#still looking for new/better jobs (sent in one resume earlier this week)

[satanfemme]

if ur ever wondering what I've been up to lately, just know 90% of my thoughts have been like. "wow I'm so puppyboy. I'm so puppy pilled." on a loop, it's honestly become something of a hyperfixation for me I think. but that's ok because being a bit of a puppy is also a big source of comfort keeping me grounded while I struggle to survive life bullshit. a little bit of a puppy grindset getting me thru the 8hr day, u know how it is. I brought home a new squeaky toy today which was a VERY good find (brown standard sized lamb chop, no obvious wear, all five squeakers still in tact). anyway. I'm on like, day five sobriety I think.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 1 |  Living Well is the Best Revenge or Just Trip Her on the Red Carpet

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom is in Vegas to present at a music awards ceremony and what do you know his high profile ex girlfriend is nominated for two awards.  And the press are having a field day.  Molly Bishop is grateful for the awards show because it means extra tips and getting her closer to paying off her student debt.  An offhand comment by Luke coupled with an encounter with his old girlfriend has Tom’s mental wheels turning.  Perhaps he and Molly can solve each other’s problem.  All they have to do is get married.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

--

Tom dreaded turning his phone back on when the plane landed at McCarran airport. He knew what waited for him on the other side. Tom wondered if his publicist would buy the story he left his phone back at the bar in Heathrow. Probably not, he had tried that earlier in the year and Luke went ballistic until he came clean. He did not want a repeat of the earful he got back then. With a sigh, Tom switched on his mobile and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans, vibrating as messages and emails came in.

Tom never imagined the relationship would end like this. He thought he was in love. He thought she was in love. But it had all been what were the words she used “escape hatch”. Tom had been a means to an end. And the punishment for his naivete was a news cycle that would not die. And that photo.

He waited until he was in the car on his way to the Bellagio before checking his messages. There were a series of several text messages from Luke.

Call me when you get to your hotel room.

Don’t read the papers.

Don’t talk to any reporters.

Don’t do anything until you talk to me.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his sunglasses.

“Fuck!” he hissed under his breath.

This meant only one thing. Another story. Maybe more pictures. He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she was attending the same awards show. It ventured to guess the papers would play that up. Tom slumped against the car seat for the rest of the ride.

Check in went fine at the VIP check in. One perk of not only being a celebrity, but a presenter at the awards show. The bellhop delivered Tom’s luggage and garment bag. He pulled the outfit for tomorrow and hung it up, just like Illaria told him to. It was only when he flopped onto the sectional couch, Tom called Luke.

“I’ve been waiting for your phone call.” Luke deadpanned. “I started to worry you would pull that ‘I left my phone at the airport bar’ story.”

“I did cross my mind.” Tom let his head hit the back of the sofa. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really.” Luke winced. “They used the photo again.”

“Of course they fucking did!” Tom punched a nearby pillow. “I look like a twat. Luke, I need this to stop.”

Luke sighed. “Until something comes along that is better than this, expect it to hang around for a while. Unless you are planning on getting married in the next two days.”

Tom chuckled darkly. “Not bloody likely.” He sighed again. “Thanks for everything Luke.”

“It’s my job, mate. But you’re welcome.”

After Tom hung up, he stared first at the phone in his hand and then at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how he got here, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to get out. Tom decided instead to wallow in self-pity and eat a ridiculously expensive room service steak.

-

Weekends were always busy when there were special events over at the MGM arena. This weekend was no exception. And while it may not be good for Molly’s back, her bank account greeted every penny with a smile. Vegas may be a cheap place to live, but it still costs money. And her college did not accept IOUs for student loans. She shoved more tips into the jar behind the bar and helped the next person.

“What’ll be?”

“Whatever you have that is strong and on tap.” Tom’s smooth voice cut over the din of slot machines and video poker machines.

“Coming right up.” Molly poured him a beer, and he signed the receipt with his room number before sliding to the end of the bar.

Three hours later, Tom still sat at the end of the bar, nursing the same beer. Most of the crowd dissipated at this point. Celebrities needed their beauty sleep. Or at least most of them.

“Would you like to switch that one out for a cold one?” She leaned over, smiling. “On the house.”

“Sorry.” Tom blinked and glanced around, looking for a clock Molly imagined.

“No clocks.” she commented. “Or windows.”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

“The whole point of casinos is to keep people inside. Clocks and windows help people realize how much time has passed.” Molly replaced his beer. “The whole place is set up like a maze.”

Tom took a long draw of the fresh beer. “You seem to know an awful lot about casinos for a bartender.”

“You seem awfully forward for a movie star.” she snapped back. Tom’s eyes met yours. She shrugged her shoulders. “I have a friend who works at Regal Cinema, they let me in for free.”

“I’m having a bad day.” Tom muttered back. “You still didn’t answer the question.” He took another long draw, leaving the glass half empty.

“Oh, so we are adding pushy to your resume. I thought Brits were supposed to be charming. If you must know, I have a Bachelor’s and Master’s in Tourism from Arizona State.”

Tom opened his mouth to comment, but Molly cut him off.

“Funny thing about the tourism industry. You need experience to get a job, but you can’t get experience without having a job. Classic catch-22. Which does not pay my bills. So I bartend until I get hired somewhere.”

Tom felt like a prize idiot moping about his problems. He cleared his throat. “Apologies for my earlier behavior. I have been in a poor mood for the last several weeks and it has made me a terrible companion and customer.”

Molly smiled at him. The first truly friendly face in a while. “It’s fine. And you are entitled to a bad day.” She filled up his glass. “Once or twice. Share your troubles with me. Unless it is about which supermodel you should date next, then I don’t want to hear it.” she joked. Tom’s face fell. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

Tom held up a hand. “Please don’t apologize. I take it you don’t read the magazines.”

“As a matter of course, no I don’t.” Suddenly a lightbulb went off. “Oh…”

Tom twisted his face into an exaggerated expression. “‘Oh’ is right. Usually followed by the words ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’.”

“And is she…”

Tom drained the glass. “Yep. Nominated for two awards.”

“Yikes! Well, if there is anything I can do, I am here all weekend.”

Tom stood up and left several twenty-dollar bills. “I might take you up on that. Thank you again for the conversation… I didn’t catch your name.”

“Molly Bishop”. she said, clearing his glass.

Tom offered his hand, and she shook it. “Tom.”

“I know.” she leaned in, her dark brown hair falling to the sides of her face. “Remember, you’re a movie star.”

Tom laughed. A real belly laugh. So loud that it jolted the old man at the other end of the bar awake. “I needed that. Thank you again. Have a good evening, day, morning.”

“It’s evening. Goodnight, Tom. Sleep well.”

Tom headed back towards the bank of elevators. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Molly wipe down where he had been sitting, shove the twenties into a tip jar, while tucking her hair behind her ears and help an obviously drunk couple. Tom made a mental note to find her again before he flew back and leave an even bigger tip.

-

Tom woke up the next morning and headed down to the gym to run on the treadmill. He would have preferred running outside but wanted to avoid people. After running five miles, he switched the machine off, wiped it and him down and headed upstairs to shower and change for the day. Tom wandered back downstairs in search of Molly, but the bartender on duty, a guy named Seth, mentioned she wouldn’t be back until the evening. Tom thanked him and headed back upstairs.

He was restless until it was time to get ready. After dressing, he took a selfie in the mirror and sent it to Illaria who confirmed he did it right. Now came the waiting game. Tom wanted to time it to avoid having to see her at all. Finally deciding he had wanted long enough, Tom called for the car and headed downstairs. What Tom forgot to account for was his incredible bad luck.

He arrived right after her and was forced to walk the red carpet, watching her out of the corner of his eye, with her arm linked around whatever man, boy, prey she ensnared for the evening. Tom plastered a killer smile on his face and continued to repeat the mantra in his head “Living well is the best revenge” when all he wanted to do is either trip her or return to his hotel room and eat an inordinate amount of chocolate cake.

The rest of the awards show blurred together into moments of white hot rage masked by a cool exterior and numbness. Thank god for the teleprompter or else Tom wondered if he would have made it through his presentation. But he did and thought he made it through the entire event without running into her and then…

“Tom!” her voice called out.

Tom froze and stiffened. What a difference a few weeks can make.

“Darling!” He spun on his heel to face her, smile firmly in place. He leaned forward and kissed her cheeks. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” he lied through his teeth.

“You too. I thought I might miss you. I just wanted to say—”

Tom waved her off. “Water under the bridge.” Another lie. Perhaps he missed his calling as a barrister or even a publicist. “Your date seems nice.”

She smiled. That smile that once melted his heart. “Thanks. He is. Where’s your—”

“Back at the hotel.” He checked his watch. “Which reminds me, I should head back. Big plans for the night.”

She blinked, and stutter stepped back. “Oh. Right.” She composed herself. “Well, it was nice to see you again. I hope we can be friends.” She held her arms open.

Fucking friends! Tom howled inside his mind. What was she playing at? More fodder for her songs? Tom seethed on the inside. He stepped forward to awkwardly hug her, praying there was no one around to snap a photo. Knowing her, though, she probably had someone in the balcony with a zoom lens.

“Of course, love.” He squeezed her a little too tight until she let loose a small yelp of pain. Tom allowed a genuine smile to come across his face. “I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy the after party.” He walked away before she could continue on the conversation.

He waited until he was well out of earshot. “Bitch.”

-

The crowd started waning around 9:30 as the awards show let out. Molly figured most of the attendees would hit the after parties and things would pick up around 1 or 2 a.m. Until then, it would just be the regulars. She turned around to arrange the glasses she just cleaned when a now familiar voice rang out.

“Marry me.” Tom asked, his tie loosened.

“I don’t know you.” Molly teased back. “Now what will you have?”

“You as my wife.” Tom repeated, his palm flattened against the bar.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you drunk?”

Tom shook his head. “Stone cold sober. Hear me out.”

She glanced around, seeing no plausible escape. “I’m listening. But if another customer comes up, I’m walking away.”

“I need something to move the paparazzi off this current news cycle with me.”

Molly smirked. “You ran into the ex. Did she have a new boy toy on her arm?”

“Yes, but that is beside the point.”

“It is entirely the point.”

Tom slammed his hand against the bar, rattling the container of nuts nearby. “Can I continue or are you going to keep interrupting?”

Molly crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“I need something to move the press off this story. You need money. We are the solution to each other’s problems.”

“You may be gorgeous, but if you think I am sleeping with you for money…”

“I never said sex. I said marriage. The last I checked, they could be mutually exclusive.” Tom’s expression softened. “Listen, you are clearly unhappy here. I am unhappy too. If us being together could alleviate a bit of that unhappiness, why wouldn’t we seize the opportunity? We get married. Get the paparazzi off my back. I would pay off your student loans and credit cards. And then after a year of living together, we quietly divorce. No sex. Just a business relationship.”

Molly chewed over what Tom said, while chewing on her bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong, she was unhappy. Vegas was supposed to be a brand new start, but it was more of the same. Dead end job and no career prospects on the horizon.”

“Did you say live together?”

“In London, yes. I have plenty of room. Your own space. You have a passport.”

“Yes.”

Tom’s face broke out in a wide grin. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The blood pounded in his ears and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He looked up at her with his bright blue eyes.

“Will you marry me, Molly Bishop?”

“Yes.” she smiled back.

Tom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Then let’s get going, because the licensing bureau closes at midnight.”

Molly headed over to the manager, Nick.

“I quit.” she shoved her apron at him.

“What? You can’t quit, Molly. The big rush is coming.”

“You heard the lady.” Tom called. “She quits.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Her fiancé. Come on, darling.” Tom held out his hand. She lifted up the bar at the entrance and took his hand.

-

The two of you were full of nervous energy the entire cab ride to the licensing bureau, fitting right in with the other couples waiting to get a license. While you waited in line, Tom made some calls to several chapels until he found one open and able to squeeze the two of you in.

“Now all we need is to get you a dress and some rings.”

“Oh!” Molly dug through her purse. “My friend’s kid gave these to me.” She pulled out two plastic rings. “I think these will do in a pinch.”

Tom closed his hand over hers. “I’ll buy us proper rings tomorrow. Now a dress.”

“There’s a mall on the way. I can grab something on the way.” Tom kissed Molly’s forehead.

“You are brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

Within an hour, Molly was wearing a simple white slip dress, Tom still in his suit from the awards show, although he did straighten up the tie. She smiled like a fool, holding onto a fake bouquet and Tom’s wedding ring, complete with a plastic spider in her hand.

Tom slipped on the plastic gem ring when the minister told him to, and she did the same with the spider ring. Tom giggled and so did Molly .

“I now pronounce husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Tom leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. His lips were warm and soft. It was… nice. Under other circumstances, she imagined Tom would be an excellent kisser.

Tom gazed down at her. “Hello, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

“Hello, Mr. Hiddleston.”

[imaginativeamateur]

[Gaara X Reader] You Feel Like Home {Part 2}

Prologue   Part 1   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Epilogue

~~/ / You hated to admit it but you were growing closer to the hosts during your stay at Suna, maybe too close, and too quick. / /~~

You had two more days before you needed to head back to Konoha. Your job here was basically fulfilled, both of you were able to come up with a consensus for trading commodities and taxes, as well as the security between the two villages. You were quite downhearted to leave the place that you grew so comfortable with for the last several weeks, or the people here, you supposed.

Tonight was different. Temari and Kankuro suddenly had some personal responsibilities to attend to so you did not come over for dinner as usual. You were sitting on a big branch, legs dangling in the air, eyes gazing at the clear sky above you. You honestly still had so many things to do here, there were people that you called friends, there were so many questions that needed answers, your feelings for a specific person being one.

The air on your right stirred and you shifted a little bit to the left, lending your expected visitor some space to sit. Gaara silently took a seat next to you, letting out a long sigh, “You remember the Missing-nins that attacked you on your way here?”

You nodded, curious to as why he brought the topic up, “Did you manage to find anything?”

He lowered his gaze to your round eyes, “Y/N, this is getting more serious than we initially thought.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Go ahead!”

“I received this from an anonymous,” he pulled out a paper envelope from his pocket, “it was sealed and left in front of the tower.”

You quickly grabbed the envelope in his hand, not expecting the package to be that heavy. You opened the folded paper and found tons of photos inside. Giving Gaara a glance, you proceeded to turn back onto the object as remained silent beside, nodding for you to resume your action. You looked back inside the enveloped, eyes widened at the sight of familiar faces being tied to the poles, bleeding and unconscious, some were even chained with rusty metal, the wounds on their bodies were fresh with trails of blood, dried ones layered with new ones. The graphic content made you gasp and clench your fist, these were faces you recognized, and were painfully familiar with. Seeing them in such a state thwarted your heart, your breathing became rapid as you found it impossible to focus on the photos, head wildly spinning, threatening to collapse at any moment.

Gaara noticed your change in behavior and hastily took the envelope back with one hand, the other stroking your back gently. He knew the question that was running in your mind as he felt you trembling beneath his touch, “I figured it was most likely from Orochimaru.”

“Where?” You managed to whisper, voice hoarse and raw, still shaking from the shock.

“You’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” he pulled you into his chest, lending you his shoulder, “Temari and Kankuro already took off earlier.”

“I need to go, my friends… I,” you began to choke on your words, tears prickling in your eyes, “I can’t be sitting here while they are suffering, they need me.”

“Listen,” his voice hardened, “whoever sent the photo here means they know where you are, Y/N, you are their next target. If you go, you’ll fall right into their trap. As long as I’m here, I’m not going to let you go!”

You knew Gaara was right, but you could not stand your friends being tortured in such cruel ways. You held on to him even tighter, tears flowing, and he slowly patted your head, “It’s okay Y/N. From now on, you are under my supervision, I will protect you, no matter what. Temari and Kankuro will get the captives out safely together with other Sand Shinobi.”

You sniffed against his chest after you had calmed yourself down, your voice hoarse, “I want to go back.”

“You will be staying with me tonight, I will have your stuff here in a minute.”

“No need to summon your Ninjas, I will go back and pack,” you gave him an assurance smile but he sure knew it was nothing but a cover.

Gaara helped you stable yourself on your feet as you continued to stare at the ground. You both chose to walk back, using the cold, dry wind to ease away the mental trigger earlier. You leaned against Gaara as he led you through the woods, absentmindedly made your way back to your accommodation.

He patiently waited outside in the living room for you to gather your stuff, eyes wandering around to observe your place.

“Gaara?” You called from your bedroom.

“Yes?” He hurried inside. “Do you need help packing up?”

“Something’s off, I don’t know,” you whispered, “but my room doesn’t look like how I left in the morning.”

“Is there anything missing?”Gaara immediately surveyed your room thoroughly, trying to spot anything odd, “Let’s hurry up. It’s not safe here anymore.”

You grabbed your folded clothes and stuffed them in a bag together with some books and toiletries and made your way to the door, Gaara was right behind you. You two went straight to his home, after checking the outside area once again, you decided to go for a shower first, desperate to rinse the exhaustion away.

Drying your hair as you got out of the bathroom, Gaara was slumped on the couch. The red-haired Ninja was fast asleep, eyes peacefully closed. You took your time to notice how the crease between his brows was relaxed, his chest rose and fell rhythmically. It was tiring and assiduous, his position, being a young man in his blossoming age but bounded to such duties, you deeply understood the responsibilities that he had, having to experience them yourself. After working with him for quite an amount of time, you were sure that the red-haired could not be any better as a young Kazekage. The sight before you was indescribable, it was rare and precious. Right now, he was not the Kazekage feared by nations, nor the cold-blooded Gaara of the Desert, he was just… Gaara.

Gaara sensed your appearance as he flicked his eyes open and sat up straight, mumbling, “I did not fall asleep.”

You chuckled, not failing to stress your words, “Yes, you totally did not fall asleep!”

“Anyway,” he smiled, “are you feeling any better?”

“Um, better than before,” you grinned in return, “you can take a shower now, I’ll wait out here.”

After a warm shower, you rummaged through the fridge and found some leftovers, enough for you and Gaara, and went to heat it up. You spent your dinner going through the possible causes behind Orochimaru’s insanity and the reason why he was after you concerned Gaara.

“What if it’s not Orochimaru who’s behind all this mess?” You questioned, the gashes on your fellow Shinobi did not look like they were left by Orochimaru or any of his guys, they were different, more painful.

“That’s not impossible,” he tapped his finger on the table, “but who could possibly do all this besides him?”

“Maybe they are not only targeting me, or Konoha?”

“What makes you think so?”

“If they wanted to make a fuss with Konoha, it would be more efficient to just come straight to the Hokage, rather than someone out of town like me. Konoha’s citizens would have been a better catch, holding them in danger would immediately get our Hokage on her nerves.”

Gaara furrowed his brows, “I see your point, their intention is much bigger. Besides Orochimaru, the only active rogue organization to date is… the Akatsuki.”

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu​

[asphalt-cocktail]

Hear me out..kay?

'70s John Lennon with younger female home assistant reader getting into a lil dispute because John thinks he let himself go after the Beatles broke up, but the reader believes otherwise and it ends up in the two of them having passionate/slightly rough sex because he's more or so angry with himself than anything? And the two of them are really close too, like John allows her to watch Julian and Sean when he's at the studio or on business trips?? And the two boys genuinely like her???

(a universe where he isn't married to yoko ((no hate intended)) and is single and happy that way..)

Oh my god, I love this idea! 70s john is so pretty. I love how he looks as he gets older. it’s like fine wine. Some of the ages might not add up but we’ll call this an AU for the sake of consistency!

Warnings: Some smudges of angst, smut, insecurities, language

Also it got WAY longe than I expected so i got a little carried away. 

As John slept, he dreamt he sat perched on a throne made bones. It overlooked a high cliff that faced the ocean where the wind burned his face and he could hear seagulls screaming in the background.

He was alone. For once he wished he had the screaming crowds and bandmates calling his name. But only the shrieking gulls filled his ears.

The dream seemed to go on for two lifetimes and the atmosphere felt staticky as the waves repeatedly crashed against the shores and hit the rocks. At times he could feel the soft kiss of saltwater sprinkling against his face.

He blinked for the first time in what felt like ages and suddenly his throne of bones began to collapse, he grasped at them panicked as he desperately tried to prevent himself from falling. Just as his footing slipped John shot up in his bed breathing heavily. He blinked to clear the bleariness that had settled from sleep and palmed his bedside table for his glasses and crudely wiped them on his sheets to clear the fingerprints before slipping them on. 

Suddenly the room was clear, and the sound of gulls was replaced with Sean’s squealing laughter. It helped John feel grounded in his brief moment of panic. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Christ, what did he have to do today again? John ran his fingers through is knotted hair and slipped out of his bed. Right, he had to do several interviews to promote his new album and single that was just released then he had a dinner party. He grimaced at the thought of having to sit for several hours with a group of yuppies and pretend to enjoy their conversation.

As John walked through is bedroom he slipped on a pair of slippers and his dressing gown before stopping in front of his full length mirror. He gave his belly a firm pat, he’d lost a significant amount of weight in the last five years, mostly from depression, but it was still a small victory in his eyes. Atleast he had that going for him.

The bedroom door open and John found himself lured to the kitchen by the smell of syrup and pancakes. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile, “You’re early.” He greeted you.

You shrugged your shoulders, not looking up from the batter as you poured it into the skillet, “I know I thought my exam was going to take much longer than it did.” You said sheepishly. John had been gracious enough to accept you as his assistant and sometimes nanny. He was nice and the job helped you learn a lot about public relations and management, which is what you had hoped to do after you’d graduated from university. 

“Do you want some pancakes? Sean helped with them.” You said waving the ladle towards John.

He shrugged, still groggy from sleep. He really didn’t want any, but the way Sean stared at him with his big black eyes begging changed his mind. He sighed after his idle moment in thought and nodded his head, “I suppose I should see what the little chief has made for us.” He smiled and ruffled the kid’s hair.

After breakfast John rushed to get ready, “And you’re okay with taking Julian to piano lessons? Remember Sean still needs to finish that cough medicine from his cold earlier last week, and they can’t stay up past-” he rushed out his of things that he now only worried about due to having children.

You placed your hand on John’s arm and gave him a look, “John I’ve worked with you for almost three years, I think I can handle a day of babysitting. Julian will get to piano lesson on time and Sean will get his medicine; and don’t worry I won’t give them any sugar past 6pm.” John chose to ignore the little wink you gave Julian and Sean from the other side of the room.

He let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed, “I know, I just” Worry I’m not good enough, his intrusive thoughts echoed in his mind and he shook his head before sharply inhaling, “I just worry about them, you know how it is.” You didn’t, you weren’t a parent. But you understood a little bit with where he was coming from.

You gave John a sympathetic nod and patted his shoulder, “Go on, you’re going to be late for the interview.” You said and turned him, pushing him towards the door.

A small smile settled on John’s face, it didn’t matter if he left for 8 hours or a full week, he still gave you the same reminders and the same list when Yoko or Cynthia couldn’t take the kids. John rushed out the door and you turned towards the boys and grinned at them. They were both nice, Julian had a wee bit of an attitude, but you chocked it up to him being in double digits while Sean was a curious and surprisingly even-tempered boy.

You made sure Julian got to and from piano lessons okay and wrestled with Sean to take the last dose of his medication, bribing him with some cookies. The remainder of the afternoon and evening you watched a movie with them, walked in the park, and drew pictures of the cats.

At lunch time John called to check in on the boys and to let you know it was going to be a late night, after reassuring him everything was fine you resumed your conversation with Sean about some fabulous story he was making up.

John sat at the dinner party, poking at his food and listening to his scientist friend tell them about a fancy new machine they got at work. The autoclave used immense amounts of heat and pressure to sterilize items, nothing survived the autoclave. In that moment John decided he saw some of his own likeness in the machine. As the voices turned to mumbles and John fell deep into thought he found that his own heart was harsh an inhospitable, much like the machine. That was why he was mostly alone in his 17-room apartment in New York City. His two wives couldn’t even make his home their home, and when he received a phone call from Cynthia or Yoko saying they were coming to pick the children up or to send them home on the morrows next fight he couldn’t say it struck him by surprise.

As the evening grew late you put Sean to bed and then an hour later you sent Sean to bed, much to your surprise neither of the boys fought with you tonight over why it was unfair they had different bedtimes or how they should be allowed to stay up later because it was summertime.

Infomercials from the television droned in your ears and lulled you to sleep as you sprawled out on the couch. A hand touching your shoulder caused you to jump and you blinked before John came into focus, “I’m home, you can stay the night in the guest room. It’s too late for you to go home alone.” He said kindly.

You rubbed your eyes and groggily sat up, “How did the meetings go today?” You asked after a deep yawn.

John’s face scrunched up, the way it did when he was frustrated and deep in thought, “It was alright.” He shrugged.

“What do you mean alright? You just released a new single, no one had an opinion on it?” You asked as you made your way through one of the many long hallways that made up his Dakota apartment.

John followed you, hoping for conversation and company, “I don’t know, I must have termites in me brain or something.” He frowned leaning against the door of the bathroom and watching you rummage through the cabinet for your spare toothbrush. Your movements moved on memory and you pushed aside the antacids and ibuprofen to get to the toothbrush you kept in the back of the medicine cabinet. The familiarity in your actions made John feel comforted.

“what do you mean?” You asked before you began brushing your teeth. You watched as John shifted, leaning against the door jam. He felt uncomfortable. You could tell.

He looked away from you, “I’m washed up I suppose.” He dug his shoe into the grout of the bathroom tile, “No one wants to listen to a former Beatle without the other three.” John wanted to open up to you but his body felt like an unstable bag of foam and bones and his ability to speak clearly vanished.

You spat out your toothpaste and wiped the remainder off with the towel that hung on the wall, “Oh come off it,” You scolded him, “You don’t mean that do you?”

Now it was your turn to follow John as he walked through the house, kicking his shoes off and tossing his jacket to the side, “That’s how it seems.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Every time I talk to one of these hokey television people, they just rub it in me face how successful Paul or George are doing.” He frowned, “And I’m just sitting here, a one hit wonder. No songs in the last five years.” He tugged open the door to his wardrobe and pulled out sleeping cloths and tossed them onto the bed, “Paul’s got his 87 children, and his new better band. What do I have?” His cheeks started turning red and his thick brows furrowed.

You listened to him complain about his imperfections, he obviously needed to get them off his chest, “John,” You said softly interrupting his monologue, “You don’t mean that.” You bluntly said.

John looked away from you and huffed loudly, “First I get called the fat Beatle, then I get torn to shreds for saying one thing about Christianity and now I can’t even write a damn song anymore.” He angrily pulled his shirt over his head, “If I can’t even write a damn song what use am I?” He continued to mumble to himself and tug the thin and worn sleep shirt over his head and stuck his arms through the hole.

You walked forward and boldly grabbed John’s wrist as he reached for his lounge pants, “Stop it,” You said in the same tone of voice you used to scold one of the children, “I don’t want to hear you say bad things about yourself that aren’t true.” Your brows knit together as John turned to look at you.

His eyes narrowed to little slits as he studied your face. John felt as though the throne of fame he once sat upon was now crumbling, much like in his dream “You’re just an assistant, you don’t know anything.” He said coldly and shrugged you off.

You know he didn’t mean it, but the words stung, “Yeah, I’m just your assistant who watches your kids, and takes them to piano lessons, and does your laundry, and brings you take away when you are too sad to leave your room.” You shot back.

Your words hit John like a 10-ton truck, and he looked at you shocked, none of his assistants had ever been this bold before. They all cowered beneath the mighty John Lennon, but you were different. Your tongue was just as sharp as his, and he hated to admit it; but he liked the way your brows furrowed, and your eyes ignited with fire every time you argued back at him. He wanted to get a rise out of you, so he pushed you, “I pay you for it, don’t go around thinking you’re special. I could post your job in the paper and have hundreds of college kids lining up to work for me.” He hissed stepping towards you.

You were backed into a wall, literally and figuratively, you felt at a loss for words. John was right and you both knew it, what was the worst that could happen if you pushed back a bit? “Do it, I dare you.” You scoffed and moved to push past him, “Surprised anyone would like to work for a washed-up Beatle.” You mumbled under your breath knowing that he would hear you.

John brought his arm up and pushed you back into your spot between the wall and pushed his lips against yours. It was hard and messy; your teeth clicked together, and your noses knocked. It took a moment for you to realize what was happening until John roughly shoved his knee between your legs. You let out a whimper feeling him pull away and start leaving hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and trailing down to your neck. Your chest heaved against him and you swallowed thickly, and you desperately tried to focus as he continued to latch onto your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, “John.” You whined and ground yourself against his thigh.

He loved how you practically purred his name as you spoke. John’s hands pushed down on your hips, helping you as you slid against his thigh with wanton need. Your breathy sighs sent a shiver that crept down his spine and settled in his belly, “We can stop, just say it and I’ll stop.” He said rubbing his nose along your jaw.

You swallowed thickly, “Please don’t,” You didn’t want to go back now.

John pulled away and pulled you by your wrist before pushing you back onto the bed. You bounced back against the plush large mattress and laid against the pillows and watched as John knelt between your legs. He rubbed his hands along your thighs and kissed you’re the skin that had become exposed from your shirt riding up and pushed it up more. He sucked and left kitten licks as he exposed more of you stomach and chest, kissing between your breasts and sucking at the soft skin on the sides.

John peeled your shirt off and in one swift movement your breasts were exposed and your top and underclothes tossed aside. He dove against your neck again, deepening the marks he’d already left prior and adding new ones, nipping at the skin and inhaling your scent. You reached your fingers and laced them in his soft long hair. You’d always wondered how it felt and how it smelt. You found yourself burying your nose into the side of his head and breathing deeply. He smelled like stale smoke, the gum he always chewed as a nervous habit, and like his eucalyptus shampoo. It made your brain feel dizzy.

Your legs wrapped around John’s narrow hips and pulled him flush against you. He groaned feeling your heat against his awakening erection and ground against you. he felt like he was 18 again, sneaking home some blurry faced bird through the back door at Mimi’s after coming home too late. But this felt better, it wasn’t some random company for the night; it was you.

The assistant he hired on a whim because he needed someone to watch Sean while he flew to LA for recording, the same person who folded his laundry, the first person he told of his divorce from Yoko. Even in his dream as he stood alone on the edge of the cliff as his throne collapsed, he knew if he called your name you would come.

Now, here he was; swallowing your moans eagerly in his mouth and listening as you left ragged breathy gasps in his ear as he ground against you. His hands fumbled with the buttons on your pants before he finally gave up and pulled them open, the small button popping off and bouncing to the other side of the room. John kissed your hips and along the lower half of your stomach and it twitched.

You squirmed, looking down and seeing his intently focused face as he yanked down your underwear and jeans and carelessly tossed them aside. You suddenly became aware of your nakedness as you stared down at John, fully clothed in a loose sleep shirt and the pants he wore today. Your eyes trailed his body and you sat up, tugging at his shirt. Your movements were hesitant and less confident than his. John’s hands guided his shirt up and he tugged it off, throwing it to join the rest of your discarded cloths and you ran a hand along his chest. Admiring the freckles and imperfections that made him distinctly human. He pulled back and shrugged his pants off and resumed his spot between your legs, pushing you back down.

John kissed the sides of your knees and made his way up your thighs, “Is this okay?” He murmured.

You shivered feeling his lips moving against your legs and nodded your head, urging him to continue. The pit of nervousness that settled in your belly violently vanished as you felt John’s hot tongue swipe between your folds and lap at you, “Jesus Christ,” You gasped out.

You could feel John smirk as he hooked his arms under your legs and pulled you close. He spread you apart, groaning and rubbing your clit with his thumb, “Has anyone ever done this to you before?” He asked glancing up at you.

You swallowed thickly and shook your head, “N-no,” You choked out.

John hummed acknowledging your answer and licked at your core again, taking his time to trace lazy shapes around the bundle of nerves. It sent a tingle that rang through your whole body, from the tips of your toes to your fingers and you desperately reached for John’s hair to keep him in place.

Your toes curled and you pressed John’s face closer against you and bucked your hips, grinding against his face. He groaned and pressed back, pulling you closer against his face. The plug between your brain and mouth disconnected and your mind felt like it was swimming. The string in your stomach tightened as you continued to grind against John’s tongue as he lapped at you. Your soft breathy sighs climbed in pitch before it snapped and your hips squirmed against him. John firmly held you down and he harshly rubbed your clit. The burning sensation caused your toes to curl, your eyes to blissfully shut, and made your legs shake. Your hips tried to jerk away from his hand, but he held you down, watching you writhe, jaw hanging slightly ajar.

“St-op” You choked out and gripped his wrist, letting out a sob as he pushed you to your peak once again. Your chest heaved and your legs shook as it washed through you. You curled into yourself and your face scrunched up.

John left you no room to breathe as he pulled your face close to his and captured your mouth in an open mouth. His tongue explored your mouth and you could taste yourself. You gripped at his forearms and pulled him back down, thumbing his briefs and tugging them down. John smiled against your mouth as he wiggled out of them, twisting his legs and shifting before he finally gave up and broke your kiss for a moment to tug them the rest of the way down.

You reached to kiss him and frowned as he pulled away, settling between your legs and rubbing his cock teasingly between your wet folds before he pushed in. You gasped, feeling John stretch you as his pelvis pushed against the back of your legs. He sat there for a moment and his face reached up and cupped yours as he hovered just inches away from your face.

You brought your hand up and placed it on John’s, his thumb traced your bottom lip and he slowly moved his hip, pushing deep inside you. Your mouth fell open and you let out a soft moan. John eagerly took the opportunity to slip his thumb into your mouth and pushed harder into you as your lips wrapped around it.

John’s hands gripped your hips as his picked-up speed, pulling them against him and making your skin slap together. He fell over you and you wrapped your arms around him pulling his body close to yours. His head fell next to your shoulder and he messily kissed up your shoulder and up to the side of your mouth before you captured his. Your kiss lacked tact and was only motivated by wanton need for each other. Your teeth clanked harshly together, and you clung to John as though he would vanish from you in an instant.

John broke the kiss and latched onto your neck once again, nipping at the skin and leaving a lingering and dull pain as he continued his trail before settling near your ear. John’s grunts and soft breathy sighs were perhaps the best sound’s you’d ever heard. In that moment you didn’t care that your bodies stuck together with sweat, or that your head kept bumping against the headboard.

You found yourself reaching for John and whimpering as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees and brought them up, leaning onto you and pushing deeper inside you. Your back arched off the mattress as he pulled back and began to slowly rut deep inside you.

John clenched his teeth together and hissed, feeling your walls twitching around him as he continued his languid pace, “Please,” You said softly, your brows knit together and your eyes looking helplessly up at him.

His lips spread into a knowing smirk, “Please what?” His voice sounded ragged and strained as he continued to tease you.

“More please,” You barely recognized the whiny tone of your voice.

“Yeah?” He asked and harshly snapped his hips against yours, “Like that?” He asked snapping them again. The headboard lightly tapped the wall as John’s thrusts grew harder and faster while your staccato moans followed jointly. John watched you, your mouth hanging open and skin shiny from the combination of his and your sweat that coated your body. He felt more human in this moment than he’d felt in a long time.

John’s brows knit together, and his thighs clenched, he didn’t want this to end. You pulled his arms and pulled him close to you, not caring if it seemed like you were being clingy, “Come inside me,” You breathed out next to his ear.

John’s body seized up and he huffed out a shaky haggard breath before he came, holding you close against his body and riding out the high that fogged over his senses.

For a moment he laid on top of you, softening inside you but enjoying the intimate closeness the two of you shared in your post coital haze. John kissed your shoulder before pulling back and kissing your lips. He pulled back and the two of you smiled at each other.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You couldn’t help but turn your head and breath out a small laugh before John rolled over to your side. The two of you laid on top of his wrinkled duvet staring at each other. You pursed your lips and remembered what you said earlier, “I didn’t mean it, what I said.” You said sheepishly looking away.

John’s expression was soft as he looked at you, “I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it either.” He said his arm now resting on your shoulder. He pulled you against his bare chest and you pushed your knee between his legs, entangling your bodies together as John held you. 

[maybe-your-left]

BITCH I AM DEMANDING A FLUFFY PART TWO TO KYLO FORGETTING OUR DATE OKAY?!

I WANT SWEET AND NASTY MAKEUP SEX

HAHAHHA YESSSSS. here is part one of Kylo forgetting our anniversary.

“Hey.”

You sighed into the phone, slumped on the cool leather couch. The TV blaring before you, but you didn’t listen to what was on. It had been two weeks since you kicked Kylo out, the only communication shared were clipped texts and stale ‘Hi’s’ and ‘Byes’ when he needed to pick up clean clothes.

“Hi.”

Kylo took in a slow breath, you could practically feel the air hit your face. So close, yet so far, “Are you gonna be home today?”

“Yup.”

“Cool, I’ll be there at 12 during lunch. I have some shit to grab.”

You bit back sniffling, “Okay,” your voice cracked. “I’ll be here.”

———

You scrolled through your emails, waiting at the kitchen counter for him to show up. You'd applied for some jobs a few days ago if this was really the end of you two. You needed a job, there was no way you could afford living in the penthouse and at some point, Kylo would want it back.

It was in his name anyway, the only thing you really owned without his help was your laptop.

Fingers crossed you'd find something, you haven't worked in almost five years. You didn't need to with Kylo, and he urged you to not work. He wanted to take care of you, provide for you, help you in any way he could. But now, you were left high and dry, not even a single bank account in your name.

You swallowed back another round of tears, no.

No more tears, you'd get through this. You had family who would help, friends that supported you and wanted you to be happy. Even his mom, not that you'd stoop that low, was willing to help you.

It would be better to just cut all ties to him since there was a slim chance he would want to be back together.

You still weren't sure, you missed him. Terribly, barely sleeping because his presence was gone. Jumping towards your phone whenever it rang, hoping it was him on the other side calling to make it up to you.

But the man was stubborn, angry that you kicked him out.

Claiming that his accusations were valid, which wounded you further.

A light knock on the door drew you away from your wallowing, you took a shaky breath before whispering a faint, "it's open."

Kylo walked in slowly, dressed in his work clothes. A button-up, white, with his suit jacket and tight dress pants. His hair was getting longer, the harsh lighting of the kitchen showed a sheen of grease coating it.

And the bags, the bags under his eyes were darker than normal.

A part of you was smug over his appearance.

But the rest of you ached, fighting against your baser instinct to run towards him. So he could take you in his arms while you bathed him in kisses, mourning over the time spent apart.

"Hello," he nodded stiffly towards you. Not making eye contact as he shut the door. Kylo fiddled with the strap on his shoulder, his duffel bag hanging limp. Empty, ready to stuff more things inside before he ran away to whatever place he was staying.

"Hey," you croaked, eyes flitting back to your laptop. Biting your lip as you read through rejection after rejection, no one wanted you. The gaps in your resume were too long, your diploma meant nothing since you had zero experience.

Kylo's shoes scuffed the floor, sniffing loudly before he looked at you.

"I was going to grab some more things," he glanced towards the staircase, "All my stuff is at the dry cleaners right now, I've worn these pants two days in a row."

"That sucks."

He hummed, "Okay," backing away from you slowly. You watched him walk towards the stairs, back tense and straight. His hands were tucked into his pockets, something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

You used to make him comfortable.

Now you just agitated him, even though it wasn't your fault you two were in this mess.

You stayed quiet as he rummaged around upstairs. Doors opening and closing, drawers slamming shut, you briefly heard swearing but you couldn't make it out. You hadn't thrown his stuff away, keeping everything organized. Right down to the hair products that he had left.

Color-coded and alphabetical by the sink.

His footsteps echoed to a stop, maybe he was considering kicking you out...

"Have you seen my black sweater?"

You stilled, his black sweater... "Nope."

A huff in annoyance, "The one that has the hole in the front, from when it got caught while we were in Niagra? It's not in the closet."

That's because I hid it, you thought. You'd been sleeping in it for the past week, it smelled like him and enveloped you like his arms used to. No way you were giving it back, call it a sacrifice of your relationship.

You listened to his slow descent to the kitchen, duffle now stuffed with clothes. He eyed you suspiciously, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Coming dangerously close to your seat, he angled himself behind you. A little to the left, but enough for him to spy on your computer screen.

"You're applying for jobs?"

You slapped your laptop shut, he didn't need to snoop.

"None of your business, Kylo."

He shrugged, looking up at the ceiling as he replied, "Might be good for you, to get out of the house."

"Mhm."

"You'll want to apply to multiple places," he stepped around you, opening the fridge for a brief glance inside. Spying one of his protein shakes that you hadn't thrown out, wasn't expired yet. Kylo cracked it open and took a small sip, "You won't be able to afford this place with entry-level salaries."

"Yes," you snapped at him, "I know that."

"Just trying to help, (Y/N)."

You climbed off your stool, moving away from him to curl on the couch. Already on the verge of tears, "You aren't helping, you're just being rude."

"Well, it's rude of you to steal my shit when we aren't together anymore."

That made the waterworks start, muffling your sniffles with your fluffy blanket. You tucked yourself away, desperate to disappear. Maybe when you woke up, everything would be back to normal, or you could wake up seven years earlier to avoid ever meeting him. Save yourself from the heartache that was tearing you apart from seam to seam.

You listened to the echo as he walked towards you. Huffing when he saw your shivering form, "I don't know why you're crying. I haven't been staying here for two weeks, we clearly aren't together."

"Whatever, Kylo," you whispered, voice breaking as you took in a wet breath, "Can you just leave?"

"Sure."

------

"I can't afford to stay there mom," you whimpered into the phone, you were stalling in your car. Parked in the garage of the apartment, you had been to an interview. Realizing the pitiful reality of your life, you had already begun to sell your designer clothes. Gucci purses, red bottoms, Tiffany earrings, Cartier bracelets, you name it. Anything that could help you create a bank account was sold off.

"Have you talked to him at all? Kylo wouldn't leave you high and dry, if anything he would pay for you to get an apartment."

"I don't want his help," you hissed.

A pause, "It would be humiliating to ask, I know he's expecting it. After the talk about jobs, he's just been waiting for me to cave and sacrifice my dignity."

"I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt to talk with him, I know you both have been avoiding it after the fight. It could bring you both some closure-or better yet-get you guys back together so I can get some grandbabies."

"Goodbye, mom."

You huffed as you hung up, slamming your head back into your headrest. Maybe you could sell the car, people would pay top dollar for a gold Porsche. But the title was in Kylo's name, birthday present, any money you'd earn would belong to him.

You pulled up your text thread, the last messages sent were from three days ago. He left you on read, you texted him goodnight after a few stale messages about your day and when he could come and move some furniture out. Kylo had gotten an apartment on the upper east side, right by his office. You checked the old Zillow listing, it was huge and ridiculously expensive.

Enough room for him and a new girlfriend, you were certain he was already fucking someone else. With how cruel he was with you, not even trying to make amends. Probably his secretary, she was always a slut. Showing off her tits to him, even when you came to visit. Kylo probably bent her over his desk the day after he left, just because he could.

You swallowed your pride, it was now or never.

Kylo, I think we need to talk.

Send.

Let's see how long it... oh?

What happened, I'm at work right now.

Quick, maybe he got the notification on his laptop.

Could I swing by the office?

Right now?

Yeah.

Typing...

I have a shareholder meeting at 2, make it quick.

You sped towards his work, determined to get there before he changed his mind and banned you from coming. You were shocked he even agreed, maybe he was having a rare good day.

Or forgot that you two were broken up.

After parking, you jogged into the building. No need to say hi to anyone, it was embarrassing enough to be the ex-girlfriend visiting. At least you were dressed up, people wouldn't think you were in the poor house, yet.

You smiled coldly at his secretary, not bothering to tell her what you were here for. Despite her stuttering about him having a meeting at 2, she was totally fucking him. There's no way she wasn't, a man like him can barely go a day without sticking his dick in something.

Whipping open the door, you were met with the uncomfortable silence that blanketed his office. Curtains were drawn, lights on the dimmest setting, the only noises were the door creaking and his fingers typing.

Like he was punishing the words, Kylo was good at breaking keyboards with his aggressive emailing.

You cleared your throat, watching as his eyes briefly flickered towards you before moving back to the screen. Okay, you walked slowly towards his desk. Pulling out a chair as quietly as possible, the leather squeaking when you sat.

Kylo let out a long sigh, leaning away from his screen. "What is it you want to talk about?"

With a harsh swallow, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt. Anything to avoid his penetrating gaze, "I just wanted to talk about, you know."

He blinked, face blank, "Use your words, please. I don't have time to fuck around, I have a business to run."

"I-I-I"

"Spit.it.Out."

"How come you never apologized?"

Silence.

Kylo's jaw clenched and unclenched, leaning back in his chair slowly. Staring directly at you, "This conversation?"

"Yes, I need to know."

"What good is it doing us now?"

"I don't know I just-"

"What are you hoping to gain from this?"

"Kylo-"

He huffed loudly, "I don't have to answer you anymore, we aren't together."

You slammed a fist on his desk, rattling a few pieces he had decorating it. Standing on your wobbling legs, "Listen to me, you can be an asshole all you fucking want but I deserve answers."

Kylo narrowed his eyes, standing slowly before you. His form towering, making you feel even smaller than you already felt. Crawling to his office for closure, and instead, he wanted to argue with you about the necessity of the conversation.

You watched his palms lay flat on the polished wood, crinkling papers he had strewn about.

"If you're here for money, just fucking say it."

"I am not here for-"

Now it was his turn to slam the desk, "Bullshit! You're here to fucking grovel because you don't know how to take care of yourself. Can't even get a second-rate job!"

"You're the one who insisted on taking care of me!"

"So you think it's okay to demand money when we aren't together? Selling off all the shit I bought you to pay the power bills?"

You gaped at him, "I would never."

"Shut up," Kylo spat, leaning further across to be nose to nose, "You forget that I have your email linked to my laptop. I can see every pathetic message about pawning what I worked for. What I provided you, fucking ungrateful."

"How dare you sneak through my email!?"

"It's not sneaking if I have the passwords, darling."

"You can't fucking do that," you pushed away, arms folded while you glanced around the room. All your pictures were gone, more proof that showed he was erasing your existence, "At least I'm not already fucking someone..."

"Excuse me?"

You spoke over your shoulder, "You heard me."

"Are you seriously accusing me of that," Kylo scoffed, "When that's what got us into this mess in the first place?"

You shrugged, "How long have you been fucking her, did you march to her place after I kicked you out?"

"(Y/N)."

"I'm a big girl, I can take it. Just tell me the truth, because there's no way you'd just abandon me if there wasn't someone else."

"(Y/N)."

You spun on your heel, snarling with a finger in his face, "How many women have you replaced me with? Huh? Or is it just your slut of a secretary-"

Kylo flipped his desk, everything crashing to the floor. You screamed as he began to throw items to the walls, tear books off the shelves, kicking his chairs to the ground. Anything he could get his hands on he attempted to tear apart.

"Enough!"

Heavy breaths.

"I'm not fucking anyone else! Are you fucking serious? All I've fucking done is work! Trying to just fucking move on but nooo," he faced you now, cheeks red and puffing. A few tracks of tears streaking towards his jaw, "You-you just have to be right, and have to be the victim of all this when it's both our fucking fault!"

Kylo paced away from you, running his fingers through his hair before crouching down to the floor. Cradling his face in his hands while he took in shaky breaths, "I fucking missed you, so much. It's all I thought about, but every fucking time I came back you ignored me."

"Kylo-"

"No, you fucking iced me out. I could barely speak to you and I wasn't going to do anything over text."

You succumbed to your tears, there was no way to hold them. Choking as you wiped away the floods, "I-I didn't m-mean to, you weren't talking to me Kylo. How was I supposed to r-react?"

Now he was crying, hiccuping in an attempt to steady his breathing and push through it like he always had. But he couldn't stop the tremor in his voice, "You could've told me you loved me or forgave me. Anything would've been better than this."

"Why do I have to be the one to apologize, I'm not the one who forgot our day and manhandled me in the tub! You were drunk, rude, and horrible to me, I deserved an apology."

"I know," he sniffed, "I tried to-the first few times I came back for clothes. But you hid from me."

You nodded slowly, pacing your way towards him. Unsure of how he'd react to you touching him, but you needed to be closer. You shuffled to his side, sliding your back against the gray wall to the floor.

"We've never been good at apologizing."

Kylo sat on the floor, mirroring you against the wall, "At least before, you didn't kick me out. Force me to crash on a couch, you know I don't fit on couches."

You chuckled softly, not wanting to smile at the visual.

"That's why our couch was custom," he laughed too, dull and humorless, "Because I kept sliding off."

"Yup."

Both of you swallowed, throats clicking in unison. Kylo shuffled in a more comfortable position, looking out at the clouded sky that peeked through the shades.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry."

A breath, "I never meant to miss our day, and I thought you were finished with me. I should've just spoken to you instead of drink, but that doesn't mean much now."

You hummed, "Thank you."

"I can write you a check," he sighed, "So you can get another place and still keep whatever's left of your collections."

"You don't-"

"I know I don't."

Kylo wrote you a check for half a million dollars, not looking at you when he ripped it from his checkbook. He mumbled about the bank may be needing to call him to confirm it, just have them call my office number.

Sending you off without another word.

------

Your new apartment was cute, small, perfect for you.

Light and airy, none of the fixtures were black or red. Hues of pink, coral, green, and blue danced around the rooms. Your couch was velvet, just because you wanted it to be. With an abundance of pillows and candles on every surface, you could fit them onto.

Your bed was a four-poster with a dreamy white canopy, soft and cloudlike bedding scrunched up from however you left them. No one was running around frantic to make the bed, or straighten the blinds, or draw the curtains, it was just yours.

The check was cashed with little fuss, you tried not to cry about it. You dropped off the old house keys at Kylos office, along with your car keys, there was no need to keep the Porsche. You weren't living that life anymore, you could buy your own car now! And it would be yours, it was too hard to drive the gift everywhere.

Kylo told you to keep the car when he found the keys, but you ignored his messages. He wouldn’t understand why you wouldn’t keep it, but that was his problem.

You sighed into your couch, looking at the TV nestled next to the bay window. Imagining where you could squish more houseplants… you already had an abundance but it wouldn’t hurt.

Your phone began to vibrate on the coffee table, startling you as you scrambled towards it. Oh, it was Kylo, odd.

“Hey?”

“Hey.”

“Uh,” you stood from the floor, scratching your cheek as you walked. “What’s up?”

He cleared his throat, “I saw you got a place, wanted to drop off a housewarming gift.”

Your face scrunched, balancing the phone between your face and shoulder. Popping a potato chip in your mouth, “Why would you do that?”

A sigh, “Can you just buzz me in? I brought wine…”

“Whatever.”

Kylo came in with a tight smile, dressed in some black joggers and a gray t-shirt. He looked like he just rolled out of bed, not his typical look on a weekday. He held up a brown paper bag, Whole Foods on the label.

"You went to Whole Foods?" you raised a concerned brow.

"Nope," he set the bag on your kitchen table, eying the plants and crystals that littered your living room. A few magazines were strewn around on the surface, "I had my secretary do it."

You glared at him, which he noticed before shaking his head rapidly, "New secretary-not the old one. His name is Brady, he's very nice."

Kylo stood with his hands in his pockets, glancing in every direction as you approached the bag. Humming when you began pulling out the goodies he had, as promised there was a bottle of wine. Your favorite, along with a set of glasses.

A clear purple tinge, almost vintage looking. Some of your favorite fruit, he blushed when you held them up to his eyes. Mumbling how you never had enough of them in the past, and it was their season.

Now you were blushing, finding some red velvet cupcakes. Packaged beautifully, and a small vase in the shape of a kitty. You placed it on the table, looking at it over and over. Biting your lip as you waited for something to happen.

"I like your place," Kylo croaked out, "It's very bright."

You chuckled, "You're just used to your eyes straining from all the red and black decor."

He hummed, walking down your hallway. Glancing indoors that were left open until he made it to your bedroom. You heard him groan when he saw the white sheets and canopy, Kylo whistled for you.

Obediently, you pranced towards him, taken aback when he was sprawled on your mattress. Facedown with his face in your pillow, groaning like he was trying to wake up from a good dream.

"I fucking forgot how good you smelled," he moaned out, looking over at you lazily, "What would I have to do to get you to make out with me in here?"

------

LOL, this was long, but I'll do a part three if you would enjoy the rest of their reunion.

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads​​​ @onlykyloscenes​​​ @candycanes19​​​ @historyandfandoms50​​​ @caelum-phyriina-vermillon​​​ @ghoulian13​​​ @mrs-kylo-ren​​​ @millenialcatlady​​​​ @relationshipwithmybed​​ @dancingmicrobes​​​ @wayward-rose​​​ @contesa-lui-alucard​​​ @daydreamsofren​​​ @insufferablelust​​​ @ohdamnadamm​​​ @mariesackler​​​ @caillea​​ @safarigirlsp​​ @jalexunderthestars​​​ @shesakillerkween​​​ @glassythoughts​​ @zimmermansbrat​​ @not-the-teen-witch​​ @jynzandtonic​ @roanniom​ @celestiasin @glassbxttles @cornmousequeen @driversmutbucket @blowthatpieceofjunk

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[twomoonstwosuns]

the interview.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warning: smut (18+), swearing, fluff

word count: 4.7k

a/n: guys I'm so sad, this is it before the epilogue. I have many thoughts and feelings that I'll put in a different post but this would not be what it’s become without you so THANK YOU!

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“Hey Poe, it’s me. I just got out of my interview. I think it went well, but…I don’t know. We’ll see. I think I rambled a little bit. Anyway, you’re probably going into your interview now so good luck, I love you, you’re going to do great, and I can’t wait to hear all about it tonight. Love you, bye.”

Tucking your phone back into your bag, you walked along the boardwalk towards the café you were meeting Finn at for lunch. He had texted you saying he got stuck in some traffic and would be a few minutes late. You decided to wait for him outside, the view of the ocean sparkling in the bright sun too enticing to not stop and admire for a bit. 

The interview, at least, hadn’t been a disaster. The job was an entry level position at a small public relations firm looking to expand it’s teams. It was nerve-wracking at first at the beginning, but as you learned more about the company and got into comfortable conversation with your interviewer, you felt more confident. There were a few questions you answered that you felt nerves got the better of you, like four years of knowledge just flew right out the window, and you talked in sentences you weren’t even sure were complete. But the woman interviewing you didn’t say anything and at times seemed almost charmed by it. You could only hope. 

As you stood against the wooden fence separating the edge of the boardwalk from a large span of grass, a part of you could see yourself moving to Los Angeles, enjoying the sun everyday and taking weekly trips to Venice or Santa Monica to spend the day by the beach. It was incredibly tempting. 

But you’d be alone, your friends, family, and boyfriend a thousand miles away. You didn’t know if you could enjoy it without any of them there. 

Sunglasses perched on your reddening nose, the gentle ocean breeze moved your curled hair around your face. He sound of the waves was calming, putting you so far into a daze that you didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching you. 

“I promise, if you move here that view will never get old.”

Finn stood behind you, hands in his pockets as he looked at the ocean. He smiled when you jumped at the sound of his voice bringing you out of your calming trance. He took a step towards you and hugged you tightly, lifting you up off the ground. 

“How are you, nugget?”

“I’m good! I miss you. How are you?”

“Also good. Hungry.”

“Come on, let’s go eat then.”

Finn set you down and you followed him into the café, taking a peek at the menu before ordering and bringing a number plaque over to a table. 

“So, congrats on graduating! You’re a real life working adult now. Or, you will be.”

You gave him an uncertain smile. “Thanks…I’m terrified. I’ve had one job interview and I’m ready to marry rich and jet across the world as a trophy wife.”

Finn chuckled. “You’ll be fine. How’d the job interview go?”

“Okay, I think…they said they’d call me within a day or so if they want me to do a second interview. They’re interviewing a few other people so I might not hear anything until tomorrow or even Monday.”

“I think they call you.”

“You’re just biased,” you teased and Finn smirked and shrugged. 

“Maybe a little.” He sent you a wink and you giggled, his tone teasing but the vote of confidence greatly appreciated nonetheless. The waiter came by with the food, sandwiches for both of you, and set them in front of you. 

“So what’s new with you? I’ve barely talked to you the last few weeks…finals and all…”

“Well, I’ve been seeing a girl who lives up here.”

“Really?” You smiled. “Tell me about her.”

“Her name is Paige, I’ve been seeing her about four and a half months now…”

“Since January?” He nodded. “Poe didn’t mention you were seeing anyone…”

“He doesn’t know. I really, really like her and things have been moving kind of fast and I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“Moving fast isn’t a bad thing…hello, I met Kes after a month of dating and told Poe I loved him after two and a half months.”

“And he knew he loved you when Rey and I met you.”

“See? Poe and I are the king and queen moving fast and look at us! We’re happy!” Finn chuckled. “So, tell me more about her. What’s she like?”

Finn smiled and shook his head. “She’s amazing and beautiful and funny…she went to school for business and accounting but found it boring, so she’s worked tons of odd jobs…like, she worked at Disneyland for a bit, she’s an artist and she’s had her paintings featured in a couple galleries around SoCal…currently she works part time at a bar in Santa Monica and she’s an L.A. tour guide on the weekends.”

You quietly squealed. “Look at that smile on your face! You really like her!”

Finn nodded slowly and took his bottom lip and tucked it under his teeth.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You nodded and Finn grabbed his wallet from his pocket. He pulled out a picture and set it in front of you. The blur of black, grey, and white gave way to a very obvious shape in the middle of the picture. 

“Finn!” You gasped, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. The smile on his face was so wide you were sure it would split his face in half. 

“Ten weeks. Well, she’s twelve weeks now. We wanted to wait until the three month mark to start telling people.” You looked up at him, eyes wide. He looked at the sonogram adoringly. “It was a complete accident, so hopefully she likes me enough to put up with me for the rest of our lives.”

Your eyes watered and you smiled widely. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, nugget. I’m so…fuck, I’m so excited. Granted, this isn’t the way I wanted to do this…I imagine I’d be married first…”

You smiled softly. “As long as that baby is loved, which I have no doubt that he or she will, then who cares how it happened.”

Finn nodded and grabbed the picture, smiling at it once more before putting it back into his wallet. 

“You’re going to be an amazing dad, Finn,” you said softly, placing your hand on his arm. “And I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend.”

“We’re coming up fourth of July weekend. Poe, Rey, and I rent a cabin on the lake and we spend the long weekend there. You’ll probably be coming so you can meet her then.” You nodded happily, already excited for something happening a month and a half away.

“So, when are you and Poe having kids?” You threw your head back and laughed loudly. “What?! You said you guys move fast!”

You threw one of your chips at him and it bounced off of his chest and onto the floor. 

“Yeah, not that fast! I just finished school, I’m not ready to have a baby!”

“But by Christmas, right?” 

You giggled and threw another chip at him, which he caught and popped into his mouth. Your phone buzzed on the table and you saw an unfamiliar number flashing on your screen. Finn looked at it and raised his eyebrows. 

“That’s an L.A. area code.”

You swallowed hard and answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Y/N L/N.”

“Yes, this is…” you said nervously. Finn looked at you with interest.

“Y/N, this is Jyn Erso with Erso PR.”

“Oh, hi…” Finn mouthed ‘who is it?’ at you and you held a finger up. The woman on the other end chuckled warmly. 

“I can tell you’re a little surprised I’m calling you right now.”

“Yeah, a little…I just left a little under two hours ago.”

“Well, I took a closer look at your resume and some of the work in your portfolio and, with your interview earlier today, I wanted to call and offer you the job.”

Your eyes widened and you stumbled over your words. “Wha—wait, really?”

“I know we said we’d call you to set up a second interview but I was very impressed with you today and I think you’d make a great addition to our team.”

“Wow, um…thank you!” You looked at Finn and bit your lip. “Can I…could I think about it?”

“Of course you can. I know you’re coming from quite a ways away and have a lot of factors to consider, so please take a few days to think about it. The number I’m calling from is my office number, please feel free to call it if you have any questions.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Have a good day and a safe flight home.”

You hung up the call and looked at Finn, your face showing a disbelieving smile. 

“I got the job.”

“Damn, congratulations!” You didn’t, couldn’t, say anything. You were still in a little bit of shock from receiving that phone call. “Or not…?”

“I….I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting this!” You sat back in your chair, crossing your arms in front of you and looking at Finn. “What do I do?”

“Well, you obviously didn’t say yes…did they say you could think about it?” You nodded. “Then you think about it.”

You sighed. “This job…there’s so many opportunities for growth. It’s the kind of job that could kickstart by career. Honestly, I’d be stupid not to take it.”

“But there’s a lot of factors you have to consider.”

“Exactly…I don’t know what to do.” You looked up at Finn. “What do I do?”

Finn sighed and finished off his sandwich, wiping his hands and tossing the napkin in the basket. 

“I wish I could tell you to just take it, but it’s not that easy.”

You exhaled sharply and ran a hand through your hair. 

“No, it’s not.”

》 》 》

The job offer was in the back of your mind the rest of your lunch with Finn and didn’t fully sink in until you were on your way to the airport. You spent the two and a half hour plane ride going through every pro you could think of: the job itself, working and building your career, a new city with lots of opportunities, and sunshine and warmth everyday. But there were also the cons: moving expenses, finding an apartment you could actually afford that was close to work, and navigating a new city. Not to mention your friends and family would be a thousand miles away. 

Poe would be a thousand miles away. 

You walked off the plane and drove home still undecided. Even the drive home couldn’t help you come to a decision. You were much too excited to see Poe and hear about his interview. He had texted you when you landed that he was finishing up with dinner and insisted on waiting for you to get there to eat, but you encouraged him to go ahead without you. Your stomach felt twisted with nerves and there was no room for food at that moment. 

You walked into Poe’s apartment and was immediately greeted by Beebs. The smell of garlic and other spices was intoxicating and you followed it to the kitchen where Poe was dishing it up into containers for you to eat later. 

“Hey!” He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, walking over and pecking your lips quickly before putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. “How as your flight?”

“Good,” you said, dropping your stuff and taking off your shoes. “Little turbulent, but fine.”

Poe smiled and came around the counter, leaning against it and crossing his arms. You could hardly contain the smile on your face.

“So?”

Poe smiled widely. “I got the job.”

“You got it?!” You exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you!”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe it…I’ve been pinching myself making sure it was real all day. After all the sabotage from Hux and our secret relationship, Leia really stuck her neck out for me to get this job.” You smiled proudly. “This is just…the best fucking day.”

The smile on his face reached his eyes, which shone brightly with pure happiness. “I’m so, so happy for you, Poe. You deserve this. You’re an amazing teacher and you’re going to make an amazing head of the department. Your department.”

“I haven’t accepted the job yet. I wanted to talk to you about it, especially because you just had a job interview yourself. Which, speaking of, how did it go?”

“I actually got the job too.”

“You did?! Congrats!”

“Thanks…but I’m not going to take it.”

Poe’s smile disappeared. “You’re not?”

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want it.”

“But raved about interviewing for this job. It’s what you’ve been talking about for weeks. You were so excited and now you got it.”

“And you got yours.”

“Babe, I don’t want you to feel like I’m making you choose between me and a job—“

“You’re not,” you stressed, taking a step towards him. “This is my decision. I am choosing you over the job and I’m perfectly okay with it. I’m just starting to job hunt and if I take the first job I’m offered, I can’t build up my interview skills and I won’t know what else is out there. What if I find something better? My gut is telling me this is the right move, so I’m doing it.”

“Have you thought this all the way through? I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“I have thought about it. I talked to Finn earlier at lunch after they called me and did nothing but think about it while I was waiting for my flight and on the airplane. I was still undecided up until you told me you got your dream job, the one you’ve been talking about for months and months.” You sighed and put your hands on his chest. “You almost sacrificed getting this job to protect me…to protect us. Now you’ve got the job and all I want to be here to hear all about it at the end of the day. And I can’t do that if I’m in California."

Poe gave you a look of uncertainty and you smiled softly. “I love you. So much. We did not fight this hard for our relationship just to do long distance. This is what I truly want.”

Poe nodded and returned your smile. “As long as it’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Silence fell over you for a moment before your delighted squeals pierced the air. Poe had suddenly grabbed your waist, picking you up and spinning you around. Your arms went around his neck and he kissed the spot where your neck met your shoulder before looking at you.

“I got the job.” He smiled and you put your hands on his cheeks.

“You got the damn job.”

You pulled his lips to yours, the two pairs moving passionately together. After months and months of uncertainty and secrecy, things were finally going your way. 

“Do you want to go get a drink to celebrate?”

You smiled suggestively and shook your head. “Maybe tomorrow. Tonight…I want to celebrate with you. Alone. Naked.”

He smirked and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he quickly made his way to his bedroom, his lips connecting with yours once again. He nearly dropped you on the bed in his excitement and you sat up as he got on the bed next to you. You moved to straddle his lap and your kisses grew hotter, the passion just as intense but the desire for each other burning brighter as you ground your hips against his. You grabbed your shirt and brought it up over your head, Poe leaning in and kissing your chest before you could toss it aside. His dark hair was messy from your hands and became more disheveled when you yanked his shirt off. 

He smirked and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he quickly made his way to his bedroom, his lips connecting with yours once again. He nearly dropped you on the bed in his excitement and you sat up as he got on the bed next to you. You moved to straddle his lap and your kisses grew hotter, the passion just as intense but the desire for each other burning brighter as you ground your hips against his. You grabbed your shirt and brought it up over your head, Poe leaning in and kissing your chest before you could toss it aside. His dark hair was messy from your hands and became more disheveled when you yanked his shirt off. 

“You’re sexy,” you said as you ran your hands over his chest. He smirked and reached for the buttons of your dress pants. 

“You’re fucking sexy,” he retorted, dipping his fingers into your underwear and immediately finding your clit. Your mouth opened slightly and he wrapped his arm around your waist and started to lay you down on the bed.

“No, wait!”

Poe froze and you pushed him back to his position on the bed, his eyebrow cocked with curiosity. 

“You want to be on top?”

You smirked mischievously and grabbed his wrist, removing his fingers from your pussy. You brought them to your mouth and gave them a quick suck before moving down his lap and further down the bed, bringing his pants down with you. Kissing his stomach, your fingers dipped under the band of his briefs. He was already hard and you wasted no time removing his briefs and wrapping your hand around him. Poe let out a soft sigh of approval as you pumped him slowly. You swirled your tongue lightly around the tip and Poe let out a sound between a moan and a whimper with a very quiet plea falling from his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you giggled. “What was that?”

He swallowed hard, his body ringing with want. “Please.”

You smiled up at him and wrapped your lips around him, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His head fell back against the pillows, closing for just a minute before looking back down at you. He gathered your hair back so it was out of your face, biting his lip and watching your head bob as you sucked him off. A quiet ‘fuck’ left his lips and you released him from your mouth, your hand pumping him quickly and your tongue found the base of his cock. You ran your tongue slowly, teasingly up the length of him before taking him in your mouth again. Your hand and mouth worked in tandem, bringing him closer and closer to the edge each time he watched your cheeks hollow around him. 

But Poe wasn’t ready to be done quite yet.

“G—fuck….get up here.”

You ignored him, sliding your mouth all the way down his length until he touched back of your throat. The groan that came from him came deep from within him and it took all his strength to tug on your hair again instead of giving into the immense pleasure you were giving him and coming too soon. 

“Get up here. Now.”

You let him go with a pop, crawling up into his lap again. “Mmm, bossy. I like it.”

He smirked as you grabbed him again to line him up with your entrance. “Another day, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and nodded as you sunk down on him slowly, a soft groan leaving your lips as he filled you all the way up. He attached his lips to your neck, his teeth leaving little love bites along your collarbone as you grinded against him. Your hand came back up to his hair, tugging the inky strands at the base of his neck and he quietly moaned at the mix of pain and pleasure. 

“F—ohhh…fuck, baby…” your voice was breathy, a sound Poe could listen to forever. The way you called him ‘baby’, even in the throes of pleasure, tugged on his heartstrings a little bit. One hand splayed across your back, the ends of your hair threading between his fingers. The other hand rested on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as each shot of pleasure hit deep in your stomachs. 

Poe’s lips traveled down to your chest and attached to your breast, sucking small marks onto your skin. A symphony of sounds filled the room: the sound of skin slapping against skin, yours and his moans of pleasure, and his name tumbling past your lips with a slew of expletives. Your hand found his headboard, grabbing it to use as leverage and support as your body was weakened by pleasure.

He kissed up your neck and found your lips once again, his tongue invading your mouth and tangling with yours. You moved faster, your body becoming slick with exertion. You struggled to kiss him back, your quick movements making you nearly gasp for breath. You rode him hard, the both of you chasing the high you wanted so badly. 

You whimpered as you the burn in your belly grew hotter, the mind-blowing orgasm you always got with Poe building. Poe felt the same, having used a great deal of strength to hold off so he could give you the same kind of ecstasy you were giving him. Your body tensed and you clenched around him as his cock found that spot that drove you absolutely wild. 

“Come for me, baby…” Poe’s voice was also breathless but still held the tone of finality, like he was commanding you. The idea alone spurred you on further and his hands helped you slam yourself down onto his cock, your body movements becoming sloppy as you started to lose control. “Come on baby, that’s it.”

His thumb found your clit and he rubbed it quickly, the sudden addition of stimulation making your body twitch and send you over the edge. You came hard, your body shaking in his hands and a loud moan coming from deep within your throat as the iron struck white hot in your lower stomach. He held you still and thrust up into you and your hand shook the headboard, making it loudly knock against the wall. Poe gritted his teeth and his head fell back as he came, spurt after spurt of his release filling you up. You both slowed, the intensity of your orgasms making you fight to catch your breath like you just ran a marathon. Your head fell against his and he presses his lips to whatever part of your face that was closest to him. 

“You…you ride me so well.”

You let out a breathless laugh, allowing Poe to put both arms around you and bring you down on top of him as he laid back against his pillows. He rubbed your back slowly, neither of you bothering to move. His softening cock stayed nestled inside you as the both of you catching your breath in the afterglow.

“You know, I was thinking?” Poe asked after several minutes of comfortable silence. You hummed in acknowledgement. “You should move in with me.”

You looked up at him, your fingers running along the silver chain around his neck. 

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“It might be…but I also know this is what I want.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering. 

“We went on our first date on Valentine’s Day but we’ve technically been dating since Halloween,” he said, the memories making you smile. “I know it was supposed to be just a one time hookup and then after that just casual sex but it ended up being a lot of talking. We were basically on dates, we just did sex first and got to know each other afterwards. So, in my mind, we’ve been together for about seven and a half months.”

He ran his knuckle across your cheek and you didn’t know if your cheeks were still flushed from sex or  if they were flushing from the way he was looking at you - with pure love and adoration. 

“If it’s too soon for you, it’s okay. I do want to move in with you, but we can wait until you’re ready. Just the fact that you’ll be close by instead of hours and hours and hours away is good for me.”

You took in every word he said. The whole point of your plan to decline the job offer was to be with Poe, and moving in with him would mean being with him all the time. There was a sliver of doubt that crossed your mind, that maybe you’d get annoyed with each other after living together for awhile and learning each other’s daily quirks. 

“What do you see? When you think about us moving in together?”

Poe smiled softly. He knew exactly what kind of house he wanted to move into someday. Since he imagined having a kid or two, he wanted a basement or an extra room to be used as a playroom. He wanted a big backyard with a large deck and fire pit for late summer nights. He’d thought about it plenty, imagined his future home many many times before you, but it became so much more clear to him after you told him you loved him. Poe had been thinking of you moving in since before graduation, but held off saying anything because of your job interview. He didn’t want you to feel pressured if you had gotten the job…like you had to give up the opportunity because you were moving. 

He wanted all that with you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice your future to make his come true.

“Well…” He started, making sure to word things carefully so he wouldn’t scare you with how much he’d thought this through. “For now, we’d find a bigger apartment or a townhouse to rent…somewhere where there’s enough space for all of your things as well as mine…I think we’ve seen enough of the inside of this apartment.” You laughed lightly and nodded. “Maybe find one with an extra room we can turn into an office for us to work in. Eventually I’d like to buy a house, but I think that’s a few years away still.”

Though Poe was sparing you details, you could tell he’d been put a lot of thought into it. You didn’t blame him, he was in his early thirties and wanting to start settling down and building a life. You were still young, twenty-two with all the adventures of your twenties waiting for you…but you couldn’t imagine doing any of them without Poe. Navigating your way into the world post-education was going to be difficult. Nothing is promised. But having a place of your own to come home to with someone you loved, where you could relax and unwind and have that feeling of comfort and safety…you wanted that. 

“That’s just what I’ve been thinking. We certainly don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” His voice brought you back from our own thoughts and you nodded slowly and continued to play with his necklace. 

“You know I was talking to Finn earlier about how we move fast but everything’s worked out pretty good so far.” You shrugged, biting back the wide smile that was threatening to take over your face. “I don’t see why we should stop now.”

A smile slowly spread across Poe’s face. “Really?”

You nodded and sat up a little bit so you were hovering over him. 

“Let’s start looking. See what we find. In the meantime…”

“You’ll move in with me?” He asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. You smiled widely. 

“I would love to move in.” Poe leaned up and kissed your lips squarely and surely. “I can leave now, start packing…”

“Oh no,” Poe smirked as he wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re not going anywhere. Tonight, we celebrate.”

He rolled you over onto your back, never separating from you and burying his face in your neck and kissing it all over. Your laughter filled the room and you kissed him passionately, the room soon filling with different noises of pure happiness. 

You couldn’t wait to start your future with him. 

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[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Chapter 4

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: The job interview continues, and Yoongi finally takes an interest

Author’s Note: I wrote a massive amount of this story last weekend and I am super happy with it. I can’t wait to share the rest of the chapters with you guys each Thursday <3 

Previous chapter here  ---------------------------------

You left Grindhouse feeling better about the job. Mostly. It was clear that Kim Namjoon, you resolved to try and use his real name in case you ended up working together, wasn’t your biggest fan but he did respect that you had researched the position. 

Parts of the job were definitely strange. The strangest part? Agreeing to get married if the client decided “he wanted to.” No pressure. Totally a normal thing.  You thought back to the interview

--------

“I’m sorry. So this is like a mail-order bride type thing?” You wrinkled your brow in confusion.

“Technically internet-order bride, and don’t make that face, it will give you wrinkles,” Namjoon replied waving his hand in front of his face.

“Ok fine. Walk me through a day in this job.”

“Huh. This is usually where half the girls laugh at me and leave.”

You awkwardly shrugged your shoulders and waited for him to answer your question.

“Wake up, check the itinerary for the day. A work schedule will be emailed to you every morning by 7 am. Ensure the client makes it to their appointments on time, accompany the client to events both domestic and international, organize small social events. Any and all of these things. Whatever the client asks for. I’m sure he’ll have work for you to do. You are also responsible for posting appropriately to social media about your burgeoning love story,” Namjoon looks boredly over at the door, surprised that Yoongi never came back.

You wrote down some notes. “ Will I be provided social media accounts? I don’t really want to use my own. “

“Yes, they would be monitored and managed by BigHit behind the scenes.”

“Ok.” You jotted a few things down. “I saw that I would be living on-premise. Would I still be able to see my family and how far away is the location?”

“Yes. The apartment is actually at BigHit Headquarters. Several floors are dedicated to staff apartments. You may see your siblings if you put in appropriate time off requests and mark yourself out. You may not skip important company events. You must also sign a nondisclosure agreement upon the beginning of the contract. Your family and everyone else can’t know you are being compensated for your role outside of personal assistant. As you can imagine, it would look bad for the company.”

“Ok. That makes sense.”

“One last question [Y/N]: Why are you so nonchalant about this job? The marriage stipulation had most of the girls running off. And I can’t tell you how many cards I handed out that never signed in.”

You pouted, “ And here I thought I was special.” You laughed dryly as he rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’m not getting any younger. Dating sucks. I might as well get paid to do it.” You flipped your hair behind your shoulders. “This is a lot of money. If I end up getting married, it’s just a piece of paper. As long as the guy’s not a total asshole I really don’t care.”

“Oh yeah?” Namjoon clicks his pen a few times, “What if he’s really ugly? Is the money good enough to make up for that?”

You don’t miss a beat, “I’m more of a personality gal myself. Which may explain why you and I aren’t exactly hitting it off,” you mused and he just laughed at you, beginning to acclimate to your dry sense of humor.

“Yeah. That’s why.” He rolled his eyes. “All  right. We’re done here. If you make it to the next round you’ll receive an email within the next few days.

----

Well that was a fucking disaster, Namjoon thought as he walked back over to the office. Three. He had started with 50 cards distributed. 20 returns. And three candidates that showed an interest after finding out more about the job. He groaned. Why had BPD thought this was a good idea? He took his phone out as he entered the lobby and to Namjoon’s absolute shock he saw that Yoongi had scheduled a meeting for the two of them that afternoon. 

Two things were extremely out of character: one that Yoongi had even scheduled a meeting at all; most of the time Yoongi had to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to the meetings. Two, that he actually took the time to put it in the agenda. He most often showed up when he felt like, walked into Namjoon’s office, bypassed a yelling Jimin, and then complained about something. 

Namjoon rode the elevator up to his floor. He didn’t get a chance to eat since the interviews had taken all of his lunch hour. He exited and walked over to Jimin. “Order me lunch. Surprise me.” 

“Of course Sir,” Jimin dutifully replied and pulled up the food ordering App. 

“Thank you. When Yoongi gets here send him on in.”

Jimin straightened up a few items on his desk, “Usually I have trouble keeping him out sir, but I understand.” Jimin was dying to know what was going on. Yoongi and Namjoon usually avoided each other but had interacted thrice now within the week. He resolved to make a coffee delivery mid-meeting. Yes. Excellent. Jimin smirked as he placed the food order and sent it. 

Namjoon took out the three remaining folders and placed them on his desk. Hopefully this meeting meant Yoongi had stopped being a little shit and decided to go along with it. He took out the paperwork he had prepared for Yoongi, a similar NDA to the one he had discussed with [Y/N].

An hour passed where he ate his lunch and caught up on emails.

Yoongi exited the elevator and lazily walked over to Jimin. “Is Namjoon ready?”

Jimin raised his delicate eyebrows. “You’re actually stopping to ask? Well that’s a first.”

Yoongi stuffed his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. “I’ll just head in then.”

Jimin sat there, utterly confused but also strangely excited. He ordered two coffees in preparation for his eavesdropping. Yoongi had never, ever stopped at the reception desk. Or made an appointment. Since when was he playing nice?

Jimin: GUYS. Yoongi and Namjooon are meeting for the third time this week. And Yoongi actually made an appointment.

JK: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

V: Are you serious?

Jimin: Yes. I’m sneaking in there in half an hour. I’ll report back.

Jimin didn’t know why he cared so much. It was just that Yoongi was such a mystery compared to the rest of the guys. He was good looking, talented, but kept to himself and seemed to resent everything and everyone else that worked there.

Yoongi opened the door to the office. Namjoon looked up from his desk, “Yoongi. You left the interviews early, I’m surprised to see you made an appointment this afternoon.”

Yoongi walked closer to the desk, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah well I had seen everything I needed to see, and heard everything I needed to hear.” He looked down at the desk. “Are those all the candidates that are left?” 

“Yes. Unsurprisingly it was difficult to explain the situation without sounding like we are running an escort service, as you can imagine.”

Yoongi had been practicing the conversation he wanted to have since he got back to the building earlier after the girl returned his headphones. “Are there any headshots included in these?” He asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Nope,” Namjoon replied, looking over the NDA. “You said you didn’t want to be, and I quote, unduly influenced by physical appearance.” 

“Huh. Ok.” Yoongi responded. He didn’t want Namjoon to know that he had met one of the women who had applied for the job. Wait. She had said she worked somewhere nearby. “Can I see the resumes?”

“Knock yourself out.” He said, pushing the papers toward the edge of the desk.

He flipped through them. The first one was a model. Nope. The second one was an office worker. The third one listed two jobs, including Club Tokki. That was the woman he had met earlier. She had gone back and completed the interview. Despite trying to school his face, he let a small smile creep across his face.

“Find something you like there?” Namjoon asked. 

“These two sound interesting.” He handed two of the folders back to Namjoon. 

Namjoon looked at the two he had kept, “Of course you dumped the model. Here we have Lisa. She’s nice. Boring but Nice. And [Y/N]. You know what? I’m not even going to tell you anything. She’s something. Let’s invite her just to see what happens.” 

Yoongi stood there for a moment, swiping his lips with his tongue. Really? It had been that easy? 

“Here. You need to sign this. It’s an NDA about the situation. As far as anybody else knows, the girl we hire is your assistant. None of this was arranged before time. Additionally, you are to tell her that you want this, not that Big Hit is forcing you to do this.”

Yoongi puffed out his cheeks, “Why does that matter if she’s in on it?”

“Plausible deniability on the company’s part I’m sure. I didn't write the contract, BPD and the attorneys did.”

Yoongi sat down and started to read through the document.

Jimin knocked lightly on the door before entering. “Coffee gentleman? I have two iced Americanos right here.” He walked towards the desk.

“Thanks Jimin, put them on the desk.” Namjoon said, standing with the files in his hand.

“Ooo am I getting a new coworker?” Jimin tried to ask casually.

“Yoongi’s getting an assistant.” Namjoon responded.

“Good maybe someone will actually answer when I call down to the studio.” Jimin quipped.

Yoongi snorted, “As if I would let her in MY studio.”

“Enjoy your coffee, Sugar,” Jimin said, purposefully pronouncing his alias incorrectly.

“It’s Suga. Thanks for the coffee.”

Jimin blinked slowly, not sure how to respond to Yoongi saying something half-nice to him and slowly exited the room.

Yoongi picked up the coffee, sipping it while he finished reading the document. “Alright. Give me the pen.”

Namjoon was excited to be moving forward on this stupid project. If it actually worked, he hoped he would have to babysit Yoongi way less. “Here you go. You need to come to the next round of interviews. I think it’s important for you to meet each other.”

“Yeah, ok.” Yoongi signed the paperwork and stood up. “Put it on the calendar. See you.”

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist:  @lidda​ @anpanman-sonyeondan​ @firefairy1​

[brywrites]

Flight Risk IX

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part IX: In which a profiler and a pilot try their best not to care, featuring an incredibly tacky hotel.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous |  Next )

----

The case closes. When it’s time to go home, Reid sees her leaning against the wall of the hangar with a book. Their eyes meet. He stops walking, frozen to the ground. And in response, she walks away and disappears into the jet. Neither of them knows what to say. She gives herself over to the sky, he loses himself in paperwork. The jet has never felt so big. Like there are miles between them instead of just mere feet.

Y/N thinks of Peter Pan. “The moment you doubt whether you can fly you cease for ever to be able to do it.” She doesn’t know what they are to each other anymore. Are they still friends? Were they ever at all? Was Arthur right all along? Maybe she simply is made for staying, not with her airplane heart. Hopelessly circling, never quite finding a place to land.

Reid has never had to do this before, to hurt someone in this way. He’s not sure how to reach out to her after putting this distance in place. And so he doesn’t. It doesn’t ease the loneliness. Only Garcia notices the change, when he stops talking about her.

“She told you how she felt, didn’t she?” Penelope asks, her cheerful smile deflating. Reid averts his gaze. The pained look on Garcia’s face mirrors the ache in his chest. “Oh, Reid,” she says. “Do you really still believe that you’re not allowed to be happy?”

“But you looked so happy together,” Yeeqin laments when Y/N tells her what happened. “I just don’t get it.” She and her girlfriend Saoirse offer to key his car, an offer Y/N promptly refuses. They’re both hurting enough as is. And besides, knowing Yeeqin she’d vandalize the wrong car and need someone to bail her out. After the “graffiti incident of 2014,” Y/N has no interest in doing so again.

And so they stay away. Things return to the way they always were – pilots and profilers. Two separate worlds on the same G550 jet. The only exchanges are simply pleasantries or requests from the team to the pilots, but they never come from Reid. Or announcements about takeoff and landing that almost always come from Captain Dobson. On the rare occasions when Y/N’s voice floods into the cabin, he closes his eyes and lets himself imagine that she’s speaking only to him. Sometimes when the agents disembark from the plane, she watches him go from the cockpit window and tries to remember what it was like when they sat so close.

He stops arriving early. She stops reading in the hangar if she’s not on the jet. They both pretend it’s normal. They both pretend it’s possible for them not to care. That it’s easy, that it doesn’t bother them one bit to be apart like this. That it wasn’t better before.

Y/N goes to dinner at Arthur and Malik’s house. Martin and Theresa are there and she runs around the yard with their older children, Carolyn and Benedict, and coos over baby Douglas. They share cocktails and swap stories and it feels so good to be surrounded by her own team, this makeshift family of aviators. She has movie nights in with Yeeqin and goes out with her and Saoirse anytime they invite her along and it’s so nice to be among friends. But then Martin looks at Theresa with all the love in the world and Saoirse falls asleep on Yeeqin’s shoulder in the cab on the way home and it’s acutely apparent to her that something is missing in her life.

Reid distracts himself with work and with books and tells himself that he’s always been just fine this way, with words and obligations instead of laughter over takeout or meetings at coffee shops. But then he discovers Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close in his bottom desk drawer at work, the copy she’d loaned to him and he’d sworn he would remember to give back to her and suddenly he’s trying not to cry in the bullpen and he doesn’t quite know why.

She learns from Arthur, who knew him, that Spencer’s mentor has been killed. And she can see on their next case that he’s hurting. The sadness in his eyes, the exhaustion evident in his slumped posture makes her want to run to him and wrap him in a hug, hold him close like he held her that night on the couch. But she’s not supposed to care about him anymore.

He sees the way she looks back at him as she boards the jet that day, her eyes lingering on him for just a fraction too long, and he thinks that just maybe she’s going to say something to him. But she doesn’t and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. Either way, Gideon’s death seems only to prove his theory – the people he loves get hurt.

When they come home from the bombing case in Indianapolis, he’s drained from a week of mourning and a grueling chess match with Rossi. As Reid stands in the hangar searching for his keys in his bag, he hears, “Doctor Reid,” and turns to see Captain Dobson standing a few feet away.

“Yes?” he asks.

The captain opens his mouth, falters, and then says, “I’m sorry for your loss.” The sentiment is confusing, as he already told Reid this as he boarded the plane three days earlier. But perhaps Dobson has forgotten the conversation. So he thanks the captain and continues on his way.

Y/N and Reid seek solace in their friends, in their books, in the places that make them feel safe. And they try so hard to convince their hearts that they don’t feel anything that they wonder if it was ever even real to begin with. And for a little while, they almost believe it.

But then comes Nashville.

---

“Did you see the picture Martin sent of baby Douglas in his pilot’s cap?” Y/N asks.

“I did,” Arthur says. “It was cute.”

“The cutest thing I’ve ever seen!” she insists. “I wish he could bring the kids by for a visit sometime, I’m sure they’d love to check out the jet. Do you remember being a kid and how they’d let you go visit the flight deck and see how a plane worked? And they’d give you those little plastic pilots wings?”

“Relics of a bygone era,” Arthur sighs. “I’m sure I still have a pair of PanAm Junior Pilot wings stashed in a box somewhere.” The millennium ushered in a new vision of aviation security and sharp pins and strangers in the cockpit simply aren’t considered protocol anymore. “How are we looking?”

Y/N glances at the altimeter and airspeed indicators. “Flying at 46,000 feet. Currently at Mach point nine. Should be about one hour and ten minutes to destination.”

“Let the cabin now we’ve reached out cruising altitude, will you?” Arthur asks. Typically it’s her job to shift the jet into cruise while Arthur makes the announcement, but she nods and takes the speaker.

“Good afternoon passengers, this is your co-pilot speaking. We’ve reached our cruising altitude of 46,000 feet. At this time please feel free to resume using electronic devices and move about the cabin. We expect to be landing in Nashville in about an hour. Skies are clear, should be smooth sailing ahead. In-flight refreshments will not be served, but you’re welcome to help yourselves to anything stocked in the galley.”

A part of her wonders if he thinks of her when he hears her voice. Not that it should matter anymore. Before she can lose herself in her own thoughts, Arthur asks, “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”

“Lincoln,” she decides after a moment to think. “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”

Arthur says, “The Terminator,” without missing a beat. The captain is well-versed in cinema, which makes Double Feature one of his favorite in-flight games. The first movie must always be a question, and whoever can come up with the best films in response is declared the winner. Arthur almost always wins, and it’s a challenge to think up films they haven’t already used.

“What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?”

“Hannibal.”

“That’s terrible,” Arthur laughs.

“Dude, Where’s My Car?”

“Brokeback Mountain.”

“Oof, that’s gonna be a long and sad trek to retrieve it,” she sighs. “I’m not prepared for that kind of emotional devastation.” But the game does help to take her mind off of what she’s really feeling. She can lose herself in words and not in wishes. They land GEFF gently on the tarmac in Nashville and when they pull around to the hangar, she doesn’t look out the side window. Y/N stares straight ahead at the horizon. The sky fades from deep royal blue to soft pale periwinkle where the distant skyline rises up to meet it and she loves every single shade in between.

Once the team has departed, she and Arthur walk through the cabin tidying up and making note of anything that needs to be cleaned or restocked prior to takeoff. Arthur won Double Feature (“O Brother Where Art Thou?” “Soylent Green.” “Oh, that is incredibly twisted!”) so it’s her turn to clean the bathroom. Fortunately a short flight like this means it’s fairly clean to begin with. She wipes sanitizes the sink and toilet, empties the paper towel bag, makes sure there’s enough soap and toilet paper. Garbage is deposited in the trash can at the back of the hangar and they return to Geff to grab their own go-bags.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Arthur says as they lock the cockpit door. “About the IRT job.”

“Arthur,” she cuts him off. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” When he looks as though he’s about to protest she adds, “Please. I just want to go to hotel and take a nap and watch whatever silly romcom is on pay per view.”

He nods and says nothing more. They catch a rideshare from the airport together and she stares out the window at the buildings and billboards that line the roads. She already knows what she’s going to do about the offer. She made her decision after her conversation with Spencer. The choice was clear. But she doesn’t want to discuss it yet. She’s not ready.

They step into the lobby of the Graduate Hotel and her mouth falls open. It’s hideous. There’s a fuzzy tapestry – a fuzzy tapestry of a woman with a hat against a pink background that appears to be made out of the same material as a shag rug. The lamps at the concierge desk have hot pink floral patterns on them. A neon installation that looks similar to a vintage gas station sign announces vacancies in bright green and red light. The armchairs are blue velvet and the hanging lights look like tulle skirts. There’s too much happening at once.

“This is the ugliest hotel I’ve ever seen,” she says.

“Well the more affordable ones were nearly full – evidently this is a big weekend for admitted students at Vanderbilt – they had to double up all of the rooms for the team. But the Bureau managed to get us a discount here,” Arthur replies as they stand at the desk waiting for someone to check them in.

“I suppose a bunch of special agents wouldn’t blend in well at a place like this,” she admits. Hopefully they solve the case quickly and she’s not stuck here too long. True to her word she spends the first night relaxing in her room. The bathroom is beautiful – black walls with gold accents and a glass shower. The room itself is another story. The carpet is a rainbow of jewel-toned diamonds in a quilt-like pattern. The walls are pink and white striped, a candelabra sits next to a pink television. White curtains with a vibrant floral pattern line the window and form a hanging behind the bed. The bed, mercifully, has the standard white blankets and white pillows, though there is hot pink chevron quilt draped over the end and an eerie portrait of Dolly Parton stares at her from above the headboard. Y/N shudders.

Penelope Garcia calls her that evening. She’s waiting to hear back from the team and could use some virtual company. “I don’t even know if you’d like this place,” Y/N tells her. “It’s so garishly tacky. Like a sorority girl and her antique-collecting grandmother chose items from their storage closet at random.”

“Oh it can’t be that bad,” Garcia says.

“Penelope, I am ever the optimist. I love quirky, whimsical adventures. But this is something else. The Dolly Parton painting keeps staring at me, I swear!”

“Let me look it up.” There is the sound of fingers frantically typing on a keyboard. “Oh come on now, the lobby is way cute! And the patio? I just – oh. Oh my. Oh those rooms. You’re right. That’s bad. That’s very bad.”

“I told you!”

“That went from cute to crikey very quickly,” she agrees. After takeout for dinner and watching Serendipity, Y/N falls asleep under the unnervingly watchful eye of Dolly. The next day is completely free, and she heads out to explore the city. Wherever she ends up, she tries to take advantage of the adventures available to her. Just blocks from the hotel she discovers Nashville’s Parthenon – a full-scale replica of the Greek temple which hides an art museum inside. She wanders the galleries and stands at the entrance staring up at the pillars holding the roof up. What would it be like to visit the real thing? She wonders how many times the IRT has gone to Greece before. Maybe they’ll end up in Athens sometime this year.

Café Coco is the cutest coffee shop she’s seen in any city, and she grabs tea and a scone before returning to Centennial Park. Beneath the barely blossoming trees she sits and reads Dandelion Wine. It’s beautifully written and full of longing. That longing seeps through the pages and she can feel it in her bones. Nostalgia for times past and places far behind and things that cannot be. Everything that Spencer said it would be. As she reads she tries to imagine which lines would have made him smile or elicited a wistful sigh. Are the parts she loves most the same as the parts he loves most?

Her phone buzzes with a text form Arthur to ask if she wants to get lunch together at the hotel bar, and she shoves the book and her longing back in her bag and walks over to meet him.They step from the tacky lobby into a bar that seems remarkably normal. String lights and chandeliers cast an inviting ambient glow over the wooden tables and chairs. Country music is playing over the speakers. But as they she and Arthur move closer towards an open table, she sees it. The stage.

“What is that?” she asks. There’s a bear, a pig, and a fox in a wig atop a stage that says Cross-Eyed Critters. Each holds an instrument. And it’s then that she realizes the music is coming from them. It’s an animatronic band. Their eyes and mouths move as they sing and their fabricated bodies turn and jerk with the beat. “What?” she asks again, completely dumbfounded. “What?”

Arthur too is speechless. Then he shakes his head and says, “It’s nothing a drink or two won’t make more palatable.” She snaps a photo on her phone and texts it to Garcia, who will surely get a kick out of it.

As they sit down, a voice announces a new song over the speakers. A slightly tipsy looking man in a pair of red cowboy boots comes to stand in front of the stage. He has a microphone. The animatronics begin to play the opening notes of a song, and then the man begins to sing. This is not just a bar with an animatronic band, it’s an animatronic karaoke bar. The man in the red boots belts out an uncomfortably off-key version of a Kenny Rogers song –“You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run!”– with just a little too much bravado.

“I think I’ll need that drink sooner rather than later,” Arthur admits begrudgingly. She has to laugh. This hotel, it seems is full of surprises. But the captain is right. When she receives a spiked cream soda and Arthur has a glass of bourbon and there’s a plate of tacos between them, it’s easier to tune out the karaoke band. She can just enjoy her drink and the light and the stories of Arthur’s first flights with the BAU that have her nearly in tears from laughing so hard. For someone who maintains such a serious demeanor most of the time, he knows how to tell a joke incredibly well. She’s always appreciated that about him.

“Y/N, there is something I wanted to talk with you about,” Arthur says. His tone changes and she knows the time for joking is over. “We need to discuss the IRT offer.” Before he can continue, her phone rings. She glances at the screen. It’s Penelope. Y/N sends it to voicemail. There will be time to discuss the disconcerting robot band later when she’s back in her room. Right now, she needs to focus on Arthur. She knows where this is going and he’s right. She can’t keep putting this off forever. She has to talk about this, and everything that it means.

“I’ve already made my decision,” she begins to say. But her phone begins to ring again, and her heart drops into her stomach. This isn’t about the picture. This is urgent. Arthur must realize it too. His eyes trail down to her phone and she hesitantly picks it up.

“It’s Garcia,” she tells him, before answering. “Hello?”

“Y/N, oh thank goodness you picked up.” The analyst’s voice is a little higher than usual, a little more strained. “It’s Reid. He’s in the hospital.”

[loxxxlay]

Can we get the rest of the ball destroying story?

This is a very long and probably anticlimactic story about how I destroyed an attorney's metaphorical balls by not letting him get away with being a toxic pile of shit. I hope you enjoy.

So, the first thing you need to know is that my old boss (whom I will call M) is a real fucking asshole. 1, he voted for trump; 2, he's a creep; 3, most obnoxiously, he treated his previous lead paralegal like a freaking wife.... or actually worse than a wife really... like an object. like a trophy wife. When the lead paralegal left, he basically treated her like she was divorcing him, as if she was an object of his possession. And he was like "you'll NEVER have it better than you have here, and i'll never let you come back." (Funny story: i am one of 5 paralegals there who put in their 2 week notice during June, and they were so panicked that they called this exact former lead paralegal and asked her to come back. -_-)

Okay so anyway, let's cut the story back to about 2 months ago. I have been M's lead paralegal for about 8 months now since the previous one left, and I'm hating it. I'm actively job hunting because M is becoming toxic to me the same way he was to the last paralegal. I needed references, so I asked another attorney who also worked there to be my reference. We will call him T. So T is my favorite attorney. T is the first person I came out to as having a girlfriend at the firm, and he never once betrayed me. He is everything that M is not. He gives positive feedback like he gives out candy, but he's also honest and real in a way that not a lot of ppl are.

So anyway I secretly ask him to be a reference on my resume, and T is like "sure! but well funnily enough, I'm actually leaving the firm in 2 weeks. I can't ethically recruit people while I'm here, so I'm going to end this conversation here, but.... wink wink, nudge nudge, call me in 2 weeks." So I'm like COOL COOL. And we don't speak of it again.

So 2 weeks pass, I continue job hunting, T leaves the firm. He calls me literally the next day, and he immediately is like "I wanna hire you" and I'm like "okay cool, I wanna be hired." So boom I got a new job. Ethically. (I'm serious though, T is a very ethical guy and he did nothing wrong.) So anyway, T is okay with me waiting until my NYU program in June is over, so my start date is July 1. 1 month from then. T also asks me very politely not to tell M where I'm going because it would sour their "friendship" (a.k.a. the attorney world in utah is a small world and he doesn't want M to get his feelings hurt). And I want to be clear, T did not pressure me at all - he asked for a favor, and I decided to do it for him, because I care about him, that's it. If at any point it became a burden for me, I would have changed my mind, and T would have understood.

So, I wait a week until I'm in New York to tell M i'm leaving him. I come up with a brilliant excuse for why I don't want to tell him where I'm going - "I have a few offers and I don't want to talk about it while I'm still deciding" (which wasn't even really a lie). So I call my boss and I tell him I'm putting in my two weeks. And he treats me like he always treats people - he interrogates me. Except this time, he's shocked and upset, so he SUPER interrogates me. It's super inappropriate questions like "why are you quitting???" and "is it because of money???" and "this is SUCH bad timing" - but it's frustrating because he's an attorney and he knows how to dress up these rude questions with politeness. In a way that if I call him out on it, I'll be the one who looks inappropriate. :( It sucked. But luckily I had spent 3 days researching how to approach this, and.... I gave him nothing. He was desperate for fuel to try to convince me to stay or guilt-trip me into working overtime, and I just didn't give him any because I was prepared, and also.... I'm good at this. My mom says I've been good at this since I was 3-years-old lol.

Anyway so unfortunately during the conversation, he asked the question "Where are you going?" and I immediately gave him my excuse. And I expected that to be done and over with. Idk why I thought it'd be that easy... He immediately started trying to guess where I was going. And at what point, he said "are you going to work for T????" and..... honestly guys... I panicked. I lied. I said, "uh, no." flat out lmao. Like, I was just so shocked that he was asking me in the first place. :( But weirdly, he believed me and that was that (or maybe he filed away the lie for later use as you'll see). I also want to make it clear here that I, at first, wasn't telling M where I was going because T had asked me to... but at this point, with how nosy and inappropriate M was asking, I didn't want to tell M anymore either. It wasn't for T that I was hiding it; it was for me. Like, no M, I don't want you to have any personal details. You're being 150% more of a creep than usual which is impressive considering.

Anyway so I never tell anyone where I'm going except 2 ppl whom I trust on my last day (and yes, one of them betrayed me, which kinda sucks D:). I told T that I had lied to M, and T was like "it's okay, if he finds out, I'll have ur back" and also... I told T I go by Echo instead of my legal name/dead name, so I'm fine with the lie because M will probably never find out anyway. and T was delighted and super supportive of my enby identity. ^_^ It's cute because he never called me by name, but now all of his texts and statements deliberately start out with my name as if to remind me that he supports it lol.

Anyway so flash forward to my new day at the job. It's going great. I love it there. And then I check my phone and I see this fucking text:

M: "I hear you work for T now. I wish you the best, but I specifically remember asking you if that's where you would be working, and you said no."

Like.... what the actual fuck? He never texts me, and also I've been gone from his firm for like a day.. max... have some chill, lmfao. like. At first, I was REALLY upset. Not in a "i feel bad for lying" kind of way. I couldn't care less about that. More in a "i feel like i'm being stalked, one of two close friends betrayed me, and also what the fuck, why are you texting me this??" #yikes. But then that night, I was talking to my dad about it. And I became super amused? Like. What is he going for here? What does he want me to say? What response does he hope that I'll give that will make him feel better? Does he want me to call him crying and begging for forgiveness and for my job back? Like? I genuinely sincerely want to know what the fuck he was expecting me to say. I want to understand what was going through his head lol.

And of course, because I am a passive aggressive bitch, I immediately catch on to the fact that he is Butthurt (shocking, I know). His feelings are hurt. An object of his, his very own lead paralegal, lied to him outright and he didn't see it coming! How dare she! He wants to make me feel hurt like he feels hurt, and he's a lawyer, he knows how to interrogate people and manipulate people and get them to suck his dick, idk. So he should be able to use those skills to make me feel bad for lying. He wants to one-up me. But see, what he didn't realize is that....

1, I don't feel guilty for lying to him... at all... like, it took me a couple hours to realize this, but the only negative emotion it made me feel was discomfort and fear. not guilt. the same way i feel when a strange man asks me for a hug, and i feel like refusing would look "rude." Like, there's nothing guilty about that. So yeah. His goal is to expose my guilt to make himself feel better, but... my guilt doesn't exist, so good luck

2, um, like I said earlier, I've been a passive aggressive bitch since the day I was born, unlike this bitch who had to go to college to learn how to do it, and not only that - I'm better at it than him. lmfao. His pride is gonna take a hit.

so I toy with the idea of ignoring him because I know that will really fuck him up and make him constantly think about it and check his texts to see if I've responded. But then T tells me that it's probably better to not burn a bridge because again.... super small world here.

So anyway lol, my response ends up being pretty simple but painstakingly constructed:

"Thank you! :) It wasn't an option at the time - it was a new development after you and I had already talked. I wish you the best as well."

The "Thank you! :)" to seem like I am utterly oblivious to the hidden accusation and passive aggressiveness. The middle sentence to be like "uh, are you really accusing me of lying right now?" and the last sentence, my favorite, to shut down the conversation forever. Now, if he responds, he already lost. Because there's no way to continue this conversation without exposing the fact that his "I wish you the best" was completely insincere. I've stripped away his ability to respond fake-politely (which is his modus operandi), and I've forced the last word on him.

Also, even better... (and no one has any way of proving this, least of all him, but) that statement (the "it wasn't an option at the time - it was a new development after you and i had already talked") is completely a lie on my part, and he knows it. T offered me the job the Monday after he left. There's no way he doesn't know that. So not only did I show obliviousness and not only did I shut the conversation down, I outright stonecold lied a second time. And there's no way for him to call me out on it. Like what could he even do? Send me a screenshot of my hire date? Send me a screenshot of an email I sent to a coworker? If he tries that, he's already lost again because like ... obviously super immature... it would be so easy to crush him with niceness like "Wow, I can tell this has really bothered you!" hahahhaha. Sadly he's smart enough not to do that, but it must be infuriating to know I'm lying and not be able to accuse me.

As an attorney whose literal job it is to catch & expose people lying, he literally watched me flat out lie to his face. Twice. And I didn't feel bad about it. And there was nothing he could do about it either time. He went to law school for this shit, and he still can't out-passive-aggressive me, the classic bitch.

Anyway so T apparently he showed his wife M's message, and she was like "oh my god what an asshole!!!" which I must admit was extremely validating!! And then he showed his wife my message, and she made a shocked face and said "wow she's good." And I always thought T was kinda just flattering me to be nice when he complimented my use of words in defusing angry clients and conveying info about a sensitive subject... but apparently his wife thinks so too, so I guess he's been more serious than I thought. I feel so.... complimented.... it's weird.... but I"m very happy and squeeing.

It's been like almost 24 hours and M has yet to respond to me, and if he does, he's already lost. I'll eviscerate him.

So like I know this story is probably disappointing and might not seem like I shanked his balls, but ... take my word for it because if u knew what a chaotic insecure pathetic mess he was and how he desperately claws for control by trying to intimidate and upset all of his employees (and pretty much always succeeds), then you'd understand that he's NEVER encountered something like this before. Someone literally just not giving a shit what he thinks about them. And from what I know of him, I promise you that this has certainly fucked him up for a good long while. And that makes me happy :')

[sujuheartme]

my 2021 recap

this year is like the first chapter of a 2nd book of the series of my life. (why is there so many ‘of’ here?)

anyway, it’s been a wonderful but tiring + depressing year. i graduated, started my first ever job. lots to learn. not gained many friends, lost a lot.

speaking of my mental and physical health, i think my mental health is better than my physical health. though sometimes work can get me depressed very easily, but i know how to handle it properly to make it stays in the normal stage. meanwhile with the physical health, i really don’t know how to deal with my digest system anymore. even this morning, i woke up with the feeling of an extreme ache in my stomach. my bowel level is also in a bad stage at around once/twice a week—or something around that. i really need to see a doctor, for real. put this in my 2022 goal: to go see doctor about my digest problem.

for studies & works, i think i did it pretty well this year. i mean i graduated with 2nd honor degree + got a job at a (not so) big company. my last semester was really fun, i had fun learning about things i really enjoy, and yes i got straight As as expected, hah. then i graduated and start looking for a job. i only sent my resume to one company and they excepted me very easily, which is the company i’m working for right now. it’s been fun and exciting journey here in the company, my team is really great, my manager is the sweetest, and my co-workers are so full of energy. i really like it here actually. the only problem is, my work needs to be done in time every month and it cannot be done if it’s not approved by the head office. guess what? the head office never had the work done in time. i assume they have loads of work to do, so i give them a week earlier to look at my requisitions, and they still cannot approve it in time. not sure if they’re handling too much work, or they’re just irresponsible. this is the reason why i always search for a new job at every fucking end of month. + despite the irresponsibilities of the head office people, my salary is, well, not so low but not so high compared to what i’m doing right now. you cannot deny that money is one of the reason i wanna leave as some other places might be willing to pay me better. anyways, i’d still work here until my contract ends and let’s see what will happen to me next year. looking forward to it na ॱ ‧̯˙

ok, moving on to the relationships. i feel like i lost so many friends as we didn’t meet and keep in touch. but my relationship with my family is so so much stronger. me and my brother talks everyday, compared with 2 years ago that we only talk on weekend when we see each other. i see my mom and dad and everyone in the fam allll the time. though sometimes it feels like my personal space has been stolen, but this is so much better than being alone in the dorm/apartment. also, my cats are addicted to me and i love that facts, haha. they always come to me when they see me in the morning, though they’re coming for food, but at least they think of me hehe.

so this year’s been an exciting year as i start a new chapter of my life. i am now an office worker, not a student anymore (and that’s very hurt) as starting a job, i also know myself better than before. anyway, happy new year to me! hope 2022 be a better year please!

[justlookfrightened]

How hard could it be? Epilogue

A/N: I’m posting this as the epilogue of “How Hard Could It Be?”, but it’s actually going to be the first chapter of its as-yet-untitled sequel. Look for updates on AO3 after “How Hard Could It Be?” finishes posting.

“Come on, Jack, answer.”

Bitty heard the ringing change to the mechanical voice reading the phone number and telling him to leave a message.

He hung up and looked at  the time. Just after eight. It was a couple of hours earlier than he usually called Jack, but he knew Jack should be up.

Probably he was doing his morning exercise routine. Even with the return to conditioning in the team facilities, players were still doing a lot of it at home because of restrictions on how many people could be in the gym at one time.

Call me when you get this, Bitty texted. He hoped Jack would call before he showered and dressed and had breakfast.

It’s important, Bitty added.

There was nothing more he could do, so he went back to the kitchen and got butter from the fridge. He could leave a couple of sticks to soften for cookies and cube the rest into flour for a pie crust.

MooMaw brought her coffee cup in from the porch. 

“Baking already? What did Jack say?”

“I didn’t talk to Jack,” Bitty said, concentrating on measuring salt into the flour.

“You’re going to move back with your mother and daddy then?” MooMaw asked. “That’s what you’re trying to work yourself up to do?”

“What? No,” Bitty said, starting on the butter. “Jack didn’t answer. Probably working out. But if he doesn’t want me, I’ll try Shitty and Lardo. If things are opening up again, it’s time for me to move on.”

“Move on from here?”

“From Georgia, with my life, all of it,” Bitty said.

“You don’t have to leave,” MooMaw said. “I can tell Connie I don’t have room.”

“Nah,” Bitty said. “She needs a place. And she wants to stay here. Even if I didn’t have somewhere to go, I could take the sofa. And I have a room with Mama and Coach.”

“Have you talked to them?” MooMaw asked.

Bitty shook his head. “Not yet. I want to have a plan first.”

His phone buzzed on the table, he wiped his hands on a dish towel. 

“It’s Jack,” he said. “I’ll just go …”

“Front porch is open,” MooMaw said, picking up the bowl with the beginnings of his pie crust. “I’ll just stick this in the Frigidaire until you’re ready to get back to it.”

“Hey, Jack,” Bitty said, answering the call as he pushed the screen door open.

“Bittle?” Jack said. “Are you alright? Is your grandmother alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bitty said. “I promise. It’s just, my Aunt Connie lost her job. The restaurant she managed in Atlanta announced it’s closing for good.”

“That’s too bad,” Jack said. “But -- and I don’t mean to be insensitive -- why did you need to call me at eight o’clock in the morning to tell me?”

“Because she called MooMaw last night and asked if she could move in here,” Bitty said. “When her lease is up at the end of the month.”

“Okay,” Jack said.

“And the guest room I’ve been sleeping in will become Aunt Connie’s room,” Bitty said. “And I know we talked about, well, me moving back north and maybe staying with you, but I thought that might be more of a ‘maybe someday’ kind of thing and not a ‘I need a place to stay next month’ kind of thing, and if it is that’s totally fine,” Bitty said. “I get it, we barely know each other, we’ve never met in person, and even if we like each other it’s way too much to ask with our relationship being what it is, if you can call it a relationship at all, and --”

“Bittle,” Jack said.

“Mama would be happy to have me back at home with her, and maybe Shitty and Lardo could help me find a place to share in Boston, and MooMaw said she’d tell Connie the room was taken if I wanted her to, but it’s the room Connie grew up in and after working through the whole shut-down, now the place closes because people aren’t coming back in droves? And she’s nearly 60, and she doesn’t know how she’s gonna find a new job --”

“Bittle.”

“Sorry,” Bitty said. “I’m rambling. I just wanted to know before Mama hears the news about Aunt Connie today. She’ll be thrilled about me coming home, and I want to stop that train before it starts if it’s not gonna happen..”

Jack was silent for a moment before saying, “Is that what you want, to stay in Georgia with your family?”

“Not really,” Bitty said. “I mean, maybe for a little while? Like a week or two? But not another three or four months. I’ve liked spending time with MooMaw, and my parents and I -- it’s gotten better, y’know? -- but I don’t think this is where I want to spend the rest of my life. But I know that’s my problem, not yours.”

“Do you not want to stay with me?” Jack said. “I’ve got plenty of room.”

“I know, sweetpea, but I don’t want to put you on the spot,” Bitty said. “I mean, this isn’t like an old-fashioned arranged marriage or something where the first time we lay eyes on each other is the first day we … you know.”

“Just because you stay here doesn’t mean we have to sleep together,” Jack said. “I have had houseguests before without that, eh?”

Bitty snickered in spite of himself.

“You don’t think it would be bad for us?” Bitty asked. “I mean, like us us, like making us hate each other because we’re stuck together, or making us put up with things we don’t like because we don’t want to cause problems?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “I’ve never lived with someone I was in a relationship with.”

“And we’d have to be careful anyway,” Bitty said. “Like, when I get there, I should stay in the guest room and stay away from you as much as possible for two weeks just in case I get exposed to this on the road. And -- wait. What did you say?”

“That I never lived with someone before?” Jack said. “Is that weird?”

“No, but, is that what we’ll be doing?” Bitty said. “Living together? I guess I was thinking more of an indefinite visit, until I can find a job and get a place.”

“If that’s what you want,” Jack said. “You’re welcome to my guest bedroom, I guess.”

“And your kitchen?” Bitty said. “I’ve been itching to bake with you for weeks now.”

“With me or with my kitchen?” Jack chirped. 

“Both?” Bitty said.

“You should know training camp starts July 1,” Jack said. “So I won’t be home that much. And once we start playing, I won’t be home until … I really don’t know when. So it won’t be so much that you’re staying with me as staying in my place.”

“Ugh, that’s true,” Bitty said. “Little old me, all alone in a luxury condo with top-of-the-line everything. It’ll be like the best house sitting job ever. I can take in the mail and water the plants.”

Jack chuckled.

“What makes you think I have plants?”

“You have one,” Bitty said. “I saw that ficus in your living room.”

“What makes you think it’s real?” Jack challenged.

“Uh … there was a dead leaf?”

“Was there?” 

Bitty could hear Jack walking through the condo.

“Shit, you’re right,” Jack said. “I usually have a service take care of the plants but they haven’t been coming because of the pandemic. They sent instructions … but I think I forgot to water last week.”

“See?” Bitty said. “I can make myself useful.”

“You don’t have to,” Jack said. “You’re welcome to come and stay as long as you want or need to. If things open up enough by then, I can get the plant lady to come back. But we don’t have to figure it out now.”

“No, now I just need to tell my parents that after moving home from college and more or less directly into MooMaw’s house, I’m going to move back to New England at the end of June to live with a man I’ve never met,” Bitty said. “It should go well.”

“Haha,” Jack said. “I’ll have to … is it okay if I tell the team? That you’re staying with me? They don’t have to know we’re anything besides friends. But it would be hard to keep it to myself, I think.”

“Of course,” Bitty said. “It’s your home, your team. Tell them as much as you want.”

“Thanks,” Jack said. “Good luck with your folks. Let me know how it goes. And Bittle …”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really looking forward to meeting you in person.”

“Me too,” Bitty said. “I mean, meeting you, not me.”

They ended the call with Jack laughing at Bitty’s joke. Bitty shook his head and looked at the phone for a moment before heading back to the kitchen and resuming his work on the dough.

“Well?” MooMaw asked.

“Looks like I’m headed to Providence in a couple of weeks,” Bitty said. “So this is gonna be a peach pie for Mama.”

Bitty was waiting on MooMaw’s porch with the pie, a pitcher of sweet tea and a container of peanut butter cookies boxed up for coach when his mother came with the groceries. She left the bags on the step, and Bitty got up to carry them inside. 

“Go ahead and get yourself  some pie and tea,” he said. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

He left the bags in the kitchen with MooMaw, and came back outside, cutting his own slice of pie before taking a seat on the other side of the porch from his mother.

“Is this about Aunt Connie?” his mother said. “She called this morning. She was asking if I thought we could put together some kind of order business for baked goods and jams and such, maybe sell at farmer’s markets and things. I said you’d have to be part of it too, of course. Because then we could make more, and cover more markets every weekend.”

“No,” Bitty said. “Well, sort of. It’s about Aunt Connie moving back here, at least.”

“You know your room’s been ready for you,” his mother said. “And I know you’re a grown man and need your privacy. Your father and I won’t be nosy.”

What did they think Bitty would be doing in his room? By himself? Because he honestly didn’t know any other gay men in Madison, although there must be some, just based on numbers. And anything else … well, he;d been a teenager already hadn’t he?

He wished he weren’t blushing to the roots of his hair when he said, “No, Mother. It’s not about moving home. Or, I guess, it’s about not moving home.”

His mother looked confused.

“It’s going to be difficult to find a place around here just now, and you’d need a job …”

“I know,” Bitty said. “I will need a job, and that will be hard to find around here. You knew I was planning to go back north.”

“But, where --”

“With Jack,” Bitty said. “He invited me.”

“You can’t impose on a man you barely know for goodness knows how long,” his mother said, like it was obvious. “Even if he says it’s okay, people get tired of having guests.”

“I know, Mama, but it won’t be like that,” Bitty said, hoping very much that he was right. “By the time I get there, he’ll be in training camp, and then he’ll be away for the playoffs the NHL is doing this year, keeping all the teams in the same place, so won’t even be there for a lot of the time. And he’s got a spare room and bathroom and everything.”

“Now, Dicky,” his mother said. “I know you really like Jack, from the time you’ve spent on the computer with him, and he does seem taken with you, but  that’s not real life. I’d hate for you to go so far only to be disappointed. Maybe you can visit him for a week and come home?”

“No, ma’am,” Bitty said. “Traveling isn’t such a great idea right now -- I’m planning to isolate myself for a couple of weeks once I get there just in case -- and anyway, I wasn’t asking permission. I was sharing my plans.”

[damfinofanfiction]

Chapter 14: Hollywood or Bust...er.

Here’s the full and a update to the latest chapter! Just to let you know, having outlined the story for a while, things will get romantic in chapter 16 and will get naughty in chapter 20!!! I don't know if Chapter 14′s good enough but I did my best. Enjoy!

Another note is at the end of the chapter.

As stated in the article of a Local Paper; Five people hurt in a car crash. Two women and three men were involved in a low-rate car crash when they were driving from the Biltmore Hotel for the party in honor of Mack Sennett. There were no fatalities but there were some minor bruises and concussions. Ralph F. Staub, the driver of a T- Ford who suffered a broken nose, blamed the incident on bit player and former Sennett Bathing Beauty Gayle Anders for distracted driving. As a result of the impact, Miss Anders was reported to have injured her arm. While the others had slightly recovered and have been sent home, Anders will be on the mend for weeks following a release from the Good Samaritan Hospital this morning. Her recent project is Harold Lloyd’s upcoming film, The Freshman, due to be out this September. She remains hopeful to be back in the movies after her arm is fully recovered.

Having read this in his office, Buster shook his head in pity, with a notion that she might be unable to work with him. “Oh, Gail.”

**************************

Just as the evening began, Sally ran out of the Bungalow with the burning Trout on the casserole dish. Gail aired out the smoke by opening the windows. As a last resort, she threw the fish from the dish on the ground and used the gravel dug from the area to extinguish the small flames.

“Damn it,” Sally said examining the crisp charred remains after putting it out. She turned to her friend, “Sorry Bae, guess I underestimated the baking time.”

Gail added disappointedly, "And it was a nice fish."

Since Gail came home from the hospital, it wasn’t easy for her to live with a broken humerus. Sally offered to help on the days it doesn’t intervene with her job. Not only the blonde did it out of loyalty but also as a amend to what happened last month.

Upon going inside, Sally threw away the ruined casserole dish and comforted Gail who hunched in despair, “Buck up, We’ll still have dinner. If only Auntie isn’t out playing bridge and Bertha didn’t take a day off.” Bertha, that she referred to was her and Lenore’s Maid.

When the Friends decided on take-out, Sally left to pick up the food while Gail stayed behind because she didn't feel comfortable going out in her state. As the table was already set in advance, the dark-haired woman was left to retreat to her couch and wrapped herself in a blanket because she felt a breeze from the open window.

Gail wasn't feeling herself after the accident in the past week. It was like grief. She barely slept the night, has a small appetite, doesn't smile much, and doesn't say much. Although she has endured a series of unfortunate events for the last few months, breaking her arm was difficult to cope with. Gail tried to sob and cry to let it out of her system, but couldn't do it. That didn't stop her from trying again while she was alone.

Her attempts to release her emotions were interrupted when she noticed a shadow passing by from the front window, "Sal?" she called.

A male baritone voice replied, “Close enough.”

She sat up straight when he swayed to the window, revealing his familiar face, “Buster!”

He chuckled while resting his arms on the windowsill, “Good seeing you too. You seem well.”

Gail would ask him how did he found her site but remembered she had sent him an updated resume with a change of address recently. She nervously said, "I didn't expect you to show up."

He sighed, “I know, I should have told you I was coming, but work was finished early and I thought you could go for a surprise.” Gail found it funny that the last time she had seen him was when he rode with her so she could get home safely and now he was at her window unannounced. He asked, “So are you going to let me in or should I climb through the window?”

“Oh!” She hastily sat up and opened the door and let Keaton in to avoid being mistaken for a break-in if he had entered through the window. After having received flowers and get-well cards from friends and family, she was grateful for a visitor. When she opened the door, he was wearing a hazel suit with a white buttoned shirt underneath and a grey flat cap. He coughed in response to the smoke when he was in a kitchen area.

“Sorry, Sally burnt our dinner.” She explained while closing the door and the window curtains, “She had doused the fire out on the yard.”

“That explains the black mark out on the yard,” he pulled out a handkerchief from his shirt pocket to cover his mouth.

Gail retreated to her bedroom where she traded the blanket for her light blue buttoned sweater while Buster looked around. She called to him, “I guess you must have read about the accident in the papers?”

He responded, “Yes, though they didn’t get your name right.”

Gail intended to write a note to Buster about what happened to her but didn’t have any idea what to say as evidence of the trash bin full of the crumpled-up papers by her bed. “Well, the reporter was in a rush and didn’t have time to correct my name anyhow.”

Then Gail checked herself in the mirror. Her sleeveless day dress was alright. The curls on her locks were uneven, but she didn't mind because he had seen her unkempt hair on the train. Her makeup wasn’t too bad either, grateful that Sally had helped her earlier that day, otherwise, she couldn't do it with one arm. She only reapplied her lipstick before returning to the comedian.

“So this must be your new home,” Buster said as he sat on the armchair while she returned to her couch.

“I came across it in a newspaper. I found the name of the street familiar because I used to go around looking for a part in the pictures.”

“Had the others moved here as well?” he asked.

“No, just me. Sally’s only a helper. She tried her best and I’m grateful for that." Gail turned to the door, “Now I'm worried how she'll react to you once she gets back.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

She leaned towards him, “No no no, unless you have to go home.”

“No, I could stay for a bit at least before your other friend arrives.” it was then Gail noticed that her sling and cast were exposed from her opened sweater and tugged it back in due to her insecurity. From the look on Buster's face, it was obvious he had seen it before, no doubt from peeping at her while she was in the other room, “How long until your arm gets better?”

She was nervous to tell him but does so anyway, “If healed properly, the cast will be removed in a month. I may still wear a sling in addition to physical therapy."

“I’m awfully sorry that happened to you. At least it isn't the ankle.”

“Oh yeah, it happened to you.” Gail had almost forgotten of his injury some years ago before he brought it up.

“How could I forget?” He rested his foot to his knee to massage that very ankle, “There’s a scene from The Electric House where I ran on the moving staircase. That one step caught my slap shoe and before the stagehands could turn off the switch, my foot was dragged to the top, and the next thing I knew, my ankle was fractured.”

“That’s sounded awful,” Her voice was sympathetic.

“Yes, it was. I thought I was going to lose my foot, but thankfully I haven’t. Had to be out of commission for several weeks. They put me on bed rest, at least you can still move around. So anyway, long after my ankle is healed, we threw out the footage and started over.”

“When do you start filming?” What Gail knew from what he wrote to her weeks ago was that the production of Battling Butler was delayed until the end of the year and will be making an original story instead. Also, he’ll be working with a cow to which she thought was too ridiculous, if it wasn't a western.

He explained, “When we find a location for shooting and get everything ready, hopefully in June.”

Gail felt relieved, “Then, do I have a chance to be your co-star?”

He uncrossed his legs, “Well, About that.” Seeing his sullen look, Gail’s heart began to sink as it might be another case of the bad news.

It seemed he couldn’t find the words when he told her, “My boss Joe didn’t want me to hire you.” He sighed, “And he recommended me an actress from Dick Turpin, Kathleen Myers.” He assured her after she turned her face away from him, “It had nothing to do with your injury. It’s just that he preferred someone with experience as a leading lady.”

Gail felt sadness welling up in her throat and clenched her fist, “No, It’s definitely something to do with my arm!” She attempted to retreat to her bedroom, but being blinded by her tears caused her to collapse to her knees, and then she wept heavily. Her sobs made it impossible for her to hear Buster come up to her before he aided her to the dining table. She exclaimed, not making eye contact with the stone face, “I knew it, I knew it! I should’ve left home years ago, but I waited and waited for a chance to take me away like a chump I am!”

“You’re not a chump!”

“You don’t know that! I promised myself I would work with you, but I failed!” There were whimpers in her voice, “I couldn’t get cast in a cast!”

Keaton defended her, “It was only an accident.”

A teardrop ran across her cheek, “Which should I have prevented! This wouldn’t have happened if I was more careful.”

Her body shook as she cried again. Initially, Gail expected Buster to leave her to mourn, then she felt his hand rub on her back, then his arm wrapped around her, enabling her to huddle in for an embrace. With a scent of his cologne coming from between his shoulder and neck, her sobs became softer before they’re diminished. He patted her back a bit. She heard him say, “Gail, I wanted to work with you, I really have. Things aren’t always simple in Hollywood.”

She faced him again. He gave her his handkerchief when she began to rub her eyes. He brought her a glass of water from the dining table which he just filled up.

“Look at me”, he continued, “It took me three years in the film business before I started leading and directing comedies. How long you’ve been working on screen?”

She answered, “A year and a half.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” he placed his hand onto her cheek. “I’m sure things will turn out alright as soon as your arm heals. There’s still hope for us to work together once Schenck sees what you can do.”

With a sniff, she added, “And there’s still Battling Butler.”

“Yup that too.” he gave her a slight grin.

As she finished wiping her tears, Gail noticed the black smudges on his handkerchief “Have I messed up my makeup?” He responded with another nod. “Excuse me”, she got up to the countertop and brought out the bottle of olive oil, a remedy for running mascara.

He told her with the cloth in his hand,  “Allow me”

He added a dab of oil to his handkerchief and rubbed it onto her cheeks until they were clear.

“I might have unraveled your hair.” She pointed to the wavy part of his hair “Probably right there” she rose her right hand by his forehead, having her twirl the curl with her finger, “Perfect.” she said after stopping. Their eyes were fixated on each other. It was like that until they heard the key going in followed by the doorknob turning, the two then raced back to their respective seats.

Sally announced while opening the door and holding the big brown bag, “Hey Bae, took me longer to reach that take-out place, better to chow down while the food’s still hot.”

Gail was in her upright posture like nothing had happened, “Sal there’s a visitor.”

The blonde turned to Keaton who had just finished combing his hair, “Oh, shi-” She exclaimed, almost dropping the contents of the bag. Gail stood up to explain that the visit was a surprise to her as well and they were just talking in a professional matter. Buster also got up just to notify them he had to get home since it was almost six o'clock.

he turned to Gail, “One thing before I go, have you seen The Iron Mule?”

“No”

“My pal Roscoe actually directed it with a different name. It features someone I worked with back in the day and also watch out for that Indian.” he pointed to her, “You might find him familiar.”

she smiled, “Thank you for the visit.”

When he turned the doorknob and opened the door she just remembered something, "Wait!," She pulled out a notepad from the side table, wrote down her phone number, and tore it out to hand to Keaton. “No surprise visits next time. Okay?”

Buster nodded once, “Take care” he put on his hat and left her home as she waved.

Sally shrugged at her friend, “How the hell did he know where you live?”

She helped her unpack the take-out containers from the bag, “I’ll tell you over dinner and you owe me a dish.”

Gail was herself again, though embarrassed that she vented her emotions to her favorite comedian. What made her feel better wasn't the crying, but finding comfort in the object of her affection.

(sorry, I posted to my other account. I deleted it though.)

Note: I have to thank @trainrideswithbuster for giving me the idea that buster visits Gail while on the mend!

[bangtan-madi]

All Of Our Lifetimes — Two: Vase with Honesty

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung, reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 2.7k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories? 

Part — 2 / 10

Warnings — language, brief mention of murder

Previous — Next

The Friday after your application is sent, you receive a response from Big Hit. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you would get a response this quickly, let alone with the contents therein.

"What the fuck!" you scream, nearly throwing your laptop across your bedroom. 

Milo storms through the door, eyes wide with panic as she scans your bedroom for signs of an emergency. "What the fuck?"

"Exactly! Look at this!" You shove the laptop in her direction, biting your nails in anticipation.

Though trepid, Milo takes the computer from your grasp and begins to scan the screen. As her eyes reach the bottom of the email, she begins to mirror your exact expression as her jaw drops and curses fly from her lips—in multiple languages.

"Oh my—What the hell, [Y/n]!"

"I know! I know," you laugh, giddy beyond what you can control. "Read further!"

"We'd love to conduct a phone interview with you at your earliest convenience. After which, if both parties choose to go forward, we would like to do an in-person interview in Seoul. [Y/n]! This is practically a yes!"

"Not quite...but it's a start!"

Milo giddily shoves the laptop back towards you, practically bouncing in place. "Call them, call them, call them!"

Two days later, you find yourself alone and on a plane bound for Seoul. The initial interview with Big Hit went extremely well. You were able to converse with a representative in both Korean and English, and went over your resume and other various technical aspects of the position.

"I have to get this out of the way," the woman spoke with a serious tone. "You're not applying for this job because you're Army, right?"

"No," you answered immediately, your voice assured. "Not at all. It's always been my dream to live in Seoul. My roommate can tell you, we've been looking for jobs for a few weeks, ever since graduation."

"Good, because I can tell you right now that we try to screen for that kind of behavior as best as we can. It's part of the interview and background check process. It has to be. I mean, it’s fine to be a fan, but for the safety of the members, we have to make sure that no fanatics are hired and get close to them. A very small percentage of the company interacts with them at all, let alone regularly, but I had to ask."

She seemed overly concerned about that part, and you're not quite sure she believed you. Other than that, you feel that it couldn't have gone better. In fact, you were certain. Why else would they pay for you to fly to Seoul for an in-person interview, which she described as the final part of the hiring process?

You can't help the nervous tingles that travel along your neck and down your spine. The excitement fills your fingers and toes, and you struggle to keep still in your seat. Things are finally moving forward. The dream you've had since you were a child is finally coming to fruition. Everything is falling into place.

But another part of you recalls the literal dream that's occupied your mind for just as long, a subconscious memory or recollection that hasn't left for years. How much longer can you take this nightmare? Isn't it normal for people to have other dreams, not just the same one over and over and over?

The man with the dark, curly hair. The murderer with a gun. The museum halls and flowing blood and untimely demise. 

This Taehyung, this member of BTS, what will happen when—or if—you meet? Will he recognize you, too? Will he tell you he has that same nightmare? Will he know why you are connected, despite having never met or heard of each other?

You shake your head, trying to focus on what lies ahead as the plane starts to descend through the air. If you do land this job at BigHit, then you can look for the answers you so desperately seek. If this is meant to be, you'll get what you're looking for. One way or another. Of that, you are sure.

That same part of you is terrified of what you might find when you do.

Or what will become of you if you don't.

You're the first to grab your overhead luggage and exit the plane. After navigating security and international check-ins, you spot a short-haired woman in a suit holding a sign over her head. Your name is written in big, bold letters.

As you approach, the woman smiles and greets you with a bow. "You must be Ms. [Y/l/n]?"

You nod eagerly, offering her the same greeting. "Lovely to meet you...?"

"I am Director Hyeon, I head Human Resources for Big Hit Entertainment. We spoke on the phone earlier this week. Please, follow me."

Doing as Director Misun Hyeon asks, you're escorted to a car parked along the sidewalk outside the airport. The Director tells the driver to take your bags and return to Big Hit HQ. Along the way, she makes small talk about your trip and the life you have in America. She's very professional and reserved, but also very sweet, instantly putting you at ease for your interview.

When the car drives up to the enormous, glass building in downtown Seoul, you're taken aback by the monstrous size of Big Hit headquarters. You knew they were a large company, staffing over five hundred people from your research, but seeing the sight in person has an entirely different effect.

"We just moved into this building this year," Director Hyeon states with a hint of pride. The car turns the corner and descends into the private underground garage. "The company has outgrown the last building, so when our contract was up, we knew we would need to expand."

"How many floors does it have?" you say, gawking at the many floors, both above and below you.

"Nineteen above, seven below," she replies, exiting the car. "Out interview will be on the top floor, so you can have a look at the view."

Director Hyeon wasn't kidding when she said there's a view. The entire penthouse level of the new Big Hit office is lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. Light streams in, ricochetting off the glassy surfaces to toss rainbows across the room. Peering down from the walkway, you see the expansive Seoul City spread out below. Everything looks so much smaller from two-hundred feet in the air. So beautiful, it's enough to take your breath away.

You have to get this job. After seeing this place, there's no other path you can see ahead of you.

The Director escorts you to her office, a room encased by another series of glass panels to give the illusion of privacy. Across from her, you can see several other offices of similar design. She asks you take a seat, getting you a cup of coffee as you make yourself comfortable.

In your mind, the interview couldn't have gone better. You were confident and assured of your abilities, and you have the grades and some experience to back it up. And the fact that you hit it off well with Director Hyeon doesn't hurt either.

As you finish up, she hands you the official memo on the position. "These are some of the tasks you'll be asked to do," she states, then continues to briefly overview what's on the page. "Your position would be Production Assistant, but that can mean doing just about anything, either in office, on tour, or on scene with one of the shows. You would do translation work, both ahead of time for press releases and social media as well as on the spot translations during events or interviews. And as I mentioned, you would handle the BTS official social medias for the English audience. They can post what they want, but they have been told to work with you on captions, tags, content, and the like."

She continues, "We're about to start work on a new album after the boys take a few weeks off from all the work they did on the last tour. When that happens, you might tag along in the studio and assist in various things there. When Bon Voyage or Run BTS begins shooting, you'll assist there. I know that word is vague, but I can promise it'll be more than just doing coffee runs or cleaning up after the boys." She laughs at that last part. "We have other people for that. What we need is someone that can really get into the trenches of the boys' work and help where needed, especially when it comes to the language barrier."

"Hence the bi-lingual requirement," you add.

Director Hyeon nods. "Exactly! So, I know this is a lot to take in, but we really are interested in you. We wouldn't have flown you all the way out here if we weren't. I do have a couple of other candidates I want to interview over the next day or so, but I have a feeling that you're our top pick. If you're willing to hang around Seoul for the next, say, forty-eight hours—all expenses paid, of course—I can give you a definite answer. Are you interested, Ms. [Y/l/n\?"

With a determined smile and eager nod, you reply, "More than you can imagine."

Finding things to do in Seoul isn't difficult at all. In fact, the rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. After the Big Hit driver takes you to your hotel and helps you carry your bags to your room, you take the rest of the evening to go out and explore the city. The food, the festivities, the feelings: if this is going to be your new home, you want to see it all.

The next day, knowing that you probably won't hear from Director Hyeon until the following day, you set back out into the city with a plan to see as many of the sights as possible. The night before, you'd laid in bed and made a plan of attack to take on Seoul. While knowing you wouldn't get to nearly all the spots you wanted, you made a list of the ones closes to your hotel, within walking distance. 

The day was absolutely beautiful. Whether or not you got this job, you weren't going to waste your forty-eight hours in South Korea.

In the morning, you visit several historic sites—such as the green space and onetime royal burial ground at Hyochang Park, the architectural and sightseeing wonders of Seoullo 7017, and the restored 1300s fortress wall and the pedestrian gate of Sungnyemun. After grabbing lunch at a local restaurant, you turn towards some of the other sights.

As you pass by City Hall, the building around the corner catches your eye. It's a large, old building crafted from concrete and bricks. It stands out from some of the more modern sights in the area. Edging closer, moving through the greenery around it, you see the name of the building come into perfect view.

서울시립미술관. Seoul Museum of Art.

Without thinking too hard about it, your feet take you towards the museum. You can't put your finger on it, but like the city itself, there's something so alluring and familiar about it. This whole trip has been one big, "Haven't I been here before?" This place, however, gives you heightened feelings. Both positive and negative.

You brush it off, convincing yourself they've arisen due to jetlag and job-related nerves.

The museum is even more awe-inspiring on the inside. The expansive interior is painted white to create more of a contrast between the walls and the art. Galleries stretch out in different directions, but you're drawn to one of the open rooms a little further in.

People flutter about, quietly chatting in various languages about the temporary exhibit that takes up little space but all the focus. It's a set of several still life oil paintings by Vincent Van Gogh on lend from the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. They're displayed along temporary glass walls that circulate the wing. A tour guide leads several visitors to each painting.

Your eyes trail from one to the next, but when you catch sight of a piece covered in shades of brown and orange, you halt mid-step. The painting looks so familiar to you, more than anything you've seen so far. If there is anything calling you to this place, this painting has to be it.

The card below the piece says that the name is "Vase with Honesty." Painted in autumn of 1884, it was one of Van Gogh's first still lifes.

"The name 'honesty' may refer to the translucence of the round seed pods, which turn a silvery-white colour in the autumn," the plaque reads. "They then resemble silver coins, and in Dutch this plant is called the judaspenning, 'coin of Judas'. This is a reference to the apostle Judas, who betrayed Christ for 30 pieces of silver. He is said to have thrown the coins to the ground when he hanged himself. Where they landed, the honesty plant later grew."

Minutes later, after the tour guide and most of the patrons have moved on to other exhibits, you're left alone with "Vase with Honesty."

Almost alone.

Another person remains to your right, a few feet between you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that it's a figure dressed in black sweatpants and a grey hoodie. His face is hidden by the hood, as well as a face mask that covers everything from his jaw to just under his eyes. This man is a half-foot taller than you, you estimate, and while you can't see his face, he also feels inexplicably familiar.

Like you, the art-loving, stranger's eyes are glued to this one particular painting. And like you, his gaze is that of both confusion, realization, and familiarity.

"I feel like I've seen this somewhere else," you murmur, trying to break the silence. Normally, you would've kept quiet, but there's something about this person that leads you to speak up. "It's familiar, isn't it?"

The man nods once, not replying verbally.

"Have you ever seen it before?"

"No," he responds in a quiet whisper, then gestures to the brochure in his hand. "This painting hasn't been here since 1995. It's come back for the first time in twenty-five years."

"Wow, really?"

He nods again. "The brochure says that the Van Gogh Museum hasn't lent out most of its art since then. I overheard one of the tour guides saying something about an accident at this Musem that caused them to recall all their temporary exhibits."

You shift your eyes from the stranger to the painting. "Then how could I know this one so well? I was born in 1995 for god's sake."

"I was, too, so I don't know...maybe we saw it online or something."

"It feels stronger than that," you insist, wrapping your arms around yourself to ease the chill crawling up your spine at the thought of whatever might have happened here in 1995. "Do you know what happened twenty-five years ago?"

"One of the artists working at the Museum was murdered."

Your head jerks back around to stare at the man, wide eyes locking briefly with his dark irises. "Murdered?"

He nods and gestures to the exhibit with the brochure. "That's why they started showing them in glass casings. If you look close to the corner, you can see a tiny, bloody fingerprint."

Turning back to the Van Gogh piece, you step closer, squinting your eyes at the bottom left corner where the man gestured. Sure enough, at the very edge, a smear of crimson in the shape of a fingerprint can be seen.

"What the hell?" you gasp, eyes widening again. "Hey, do you mind if I see that broch—"

Your sentence falls off at the end as you turn. The space behind you where the stranger once stood is empty. He is nowhere in sight, and his familiar aura has gone with him.

[heavenlysan]

Cruel Love [3]

Mafialeader!San | Detective!Reader | Soulmates | Choi San x female reader | NSFW | Explicit language?

Words: 1,751

Chapters:

1 | 2

(San's POV) 

It was still early but after a long day of work I was really tired I didn't feel like going to the bar tonight as we usually do but the others practically dragged me there. I didn't feel like drinking either the air felt so heavy in this place I've always hated this bar always full of politicians or rich ceos and all those pigs always disrespecting the girls that work here but Wooyoung and Hongjoong always convince me to come. 

"Can you invite me a drink, you're so handsome and" She looks at me with desire in her eyes "I bet I can do wonders for you" A tall blonde woman says she's beautiful but I'm not in the mood and I'm not interested. 

"Not tonight sweetheart" I say but before she leaves she leans so I can get a better view of her boobs. 

"Are you sure?" She is now really close to my lips I consider it and it's been almost a week since I've had sex maybe I'm in the mood. 

"You're gonna play hard to get?" A man yells to a girl and this girl is probably new working here I've never seen her around. This always happens and that's why I hate this place so much men feel so entitled to women just because they have money I always want to torture all of them but Wooyoung always tells me to keep doing my thing and mind my business because I certainly don't need more enemies. But tonight I can't mind my own business and I get up as soon as I see this man pushing and kicking this girl on her fragile ribs. 

"Kick her again" The man looks at me and I recognise him immediately, he's another politician and his people that should be protecting him are distracted with the girls that work here and I take advantage of that. 

"Mind your business or what is this yours? She's a whore she's available for all of us I'm paying for it she's gonna suck my dick tonight and you're not gonna get in the middle" he kicks her again and without thinking I pull out my gun and I pull the trigger twice but I don't kill him I just want to see him in pain like the pain the girl might be feeling right now she's still on the floor unable to get up, she holds her ribs and after she sees the man next to her she finally looks at me. 

Oh fuck. 

She has to be the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in my entire life. I help her to get up she's tall we're the same height she has a powerful and deep gaze. She has a beautiful body and she's talking right now and oh shit her voice it's even better, it's just unexplainable I just want to do all sorts of things to this woman she's the whole package. 

"Are you even listening?" Her gaze just gets deeper and I am obligated to snap back and actually pay attention to what she's saying.

"Can you repeat it?" 

"I said why did you use your gun" She's mad at me? "I'm gonna get fired because of this" 

"I'm gonna kill both of you!! who do you think you are?" The old man has trouble to get up but his people help him a little too late. 

"I'm gonna kill you if you don't shut the fuck. You never learned how to treat women?" The old pig tries to interrupt me but I don't let him "And who do I think I am? my name probably rings a bell I'm Choi San" 

And of course his faces changes he's scared now. As he should. 

"I-I'm sorry Mr. Choi I didn't recognise you I promise this won't happen ever again" The man kneels. How pathetic. 

"I don't want to see you around here anymore if you want sex you have a wife you pig" I spit on his face and his people pull out their guns but he stops them immediately. 

"You won't be seeing me around and again I'm sorry" His people help him get up and he leaves. 

I take the girl to my table and the tall blonde woman that was talking to me before all this mess leaves with a disappointed expression on her face. 

"Please sit here are you okay? Do you want me to bring you something princess?" She looks at me a little bit taken aback by me calling her princess and she looks rather like a child, a confused one.

"What was all that? That man was ready to kill both of us but as soon as he heard your name he turned into a scared mouse" 

"It's not important anymore"

The tall blonde woman returns but this time she speaks to the girl. 

"Hey new girl! What was your name? Doesn't matter, our boss wants to talk to you and he looked mad" And she makes a gesture with her fingers to follow her. 

The girls take a few steps and I follow them just to make sure the new girl is safe. They enter a room on the hallway and I stay close to the door to hear.

I hear a slap and I try to open the door but it's locked. 

"This is your first fucking day but you already created a mess because of you I lost a recurrent visitor. You know how much he pays? not only for all of you but all the bets he makes he's a millionaire!! You don't know what you just did! We sent you an email today with all the rules you were supposed to follow and the first one is to never say no to the clients I'm not even forcing you to do things you sent your resume on your own and this is completely your fault and I want you out of here." The owner of this place yells I get angrier with every word he says I just want to take the girl with me so none of these bastards can't harm her anymore. 

"This was my first day please don't kick me out I'll behave I just" I can hear her crying and I can't do this anymore I knock hard on the door but there's no answer. 

"Well there's a thing you can do if you want to keep the job but we're gonna need a VIP room for that." His tone of voice changes now he has disgusting pervert voice. 

The VIP rooms I've been there with other girls before he is out of his mind. The tall blonde woman finally opens the door and the girl and the owner are behind her and the owner is grabbing the girl by her grist" 

"Mr. Choi, it's good to see you around here it's there something you need?" The owner says with a sudden change in his voice. 

"Yes, Wooyoung wants this girl he saw her earlier and he wants her services" 

"She's not available right now Mister" 

"It's on me tonight I'll pay double or triple for her" And those are the magic words for him to let her go. 

"Y/N They're special clients make sure to treat them like Gods and do whatever they ask you to" She nods and starts walking with me. 

"Wooyoung is probably in a room we'll have to wait" I said and she just nods again. 

We sit at my table and wait for Wooyoung to come I try to break the silence between us by asking her stuff but she just keeps on nodding. 

"You're y/n right?" She nods again. 

I notice that her left cheek is a little bit red "Did he hurt you back there?" She doesn't say anything nor she nods she doesn't even look at me anymore. 

"Just tell me" And then she nods. 

And that's enough for me. I get up to find Wooyoung it's not hard he's probably with Wendy in one of the VIP rooms. 

"Woo get up I need your help" I interrupt Wooyoung while he is hip thrusting and kissing Wendy. 

"I don't know if you've noticed but I'm busy right now" He says clearly annoyed. 

"I said get up I'll be on our table and hurry up"

I walk again to our table hoping to see y/n still there. And she is but a man is talking to her now. 

"I'm sorry but I'm already with another client" I overhear and as I approach the man walks away. A smart choice. 

"Wooyoung will be here in a moment, don't worry" She looks at me again with that deep gaze of hers. She has a powerful waze but regardless of that she looks shy and innocent. 

"Mr Choi San, everyone keeps calling you mister but you don't look old to me so that means that it's out of respect or fear" My name sounds so good on her voice If I could only get her to scream it for me. "I want to know why people fear you" Her voice is low and slow. 

She stares at me like trying to study my moves and my gestures. 

"I'm here" Wooyoung breaks our staring contest. 

The three of us walk to the parking lot and none of us say a word till we get to her car. 

"Wooyoung take her to her place and make sure she gets there safely" And both of them look at me in confusion "I have stuff to do and I can't take her on my own" 

"Wait I thought…" She starts talking but I cut her off as I raise one of my fingers to her lips. 

"Not tonight princess, it was enough mess and noise for you it'd be better if you just go home and don't worry you'll be safe with Wooyoung I'd do it on my own but I have a couple of things to do with one of my friends"

She hesitates but does as I say I see both of them leaving and when I can't see them anymore I get back to the bar. I use the back door the one that it's only for employees but before I need to call Hongjoong he's probably just drinking with other girls. 

"I need you to cut the lights in exactly 8 minutes and turn them on back after 5 minutes I'll explain later"

[starjeno]

destined | l.mh | 3

genre: fluff | soulmate!au, genderswap!au pairing: student!mark x female!reader warnings: bad words? word count: 1973 summary: it’s a fact of life that soulmates swap bodies. when mark wakes up in a bed that isn’t his, he’s delighted. you, on the other hand, absolutely despise it. a/n: filler chapter, sorry! and i know it’s been a while since i’ve posted. also, i gave the roommate a name finally. 

the sunset filtering through your curtains fills the room with hazy light. it’s soft and golden and comforting, but it does little to placate your roommate. her arms remain crossed over her chest as you pace by the mini-fridge nervously, waiting for this interrogation to end.

“okay, but what did yuta say?” she’s already somehow familiarized herself with the names of the people involved, and while it took some time for her to get used to your new appearance, she currently seems to have grown accustomed to it. you groan, “i told you, yuta likes this whole thing. he just ignored me and then said that i should take mark into consideration.”

“why can’t mark take you into consideration instead?” she retorts. you huff, “i told you this too! mark also thinks i like this whole thing!”

“well? do you?”

you can’t help the hesitation that bubbles up in your throat when you think about the events of earlier. the rapid beating of your heart and the heat in the tips of your ears and the strange familiarity that accompanied each of mark’s words — he felt like a missing puzzle piece, like someone you loved in a past life, and you didn’t like how you unconsciously gravitated towards him as he spoke. 

then again, you only saw him for a few hours, so maybe you’re overexaggerating. you shake your head firmly, “i don’t! you know that! i don’t want any of this!”

she gives you an unplaceable look, her eyes filled with contemplation, before groaning and sitting up, “let’s go out to eat. you’ve had a rough day.”

“you’ll pay?”

“yeah,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair, “i don’t want you to confuse the cashier with your credit card info. let’s get out of here.”

it’s a blessing that your roommate has kun. she’s accumulated enough of his clothing that your new body has a decent selection to choose from. though the clothes all fit loosely, you figure tucking your dress shirt into your pants and looping a belt tightly through should make sure your outfit is secure. she stands in the doorway as she watches you change, blushing feverishly when she associates your initial meeting with yuta with the boxers that now hug you snugly. 

“where do you feel like eating?” 

you hum in thought as you grab a cap, “honestly? kun’s place. he makes such good food.”

she rolls her eyes before dialing her boyfriend’s number on the phone. it rings for a few seconds until the line clicks and you hear a deep voice fill the speaker, “what’s up? you only call at this time when you’re hungry. or horny. or both. please don’t be both.”

“uh, just hungry. also, ____ and i have something we should tell you,” she mumbles, “i’ll be over in five.”

she hangs up before looking over to me and sighing, "i'll do your hair."

as you sit down in front of a mirror and watch your roommate squeeze out a frightening amount of gel onto her palm, you can't help but think about mark again. it's hard not to since his face is the reflection and it shines with a bright optimism that you currently lack. you attempt a half-hearted smile to make his features seem pleasant; it feels wrong when his face frowns.

meanwhile, the girl behind the chair slicks your hair in a neat quiff, sparing a few strands to fall onto your forehead casually. you look handsome, and you're somewhat pleased that kun's first impression of your soulmate will be great on terms of looks.

not that you cared particularly. you don't. you aren't even sure you know what a mark is, much less feel as if others should approve of him.

"there, let's go," she hums, wiping her hands off with a towel and spritzing some floral scent on the two of you before walking out. you follow reluctantly.

kun's apartment is cute and filled with small plants that are groomed to perfection. little canvases with a dramatic ink strokes line the walls above the television and couches, and pens are littered in the corners of every room. there's even a pen tucked into the pocket of the man himself, who is still in the ironed dress shirt he went to work in.

his smile radiates as the two of you walk into the hall, but you can sense the air tension rise, “mina and . . . a friend?”

“ha ha, very funny, kun. you won’t believe who this is,” your roommate grins as you two sit down. kun pauses for a bit before backing into his kitchen, grabbing a spare pan to add on top of the stove, thinking, “uh, a cousin? your long-lost brother? i thought ____ was coming over.”

“exactly,” she huffs before motioning over to you, “meet mark, or better known as ____ in mark’s body.”

kun gasps and points the pan at you accusingly, laughter lacing his voice, “oh my god, you fucking swapped?”

you grin and place a hand to drag the pot down, “i know, it’s crazy.”

“at least he’s cute,” the dimpled boy chuckles, sighing in disbelief. he definitely knew you well.

“agreed,” you smile a bit and your roommate shoots you a short-lived glare before looking at kun, “so we came here to destress from such a horrific event by eating your food.”

“that sounds like a plan . . . ,” he muses, a small smile growing on his face as he takes out cooking oil, “you guys can just chill, and i’ll have something cooked up in ten.”

as soon as you pull your phone out, a notification slides onto a screen. you bite your lip as the social messaging app displays the message of a new follower, and when you hold down for more details, you instantly recognize the handle.

mark. he must've searched you up, and if he's managed to follow you on here, he's probably found all your socials by now. as if on cue, you see three more notifs slide gracefully on your phone, beaming with a new friend request. you aren’t sure if you’re happy or annoyed, or a bit of both, but you hold down and open the app to find a new direct message awaiting your approval.

mark1ee (online): hi! sorry if this is creepy but i figured we’re friends now, so...

good lord. you bite your lips to keep from laughing at his shyness, finding it adorable, and avert your eyes from your phone. mina glares at you quizzically, raising a brow as if to ask what you’re amused at, but you simply shake your head emphatically and begin to type back.

you: how’d you know my last name? there’s probably more than one ____ out there. mark1ee is typing . . .

"here, some cheesy ass lasagna. i put, like, five different kinds of cheese in there, or just whatever was in my fridge.” kun slides two plates to you and your roommate and grabs the nearest chair to sit. he looks at you as you tentatively poke at the stuffing, “i didn’t poison it, you know.”

“shut up, i’m critiquing it!” you laugh as you place a food-filled fork in your mouth, smiling at the instant flavor, “whoa, i forgot how good you are at this.”

he lowers his brows as he smiles, “you mean you forgot my job is in the culinary arts?” 

you face downwards as kun strikes up a conversation with your roommate and glance at the notification on your phone. it doesn’t take a moment of hesitation for you to swipe and check mark’s message.

mark1ee (online): i checked the profile pictures. it would be a lot easier to make sure i’m contacting the right person if i had your number ;) you: how smooth. how do i know this is the mark i met earlier today? mark1ee (online): already asking for pics? damn. mark1ee sent a photo mark1ee (online): i forgot that it’s basically just a pic of you lmao :/ now pls send #

you snort and look up to find your roommate and kun staring at you intently. you wave your hand dismissively, "funny meme, sorry."

they give you a strange look before resuming the conversation, and you hide your phone under your leg before digging into the meal before you.

"so, what's going on?"

at the question, yuta sighs as mark walks in, his hand rubbing a towel through his wet hair, "winwin is coming back early. a week early."

"are you not excited?" mark quips. the older male tiredly grins, "i'm excited, believe me. but i'm worried that i won't pay enough attention to your switch."

mark frowns, the wrinkles ruining the feminine face, "i'll be fine. she just sent me her number!"

he takes a seat by yuta and faces the flatscreen in front, his glossy eyes reflecting the bright lights of the video game. yuta glances at his long lashes and soft brows for a moment before resuming the screen, "damn, good job. maybe you have enough game to survive without me."

"wha- fuck you! and you'll still be here!" mark laughs, picking up the other controller.

"i'm running away with winwin, by the way," yuta jokes. he lets mark join the round before pressing the buttons again, "now that you have her number, what are you going to do? ask her on a date?"

mark freezes. he hadn't even thought of what to do, and right now, yuta feels like a personal certified love guru. what a great fucking idea! before he could spend more time admiring yuta's genius, mark drops the controller and sends a new text to you, hoping for a stroke of luck.

he didn't really need luck though. he had literally found his soulmate that morning.

you: wanna go on a date? nctzn (online): how would i get clothes, doof? i'm wearing my roomie's bf's shit now :/ you: well, keep wearing them and i'll buy myself a dress? i don't care what you wear though, i'm not a great dresser.

mark is lying to his new form. he had always considered himself as someone with a good eye for outfits and color coordination. he sighs as the green dot by your profile that signifies your online presence fades away, and he figures he should probably find another way to pass the time while you’re offline. yuta waits expectantly, “well?”

“clothing’s an issue. and i don’t even know where i should take her,” mark grins, “it’s going to feel so weird, like going on a date with myself? trippy.”

“you’ll survive, it’s not like you’re ugly,” yuta sighs as he rolls his eyes with exasperation. mark doesn’t respond. he’s too preoccupied with the idea of you to even process yuta’s words. he’s never felt so giddy about a girl before — even his middle school crushes never got him feeling this jittery. conversation with you flowed so smoothly, and even mark knew how strange it was to feel this way after one conversation. 

he’s glad you reciprocate his feelings. everything’s he heard about soulmates seems to be true: you fit him well. mark knows he should be a little more hesitant, but this is finally a dream come true. you’re a dream come true. 

you: let’s go on a date tmrw then? nctzn (online): ok why not

mark glances up at the bright orange sky. the sun has only just started to set and the evening barely grazes the warm colors. are you just as happy as he is now? is your head filled with thoughts of him, the same way he can’t stop thinking about you?

mark’s pauses, not sure if he should dare to think his next question, but the idea floats in his head anyway and he turns pink with embarrassment.

yuta turns away, silent.

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[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 19

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 19: It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. 

           Tommy was in a foul mood days after he fought with Kate. And on the day of Grace’s dinner, he came to find her office was empty. With a frown, he turned to seek out Polly.

“Where’s Kate?” He asked his aunt when he tracked her down.

“She called in.”

“Called in?” He raised an eyebrow. No one called in to say they wouldn’t be at work. Not unless they were a part of the family. Everyone was afraid to defy him. He’d had to send a man home because he came to work with the flu and on another occasion, he had to call for an ambulance to pick up a woman who had fainted in the middle of the day. “Did she give a fucking reason?”

“She said she didn’t want to deal with you today,” Polly replied exactly what Kate had told her over the phone.

“Didn’t want-her job is to deal with me.” He got agitated and his voice started to rise.

His aunt recognized the warning signs of a Shelby tantrum so she pointed at a chair near her desk. “Sit and talk.” She ordered.

Tommy didn’t appreciate being spoken to like a child but listened and sat down. “Talk about what?” Even without knowing the topic of conversation, he knew he would need a smoke. So, he grabbed his pack out of his pocket.

“You and Kate. You’ve been at each other’s throats for weeks. She looks at you like you killed her mother and you look at her like she’s broken your heart.” Polly perched on the edge of her desk, looking at her nephew expectantly. “Out with it.”

There weren’t many times Tommy didn’t trust Polly. In fact, many people in the world wouldn’t get the same level of respect he had for her. So, he trusted her not to go gossiping about anything he told her. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes and let out a long sigh. “A few weeks ago, she got drunk on absinthe at the Garrison. John brought her to my place to sleep it off. She was talking about all sorts then she just…she said she loved me.”

Polly put a hand to her mouth. Not because she was very shocked, but because she had sensed something between the two. But she thought it was just some odd thought. She wasn’t willing to play childish games though so she lowered her hand and resumed a firm stance. “And? What did you say?”

“Polly, I’m married with a child on the way. What am I supposed to say?”

“Tommy.” She spoke slowly. “There’s no baby.” She was brave to say such a thing when she knew it was an instant trigger for him.

Her nephew stood up with a fury. His eyes narrowed. “No talk of the baby tonight.” He warned. “Be there on time, be respectful to Grace, and enough about doubting her. This is her night and I won’t have me family gossiping about her.”

Polly sighed. There wasn’t anything else she could say to him. So, she didn’t say a word, letting him leave when the silence continued.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a few days of struggling with a decision for Kate. That’s why she ended up not going to work the day of Grace’s dinner. She couldn’t handle the conflict she had in her head.

The day after her argument, flowers were sent to her flat. Kate panicked for a second, wondering if they were from Santo, the Changrettas, or anyone else looking to threaten her. But she was met with a brush of relief when she read the card. Which was strange because it was Grace’s name on the card. She wasn’t sure she would be relieved to see her name. But it was far better than any alternative.

Taking the flowers inside, Kate read the full card that was tucked between a lovely arrangement of yellow and white roses.

Kate,

Tommy said you were considering not attending the dinner this Friday. I would miss your absence, as would Tommy. We hope you change your mind and attend, there will always be a seat open for you.

Warmest Regards,

Grace Shelby.

Kate set the flowers down on her kitchen table and flipped the small card between her fingers. The words ran over and over in her head. In a twisted way, she wanted Grace to despise her. It would only make Kate’s life easier, at least that’s what she thought. If Grace hated her, then she had a reason to retaliate. But if Grace took the high road, then Kate looked the fool. Still, she was sure that Tommy didn’t indulge his wife in the information about their previous conversations. So why should Grace hate her?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn’t the life she wanted. Pining after a married man. Even if it turned out that Grace was lying about the pregnancy, Tommy was too in love with her. He would see her through it. Maybe later on they would have a child together. They’d be the family that Tommy wanted.

It was what Kate would never have. And she thought that she’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

Alfie’s words from weeks ago echoed in her head.

We’re creatures of the underground, we can’t afford to love.

She had nothing to give Tommy Shelby. That would never change.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kate arrived fashionably late. But that was only because she was still having doubts about whether she wanted to go. She could make her peace with the idea that she would never have Tommy. She could accept Grace’s gesture and leave it be. But that didn’t mean she had to go and socialize with everyone. In fact, her gut was telling her to stay inside. Don nothing but a dressing gown and drink her reserves of liquor.

But that damn dress kept calling her name. A beautiful beaded gown that she’d bought for the occasion, before the last argument with Tommy, when she fully intended on going to the function.

It was such a shame to waste a dress, although Kate was certain she would find another place to wear it if she somewhat stayed in Tommy’s good graces. But she realized to do that, she would have to go to the dinner.

So, she donned the gown and hitched a ride to the Midland Hotel. And even she was surprised to see the turnout. Well, surprised wasn’t the right word. She wasn’t blind to Tommy’s immense efforts of throwing his name in everyone’s faces and refusing to let them forget it. Now it seemed the hard work was really paying off. She bet he didn’t have to threaten anyone to go, well…except for her.

A man by the door took her coat as she walked in. The ballroom was stunning with a golden-white glow to everything. Chandeliers of glittering stones hung low in the room, sparkling over the jovial guests. Everyone was dressed to the nines as if they were in New York or London. But it was still Birmingham and everyone was doing their best to look the part for Grace and Tommy Shelby.

Grace caught sight of Kate entering from the front and came over to greet her. “I’m so glad you made it.” She smiled. “I was hoping you’d get my letter in time.”

It didn’t help Kate’s cause that Grace looked like a movie star in her pearl-colored dress and furs. The icing on the cake was an enormous sapphire necklace that she wore like a queen. All Kate could only swallow her pride and smile. “It was a kind gesture; the flowers were beautiful. I’m sorry if there was any misunderstanding with Tommy and me. I never wanted it to interrupt this night for you.”

“Not at all!” Grace touched her shoulder with a satin gloved hand. “I just knew Tommy wanted his closest people here.”

She exhaled slowly and bit her tongue before replying. “We work well together. I’ll always be here for him.”

Grace smiled and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, Kate, I need to step away for a moment. Dinner will be starting soon, so please enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks.” She nodded and went to hunt down a flute of champagne.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate found John to chat with while they waited for dinner. She wouldn’t associate with any of the rich donors, that was more than she could stomach in one night. But even as she spoke to Ada, she kept an eye on the room around them. It was a force of habit, and a smart one in her opinion.

During a subtle scan, she noticed Tommy for the first time. He was standing with Grace and another dark-haired woman in a beaded, taupe dress. Her suspicions raised when Tommy leaned forward to kiss this woman’s hand.

Tommy Shelby wouldn’t kiss anyone’s hand unless it was expected of him. Meaning, rank, royalty even.

“John, who is that talking to Tommy?” Kate directed his attention.

“Oh, that’s that fucking duchess. Heard she’s crazy.” He replied without much thought of the matter.

“Duchess?” She scoffed. “What on Earth is Tommy doing with a duchess?”

“Not just that, she’s Russian.”

“A Russian duchess, you’d think he would mention that earlier.” She muttered into her drink.

There wasn’t much time after that. Kate turned away from Tommy and the duchess. That was something they could address later; she was dealing with one thing at a time. Then, she heard a man call for a loyalty toast to the king.

Kate cleared her throat and rolled her eyes slightly as she raised her glass with the rest of the party-goers. She wasn’t loyal and she could bet a high percentage of the people weren’t loyal either. They were loyal to money.

As people were filing towards the dinner hall, there was a quick commotion before two words were shouted.

“For Angel!”

The gunshot made Kate duck before she realized what was going on. Most of the attendees were quick to run for the exit, screaming and shouting to add to the fray.

Kate and the rest of the Peaky Blinders rushed toward the scene. When enough people cleared, she finally understood what happened.

Grace had slumped to the ground in Tommy’s arms. Her face a frozen look of a daze as she loosely held onto her husband’s upper arm. Tommy was shouting for an ambulance, his hand over his wife’s heart, trying to contain the bleeding from the bullet wound.

There was a man on the ground, being swarmed by the Shelby brothers.

Polly rushed by Kate, in a rippling of blush pink satin.

Kate staggered forward and met Tommy’s eyes. They both had the same look of horror and disbelief. She went to Grace’s other side, just acting out of instinct. She had no idea what else to do. Her ears were ringing with the sound of Tommy’s screams and the sounds of the brother’s caving in the shooter’s head.

Her hands shook as she slipped off Grace’s fur and pushed Tommy’s hand away from the wound. Her heart was pounding as she pressed to try and stem the bleeding.

But it didn’t seem to be of much use. Grace was slipping away before their eyes. Her eyes were starting to glaze over. Her face turning an ashen shade.

Kate didn’t notice, but she started to rock back and forth as tears slipped down her cheeks. She continued holding the fur shawl to the wound, but the elegant garment wasn’t meant to soak up blood. Soon, dark red began to saturate the pale color and seeped through Kate’s gloves.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The entire Shelby family waited in the hospital. After consulting with the doctor, Polly came back with the news.

“She’s gone. They didn’t even have a pulse when she arrived.” She reported somberly.

“Where’s Tom?” Arthur asked.

“Out back. I think it’s a good idea for him to be alone right now.” She replied.

Kate felt like if she moved, it would just be proof that she wasn’t in a nightmare. Once she moved, it confirmed that she truly was living this unspeakable night. Even still, she stood up and moved to leave the hospital.

“Kate, I really wouldn’t...” Ada warned.

But she didn’t listen and kept walking out the door. She circled the building looking for where Tommy went.

Around the back, she found him sat on the steps leading to a door. It was dark, but she could see him hunched over his knees. Still dressed in his tuxedo, he looked out of place. But it was where he was. A broken man with his wife’s blood staining the cuffs of his crisp, white shirt. Both of his hands were gripping onto his hair as if he was trying to grab onto reality again.

“Tom.” Kate couldn’t muster more than a whisper.

He didn’t even move a muscle. His shoulders were heaving unevenly. And she knew why. Neither of them could breathe. Suddenly the air wasn’t suitable for them anymore, their lungs weren’t compatible. They couldn’t get enough air in. They were gasping for something. Something more.

“Tommy.” She stepped toward him.

“It was meant for me.” His voice was muffled but it was loud enough for her to hear. “That fucking bullet was meant for me.”

Kate knew it was. Sure, Grace had her past but it was Tommy who racked up the enemies. Maybe he didn’t kill Angel, but he was the orchestrator. And their enemies were smart enough to know that. “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done…”

“It was fucking meant for me!” Tommy lifted his head to shout at her. His eyes were red from crying and he looked two inches away from a complete breakdown.

Her lower lip quivered. Not because he was shouting at her, but because of the overwhelming feeling of guilt that blanketed over her like steel. Crippling her. “You know that if I had the chance…I would’ve taken it for her. I never wanted-I never wanted her-” She couldn’t get the word out. Saying it would make it so.

Tommy shook his head and violently ripped at his bow tie, tearing it from around his neck. “No, I should’ve been the one. I’m meant to be dead. I should be fucking dead, Kate!” He shouted.

“But you’re not!” She grabbed his wrist to keep him from hurting himself by tugging at the buttons of his shirt. “You’re alive and you have things that you need to do. You have a family you need to take care of now!”

He fought against her, trying to pull from her grip but she wrestled him back.

“Stop it!” She snapped. “She’s gone. We can assign blame or we can remedy this. We’ll get the bastards that did this and make them pay! That’s how we do things so that’s what we’ll do now!” Tears streamed down her face as Tommy went weak in her grip.

His blue eyes were filled with tears too. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” His voice wasn’t more than a whisper. The strength had been siphoned out, there was nothing more than what Grace had left. Everything else of him, she’d taken with her.

“I know.” Kate swallowed and loosened her hold on him. “I know it wasn’t.”

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