but TWO houses by the end of it all, and was able to comfortably plan and start a family, and own new (less than 5 years old) cars for both him and his wife -- HE wanted me to feel guilty for the price of my work done for him, even though it still clocked in far, far below the poverty line.  God, that’s so fucked up.  That’s SO fucked up. 

In contrast to making literally nothing for years, though. $9k does sound huge. And it’s been years of cost of living inflation and more wage stagnation, and pandemic and inhuman corner cutting so businesses can still keep profits ahead of human life since then. So even though $9k sounds huge it’s still just. What? A few months of survival? Rent and food and medical expenses and car costs and hygiene and household cleaning and maintenance... $9k is nothing. 

I wish gym memberships were covered under insurance.  All this fucking panic over “Fat is BAD! FAT IS BAD!!” But fat-removing surgery is just cosmetic, honey darling sweety. Diet and exercise! Diet and exercise!!  But all on your own dollar and time. You get NO nutrition education, no metabolic screening, no meal planning, no food assistance! You get NO safe space to move or exercise, you get NO coaching, you get NO training, you get NO gym access!

It’s all a fucking sham. 

I just want to feel better. I will probably never get to the point I was before - especially not if it turns out I have CFS (in which case exercising can worsen your health, isn’t that fun!) but I’ll probably die before I find a doctor willing to even entertain that diagnosis, much less run the tests and criteria for me when there’s conveniently my weight and lifelong depression to use as scapegoats instead. 

[biayahlife]

15 Minutes

Real Moment: I am very unmotivated right now. I was unmotivated yesterday, and I’ll probably be unmotivated tomorrow.

The world has felt like total chaos for the last year, and frankly, 2021 hasn’t felt any better. The pandemic has hit the world harder than anticipated and lasted longer than any of us hoped. Since I had already been working from home, I was thankful to still be employed and figured the only changes I would really have to deal with would be changes to my social life. I counted myself lucky to be living with someone I adore, and we would support local restaurants by ordering in as opposed visiting them personally. Social distance was a pretty easy thing for me to deal with as well since I’d been used to being at home and not having to interact with many people. I already shopped during non-peak hours, and if I wasn’t comfortable going to a store I could probably live without it - anything super necessary could be ordered online or grabbed at curbside. What I wasn’t prepared for was how long this would continue. The longer I spent in isolation, no matter how many creature comforts, was starting to drag on, and the worldwide changes began taking a toll financially. Couple financial difficulties with the prolonged inability to feed my extroverted nature effectively, and I was in a deep slump which resulted in zero motivation.

Now I’m in 2021, and this is the busiest time of the year for me at work. I feel like I have motivation one day and can’t get out of bed the next. It’s really screwing with my brain. Last month, I laid out some goals, and I feel like I made some great progress. That said, that progress was gained in small steps on days where I didn’t feel motivated at all. This isn’t about just “powering through” a slump. That isn’t in line with my intentions for this year. Instead, I decided to figure out how best to utilise the small amounts of motivation I could muster. Here’s how I did it.

When I did feel a sense of motivation, especially early on, I took the time to “dream big.” I wrote down the things I wanted to do if I had all the time and energy in the world. What I found was that a lot of things fell into only two or three pretty broad categories. Then I looked at my lists and my environment and asked myself, “What will make doing anything (no matter how small) on this list manageable?” The answer to that question was what I would choose to do.

For example, I wanted to close out the books for work. It’s a large task that was making me feel overwhelmed by the amount of work that needed to be done, and I couldn’t make myself sit down and do it. So I looked at my office and realised that my office was messy and felt disorganised which did not help my ability to get things done. Even if I couldn’t tackle the paperwork right that second, I COULD tackle the mess of papers, supplies, mail, etc that had piled up in my office. I can do 15 minutes of anything, so I set a timer and started. When the timer went off, the task wasn’t done, but I still felt like I could keep going, so I set the timer again. After an hour, my office as well as the space connected to it was tidy and organised. If I had allotted an hour at the beginning, I wouldn’t have started. That felt too big. By giving myself a time frame I could mentally handle, I was able to feel small victories and actually complete the task while I still had motivation to do so. What I found at the end was that having a tidy office and connecting space (my office connects to our library) made me feel less overwhelmed about the work I needed to get done. I could then sit down and actually tackle some of the things on my to do list. Success!!

I acknowledge that I work best when my environment is tidy. After that particular exercise, I made it a point to actually take the time at the end of the day to tidy my workspace. It’s two-fold: I get to create an end of the day ritual where I close the door on my day job and I delineated a space where work occurs. I can’t see past the library doorway and see anything else that needs to be done around the house. Is the kitchen a mess? Absolutely. Is laundry piled up in my bathroom? Yes. I can’t see it though. I had already made a list of things that need to be done, and even though I didn’t have enough spoons to do it right then, at least it was out of my head.

Timers have literally made my progress happen this year. I’ve been doing the same thing whenever I feel overwhelmed. When I walk into a space that makes me feel overwhelmed the first thing I ask myself is “What can I do right now that will make me feel less overwhelmed?” Sometimes the answer is “Walk out of the room,” and that’s okay. I’ll go check on the plants, or play with the puppies, or lay down. I set a timer and figure out if I can get something done on my to-do list. A lot of what runs through my head these days is “I can do 15 minutes of anything.” I’m okay with that. Fifteen minutes isn’t a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but lots of 15-minute intervals can make a lot of things happen. You’d be surprised by how much happens in 15 minutes. It’s a victory and an accomplishment. All those little moments add up.

I still have days where I can’t make myself do much of anything. That’s okay. I give myself grace to be messy and know that there is still tomorrow. So really, I’m unmotivated today. I was unmotivated yesterday, and I’ll probably be unmotivated tomorrow. But I have fifteen minutes and a timer.

What are the things that help you get through your day? How do you handle your moments of motivation?

[mxrcayong]

spite - the avatar series (02.01)

overall masterlist | avatar series masterlist

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chapter one

Ever since two members of the now internationally renowned pro-bending team praised the coffee from “Iroh and Me”, business has been booming. It didn’t help that these two members, namely “The Osaka Prince” and “The Mouse”, are among the top pro-benders and are heartthrobs everywhere they go.

What once was a quiet café in the isolated part of downtown Sooman was now a booming social space, with the owners even being pressured into expanding their small café into a chain restaurant.

Thursday afternoons were always the busiest. People wanted that extra boost of coffee or bubble tea to push them through the week, most likely trying to complete their work by the end of Friday so they could finally be free. Despite the fact that only an hour ago they had a line down their block, Tari glided around the café effortlessly with a rag in her apron pocket and her tray with dirty dishes in hand.

“Someone’s chirpier than normal today,” Hendery commented as Tari slid back behind the counter, where Hendery placed the last customer’s drink in the line on the counter. “You don’t normally hum.” His eyebrow raised inquisitively, “Does this mean it’s easier for me to convince you to let me go home early tonight?”  

The new manager of the café rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Quite the opposite actually. Do you think you can close tonight?” She unconsciously grinned as she thought of the reason she’d be going home early.

Hendery jokingly groaned, dramatically throwing his arms on the bar counter and slamming his head onto his arms. “I don’t know if I like you being corrupt with power.”

Her eyes widened before she playfully pushed him, just strong enough for him to fumble over his own feet. “You say that as if I haven’t let you go home early normally!”

As dramatically as he can, he let out a scoff and rested the back of his hand on his forehead. “It’s never enough for you!” Tari smiled, feeling grateful to have Hendery work with her. “What’s tonight then? You never go home early these days.” He practically sang, jumping onto the stool they have behind the bar counter as they waited for tables to bust.

“Do you remember Sonan and Kilari?” Tari inquired, although she is certain that over the four-year period of working together, Hendery met them. He nodded, also keeping in mind the fact Tari mentioned they moved out of Sooman. “Well, Kilari is finally a fully-pledged Fire Sage and Sonan is visiting to celebrate.” Not completely the truth, Tari thought, but it’ll do – it’s not lying.

It really isn’t a lie. For one, Kilari’s last six months in becoming a Fire Sage required her to ‘disconnect from her world’. She quite literally hasn’t spoken to anyone else but her fellow pledges for the last six months. Unfortunately, six months ago happened to be the anniversary of Amon’s incarceration. They all planned to meet up, but unfortunately – Yuta and Jisung had a qualifying competition and Kilari had to start her ‘disconnection’. Therefore, Sonan didn’t come to visit and it was just Doyoung, Johnny, and Tari.

Now, that Kilari is finally done with her disconnection and the boys have a break before the world cup – Sonan is coming back.  It was such a big occasion that Johnny even decided to leave his journalism retreat early. Therefore, tonight was a celebration of not only Kilari’s success but a delayed-one-year-reunion for saving the world. Not to mention, it was also Tari’s one year anniversary with her boyfriend.

Basically, tonight was going to be a big night.

“So big night, huh?” Hendery seemed to read her mind, making Tari chuckle and nod. A ding of the door signified someone has left their table. Tari, almost unconsciously, was quick to stride over and clean the table like clockwork. “And I wasn’t invited?” Hendery scoffed in fake offense, just loud enough for Tari to hear but not loud enough for people to complain.

Tari’s coworker, however, noticed how the one person in the corner seemed to be interested in Tari’s plans – their movement slowing down at the mention of Tari going out. Her co-worker, yes, is a part time model – but he isn’t just a pretty face. He has noticed the same person wearing the same get-up, taking the same seat in the back corner, and just barely getting enough food or drinks to avoid being considered a loiterer.

“Dude, I literally invite you to everything!” She exclaimed, laughing as she returned to the counter with her tray of a plate and coffee cup. “It’s like a reunion as Kilari had a goodbye party with us last year too.” She excused, telling a partial truth again.

Another two tables disrupted the conversation, the customers leaving the café with a distant ‘thank you’ being shouted at them. As if choregraphed, Tari maneuvered her way around the counter to start collecting the dirty dishes, Hendery hot on her tails.

Hendery, however, continued to notice how the person in the corner’s attention seemed to always snap back at Tari. He’d think it’s just another customer attracted to Tari, but it was too…common. Her co-worker made a mental note to ask the bosses for security footage of that side of the café to see how many days this customer has been watching Tari.

He furrowed his eyebrows, approaching Tari to whisper to her. “I think they have been here all day. Can we kick them out for loitering?” He wasn’t sure if Tari was aware of how often the same person shows up, or how attentive this customer was to her, but he didn’t want to cause alarm.

Tari sighed; her heart beat slowly increasing. Since she noticed them two months back, she’s been feeling like there’s been eyes burning holes in the back of her head. For this reason, she’s been asking Doyoung to pick her up from work – which wasn’t particularly out of his way. It’s actually the reason Tari stays behind for closing as Doyoung’s work ends later than usual. She only voiced her specific concerns to Doyoung (rather than her normal excuse of not wanting to be lonely), when he practically forced her to tell him during their movie night.

“Not allowed.” She sighed, remembering company policy. The person was a customer – they had a drink in front of them and Tari can attest to taking their order. “It’s fine. But yeah, is it okay if I leave in an hour?” She swapped the conversation back to something lighthearted.

“Of course.” He grinned, trying to suppress the bad feeling in his gut as he started trying to embrace Tari – a dirty rag in his hand. “Anything for my favorite manager.”

Tari pushed him away, trying to avoid getting dirtied from his rag as she squealed; “I’m your only manager.”

“Exactly!” Tari scoffed at Hendery’s response.

Tari’s concerns about her stalker didn’t subside even when Doyoung picked her up from the café. It didn’t subside as she gave him his usual coffee and the two left. Because in the corner of her eye, she could sense movement from the same person who has yet to leave their seat other to order.

But she felt safe. She was with Doyoung, who quite literally has been with her through the worst of times. “Do you think we can take a lot of turns?” Tari whispered, despite the impossibility of the person seemingly following them hearing them.

Doyoung smiled slightly, “Already one step ahead of you.”

Moments like these remind Tari of how much, despite teasing him all the time, she appreciates Doyoung. It was always like this, ever since she moved to Sooman and met Doyoung. The two of them against the city, not caring about the weird stares they get and protecting each other.

The way to the train station from the café involved some twist and turns anyway, but Doyoung made the way to the train station a maze. Tari wasn’t even sure if she could track the path the two of them took. Although she was insanely confused about where she was – especially as Doyoung distracted her with conversation, but she was filled with relief when she turned around and saw the unidentified figure was gone. Despite being completely unsure of where she was, she knew she was with Doyoung and that’s all that mattered.

Eventually, the train station came to sight. The statue of Fire Lord Zuko wearing his armor marking the transportation hub. It wasn’t among Tari’s favorite places – always too crowded and bustling with life, but she saw how gorgeous it was. Central City Station had humongous arches and intricate details inside. No matter how crowded it was, the high glass ceilings made the building felt spacious.

“I can’t believe we’ll all be in the same place again.” Tari breathed out, excited but noticeably anxious. In her eyes, this was the one family who she has never left behind and who (although are across the world) never left her. She was anxious about any potential awkwardness it may be to have everyone in the same room after so long, having to catch them up on life and hoping everyone still merged well together. Oh shit, she realized, I don’t think Sonan knows about me and –

Doyoung threw his arm over Tari’s shoulder, sensing her anxiety. “We can always host this on the weekend. Sonan will be leaving Tuesday anyways, after Yuta and Jisung’s finals.” Tari shook her head insistently, pushing herself to face her anxieties and not accept the tempting offer. “We can always just let you celebrate your anniversary properly toda-“

“No, it’s rude for us to cancel so last minute.” Tari insisted, although she had to force the words out. “Plus, I just really want to see everyone.”

The air bender then quickly abandoned his serious tone and started enthusing about the event himself. “You know, I can’t promise Johnny and Yuta won’t eat all the pizza.”

“I think Jisung will scarf it down before you even notice the pizza was there.” Doyoung raised his eyebrows, as if doubting Tari. “Don’t forget how tall he’s gotten!”

“Wait, whose taller?” Doyoung asked as the two stopped in front of the arrivals board, waiting for Johnny’s train. “Johnny or Jisung?”

A voice from the side startled them. “Definitely me.” Johnny’s cheeky grin hasn’t been seen by the two of them in a week, but for Tari – it felt like months. She stood frozen, grinning like she was a starstruck fan, as she stared at Johnny. He was wearing one of the outfits he knew Tari loved on him – something he normally would wear when he has to look formal but not too formal. He rolled his eyes and dropped his duffle on the ground, the plop seeming to echo in the station.

This felt like a movie. It felt like the whole world around Johnny was in slow motion as he widened his arms. Doyoung had to push Tari to make her move towards Johnny.

However, one she started moving, she had to hold herself back from leaping into his arms. But Johnny refused to not spin her around and lift her – it’s all hes been wanting to do for the last week. He pulled her into a suffocating hug before lifting her above the ground, spinning her around. Her arms automatically wrapped around his neck, keeping her safe as he spun and she laughed – until he eventually placed her on the ground. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Johnny smiled sweetly before pressing his lips against hers.

As disgustingly cute as they may be, Doyoung knew that this wouldn’t have been different a year ago today – just less kissing. Overall, he was just happy to see his two friends so ecstatic and glowing.

“I’ve been waiting for that for the last week.” Johnny murmured against the kiss, “Especially because someone didn’t kiss me goodbye.”

Tari’s eyes widened in offense. “I did!”

Johnny quirked a single eyebrow, “Excuse me? The last words you said to me before I left was ‘Get on the train, you dumbass’.”

“You were going to be late!” She excused, stepping back from his embrace and letting Doyoung come closer without feeling too much like a third-wheel. Johnny playfully rolled his eyes before giving Doyoung a quick hug.

As soon as the pleasanties got out the way, Johnny laced his fingers with Tari’s and the three left the station. “How was your week without me? Boring? Lonely? Sad?”

“Like you never left.” Doyoung groaned. “Straight up, because of you two visiting last week, all of the gym trainers are asking me how to work out my calves.” Johnny burst out laughing and Tari felt her heart leap, despite having heard him laugh a million times. If she could hear anything for the rest of her life, she’d want it to be Johnny’s laugh.

“Your turkey calves?” Tari clarified, leaning into Johnny’s shoulder as she looked over at Doyoung on the other side of Johnny.

Her best friend scoffed in fake anger, “Listen, I need to salvage as much dignity in that place as I can. You two completely ruined my reputation.” Tari laughed at the memory; she visited to give Doyoung coffee and Johnny had went with her. While Tari dropped off coffee at Doyoung’s personal office (yes, Doyoung is now one of the managers of the gym), Johnny decided to tell Doyoung’s fellow trainers about not only his obstacle course of a room, but his nickname of ‘Calf Monster’.

At this moment, Tari couldn’t care less about her stalker. All she cared about was having her two boys with her and seeing her chosen family in a few hours. “I mean,” Johnny started over exaggerating and grossly bit his lip as if he was checking out Doyoung, “look at those calves.”

“I liked it better when you weren’t dating.”

[magicmamamoments]

Planning Your First Disney Trip: Getting to the Parks

Yay! You’re ready to start planning your first Disney trip! Well, maybe you’ve gone before as a kid, but it’s time to get serious. Disney planning can get exhausting if you’re not too experienced with the parks. There are so many tips and tricks that I can give, but here is a crash course on simply planning the trip, specifically Disneyland. In this post we’ll go over the best time to go, how long you should stay and where to plan to spend your time, and planning ahead to maximize your time and why! If you’d like to just skip ahead and get the info, I’ll bold all the important info to get right down to it. I’ll be doing a series of first Disney trip posts covering the different aspects on how to make your Disney trip as magical as it can be!

Best Time to Go

Disneyland is a very popular destination for people all over the world, it’s important to be mindful of when you go so you can really enjoy it. While it may seem exciting to go during the holidays like Halloween and Christmas time, those are the busiest and most crowded times and the time of year you do go effects how much your tickets will cost. Hotel and travel fares will also be very high. Putting cost aside, during the holidays, the parks are decorated and there are different shows, attractions, even the characters are dressed differently! Definitely go during this time, but not for the first time. Without all the dazzle of the holidays, Disneyland is still a very magical place with many surprises and magical moments! Try avoiding any times the California districts are on school breaks as well. The locals love getting as much Disney as they can whenever they can! January, February, April, May (right around Mother’s Day), and early September are the ideal times to book your trip!

How Long to Stay & Where to Go

If you spend any less than three days at the parks, you’re really missing out! One day at Disneyland, one day at California Adventure, and one day to get in everything you missed or want to try again! Let’s be real, you are not going to be able to experience everything Disney has to offer the first trip. It’s just not possible. But give yourself a chance to take it all in and the time to do it. You’ll want to see all the shows, meet all the characters, and get all those classic pictures! That’s where those Park Hopper tickets really come in handy! Park Hopper tickets do cost more, about $50 more, but they allow you to “hop” back and forth from either park to get the most out of your Disney experience. More than worth it!

Where to Stay

If you’re looking to save money, Priceline, Trivago, and Kayak are great to compare costs! No matter where you end up staying it’s very important to consider what you would be more comfortable with when going to and from the parks. Parking at the park costs $20 each day and using a ride sharing app would probably end up costing just as much if not more pending on how close you are. My personal recommendation is to stay close. There are many hotels within blocks of the parks that are reasonably priced and it’s more than worth it to get that extra time at the parks and not spend them in the car a lot of them even offer a free shuttle to and from for those of you with kiddos. I definitely recommend staying at the Hilton Anaheim Convention Center. It was amazing being close enough to see the fireworks from our hotel window! It’s by far the nicest hotel we’ve stayed at during our Disney trips. The hotel is so clean, beautiful, and comfortable and there’s a Starbucks right in the lobby! A must!

Maximizing Your Time

Definitely more to come on this topic, but here are a few very important tidbits. Download the Disneyland app. This will allow you to scan right into the park with your phone, get photos from the rides, view wait times for rides, see when characters will be available for meet and greets and where, and literally so much more. This app is a must have! Maxpass will also make your life much easier and will allow you to truly maximize your Disney experience. It costs $15 extra per ticket per day. It allows you digital access to all the photos from any ride or photographer (that’s right, all those super cute castle photos!) additionally, you can plan out all of your FASTPASSES not only as soon as they’re, but as soon as you scan your ticket into the park so you don’t have to go to the FASTPASS stations to get them.

You can purchase tickets online at https://disneyland.disney.go.com/tickets or when you get to the park. My next post will cover what you should expect for your first trip and what you shouldn’t miss out on so stay tuned!

[murfeelee]

CC Creators Questions

I saw this on my dash and got so excited -- a questionnaire for CC makers! :D

1. What was the hardest project you’ve worked on so far?

Y’all have no bloody clue how many unfinished projects I have given up on, and how much time I spend/waste on CC I never even finish. I often have no idea what I’m doing, and once I reach a certain point where the effing thing just won’t come out right, and I don’t know who to ask for help, or I do and never get a response, I just lose total willpower to keep going.

2. How long have you been creating cc?

2010-ish -- that’s when I first started uploading to TSR at least, ider. Early on it was just simple wall art (an effton of murals) but I kept reading the tutorials at BPS & MTS & TSR, and once I figured that out I started trying out rather craptastic conversions that are still up for DL, if y’all wanna point and laugh at me. :P Effing sad. Some of it turned out pretty okay though, IMO.

3. What’s your most favorite thing you’ve created?

At TSR my favorite CC uploads are the Clutter Bug and LOTR Scribe sets.

The admins gave me such a hard time when I first submitted this, and I had to throw out like half of the objects included in the set, cuz of the effing UV Maps and blah blah. But the rest of it came out cool.

I am constantly using those objects in my lots. Constantly. The LOTR period was also the very first time I learned about making Alpha Channels on .dds textures -- that opened up so many possibilities! Single objects I’m also really proud of over there are the Ivy/Flower Column, and the Vintage Art Collage, which I also use a lot.

At Tumblr this is a lot harder for me to decide on, since after I came here I could do and make so much more than what was allowed at TSR. I think I had the best time converting from The Witcher 3. I effing love that game. But I also think just the process was the easiest for me, cuz I’ve been doing this crap for a while now and finally knew wtf I was doing -- except the CAS stuff. O_O LAAAAAWD! I gave up on that junk quick fast and in a hurry -- NOPE! Not today, Satan! But yeah, I really like some of the stuff I did from that game, like the Peacocks (duh) and everything I shared for my Lupo Bianco gameplay.

4. What’s your most hated thing you’ve created?

Things I hate don’t get uploaded. XD Y’all think I complain about the crap I DO upload -- that’s cuz I’m being honest when I tell y’all that my work has flaws that I don’t know how to fix, or don’t have the energy to work on anymore. Practically all of my CAS CC is a raggedy amateur mess. I hold on to a lot of crap that I just can’t upload in good consciousness, cuz I know how I react when I install others’ CC and I’m using it thinking wtf, did they upload the wrong file by accident? :P

5. What inspires you to create?

When I first started, it was cuz it was still early in TS3, and the game was still pretty empty, and I didn’t have any of the EPs/SPs/Store CC yet, so I was desperate for content. Then once I started converting, and realized that I could extract stuff from other games myself, I immediately knew that I wanted to recreate my favorite games in TS3. I’m inspired by the fandoms I’m part of, and  my style of simming mostly revolves around me trying to create my own extended version of other games and shows I like.

6. What gets you unmotivated to do anything or to delete your project?

Failure. When things start going wrong, I quickly get frustrated and lose patience. I post WIPs sometimes that I don’t even end up revisiting. I just can’t fix the crap, so I rapidly lose the energy or desire or interest in the entire project. I often blame it on laziness, when really I just give up.  :\

7. What’s one thing you wish you knew how to do/do better?

I generally just stick to what I know and am comfortable with, which is why y’all don’t see me making build mode stuff, or much functional buy mode cc, or mods/scripts, or creating skintones or poses, or any of the cool stuff I’d love to make but just can’t figure out for the life of me. U_U

8. How long does it usually take you to make something?

Depends on the project, and my motivation to see it to the end. Some stuff will sit on the back-burner for literal years before I finally go back to it. I’ll tell myself I’ll work on it later. Lies, mostly. ^_^

9. Is there a certain schedule you stick to when publishing?

Unless there’s a certain holiday/event going on, where the CC needs to be finished now! now! now! (Halloween & Lunar New Year are my busiest times), I just do what I want. I get so distracted, and often I’m working on a zillion things at once. Sometimes I’m running on pure adrenaline and not sleeping, to make sure I finish the CC on time. I feel bad if I miss something going on that I could’ve participated in, but most times I just tell y’all the CC’s still in beta, and it’ll be ready when it’s ready. :P

10. Your favorite programs to work with?

Crazy as it sounds, Milkshape. :P I effing hate Blender. I don’t understand it -- there are too many buttons and controls and everything’s just a confusing mess. 3DS Max is easier for me! O_O I legit can’t even figure out the frikkin view/camera in Blender! And you constantly have to switch between modes, and everything’s buried under all those effing THINGS on the sides, and I can’t stand it. >_<

11. Who do you look up to (creator wise)?

For CC in general, I worship Sandy/AroundTheSims; always have. Everything they make is just so clean and professional and works splendidly in game. Jelly.

12. How many projects do you have at the moment?

An ungodly number, half of which will no doubt be abandoned before y’all even get the chance to hear about them. :P

13. Screenshot your wips folder (if you have one)

Cute of you to assume I have just one WIPs folder, in one fixed location. XD

That’s what my backup’s thematic specific folder looks like, but that’s not where I keep any of my other game conversions WIPs -- those are all over the place. I’ve had to restart several projects after my external harddrive broke, and now especially I’m keeping everything in different locations and on different drives.

14. Do you plan on creating for a long time or is there a certain period you know you’ll stop?

Dunno if I’ll ever stop, but I know I’m slowing down; I have been for a while now. I’m tired. I hate making CC. It’s stressful, exhausting, time-consuming, and no dang fun, especially when crap is going oh so wrong and you have to keep quitting the game, doing crap over, loading the game, seeing if it’s fixed, and trying not to cry when it’s not. I do this crap out of desperation, when there’s something in particular that I want that I can't find a good substitute for in the game or community at large. So as long as I’m still simming, I know I’m gonna keep being forced by necessity to make crap. But I doubt I’ll ever go back to the workhorse nonsense I was up to in like 2015/6 or whenever my “heyday” was, when I was still experimenting like mad and learning everything.

15. What helps you keep focus during your creating process?

I play a lot of music, that fits the theme of the CC I'm working on, or is lifting my spirits at the time. I can’t work in silence. IDKY, it just makes me bored and tired.

I tag all y’all who ever made anything for us poor unfortunate souls!

[swanderful1]

Duplicity: Ch 3/?

Summary: Secrets shroud the homes of the idyllic Willow Lane. Its newest resident, Emma Swan is no exception. In a place where perception is everything, the facade begins to crack. And Emma finds herself staring down the deep, dark secrets that the neighborhood was built on and that nothing is as it seems. Not even the blue eyed gardener.

Notes: Hiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!! Back with another update, here’s chapter 3! Hope you like it! Also special shoutout to @resident-of-storybrooke for being my beta and @shady-swan-jones for the artwork!!!!!!! 

Word Count: ~6300 

Disclaimer: All rights to OUAT, I own nothing. 

The rest can be found on AO3 and ffnet 

Two days after Killian had first met with Emma Swan about her backyard he began his first phase of work there. It was early Wednesday, the sun was quite literally still rising, when he pulled his truck in front of the house. Another email from Neal Gold had given Killian a specific timeline of when he wanted to work to be done, and it really was not long at all.

Some sort of party was being thrown at the house in the end of May, giving him just under two months to frame the structure with the appropriate landscaping. For any other house, it would be a simple task. But it was during the height of his busiest season and the yard was quite large. So there was a good chance it may not get done in time.

That and he also had other motives for being there.

He unloaded his truck, slipping on his work gloves so no one would see the prosthetic that replaced his left hand. Killian felt himself being extra quiet as he unpacked, hoping that he wouldn’t wake Emma and her resting husband. But just as Killian was heading to the backyard he noticed Neal Gold exiting the house, it was rather early to be headed to the office, he thought.

“Morning,” Neal said, giving Killian a half-assed wave from the driveway.

“Morning,” he said back. The man, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Killian made in a month, got into his Range Rover and drove off.

As Neal drove out of sight Killian couldn’t help but envy him a bit. Here he was, living in this massive house. Driving an expensive car. Set to be the heir of the largest construction company in the north east just because he was born. Sleeping in bed each night with a beautiful woman.

And, to Killian at least, it did not appear as though the man appreciated any of it. He certainly had not missed the way in which Emma regarded Neal’s management of the project the other day. As much as he knew it was none of his business what she thought of Neal, he still found himself wondering.

He shook off his jealousy, it was entirely uncharacteristic of him to envy the kind of life he had seen so much of in his years in the business. It irked him that, for once, he was picturing being the person in the house. But, it did him no good to pout. Killian didn’t have the luxury of an inheritance nor a wealthy family.

“Good morning,” said a voice from behind. Killian jumped, not expecting anyone to be awake this early. He spun and saw that Emma Swan was standing on the empty back porch, holding a white mug of what he could only assume was coffee. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hi there,” he said with a smile. “It’s quite alright, I just didn’t think anyone would be awake this early.”

Killian softened a bit, setting his handful of tools down. Despite the early hour, her face was wide awake. Her green eyes bright and her hair tied back off of her face. As she stepped down off of the porch and walked toward him, he tried not to get distracted by the way her clothes clung to her curves and instead focused on what he still needed to get from his truck.

“I’m a morning person,” she said, pulling the mug to her lips with both hands. The rising sun caught the light of the diamond ring on her finger, serving as an ever present reminder that she was completely untouchable. For so many reasons. “I was just about to go for a run. Did you need any help with anything before I go?”

He looked at her quizzically and determined that she wasn’t just offering to offer, she genuinely wanted to help. She was quite different than any of the women he had worked for in the past and he was starting to regret the shallow assumptions he had made about her at first glance. It was a force of habit, and people rarely surprised him in a good way.

“No thank you, love, I’ve got it covered,” he replied.

“Alright,” she said, gulping down the rest of her coffee until it was empty. Killian felt his eyes widen at how quickly she had drained the mug. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

With that she took off, headed toward the front street where he heard her chatting with someone else. Another woman it sounded like, and then soon their voices drifted away. With no more distractions he set to work.

Living in Maine meant warm summers and cold winters. This also meant that Killian did his best to select plants that could grow back after cooler temperatures, so that it wasn’t like starting from the bottom each spring when the weather shifted.

In order to fulfill her wish of a natural looking landscape, Killian would have to get creative.

He had drawn on his sketch pad the layout of the yard. He had accounted for the essentials, factored in the property line. Since the entire back was a plot of dirt plus an empty pool, he had no trouble using a can of orange spray paint to outline where he would be putting things.

When Liam was alive, he had been able to talk to people. Quite easily, which was why everyone was so quick to hire him to work on their yards. Killian well, not so much. He could be charming when he wanted to be, especially with women, but he rarely wanted to be when it came to work. Especially when it was something he could lean on his brother for. Killian knew his strengths. He was the worker, the muscle, the perfectionist. And despite only having one hand, he executed things precisely. So well that none of the people who had hired him in the past fifteen years had a clue he was missing his left hand.

Killian was just about done with the front yard when he heard the chatter of voices behind him.

“Thanks for the run, Emma,” said one woman. Whom he could assume to be Mary Margaret, Ruby’s friend who lived across the street.

“Sure,” replied Emma, her breath ragged presumably from the run. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Sounds good!” he heard her say back, before the sound of footsteps carried Mary Margaret away. And then his ears listened for the sound of Emma coming closer.

“Can I get you some water or anything?” she said when she was about halfway up the steps to the front door. He looked up at her from his work on the lawn and noted that she was covered in sweat like she had been the other day when he came to meet her. Killian wondered if she would get into the habit of leaving him alone at her house to go for runs.

“That’s alright, I have some in the truck, and I’m just about done here.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed. “It’s pretty warm out, I for one am parched.”

“That’s because you’ve been running and I’ve been walking in circles,” he joked.

“What’s the spray paint for?”

“It’s to outline where everything is going to go once the sprinkler system is in.”

“Do you mind taking me on a tour?”

“Sure.” He smiled, and she stepped off the porch. Close up, she was about a head shorter than him, and was thinly built but muscular. Her breath was still ragged but somehow it all worked in her favor.

The backyard wasn’t much at this stage of things, so he found it hard to describe to Emma what everything would come together to look like. He felt himself more than a few times at a loss for words. But if she noticed she didn’t say anything, just followed him around and politely waited for him to talk.

“I know I said I didn’t want too many flowers…” she said after walking around the perimeter of the space. “But there was one thing I was wondering if there would be room for.”

“What’s that?” he said turning his head toward her.

“The rose bushes I saw at the mayor’s house the other day, you did those right?”

“Aye.” Killian nodded. The blasted things had given him migraine after migraine. To make sure they were to Cora Mills liking was a particular challenge that more than tested his patience.

“Well, it might not be so bad to have some of those here… maybe tucked away where the gazebo is going to be?”

As much as he hated putting them in and maintaining them across the street, when he looked at Emma’s expectant face, he couldn’t do anything but smile and nod.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

“I just thought that they were nice to look at…” she paused as if deciding whether or not to add the next part of her statement. “I wouldn’t mind being able to have fresh roses in the house every once in a while.”

“Then that’s what you shall have,” he said, making note of the change in his sketch. “I’ll be in another neighborhood the rest of the week but I can bring by some floral samples from the greenhouse this weekend.”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” she smiled at him and shifted on her feet.

“I’ll be doing some work next door for Granny Lucas on Saturday morning, I can come by then if you’ll be home?”

She doesn’t need your whole bloody schedule, Killian corrected himself.

“I’ll be around,” she said looking up at him. For a second their eyes lingered, before she broke the stare to walk toward the house. His eyes followed her as she walked up the steps, a confident stroll. Her hips swaying in a way they hadn’t before, he was sure of that.

Killian had a feeling. A brief one, that just barely tugged on his conscious mind. Something that felt like he wanted to give Emma Swan whatever it was that she wanted.

On Friday night Killian plopped himself down on his usual stool at The Rose and the Thorn. After a long week of work he felt he had earned a cold drink. Robin poured him two fingers of rum on the rocks and Killian tossed it back immediately.

“Easy there, champ,” said his best friend.

Killian rolled his eyes, ordering a beer. He wasn’t planning on getting obliterated tonight as he normally did on the weekends. He had a full day tomorrow, part of his itinerary included a visit with Emma Swan. And while there was absolutely no concrete reason why he would need to be on his best behavior around her, he felt himself wanting to be anyway.

“A beer?” Ruby said entering the bar. Bringing over a crate of clean glasses to stack. On weekends she tended bar with Robin to make extra money. With her grandmother getting older, eventually all responsibility would fall onto Ruby financially. She had lost her parents at a young age as well, luckily for her, Granny had been around to raise her.

“Taking it slow tonight, Red,” he said back, sipping on the frothy liquid.

“Any particular reason?” she poked.

“A lot of work tomorrow. So I’m trying to make a good decision,” Killian said snarkily. Now it was Robin who rolled his eyes.

“I hear one of those tasks is making a special house call to bring rose samples over to my new neighbor,” Ruby said leaning across the bar. Her elbows resting on the surface. She was looking at him funny, like she could see right through him.

“It is.”

“Who’s your new neighbor?” Robin chimed in.

“Gold’s son… well and his wife,” said Ruby still looking at Killian critically.

“He has a son?” Robin asked.

“Yes, he’s just about our age,” Ruby commented. “And his wife is….”

“She’s nice,” Killian cut her off, taking another sip. He did not want to get into it with these two.

“Oh I’m sure she’s very nice to you,” Robin smirked.

“Her husband is about to inherit one of the biggest construction businesses in the north east. Forgive me for wanting to stay on the good side of that family.”

Even as the irritated words came out of his mouth, the irony in them was not lost.

“It also doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous,” Ruby said backing up to resume her glass stacking.

“Ah the trophy wife type, very nice,” joked Robin as he mixed drinks for a few young men at the end of the bar.

“No.” Killian had immediately said, but realizing how suspicious that sounded he tried to back track. But somehow seemed to make this conversation worse. “She’s uh, very much so her own person.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Killian Jones?” Ruby asked incredulous to his response.

“Go easy on him, Red, maybe this is a sign he’s finally growing up,” said Robin.

“I just think she’s lonely, alright?” Killian said.

It wasn’t a lie. But he began to think that the reason he was drawn to her was because of the reflection of that loneliness he saw in himself.

“I won’t disagree there, moving to Storybrooke was clearly not within her control,” Ruby interjected. Finally. “Mary Margaret and I spent some time with her this week. Otherwise she would be all by herself in that big house all day. Her husband barely comes home.”

“Sounds like the picture of idealism,” Robin remarked. It was no secret that the three of them hated the suburbs.

“Besides, I don’t think the mayor likes her very much,” Ruby continued. Out of the corner of Killian’s eye he caught Robin’s hand freeze just the slightest at the mention of Regina Mills.

“What makes you say that?” Killian wondered.

“We all know she’s not exactly a girl’s girl….” Ruby alluded to the fact that as each one of the women moved to the street Regina had essentially frozen them out. Again Robin fumbled with the glass.

Killian remained quiet, knowing that Ruby was unintentionally treading on thin ice with this conversation. Between Killian and Robin there were two secrets that only the other knew. For him it was Milah, Robin had known at the time what kind of trouble she was in before she died. For Robin though, it was the mayor. The mayor who was now engaged to the chief of police.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Ruby asked Killian, not noticing how Robin was just about to squirm.

“Eh… probably this, why?”

“Mary Margaret asked me and Granny over for dinner but Granny can’t come because of her book club.”

“Who is going to be there?” he asked, his eyebrow shooting up.

“Well obviously Mary Margaret and David, then you and I… Neal Gold and Emma…”

“I suppose I could escort you.” It wasn’t the first time Killian had filled in as Ruby’s plus one to an event and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “What time?”

“Around 7ish? Will you be done with work by then?”

“Yeah, Red, I’ll be done by then.”

Luckily a group of people walked into the bar in search of drinks which pulled Ruby’s attention elsewhere. He would have to sit at a dinner table with Emma Swan and her husband. Should be interesting.

Among the group of people infiltrating the bar were a few women, one of whom was eyeing Killian. She was pretty, dark chocolate colored hair and romantic eyes. She was precisely his type.

He smiled politely at her before returning his attention to the half consumed beer and in front of him. On any other night he would have sent a drink her way, used it as an opening for a conversation. But he felt himself retreat and instead continue to nurse the drink in front of him, twisting the base of the glass on the black bar napkin.

It was a while before Robin came back over, the bar was full of people. It was a Friday night after all. The sound of chatter drowned out the music that played over the ancient speakers. Killian’s one beer was almost entirely gone now as his friend set down a tumbler of amber liquid, ice clinking against its sides.

“This is from the lady at the end of the bar,” Robin said. His head shifted toward the woman who had smiled at Killian earlier. He nodded in her direction before sipping down the strong liquid, ordering two more and sauntering over to her.

For as long as Milah had been gone, he had never had an issue with seeking out a random stranger in a bar and taking her to bed with him. Killian had done it time and time again in the five years she had been dead. Not once did he ever second guess the choice to cozy up to someone else also looking for company.

“I’m not a fan of being indebted to people,” he said, handing her the drink. She smiled at him a tint of red hitting her cheeks.

“I don’t usually do that…” she said, sipping the drink, her red lips wrapping around the straw. “But you just looked so lonely sitting there I had to.”

“Ah, I see, so it was a pity drink?” he toyed, his eyebrow raising at her.

“Not entirely.”

Her body leaned toward his in the crowded space. The smoke in the air filling his nose. Killian could be charming when he wanted to be.

But by his third round of drinks with the pretty brunette his mind wandered elsewhere. The deep fissures of his brain opening to reveal that his most pressing thought was that, if he was awake early enough, he would have more time to spend discussing roses with Emma Swan.

And for whatever reason, that seemed to be the most appealing task in the world.

Emma’s first week in Storybrooke had been relatively pleasant given the circumstances. Her situation that she was trying desperately to make the best of, was playing out well. It was early Saturday morning when she heard the sound of an old truck pulling up in front of her house. Since the day was nice, Neal and his father had already left to play a round of golf with the mayor’s fiance, Graham. It was interesting to Emma how all of these major roles in the town were filled by people who essentially lived on one street.

When Neal kissed her goodbye she was still in bed, tucked among the white linens.

“I’ll be back in the evening, Em,” Neal said as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be at the country club if you need me.”

“Don’t forget we have dinner at the Nolan’s tonight.”

“We do?”

“Yes. I told you last night before bed.” A hint of irritation lingered in her tone. You probably weren’t listening, she wanted to add but didn’t. If she picked a fight each time something she said went in one ear and out the other she would never stop screaming.

As much as Emma was beginning to feel like she was perpetually being abandoned by Neal she didn’t want to start an argument first thing in the morning. She swallowed her comment and made a mental note to call him later to remind him of their dinner with the new neighbors. God forbid the Nolans weren’t the mayor or the chief of police or the superintendent of the schools or anything that could in some way self-serve Neal and his father. Emma glanced at the clock. It was already 8 am, so she instead focused on the fact that Killian would be here to pick out the roses for the backyard.

The day was a comfortable temperature, the blue sky above setting the tone for a nice morning. Emma’s back porch was still bare, except for a stack of collapsed boxes from the move. She could hear the faint sound of birds and cars driving past. The sound of children running around because it was the weekend and no one had school. A crew of three men were working in her backyard to get the sprinkler system installed by Monday before the grass would go in. Two cups of coffee were steaming in white mugs next to Emma and the gardener. She was on her second cup, he had barely touched his.

“Now these are heritage roses, they’re relatively sturdy and don’t require a ton of upkeep,” said Killian as they sat on her back porch comparing the several blooms he had brought over. “Baronne Prevost.”

“They’re what?” she said looking from the pink flower in her hand to him. She was clearly his first stop of the day, as his shirt was white and unstained. His gloves were clean. His pants were pressed. For a second her gaze lingered on his blue eyes. “I thought roses were just roses.”

“That’s the name of the type of rose, love,” he said kindly. If he noticed her eyes ogling him a bit, he remained unreadable.“They would grow on a bush about 5 x 5 in height and width.”

“They’re beautiful,” Emma said focusing again on the flower. Attempting to shift her wandering mind.

“Aye, they are,” he said coolly. “I would imagine they would look rather nice on a kitchen table.”

“Huh?” she said.

“You had said the other day that you thought it would be nice to have fresh roses in the house… these will be ideal for that. They bloom several times per season.”

Emma looked up at him again, knowing that it was his job to remember what she said she wanted, but still grateful that small tidbit stuck enough in his head. She felt her skin flush a bit, probably similar in color to the pink rose in her hand.

“Would you like to see some others then?” he asked.

“No, no I think these will be perfect.”

“Well that was easy,” he said, removing his right glove to write something down in his notepad he always carried with him. And maybe it was from not being able to see his left hand, or her current preoccupation with other people’s lives, but she found herself wondering if there was a wedding band on his left hand.

“I like to think I’m decisive,” she replied.

He had to be married. Or at the very least have some sort of serious partner. He had to, he was gorgeous.

“That’s a nice quality in a client.”

“Yeah, because it makes your job easier.”

“That may be true,” he said with a smirk. But neither of them stood up. A tension lingered in the air as neither said anything else for a few seconds.

“Emma!” called a voice from the yard. It was Mary Margaret.

“What’s up?” said Emma standing from her spot on the deck. Peering over the bannister she could see her newest friend walking toward the porch. As she did, stepping out of whatever orbit she had just fallen into, a part of her felt like she had been caught with something.

“I just wanted to see what you wanted for dinner to-... oh! Hi Killian!” said the cheery woman as she rounded the bend and realized Emma wasn’t alone.

“Hello, Mary Margaret,” said Killian, rising as well to collect his things.

“I didn’t realize you two were working on something, it’s good that I have you both here,” Mary Margaret said. “What would you prefer for dinner tonight, a roast or Italian?”

“You’re going to be at dinner?” Emma looked at Killian who was now standing next to her.

“Aye, Ruby asked me to go in lieu of her grandmother.”

“Oh,” Emma looked away from him, realizing that of course he was dating someone like Ruby. And then internally scolding herself for even remotely minding that he would be there tonight with someone else. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s relatively last minute,” he said quietly, almost like he was only saying it to her.

“Anything you make is fine with me,” Emma said taking her eyes from Killian to Mary Margaret.

“Same here,” said Killian.

And if anyone noticed how uncomfortable Emma had suddenly become, no one said a thing.

That evening, as Emma sat at the breakfast bar of her kitchen, she sipped a glass of Chardonnay she had poured herself. The tall stemware was a Christmas gift she had bought last year when she realized all of her wine glasses were mismatched souvenir cups.

If ten year old Emma could see twenty eight year old Emma, she could only imagine the conversation they would have. She had spent 18 years in the foster system, which meant living out of a backpack. Especially as she aged beyond the cute baby years and into her preteen years when it was a lost cause to be permanently adopted.

As she looked around her new house, she couldn’t help but think about how this had been all she wanted growing up. The big two story entryway with the skylight. The dining room with a big, oak table to have Thanksgiving dinner. The all white kitchen, that had a breakfast nook and bay windows. The living room with big comfortable couches and artwork she had collected over the years.

Beyond all of that though, was the pressing fact that she had essentially assembled this home on her own. Every couch, every picture frame, every glass was there because she had put it there. When they had moved into their first apartment together, when she was 18, Neal had helped every step of the way. Sure, it had been a tiny studio apartment over a laundromat and most of its contents were from second hand stores but still. When they had nothing between the two of them he was there… but now, where was Neal?

Checking the watch on her wrist it was 6:50 and they were due to be at the Nolan’s around 7. She was getting worried.

At 5 before Emma had hopped in the shower, she had called to remind him of the dinner. No answer.

At 5:30 when she was done drying her hair, she had called to remind him of the dinner. No answer.

At 6 when she was ironing a shirt for him in their walk in closet, she had called the country club to see if he was still there. The woman at the front desk had said he had left an hour ago.

At 6:30 when she put the finishing touches on her outfit, simple dark jeans and a cream colored sweater, her usual jewelry, her hair in loose curls she sent him a text. No answer.

The ticking watch on her wrist taunted her, clicking along, minutes going by. All the while hoping he would just call. At the very least, just call. She put up with a lot from him. But how hard was it to call?

Then at 7:05, just as Emma was about to smash the glass in her hand, he walked in the door.

“Em…?” she heard him call out from the foyer.

“In the kitchen,” she said back, her voice an unmistakable monotone.

“Sorry I’m late, we went to dinner in town after the round,” he said, kissing her forehead. What she smelled on him though was the thick stench of bourbon.

“Are you drunk?” Emma sat up in her seat, tugging away from his embrace.

“No.” He stepped back, setting his clubs on the tile floor. The one thing he managed to unpack during the move. “Lighten up, Em. It’s a Saturday.”

“Yeah, well, we’re late for dinner. The one that was actually planned,” she said tightly getting up from her chair. She grabbed her red jacket and threw it over top of her sweater. If she went in on him right now, there would be no making it to dinner.

“We could just cancel.”

“No.”

“Can I have a few minutes to change?” he asked, treading lightly around her.

“That depends….” Emma crossed her arms. “If you go upstairs are you going to magically disappear for 9 hours?”

He gathered his things, pushing past her to walk upstairs. How did we get like this? She wondered while she waited. They hadn’t always been this disconnected. There was a time when he was just about her everything, the only consistency she knew. More so now than ever she felt herself clutching to those memories. But when he started working for his father four years ago, that had all slowly started to change.

By 7:30 they had made their way across the street to the Nolan’s, Emma apologizing profusely for their lateness. When she saw that Killian and Ruby had already arrived, she did just about anything to not be near the two together. So when Mary Margaret suggested a tour of the house, Emma jumped at the opportunity. The woman, being very proud of her home, took she and Neal through each room.

It was very different than their house across the street. The Nolan’s were far more practical than they were. All of the floors a dark, sturdy wood that wouldn’t show dirt. Eclectic, comfortable furniture. The rooms all open to one another so that everything flowed evenly. Pictures everywhere of David and Mary Margaret on trips, from their wedding, from college. Pieces of art made by her students and given as gifts. Books were scattered on just about every surface and candles were lit all around giving the house a warm glow and a lovely smell.

“When we have kids, I want to be able to see them in the backyard from the kitchen,” said Mary Margaret as they finished the tour, looping through the back half of the house. The kitchen was where they ended, the soft brown and beige colors of the counters and cabinets making it feel so homey.

“But for now her being able to watch the dogs is sufficient,” David joked as he handed Emma and Neal glasses of wine. He was the local veterinarian, and according to Mary Margaret, brought home more animals than money. At the moment there were two dogs in the house plus a cat. Which made it feel even more inviting.

“We built this house knowing we wanted a big family… I just didn’t imagine being outnumbered by the animals,” said Mary Margaret. She was the quintessential elementary school teacher. With her sing-song voice, kind face and patient temperament.

“I like to bring my work home,” David said bringing his wife into his embrace. The two leaned against the back cabinets and smiled.

“It’s a good thing I don’t, we’d have twenty two 8 year olds running around.”

Everyone laughed at that, and suddenly it felt a bit more easy to be here. The Nolans were at glance the ideal young couple. But aside from that they were just nice people, and Emma liked that. They were certainly not the worst neighbors she could have.

The dining room off of the kitchen held a modest wood table, filled with different steaming pots of food.

“I hope you don’t mind, I went a little overboard,” said Mary Margaret as they all sat down at their seats. Each place setting with a handwritten, elegant tag.

“Wow you guys are like real adults,” Ruby said as they sat at their assigned seats. David and Mary Margaret at either head. Then in the middle sat Ruby and Killian to the left, Emma and Neal to the right. If her fiance, at all, had a chip on his shoulder about having dinner with the man who was his landscaper he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he was the opposite of what Emma had predicted he would be.

“Everything looks great,” Neal said. He had suddenly become Prince Charming now that they were in front of people.

“How are you two enjoying Storybrooke?” Ruby asked once everyone had begun eating. The light lull of conversation carrying through. Emma looked at her sitting next to Killian and decided that they made an attractive couple. What with their dark hair, angular faces and big eyes. Though hers were green and his were the same striking blue that kept catching her attention from across the table. Something she was probably imagining.

“Well, I enjoy it here, it’s where I grew up,” Neal chimed in. “So it’s always been home to me.”

“I guess I’m just a bit harder to please,” Emma said, hoping that she hid the bitterness in her tone.

“Where did you grow up, Emma?” the well-meaning David asked.

“Foster care,” she said back matter of factly. The quiet that filled the dining room was somehow still deafening. No one ever knew how to respond to that, which meant Emma was always able to recover from the statement quickly. “So living in a place like this is a dream come true for me.”

She grabbed Neal’s hand that rested on the table, and everyone seemed to simultaneously breath. People loved a happy ending, especially one where the baby left in a basket on the side of the road ended up living the American dream. Outwardly at least. It was a story people were relieved by, just like right now at the dinner table. Except that when Emma’s gaze drifted to Killian she realized he was the only one able to look her in the eyes. And she was most definitely not imagining it.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. Neal somehow recovered from his drunken day on the golf course and charmed the pants off of the new neighbors. Telling stories and commanding the room. While glass after glass of wine was poured. All the while Emma sat back and watched him dance. He knew he was in deep with her. She would give him that credit, he always worked overtime to make things up to her.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Emma said, while everyone was gathered in the kitchen, distracted listening to a story about Neal’s round of golf with the police chief today. Something about a gofer… she didn’t really care. All she knew was she needed some air.

“Oh… sorry, I didn’t realize you had come out here,” Emma said when she noticed Killian leaned against the pillar of the front porch.

“No, it’s okay, I should get back in there anyway.” He slid his phone back into his pocket, he had excused himself a bit ago to take a call.

Emma could still hear the the conversation going on inside and promptly closed the door behind her.

“Some fresh air, love?” he asked with a half smile, the porch was dim but she could still make out the angles of his face.

“Yeah. The room was a bit… loud for me in there.”

“He’s quite the talker that one,” Killian said, and that made Emma smile. That she wasn’t the only one who was tired of having one person take up all the oxygen in the room.

“Yes, he is,” she said. She knew she should go back in. But for whatever reason Emma just didn’t want to. Instead she plopped herself down on one of the rocking chairs near the door.

The two of them were quiet for a few moments, only listening to the sounds of the neighborhood. Kids getting called in for the night, a car or two driving past, the light breeze that made her curl her arms around herself. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable though, it was like an unspoken understanding. She watched him a bit as his back was turned to her. He wore a pair of jeans and a long sleeve navy blue sweater, it was the first time she saw him in anything other than his gardening attire. Then her eyes shifted to the front of her new home.

It was utterly still, the house, massive but stale looking. True no one was home but it was hard to make the comparison between their house and Mary Margaret’s. Mary Margaret’s was designed to be a home, Emma’s was designed to be a statement piece.

“My brother raised me,” he said finally and Emma turned to where he was leaned against one of the railings, but he was looking out toward the street. She could just barely make out the profile of his face. The tightness to his jaw.

Emma stayed quiet, surveying what his goal was by saying this to her.

“I lost both parents very young. But he was old enough to be my guardian.”

“You were lucky to have him.”

“Aye.”

As Emma looked toward Killian, she noted his body language. His facial expression. And deciffered that his past was not something he tended to share a lot. She didn’t press him though, he wasn’t telling her so they could have a long discussion of their respective parental abandonment. But knowing about it did make her feel like less of an idiot for blurting out her past at the dinner table.

“There you are,” said Ruby as the front door opened. Her green eyes looked toward Emma who was sitting in the rocking chair still. Turning to Killian she said, “I need to get back, I have an early morning tomorrow at Granny’s.”

“I’ll walk you home then,” Killian quickly offered.

The others came out onto the porch through the wide open front door. David, Mary Margaret and Neal filling the space. A mix of goodbyes and thank yous were exchanged between the six people as they all went their separate ways. Emma’s eyes shifted toward her neighbor’s house as she and Neal walked back. While she promised herself it was just to ensure Ruby got into her house okay, she knew deep down there was something else she was watching for.

And when Killian said goodnight to Ruby without anything more than a hug; an unwarranted, undeserved sigh of relief filled her body.

[behindheremeraldeyes]

Title: Whatever Happened to Christmas . Summary: It’s been some long, and exhausting months for Sakura, and Christmas didn’t seem to be helping her in any way. Her friends are worried about her, but she wouldn’t let them help her. Therefore, there was only one person who could, truly, help her. . A/N: It’s finally here, everyone!! God, I can’t tell you how excited I am for this! I’ve finally had time to let it all out in a SS fanfic, and you guys really can’t imagine how relieved I felt after this fic! This one, particularly, has become quite special for me, especially after everything that happened last year. It became my escape fic, and god, there’s so many personal things in this fic that I kinda feel exposed XD Still, I owed you that much after all your patience with me. This is my come back fic, and it’s christmas themed! I hope you guys enjoy it, and please, tell me your opinion! It’s really important! . . . The clock was almost hitting 11:50pm when she finally realized it was time to head home. She had already changed into her winter clothes, her lab coat already left in her office and her heels already clicking their way towards the exit of the hospital. Her chakra reservations were quite low after a 36 hours shift, and yet, there was a sad scowl plastered on her lips at the idea of leaving so soon. Exhaustion creeped under her skin, for sure, but nothing a cup of coffee and some minutes with her eyes closed wouldn’t fix.

Sakura didn’t want to leave, for sure. She didn’t want to leave the safety of her work place, to an empty house where she would have to worry about dinner for one, and do nothing productive for the rest of the evening. The pinkette wanted to stay and help her colleagues during one of the busiest nights of the year, and more than anything, she wanted to help people go home safely to their families.

She’s a doctor, and that’s her job. That was what she was trained to do.

But ironically, the same woman who trained her was the one sending her home that night. And all because, apparently, she was too young to be spending yet another holiday inside that hospital.

A sigh escaped her lips as she tried her best to think back to all the previous holidays, as if to mentally try to prove her master wrong. Sakura knew she had been spending a little longer at the hospital than most of her colleagues, but it was not like she considered it to be harming in any way. She’s a medic, after all. She’s used to the sleepless nights and the canceled plans, and more than anyone, the Godaime should understand those circumstances.

Through the years, Sakura has come to understand that there is no such thing as peaceful times in the hospital. Even if the war was just a ghost from the past now, and even if the Shinobi Alliance had, indeed, lowered the mortality numbers, they still lived under the ninja system, where battles happened constantly and wounds could be as fatal as ever if not treated quickly.

They were still humans, by the end of the day. They could still bleed to death because of a kunai wound, and they could still die because of stupid things such as getting wasted during the holidays.

War or no war, medic ninjas were needed around the village. However, according to her master, medical ninjas also needed a break during some time of the year to celebrate life and eat a bunch of junk food to fill their energy tanks. And if she was not going to realize that by herself, then Tsunade would use all her power and her loud threats to make sure her dear pupil would spend Christmas away from those white, sterilized hallways.

And so, after weeks of direct confrontations around the hallways and weeks of constant changes on the names of the doctors that would be spending Christmas on duty, the Godaime ended up using her last resort on her wisest student. By orders from the head medic in Konoha’s hospital, Haruno Sakura was forbidden to be anywhere near that building during December 25th, unless she was actually dying and in need of medical help. Her schedules were erased, other medics had promptly taken over her work, and even Shizune would be there to help cover for all the pinkette’s surgeries.

Spending such busy day without her around would be hard, but that was how things were going to be. Sakura was going to enjoy a holiday break, even if they had to force her to do so.

She was not going to waste another chance of celebrating her youth because of her workaholic tendencies.

Or at least that was what Tsunade thought before her tricky apprentice found a way to twist her master’s words.

Sakura was not, indeed, spending the 25th at the hospital, no. Tsunade had been clear about that, and she was not going to disrespect the Godaime’s orders in front of everyone else. She would be spending Christmas home, just like her master told her to.

But she didn't say anything about Christmas eve.

And even if it wasn’t what she wanted, leaving a bit before midnight would have to be enough for that year.

When she finally arrived at the hospital’s lobby, her eyes didn’t miss all the elegant clothes people were wearing while waiting for whoever was in need of medical help. All the decorations also helped create the whole christmasy atmosphere around the hospital, and if Sakura were to be honest, those lights and stars would be the closest thing of a place to celebrate she would get that night. No matter how many times her best friend had invited her over, the pinkette just didn’t feel like listening to Ino rambling about how she was missing the chances of hooking up with a hot guy during the holidays.

Honestly, Sakura was just tired of people telling her how to live her life. Of course, she was going to obey Tsunade because she is her boss, but that didn’t mean she would be going out to party and do stuff such as going out to bars or having fancy, family dinners. Her master had the power to end her working schedule, but she certainly couldn’t force her to behave like a normal person.

And that was going to have to be her win for the night.

Another defeated sight escaped her lips, as she ran her fingers through her pink locks. It was probably time for her to go home, she knew, but leaving was a lot harder than she had expected. She turned her emeralds around for one, final look and was surprised by the sight of the one who was probably designated to take care of her patients for the night.

Apparently, she was the only apprentice who had been forced to leave.

“ Shouldn’t you be out by now?” Shizune said, stopping in front of her with a pile of papers in hands. “ If she finds you here, well… I bet you know what will happen, Sakura.”

“ Yeah, yeah… I know.” She smiled, her eyes curiously trying to read whatever was written on those papers. “ She wasn’t happy when she saw my name on today’s shifts, so I probably shouldn’t be giving her more reasons to actually fire me.”

“ Oh, she wouldn’t do that… But I can assure you that it would be quite painful.” Both of the girls chuckled, even if they were really aware of what their master was capable of. “ Still, don’t be too hard on her. She just wants you to have fun.”

“ Well, I certainly will.” Sakura started, taking a look at the clock hanging near the reception’s desk. It was certainly time for her to leave, and Shizune had no time to waste that night. “ There are tons of medical articles waiting for me at home. It’s going to be insane.”

“ I bet it will. Have a good night, Sakura.”

“ You too, Shizune-senpai. And Merry Christmas.”

And with a small, kind nod, the two medics parted ways. While she was heading towards the monotony of her home, Shizune was about to spend her holidays tending the wounded and discussing cases with their master during the coffee break.

Life certainly wasn’t fair.

The winter breeze welcomed her small form as soon as she exited the building. Instinctively, the Haruno girl brought her coat closer in order to shield herself from the cold, and as she made her way towards her apartment, it was impossible not to allow her mind to drift back in time, to a past when everything was simpler and she would still have that same, bubbly energy to celebrate christmas with the people she loves.

So much has changed, she thought.

Back then, she would spend the night with her parents and early in the morning, after opening her presents, Sakura would rush through the streets of Konoha so she could meet her boys and wish them a merry christmas. They would all exchange presents while drinking a hot chocolate, and they would end up spending the entire day together, enjoying the free time offered to the genin teams during the holidays.

Those were good times, for sure. Those were happy times, when the future still promised better days for the four of them.

A future that promised to keep them all together.

Oh, what a delightful future that was. None of them could’ve ever predicted how different things would be in less than 10 years.

In less than 10 years, the members of the team 7 literally went to war and back. Hearts were broken, bonds damaged, and even if, eventually, they found their happy ending, some things just couldn’t be fixed anymore. The boys weren’t just boys anymore, and she certainly wasn’t a little girl anymore. They were all forced to grow up faster than normal people should, and even if Naruto was able to hold onto his dream, Sakura couldn’t say she had the same luck. Deep inside, perhaps, there was still something left from her younger version, but most of it— most of her was already long gone.

She no longer neglected her physical practice. Her social life was quickly replaced by her job and her love— oh, that beautiful and pure love she has always nourished for that raven haired boy… It was still there, for sure, but it certainly wasn’t the same. It was stronger, now. More responsible and concealed, especially since her emotional expectations in life were close to zero now. She no longer expected him to proclaim his undying love for her, in the same way she no longer expected to be one of the reasons for him to finally settle in the village.

Sakura was no longer a child, and she knew better than to raise her expectations just to see them all crumbling down around her. He wasn’t coming back anytime soon, and even when he did, there was no use in getting all excited since it wouldn’t take long before he left again. It was a harsh way of thinking, and many were the times when Naruto scolded her for that, but it was the only way she knew that would keep her heart from breaking after every damn goodbye.

And so, Haruno Sakura, the girl who used to spread joy and laughter around the village and who used to love everything about christmas, turned into a skeptical workaholic at the age of 18. While all of her friends were out having fun, there she was, walking around the lonely, illuminated streets of the village, protecting herself from the shivering breeze as she tried to get home to her hot tea and the paperwork she had managed to take from the hospital.

Growing up really sucks.

By the time she finally got home, the clock was already marking 18 minutes past midnight. It was officially christmas, and as she had expected— or not expected at all— Sakura feels nothing different. She left her purse on her dinner table and headed straight to the bathroom so she could take a nice, warm bath. The hot water ran down her muscles, soaking her pink hair and allowing her to finally let out a deep breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Sleep was far away from her thoughts even if she had just returned from a long shift, and at that moment, she decided she deserved to spend a little longer under the running waters.

It had been a while since she had last had those minutes to relax, and even if most times she didn’t really have time to miss them, not even the pinkette would be stupid enough not to enjoy those limited moments that had to be forced into her life by the people she loves. Her eyes closed at the warm sensation of the water running down her cheeks, and she didn’t know something as simple as water could leave her skin so sensitive, to the point it tickled.

It felt good and warm, and by the time she was finished with her bath, it was almost 1am. Sakura put on some comfortable, flannel pajamas, and even if it was cold outside, she didn’t bother drying up her short hair. The silence of her apartment and the few lights she had left on reminded her of the years neither Naruto nor Sasuke were around, and much like back then, the pinkette decided to take her mind away from that reality and focus on her responsibilities and a relaxing cup of tea. A chamomile one, her favorite.

With her bare feet against the wooden floor, the medic nin walked towards her small kitchen and started to boil some water that would be enough to fill at least three small cups. She rested one hand on the counter next to the oven, and scratched the back of her neck with the other, massaging the area near the junction with her shoulders. Sakura closed her eyes, and her mind started to wander through her memories again, but that time, she focused on the present instead of the past.

The images of a smiling Naruto filled her mind, as she tried to imagine how happy he probably was at that moment. That was the first time he was spending Christmas away from Konoha, and even if he had sent her a letter complaining about the heat wave of the desert, she knew he was having fun. That knucklehead accepted the Kazekage’s invitation to spend the holidays at Sunagakure, and he was complaining about the weather and the sand.

That idiot, she thought.

Still, it was not like she wasn’t happy for him. Gaara’s friendship is really important for the blonde, and having a chance to deepen that bond was something Naruto was really looking forward to.

He was certainly going to enjoy his holidays. And at that moment, she could only hope the third, original member of their team was also having a good time.

As it was expected from the Uchiha, no one knew where he was or what he was up to. It had been weeks since his last letter arrived for her, and apart from the usual ‘I'm alive, therefore I’m writing you a letter’ thing, the raven haired boy didn’t really disclose much information. Perhaps, she thought, as a smile decorated her face; that he wouldn’t tell her such things so she wouldn’t go after him.

Her smile quickly changed into a smirk, and she couldn’t help but mentally call him a bastard. It was not like she would simply abandon her life and go after him. Not anymore, at least.

A sigh escaped her throat at the thought. “ Sasuke-kun…”

The memories of the Uchiha have always been the ones to bring her more emotions. All the time they’ve spent together and all the things they’ve been through were enough to make her worry about him even if he’s one of the best ninjas the world has ever met. Especially during the holidays, she wonders how he’s doing or if he’s cold. She wonders if he found a place to stay, and if this place has people who are treating him well.

She wonders if, perhaps, he has found someone worthy of his heart. And if so, she wonders if he will be spending christmas with her.

It’s a stupid thought, for sure. She has no right to be jealous over him, and if anything, she should only be happy for the man who has always meant so much for her. His happiness is the most important thing, and more than anything, Sakura wished him a merry christmas, wherever and with whomever he was.

Unlike her, she just hoped Sasuke wouldn’t miss the chance of spending the holidays with his significant others.

And indeed, he wasn’t.

A knock on the door surprised her by the time boiling water was acting on the plants. At first, she thought she had heard things. Who on earth would be knocking on people’s doors at such wee hours of the dawn?

Her brows arched in confusion, and it wasn’t only until there was another knock that she decided to move. She checked the clock just to make sure she wasn’t insane or anything, and when she realized it was almost 1:30 in the morning, Sakura concluded that the person at her door was either from the hospital due to an emergency, or Ino trying to drag her towards her christmas party. If it was the later, then, perhaps, she could return to the hospital under Tsunade’s exception.

If not for her low levels of chakra, the Haruno girl would’ve sensed the enormous power coming from the other side of the door, and perhaps, her reaction would’ve been different by the time she opened the door. Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and she had to lean against the doorframe in order not to fall. She could barely feel her nose due to the cold breeze hitting her face, but at that moment, all she could think of was how much she had missed those deep, dark eyes of the raven haired boy.

That was certainly a christmas miracle.

“ Sasuke-kun… You’re back.”

“ Aah.” He nodded, his expression as peaceful as ever. His eyes roamed around her in the same way hers were memorizing all the changes he had suffered since the last time they met. He was still wearing that same black cloak, and his hair was still as spiked as ever, but the lines of his face were stronger and a lot more mature than before. His chin had more angles now, and his lips seemed softer as his face displayed a soft expression.

Uchiha Sasuke looked good as ever, and she wasn’t surprised by that at all.

Though, believing in Santa would've been a lot easier than believing he was actually standing there on her doorstep. And judging by the color of his nose, it was also possible to say he was cold.

“ D-Don’t just stay out there! Come on in! It’s freezing out here.” She said, stepping aside and giving him space to pass.

“ Thanks.” He muttered, entering her apartment and promptly removing his cloak. For many were the times he had been there to pay her a visit, some formalities were already left behind, and he certainly didn’t need an invitation to walk around and feel at home.

They both headed towards her living room, and he was the first to settle down on her couch. His eyes didn’t miss the mess of papers spread on her center table, and he would be lying if he said all that mess didn’t bother him. Not because of his cleaning mania, no, but mainly because of the time of the year.

Maybe, the info he had gotten wasn’t an overreaction, after all.

“ Tea?” She came from behind him, offering him a cup he promptly accepted. She didn’t add any sugar, for she knew his preferences, and even if he didn’t like chamomile, he could stand the taste of it if not sweetened like the way she drinks it.

Sakura, then, sat on the chair across from him, bringing her legs up so she sat with them crossed instead of how normal people should sit. An awkward silence settled in between them while they sipped their tea, and she patiently observed him with those big, emerald eyes of hers. As always, the Uchiha was a master with words.

“ So…” She started, sighing and deciding it was already too late for any small talk. “ What are you doing here, Sasuke? You don’t really want me to believe you’re here just because you’ve missed me.”

A smirk crossed his lips, as he was impressed by how direct his teammate has become. His eyes shifted from the papers to her green orbs, and she felt himself relax at the sight of the pink haired girl confidently looking at him. “ Hn, you don’t waste time, do you?”

“ Not when your teammate shows up at your apartment at 1am.”

“ Fair enough.”

“ Though I can start asking you about your journey and tell you all about Naruto’s newest attempt on learning fire ninjutsus.”

“ Tch, that Dobe…” He sighed, trying not to judge his best friend’s weird ideas. The Uchiha remembered the blonde writing something about that in one of his letters, but he never thought he would actually try something so stupid.

What a great Hokage he was going to be in the future.

But at that moment, the future of Konoha didn’t seem important. When he looked back at her, he realized her judging stare was still on him, and Sakura was still waiting for her answer. And by the look in her eyes, she wouldn’t simply accept a half lie such as his needs to refill his supplies.

She wanted the truth. And that was exactly what he was going to give her.

A sigh escaped his lips as his hand slowly moved to his pocket before fishing out a couple of crumpled papers and leaving them on her center table. He watched as her eyes widened in curiosity, and once she reached out and started reading whatever was written there, the Uchiha decided he could finally start talking now that he had given her the evidences that would prove the veracity of his words. “ You see, apparently, you’ve been doing some things that are leaving all these people worried, Sakura. I’ve received letters from your parents, Naruto, Ino, Kakashi and even from the Godaime.”

“ Are you serious? Why would they even do that?”

“ Hn, they are worried about you. ”

“ Why would they be? I’m fine. Just because I’m taking some extra-shifts at the hospital every now and then it doesn’t mean there’s actually something wrong.”

“ Are you sure about that? According to the letters, your extra shifts seem to be something important.”

“ Oh, not you too, Sasuke-kun! It’s just my job!”

“ I know… But by the way they all described it, you are not okay, Sakura. It seemed like you needed help."

“ Help?” She lifted an eyebrow in confusion while reading the words the Yamanaka girl had written him. Apart from the lack of formality, the blonde had written things such as ‘workaholic’, ‘exhausted' and ‘get back home and use your Uchiha magic on her’. Even if her friend, indeed, seemed to be concerned, Sakura couldn’t help but feel annoyed at all those overreacted assumptions. “ What the hell, that pig actually told you I’m suffering from Christmas Depression-shannarou!”

An uncomfortable silence settled around them after her words, and it was as if he was holding back  something that was killing him inside. It’s true that by the way those people had described Sakura’s current situation, Sasuke expected things to be a lot worse than what they actually seemed to be. During his travels, he has seen people who are going through depression crises, and fortunately, the pinkette didn’t look like them at all.

Even if she did seem tired and she had certainly lost some weight, the Haruno girl, indeed, looked fine, and that was why the Uchiha pondered whether or not he should say what was on his mind. Maybe those people were overreacting. Maybe they were just plotting to bring him home so they could try to set them up. Maybe she didn’t really need him and anything he could do or say would be useless.

Still, as he kept looking at her house and the lack of Christmas decorations, Sasuke decided that perhaps there was more than his eyes could tell. And so, when she was trying to read Naruto’s messy handwriting, the Uchiha cleared his throat and took a deep breath. If there was really something wrong with her, he was going to find out. “ … Are you, Sakura?”

“ Uh?” She lifted her head, connecting their eyes as she looked at him with a confused expression. “ Am I what, Sasuke-kun?”

“ Are you suffering from Christmas Depression?”

Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and soon, her confused expression changed into an angry one. Her brows knitted downwards, and she glared at him after abandoning the papers back on the center table. “ Are you seriously asking me that, Sasuke?”

He felt shivers running down his spine, still, he didn’t back off. He simply nodded, not taking his eyes away from hers. “Aah.”

“ Of course not, Sasuke! Damn it, why can’t people just leave me alone?!”

“ Alone? What do you mean?”

“ Tch… I’m just trying to do my things, you know? But apparently, just because what I want to do isn’t considered to be normal for a girl of my age, then there’s something wrong with me!"

“ It’s not like that, Sakura.”

“ Yes, it is! Just because I didn’t want to go to Ino’s party or because I took some extra shifts at the hospital; people think there’s something wrong! Even you decided to come all the way back to the village during Christmas just to make sure I wasn’t going crazy! Gosh, this is so… This is so annoying!”

Her hands curled into fists, and perhaps, were her chakra reserves a little higher, her couch would have been destroyed by her irritation. Sakura was mad and tired, and apparently, not even she was aware of whatever was happening with her. It was evident that the pinkette was under a lot of stress and she was trying to cope it with more work and even a certain isolation he understood very well. She could not be aware of that, but she was avoiding her family, friends and even herself, seeking comfort in her professional obligations and not allowing herself time to realize how lonely she actually was, let alone decorate her apartment for the holidays.

Haruno Sakura was, indeed, lonely. And loneliness didn’t suit her at all.

Especially not during Christmas. Especially not when he was around.

His expression softened at the sight of the girl in front of him, and promptly, Sasuke started to think about something that could help her feel better. His mind took him back to their younger days, when the pinkette was nothing but a bubble of happiness around that time of the year. Sakura used to be the personification of Christmas itself. She would invite the whole team for the dinner her mother would prepare, and he remembered how her eyes would shine every time she would take her time watching the tree and all its ornaments.

Oh, yes… The Christmas Tree.

The most significant and beautiful thing about Christmas, or at least that was what he thought. He didn’t know exactly why, but Sasuke has always been fond of all that beautiful mess of ornaments and lights displayed around the green branches of the tree. Maybe it had something to do with Itachi and his own family celebrations, he didn’t really know. Still, every time his eyes saw that colorful mess, it was like a nostalgic and comfortable flutter took over his chest and made his lips curl up in something that could be considered a smile.

And perhaps that was what she needed, he thought.

Perhaps Sakura needed that one, simple moment of joy to remember how Christmas should feel, in the same it felt when she was a child.

She needed that, more than anyone at that moment. And the Uchiha— well— he needed a tree.

“ Sakura.” He started, firmly, and slowly, her eyes met his. She was paying attention, curiosity spread around her face at such sudden, confident tone. “ We need a Christmas Tree.”

Her expression turned blank after she listened to his words, and she didn't know for how long she was left spacing out, just trying to understand what he was talking about. “ What?”

“ A Christmas Tree.” He repeated, standing up and looking around her apartment. “ Do you have one?”

“…. Why would you need a Christmas Tree now, Sasuke?”

“ You didn’t decorate one this year. We’re doing it together now.”

The pinkette opened her mouth a couple of times as she tried her best to form the correct phrase for this situation. She blinked a couple of times more than necessary, and it wasn’t until she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on the couch that she could finally come up with something. “ Are you high?”

“ What?”

“ Seriously… Did you eat some kind of mushroom around the woods lately that just left you… high?”

“ No… Why are you even asking me that?”

“ Because…” She stood up, placing both hands on her waist. “ I’m not sure you’re aware that you’re suggesting for us to find a Christmas tree and decorate it at 3 freaking am of Christmas day.”

“… So what? It’s not my fault you didn’t do it earlier.”

“ You… How dare yo—“

“ Do you have it or not, Sakura?”

His eyes were strongly connected to hers, and at that moment, she saw no sign of joke or opium intoxication in him. He meant every single word of his crazy idea, and he was not going to give up on that so easily. Of all the things the Uchiha has done in his life, showing up at her apartment and demanding to decorate a christmas tree was by far the most illogical one. It just didn’t make sense, and were Naruto telling her this story, she wouldn’t have believed a single word of it.

Uchiha Sasuke had certainly gone crazy. Or maybe it was all an illusion created by her own mind. Either way, Sakura was too tired to argue at that moment.

If he wanted a Christmas tree, she would give him one.

A defeated sigh escaped her lips, and after massaging the bridge between her eyes, the pinkette started to walk towards her front door. His eyes were glued on her, and she could feel as he observed as she left her apartment, her bare feet touching the cold floor outside. She disappeared from his sight, and after a couple of minutes, when Sasuke thought she had run away, the Haruno girl came back, a considerably big tree hanging on her shoulder, as she walked through her living room. She looked different now, as she easily placed that tree on the floor. It was as if a new fire had been lit inside her, and perhaps, that was a good start for the night.

That, or maybe she had really snapped after his great idea.

“ Why are you just standing there, Sasuke? You can bet your ass you’re gonna help me with this tree, and I don’t care if you have only one arm-shannarou!”

“ Hn.” He smirked at her glare, deciding not to push her any further after she actually showed up with a Christmas tree. He approached her, and watched as she tried to get rid of the small bushes that had gotten stuck on her clothes. “ So you did have a Christmas Tree.”

“ Tsunade-sama gave it to me the other day. I left it downstairs to see if anyone would take it, but apparently, no one even touched it.”

“ I really can’t imagine why.”

“ Tch, I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this…” She looked at his tall figure towering over her, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his presence.

“ It will be fun, you’ll see.”

“ You better be right, Uchiha Sasuke.” She smirked at him, unconsciously licking her lips as if to plan her next steps. “ I’ll go get the ornaments and the lights. Make us some decent coffee because it will be a long, christmas night.”

“ Hn. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“ Fair enough.”

By the time the tree was fully decorated, the sun was starting to creep out from behind the Hokages’ monument. With the help of some shadow clones, both of them were able to finish everything without many problems. There was a comfortable silence around her living room, the lights of the tree being the only source of light in her apartment.

It was way too late to even check the clock, and even if normally they would try to keep some sort of decency around each other, neither of them seemed to care about that anymore, as Sakura was lazily laying on her couch, her forearms resting over her eyes, while Sasuke sat on the floor, with his back pressed against the front of the same couch and his arm resting over his knee. They were breathing in a peaceful rhythm, and due to the close distance they were from each other, it was possible for them to hear — and for the Uchiha to even feel— the air leaving the other’s lungs.

In the same way her breath tickled the back of his neck, his strong, musky scent invaded her nostrils, and even if normally that would leave them both a bit bothered, that kind of intimacy felt unusually comfortable at that moment.

And for being Haruno Sakura, intimacy usually came with words.

“ Sasuke-kun…” She started, laying over her right elbow so she could face the back of his head. Her hair was falling over her forehead, covering the yin seal, as her eyes softly observed the man in front of her. At some point during their Christmas activities, Sakura finally realized that she was actually spending some good, harmless time with him, and that was certainly enough to warm her heart. “ How was it like before the whole thing? Christmas at your place, I mean…”

His answer wasn’t immediate, as he brought back the memories of his childish days. There were really good ones that featured the brightest smiles of his family, and he didn’t need a lot of time to come up with the words they were both expecting to hear. “ Hn, it was great. My best family memories must be from Christmas, when I would help Itachi with all the decorations and we would fool around all day.”

A smile made its way to her lips at the image of a small Sasuke running around with his big brother, She didn’t know him well back then, but from the pictures she has seen around, it was easy to tell  he had had a happy childhood while it lasted. “ And what about your parents? Did they like Christmas?”

“ My mother liked it a lot. She was the one to start all the decorations and prepare the banquet for us. She was always smiling during that time of the year, and I can’t recall a single Christmas without her cinnamon cookies.” He smiled at the memory of that delightful taste, and enjoyed the relaxing feeling that talking about his deceased family brought to his heart. Even if there was a time he couldn’t share a single memory without feeling the anger taking over his senses, now, the Uchiha felt good while sharing the simple things from his childhood. He liked to talk about them, but it was not like he would share such things with anyone, no.

It had to be someone special. Someone like Haruno Sakura.

“ And what about your dad? Not a fan of the holidays?”

“ My father was different… He liked Christmas, but he never really voiced his thoughts.”

“ Really can’t imagine anyone like that.” She teased, and she could see the smirk that grew on his lips.

“ Every year, he would spend time with us while we decorated the tree, then, eventually, he would tell my mom how everything was beautiful.” He turned his head to face her, his expression now changed in a certain curiosity as he somehow tried to solve a mystery from his past. “ By the end of the night, right after my mother sent us off to bed, I remember seeing my father joining her at the living room. He would sit on the couch next to her, but I never found out what they would do after that. Itachi would always pull me away before I could see anything.”

“ Oh, come on, Sasuke-kun. They were just trying to have a romantic time together. It’s Christmas, after all. It’s a good time for couples.” She chuckled at him, curling up closer to the edge of the couch. Her eyes were on him now, and she hadn’t noticed how close their faces were until she caught herself looking straight at his long eyelashes. His scent was still messing with her senses, and she suddenly felt her heart beating faster.

What on earth was going on? Could it be…

“ Aah… You’re probably right.” His eyes were on hers now, and at that moment, he saw how bright they were as they reflected the christmas lights from the tree. She smelled like soap, and for the first time that night, Sasuke managed to see a kind and loving expression on her face. It was similar to the one she used to wear when she was younger, but this time, it was deeper and more mature. It was possible to see the traces of the hardships she had to go through during her life, and if anything, all those stories hidden behind her exterior just made the pinkette a lot more captivating.

It made her even more beautiful.

And— oh, he really couldn’t hold back anymore.

“ Yeah… I am.”

After her whispered words, a new silence took over the apartment. Neither of them really knew who was the first to do it, but before any of them could tell, their lips were already pressed against each other in a soft, chaste kiss. It tasted like coffee and the sugar from the Christmas cookies she had gotten from her patients; and it felt warm like a fireplace. His back still remained pressed against the couch, and her elbows were holding her in place, as they didn’t feel like parting their loving connection.

Neither of them knew how long it had passed until they slowly broke away. Their faces remained just a couple of inches apart, and as their hot breath tickled their warm lips, both Sasuke and Sakura allowed a soft smile to take over their expressions.

That kiss felt indescribably good. It felt relieving, as if it was something that should’ve happened a long time before. Their hearts were beating as one at that moment, and for sure, the pinkette could feel the tension disappearing with every breath she took.

God— how good that felt. After months of complete, emotional stagnation, Sakura could finally feel something. Tears threatened to stream down her face at that moment, as she felt her cheeks growing even warmer than before at the simple thought of a simple kiss bringing back a rush of emotions to her heart. She had been feeling so lonely lately that she had feared she would never feel things the way she used to feel.

Even if she had repeatedly told everyone she was fine, the pinkette, more than anyone, knew that wasn't completely true. She didn’t know exactly what was happening to her, but there was something that wasn’t right, and it weighed like a heavy rock. She had managed to put it aside for a while, but when Christmas came, she saw herself all alone and with nothing left of the girl who used to love that time of the year so much.

She hated feeling like that. She hated feeling nothing, and she feared never feeling anything again.

Perhaps, she really was going through Christmas Depression, as Ino had said. Perhaps, she really needed help.

And at that moment, he was giving her everything she needed.

He was giving her the best Christmas present she could’ve asked for.

“ Thank you, Sasuke-kun…” She said, biting her lower lips as she held back her tears. She was looking deep into her eyes, and felt her heart skipping a beat when she found the softest expression taking over his dark irises. He knew exactly what she meant with those words, and more than anything, he was happy to have been able to help.

Yes, Uchiha Sasuke was happy. Happy to have helped her, happy to be home and certainly happy to have kissed her lips. Not ignoring those letters had been a great decision, and now, more than ever, he was happy to be home, with her.

It felt comfortable and even relaxing after spending the whole Christmas night decorating a tree.

It felt familiar, even if neither of them had ever shared a moment like that before. Sure, it brought back memories and made them think about the infinite ‘what if’s of their lives, but it certainly didn’t feel regretful or depressing at all. It was a different kind of Christmas for the ninjas, and not even during their innocent days had they felt so at peace during the holidays.

That was definitely a different and nostalgic Christmas for both of them. A really good one, nonetheless.

“ Aah… Merry Christmas, Sakura.”

“ Yeah… Merry Christmas, Sasuke-kun.”

[meisterkirisaki]

PSA Regarding the Upcoming Holidays and Activity.

The following information applies to all my active blogs ( @countarganan, @adeadlysong, @pinkpompomsandkatanas, @exorcistofgrace and this blog).

As the Christmas holidays are approaching, this means I’m generally busier outside my RPing life. I usually don’t do gigantic schedule PSAs like this, but this year’s Christmas is busier than usual so I felt the need to break it down day by day.

To clarify beforehand, my timezone is Eastern Standard Time (EST) if you’re wondering what morning, afternoon and evening are like for me.

Dec. 18th-20th should be relatively normal! Yay! :D

Dec. 21st, I probably won’t be on in the evening. However, I will be online during the morning and afternoon.

Dec. 22nd, I might not be on in the evening as well due to some early Christmas celebration! Like the 21st, however, I should be on in the morning and afternoon.

Dec 23rd is more regular for me, but activity may or may not be more sporadic due to prep for the 24th. 

Dec. 24th, I am not likely to be on except in the morning. This is literally because I’m incredibly busy during that afternoon and evening for Christmas-related reasons. This is probably going to be the busiest day I have out of the Christmas schedule other than the 27th, so if I don’t get to many replies, that’s why. 

Dec. 25th, I will be on, but it will most likely be sporadic, partially due to recovering from the 24th. 

Dec. 26th should be relatively stable and normal-ish, so any replies I don’t get to during the 24th and 25th will probably be replied to during then.

Dec. 27th, I’m not likely to be on because Christmas celebration reasons (and Boxing Day shopping, because I don’t do it on the 26th and at least wait another day to do so). If I’m lucky, I might get to stuff in the morning, but we’ll see.

Dec. 28th and Dec. 29th, I should be online as I usually am. Maybe a little slow on the 28th because of recovering from the 27th, but online. Any drafts I don’t get to on the 27th will be done on these days.

Dec. 30th , 31st, January 1st, and January 2nd, I should be online as usual as well, unless there are suddenly some plans I wasn’t aware of beforehand that are going to take up huge chunks of the day. However, info on these days will be updated when it gets closer to those dates if needed. 

By January 1st or 2nd, I’ll probably put up another PSA regarding my activity for all my blogs, because the activity for next term will be quite different from it was during these past months, but I’ll worry about that then.

This is going to be queued for a while on here and @countarganan so everyone can see, and I thank you all for your patience as we roll into the holidays! I also wish all my followers and RP partners a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! :D

[eternalstereksecretsanta]

Running In Circles, Coming Up Tails

@kaidarknight! | AO3 | A Sterek/Maze Runner/Shadowhunters AU! Kai, I hope you enjoy this!

Danny’s the first one to notice. Both Stiles’ mind and mouth are busy because he’s just spent their whole trip back a) detailing all the ways in which Matt is an asshole and b) expounding upon the best ways one might make him regret said assholery, so he’s quite happy to blame that for why it takes him such a long time to realise that a) Danny is no longer jogging next to him and b) the Glade looks kind of disturbingly… empty.

“Um,” Stiles says. He jerks to a stop, turning back to Danny, who’s still only a few steps from the Maze entrance. “Where is everyone?“ 

"I hope that question was rhetorical,” Danny says, striding closer, hands on hips. “You do remember the literal hours we just spent in the Maze together, right? Where I was with you the whole time, listening to you complain about how hungry you were and bugging me to come back early and eat, and then listening to you complain about Matt and bugging me about how I can like him?" 

Stiles rolls his eyes, but he’s not really listening. Danny’s second-favourite thing to do in life is pretend he dislikes Stiles, and Stiles started tuning out his snark about three days into knowing him. He turns in a circle, slowly, and takes in their surroundings. It’s a quick rotation. Even though it’s just after midday, usually the busiest time of the day, there’s no one around—not in the open grassland that covers the entirety of the south of the Glade, not in the visible treeline that bisects the centre of the Glade, there isn’t even any movement around the huts to the east, which is just bizarre, because most of the Gladers should be lining up for lunch. Heather is supposed to be out watering her seedlings, but she’s nowhere to be seen, and neither is Nathan, who should be tending to the fowl. The sweet, sweet melody of Allison training Mason and the other newbies should be providing a lovely soundtrack for the whole Glade, but it’s just so quiet. Far too quiet. 

"I don’t like this,” Danny mutters. 

Stiles hums noncommittally, scratching absently at the Mark on his collarbone, the one kind of shaped like a number seven. “Got your knife?" 

"You think we’re in danger?” Danny sounds surprisingly surprised. 

“I think being prepared never did anyone any harm.” Stiles draws his own weapon, a wooden club specially carved for him by Danielle once they all learned the hard way to keep Stiles away from blades. He nods at Danny, then falls in behind him as they make their forwards, treading so softly Allison would be crying tears of pride. They slip through the copse of trees on the boundary of their sleeping quarters and weave their way through the mess of hammocks and day beds, and Stiles concentrates really hard on not tripping over anything and drawing unwanted attention. As they edge around the last hammock, they finally have a much better view of the rest of the Glade and—

Danny pulls up short, and Stiles crashes into him. 

“Dude,” Stiles hisses, rubbing his nose, but Danny just blindly gropes for Stiles’ face with his free hand, finally landing on his chin and directing Stiles’ gaze to the left. 

Where everyone is gathered around the Box.

“What are they…” Danny murmurs. “Something new must’ve come up.”

Stiles bats Danny’s hand away, heart racing. He’s been in the Glade for over a year. He was the third to arrive, after Allison and Danny. And during that entire time, the Box has never once deviated from a strict schedule—every week they get a delivery of tools and edibles, and every fortnight they also get a new person. 

They just got a delivery of food two days ago, and Mason arrived nine days ago. If it’s here again now, then that means—

“Something’s wrong.” Stiles slings his club into the leather strap across his back and starts forward, covering the distance quickly, pushing his way through the throng in a search for Allison. He finds her at the front of the group, staring suspiciously into the Box, bow strung but held loosely between her fingers. “Hey, what’s going on?" 

Allison jerks her head forward. "New delivery.”

“Of?”

“See for yourself.”

Stiles flexes his fists, itching to pull his club back out, but he knows there’s no point. Allison wouldn’t send him into immediate danger with no warning, and her reflexes are much quicker anyway. She could shoot five arrows into whoever—or whatever—it is and he’d still be trying to untangle his strap. 

He creeps towards the Box slowly, craning his head the last few inches and finally managing to make out the shape of two booted feet. His gaze follows them upwards, over muscled thighs, evident even through the baggy canvas pants, across an equally-buff shirtless torso—which he tries not to linger on too much, or Allison would never shut up about it—and finally landing on the guy’s face. His eyes are closed, but he’s breathing deeply and evenly, and Stiles watches him for a few moments. He seems older than most of the other Gladers, but that could just be an effect of his thick, manly stubble. His arms and chest are also pretty hairy, and as Stiles analyses his body further, he suddenly realises something. This guy is missing something, something everyone else has, something so obvious now that Stiles has no idea how it took him this long to realise. 

“No Marks,” he murmurs, squatting down to take a closer look. “How do you…” He glances up at Allison. “How does he have no Marks?" 

Allison shrugs, her own neck Marks shifting with the movement. "I guess we ask him when he wakes up.”

Stiles squints at her. “…you want me to wake him up, don’t you.”

Allison’s eyes widen, but Stiles knows better than to fall for her nefarious tricks. “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” she says innocently. “But if you’re volunteering… You are the closest, after all.”

“And whose doing is that?” Stiles mutters grumpily, edging closer to the guy anyway and shaking out his fingers. 

He may know better when it comes to Allison, but that doesn’t mean that he’s immune. 

Letting out a deep breath, Stiles reaches out a hand, edging it slowly towards the guy’s shoulder. He extends his fingers further, just barely brushing the guy’s skin—

And suddenly, the guy is awake, very much awake, so awake he’s jumping up and roaring in Stiles’ face and oh god are those fangs?

Shrieking, Stiles falls on his ass and scuttles away, back towards Allison, who is already standing over him with the tip of her arrow pressed to the guy’s jugular.

“Down, boy,” she commands. “Or you’ll be the next carcass skewered and spinning over our fire pit.”

The guy growls, eyes flashing—literally, his eyes literally flash gold, what the hell?!—but he backs down, and Danny and Danielle are immediately on him, wrenching his arms behind his back and dragging him towards the Cage. Everyone parts for them easily, giving them a wide berth, and Allison follows them with her arrow still directed between the guy’s shoulder blades.

“There’ll be a Glade meeting in two hours to discuss matters further,” she calls behind her. “In the meantime, everyone back to your duties.”

The crowd scatters almost instantly, and Stiles is left alone with the boxes of supplies that came up with the guy, and the frantic beating of his own heart.

#

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