#i really miss my braids and want them back asap because i like my life to be easy but… maybe one more week wouldn’t hurt?

[upgradebitch]

u

#my hair is so full and luscious and BOUNCY today! #i’ve always been told how full my hair was but… i’m really starting to appreciate it #and to think i wanted to relax it again… #i really miss my braids and want them back asap because i like my life to be easy but… maybe one more week wouldn’t hurt?

[safetycar-restart]

I am clawing my way here out of a grave because 🍄 anon said wag!seb (which! by the way! hello hello welcome AND youre so big brained) and i hath awoketh and now yall get to suffer the consequences 

So i was ALSO thinking wag!seb (surprise 🙄) but with a non-driver seb? So like you've been together for quite some time but you know he doesnt like the spotlight so you dont try to drag him to the paddock and generally try to keep things as private as possible. You dont mind in the slightest, truly, plus it means when you're home you can completely forget about your work and just exist in this airtight bubble with seb and listen to him rumble on about fixing one of the beehives or the new sort of tomatoes your neighbours are trying to breed.

Except, you think—i mean, you wouldnt trade your bubble, or seb, for that matter, for anything, but sometimes—sometimes—it just looks like it wouldve been nice to have him there for a race once in a while, you know? Because you look at other drivers rushing to their partners after a session or coming to the track together or waiting around by the car to drive them back to the hotel and. It's not—bad, or anything, it's just, you spend so much time on the road, away from home, and of course facetime exists but still. 

It just gets lonely, sometimes.

The thing is, seb is not blind, either; he might miss the first time your face gets all full of longing when you tell him about valtteri and tiffany, might rule it out as a coincidence the second time when you show him the pictures alex and lilly asked you to take of them, but he is not an idiot. He doesn't want to impose and waits for you to bring it up—it's your workplace, after all, he is not about to just invite himself over—but you never do, so eventually he gives up and asks you if you maybe might let him come to a race?

Which leads to an awkward conversation consisting mostly of "are you sure?—are you sure?—i thought you didn't want—i thought you didnt want to—" but you figure it out and you're honestly so relieved because you were due for another triple-header and to have seb come to a race would be such a treat.

And then the reality starts to think in for seb and he just gets so adorably anxious? He is meeting your team! Your mechanics! Theyre your home away from home! He just wants them to like him so much, because youre the best and they know youre the best and he just, he wants to prove he measures up. Get the Seal of Approval as your partner.

He doesn't listen to any of your assurances that he will be fine, that you're sure everyone will love him. He bullies the oven in the apartment you rent for the race week into baking his braided bread perfectly. He tries on four different shirts and eventually gives up and makes you choose the one he wears. You dont think you've seen him like this since he met your parents.

(It goes very well, of course, everyone absolutely loves him, he is a bit tired and overwhelmed but seems to be having a good time. You're both very happy it worked out.)

(He starts going to races after that; not a lot of them, but he tries to at least hit the triple headers so you dont have to stay apart for so long. He keeps making braided bread for your side of the garage; it's a big hit)

- Lemon 💜🍋

P s sorry i havent been around a lot lately life is insane will be back asap! Mwah love you all

Right ok, firstly we all need to praise 🍄 anon for bringing 🍋 back!!!!!! We've all been trying to use smoke signals to attract 🍋 anon out of their cave but 🍄 just fucking lit the beacons of Gondor.

Seb is really just living his best cottage core life? You have a wholeass cottage in the forest with some animals and vegetable gardens and seb manages the whole place. You have your own little bubble every time you come home, away from cameras and prying eyes.

You aren't an F1 driver at home. You're just seb's helper and partner and you love it so much.

Just gonna go on about your time at home for a little bit: Seb gets so much joy from showing you all the things he does at home while you're away? And you just spend entire afternoons curled up together in the sun, feeding the animals and watering the plants and having sex on a picnic blanket outside.

And Seb loves that you respect his desire for privacy enough to never expect him to come to races or to try post him on social media.

Speaking of social media, everyone is so beyond confused about your personal life. Because like, sometimes you'll post pictures of home grown tomatoes and alpaca's on your insta stories and sometimes you'll post cute pictures sitting in the grass surrounded by pets but they have no idea what you do on your time off? You just drop off the face of the earth when it is isn't a race weekend and sometimes post a random vegetable with no explanation.

They all think you're single, by the way.

Which is hilarious because you couldn't be less single.

But you can't deny that you miss seb sometimes. It's not that you want to show him off, because you know and understand that will never be for him. But you see other drivers having their partners sitting in their garages and cheering for them and hugging them when a race goes wrong and you just... you want that? You want to have seb there to support you sometimes.

Because absolutely no one supports you like seb.

Coming home to homemade banana bread on the counter and your dogs sprinting to say hello and seb shouting from the bathroom that he's getting the bath ready and has the wine poured is the best thing in the world.

Seb starts to see that too.

And I think the moment he decided he had to ask if you wanted him there was when he was watching a quali session (He never misses any races or qualis or FPs by the way), and you crashed? And then when you were back in the garage, the camera showed you sitting alone, staring into space and seb's heart broke because there was no one there to hug and comfort you?

Then he realised that's his job. He should be there.

Except seb doesnt actually think that you'd instantly agree and then tell you that you never asked because you were sure he didn't want it??

Of course he's terrified.

And honestly it's not the cameras and public that he's scared of. He really couldn't care less what the public think of him or how many people take pictures of him.

What he's terrified about is meeting your team? Because you literally see them more than you see your family. In many ways, they are your family. He knows that if they dont like him then you will struggle so much to bring him to races and to see him as a support person.

And he wouldn't be able to stand that, because the whole reason why he wants to go is because you do so much for him and he desperately wants to be there for you.

So of course he doesnt listen to your reassurances. He knows you love him, but what about the mechanics? The engineers? The media personal?

Obviously he must solve this problem by baking bread. Bread solves all problems.

He's actually overwhelmed by how much the team loves him? The entire team would die for him the moment he arrives and seems to know absolutely everything about him because you're always talking about him.

So yeah it's a little overwhelming but honestly it's all worth it when he can give you a hug the moment you step out the car. And then maybe you get a podium? And of course the whole team pushes him to the front of the barrier for the podium celebrations and he gets a hug and a kiss in front of everyone!!!

He still doesnt attend too many races, because honestly he's made to be your cottage core husband and not to be in front of cameras too much. But he cherishes each and every time he goes with you.

And he ends up with an unofficial rule that every time you're away for more than 2 weeks, he comes to visit. Even if he doesnt attend a race, he'll just fly in and say hello and give you a kiss and some homemade granola.

#wag!au #wag!sebastian #gn!reader #nsfw. #sv #🍋

[reidsnose]

Nose Taps (spencer reid x reader)

overview: the newest member of the bau develops a cute secret language with the resident genius

genre: fluff

a/n: this is my first fic so my apologies if its bad lol i tried. also its very short sorry ! but yeah lmk if u like it :)

masterlist

From the first day you walked through the doors of the BAU, you were incredibly charming in a unique way. You knew exactly how to talk to everyone, an amazing intuition letting you know just what to do. Spencer's curiosity had fallen on you; he was absolutely enthralled by your entire being.

the first thing that caught his attention was when you hand had accidentally grazed his.

it was a small meaningless gesture as you slipped past him, but he thought about it for weeks afterwards, in a good way. he thought about your smile as you apologized for "bumping into him". he missed the tingles that shot up his arm where your skin met his.

the second thing was much larger, he began to notice your kindness.

on only your second day in the office you stayed late to help hotch with paperwork so he could get home to jack faster. it was not a selfish act to get on his good side, rather an act of complete and utter kindness.

you brought JJ cheetos when she was feeling down because you saw her munching on them on the jet once.

you even got morgan to talk about his feelings for 4 hours one night after something was clearly bothering him. and morgan never talks about his feelings.

though you had just recently met them, you showed them how sweet you were without even trying. and Spencer Reid was no exception.

you stayed attentive to everyone who spoke to you, and when you noticed that people would often interrupt him or brush him off, it didn't sit right with you. after talking to him about it, the two of you developed a system. every time he didn't get to finish his thought, you would tap your nose to show him you noticed and wanted to hear about it later. then, at the end of the day, either in the hotel or on the jet, you would tally up the number of nose taps and he would get to ramble about all of it to you. it wasnt intentionally a secret but it was kept between you two, your little thing.

spencer thought it was the most endearing and kind thing anyone had done for him.

and you ate up every second of it, watching his eyes grow wide and then crinkle at the corners when he grew giddy about a certain statistic or historical story. you didn't understand how anyone could not want to listen to him.

soon, however, the nose taps evolved into something more. a whole little language grew between the two of you.

one nose tap from either party meant "im listening".

two nose taps meant "i have to tell you something".

three meant "i have to tell you asap".

an eyebrow tap meant "this reminded me of you" or "im thinking about you".

so on and so forth.

the team picked up on this little code between the two of you, but couldn't for the life of them understand what it all meant or when it had started. to be fair, they didn't have much time to decode while on cases.

to Spencer, this secret language was his most treasured peice of knowledge. And to you, it was your most treasured secret. and to both, unforgettable.

though Spencer had noticed your striking beauty when he first laid eyes on you, spending tome with you only intensified it. he found himself often marveling at the little details, especially on the jet.

the way your hair fell on your shoulders, the angle of your eyelashes, the blush that graced your cheeks when you laughed, the way you chew on your lip when you're thinking, even the barely noticeable wrinkles you have in your forehead from raising your eyebrows all the time. he was falling helplessly in love with every bit of you.

you did that same to him. admiring the itty bitty bump on the bridge of his nose right above the perfect little button tip, the curls in his hair, the way he puckered up a little as he talked, the way his whole face would crinkle up when he laughed really hard, his eyes squinting so hard they were barely visible. you were falling helplessly in love with every bit of him.

the team had OBVIOUSLY picked up on this, and though they would tease the both of you in private, they didn't dare embarrass you in front of each other. they weren't that sadistic. or so you thought.

one evening at rossis the team decided to have a powerpoint night. everyone chose a funny topic to make a power point and present about.

jj went first, presenting the slideshow titled "ways my clashing aesthetics present themselves through my sons"

next went morgan: "reasons i should be allowed to not wear a shirt under my bullet proof vest".

followed by Rossi who did "list of the fakest Italians weve ever encountered (they cant even pronounce gnocchi)"

after him was prentiss with "things i did while pretending to be dead"

and then hotch who made "ranking the bau from most to least childish"

then you went with "animals i think all of you resemble"

followed by reid who did "top 5 worst hospitals based on jello rating"

and last but not least, garcia. she went with "agents i think should just get married already we are literally not getting any younger"

you all laughed until the slide moved and there was a picture of Spencer and you, asleep on each other on the jet. his arm was wrapped around you protectively as you were cuddled up to his chest. you looked over at spencer who was matching your bright red face.

"y/n and spencer." garcia spoke before clicking to the next slide.

"wow she just cut right to the chase huh," prentiss laughed.

more images that the team had sneakily taken of the two of you riddled the screen.

one of you braiding his hair. one of him wiping frosting on your face from your birthday. on of the two of you mid laugh, mirroring each other exactly. a few more of you two on the jet, on cases, or even out at bars or at rossis with the rest of the team. so many of them and as much as you were embarrassed, you really loved all of those pictures.

"i really dont think i need to explain much, these speak for themselves," garcia chirped.

"i like that one," reid spoke up, pointing to the braiding one. ok so were going about that like this.

"i was just about to say that, but this ones also a close contender," you replied pointing to the frosting one.

"and that my friends, concludes my slide show!" garcia laughed.

"wait seriously? just us?" you laughed.

"yea.." she started, a giddy smile decorating her face. you looked over at Spencer and tapped your nose twice. he did it back but three times, cracking a cheesy grin. "see! and they have their little secret nose code thing! is that not relationship material?"

"you guys noticed?" spencer asked, clearly oblivious.

"duh." rossi joked.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #reid #hotch #jj #jennifer jereau #jereau #emily prentiss #prentiss #derek morgan #morgan #penelope garcia #garcia #david rossi #rossi #spencer reid fanfic

[bethpeaches123]

Oh, it’s you.

So I had an idea rolling around in my brain for a little while, and then a real-life situation presented itself that was eerily similar to this, and instead of acting on it in real life, I’m acting on it in fanfiction form. Because it’s less risky, ha. Here’s some enemies to friends to luvers. I’ve also posted it on AO3 for your reading pleasure. :) Enjoy! I would love some feedback too!

“Thanks,” said Katniss Everdeen briskly to the Uber driver in the front seat of the red Corolla. He grunted his acknowledgement in response as her hand grasped the door handle and pushed the rear passenger-side door open, swinging her slender legs out onto the sidewalk. She leaned back into the car and grabbed the bottle of wine off the seat, then ducked out and straightened up, slamming the car door closed as it drove off.

Turning to face the towering brick townhouse belonging to her cousin Gale and her childhood best friend Madge, Katniss squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to stay all night. Just a couple of hours,” she muttered to herself. “That’s like…four half-hours. Or...six twenty-minute periods…or 12 ten-minute chunks…or…anyway, whatever. Just do it. It’s Madge’s birthday, she wants you to be here, just suck it up.”

The night wind suddenly swelled, a gust whooshing past her, stirring up a pile of dead brown leaves around her feet that had fallen from the maple tree on their tiny front lawn. She realized with a start that she probably looks a little crazy to any onlookers, standing on the sidewalk in front of a picturesque townhouse after dark, staring up at it and muttering irritatedly to herself.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve gotta get out more, you’re losing it being alone in that apartment all the time,” she muttered again, before stopping and shaking her head. You’re doing it again; quit talking to yourself already and just go inside, she thought.

She adjusted the crossbody strap of her clutch (the bright gold colour was out of character for her, but it was a gift from her sister and the nicest purse she owned) and curled the loose strands of dark chocolate hair that had slipped free from her side braid behind her ears. Smoothing her forest green shirt dress down over her slim frame, she tweaked the braided brown leather belt around her waist and absently brushed a piece of lint from the right thigh of her black tights, glancing down at her camel-coloured heeled booties.

She wasn’t entirely sure of the dress code of the evening, but at twenty-five, they were still at that age of being grownups, but not totally grownups, if that made sense; they were old enough to legally drink the copious amounts of liquor they downed at one of Gale and Madge’s house parties, but they were still young enough to thankfully not feel the full force of a crippling hangover the next day.

Hopefully this looks okay, she thought. Who are you trying to impress anyway? Stop. Stalling, she grumbled internally.

Irritated was her mood of the night and the night was only just beginning.

Clutching the bottle of wine with the golden bow on the neck, she pulled open the wrought-iron gate and proceeded up the short staircase to the house.

Leaning over and pressing the doorbell off to the right of the heavy black door, she glanced up at the night sky over her left shoulder and her eyes flickered to the wind blowing in the trees again. It was a warm night for the end of October – so warm she’d left her jacket at home and opted for just the long-sleeved dress. It wasn’t like she was walking anywhere. She’d take an Uber home later.

Katniss could hear the sounds of an upbeat indie tune floating through the open living room bay window off to the left. Her eyes flicked back to the front just in time to hear a voice on the other side of the door, where it swung open to reveal the guest of honour for the evening.

“Katniss! Hey! God, I’m so glad you’re here – Gale was wondering when you were going to show. Now maybe he’ll finally shut up,” said Madge, her smile spreading across her face and reaching her arms out to hug her best friend.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Katniss sheepishly, squeezing her back. “Carl the Uber driver wasn’t as prompt as the app said he’d be. He won’t be getting five stars from me tonight.”

Madge’s grin grew. “No matter – you’re here now, that’s what counts,” replied the pretty blonde. Her eyes softened as she looked at her old friend, hesitating. “How are you doing? How’s…everything? After…everything last week?”

“I’m okay. Really. It’s getting better every day.” Katniss said, quietly. She really didn’t want to go into details right here, right now. Or ever. The evening was supposed to be a happy occasion, for Madge. Katniss didn’t want to get into the depressing details of the collapse of her relationship with her long-time boyfriend Darius a few weeks before and the messy division of their things when he moved out of their shared apartment.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that...listen, I know it’s not the time or place, so I won’t pry, but please, let’s go for coffee again this week. You can bitch all you want about how much of a douchebag he is, and I’ll happily reassure you how you’re so much better without him,” said the birthday girl wryly.

“Deal,” replied Katniss, a small smile on her lips. “Here – this is for you,” holding up the bottle of Nova 7 that she knew Madge loved. “I know technically I should’ve gotten you champagne for your champagne birthday, but I thought you’d like this more.”

“Oh my God you’re my favourite person, you know that, right?” squealed Madge. “I mean, besides Gale, but whatever – where did you get this?! I’ve been trying all the liquor stores around town and they said they haven’t gotten a shipment in ages!”

“I had it specially ordered from their website! I’m glad you’re happy – I love you, but I’m never going through that hassle again. Customs are a bitch,” grimaced Katniss. Getting the white wine shipped from Canada seemed a bit much, but 25 was a big birthday and Madge had been Katniss’s best friend ever since they’d been paired together in Mr. Heffernan’s English Lit class in sixth grade. She deserved to be on the receiving end of a splurge.

“Well, you and I are going to drink this together tonight – no one else gets a drop,” beamed Madge. “Come on, I’ll stick it in the back of the fridge so no one can get at it before we do.”

She stepped over the threshold into the front porch and started to toe off her booties when Madge glanced down and stopped her. “No, no, leave them on, they’re part of your whole outfit. You look really good tonight, by the way,” she said, appraisingly. “I mean, not that you don’t usually, but, y’know, dresses are kinda rare for you. I’m babbling. Ignore me. It’s the wine. Come get a glass or three and start drinking with me please,” pleaded Madge as she turned back towards the kitchen down the hall and spotted her new husband. “Gale! Gale, Katniss is here! Get her a glass of Riesling, ASAP!”

“Hey Catnip! Good to see you – finally,” smirked Gale as he strode down the front hall towards them, but Katniss could see gentle concern in his eyes. He didn’t think you’d show, she thought to herself. She mentally huffed at her cousin.

“Obviously I’m here, it’s not like I’d miss my best friend’s birthday,” she said, somewhat shortly.

“Oh – of course not, I know that, I j-just...anyway, I’m glad you’re here. There’s a taco dip with your name on it so I hope you came hungry,” her older cousin stammered, glancing at his wife for reinforcement.

Both he and Madge seemed a little on edge at her presence, like they were afraid anything they’d say would set her off in some way. She knew they were only worried about her since the breakup, but it still irritated her to think that their shared glances probably meant they’d been talking about her before she’d shown up. Katniss hated being the centre of anyone’s attention or gossip.

It’s not gossip; they’re concerned about you because they love you, Prim’s voice popped in her head. Her younger sister was always her voice of reason and regularly called her out when she got in her own head and complained about people being interested in her personal life. With Prim on the other side of the country in medical school at Stanford though, she wasn’t here in person to call her out. But Katniss knew her as well as she knew herself, and knew it was exactly what Prim would say in this situation.

Steeling herself and wiping the scowl off her face, Katniss offered Gale a small, embarrassed smile and said, “I was really hoping you’d make your famous taco dip. I skipped dinner specifically for it.”

A flicker of relief passed over his face and Gale turned and gestured for her to follow him towards the dining room down the hall as Madge returned to the living room filled with guests. “I even covered it in extra shredded old cheddar, your favourite,” he grinned.

“Mmmm, hell yes. Where are the chips? I’m digging in right away,” she said eagerly, following behind him.

As they bypassed the living room and entered the dining room, she glanced back towards the front of the house and scanned the crowd. There was already a decent number of people here, some faces she recognized like old college pals Rue, Thom and Thresh, but others she’d never seen before. Gale’s work friends, probably, she thought absently.

“Is Joanna coming?” Katniss asked, turning her attention back towards the spread of food. “I haven’t talked to her all week. I meant to text her earlier, but I forgot.”

“Yep, she said she’s coming by once she’s finished at the office. Some big case she’s working on or something,” Gale replied. “Let me get you that Riesling, I’ll be right back,” as he turned towards the kitchen, leaving her to focus on the food. Grabbing a plate from the stack off to the left, she started piling taco dip onto it, her mouth watering in anticipation.

“Yeesh, Everdeen – leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?” drawled a familiar voice.

Oh no. Not him, she groaned inwardly, the flush of annoyance rising up her neck and spreading across her face. She stiffened as she heard him chuckle softly and reluctantly turned to face the speaker.

“Oh, it’s you. Hello Peeta,” she said politely. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Why? Obviously I’d come to celebrate Madge. Besides, would you have stayed home and not graced us with your presence had you’d known?” Peeta smirked.

“Hmm, something like that,” she replied, pursing her lips before continuing reluctantly. “How are you? How are Delly and Connor? He must be, what, three now?” enquiring after his wife and son.

“…Yeah, he’s three now. Three and a half, actually, as he’ll tell you. Time flies when you’re having fun,” Peeta replied grimly, averting his eyes from her face. Confused at his response, Katniss was saved from having to reply by Gale appearing to their sides with her glass of wine.

“One Riesling for the lady. Hey Peeta, what can I get you? Beer? Liquor? Something to wipe that sour expression off your face?” asked Gale, wryly.

“Beer is fine, thanks Gale,” the wavy-haired blond replied. “I have to have something that’ll help wash down this taco dip, if Katniss doesn’t eat it all first.”

Katniss scowled at him. “Chill out, Mellark, there’s plenty there. I barely took any,” she retorted. Grabbing her plate and piling on a handful of nacho chips quickly, she turned and carried the plate and her glass of wine away from the irritating man before he could respond. Fuck, he’s such a dick, she stewed. Why does he have to be related to Madge?

Peeta Mellark and Madge Undersee-Hawthorne were indeed cousins, but he was also a former classmate of theirs from junior high and high school. It wasn’t like he and Katniss were friends though – they couldn’t have been further from that. Complete opposites throughout their early days, Peeta was a popular jock who seemed to get along with everyone. Everyone except quiet, kept-to-herself Katniss.

She had no idea why he never warmed to her – she’d sometimes catch him staring at her across the classroom or in the hallways, but he rarely spoke to her throughout their academic careers. She’d usually shoot him a puzzled look in return, because that’s exactly what he did to her – puzzled her.

Stupid Peeta Mellark. Why did he have to be here? And where was his wife, Delly? Katniss hadn’t laid eyes on the blonde bitch yet, but she was sure she’d know when she entered the room because the temperature would probably drop to below freezing, just like Delly’s chilly demeanour.

Katniss was never friends with Peeta, but she never understood what he saw in Delly. What was the title of that book she’d seen in Barnes & Noble one time? Why Men Marry Bitches? Maybe someone should’ve picked up a copy for Peeta Mellark because he could use some psychoanalysis as to why he married someone so horrible. Though, considering what she’d heard about the elder Mrs. Mellark while in school, maybe someone should pick up a book called Why Men Marry Their Mothers for him instead.

She moved through the crowd towards Rue and Thresh, when a flash of short brown hair caught her eye in the main hallway. “Jo! In here!” she waved to the petite brunette in a black pencil skirt and crisp white collared shirt. Johanna was her and Madge’s former college roommate-turned-other-best-friend who was currently kicking ass working at the hottest law firm in the city. She was fresh out of law school and had to article for a year before she could pass the bar and be a full lawyer, but the partners at her firm were already so impressed by her drive and her no-holds-barred attitude, they’d already offered her a position once she’d passed the bar in a few months’ time.

“Hey Kitty-cat, how goes it?” said Johanna, snaking her arm around Katniss’ shoulders in a side hug. “Ooh, gimmie that, I earned a big drink after the freakin’ day I’ve had,” pulling the glass of wine from her friend’s hand and taking a big gulp, then grimacing. “Ugh, never mind, I forgot you like girly drinks. I need something harder tonight.”

“Wine is sophisticated, thank you very much. Rough day?” Katniss asked sympathetically, taking the glass back and swallowing a mouthful of the cold, sweet liquid.

“Fuck me, it was brutal. This lawsuit is gonna be the death of me and I’m not even a lawyer yet,” Johanna groaned. “If I have to read through one more brief, I’m gonna stab my eyeballs out and shove them down the managing partner’s throat.”

“Graphic, but okay, sure,” winced Katniss. Jo was never one to hold back with her…colourful language. “Here comes Gale – give him your drink order, he’ll get you sorted.”

“Hey Jo, want a whiskey?” asked Gale as he approached, sizing up the brunette’s irritated expression.

“You read my mind, Hawthorne. Make it a triple? Or will we all judge me?” Jo drawled, glancing at her friends.

“Nah, the night is young. We’re celebrating!” Gale grinned. “ice, right?”

“Yep, thanks. So, Kitty, how are you? Finally feeling free of that douche canoe, Darius? Jesus, I’m so glad that’s finally over. You were way too good for him.”

“I can always count on you to not mince words. Jesus,” Katniss shot back. She knew Johanna hadn’t been Darius’s biggest fan, but now that they were broken up, she didn’t hold back on voicing her dislike of him.

“Well, at least you didn’t marry him. Divorces are messy. Though, you would’ve had me as your lawyer and I would’ve milked that fucker for everything he had, so maybe it’s a bit of a loss. I would’ve enjoyed that,” smirked Jo.

“God, you’re unbelievable,” sighed Katniss, but she said it with a small smile. Even though her bark was bad, Jo’s bite wasn’t. Katniss knew it was her friend’s way of showing concern and care for her.

“Whatever, you know you love me. Hey, is that Peeta? I saw his bitchy wife when I came in but didn’t see him,” Johanna said, gazing towards the dining room.

“Ugh, yes. What a tool. I was barely in the room when he started harassing me about taking too much taco dip. I’m pretty sure every one of our friends knows that taco dip was made with me in mind – Gale knows it’s my favourite.” Katniss grumbled.

“Well, maybe he needs a reminder. You can tell him yourself, because he’s headed this way.”

“Ugh, fuck me.” Katniss groaned, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Sorry Everdeen, I’m a married man,” smirked Peeta, coming up behind her, a bottle of Stella Artois in his grasp.

Katniss flushed at his response, while Johanna smiled blandly at the young man. “I wonder for how much longer,” she muttered under her breath so that only Katniss could hear. Katniss’s brow furrowed at the comment, but brushed it off. Odd.

“Ah, Peeta. Everyone’s favourite prick,” smirked Johanna as she raised her voice, her eyes flicking between Katniss and the tall, brawny blond.

Katniss snorted. “What a lovely description, Jo. Very flattering.”

Peeta shot Katniss an irritated look before turning back to Johanna. “Nice to see you too, Jo. How’s life at your hot shot firm? Madge tells me your bosses love you.”

“Yeah, I think it’s more so that they’re afraid of me. Which I’m fine with. Men need intimidation a lot more than they realize.” Johanna replied, smugly.

“Well, you’ve got that covered then,” Katniss piped up.

“Speaking of intimidating women, Mellark, where’s your wife? Still got your balls in a vise or what?”

“Jo! Jesus.” Katniss blurted, her eyes wide and flickering to Peeta to gage his reaction. She didn’t like Peeta, but she also didn’t like awkward conversations about people’s relationships. Or any kind of conversation about relationships.

Peeta stiffened slightly at Joanna’s remark and drew his mouth in a thin line. “She’s over there talking to some co-worker of Gale’s. She’s fine.”

“Really? That’s not what Madge sa-,”

“Jo, I think Gale is waving at you – he’s got your whiskey,” Katniss interrupted. If there was one thing that could shut Johanna up, it was the promise of liquor.

“Finally, be right back,” Johanna threw over her shoulder as she strode towards Gale in the dining room.

Peeta glanced at Katniss, a slight frown on his face, which she ignored. She was eager to move away from the subject of his wife. “How’s Connor? How old did you say he was again?” she asked, nervously. She realized too late that by drawing Johanna’s attention to Gale and her drink, she was leaving herself alone with the person she despised the most at the party. Great. Just when I thought I’d escaped him, I land myself in another conversation with him. Good one, Everdeen.

“…Um…he’s three and a half…what was Johanna talking about? What did Madge say about Delly?”

Katniss pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it, stalling. “Oh, nothing. She just…she said Delly seemed a little off lately, that’s all. I think she was concerned.”

Peeta snorted. “Concerned. Sure she was. You’re a terrible liar, Everdeen,” he said, bitterly.

Katniss glanced at him again, thinking awkwardly about the conversation she’d had with Madge the week before. Madge had made a passing comment to her and Jo about Delly being bitchier than usual and said Peeta seemed withdrawn and moody. It wasn’t really Delly she was concerned about; it was her cousin. Peeta wasn’t a bitter person. But ever since he and Delly married a few months before Connor’s birth, almost four years ago, they’d all seen a shift in him. He was friendly to everyone (except Katniss, of course) but there was an edge to him that hadn’t been there before. It seemed to be getting more and more pronounced as time went on.

Why do you care if he’s out of sorts? She didn’t, really. She was just curious. Even though he wasn’t nice to her, he was generally nice to everyone else, so to see him so bitter confused Katniss. Not that she cared, though. Because she didn’t. Really.

“Yeah, well, ask her yourself then. Excuse me, I need a refill.” Katniss said shortly, turning and leaving him alone for the second time that night.

_________________________________

The night wore on, with Katniss managing to avoid Peeta for the most part, sticking to chatting with Johanna or Madge or one of their other college friends. When she noticed Madge’s wine glass empty at the same time as hers as they were both pleasantly buzzed, she said, smiling, “what do you think, Mrs. Hawthorne? Time to crack open the Nova?”

“Excellent idea, Ms. Everdeen. Would you do the honours?” beamed Madge, her eyes a little glassy by now. The two of them made their way to the kitchen, where a few other people were already gathered, chatting. Katniss pulled open the refrigerator door and poked her head in, searching for the bottle of imported wine, but didn’t see it.

“Where’d you put it, Madge? Did you forget to put it in?” she asked.

“No, it’s in there, I swear – you know I love it super cold.” Madge replied breezily.

“What are you looking for?” asked another voice.

“A bottle of wine I brought for Madge– ” started Katniss, turning around and stopping, her eyes on Peeta Mellark.

And the bottle of Nova 7.

The empty bottle of Nova 7.

“…what the fuck. Are you KIDDING me right now? Did you open and DRINK that?!” Katniss screeched. “Are you actually kidding me?? Fuck you, Mellark!! Do you know what I went through to get that for her?!” She could feel hot tears forming in her eyes, catching her off guard.

Peeta had started to smirk, but when he saw her face, he faltered and his mouth dropped open slightly. “I didn’t–I thought–Gale said there was white wine in–we didn’t–” he stammered, his eyes darting to his wife’s, then back to Katniss's. Katniss hadn’t noticed Delly off to the side, her hand clutching an almost empty wine glass.

“What’s the big deal, it’s just a bottle of wine, there’s plenty here,” said the blonde woman testily as she rolled her eyes. “Personally, I never saw the appeal of Canadian wines. There are so many better brands from Australia or Spain. Canada’s not even that foreign; they’re like, right next door.”

Madge groaned and launched into Delly and Peeta, shouting about the importance of the special birthday gift to the oblivious couple. Katniss tuned her out as she could feel the heat rising in her neck up through her face. She was already having a shitty day moping over Darius and didn’t even want to come to the party in the first place; she definitely didn’t want to have to deal with stupid Peeta Mellark and his stupid bitch wife; and the only thing she’d been looking forward to was sharing the bottle with her best friend.

And the two of them had ruined it.

She had to get out of there before the tears spilled over and she embarrassed herself in front of them. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room without a backwards glance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #everlark fanfiction #everlark fanfic #enemies to lovers

[gongju-juice]

3. Once Upon a Southern Night

Something Old, Something New

Warnings: Some racial tension. . .also might be some language but I can’t remember tbh

The thing about change is that it’s just that—change. You can change something, twist it, mold it, or turn it into whatever you wish for it to look like, but you cannot ever get rid of its original identity. 

Living in Forks was no short of that. Life was a blessing, and your days were filled with laughter and excitement. Beginning your senior year—Jasper had graduated—but the two of you were dating and closer than you’d ever been. He took you on dates to see the stars and bought you flowers and little trinkets to brighten your day. You read books in his lap and went on double dates with Amelia and her boyfriend, Stuart. 

You knew something was strange about your family—so much so that your mother’s weirdness no longer seemed so personalized. Maybe it was the fact they never ate around you, or maybe it’s the account of their golden eyes. And like your mother (and everyone else, frankly), your boyfriend was so inhumanly cold, like a Roman statue left in an icy museum.

But what did you look like asking such crazy questions? After all, what else could it be but coincidence? As for your mom and Carlisle, they were siblings—it was normal for them to share the same traits. But as for the others—Rosalie and Jasper were twins—and although they were different personality wise, they both had the same pale skin and bronze colored eyes. Maybe the old saying is true: living together with someone really does make you look alike.

One day while your family all hung out at the Cullen house, you received a letter in the mail. It was a bright, shimmering white envelope with fancy lace trimming. You opened it carefully—sure not to cut yourself so as to not to trigger Jasper’s weird paranoia around blood. 

“Oh my god!” you shouted, running into the living room. You looked at your mom. “Ivy and Dale are getting hitched!”

“Wow, Ivy?” she said. “I remember the two of you growing up like it was yesterday. When’s the date?”

“March 5. It’s going to take place on Dale’s parents’ farm. The reception’s going to be in the big barn house!”

You whirled in excitement, only to dizzy yourself into Jasper’s arms when you realized you’d fallen. He brushed a stray curl from your face.

“A wedding?” he said. “I thought Ivy was only seventeen.”

“You can get married in Alabama at sixteen with parental consent. I’m sure the Lauderdales were thrilled to hear of the good news. Dale has been hanging ‘round since we were six.”

You popped back onto the floor. “I’ve gotta find a dress and everything! Oh wait—I should call and see if we’re doing matching dresses or if we’re all gonna be wearing different ones.”

You picked up your phone and raced to the kitchen where you could find some privacy and feel free to freak out some more. She picked up on the third ring.

“Lucille!” you cried, “I can’t believe it’s finally happening! Please send me a picture of the ring ASAP, okay?”

She giggled. “It’s not a big deal, Y/N. We’ve been engaged since we were twelve. It’s just that now we’ve got that ice and permission to prove it.”

The phone buzzed and you looked at the image of the triple diamond ring which had a band of diamonds all around. You recognized that ring. It was Dale’s grandmother’s sacred family heirloom, the one that’s been locked up tight in their security safe. He only let you and her see it once when you were both thirteen and his parents were out in the field.

“I’m so excited for the bachelorette party!” you gushed. “We’re going to have so much fun! We should go to Pensacola and go to one of them spa places and then we can—”

“Y/N,” she said quietly, cutting you off entirely. “You’re not on the bridesmaids list.”

You were quiet, your flailing arms caught in mid air. “I’m not. . .but you said—”

“I’m sorry, girl, but Mama already chose who's going to be in my wedding. There’s 

Charlotte, Mary, Clarabelle, and Lydia. . .the ones I grew up with.”

“But. . .what about me? Didn’t. . .didn’t we grow up together?”

“Yeah, but. . .it’s just not the same, you know? Those people are family. You can still come to the wedding, of course. That’s why I sent the invitation.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel hurt. Here was your best friend telling you that you couldn’t be in the wedding. Mrs. Lauderdale. . .you thought she really liked you. Was it because you moved up north?”

“Oh, alright then. I was just—just calling to confirm the date. March 5, right?”

“Yeah, March 5.”

You hung up the phone and sighed at the counter, your head hung down. Just then, Jasper came walking in. He came up behind you and held you in place, his head resting on your shoulder. Suddenly, your mood improved instantly. But that was the thing about Jasper—he was always brightening your day when you felt down. It was part of the reason you adored him.

“You okay?” he whispered. “You know you don’t got to go to that wedding?”

You shook your head. “Of course I do. It’s my best friend’s wedding. How could I miss her big day? Besides. . .how did you even know I was sad?”

He stiffened. “I. . .uh. . .heard the conversation in the hallway.”

“Oh, well I guess that makes sense.”

He held you for a while against the hard granite. 

“Jasper?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Will you be my date to the wedding?”

“Absolutely.”

Rosalie was the one officially in charge in helping you pick your dress. Alice had a vengeful streak and wanted you to wear a big, white gown that would take all the attention away from Ivy.

“It’s wayyyy too hot in the south for that,” you pleaded, “and I ain’t trying to cause no trouble! It’s her Mama who did it, not Ivy.”

“She should’ve overridden that stupid decision then,” Alice continued, braiding your hair. It was still funny to know that the tiny pixie girl knew how to do a full-set of box braids. “If it was my wedding—”

“But it isn’t your wedding,” Rosalie insisted. “And Ivy isn’t your friend. Now like I was saying, Y/N, this little yellow sundress would look so cute with your skin tone. . .”

They even hooked up Jasper. They got him a nice cornflower blue dress shirt and a cream colored suit. Emmett even put on a whole show of picking his hairstyle, and even though they went through all that progress and hard work, you kindly reminded them that a heat wave was coming the weekend of the wedding and that it was best just to leave his curls the way they were. Jasper did not take kindly to his brother after that.

“Why don’t you come with us?” you asked your mom as she helped you pack the last of your luggage. “It’s gonna be so lonely with just me and Jasper. And besides, I’m sure everybody wants to see you!”

“No, no, I can’t. I’m scheduled for a surgery the day of the wedding. I can’t cancel it either. It’s a cancerous tumor that needs to be removed.”

You sighed, sitting up on your bed. “I can’t believe it’s here. She’s getting married, mom. We’re all going to be adults and pretty soon, if things go to according to plan, me and—” You cut yourself off as the overwhelming thought engulfed you.

“That’s right. You and Jasper will have your own wedding someday. . .speaking of which. . .we need to talk about the future.”

“The future?”

“Yes,” she sat on your bed. “There are some things you need to know before you set your eyes on your own big day. We’ll talk about that all soon, I promise. But as for now, go and enjoy yourself with Jasper. You’ll have him all to yourself. . .”

“Mom!” you shouted. “Jasper—he’s too sweet for that. He’s a real gentleman! It hasn’t even been that long ago since we had our first kiss, and he was scared to even do that!”

She raised her brows. “Hmmm, maybe that’s what he wanted you to think. But guys are never shy when it comes to that subject.”

The next day, your family wished you off at the airport. Jasper bought you first class tickets—a feat you deemed both extravagant and unnecessary—and you slept on his shoulder for most of the way. 

Immediately, touching down in your home state, everything felt so different. It was humid and hot; the type of sticky that makes your hair stick to the back of your neck, and people were so much more cordial then they were back at Forks. Some gave Jasper strange looks as he wound his fingers with yours, but again, nobody was unpleasant.

You would be staying at a hotel about thirty miles out from the country. There were, thankfully, two queen sized beds parallel to one another in the tiny room. But Jasper insisted sleeping in the living room part where a half wall separated the two of you.

On the big day, your boyfriend pulled out an authentic cowboy hat (the likes you’d never seen before), and the two of you headed down Ivy’s long dirt road. 

Fields of cotton and peas lined either side of the road, and for long stretches, there were no houses except the occasional large country home with animals and plots of cultivated land. The ditches teemed with life: jumping frogs, tadpoles, crawfish, and lillies. 

“Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been in the country,” he said. “This place isn’t much different from home.”

“Home? In Forks?”

“Rose and I—before we were adopted—used to live in Texas.”

“Really? That explains your accent! I just thought you watched too many western flicks. Oh, but why doesn’t Rosalie have one?”

“Well, she just hides it, I guess.”

You arrived at the house. There was a trail of cars already parked in the grassy yard, and people made their way in their finest Sunday’s best to the row of chairs arranged in front of the big oak tree where the minister stood.

“Y/N!” one of your old childhood friends exclaimed when she saw you. She was dressed in a teal dress, and at her side was some unknown boy you hadn’t met. “It’s so good to see you!” She looked at your boyfriend. “And who’s this?”

“Jasper Hale, ma’am, I’m her date for the evening,” he answered, tipping his hat. The row of women waiting to greet you gushed at his manners, and dare you say, they checked him out so openly. You hugged his bicep tighter.

“Just for the evening or indefinitely?” she cooed.

“Indefinitely.”

You sat down in one of the middle rows, and watched in awe as the wedding processional came down the aisle. Ivy was dressed in a glittery dress and carried the largest bouquet of white roses you’d ever seen. Dale had tears in his eyes as he looked up at his bride. They were so perfect, so in love, it made your insides melt.

After the beautiful ceremony, the party moved the barn. The rafters were draped in lights and white ribbons and flower petals covered the ground. You chose a table nearest to one of the wooden walls and curled into Jasper’s side.

“You look so gorgeous,” he said, tucking a dandelion behind your ear. “You out-shined the bride, and you didn’t even have to wear that ridiculous dress Alice was trying to shove you in.”

“All of my girlfriends keep whispering about you. You’re the real star tonight. The best looking man in both Washington and Alabama.”

Just then, Mrs. Lauderdale approached your table.

“Y/N, how are you honey?” she asked as you hugged her plump form. As the mother of the bride, she was dressed in a simple white dress and rocked a crown of flowers in her hair.

“I’m wonderful. Have you met my boyfriend?” You allowed her to inspect Jasper as he offered a hand.

“My, my. What a fine young man,” she cried. “Who knew you could get such a catch?”

She pulled you off to the side, and although Jasper tried to follow, you insisted he stay behind.

“I hope you aren’t upset about the whole bridesmaid situation,” she said, patting your shoulder. “We wanted a small processional anyway—makes it so we can get to the food faster.”

You shook your head. “‘Course not. It was such a beautiful ceremony. And Ivy—she’s stunning,” you said as you admired her twirling form with her new husband.

“Well anyway, John and the guys want to see you. John?”

Mr. Lauderdale greeted you with a nod. “How’s it going?”

“All good here,” you answered enthusiastically. In all honesty, John and his friends intimidated you with their skeptical expressions and hawk-like eyes. It was obvious the men of the family didn’t like you as much as the girls did—and that was fine. You were here for Ivy, not them.

“You got yourself a white boy?” Vernon, Ivy’s brother, asked. “A Yankee?”

“Actually, Jasper’s a Texan. And yes, he’s white. But it isn’t weird or anything.”

Like he was in on the conversation, he smoothly slid in beside you, his cold hand wrapping around your waist.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said as he addressed the men. “I’m a Houston native, by the way. I was raised on a farm myself—had a chocolate brown mare named Buttercup and a field full of bulls.”

“Ah, really? That makes me even more surprised to see you here.”

“Pardon me?”

Vernon smirked. “Y’all go and enjoy yourselves.”

Jasper pulled you away from the barn with a little more determination than you thought was needed. He hadn’t looked nor spoken until the two of you were completely alone by the fence where the ponies ran.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly. “You seem upset.”

“It’s nothing. I didn’t like the way those boys were talking. Had to get outside and clear my mind.” He pulled you closer to his body, and his cool skin felt good in the heat of the night.

“Holding you like this makes me get so sentimental,” he admitted. “It makes me want to take you to the nearest courtyard and get official. It makes me want to buy you a hundred acres and a big, nice house by a river. It makes me want to give you a bunch of kids to keep us company, so we can grow old together and live happily ever after.”

“I like when you get sentimental,” you breathed.

“But,” he stopped, “that last part might not be able to happen. There’s something you should know about me—about our family before you decide to give your heart away.”

“What do you mean? What could possibly be so earth-shattering that it’d make me stop loving you?”

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, staring deeply into your eyes. His brows were creased, forehead wrinkled in thought. 

“Y/N, I wanted to wait to tell you, but I can’t stand lies. Most importantly, I don’t like to lie to you.”

“Just say it, baby.”

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness. 

It was a tall man, about the same height and build as Jasper, with bright crimson eyes and long dark hair tied back in a ponytail. He stared at you intensely before casting his burning gaze to Jasper.

“It’s been a long time, old friend,” he said darkly before inhaling deeply. “And it’s been even longer, Camille.”

And here the real story begins. Also I like cowboy Jasper playing with ponies maybe I’ll do a drabble on that.

Part One    Part Two   Part Four

#jasper hale #jasper hale imagines #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #esme cullen #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #alice cullen #cowboy jasper 'cause i said so #i asked my mama if i could be a horse rider and she said no

[ravenwritesstuff]

Best Laid Plans (7/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, Rapunzel/Eugene, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: It’s Helsa. And Kristanna. So know I ignore or delete most anons okay?

She leaves him with Rapunzel to get more of the particulars, to fill out the client intake sheet, and assemble the base data that will be crucial to planning whatever event it is that Hans Westergaard could want. She takes her sopping bag into her office and shuts the door. She slumps back against it, breathing for the first time since she woke up. 

This whole day has been a nightmare. She hopes that she is hallucinating, dreaming, something besides actually living in a reality where she has just agreed to spend over a month working side by side with Hans Westergaard. The very thought makes her stomach clench and this time it has nothing to do with her - 

A tap comes on the door behind her and she chokes on a breath, stumbling forward. 

It it is him she swears…

“Who is it?” She presses a trembling hand back against her errant hair. 

The door opens and she steps back. Her body screaming just in case but she is not sure exactly what she is bracing against. She was clear with him. He knows she is not interested, that she will not cross her self-imposed boundaries, except has felt his heat now and it is burning through her defenses in a way that makes her feel like this could actually be something. Like they could actually, somehow, have a shot. 

Her fingers twist into her stomach, clenching at the wet fabric of her test against the sensations mounting without her bidding.

The door clicks open and she is about ready to send him packing - to cancel the agreement - to burn this entire operation to the ground - when her sister’s concerned head pops around the corner. 

“Hey,” she slips in as if she is afraid to open the door to wide, as if she might let in something unwanted after herself if she doesn’t enter quickly enough. She has a bundle under one arm and grimace on her face. “I ran to your apartment while you were in with Hans and grabbed you some dry clothes and a towel.” 

She extends the package. Elsa knows her sister tucked the underwear inside an equally drab and shapeless shift. One time she had not been so discreet when passing sister her change of clothes at an event and her bra had fallen on the floor in front of Kristoff and Eugene and they may be like brothers but still. It is the principle of the thing. 

Whatever modesty she felt in front of her other business partners, she does not feel in front of her sister. Still Anna turns to give her privacy and shuts the door firmly as Elsa sheds her soaked clothes for their dry alternative. 

“So….” Anna leads with the tact of a bulldozer. “Rapunzel is working on an event intake flow.” 

Elsa’s underwear sticks to her skin as she peels it off, shivering for more than just the cold, and towels off the remaining moisture.

“I would hope so,” Elsa cannot help but being glib. “It is her job.”

She can see Anna’s spine tighten. Her body reacting to Elsa’s tone. 

“So we’re doing this?” Anna pushes on despite. 

Elsa sighs. “We’re doing this.” 

Elsa undoes her bun and shakes out her hair. It is a mess of damp and wet patches that promises to dry into a total mess. Everything is a mess. 

How has less than seventy two hours passed and everything she has worked to set up for the last decade is coming unraveled? 

“Rapunzel says it is a tight timeline.”

“Thirty nine days.”

Anna whistles under her breath. Elsa agrees mentally. 

“What about the Clemmons wedding and -”

“We’re ahead on the Clemmons wedding. Most of their big deadlines aren’t for another two months.” Elsa tries to convince herself as much as Anna.

“Sure - there’s that - but then there’s all the others. The Red Rose Appreciation Dinner and the -”

Elsa listens to her sister list off all their spinning plates while she fits the soft cotton undergarments over her goose-pimpled skin. The easy fit of her shift is a comfort in the middle of what she knows is about the be the biggest mistake of her life. 

“ - and I know I told you to listen to him, that we needed this, but this timeline - Elsa - can we do it?” Elsa doesn’t even have to see to know Anna is wringing her hands, second guessing herself.

Now dressed, Elsa touches her sister’s shoulder to signal she can turn. 

“I’ll take it on.” Elsa meets her sister’s wide blue eyes. “I’ll need help here or there, and of course on the day, but this will be my project.” 

Anna’s brow pinches and Elsa cannot stand beneath the scrutiny of her gaze. She turns back to where she discarded the towel earlier. She grabs it and pats her hair  to give her shaking hands something to do. 

“After all, you said we needed this. And maybe we do.” 

Anna shifts her weight from side to side. 

“I did say that.”

They both know what isn’t being said.

After an eternity Elsa sighs. 

“This will be fine,” she gave up on praying awhile ago, but she does it now. “This will all be fine.” 

Something in Anna’s eye sparks and Elsa knows she isn’t fooling her, but she also knows that Anna isn’t sure enough yet to call it out. 

She had pressed yesterday. She is smart enough to leave it alone today.

Elsa wonders how long it will be until Anna forces the truth out of her. 

Her head hurts, but she convinces herself it is psychosomatic. 

Thirty nine days. She can do this. She can keep it together for thirty nine days. She can make this her final act and set them up for the success she knows they all deserve. 

“This will be a great time to updatie the standard operating procedures for clients processes. Really trim them up,” Elsa’s voice was just a bit too cheerful. 

She does not need to hide here, but she is anyway. It is easier. The more she convinces herself everything is normal the less she has to consider that she isn’t. 

Anna gives her the side eye. That sisterly intuition firing, but not willing to admit what she fears the most. 

“Yeah. We should update that.” Is all she says, hands still twisting in front, and Elsa needs to change the subject.

She scrubs at her face: “Do I still has mascara all over my cheeks?”

Anna laughs and shakes her head. 

“No. You’re good.” 

They share a small laugh as Anna steps towards her.

“I meant what I said. If you ever want to change your mind, go a different direction, make a different choice - we will support you. And not just me and Kristoff. Everyone.” 

Elsa meets her gaze, knowing exactly what she is prompting, but not ready to meet it. She smiles, instead, an over practiced smile. The one she uses when she wants to run and hopes Anna doesn’t notice. 

Elsa isn’t sure it works, but Anna smiles in return. 

“So we’re doing this?”

Elsa nods, regretting each motion. “We’re doing this.”

Anna’s smile widens as Elsa continues to pat her hair. She will have to braid it and hope for the best at this point. At least now she isn’t expecting anyone else to bust in with a buffet of breakfast goods and - 

“Hey!” Anna was just about to call it good and duck out when Elsa caught her at the door. “Did Mister Westergaard leave his spread?”

“Yeah,  I think so?” Anna nods.

“Can you have Pascal bring me a cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese?” She tries to look like she doesn’t care as she strides around her desk to her seat. “If there are any?” 

Elsa had seen the spread. She knows they are there. This is a desperate attempt to seem uninterested. She knows it probably doesn’t work, but all Anna does is nod.

“Of course,” her hand lingers on the door handle and looks back at her sister once more. “Is there anything else?”

Elsa knows what she is asking. She knows exactly what she asks which is why she sinks down into her seat with a shake of her head and a sigh. 

“Just tell Rapunzel to get me the specifics as soon as she can so we can make this happen.”

Elsa is good at giving tasks, and Anna is good at taking them. That is why they make such a great team. That is why this work means so much to them.

“I’ll have her report in ASAP!” Anna salutes and Elsa reciprocates with an honest smile. Anna has been with her through it all .

And that has been a lot. 

When she shuts the doors Elsa sinks back in her chair for one moment, thinking. The only reason E&A Events exists the way it does is because of the insurance settlement from their parents untimely death. It had been the cash infusion they needed to make things happen and they had. At first it has been lower budget, but as their reputation and expertise grew- so had their pricing. Now they were here planning an event for an internationally known business man's son.

Butterflies erupt in her stomach at the thought. Elsa's mind whirs through all the work she will need to get done today on top of her regular responsibilities. She knows needs to start drawing up an extensive budget to submit to Hans Westergaard to have him approve and submit his deposit before she even allows herself to get any more flustered than she already is.  She cannot do anything though until Rapunzel gets the information into the pipeline.

She takes two deep breaths in her stylish, ergonomic, yet cost effective desk chair. All the air sucks in through her nose and then exhales through her mouth. That is the way to relax, or so her coaches and medical professionals had told her. She is about to call bullshit when the phone on her desk rings.

She frowns. She isn’t expecting a call now but only her clients had her direct line. No one would be calling if it wasn’t important. Before she has another thought she reaches out, picks up the receiver and:

“This is Elsa of E&A Events.” 

“Hello Elsa,” she can practically hear his smile across the line. “I know I should have waited - given you enough time to miss me - but we are keeping things professional.” 

Even as he keeps his tone light she picks up on a purring resonance tickling her ear down the line. Her cheeks heat as she tries to push past the embarrassment she feels at how her body responds even to just the sound of his voice.

Any idea she had about relaxing is long gone. 

“Yes. Hello. What do you need for your event ?” 

She emphasizes the last element because she knows she needs to. She has swam with enough fish to know when she meets a shark. 

“I just wanted to confirm with you what I discussed with Rapunzel. Charming girl, by the way. Quite savvy.”

Elsa has barely had time to get dry clothes on and this man assumed she had her itinerary in front of her. Of course he did. Of course she should.

“Mister Westergaard - “

“Hans.”

“Mister Westergaard we just met less than half an hour ago and while I completely satisfied with Rapunzel’s capabilities there is a certain wait time that is specific to -” a knock comes at Elsa’s door with a quick open after. Rapunzel’s spikey bobbed head pops around the corner and Elsa nearly chokes. “- to - to - well - any event. We have agreed to assess you offer and give you an answer A.S.A.P.” She waves for Rapunzel to come in. 

“Ah, so you haven’t spoken with Rapunzel yet.”

And the way he said it, they way it feels like he knows more about her own company than she does presses around her like a vice and she cannot allow it. She cannot allow this stranger to define who she is, what she is, what she services.

 She will not let him condescend her in general conversation. 

“As expressed before, Mister Westergaard, the services we provide are deeply specific. Rapunzel just came in with your information." She waves her hand to bring Rapunzel and her tightly clutched file into her space. Rapunzel's eyes are wide and watchful as she helps Elsa spread out the official intake documents. "I will review it and have a full proposal set for you by end of day.” 

Elsa scans the pages. There are numbers for expenses she is sure must be typos. There are zeros where she feels there shouldn’t be. Her mouth goes dry as her gaze darts to Rapunzel with a questioning gaze. Rapunzel, as if she knew it was coming, just nods and spreads her hands with a big smile. This has always been the goal of E&A Events. To access to affluent. To land the big fish. So why does Elsa's stomach hurt?

“So have you had enough time?” He almost seems to sense it her mental jaw drop over the line.

Elsa scanned the numbers for the budget first and mentally plugs in vendors. Availability will be the most challenging part of this event. It is summer and peak of wedding season. Many of her more popular, trusted vendors were sure to be booked, but she is fairly certain she can make it all work. It will be a challenge but not impossible. Still - 

“You left my office less than half an hour ago, Mister Westergaard,” she buys time as she sorts through more paperwork and ideas and agenda never before seen in a standard client. "But I will keep you informed of the viability of this project."

“But you already know. I know you do. That is why I chose you. I know you want this.” he doesn’t wait for her to give a definitive answer. He doesn’t need it. That is what his lawyers are for.

She chokes back the instinct to see if he is recording, if this is a Pranked episode, if she really is the biggest loser in town. 

“I learned long ago to never let myself want anything, Mister Westergaard.”

She can only count her blessings that he is not right in front of her when he responds, that he cannot see her discomforted flush. She is already figuring out how to not lean into his bait, to let his words sweep over her. 

Or at least that is what she tells herself.

He is silent more than she expects. She looks up to see Rapunzel clutching a file to her chest looking about ready to pop and she knows this is it. The shoe is about to drop. 

Hans’ voice come over the line, low and mellow:

“So did Rapunzel ask you about tomorrow’s schedule?”

[ previous ]

#best laid plans #helsa #frozen #fanfiction #trash

[izzy-b-hands]

Seth/Magnus E!

Ooh thank you!! This is a new pairing for me and I am 👀👀 to take a stab (...see what I did there; I'm so sorry) at it!

E: Enemies to Friends to Lovers

It isn't that Seth has any hatred for Magnus out of how his actions have effected Pickles. No, he doesn't give a shit about that, it's just that as soon as he meets Magnus, recovering in a hospital post-Doomstar? (because there's a whole thing of Toki wanting to see Magnus rehabilitated even as everyone else goes He Literally Tortured You and Held You Captive Are You Serious??!!!??, and it's decided that once Magnus is well enough, he'll start said therapy, rehab, etc. with the Dethklok Australia branch to keep him away from the lads until everyone is ready for that huge step.)

He HATES him. Like, looks at him and first thought is 'what a dick.' He doesn't care to tear that apart more though, even as he complains to poor Amber about it.

"So...you're into him. That's why you hate him right now." And she doesn't even have to look up from her phone to tell him that. She has all the drunk girl in a bathroom wisdom, without needing to be drunk.

He doesn't believe her. What utter bullshit, right?

And Magnus thinks little of Seth. Nepotism is what got him his job, what a dick! What good does he even bring to the job? None that Magnus can see.

"So... you're like, into my husband. You can have him, if you want," says Amber as she texts Abigail. They have been dating on the side for nearly a year. Seth still has not noticed, despite the monthly trips Abigail has made out to the Australian branch, where she did in fact sleep with Amber the entire time.

Magnus is disgusted. Him, into Seth? Fuck anyone who would suggest it!

They hit the year mark of Magnus being a technical Dethklok Australia employee/ward of the branch and uh. Well.

Him and Seth spend the weekends together now. They... actually hang out. They have fun. Turns out they both like the same shows, same stupid board games, same comedians, and whatever they don't both like, they don't despise so much that they won't endure it for their...

Fuck. Their friend.

"Are you guys ever gonna fuck?" Amber asks as she shows off the baby to Abigail via Skype. Abigail has proposed, and once things are formally ended with Seth, can't wait to adopt the baby and be a mum with Amber. She'll be the working mum, yeah, but she's ready to settle down. Amber will be the stay at home mum, and on weekends they'll get plenty of time together, watching the little one grow up.

Seth and Magnus, sobbing together on the couch over their favourite (and secret) romantic drama from the 40s playing on the huge TV, are too busy with themselves to answer.

"They're gonna be together forever!" They sniffle and cry in one voice.

"Oh my fucking gooooddddd," replies Amber, who has had the divorce paperwork ready for over three months now.

Seth signs the papers and the divorce goes on without a peep from him, not even at the page that says he'll agree to two visits a year with the baby, and to let Abigail adopt the baby ASAP, making Amber and Abigail the main parents.

Is he sure of what he signed? Not clear, but either way, he doesn't care about it. Amber moves out to be with a thrilled Abigail, and Magnus moves in.

Because friends wouldn't let friends be alone during a huge life change like this, right?

"For your own sake, just fuck him already. And like, ya know...date and shit. You'll both be happier once you do." Amber says before she leaves and washes her hands of their slow burn nonsense.

They spend the nights together. They cook together. Go to movies together. Make a chore chart that's followed surprisingly rigidly. Grocery shop together. Maybe jack off a few nights together.

Like friends!

Until all of a sudden it hits Magnus that oh god

Oh no oh FUCK no

He wants More. He doesn't just like this little twerp, he loves him. This is his little twerp, and he wants to spend all his time making him happy.

His therapist, already thrilled with his progress and his getting over his need for revenge, is over the moon for him. Asks when he's going to make it a formal thing.

He doesn't know. Because how can he possibly tell if Seth feels the same?!

(he could, ya know, ask him. But he won't, not yet.)

It clicks for Seth a few weeks later, when he sells his wedding ring from his marriage to Amber. He...misses wearing a ring. And there's only one person he could ever think of now to wear a ring for, who technically has the guest room but sleeps most nights with Seth, who lets Seth play with his long curled hair, who falls asleep on Seth with a smile on his face during their movie nights at home-

Oh no. Oh shit oh Fuck No. He can't ask Magnus for more, there's no way to say if he wants more, or sees him as anything more than a friend.

(in the movie version of this fic, Two of Hearts has started playing on the soundtrack.)

Finally, a month later, they Break. It's a fantastically furious night of passionate and long held back kisses (and more lol.)

Amber texts them both after getting panicked 'oh god what if he really doesn't like me this much and this is just a one night stand?!' separate texts from them:

'congrats on the sex. Took u 2 long enough lol 😘. Abi and I will send u Something cool for ur wedding, just give us a date.'

And about a year later, she sends them a Dethklok Blend Your Enemies Into Blood Deluxe Grade Blender a few days before the actual ceremony. She'd attend, but she's pregnant with what will be her second, and her and Abi's first baby together (Charles is the willing but not overly enthusiastic sperm donor. It's just a weird part of his job as far as he's concerned, and he is dating Amber's ex-brother-in-law, so...he feels like he should.)

They wear matching suits. Magnus happily lets Seth braid his hair for the wedding. Seth rents them a gorgeous spot on the beach for their week-long honeymoon.

It's the happiest either of them has ever been, and to think it all started with both of them glaring at each other in a hospital room.

#text post #LeeHwrites #god this is another one i might just...have to write fully #im Into This Fic Idea rn big time

[iprocrastinatefartoomuch]

A lot of thoughts on AWAE 3x08 (spoilers ahead)...

Ka'kwet’s back! Yay! So is that shitty nun, ugghhh. She and the minister who burnt the schoolhouse are going straight to hell. 

While I applaud the ingenuity of her idea, I hope she doesn’t drown.

Holy shit, she’s going to escape by holding on to the underside of the wagon. This moment remains relevant because there’re refugees and migrants that travel using that method.

I love how Anne is so enthusiastic about the paper, she’s going to be heartbroken over the burnt schoolhouse and the confiscated printing press.

“We did do something and this was the result.”-Come on Tillie, don’t blame Anne for the school’s board of directors’ feebleness.

Glad to see Josie’s back at school.

Oh no, Anne is going after Mrs. Lynde. As much as I have flip-flopped on liking her, she did try to be the moderate voice on the panel.

I love how Mrs. Lynde has come around to Anne and her cause because she realized, in spite of Anne’s methods and her “behavior”, she was fighting for her to have a voice as well. Solidarity is beautiful

Bash’s mom is here! They have an uneasy dynamic about them.

Anne and Gilbert are so comfortable with one another and sitting awfully close to one another.

And we’re brought back to reality with the mention of Winifred.  

“Not with you, Anne, with Winifred!” Ooff, that’s got to hurt.

Dining with parents, they’re going awfully fast.

Diana: How not to break up with someone 101.

Describing their relationship as apples and oranges isn’t an accessible way to break up with one another.

Don’t lie Diana, you did think that Jerry wasn’t good enough for you.

The fact she threw his gifts to her on the floor was unnecessarily cruel.

Why couldn’t she just say that the relationship was going a bit too fast and she wasn’t ready to give up her newly found autonomy? It’s not like it’s not true. Those in rural settings tended to marry earlier than those in the city and despite Diana living in the country, she might as well live in the city.

Also, keeping the relationship from Anne was never going to last anyway.

My mom and Diana’s parents have the same look when my relatives come to visit.

Thank god Aunt Jo is here to talk some sense into her.

Oh god, this dynamic between Bash and his mom is getting increasingly awkward.

Bash’s insult was a bit below the belt but he had a point. Gilbert sees Bash his equal in every way. Plus, logistically, they’re going on two different avenues in life.

Mathew is just the best, enough said.

Diana’s taking the exam, yay!

The scene outside the testing place is giving me severe flashbacks to when I took my SAT.

I laughed when Mrs. Lynde apologized for saying damn. Lord knows I would be using much stronger words.

“Why would I stay, with people frozen in time?” I hope the writers aren’t hinting at Miss Stacy and Bash getting together. I like them as friends.

Diana thoroughly surprised me by volunteering to take the first shot of moonshine. Hard alcohol and an empty stomach (I’m sure most of them were too nervous to eat anything for breakfast) is a bad combo.

Now would be a good time for Diana and Anne to make up.

I can’t hate Winifred but all I keep thinking is that they’re not the one for one another.

Damn, they have an apartment in Paris, financing, connections and he gave him his blessing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more appealing offer.

Ruby and Moody are cute.

I love this scene so much. It may be a tad too unrealistic but there’s something so effortless, young and beautiful about it.

The cinematographer deserves a raise. Seriously, Anne looked so beautiful against the fire.

Gilbert’s oversized baker cap make shim appear younger than he is.

Was it a rejection? No, right?? She just vomited out a series of words and restated his options. In addition, HE NEVER OUTRIGHT STATES THAT HE LOVES HER. Besides, you’re too young to get married.

Asking someone to confess their deepest feelings to you whilst they’re tipsy is such a bad idea. It’s as if he didn’t realize the magnitude of asking someone to marry you.

The obvious difference in appearance between Winifred and Anne annoys me immensely. I know they’re only about two years apart but the fact that Anne is still dressed as if she was 14 irks me. I’m not blaming Anne for keeping the same clothes especially since she lives in a rural setting, where fashions are a tad behind, but the lack of change in her appearance, I’m sure factors in her inability to see herself as marriage or courting material. Moreover, it only reinforces the idea that both Anne and Gilbert are only ready for courtship.

The maritime book is back.

Whilst I’m glad that Elijah didn’t steal the ring, I’m still mad about the upcoming proposal.

I’m saying this once again: Thank god for Aunt Jo.

“I feel like I was a child yesterday and I feel like I’m being asked to explain my life on a ticking clock.”-Exactly my sentiments.

Aunt Jo is right, she just needs some time and some clear headspace to sort out her feelings.

“I have clarity.” NO, YOU DON’T. Boy, I swear to god, he’s so thick-skulled.

YOU CANNOT PROPOSE TO WINIFRED BECAUSE ANNE (sort-of) REJECTED YOU! THIS IS NOT THE BACHELOR, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT THE BACHELOR!

If you’re only proposing to someone because they’re the second choice, that’s not a good enough reason.

If he does propose, I hope Winifred rejects him because she feels that she’s too young/he’s too inexperienced/it’s too soon. I’m assuming, she’s not yet done with college.

I love this scheming Rachel.

“No, no, there’s no need to be hysterical.”-You’ve got to love her.

“Spreading news around town, is my forte”

Not going to lie, I was hoping for something more than a gender balance. I don’t think that was a fair trade-off. At the very least, a gender balance and the restoration of the school and the printing press should have been agreed upon.

Hopefully, the two other female members are Anne/Marilla and Miss Stacy.

KA’KWET IS HOME!! Hopefully for sure.

The reunification scene had me in tears.

“You don’t even like being you”.” -Ain’t that the truth.

Yay Diana and Anne made up!

Hopefully, Anne can convince Diana to clarify her breakup with Jerry. It’s the least she could do.

“I’m in love with Gilbert Blythe!”-YOU CAN’T END WITH THAT!

Final Thoughts:

I hope Winifred and Gilbert break off things before he proposes. A proposal would actually complicate things. Was I the only one surprised that her parents were so willing to let Gilbert propose after knowing her for such a short amount of time?

If does propose and they somehow break up, he better not propose to Anne with that same ring. The light blue stone of that ring, won’t do. I feel like Anne would be someone who likes pearls or emeralds.

What happened to Diana’s empathy during the breakup? Couldn’t she say she doesn’t know what to do and doesn’t want to hurt one another any further?

I really wanted to see Anne comfort Jerry about his first breakup.

Bash and Miss Stacy needs to not be a couple.

I’m so confused about Gilbert’s marriage storyline. On one hand, he’s 18 and of acceptable marriage age. On the other hand, his options are literally: propose to Winifred or confess his feelings to Anne so that he can court her. They’re not of equal weight.

Why does Gilbert see Sorbonne as his only option? He can’t speak French well or at all and most certainly, not at university level. What happened to the University of Toronto, McGill, Dalhousie or Queen's School of Medicine? Fredrick Banting and Charles Best of the Uni. of Toronto were the first to synthesize insulin in 1921. 

While I’m glad this episode brought back Ka'kwet, how is her story going to tie back to Anne’s? I don’t want a white savior plot but it seems odd to introduce a storyline that has little to do with the main plot.

Bash and his mom need to have a conversation on race and class ASAP or else it’s going to harm Delphine greatly.

I find it unrealistic that Diana could pass the entrance exam without any studying. They should have started this storyline an episode or two earlier. It would have worked well alongside Diana’s attempt at exploring autonomy storyline. Dating someone of a different socioeconomic class isn’t exactly all that freedom should be.

Finally, I want to petition the writers to put Anne is something besides braids and too-short dresses that come with aprons. The 1985 adaption, they put Anne in a full-on young lady of the 1880’s ensemble by the time she is taking her entrance exam.

#awae #annewithane #awae3x8 #anne of green gables #anne shirley #awaespoilers

[tricksandtales]

Chapter 4: Welcome to Team Free Will

“These are some good pancakes, cupcake.” Gabriel murmured dousing them with more maple syrup.

“Thanks, honey bun.” The angel’s head jerked up and stared at her. “What?” She blushed slightly. “You’ve been calling me all sorts of food related things, thought I’d return the favor.” She grinned.

“Okay then, gum drop. Game on.” He grinned back.

“I’m surprised you can taste the pancakes over all the syrup.”

He grinned back around a mouthful of food, “I like sweets.”

“Me too.” She smiled, shifting her hips to lean on the counter. “But apparently not as much as you.”

Over breakfast, Gabriel had started telling her about his story: his family, the apocalypse, how he’d met the Winchesters, about Jack, and what had happened to make Heaven loose so many angels. It was complicated, and there were a lot of holes, but he explained the Winchesters would be able to fill in most of missing pieces.

Riley was fascinated. Still a bit anxious and unsure, and she kept pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t, sadly.

Gabriel was as helpful as he could be. He didn’t spare any details from his answers. He even offered to do the dishes while she packed. Apparently, this involved snapping his fingers, which made Riley frown, and wonder if she could do dishes that way too now…. There was going to be some great application to this angel mojo if it could be used to make her apartment clean. Sighing, Riley headed to her room and began pulling out clothes and items she need for a week, or two.

If it went longer…. Then she’d have to consider what to do long term. But that was a decision for future Riley.

Once packed, Riley made her way to the bathroom and grabbed a quick shower. She wasn’t quite sure what to do about her wings, because although they didn’t seem to get wet, she could feel them on her back and had a very strong urge to clean them. Especially since she could reach out and touch them, the feathers soft in her fingers. Her wing span was pretty large, though nothing compared to Gabriel’s. His wings were massive. Would his feather have the same feeling? Could wings be hurt?

She spent a longer time in the shower than she intended, musing on things as the water massaged her aching body.

-----------

For his part, Gabriel waited pretty patiently. He snapped the kitchen clean. Raided the candy bowl he found on the dining room table and settled in to watch some tv. He did send a quick mental note to Castiel that he might want to rendezvous with the Winchesters, as there was going to need to be a discussion asap on what happened next.

When Riley emerged from her bedroom, dressed in jean shorts, a bright yellow tank top and green flannel shirt, she found him sprawled across the couch, mouth around a lollipop, watching Dr. Sexy reruns. His eyes raked over her form as she approached, and he gave her bemused smile, “Flannel?”

Riley blinked at him, “It’s the weekend, I tend to dress down.” Her hand reached up a tugged the braid she’d wound her wet hair into. “Is it bad?”

He gave a bemused chuckle, “No. It’s just that you’ll fit right in with the Hardy twins.”

“Um….”

“Winchesters. They wear a lot of flannel.”

“I like flannel.” She sounded slightly offended. “What’s the issue with it?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” He soothed, “It’s cute on you.”

A blush tinged her cheeks as she turned back to kitchen. “I’ve got my stuff. I made arrangements for next week, work wise. So I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Righty-o.” Gabriel stood, tv blinking off behind him. He grabbed one of her bags and then took her hand with the other. “So, first time flyer – I’ll take us this time. Then we’ll need to work on you being able to do it yourself. But later.” He winked. “Ready, set, here we go!”

And like that, Riley’s apartment no longer held the two angels.

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

The hotel room Gabriel transported them to was cheap, and made Riley’s skin crawl ever so slightly. It wasn’t that she was judgey about the quality, more so the state of cleanliness. She hoped it wasn’t their final destination, but figured she’d roll with the punches at this point. The day could honestly not get much weirder.

Then she met Sam and Dean. The two men who inhabited the room were not what she’d expected. Gabriel, for all his humor and weirdness, was very well dressed and smooth talking. The Winchesters were….. not.

Rough around the edges would be a good way to describe them.

When they arrived, with the sound of wings no less, the boys had rolled off their respective beds and drawn weapons on them. Riley screamed.

Sam towered, literally towered over her and Gabriel. “Easy there Samsquatch, Deano.” Gabriel said. The boys slowly put their weapons down, though Dean did not put his completely away.

It had been an interesting meeting.

After they’d all calmed down and Riley was no longer hyperventilating, she got to actually meet the boys. Sam and Dean were nice, a bit freaked out, but still nice.

They had no idea what to make of her. Neither considered the possibility that she would have survived, or been turned into…. Whatever she was now. Angel? Half angel? Random thingy.

Sam was polite and Dean was gruff. He had a smolder to him that would have been charming if they’d been in a bar and not standing around a motel room. On first impression, Riley honestly liked Sam better, he made her feel more at ease….. and less like he’d shove a knife through her heart at any moment.

Neither tried to kill her though, which was a welcome thing. Instead they’d gone to a diner to grab some breakfast. Or for Gabriel and Riley, second breakfast.

Riley wasn’t particularly hungry, but she figured this wasn’t fully about food. They were in Massachusetts still, but pretty far outside Boston. Sam told her that Jody had called last night, and they’d driven up until Gabriel had told them to stay put. So they found themselves in a small town, waiting to hear.

Which was why the two men had stared in shock at Gabriel and Riley when they’d shown up at their hotel room, waking them up. Thus, Dean declared they needed food, and so to the diner they went.

There, as Dean stuffed his face with greasy food, and Riley sipped at a cup of tea, Sam started to tell their story. It was long, and complicated, and at points Riley really didn’t want to believe it. The life of the two men before her was terrible in its brutality and cruelty. They were brave, and crazy in the amount of fortitude they had. She didn’t believe she could have survived the things the universe, or apparently… Chuck….. had thrown at them. Not that they always survived. They just apparently came back to life.

Overall, it was also a condensed version, and Riley was worried what a full telling would reveal. The cliff notes were bad enough.

And then Sam started to talk about Jack, and Riley’s heart broke. How young. How alone. How unfair his life was. And Riley really wanted to find the poor kid and give him a hug. Even if he was the reason she was now having her eyes opened to the world of things that went bump in the night, she still felt a heart wrenching in sympathy for the kid. She was still a tad peeved at him, she had been happy in her life in Boston, but she still couldn’t help feel bad for the kid.

The other thing she knew, just knew, was that she did not want to be a hunter. The lore was interesting, all those supernatural creatures. But damn if she was going to go out hunting them. Especially since it seemed to spawn only heartache, misery, and death. Who knew that death could die, btw, that was just some messed up shit. And it sounded awfully lonely.

Which was probably why all three of the men at the table with her had haunted looks in their eyes.

Even if not a hunter, Riley was sort of stuck. It wasn’t like she could just walk away at this point. This was apparent by the ever-present translucent wings now on her back. She still had mixed feelings about those.

Also, Riley found herself drawn the brothers. Not romantically, definitely not sexually (though neither was hard on the eyes). She just, wanted to hug them.

As for Gabriel…. Riley wasn’t sure exactly where her feelings lied. He had staid with her through the night, joked with her in the morning, and brought her to the boys. Everything he’d done had been to help her. Plus he made her heart flutter, just a tad. A crush maybe? Riley shrugged it off. No time to deal with it now. So many other things to deal with.

Breakfast was a slow affair, and Gabriel sat there drinking his sugar with coffee in it and Riley sipping her third cup of tea. Dean ate a lot. Sam ate some. And by the time they were all done, and the most of breakfast crowd had filtered out, that was about the time that Castiel walked in.

Meeting Castiel was……… weird. He was not what she expected. So serious. The straight man to Gabriel’s trickster. Which was surprising because she’d imaged the other angels would be like Gabriel. But Castiel was the anthesis was the sugar loving archangel.

Plus he’d stared at her in such an unnerving way that Riley had excused herself to make a phone call.

While the four boys talked, Riley escaped outside to call Jody. Jody was shocked and happy. She didn’t expect that win, and it was a win. She said they were going to drink the moment Riley felt good enough to get out of the bunker. Riley really wanted to ask what the bunker was, but figured she’d find out soon enough.

They chatted for a while, catching up. Jody gave her more pieces of the puzzle, explaining how she’d met the boys and how she’d actually found herself with her charges.

As they were signing off, the boys exited the diner. Castiel disappeared quickly.

“You can hitch a ride with me.” Gabriel offered, “I’ll drop your bags and you off at the bunker?”

“Um…”

Dean scoffed, “And leave the girl alone in a strange bunker. We’ll take her.”  

Gabriel shrugged, and grabbing her bags, disappeared too.  

Riley found herself following the Winchesters to a black impala. Riley stopped and stared at the car for a few minutes. She loved it. It was so classic and beautiful, and told Dean so. Which is how she found herself riding shotgun and Dean now grinning at her. “Music?”

“Obviously.” She responded. Dean hit the dial and AC/DC filled the car. Sam sighed, cramped in the backseat. “I could have gone with Gabriel.” She offered, still could.

“Nope, gotta get the full experience.” Dean said. “Plus you can tell us about yourself now.”

“Ah. Sure.” Riley sent Sam a sympathetic look as he shifted again, stuck in the back. “I’m from Massachusetts, but the rural area originally. I went to undergrad and studied pre-law. Went to law school in the city. Took the bar. Got a job. And here I am.”

Dean chuckled, “That can’t be all.”

“Honestly, I’m kind of boring compared to you guys.”

“How’d you meet Jody?” Sam asked.

“I attended a seminar on small town law and its conjunction with law enforcement. I met Jody there. She was giving a talk sheriff life. We staid in touch. I helped her with a custody thing.” She shrugged, “We have girls days when ever we’re in the same part of the country.”

“Boyfriend?” Dean asked. Sam snorted in response.

“Nope. Too busy with school.” She smiled, “And you?”

Sam burst out laughing, “No serious relationships. Dean likes the ladies though.”

“The ladies like me.” Dean grinned.

Riley was nothing like them she realized. Other than music apparently, she had had little to offer the Winchesters. This was going to be an interesting experience. Heck, if it ever stopped. Riley glanced out the window, ‘for all I know, this is my life now. Or whatever comes next.’

“Do you like pie? Or beer?” Dean asked.

Riley’s eyes slid back to him, “Both. I make a good apple pie.”

“Make?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I like to bake.”

“I think I’m in love.” Dean flashed her joking smile. “You’ll fit right in.”

Riley laughed, wondering how they could think that. She relaxed though and allowed herself to be drawn into some inane conversation about the best pies Dean had ever had on their hunting trips.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #gabriel #gabriel x oc #spnfandom

[moviereviewsbyrapha]

Queen & Slim (2019)

“What choose you have?” asks the guy, who, apparently, wanna help Queen & Slim, minutes before the movie ends. But that’s seems more like an allegory (and the movie presents many allegories) to show and remember (us) of how life can be so hard for black people. I can write down all the reasons to prove that, but I don’t think It’s necessary, also because I want to write about the process of the relationship between Queen & Slim.

Queen, I can’t see a better word to describe her. The first minutes of the movie you see a “powerful” woman with an all white outfit, a turtleneck, and serious face. And that’s what she is, that’s the message she tries to send us. But also, you can see at first how much pain she care inside her, but you have no ideia how deep that is. She talks about her work, she tries to make the world a better place, where people don’t go to death penalty… And she say that in the first date with Slim. A easygoing guy, who don’t play games and talk about his feelings without hesitating. Queen “liked” Slim because of a photo of him in a dating app, his ”eyes looked sad”, and Slim explain what that image represents. His father took that photo, and Slim says that photos are important to show that we exist. You can relate about that hours later… The strong woman and the sensitive man. What a couple. The usually “let’s leave and go home without knowing but hoping we sleep together” move after a date come. You just wait for a lovely night for both, but an event change their destiny and your humor in minutes. And that’s what the movie offer to you easily. They are driving the car talking about ordinary things, a police car appears and ask them to stop their car. Queen, who knows what police men do, ask some question to Slim to check that’s all good. But she knows how danger can be the situation. And in some minutes later, a white men and his abuse of power, “with no reason” shoot Queen at her left leg, and then, Slim, trying to defense himself from the situation, shoot the police men.

*One way.

At this point I was mad, really mad. Specially with Slim, because killing someone is one of my worst actions that a human can do on my morality list. But, I see why he did that, and I see how bad he feels for doing that. And I had to remember myself all the time during the movie, why Queen & Slim had “choose” the path they was going through.

The first scene of the movie are Queen & Slim having a date, but from now on, if you prefer to see in that way, we see a love story being write. They are facing a serious problem in life, same problem, at same time, and they decide to go through that together. They had the option to not, but they wanted.

After driving for hours, they arrive at Queen uncle’s house. She don’t have “any respect” when she knock the door to let then know that she arrive, that seems rude, but you will understand why later. She asks for help, she tells him what she wants, her uncle hesitate at first, but after she says that he owe her, and then he just say yes for everything she asks.

Queen needs to get rid of her beautiful braided hair, change her image so people can recognized them. Braided hairs are usually only made by black woman, and they know how to undo the braids. One of the girls who lives with her uncle, helps her to do that. A sisterhood moment where a gesture of care open the connection. The same happens to Slim, he also gets a new haircut. And both events works as a passage ritual. They changed. Also you can relate that also with they clothes. He is wearing the sweatshirt and pants set with sneakers, and she is wearing an animal print dress with boots. They became not what they wanted to be, but what society was think what they should be. Marginalized.

At the same night, where Queen “lost her powers/hair” (hello Samson), she starts to open herself a little more for Slim. She asks if he is ok, he says I’m ok, but later both confirm that’s not how they feel. At same time (or earlier) her uncle start to fight with one of his girlfriends, because one of his rings are missing, a ring that his father gave to him, and one more time where “family” is important. But, some minutes later, Queen heard what is happening and she wants to leave the house asap, because that situation reminds her of her childhood. And then you finally know why the uncle owe Queen… he killed her mother.

For me, that’s why Queen is named Queen. Life didn’t offer her a good relationship with her mother, with “the sacred symbol” of our lives. And she forgive her uncle for killing the woman that give her life. I don’t know if I ever had to truly forgive someone about their actions. And how hard can be to not have someone to count on and the only person you can try, did that to you? She fight with the tools that life offered her, but life didn’t offered her the best tools. And again, how life can be hard and not giving us options…

Slim decided to ask Queen for a second date, he is tired of running and need some time to just relax. They went to a club for black people. Queen denied because she is always on the “fear” mood. But after some conversation they decide to go. At first, the dance it’s the second moment where their bodies come closer, the first one was in the bed when Queen cuddle with Slim, nothing more than that. Slim tries to kiss Queen, but again she denied any move of intimacy. Slim asks what she wants and went to the bar, but at same time, you listen the monologue bellow where Queen says what she wants”: “I want a guy to show me myself. I want him to love me so deeply, I’m not afraid to show him how ugly I can be. I want him to show me scars I never knew I had. But I don’t want him to make them go away. I want him to hold my hand while I nurse them myself. And I want him to cherish the bruises they leave behind.”

Slim on the left, Queen on the right. Red light on the left, desire and intimacy. Green light on the right, “resting” space, cold color. You can even see Queen in the wall with the tigers.  It’s funny because she is wearing an animal print dress, between the tigers. Animals of power that people may fear, and I’m not talking only about the tigers. But after that night, they become more closer and closer. And at some moments, you can see Queen laughing, feeling some happiness even with all the problems. Because she founded hope, now she can feel other emotions related to the other spectrum of life. It’s love. They are driving and Queen see horses. She want to stop just to nurture the horse. A white horse. What she have to say is really powerful. Her grandfather said that white men fear black people riding horses, because that’s the situation where they have to look up for black people. The horse it’s a symbol of freedom, and freedom is something that black people never had much in their lives. Slim wants to ride the white horse, because they probably never get another chance to do that, he do that, but after some seconds the “freedom” he was experimenting come to the end because the owner of the land starts to scream, and they have to run. Again. But they are laughing. At some point during the road, the blue car broke and they need to stop. They found a mechanical who wants a lot of money to fix the car. Queen accept, but she wants the job done before the night.

Queen and Slim starts to walk through the neighbourhood with the son of the mechanical. He recognized Queen & Slim, he even mention something like “I can’t believe, I saw you guys at the TV and now I can see you guys here with me”. It’s a feeling of excitement. It’s hard for black people to see someone on TV that they can relate to, people that they can feel inspire about. And the kid recognized him in Slim & Queen. They are black, they suffer racism because of the system, and both have anger inside. So connect the points and see clearly how representativeness is really important. Before living with the car fixed, Slim asks the kid to take a photo of them. Do you remember what Slim said about photos in their first date? “Photos are important to show that we exist.” And that’s why Slim wants the photo. And you can see why that image was important in the end when kids are wearing t-shirts, and also people putting that image in a big wall of a “new church”.

But coming back to a really important moment, it’s when finally Queen & Slim have sex. At the same time the kid that see them as heroes, arrive at a protest of black people against police. It’s a mix of feelings and scenes between the kid getting “excited” about facing the power, and Queen & Slim also facing other sense of power, and excitement. The climax come when the kid shoot the black police man,  and when the couple finally come. It’s also an allegory for life. Ending the life (death) and starting a life (sex, birth, baby). And humans can feel pleasure in both acts.

“Thanks for this journey, doesn’t matter how it ends” That’s what Queen says before the dinner in the house of the couple that was trying to help then. That’s a statement of gratitude.  She starts thanking for the air in her lungs. And all the subject of that message is Slim. You not even expect that Queen want to pray before the dinner, but she did that. She did that because again, she have faith (or love). Faith is always present during their journey. They have to have faith, because what else they can do? They just want to try. You can see the cross in his necklace, you can see the cross in the rearview, you can see the “Trust God” in the white veicule that starts all this journey. And during the journey they use 3 veicules. The first one is the white one, a peaceful moment. The second one is the red from the sherif, moment of tension and anger. The third one is the blue. And the last move that should be getting the plane, travel trough the sky, “more close to God”. But they ended close to God in a different way. “I want him to hold my hand while I nurse them myself…” “Can I be your legacy?” That’s what we faced during the final minutes. Like Queen & Slim, we hope that they can get and arrive at the final destination. But destiny don't work in that way… When they are close to the airplane, the police cars arrive. And after all the journey, all the love and intimacy that they build together, it’s the time to finally "be the legacy". They hold hands and go through the final line together. They had what both wanted in life. Slim loved Queen how she always wanted. And Slim got the the “ride or die”. The movie can show us how humans can act in the worst way based on bad believes. But also, Queen & Slim show us how love is important, to make life a easier place to live and face everything we had to. 

*I will. That’s the tattoo present in the right arm of the guy who tries to help them...

[i-am-very-very-tired]

April says:JUNE 20, 2016 AT 2:04 PMREPLY

Relaxed4life says:AUGUST 4, 2016 AT 10:11 PMREPLY

Azarmiah says:OCTOBER 5, 2016 AT 8:05 AMREPLY

Amor Amankwah says:OCTOBER 8, 2016 AT 4:47 PMREPLY

Touche! Well said! You hit the nail on the head.

Preach it beee!! Amen and A. men!!

If your natural you know that those styles help reduce tangles i personally dont wear them no reason i havent masterd them as of yet and and doesnt take nothing nut humidity and a wash to get you back to its natural state. Hey check out this video by angel ikyg called black women natural hair its not a bashing video he gives good reasoning to go natural if u feel the same way after watching the video then keep getting relaxers by all means because its your hair have a good day

Dude I always felt the same way. You manipulating your hair to get your curls a certain way says a lot.

Seriously why be so negative? Some people don’t like curly hair or braids but prefer straight hair. Quite frankly some women don’t look good with either hair style. Yeah one can argue that a black woman can achieve straight hair with natural hair but do you know how much more damage will occur than by doing relaxers. If you actually read this woman’s blog you would see her hair is healthy and relaxed. So stop hair shaming and accept the fact that people can have different hair styles and still have healthy hair.

Monique Peterkin says:JANUARY 29, 2017 AT 4:44 PMREPLY

Exactly- this kind of thinking [shaming others hardcore because they have a different view period; be it hair, philosophy, belief, etc,] is and has been completely counterproductive, deleterious, and frankly, embarrassing. We are not a monolith*and there is no “real Black” mind or character. We really need to STOP IT. Where, oh where has it really gotten us as a people in the world? ##!% it.

Everything isn’t for everyone. I am relaxed and I’ve NEVER had anyone else’s hair in my head in my life. My hair is long (bra strap length) and healthy. I’ve never had a desire to go natural because I like the way my hair is when relaxed. My roller wraps and easy maintenance hair works for ME & my life & that my friend is how that works out. I will not apologize or be ashamed of MY choice for MY hair. I am team #CreamyCrack.

There are lots of things we do that aren’t ‘natural’. Do you wear make up? Thats not natural. When people wear braids the extensions they use aren’t natural. When people flat iron their natural hair thats not natural or when people wear weave and wigs over their natural hair- not natural either. Big Deal! People are so busy pointing the finger and telling other people what they should do or think that they don’t realise they are a bunch of hypocrites.

I disagree and can I give you an analogy and you may never agree but this is mine. People over time have used inventions to make their life easier doesn’t mean they don’t embrace their culture our heritage but they are doing things to.save time and effort. Ex. Pencil to typewriter to computer Records to cd to downloads For some not all healthy relaxed hair makes our lives more manageable and easier. I love natural hair but please respect me too and recognize that for me and my course hair it’s much easier.

Where “someone’s” hair means?? Oh pls… Its about time judging stopped!! Its the same hair ok? Jux that others prefer to relax it. And yes… Natural isnt for everyone means… Not everyone wants to keep their hair kinky or natural… Its jux hair ok!? Anyone has the right to do whatever!

Sometimes natural hair does not fit your personality or lifestyle. Its similar to how some people do not prefer their own hair color and choose to dye it.

I agree with you 100%. I think if it grows out your head it obviously is for you. lol Im natural and I don’t judge whether you make a decision to relax or not relax, i really don’t care what you do to your head. But what we’re not gonna do in these comments is say that natural “poofy” hair is “unprofessional”. That is the real issue. What is professional? Straight flat hair? I don’t like that stigma at all. And also side note, natural hair products typically are organic or healthy for your scalp most of the time. Relaxer literally burns your scalp and has your hair fall out if it’s in too long lol it can’t be that safe when used in the long term. But i’m not the one who is making the decision so who cares about my opinion anyway lol

Montia says:JUNE 12, 2016 AT 6:37 AM

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Hey Lauren,

I have been a home relaxer for years! Do you have any suggestions for beach hair or what to do to protect your hair at the pool? It’s vacation season so wanted a little product help!

Thanks Montia

Lauren says:JUNE 14, 2016 AT 9:35 AMREPLY

Hey!

I’ve heard that some women coat their hair with oil of deep conditioner before getting into the water – something about your hair soaking up the moisturizing product and not having enough room to soak up chlorinated water. Just be careful – wouldn’t want to have an obvious slick of oil behind you as you dunk in the water! If I know I’ll be in water a lot (i.e. vacation), I’ll put it into a protective style like Marley Twists or Box Braids. Hope that helps!

Pam says:MAY 30, 2016 AT 9:30 AM

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I’m so glad I read your post, I have been natural for 5’years now, I have seen some growth but not the amazing results that I expected. I also think my hair seemed much healthier when I had a relaxer, thank you for helping me realize that natural does not always mean better and since everyone’s hair is different you should do what works for you.

Fahyolah says:APRIL 11, 2016 AT 4:49 PM

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Wow. I came across this post and your first paragraph alone had me! I am sick and tired of everyone portraying relaxed hair as the culprit of all hair problems. There is a way to have healthy relaxed hair and I dislike when I am made to feel guilty about my decision to keep my hair relaxed (I’m not “ashamed” of my natural hair, I just prefer it straight). Thank you, thank you, thank you for posting such a rare opposition in a world filled with individuals shunning relaxed hair!

Mesha says:APRIL 27, 2016 AT 11:54 AMREPLY

Wow! Im going through this now. Havent relaxed my hair in almost a year and its coming out, dry and hard to manage. I honestly dont see what all the hype is about natural hair. I guess its personal choice and the type of hair you have. Some people make natural seem easy but then their hair grade is “naturally” nice! My hair is coarse, dry, thick yet brittle and I hate that. Call it what you want, im Europeanized whatever im not with that and love healthy looking moisturized hair, im getting a perm asap!!!

Faith says:APRIL 2, 2016 AT 5:57 PM

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I also tried to go the natural route… this is my second year now, but my hair was honestly healthiest when I used to relax it. Now my natural hair just sheds so much and is super dit. regardless of what I do to it. My mind is made as I take off my braids in relaxing it. And shall be proudly rocking it.

Abigail Mai. says:APRIL 1, 2016 AT 11:21 AM

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I know this post its old but I feel like I need to post a comment lol. I’ve been natural for three years but things are getting out of hand now, I just can’t do this anymore. I’m glad I found this blog. I’m planning to relax my hair tomorrow and get a pixie cut. I’m so nervous. Nice post! Your hair is gorgeous!

I am at my 3 year mark as well and I’m fed up..smh when yu relaxed what relaxer did you use.

Lauren says:APRIL 7, 2016 AT 10:25 AMREPLY

Tips & materials before you relax your hair at home Relax your hair at home, by yourself, the RIGHT way! Dr. Miracle’s Feel It Formula Thermalceutical Intensive No-Lye Relaxer (Regular Strength)

So how did it go? Reading these comments, I think I have made up my mind. After almost 10 yrs of being natural, I hate it. It takes me up to 3 hrs to straighten it and it still looks a hot mess and all I can do is pull it back. I was looking at my pictures from college and I loved the relaxed look. So much easier in my opinion and my hands and arms don’t feel like they are going to fall off. Any pointers? I’ll prob just go back to the olive oil relaxer.

Kiki says:MARCH 24, 2016 AT 11:54 PM

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Natural isn’t for everyone! My hair broke in the center and both sides while shedding everywhere else. So I cut it down to where it broke, half of my shoulder length hair, to start all over again. I did one Aphogee treatment, then a week later, hit it with ORS relaxer, problem solved! A year and a few months later, my hair is back down on my shoulders. I’ll never go natural ever again! Moisturizing shampoos & conditioners are a must!

Molly

says:FEBRUARY 28, 2016 AT 6:10 PM

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Hi! In 2010 my hair fell out, and I spent the next year-and-a-half in weaves. 18 months later I’m natural and my hair is at my shoulders. It was pretty when straight, but would not stay. It would not hold a style. So I get a relaxer, and my hair starts shedding badly. (The bad reactions were caused my coconut oil as it made my hair dry and brittle, but I just found that out a few months ago) then I get psoriasis from an autoimmune condition so bad my scalp bleeds. So for another two years I stop relaxers. My hair kept shedding and getting dryer( too much protien) finally I went back to relaxers but only to loosen the curl. Now my styles stay. I’m still shedding from a chronic illness and the protien, but my hair is bra band length. Yesterday I went to a new salon, doctors orders, and the stylist said my “natural hair” is so healthy! And that I should let it all go natural. Well, none of it is natural! My ends are just straight because of a bad beautician. I relax my hair every four or so months to loosen the tightness and I love this method. Even the white girls raved after the beautician finished styling it. My hair when straight looks exactly like brand new weave, and I missed that when natural. I mean I could get it just as silky but it wouldn’t stay.. So texlaxsing is my ne strategy.

Lauren says:APRIL 5, 2016 AT 10:45 AMREPLY

I’m so glad you were able to find something that works for you , even with those challenges!

CAH says:FEBRUARY 8, 2016 AT 7:41 PM

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I’ve been natural off and on for over 10 years. This weekend I just texlaxed my hair because I wanted versatility. I wanted to be able to straighten my hair without all the excessive heat used when pressing natural hair but I also wanted to have a little texture left so I can still do my wash n’ go’s. It’s sad that we have to justify how we choose to wear our hair.

Deva says:FEBRUARY 2, 2016 AT 11:13 AM

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Thanks for this. I’ve never felt threatened with the thought of going natural. I’m texlaxed and have been my whole life. I can honestly say that although i enjoy the look of natural hair, I don’t have time for the maintenance. My relaxer has done me well and I’ll keep that chemical in my head for as long as I can.

Micah says:JANUARY 15, 2016 AT 9:13 AM

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I have been free from the creamy crack for 8 years but today I’m so over it I was frustrated with my hair was about to make an appointment for my hairdresser and I’m just like I’m so tired of this and then I said wait what am I trying to prove I’m going to go get me a relaxer and that’s exactly what I’m going to do! MY QUESTION is what relaxer should I use???? since it’s been so long I don’t want my hair to fall out

SincerelyAlexisJ

says:JANUARY 13, 2016 AT 5:16 AM

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Omg , I’m so upset that I just found this post . But I’m extremely happy at the same time ! This post and all the comments made me realize that it’s okay to keep my relaxed hair and not feel bad about it because everybody’s on this natural kick! I had THICK just above my shoulder length hair all my life(I’m 25 now). In August , I noticed my hair just wouldn’t get bone straight anymore when I relaxed it , went through 3 different perms and it just wouldn’t get straight. And because I have such thick and hard to manage hair, it would look like I still needed a perm. So I let my sister in law talk me into going natural(SMH!). The first two times she washed and flat ironed my hair(two weeks apart) , it looked nice . Then it kind of went down hill from there . My hair became SUPER thick , the thickest I had ever seen it before , I could not comb through it , it wouldn’t lay down , it was super dry no matter what I would put on it , etc . Then I noticed that when she would flat iron it , it started looking thinner and thinner.

Towards the ending of November I noticed the back of hair completely broke off ! My mom and I were so upset with what was going on with my hair so by the end of December , I decided to go back to my perms. I permed my hair for the first time since August on January 4th(last Thursday) and while I was in the shower A LOT of my hair was coming out in clumps. Not big clumps , but still they were noticeable clumps. After my protein treatment and deep conditioner , I blow dried my hair and saw that my hair had broken off in the middle of my head as well , not as bad as the back though. Also , when I was “natural” , when I would TRY to comb it , a lot of hair would be let left in the comb.

I’m very inclined to believe that all that heat that was being put on my hair caused a lot of damage, as well as it being soo dry. So I have to admit while I was natural that is when I noticed my hair started to fall out.

What do you think I should do to get it back healthy and growing again ? I’ve always had thick and dry hair and I’ve always done deep conditioners every week to retain the moisture , so I know that’s a given. But what else? Please help me , I’m miss my hair so much!

Adetomi says:MARCH 5, 2016 AT 7:36 PMREPLY

Cut the hair and start over. That’s the only way

Alexis says:JANUARY 13, 2016 AT 5:12 AM

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Omg , I’m so upset that I just found this post . But I’m extremely happy at the same time ! This post and all the comments made me realize that it’s okay to keep my relaxed hair and not feel bad about it because everybody’s on this natural kick! I had THICK just above my shoulder length hair all my life(I’m 25 now). In August , I noticed my hair just wouldn’t get bone straight anymore when I relaxed it , went through 3 different perms and it just wouldn’t get straight. And because I have such thick and hard to manage hair, it would look like I still needed a perm. So I let my sister in law talk me into going natural(SMH!). The first two times she washed and flat ironed my hair(two weeks apart) , it looked nice . Then it kind of went down hill from there . My hair became SUPER thick , the thickest I had ever seen it before , I could not comb through it , it wouldn’t lay down , it was super dry no matter what I would put on it , etc . Then I noticed that when she would flat iron it , it started looking thinner and thinner.

Towards the ending of November I noticed the back of hair completely broke off ! My mom and I were so upset with what was going on with my hair so by the end of December , I decided to go back to my perms. I permed my hair for the first time since August on January 4th(last Thursday) and while I was in the shower A LOT of my hair was coming out in clumps. Not big clumps , but still they were noticeable clumps. After my protein treatment and deep conditioner , I blow dried my hair and saw that my hair had broken off in the middle of my head as well , not as bad as the back though. Also , when I was “natural” , when I would TRY to comb it , a lot of hair would be let left in the comb.

I’m very inclined to believe that all that heat that was being put on my hair caused a lot of damage, as well as it being soo dry. So I have to admit while I was natural that is when I noticed my hair started to fall out.

What do you think I should do to get it back healthy and growing again ? I’ve always had thick and dry hair and I’ve always done deep conditioners every week to retain the moisture , so I know that’s a given. But what else? Please help me , I’m miss my hair so much!

Niquole Abram

says:JANUARY 13, 2016 AT 12:01 AM

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I love this post so much! One of my coworkers was formally relaxed and is now natural and for her it was the best thing ever. For me on the other hand, I know I will relax until I can no longer relax my hair. I’ve had it done since I was at least 8 years old, I’m 27 and I love how my hair looks after.

I took over the reins when I was 12 and can now apply it in less than 7 minutes. I may have timed it a few times… Haha! It’s so much easier to manage as well. I can tell when it’s almost time because I notice it’s harder to comb thru or brush in general and to wash. Once it’s been relaxed, I’m golden!

I spend less time fussing over my hair with it relaxed than if I were to go natural. I’m half black so I think my natural hair texture would be a 3c/4b combination? Afterwards it relaxes to a 2b wavy/surly texture if that. I have flat iron and a blow dryer although I can’t work the blowdryer to save my life and the Flatiron may used once or twice a month to check on my length or do a trim.

I’m determined to prove that just because my hair is relaxed, does not mean I can’t have long and healthy hair. I’m on my way to hip length right now, it was at chin length about 2 years ago and now it’s down to just past my bra strap.

When I tell people that my hair is actually relaxed their jaws drop, a reaction I will never get tired of! What I do to lessen the damage of the relaxer that inevitably gets on the length is I’ll coat that portion of my hair with coconut oil. It seems to provide a bit of a barrier between my hair and relaxer so it doesn’t damage the previously relaxed hair as much. Also with my last relaxer, I did a henna treatment that next day. My roots felt like normal.

You know after a relaxer your roots fill a bit of dry even a little straw like? After doing the henna it felt perfectly fine! I’ve noticed that weird texture seems to go away within a week or so and the henna treatment seem to speed up that process so I think I’ll do henna after I do my relaxer as well.

jada says:DECEMBER 20, 2015 AT 10:39 PM

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What do You do if You have a lot of Breakage an shedding? I haven’t had a perm in 2 months but i’m thinking about getting a perm because i want my hair to be straight an healthy. Do you have anything like Products to recommend for breakage, shedding and promoting hair growth ?

Chaka Khan

says:DECEMBER 16, 2015 AT 12:58 PM

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Thank you so much, I am a year and a half out with natural hair and I hate it. I agree it takes to long to get it how I like it and I feel it was much healthier, when I permed it. It grew much faster. I will be switching back after the first of the year. Thank you again for all the tutorials.

Kalisha Adams says:DECEMBER 9, 2015 AT 9:33 AM

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your hair is amazing and keep up the good work!

Lauren says:JANUARY 7, 2016 AT 12:11 PMREPLY

Thanks girl =)

V-Yella Westcoast

says:DECEMBER 2, 2015 AT 10:03 PM

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I agree with Lauren, you can have healthy straight relaxed hair. Straight hair is easier to manage.

[anavoliselenu]

Hiched chapter 20

I glance at the clock. I now have forty minutes before I can expect Selena home, and I still have no idea what I’m going to say to her when she gets here. How the hell am I going to convince her about us? It’s been days and I haven’t come up with jack shit.

Rising to my feet again, I begin pacing the room. When I see the black lacquered box that sits atop my dresser, I stop and go to it. Cradling the box in my hands, I sit back down on the bed. I don’t often take trips down memory lane; just keeping the mementos safe in my home is usually enough. But today, I need some guidance.

I take each item out, holding it and inspecting it before setting it down one by one on the bed beside me. One of my mother’s lockets. A leather bookmark from her favorite dog-eared romance. The token my father received from the New York Stock Exchange the day his company went public. A water-stained coaster from the seafood restaurant where he proposed to Mum. A friendship bracelet Selena gave me in the sixth grade, its braided thread fraying and dull. I smile and set it aside as I look through the rest of the treasures I saw fit to save.

After inspecting all the various small tokens that hold meaning in my life, I come to the last thing, buried in the bottom of the box. The folded square of newspaper that contains my mother’s obituary.

Just the feel of the soft, worn paper in my hands makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. What would she think of me?

I’m forced to take deep stock of my life. It’s unraveled to the point that I can barely recognize it. Where did I go wrong? I put trivial things that don’t matter before love. If the company goes down . . . so what? We have to look for new jobs? Big fucking deal.

Of course, I don’t want to lose the company and watch my friends and employees struggle to piece their lives back together. But as far as my own life goes, my marriage is so much more important than the company name printed on my paycheck. To save those jobs, to save myself from loss of face, I put everything above my wife. If Selena grants me a second chance, I won’t do that again.

I unfold the newspaper, delicate with age, and gaze upon the words I’ve read many times before:

Dahlia Emerson Tate was taken from this world too soon. Having moved to the United States as a teenager, she later attended Smith College and then married William Tate of Briar Grove, New York. She is survived by her husband and a bright, caring, and inquisitive son, Justin. She firmly believed that her son was her biggest achievement, and raising him was her greatest pleasure in life.

Mum sure as hell knew the importance of love and family. She would probably be so disappointed in me right now.

The lump in my throat grows, and I force a deep breath into my lungs. I haven’t cried over my mother’s passing in many years, but something about her loss feels fresher than ever. Maybe it’s because I’ve destroyed the only good thing in my life, and I don’t have her here to dole out advice, or pat my head, or hug me close.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” I murmur. “I’ll fix this somehow. I will make you proud. I promise.”

Chapter Seven

Selena

I check in at the spa to discover that Justin has booked me for the works. I’m being treated to a European facial, a French mani/pedi, a hot stone massage, and finally a blow-out. I’m briefly annoyed that Justin booked my appointment under “Mrs. Tate” instead of “Miss Cane.” But I shrug it off. Whatever . . . it’s a free spa day, and after everything that’s happened in the past week, I badly need some downtime. If this is his way of groveling, I’ll take it.

But I’m so tense that I don’t even begin to relax until the massage, over an hour into my appointment. Even while I’m lying on my front, my eyes closed, the tiny blond masseuse rubbing my sore, knotted muscles, my mind can’t help wandering back to the same dismal ground I’ve been mentally pacing for days now.

All along, I was operating under the assumption that once we got married, Justin and I would have ownership on our side. Those extra rights and responsibilities would both force the board to listen to us and make them more willing to take risks, since we’d assume more of the burden in case their gamble went sideways. But the fucking heir clause means that inheriting Tate & Cane isn’t an option anymore.

Is that really the end of the world, though? Is there still another way out?

In a matter of weeks, the board members will meet to cast their votes and decide our company’s fate. But the question isn’t settled yet. They still have a choice to make—either retain Tate & Cane or sell it off. And they’ll approach that choice like businessmen.

It all comes down to which option will make them more money. How much value we’re likely to create in the future compared to how much they can convince another company to buy us for. Long-term versus short-term profit. Risk and reward.

Even as things stand now, it’s not like the company is a terrible bet. It’s performed pretty well under its new management; our profits have definitely started climbing toward the black over the past couple months. But our gradual turnaround hasn’t quite been the jaw-dropping comeback that would banish the board’s doubts. We’re still more of a gamble than they would like.

If we can’t use our ownership privileges for extra clout . . . well, that definitely still handicaps us, but our defeat isn’t assured yet. We’ll just have to make ourselves indispensable in other ways. We need to demonstrate two things: Tate & Cane is worth more alive than dead. And it’s worth more with Justin and me at the helm than with anyone else they can dig up.

Okay, so we show them some new numbers. Some flashy, sexy predictions they haven’t seen before. But based on what? We can’t just pull a bunch of graphs out of our ass. I know enough finance to massage the statistics a bit, but there’s got to be something to massage in the first place. Optimistic projections are one thing; bald-faced lies are quite another. Even if we can fool the board in the short term, we’ll just be left holding the bag later, and begging for another chance won’t go nearly so well the second time around.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I try to loosen my stiff shoulders so the masseuse can do her job. It’s damn near impossible to relax with all this on my mind.

There’s no way around it—we need solid evidence to back up our fairy-dust forecast. We need an assload of new clients, or at least some promising prospects, and we need them ASAP. But already we’ve been hustling like crazy for months. We’ve tried everything. We’ve tapped everyone. At this point, we’d just be pestering the same people and annoying the hell out of them in the process. How pathetic would that be? Nobody enjoys a hard sell. And I don’t even know if I have the energy for that anymore.

Unless . . . we can encourage them to come to us, instead of us chasing them. Can we create a scenario where corporate bigwigs actually want to hear our pitches? Or at least something to make them receptive, relaxed, willing to listen, willing to take a chance on new deals.

A fun, laid-back atmosphere . . .

Free food and drinks are always a guaranteed hit, even with billionaires who can damn well afford their own. Ideally, in the interest of time, we would gather as many prospects in one room as possible so we can woo them all at once instead of scheduling a zillion individual meetings over the course of several weeks.

But we’d need it to be more than that, it would have to be the best damn party this city’s ever seen.

Inspiration strikes like lightning. I bolt up from the massage table with a gasp.

“Mrs. Tate? Is something wrong?” the masseuse asks, startled.

“No, it’s okay.” Something is very right, in fact. I can’t stop myself from grinning with excitement; she probably thinks I’ve gone crazy. “Sorry to be so abrupt, but I have to leave. Please go ahead and charge me for the full hour.”

Without waiting for her response, I dash behind the curtain and throw on my clothes while texting Justin.

Selena: Meet me in my office. I have a plan.

And if my instincts are on the mark, it’ll turn this company around for good.

• • •

After dark like this, especially on a Sunday night, the building is deserted. I’ve been here before at odd hours, and such deep stillness always gives me an eerie feeling, like I’m the only person left on the planet. But I’m on a mission now, so I hardly notice. The silence gives way before the quick, steady tapping of my footsteps as I walk to my office.

By the time I hear Justin coming down the hall, I’ve already typed out a press release and fired it off to the New York Times. Boom! I pump my fist in the air, feeling giddy with the surprise attack I’m about to unleash on the business world.

Justin steps inside my office without knocking. “What the hell is going on? You said you had an idea?” He doesn’t need to add, It better be a fucking fantastic one to drag me into work on a Sunday evening. He must have dropped everything to hurry straight here—he’s wearing jeans and an old T-shirt, his hair disheveled.

“I do. I’ve already sent out a press release.” I take a deep breath to ease the fluttering in my stomach. “Picture it—we’re going to throw the biggest, best gala New York City has ever seen. We’ll invite all the corporate bigwigs from firms we’ve wanted to woo, but didn’t know how to snag meetings with. We’ll show a brief presentation at the start—no more than ten minutes—just a few bold, hard-hitting, buzz-worthy clips of our company in action, the results we’ve achieved for our clients . . .” I wave my hand. “And then we mingle.”

Justin is still standing in the doorway, squinting at me like he can’t quite parse my words. “So you’re saying . . . we’re going to throw a party?” he asks skeptically. “This is the grand plan I put on pants and hauled ass halfway across the city for?” His tone is serious, but his smirk tells me he’s not actually mad. I’ve found there’s very little he wouldn’t do for me.

I nod eagerly. “Exactly. It’ll solve everything.”

“You’re going to have to convince me.”

Unable to sit still any longer, I jump up and start pacing the narrow space between the wall and my desk. “How many times have you been to a conference or whatever, and by the end, you’ve seen so many presentations you can’t even remember who was promoting what, because they were all abstract and boring and nearly identical? If we want people to remember us, we have to be memorable. Which means being fresh and different—and being fun. This party will make Tate & Cane stand out in their minds and will create a psychological association between us and all sorts of positive feelings.”

Justin sits down in the chair in front of my desk, as if he’s a client I’m pitching to—which I guess he kind of is. “I get what you’re saying, but it still seems all very fuzzy and touchy-feely. It’s hardly a guaranteed solution.”

“I know this party idea isn’t money in the bank, but I’m not just spitballing here, either. Storytelling is a well-proven branding strategy.”

“For content marketing, yeah, but—”

“When clients contract with us, they’re not just purchasing our services—they’re buying into the idea of us as people, on a personal level. Our charisma or our character or whatever. It’s not necessarily wise or rational, but it’s human nature. We’re social, emotional creatures . . . we value relationships and narratives and ‘gut feelings’ very highly, even when we don’t consciously know we’re doing it.”

And I learned the importance of this idea from Justin himself. I almost have to laugh when the irony of my words hits me. We’ve had so many arguments about business just like this, but on opposite sides of the table. If only briefly, I’ve turned into Justin, the optimistic, intuitive social butterfly, and he’s turned into me, the practical, analytical worrywart.

“Instead of just drowning people in dry numbers,” I say, “which is hard to pay attention to and even harder to remember, we give Tate & Cane a face they can identify with. We show off our business by showing off ourselves. The two new young CEOs who are ready to think outside the box and push boundaries. People eat up that kind of story with a spoon!”

As I grin at Justin, his own lips start to quirk up. “Okay, okay . . . maybe you’re on to something here.”

I cross my arms and cock my head, pretending to be insulted. “Just maybe? Please, do try to curb your enthusiasm.”

He chuckles. “Fine, Snowflake, it’s a fucking fantastic idea. When did you tell the press this party was going to be?”

“Next Saturday night.”

“That soon? Damn, we’ve got our work cut out for us.” But Justin is still smiling. Evidently my excitement is contagious. “I guess we should get started.” He rubs his hands together and gives me the broad grin I’ve been waiting for since he arrived.

“Right now?” I assumed he’d want to get back to whatever he was doing at home.

“What better time?” He pauses to look at his watch. “Actually, let’s get some dinner first.”

My stomach growls in agreement and we both laugh. I forgot that I haven’t eaten since breakfast, before I left for the spa. Speaking of which . . .

“Thank you for the spa package. It was perfect. Really, thank you.”

He nods. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

We debate between ordering pizza or Chinese, call the latter, and break into our delivery boxes at the long oak table in one of the conference rooms. As we wolf down our egg rolls and chow mein noodles, Justin asks, “Does your dad still keep a bottle of Scotch in his desk drawer for clients?”

I swallow my mouthful of rice. “Yeah. Why?” At Justin’s smirk, I shake my head. “Oh, hell no. We’re not getting drunk . . .” But then I stop. Because, really, why not? I’m in a celebratory mood, and one drink with dinner won’t kill me.

“Come on, one drink. Two tops,” Justin says with an airy wave of his hand. “We’ll buy him a replacement bottle. He probably won’t even notice anything different.”

“We’re breaking into Dad’s liquor stash like a couple of teenagers.”

“Yeah, isn’t it nostalgic? I don’t think we’ve done that since I was . . . a junior?”

I chuckle even as I roll my eyes. “Sure, let’s have a toast. I think we’ve earned it.”

“Hell yes, that’s the spirit.” Justin gets up. “I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later, he returns with a squat crystal bottle of honey-colored whiskey, about half full, and two tumblers.

“Sorry there’s no ice,” he says as he pours our drinks. “We’ll just have to take them neat, I guess.”

I’m not much of a hard-liquor drinker, but I shrug. “Whatever. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

I scoot my brimming glass closer, bend low to the table to take a sip—then immediately start coughing. Oh God, I spoke too soon about the “surviving” part. It’s like inhaling fresh hot smoke, with the way it burns on the way down. Ugh . . . people drink this stuff willingly?

Justin laughs at me and I give him the evil eye, but soon I’m giggling too.

He tastes his own and gives a little lip-smacking sigh of satisfaction. “Damn, that’s good.”

“How can you drink that?” I say with a grimace.

“It’s an acquired taste . . . just like you.” He dodges my playful swat.

As we polish off our Chinese dinner, we toss around party plans including theme, catering, decorations, and guests. One shot of Scotch somehow becomes two, then three. Turns out it goes down easier the more you have.

Even though we both still don’t know where we stand with each other, the mood is jubilant. My flash of inspiration, and the optimism it brings, is too strong to be undercut by any relationship awkwardness. I’m even more drunk on hope than I am on Dad’s whiskey.

I stand up to throw away my empty takeout box and the room sways a little. Okay, maybe hope and whiskey are about equal by now.

“Whoa, there,” Justin says, rising to his feet. He reaches out to steady me with a hand on my hip.

I turn . . . and find myself far closer than I expected. If I took even one step forward, I would be in his arms. The mood changes from one of business to a sultry encounter between two old lovers swamped by sexual attraction and history.

“You okay?” His voice is low and smooth, just as intoxicating as the liquor.

“Y-yeah,” I reply, suddenly even more light-headed. “You?”

Why did I say that last thing? I must be a lot more drunk than I thought. But Justin answers with a serious tone and only a slight smile, as if my question made perfect sense.

“I’m feeling pretty good right now.” He pauses, then adds, “But I could be better.”

Somehow, without noticing, I’ve leaned closer. Or was I always this close, and just never noticed the tickle of his breath on my lips? I inhale his familiar spicy scent and feel my knees weaken again.

“H-how do you mean?” I ask.

“That depends on you,” he replies. Then he hesitates again. He traces his thumb over my lower lip. “It’s nice to see you smiling. I . . . missed you.”

Closer again. The atmosphere in the conference room, once happy and uncomplicated, holds its breath as we gaze at each other. Justin’s dark eyes are solemn. But if I look deep into them, I can see something smoldering. For me.

I can’t tell who moves first, me or him. Closing the distance feels as natural and inevitable as falling. All I know is that his lips feel warm and soft and so good, so right against mine. I open up and hear him sigh as our tongues tangle together.

“Missed you,” I hear him murmur again against my mouth. “So much, Snowflake.”

Our kiss soon deepens, urgent and wild. The heat of his hands all over me—my breasts, my ass, my thighs, seemingly everywhere at once—burns right through the fabric of my clothes. I’m softening like taffy, melting and melding into him. I suddenly realize that the longer I avoided this, the more explosive it was bound to be when we rekindled.

The back of my legs hit the conference table. I lose my balance and sit down with an ungraceful thump. Without breaking our kiss, Justin slides between my parted knees, pushing my cotton skirt up to press his whole body against me hungrily, as if he can’t get enough contact. We fit together perfectly, chest to chest, the hard length of his cock insistent on my belly. When he lifts my legs to haul me even closer, my calves wrap around his angular hips automatically, even before my squeak of surprise escapes my lips.

His mouth descends again, coaxing my lips to part as he strokes his tongue so skillfully against mine. His warm palms massage my breasts and I reach down between us, flicking open the button on his jeans. And then he’s in my hands, and I take pleasure in each stroke, every labored breath, every moan I draw from this big, sexy man—evidence that he’s mine and mine alone. Nobody else can make him react like this. His cock is warm, steely, and I massage every inch of it, delicately rubbing the hot drop of fluid that’s leaked out over the tip.

“Snowflake, I . . .” Justin’s voice is tight with need. But he doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to say anything else. I need this too.

I wriggle back, just far enough away to snag my purse with one hand and drag it over the table to me. I take out the foil packet hidden in my wallet. His eyes widen at the sight. But neither of us speaks; the silence is deafening as I tear open the condom.

He pushes his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his hips. I roll the condom over his cock. We barely dare to look at each other. This moment floats as light and as fragile as a soap bubble; the touch of reality would burst it instantly. One careless comment, one reminder of our unpleasant situation, and we’ll come crashing back down to earth.

But it’s obvious that we’re both thinking about the condom. Such a small thing, so heavy with significance now. A minefield of uncomfortable, unresolved questions still stretches between us, my own emotions reflected in Justin’s hesitant expression. What does this mean in the long run? Are we okay again? Am I okay? Or will tonight be the last time we ever touch?

I can’t bear to answer those questions yet. I just want Justin. I don’t want to think about why I want him, or whether I trust him, or what the future holds. In this moment, I know he’s my everything.

I pull aside the dampened crotch of my silk panties. Unprompted, he guides himself into me, pausing when I hiss through my teeth, and slowly pushes forward when I roll my hips in impatience. Inch by hot, thick inch, he fills me, taking away the empty space between us. And then his mouth descends on mine, our kiss hungrier and fierier than ever before.

Words are too heavy and too light, too sharp and too blunt, all at the same time. The low, breathy sounds of pleasure are all the communication we need, anyway. So I push all other unpleasant thoughts away and enjoy this, enjoy him. The sensation of skin on skin dissolves the past and future, leaving only the present. My whole world shrinks down to the sensation of his thick length parting me, of hot breath and hotter friction.

“Justin.” I gasp when he reaches between us to rub my exposed clit in gentle circles.

“I know.” He grunts, still buried to the hilt. “So perfect. Me and you.”

And he’s right. It is.

I flex my inner muscles around him and he groans.

Our gasps and moans wordlessly guide us toward bliss as we writhe together. Soon Justin is slamming into me, giving me every hard inch of himself, the soft sounds of wet flesh slapping so erotic and forbidden in the dim, silent office.

My toes curl and I clench around his girth with every thrust. I abandon everything and let myself fall into him—Justin Tate, my husband, my rival, my betrayer, my partner. This walking contradiction, the one man I can’t seem to stay away from, who makes my emotions simultaneously so confusing and so clear.

Tomorrow morning, I should come back to this hot, tender memory and try to figure out what it means. Maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll tell myself it was all a dream.

For now, though, I don’t ask questions. I just feel.

Chapter Eight

Justin

Watching Selena work the room is incredible. Everything we’ve worked so hard for over the last few months has led us to this very moment.

“Hanging in there?” she asks, stealing a moment away from the crowd trying to garner her attention. Lifting onto her tiptoes in her already sky-high heels, she presses a quick peck to my cheek.

Ever since our erotic encounter in the conference room last weekend, things have been good. Not great, but good. She’s been polite and chatty at home, and while we haven’t totally made up—or had sex again, for that matter—things have felt okay. Like we’re moving in a positive direction, even if it’s only by an inch at a time.

It’s safe to say that the party Selena dreamed up is a smashing success. Tate & Cane has delivered—big fucking time. We’re winning over everyone from the tired old CEOs to the young, hungry marketing execs ready for the next big thing. I’m practically beaming with pride for my gorgeous wife. I’m trying to keep my optimism cautious, but damn, it’s impossible not to get caught up in the moment.

“This is amazing, baby.” Giving her waist a squeeze, I return her chaste kiss on the cheek. I won’t cross the line and show her too much affection, because I know this isn’t the time or place and it would only make her uncomfortable, but I can’t resist taking a moment to let her know how much her sweet gesture means. We’ve worked hard to get here, and while I’m still not sure what the future holds for us, this is a huge step in the right direction.

The look in her eyes is tender, and there’s a small smile on her lips. “I’ll check in with you again later.”

For the most part, we’ve divided and conquered. I’ve hardly spoken three words to her all evening, but I’ve kept her in my line of vision, and she’s never been far from my thoughts. I watch her blend back into the crowd. With her simple black slacks and emerald-green silk blouse, she looks stunning. Professional, but more casual than usual, which fits the mood perfectly.

This is no boring business meeting, nor is it the politically correct, awkward, boring “work outing” that everyone silently dreads. We have fucking Beyoncé performing. Okay, so she’s not Beyoncé, but the girl is gorgeous and fiery and she can sing her ass off. The atmosphere is casual and chill. And the waiters aren’t serving chilled champagne, they’re serving cucumber cocktails strong enough to put a smile on the lips of even the stuffiest company leaders.

Hell, most everyone else is in bare feet on the sod floor we had brought in. Beach balls are being kicked around. Hammocks where Fortune 500 leaders lounge with a cocktail. These people don’t ever get time off, so Selena’s ingenious idea tapped into the one thing that they truly needed—to chill.

Maybe I really have rubbed off on her. A smile pulls on my lips.

I head toward the buffet line, scoping out who else I might talk with tonight.

The food isn’t pretentious. It’s accessible and reminiscent of childhood. Simple finger foods. S’mores over a fire pit. The smell of grilled hot dogs in the air. It’s friendly and easy. And since I haven’t eaten since lunch, I stop in line next to a gray-haired man I recognize as the chairman of a major tech firm.

When I meet his eyes, his gaze skitters away, and a look I recognize flashes across his features. The guy is overworked, tired, and probably has another four or five hours of crap to do tonight once he gets home. He just wants to be left alone. The last thing he wants to do is talk shop. Which is fine by me. I remember my own dad sitting at the dining table with his laptop long after Mum and I went to bed at night.

“Hi, I’m Justin.” I offer him my hand and he shakes it. No last name, no title, because I can read his hesitation like it’s a flashing neon sign.

“I’m Howard Dillon of Spherion, but before you begin . . .”

“Have you ever had a walking taco?” I ask him, grinning like I know the world’s best secret. Because I do.

His mouth closes, then opens, then he shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t,” he says finally.

My smile grows wider. “Dude, let me hook you up.”

Howard chuckles and follows me up to the front of the buffet line.

And soon, we’re seated cross-legged on a blow-up couch overlooking a water balloon fight, bonding over corn chips and seasoned ground beef.

Howard kicks off his shoes and wiggles his toes encased in black silk socks. “So this is a walking taco, eh?”

I help myself to another bite and nod. “Strangely good, isn’t it?” It’s all the standard taco ingredients mixed into an individual-sized bag of corn chips, which can be eaten with a fork. I had a roommate in college who once introduced me to the idea.

“You guys at Tate & Cane seem to have it all figured out.” He takes another bite. We haven’t even talked business, but I already know I have him right where I want him.

“We work hard, we play hard, and most of all, we get it. You’re a busy man with a lot on your plate. If we can make your job a little bit easier, that’s what we’re here for.”

He makes a sound that sounds a lot like approval.

My gaze swings over to find Selena again and she gives me a quick thumbs-up. She’s bounced from table to table, doing her best to show each guest the same level of personalized treatment and respect. She approaches every conversation like it’s the only one that matters, like the person in front of her is the most important, interesting thing in the world. It’s a major talent, that’s for sure.

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