#ugh i sound like my grandmother. ''i just love to be of service!'' and the right hand is very very aware what the left hand is doing

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

My. Gosh. It's so helpful to help people

[broadstbroskis]

the countdown | kevin hayes

a/n: @hockeynetwork ran another wonderful fic exchange this season! i had the lovely @fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan and one of the questions i asked you was for your favorite tropes. you gave me “families are super close and have a bet going on who realize they are in love with each other first.” this is...not quite that 😂 but similar and i hope you enjoy anyway 💚

8:43 pm

Olivia slams her car door shut and checks her watch, swearing as she jogs around to the passenger side to gather everything she’s brought. Besides her activity ring judging her for not meeting her goal, she’s late and she’s going to take so much shit for that.

She practically jogs to the door (or, well, as best as she can in her high heeled booties), plate of her famous chocolate chip cookies in hand, and then stops abruptly right on the front porch when the door opens before she can do it herself.

There goes her hope of just sneaking in.

It’s Jimmy. Of course, it’s Jimmy, with that classic Hayes shit-eating grin on his face as he greets her, even though this isn’t even his fucking house. “Livvy! Rolling in 45 minutes late even though you’re the closest one here.”

“This is honestly so rude of you.” She complains, even as she pulls him in for a hug. She wouldn’t have expected any less from Jimmy, who gives her just as much shit as her own older brother does and always has, ever since they were all kids growing up together in Dorchester. “This is how you treat me, after I show up here with cookies I made especially for you?”

His eyes light up, like she knew they would, even though they both know they’re not just for him. But her chocolate chip cookies are a big hit with all of them, and instead of calling her out on it, he reaches for the plate. “I’ll just take those from you now; put them somewhere safe.”

Olivia laughs. “Nuh-uh. Lemme in; it’s cold as fuck out here.”

Jimmy finally steps aside so she can follow him in the doorway, and only then does Liv hand him the plate of cookies, so that she can take off her coat, revealing the sparkly tank she’d dragged out of her closet just for the evening. “Where’s the champagne?” She pouts, as he leads her on a familiar route deeper into the house. “You came to greet me at the door and didn’t even bring me bubbly?”

“Kristin probably drank it all already.” He jokes, which is straight blasphemy, because she knows his wife set aside at least two bottles just for the two of them to share the minute she walked in the door. 

“My girl would never!” Olivia says confidently, and sure enough, the second the two of them walk into the family room to join the rest of the families, his wife is holding up two flutes of champagne with a large smile on her face.

“Livvy!” Kristin cheers and Liv finds herself being pulled into the blonde for a hug and a glass of champagne being thrust into her hand before anyone in her own family can even say hello to her. “You’re here, finally.”

“Oh my god!” Olivia takes a sip of her champagne and rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Every person in this room has been more late to something than I am right now! Jack’s never showed up to Thanksgiving on time or without a hangover in his life and nobody says shit!” She deflects to her younger brother, who holds his hands up innocently.

“We’re not talking about me right now, Livvy.” The grin on Jack’s face widens, somehow. “We’re talking about you lying to all of us.”

She’s absolutely taken aback by that because she hasn’t? She’d panicked in the group chat earlier about getting stuck on a call at work, and then stuck in traffic, which set her back getting ready to come over here and meet all of them. She would have been on time. She’s always on time. “What are you talking about?” She frowns, as a tall person drops an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “I haven’t lied to anyone.” She looks over at Nolan and pulls a face at him, and then laughs as he deadpans one back to her. 

She’d been sure that her long time best friend’s roommate had hated her when they first met, but Kevin had been quick to assure her that was just how Nolan was. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that was true. Beneath Nolan’s resting bitch face that put hers to absolute shame, was an absolute sweetheart; she hated having to admit she was wrong to Kevin. 

“To anyone?” Jimmy and Mike, Liv’s older brother, are looking at each other with this ridiculous look of both disbelief and mocking. “Not lying about anything?”

“You saw me literally last week?” She addresses her brother. She’d gone home for Christmas; they’d sat with all their cousins at their grandmother’s and had a great time, just like always. “What the fuck are you on?”

“Olivia!” Her mom snaps, half-heartedly, not even looking away from the conversation she’s having with Liv’s dad and Kevin’s parents. 

But Mike merely grins at her. “I don’t know, Liv.” He says, as she’s lifted off the floor and twirled around. “You tell me.”

But she can’t really hear anything he says after that, too busy laughing and shoving at Kevin, trying (unsuccessfully) to get him to put her down. He does, finally, but leaves his arm around her shoulders, even when she tries to shove her shoulders against him in retaliation (a wildly unsuccessful attempt, he goes absolutely nowhere, she really just ends up bringing herself closer to him).  “Here’s my girl!”  Kevin cheers, shaking her enough that she almost spills what’s left in her champagne glass (and she would have killed him for wasting such a commodity). “ I told you to take off today.”

“Ugh, I wish I could have.” Except they have this huge launch in the first week of the year and they’re still putting finishing touches on, so that was absolutely not happening. It’ll be a miracle that they finish on time as it is. She’s going to pop so much champagne once this goes off.

Kevin, who’s definitely familiar with this work project that she’s been bitching about for months now, laughs; he knows she couldn’t take off earlier, even if she’d really wanted too, and he squeezes her shoulders once. “A few more days and you’re done. Forever.” She clinks her glass against his beer in a cheers. Bless. “Thank god.” He continues. “I don’t like the person you are when you’re 3am deep in emails, Livvy.”

“Lies.” She elbows him, the only time she can really get some leverage against him, when her bony elbow manages to find the spot just under his ribcage. “You love me all the time.”

“Well that’s cute.” Mike says, in that dangerous voice that Liv always finds hard to read. “Just the nicest couple of liars.” And it’s the way he says couple, that really does it for her, but it goes right over Kevin’s head, if the way he just leads her to the kitchen to put down her cookies and get a plate of food, is any indication.

-----

9:23 pm

“Okay, spill.” Kristin says, the second she manages to get Liv alone, not a terribly easy feat, as Liv’s been doing everything she can to avoid that. 

“Spill what?” Kristin’s got that look in her eyes, like she’s not going to let this go...whatever this is.

“Whatever’s going on with you and Kev.”

Olivia blinks. “There’s nothing going on with me and Kev.” Except that’s maybe not exactly true. It’s not a lie- there’s definitely nothing going on between them. They’re still friends, definitely still friends. But...there’s definitely not nothing between them either.

There’s too many late nights on one of their couches, spent doing absolutely nothing but talking. Too many lingering touches that don’t lead anywhere. Too many glances across a crowded room where she feels like a magnet is pulling her there in the first place, and then can’t seem to pull herself away.

So like. There’s not nothing. But nothing’s changed; they’re still goofy Kevin and organized Liv, best friends taking on the world (in Philly, now; together again, finally).

“Bullshit.” Kristin calls her out, but Liv’s saved by the arrival of one of Kevin’s sisters, who tries to wrangle them in for a picture before they all become too messy later.

It’s an easy reminder though, of how well these people all know her. So it’s probably time to lock it down for the night.

-----

10:05 pm

It’s quiet in the kitchen, where Olivia has made herself busy cleaning up after stopping in the bathroom. She’s gathered up leftovers of anything that needs to be put away, separated into bags and containers for everyone to take home, and then started on the dishes, when suddenly she feels a finger poke her side, before an entire arm wraps around her stomach.

“Stop that.” Kevin murmurs into her ear, trying to tug her away. “They’ll still be dirty for us tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” She fights against him. “The whole thing took me like, five minutes.”

“You’ve been gone for fifteen.” Kevin says, wrapping his other hand around her waist and lifting her away from the sink. “And that’s not the point.”

He sets her down on the other side of the counter; the sink’s not even in reach anymore. She gets her revenge by wiping her wet hands on his henley, but Kev doesn’t even blink, still staring down at her. “I was almost done!” She protests.

“We can clean the kitchen tomorrow.” Kevin says calmly. “Come hang out with us. I know you’ve got this thing about cleaning and order and shit but I swear to God, Nols and I are not going to fight you on this; you can put everything back wherever you want to put it tomorrow.”

Liv bites her lip so he won’t see her laugh, but of course he knows and a grin immediately stretches across his face. “I’m going to hold you to that.” She says. “I’m finally reorganizing your spice shelf.”

“It’s chaos and we like it that way.” Kevin grins and it’s only when she shakes her head, and the ends of her hair actually hit his face does she realize how close he is.

“It’s anxiety-inducing,” She corrects, smiling right back as Kevin brushes her hair back from her face. “And I don’t know how you two ever get any food made here.”

“Meal service.” Kevin shrugs, but his voice is almost overshadowed by the sound of a gasp behind her.

When she and Kevin both go to look though, the hallway is empty, and Liv shrugs right back at Kevin, before they both grab fresh drinks and join their families again.

-----

11:18 pm

Once Nolan eliminates her from the annual beer pong tournament (fuck him AND his bony elbows that were definitely over the line), Liv drapes herself over her mom’s shoulders and squeezes. Across from her, the Hayes’ both laugh, and her dad just rolls his eyes fondly, but Olivia knows her mom and knows she doesn’t care.

In fact, she welcomes it. Her mom squeezes her hand and she’s grinning, always happy for these moments with her children. “Tough loss, kid.”

“It’s fine.” Liv says, not at all bitter. “Nols is a cheating cheater who cheats. Kev will avenge me.” He’s already up by three cups; it’s looking pretty good.

There’s more laughter, and then her mom is squeezing her hand again. “We’re really happy for you, you know.” 

Liv’s a little tipsy, so she doesn’t really question the strangeness of that statement. She kisses her mom’s cheek and hugs her again. “Love you guys too!” She says, and then goes back to watching Kevin clean up for the rest of this game.

-----

11:55 pm

With five minutes to midnight and Kristin crowned as this year’s beer pong champ, the attention turns to the countdown and a flutter of activity toward preparing their traditional midnight champagne toast. 

Olivia accepts her glass from her mom and then wanders off to find her phone quickly, dead set on getting a picture of the toast for an instagram post in the morning. It’s still in the kitchen, where she’d left it when cleaning earlier, and she grabs it off the counter, ignoring most of the messages on there in favor of checking the one from Kristin (what she could possibly have to say when she’s literally across the room…).

It’s not actually a text; it’s a picture. A picture of Liv and Kevin, right after Kevin had beaten Nolan at beer pong. She’d thrown herself at him; he’d lifted her up in celebration, both of them laughing and cheering.  They look happy and perfect and like something...it’s practically a boyfriend filter...except it’s two of them, her and Kevin.

Definitely not nothing.

“Whatcha looking at?” Kevin’s voice surprises her; she’d been so focused she hadn’t even heard him come up to her.

Liv’s so not the risk taker in this friendship; Kev’s the one dragging her out to new places and new things while she’s the one telling him to take a step back and think things through. And yet, even though it’s the scariest thing in the world to show him, it somehow doesn’t feel like she’s diving in headfirst at all as she tilts the screen a little for him to see. “Kristin sent me this.” 

Even though he’s standing right next to her, Kevin still takes a step closer and his free hand, the one not holding his flute of champagne, slides around her waist. “Hey!” He grins, squeezing her gently. “It’s us!”

“Yeah,” She says, much more quietly. “It is.”

He’s quiet for a moment then, but doesn’t move away either. “It’s a good picture of us.”

“It is.” She repeats, agreeing.

“That’s not why you showed me this, is it?”

“No.” Liv swallows the lump in her throat nervously. “It’s not.”

“Livvy.” Kevin says gently and that’s it. That’s all it takes for her to open up.

“I’m so tired of this, Kev.” She shakes her phone, like that’s going to explain everything. “This-this in between thing. This more than friends, but not quite more. I hate it here! I hate looking at this picture and seeing what Kristin sees but knowing that what she sees is wrong. I hate the uncertainty, I hate feeling like there’s this thing but then neither of us does anything, so it just lingers.” She takes a breath, set on continuing, but Kevin jumps in before she can.

“You just hate not knowing something.” He grins.

“Kevin.” Liv snaps crankily, but before she can say anything else to him, he’s pressing her back against the counter and kissing her.

She’s vaguely aware of her champagne crashing to the ground, never more thankful for the fake plastic flutes that their moms always insist on, but Liv really can’t be bothered, even by spilled champagne, as she grips Kevin’s hips to pull herself closer and sinks into a truly amazing first kiss.

“Aw, hell yeah!” She hears from behind her, and pulls away reluctantly, noting the equally annoyed look on Kevin’s face. “I knew it, let’s go!”

It’s Jimmy, looking entirely too pleased to find his brother making out against a counter than he eats off all the time. Actually, it’s all of them- Jimmy, Kristin, Nolan, her brothers, Kevin’s sisters, their parents. All staring at them with bright grins on their faces and bickering.

“I told you-”

“We all fucking knew-” Jack shoves at Mike.

“-they’ve been together for ages.”

“Hey, back up! Just because they were making out now, doesn’t mean they’ve been together for ages; I had New Year’s in the pool!” Nolan pouts.

“I’m sorry,” Liv says, apparently sounding terrifying enough that every one of them stops talking. “There was a pool?”

Every one of them freezes, but for barely a moment, before they’re all talking over each other again and bumping into each other in their haste to back up. “Come on, we’re not even going to ask when this happened?” She hears Jack complain. “There’s $500 on the line here!”

“It’ll stay that way.” Kevin calls and Liv buries her face in his chest to hide her laugh. “Not telling you now!” A few groans echo back into the kitchen as he looks down at her to confirm her agreement. “We’re not telling them...ever, right?”

“Oh, it’s you and me to the grave.” Liv confirms, pulling him down for another kiss.

[vitalityofficial]

Vitality LORE ACT 1 - The Girl: Prologue

VITALITY LORE // A1 - The Girl

Summary: We are introduced to a young girl whose life is about to change forever. After suffering a devastating loss, a mysterious man will eventually come into her life and begin his dark path of vengeance. The girl is only the beginning.

Warnings: Death, Cursing, Mentions of Blood, Bullying, Depression, PTSD, Anxiety

Wordcount: 1,778

School had been out for an hour now and all her friends had gone home. Why hadn't her parents come yet? They never took this long! And why haven't they called? She took her phone out, dialing her father's number and it rang and rang before going to voicemail.

"Dad! I'm still waiting. Are you okay? I'll wait for fifteen more minutes and if you aren't here, I'll walk home! I'll take the special kimchi route, okay? I love you!"

The 'special kimchi route' is a series of alleyways littered with various family-owned shops - one of those shops owned by an older woman who had the best kimchi dishes around and one her family ate at often.

The girl frowns after the fifteen minutes are up and finally hops off the swing, grabbing her book bag and sighing. "Traffic must be bad today," she reasoned, leaving the gated school property and making the long trek home. She still found it odd that neither had contacted her, but her mother's cellphone was being repaired and her father was old and sometimes didn't pick up service well. They lived far up in the hills - the rather "poor" part of Seoul, tucked far away with the main city in the distance - and any nearby payphones were broken and left to rot.

As she walks and walks, she can't help but to hum a happy tune, feeling perky despite everything. Her birthday was in 5 days and her parents had promised to take her to Busan for a whole week! Her best friend had moved there last year and the two didn't get to keep in contact so it was the perfect way to celebrate a special day.

"You! Child!" A gruff voice spoke from a darkened corner and she yelps when a frail hand grabs her arm, spinning her around. "Grandma! You scared me!" She laughs, hugging the older unrelated woman. She was a well-known resident to all in the small neighborhood and the girl's family was very familiar with her.

“It’s so awful, child! Truly terrible!” The elderly woman murmurs, her eyes wide and pupils as big as saucers. The girl frowns and a look of concern comes over her face - word around was that Grandma was not well and often spouted eccentric things but the other residents often did their best to take care of her as there were no known relatives around. “Are you okay, Grandma? Shall I help you home? It’s getting chilly out.” The girl softly grabs her hand, guiding her in the direction of the woman's house.

“I am so sorry, my sweet girl. You are to endure so much pain and it is not fair for you were destined for so much good.” The old lady rambles as they walk but the girl brushes it off, use to it. When they reach the final hill - which happens to split off into a fork - the girls home on the right and a cliff just across the weather-beaten road and the woman’s on the left - they are overwhelmed by the flashing lights of multiple police cars and an ambulance.

“What’s going on?” The girl panics as she takes everything in, immediately dropping the old lady’s hand as she rushes towards the commotion. She had never seen so many people gathered around this area and to her horror - right in front of her house!

"Was there an accident? What happened?" She pleads with an officer, who immediately stops her from crossing the tape barrier. "It's not safe, young lady. Please stay back!" The female cop grasps the girls shoulders, pushing her back. It wasn't soon enough though as the girl peaks around her, seeing a trail of blood that went over the cliff edge - something truly abnormal and mortifying.

“That’s my home! Where's are my Mother and Father?” She was panicking now - something clearly wasn’t right. Her parents were never late picking her up from school or activities and to come home to this...mess...The girl knew now that something terrible had happened and there was no hiding it from her. “Mama? Papa?” She screams desperately, tears instantly flooding down her cheeks.

The officer gave her a solemn look before turning to her superior, the two whispering among themselves for a couple of minutes. When they returned, the woman put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and guided her away from the commotion, sitting on a bench with her - a bench the girl often sat on with her Father when they ate breakfast and waited for the school van to pick her up each morning.

The officer didn’t waste much time breaking the news. “My dear, I am afraid your Mom and Dad had an accident and are no longer with us in this world.” Though her voice was gentle, it was clear that breaking such awful news to a child wasn’t something she did often, or even wanted to do.

The girl sputtered, unable to form any words. She looked around for the Grandmother but the woman was nowhere in sight now. “Mama...Papa?” She cries out weakly - the thought of never seeing them or speaking to them ever again filling her with an overwhelming sense of despair, leaving her gasping for air.

Everything went black then.

7 Years Later - (2016)

“Yah! Chaewon! Are you even listening? Hey! Watch out!” A firm hand grabs the girl's arm and yanks her backward just as a delivery scooter races past, beeping madly. “Are you spacing out again? What is with you?” Areum looked at her friend worriedly, the rapper of the triangle kimbap she was holding in her opposite hand crinkling loudly.

“Huh? What did I miss?” Chaewon snaps out of her funk, a tentative smile on her face. Areum groans in response, rolling her eyes as she takes a bite of her snack. “I said,” she begins with her mouth full of food, “I was thinking of asking Kangdae out. Isn’t he handsome, yeah? He’s not like the other boys in our class.”

“He’s a bit dumb, isn’t he?” Chaewon mutters. Sure, he was cute and had muscles but he wasn’t exactly known to be bright and was at the bottom of their class in terms of grades unlike Areum, who was in the top five.

Areum groans and smacks her friend on the arm. “Don’t be so rude, Unnie! He’s not stupid, okay? He just doesn’t really like studying but he’s a good person! He wants to get into music and he’s really good at it too! You should listen to one of his tracks he’s produced!” She goes to pull out her phone, biting her lip as she scrolls through some files.

“Maybe another time, yeah?” Chaewon waves dismissively at the cellular device her friend holds out to her. “I have to get home.”

“Let me walk you!” Areum offers, linking her arm through Chaewons. She was understandably concerned about her friend - who had been experiencing sporadic blackouts for a couple months now - and wanted to make sure she got home safely. “I mean, you did just nearly get shit on by a scooter while having one of your...moments.”

Chaewon shook her head, “No! I’m fine! Plus you know how my parents are.” Areum pouts, grumbling. “They have to be the lamest parents on earth if they won’t let their daughter bring a friend home. We’ve been besties since forever and I’ve never even met them! Ugh...��

"Yeah. They’re...strict and really embarrassing, to be honest. You’re not missing out on much.” Chaewon huffs, checking her phone for the time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” She forces a smile at her friend, pulling her school blazer around her tighter as suddenly a chilly breeze whipped through the air. The two said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

As Chaewon walked, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for being so distant lately. Areum had been a true friend to her ever since her move to Gwangmyeong. She was the first student to welcome her. The first to defend her against the snotty students who picked on Chaewon for being sullen, quiet and “weird”. Prior to the...incident, she had no real issues with bullies and was rather well-liked by her peers.  She had since become the opposite version of former herself - the girl her parents adored was gone and she had no proper concept on how to defend herself or react to the other student's harsh words and actions.

So why was she so rude at times? Why did she lie to someone she considered her best friend? Chaewon had come to the conclusion that it was a defense mechanism of sorts. The only way she could deal with everything was by lying about her life outside of school. It made it easier to pretend - the façade she had created was an escape, albeit still very bleak, much like the truth.

The sounds of the city center grew more distant as she reached the iron gates of her “home”. Her slender hand gripped the cool iron and pushed it open slowly, the squealing of the metal sending a shiver down her spine. Laughter could be heard flittering from the playground behind the old stone building that housed 13 other kids just like her:

Orphans.

The Seojun house for orphans wasn’t too terrible - the food was edible on most days and the rats and roaches were few and far between as of late. The couple who ran it weren’t the kindest and had clearly become burnt out after running the institution for the past 20 years. If they hadn’t been getting a good sum of government money to run it, they most definitely would have abandoned the ominous place long ago. What made the place tolerable were some of the staff, like Mr. Kim.

“Welcome home, Miss Lee!” Mr. Kim - the designated maintenance and security man --  greets Chaewon with a cheery smile as she approached the front door. He even stops raking to open it for her, bowing and motioning with a hand for her to enter as if she were royalty.

“Ah! yes! Home sweet home! Thank you, Mr. Lee.” She manages to muster a smile, bowing as she walks through the familiar doors and sighing loudly. Her smile falters as she is out of the caretakers sight and the familiar sense of dread slowly overcomes her once again.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Reader/ OC trying to keep her orgasms on the inside because she doesn’t like how she sounds.

This is going to be pretty long and detailed. Figured I could add this bit into an idea I had. I wanted to write it out just like this 😩.First time using an OC. Enjoy lovelies xoxoxo

Hello, it’s your girl Ebony here and you’re listening to The Love Zone. We already have a caller number one on the line...

“Hello?” Élise timidly spoke into the phone while seated in her dimly lit living room. There was a 100% chance of showers that evening and rainy nights were the perfect nights for her. Alone in a home she inherited from her grandmother in Marigny, New Orleans, Élise decided to call The Love Zone on WQUE-FM, New Orleans mainstream urban radio station. Ebony Starr was a famous Sexologist and radio personality from Bywater, New Orleans. She inspired Élise to start her own podcast that she titled Finally Exhaled which discusses overcoming past toxic relationships and starting new ones.

“Caller number one?” Ebony said into the microphone. Her voice echoed since Élise could hear it twice.

“Yes,” she licked some cocoa butter from her lips, “I’m caller number one.”

“Alright, love, do you have a question for me?”

“I’m a huge fan,” she nervously laughs, “Just...I didn’t expect you...to answer my call.”

“You’re so sweet, honey, thank you,” Ebony made Élise smile, “what’s your name?”

“Yolanda,” that was her mother’s name.

“Yolanda, Pretty name. I know a lot of Yolanda’s.”

“Yeah,” she toyed with her long dreaded hair.

“Why are you up so late, Yolanda? No work for tomorrow?”

It was 11:00 pm. She worked as a waitress in a bar and grill but that was just to keep busy. She was an only grandchild left with her grandmothers money. Her Father didn’t like the fact that she got everything. Typical. He wasn’t around so why did it matter to him?

“Work tomorrow evening,” she pondered for a moment, “Now I remember my question.”

Ebony laughs, “go ahead, what’s your question?”

Wiggling her toes at the fireplace she opens her mouth to speak, “How do I overcome being embarrassed by the way I sound when I orgasm and moan? I’m nervous to even ask this question but it’s been bothering me and I just...I don’t like it.”

“Hmm,” Ebony’s smooth hum reassured her, “Why don’t you like the way you sound, Yolanda?”

“It’s-its because I was told it was ugly mainly. My last boyfriend-shitty boyfriend by the way, told me I sounded like a dying animal,” Élise chuckles, “I want to move past that and embrace the way I sound whenever the moment happens for me again but...”

“You’re afraid the next man will find it just as ugly and look at you weird?”

“Yes, ugh,” Élise closes her eyes, “What the hell should I do?”

“Honestly? Embrace it. That sound is a beautiful sound, Yolanda. One of the sounds of love making. When it’s real and sudden like that it makes you stutter out incoherent words and sounds but only a real man, an experienced appreciative man, would love to hear those noises. How old were you when he told you this?”

“I was 20 years old. That was when we first started dating. A start to a long toxic relationship.” She didn’t mean to vent like that but she couldn’t help it. Her ex, Sean, was such an emotional abuser. He shot her down every chance he got to make her feel ugly. That was for four whole years. She was 25 now and wanted to heal from that.

“Oh, that explains it,” Ebony made a noise of disapproval, “See, boys don’t know a thing, honey. I’m happy you’re not in that toxic relationship anymore and there is a man out there that will love every screaming orgasm you have. Especially if he’s the cause.”

“I know you’re right but gosh,” what man anyway? The closest she’s ever come to a man since then was working at that bar and they all were too pushy and drunks. She was loosing all hope honestly.

“Yolanda, when was the last time you had sex?”

“Over a year ago.”

“You’re craving sex heavy, sweetie. You want to give yourself to someone badly and a year can do that. I don’t think it was only the way you sound it’s a trust thing as well. Sean betrayed your trust.

Bingo.

“I’m better now. I can trust but I just don’t know where to start.”

“There is no rush. Let it come to you, honey. Once it does...accept it. Feel it. If you can listen to yourself moan and shout when you orgasm alone then you can definitely do it in front of a man again. I bet you sound angelic.”

Élise blushes.

“I actually heard that smile through the phone, Ebony laughs, “Sweety, let that moan out, snatch a man’s soul, and feed that craving.”

Élise laughs pleasantly, “I really needed this thank you so much, Miss Starr.”

“Please, If you need to talk you could always come to my meet and greets and workshops in The French Quarter.”

“I’d like that,” Élise smiles wide with her high cheek bones, “thanks again, Ebony.”

“Thank you, Yolanda. Enjoy the rest of your evening, love.”

The line disconnected. Élise places her phone on the carpeted floor and thought about their conversation. She was pining for sex. She wanted her year back. A year of no dick or lips on her pussy. Sex toys over used and calling her name as we speak.

Let’s take it slow with some Beyoncé- Dangerously in Love 2...

Baby I love you/You are my life/My happiest moments weren’t complete if you weren’t by my side/You’re my relation/In connection to the sun/With you next to me/There’s no darkness I can’t overcome/You are my raindrops/ I am your seed...

The rain was coming down in sheets, banging against Élise’s rough top like bullets. There was no lightning or thunder. She was glad that she got the lighting in her grandmothers home fixed because if she didn’t the power would be out and Élise did not want to go into that cobwebbed basement to find candles. Last time she went down there she saw a possum. Élise has on nothing but a retro Voodoo Fishing T-shirt while seated in front of the fireplace. She finally stands, the heat of the flames warming her butt before she walked back to the couch where her crinkled copy of Roar of Thunder, Hear My Cry rested on top of a quilt.

She couldn’t sleep and Beyoncé had her singing with her eyes closed. Grabbing her Walt Disney World coffee mug that had lukewarm herbal tea in it, Élise snuggled into the couch while facing a small window just above the heater in her living room.

I hope everyone is being safe on this stormy Friday night. We have another caller on the line, caller number two?

Élise tunes in.

“I’m still unfaithful to my husband. I can’t shake the need to be with the other man. Just tonight I came home after frantic car sex in an open lot. I want to tell him...I want to tell him I’m happy with the other man.”

“Wow,” Élise loves this juicy talk. She could faintly hear Rihanna-Unfaithful play in the background which causes her to giggle. Ebony was hilarious.

Whew, honey, juggling two men?

“SHIT!”

Élise’s head shot up from the couch. The angry shout came from outside. Maybe someone was locked out the house, she thought. Élise covered herself with the quilt further to listen to more of The Love Zone.

You are killing this man. Just tell him the truth. I can hear the pain in your voice. If you want to end this the right way stop stringing him along and communicate...

Thump

A rather loud kick could be heard from outside. Now, her interest was peaked. Élise tosses the quilt back , tiptoeing to the window with her mug still in hand. She could see a little better only because the house had a porch. But it was still foggy. A man was outside with his hazards flashing. He had to have been out there for a minute with how drenched he was messing under the hood of his car. No lightning or thunder. Just the rain, but the rain was more than enough to make the situation extremely uncomfortable.

Élise couldn’t see him that clearly as he hopped in and out of his car every minute or so, probably trying to warm up before trying something else to get his car moving again. Thanks to the street lamp about twenty feet from where he parked she could make out the type of car. A Ford Mustang 2006. It was parked beside a neighbor of hers that she didn’t like at all. His name was Kevin and he was a white supremacist. Nothing new in the South. No family but she could have sworn she heard screams from his house...

“Fuck!” The man shouts again. Élise felt kind of guilty. She had no idea why. She was sure most of her neighbors saw him stranded out there as well. As quiet as her neighborhood is, something out of the ordinary rarely goes unnoticed. However, the fact that the man was still out there struggling on one of the worst nights, weather-wise, of the year didn’t sit right with her. What harm would it be to offer to let him into her home so he could properly make a call for a Tow service or have a nice cup of tea and a hot meal? Loan a flashlight, or let him warm up by the fireplace for a moment?

Élise stares down at what she was wearing again. That retro Voodoo Fishing T-shirt. Élise went to the closet to grab her red longline puffer coat and black Hunter rain boots. She grabs a flashlight from the closet shelf, trying it out to see if it worked. A couple slaps with it to the palm of her hand made the old thing ignite and she was headed for the door. Élise swung the front door open like a women on a mission. She stomps across her front porch and right down the steps, pulling the back of her coat up over her head to keep from getting her dreads wet.

“Excuse me!” She yelled out from the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street from where the man was parked. He looked in her direction, and she could finally make out his soaked face. She was not disappointed.

“Wassup?!” He responded loudly, “This rain is a bitch!”

“Yeah, it is! Do you need some help?! It’s pretty cold out too my place is warm!”

He kept a steady gaze on her from under his hood. He had this look on his face as if that were a bad idea. Now, Élise was regretting it.

“Are you waiting for someone?!” She started up the conversation again. Her legs were so wet now.

“Nah!” He shook his head and from what Élise could make out she saw short dreads fall over his forehead, “Listen, it’s bad out here, sweetheart why don’t you go back inside, huh?!”

“You sure?!” She pointed her flashlight to the house, “My offer still stands if you change your mind!”

“Thanks, I appreciate it, ma!”

Even though it was dark she could see his smile. Damn, he was good-looking. All that out here melting in the rain. Élise turned to run back to the porch only to fall right on the concrete. She felt both her knees hit the ground. She wailed in pain. Her hands planted to the ground and she tried lifting up but her rain boots slipped right from under her. She could feel hot tears prick her eyes.

“SHIT!!! Hey, Ma!” He called out. Élise could hear heavy feet splashing in the flooded streets and then a pair of wet hands grabbing her waist and lifting her all the way up into bridal style. She squinted her eyes up at the nice-looking man with the fucked up car. He started walking back to her porch. He sat her down on an old chained swing chair before removing his black hoodie and tossing it on the swing chair with her. It was probably uncomfortable walking around with heavily soaked fabric. One thing was for sure: he was built. He had on a charcoal gray tee that was hugging his body something fierce. Élise could make out his physique thanks to him being up close and personal now. Then there was those dreads. They fit his rugged look so perfectly. He definitely wasn’t from around here.

“What are you doing out here? It’s bad, sweetheart, you could have cracked your head open on the ground instead.”

She blinked up at him with timid eyes. He softened his stern ones before his eyes closed. His hands finger combed his dreads back before he shook his head to stop the dripping water.

“My bad,” he looked down at her on the swing chair, “you’re probably thinking who the fuck he think he is talking to me,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Not at all,” Élise looked away and down at her lap. He was right. She was so quick to come running to the rescue. It was almost flooded outside.

“Let me see the damage,” He crouches down to look at her knees, “just scraped skin but it needs to be cleaned off.”

His onyx eyes landed on hers before turning back to his car. Élise studies the back of his smooth neck and the curve of his ears. It seemed like forever that he was staring at his car.

“I have everything in my house I can take care of it. Thank you though.”

He turned back with a tilt of his head. His eyes looked up at her house while his fingers lazily drummed on the swing chair.

“My name is Erik.” He reached out to shake her hand.

“I’m Élise,” she grabbed it and noticed some cuts on his knuckles, “looks like you need some help too.”

Erik drew his hand back before covering his knuckles by folding his arms, “Shit, I forgot that was even there.”

“No worries, I’m not afraid of blood.” She clarified.

“You must not be afraid of much talking to a stranger at 12 in the morning in the rain.”

His tone was serious. Élise looked away from him with a shy smile.

“I have a big heart and my shitty neighbors wouldn’t help you out so I figured what the hell I can do it.”

“Not much happens around here, huh?” He asked with attentive eyes.

“No, it’s pretty quiet,” she took in every inch of him with her eyes. The tight charcoal gray shirt was damp and exposing every single muscle. She liked his short dreads, almond colored skin, and long, sexy eyelashes.

“You could have knocked on someone’s door to give you a jump.”

“Ha,” his chuckle was dry, “You don’t answer doors when strangers knock, baby girl. And I don’t trust knocking on doors in this neighborhood. I’m lucky you even stepped out,” he smiled faintly, “like a breath of fresh air.”

“I agree,” she changed it up, “it’s just-“

“Don’t explain yourself. It’s cool,” Erik stands, stretching out the muscles in his arms. His eyes were studying her home with a new found curiosity.

“In this world we live in, you never know what you might find knocking on someone’s door. Most people are suspicious, especially of us black men.”

“True,” she stood with him, wrapping her coat around her, “so...do you wanna come in?”

He licked his lips and placed his hands in his black cargo pants pockets. He looked like he was freezing and she could see his cold breath.

“Erik, I have blankets and dry shirts,” she beemed up at him.

He squinted his eyes playfully at her before his head fell forward with defeat. Success.

“A blanket does sound nice. But, as tiny as you are, I doubt I could fit into one of your shirts.”

Élise thought she saw a flicker of lust in his eyes when he said that. At least, a part of her hoped she saw lust.

“Unless...” He gave her quizzical expression, “your boyfriend got some shirt he left behind.”

Élise blushes, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

She could tell he was fighting a grin. Élise finally turned to lead the way back into her place, Erik grabbing his hoodie and walking through the door. The second he ended up in there he felt his body defrost and dry.

“Fuck,” he ran his hands over his short dreads, “I’m glad I let my pride down for once and let you help me. A nigga was cold.”

“Uh-Huh,” Élise laughs, “I see your skin warming up, Erik.”

“Oh yeah, I’m nice and toasty now,” He smiles flirtatiously.

“Hungry? Thirsty?”

“Nah, I’m cool.”

“Tow service?”

“Not available and...I’d rather not,” His jaw clenched.

“Well...” Élise shrugs, “looks like you’re staying the night, Erik.”

Erik raised a brow at her before looking around him to get acquainted.

She felt comfortable with him even though he was considered a stranger. Her grandmother would have higher blood pressure than what she already had if she knew what she’d just done. The thought of having some kind of company that night made her feel a lot better and less lonely. Élise finally locks her door and went to her closet to take off her boots and coat. It was all or nothing.

“Closet is free to put your boots and hoodie in.”

She was so damn comfortable around him that she forgot about only being in her T-shirt. Erik stood back with his arms folded watching Élise move and the fabric of the shirt sink in between her ass cheeks. She was sexy for sure. The second she kicked off her boots Erik could see the flesh of her butt... bare flesh.

This girl is serious? He thought.

Ass swinging while she moved. She was a cutie with a nice body. Alone in this big home. All that alone with no man. Shit didn’t make sense. Maybe she was just fucking someone. Erik began walking up to her while she took off her puffer coat to hang. Long slender dreads with shells in it. He wanted to pull on the coarse hair.

“Thanks, Élise,” He was so stealthy that she hadn’t noticed how close he had gotten to her. Elise’s back stiffened and her body tried to step away to give him space but Erik was already taking off his boots and hanging up his hoodie. She caught a whiff of his cologne causing her to nibble on her bottom lip. He didn’t smell like liquor and cigarettes like the men at the bar and grill she worked at. He smelled like rain, sweat, and what she recognized was Gucci Guilty men’s cologne. She remembered that smell from when she was in Macy’s sniffing around in the perfume section. It was intimate and warm at the same time.

“Don’t worry, your blankets will smell like me even when I leave, baby girl.”

She was caught red handed.

“I’m sorry,” she stroked a few dreads from her face, “Your cologne smells really good.”

We’re they really standing in the closet? She dropped the flashlight on the floor when Erik leaned in towards her to smell her now. He was more than comfortable around her. He acted like he knew her.

“You smell like coconut oil,” He gave her a coy smile, “I like that.” Erik crouched down in the small space to pick up the flashlight.

“T-thanks.” Élise licked her dry lips. She needs more cocoa butter.

“So, nice closet,” He teased.

“Yeah...very spacious,” she awkwardly tried to joke back.

Just show me around, ma, since I’m gonna be sleeping here tonight. Unless...you changed your mind?”

He leaned in toward her with a slight raise of his brow and parted lips. He knew he had hers shooken up.

“Yeah, I have a spare bedroom and the couch pulls out into a bed.”

Erik’s eyes trailed up and down her body, “Pull out couch is fine.”

Élise finally let out the breath she’d been holding once Erik stepped away and into her living room. She watched him look around like he was in a museum, staring at her family photos and the art on the walls. Élise has redecorated since moving in two years ago.

“This you?” Erik had a wide smile on his face while pointing to a photo on the ledge of the fireplace. Élise walked over, spotting the photo in question. Oh, yes, when her hair was in a kinky fro, nose piercing, college T-shirt on two sizes too small, tiny denim shorts, and laying in the grass with her ass sitting out and ready to be grabbed.

“Looking like a little rebel,” He picked that photo up studying it with unrelenting eyes. She shuddered.

“Very sexy,” Erik commented and then he gave Élise that look. She turned away from him; she didn’t want him to see the desire in her eyes. She was beginning to have second thoughts about kissing and possibly fucking a complete stranger. No need to deny herself her own thoughts. She’s been thinking that the second he looked up at her from across the street in the rain.

“Where are you from, Erik?”

He placed the picture back on the fireplace ledge, “California.”

Élise was intrigued.

“Why New Orleans?” She followed him to the couch where he started pulling it out into a bed.

“Business,” He kept it short. She didn’t pry further because she sensed that he didn’t want her to know the nature of his “business.”

“How do you like it so far?”

He gathered the bottom of his shirt, bringing it up and over his head while his zealous eyes never left hers, “It’s cool, I’ve been before during Mardi Gras.”

She froze. Was his skin naturally like that? It wouldn’t make since with how neat the bumps were. What would make him do that? He didn’t seem bothered by her eyes taking it all in or the wondering crease in her brow. He wouldn’t tell her, she knew that. The shit was going to eat her alive.

She snapped out of her daze, “I haven’t been to a Mardi Gras since I was 21.”

“Why?” He settles down shirtless on the pullout. His body bathed in the fire. She could feel her tongue tingling to taste his skin. Erik is so sexy.

“It’s so damn wild.”

“Please, girl,” He laughs, “Drunk white people acting a fool ain’t our kind of wild.”

They both laughed.

“When I came that shit was dead i was not partying with them. So, me and a friend hit up some urban spots and listened to some upbeat jazz and ate Cajun food. I met a chick and had some fun with her.”

What kind of fun?

“Sounds a lot better than the time I went.”

Élise stares down at her scraped knees. The crimson peeked through the tiny scratches. Now that her attention was there it was beginning to burn.

“Where’s your bathroom so we can get those cuts cleaned, baby girl?”

Élise pointed to her stairwell, “Upstairs. I can bring it down you don’t have to come with me.”

“Well,” Erik had a roguish expression on his face, “what if I wanna see what upstairs looks like?”

Her wary eyes stared at his wry expression. Erik was definitely being very coy with her.

“You won’t find anything interesting upstairs except for my bedroom.”

Élise’s wistful expression let Erik know without even saying it flat out that she wanted him in her room. He fixed his eyes on her for being that bold with him. She wasn’t so shy. She was a little rebel.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Élise tries to play it off, “I should probably shut up.”

“Let’s go,” Erik stood up, holding his hand out to her. Élise grabs his hand, leading Erik to the staircase and up the creaky steps. It was dark and chilly in the hallway since she didn’t turn on the heat upstairs. She could hear Erik shiver even though his hand was still warm. They made it to her bathroom, Élise turning on the light. She hadn’t changed it around much. Her grandmother still had Élise’s potty from when she was a baby in there. She never let go of things.

“My guess is this house belonged to your grandmother?” Erik finally spoke while standing at the sink.

“Yep. She passed away from breast cancer two years ago.”

“I know how that shit feels, trust me,” Erik opened her medicine cabinet to find a withering first aid kit, “I lost my mom and my dad so I understand.”

Erik motioned for Élise to come to him. When she did he picked her up and sat her on the edge of the sink. Her short yet thick legs swung back and forth reminding her of when she was a child. Erik opened the kit and grabbed some gauze dressing, peroxide, and neosporin.

“You must really enjoy picking me up, stranger,” Élise’s playful eyes sought out Erik’s and the second he smiled revealing those deep dimples in his cheeks she crossed her legs to simmer the heat growing between them. Even the grip she had on the edge of the sing became firmer.

there is a man out there that will love every screaming orgasm you have. Especially if he’s the cause.

Ebony’s words spoke to her again. She was thinking about the sounds she would make if Erik fucked her. He was still shirtless, his cargo pants riding low on his hips showing her that chiseled v-cut of his, and those lashes with his onyx eyes blinked at her like he was trying to read her mind. Lord knows Élise wanted to read his. He was so mysterious and unreadable and that didn’t scare her. It made her want to stake her claim on him. He was visiting New Orleans and maybe she could show him around and they could have some fun of their own. Élise was lonely and friends weren’t enough to fill the void. Not really much family left either. She needed the warmth and comfort of a man.

But Erik looked like the type to break you down piece by piece. She wouldn’t mind him turning her out. Élise didn’t know how long she was staring but Erik’s soft fingers tapping the sides of her thighs broke her out of her dreamy state. Staring down, she could see the fresh gauze covering her wounds. Élise bit into her lip and without being able to control it her high cheek bones puffed out. He made her blush over everything. Why couldn’t he be from New Orleans and not California? Once he left she wouldn’t find another guy around like him. She already crushed on him and she hardly even knew him.

“What did I do to make you blush, pretty girl?”

“What didn’t you do, Erik,” She reaches out for his hands, “let me see.”

He came in closer between her legs, giving her permission to grab his hands and examine his scarred knuckles. It looked pretty bad. Did he beat a brick wall or somebody’s face? She glanced up at him briefly and without saying a word she tended his wounds. His searching expression made her belly flit like butterfly wings. Now, she was rubbing neosporin in carefully. She could feel his eyes leering at her in a sexually suggestive way.

“These are pretty fresh,” she muttered. Élise’s eyes looked from his Adam’s apple bobbing from swallowing spit to his teeth nibbling the corner of his full pouty lip. He didn’t look at her when she said that.

“That’s because they are, Élise,” he says with a low voice. She started wrapping the gauze dressing around his hand. After she was done she didn’t let his hands go. Élise surely didn’t want to. They stood in a comfortable silence and it gave her time to think about his fresh wounds. He didn’t look like the type to go around beating brick walls but faces? That was definitely the answer. And surprisingly, Élise wasn’t afraid. If Erik wanted to rob her or kill her he would have done that already. Instead he was kind to her and he looked at her like he wanted to fuck her. She liked that look a lot.

“Élise.” Erik spoke earnestly.

“Yes?” She said with a soft-spoken voice.

“You’re not afraid of me. Why?”

“Because I know you won’t hurt me.”

She noticed him watching the way her lips moved when she said that. He was admiring the shape of them. Her lips were the perfect proportion. Perfectly symmetrical on the left and the right. Full lips with volume and a plump pout.

“Yeah, baby girl, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“...but you did hurt someone...”

Erik glides his tongue over his upper teeth, responding but completely ignoring her question, “what if I kissed you right now? That wouldn’t change your mind?”

“No.” Élise said gazing into his eyes.

Erik leans in with his hands bracing the sides of the sink. His lips sparingly touched hers as he spoke. Élise clings to every word while her low eyes stared at his mouth.

“If you lettin’ me put my mouth on yours then you’ll let me put something else on you...am I right?”

Élise has an anxious feeling and Erik wasn’t helping when the flesh of his bottom lip tickled hers every time he spoke. Now, her eyelids were fluttering. Still in nothing but that retro Voodoo Fishing T-shirt and no panties. She wondered if he could smell her arousal towards him.

“Erik-“

“Just answer the question, Élise.”

“Yes, I would.”

“If you’re not afraid of me you would answer my questions,” Erik moved his lips to her ear, his hard chest touching her clothed one. Élise shuddered when his warm breath tickled her ear, “Why are you so comfortable around me with this little ass T-shirt on and no panties?”

“H-How do you know I don’t have on panties?”

“Because,” the hair from his beard touched her neck, “I could see that ass from the back when you were in that closet, ma.”

She hung on to his captivating voice while staring at the side of his neck. Élise was sweating from how turned on she was and he didn’t even kiss her yet.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You act like you know me...what if I would have pulled that shirt up to get a better look at that ass?”

Élise gasps at his words, turning to look at him with alluring eyes. What if he would have done that? He was already so close to her. Now she was imagining him bending her over in that closet and going deep in her pussy from the back. She found that to be very sexy and thrilling. Élise’s grandmother was probably turning over in her grave right now. Her granddaughter letting a strange and clearly very dangerous man into her home and allowing him to seduce her. 

Erik takes his hands to rest on her thighs. He moved them up and down in a slow motion keeping a steady gaze on Élise to see if she would flinch away. No, she was enjoying the firmness of his hands. He knew exactly what he was doing. Élise could feel his fingertips hit the bottom of her T-shirt. Damn...he was so close.

“Élise, you so damn thick, girl.”

“Thank you.” She bit down on her tongue to fight her ugly moan. At least that’s what she thought it was. Her eyes descended when she felt Erik lift the bottom of her shirt. Unhurried and gentle Erik lifts that T-shirt up to reveal Élise’s shaved mound. The phat flesh sat between her plush thighs like a surprise treat.

“Damn, you just letting me do this, huh?”

“Yes,” she let out an airy sigh, “I am.”

“Been too long, ma?” Erik had a wolfish expression on his face, “shit, you nice and phat down there too.”

Erik pulled her shirt back down and Élise’s heart sank before his pillowy lips finally connected with hers so suddenly. Her head almost collided with the mirror from how alarmed she was. Her hands reached up to cup his face while she allowed this man to fuck her mouth with his tongue. She tried to keep up with him but in the end Erik conquered her. His mouth tasted amazing. Now, he was gripping her curvy waist with his forceful hands and practically pulling her into his body. Their heads moved from side to side and their lips smacked and sucked on each other’s. A tiny yelp escaped her mouth when Erik sank his teeth into her bottom lip before drawing back. He licks his lips in one motion all the way around his mouth and Élise was officially hungry for more of him. A man coming in from the rain. A man she would have never expected would be kissing her on her bathroom sink. It was so risky.

“Ahhhh!” She moaned instantaneously. His lips and teeth were on her neck. Shit, Élise actually moaned. Why was she even worried? She actually sounded quite nice. Erik was bruising her skin with the right suction of his lips. If it felt like that on her neck it would feel just as good on her hard nipples and clit. The surface of the sink was moist from her pussy rubbing and gliding along the surface.

“Taste so goddam good, girl,” he flattened his tongue and licked her neck, “so sweet.”

“God, Erik,” she moaned, “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me.”

“I can,” He chuckles, “You like that I’m doing this to you. I can tell you’ve been loosing out, ma, got you all sweaty and breathing deep.”

“I just can’t...believe...fuck, Erik.”

His hands grabbed her breasts, circling them and tweaking her nipples through her shirt. He was torturing her at this point. Élise wanted him to rip that shirt off her body.

“You’re driving me crazy,” She whispered, “Erik,” her voice was so hushed and heavenly. The man in question was just as frazzled as her. Panting, a sheen of sweat on his skin, his dick hardening and thickening against her inner thighs.

“Élise...I wanna fuck you.” He grabs her hips to keep her still, “listen to me,” his thumb came up to stroke her dimples chin, “...I wanna fuck you so good, girl. You need to take some good dick.”

“It’s been so long,” she bit into her pouty lip.

“Shit, how long?” He was running his hands through her dreaded strands.

“I feel,” she shivers, “I feel so embarrassed saying it,” Élise’s murmured like she was telling a huge secret.

“You can tell me...don’t be scared, girl.”

“A year,” she closed her eyes.

What the fuck. An entire year. Élise was yearning, longing, craving, and hungry for some dick and attention. Part of Erik wondered if that was one of the reasons why she let him into her home.

“Aye,” Erik soothes her, “that’s a long time, baby girl, but I can help you out with that,” Erik takes her hand to kiss it gently before speaking against her knuckles, “I can make you feel better....”

“Erik.”

“You know you want me to...let me make you feel good...” He kissed her hand again while staring into her eyes. Erik felt her thighs quiver around his waist.

“I got you, ma.”

“Erik,” she kept whispering at him and it had him grunting and painfully hard, “I’m so wet, I can’t believe it...Erik.”

She’s so beautiful. God, Erik needed this right now. He needed her ass.

“Élise, girl, I swear to fucking God-“

“Erik, please, Erik.”

Élise unexpectantly lifts both of her legs to the sink, her entire T-shirt bunched up around her waist now showing Erik all that wet juicy pink. Pussy looking like a wet piece of fruit. A peach drizzled in honey. Tight slit with puffy suckable lips. Erik’s eyes were vicious. He reached out to keep her thighs back since she wanted it that way. Then, in a blink of an eye, he had her pushed back against the mirror with her ass hanging over the edge of that sink.

“Oh? You itchin’ for me, ain’t you? opening up your fucking legs like that. Just telling me I can have it? Girl, I will beat this pussy up right on this motherfucking sink. Fucking playing with me if you want...”

She caved when she saw him spit thickly on her pussy. She drew her lips into her mouth. Élise could feel the saliva practically slap her clit. He was so fucking nasty. She just knew that Erik would have her making all types of noises.

“Still ain’t scared, huh?”

“No.” Her voice shook even though she said no.

Erik’s head went down between her legs. He stuck his tongue out as far as it could go and began licking the underside of her clit back and forth. Élise clenched her teeth, the sounds begging to escape her mouth.

“I don’t hear nothing. If you ain’t afraid why don’t I hear you moaning, baby girl?”

Erik went in again slurping her up and licking in a deadly pattern. She felt him tug on her clit and inner folds. She was ready to cum already.

“Erik, Erik I-Stop it, I’m-Erik, please, please I’m-oh my God you’re-you’re making me-Ooooh you’re making me-“

Like it wasn’t in her own control, Élise moaned as her orgasm erupted from her. Her eyes squeezed shut and the so called animalistic sounds escaped her mouth. She was choking on her moans and she hated that she couldn’t control it but this fucking man...he was eating her. Making up for that year. Every month fueling him to suck and lick on that pussy some more. Even after she came he still covered her with his entire mouth and spit. She waited and waited for him to say she sounded ugly or look at her bizarrely but no. Instead he says...

“Good fucking girl. That’s right, cum in this mouth. Shit, cum all you want, do it, baby girl.”

Thank god for his car breaking down.

“Yes!”

“Uh-Huh, you want some more!”

She nodded her head with vigorously.

“Look at you,” Erik bit his lip while thumbing her clit, “look at you shaking and moaning,” his motions increased, “cumming again? That pussy cummimg for me? she ready to bust for me, Élise?”

“Mmmm, Erikkkk, baybeee!”

“You just keep on going?” He smiled.

“I-I’m sorry,” her body spasmed, “I can make a lot of mess.”

Élise was referring to her squirting habit.

“You can squirt all over Daddy whenever you like,” He inserts two fingers inside of her. She rolled her eyes shut, body vanquished but feeining for more.

“Grabbing my fingers like that? Gon’ head and cum...better yet fuck these fingers. Get you some, ma, pop that pussy on these fingers.”

Her hips lifted to get all of his fingers as he dug deep.

“Ooh...ooh...look at you...got my dick heavy in these pants.”

Élise watched him grab his dick. He was so long. She couldn’t wait to see it. And fuck it. And suck it...

“Damn, shit, I can’t wait to pound that puss.”

She shouted out again, pussy convulsing around his thick fingers. Her throat was raw from how hard she screamed.

“So fucking beautiful. Shit don’t make no sense.”

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh@chaneajoyyy@pananegra@theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah@moonlight-night-sky @eyeknowmywrites  @crowngold@njadakillthiscookie@blktinkerbell@luvanxi @sheisexcellent1@chocolatedippedinhoney@brandithecrystalgem@dababydababydababydababy@soulfulbeauty19@btitannaaa@sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted@harleycativy @rbhp@thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone@bugngiz@palmstreesallday@skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @rent-emspoons @abluesforlyssa

[fiftyshadesofcorona]

Fifty Shades of Corona

A Brief Note Before You Begin

This novel is intended to be semi-satirical and "so stupid that it's funny", so please do not take it too seriously. It is meant to be savored enjoyed, sip by precious sip, like a fine wine…or something…either alone or amongst your most well-humored friends.

Epigraph

“But it is only in epic tragedies that gloom is unrelieved. In real life tragedy and comedy are so intermingled that when one is most wretched ridiculous things happen to make one laugh in spite of oneself.”

Georgette Heyer

Prelude

The forested roads of Northern Washington are eery and empty as I race back to him.

It was the last thing that I expected to happen during the global Coronavirus pandemic.

It came on fast, terrifying and all-consuming—gripping my heart and invading my mind.

I still can’t believe it…

I’ve fallen in love.

I glance over at my phone resting silently on the passenger’s side seat.

My stomach twists with grief and my knuckles go bone-white against the steering wheel.

Why hasn’t he called?!

What if—

I shake the thought away before I can finish it. If I let my mind go there it will be the end of me.

A few days ago, I didn’t even know he existed.

Now I don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to exist again without him.

I swipe at my cheeks, hot tears streaking my hand.

This is bad.

This is so so bad.

The seaside exit comes into view.

I lean forward and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself.

Nearly there.

I hope he’s okay.

I hope I can see him.

Even if it’s our last goodbye.

Tears well in my eyes.

I hope I’m not too late.

Chapter One

The Mob

“See you tomorrow, Ana! And thanks for bringing the cupcakes. They were delicious!”

I turn to wave goodbye to my coworker Jessica, who’s still busy stocking the shelves with sewing supplies. Jessica’s the only other worker here at Karen’s Krafts besides myself and our dome-haircut-wielding owner-slash-manager, Karen.

“I’m glad you liked them,” I say brightly. “They’re my grandmother’s recipe. Super easy.”

“No kidding?” she says, looking surprised. “Well tell your grandma her recipe was the bomb.”

“Will do. See you tomorrow!” I begin to clock out of the computer, but stop to add, “And good luck with the crowds. This Coronavirus stuff is crazy!”

Jessica steps back and gives me a look.

“Tell me about it! I’m running low on toilet paper, but nobody has it stocked.”

“Dang. That sucks.”

“Ch—tell me about it.”

I finish clocking out.

“Anyway,” I say, sighing. “I better get going. I have to make a run and try to pick up some…ahem…lady products…if you know what I mean.”

Jessica’s eyes get big. “Oh no, Ana. You can’t be serious!”

“Very serious. I’m all out.”

Jessica frowns. “I would give you some of mine if I had them, but I’m all out, too. Good thing it’s not my time of the month.”

My eyebrows arch up to my hairline. “Consider yourself lucky.”

“Shit, here she comes,” Jessica whispers.

When I look up, Jessica’s back at work stocking the bobbins and thread.

My manager Karen waddles up to the register and lingers over the back of my shoulder. I finish straightening up the counter, trying my best not to recoil from the hot puffs of breath hitting the back of my neck. I peek back at her dome haircut and put on my customer-service smile.

“What’s up? How did you like the cupcakes?”

I try to guess whether she has a complaint or is just bored. Those are the only two reasons I’ve ever seen Karen willingly leave her office. The unpleasant expression on her face tells me nothing, as it is a permanent feature of hers.

“Cupcakes?” she says distractedly. Glancing down, I notice she’s clutching a clipboard with something on it. Her lips move silently as she reads from whatever it is.

I clear my throat. “I brought some cupcakes this morning. German chocolate. Very tasty.”

She says nothing, so I grab my purse from under the counter. “I hoped they might cheer everybody up. You know, with the virus and all?”

“Virus?!” Her head snaps up, eyes bulging. “You have the virus?!”

“No, I made cupcakes to cheer every—“ I start to explain, but stop myself when I see the blind panic on her face. “No. I don’t have the virus.”

She relaxes and heaves a sigh of relief, which hits me square in the face.

The smell! I hold my breath and try not to make a face.

I shift my purse on my shoulder and open my mouth to tell her goodbye when she spits out, “Say, can I speak to you for a sec?”

Crap. This can’t be good.

“Sure,” I say, forcing cheer into my voice. I set my purse on the counter and wait for her to continue. She clears her throat wetly, looks down at her clipboard, then clears her throat again.

Yep, definitely bad news. I brace myself.

“Ana, we’ve decided to let you go.”

My shoulders tense, and there’s a rush of something terrible down in my stomach.

“Today is your last day,” she continues, reading robotically from her clipboard.

Is she serious? I’ve worked here for a year and a half, never been late for a single shift, and always gotten stellar performance reviews. I’m basically a model employee!

“Thank you for the work you’ve done here, and I wish you the best in your future endeavors,” she finishes.

“You’re firing me?” I ask in a small voice that surprises even me.

“Not exactly…but sort of.”

This can’t be happening. “Wh—what did I do wrong?”

“I didn’t say you did anything wrong, did I?” She looks put-out, another typical expression of hers.

My shoulders relax a little.

“Did you even listen to a word I said?” she says, shaking her head. “I said you’re being put on non-disciplinary indefinite leave.”

I cock my head, confused. “Um, I don’t think that’s what you said.”

She huffs and holds the clipboard back up.

“It’s exactly what I said. See, right here.”

She jabs a finger at the page, face reddening as she purses her lips.

Jeez. And I thought she looked unpleasant before…

She slaps the clipboard onto the counter. “Either way I’m saying it now.”

“So, I’m not fired?”

Crap. I’m so confused right now.

“No,” she huffs again. “You’re not fired. But you’re no longer scheduled for any shifts. And we’ll be taking you off the payroll.”

“Um…okay���”

That sounds a lot like being fired, but I decide not to push the subject.

Tears press at the corners of my eyes as I take a moment to process everything. Karen must notice, because she lets out another sigh and steps towards me. Her hand thumps heavily on my shoulder. “But I want you to know that it’s not you, it’s us.” She pats me once, then steps back, looking pleased with herself.

I suddenly feel like I’m going through an awkward breakup. Which I guess I am in a way.

“Wow. Um…What a surprise.” I catch myself wringing my hands so I stop. “Is it because of the virus?”

“Of course it’s because of the virus!” she shouts. “What else would it be? It’s certainly not my fault! I’ll have you know that Karen’s Krafts is extremely successful,” she gestures wildly. “Perhaps the most successful small business in all of Seattle!“

“You’re right, Karen.” I quickly say the three magic words that always calm her when she gets like this.

Sure enough, she lowers her arms and tries to composes herself.

“You probably haven’t noticed, Ana, but we’re not doing as much business as usual.”

In fact, I have noticed. The store has been totally dead for the last week and a half. But I don’t want to risk setting her off again, so I stay quiet. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to expect me to reply.

“Nothing like the grocery stores,” she says with a bitter laugh. She shakes her head and gives a shrug. “Just have to let some people go for the time being.”

“How long until I’m able to come back?”

She shrugs her shoulders again.

“No way to know. I’m only keeping Jessica because she’s my niece.”

I nod my head.

“Right, right. Makes sense.” Not really, but whatever. I’m totally against nepotism. It sucks and it’s everywhere, but there’s no getting away from it—sort of like Coronavirus.

“Of course it makes sense. That’s why I’m doing it!” Karen snaps. She snatches up her clipboard and turns to walk away. “Anyway, if things get better I’ll call you. Make sure you answer.”

“Thanks,” is all I can muster in response as she disappears into the restroom.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, everything sinks in.

I just lost my job.

During a global pandemic.

“Oh, and Ana!” Karen’s voice booms from the toilet.

I knew she’d change her mind!

“Yes?!” I call out brightly.

“Don’t forget to leave your name tag.”

My shoulders fall.

“Sure thing, Karen.” I unpin the familiar badge from my shirt and set it on the counter. It looks as small as I feel. I take a few deep breaths and turn to leave. All I want right now is to get the hell out of here and get home as soon as possible so I can relax, have a good cry, and think over what to do next.

A thought occurs to me.

What am I going to do about my rent?

Crap. I can feel the tears coming…

A second later, my sadness turns to anger, and I clench my fists.

This sucks so f-ing bad. Like, what the heck did I ever do to deserve this! Ugh!

I force myself to remain composed. This isn’t the time to break down into hysterics.

I give myself a little pep talk.

Calm down, Ana. You’re a fully grown, strong, capable young woman. You’ll get through this. All you need to do is grab hold of your big girl panties and ride them clear up the crack of your ass so hard there’s no chance in hell they’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.

Now that my spirits have been sufficiently lifted, I’m ready to take on the world. Or at the very least, my own small corner of it.

I stop in front of the exit to check my phone and notice seven missed phone calls and three missed text messages from my mother.

I roll my eyes. Of course. She’s a typical narcissistic, panicky boomer. At sixty-five years old she’s never worked a day in her life, attends church two to three times per week, and still believes in the magic of prayer. It may sound like I hate her, but I don’t. She annoys me, sure. But deep down I keep telling myself she has my best interest at heart, even if what her heart is telling her isn’t actually what’s in my best interest…if that makes any sense. With that said, whatever she has to say is certain to irritate me far beyond what I’m currently able to stand.

I decide to get it over with.

I take a deep breath and read the first text.

Mom: Ana, this is your mother. Just texting to let you know I called. I’m very worried about you with all of this virus stuff going on. Praying for you. Love Always, Your Mother.

Okay. Fairly normal so far given the circumstances. Maybe I was wrong to judge her so quickly.

I scroll down to the second text, which looks like it was sent…I squint to see—oh yes: exactly three minutes after the first one, and two minutes after the last three phone calls.

Mom: Ana, this is your mother. I’ve been praying and praying for you to call me back. I am deeply worried about you. I’ve tried calling you three more times. It’s not like you to ignore my phone calls, especially during such dark and uncertain times as these. Call me back as soon as you get this. My heart is hurting to know if my sweet little Ana is okay. Love Always, Your Mother.

A little worse this time, but not the worst I’ve seen.

I brace myself for the third text, which I know will be bad because it was sent exactly two minutes after the second text, and one minute after the last three calls.

Mom: Ana, this is your mother. I’m seriously freaking out right now. I keep having visions of you lying in a body bag, stiff as a frozen lamb chop and twice as cold. Why are you being such an obstinate, petulant child? I keep calling and calling, and still no answer. I keep praying and praying, but still no answer. Why aren’t you answering me, dear daughter? Why aren’t you answering me, dear Lord? My heart is heavy with sorrow and worry for the precious daughter I raised and nurtured by the milk of my own breasts. I’m so scared, sweet daughter. My nerves are frazzled and frayed beyond mortal repair. I feel as though I may collapse into a puddle of eternal sorrow. My heart is aching for you, my sweet dear little girl. My sweet, sweet precious daughter. Oh Lord, why have you forsaken her? Call me as soon as you get this. Love Always, Your Mother.

Okay, what the hell? I’m not even going to get started on how freaking weird that was.

I decide it might be better to wait until I get home to call her back. Something tells me the phone call won’t be quick, and I really need to get to the store to get my lady supplies, so I decide to opt for a text instead.

Ana: Calm down, Mom. I’m fine. I just got off work, and now I have to make a run to Wholesome Foods for some supplies. Please don’t worry. I’ll call you as soon as I get home. Love, Ana.

Hopefully that suffices to stave off the insanity.

My phone immediately pings with her reply.

Mom: Sounds good. Love Always, Your Mother.

Simple enough. A little odd, given the texts that came before it, but I’ll take it.

I pause and look out the front door before leaving. Beyond the window, thin sheets of rain coat the steamy sidewalks of Seattle. I notice most of the people who pass by look panicked. Ever since the Coronavirus started everyone has seemed more alert and on edge. At first I found it exciting, because they all seemed less depressed and more alive. But now it’s beginning to worry me.

I finger the small silver cross bracelet my grandmother gave me for my sixteenth birthday. It had been my great-grandmother’s before it was hers, but I never got the full story behind it. I do, however, remember her telling me it was for courage and strength, which is what I need most right now.

I take a deep breath and push through the door.

The door bell dings, and once I’m outside I breathe in the cool damp air. The rain is lighter than I expected—more of a mist really, so I decide to leave my umbrella unopened and gaze up at the silver clouds as they roil and swirl above me. There’s something wonderful about their movement, and I find myself getting lost in them.

DING! DING! DING! RIGHT SIDE!

My peaceful reverie is rudely interrupted.

DING! DING! DING! RIGHT SIDE!

Shit! Cyclists!

DING! DING! DING!…

I leap left at the last moment, barely dodging a small herd of spandex-clad cyclists thrusting through the crowd like they own the street. I brace myself against a tree to keep from falling over, when one of them—a middle-aged man-child with greying temples—looks back at me and scowls.

I put up my hand to apologize even though he’s probably the one who should be apologizing.

He turns and mutters something under his breath that sounds like “Bitch” and keeps pedaling.

I turn and bite my fingernail. What an asshole.

Crap.

I pull my fingers out of my mouth. That’s probably not the best thing I could be doing during a global viral outbreak.

I reach into my purse for some hand sanitizer and slather the cool alcohol over my fingers.

Two steps into my walk, my phone buzzes.

What now?

I check my phone. It’s Stacy, my best friend and roommate.

Stacy: Are you off work yet!?

My thumbs tap out a reply.

Ana: Just got off.

I look up from my phone. A woman who looks like she might have been sane a week ago but who is now basically a bag lady passes by me with a shopping cart full of bathroom supplies, screaming “Fuck you! Got mine!”

As she passes, I look closer at her hand and spot what appears to be a taser.

I pause and make a face. What the hell has this world come to?

My phone buzzes with another text.

Stacy: Cool. Check it. Blue fish bowls. Remember these things?

A cotton-candy-filtered photo pops up of Stacy slurping down a big blue fishbowl margarita.

I smile at Stacy’s exaggerated duck face.

Then I notice Dezzy in the background. Dezzy’s the friend Stacy brought down to Florida with her for Spring Break instead of me. She looks drunk as she flashes a peace sign with one hand and a middle finger with the other. Ugh. Dezzy can be such a… I’m not even going to say it. She’s always hated me for reasons, which is strange because I never had a problem with her. Oh well. Best to ignore it.

Ana: Looks like fun.

Stacy: ’Tis. ’Tis.

I’m tempted to tell her about being put on indefinite leave, but I don’t want to ruin her good time, so I tuck my phone away. The bad news can wait.

I pass by a homeless man trying to sell face masks on the street corner. As I pass by, I notice half of them are covered in dirt stains and are clearly used, and it’s obvious he’s been digging through the local hospital dumpster to find them.

He shoves one in my face.

“Twenty dollars!”

I move away from him. “No thanks.”

He follows me a few steps. “Ten dollars!”

I shake my head, wincing.

“Five!”

“I’m fine,” I laugh nervously. “Really.”

“Fine. One dollar. Final offer.”

“But they look like you found them in a dumpster, sir!”

“Still good. See, clean enough.” He dangles it in front of my face and turns it so I can see all the sides.

I pull out a dollar and hand it to him, but tell him he can keep the mask.

“You need a mask,” he says, and tries to put it on my face.

“Fine, I’ll take it.” I quickly grab the mask out of his hand before he’s able to touch my face with it.

“God bless!” he spits through his last remaining tusk, and turns to his next victim.

I hold the mask as far away from my body as possible, and toss it in the nearest garbage can. When I turn back to see if the homeless man saw me I catch him glaring at me.

“Sorry,” I mouth.

He scurries over to the garbage can to retrieve it.

Shit!

I run through the crowd to get away from him, and I don’t stop until I’m nearly a block away, where I pull out my phone and text Stacy.

Ana: You should see it here, Stacy. Things are getting crazy.

Stacy: Yeah, no shit. I saw the news. Seattle blows. Florida is way more fun!

Ana: I bet. How’s the silver fox hunt going?

FYI, the real reason Stacy’s down in Florida for Spring Break is to hunt for an older man to marry. And when I say old, I mean like really old. See, Stacy’s life didn’t pan out quite like she had hoped. She failed out of college during her first semester and can’t seem to hold down a job. In her mind, the next logical step is to marry into money. And since most guys with money are older, she figures the older he is the more she’s hedging her bet.

I look around at all the depressed and desperately overworked faces passing by and can’t help but wonder if maybe she’s onto something.

Stacy: Sucks so far. Nothing but poor frat guys with big muscles and orange tans. All the silver foxes are holed up in hiding from the stupid virus.

Ana: Dang. Bad timing.

Stacy: You’re telling me. It’s hard out here for a bitch!

I smile, but it doesn’t last long. Something about her comment reminds me that I’m out of a job.

Should I tell her now?

Probably.

Ana: I feel like I’m about to cry, Stacy. Karen basically just fired me.

Stacy: What!? Why would she fire you? You’re like the best employee ever?

Ana: Well, technically she put me on indefinite leave.

Stacy: What the freak is that?

Ana: It means I don’t get a paycheck for who knows how long, and I don’t know when they’ll hire me back…if ever.

Stacy: That sucks, Banana. I’m sorry. How the heck are we going to pay the rent?

Yeah, she calls me Banana. It’s a play on Ana, if you missed it. She’s clever like that.

Ana: It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’m not sure about the rent, though.

But I’m not okay. My eyes grow hot with tears. What am I going to do for money? Where will I live if we get evicted?

Stacy: Shit. I just realized I won’t have any money left after this trip. Hopefully I can find a silver fox fast. :(

Ana: Hopefully. :(

I turn the corner and see a long line of customers waiting outside Wholesome Foods. People are crammed together, yelling and jostling for position, and for some reason it reminds me of the movie The Night of the Living Dead.

Double crap.

A heavy wave of sickness washes over me, and I feel like I might pass out.

I really don’t want to go to the store right now, so I rifle through my purse in a last ditch effort to find a tampon to hold me over until tomorrow. My fingers find a string.

Ah ha!

But wait…

I pull it out.

Crap.

Not only is it out of its wrapper, it’s covered in lint and snack crumbs and looks like it’s old enough to attend kindergarten.

I drop it back into my purse and tap out a question to Stacy.

Ana: Do tampons expire?

Stacy: No, they’re like condoms. They last forever.

Ana: Um… Are you sure?

Stacy: Totally sure.

I want to trust her, but I’m pretty sure she’s wrong. Looks like I’ll have to wait in line.

I step into line behind a mother and her five children, one of whom is screaming at the top of it’s lungs for no reason.

My phone buzzes with a new text.

Stacy: Hey bitch. How’s your depressing life?

What the?

That was out of nowhere. How many fish bowls has Stacy had so far? Jeez.

I try to figure out how to respond when another text comes in.

Stacy: I’m glad you didn’t come down here with us. It’s better for everyone.

I shake my head, confused.

Ana: Excuse me?

Stacy: Sorry, Dez took my phone.

Ana: Oh. That explains it.

Stacy: Dez was just joking.

Uh huh. Right.

The line moves forward a few steps, and when it stops the crowd lets out a collective sigh.

Stacy: We both wish you were here. You should have come with.

Ana: Somebody had to stay and look after the apartment… Besides, it’s probably not the nicest thing to be down there partying and putting so many people at risk.

Stacy: Get off your high horse Banana! You decided not to go long before the virus happened.

I can’t say she’s wrong.

Stacy begged me to go but I opted to save money and get some extra hours at work.

Oh, the irony.

But if I had decided to go on the trip, I like to think I would have cancelled as soon as I knew it would be putting people at risk. Still, there’s no use in arguing with Stacy.

Ana: I’m probably just jealous.

Stacy: As you should be. Florida is so much better than dreary depressing Seattle.

Ana: Yeah, if you like living in a giant trailer park filled with bugs, alligators, and old people.

Stacy: LoL

I laugh a little as the line moves forward a few paces.

Stacy: Seriously though. Take it easy on the old people. They’re my last ticket to freedom.

Ana: I still think you can do better for yourself, but what do I know?

Stacy: Obviously not much. Face it, I’m fucked if I can’t find a rich man to marry.

She might be right, but I refuse to agree.

Stacy: Besides, old guys are hot. I’m surprised you don’t look for one yourself, given your present circumstance.

I can’t say I’ve ever found older-older men hot. Unless of course the guy was only a little bit older. Then I’d be fine with it.

Ana: I guess I just think I have more potential than that. I’d like to earn my own living and independence some day, even if it’s hard.

There’s a brief pause where she doesn’t reply, and I wonder if I offended her.

Ana: At least that’s what I’m hoping for. Who knows if it will happen.

Stacy: You do you and I’ll do me, Banana.

I roll my eyes.

Ana: Come on, I’m sure there are plenty of decent jobs you could get that don’t require a college degree.

Stacy: Ew gross! I’d rather kill myself than work for a living. Fuck that.

I laugh. She’s right in a way. Work sucks major ass. The only times I’m ever truly unhappy are when I’m at work.

Ana: There might be some truth to what you’re saying.

Stacy: Just wait. One of these days some rich older guy is going to catch your eye. Then you’ll change your mind.

I think it over.

Ana: Okay, and say that does happen. How do you expect I’ll get him? It’s not like I have much to offer besides my youth.

Stacy: Not true. You look great, Banana.

Ana: Whatever. I know what I look like.

Stacy: You don't give yourself enough credit. You’re gorgeous. And totally smart.

Even though I know she’s just saying these things to cheer me up, I still can’t help but smile.

Ana: But seriously, how does one go about snagging a rich man?

Stacy: What you need are some good pick up lines.

Right…

I look up and see that the line has moved quite a bit from where I started. At this rate I’ll be inside in no time.

Stacy: Here’s one I’ve been practicing for my hunt… Have you ever been arrested? Because your looks are killer.

I roll my eyes.

Ana: Maybe I’ll give it a try some day.

Stacy: Do it. You won’t be disappointed.

A fight breaks out at the front of the line.

Seconds later, the two guys fighting are escorted away by a masked security guard and the line moves forward to fill the gap.

As I near the entrance, the crowd noise grows louder, and a swarm of customers break through the exit.

Crap! They’re charging right at me.

I quickly side-step out of their way and a middle-aged white woman with a dome haircut shoves past me into the store, making me do a double-take.

Phew. Not Karen.

As the woman passes by, I overhear a small portion of her phone conversation:

“I’m pretty sure I have it. I’m going to the doctor right now. I just have to stop at Wholesome Foods real quick.”

Holy crap. This place is like a war zone or something.

I enter the store close behind Karen Number 2.

Once inside, I immediately notice two things:

1. Nobody in this store seems to be wearing a mask, and…

2. All the grocery carts and baskets are gone.

I take a deep breath.

Everything’s okay, I tell myself. Just improvise and get out as fast as you can.

I hurry past the entrance and into the toiletry section.

Okay…tampons…where are the tampons?

I look down an aisle and see people lined up at the pharmacy, scrambling for asthma medication and pills. Thank goodness I’m fairly healthy and don’t need any medication. If push comes to shove, I can get by for months on my one-a-day multivitamin.

I step into the feminine hygiene aisle where a group of frustrated women are looking around frantically.

One of them says to the others, “Where are the fucking tampons!”

I look over the shelves, and they’re nearly empty.

Come on…tampons…tampons…there has to be one more pack somewhere.

I start digging through the merchandise, checking back behind the other products.

No luck.

Okay. Think, Ana. Think. What could you do?

My phone buzzes with a text.

Stacy: Where did you go?

Ana: There aren’t any tampons at the store! What am I going to do?”

Stacy: Okay. I’m calling you.

American Girl blares through my phone speakers.

I hold the phone out in front of me and right as I’m about to accept the call a scruffy-looking guy appears out of nowhere and sneezes all over the front of my screen.

I look up at him, totally grossed out.

“Sorry, dude,” he says, then disappears down the aisle.

Crap. There’s no way I’m holding this thing up to my head now.

The song keeps playing, tinny notes ringing out.

A rude woman nearby screams, “Answer your goddamn phone!”

“Sorry,” I mutter, and tap the speakerphone button, careful to avoid the spit droplets on the screen.

The first thing I and everybody within a twenty-five-foot radius hears is an obnoxious slurping sound.

Several shoppers turn and glare at me, so I hurry into a side aisle where there aren’t as many people. “Geez, Stacy. What are you drinking?” I hiss at the phone. “You sound like Lord Buttcrack with his ten gallon gas station sodas.”

Lord Buttcrack is the nickname Stacy and I have given our fat, greedy, disgusting landlord, on account of the fact that we’ve never seen him without half of his butt crack hanging out of his pants.

“Hold it right there,” Stacy says. “Don’t you dare ever compare me to Lord Buttcrack. I love you dearly, but that’s taking it too far. Besides, he sounds more like a butthole.”

I laugh at her drunken simile. “I don’t like that image. Why are you thinking about his butthole?”

“Hey, where there’s a crack, there’s always a hole.”

Um…

“As to your first question,” she continues, “I just finished my third Blue Ocean Fishbowl.”

“Holy crap! You drank three of them? Don’t they come in, like, a literal fish bowl?”

“Mm-hm. And the alcohol content is through the roof.”

“Something tells me you’re going to regret this.”

“Doubt it.”

I sigh.

“Anyway, back to my tampon problem.”

“Where did Joey go?” Dezzy’s voice cuts in.

“Who the hell is Joey?!” Stacy shouts.

“The guy with the muscles, duh,” Dezzy moans in the background.

“They all have muscles!” Stacy cries.

“Ugh…the one with the tan!”

“They all have tans!”

“Hello!?” I say loudly into the phone.

“Oh, sorry. Seriously, Dezzy is being such a bitch.”

“You’re the fucking bitch, bitch!” Dezzy laugh-screams in the background.

“Whatever…” Stacy says. “Back to the problem at hand. Can’t you just wear pads?”

“They’re out of those, too.”

A woman nearby overhears our conversation and approaches me.

“Pads? Did someone say pads? Where are the pads? I need more pads! There have to be more pads!”

Stacy starts laughing so hard she begins to choke.

The woman’s frantic energy scares the crap out of me, so I back away from her and hurry into the clothing section, which seems to be the only empty part of the store.

I duck down under some hanging dresses and tops. “Seriously, Stacy. What should I do?”

“Let me think…” Stacy muses. “Oh, I know! A while back I was watching this TV show about these female prison inmates…”

Great.

“Okay?”

“Bare with me,” she says, sensing my doubt.

“K.”

“Anyway, whenever the prison ran out of tampons, the women would just wad up a bunch of toilet paper and shove it up their pussies.”

Genius. Simply genius.

A woman with a stroller opens the clothing rack and pokes her head in. “Could you keep it down with the profanity? Children are nearby!”

“Fuck off, lady!” Stacy screams at her through the phone.

The woman scoffs and throws the clothing rack closed.

“It’s not the worst idea,” I say. “Only problem is they’re all out of toilet paper as well.”

“Hmm…

“I need more ideas.”

“You could just free bleed,” she says.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s when you…”

“Actually, never mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“Totally sure.”

“Fine. Scratch that.. Let’s see…” Stacy makes a weird sucking sound with her mouth while she’s thinking.

Another customer comes by and starts sliding the shirts around me.

“What’s that annoying noise?” Stacy says.

“I’m under a rack of tank tops and someone’s looking through them.”

“Oops, sorry!” The faceless searcher says.

“It’s fine,” I say back nicely.

Stacy gasps. “I know!”

“What?”

“Why don’t you just cut up a tank top and shove it up your pussy?”

I laugh.

“Come on. That’s ghetto.”

“Yeah. But what else are you going to do?”

She’s got a point. What if this is the answer?

“But I don’t wanna!” I groan into the phone.

“I know it sucks, Banana. But it’s probably your only option.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

I crawl out from under the clothing rack and grab three spaghetti strap tank tops.

“Do you think three is enough?”

“Um…probably.”

“Okay. Good to go. Now it’s time to get the hell out of here.”

“You go girl!”

As I’m walking towards the front checkout, I spot some cotton balls out of the corner of my eye.

Hmm. These could be useful.

I snag them off the shelf.

“Hey, Stacy, do you think cotton balls…”

“WHAT!” someone screams on Stacy’s end.

A man across the aisle glares at me.

I mouth “sorry” and turn away.

“Quiet down,” I hiss. “Or I’m hanging up.”

“IS THIS ANA?!”

Shit. It’s Dezzy again.

“Dez, put Stacy back on the phone,” I whisper.

“FUCK YOU, ANA! YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

“Okay, I’m hanging up.”

“WOO! SPRING BREAK!” Dezzy screams so loud my speaker pops.

I hang up the phone and slip it into my pocket.

When I get to the front of the store, I join the back of the nearest line and take in my surroundings. All around me carts are overflowing. Off to my left, a plump woman is loading fifteen large cases of soda onto the conveyor belt, and the guy behind her has nothing but vanilla puddings and beef jerky.

He catches me staring and smiles at me. Holy hell! All his teeth are missing. I don’t even want to guess how he’s going to eat all that jerky.

“Next!” a young female voice calls from the front of the line.

I turn toward the register, but can’t seem to see the girl who said it. All I see is some sort of contraption where the register should be that looks like four broom sticks wrapped in layers of cellophane.

The dome-headed woman ahead of me huffs up to the register and hacks onto the cellophane.

Holy crap! It’s the Karen Clone from earlier!

I leave some distance between us and try not to breathe in whatever she’s hacking.

“Excuse me!” Karen Number 2 brays at the cellophane. “You forgot to ask me if I found everything I was looking for.”

The cellophane sucks in and releases with a sigh, and the disembodied voice from earlier returns. “Did you find everything you were—“

“No. I. Did. Not.” Spittle from Karen Number 2’s mouth hits the cellophane with each word. “And I need to speak to your manager. Immediately.”

The girl behind the plastic lets out another sigh. “Randy! Customer for you.”

A ruddy-faced man shuffles our way, but before he makes it to the register, Karen Number 2 marches towards to him.

“Next!” the girl behind the cellophane says, not caring if the woman loses her place in line.

I step forward to the register.

“I think some people are worse than the virus,” she says from behind the barrier.

I laugh. “No kidding.”

She sighs and the plastic wrap squeaks.

I clear my throat. “Um…What is this thing?”

“Modified spit guard. Courtesy of my dumb asshole manager.”

I laugh. “It looks pretty…um…”

“Shit?”

“Yeah, sort of,” I giggle.

“It would be better if he hadn’t triple wrapped the cellophane. Now I can’t see anything.”

“Why are most managers such bozos?” I scoff.

“Because the owners know if they were too smart they’d quit.”

I think it over. “Then why are some of the employees so smart?”

“Because it doesn’t matter if they quit.”

I laugh. It’s so true!

Then it occurs to me. “Why can’t you just wear masks and gloves?”

“Mr. Bozo thinks it will scare the customers.”

I frown at the plastic wrap.

“Wow. That’s really stupid.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighs.

My heart goes out to the girl trapped behind the cellophane. Her face is so blurred that I wouldn’t even know she was a girl if it weren’t for her voice.

“Nobody sees us and nobody cares,” she says hauntingly.

A chill runs down my spine.

I don’t know what to say, so I look down at my feet.

“Your total comes to $17.20.”

Crap, that’s expensive. I really wish they were carrying tampons.

I pull out my wallet and grab two tens.

When I look up I notice there’s a card reader, but no way to get her the cash.

“Um…all I have is cash.”

A tiny index finger appears above the cellophane, then points down. “Make it rain on this bitch.”

I fold the bills into fourths so they don’t scatter, then toss them over. “Keep the change.”

“Oh wow. Thanks,” She says. Her voice is different this time, less depressed. “Seriously, I need it.”

“No problem. Good luck.”

“Psh! Thanks,” she says with a laugh.

I laugh, too. “K, bye.”

Behind me, the ruddy-faced manager announces that the store is closing in ten minutes, and half the customers groan.

A woman in the cereal aisle screams, “This is bullshit! I need food for my kids!”

Behind me, a mob forms around the checkouts and people flood into the entrance.

Crap. Time to get out of here.

The woman from the personal care aisle who needed pads exits empty-handed in front of me and her face looks absolutely furious. When she gets outside, she turns around, pulls out the waistband of her sweatpants, reaches down between her legs, and rips out a used pad!

I gasp. Oh no!

In one swift motion, she slaps the bloody pad on the grocery store window, where it sticks like a suction cup animal.

“This is what you get for not having pads!” she screams like a banshee.

The crowd behind me groans with disgust.

What in the actual fuck?

A thick wave of nausea washes over me, and I feel like I might puke.

I search for another way out, but this is the only exit, so I step in front of the door and try not to look at the bloody pad stuck to the window. But for some reason I can’t help myself, and when I look up, the door slides open and the pad smears fresh blood across the glass before falling down onto the sidewalk.

Oh my God, WTF!

I throw up a little in my mouth, but manage to make it outside.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, the moment I step out I spot a trashy-looking mother trying to steal a mask off the face of a middle-aged man so her son can wear it.

“Come on,” she says, “he needs it more than you do!”

“Even if I wanted to give it to him, it’s a bad idea,” the poor guy says. “I could be carrying the virus!”

“Bullshit!” she screams. “Hand it over!”

She lurches for his mask and rips it loose.

Holy crap! What should I do?

A loud pop rips through the crowd, and the trashy woman falls to the ground and twitches around like she’s being electrocuted.

I turn and look down at the poor guy’s hand and see that he’s holding a taser.

“Oh my God, did you just tase her?” a woman from the crowd cries out.

“She was trying to steal my mask!” the poor guy says.

“You’re an animal!” a pregnant woman seethes as she clutches her belly protectively.

“How could you?” says someone in the crowd.

“The poor thing,” adds yet another.

The next thing I know, three white knight teenage boys are on top of the poor guy, beating him with their fists.

I cover my mouth with my hand, horrified by their savagery.

People leaving the store join in the fight, and within seconds it’s a full-on mob.

What the crap! It just keeps getting worse! I need to get out of here.

I dash for an clear spot of sidewalk near the curb, but right as I’m about to break free from the hoard, an errant body slams into me, sending me headfirst into the street. The pavement comes rushing towards my face, and at the last moment my hands shoot up just in time to stop me from landing face-first. I slide violently out into the street as my hands scrape along the asphalt, splashing puddle water into my face. The pain is immense and brings back vivid memories of the times I used to fall off my bike.

When I finally manage to look up I see that everything I just bought has been strewn out into the roaring traffic. The tank tops are stained brown and the cotton balls are soaked black.

A car honks and swerves, barely missing my head as my face is thrashed with water.

I gasp for breath as I crawl backwards towards the sidewalk.

Another car roars by, flattening everything I bought into a puddle.

Hot tears well in my eyes.

People behind me are asking each other what to do, but nobody makes a move to help me up.

Just then, a large SUV stops in front of me, and I catch sight of my reflection in the polished silver paint.

I gasp out in horror. The girl I see looking back at me looks like she just crept out of a lake.

The tinted rear passenger-side window rolls down a crack.

“Are you okay?” A dark voice says.

I squint at the tint, hoping to catch sight of the faceless man speaking to me, but all I can make out is a dark shock of hair. I push myself up from the puddle and step towards him.

“Stay back!” he says. His voice is so loud it echoes through the street, startling me.

I shuffle back two steps, look down and ring my hands.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t,” he says, then lets out a long, loud sigh. “I apologize for my tone, but I would prefer not to risk contact.”

“I totally understand. I—”

“Listen, are you okay?” he snaps, interrupting me.

A laugh escapes me. “Obviously not!”

I’m surprised by my own frankness, but something takes hold of me.

“I mean, its not like I just lost my job and won’t be able to pay my rent this month!”

Someone giggles behind me as the mysterious man in the backseat of the SUV remains silent.

“And…and… it’s not like I’m on my period right now and can’t seem to find a box of tampons or pads to save my life!”

A couple more people laugh.

I take a deep breath, about to cry as my voice grows louder.

“And it’s not like spaghetti strap tank tops were the only reasonable alternative!”

The laughter behind me stops.

“Damn!” someone shouts from the silenced crowd.

But I don’t care, and my voice only grows louder still.

“And it’s not like I had to fight through ten thousand assholes just to get that!”

I turn around and see several angry faces staring me down.

“And it’s not like you fucking animals shoved me into the street and the spaghetti strap tank tops I was supposed to shove up my pussy are now rotting at the bottom of a water-filled pothole!”

A pimple-faced teenage boy doubles over in laughter.

“Oh my God!” he says, wagging his finger at me. “She’s good.”

“Fucking animals, huh?!” a man in the crowd yells. “I’ll show you who’s a fucking animal!”

The man staggers forward, knocking into the people around him, and out of nowhere someone punches him in the face.

Oh no!

For a moment he’s dazed, but when he finally manages to regain his senses he throws a wild punch and the crowd resumes its frenzied fight.

I turn back to the window and cover my face, about to cry.

“Where do you live?” the disembodied voice in the SUV says. His tone is unexpectedly sympathetic.

What? Why is he asking me this? Why would he care where I live?

I gaze up through my tears at the window.

Should I tell him?

The thought seems crazy. He’s a complete stranger. I mean, I haven’t even seen his face.

I feel the crowd pushing at my back, and in one swift surge of motion, they shove me up against the window.

“Ow! You’re hurting me!” I cry. I try to turn around so I can say it to their faces, but the pressure is too much.

I turn and see two dazzling grey eyes staring back at me through the crack. The expression is fierce and intense, but for some reason I trust them.

“First Street,” I whimper. “I live near First Street.”

His eyes bore into mine as the crowd locks me in place.

Behind me, people begin to scream and shove each other.

The steel grey eyes look past me into the crowd and the next thing I know a folded hundred dollar bill appears next to my face.

I stare at the money, confused.

“It’s for your rent. To get by.”

What the?

I hesitate to take it.

“Take it or leave it.”

I reach forward to take it, and as I clasp the crisp paper, my finger brushes against his smooth, warm skin.

I look up into his eyes and this time they’re black. His brow furrows.

My breath hitches, and something tugs deep down in the pit of my stomach.

Behind me, a shrill woman shouts, “You got any toilet paper in there?”

The crowd moves forward, pressing me harder from behind and forcing my arm through the window.

“Son of a bitch!” the musical voice hisses from inside the cabin.

The crowd keeps pressing, and I scream out in pain.

Another voice from behind me calls out, “Hey rich boy! You gonna come bail us out!?”

The laughter is insane.

Hot breath brushes the back of my neck, giving me flashbacks of Karen standing behind me.

I look into his fierce eyes and for a moment I read an expression that looks like pity or fear, but I’m not sure which.

A gunshot rings out, and the glass on the rear driver’s side explodes into the cabin.

I scream in terror.

“Fuck!” the man says.

I can see people on the other side of the cabin leaning into the SUV.

“Ohh! It’s nice in here!” a haggard woman says, peering inside.

“Get back, you!” the man shouts.

I wish I could help him, but I’m stuck.

He leans forward and screams at the driver.

“Damnit, Calloway! They’re breathing into the cabin!”

“You hear that?” someone behind me says. “Richie Rich doesn’t want us breathing his fancy-pants air!”

“All right then,” an older man with an ugly voice screams. “Let’s give it to him! Charge!”

The crowd rushes forward, smashing me against the window.

I try to escape, but I’m locked in place.

All around me, ugly voices are screaming ugly things in ugly ways.

I suddenly feel like my spine is being crushed from behind.

“Help!” I yelp. “Somebody help me!”

“Fuck it, it’s too late now,” he says, his beautiful voice breaking through the garbled roar of the crowd.

The tinted window zips down and a pair of large hands cup my waist.

“What are you doing?” I say, startled by his strength.

“Watch your head,” he whispers against my ear, dizzying my senses.

The world around me spins, and for a moment everything is a blur. The next thing I know, I’m laying on my back looking up at the ceiling. All around me voices are growing in number, and I instinctively curl into the fetal position, nuzzling my face into his chest and inhaling his clean scent as his strong protective arms pull me closer to him.

Despite all the commotion around me, for the first time in forever, I feel safe.

The vehicle begins to rock back and forth from the thrashings of the human horde.

“Damnit, Calloway. They’re trying to tip us!”

“Can I run them over, sir?”

“I believe that would be unwise,” the man replies with a hint of humor.

The driver rubs his hand back and forth over his buzz cut. “Right, sorry.”

A loud noise startles me, and my hands shoot up to protect my face, smearing mud across the front of his suit.

Oh no!

I look up to apologize, and for the first time I see his face.

Oh my freaking God!

Chapter Two

Dark Knight

His face is perfect.

The symmetry is flawless. The bone structure is divine. His cheek bones are so strong and pronounced, it wouldn’t surprise me if he once was, or still is, a runway model. A thick shock of hair hangs over his right eye in a way that’s pleasantly distracting. If I were to guess his age I’d say he couldn’t be any older than 25, although his expression and mannerisms are more like those of a man twice his age.

His grey eyes narrow at me, and my heart leaps in response.

I try to look away, but my eyes are locked on his.

His pupils dilate, eclipsing the grey, and all at once I feel lightheaded.

Holy crap. What’s happening to me? I feel like I might faint.

His face softens, his eyes blinking gently, and I can’t help but notice his lashes are long for a man’s.

I should really look away, but for some reason I can’t. It’s as though I’m tethered to his gaze by some mysterious force.

In one smooth motion he turns towards the driver.

“Step on it. But don’t hurt them.”

The vehicle lurches forward, and outside the window, the crowd rushes by in a blur.

For the first time I notice beautiful classical music playing from the car’s speakers, a refreshing contrast to the the howling wind and chaotic street noise.

“Mahler,” I whisper.

It comes out unintentionally, and I’m suddenly overcome with embarrassment.

He turns back to me and eyes me with a look of surprise. “You know the composer?”

My heart skips a beat as I stare into his eyes. I want to say yes, but all I can do is nod.

He scowls and turns to the driver. “Turn off the music. It’s mixing with the street noise and giving me a headache.”

The driver nods. “Yes, sir.”

What the? Why why would he do that? Is he mad at me or something?

The music stops, and all that’s left is the howling wind as the world flies by outside the window.

He lifts me up off his lap and places me in a nearby seat. “Can you buckle yourself in?”

My mouth opens to respond, but he’s already reaching across my lap. “Very well,” he says, taking control as he begins to buckle me in. His arms feel good pressed against me, warm and reassuring, and I like the smell of his hair, but something about the aggressiveness of his gesture puts me off.

“I can do it,” I say, but he ignores me.

I bite my lip, unsure of what to do, and look down at his hands. The first thing I notice are his platinum cuff links. The design is simple, but the pieces look intricately crafted and expensive. My eyes wander to his long, tapered fingers as he buckles me in and smoothes the belt up over my chest, careful to remain decent.

Once finished, he sits back in his seat, and I’m finally able to take in the rest of him.

His body is long, lean, and muscular, and his proportions are refined. Besides the mess I’ve made of his suit, everything about his attire is crisp and clean. He’s wearing a well-fitted dark navy suit and slacks, a starched white undershirt, and an intricately patterned silver tie. The outfit looks expensive and custom tailored.

I look down at the used shirt I picked up the other day at the thrift store for a dollar fifty-five, and notice that mud is dripping down through my legs onto the soft leather car seat. I fidget nervously at the sight, and the puddle under me makes a squishy sound.

His eyes dart in my direction.

I lean back a little, revealing the puddle. “Sorry, I’m all wet.”

He purses his lips. “Don’t tell me that’s piss.”

What!? My face flushes with embarrassment. “No! It’s not, it’s just… I’m so sorry,” I mutter, trying to contain the drips.

He sighs and leans forward, flipping open the center console.

I flinch.

He stops and looks at me. “Calm down.”

I nod and exhale, trying to relax.

He pushes a black button and a crystal champagne set raises up from inside the console.

Scowling, he grabs a black silk champagne towel, unfurls it with a flourish, and hands it to me.

“Here.”

When I grab it, his fingers graze mine, and something electric passes between us.

Whoa.

That was crazy. Did he feel it, too?

He leans back in his seat and clears his throat, clearly affected.

He did!

A smile tugs at my lips.

He narrows his eyes at me. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” I say, flattening my expression as I dab up my mess. “Ahem…so, where are we going?”

“To your apartment.”

What? A pang of fear courses through me. “How do you know where I live?”

He gives me a strange look. “You told me back in the street. You don’t remember?”

I think back, replaying the awful sequence of events.

“Oh yeah.” I say, shaking my head. “How could I have forgotten? I must have hit my head.”

“Your head is fine. I saw everything.”

He saw the everything?

You’ve got to be kidding me. Face in the mud and ass in the air is not my idea of a great first impression. I can only imagine what he must think of me.

I lower my head in shame, and my hair falls down around my face. When I peek back up through the strands, I see that he’s turned away from me, staring out the window. He looks poised, legs finely crossed, fingers clasped—cool, aloof.

For a moment I wonder if I’m dreaming. There’s no way this could be real. He looks like a movie star or a model in a fashion magazine. What am I doing here with him?

He turns to look at me, and I quickly look away.

Crap. Don’t look again.

But I do, and this time he’s looking at me like he’s in pain.

I look away again.

I should really stop staring at him. This is something Stacy would do. Not me. What’s wrong with me?

A moment later, I can’t help myself and I look up yet again.

Shit. He’s still staring at me.

Okay. At least I’m not the only one staring.

His eyes crinkle in the corners, like he’s laughing at me, his fine mouth twisting into a ghost of a smile.

I look away again.

Crap. He thinks I’m an idiot. What should I do? Should I say something? This is so awkward.

When I peek at him again, I notice he’s clenching his slacks up near his knee. He looks angry. What if he blames me for what happened with the crowd? Maybe I should apologize?

“I’m sorry about what happened,” I say. “I didn’t know—“

He holds up his hand, silencing me.

I turn back and catch my reflection in the window.

Limp, soggy hair.

Mud-flecked face…

Could I look more pathetic?

Hot tears begin to form behind my eyes.

He makes a sudden movement, drawing my attention, and I notice a thin line of blood trailing down along his wrist.

I gasp. “You’re bleeding.”

He stops, turns his hand over. “Shit.”

I lean forward. “Here, let me—“

He pulls away. “I’ve got it.”

I look around for something to stop the bleeding.

He holds up the bottom of his suit coat and sighs through his nose, his mouth twisted with frustration.

I unbuckle my seatbelt.

“What are you doing?”

“Here,” I say, unbuttoning my baby blue cardigan.

“No,” he says, eyes closed, shaking his head. A small smile plays on his lips.

I stop. His smile does something to me I can’t explain, and I have the sudden inexplicable urge to kiss the corner of his mouth. What!? Where did that thought come from?

He smirks at me, like he knows what I’m thinking.

“You really need to calm down,” he says. “Get back in your seat and buckle up.”

I do as he says.

“It must have been from the window,” he says, referring to his bloody wrist. His voice is flat. “I was trying to minimize contact until you showed up.”

Crap. For a moment I almost forgot about the Coronavirus.

Guilt grips me.

What if he has a precondition?

What if he has a family?

“I’m so sorry.”

“You should be.” His expression is serious. “You summoned them to me.”

What?!

“I did not!”

“Did you declare yourself their leader, or were you elected?” he says, his lips suddenly curled with amusement.

I shake my head, confused. “I had absolutely nothing at all to do with them!”

He smiles. “Then why were they all so glad to see you?”

Ah, I get it. He must be joking.

I smile inwardly and decide to play along. “The truth is they were charmed by your carriage.”

His face brightens at my recognition, and he lets out a long sigh. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean what I just said.” He strokes the bottom of his lip with his index finger. “It’s obviously not your fault. It’s the fault of those in charge who allowed the panic to spread.”

I look down at my hands, unsure of what to say.

“Besides,” he says. His voice is suddenly wry with mock-humor. “There are so many ways to die. Coronavirus is just one of them. Something’s bound to get you sooner or later.”

I peek up at him through my lashes. Why does he look sad?

I want to tell him it will be alright, but the thought sounds stupid in my head.

He sighs and shrugs off his jacket to use for his hand.

I sit up.

“Y-y-you can use my sweater,” I say, stuttering for some reason as I gape wide-eyed at the jacket that I’m positive is worth more than my entire wardrobe combined.

“It’s quite alright,” he says, ignoring me.

“No,” I say, gaining his attention. “That jacket’s too thick.”

He stops and examines the jacket, turning it over in his hands.

“Seriously, it’s no big deal,” I say. “It’s the least I could do.”

“It won’t be needed,” he says, tossing the jacket into a heap on the floor.

I shake my head, confused. “Then what will you use?”

His eyes lock on mine as he loosens his patterned silk tie.

Holy hell. He’s getting undressed!

He tosses the tie onto the floor and begins unbuttoning his dress shirt.

My breath hitches as I struggle to avert my gaze.

He shrugs off the shirt, and I barely contain a gasp as his chiseled abs flex under the soft interior dome lighting. The entire time, his eyes never leave mine.

Something tugs at the base of my stomach as I shift in my seat.

He bites down on the dress shirt fabric and tears it into a long thin strip. How does he make it look so easy?

“I can help,” I say, leaning towards him, entranced.

“I’ll manage just fine,” he says through gritted teeth as he finishes two more strips.

He takes three strips and wraps them around his wrist. When he’s finished he holds up his wrist, examining his handiwork. “What do you think?”

I’m so overwhelmed all I can do is nod.

“Good enough,” he says like he’s glad to be done with it.

I spot the tie at his feet and a thought occurs to me.

“You could have just used your tie.”

“Too late,” he says without hesitation.

He reaches down, grabs the tie, then lays it next to him on the seat.

I look away. For some reason I can’t stop smiling. What’s going on with me?

He signals the driver. “I’ll need a new dress shirt before my speech.”

The driver nods. “Ten four.”

He settles back into his seat and begins fingering the shirt-strip bandage.

I clear my throat. “What kind of speech are you giving?”

His brow furrows. “You don’t have to talk like that.”

My brow pinches. “Like what?”

“Like this is an interview.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re up-ending your sentences in an effort to please me.”

I look away, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of pressure right now.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he says, his tone serious.

“Okay.”

His brow arches, assessing me. “I’m Elon, by the way. Elon Carlisle.”

Elon Carlisle.

I roll it around in my mind, savoring the sound of it. The name suits him surprisingly well.

“What’s your name?” he says.

“Nana.”

Crap! What’s wrong with me!? …Nana?!

“Nana?” His brow knits in confusion. “As in, my nana’s just died from Coronavirus?”

“N-no. It’s Ana. Just Ana.”

“Ana?”

I nod. “Ana.”

He leans back, hands behind his head, and repeats my name. “Ana.”

I love the way my name plays on his lips.

His eyes dart back down at me. “You’re sure?” His face lights up with humor, and somehow it’s even more beautiful than before.

I blush and nod into my chest.

“So…Ana. What do you think of all this?”

My eyes once again take in the luxurious surroundings. “The car?”

He makes a face. “No…the virus.”

Duh. What’s wrong with you, Ana? Get it together.

I search for the right word, but all that comes to mind is, “It’s terrible.”

“Indeed,” he says, biting the back of his knuckle.

An awkward moment passes between us, and the tension gets the better of me. “I noticed none of the employees at Wholesome Foods were wearing masks.”

“Yes, I’ve read all about that. Most businesses seem to think it will scare the customers.”

“That’s so stupid,” I say, a little too loud.

He looks up at me and tilts his head.

I shake my head with frustration. “I mean, if we’re going to flatten the curve, we can’t be doing stupid stuff like that. It’s not up to businesses to choose who lives and dies.”

He stops biting his knuckle and stares at me thoughtfully. Why is he looking at me like that?

“I was just on my way to give a speech along the same lines,” he says calmly.

“Oh,” I say. “What for?”

“It’s for a charity banquet. Very tedious.”

“So, what are you? Some kind of politician or something?“

“I’m a CEO. I own fifteen companies on three separate continents, and I employ over five million people.”

Holy crap.

“Wow, very important,” I say, trying to sound unimpressed.

“Indeed.”

Cocky much?

The air in the car suddenly seems too heavy, so I try to lighten the mood. “Well at least the workers of the world will finally get a vacation.”

He eyes me tactfully.

“If you consider the most devastating economic collapse since World War II a vacation, then yes, they will most certainly get their vacation.” So much for lightening the mood. I look down at my lap as he continues. “I believe there is dignity and honor in work, regardless of what one contributes. This pandemic is nothing short of a disaster for everyone involved, including the workers of the world.”

I snort. “Easy for you to say.”

He glares at me.

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re the one getting the lion’s share.”

He scoffs.

“What?” I say. “It’s the truth”

“Somewhat,” he says, leaning forward. “To be more exact, I control the lion’s share. Most of my value is tied up in my companies. If I didn't own at least fifty percent of each company I would cease to be the one in control.”

“So why not give it up?”

“Because without my control they would fail.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

His eyes bore into mine and I look away, a little frightened by his intensity.

“So, you’re doing it for charity?”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

“But that’s what you just said. You said the companies would fail without you. But still, you could sell them off anytime, so why don’t you? Sounds like charity to me.”

He thinks it over. “Because it’s not rational to allow that many people to suffer when I have the power to stop it from happening.”

I can’t help but smile.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He leans forward. “Tell me.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t think you’re being rational.”

“Then what am I being?”

“Emotional.”

He shakes his head.

“I never make decisions based on emotion. I prefer to be able to anticipate every outcome.”

“As if that’s even possible.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “Still, I believe caution and prevention are the foundations of rational judgement.”

“Who did you steal that line from? Dale Carnegie?”

His eyes soften with humor. “You know more than you let on.”

I fold my arms. “Yeah, and you care more than you let on.”

He shakes his head and looks down. “I gave up caring a long time ago.”

I stop and stare at him. His response is more personal than I expected.

“What about you?” he says.

“Me?”

“Yes. Tell me about yourself.”

Crap. What the heck am I supposed to say?

“Um…I don’t know. Let me think.”

“Think away.”

“Well, for starters, I lost my job today.” Heat spreads across my face as I recall my outburst in front of the crowd. “But I guess I already told you that earlier.”

I search his face for signs that he’s about to mock me for the embarrassing scene I made, but I find none. Only mild curiosity lingers in his eyes.

“Where did you work?” he says cooly.

“Karen’s Krafts, down on Main Street.”

“I think I’ve seen it.”

“They put me on indefinite leave.” I make air quotes around ‘indefinite leave’.

He nods his head. “They must be struggling.”

“They are.”

“So, what did you do there?”

Why does he want to know all this? There’s no way it’s boring him less than it’s boring me.

“Hmm…” I say, trying to think of something interesting. “I mostly just stood behind the front desk waiting for customers to pay.” I shrug. “Sometimes I’d help stock the shelves.”

Ugh. It sounds so lame now that I’ve said it out loud.

“That’s it?” He says, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Um… sort of. I mean, I was a cashier.” I sift through my memory for something else to say. “But sometimes I would clean the toilets, too.”

His lips curl into an amused smile. “That sounds very…interesting.”

Crap. He definitely thinks I’m an idiot. Why did I say that? I blush and lower my head. “It was a job, I guess.”

“Well, from what you just told me I wouldn’t be too upset about losing it.”

My face flushes with anger. “It may not sound like much to you, but it was all I had.”

He gives me a surprised look. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant I think you can do better.” He pauses to rub his index finger across his lower lip. “I’m sorry. I know how hard it is out there right now.”

“How do you know?”

“That it’s hard?”

“That I can do better.”

He shrugs. “It was just a guess.”

“Based on what?”

“What I’ve seen so far.”

“I thought this wasn’t an interview.”

“It’s not.” His voice is hard.

I cross my legs and fold my arms over my chest. “Whatever.”

I don’t know why I’m acting like this, but something about this man has gotten under my skin.

“We’ll be nearing your place soon, Ana,” he says. There’s an edge to his voice again. “What’s the building?”

“Broadway Building, Elon,” I say, echoing his tone. “But you can drop me off here if you’re eager to get rid of me.”

His brow turns into a hard V and I’m tempted to poke my tongue out at him. What’s gotten into me?

The landscape around us darkens. “This is a bad part of town,” he says flatly.

I nod against the window. “I always know I’m getting close to home because I begin to feel anxious.”

“I know the owner-slash-landlord,” he says. “Or, I suppose the more proper term would be slum lord.”

I laugh despite myself.

“Totally.”

“Totally?”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

His face lights up a little as his eyes narrow in thought. “For some reason all I can remember of him was his ass crack.”

I burst out laughing so hard I almost pee my pants.

He smiles at me.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” I choke out. “My roommate and I christened him Lord Buttcrack once we learned he was a piece of shit.”

He laughs out loud for the first time, and the melodious sound fills my chest.

The driver looks back at us and smiles.

When our laughter finally dies down, I look up and catch him staring at me with a far off look.

I look myself over and check my face in the glass. “What’s the matter? Is there something on my face?”

“No, it’s just…” he says, considering whether or not to continue.

“What?” I say, anxious for his answer.

“You remind me so much of someone I once knew.”

Oh really?

“Who?”

He turns away from me, suddenly serious.

“Never mind. Forget I said it.”

The mood in the car darkens.

“Will you be fine if I drop you off here?” he says. The edge in his voice has returned.

I look around. I usually avoid walking in this part of town if I can. I glance back at Elon but he’s still turned away, as if I’m already gone.

“Here’s fine.”

He commands the driver to stop.

“You’re sure?” the driver says, looking back at us.

Elon nods, his face twisted in what I can only assume is disgust.

I open the door and right as I’m about to step out, a beer bottle crashes against the nearby pavement.

What the?!

I slink back into the car as a middle-aged drunk woman takes a swing at a scruffy-looking old man.

“You motherfucker!” The woman roars. “How you gonna pay the rent! How we gonna eat!”

Elon reaches across me and slams the door shut.

“Drive!”

The SUV lurches forward.

I peer over and see him pinching his brow with his fingers. “That was a close one,” I say, forcing a lightness into my tone.

“Too close,” he whispers, not looking up.

A distance seems to have formed between us that I don’t understand.

I sift through my mind for something to say.

“I’m really sorry for everything. The mob, your clothes…exposing you to the virus. It’s all my fault.”

“As I said before, it’s not your fault. People are stupid, dangerous, panicky animals.”

I stare at him, taken back by his harsh judgement.

The vehicle comes to a stop in front of my apartment and I notice a homeless man is trying to defecate on the sidewalk.

“Gross,” I whisper, turning away.

“How long have you lived here?” He says, his face contorted in disgust.

Something comes over me, a medley of shame and anger, and all at once I have the overwhelming urge to leave the vehicle.

I try to open the door, but it’s locked.

He shakes his head at the driver, and grabs my elbow to stop me. His hand feels good against my skin, but my emotions take hold and I shrug it off.

He sighs and leans back in his seat. “You’re sure you want to go?”

What’s he getting at? A minute ago he was asking me to leave.

“I’m sure. Now can you please unlock this door?”

Once again, he shakes his head at the driver.

What’s he doing?

He pulls out a platinum business card holder, flips it open, removes a card, then flips it back shut. He offers the card to me. “In case you need me for anything.”

I shake my head. “You’ve already helped more than enough. Thank you for the ride and the money… I really mean it, thank you.”

He narrows his eyes.

The driver opens my door, taking me by surprise. “Ma’am.”

I look up and thank him, then clamber out of the car with as much grace as I can scrap together.

“Oh! I almost forgot my p—“

I spin around and see my purse dangling from Elon’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks,” I say, shifting the strap onto my shoulder.

“You’re welcome.”

Something like a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.

What’s that all about?

Before I can say anything, the driver gently shuts the door. “Would you like me to escort you to your door?” His face is serious, but genial.

“No. But thank you, um… I seem to have forgotten your name.”

“Calloway, ma’am.”

“Oh yes. Now I remember. Thank you, Calloway.”

“No problem-o.”

I turn on my heel and hop over the pile of excrement the homeless man left on the sidewalk.

“Watch your step!” Calloway says, laughing a little. “I’d kick it out of your way, but it’s still fresh.”

“I’m fine,” I say as I hop up the steps to the front door of my building, totally grossed out.

Good God. How humiliating.

As I’m about to put my key in the slot, I hear Elon’s voice behind me.

“Ana!” I turn around and see his beautiful face framed in the window. “Be safe,” he says.

“You too.” I take a breath. “…Elon.”

The moment lingers as we stare into each other’s eyes, and I can swear something passes between us again. I can’t explain why, but I feel an inexplicable urge to run back to the car. Does he feel it, too?

He turns his head forward as the tint seals shut.

And then, just like that, the car pulls away.

A Final Note from the Author

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far! If you would like to read the rest of Part 1 through to Chapter 14, the story is currently available on Amazon under the title ‘Fifty Shades of Corona’ by N.O. Shame. However, if you are willing to wait, I’ll be posting a new chapter every week!

Much Love,

N.O. Shame

[oliviersk]

yoyoyo wassup peeps its moosh back w another muse. i rlly couldn’t resist ik ugh but!! anyways here’s olivier, she’s my bby pls show her some love yes. here is a link to her full bio but there’s a tl;dr under the cut as well as wanted connects!

✧･ﾟ(   apate + moon gayoung + cismale   ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !!  have you seen (   olivier kang  ) around ? (   she  ) have/has been in kaos for (   three months   ). the (   twenty three   ) is a/an (   socialite/classical musician   ) from (   paris, france   ). people say they can be (  calculating   ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be (   eloquent   ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of (   the waft of perfume when you walk into a department store, perfectly manicured nails, and black waves cascading down one’s shoulder   ).  ･ﾟ✧  (  penned by moosh, 21+, est, no preference  ).

aesthetics.

STATS

name: olivier kang age: twenty three gender/pronouns: cisfemale & she/her orientation: bisexual & demiromantic ethnicity: korean nationality: french height: 5′6″ eye color: brown hair color: black languages: korean, french, & english class: upper

HISTORY/SUMMARY

tw: child abuse, suicide attempt, and death.

her family is honestly a mess. she grew up with mostly female figures in her life. no dad, uncle, grandpa, none. grew up insanely rich as well. was always silenced as a kid and placed into a mold. she figured out pretty quickly to behave and shut up or face the consequences. family was quite controlling and olivier wasn’t allowed to grow into her own person. while she never got along with her mother, she cried and cried at her funeral ( olivier was 12 at the time ). her grandmother didn’t really like it and rebuked her for losing her composure. attempted suicide at around 17 and as punishment, her grandmother did not allow her to attend her dream school in america ( which she had gotten accepted into ), but made her attend a closer college, with her chauffeur shuttling her back and forth ( 2 hours ) right after classes so she could keep a close eye on her. her grandmother soon falls when crimes from years ago service and sufficient evidence is obtained for a trial and olivier, finally free, chooses to do something for herself for the first time in her life, and moves to kaos.

PERSONALITY

like everyone, olivier has two different aspects of herself, one for the public and one for the ones who know the deepest parts of her.

she’s very eloquent, not only in her word choice but also her voice ( she’s gotten many compliments on now soothing and gentle it sounds ). doesn’t smile too easily, but doesn’t mean that its always genuine when you receive one. there’s something almost ethereal about her presence, as if she’s not fully there or she could be gone with one gust of wind. there’s a sweet, gentle, but firm aspect of her that confuses most people. they don’t know whether to relax or tighten up around her. 

underneath all the sugar and spice, she’s much more sinister, cunning, and calculating than the eye lets on. a sweet tone can be taken on when shredding someone down, complete with a sugary smile. setting up the pieces and watching the world tear itself down is one of her favorite past times. her tone is sweet while the most vicious words leave her mouth, with anger never manifesting physically besides the trembling of her fingers. she’s come too far to let petty emotions get the better of her. 

further underneath is a girl who’s truly terrified of the world. it’s never been kind to her, and she can’t blame it, as she’s never put forth good energy. the lack of structure she’s facing now that her grandmother is gone is freeing, but completely terrifying, like being dropped in the middle of the ocean with no sense of direction. with her life in her own hands, she has no idea what to do with it, and it frightens her to her core. it’s probably why she lashes out and likes to watch as people ruin themselves. in a weird way, it makes her feel less lonely, which is why she’s drawn to disorder.

ik her personality is like all out of wack pls lmk if its confusing!!!

HEADCANONS

hates hates hates nicknames. call her olivier or don’t talk to her at all. ( sihyun is the only exception to this rule but he still receives death glares ).

while she did live in paris, her first language and the language most frequently spoken at home was korean, so she is most comfortable in korean, though french and english were taught to her by a young age as well.

out of all the things she hated doing as a kid, violin and piano are the only hobbies that really stuck around. she still practices on the daily and a lot of activities have to be thought over twice because strain off her fingers/wrists is very important.

dabbled in drugs and such in high school ( abroad ). while it allowed her to alleviated the stress she didn’t like the fact that it took bodily control away from her, so never did it too often.

has anxiety that flares up from time to time in forms of attacks ( big and small ) so she takes medication for it, but not many people know.

going off of that, she sometimes has attacks when thinking about her future. it’s not what lies ahead that frightens her but the lack of structure she now has due to the absence of her grandmother. the security that had been there, no matter how restraining, now makes her feel like shes drowning in endless possibilities and its too much for her to swallow sometimes.

majored in classical literature and classical music. its one of the easiest conversation starters because she could go on and on for hours about old, dead writers.

isn’t one for pastries but she absolutely loves fruit tarts. it’s the only sugary thing she’ll let herself eat.

her hair is surprisingly naturally brown but she dyes it black because she thinks it suits her better.

has a ring from her mother that she wears around her neck. has a very odd relationship with her mother, and is still coming to terms with it.

completely scrapped her house before she moved to kaos. removed everything and sold the land. has left her job running the company and literally everything behind except her inheritance and the money she received while on the job + the house. it’s enough money to last her a lifetime but finds herself bored in kaos with nothing to do,  so she’s begun giving lessons ( sparingly ). sight sees a lot but is thinking of taking on a role in the orchestra in town sooner or later.

always smell like chanel no 5.

loves taking baths. bubbles, wine, classical music, candles, and herself ( or maybe someone to share the fun with ).

isn’t vegan but eats meat sparingly, mostly because she usually doesn’t like the texture or taste of most meats.

literally never curses. you can usually tell how angry she is if a curse manages to slip past.

enjoys writing poetry but its mostly just for her. a leather bound book filled with her work lays on her desk every night, but they are often tear soaked and unable to fully comprehend unless you know who she truly is.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

first love ( female ). def have some ideas for this so lmk. plot heavy.

someone she teaches piano/violin to

someone from back home who knew her before and doesn’t like her. maybe boarding school buddies from middle/high school?

someone she “gets along with” and is using for some reason

her old money squad from back home. they’re lowkey kinda fake to each other but also kinda mean

was really close friends but had a falling out ( prolly cause she did something shady or something she thought was the best for them but it wasn’t. may or may not regret it ).

somebody her grandmother set up for her to date ( male )

there was one night during one event where olivier really hit it off with this person. they snuck out of the event and roamed around the city in formal attire, ate pizza at a local place, etc. etc. but it was a a year or two ago n they never exchanged numbers. now theyre both in kaos.

someone who has a crush on her but wont tell for some reason. or maybe they will tell. maybe she knows and shes playing dumb or maybe she genuinely doesn’t.

on a similar note, someone tryna get her to smash. she doesn’t sleep around at all, finds it undignified, but this person’s determined to get to bone.

people who have seen the real her and hate her for that reason. on the flip side, people who have seen the real her and still stick around for some reason.

[stories-forthe-void]

Summer Nights and Pool Fights~ Lee Minho

This is the town that I based the landscape off. It’s kind of important to the descriptions. Also, I, ’m sorry for writing so many stories about the beach but it’s where I’ve grown up so my mind kind of goes there when I need a quick setting. Anyways enjoy the fic ^^. Also I promise to make this all look nicer when I get back from hiatus. Only 9 days this time!

My fingers felt like they were going to fall off and my brain was being fried within my skull from the hours I had spent trying to sight read a 17/8 time signature. Join the state orchestra, they said. It'll be fun. Fun my foot. I'd spent all day sitting in one of my college’s music rooms practising for a massive concert next month and I still couldn't get the last few bars of the flute solo down.

 It’s not that hard Y/N.

I know OK just go away I need to concentrate.

She’ll kick you out if you don’t get it down by next week Y/N.

I get it Ok! I’m trying just-

 “Y/N?” Then the door rattled. Dammit, Minho. You always pick the perfect time to make an entrance. I tried to ignore the banging on the door. “Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” He rattled the door again. “Please, your mom gave me some of her lasagnas to bring you!” I was at the door in seconds and unlocking it before he could say anything more.

 You lost to pasta again Y/N.

 “Y/N-”

 “Shh, no speaking, now where’s the pasta?” I held out my hand.

 “I knew that would work. Here,” he handed me a Tupperware full of my mom’s famous lasagna. I swear they should make like a black market where children can sell their mother’s cooking. I could make millions!

 “Now would you like to explain why you haven’t come out of this room the whole weekend? Seriously you know there are better places to practice than on campus, right? Like why would you willingly come back here?” He gave me a typical Minho face that said: really Y/N? You could be spending your weekends with your amazing best friend, but no you prioritize your metal tube over me. Oh, the horror!

 “I have my reasons!” I exclaimed, hitting him on the shoulder.

 “Name three decent ones.”

 “Alright, reason one: they have aircon in here and my fan messes with the sound waves.” He shot me another typical Minho look. ”I'm serious! It's a legitimate problem in the flautist community!”

 “Alright, alright, kind of I believe you. Now, two more reasons. Come on.”

 “I, um, yeah, um, ok! Stop looking at me like that. The concert is next month Minho! Did expect me to just sit and do nothing?” I exclaimed

 “No, I don't, but I do expect you to instil some basic self-care! You can't just lock yourself in a music room all long weekend from dusk till dawn and then every afternoon after class. You need a break. Believe me, I need one too. We have a competition next week but I don’t lock myself in the practice room! So, please let me take you out of this horribly decorated room and do something fun with your best friend.” It's not that I didn't want to it was just that I couldn't. I was new in the orchestra. I still wasn't technically an official member, which meant Mrs Walsh could kick me out whenever she wished.

 “Minho I can’t -”

 “Y/N I get it. You're scared. I mean I would be too with a conductor like Mrs Walsh, but you are one of the best flautists I know.”

 “I'm the only flautist you know” I deadpanned.

 “That's beside the point. You need a break.”

 “Okay let's say I agree to this madness. What are we going to do? It's not like we can just take a drive to some magical island in the middle of nowhere.”

 “Oh Y/N, you severely underestimate my connections.” There it was. That was the Minho smile. The very reason I walked up to him on the first day of high school, right after the English teacher found at least 15 paper aeroplanes stuck to the ceiling with increasingly cringy quotes from fanfic.

 “Don’t look at me like that. It makes me nervous!”

“Minho where are we going?!” He had dragged me back to my dorm, made me pack a bag and on top of that insist I leave my flute behind. “Ok no. I’m being serious where are we going. My room mate will kill me if I just run off to some random mountain reserve with a boy.”

 “Calm your farm Y/N. I talked to Yasmin and she said it was fine. We’re going on an adolescent adventure. You’ll look back on this weekend and think ‘wow how did I manage a whole weekend without hooking up with my drop-dead gorgeous best friend’” I punched him in the shoulder.

“Excuse me young one! That is the second time in the past two hours! Ugh, the disrespect for elders in today’s society. Honestly its horrendous” He said it in the most ridiculous British grandmother voice and I honestly would’ve loved to have laughed, but he didn’t need that sort of ego boost right now.

 “You are two months older than me! Come on let’s get going I don’t want to get to wherever we’re going at like midnight.” I picked up my backpack and a duffel bag full of clothes for the weekend and pushed him through the door.

 “Alright, alright, I’m going.” And then we were through the door and in his car. He started the engine and so began the two-hour road trip filled with musical classics such as Gee, Ring Ding Dong and of course Wolf.

“Minho, oh my god this place is amazing! What millionaire cousin are you hiding from me?” I walked through the front door right into the lounge which opened up onto a massive deck with the most beautiful infinity pool I had ever seen. The deck looked out onto the main beach down below. It was decorated in that classic beach house décor that was probably way older than both of us, but it was still gorgeous. The kitchen was small but had a coffee machine. Perfect, I can drag Minho out to watch the sunrise tomorrow morning and he won’t complain.

 The garden and downstairs were pretty spacious but upstairs was much smaller. The house was probably designed with an “all day at the beach then entertain all night and only use the bedrooms for sleep” kind of vibe. The first bedroom was obviously for kids, bunk bed, no aircon, barely any shelving space and was basically being used as a surfboard storeroom. Not. An. Option.

 Please let there be two more bedrooms, please.

 It’s not like I haven’t slept in friends beds before, but Minho was a different story. That smile wasn’t the only thing that drew me towards him on that fateful first day of high school. Can you judge me though? He was an attractive new guy who had just transferred from a school in South Korea. He was an amazing dancer and he could sing. He was any band nerd’s dream. So I may or may not have a massive crush on my best friend...

 I pushed back the thought and continued through the house. I had no idea where Mino was but he could manage ten minutes without burning a house down… hopefully.

 The next room was just a bathroom and the next a storeroom. Who needs that many beach balls? Then at the end of the hall was the main bedroom. Dammit looks like I’m sleeping on the floor.

“Y/N where are you?” Minho shouted from what sounded like the bottom of the stairs.

 “I’m up here,” and a few seconds later he was by your side throwing you a smirk. “Oh, fluff of. I bet Yasmin didn’t agree with this part of the trip.”

 “No, no she didn’t. I didn’t think it was important. Besides, I’ll just sleep on the floor it's fine.” He went to go pull a mattress off one of the bunk bed, but I caught the back of his shirt.

 “Nope, no way. There is no way I am letting you sleep on the floor.” He began to object “Uh uh, no buts, this one’s not negotiable.” And that was that. He knew by now that there was no arguing with me, not unless he wanted to be left to walk to class alone for a week. So he agreed but sulked about it the whole time we were unpacking the car.

 “So, what are going to do for food tonight?” I asked as we sat down on the grass next to the pool.

 “I don’t know. We could go down to the restaurant by the beach. The service is terrible but the food and the view make up for it. Unless you want to go down to the store to buy food and actually make dinner?” The house was on top of a hill that overlooked the beach below. The view was amazing. The lagoon mouth was open and although it was getting late there were still children playing in the granny pool beside it.

 “You know Minho, I’ve been coming here my whole life and I’ve never noticed this house before. We usually stay right down there near the main beach. The house has been in my family for ages.” The question at hand had drifted from my mind as I sat in awe of the small town’s beauty in the fading sunlight.

 “Well, this is actually my elder cousin’s house. He said I could use it whenever I want when I got to college, so last year I got a spare set of keys made and I come here with Jisung and Felix sometimes. But I did ask you about food.” He let out a soft chuckle. I pulled myself out of my trance and looked at him.

 “Oh, right. Sorry I completely forgot. It’s just so beautiful here.” We both started out at the ocean again.

 “Ok stop distracting me from the question! Are you trying to starve me Y/N?”

 “Ok yes. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Um, I don’t really feel like cooking if that’s OK with you? Plus I haven’t seen this place in a while and the beach is calling me.” It really was and I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to get there.

 “Ok, that’s fine. We can go now then!’’

We got to the restaurant and ate a casual dinner, nothing too fancy, and then we got some drinks and headed to the rocks on the side of the lagoon mouth. It was pretty cold at night during this time of year so we sat close to keep warm. It wasn’t unusual for us, but the dark and the beach and everything just made it feel weird.

We sat like that, in the dark, arms touching, looking out at the inky water and the reflection of the moon in it, for a while. We didn’t say anything and yet thousands of words were spoken in silence; without as much as a glance at each other.

It was weird to pull ourselves out of that silence, but we did it and were now walking down the, or rather up the hill to get back to the house.

You know Y/N you really are that idiot. The one thing we promised ourselves we wouldn’t do was to fall in love with the best friend. Now, look. You are completely and utterly whipped. No going back now. So what’s the plan? Are you going to confess in some stuttering mess of a sentence in some dark, ding music room or are you going to keep this from him for forever and die an old crazy cat lady with sixteen cats named Gerrald, Richard Parker, Isabelle-

 “So Y/N what’s the plan for tomorrow?” He nudged my shoulder lightly and pulled me from my thoughts.

 “Um, I don’t know. What do you feel like doing? I mean there’s not much else to do than go to the beach is there?” We got to the top of the hill and stopped to catch our breath.

 “Well there’s a waterpark like half an hour away or an amazing waffle place in the next town, but beach sounds good for the first day. The waterpark will be packed anyways.” We started walking again as it started to get colder.

 “Yeah, that sounds great.” I thought about it for a second and then added in my best Disney villain voice: “On one condition.” He almost looked nervous for a second but then slapped on a cocky grin before I could even remember what his face had looked like before.

 “Name anything; this weekend is for you.” Two could play at that game.

 “Ok then, I’m waking you up at six thirty tomorrow to go watch the sunrise.” Now he looked nervous again.

 “I mean um well. Come on Y/N we’ve been best friends for years is this really a necessity?”

 “Yes, Minho it very much is and I will drag you down this hill tomorrow morning if I have to. Thank you for a nice evening but I will now shower and then retire to the floor.” I let out a laugh and then started walking up the stairs.

 “You know you’ll have to deal with me the minute you get out the shower right.” He laughed with me as he started following me up the stairs.

 “Yes Minho, I do in fact realise that, but the fact that I have to see you does not mean I have to listen to you complain about a six thirty wake up call. Honestly, it’s not that bad you lazy ass.” I closed the bathroom door and locked it behind me. I wasn’t trying to be mean; I was just trying to have fun, but I’m bad at working out the difference so…

It was midnight and the floor was cold.

Why he thought that coming to the beach in the middle of autumn was a good idea, I might never know.

At least we haven’t said anything stupid in at least an hour Y/N.

I’ve been asleep!

Yes but we can say stupid things in our sleep Y/N.

Ok no, not listening to you anymore. Goodnight.

It was now half past one. The floor was still cold.

Unless we plan on getting a cold Y/N, we have one option.

What can a cold do to me, come on?

It can turn into a chest infection and then a lung infection and then wow look Y/N can’t play the flute anymore and oh look again we’ve been kicked out the orchestra.

Shut up.

One option Y/N, one option…

 I went to go shake Minho awake. Giving in to the voice in my head was something I was trying to get better at but it still didn’t work that well… most of the time.

 “Come on Minho please wake up!” He was usually a light sleeper, but he was probably doing this just to spit me. “Lee Minho I know you’re awake.” I waited a minute and then gave in to his plan that I knew was most definitely churning in that stupid, amazing brain of his. “Fine, ok, the floor is cold. Please, can I sleep with you?” He smirked but kept his eyes closed. “Not like that you pervert!”

 He stirred, opened his eyes and then sat up and said: “Ya sure. I knew you’d give in eventually. No one can resist this face.” He smirked at me again and batted his eyelashes.

 “Oh, would you shut up and move over.” I wanted it to come out a bit sterner, but I ended up laughing as he pouted at me and scooted so he wasn’t hogging the entire bed to himself. I turned to look at him and, in the most loving tone I could muster for one am, said: “Goodnight idiot.”

 “Goodnight my bestest most loving friend forever.” We both burst out laughing (even though it was a pretty terrible joke) and fell asleep just like that, heads nearly touching but not. Toes tangled by instinct to keep warm. My heart wouldn’t calm down. I thought I might have a heart attack in my sleep. To anyone else (including me) it would have looked romantic. I secretly hoped Minho thought so too.

 My internal clock woke me up at six. I had gotten used to waking up to practice and then going straight to lectures and then going straight back to practice.

 I was about to sit up when I noticed it. Minho’s arm slung over my waist and his head ever so slightly snuggled into my side. I got such a shock when I saw it that I jolted. He started to wake up and I started to panic.

 Oh we’ve really done it now haven’t we Y/N.

You’re not helping!

Hwta are we going to do about this Y/N.

I don’t know! You’re meant to be the logical one.

I’m just a voice in your head. How am I meant to be logical Y/N?

You’re the one always shouting at me!

No, we’re always the ones shouting at us.

What the hell is that supposed to mean!

To late Y/N

“Mm Y/N?” Oh god.

We spent the day at the beach, eating chips and drinking whatever was cheapest. We messed around in the water and read on the sand, but something was always a bit off.

 “I’m sorry about this morning Y/N. I don’t know what happened.” We were walking down to a different beach to go watch the sunset. I had compromised with Minho after this morning’s antics.

 “It’s fine Minho, it was cold. Body heat you know?” I let out a nervous laugh and looked over at him. It was fairly light out, as the sun was just starting to disappear under the horizon. I didn’t know if it was a trick of the early morning sun or if that was actually a blush I saw dusted on his cheeks. “Minho seriously, we’re friends it doesn’t matter. Come on stop looking so embarrassed. If anything it should be me blushing I mean I was the one-”

 “I am not blushing!” He whipped his head towards me and glared.

 “Ok sure mister ladies man.” It was like a whole different person. Minho was never like this. He was always the loud cocky one at the college parties, flirting with all the girls and then passing out on my couch after one to many jager bombs.

 Today he was like a teenage boy going through puberty who had a crush on his older sister’s best friend.

 He likes us back Y/N

Not with you in my head he doesn’t.

Stop denying that you wouldn’t be a functioning human without me Y/N.

Fuck off I’m trying to enjoy the sunset!

Don’t screw it up Y/N.

 We both froze the minute we got out the dune forest and onto the sand.

 “Omg Y/N! It’s beautiful.” He was right. The sun was halfway under the horizon and had turned the few clouds in the sky the most breathtaking shade of pink.

 “Ok who are you and what have you done with my best friend.” It was both weird and strangely endearing to see Minho so excited about a sunrise.

 “What’s so wrong with a guy liking the sky.” I chuckled.

 You’re whipped Y/N.

Since when did you use stan language?

Since when did we start using stan language Y/N?

Oh, shut up!

 “There’s nothing wrong with a guy liking the sky. I just never pinned you for a sky guy.”

 “Y/N I am shocked, I am such a sky guy.”

 “Ok, no more sky guying. Come on let’s sit down” We both laughed together and as we sat laughing on the sand I realised that this had been the most constantly happy I had been all year.

 Don’t screw it up Y/N

 “Oh, would you shut up!” I immediately clasped my hand over my mouth. Minho looked at me with a look that was somewhere between completely shocked and hurt. “Minho I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to say it out loud. Oh, wait no that’s not what I meant. Um… I’m sorry I was just. I um, I-”

 I told you not to screw it up Y/N

 I could feel tears starting to form in the corners of my eyes. Minho was still looking at me with that face. I couldn’t speak.

 Why now! It was going well! You ruin everything.

Not me, us. It’s not my voice Y/N

 I broke down. I was so sick of this stupid voice in my head and now look what it had done. Why couldn’t I just turn it off? Why did it have to-

 I felt arms wrapping around me and pulling me into someone’s chest.

 “Shh, it’s ok Y/N. You’re ok.” I didn’t understand why he was always so selfless. Behind that stupid ego of his, he was just my best friend.

 I don’t know how long we sat on the beach like that. The sun ha set and it was dark outside by the time I lifted my head from his chest and tried to speak but he stopped me.

 “Before you make some bullshit excuse and say you’re fine, you’re not and you are going to tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours because I am tired of seeing the person I love suffer.”

 See look it’s-

 “Please just be quiet,” I whispered into Minho’s chest once again.

 “Y/N please tell me what’s going on. You’re really starting to scare me.” I looked back up at him and the worry in his eyes had my heart crumbling into dust.

 “I just- I don’t know Minho. I just can’t get it to be quiet and it ruins everything.” He looked scared. I hated it, but I didn’t know how to explain it.

 “What won’t be quite Y/N?” I pointed to my head. Realization washed over his face, then understanding and lastly sadness.

 “What does it say” It was barely a whisper. I shook my head. I didn’t want to say it aloud. It made it seem too real. It already at too much power over me, it didn’t need this.

 “Please, can we just go home Minho? I’m fine. I dealt with this since like Grade 8 and I’ll deal with it some more. Just please can we go home.” I hated sounding this needy, but I didn’t want to talk about this now or ever. It was something I dealt with by myself or not at all. Minho did not need to be dragged into this.

 “Y/N I can’t just-”

 “Yes you can Minho and you will. We’re not talking about this. Not in the dark on a beach. Maybe somewhere else and in the far future but please, please can we just go home.” He slumped and gave in. He stood up and bent is legs and gestured with his head as if to say hurry up and get on. I’d didn’t I just looked at him, confused.

 “What? Come on I have to be a good friend in some way tonight. Get on.” And so I did. It was weird but not in a bad way. I felt like a kid. It was…nice?

He somehow carried me all the way home, even up that godforsaken hill. We got inside the house, after fumbling with the keys and giggling for a good five minutes, but he didn’t stop there. He ran through the lounge, me still on his back, and opened the sliding door. He headed towards the pool.

 “Minho what are you doing!” He liked back at me and smirked. He put me down and I made to run but he caught the belt loops on my shorts. “Minho seriously what are you- ah!” He had picked me up in his arms and was carrying me towards the pool. “Lee Minho I swear on my flute’s well being if you dare!” He dangled me over the pool.

 “Are you going to talk yet?” I didn’t say anything. I just glared at him and in return, he loosened his grip on me.

 “Minho stop!” I clung on to him.

 “Talk or swim Y/N, the choice is yours.” He shook me as if he was trying to emphasise his point.

 “Minho, you can’t be serious!” He didn’t look at me only at the pool which was dangerously close to my legs. I realised how he was holding me and a blush crawled up my cheeks.

 Just admit it to him already Y/N.

Not now!

He knows about me now; no point in hiding it Y/N.

Oh, shut up.

 “I am being dead serious Y/N. Talk or swim!” I tried to splutter out anything to try to change my mind but all that came out was an incoherent babble.

 “You chose…wrong!” And with that, he threw me in the pool. The perfectly heated water enveloped me as I felt all my clothes get wet. Thank God for beach holidays where the taking off your costume isn’t an option. I took off my wet top and pants and threw them on the side of the pool.

 I came up to take a breath and saw Minho take off his shirt and bolt towards the pool. He canon-balled into the pool; nearly landing on me in the process.  He disappeared in the inky dark of the water, none of the pool lights were on, I mean we didn’t exactly plan on using the pool other than to wash off the sand.

 “Minho, where did you go?” I couldn’t tell if my laugh was out of nervousness or joy. It was so weird. Maybe half an hour ago I was sobbing into his chest trying to keep this stupid thing out my head and now here we were, just stupid kids again. The same Minho who would contemplate the art teachers seeming immortality is the same Minho who had gathered me in his arms and just been there. The same Minho who convinced me to flirt with the lunch lady was the same Minho-

 “Ahhh!” He had come up underneath me, grabbed my legs and launched me in the air. “What the hell was that for!?” I tried to stare him down but he just laughed.

 “Because I think you needed to smile.” He grinned at me, so I splashed him. He splashed back. And so began a five-minute wrestling match. I won, but I think he would have disagreed.

 “Ok, ok,” He puffed out, he looked out of breath, “Now tell me what was going on with you back at the beach.” He had swum right up close to me.

 “Minho do we have to talk about this right now? Can’t we just be two friends in a pool on a spur of the moment holiday?” His face contorted.

 Ughhhhhh, what have I said this time.

 “Is that all I am to you Y/N, a friend?” I had no idea what he was asking. Was he implying something? Or was he just being Minho?

 “I don’t know what you mean Minho.”

 “I mean what I said. Is that all I am to you and am I really that bad at trying to show you that I might want more?” Ok, so he was impling something. Oh my god, he was implying something.

 “WH-what?” I spluttered out.

 “I like you OK Y/N? And I hate seeing you like this; beating yourself down when you’re the most talented, most amazing, most beautiful human I know!”

 “Minho, I, um, I- I just don’t know what. Oh screw it!” It was now or never. I knew I’d never get a chanc like that again so I just, kissed him. And it felt freaking amazing.

  Let’s just say Mrs Walsh was very surprised at how well I played at the concert.

[thecrayreport]

The Watch

A quick short story for @wlwocvisibility and their amazing event today! Its central theme is pretty much up in the air, but it's basically the story of an aging witch gaining a new client, or are they something more?

**********

You shouldn't sneak up on people, you know.

What, you didn't think that I didn't see you standing there? You're literally in the middle of my doorway. You should be happy. Normally, those who enter my abode without being invited lose more than just their coat.

Oh, come now, don't be like that. I was only playing with you. About the coat, I mean. That tingle down your spine once you crossed my threshold? Just a little something that my great-grandmother taught me when I was about your age. That's her, right above the mantle. See that glint in her eye, that swagger in her lean? Only Davenport women have that, and it's why our name is known from all four corners of the realm. It's funny, though.  I tried telling her that a portrait would be perfect for her, but she insisted that in order for her magick to remain over this old house, she, too, had to stay intact. Try explaining that to just any taxidermist without the aid of several chests of gold. Cursed, of course, but who asked?

Now, you came here for a reason. I'm assuming you're down on your luck and you're looking for a charm of sorts? Family cow only giving out sour milk?

No? Oh yes, you're one of those. "I'm lonely, nobody loves poor, unfortunate, absolutely boring me!" Or, "I already am teeming with immense privilege, but I have no money, spare me precious jewels!" My favorite is when you can't ask for a glass of water without rehearsing in your mind the statement, yet come begging for a kingdom of your own to rule. Listen, bud, I've heard it all, and I'm not interested in any of it. My conjuring days are over, and so are my hours. The sign says "closed" for a reason. Come back another day and bring more than just some dingy scarf next time, okay?

… You're not moving. Why aren't you moving? You know I can hex your feet, right?

What do you mean, you're here for a story? Have you gone mad? Do you have any idea what I do here? I am Mary-beth Davenport, sixth generation witch from my mother's coven. I am a certified necromancer, herbalist, conjurer, medium, and I hold a doctorate in Social Work and Psychology. What? Sometimes I do family services. You have to in this career. You wouldn't believe the things that I witness because people go online to solve their issues instead of going to a professional. Why, just the other day, someone came in complaining about migraines and intense back pain, when lo, they were in the beginning stages of turning into a gargoyle! Thankfully, I was able to give then an oatmeal bath before the scales started setting in. Once those start to appear, they set like… well, stone.

Ugh, you've made me crack puns! Now I've lost my train of thought. No matter. You obviously aren't going away by your own freewill, and you made me burn my tea, so I'll just turn you into a fly to make it even.

Wait, what's that in your hand? Is that…

A watch. You brought me a watch, and not even a nice one, too. Look, it has some rust around the metal, and the glass looks cracked. And is that… algae? Did you swim in a lake before you came here? It would explain your clothes. Only seamaiden would dare to wear green. Still, your trinket feels… off. Let me see that.

Hmm. Yes, just like I suspected. Whomever once owned this had a strong spirit. Carefree, too, by the smell of the sea, even if they are a bit clumsy, hence the cracks. Too bad they're dead; otherwise, I might be interested in meeting them.

Eh, what's that? They're not dead? That can't be, I clearly sense their hold on this realm no longer on this item. See the hands? They stay frozen, transfixed in time, as the reason of its purpose doesn't exist anymore. If you wish for me to wind it up again, you'd have to talk to a normal watchmaker for that. That necromancy I spoke about earlier? I don't say it  because it makes people leave me alone at family reunions. I once rewound a widower's loved one's watch and was surprised when his husband wasn't too thrilled to be woken up from his eternal rest. That required my psychology degree, for certain.

'Tis a shame, though. I remember someone who used to wear a watch like this, very similar make and model. They kept complaining about its ticking. Imagine that, buying a watch and hating that it ticks! Ah, well, they wanted it to be quieter, so I gave them wax for their ears to ignore the sound. You'd think it'd stop there, but no. They came in the very next day and said that the strap made their wrist itch. Simple fix, right? Applied a poultice and sent them on their way. But then they came back again. Something about the color or whatever. Finally, I had had enough. I told them that if they didn't want the watch, I would gladly take it off their hands for free. It was a nice watch, like I said. Momma Davenport would love it around her arm. But, no. They wanted it, but finally confided in me and told me that they wanted a changing potion. Steep price for such a rare and strenuous tonic, but I obliged. Haven't seen them since.

Can I be honest with you, friend? I know that I have strict rules about fraternization of any kind with my clients, and what have you, but… it gets quiet here, in this old, drabby cottage. I don't get many visitors outside of customers. Nobody ever sits down and shares a cup of tea with me. Being a witch is a pretty lonely business. Comes with the carpet. But… nobody prepares you for how lonely it gets. Sometimes, weeks will go by before you hear someone knock on your door. After a while, you start wondering if that's all it's going to be. Yourself, and your store.

Oh, thank you, you're so sweet. No, I don't need any condolences. I chose this path to honor my ancestors, and for the health benefits. It's my choice. Besides, I did get one visitor. Watch Friend? They stayed the longest, always sitting in the same chair you're sitting in and sharing a nice, warm cup of tea. Fruity Apple, I think it was, no sugar. They liked the tartness. Our discussions were always wondrous and strange. I remember it like it was yesterday. "How long is a snake's tongue?" "If a snake grows appendages, will it walk like a lizard or a bird?" "Do snakes hate tummy rubs like a person hates their feet getting tickled?" That last one was such a thinker, and I will admit, I looked forward to their answers with bated breath. Their wild mind, able to string together the most incoherent theories, was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I even gave them a spare key, in case they wanted to come visit whenever they liked after hours. They never did, but I'm still waiting, just in case.

Oh! Look at the time. Sorry for my rambling, but I do believe that you have to leave now. Right now. You might have already picked this up, but my home has special abilities, one of which is its ability to travel wherever it's needed. A nifty trick for my business, you see. It helps bring access to those that aren't normally able to get it.

By the way… might I ask how you got here? Not saying that you can't get here on your own, obviously, but I placed a cloaking spell over my home. Privacy reasons, of course. The recipe's older than Mama, perhaps even older than that, so there's no possible way that you could have simply walked in the way that you did.

What? You knew where I was? No, that's impossible. The only people who know my location at any time is someone with access go the house. That would be myself, Mama, and…

…

It's you, isn't it? My friend? My, my, how you've grown! You've gotten mighty old, just like me. Your eyes are just as bright as I remembered, and you're still complaining about that watch of yours. I'm guessing that's yours? Figures, you always were one for wasting time. Eh, get it? Because it's broken, but instead of throwing it away, you keep it, while it wastes away! Okay, that doesn't sound as funny once you explain it. Now, look what you've done. You've ruined the mood.

There is one thing, friend, that I'd like to ask, if you permit me? Why did you leave? I was a girl when we met, no taller than this fireplace. You could've stayed with me, kept me company. Instead, you ran off, and never came back. I hated you for a while because of it. You left me alone. I was afraid, terribly so, that I would never see you again. Pray tell, what mighty wrong did I commit against you for you to vex me so?

Nothing? No, no, there has to be something. Anything?

… you… you were afraid… for me? Well, what on earth for?

The changing potion?

Ahh. Now, it all makes sense. You were afraid that I would no longer like you the way that you are, so you wished to change yourself so that I would.

You blundering fool.

Listen, friend, and listen close. I have always cared for you. Ever since you first came into my home, I was enamored by your energy. It's impossible to ignore. You are, honestly, the best person that I've ever met. Second to Mama, of course. You didn't have to change anything about yourself for me to like you. I already did, and always will. You are my greatest friend and much more, and that will never change.

Now, come. The fire is warm, the tea is hot, and I finally got cable after two hundred years of waiting on customer service. If we're lucky, we might get a chance to watch something good.

But first, do you have the time?

[this-is-a-love-story-fleabag]

Love is awful (4/5)

Fleabag fluff. 1086 words. Also available on ao3.

All chapters: prelude 1 2 3 4 5

The priest was watching her, having heard the exchange. He looked as though he wanted to say something disapproving, but then he shook his head and started to laugh.

"You're terrifying," he murmured as he passed her.

She shrugged. "I try."

Another week, another Chatty Wednesday. The café was practically full, and she was rushed off her feet as usual, but fortunately nowadays she had a little help.

"Could you pass me the-" she started. The priest handed her the knife before she'd finished her sentence, then kissed her on the cheek and carried on grating cheese with a contented smile.

To nobody's surprise, he loved Chatty Wednesdays and would spend hours every week scrubbing down tables and making new friends in the café, wearing his hoodie backwards so that Hillary and Stephanie could hitch a ride in the hood as he made his rounds.

It was adorable.

"That's probably enough cheddar now," she said after a while, "I still have some of the pre-grated stuff."

"Sure," he said, scraping the cheese into a bowl and stripping off his gloves. "I'll just make another couple of coffees and take the sandwich orders while you're doing the veg, shall I?"

"Thanks, sugarkitten."

He wrinkled his nose. "Safeword, ugh." They were still working on finding terms of endearment for each other that weren't completely disgusting.

The customers loved him, and she was pretty sure that Joe got a bit of a thrill from having an actual man of God to talk to about the intricacies of insuring churches that were built before 1840. Personally, she most enjoyed the sight of him making his way around the café with an apron over his jumper - not the cosy jumper with the thumb holes that she'd unofficially stolen from him several weeks ago, but the form-fitting one that looked really good around the arms.

He bent down to give the animals some carrot sticks and Hillary squeaked impatiently.

"In a minute," he said in a soft voice, as though the guinea pig could understand him.

With a smile, she watched him as he walked around with his little notebook, taking sandwich orders and taking a genuine interest in the people he was talking to.

She tied a fresh apron around her waist, wincing a little as the strings rubbed against the fucking carpet burn that she'd inexplicably gotten in the small of her back (even after thinking about it for a long time she couldn't work out what the hell position could have caused such a thing).

A group of very hungover-looking young women at a corner table gave her looks of overwhelming gratitude when she brought them their coffees.

"Hey," whispered one, who was clearly still a little the worse for wear. "Your hair is so pretty. What do you put in it to get it to curl like that?"

"Um, water."

The girl nodded, as though she had been handed a great secret, and slumped over the table, pillowing her head on her arms.

In the opposite corner, a small child was climbing up an unshaven man who was radiating exhaustion.

"Hey!" shouted the kid when he noticed her. "Why have you got such a big nose?" he asked, clearly expecting an answer.

Leaning close, she adopted her best wolf-in-grandmother's-clothing expression and said, low and threatening, "all the better to smell you with, my dear."

Eyes wide, the boy retreated behind his father and sat quiet, subdued. The man shot her a thankful look.

The priest was watching her, having heard the exchange. He looked as though he wanted to say something disapproving, but then he shook his head and started to laugh.

"You're terrifying," he murmured as he passed her.

She shrugged. "I try."

A jingle of the bell over the door announced Joe's entrance into the café. Spying the priest, he pulled him into a warm handshake and they sequestered themselves into a corner to start their usual weekly chat. She grabbed two cups from the dishwasher and set some tea to brew - Earl Grey for Joe, and Lyon's for the priest, strong enough to stand a spoon up in.

By the time she returned to their table they were both laughing companionably.

"You're a real fountain of wisdom, wow," the priest was saying, with sincere fondness.

Joe slapped his thigh. "I've survived many trips around the sun, my boy!"

"Don't tell a Catholic that the earth goes around the sun, Joe," she interjected, setting down the tray. "It'll get you set on fire."

"People are never going to let that go, are they?" said the priest, disgruntled. She patted him on the head absently and headed back across the room to attend to the panini maker.

By closing time, the evening was drawing in and stalwart Joe was the only patron remaining, helping stack plates and cups onto the counter.

"Thanks Joe," she said. "See you next week?"

"Always, my dear, always!" he responded, picking up his hat from the coat rack on his way out of the door and bowing his farewells with a chivalrous flourish.

The priest was talking in a low voice to Stephanie and Hillary, who always protested at being removed from the soft cradle of his jumper and tucked back into their hutch. "Look," he said in his most coaxing tone, "there's your cucumber and your bed. I'll be back to see you soon, stop making a fuss."

"Maybe you should sing them a lullaby," she suggested, half-serious.

"It might help - I'll do Raglan Road if you do a duet with me."

"I don't sing," she laughed, shaking her head.

He straightened, closing the clasp on the hutch and drawing her into his embrace. "Even when you're on your own? In the shower?"

"When was the last time I actually had a shower on my own?"

He paused, defensive. "Look, someone has to wash your tits."

"So this is a public service?" she said in an amused tone.

"Yeah." His hand ghosted over her chest as if to illustrate his point.

"Thank you for your great sacrifice, Father."

"You're welcome. Speaking of which, do you fancy a bath? I'll even take the tap end."

She relaxed, realising how tired she was. "That sounds nice."

"No problem at all... honey bun?" he ventured.

"Jesus, no. Honey bun? That's disgusting."

He grinned and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll run us a bath."

"OK but please don't use one of those fancy bath bombs this time. I never want to have to wash glitter out of my vulva ever again," she shouted up the stairs at his retreating back.

"I make no promises," he said, and because he's an idiot and because she loves him, she follows him upstairs to supervise.

Next chapter ->

[purplesurveys]

358

In the last year, have you...

Moved: No, I’ve lived in the same house for about a decade. Started a new job:  Nope, and I don’t exactly plan to do so until after I graduate. Traveled to another country: Nah, not this year. Traveled to another continent: Most definitely not lmao, if ^ that’s already a no. Eaten sushi: So many times, my dude. Gab and I had sushi for our anniversary.

Been drunk: Yep. As recently as last Saturday. Been high: Never plan to. Been to the dentist: At the start of the year I think. We always get our teeth checked once a year. Bought a new car: Nah, still using my usual one and I never want to trade it for something else, at least while I’m still in college. Had a broken heart: Uh, sure. It sounds cheesy but yeah I’ve felt hurt here and there. Spent over $1,000 in one day: I’ve never even held that much money. Maybe my parents did this, but I haven’t. Kissed a stranger: As a demisexual, the prospect is terrifying. Haven’t done this. Finished a jigsaw puzzle: I don’t think I got to play with puzzles this year. Cooked or baked something from scratch: Yes!!! I’m glad to say I baked something this year! Angela, Hans, Rap, and I spontaneously decided to bake chocolate chip cookies when classes got suspended halfway through the day because of an incoming typhoon. Started a new relationship: No, still in the same relationship as I’ve been in in the last two years. Broken up with someone: Nope. Been broken up with: Nope. Been in the same relationship you were in last year: There we go. Explored a large city: I guess, in the few moments that I had the time. Been to a wedding: No but my mom was invited to a couple this year. I miss going to weddings :( Been to a funeral: Thankfully not. Been to a baby shower: I don’t think so, not this year. Held a baby: Earlier in the year. Angela’s mom (who works as a pediatrician) threw a party and some of her patients and their kids were invited, and one of the kids was a really chubby baby girl that I couldn’t help but hold. Seen a therapist: No, I’ve been putting it off for the longest time. Bought new furniture: My mom’s in charge of that, not me, so no. Made new friends: Sure, you always meet some new people in college. This year it was most notably new recruits in my org, like Tina and Kezhia. Called in sick to work/school: Haven’t we all... Deleted a social media account: I didn’t delete, just deactivate. I’m doing a massive social media detox this Christmas break because everyone’s happy and family-centric posts make me sicker this time of the year. Started a new hobby: Coloring came to me as an impulse hobby last month as Christmas had been approaching, and while I feel sad about flushing so much money in one go over coloring books and supplies, I’m still happy I made an active effort to look out for myself this year. This hobby’s a blassssssst so far. Met a famous person: I don’t think so, if I remember correctly haha. I was like 10 feet away from Paramore but I was too scared to volunteer myself for Misery Business. Went to a concert: I DID!!! I saw Paramore for the second time!!!!!! August 23rd. BEST night of my life, even if I went alone. I don’t know if I ever reported that here but the experience was amaaaaaazing. Best band ever. Traveled via train: The railway system in the Philippines is shit. No way am I voluntarily riding a train. Traveled via airplane: Yes, I went to Bataan over the Holy Week. Been on a road trip: Yes, my dad loves doing road trips so whenever he’s home, we do 1-3 of them. I also did a road trip with just Gab and I when we went to Nasugbu for my birthday. Donated to charity: Not really for charity since they’re sometimes sketchy, but I regularly give money and food to homeless people who knock on my window when I’m stuck in traffic. Been to a country club: Yeah, a few months ago. Went swimming: Many times. The weather this year was not exactly the most convenient, so we went to a LOT of beaches to cool down. Went surfing: Nah, I’m too afraid to try. My sister and parents have had a few lessons but my balance is mostly off haha. Went hiking: NOOOOOOOO UGH I miss hiking! I wish I’d get to do it next year. Had a gym membership: I don’t think I need one, so no I’ve never tried to apply for a membership. Had an argument with a friend: I mean, just with Gabie. I never had an argument with any of my other friends. Had a family reunion: Yeah...dad’s side. It was huge, we rented out a small hotel for it cos literally everyone from my paternal grandmother’s side was there. I was mostly stoked about the food and the couple of dogs that my relatives brought. Went for a walk in a park: This country doesn’t prioritize and maintain their parks, a damn shame. We go for walks at the mall - that’s more of the culture here. Been in the hospital: If I remember correctly, no. Attended a professional sporting event: No. The UAAP (our version of the NCAA) season this year was CRRRRAZY good though, but I never got to get tickets because acads consumed me throughout the semester. Earned a new degree or diploma: I’m in the process of getting one, but no I didn’t earn it this year. Been to a museum: I went back to Pinto this year with Aya, Laurice, Jo, Jum, and Luisa then had a drink atop Antipolo after. Been to an art gallery: Numerous ones with Gab. They pop up every now and then at the mall and we always go through them. Went camping: I was way too busy this year. Went fishing: I don’t like doing that :c Struggled with an eating disorder: No, I’ve never been diagnosed with such a disorder. Been in credit card debt: I don’t even have a credit card. Had new neighbors move in next door: Nope, the houses on either side of ours have long been uninhabited. Gotten drunk at a work party: At an org party, sure. Dyed your hair: Nope. But Gabie did, she had the ends of her hair dyed like a weird blondeish a few months ago. My sister also got brown dye delivered to the house a couple of days ago, so I should be expecting her look to change soon too. Gotten a manicure: Not a big fan of getting my nails painted. Been to a casino: I wouldn’t be allowed to get inside even if I wanted to haha. The one time I smoothly went inside was in 2016 when I was on my cruise trip. The only things I remember is that it the place was filled with flashing lights and everything was super colorful. Voted in an election: No elections happened this year. But we will have our midterm elections in 2019 and I intend to vote then. Shopped at a bookstore: SO MANY TIMESSSSS. Call 2018 the year I got obsessed with school supplies, cos I definitely went overboard with buying pad paper, highlighters, post-its, and, pens. Dined at a fancy restaurant: Many times with Gab. Sat in a sauna: I hate saunas and can’t comprehend how my mom enjoys it so damn much. It’s hot enough in Manila, why salivate at the thought of saunas??? R u ok??? Had a panic attack: Hahaha, I remember so many occasions. Attended a religious service: My family is Catholic, I get dragged to church every week. Been pulled over for speeding: I don’t think speeding is a thing here. People drive like death and I’ve never actually heard of someone getting pulled over for this reason. Stayed awake all night: It happens. Borrowed money from a friend or family member: Gabie lent me a thousand bucks (relax, that’s like $20). I was so short of money last week but I still had a bunch of Santa babies to give gifts to, so I went into a panic until she stepped in and lent me money. Lent money to a friend or family member: I give Gab money sometimes since she commutes from her dorm to my school, but I don’t ask for it back unless I really need the money. Been to an amusement park: LOL pass. I hate amusement parks. Gotten a new pet: No, I still have the same dumb dog. Had strep throat: My throat hurt like a bitch a few months ago. Had food poisoning: I don’t think so. Had the stomach flu: Sure. Binge-watched a show on Netflix: Friends and Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Shoveled snow: We don’t get snowwwww. Mowed a lawn: We don’t have a lawn. Bought a new computer: Nope, still have my same trusty laptop. Bought a new phone: My dad got me an iPhone 8 early in the year.

Worked out using a fitness tracker: I don’t work out. Eaten an entire pizza by yourself: Hehe. Felt an earthquake: I don’t think there were any recognizable ones this year. Taken out a loan: I’m a clueless 20 year old and I don’t know what this means, but I’m guessing no. Been prescribed antibiotics: Nope. Sold something on eBay: I don’t use eBay. Painted a room in your house: My control freak of a mom would never let us get away with that.

[lalka-laski]

A - Appearance.

What are you wearing? A sweatshirt with my company's logo & a pair of jeggings

What are on your feet right now? Slip-on sneak type of things? I abandoned my usual flip-flops today because my feet are a tragedy

What color are your fingernails? Like my toenails, my fingernails are also a tragedy! I haven't had room in my budget for a mani pedi in awhile :/

What does your hair look like right now? It's clipped up, but it's clean and therefore, the best my hair has looked this week

B - Best Friend

Who is your best friend? I have several but for the sake of this survey I'll say Sean

What was the last thing you two did together? Sadly it was a post-funeral service for his grandmother. But it was a fun, lighthearted celebration of her life. I adore his family and it's always great to spend time with them, even if the circumstances are dismal.

What is (s)he doing right now? Man, this guy is ALL over the map. I can't keep tabs on him! He could be in Bora Bora right now and I wouldn't question it.

Are you talking to her/him online right now? Nope, but we keep in pretty regular contact.

C - Crush.

Who is (s)he? He's a little more than a crush! He's my fiance

What does (s)he look like? The cutest pumpkin pie in the WORLD (he finds that nickname emasculating?? Can't imagine why...) What was the last thing you two talked about? We're texting right now about what Starbucks drinks we're gonna get later!

Does (s)he make you smile? More than anyone or anything on the planet

D - Dad

What’s your dad’s name? Richard

What does he do for a living? He's an electrician. Although these days he's more of an executive (I don't know his actual title). So he oversees lots of electricians and various projects, but doesn't do as much as the hands-on work. I'm so proud of him for working his way up the ladder but it's still so funny to me to picture my blue-collar, borderline redneck dad, working in an OFFICE.

What was the last thing you two did together? We got ice cream (Glenn & my mom were also present)

Do you get along better with him than your mother? My mom and I have more in common and therefor do more friendly/social stuff together. But I get along with each of them equally well. Especially as an adult.

E - Ebay.

Have you ever bought anything from ebay? Yep I have a few pairs of reading glasses on the way actually

Do you just shop around when you’re online? Kinda but I'm trying to kick the habit

Do you know anybody who is addicted to it? You could argue I am...

Have you ever sold anything on it? Nope

F - Facebook.

When was the last time you logged on? I'm on currently

How many friends do you have? Over 1,000

Do you hate when your facebook chat messes up? It doesn't happen much tbh

Who was the last person to leave you a wall post? I just had a birthday so it could've been anybody

G - Google.

Do you Google everything? I might rely TOO much on Google!

What was the last thing you Googled? Stretches for my calves

Would you ever trade Google in for Bing? Nah

What do you Google the most? "Is it safe to eat expired ______?"

H - Hair.

Do you like your hair? It's kind of my enemy. I spent years destroying it with box dye but even regardless of that, it's limp and stringy in texture. I long for thick, luscious locks!

What color is your hair? Blonde

What does it look like right now? Clipped up in a claw clip

What kind of shampoo for you use? Biolage

I - Ibuprofen

When was the last time you took ibuprofen? Few days ago for a headache prob Do you rely on it for everything (cramps, headache)? I don't take it much, no

Are you so thankful people made it? I mean yeah?

Do you have any right now? We have a few bottles upstairs at the nurse's station

J - Jobs.

Do you need a job? I have one. I need a better PAYING job though...

Where do you work? A fertility clinic

Where would you work? If I could choose anywhere? I'd be a regular columnist for a website, magazine, blog etc.

How much money would you like to get paid? Sadly, I'd be ok with even $15/hour at this point. Ideally $20.... but that will never happen at this job.

K - Kissing.

Who was the last person you kissed? Glenn

Will you next kiss be a mistake? This is a weirdly common question in surveys. But no, it certainly won't.

Do you kiss someone everyday? Mhm

Who was your first kiss? Steven was his name

L - Love.

Who do you love the most in your life? My family, Glenn, my friends, my babies

Have you ever been in love before? I am right now

Does it make you so happy when you feel the feeling of love? Oh it's like SPARKLING, magical feeling throughout my whole body. Electric, even.

Why is this word so hard to describe? Probably because it's such a spiritual, almost otherworldly feeling. While there are a lot of physical sensations that accompany it, love itself is magical. And how do you define that in human language??

M - Mom.

What is your mom’s name? Julie

What is she doing right now? Ugh. The lucky duck is currently in Canada with my godmother having the time of her life. I'm so jealous but happy for her!

Where does she work? She's a retired schoolteacher

Do you two shop together a lot? Oh very often!

N - Netflix.

Do you have Netflix? Mhm but I don't watch it much

If not, what movies would you order?

Do you rent a lot of movies? Nah

Do you have the tool where it just downloads to your tv? Uh what? I have a Smart TV so I don't need any additional tools really?

O - Ohio.

Is this the state in which you live in? No lol

Is Ohio State your favorite football team? I don’t have a favorite Did you know Ohio Is For Lovers? Mhm

Have you ever been to Ohio? Nope

Q - Quitting.

What was the last thing you quit doing? It's hard to say 'cause I quit so many things. I can't decide if this is a bad habit or not? On one hand, I should exhibit some more perseverance. On the other hand, I think it's good that I recognize when something is no longer serving me.

Do you need to quit talking to someone right now? Nah. Everyone in my life is meant to be here.

Would you ever quit school? Well I'm done with school so no.

Don’t you think quitting is stupid? Nope. Again, I think it's good to acknowledge that something isn't doing you any favors. I don't think there's necessarily dignity in keeping yourself in a situation that doesn't serve you. Wish more people had that mentality. Just 'cause you start something doesn't mean you have to finish it.

R - Reading.

What was the last book you read? I'm in the middle of a riveting book called The Opposite of Everyone. My MIL has been lending me some really great mysteries lately. She's turning me on to the genre!

Do you own a lot of books? Our living room is overflowing with them and we actually are planning to buy a third bookshelf soon

Do you have a library card? Actually no but I want to get one for the library in the town I now live in

Have you ever read a book that changed your life? They all do, really.

S - Safety.

Do you always wear your seat belt? Ha. I often don't when I'm in the backseat because I don't find it necessary and my mom always barks back "THAT'S WHAT PRINCESS DIANA THOUGHT TOO"

When riding a four-wheeler do you wear a helmet? I've only ridden one a couple times and I can't remember if I wore a helmet

Did you ever wear knee pads and a helmet when riding your bike? Mhm Do you always think safety first? Eh, no. I'm kinda reckless if I'm honest.

T - Talk

Who was the last person you talked to? I'm messaging with Glenn right now Who are you talking to right now? ^^

Who did you last talk to before you went to bed last night? Also Glenn

Do you need to talk to anybody right now? I'm good

U - US ARMY

Do you support it? What a question... not really one I feel like getting tangled in right now. Thanks!

Do you know anybody who is in the army right now? Actually yes

Don’t you ever wonder why their camo doesn’t match anything? No?

Would you ever go to the army? HA HA HA HA HA

V - Virgin.

Are you a virgin? No, but virginity is a construct anyways.

When did you lose your virginity? I was 17 when I first had vaginal intercourse if that's what you're asking

Do you wish you would’ve waited? Nah, it all happened at the right time and led me to the right places. (Took awhile, but it did)

Do you think you could have stayed a virgin until marriage? No, that's not for me.

W - What.

What are you doing right now besides this survey? Messaging Glenn, texting a groupchat, and drinking coffee

What are you craving? Kind of everything since I'm fasting right now. So ALL food sounds appealing

What do you need to buy? NOTHING at the moment. I'm on a spending freeze for a little while.

Why are you taking my survey? Because I'm bored at work

X -Xanax

Do you know anybody who is addicted to Xanax? Maybe...

Have you ever taken it before? Nope

Do you even know what it is? Yes

Have you ever suffered from anxiety or depression? I do & I currently take Lexapro (I have lukewarm feelings about its effectiveness for me)

Y - Yourself.

Name. Elizabeth

Age. 29 (gag)

Do you smile a lot? Very often, even when I don't want to

Z - Zebra.

Are you addicted to zebra striped? No

Do you own anything zebra striped? Also no Is anything on any of your websites zebra striped? Lol no

[freedom-shamrock]

All I Want for Solstice is You

Happy solstice to all and to all some tasty wassail. also on AO3

Adrien smiled, warmed by the energy of the holiday market wrapping around him.  He caught a whiff of cinnamon as he passed one stall, and he closed his eyes, thinking of cider and Mari's apple tarts.  The squeals of children caught his ears, still sensitive though he no longer donned a magical suit to protect the city on a regular basis.

He adjusted his course to head for the ice rink.  He leaned on the boards and looked around.  He saw Marinette on the other side of the rink, hunched over, her fluffy pink mittens fully enveloping the tiny hands of the stocky little boy she was helping glide across the scuffed sheet of ice.  Ivan's son looked so much like their long-time friend, though he was clearly quicker to smile.  A toothy grin was plastered over his face as his little legs frantically shuffled in an ineffective effort to go faster.

"Adrien," a deep voice said, just as a hand came down on his shoulder.  "We didn't think you were going to make it."

Though he'd topped out at six two, Adrien had to look up to meet Ivan's gray eyes.  "Sorry I'm late," he apologized.  "The board was being pig-headed and stupid."  He'd actually had to haul out a slideshow to push the point.

Ivan rolled his eyes.  "Ugh.  Stuffy businessmen.  Don't know how you stand working with them."

Adrien shrugged.  "Fortunately it's only a quarterly pain in the ass, and then I can go back to ignoring the company again."  When his father had been sentenced to prison for his side gig as a magical terrorist, Adrien found himself saddled with company he had no interest in.  Much of his father's financial wealth went into a fund for restitution to those who had suffered at the hands Hawk Moth's akuma.  Going from supermodel to son of a super villain had been quite the trip, and Adrien was keen to distance himself from his emotionally cold father.  At Alya and Nino's suggestion, he'd embraced his role as Gabriel's primary stockholder, forcing the company to change its name to Agreste and donate heavily to emergency and mental health services in Paris.

"I'm surprised you're not on the ice," Adrien said.

Ivan let out a little huff.  "Mylène doesn't let me do open skates anymore."

Adrien raised one eyebrow, sensing a story.

Ivan shrugged.  "I sometimes forget I'm not playing hockey, and I terrify people." 

"Ivan, do you go knocking down grandmothers and children?" Adrien demanded, grinning.

"Hardly," Ivan said.  "I have much better control of myself on ice than that.  I just look like I'm going to mow them over when I cruise by at my usual speed."

"Hello beautiful," Marinette called as she approached their side of the rink.  Her cheeks were pink with cold and her whole being radiated with happiness.

"You stole my line," Adrien protested, pouting a little.  "You always steal my line."

Marinette shrugged, entirely unrepentant.  "Can't fault me for speaking the truth."  She looked at Ivan.  "Michel's getting pretty tired.  We were thinking it might be time for cocoa."

The little boy giggled, stomping his skates on the ice.

Adrien grinned down at him.  "Do you like cocoa, too Michel?"  He reached out and lightly ruffled the hat, clearly a Marinette creation, on his head.

Michel nodded.  "She said we can have marshmallooooos."

Marinette glanced at Ivan.  "Mylène went to take off her skates so she'd be ready to help us.  You guys stay right there, and we'll grab you before we head over to the vendor."

Adrien leaned over the barrier to press his warm lips to her cool cheek.  "Sounds purrfect, mi'love."  He and Ivan watched for a moment as Marinette pushed off the ice, taking the little boy toward the exit.

"Michel is going through a really shy phase," Ivan noted idly.  "But I swear you and Mari have kid magic.  He's happy being alone with her, and he talked to you."  He shook his head.  "That's impressive, dude."

Unsure what to say, Adrien just shrugged.  Marinette was the lucky one.  And while he'd spent time with kids as Chat Noir doing holiday and fundraiser things, he had no real experience caring for them.

"When are you guys thinking of having your own?" Ivan asked.

"Our own?" Adrien asked, confused.  As realization hit him, he felt like snow had been dumped down the back of his coat, and a heavy dread settled into his stomach.  Him and Mari have kids?  Was that the expectation?  Did she want that?  They'd never discussed it, and he had a sudden fear that this was something important to her.  He had no idea how to be a father; his own had been an abusive asshole.

A huge hand gently patted his shoulder.  "Adrien?   Are you okay?"

Adrien shook his head.  "Uh.  Sorry.  Uh."

Ivan's eyebrows bunched as he looked at his friend in concern.  "You need to sit down or anything?" he asked.  "You looked like you were having a panic attack or something."

"It was something, all right," Adrien agreed.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the light rumble of Plagg purring in his shirt pocket, right over his heart.  "I'll be okay.  I just… maybe need a minute."

Ivan wrapped an arm around Adrien's shoulders.  "Come on.  We'll go find you a seat, and I'll text the ladies so they don't freak out."

Adrien pulled the strap of his small gym bag over his shoulder.  "I'm going to hit the dojo a little early tonight," he said, offering the love of his life a small smile when she looked up from her sketchbook.  She was so talented.

She held his eyes for a moment before setting aside her pencil and getting up.  "Are you okay?" she asked, her face pinched with concern.

He quickly nodded, then looked away as he realized he should have played stupid or acted surprised.  His fast response was a tell she'd figured out before they'd shared identities.

One of her hands came up to rest on his cheek.  "Hey," she said softly.  "Look at me, Kitty."

With a sigh, he met her eyes again.  Why did his eyes feel so dry all of a sudden?

"It's okay if you're not all right, you know," she said.  "And I'm here if you want to talk about it."

He nodded.  "My head's kind of a mess right now."

Her thumb caressed his cheek.  "I know this time of year is hard for you, but I thought it was going a little better this year."

"It has," he agreed.  His memories of fun and joy at Christmas were so old and faded, like a photo left on display too long.  The more recent string of holidays spent alone in his father's mansion had apparently conditioned him to avoid and resent the trimmings so pervasive in December.  "I guess the… uh, awfulness kind of snuck up on me."  It definitely didn't help that his revelation about their future and his current aversion to having children coincided with his usually gloomy season.

"Can I do anything for you?"  She tilted her head in the way he found so adorable.

"Not yet."  He needed to figure out how he felt before he could bring it up.

"Are you ready to tell me what's wrong?" Tom asked, settling himself across from Adrien, coffee and mini custard and fruit pavlova between them.

Adrien glanced up at the big man who'd been a steady source of support since Adrien first showed up at their house in the middle of the night.  It had been months before discovering Hawkmoth's identity but only a few weeks after Ladybug let the cat out of the bag.  He returned his gaze to his mug, wrapping his chilly fingers around it.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Tom asked.

Adrien nodded.  This was going to suck.  Tom probably wanted grandkids.  Why would he want his daughter saddled with a broken man terrified of having children?  He heard the soft clink of Tom's mug on the table, then a groan of his chair as the big man got up.  Adrien rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands.

"I'm worried about you, son," Tom said gently, sitting down next to Adrien.

Adrien sucked in a sharp gasp.  His own father didn't address him with such love or kindness.

"I don't think this is just your usual holiday glooms, is it?"

Adrien shook his head, his throat too tight to speak.

"Whatever it is, it's eating you up, Adrien."  Tom's voice continued to be soft and concerned.  "It's not healthy.  We're all worried."  His hand settled lightly on Adrien's head, but instead of touseling it with a tease, as he normally would, he offered a hesitant caress.  "And whatever it is, we'll work through it, okay?"

Adrien nodded.

"Can you try to talk to me about it, then?" Tom suggested.  "You've told me I'm a good listener."

Closing his eyes, Adrien focused on relaxing his throat.  "I don't want Mari to hate me," he blurted.  "Or you and Sabine."

There was a moment of surprised silence before Tom responded.  "Have you done something that makes you think we'll feel this way?"

Adrien shook his head.  "No, but…"

"But?" Tom encouraged.

"I don't want kids," Adrien finally forced out.  "I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for that."  He shook his head.  "I know I'm not my father, but… I don't know anything about raising kids.  I'm terrified that I'd fuck it all up.  That I'd hurt them."  Instead of being chastised and ordered out of the house as he expected, he found himself wrapped in a warm hug.

"Oh, Adrien."  Tom sighed.  "None of us could hate you for feeling this way."

"B-but I want to be with Mari," he mumbled, pressing his face into Tom's blue sweater.  "I've been thinking about p-proposing."

"And that would be lovely," Tom assured him, rubbing his back.

"But she probably wants kids," Adrien countered.  "She's so good with them.  And I can't promise her that."

Tom held him, his patience seemingly endless.  Once Adrien's breathing was regular again, he asked, "Have you talked to her about this?"

Adrien straightened up and shook his head.  "I'm a coward.  I'm afraid that conversation will be the beginning of the end for us."

Tom let out a little laugh.  "Chat Noir is no coward."

"What?"  Adrien looked up startled and vaguely fearful.

"We've known for years, son."  Shaking his head, Tom smiled.  "Between the dumpster fire you call "father" and the conditions you put up with Chat Noir, it's clear you're not a coward.  You're too hard on yourself."  He patted Adrien's shoulder.  "Talk to my daughter about this.  She's a very understanding little bug."  He winked before turning serious again.  "How long has it been since you left therapy?"

Adrien shrugged.  "Couple years."  After the nightmares stopped and he was able to let go of the guilt by association that he felt, he'd figured he was done.

Tom rubbed his chin contemplatively.  "Maybe it's time to revisit that."

"You think they'll be able to help me want to have kids?" Adrien asked, surprised, but willing to give it a try.

Tom shook his head.  "No.  That's only something that will change with time, if at all.  I think this all just highlights that maybe you still have some healing to do."

"Oh."  Adrien took a deep breath.  "You're probably right."

Tom gestured to the mini pavlova, heaped with custard and Adrien's favorite fruit.  "Now eat up.  We have an hour before we head back to your place."

"You're coming too?" Adrien asked.  These coffee visits with Marinette's father started shortly after he moved in with her family, and they'd kept them up through university and three apartments.  Normally Adrien headed back home alone.

"Sabine's over there, scheming with my daughter, if I'm any judge," Tom said happily.  "We're going to go out to dinner, so I may as well head back with you."

Later, as he and Tom approached the door, he was assailed by the scent of cloves and apples.  "Mmmmm.  I wonder if Mari's experimenting."

"Probably," Tom agreed.

Adrien opened the door to find the apartment lit with candles, evergreen swatches festooning the walls, and a clove and ribbon bedecked lemon hanging off center in the doorway.

"Happy solstice, Adrien!" Sabine said, rushing forward to give him a hug.

"Oh, hey dude, Tom," Nino called.  "Blessed be."  His greeting was accompanied by finger guns.

"Ah… what?"

"It's a solstice gathering," Tom said, clipping him on the shoulder.

Marinette appeared then and took his hand drawing him through the apartment and to their bedroom.  In passing the balcony, he noticed that someone had put out a copper fire bowl and it currently held a log adorned with cranberries.  Their bedroom was lit with candles, and it was quiet once the door was shut.

"Hi," Marinette said, sounding uncertain.  "Is this okay?"

He stared at her for a moment.  "I'm just a little confused."

She smiled sheepishly.  "You've been so down, Kitty.  We've all seen it.  And we know we can't fix the past, but we all want to help."  She shrugged.  "I thought maybe if we made our own traditions, something completely new and different, it would be a good start."  She reached up to run her fingers through his hair over his ear.  

"I love you," he said, giving her a small smile.  "You're amazing."

"So are you."

"Can I tell you what's been freaking me out?" he asked.  Maybe this wasn't the right time, but her father was right.  She deserved to know.

She nodded.  "I'd like that."

He took a deep breath, comforted by the weight of Plagg suddenly settling in between his collar and his neck.  "You're amazing with kids Mari.  And… people have started to ask me when we're going to have our own."  He watched her vibrant eyes go wide.  "And… I'm not sure I'm ever going to be ready for kids.  The very idea terrifies me."  He swallowed.  "And…"  A finger lightly covered his lips.

"Can I interrupt for a teeny moment?" she asked.  "If you have more to say, I want to hear it, but… I think I have something relevant to add here."

He nodded.

"I have thought about having a family with you," she admitted.  "You're the only person I would consider that with.  But it's… not a deal breaker.  I'm fine with us not having kids.  I'm fine with revisiting the topic someday if you want to.  But really, all I want is you."

He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her neck.  "Thank you."

"Love you," she replied.

When they stepped back from each other, he could feel the difference in his smile.  "Okay, so what's this solstice thing we have going on?"

She giggled.  "It's just our family, the family we've chosen, having a nice candle-lit evening together.  Mama and I made wassail and treats."

"And this is our new tradition?" he asked.  It was a nice idea.

"I hope so."

"I like it."

She beamed at him.  "I have one more thing I want to do before we go back out there."  She walked over to her dresser and rummaged around for a moment.  He heard a dull snap and then she came back to him with something closed in her hand.  "I was going to do this in January, but…"  She tilted her head from side to side.  "I think now is better."

"I don't know what you're doing, but you're adorable."  He kissed her on the nose.

"Do you really believe I love you?"

"Yes," he said with a chuckle.  "Though sometimes I wonder why."

She beeped his nose lightly with her index finger.  "Do you believe that you're really important to me, and that I can be happy with just you?"

He nodded.  That was still too new and too tender for him to joke about.

"Can I prove it?" she asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.  Without looking away she raised his right hand to kiss the ring he wore.  She let go and took his left hand.  "Adrien, will you marry me?"  She gently placed a metal band on his palm.  "Will you be my best friend and dearest love forever?"

He stared at her for a moment, completely stunned.  Then he looked at the ring in his hand, silver with two small stones, blue and green, embedded side by side.  "Wha… Really?"

"Really," she insisted, plucking the ring and holding it up.

Grinning so big his face hurt, he held out his hand, fingers splayed.  "Yes.  Very yes.  All the yes."

She giggled while she pushed the ring on.  "Now come on."  She grabbed his hand.  "I want to show everyone what I got for solstice."

[nookishposts]

Old Noises

 Reality smacks me upside the head sometimes. Usually when I have deliberately avoided  paying attention. Walking our ageing lab along our quiet country road yesterday, I discovered a new twinge. It’s been a very long Winter and there are always a few creaks and groans of bodily re-invigoration to work out as Spring arrives; I keep active in my way, but  admittedly this past few months I have given in to the luxury of laziness. I gained some pandemic pounds (that’s my excuse) expanding both my waistline and my Netflix repetoire, marvelled at gorgeous wedding-cake snowfalls and grumbled about shovelling through them, cooked up and subsequently ate my way through all kinds of fun bread recipes, and was pretty content to be mostly employed from home. However, yesterday the twang of an unhappy piriformis shot down my right leg as I was climbing the stairs. In other words, I got zapped with a giant pain in the ass. My own. Ugh.... Some stretching will sort it out; my chiropractor said the hip joint is fine, just highly irritated. Well, that makes two of us!

I will turn 60 later this year. I wasn’t the slightest bit ruffled by turning 30, 40, or 50, but this one...something is different. I no longer bounce the way I used to, physically or any other way. I make old noises when I get out of bed in the morning to the point where I sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies with a few Pop Rocks thrown in. 60 isn’t old, but a few of my joints may beg to differ after many years of physical demands from an overly-bountiful voluptuous body. Impatience has meant that sometimes, I don’t work smart, just hard. And I have no illusions about being a life-long klutz, various trips and scrapes have left me with some scars that have stories I can dine out on till I’m 90 if I make it that far. So, I could star in my own scratch-n-dent sale, complete with padded landing gear. I digress.

Along with a little physical caution and extra maintenance, the other phenomenon I notice is an emotional one. My stiff upper lip sags as much as my backside these days. My eyes leak over the silliest most sentimental things. The bold fortitude of a woman who worked some pretty stressful social service situations is long gone, as is her energy for answering emergency calls at 3am. Was that brash kid really ever me? I recall watching my grandmother becoming more vulnerable as she aged, and am watching the same thing happen to my 82 year old Mum. Some stuff they became content to let themselves just enjoy, but other things niggled at them and they didn’t like too many surprises. I find that I think about things I never used to; like, what if my truck dies on a country road somewhere and I can’t get a cell signal? I can’t turn that into a cross-country Huckleberry adventure as I once would have. The truck is just fine, I’m projecting. Staying overnight now requires I pack meds and a CPAP. No more the spontaneous crash on any old couch.  Did I remember my reading glasses? Where are the Tums? The Sensodyne? The non-slip soles? Beer has just become bloat.  Certain food groups are to be avoided before public gatherings now, lest a surprise trumpet  sounds at an inopportune lull in the conversation. Or when I’m tying my shoe. Or lifting a 40 lb bag of dog food. Or laughing too hard. Sheesh.

I think about friends I saw for the last time, not knowing it would be the last time. I think about Stuff I wish I’d said when I had the opportunity. I think about the fact  that 12 years ago we were talking about building straw bale sustainably off grid (took all the courses and helped others to build)  but 18 mos ago settling for a very plain 12 year old bungalow we could retro-fit was a smarter choice, especially landing among like-minded neighbours our age who are happy to share their labour-saving toys with the distressed (not really) damsels from the city. I think about what an amazing 60 years of adventure and travel and  experience it has been...and how incredibly lucky I am to aim for another 25 if I take better care of my chassis. When I can’t climb 4 steps without a pain in the ass, shit is getting real. When a trip to town has me packing extra gloves and a shovel , and thinking about which grove of trees I could stop to pee in if I absolutely have to...well..I understand my Grandma and my Mum a little better now. Diddly-squats just aren’t simple any more, y’know? 

I think 60 has me finally figuring out that anything could happen at any time, and we can’t always be ready for it or count on recovering like we were once so damned sure we could. The truth is, things have always sprung from nowhere and knocked us sideways, but we seem to see the potential for tripping over our own feet in way we never noticed before. Life is all about love and loss and learning, including learning from our mistakes and becoming more cautious about making the same ones again.  We do our best until we learn to do better. And until we fully realise just how much there is to lose. Including ourselves and one another. Perhaps we also learn to forgive..ourselves most of all.

I can walk and work off some of that Winter weight gain, but I’ll wear the non-slip soles and make sure somebody knows where I went in case I’m late for supper. I can drink wine or whisky instead of beer, and less of either. I can have the farty foods when I know I will be working at home, preferably outdoors. I can tell my friends and family what they mean to me, in an email  letter if not face to face. I can make all the Rice Krispy noises in the world every morning because it means I can still get out of bed and I still want to. I can be grateful, because 60 isn’t very old but it’s helping me figure stuff out. I still wanna be that old coot in overalls with a roadside stand of fresh eggs and veggies and pickles and jam, so I’d better make sure I know enough to impart unsolicited advice along with the  produce or I will blow the stereotype all to bits. We can’t have that. Best I get started then, cause having a pain in the ass doesn’t mean I need to be one.

[book-pirate]

Based off of this post by the amazing Julie, who is basically my twin. I had a really hard time ending this so I'm sorry if it seems really abrupt!

Hope you like it, Julie!

Arrogance & Assumptions

In her dream, Lizzie Bennet is standing victorious over Will Darcy’s prone body, his usual smirk turned into a frown as he pleads for his life. She shifts in her sleep as the dream changes, Darcy standing and stepping ever closer with an earnest look on his face, as she leans in and -

But her dream is interrupted when she wakes up, startled by a loud thump near her head. She sits up from where she fell asleep hunched over her desk. “Jesus Christ.”

Chaz beams down at her unapologetically. “Come on, sleepy, Jane’s waiting for us at Meryton’s.”

“How did you even get in here, Chaz?” she asks in confusion as she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“I had a copy of your key made the last time you accidentally left them at my place,” they say with a grin and a wink. “I’ll give you ten minutes to wash your face and change your shirt into something less… wrinkled.”

She looks down at her shirt, slightly offended. “What’s wrong with it?”

“No offense dear, but that’s not something even my ninety-year-old grandmother would be caught dead in.”

She sighs. “Yeah, alright, I’ll change.”

Twenty minutes later finds them walking through the double doors of their favorite bar, Meryton’s. It’s packed to the brim with college students, so Lizzie and Chaz have to elbow their way through the crowd to the bar, where they can see the telltale flash of blonde that signifies Jane Gardner’s presence.

“Jane!” Lizzie calls out as they get closer, waving her arm wildly above her head. “We’re here!”

Jane startles and looks over at them, a bright smile stretching her face. “Lizzie, Chaz! Where were you, I’ve been waiting for like half an hour!”

“Someone,” Chaz says, jabbing their thumb in Lizzie’s direction, “decided taking a nap beforehand would be a good idea.”

“Listen, I was up all night reading about the Flagstaff War of 1845. Excuse me if I’m a little tired.” She rolls her eyes as she swipes Jane’s drink for a sip.

“Lizzie,” Jane scolds before taking the drink back, “you can’t expect us to feel sorry for you when I know for a fact that wasn’t required reading.”

Lizzie flushes. “It was required by the fact that I have class with Darcy and he’s for sure going to bring it up tomorrow during class.”

“You don’t know that. Try giving him the benefit of the doubt once in awhile.” Jane sighs.

“That's.” Chaz seizes the seat next to her when the previous occupant gets up. “Now, be a dear and get us drinks.”

“You can’t get them?” Jane asks, even though she’s already leaning forward.

Lizzie smiles and presses a kiss to her temple. “No one gives us second glances when we’re with you, Janie.”

Jane protests but it’s nothing less than the truth. Throughout the hour and a half they’re there for, no less than 8 different men and 3 women try to approach her. Lizzie and Chaz, however, are left basically on their own, which is fine by them. Chaz has a long-distance relationship with a girl they met online through a Star Trek appreciation fansite, and Lizzie is fine being single. The last boyfriend she had, if he could be called that, ended in a roaring ball of flames, literally, when he set her lab assignment on fire. And, anyway, if she’s going to take over the National Parks Service before she’s 40, she doesn’t have time for romance.

At least, that’s what she’ll use as an excuse if she’s asked out by G.W. again, when the three of them bump into him on their way out of the bar.

“Ladies, and Chaz,” he waggles his eyebrows comically, “what’re you doing here?”

“Getting a drink,” Chaz snaps, “not that it’s any of your business.”

“My bad.” He holds his hands up. “Just trying to make conversation. Lizzie, how’re your classes?”

“Fine, G.W.” She sighs, always a little more willing than Chaz to give him the time of day. “We’re heading off now, though. I have to finish my reading for class tonight.”

“Good luck!” He gives her a wink as they move away from him.

“Ugh, what a slimy bastard,” Chaz says, wrinkling their nose. “I can’t believe you’re civil to him, Liz.”

She can feel the tips of her ears go pink. “What? He may be a dick but he is cute.”

“You could do so much better, dear.” Chaz throws an arm around her shoulders. “And what’s this about reading for class tomorrow? I thought you had it done.”

Jane laughs and swings her arm around Lizzie’s waist. “Oh, she finished the required reading. This is strictly extracurricular. Like the Flagstaff War.”

Chaz rolls their eyes. “I would say I can’t believe you but I totally can.”

“Shut up.” Lizzie’s face flushes, matching her ears. “Let me live.”

Chaz and Jane laugh most of the way home, and Lizzie can’t help but join in.

“- and that’s why Cutlar was in the wrong!” Lizzie is trying her best to not yell, but she doesn’t know if she’s succeeding. Judging by the look on DeBourgh’s face, she would say she wasn’t.

“Oh, and he’s supposed to just let this pig eat all of his potatoes?” Darcy scoffs.

“Like, I’m supposed to believe that the pig would eat all his goddamn potatoes,” Lizzie says hotly.

“Enough!” Professor DeBourgh stands up. “Bennet, out!”

Lizzie makes sure to slam the door behind her on the way out. “Goddamn favoritism.”

“What did you get kicked out for now?” an exasperated voice sounds behind her.

She turns and grins sheepishly. “Mary! I didn’t know you had class in the Brighton Wing.”

Mary sighs deeply. “I don’t. I’m just taking a shortcut to King Library. You’re evading the question, by the way.”

“I got into another argument with Darcy.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “Of course you did. What about?”

“Uh,” Lizzie winces, “the Pig War of 1859.”

If Mary rolled her eyes any harder, they’d probably fall out. “Jesus Christ. I’m leaving.”

“Love you, too, Mary!” Lizzie waves after the girl’s retreating back.

Once she’s out of sight, however, Lizzie sighs and slumps against the wall, waiting for class to let out so she can talk to DeBourgh about not losing participation points.

Soon enough, the door opens and students start flooding the hallway, a few of them sending her smirks. She rolls her eyes and moves to step into the classroom when no one but Darcy himself blocks her way. “Lizzie.”

“Darcy.” She tries to be as polite as she can, but she falls short. “If you don’t mind, I need to see DeBourgh.”

“Of course.” He’s still smirking as he steps out of the doorway. “After you.”

Lizzie feels like if she were in a cartoon, there would be steam coming out of her ears. “Thanks,” she says shortly.

“Bennet,” DeBourgh says cooly. “Here to disrupt my day even further?”

“No, Professor.” She sighs. “I was just wondering if we could talk about my participation grade.”

“And how you’re currently at five out of ten points?”

Lizzie tries very hard not to snap. “And how many points does Darcy have?”

“I’m afraid that’s none of your business. If you’re really serious about raising your grade, you need to stop antagonizing Darcy.” She gathers her papers and looks at Lizzie with a condescending look. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for my next class.”

“Me? Antagonize him?” Lizzie insists. “What about when he antagonizes me? Which is all the time!”

DeBourgh rolls her eyes. “This is not up for discussion, Bennet. I’ll see you next week.”

Lizzie leaves feeling like she wants to strangle someone. She would prefer to strangle Darcy, but DeBourgh would be a fine substitute. Since she doesn’t have any more classes for the rest of the day, she heads back to Longbourn, looking forward to taking a nap.

As she enters the building, Mrs. B stops her. “Lizzie dear, how are you today?”

Lizzie manages a smile. “Oh, you know, just tired from school.”

“Well, you’re almost done, aren’t you dear?” Mrs. B gives her a smile. “Oh, I thought you might like to know, a George stopped by earlier looking for you. Is he your boyfriend?”

“Oh, God no.” Lizzie wrinkles her nose. G.W. may be cute, but his dudebro attitude is a definite turn-off for her. “But thanks for letting me know. See you later, Mrs. B.”

“Have a good day, dear!”

Lizzie takes the stairs slowly, a headache beginning to form. She sighs and rubs at her temples as she reaches her door, quickly flipping the lock and making a bee-line for her bed. She falls face first onto it and closes her eyes, silently plotting Darcy’s demise.

“Lizzie?” Jane pokes her head into her room. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine, if you don’t count Darcy ruining my life.”

Jane sighs. “You know, I’m sure if you just gave him a chance he might surprise you. He is Charlie’s best friend after all.”

“Charlie could make friends with a wild bear,” Lizzie grumbles. “He’s too damn nice.”

“That doesn’t mean his friends aren’t good people,” Jane protests. “Come on, you can come with us to Meryton’s.”

Lizzie rolls over on her back with a snort. “And third-wheel your date? No thanks.”

“Do you want me to cancel?” Jane asks softly. “We can just pig out on ice cream and binge-watch Sense8.”

Feeling guilty, Lizzie offers a smile and sits up. “No, I’ll be fine, I promise. Go and have fun. I’ll see if I can go bother Chaz if they’re not too busy.”

“If you’re sure,” Jane says dubiously.

“Of course I am.” Lizzie waves her off. “Now, go have fun, and don’t you dare come back before 11.”

“AM or PM?”

“Either. I’m not picky.”

With a roll of her eyes Jane does leave, which lets Lizzie flop down on her bed again with a groan. The truth is, she knows Chaz is on a Skype date with their girlfriend, and is more interested in spending time pouring over her senior thesis, which is a comprehensive clean-up plan for Lake Michigan and the Chicago River.

An hour into her review, she’s interrupted by a thumping on the door. She curses as she stands up too quickly, her back aching with the sudden movement. “Jane, did you lose your keys again? Because, honestly two times in the past month is way -”

“Lizzie!” Lydia pushes past her once the door is open, Kat following closely behind. “We’ve come to raid your closet.”

“Why, yes, Lydia, come right on in,” Lizzie says sarcastically, shutting the door behind them. “Help yourselves, it’s not like you routinely ruin my clothes.”

Lydia rolls her eyes as she and Kat dig through her closet, occasionally throwing a piece of clothing onto the bed. “It’s a 90’s throwback party and you’re the only person we know who still has unironic flannel shirts.”

“Glad to help, as always,” Lizzie grumbles, turning back to her desk. “Just don’t rip them up like you did to my jacket last time.”

“We were making improvements,” Kat insists, holding up a white tank top that’s seen better days. “It’s not our fault you wouldn’t know fashion if it bit you on the nose.”

Lydia turns to Lizzie suddenly, holding up a green and blue flannel shirt she loves. “Hey, Liz, you should come with!”

Lizzie laughs. “I don’t think so, you two. I’m supposed to be done editing my thesis this week and I’ve still got the last three chapters to go over.”

“That’s a lame excuse, Elizabeth Bennet, and you know it.” Lydia throws a couple of pieces of clothing at her. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in twenty.”

Lizzie’s still not quite sure how she ends up at the party, and can only chalk it up to some sort of witchcraft, because she really wants to be literally anywhere else. Thankfully, Lydia and Kat seem to forget she exists the minute they enter the house, and Lizzie is seriously considering calling a Lyft from her corner in one of the quieter rooms. This consideration is promoted even further when she sees Caroline Bingley, Charlie’s sister, flipping her hair across the room.

There’s nothing wrong with hair flipping in Lizzie’s opinion, but everything Caroline does annoys Lizzie to no extent ever since she tried to break up Jane and Charlie over Thanksgiving break. It also doesn’t help that she’s a theater major, and uses every chance she gets to talk about that one time she was an extra in an off-Broadway play that Lizzie knows for a fact had to close a month early because no one was watching it.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but my phone has died, can I look at yours?” A girl that looks like she’s probably a freshman slides up next to her, stopping her from going down the spiral of hate she has towards Caroline. “I promised my brother I’d be back at midnight.”

Lizzie flashes her phone at the girl. “It’s 11:15.”

“Cool, thanks! My name is G.G.”

Over the din of the party, Lizzie thinks she can hear a British accent, but isn’t too entirely sure. “Lizzie.”

G.G. holds out her hand for a shake. “Pleasure. No offence, but this doesn’t really look like your kind of scene.”

Lizzie laughs. “Oh, it’s not. My neighbors dragged me out here. They’re worried I’m going to die old and alone. What about you?”

“Bum date.” G.G. jerks her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the room where some people have started grinding on each other. “You go to Hetford?”

“Yeah, I’m an Adventure Recreation major.” She gives G.G. a once over. “Let me guess, Music major?”

G.G. grins. “I’m declaring it at the end of the month. How’d you tell?”

“Your shirt.” Lizzie gestures to the words Drummers do it with rhythm sprawled across her chest.

The other girl laughs. “Gag gift from a friend back in England. My brother hates it.”

“Does he go to Hertford, too?”

“Yeah, he’s a Politics major and super boring.” G.G. shrugs. “I love him anyway. Which reminds me, I better get going.”

“Do you have a ride?” Lizzie asks. “I was about to get a Lyft.”

“Oh, cool! Would you mind sharing one?” She wrinkles her nose. “My ride was my date.”

As they make their way out of the house, they’re stopped by no one other than G.W. “Hey, G.G. I was wondering where you’d gone!”

“I’m leaving, George! Don’t bother calling.” G.G. rolls her eyes and walks away.

“What about you, Liz? Can I interest you in some dancing?” He waggles his eyebrows comically.

Lizzie bursts out laughing. “You don’t even go here!”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game!” he shouts after her, but she’s able to ignore it as she makes her way to where G.G. is keeping an eye out for their driver.

“How’d you meet G.W.?” Lizzie’s glad she doesn’t have to shout anymore, her voice hoarse.

“He’s always sniffing around the Fitz Auditorium. I thought he was harmless enough when he asked me out, but he’s actually a giant fuckboy.”

Lizzie snorts. “Sounds about right.”

With an exchange of numbers and a promise to hang out, the Lyft drops G.G. off at the Netherfield Park complex, which sounds vaguely familiar to Lizzie, but she’s not quite able to place it.

When she gets back to Longbourne, Mrs. B is lurking by the door again. “Hello, dear! Have a nice time?”

“Not really. Parties aren’t exactly my thing.”

Mrs. B makes a disappointed noise. “But parties are the best place to meet potential husbands!”

Lizzie chokes on nothing. “Good thing I’m not looking for one.”

Her landlady shakes her head. “I’m sure you’ll be changing your tune soon enough, dear. No one wants to be alone forever.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lizzie grumbles, rushing up the stairs to her apartment to avoid further conversation.

When she gets back, Chaz is idly flipping through one of her many manuals on National Parks Rules and Regulations. “Sup girl?”

“I thought you had a Skype date.” Lizzie sighs, dumping her purse by the door. “Is Jane back yet?”

“Anne had to get up early so we cut it short. As for Jane, nope.”

“Good.” Lizzie stretches out on the couch next to her best friend. “I hope she’s having a good time.”

Chaz snorts. “More like getting laid.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to be polite.”

Chaz grins. “And where’s the fun in that?”

Lizzie turns on the TV and starts flipping through Netflix. “So, Stranger Things?”

“You know it.”

“Ugh.” Mary flops down across the table where Lizzie is trying to finish an essay.

“Bad day?” Lizzie asks, looking up.

“Just ran into Collins, who tried to explain to me the flaws behind the Dewey decimal system.” Mary scoffs and opens her own book. “It’s not like I’m a Library Sciences major or anything.”

Lizzie snorts. “Well, if mansplaining was a sport he’d have a gold medal.”

“True.”

They pass an hour that way, both of them working through their homework. Lizzie is snapped out of her reverie, however, by the sound of her phone vibrating against the table, the ID reading G.G.. “Whoops.”

Mary presses her lips together. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. It’s not like phones should be shut off in the library, or anything.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes before opening up the text. Wanna grab coffee? I’ve got 30 before I have to meet up w/ my brother.

She taps out an affirmative before gathering up her stuff. “I gotta go. Later, Mary. May the rest of your day be blessed with an absence of Collins.”

“Thanks,” the other girl says dryly. “Have fun.”

Lizzie manages to make it to the coffee shop G.G. named in ten minutes, looking around before seeing the flash of purple-streaked hair. “Hey!”

G.G. looks up with a bright smile. “Lizzie!”

After ordering, Lizzie sits down across from G.G. “So, what’s up?”

“I think we have the ability to become great friends, so I thought I’d make the first move.” G.G. gestures to Lizzie. “So, tell me about yourself.”

Lizzie laughs before launching into her likes and dislikes, her plans for the future, and her experience at the university. G.G. reciprocates, and before she knows it, there’s a polite throat clearing next to her.

Startled, Lizzie looks up. “Darcy.”

“Elizabeth.” He smiles. “I see you’ve met my sister.”

Lizzie can’t help but gape at G.G., who beams. “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Elizabeth is in my Politics 720 class.”

G.G.’s smile turns into a smirk. “Ah, okay. This is the girl you’re always talking about? I guess it’s a small world.”

Darcy coughs. “G.G.”

Lizzie’s head is spinning. “Um, I have to go. I’ll just…” she trails off, before booking it out of the coffee shop.

She manages to almost run straight into Jane a block away, who’s holding hands with Charlie, and generally looking very happy. “Lizzie!”

“Jane!” Lizzie bends over, trying to catch her breath.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks with concern.

Lizzie waves him off. “Yeah, fine. Just running away from my problems.”

“Well, we were just about to grab some coffee. Want to come with?”

“No, no, that’s okay.” Lizzie shakes her head. “I’ve got some reading to do.”

Jane looks at her dubiously. “If you’re sure.”

“Yup! Have fun!” Lizzie waves them off, waiting until they’re out of sight before she starts banging her head against the brick wall next to her. It would be just her luck to befriend Darcy’s sister.

After she feels like she’s punished herself enough, she heads to Chaz’s apartment so they can knock some sense into her.

Once there, she knocks on the door obnoxiously until Chaz throws it open with a scowl. “You know you can just knock once and I’ll answer, right?”

“I’m in a mood.” Lizzie sighs as she throws herself on the couch. “I accidentally made friends with Darcy’s sister.”

There’s a beat of silence before Chaz bursts into laughter. “Oh my God, you would.”

Lizzie scowls at the ceiling. “I came over for your support, not for your laughter.”

Chaz grins as they crash on the couch next to her. “Oh, come on, you’ve got to admit it’s funny. And who knows? Maybe this way you’ll get over your stupid rivalry.”

“It’s not stupid,” she says petulantly. “And, anyway, he started it.”

They roll their eyes. “You’re such a baby. Would it make you feel better if we went to Meryton’s?”

She does perk up at that. “I’m always up for a little day drinking.”

“And that’s why we’re best friends.”

Meryton’s has a few people in it, but it’s certainly not as crowded as it will be in three hours. Lizzie orders a round for them, bringing the two beers back to their table. It’s nice to just relax and drink with her best friend after what can only be called a stressful week.

Jane shows up about an hour later with a smile on her face. “Mind if I join?”

“No, of course not! In fact, the more the merrier!” Lizzie grins, a little tipsy as she’s on her fourth beer. “In fact…” She sends out a mass text to Lydia, Kitty, and Mary, and soon the six of them are gathered around the table, laughing and catching up with one another.

Lizzie recognizes that they all tend to get on one another’s nerves occasionally, but they’re basically family at this point, and it’s always nice to spend time with her family.

She’s been friends with G.G. for a good four months when the younger girl suggests Lizzie accompany her and her brother to England for spring break. Lizzie is a little weirded out, especially because Darcy has actually started making an effort to be kinder and less antagonistic. It helps they no longer have a class together (she got a B in the class and it irks her to no end that she’s pretty sure Darcy got an A), and she’s sure G.G. has definitely told him to cool it, or however British people would phrase it.

Still, it’s weird to think Lizzie would be spending a whole week with the Darcy siblings, especially in a foreign country. She doesn’t really feel like she can say no, however, and that fact is further cemented by G.G. promising to take her to Pemberly Park, which is, in her not so humble opinion, the best public park in the entire world.

So, it’s with trepidation that she rises at 5 in the morning to meet the Darcy siblings at the closest airport. Jane kisses her on both cheeks. “Cheer up, Lizzie. You’ll have so much fun!”

“That’s what you think,” Lizzie says darkly, before taking her luggage out to the taxi that’s waiting outside.

The ride is thankfully short, but not short enough that Lizzie doesn’t doze off in the backseat of the cab, disoriented when she’s woken up by the cab driver announcing, “We’re here!”

After paying and tipping him, and making her way through security and check-in, she finds her gate with relative ease. G.G. and Darcy are already there, of course, Darcy’s knee bouncing uncharacteristically.

G.G. sees her first and waves enthusiastically. “Hey, Liz! You made it!”

“Yeah, of course,” Lizzie accepts her hug easily, “why, did you not think I was going to?”

“Oh, it wasn’t me that thought that.” G.G. sends a sly smirk to her brother, whose ears turn pink.

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “Sorry for bursting your bubble, Darcy.”

“No, that wasn’t -” Darcy sighs. “I’ll go get us coffee.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lizzie flops down next to the younger girl. “So, we’ve got about an hour before we can board. Want to watch an episode of the I.T. Crowd?”

“Ooh, that’s our favorite show!” G.G. says excitedly, pulling out her laptop and connecting it to the airport wifi. “You want to start from the beginning or skip to the parts with Noel Fielding?”

Lizzie snorts. “I should’ve guessed he was your favorite.”

G.G. waggles her eyebrows comically. “What can I say? I have a weakness for Camden goths.”

They settle into watching the show, and soon enough Darcy is joining them. He sits on the other side of G.G., but still has to lean in close to see the screen. It’s probably the closest Lizzie has ever been to him, and it makes her a little uncomfortable. Especially because he seems to be steadfastly ignoring her, keeping his eyes on the screen. It doesn’t help that they laugh at all the same parts.

Soon enough they’re on their flight, and Lizzie takes the opportunity to catch up on some well deserved rest. She drifts off, her head lolling on G.G.’s shoulder. It’s not exactly easy to fall asleep on an airplane, so there are times where she feels like she’s half-awake and half-asleep. During one of these times, when they’re two hours out of landing, she hears G.G. harshly whispering to her brother.

“- just act like a normal human being, maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament,” G.G. scoffs.

“Oh, like that’s so easy,” Darcy retorts. “Especially when she’s so antagonistic.”

“And whose fault is that, William?” G.G. sighs. “I’m just letting you know, if you really, truly want to be friends with her, you might want to try actually being nice.”

Lizzie gets the sinking feeling this is a conversation she should definitely not be eavesdropping on, so she puts all her efforts into actually falling back asleep. It’s difficult, considering she’s pretty sure the Darcy siblings are talking about her.

It’s so hard, in fact, that she soon gives up, faking waking up with a stretch and a yawn. “What time is it?”

“11:45. We should be there around 1,” Darcy offers.

Lizzie tries to stretch, feeling a little cramped even though they sprung for business class seats. “Good. I can’t wait to be able to walk around.”

“We can take you to our favorite pub before we head home,” G.G. says with a grin, “so you can have proper fish & chips.”

“I’m at your mercy,” Lizzie jokes.

“And then tomorrow we can do all the touristy things, like the Eye and the Palace, maybe the Tower if you’re not too tired,” G.G. continues. “There’s so much to do in so little time. I wish we were staying longer than five days.”

Lizzie grins at her friend’s enthusiasm. “And what about Pemberly?”

Darcy inhales sharply. “What?”

“Pemberly? The park?” Lizzie looks at him strangely. “Please tell me you’ve heard of it.”

“Of course I’ve heard about it, our great-grandfather donated it to the city in his will.”

Lizzie gapes at him before turning to G.G., who has a sheepish grin on her face. “Uh, I plead the, um, is it the fifth?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! It’s the perfect example of Victorian values in a park.” Lizzie groans.

G.G. pats her hand. “Well, on the bright side, we’re going on the Thursday before we leave. I wanted to save the best for last.”

“I had no idea you cared that much about the park.” Darcy looks at her strangely.

“Of course I care about that park! I care about all parks, all the time.”

G.G. laughs. “You’re actually Leslie Knope, aren’t you?”

Lizzie smiles despite herself, relaxing back into her seat. “This might surprise you, but that’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

For the rest of the flight, G.G. and Lizzie flip through the guidebook Lizzie bought, G.G. pointing out things she thinks they should do and things that are overrated. Lizzie makes mental notes, but it’s hard to concentrate when it feels like everytime she looks up, Darcy has just looked away.

Once they land, Lizzie has a little trouble orienting herself to the different country, repeating to herself over and over that the cars are on the right side of the road, and she’s not going to die a fiery death. G.G. seems to notice and is endlessly amused by it. Darcy, on the other hand, looks a little worried. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She should probably try and get along with him for G.G.’s sake. “Sorry. I’m just a little disoriented.”

“We can go straight to our home, if you’re not feeling well,” Darcy offers.”

Lizzie manages a smile. “I’m hungrier than I am tired.”

She pretends not to notice G.G. trying and failing to hide a smile.

“Oh my God.” Lizzie presses her nose against the glass, not caring about the spectacle. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it, though?” G.G. sighs as she looks out at London from their vantage point on the Eye. “Look, there’s where our home is. And we grew up over there.”

“And the palace.” Lizzie squints. “Can I see Pemberly from here?”

“It’s a bit further out,” Darcy supplies. “On the edge of the city.”

Lizzie looks at him and grins, surprising both Darcy and herself. She quickly tries to tone down her excitement. “I don’t know how you guys could ever leave.”

Darcy shrugs. “G.G. wanted to experience the States, so I followed her over.”

She frowns as she looks back out on the city skyline. “So, you changed schools for your sister? I don’t know anyone that would do that for me.” She elbows G.G. “How much did that annoy you?”

“Oh, so much,” G.G. jokes. “I can’t escape him.”

Lizzie looks back at Darcy, who has a sheepish grin on his face. “I worry.”

There’s something unfurling in her chest that feels a lot like the releasing of her grudge against him. Maybe she’s getting to meet and understand the real Darcy after all.The rest of the day is spent in a flurry of activity, G.G. dragging them across the city in an effort to fit as many things in their partial week as possible. Lizzie’s exhausted by the end of it, crashing the minute they return to the Darcy household. She has no idea how she’s going to keep up with G.G.’s youthful exuberance, but she’s damn well going to try.

When she finally wakes up, it takes her a minute to adjust to the darkness of her room. Squinting at the clock, she sees it’s roughly three in the morning. Her phone is ringing with a request for Facetime from Jane. Groaning, she rolls over and accepts it, reaching for the light.

“Lizzie? You there?” Jane’s face fills the screen, only to be pushed away by Chaz.

“Why is it so dark?” Chaz demands.

“Just give me a second, damn.” Lizzie finally manages to flip on the light switch. “There. How are you guys?”

“We were expecting you to call but you never did!” Chaz chastises. “What’ve you been up to? Getting laid?”

Lizzie chokes on nothing. “Jesus, no. I fell asleep last night the minute we got back. G.G. has like no chill when it comes to sightseeing.”

“So, what did you see? What’s it like to be alone with the Darcy siblings?”

Lizzie launches into her story, pausing at the appropriate parts to allow Jane and Chaz to ask questions. It’s four when she’s finally done, and she can feel her eyelids drooping. “So, satisfied with my answers?”

“Yeah, except one.” Chaz grins. “It seems like you’ve cooled it on the Darcy-hate. Anything special happen?” They waggle their eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ.” Lizzie tries to will her face to not flush, but she can feel it’s a losing battle. “Not anything you’re thinking, Chaz. Get your mind out the gutter.” She sighs, trying to find the words. “It’s just, seeing him outside of school. I think I understand him a little better now.”

Jane hums. “Well, that’s good. I knew he wasn’t friends with Charlie for nothing.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you were right, Jane, as per usual.”

“Lizzie, that’s not what I meant -”

“No, I know, Jane,” Lizzie reassures her. “I’m just tired. I’ll talk to you guys in a couple of days, okay?”

“Sounds good!” Chaz chirps. “Later, Liz.”

Jane blows a kiss and then disconnects, leaving Lizzie to drift off to sleep again.

Lizzie has had many dreams about Darcy over the eight months she’s known him. Many have featured her standing victorious over Darcy’s weeping body, or some variation of Lizzie beating Darcy down and proving her superiority. This dream is different, however, in that she and Darcy are doing nothing but starting at one another. Even in her dream it’s unsettling, the way Darcy’s looking at her.

She wakes up with a start, her alarm blaring right by her ear. She struggles with her covers before falling out of bed with a thump. “Goddamnit.”

“Lizzie, are you okay?” G.G. comes bursting into the room before taking in Lizzie’s disarrayed state. She laughs. “Have a hard time getting up?”

“You could say that,” Lizzie grumbles, finally managing to untangle herself from her blankets. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Shopping!” G.G. says cheerily. “I thought we should get it out of the way early, since all the museums won’t be so busy tomorrow and we’re going to Pemberly the day after.”

Lizzie gets up with a stretch. “Sounds good!”

Except it’s exhausting shopping with G.G., which Lizzie should’ve anticipated with the way the previous day had gone. G.G. wants to go into every store that looks remotely interesting, and all the music stores they pass, picking up new drumsticks and guitar picks she thinks look cool. She does also drag them into several bookstores, which Lizzie appreciates, since she can look at the nature sections.

“You really are passionate about parks, aren’t you?” Darcy muses at one such place, G.G. having run off to the biography sections, looking for a book on Keith Moon.

Lizzie side-eyes him. “I don’t know why I would lie about something like that.”

“Good point.” Darcy flushes. “I just don’t think I’ve met anyone so passionate about the parks system.”

“Well, someone’s got to be passionate about it,” Lizzie grumbles. “It’s a mess.”

“I actually don’t know that much about the States’ National Park’s system. Do you mind explaining it to me?”

It feels an awful lot like an olive branch, and so it’s with trepidation that Lizzie takes it. She carefully launches into a barebones explanation, before getting so caught up in her feelings that she finds herself gesticulating wildly and almost knocking over a bookshelf. “Shit.”

Darcy smiles and helps her straighten the shelf. “I understand why you would be passionate about something like that. It sounds like they need someone like you.”

“What, crazy and overzealous?” she jokes.

He seems to purposefully not meet her eyes. “No, intelligent and thoughtful.”

She blushes, determinedly looking away. She doesn’t quite know what to do with the compliment, so she changes the subject. “What about you? Why politics?”

“It’s the first step towards fully taking over my father’s lobbyist group.”

Her eyes widen. “You want to be a lobbyist?”

“Not the kind you’re thinking of,” he reassures her. “I want to advocate on behalf of people below the poverty line.”

“Oh.” Her head reels as she tries to reconcile this Darcy with the one she thought she knew for the past eight months. “That’s, um, noble.”

“I try,” he says, blushing.

She can’t help but find it endearing, and her heart goes oh no.

Thankfully, G.G. comes and insists they move on soon enough, and occupies enough of Lizzie’s time that she doesn’t have to think about how her feelings towards Darcy are changing rather rapidly.

All Lizzie can think about when she finally steps foot in Pemberly is that pictures really don’t do it justice. There’s a calm settling among the trees that she hasn’t experienced in a long time. A gentle breeze blows through the park, and Lizzie has to close her eyes so she doesn’t get overwhelmed.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” G.G. says, Lizzie hearing the smile in her voice.

She opens her eyes. “Yeah, it really is.”

They take their time strolling around the grounds, Lizzie occasionally pointing out features that she particularly loves, indulgent smiles on the Darcy siblings’ faces. G.G. slings her arm around Lizzie’s shoulders. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, love.”

“Thank you, so much.” Lizzie leans her head against hers. “This is the best vacation I’ve ever taken.”

“Good!” G.G. releases her. “Now, let’s have a picnic, shall we?”

Lizzie grins as she unpacks the bag they brought, laying out the blanket the bought. Darcy manages to get the cork out of the bottle of wine, and G.G. serves them the food.

“This is a perfect day, isn’t it?” Lizzie asks between bites of her sandwich. “Like, I don’t think my life can get any better than this. I peaked at the young age of 22.”

Darcy snorts. “I doubt that very much.”

G.G. elbows her. “Yeah, Liz, you’re going to take over the world, remember?”

“True,” Lizzie sighs, “but it certainly won’t be peaceful like this.”

G.G. hums. “Well, you’ll just have to come back!”

“Any time you want,” Darcy adds quietly. “We’d always love to have you.”

Lizzie almost chokes on her food, but manages to keep a straight face. “I appreciate that, Darcy. Thanks.”

He smiles. “Anytime.”

G.G. smirks while Lizzie pretends not to see.

Lizzie really doesn’t want to leave, but she recognizes that she has to go back and finish her degree, and focus on getting her foot in the door so she can make her way up the ranks of the National Parks Service.

The plane ride is uneventful, and Lizzie says a quick goodbye to the Darcy siblings before making her way back to her apartment, looking forward to crashing in her own bed. She opens the door, however, to a shout of “Welcome back!”

Lizzie jumps a good six inches in the air, clutching her heart as she takes in the group of people gathered. “Jesus Christ you guys. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Chaz snorts, gathering her into a hug. “Well, damn. That was the plan.”

Lizzie laughs, squeezing them. “Yeah, yeah, I missed you, too.”

“So, how was the trip?” Jane asks, dragging Lizzie into her arms.

“Yeah, Lizzie, what’d you get?” Lydia demands. “Did you get me a present?”

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “I got everyone something, don’t worry.”

Lydia and Kat cheer while Mary hugs her next. “I didn’t need anything, Lizzie.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” Lizzie smacks a kiss to the side of her head.

“Were you able to visit Darbyshire U?” Charlie hands Lizzie a drink. “That’s where Will and I transferred from.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Lizzie gulps the drink down quickly. “There wasn’t really any time. We stayed in London.”

“You have to tell us everything,” Chaz demands, pushing her down onto the couch. “Come on, spill.”

With a deep sigh Lizzie launches into what she’s been doing for the last few days, earning rapt attention from Lydia and Kat, who are eager to know what shops she visited. When she mentions she spent a lot of time in bookstores, Mary leans forward excitedly and starts asking about what they looked like. Chaz and Jane, of course, look on in amusement while Charlie adds tidbits about what his home city is like.

Once everyone but Chaz and Jane have left, Lizzie falls over sideways on the couch in exhaustion. Jane kneels by her, stroking her hair. “Poor Lizzie. You must be exhausted.”

“Yeah.” Lizzie yawns. “It was a whirlwind adventure.”

“And how was Pemberly?” Chaz smirks. “Make you realize you’re in love with Darcy yet?”

Lizzie shoots up. “What the shit, Chaz.”

“You think it’s normal to stay up God knows how late researching idiotic wars just so you can argue with Darcy?” Chaz retorts. “Come on, Liz.”

Lizzie groans, falling back down. “I don’t like this.”

“Well, the sooner you get over your fears, the sooner you can make out with him.” Chaz pats her head.

Jane sighs. “Oh, let her rest, Chaz. She’s just been on an eight hour flight.”

“Fine.” Chaz gathers their things. “I’ll be over for dinner tomorrow, right?”

Lizzie waves without looking up. “Of course.”

“Love you, dears!” Chaz calls out as they shut the door behind them.

“Come on, Lizzie. Let’s get you to bed.” Jane helps her up off the couch and into her room.

“Thanks, Janie.” Lizzie’s eyelids droop. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, dear.” Jane presses a kiss to her head. “Sleep well.”

And she does. Her sleep is dreamless and restful, two things she doesn’t get very often. When she does wake up, she’s disoriented, thrown off by the darkness outside. With a groan, she sits up and rubs the sleep out of her eyes, before heading into the kitchen. By the clock on the oven, she can see it’s four in the morning.

She makes some tea for herself before heading back to her room, checking her phone as she goes. What she sees makes her almost drop her mug.

From an unknown number, she’s received almost an essay. Hi Elizabeth, it reads, it’s Will Darcy. I got your number from G.G. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed our trip to London together, and was happy to see my sister so happy. She doesn’t have many friends, and I know you’re important to her. You’re also important to me, even if it doesn’t sound like it. I’ve been told by multiple people that it was perhaps my fault we started off on the wrong foot, and I would very much like to correct that. If you would do me the honor of having coffee with me, I would be delighted. If not, I understand, and won’t bother you again.

Lizzie, who is an adult and in control of her emotions of course, throws her phone across the room and gulps down her tea. The thump of it hitting the wall must wake Jane, who bursts into her room, hair in disarray. “Lizzie? What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lizzie clears her throat, “yeah, I’m okay. Sorry for waking you up. Go back to sleep.”

Jane squints at her. “You look weird. What’s the matter?”

Lizzie clears her throat again. “Darcy texted me.”

Jane looks as confused as she feels. “What about?”

“He wants to get coffee.”

“Oh.” It takes a minute to sink in, but when it does, Jane’s eyes grow comically large. “Oh.”

Lizzie groans and throws herself on her bed, burying her face in her pillows. “What do I do?”

Jane sighs and sits down next to her. “Honestly, Lizzie, I can’t tell you. I don’t know.”

Lizzie looks up at her. “Yeah, me either.”

“I wonder what Chaz would say.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes, trying to imitate her best friend’s voice. “Holy shit, Liz, why are you hesitating he is exactly your type I can’t believe you.”

Jane laughs. “Yeah, probably.” She brushes Lizzie’s hair away from her face. “Why don’t you sleep on it? You don’t have to respond right now.”

“You’re right.” Lizzie yawns, closing her eyes. “As per usual.”

“Go to sleep, Lizzie.” Jane presses a kiss to her hair. “We can talk about it more in the morning.”

Jane doesn’t have to tell her twice, and soon she’s asleep once again. This time, however, she’s haunted by dreams of Darcy smiling at her. She misses the dreams she had about standing victorious over his crying body, but she knows she can’t have what she wants all the time.

When she wakes up, the first thing she checks is her phone, which is still in the corner of the room she threw it into. There are no new texts, which she is simultaneously happy and disappointed about. She enters the kitchen, intent on pouring herself a big cup of coffee, and also maybe a glass of wine.

“Good morning, starshine. The earth says hello.” Chaz grins up at her from their spot at the table. “I heard someone got texted last night.”

Lizzie sighs and gives Jane a look. Jane raises her hands. “I thought it would help to talk to Chaz.”

“Yeah.” Lizzie sits down at the table and lets her head thump against the table. “So, what do you think, Chaz? Should I fake my death and move to a non-extradition country?”

Chaz snorts. “Let me see your phone.”

Lizzie slides it across the table, Chaz unlocking it without having to ask the passcode. They hum as they read the message, brow furrowing. Lizzie sighs. “Let me guess, you think I should get coffee with him?”

“I mean, yeah, but if you’re really uncomfortable, Liz, you shouldn’t go.”

Lizzie blinks in surprise. “What?”

Chaz sighs and rolls their eyes. “I know I give you a lot of shit but this is kind of a big deal. So I’m trying to be serious here.”

“Thanks.” Lizzie leans back in her chair. “I mean, what’s the harm, right? I’m not going to be a dick to G.G. if things go south, but if they go well,” she pauses, “well, he’s not asking me to marry him.”

“True.”

Lizzie nods decisively. “Alright, hand me the phone.”

Today at 2? she types out.

Almost instantly, she receives a reply. Perfect.

The rest of the day she tries really hard not to psych herself out, but she feels like she’s failing the closer she gets to two. It gets too much to bear, so she heads over half an hour early, feeling useless sitting around her apartment.

On the way to the coffee shop they’ve decided to meet, she happens to run into Caroline, which is probably the worst omen she could imagine. Groaning internally, she tries to be polite. “Hi, Caroline.”

“Elizabeth,” she says coldly. “And where are you off to?”

Instead of snapping, Lizzie takes a deep breath. “Coffee with a friend. You?”

With a toss of her hair, Caroline answers, “I’m going to see if William Darcy wants to go on a date with me.”

Lizzie manages to not burst out laughing. “Oh yeah? How’s that going?”

“Well, he’s turned me down the last two times I’ve tried, citing his friendship with Charles as the reason, but I just spoke with Charles, and he said he was fine with it if William agrees.”

“Good luck,” Lizzie says, miraculously managing to hide a smile.

Caroline smirks. “Oh, I don’t need luck. I suppose I’ll see you around.”

“Right. See you.”

In a significantly better mood, Lizzie makes her way to the coffee shop. When she gets there, she’s only a little surprised that Darcy is already waiting for her at a booth. She shoots him a shy smile before ordering a black coffee. Once she’s been served, she slides into the booth across from him.

“Thanks for doing this,” he says earnestly. “I know you don’t like me much -”

“Darcy,” she closes her eyes and corrects herself, “Will. During our trip to London, I think I understood you better. I like you just fine.”

Something like hope shines in his eyes. “I like you just fine, too.”

Soon, they’re talking for hours, laughing and sharing stories. Lizzie is pleasantly surprised at how well they manage to get along. She almost doesn’t want the coffee date to end.

Eventually, the conversation turns to Charlie, and it gives Lizzie to ask about Caroline. “So, I ran into Caroline on the way here.”

Darcy groans. “I hope you didn’t tell her you were meeting me here, did you?”

“No, I’m not an idiot.” Lizzie laughs. “She told me she was looking for you, though. She wants to ask you out.”

“She’s already asked me out twice!” Darcy scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know how many more times I need to turn her down before she gets the picture.”

“She’s probably going to keep asking you until you’re married to someone, honestly.” Lizzie grins. “Poor Darcy. You’re such an eligible bachelor.”

He blanches. “Oh God, I hope not. I’m so awkward.”

“You’re doing just fine right now,” she points out.

“You’re easy to be around,” he admits quietly.

She ducks her head. “Yeah, surprisingly you are, too.”

Finally, at about six, they say goodnight and plan to get dinner in a couple of days. Lizzie is only a little disappointed that he doesn’t try to kiss her.

When she gets home, she’s all alone, and decides to try and work on her thesis.

“OH MY GOD ELIZABETH BENNET DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT GO ON A DATE WITH MY BROTHER?” G.G. bursts through the door of her apartment, panting heavily.

“How did you get in?” Lizzie can tell she’s just come from practice, a pair of drumsticks poking out of her jacket pocket. “I don’t know if I would call it a date -”

“What’s all the commotion, dear?” Mrs. B pokes her head through the still open door. “Something about a date?”

“I think you misunderstood, Mrs. B!” Lizzie manages to shut the door slowly. “No dates here!” Turning she glares at G.G. “Now my landlady is going to be creeping around trying to snoop on your brother.”

“Ha!” G.G. points at Lizzie. “So you did go on a date with Will. I knew it!”

Lizzie winces. “It was just coffee, G.G. It’s not like he proposed marriage or anything. But seriously, how did you get in?”

“Picked the lock.” She holds up her tools. “Back to the important part. You have another date set up, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Lizzie sighs, “yeah, I do.”

“I’m so excited! He’s liked you for so long.”

“I don’t know about that,” Lizzie says. “We were huge dicks to one another in class.”

“Yeah, because Will is a baby who doesn’t know how to act properly around people he likes.” G.G. rolls her eyes. “Good thing I managed to talk some sense into him.” She grins. “So, where are you going on your second date.”

“Just to that burger joint on 5th. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Let me have this, Lizzie.” G.G. sighs and throws herself on the couch. “Just this once.”

“The things I do for you,” Lizzie jokes. “Now, teach me how to pick locks.”

"My pleasure. Just don't tell Will."

Lizzie holds up her hand with mock solemnity. "Scout's honor."

The last of the school year passes by quickly, the two months coming and going in the blink of an eye. Lizzie is frustrated both by the amount of run-ins she’s had with both Collins, G.W., and Caroline, who seem to have collectively made it their goal in life to annoy her as much as possible before she never has to see any of them.

She’s also annoyed that Darcy has made no move to kiss her even though they’ve consistently been going out on dates for the last two months.

On one particularly bad day, she slams her books down in front of Darcy where he’s studying at the coffee shop.

He looks up, surprised. “Hi, Lizzie. How are you?”

“Annoyed.” Lizzie sits down with a huff. “Caroline insinuated there are only two genders in front of Chaz, Collins tried to mansplain why National Parks should be sold off to the corporate sectors, and G.W. tried to grope my ass. Again.”

“That sounds like a terrible day, I’m sorry.” He starts gathering up his things. “Want to go get those milkshakes you love so much from the diner?”

Some of the tension leaves her shoulders. “Yes, please.”

During the walk to the diner, Will asks her how her thesis is going, and the conversation carries them through the wait line at the diner and after they order. She frowns down at the tabletop, scratching at an old stain.

“Is there anything else bothering you?” he asks concernedly. “You still look troubled.”

She sighs, looking up. “We haven’t talked about what we’re doing after graduation. Are you going? Are you staying? I don’t know.”

“Lizzie,” he slides in next to her, “of course I’m staying. G.G. will be here, and so will you.”

“If I’m so important to you why haven’t you kissed me yet,” she grumbles, being petulant.

He blushes. “I didn’t know if you’d be, well, amenable to that.”

“Of course I’d be amenable why -” but she’s cut off by the first press of his lips against hers.

It’s quick, and he pulls back, eyes searching her face, before she grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him closer.

The kiss lasts longer than Lizzie had anticipated, given that they were in a very public place. However, Darcy’s lips are so soft and gentle, she just can’t help herself.

A clearing of a throat makes them spring apart, and the amused waitress sets down their milkshakes. “Might want to save it for home, hun.”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” Lizzie flushes. “Won’t happen again.”

Darcy flushes, too, but still holds her hand the entire time they finish their milkshakes, so she counts it as a win.

“So, what’s next for the great Lizzie Bennet?” Chaz asks, sipping their beer slowly.

Lizzie laughs. “Well, I’ve got that job lined up, but you know we’re still only going to live like a block away. And you’re graduating, too!”

“Right, and so is Jane, and Charlie, and Will.” Lydia rolls her eyes. “Rub it in why don’t you.”

Lizzie reaches over the table to pinch her cheek. “Aw, poor baby. Don’t worry, you’ll be done soon enough, and then the existential terror of graduating will take hold of you and you’ll wish you were right back here.”

Kat rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“I, for one, am not looking forward to graduation.” Mary delicately sips at the wine in front of her. “I’m going to get my Masters and a PhD just so I don’t have to face the real world yet.”

Lizzie clinks her beer bottle against Mary’s glass. “That’s the spirit.”

“But think of the student loans,” Chaz points out.

Mary blanches. “Oh, shit.”

The group laughs, and G.G. grins at everyone gathered around. “Well, I, for one, am proud of our graduated seniors. To our friends!” She raises a glass and everyone clinks their drinks together.

“We’ll do okay,” Charlie reassures everyone.

Jane smiles. “And we’ll still be here for you all, you know that, right?”

“Oh, Janie.” G.G. throws an arm over her shoulders and smacks a kiss to her cheek. “You couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

“Hear, hear.” Lizzie seconds.

Darcy grins down at her. “She is the reason you’re still alive, after all.”

“Hey, just because Jane does all the cooking doesn’t mean I can’t cook, alright?”

“Sure, Liz.” Chaz rolls their eyes. “I guess we’re just supposed to all forget about the Thanksgiving fiasco of 2015.”

“What happened in 2015?” Charlie asks, looking between the girls.

Jane and Lizzie look at each other, the former laughing and the latter blushing. Mary sighs. “Well, if you’re not going to tell the story, I might as well.”

As Mary launches into telling everyone about the time Lizzie almost burned Longbourne down to the ground, Lizzie leans against Darcy and sighs. He looks down at her. “Are you alright?”

She smiles up at him. “I’m more than alright. I’m really happy.”

“Me, too.” He presses a kiss to her hair. “More than I’ve been in a long time.”

“I’m glad.”

“Hey, Lizzie, are you paying attention?” Lydia demands. “This is a story about you, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m paying attention to Mary embarrassing me.”

“Aww, we love you, Lizzie,” Kat reassures her.

Lizzie grins. “I love you guys, too. We’re a family right?”

“Cheers to that,” Charlie seconds, holding up his beer so everyone can clink their cups together again.

“We’ll be alright,” Jane says to Lizzie, squeezing her hand.

“Better than that, Janie,” Lizzie tells her. “We’ll be great.”

And she’s right.

[thesenseinnonsense]

Can you please write for jily you are my waiter and my date is an asshole one shot?

Lily’s starting to think that she should’ve said yes, the last time James asked her out while hanging off the Astronomy tower. Which kind of shows how much of a tool William Greyson is.

He’s got enough arrogance that his head might actually out size a Quidditch pitch, and if he doesn’t stop talking about himself for at least five minutes, she might make that metaphor become a reality. She did get a pretty good grade on those engorgement charms, and if she talks to the right professor, she might even be able to use the excuse that she was trying for extra credit.

“I mean, my father is only one of the most famous Quidditch players, it makes sense that I would follow, we come from a long line of–”

She tilts her head. Stares at him. Wonders, vaguely, whether he’d even notice if she left. They haven’t even ordered yet, it wouldn’t be a complete waste.

“Hello, may I take your ord–Lily?”

And she thought her night couldn’t get any worse. She tries hard to keep herself from going completely red, but in the end, it’s kind of a waste. Her face is the color of her hair. It doesn’t help that James looks good in his uniform, of course he looks good in his uniform. He’s wearing a bowtie. She wishes, not for the first time, that he didn’t have to be quite so attractive. It’s wholly unfair. If people looked as good as their personalities, then it might make dating much easier. Though from what she’s seen… James wouldn’t look completely ugly. Even then. Ugh. Stupid Potter and his stupid hair and his stupid rare moments of niceness.

Shit, it’s been a minute, she should say something. “James. Hi. What are you doing here?” She tries for a smile that hopefully looks like she’s not having a terrible time on a date in front of the guy who’s been following her around for most of secondary school, but then William ruins it, as he did this entire night, by talking.

“Thank god, it’s been ages. You’d think they’d have better service around here for a Greyson, wouldn’t you?”

James ignores him deftly. Normally, when he does that, she’d call him an arrogant jerk, but this time, it’s absolutely welcome. He rubs the back of his neck, the tips of his ears going red. “Um, it was kind of a bet actually. I mean, the bet is actually over, but Madame Puddifoot’s needed the help today, and um… I…” He seems to lose his train of thought, and it’s only then that Lily realizes that she’s been, well, kind of staring.

She can’t help it. He’s blushing. And wearing a bow tie and suspenders, if he hadn’t been a thorn in her side for the past six years, she would’ve climbed him like a tree.

Focus, Lily! She clears her throat. Right. Not the time. She can consider her reluctant attraction to the one James Potter when she’s alone enough to bury her face in her pillow and scream. “I guess we should order then?”

Greyson perks up from where he’s clearly sulking that someone had managed to turn their attention away from him for even a mere two seconds. “Right. I’ll order for you, Lilypad–”

She wrinkles her nose at his nickname, despite herself. God, the only person who’d even think about calling her that was her Grandmother, and it wasn’t any less weird even when she did it. By the way James’ mouth is twitching, he’s clearly smothering a laugh at the nickname himself. And that’s coming from a guy who once couldn’t find a proper rhyme and ended up calling her his “filly” like some lovesick British cowboy. She kind of wants to crawl under the booth and die a little.

Greyson doesn’t seem to notice either reaction, ordering some weird french sounding thing for her, and the only word she understands out of it is lobster. Her stomach roils. She hates seafood.

The moment James leaves with a, “Sure, sir,” that seems sarcastic to the point of being a clear Sirius imitation, Lily’s already missing the distraction. William keeps talking about fish, and honestly, the more he does, the more she’s ready to call this date a bust and hex him just to be rid of the entire thing.

Before the final straw, however, James is back. Lily is ready to recoil, but the smell isn’t what she expects. It’s rich and heady and makes her mouth water. Surely, that can’t be… It’s not seafood. The plate he sets in front of her is some chicken thing, smothered in gravy and steaming.

Oh, thank god.

Greyson isn’t as pleased. He puffs up, eyes flashing. “That is not what I ordered! Is all the service here so absolutely abysmal–”

Great, now he’s about to cause a scene. She narrows her eyes, trying to tamp down her anger so she can get out of this with some of her dignity intact, but it takes a good few seconds for her to imagine throwing his foul smelling seafood at his face and calm down. “William. It’s fine. I like chicken.” A lot actually. She frowns and looks up at James. That wasn’t exactly a super well-known thing, but the pointedly innocent look on his face says that it wasn’t exactly a guess.

William sniffs. “That’s not the point. I expect to get what I ordered, no more no less.”

Some of her irritation boils over. “Well, I’m eating it. So I get the final say. It’s fine.”

“With that be all, then?” James asks.

Not unless he could swing her some firewhisky in her drink, but that’s not something that she’s about to ask him for if she’s trying not to make this date look like the disaster that it obviously is.

“Depends. Will you actually bring the right order next time?” Greyson says. There’s something other than his haughtiness in his expression, something vaguely vindictive, and Lily starts to get a sinking feeling in her stomach.

James nods stiffly, and Greyson leans back. “In that case, would you get some nice Tiramisu for me and my darling over here?” Greyson moves across the table to take Lily’s hand, and she tenses.

James leaves, his jaw clenched tight, and Greyson’s watching him go with a smug expression that confirms the dread settling in her stomach.

“William. What are you doing?” She asks lowly.

William takes his hand away, moving to tuck into his food. His face still hasn’t lost that gloating expression. His tone, when he speaks, is purposefully bland and unintentionally patronizing. “I’m eating, Lilypad, what does it look like?”

She tries a different approach. “Do you know James well?”

Greyson’s face darkens. “Him and his friends. Rat bastards, the lot of them.”

“What did they do to you?”

He purses his lips. “Let’s not talk about it.”

That’s enough for Lily to understand. She feels stupid. Greyson was attractive, he’d asked her out with this wide smile, and she’d thought that he’d actually been sincere. That he’d disregarded the wrath of James and the rest of the Marauders just to ask her out because he liked her. She remembers abruptly, about why everything to do with James Potter is a bad idea.

She gets up from the table, and William looks up. “What are you doing?”

She’s horrified to find that she’s near tears. “I’m not a toy, that you and James Potter can fight over. I’m a person, and you’re clearly as much of a dick as he is.”

And then she does what she’s been wanting to for the entirety of the date, and leaves.

It only takes a few minutes of her walking down the road, shivering, before James is running up behind her, calling her name. He looks furious. “Lily, what happened? If that ass did anything to you, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what? String him up by his underpants? Put a Dungbomb in his dresser drawer? Embarrass him in front of the entire school? Don’t you realize this entire thing is your fault too? He was just using me to get back at you!”

James looks equally angry at her now, and she wants to punch him in the nose. What right does he have to be angry, when she’s the one being considered around the entire school as his toy despite anything she’s ever said? He throws his hands up in the air. “What, so now it’s my fault that I’m in love with you? I can’t exactly change that, Lily, I’ve tried! What else am I supposed to do?”

She stares at him incredulously. Has no other option ever occurred to him? “Oh, I don’t know James, maybe you could not embarrass half the school, maybe you could not parade me around as your toy, maybe you could be less of a self-absorbed prat once in a while?” James opens his mouth furiously, and she shakes her head. “I know you can be nice.” This shuts him up. “I’ve seen you, you’re clearly capable, but I have no idea why you have to ruin it all by being so cruel.”

He looks at her helplessly. “It’s just a prank. I’m not the only one in school who pranks people, Lily.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t have a problem with you pranking people, James. I have a problem with you trampling over everyone’s boundaries.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“The entire school thinks of me as your girl, James, and you encourage them, constantly. It doesn’t matter whether anyone else wants me or not or whether I want anyone else or not, no boy has dared to ask me out ever since you and your gang went after Jimmy Crosby in our third year. Everyone knows me as ‘James’s girlfriend,’ no matter how loudly I’ve said no. Does it ever occur to you how I feel, not being given a choice in the matter?” He gapes. He’s clearly never thought of it that way before. She continues, “You’ve embarrassed people in front of the people they like, you’ve changed people’s entire opinions on a person because they’ve crossed you or you don’t like them, the list could go on. You have a lot of sway in the school, James. And not once has it occurred to you to take responsibility of that kind of power instead of just… basking in it.”

It’s like she’s slapped him. His mouth hangs open, and she takes him in, cheeks bronze and still in his work uniform, tie askew. He makes a picture.

But not one worth sticking around for.

——-

James has been quiet all month.

William came up to her and apologized to her for what he did, looking sincerely apologetic. He’s not as much of a jerk as he was during the date, and though Lily’s sure she’ll never go on another date with him in the future, he’s good company sometimes, sitting around in the library and working on Muggle Studies together. He’s still truly proud of his heritage, though it’s in a different way than he was showing off to James about. He’s crazy about Quidditch, and he explains some of the rules to her on a random Saturday in an over excited puppy way, and surprisingly, she understands it a lot better than she thought she would. The next Quidditch game she goes to, she’s a little more enthusiastic, and part of the enthusiasm might come from the fact that James doesn’t stop in the middle to make long proclamations of love anytime he’s on her side of the pitch, so she can actually pay attention to the game.

It’s almost like he’s avoiding her.

Lily should be completely pleased. For once she can go throughout the day without expecting a scene to ruin it. But… she’s not.

It’s not like she said what she did to kick James out of her life completely, though there was a time where that would have been the highlight of her life. She never would have thought she’d miss him, but now that he’s gone it’s easy to realize that not all of it was irritating proclamations and seeing him turn people’s eyebrow’s purple. Some of it was him peering over her shoulder at her Transfiguration essay and correcting a citation, knowing that she was craving chocolate on a random Tuesday and giving it to her, and grinning lazily at her with that drawl of, “alright, Evans?”  

Some of it was him actually him being her friend.

And she’s seeing that part of James a lot more now, which makes it all worse.

He’s had yet to do a prank that doesn’t have the recipient laughing, instead of finding him in a random hallway to hex him, and the Marauders themselves have become more… nice. Less the arrogant, popular kings of the school, and more of harmless jesters that everyone was starting to like.

Everyone, except Severus and his merry crew.

True to his reform, James hasn’t been actively going after Severus like usual, but something seems to have happened to make Severus like James even less, and Lily didn’t know that was possible.

Severus has been pleading with her to talk to him all year, but she hasn’t said yes once, up till now. She wasn’t going to sit by while Remus Lupin seriously flinched away from him. James might have been a friend that she didn’t realize she had, but Remus had always been a clear friend, and there have been times where he’s been unfailingly kind to her, and not just on James’s behalf. Nowadays though, he’s been looking more and more ill, and he hasn’t been talking to much of anyone, really. She would blame it on the clear tension he seems to be having with Sirius, but that doesn’t explain Severus’s looks that have been alternating between disgust and gloating, nor the way that Remus has been looking at Severus like he’s genuinely scared of him. Lily knows the group that Severus hangs out with, and the way that he’s been folding into them, more and more. Whatever is going on, it can’t be anything good.

So she calls Sev into an abandoned classroom, up on the fourth floor, the next Thursday.

Severus looks far too hopeful for the stormy look that’s on her face.

“Lily, thank god, I just wanted to–”

“What’s going on between you and the Marauders?”

He stops short. “What?”

“You’ve all been acting weird. Does it have anything to do with your little group?”

Severus’s face crumples, and she knows she’s made the wrong move. “You called me up here to talk about them?” Whoever this boy is, he’s not the boy from her childhood, the one who’d enchanted flowers to bloom for her, the one who’d spent winter evenings huddled over potions homework with her. He’s something… twisted. She can see his bitterness festering in his eyes, like something toxic.

“I can’t believe it. You know, I didn’t want to believe it. But it’s true, what they say isn’t it? You’re one of them. The Marauders. I thought you were better than this. I thought you didn’t even like James Potter. But you’re just as thick as the rest of the girls who pant after him, aren’t you? How can you be so blind, Lily? He’s nothing but an arrogant–”

“Enough. I didn’t come to hear your opinions on James Potter, and it’s none of your business whether I’m dating him or not.” She clenches her wand tightly, trying not to scream at the unfairness of it all. This was Sev. He used to be her best friend. What happened to him? When had he become this? “All I wanted to know, is what’s going on.”

Sev’s face becomes red, and she sees something cruel and vindictive in his eyes, as he snarls, “If you want to know so bad, why don’t you ask your beloved Potter and his friends about their ‘furry little problem?’ I’m sure since you love each other so much, he’d be glad to tell you.”

And then he stalks out, slamming the door behind him. Despite herself, Lily flinches at the sound.

The door opens after a minute, and it’s Marlene, huffing out a sigh of relief when she sees Lily unharmed. “Oh, thank god, I’d thought he and his friends had been up to something.”

Lily feels a little sick. The way Sev was… She’s clearly lost him to something much darker than she could draw him out of. For a few brief moments, as he’d gotten up in her face with that sneer, she’d seen nothing but a Death Eater in him. And she’d been scared.

Marlene frowns when Lily doesn’t move to unhitch herself from the desk. “Lily? Are you okay?”

Lily shakes her head, the cold numb of shock replaced with something much hotter, something burning. She sets her jaw. Sev called her a Marauder? Then fuck yeah, she’d show him exactly how much of a Marauder she could be. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Have you seen Remus around anywhere?”

Marlene’s eyebrows furrow. “Yeah, he’s in the common room, I think he’s studying for that–” Lily’s already stalking past her, and Marlene cuts off. “Lily? Lily, are you sure you’re–Lily!”

When she storms into the common room, the few lounging Gryffindors turn to look at her. If she was in her right mind, maybe she would feel a little self-conscious of all the noise she’s making, but as it is, she ignores them and laser focuses on Remus, sitting by the fire with James, their books spread all around them.

She marches straight over, grabbing Remus by the collar and pushing him back on the sofa.

“Lily! What’re you–” He says, choking, his eyes wide, but she cuts him off.

“If Severus so much as looks at you anymore, I’ll hex his head to the nearest wall, got it? You don’t get to be scared anymore. If you’re scared, that means you’re doubting my hexing abilities. Are you doubting my hexing abilities, Remus?”

Despite what she says, he looks scared right now. “No, absolutely not.”

She lets him go, huffing. “Good.” And then she turns to James. “And you–”

James looks a little worried to be acknowledged at all, and he immediately throws his hands up. “I haven’t done anything, Lily, I swear!”

She points her wand at him, and he shuts up. “Just because I asked you to stop being an arse, doesn’t mean that you can be scared of me. Got it?”

James looks at her wand a little skeptically. “You sure about that, Evans?” She growls, and he backpedals. “Of course! Whatever you want.”

She tucks her wand away, satisfied, just as Marlene finally arrives in the common room. “Lily! Lily, are you alright?”

Lily nods, running a jerky hand through her hair and giving Marlene a smile that’s a little on the side of deranged. “Yeah, perfectly fine, why wouldn’t I be? Just sorting some things out.”

Marlene looks unconvinced. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally. And boys?” James and Remus jump when she turns back to them, spines straight in attention. “Tell Sirius I need to have a talk with him won’t you?”

They share wide-eyed looks which she takes to mean acquiescence, and then she heads up to the girls’ dormitory, feeling a little punch drunk. She’d never been that forceful before.

It feels good. If she knew she could solve things by threatening to hex people, she would have done it a lot earlier.

——

Tomorrow is better. After the talk she has with Sirius, which required a bit more threatening and a full body bind, things seem to be… slowly, very slowly, on the mend between him and Remus. She saw them talk, at least, hushed whispers underneath one of the staircases, and when she sees them again at dinner, the wall of ice between them seems to have thawed. James shoots her a grateful smile over the chicken, and she finds herself smiling back, genuine.

When she sees James again in the common room, he’s in the middle of helping a first year adjust her grip on the wand, and something inside her warms. He meets her eyes, smiling widely, and for the first time in years, she finds herself happy that he moseys over, sprawling into the sofa beside her.

“Alright, Evans?” He drawls, and Lily leans back against the sofa, taking in his disheveled uniform, his perpetually messy hair, and the loose line of his body across the sofa. He looks just as he always has, a King in Gryffindor tie, but now one worth following. James has changed, and Lily’s not surprised to find that she likes what she sees.

“Alright, Potter,” she says, and his eyes soften, the chocolate tones melting into something warm and syrupy. They fall into easy conversation, and when he leans over to check her Transfiguration homework, she allows herself to wonder what it would be like, to run her hands through the perpetual mess that is his hair.

She thinks to herself, that perhaps if James Potter asked her out again, she might say yes.

At the very least, he wouldn’t order her seafood.

Hey, Nonny! When I got this prompt, I was like, sure, I could totally pull off a fluffy little one shot about Jily. But it’s Jily, so it got long and mildly angsty in the middle, naturally. Either way, I had a lot of fun exploring James and Lily’s characters, like why James is a dick (ie, the whole problem in which he doesn’t realize where he’s overstepping instead of being funny) and the whole problem with his courtship of Lily, which is clearly about to change in the near future ;) (Cue them both being giant, pining dorks I guess, for another six months). Thank you very much for the prompt!

[marviinmelton]

It’s time to step away from the shiny object

This is the third installment in The Government Fix, a new series on redesigning how government works, published in partnership with the nonprofit think tank New America. Read the first and second installments here and here. –Eds.

Last month, I ran into a friend at a government conference. “I am so tired of innovation,” he said to me. “You know? The word. Innovation. Ugh. What does it even mean any more?”

“Something shiny,” I replied, sighing.

“Exactly what successful ‘government innovation’ is not,” he replied, heaving a sigh of his own.

Government loves innovation, the shinier the better. It gets to feel modern (“We have an app for that!”). It generates headlines (“[City name] will use blockchain to solve food deserts!”). And it feels like a real solution. (“Why yes, Amazon Prime, I would like that 40% off-deluxe-espresso-drip-coffee urn crafted by empowered Italian grandmothers by 10 a.m., thank you.”)

[Source Image: AnatolyM/iStock]

But here’s the truth. One of the worst-kept secrets of government “innovators” is that when you start with an answer of a shiny solution instead of with the question, “What problem are we trying to solve–and why?” you rarely solve anything. In fact, you’re far more likely to create problems. Think abandoned projects, hemorrhaging costs, and government systems vulnerable to data hacks.

Over the last year, the our public interest technology team at New America interviewed people working in and around governments across the country. The same resonant themes emerged again and again. “Tech people” get called into help solve problems that are rarely about tech. Ditto the solutions. Real change starts with people and processes, not products. Improving government service delivery happens when leadership does not mandate specific shiny solutions but rather when it empowers local people to tackle unshiny steps to rewire processes. And we need better understanding by leadership, residents, and media about this disconnect between what we value as “innovation” and what it actually looks like in practice. “Success” may look small, feel slow, and seem basic. But thin slices of small wins stacked high can build sustained, human-centered civic services and solutions that changes lives.

Anchorage, Alaska, experienced this firsthand last year. It tried to solve a problem by asking a simple question: “Can we help more residents avoid going to third-party collections by changing the final notice letter we send out about delinquent debt?” Nothing it did will sound revolutionary. It brought together people from different agencies to brainstorm. It came up with a series of design changes in standard government letters. It tested them and measured the impact.

[Source Image: AnatolyM/iStock]

The result?

Almost $1 million of new revenue and an entire team of empowered civil service workers with renewed energy to help government improve services.

How did Anchorage do it? Small unshiny, changes.

Oh, and reams of pink paper.

For years, Anchorage followed the same process to collect delinquent debt. Each month, the Department of Delinquent Criminal Civil Fines and Fees (DCE) received a list of around a thousand people whose unpaid debts were heading to collections. DCE would send each person a final notice letter. If Treasury doesn’t receive a payment within 10 days, the letter warned, your debt will go to a third-party collections agency. If it goes to collections, you’ll owe extra money.

The letter wasn’t working. Treasury had amassed $49 million in unpaid delinquent debt, dating as far back as the 1980s. Sometimes a better address would turn up and it would send a reminder letter. But it didn’t mail reminders systematically. And it didn’t track their impact. It relied on the final notice letter as the one consistent touchpoint for residents.

One small problem. The letter hadn’t changed in 20 years.

In early 2015, now Mayor Ethan Berkowitz was so committed to tackling challenges and empowering civil servants that he reached out to Bloomberg’s What Works Cities to learn more about the program—before he became mayor. Brendan Babb, then a member of his local Code for America brigade, and now Anchorage’s chief innovation officer, helped write the successful application.

[Source Image: AnatolyM/iStock]

Babb, a mathematician by training, loved the What Work Cities’ approach. Part of the Bloomberg American Cities Initiative, it empowers cities across America to use data and evidence to define problems; respond to critical government challenges like blight, homelessness, and public safety; and improve people’s lives. “I’m convinced everyone in my city has like four ideas on how to make this city better,” says Babb, “and every government employee has 30 ideas. We just have to give people the space and cover to experiment and try new things.”

In 2017, Babb sat down with Sioux-z Marshall from Bloomberg’s Innovation Team, and Michael Kalin, a behavioral scientist who worked for the Behavioural Insights Team, a What Works Cities partner organization. They had three goals: work on a real Anchorage problem, involve all stakeholder departments to work on it, and empower city staff with a new tool to help test process improvements. Treasury’s collection letter would be an ideal problem to use.

In April 2017, the city held a one-day workshop with agencies from across the ticketing process, from Department of Health and Human Services, to Parks and Recreation, GIS, Solid Waste Services, and the Mayor’s Office. The challenge: How could Anchorage take core ideas from behavioral science to create a letter that was easy, attractive, social, and timely (EAST)? This was not about creating a new process. It was about testing improvements to an existing one. People got these letters. What would encourage them to open the letter? Read the letter? Understand the letter? “We assume folks will read the entirety of letters that we send them,” Kalin, the behavioral scientist, noted. “People don’t look at a letter as the great American novel. You have five seconds to make an impact when you send out the letter. How can we communicate its essence in five seconds? Make it memorable five minutes later?”

In the morning, city staff learned behavioral science basics from Kalin. In the afternoon, they did research on the collections process. They talked to Treasury staffers. They hopped on the phone with the third-party collections agency. And they studied the old letter, identifying all the problems someone might have when reading it. Then teams competed to redesign it, presenting their solutions at the end of the day to a panel of “celebrity judges,” city managers, and leadership.

“What happened was cool changes from all three groups. We ended up combining all the changes together into a new letter,” said Babb. “Some changes were on the outside of the envelope, adding text that said, ‘You really need to open this’ in red ink. They changed the letter to pink paper, and added the due date in a box in the upper right-hand corner that said, ‘This is due June 30.'” It also explained what the citation was for and what was owed (information the old letter didn’t include . . . because, government) and made info about payment plans more conspicuous.

[Photos: courtesy of the author]

Next came testing. Treasury sent 10,000 old letters to one group as a control, and the new design to 10,000 others. When the results came in, it made some surprising discoveries. Overall amounts of revenue increased, but immediate revenue decreased slightly, from 3.4% to 2.5%. However, payment plan enrollment almost doubled, from 8.2% in the new letter compared to 4.5% in the old letter. So what did this mean? For starters, a new set of questions Treasury could choose to explore, like why they had a payment plan. Was it important to residents?

That started all kinds of changes. They put all their urgent notice letters on pink paper. They took up the challenge issued by the flurry of returned letters from unknown or wrong addresses. Treasury had access to a database that residents kept up-to-date because government used it to mail checks. Treasury began checking more addresses through that database. They used the insights from the workshop to test ideas with other people.

As small changes rolled out, bigger benefits started to roll in. The initial test returned $63,000, more than paying for the $55,000 cost of mailing out the test letters. By the end of 2017, Treasury would collect just under $1 million in new revenue from all the small changes they made. Equally compelling, the staff was energized. They continue to try and test new changes. Hundreds of residents cleared up their debt.

For government workers, making small, unshiny changes can be even harder than making big, bold ones. Leadership loves big changes. It can be easier to find money from taxpayers or from outside partnerships. Any change at all often counters what civil servants have been taught for decades: “Success is when we are in compliance and check all the boxes,” rather than encouraging people to ask, “Are the boxes on our list the right ones?”

[Source Image: AnatolyM/iStock]

Recognizing successes like Anchorage’s Treasury department is critical to improving government’s ability to deliver better services. It took a number of seemingly small steps that were, in fact, large steps for government.

First, it created space for civil servants to ask questions and to brainstorm across departments. If you’ve never worked in government, the accomplishment of “we got people who don’t talk to each other in a room to talk to each other” may sound like a recipe for a yawn or a jeer. But getting people who don’t, won’t, or (think they) can’t get in a room to talk to each other is possibly the single most under-recognized and powerful tool when improving how government works. It is also one of its greatest challenges.

Second, it offered a specific approach–behavioral science–for considering a problem in a new way. “There’s this perception that experimentation and innovation are really shiny and new, as opposed to simple but vigorous methods to evaluate what might work,” Kalin noted. “[Behavioral science] is all about incremental improvement . . . and no other options come close to the rigor of an experiment.”

Third, the solution wasn’t specialized, custom-built, expensive, or technical. It was replicable. Behavioral science and testing of small changes to improve services is something we can use across problems, agencies, and governments. As Kalin noted, “[Cities] have to collect money. To do that, they have to interact with citizens or send letters out. There’s often a gap in compliance. That gap is measurable. Cities are already keeping tabs on who owes what. This means we have all the numbers to see if we can increase compliance by even just a couple of percentage points.”

Fourth, it empowered local civil servants, the people who knew most about the process, and the community. After the results from the initial test, Treasury could have done another test with a control group and a small process change. Instead, a representative from Treasury noted: “We got so involved after that workshop that we decided to really evaluate what our whole portfolio looked like. How could we apply what we learned and make more changes?” Energized by evidence that change could be made without specialized tech skills or big shiny tools plus their leadership’s clear support to test doing things differently, employees began examining their work and processes differently. What else can we do better? How? “This became our baby,” the team reported. “We got excited to see what we could do, you know?”

[Source Image: AnatolyM/iStock]

Examples like Anchorage illustrate the importance of stepping away from the shiny, redefining what success looks like in government, and updating what celebrate when celebrate “innovation.” There are over 2.5 million civil servants working in government. When was the last time we heard about government work igniting joy? For the people doing it or for the communities served? Where do we find celebrations of small victories hard won? We must update the “how do we define success” algorithms we use as we push for upgrades to government services that are critical to everyday ability to survive, and to thrive.

[Source Image: AnatolyM/iStock]

Empowering those who work in government to test slow, iterative changes is not easy. But it can inch forward basic infrastructure, transform how processes work, strengthen our communities, and improve how people connect to government and government supports people. When we follow Anchorage’s example and move even one step away from the shiny, we step into a new world of what is possible for government. One that reshapes what problems we tackle, what size they can be, the impact they can have, and who can do the work.

That is how we move forward. Step by unshiny step.

With the occasional ream of pink paper.

It’s time to step away from the shiny object published first on https://petrotekb.tumblr.com/